Bucky's so busy staring at the place that Steve slips from his grasp a little more easily than he'd like. It's... nice, actually. It's what he would have wanted for Steve; he can definitely recognize Steve's hand in some of the pieces he spots first.

But he can let that twist up his stomach - on top of everything else - later. Right now, there's still a very drunk Steve to deal with. Bucky definitely wants to ask what the hell he's going on about - Steve's been dead, how is he not anymore? - but now is definitely not the time.

He steps up, hand snaking back around Steve's waist, so he can get him inside, and not just leaning in the doorway. "Yeah," he says quietly, once he's got Steve in a good grip. "I guess it does, doesn't it?"

He won't say out loud how good Steve calling him Buck feels. How good being able to look at his face, drunk though he is, and see his best friend alive in there feels. How guilty he feels, because... what if he was wrong? What if Steve wasn't dead? What if they hadn't looked long or hard enough? What if - ?

He can worry about the damn what-ifs later, he tells himself. "Where am I setting you down? And where can I get you some water?" The questions are gentle, but still brook no argument. Ideally.