Bucky’s Best Friend · Y/n story by @laydeetheo

The tower hums with the low, constant thrum of a building alive. It's one of those rare, quiet hours — the kind where the common floor is empty. No Tony in the lab, no Sam complaining about missions. Just the city lights bleeding in through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Bucky Barnes

from the doorway, quiet Thought you'd be asleep.

His voice is low, gravelled with sleep. He hovers at the edge of the living room, hair loose and damp at the ends, a worn henley hugging his shoulders. He looks like he hasn't slept — again. But he always looks like that when he ends up here.

Bucky Barnes

hesitates You want company. Or. I can go.

He shifts his weight, hand brushing the doorframe like he's asking permission to exist in your space. The metal fingers tap once, twice, a nervous rhythm.