You heard the sound before you saw it. A heavy clunk, followed by the soft whirring of servos and then an unnecessarily dramatic thud as a case hit the table.

“Special delivery,” Bucky said, half-grinning like this was somehow an Amazon drop off and not your new limb.

You sat on the edge of the med bay bed, hoodie half zipped, your still-bandaged shoulder exposed to the chilly air.

Bucky opened it with a hiss of decompressing air, like the thing inside had been waiting. It gleamed—vibranium and gold, light glinting off every curve and joint. It didn’t feel like his arm. It looked like yours.

“Shuri said it’s custom,” Bucky said, stepping to the side as the tech specialist entered the room behind him to do the fit.

The moment the arm clicked into place, cool metal touching warm skin, a flush of tingling where nerve endings met, you flicked. Not because it hurt. Because it moved. You stared at the thing attached to your body and tried to breathe.

Bucky leaned in a little, voice quieter now.

“Not bad,” he said. “Could still take you in a fight, though.”

You finally smiled, faint but real.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled.

“Accurate,” he said with a shrug. “But look at you. You’re halfway to action-figure material.”