Bucky makes a noise like a hum, tipping his head so it's resting against Steve. This is comforting, and right. Probably one of the only things in the world he knows for certain is complete right, something he wants. "Yeah," he agrees, even if he's just murmuring it, even if it's hardly audible. This is comforting, in a way so few things have been for so long. "You've been my home for a long time now."

He brushes a hand along Steve's back, smiling. "Even back in Brooklyn." He breathes in a contented noise, eyeing Steve with a playful smile, even if the angle means he probably won't be able to see it. "If we moved in together, what kinda furniture would you want to have?"

It's domestic of him, sure, but it's something he wants to think about.