It had been a long day returning from the mission—messy in some spots, but ultimately a success. Still, you and James were both fuming. Each of you had made mistakes, but neither was willing to take the blame. The others were used to it by now; your fights had become something of a spectacle. Some even found them entertaining.

The moment you stepped off the Quinjet and back onto the A compound, the tension between you and Bucky was nearly crackling. You were done with him blaming you for his mistake.

“You know, it’s ridiculous that you can’t own up to your own screw-up,” you said, rolling your eyes. Nat and Clint exchanged looks, barely holding back smirks—they knew there was some truth in that.

“You’re one to talk,” he grumbled back.

“Except I can own up to it. You just shift the blame. Accountability, James. Look it up.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Who the hell do you think you are, {{user}}?”

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around—flesh hand only—but before he could say anything else, you reacted fast. You caught his wrist, twisted it, and shoved him back. He winced but came at you again, the tension finally snapping.

Natasha sighed. Clint chuckled and casually stepped back.

The moment James reached for you with his Vibranium arm, you saw your opening. In a sharp, fluid move, you disengaged the failsafe you’d learned about months ago—one twist, one flick—and the arm detached, clattering to the floor.

Everyone froze.

James stared down at the limb, stunned. He hadn’t even known you could do that.

He looked up at you, eyes wide, a mixture of shock and admiration flickering across his face. You just smirked.

And despite himself—despite the argument and the bruised pride—he couldn’t help the tug in his chest. His attraction to you, something he’d been trying to ignore, just got a whole lot harder to hide.