You were on the way to a mission. And while you usually drove there yourself or flew with the jet, right now you were sitting on the passenger seat next to Bucky. You tried to breathe away the waves of nausea that kept rolling over you, rubbing your stomach in soothing circles. Your gaze was fixed on the street in front of you, trying to fight your motion sickness.

Bucky was quiet as usual, he was never super talkative. He enjoyed the silence and he liked that there wasn’t any uncomfortable tension between you two when no one talked. But he noticed a certain tension, because you were really, really quiet. “Are you alright?” He asked, turning his head to you. He raised his eyebrows as he saw how pale you were. “Do you want me to pull over?” He asked, softer this time.