[It was less withdrawing and more trying not to keep an argument going that he hadn't wanted to happen in the first place. This wasn't court. Bucky wasn't a jury or a judge, opposing counsel or a client. He was his lover. His partner. And he was reacting to the idea of losing him instead of enjoying that he was back. He was an idiot.

He felt the hand tug at his sleeve, his wrist turning so he could let his fingers slide up over Bucky's.]

I know. I love you too. I'm... reacting badly to the idea of someone trying to take a shot. I suppose since I'm your first, ah, male lover, I'm... just reacting poorly to the notion that you might miss women.