Just as he's starting to maybe be okay with Barton - not trust, but maybe, just maybe, he's growing to be okay with the idea of trusting him - the man suggests they go back and it makes him anxious and wary all over again.
Steve doesn't want to go back. At all. Okay, that's only mostly true. The more he thinks about it the more the conflicting and confusing feelings return, his mind already warring with itself, trying to convince him of one thing while he feels another. The fear unable to quiet the part of him that felt safe with the others, the part that wants to trust them (that does trust them), that wants to know Bucky and Sam are okay, that they haven't been idiots. Though, half the problem is those are the thoughts that do agree with keeping his distance.
But Barton is injured, so Steve convinces himself he's doing this to see the man to the safety of the camp before heading off again himself. Him and and the horse, they could make it on their own.
He nods his ascent to being ready, turning over the closed folding knife in his hands. It was the only way for him to trust the man behind him like this. Twice he had insisted on riding behind instead and both time he fell off, his arms too weak to keep hold on such a bumpy ride. So, this seemed the best - only - solution, even if Steve felt vulnerable like this, he was okay so long as he could see both of Barton's hands. The knife was just a safety precaution.
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Steve doesn't want to go back. At all. Okay, that's only mostly true. The more he thinks about it the more the conflicting and confusing feelings return, his mind already warring with itself, trying to convince him of one thing while he feels another. The fear unable to quiet the part of him that felt safe with the others, the part that wants to trust them (that does trust them), that wants to know Bucky and Sam are okay, that they haven't been idiots. Though, half the problem is those are the thoughts that do agree with keeping his distance.
But Barton is injured, so Steve convinces himself he's doing this to see the man to the safety of the camp before heading off again himself. Him and and the horse, they could make it on their own.
He nods his ascent to being ready, turning over the closed folding knife in his hands. It was the only way for him to trust the man behind him like this. Twice he had insisted on riding behind instead and both time he fell off, his arms too weak to keep hold on such a bumpy ride. So, this seemed the best - only - solution, even if Steve felt vulnerable like this, he was okay so long as he could see both of Barton's hands. The knife was just a safety precaution.
"As I'll ever be."