The night was quiet, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came when the world outside seemed to forget it existed. You were buried under a mountain of soft blankets, your body perfectly molded into the mattress, warmth settling over you like a second skin.

Bucky, the so-called ruthless soldier, wasn’t sprawled on his own side of the bed. No. He was lying on you, his head pressed into the crook of your neck, his weight heavy and grounding against your chest.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, expecting silence. But then, in the smallest, babiest voice you’d ever heard come out of him, he mumbled, “I want cuddles…”

You froze, eyes wide, before the corners of your mouth tugged into a grin. Reaching carefully toward your nightstand, you grabbed your phone and opened the camera.

“Say it again, love?” you coaxed, biting back laughter as you aimed the phone at him.

Bucky didn’t even lift his head, his voice muffled but still baby-soft. “I want cuddles…”

Your grin widened. “You want what?”

“I want cu—” He suddenly caught sight of the phone’s screen out of the corner of his eye. His babytalk died instantly. He cleared his throat, lifted his head, and sat up straighter, his face settling back into the cold, unbothered mask everyone else knew so well.

“Watch TV,” he said flatly, as if the last thirty seconds had never happened.