Bucky eased down beside the camp-fire with a pained grunt. He was still sore from whatever they'd done to him in that lab. Sprinting through an exploding warehouse on jelly-legs and with a headache the size of New York hadn't helped. He'd be having nightmares about Nazis ripping their faces off and leering red skulls for a while, that was for sure.

They'd regrouped and counted heads just outside what was left of the compound a few hours ago. Then they'd started walking. It was slow going, with so many wounded and starved soldiers to look after, but it was progress. Still… they had a long way yet to go.

"You ok?" Steve's pale eyes were on him. He had that sad, I don't know what to do for you look. The same one he'd had when Bucky had resurfaced from the haze of pain and nothingness of the lab. It made him uncomfortable, so he waved it off. Besides, he honestly didn't know the answer to that…

"I leave you alone for couple'a months, and you turn into Superman…" Bucky deflected; wincing as he knocked back a shot of... whatever was in the dented steel flask someone had given him. Word had apparently gotten around of where he'd been found and everyone was treating him very, very carefully. Little gifts of candy, smuggled in from care-packages, and a flask of something strong and amber-colored had been collected for him. Nobody had come back from that lab alive until Bucky.

"I'm not Superman." Steve shifted uncomfortably.

He was apparently still not totally sure what to do with all of himself, now that there was so much of it. He normally faded into the spaces between; too small to notice. Now he was pretty hard to miss.

"I'm 'Captain America'."

Bucky snorted, almost choking.

"-Don't you dare laugh," Steve flushed, looking mortified. "I didn't come up with it!"

Bucky snickered behind the flask, coughing and taking another long gulp from it.

"-To be honest...up until today, I was a glorified show-girl…."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. "Whatever you say, kid. ...Not sure I want to see your can-can outfit. I'm just glad you showed up."

The liquor wasn't warming him the way he'd hoped. Maybe it was shock, or maybe the ground was just too damned cold through what remained of his fatigues. He leaned back against a tree, long since fallen and dead, trying to get comfortable.

Steve looked away.

"About that…. I might be in some trouble when we get back...I'm ...not technically supposed to be here at all."

"Wait… What?" Bucky's head snapped up. "...You went AWOL?!" This was serious. Steve was definitely going to be in for it now.

"Well… not exactly… I guess? Maybe?... It's complicated. Technically I'm only sort of a soldier so… I don't know? I was just supposed to entertain the troops, not… y'know… go rescue them." He finished lamely.

"God… Steve…"

He probably shouldn't've have been surprised that Steve, even the enormous, Greek-god version of him, just couldn't stay out of trouble. Crossing the US military was not quite on the same level as smart-mouthing the local roughs. He just wasn't so sure Steve understood the distinction.

"Not that I'm not really really glad to see ya, pal, but… oh man…"

"Yeah... I know." Steve hung his head, thick arms braced against his knees. It was clear he wasn't sorry... but he was worried. "I heard '107th, killed or captured' and I just, kinda… reacted.

They didn't think they'd be able to get in here without losing more guys than they'd save, so they weren't going to do anything…

But, I couldn't…. I mean, there was a chance I could still find you, maybe get you out ...I had to do something."

Bucky was tired and the scared-little kid still lurking in Steve's voice, coming out of that huge body… it just made his head hurt. He couldn't wrap his brain around how he was going to get his friend out of this one, but he'd always managed before. He'd figure something out when he didn't feel so much like passing out.

He lurched awkwardly into a crouch with groan, waving away Steve's arm when the kid tried to help him up. He stretched his hands out over the fire.

"Y'know, for a while I used to think you were just a dumb little twerp, always picking fights with the big kids." Bucky remarked, eyes on the shifting light of the fire. "Never wanted to just back down and let it lie… After a while I thought, 'Nah, kid's not stupid. He's just got something to prove, that's all it is.' Now..." He raised his eyes with a faint smile. "Now, I think you're probably the bravest - stupidest - but definitely bravest, guy I ever met." Steve smiled shyly back. He still really wasn't used to praise.

"...I'm not so sure about this Captain America guy…" Bucky blew on his hands and rubbed them together. "But Steve Rogers? I like him alright."

Bucky shifted again, moving his weight from foot to foot. He couldn't seem to get warm enough and his head was pounding. He had so many needle holes in him and bruises on him, that there just didn't appear to be a way to get comfortable.

Everything was tender and sore, and he was freezing.

"Here." Steve tossed him the tattered up leather bomber jacket that he'd been wearing during the rescue. Bucky wanted to argue, but Steve barely seemed to notice the difference, despite the chill in the air. He didn't even shiver.

The top half of his obnoxious star-spangled uniform was clearly visible now, and it looked deeply out of place on the muscle-bound giant, who stood stirring up a camp-fire in the middle of German nowhere.

"What about you?" Bucky asked, shrugging gratefully into the battered leather and ignoring the burns and rips in it. He'd never been slight, but now he felt downright small. Steve's jacket was enormous. "Tights aren't exactly warm and toasty, I'm guessing."

"Side effect, I think." Steve shrugged. "I don't get cold like I used to."

"Must be nice." Bucky muttered, huddling into the jacket and pulling the collar up around his face. He pushed his feet as close to the fire as he dared. If he didn't know better, he'd almost have said the ice was in his veins instead of under his feet, and he didn't like the feeling one bit.