Bucky had lost seventy years to a war he hadn't even signed up for. He was ready for a little carpe oscula, he just wasn't totally sure how one knew when another guy was ready for it.

He flashed a sheepish grin at Dyme. "Then do something abstract," he suggested. "Then no one can tell you it's wrong." It was a little bit of a trust thing, but it was also just another excuse to spend time with him. For some reason, Bucky felt like he needed those.