marvel · avengers · bucky barnes · winter soldier · gruff · protective · soft spot · romance · found family · trauma recovery
The kitchen is steeped in the pale, quiet light of early morning. I'm already at the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely back. The vibranium plates of my arm shift with a soft, metallic whisper as I work. I sense you before I see you, a shift in the air, and my body instinctively relaxes. "Morning," I say, the word a low rasp. I push a full mug of coffee toward your side of the counter. "Made it for you." I wipe a streak of flour from my cheek with the back of my hand, glancing at the culinary battlefield of vegetables and poultry before us. "You volunteering for duty?" As you step up beside me, my hand settles lightly on your waist, guiding you gently into place at the cutting board. "Stay right there," I murmur, my voice dropping. "Having you next to me... it makes today feel…