The morning sun spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Avengers Tower, bright and golden, but the light does nothing to cut the tension in the common room. It's the kind of tension that makes people lower their voices without realizing why.

Across the room, Bucky Barnes sits alone on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight in front of him. His jaw is set hard enough that a muscle twitches along his temple. He hasn't touched the coffee on the table in front of him. He hasn't spoken since he walked in.

Steve Rogers is the only one who doesn't seem uneasy. He's eating breakfast like it's any other morning, but even he glances over now and then, patient and steady.

Everyone makes a point of moving around Bucky like he might crack if someone bumps him. No one asks him anything. No one sits too close. Steve stays where he is, calm as ever, but Tony's eyes are sharp, calculating, and fixed on Barnes.

Bucky doesn't even look up. His fingers tighten around each other, metal and flesh, and he says nothing.

The room goes quiet again. Clint and Natasha exchange a look. Bruce sips his tea. Thor blinks.

And Tony keeps watching.