Whatever place Bucky led them to would do; Steve knew that he trusted him unconditionally. It wasn't a matter of demonstrations of loyalty between them. It was something that went as deep as his soul, now that he knew what the emptiness and the aching in him had meant all of the years. It almost surprised him, though, when Bucky showed him to a disused but functional apartment, clean and furnished, late afternoon light filtering softly through the dusty windows. He had expected something smaller and darker like a cell, and it gladdened him to think of Bucky sleeping in a place with light and warmth instead of a place that was all cold and shadows.

He nodded agreeably; if they only had the one night here, well, it wasn't as though being on the run was something Captain America wasn't used to. He stepped in close to Bucky, lifting a hand to curve around the nape of his neck, to hold him gentle and steady. Steve leaned in until their foreheads touched. "In that factory..." He hesitated, then forged ahead. "You had to trap yourself to let me find you. Were you scared of me?"