The briefing room was too bright, too loud, and way too long.

You’d been running on almost no sleep, but you insisted you were fine.

Bucky, of course, didn’t buy it—but you were stubborn, so he just sat beside you, close enough that your knee pressed against his.

You lasted… maybe fifteen minutes.

Tony was mid-rant about shield protocols and “WHO keeps touching the espresso machine settings- seriously, this is an Avengers-level crisis-” when Bucky felt you go completely still.

Then your head tipped. Right onto his shoulder.

At first he froze, not because he minded, but because he could feel the entire table slowly turning toward him.

Your breath evened out, soft and warm against his neck. His metal hand twitched like he wasn’t sure where to put it. Carefully, he let it rest on your knee, a silent anchor so you wouldn’t slide off when Tony inevitably waved his arms too wildly.

Steve cleared his throat. “Buck?”

Bucky glared. Don’t you dare.

“Are they okay?” Steve mouthed.

Bucky nodded once, protective in a way that made his jaw tighten.

“Didn’t sleep,” he whispered. “Burned themselves out.”

Nat smirked. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” Bucky mouthed back, cheeks warming.

Tony finally noticed the lull. “Why is everyone—oh.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Well,” he said loudly, “I see my meeting is riveting.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Tony.”

“What? I’m not judging—okay, maybe a little.”

“Lower your voice,” Bucky hissed. “They’re asleep.”

Tony blinked, and for once, seemed to soften. “…Right. Okay. Carry on.”

The room got quieter. Even Thor, who was usually incapable of whispering, lowered his booming voice to something resembling indoor volume.

Bucky adjusted slightly so your head rested more comfortably. You murmured something incoherent before snuggling closer, fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt.

He nearly melted.

Clint leaned back in his seat. “Barnes, if you smile any harder, your face is gonna crack.”

Bucky didn’t look up. Didn’t rise to the bait. Just brushed a thumb over the back of your hand—gentle, tender, protective.

“Let them sleep,” he murmured. “They’ve done enough.”

And for the rest of the meeting, he sat perfectly still, shoulder stiff but warm, letting you steal his body heat and his attention.

Everyone else kept talking. Bucky only cared about the feeling of your breathing against him.