Some part of Steve distantly noted that Bucky was just as poorly put together as he was, dressed in flannel pants and a sweater - a soft gray that turned black almost immediately once it came into contact with the rain. The smart thing to do would have been to head into one of their houses to get out of the storm, but neither one of them made any move to do so, minds too taken up with other concerns.
The sheer bullheadedness in Bucky's expression would have done Steve proud, if it hadn't been directed at him. This was a Bucky who was more than prepared to dig his heels in and shout himself blue in the face. Unfortunately for him, Steve was prepared to do the same, and he had more practice in it.
"I volunteered," Steve fired back. "I'm in this out of my own free will, while you didn't - you didn't have a choice." He gave Bucky a furious, helpless shake, feeling like he was already at the end of this rope, because it was so obvious that Bucky wasn't going to listen to him.
"Besides," Steve added, and his eyes were steely, his mouth a tight, rigid line. "Do you really think Stane would just sit back and let you volunteer for me? You realize this fucking Quell is all on me, right? I finally did it, I finally stepped too far over the line, and now Stane's got a perfect chance to get rid of me, once and for all. He won't let it be you, Buck. Not when he wants it to be me."
Steve's words were full of conviction, not a trace of doubt in them as he stared Bucky down. Because this was the truth, he knew it in his bones. Steve was dangerous, had always been dangerous, and Stane had finally decided to do something about it.