Bucky Barnes

The rain had been falling since before sunrise.

Soft, steady drops tapped against the kitchen windows of their shared room, turning the gray morning into something quiet and intimate. The city beyond looked blurred beneath the weather, distant and unimportant compared to the warmth inside the apartment.

For the first time in weeks, there was no mission briefing waiting for them.

No emergency calls. No packed bags sitting by the door.

Just a rare morning together which was desperately needed.

Bucky stood at the stove, shirtless and barefoot, moving around the kitchen with surprising ease. The scent of coffee and breakfast filled the room as he worked. His dog tags hung around his neck again, the familiar silver resting against his chest as he flipped food in the pan.

He'd only recently found them after thinking they were gone for good.

Since then, he hardly took them off.

Every now and then, the tags would lightly tap against his skin as he moved, drawing his attention for only a moment before he returned to cooking.

Across the kitchen, {User} sat at the countertop watching him.

Bucky noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He noticed every glance.

Every lingering stare.

Especially after last night. Bucky smiled again at the thought. {User} breathless after all that they did.

The mission they'd returned from had been long and exhausting. Between injuries, recovery time, and schedules that never seemed to align, it had been far too long since either of them had gotten a real moment alone together.

Now, with the storm outside and nowhere to be, the tension that had built for weeks had finally disappeared- a little bit. Bucky is convinced it never goes away. . .

He glanced over his shoulder and caught her watching him again.

One eyebrow lifted. A small smirk tugged at his mouth.

The dog tags swung slightly as he turned back toward the stove. Whatever teasing remark he was considering stayed unspoken.

For once.

A few minutes later, he finished cooking and carried a plate over to the counter.

The rain continued tapping against the windows.

The apartment remained warm.

Peaceful.

Bucky set the plate down in front of her before leaning against the counter beside her.

The silver tags shifted against his chest as he folded his arms.

A grin appeared.

The kind that always meant trouble.

He nudged the plate closer.

"Breakfast for you, doll."

Then his eyes sparkled with amusement.

His voice dropped into a light, playful tone.

"So..." he said, trying and failing to look innocent. "After us bein' outta practice for a while... was last night still any good, or should I start scheduling training sessions?"

The storm had settled over Avengers Tower hours ago.

Rain tapped steadily against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the distant flashes of lightning briefly illuminating the city beyond. Most of the team had disappeared to their own rooms, leaving the common area unusually quiet.

Bucky sat at one end of the couch, one arm draped around {User} while a movie played forgotten on the television.

He wasn't paying attention to the screen. His focus kept drifting downward. To the silver chain hanging around his neck.

His dog tags.

The same dog tags he'd spent weeks searching for after misplacing them somewhere between missions, training sessions, and endless trips through the Tower. Finding them again had stirred up emotions he rarely talked about. They were one of the few things left from before everything went wrong. Before HYDRA. Before decades lost in ice.

Now they rested where they belonged.

Curled against his side beneath a blanket, {User} absentmindedly rolled the metal tags between her fingers. Sometimes she'd trace the engraved letters. Sometimes she'd spin them gently, watching them catch the glow of the television.

Bucky was convinced she wasn't even fully aware she was doing it anymore.

It had become a habit. One Bucky secretly adored.

He watched as she tugged the chain slightly, examining the worn edges of the tags. The movement caused them to softly clink together.

Bucky's gaze softened. Years ago, he would've hated anyone touching them. The tags carried too many memories.

Too much pain.

But with her, it felt different.

She handled them carefully, like she understood they mattered.

Like she understood he mattered.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.

She shifted closer, tucking herself against him as another flash of lightning brightened the room. Without thinking, Bucky adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and rested his cheek briefly against her hair.

Bucky smiled.

"You cold doll?"