“Buuuuuuck.” Steve’s voice is a whine, and he knocks on the door again before he tries the bell. There’s no hesitation about knowing Bucky is there there. He can hear Penny, sure, but more than that, he can smell Bucky, his anxiety is already ticking up against the back of his neck. It’s uncomfortable and it makes him feel almost more desperate to get inside. “Bucky, please. I don’t know what I did, but I’m real sorry. I’m a whole lot better now, you know? I’m sorry I worried you!”

He’ll throw out whatever he can at this point because going home just seems so impossible. How can he go home when Bucky is in there?

He presses his forehead to the door and grumbles something nonsensical, about willing to wait if he has to. The floor is cold, concrete has always been his enemy in the fall and winter, but it feels pretty good for once, counteracting the burn in his skin and his now much too small clothes, pulling against sensitive flesh. He stretches out his legs and lets his head hit the back of the door.

He’ll be there all night if he has to. He’s already decided it.