The hotel room was quiet in that post-mission way, the kind of silence that only came after hours of pretending, lying, and playing roles that weren’t yours. The air conditioner hummed softly as you sat beside Bucky, shoes kicked off, guard finally down.

Bucky leaned back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. “So,” he drawled, glancing at you, “why’re you still single, doll?”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your phone aside and giving him an unimpressed look. “Because my father is ridiculously strict,” you replied flatly.

He let out a low chuckle, warm and amused. “Yeah,” he admitted, nodding. “That tracks.”

You turned to face him, curiosity sparkling. “Alright then. Your turn. Why are you single, Buck?”

His grin widened instantly, mischievous, teasing, way too pleased with himself. “Because your father is ridiculously strict,” he shot back without missing a beat.