"You said you wanted to watch it," Bucky insists quietly, trying to arrange Zemo's hair. It's honestly an impressive overnight growth, thick and silky soft to the touch, but it looks like it might need an extra ten minutes in the morning to tame. He gives it a few testing, furtive touches, rubbing between his fingers without pulling on it like Steve might knead on the bed.

"You'll have to tell me what it's about." He's not necessarily tired but he is in that floating, winding down phase, the stress of the day and the sex and everything else starting to pull him into a satisfied, quiet lull.

"Mm..." He nuzzles and nudges against Zemo's shoulder with his nose, kissing and nipping gently at the soft, unmarked, sensitive skin. "I'm guessing you don't mean Oeznik..." Or Steve. Who might, at the most, sit on the edge, glare at the bubbles until he thinks it's safe to stick the tips of his claws into just the rippling white surface, and then try and lick all that water and chlorine off his paw pads... Hopefully curiosity won't kill this cat.