It was Bucky’s idea, which tends to be how most of their nights out start.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Bucky says as he cuffs the back of Steve’s neck, hand squeezing briefly before slipping loose. “It’s easy. I’ll be right here with you.”

Of course, it’s easy for Bucky to say that. People tended to be charmed by him. When Steve walks into a bar like this, eyes skate right past him and land directly on the man to his side. It’s not like Steve feels hard done by — Bucky’s the kind of guy you see at the pictures. It’s hard not to notice him.

Doesn’t make him feel any less ridiculous when Bucky drags him to a table right in the centre of the room, flashing him an easy grin as they both settle down. Steve doesn’t want people feeling sorry for him, hates the hesitation shown by all the dates Bucky sets him up on as soon as they see him.

You’re a real good guy, Steve, but…

“Buck.” Steve sighs, exasperated. Protests are already forming on his tongue before Bucky slides a drink over to him, which he just stares at in turn.

“I’m only back home for two weeks, I wanna drink with you.” Bucky says, nudging Steve with his elbow. “Something happens, or it doesn’t. We can do whatever you want tomorrow. Humour me, Steve.”

Steve’s hopeless when it comes to his best friend, which is only made obvious with the way the tension bleeds out of his shoulders as he nods, finger tracing the rim of his glass. “Yeah. Alright.”

“Atta boy.”

When Steve glances over at Bucky from the corner of his eye, he’s met with a blinding grin. Bucky sips at his drink, chin jerking briefly towards someone stalking towards the two of them to draw Steve’s attention to the figure.