I stood next to Sam, eyes drifting-okay, outright staring at Bucky Barnes as he sat on the couch, looking criminally good for a man who'd supposedly been through hell.

"Future congressman James Buchanan Barnes," I mused, nodding to myself.

Sam sighed. "What are you talking about?"

"He's taller in real life," I continued, assessing him like a work of art. "Nice smile, too." I quickly added, "Good amount of teeth. Great posture."

Sam's expression deadpanned. "He's 110 years old."

I shrugged. "I can work with that."

A deep, amused voice cut in. "I heard that."

I blinked. Sam immediately turned, grinning like he lived for my suffering. I, on the other hand, turned much slower, dread creeping in.

Bucky was still seated, arms crossed, looking up at me with the most infuriatingly smug expression.

"You, uh... heard that?" I asked, suddenly wishing I could evaporate.

"Every word."

Sam chuckled. "And she thought she was being subtle."

I cleared my throat, straightening my shoulders like I hadn't just been caught fangirling. "Well," I said, forcing confidence into my tone, "I stand by my assessment."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Good amount of teeth?"

"Very important trait," I deadpanned.

A pause. Then, just barely, Bucky smirked. "Good to know."