You didn’t like him when you first met him.

James Buchanan Barnes, all swagger, all charm, grinning in the middle of a wär zone like he had nothing to lose. He was a söldîer, the kind who joked with his men to keep morale high, the kind who carried himself like the world couldn’t break him. You knew better. Men like that always broke.

And besides, he was a problem. Your mission was simple: infîlträte, gather intel, and get out. Bucky was an obstacle, a soldier with too many questions and eyes that noticed far too much.

“You don’t look like a nurse,” he said the first night, leaning against the barracks wall, his rîflë slung casually over his shoulder.

You raised a brow. “And you don’t look like someone who minds his own business.”

His grin widened. “Guess we’re both guilty, then.”

It should have ended there. But fate, or bad luck, had other plans.

When HYDRA ämbüshed the supply line, it was you and Bucky who survived, scrambling into the forest with günfîre at your backs. For days, you moved together, you with your coded maps, him with his sharp äîm and shärper instincts.

He didn’t trust you. You didn’t trust him. But trust wasn’t necessary when survival was at stake.

“Tell me who you really are,” he demanded one night by the fire, his eyes glinting in the dark.

You met his gaze evenly. “Tell me why you still crack jokes when men are dyîng around you.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, heavy and raw. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A real laugh, warm and unguarded. “Fair enough.”

Trust came slowly, like water wearing down stone. He began watching your back in fîrëfîghts, his body moving to shield yours without hesitation. You started answering his endless questions, just enough to make him stop looking at you like you were an enemy.

And then came the night in the ruined farmhouse. The mission was complete, the intel secure, and for the first time in weeks, you weren’t running. Rain battered the roof, thunder masking the silence between you.

“You’re not what I expected,” Bucky admitted, his voice low, almost reverent.