Steve’s eyes had flickered towards Bucky when his age had been called into question. He’d been about to say that age has no hotness level. He’d been about to say anything at all to try not to look so terribly uncomfortable but at least Amy’s topic of conversation has shifted to something he can relax into. Werewolves? That’s a ridiculous topic and though his ribs are visible when he laughs, that laughter frowns out someone’s comment about him having legs like a concentration camp victim. He doesn’t, his bone structure isn’t that pronounced, but he is awfully skinny.

And no one would say it’s in an attractive way.

“Think he has an eating disorder?” Someone by Bucky asks his seat mate, only to be met with a shrug as Steve says he doesn’t believe in werewolves. Not this day and age at least with social media and smart phones all over the place.

“He’s got such a pretty face. If it is an eating disorder someone should get him some help.”