Yanked from a sleep so fitful it's a wonder he wasn't awake already, Jason is up and out of the bed at Bucky's shout, flying across the room on feet wrapped in ridiculous, footed pajamas.

Wrenching open a dresser that's foreign and familiar all at once, he pulls a gun into his hand, noting from the weight as much as anything that it's not at all the one he means it to be.

"What?" he chokes out, back to the wall beside a door he doesn't recognize, ears cocked again for Bucky. Tentatively, Jason turns the doorknob and risks a quick look out. "What is this? Bucky?"