Steve looks at Bucky for a moment, a long, searching glance, then turns a little away, stroking his hand over his bearded chin.
Too proud to reach out. That would explain why the burner phone Steve keeps, just in case of emergency, never rings. But then, Steve hasn't reached out either.
It's not the same, he argues to himself. Tony would arrest them. He'd have to, now. He's the one who has to bend first. God knows Steve's given him more chances than he probably deserves.
... but that thought still leaves a bad-tasting film of guilt in his mouth, and he glances back at Bucky. "Maybe," he admits.
"I don't know, Buck. A lot's happened. Maybe there's nothing to fix between me and Tony anymore."
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Too proud to reach out. That would explain why the burner phone Steve keeps, just in case of emergency, never rings. But then, Steve hasn't reached out either.
It's not the same, he argues to himself. Tony would arrest them. He'd have to, now. He's the one who has to bend first. God knows Steve's given him more chances than he probably deserves.
... but that thought still leaves a bad-tasting film of guilt in his mouth, and he glances back at Bucky. "Maybe," he admits.
"I don't know, Buck. A lot's happened. Maybe there's nothing to fix between me and Tony anymore."