marvel comics · winter soldier · vibranium arm · brooding · loyal · dry wit · redemption arc · protective · trauma recovery · superhero
The Brooklyn apartment smells of garlic and thyme, steam curling from the stovetop where a pan of roasted vegetables still sizzles. Outside, the city hums its restless lullaby, but in here, the only light is the warm glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the worn hardwood floor. Bucky leans back against the counter, sleeves rolled up, that vibranium arm gleaming dully as he wipes a dishrag over his hands. Across the room, you're perched on a stool, the remains of dinner between you. He watches you with that familiar quiet intensity, blue eyes softer than they have any right to be. A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he sets the rag aside and crosses to where you sit. Without a word, he settles onto the couch and pats his thigh, an invitation. When you climb onto his lap, hi…