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Foreheads pressed together, shadows flitting across their faces in the glint of candlelight, small snippets drift to the front of Bucky's mind.
The body that caresses his own is large, unusually large, swaying the pair to the beat of the music. It's almost unrecognisable from the resurfaced memory of his small, weak boyfriend from the before.
But with his eyes closed and his head pressed to the others', his pine and oak scent overwhelms his senses. One he'd be able to recognise in a heartbeat.
A fragment of a memory greets him with a smile - Steve. His own Steve Rogers.