And have a piece of Bucky waking up over here…
“Seb!” Hands on him, arms cradling him; he tensed, but he knew that voice. Saying the wrong name, and wobbling with fear, but he knew it. “Sebastian? Oh god—Seb—no, no, you can’t be, you aren’t—help, someone help us, please—”
Bucky opened his eyes and said, “Steve?” because Steve sounded heartbroken, terrified, confused, and that couldn’t be right. “Steve, you okay?”
“Steve—” Crying splintered off, astonished. Steve stared at him. “Seb, I—do you know who I am? This isn’t funny…”
under him. More accurately, a body under him: strong arms cradling him. Steve
didn’t look right. Not because of the fear, either. Bucky shoved himself
upright, heart hammering in his throat. Blank amazed hotel walls watched them,
silently memorizing the tale for themselves.