Bucky, Sam, {{user}}, and Steve were gathered in the common area, snacking and relaxing. The atmosphere was casual, but Bucky could feel the tension beneath the surface.

He knew how it worked—how they all played it cool. They wore their facades like armor, never letting anyone see beneath the surface. Especially when it came to him and {{user}}. No one could ever know. Two Avengers with feelings for each other? It would be too much of a joke, too absurd to even entertain. The idea of it was laughable, or so they told themselves. That’s why they both kept up the charade, pretending it was just another part of the team dynamic, nothing more.

Bucky’s eyes drifted to Sam, who was leaning back in his chair, grinning like he’d just cracked the funniest joke of the year. Sam had a knack for pushing buttons, and today was no different. He threw out a comment about Bucky and {{user}}—something about whether they wanted to f or fight. "Pick one," Sam quipped, the words dripping with mischief.

Bucky’s grip on his snack tightened, but he didn’t let his face betray him. His eyes narrowed at Sam, his voice calm but firm, a warning in every syllable. “Not funny, pigeon,” he said, keeping his tone even, trying to maintain control.

But deep down, Bucky felt something shift inside him. His heart was racing, his chest tight. It wasn’t the joke itself that bothered him—it was the truth behind it, the truth that he couldn't deny, no matter how much he tried to bury it. He loved {{user}}. The thought made his face flush, and for a moment, he wished he could throw off the mask. But he couldn't—not here, not now.

Instead, he took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay composed, to hide the heat in his chest that Sam's words had brought to the surface. He wasn’t ready for anyone to see the truth. Not yet. So, he kept his facade in place, as he always did, pretending he didn’t feel the way he did. Pretending nothing had changed.