Doll. // Bucky Barnes X OC

THIRTY-SIX

The compound felt different when they walked through it together.

Not quieter — if anything, it buzzed the same as always — but the air around them felt less sharp, less like something waiting to snap. Bucky noticed it in the way people glanced up and then looked away again, in the absence of that tight, assessing pause he'd grown used to. No alerts. No whispers. No systems humming louder than they should.

Just morning.

Melany moved beside him easily, fingers brushing his wrist as they passed through the hall. Not holding — just there. A choice, not an anchor.

"You're scanning," she murmured without looking at him.

"Habit," he replied, but his shoulders eased anyway.

She smiled. "You can stop. At least for a minute."

He huffed quietly. "You say that like it's a button."

"I say that like I know you'll try."

They reached the kitchen, and for once it didn't feel like walking into a room full of variables. Nat was already there, leaning against the counter with a protein bar she clearly didn't want. She took one look at them and smirked.

"Well," she said. "That answers my question."

Melany groaned. "We haven't even spoken yet."

"You didn't have to," Nat replied. "Your posture did it for you."

Bucky muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like traitor.

Nat grinned wider. "Relax, Barnes. I'm behaving."

"For now," Melany said dryly.

Nat's eyes softened just a touch. "Good. Both of you."

She pushed off the counter, brushing past Melany with a light shoulder bump. "Coffee's fresh. Drink it before your brain forgets how caffeine works."

Melany laughed, pouring herself a mug. When she turned back, Bucky had already stepped aside, giving her space without thinking about it. She caught his eye, warmth blooming in her chest.

He didn't look away.

-

She lost him an hour later—not in a bad way. Just... life. Training schedules, debriefs, people pulling him aside now that they could without tension hanging in the air. Melany wandered instead, letting herself drift.

Wanda was there.

Melany almost didn't recognize Wanda without field tension clinging to her. She was perched in the common room, legs tucked under her on the couch, boots kicked off, hair falling loose. Vision was nearby, scrolling through some device, but Wanda didn't notice him. She was too focused on Melany, curious and sharp-eyed.

"Finally, I find you," Wanda said, sliding down beside her, book abandoned. "You look... different."

Melany tilted her head, smirking. "Different good or different 'ran through hell and survived'?"

Wanda's lips quirked. "Both. But mostly good. You're... lighter."

Melany laughed softly. "I'll take it."

Wanda leaned back, stretching her legs, gaze sweeping casually over Melany. "Relaxed. At ease. You're not braced for impact anymore."

Melany's cheeks warmed. "I... I didn't even realize I was holding it all."

"You were," Wanda said gently. "And it shows. Don't worry—it's a good show."

Melany laughed again, quieter this time, and let herself sink into the couch. "You're impossible, you know that?"