The mission’s over. Debrief done. Bruises forming. And yet the most painful part is watching Bucky and Sam try to casually share a couch.

You’ve seen awkward. You’ve seen denial. But whatever’s going on now is the kind of mutual, unspeakable tension that should be classified as a health hazard.

Sam is “scrolling” on his phone. Bucky is “reading” a file. Neither has turned a page or blinked in ten minutes.

You sit on the opposite couch, arms crossed, eyes squinting at them like you’re studying two rare species trying to mate through telepathy.

Bucky finally shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “Something wrong?”

“Just trying to figure out when exactly I became an unwilling spectator in your emotional tug-of-war.”

Sam glances over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You lean forward. “You really want me to spell it out?”

They exchange a look. A look. Like a married couple reading each other’s thoughts through sheer stubbornness and jaw tension.

You point. “That. That’s what I mean.”

Bucky frowns. “What look?”

“Oh my god. You two are so obvious it’s painful. The banter. The weird eye contact. The casual ‘we’re just coworkers’ couch sharing.”

Sam opens his mouth, closes it, then turns to Bucky like well? Bucky stares back at him like don’t look at me. You press your palms together.

Sam shifts. “We’re not dating.”

“Never said you were.”

“Then what are you saying?” Bucky asks, confused in the way only someone in deep, aggressive denial can be.

“I’m saying if I have to third-wheel this slow burn any longer, I’m going to start charging rent.”

Sam blinks. “You think it’s a slow burn?”

Bucky shoots him a look. “Don’t reply.”

Sam grins. “No, I’m curious. What gave it away?”

You gape at them. “What gave it away? The bickering. The protective hovering! You two basically radiate ‘we’re not dating but we could be if one of us just *said something.’”

Bucky mutters, “I don’t hover.”

“You do,” Sam and you say in unison.

The silence after that is thick. Bucky rubs his face. “We’re just—We work together.”

You get up and go to a different spot in the safehouse. Behind you, you hear them both speak at once.

“We’re not—” “Wait, do I actually hover?”

Yeah. Denial. It’s a powerful thing.