“You’re here,” Steve immediately complains, still leaning against the door as he looks up over the top of his head at the man glaring down at him. “You shouldn’t be alone. It’s not safe. I told you I was attacked, like four stops over on the subway.”

What Steve can do to protect Bucky, sitting outside, unarmed, and as scrawny as he is, is probably not something he’s really listed out. It’s not important.

Wanting to get out his clothes, however, is.

“Can I borrow a shirt? Mine is being weird,” he complains, as if this is a normal thing. He can smell something on Bucky that is starting to really agitate him, too. It makes him scratch at his chest, causing a button to finally give up the good fight and burst. The bit of plastic skitters to the ground and rolls down the stairs.