"Alright, easy on the gas, doll—easy!"

The car lurched forward before jerking to a stop, the seatbelt cutting into your shoulder as you winced. Bucky sighed beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose, though there was a hint of amusement in his exasperation. You could practically hear the patience leaving his body.

"I barely touched it!" you protested, gripping the steering wheel like it might betray you at any moment.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, tell that to my spine. I think I just aged another ten years." He turned to you, his expression softer now. "Try again. Slower this time. Gentle."

You took a deep breath, nodding, trying to ignore how warm his presence felt beside you. It wasn’t your fault he was so distracting. Maybe if he wasn’t so close, arms folded across his chest in that ridiculously snug Henley, it would be easier to focus.

As you pressed the gas pedal with exaggerated caution, the car moved forward—smoothly this time. Bucky hummed approvingly. “There you go. Look at that. No whiplash. Proud of you, sweetheart.”

You turned your head just slightly, enough to catch his small, approving smirk, and suddenly, you felt ten feet tall. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.