[Honestly, every time Steve looks upset, or hurt, or tense or weird or whatever else when he's looking at him, Bucky just winds up feeling awful, because there's no way he thinks that look means what it actually does. None. How could he?
Instead, he winds up thinking of how messed up he'd be if Steve was the one who fell off the train, how much he'd blame himself even if there was nothing he could have done to change things, and how hard it would have been to get by knowing he was gone. Sure, they have other friends and acquaintances, but it's not the same. They don't really have any other family. And all of it means he's a little more angry with himself for not doing something a little different, and a little more determined to see an inmate through to graduation.
It's why he's here. Sure, he wants to be alive again, but mostly, he wants to look out for Steve.
So Bucky catches the tail end of that look, and it's what sticks with him as Steve continues. Steve's still Steve, but there's an unfamiliar sad edge to him there that wasn't before there, and he wishes there was something he could do to help him beyond just being here and trying to remind him that he doesn't have to be Captain America all the time.
Of course he knows Steve's lying. (He'd know even if he wasn't wrapped up in how Steve probably hates all this just as much as he does, because it's not like he doesn't know Bucky's keeping things from him.) But he also knows he doesn't really mind being woken up, and that the rambling's supposed to try and smooth it over, and so Bucky sort of tries to smile.
It doesn't really work, but at least he tried.]
Sorry. [For a lot of things. But for waking him up, too.
Bucky takes another slow breath, and his grip on Steve's arm slackens a little, but he doesn't let go.] I'm okay.
[Which is a lie. He's really not, and he's not really up to pretending like he is, but he still says it.
And then he looks at Steve, brow furrowed a little.]
You're not beating yourself up about this, are you? [Asked in a tone that says "I absolutely know you are, cut that shit out."]
Spam forever sad
Instead, he winds up thinking of how messed up he'd be if Steve was the one who fell off the train, how much he'd blame himself even if there was nothing he could have done to change things, and how hard it would have been to get by knowing he was gone. Sure, they have other friends and acquaintances, but it's not the same. They don't really have any other family. And all of it means he's a little more angry with himself for not doing something a little different, and a little more determined to see an inmate through to graduation.
It's why he's here. Sure, he wants to be alive again, but mostly, he wants to look out for Steve.
So Bucky catches the tail end of that look, and it's what sticks with him as Steve continues. Steve's still Steve, but there's an unfamiliar sad edge to him there that wasn't before there, and he wishes there was something he could do to help him beyond just being here and trying to remind him that he doesn't have to be Captain America all the time.
Of course he knows Steve's lying. (He'd know even if he wasn't wrapped up in how Steve probably hates all this just as much as he does, because it's not like he doesn't know Bucky's keeping things from him.) But he also knows he doesn't really mind being woken up, and that the rambling's supposed to try and smooth it over, and so Bucky sort of tries to smile.
It doesn't really work, but at least he tried.]
Sorry. [For a lot of things. But for waking him up, too.
Bucky takes another slow breath, and his grip on Steve's arm slackens a little, but he doesn't let go.] I'm okay.
[Which is a lie. He's really not, and he's not really up to pretending like he is, but he still says it.
And then he looks at Steve, brow furrowed a little.]
You're not beating yourself up about this, are you? [Asked in a tone that says "I absolutely know you are, cut that shit out."]