Steve had honestly figured that Bucky would resist the attempt to pick him up, would maybe just brace his hands on his shoulders and push himself up that way -- so when he actually goes along with it there's a split second where Steve isn't sure what to do. Bucky's arms looping around his shoulders makes it simple enough, though, and Steve straightens up, not caring that Bucky's dripping all over the place.

He'll clean it up later.

It would probably look ridiculous to anyone who saw them right now, Steve carrying a grown man with an imposing metal arm and a build to match it. That arm adds a lot to Bucky's weight too, but Steve barely feels it and there's something nice about realizing that he's strong enough to carry him around like this -- daintily, even.

Given everything that Bucky's done, the crimes that he sees himself responsible for, this is something entirely out of left field. But that's part of why Steve did it. Small actions like this should go a long way to helping Bucky feel human again.

"You didn't ruin it," Steve says with an exaggerated sigh as he steps out of the bathroom and over to the bed. He sets Bucky down and tries not to be so gentle about it that he takes offense. Once he's laid out there, Steve fixes him with a fond smile, the kind he used to give him when Bucky told a joke and Steve didn't want to admit it was funny. "I'm glad you came over. Really." They may have argued some, but maybe they needed to.