[ He thinks it might have always been something he'd wanted to talk about since that day in the training room, but Steve isn't sure where to draw the line anymore. Things like this are always a choice he has to make for himself; if Steve presses, he wonders just how much it would take for Bucky to cave. He wonders if that's still something between them, if it's ever even left, and those few hours he'd felt safe right beside him when he hadn't known anything of the truth... Maybe he could ask. Maybe he could risk it. ]
Something like that. [ Steve moves from where he's standing to walk around him and sit on the edge of his bed. It's hardly big enough for him, so cramming two people in it might not be comfortable, but knowing he's there and okay negates that almost immediately. ] What do you think? [ He tries to keep his voice level, his face straight. Best not to hope too much when so many things are still unknown. ]
[ Bucky's response is quiet, tentative, but warm. There isn't very much that he will withhold from Steve even now -- because what the mind forgets, the heart remembers; and he had loved Steve enough to follow him into hell. It was not choice, it was something stronger and more powerful, the instinct to protect what he holds precious, no matter the personal cost.
Steve is what's precious, the knowledge of that buried under so much trauma and pain and anger -- and he is reminded of it now, a pleasant warmth in his chest he had long believed was dead. It had never left, not really. Dryly, he comments: ]
You sure the both of us can fit in there? [ Actually, he doesn't care. He'll probably squeeze right in there with him. ]
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Something like that. [ Steve moves from where he's standing to walk around him and sit on the edge of his bed. It's hardly big enough for him, so cramming two people in it might not be comfortable, but knowing he's there and okay negates that almost immediately. ] What do you think? [ He tries to keep his voice level, his face straight. Best not to hope too much when so many things are still unknown. ]
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[ Bucky's response is quiet, tentative, but warm. There isn't very much that he will withhold from Steve even now -- because what the mind forgets, the heart remembers; and he had loved Steve enough to follow him into hell. It was not choice, it was something stronger and more powerful, the instinct to protect what he holds precious, no matter the personal cost.
Steve is what's precious, the knowledge of that buried under so much trauma and pain and anger -- and he is reminded of it now, a pleasant warmth in his chest he had long believed was dead. It had never left, not really. Dryly, he comments: ]
You sure the both of us can fit in there? [ Actually, he doesn't care. He'll probably squeeze right in there with him. ]