Bucky snorted. "Live the dream, Barton," he said, fingers gripping Clint's shoulder for a second, giving a playful, soft little rock before settling again, letting Clint pet at Moo.
"We can use mine. When you feel like moving again. The warden can talk to me if he's pissed," Bucky said lightly. But he wasn't in any rush to move either. It was nice, and Clint looked like he was half dead. He could just lie around for a while. But if he wanted out of here for a while, Bucky would take him. The guy wasn't a prisoner, and Bucky would face down Steve over it.
"Yeah well. Would you believe it if she'd told you?" Bucky asked. He doubted it. They were all very different people, but they seemed to have a few of the same tics. It was hard to believe anyone would sincerely give a damn about you when you knew just how cheap your life had been, and how much or little it was worth now. He gave Clint a light squeeze with the arm wrapped around him. "I'm sorry too."
Bucky leaned his head back. "Not really looking for advice. It just ... is." It was background noise. Just something that existed for Bucky and not something that needed to be addressed. "But I grew up with the guy. I know all his flaws. I could write you a list. It'd get long. Cats and cows wouldn't even make it toward the middle." It was just one of those things though. Bucky saw Steve as good, he always had. That didn't mean he didn't see all the things about him that were wildly irritating. Bucky got annoyed about those things all the time, back when things between them were still solid. They just were still part of the whole and thus Bucky thought he kind of loved them, too.
Which was just ridiculous. No one should love that someone would pick a fight at the drop of a hat as much as Bucky did.
"I'd give you advice, but I know fuck all about any of it," Bucky said. "Keep the goat. That's my advice." Because he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how Natasha felt, if Clint should talk to her, if he shouldn't. And he wouldn't presume to try to figure it out enough to tell someone else what to do. Adult relationships between people with issues and damage - they were a lot different than going around with a few girls when you were 16. Bucky wouldn't even begin to know how to navigate that.
But a dog around would be good. Even if how tiny and fragile she was sometimes still made Bucky afraid for her, having Moo to focus on was ... good. Trouble could probably be that brand of good. He might not even eat books.