It's fine, it's fine. Something eases in his chest with the tap. Bucky's okay, for whatever loose definition of 'okay' exists here. But Steve tilts his head at the answer, confusion darting briefly across his face.

"You've always worried about me. It's ... always. I'm just better at getting out of trouble," he adds, although the opposite is also true. He's much better at getting into trouble. In case his friend hasn't noticed. He frowns. "It's okay to yell at me, pal. You've always done that too."