This wasn’t the first time that Bucky was acting strangely. Steve had noticed it the first time about a week prior, but this time seemed different, more serious. It was disconcerting, to not know what was going on with his friend, to wonder what exactly it was that was bothering him. They used to share everything (well, mostly everything) and he’d sort of thought that they’d been getting back to something like that here. Steve didn’t want to be wrong, not about that.
But he’d waited for Bucky to just tell him and it hadn’t happened. He didn’t think he could wait anymore.
He’d never quit managed getting to sleep, had just stared up at the ceiling until it had gone completely dark in their shelter and then had given up. He grabbed the first shirt he could find (Bucky’s) and pulled it on before heading outside. Or, well, to the doorway anyway, which he leaned against, watching his friend in front of their little fire pit. “Chickens giving you any trouble?” he asked.