Steve felt like he had to sit on his hands, and the next best thing to that was to shove them into the pockets of his jeans. This whole thing was surreal and if he had been any other man, he might have thought that he was actually dead. This couldn’t be heaven and he didn’t think he qualified for Hell, unless the Bible got it all wrong and evil as he knew it had turned upside down. This seemed a little subdued for demonic torture anyway. And Bucky was the last person Hell would ever let inside.

Breathing hurt again for an entirely different reason. Leave it to Bucky, even this Bucky, to insist that he ate. It was like they were teenagers again and Bucky purposefully claimed he was full from lunch (despite having two hollow legs in which his food could disappear) so Steve could have some of his sandwich.

“You’ve got to eat too,” Steve said, making use of useless hands to grab the bag of room temperature burgers and offer one yellow and red wrapped monstrosity to his old friend.