It takes him such a long time to answer, at first Bucky's afraid he's pulled on strings too sore to be pulled. He's not exactly streaming rainbows from the rafters, but he's been comfortable with himself long enough that dropping the hard G word doesn't phase him so much. He's had a few fistfights for it, but more or less it leaves him so comfortable in his own skin he forgets to be sensitive about the skin of others.

So he doesn't break eye contact, tries his best to school is features into something that suggests he'll take an answer either way and not give Steve hell for it, and isn't disappointed by when he gets it.

With it comes a subtle rush of relief and, right behind it, guilt. Why the hell was it any of his god damn business anyway, and why the hell would he let it come rushing out of his mouth like that? Top that off with a dash of "just because he's interested in men doesn't mean he's interested in you," and it's got him pressing his lips together tight.

Slowly, inscrutably, carefully, he nods.

...and goes back to scrubbing, because it's about ten times easier than this conversation or looking Steve Rogers in the eyes.

Christ Almighty, can it be lights out already? Can he go back in time and un-have this conversation? If he were the type to imagine an ideal scenario for how this talk came about, he doesn't think a single bit of it has happened so far here.