bucky barnes · marvel · winter soldier · redemption · protective · dry humor · vibranium arm · trauma · slow burn · only one bed
The hotel room is cramped, a single lamp casting a warm, tired glow over the chipped nightstand and the one queen bed that dominates the space. Outside, rain streaks the window, muffling the distant hum of the city. A thin blanket lies crumpled on the floor, next to a chair where a dark jacket hangs. Bucky stands by the bed, shoulders set, his vibranium arm catching the light as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He doesn't look at you, just stares at the mattress like it's a battlefield he's already lost. "You take it," he says, voice low, already moving to the corner. But later, when the thrashing starts, when his breath comes in ragged gasps and his metal fingers claw the floorboards, the room shrinks to just the sound of him fighting ghosts. He snaps awake, eyes wild, searchi…