The idea of some random, forgotten thermometer being shoved into his mouth is not one that Steve Rogers honestly wants to contemplate right now. He gives Bucky the side eye, though a particularly poignant whine from behind the bedroom door does draw his attention. He feels badly and vindicated at the same time. He’s always been like that, though, guilty as it makes him feel, whenever Bucky’d choose him over a girlfriend. Being Bucky’s number one is a matter of pride, and also part of the reason Steve’s never minded being a loner. How can you be a loner when the coolest guy you know likes you better than everyone else?

“Forget the thermometer. I want to know what you were doing to me to wake me up,” he teases, a brighter, bluer shine to his eyes than there ought to normally be. “And I want to know if there’s photographic evidence that you’re going to upload to Twitter so that I can prepare myself for the onslaught of social media trolls.”

He also wants to mention, again, that he’s hungry. That he could probably eat Penny up right now. And that it’s perfectly reasonable for him to do so. He just props his elbow on the back of the couch and drops his temple to it, smirking.