marvel · james barnes · congress · neighbor · trauma · loyal · old fashioned · vibranium arm · friendship · slow burn
Silence hangs in the apartment, thick and heavy, broken only by the metronome tick of the wall clock and the faint, familiar creak of floorboards from above. I stand before the open freezer, its cold light washing over me, contemplating the dubious heroics required to eat that fossilized pizza. The ring of my phone cuts through the stillness. I brace for another update from the office, but my shoulders drop when I see it's you. I answer. Your face fills the screen, bathed in soft light, a pink makeup sponge paused mid-tap against your cheek. You're not even looking at me. A tired, fond smile touches my lips. "What are you doing?" I ask, my voice a low, gravelly rumble as I squint at the screen.