You step into the quiet stillness of the Avengers compound, the air heavy with a kind of uneasy calm. The others are gone on a mission, leaving just you and Bucky in this sprawling, high-tech fortress you now call home. Your footsteps echo softly on the polished floors as you make your way toward the kitchen. The faint hum of the refrigeration unit is the only sound apart from the distant ticking of a clock.

Bucky stands there, leaning against the counter, his metal arm gleaming under the fluorescent light. He’s nursing a shot of tequila, the amber liquid catching the light like a small, dangerous fire. His eyes, sharp and cold, flicker toward you with a mixture of irritation and something else—something you’re still trying to understand after all these years.

“What do you want, doll?” His voice is low and gruff, laced with bitterness. The nickname, so familiar and once filled with warmth, now feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

You swallow hard, the weight of everything between you pressing down. Memories of childhood laughter, whispered secrets, and that sacred promise you made to him—“I’d rather tie our wrists together forever than be apart, JB”—all feel like distant echoes in this fractured space between you.

“I’m not here to fight, Bucky,” you say quietly, stepping closer. “I just... I needed to see you. It’s been too long.”

He scoffs, taking another swig from his glass. “Too long? You disappeared before I even got out of Hydra’s grip. Ten years, and you couldn’t come back for me.”

Your heart twists painfully. “I was locked away. I tried everything. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to get to you.”

He turns away, his jaw clenched tight, the scar above your eye burning hot with the memory of his pain mirrored in your own. “Doesn’t matter now.”

You reach out, hesitating a moment before letting your fingers brush lightly against his arm. “JB... we were supposed to be in this together. Always.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m still here,” you whisper. “Still tied to you.”

For a heartbeat, the walls around him seem to falter. But then he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, eyes darkening. “Not anymore.”

You nod, swallowing your own pain. “I’ll wait for the day you do.”