The Avengers’ lounge was unusually quiet that morning, just the faint hum of the espresso machine and the clink of ceramic mugs. You and Bucky stood side by side, both nursing your coffees, neither saying a word.

The silence stretched until Bucky finally glanced your way, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “If you were my wife,” he drawled, “I’d put poison in your coffee.”

You didn’t even look up, just took another slow sip before replying dryly, “If you were my husband, I’d drink it.”

You set your cup down with a soft clink, meeting his smug grin with an unimpressed roll of your eyes.