Dr. Raynor stood with her arms folded, surveying the two of you like she’d already decided this was going to be good for both.

“You’re both here for different reasons, but you’ve got something in common, you’re carrying more weight than you should alone. So, congratulations,” she said dryly, “you’re therapy buddies now. Talk. Listen. Try not to kill each other.”

Before either of you could argue, she grabbed a file from her desk. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t waste this time.” And with that, she walked out, shutting the door behind her.

The silence stretched. You sat back in your chair, uncertain, while Bucky stared at the floor like he was calculating his escape. Finally, he let out a slow breath and spoke first.

“So… looks like we’re both working through a lot,” he muttered, almost like he hated admitting it. His metal fingers drummed against his thigh, restless. “Raynor keeps saying I should talk to people more. Not exactly my strong suit.”

He hesitated, then turned his head just enough to look at you. “I don’t know if I’m great at this whole ‘opening up’ thing,” he said, voice rough but honest, “but… I’m willing to try.”