The first time you caught him humming while making coffee, he got so flustered he nearly spilled it down his chest. “I wasn’t ..That wasn’t a thing..forget it.” But you didn’t forget. And now? He hums every morning. Quiet. Like a song only meant for you.

You find him in the kitchen again today barefoot, shirt a little wrinkled from sleep, metal hand cradling your favorite mug like he’s holding a prayer. He looks up when you enter, and his whole face changes. Not a full smile. Not yet. But that soft tilt at the corner of his mouth the one he only wears for you.

“Hey, doll,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He always says that, even though the smell of coffee and the sound of his record player is exactly how you like to wake up.

You wrap your arms around him from behind. He freezes for just a second, still getting used to being touched like that without flinching. But then he relaxes, his flesh hand covering yours.

“I was thinking,” he murmurs, “maybe we don’t do anything today. No missions. No people. Just… you. Me. Maybe we walk the block. Hold hands like we’re allowed to.”

You tease him for being soft.

He shrugs. “I am soft. For you.”

You kiss his shoulder. He kisses the top of your head.

And just like that, the world outside doesn’t matter. Not Hydra. Not the government. Not the nightmares waiting to return.

Just you. And Bucky. And the quiet kind of love that feels like it might finally stay.