"I don't know, either," Steve admits, quietly, and there's plenty of reverence, of respect, there. He wishes it hadn't been that way, but it had, and he doesn't know how Bucky did it - but he did, and that means a lot, too.

He relaxes just a little into B, even if he has to admit, "I really thought you should have. Wanted me to leave you alone." But B hadn't, and Steve hadn't been able to stay away without explicit instructions, so he guesses it worked out, if that's really how B had wanted it. "But it was nice. That you did want me around." Nice being a vast, gaping understatement. "That you gave me a chance to make up for it, even a little."

He lets out a breath, not wanting to argue about fault, because he knows they don't - and probably won't ever - see eye to eye on that. "I guess that's what we do, then. We stick around." For the people who need it.