Steve nods - well. To the first part.

"Amends circuit?" he's got to ask, because he can guess, he can even do so with some degree of certainty. He also knows how he feels about the need to be on said circuit in the first place, whatever it involves, but he keeps his mouth shut until he hears more because it's not like it'll be anything Bucky hasn't heard before.

It might be worth saying it again, but - he'll have to see.

Steve's face does... something, like he's trying not to frown and it's not really working overly well. Sure, it makes sense, that Bucky should see someone, talk to someone, who at least knows what it's like to be a soldier. So, that part seems okay, sure.

But the rest of it? Steve doesn't think Bucky owes anybody an apology, which is maybe why the whole frowning-trying-not-to-frown thing he's got going on. He gets trying to stop people that HYDRA might have enabled, through the use of the Winter Soldier.

He also knows that Bucky takes it much more personally, and nothing Steve can ever say will change his mind.

"Is that... helping, then?"

"Sam's a smart guy," Steve admits softly, trusting that input, because Sam's been here, and Steve hasn't. And Sam, he knows, better than some court-mandated therapist who's probably fine, but he can't be sure. Maybe he's learned to be a little wary, after SHIELD turned out to be half-rotted from the inside out, and not even Nick Fury had caught on.

But, "Is... being of service to people what you want to do?" He knows there's duty, and responsibility, and if Bucky feels responsible, then maybe that's what he needs to do. Hell, if Bucky feels lost -

"When I, uh." Steve glances away, ends up jiggling one leg a little, then stops. "When I woke up. And I didn't have anything. Or know anybody. I wanted to still be of service."

Hell, he'd jumped at the opportunity, whether it had meant fighting aliens or making (horrible, cringe-worthy) PSAs. It had been something to do. It had been some good he could still do.

Hell. He'd done the same thing after the snap, hadn't he.

Maybe he's just trying to say that he gets it. Sometimes that's what you need, when you have nothing left.

But Bucky doesn't have nothing left, anymore.

Anything, Steve wants to say, but he's got no leg to stand on, and he knows it. He had been at a loss, too. So he had kept doing what he'd known. What he'd been good at. What he'd been made to do.

It's always easier to argue when it's someone else, and Bucky has always been an exception to nearly every hard-and-fast rule in Steve's life, but still. He doesn't argue for now.

"Yeah, that... seems like something we should deal with," he says, sighing, running a hand down his face. "I mean, maybe I messed something up, I'm not exactly a physicist or whatever." Maybe it really was him, for all he knows. But maybe it wasn't. And if it wasn't, then they need to figure out who it was, and why. "I... don't exactly have a phone," Steve admits, although he's sure Bucky does. "But if you need me to make the call, I can."

Steve would... probably be okay if Sam wants to yell. He'd probably be justified. Of course, a hug would be pretty justified, too.

He nods, watching as Bucky paces away a few steps to call, doing his best not to overhear more than necessary. It's maybe not surprising, though, that Bucky - with virtually the same super soldier hearing as Steve - doesn't need his phone speaker turned up so damn loud, so he really can't hear much other than the murmur of another voice on the other end of the line.

He feels, maybe for the first time, really, since his return, a bit awkward and out of place, clasping his hands in his lap and trying not to wring them. He's never been much of a fidgeter, but it's been known to happen. Fortunately, it's not that long of a conversation, even as his lips twitch up a little at already checked for face masks and you wanna see him or what.

He glances up at Bucky when the call ends, letting the silence linger for as long as he can manage before he finally asks, "So. We're clearing out of here?"

Well, if they're heading out, Steve might as well stand up while Bucky takes care of cleaning up. "Well, lucky for him, you're not hallucinating - so I'm sure I'll give him a better target for his worry as soon as he gets here, and you'll be in the clear."

Still, he doesn't really like the fact that he'd worried anyone at all. This wasn't supposed to happen in the first place. But hey, that's just life, he supposes. Most of the shit they've faced is like that.

"So - can I bum a ride?" Steve asks, trying for a little levity, as one corner of his lips turn up in a wry smile. "Or are you gonna make me walk and think about what I've done?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I don't mind that you're driving." It might be a little weird? But not bad.

