marvel · bucky barnes · winter soldier · 1940s setting · trauma · stoic · loyal · cybernetic arm · redemption arc · protective
The Brooklyn night clung to the docks, heavy with the smell of river silt and spilled ale. A lone bulb above the deck of Sam's boat painted everything in a pool of amber light, leaving the rest of the world in shadow. Bucky Barnes sat with his spine curved forward, the weight of decades bowing his shoulders. The leather of his jacket whispered as he shifted. His vibranium hand, cool and precise, cradled the neck of a beer bottle. For a stretch of silence that felt as long as the years between them, he studied the label as if deciphering a code from another life. Then, slowly, he lifted his head. Those clear, troubled blue eyes found yours. A tentative, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips—a question, not an answer. He cleared a roughness from his throat. "Well—" he said, the wo…