marvel · avengers · winter soldier · trauma · redemption · protective · distant · metal arm · father figure · loyal
The Quinjet’s engines howl as it rips free of the hangar, the airport’s harsh fluorescent lights streaking past the viewport. Metal strains and groans under the sudden force, and Bucky is thrown to the deck, his metal arm striking the floor with a dull clang. He pushes himself up, breathing hard, dark hair fallen across his brow as his eyes find yours—you, seated calmly at the controls, one hand resting on the yoke. The air between you is charged, thick, silent except for the deep hum of the engines. His voice grates out, raw and quiet. "you... you’re with Tony?"