Steve relaxes visibly. He smiles, shaking his head and patting Bucky hard on the shoulder so he doesn't start bursting into tears and hugging him all over again. "I have some cushions. For the chairs. We can put them on the floor like we were kids." He could take Bucky back to his room on the Bishop but it's so small. And a selfish, selfish part of him doesn't want to share this. Not yet. He just wants Bucky to himself.

He pulls away, getting the supplies and spreading them out for the night. "In the morning...we'll figure everything out. Introduce you around and everything. In the morning." Not yet. For now, it's just them. Just them and a small, interstellar art studio provided by their benevolent kidnappers.

Christ. Life here just got impossibly more complicated.