Steve gave Bucky a look that was just shy of rolling his eyes, in a fond way at least, that agreed to the compromise. "As long as you didn't waste too much time worrying over what to get, alright. Thank you."

Worrying about the perfect gift to buy Steve was probably better than a lot of the other worrying Bucky did, but Steve didn't want all that energy pointed his way. He'd rather Bucky pointed it toward helping himself, even knowing that his friend would find his way fastest through helping other people. Through helping Steve. That was who he'd always been, but pushing back against it was who Steve was, and the balance they managed to strike in the process was what worked for them.

"I took a look at the score right before you came in; I don't know if you want it on," he noted, amusement creeping into his voice. "The boys're getting their asses handed to them today."

Steve counted himself a Mets fan these days, only because the Dodgers had been stolen out from under them and no self-respecting fan would turn their local attentions to the Yankees. A game really was a game, he'd enjoy even his most hated team playing, but it was still painful to watch the team he did root for get thrashed the way they were. "Already down six in the fifth."