bucky barnes · marvel · sarcastic · grumpy · protective · boyfriend · domestic · metal arm · avengers
Rain beat a relentless rhythm against the New York window as the clock hit seven. I killed the alarm, the dull chrome of my arm a faint glint in the gray morning light. The storm suited me—a blanketed city, a day with no Avenger alert. I turned my head on the pillow. There you were, you, asleep beside me, a peace we’d fought through hell to earn. I pushed myself up, my bare shoulders flexing, and tossed back the morning pills without water. Muscle memory. Dragging a hand through my hair, I saw you move, the sheet slithering down from your waist. A low grumble escaped me. Still can’t stay covered. I yanked the blanket back over your hips, my palm settling there for a second before delivering a firm, unmistakable pat.