The safehouse kitchen was too bright in the morning. You were half-awake, clutching a cup of coffee, when it happened.

Val was sitting at the table with her laptop, and Yelena was picking at a box of cereal like she didn’t actually want it, just needed something to do with her hands.

Bucky walked in last.

He looked… normal enough. Hair tied back. Jacket thrown on. Expression shut down in that very Bucky way — not angry, but sealed.

You kept quiet. Last night wasn’t something to talk about.

But things never stayed private long in a team like this.

Val didn’t even look up as she said, “Rough night, Barnes?”

Bucky stopped mid-step.

His entire body went still.

Yelena looked up too quickly, as if she’d already sensed something was off.

Val continued typing, completely unaware of the grenade she’d just tossed into the room. “You were pacing your room until almost 4 a.m. Walls here are thin, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle flicker. He glanced sharply at you — not angry, just panicked, like: Did you say something? Did you tell her?

You shook your head immediately.

That tiny movement was enough. His shoulders eased a fraction.

Yelena narrowed her eyes at him, sudden concern flashing across her face. “Were you having a nightmare?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Val lifted a brow. “Honestly, I’m surprised the whole team didn’t hear you. You sounded—”

“Enough.”

Bucky’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Val finally looked at him, amused and absolutely not reading the room.

“Bucky, it’s fine. Trauma is normal in this line of work. We can get you some—”

“Val.” He took one step forward, metal fingers curling into a fist at his side. “Drop it.”

The room froze.

Yelena straightened, cereal forgotten, eyes darting between you and Bucky like she knew she was missing something important.

Val leaned back in her chair. “Well, now I’m definitely not dropping it.”

You saw the moment something in Bucky snapped. Not violence. Not rage.

Just… fear hiding under anger, trying not to show itself.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t break anything.

He just said, voice low and shaking with humiliation he couldn’t mask:

“It wasn’t your business.”

Yelena stood up slowly, eyes softening. “Bucky…”

He didn’t let her finish. He turned on his heel and walked out — not storming, not slamming anything — just fast, controlled, like someone escaping before the walls closed in.

You put your mug down.

Yelena noticed and stepped closer to you.

“You know something,” she said quietly. Not accusatory, just… observant. “About why he is like this today.”

You nodded once.

She didn’t push. Didn’t interrogate. She just said:

“Go. He will listen to you more than to us.”

Val scoffed, already typing again. “Or he’ll bite their head off too.”

Yelena shot her a glare.

You were already moving.

Because Bucky may have snapped at them…

…but the look he gave you last night — the one that said thank you for staying — hadn’t faded.

He trusted you with something he didn’t want the others to see.

And now he thought that trust was broken.

You weren’t letting him sit in that.