Which already has him thinking about some things, even as Bucky shuts the door and asks if he's okay. Because - "What? Yeah, of course." He sort of spreads his hands, as if trying to pass inspection. "I'm good."

Physically, sure. But -

But he's been on his own for a long time. Because this mission? This mission was absolutely not one he could bring anyone else in on. It's not that he isn't used to being alone. It's not that he can't handle it.

But suddenly, he feels every second of it. And maybe every second of that exhaustion, too, that Bucky's imagining.

"Yeah," he repeats, offering Bucky a smile that's small, but real. "Better, now." For a lot of reasons.

"Okay," Steve agrees; it's quiet, but it's confident. He may still feel a little adrift, with so many people gone. But there are others still right here - and he's not going to let them go so easily.

Especially not this particular one.

He descends the steps and pauses to pick up the hammer. He probably could've - should've, technically - returned it. But nothing appears to have imploded from the fact that he hadn't. And... he still could. Maybe later. He doesn't want to leave again for a while. A long while. "Let's see if your motorcycle's worthy." He'll follow Bucky's lead from here, climbing on behind him and yeah, okay - maybe it'll be nice just to hold on to Bucky for a while. Remind him - them both, maybe - that he's here.

Honestly, not talking for a little while is pretty great. It gives Steve time to try to process what's going on - at least, what little information he has about what's going on - and prepare himself for a world, a Sam, where he was gone for much longer than intended, and people have clearly moved on. Where some version of himself, or whoever the hell that was, basically told them to.

So if he just presses himself up against Bucky's back and breathes and tries to organize his circling mind into some semblance of order... hey. That's not a terrible way to spend the ride.

Plus, he hasn't been in Brooklyn much, these days. It is different, and that still makes him uncomfortable, but it's also just something he's got to accept. It's a little easier, he has to admit, with Bucky right here.

He climbs off the bike once they stop, smiling crookedly at the stairs. "I think I can handle it." He debates just leaving the hammer - not like anyone can steal it - but given their lives, he doesn't want to leave it down here in case something goes to shit upstairs. Which he really, really hopes it doesn't. But you never know. So he digs it out and gets moving up the stairs, although he'll have to pause to let Bucky pass him once they reach the right floor, since Steve doesn't know which door they're aiming for.

"I never could bring myself to move back here," he says, quietly, meaning it as a compliment, if anything. Bucky's always been better at adapting than Steve, he thinks.

Steve chooses to ignore the first part for a moment; he can think of any number of reasons he might have suggested Bucky come back to Brooklyn, and he can also too easily say I couldn't come back here because it wasn't the same without you, but -

"Is that what you'd do? Go back to Wakanda, I mean." If he could.

It does sound a little forced, but Steve also doesn't want to push -

Well. Until: "You're not a charity case," he says - immediate, firm. Okay, yeah, call him a hypocrite; Steve doesn't like asking for help, and he can't blame Bucky for not liking it, either. But he'd needed help getting his feet back under him. Even if he wants to call what he'd received in Wakanda charity... it's not anymore, is it?

Especially not if he's helping Sam. "And you're kicking back and living off the man the rest of the time, huh?" Steve says, in a tone that says he very much doubts that's what's happening at all.

So: Not charity, buddy.

There it is, there's the real honest truth, Steve thinks, because Bucky had said amends circuit before, and how he ought to be of service, but that one sentence feels a lot more honest and upfront than the rest of it, somehow.

And the rest of it? Yeah. Steve knows how that feels. He remembers how it felt, being given an apartment and a charge card and a laptop and nothing but time. At least, until the Tesseract had gone missing.

"Well, the man could do to let you have an easy life for a little while," he decides, but now they seem to be here, and he follows Bucky down the hall, suddenly feeling almost weird, thinking about seeing Sam again. It's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that -

It's just that Steve's been here before. Suddenly back in a world that's moved on without him. It's nowhere near as extreme as the first time, of course. But it still sends a wave of discomfort and an unstoppable feeling of being distinctly out of place through him, and he feels like he's floundering for a minute, before he pulls himself together again.

It's just Sam. His other best friend. He'd missed him. It'll be fine.