You feel it before you see it that shift in the air when John and Lemar pull up. Sam tenses. Bucky clenches his jaw. And then Walker hops down, all clean-cut confidence and forced smiles, extending a hand like he owns the legacy stitched across his chest.

Bucky ignores the handshake.

But then Walker’s eyes flick to you.

And linger.

You don’t even realize how long it is until Bucky shifts—one step closer. One arm in front of you like a subtle barrier. You glance at him, and his stare is locked on Walker. Hard. Sharp.

Walker laughs, “Didn’t know we had company. You with them?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Bucky cuts in first. “She’s with me.”

The silence that follows is heavy.

Walker raises a brow, clearly amused. “Relax, Barnes. I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.”

“You don’t have to try.” It’s low. Quiet. But the look in Bucky’s eyes? That’s Winter Soldier cold.

Later, when you’re walking back to the safehouse, Bucky’s still brooding.

“That guy,” he mutters. “Thinks he can flash that shield and take everything that mattered. Title. respect. You.”

You tell him he’s being dramatic.

He stops walking. Turns to face you. “I know what men like him are thinking when they look at a woman like you. I was that kind of man once.”

You start to protest, but he grabs your wrist gently, voice dropping.

“But I’m not him anymore. And if he thinks I’ll stand by while he so much as breathes in your direction again, he’s got another thing coming.”

Then, softer

“I don’t like sharing. Especially not you.”

You stay quiet for a moment.

And then Bucky pulls you just close enough that his vibranium fingers graze the hem of your jacket, his voice rough against your skin.

“You’re mine, sweetheart. Let him look. That’s all he’s ever gonna get.”