He shuddered thinking of Bucky waiting for days with his arm trapped in that vice, having to endure it to keep from running away. It was a comfort that he didn't seem inclined to run anymore. That he was leaning into Steve, trusting and fearless, his closeness easing some yearning ache in Steve that he had tried not to let himself feel for years. "I'm glad you didn't run," he said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth. "But I wish you hadn't had to hurt yourself to stay."

He knew it would get better now, though. They'd take care of each other the way bonded were meant to. He'd been missing that all of his life, the feeling of being bonded to someone he loved, without knowing what he was missing. Steve held onto Bucky possessively, sliding his other hand into his hair as he kissed his mouth, urging him to tilt his head a little for him. It was different from kissing him in the factory, when it had been a gesture more of comfort and safety than of intent. What he wanted now was to put his arms around Bucky, lift him and carry him to the nearest piece of furniture where he could press him back and shelter him with his whole body. "You don't want to run now, do you?" he murmured against his mouth, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from Bucky nonetheless.