Jason's awake before the first crack sounds across the grass, eyes open and mind ill at ease for no reason at all, except perhaps his unique talent for being there for all the worst moments of Bucky's life. At the sounds of a crash, he's out of bed and at the window, but he doesn't go any further until the noise has shifted to the sloshing of a bottle.

He should get Steve. He would, but the last time Jason took off running, he'd almost gotten Steve shot, and that still feels worse than the new scar running the length of Jason's head. He pads out barefoot and with no gauntlets. If Bucky's not himself again, it won't matter what Jason arms himself with anyway.

The grass is sparse but wet with the dawn, and Jason curls his toes in it when he comes to a stop in front of Bucky's porch, watching with wary eyes as he takes another pull.