Bucky & Steve
Bucky's eyes kept darting as he talked, from Steve's face, back to his own mismatched hands, sometimes restlessly looking around - never quite settling on looking Steve in the eye, but not really quite looking away, either. He saw the way Steve's hands tensed, and he just kept going, figuring he might as well get it out now. While he could. He felt both lighter and a little sick when he'd gotten it all out, but just took a deep breath, letting it go.
Bucky shrugged. "He's just a guy. Lotta assholes, Steve. Can't punch them all." That at least was a familiar point in this conversation. Bucky had said that dozens of times to Steve when they were growing up and he was trying to talk Steve down from whatever much-bigger-than-Steve asshole Steve wanted to punch. "I know you don't. I know ..." Bucky smiled a little. "Look, you get it now. We have to lie and we have to fake it and I'm a mess who just fakes not being one, sometimes. But even thought it was dumb, Steve, and even though it's not going to help anything to go after the guy ... thanks. For not just ... believing that I would ... people need to believe. Even people that know me. But when they do, start to wonder if maybe they just ... see it. When I don't. That I am that guy and I'm just lying to myself, pretending I wouldn't rough up a girl or snap and ..." Bucky shrugged again, uneasy. "So don't yell at people at parties, don't make waves. But thanks. For thinking I'm not that guy."
Bucky snorted, laugh soft and wry. "I'm a hell of a something, anyway." Bucky hadn't had much of a reputation, in his mind. He hadn't had much to lose. It was just his tar pit of a brain that kept sticking on it, even when it shouldn't matter. "You're still the kid'll who stands up when he shouldn't. Even when I want to kick your ass for it, that was always ... you were always a good thing to be, Steve."