Although Steve's body didn't seem to want to budge, his eyes took in every inch of the boy in front of him. Steve had seen Bucky everywhere, those first few months. He would catch a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and then turn to look properly, and find a stranger, with hair or shoulders or lips like Bucky's, and a little part of him would die inside. It was that same part that expected the image in front of him to fade any second now, into something other than what he was seeing.
But this Bucky didn't fade away. His brow furrowed the right way, his lip worried between his teeth... there was nothing about this Bucky that wasn't HIS Bucky.