It was a dumbass kind of thing, letting himself get that worked up and happy over a drug he hadn't wanted to take, that he'd ended up on in public. Bucky knew that. It had been dice rolling, he could have ended up puking like Stark, or turned on like Steve, or whatever else the food had done.
But instead he'd felt good. And Bucky hadn't even remembered what that was like well enough to daydream about it. It had been fantastic, and yeah, he'd been stupid about it, but Bucky had enough things to hate himself over. He'd take the buzz for a night. Even if Steve had done a pretty good job crashing it later.
But it was pretty thoroughly gone by the time Bucky made it to see Scott, and he was himself again - for better or worse. He'd slept though, and for once he looked less rough than Scott. Bucky's eyebrows lifted when Scott let him in, looking him over carefully. "Still at the cleaners," he said, deadpan. "But I'll run out and get it for you in an hour, sweetheart."
He waited for the door to shut behind them, then Bucky relaxed a little - they were private enough here. Much as they ever were. "You all right?" Bucky asked. He'd come over, had a couple of bag with decent food in it for them - but if Scott was having a rough day, he could make himself scarce. Fuck knew Bucky still had enough of them.