the team doctor || bucky barnes (EDITING IN PROGRESS)

15.

Edited 8/27/25

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴏɴɢ: ꜰɪʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ

"𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞."

~

VALERIE WAS BORED.

She had grown to loathe missions, not for the danger or the chaos, but because they left the tower—her domain—empty. Well, mostly empty. The lower floors hummed with engineers and staff, their routines undisturbed, leaving the upper levels eerily quiet.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind: maybe she needed friends outside of Stark's orbit. But that would mean leaving the tower, navigating social rituals, and—honestly—too much effort.

The current mission had started three days ago, the morning after the air conditioning had mercifully been fixed. In that time, Valerie had finalized Bruce's serum and even managed to text Cody—a small but welcome distraction.

Cody wasn't a bad texter. Memes, articles, quick replies—even when she took hours to respond, buried in her work, he always seemed patient. He was a self-proclaimed "morning person," though, so each night, she was left alone, her phone silent, and her bed impossibly dull.

She hadn't realized how much she'd grown used to the late-night rhythm in Bucky's room: the low hum of the machines, the metallic scent mingling with her lavender spray, the quiet moments where she did most of the talking while he listened. Somehow, it had become... comfortable. Returning to her apartment now felt alien, empty in a way she hadn't felt since childhood.

Her mind wandered to him. Did he feel the same? Or were these nights a relief—a break from her constant chatter? She replayed every conversation, every glance, every small sigh or smirk. At first, surely, he had been annoyed. But maybe, just maybe, he had started to thaw.

She found herself wishing he'd be rude again—at least then her feelings for him would feel more concrete, more certain. But with him asking her to tell him stories, listening intently as she spoke, the lines were starting to blur. She caught herself thinking about him even when he wasn't there.

Like now.

Lying in her bed, eyes locked on the "goodnight" text from Cody—10:27 pm—she tried to focus on her book. But the words swam on the page, impossible to follow. Frustrated, she tossed it across the bed, her gaze drifting around the quiet room.

Then, her team device buzzed. She snatched it up with reflexive speed, a surge of hope flickering through her chest at the prospect of any form of communication.

These idiots are injured. Tony wrote.

She smiled with glee. Not that she was happy they were injured, but she was happy to have something to do.

She threw on one of her black skirts, swapped her t-shirt for a white camisole, and finished the look off with a red cardigan. Slipping on her loafers, she skipped out of her apartment.

It wasn't until she reached the elevator that she saw her reflection. The skirt must've shrunk in the wash because it was suddenly much shorter than she remembered. She pulled it down a little, not helping much but making herself more presentable.

"There she is," Tony had said when she came into the common area. Wilson decided the wings needed to test their limits and ended up making love to a tree."

"You and hyperbole are close, huh?" Sam rolled his eyes. "It's just some scratches."

"Come on down, Sam."

She glanced over the rest of the team, all sitting down or taking their boots off or grabbing some snacks. When she deemed them all in good condition, she walked off with Sam. He sat in her chair and waited for her to grab some ointments for his cuts.