(Steve's POV)
"I'm going to call it a night." I said, yawning and stretching as I stood up from the sofa.
"Alright. Goodnight Steve." Bucky said, barely glancing away from the TV.
"Night, Buck." I mumbled, yawning again, the effects of lack of sleep taking me over. I tugged my shirt over my head, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I heard Bucky's laugh from the living room. He seemed a lot more like himself since the last time we'd spoken, before he'd been frozen again. But he was hiding something. A hint of fear swirled behind his eyes, something most people wouldn't have noticed. But knowing someone for years, you learned to pick up the subtle hints that something was wrong. I couldn't blame him for not being one hundred percent his old self. He'd been through so much, I was surprised he could still smile. I climbed into bed, immediately feeling my eyes starting to close. I yawned, pulling the blankets up over me, falling asleep almost straight away.
I woke up in the middle of the night to a light knocking on my bedroom door. I sat up slowly, walking towards the door and yawning.
"Bucky?" I asked as I opened the bedroom door.
"Steve, can we talk?" Bucky asked, looking at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Yeah, of course." I replied, grabbing my shirt from my bed and tugging it over my head before meeting him in the living room, finding him sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I just wanted to talk." He replied, glancing up at me.
"Anything in particular?" I asked, sitting in the arm chair facing him.
"Something that'll take my mind off what's currently going on in there." He said, tapping the side of his head with his metal hand.
"How about that time you got so drunk you started flirting with a light post?" I asked, watching a small smile start to play on his lips.
"Punk. How about that time you took one drink and passed out?" He said, laughing quietly at the memory.
"Jerk." I laughed, sitting back in the arm chair.
"What? It's only the truth!" He laughed, folding his hands behind his head.
"True, true." I replied, laughing softly and looking over at him.
"Or that time I threw your sleeping bag up into a tree when we went camping as kids. That was quite funny." He said, smirking over at me.
"That was most certainly not fun for me." I sighed, shaking my head and playing with the edge of a cushion. "You made me try and climb for it."
"Yes I did. But then my mother made me go and retrieve it." He said, still grinning at me.
"Because I tried for about an hour to try and get it and couldn't get more than a meter off the ground." I replied, laughing quietly. "I'd probably be able to get it now, though."
"You probably would. I should throw something into a tree tomorrow and see if you can get it." He said as he looked around my apartment, eyeing the back-pack sitting by the door.
"Don't you dare." I warned, raising an eyebrow at him.
"I won't, I won't!" He laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Good." I laughed. "You are such a child, sometimes."
"I'm aware." He replied, throwing his head back and laughing. I shook my head, fighting back a yawn.
"Anything else you want to annoy me about?" I asked, glancing at the time.
"Nah, I'm good." He replied, yawning and stretching. "I think I'm going to head back to bed."
"Alright. So will I." I said, standing and walking back towards my bedroom. "Goodnight, Bucky."
"Night, Stevie." He replied as I shut my bedroom door, climbing back into bed and sighing softly. 'I was right, he's not completely himself.' I thought as I drifted off to sleep for the second time that night.