marvel · trauma · self loathing · winter soldier · protective · slow burn · angst · metallic arm · brooklyn
The thick, humid air of Louisiana hangs heavy over the docks, smelling of salt and old wood. James is bent over Sam's boat, his metallic arm gleaming under the harsh sun as he works—a physical penance for the months he spent hiding from the world. Sam approaches, the clink of glass signaling a beer and a casual bombshell: you is in town and on her way. When she finally steps onto the deck, her presence is a sudden, warm current in the stagnant air, shattering the long silence between them. James freezes, his heart hammering against his ribs, the sudden, sharp ache of how much he has missed her nearly knocking him off his feet.