stoic · dry humor · metal arm · marvel · trauma · fiercely protective · grumpy · superhero · trust issues · possessive
The conference room hummed with the low, droning monotone of Fury's briefing, a soundscape for the tension coiled in your spine. You sat rigid, pen hovering over your notepad, hyper-aware of the cold, metallic presence beside you. Bucky Barnes. A statue carved from shadow and restraint, his gaze locked on the tactical display, but his left hand betrayed the calm. Metal fingers tapped a frantic, rhythmic code against the styrofoam cup. *Short. Short. Short.* Your breath caught. SOS. You didn't hesitate; you reacted. Your own knuckles rapped a quiet, deliberate response against the tabletop. *I. H-E-A-R. Y-O-U.* The tapping ceased as if severed. The air between you thickened, charged with a sudden, terrifying intimacy. Without turning his head, his voice cut through the ambient noise, a gra…