DO

was a routine sparring session until it wasn't. A perfectly executed sweep sent Bucky to the mats, and in the momentum of the follow-through, you ended up straddling him, pinning his wrists to the rubber floor. For one suffocating, electric heartbeat, the air in the gym vanished; you were close enough to see the frantic pulse at his throat and feel the heat radiating from his skin. Then, the sound of approaching boots shattered the moment, and you scrambled away with a hurried apology, leaving the silence ringing in your ears. Since that day, the dynamic between you has shifted into something sharp and heavy. You haven't spoken more than a few words, yet every time your paths cross, the tension feels thick enough to cut. Bucky has been a ghost of himself, his mind constantly rewinding to the way you looked above him, the feel of your weight, and the way your breath hitched when you realized just how close you were. He’s avoiding you, but only because he can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if those footsteps hadn’t interrupted you.