Doll. // Bucky Barnes X OC

THIRTEEN

The armory was quiet in the way only reinforced rooms ever were - thick walls, muted lights, everything built to contain damage.

Bucky liked it that way.

He stood at one of the benches, methodical as he disassembled a rifle he didn't plan on using. The motions were automatic, muscle memory doing the work while his thoughts stayed stubbornly elsewhere. He kept them there on purpose. It was easier to focus on weight, on metal, on things that behaved they were supposed to.

A presence shifted behind him. He didn't turn.

"You're up early."

Steve's voice was even. Too even.

Bucky slid the bolt free and set it down carefully. "Couldn't sleep."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Me neither."

Silence settled between them, heavy and deliberate. Bucky felt it like a weight across his shoulders, resisting the urge to tense. He kept his hands where Steve could see them, slow and precise.

Steve moved closer, stopping across the table. He picked up a sidearm, checked the chamber, then sat it back down untouched.

"You want to explain what's going on?" Steve asked.

Bucky finally looked at him.

Steve's expression was calm - controlled - but his eyes were sharp, restless. He looked like someone bracing for impact while pretending he wasn't.

"There's nothing to explain," Bucky said.

Steve's jaw tightened. "That's funny. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you crossed a line."

Bucky didn't rise to it. He returned his attention to the rifle, his hands steady. "Melany makes her own choices, Steve."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Steve said, a warning threaded into his voice now. "I'm talking about you."

The air shifted. Bucky felt it in his chest, the familiar instinct to pull inward, to contain. He met Steve's gaze again, unflinching.

"I didn't take anything from you," he said quietly.

He laughed once, sharp and humorless. "You really going to say that?"

Bucky said nothing.

The silence stretched, brittle and dangerous, and neither of them moved to break it. Steve rounded the table, standing behind Bucky again.

"You really going to pretend this is about her making choices?" He said. "You knew what she meant to me."

Bucky set the last piece of the rifle down. He didn't turn around this time. "I knew you hurt her."

Steve stepped closer. "That's not your call."

Bucky finally faced him. "It stopped being your call when you cheated." The word landed hard.

Steve's eyes flashed. "You don't get to use that against me."

"I'm not using it," Bucky said evenly. "I'm explaining."

Steve shook his head, pacing once like a caged animal. "You're not stable, Buck. You know that. You don't always know when to stop."

Bucky's jaw clenched. "Careful."

"I'm serious," Steve pressed. "She doesn't need this. She needs something solid. Something safe."

Bucky felt it then - the shift. The familiar tightening in his chest, the old fear clawing up his spine. "You don't think I know that?" He asked quietly.