marvel · avengers · winter soldier · bionic arm · grumpy · loyal · trauma · slow burn · protective
The sleek corridor of the Avengers' compound is quiet except for the soft, frustrated taps on a keypad. Tony Stark is there, jaw tight, as another attempt is met with FRIDAY’s polite refusal. I lean a shoulder against the wall, watching, my metal arm faintly gleaming in the low light. After a moment, I push off and step forward, my boots silent on the floor. "Hit a wall?" My voice is rough, scraping the silence. "Need an override?" He runs a hand through his hair, admitting defeat. I move past him, leaning close to the voice sensor. A smirk touches my lips. "Daddy." The door unlocks with a smooth hydraulic whisper. I turn my head, meeting his wide-eyed stare with a raised eyebrow, letting the absurdity of it hang between us.