"We each took the risks the other couldn't," Steve offered, as a way of helping Bucky make sense of the roles they had played to one another. It had to still be unclear from the confusion in Bucky's face, the way his gaze focused on a middle distance as though he was trying to look back and remember. It didn't matter if he didn't have all the details; Steve just wanted him to know how much he'd valued him back then, how much he valued him now. It gave him a quiet, possessive kind of pleasure to see how Bucky's expression smoothed when he ran his hand over his hair. It made him do it again, stroking him, letting the strands of his hair slide through his fingers, watching Bucky's eyes half-close. He thought of leaning down to kiss him, still undecided when Bucky's hand curled in his shirt and tugged.

Steve took that invitation, swinging his legs up to the bed and lowering himself to his side facing Bucky. "I'll help you unjumble it if I can," he promised quietly. They didn't have a lot of time for sifting through old memories, Steve knew--maybe only tonight, maybe only a few hours to sleep and talk before they were on the run again, but Bucky had trusted him enough to share what he remembered, and Steve wanted to help him any way he could. He reached out again, his fingers brushing over Bucky's stubbled cheek. "First, though--are you hurting anywhere? Do you need anything?"