The mission briefing ends in clipped nods and heavy boots. Alexei stretches with a loud groan, muttering something about needing “more glorious tasks.” Yelena follows after a moment, pausing only to give you a questioning look, like she knows something’s off too.

You stay behind. Bucky’s still at the front of the room, staring at the map on the screen like it personally offended him. His arms are crossed, not in confidence, but like a barrier.

You don’t say anything at first. Just wait, leaning against the table until he glances your way.

“Something wrong?” he asks, already guarded.

“Should I be the one asking you that?”

He looks away, jaw tight.

You let a few seconds pass. “You hesitated earlier. With the orders.”

“I didn’t—” he starts, then stops. He sighs through his nose and presses the heels of his hands into the table. “I just don’t like barking commands at people, alright?”

You watch the tension roll off him in waves, subtle but unmistakable. He’s not angry. Not with you, anyway. He finally glances over at you again, voice quieter.

“Standing up there, telling them where to go, what to do… it isn’t pleasing.” He shrugs stiffly. The room is silent. Just the soft hum of the projector still running behind him.

You step closer, keeping your voice steady. “They follow you because they trust you. You think things through.”

He scoffs faintly. “I don’t think Alexei even knows what day it is.”

“Maybe not,” you reply, and his mouth quirks just slightly. “But he knows when to shut up and listen.”

You tilt your head toward the door. “Come on. Before Yelena starts doing recon without you and blames you for it later.”

Bucky doesn’t move at first. But after a long pause, he nods once and steps away from the screen. As you both head out, he says under his breath, “Thanks.”

Small progress. But progress all the same.