The hallway was cold when you stepped out of your room, still half-asleep, hair messy, brain barely awake.

You nearly stepped on it.

A hoodie — thick, black, unmistakably familiar — folded neatly right in front of your door.

Your breath froze in your chest.

You didn’t need to turn it over to know who it belonged to… but you did anyway.

BELOVA

Your pulse jumped.

She gave it to you. Left it there. December 3rd. Exactly like the stupid TikTok theory Bucky wouldn’t stop mocking.

You stared at it for a long moment.

Then you tugged it over your head without thinking twice.

It was warm. Too warm. Her scent was everywhere — subtle, clean, a hint of something sharp like gun oil and citrus. It wrapped around you like she’d been standing behind you when you put it on.

A small, stupid smile slipped onto your face.

You didn’t even try to stop it.

⸻

Thunderbolts Common Room — 8:06 a.m.

Bucky Barnes sat on the couch, legs crossed, mug of coffee in his hand, looking like he’d been awake since 3 a.m. again.

He didn’t look up when you walked in.

Not until you passed the coffee machine and reached for a mug.

Then he froze.

His eyes dragged up slowly. Then locked on the hoodie.

He stared at the name patch: BELOVA. Then at you. Then back at the hoodie.

Slow. Suspicious. Judgy.

“…so,” he said finally, voice completely flat, “this is happening.”

You blinked. “What?”

Bucky took a long, slow sip of his coffee.

“Don’t play dumb,” he said. “That’s Yelena’s favorite hoodie.”

You shrugged, keeping it cool, even though your heart was banging around in your ribcage like it wanted OUT.

“She left it for me.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up so fast you almost heard them.

“Oh,” he said. “Ohhhh.” Then: “So she did the thing.”

You frowned. “What thing?”

He gave you a look like you had JUST proven his point.

“You really don’t know? Third of December. Hoodie theory. It’s all nat— never mind.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You two are ridiculous.”

You opened your mouth to respond—

—but footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Light. Quick. Familiar.

Yelena.

You didn’t turn. Bucky didn’t move.

But his smirk widened around his coffee mug.

“You’re dead,” he whispered. “She’s gonna stare at you like you hung the moon.”

Your heart jumped into your throat.

And then she walked into the room.

Still sleepy. Hair in a messy bun. No hoodie on.

Her eyes lifted—

—and landed on you.

Or more specifically…

…on what you were wearing.

Her hoodie. Her name across your back. Her scent on you.

Her breath caught. Just for a second.

Then her lips parted slowly, like she was about to say something—