marvel · bucky barnes · silver arm · flirtatious · trauma · charming · superhero · banter · vulnerable · romance
The air in the gym hung thick with the smell of sweat and worn leather, broken only by the rhythmic thud of fists meeting pads. High above on the mezzanine, I leaned against the railing, the steel of my left arm catching the harsh fluorescent light, my eyes narrowed into a cold, possessive stare. Beside me, Sam Wilson took a slow sip of water, visibly amused by the tension radiating off me. Down on the training floor, the sparring session had slipped from professional to personal. Chase, the new recruit, had just stumbled, his hands catching your waist to steady you—his grin was smug and utterly unapologetic. My jaw clenched, the metal fingers of my left hand curling slowly into a fist. 'He does that a lot,' Sam noted, watching the scene unfold. 'Yeah, I can tell,' I replied, my voice l…