Bucky is in the kitchen a little later that morning, putting together breakfast the old fashioned way. He's got enough eggs and bacon for three people sizzling away on the stove, and he's humming parts of an old song. If not for the raw, red skin scraped off his knuckles, and the shadows under his eyes, he would seem perfectly normal.

He's not really expecting company, but sometimes one of the ladies will drop in, so when he hears the shuffling sound of someone entering the kitchen, he turns, a half-smile already on his lips.

Well, definitely not a lady.

He never ended up running into Sam Wilson after he first arrived. Steve had spent so much time dodging questions, eventually Bucky had just convinced himself it would be another dead end, and there was no point in harassing some guy who was trying to recover. After he found out why Steve had spent so long dodging questions, he'd thought it was better if he just stayed out of the way. Frankly, though, that was never gonna last forever.

He turns fully, and rubs the back of his neck. What's he even supposed to say in a situation like this? Nice to see you walking around, sorry the future version of me tried to kill you?

"Uh. Hey." Real smooth, Buck.