It was close to an hour later that Bucky stumbled drowsily into the bedroom. Natasha had put on the t-shirt he'd rinsed out earlier, which had dried before he woke up from his nightmare. Bucky hadn't bothered clutching a towel to himself once she turned her back. He crawled into bed naked, and scooted toward Steve, too warm and content to resist the urge to have someone in his arms.

"I can take the couch," Steve said in a wide-awake voice that startled Bucky into alertness.

"Nat's on the couch," Bucky said, because he didn't want to ask why Steve didn't want to sleep in the same bed, why he'd spoken before Bucky could even touch him. He didn't want to know.

There was a core of cold inside him, shattering the calm of that hour with Natasha. Steve had heard what he said, in the nightmare and after it. He hadn't slipped out of the bathroom until after Bucky talked about killing that other Natalia. He knew, and he didn't want to share a bed with Bucky now.

Steve made a little frustrated noise. "She could come in here. I'll sleep out there."

Bucky blinked and tried not to sound too much like he was begging. "Steve, it's not like--we're not--"

"I know," Steve said harshly. "Believe me, I know. But she's the one you needed tonight. I couldn't touch you, you didn't even know me."

Bucky stared at him for a moment. His eyes adjusted as he waited, showing him Steve's face in ever clearer detail, set in stubborn lines. Holding himself apart, holding on to his dignity. As if he were the one with something to lose, when he'd seen Bucky sobbing his guts out in the shower an hour ago. When he knew the worst thing Bucky had ever done.

"Steve," Bucky said slowly. "It was a nightmare. I wasn't even fully awake until after you left the room. But if I wanted to sleep with Natasha, her bed is a hundred yards away. We could have gone there."

Steve's tight posture softened by a few degrees, and Bucky scooted a couple of inches closer.

"Nat's on the couch because she wants to be close by if I have another nightmare. But I don't think I will, so I came back to bed where I belong. With you."

Steve's gaze searched his for a moment, softening further. His lips parted, and Bucky's heart beat faster, anticipating something big, something important.

But what Steve finally said was, "Turn the other way, you hate sleeping on your left side."

Bucky's lips twitched--of course that was all Steve would say. He rolled over obediently, putting his back to Steve and snuggling into his pillow. It was enough to have Steve in the same bed, it was--

He felt Steve moving closer a solid ten seconds before he actually made contact. Excruciatingly slowly, as though he constantly expected Bucky to bolt or push him away, Steve snuggled up to his back. He brushed a kiss against the nape of Bucky's neck, nuzzling through his nearly-dry hair to do it.

"Okay?" Steve murmured.

Bucky let out a long breath and sank back into the comfort of closeness, the drowsy warmth. He let himself sag back against Steve's body, molding to the angles and curves of him. Steve's arm settled over his waist, holding him close. Keeping him where they had both chosen to be.

"Okay," Bucky agreed. His own left arm curled protectively in front of his chest, but it was all right. His milk wouldn't come back in for hours yet. He could sleep as late as he wanted to here with Steve.