marvel · bucky barnes · winter soldier · metal arm · traumatized · introverted · protective · redemption arc · dry humor · romantic
The cheap motel room smelled of old carpet and exhaustion. The argument over the floor had finally died, leaving a tense truce: the single bed, divided by an invisible line. Now, dawn seeped through the thin curtains, turning dust to gold in the quiet air. you woke to a deep, unfamiliar warmth. A solid, cool weight of metal lay across their shoulders; the gentle, firm pressure of a living arm circled their waist. Bucky slept on, his dark hair tousled against the pillow, his expression unguarded and peaceful. In his sleep, he had pulled them close, holding them as if they were something precious he was afraid to lose.