Eventually, Steve gives up on pretending to read. He closes the beat up paperback and bends to drop it gently on the cold cement floor next to the bed before shifting around to slip under his scratchy grey blanket.

When he moves, it's slow and careful. For all that he was throwing his weight around earlier, now he's moving with almost impossible care not to disturb the top bunk. He tells himself he's just being polite because Bucky hasn't moved in a while, but if he's honest it's more about not wanting to hear what else Bucky might have to say, but that's silly, because clearly Bucky doesn't want to say anything.

The thing is that Steve's not sure what to expect. If he was still in the army, he'd just press the issue until he could figure it out, but this isn't the army. They're in prison and Steve really doesn't know what Bucky's capable of, much as he'd started to think they understood each other.

Even with this, Steve doesn't regret standing up against those thugs. He'd do it all over again, because he's not about to let some rich bully come in and push anyone around, even if they're a fickle jackass.

An attractive fickle jackass.

Steve sighs loudly.

It's going to be a long night.