Bucky patted at Clint's shoulder. "Sure. Build some character, you could use that," he joked. "Pretty sure nothing's alive in 13 though - molemen all moved to 2." 13 was just a distant thing to Bucky, who hadn't heard what people said as often as someone else might the last few years. He wasn't the most approachable guy anymore, and conversations broke off around him if he wasn't in the Capitol. He figured whatever people said, 13 was just a ruin from a war they weren't old enough to remember as anything but a warning and a reason for their lives.
Bucky looked at him at that soft tone, the exhaled breath. "You'd want to. But you'd wonder." Maybe Natasha just felt safer without that in her life. It was easier to watch the angles when you didn't have to care.
Now that he remembered, Bucky thought she was probably shittier at staying aloof than she wanted to be, but it wasn't his place to think anything other than she'd been good to him, even before she was squaring a debt. "If you're calling the idea of it a miracle, you'd have trouble buying it too. But not really that miraculous. You're a good guy. And you're not a moleman. Wouldn't take a miracle for someone to love you. Maybe we're just in the wrong world for any of that to work." Scott didn't live with his life, Tony never settled with anyone. Most of them were lone kind of creatures. It might not be by choice, just a product of what they were. Hard to let down when the most formative experience of your life taught you anyone will try to fucking kill you.
"You went through the same thing I did. So not fair for you, either. So did everyone else. We're all fucked," Bucky said wryly. He knew he was different - he didn't handle it, he fell apart. But he didn't really like being that way. "But yeah. He's a good goat, didn't even try to chew on Moo. Hang on to him. Make his middle name James."