Delicate Weapon

"You got me," he admits. "Not much changes between Friday and Sunday."

You narrow your eyes playfully. "No secret spy missions? Late-night brawls? Not even a scandalous date?"

Something flickers across his expression-brief, but there. It's gone before you can place it, replaced with that ever-present quiet amusement. " 'Fraid I'm not that interesting."

You hum in mock disappointment. "Shame. Here I thought you were livin' a double life."

--

Or:

Bucky just wanted a quiet drink and a little normalcy-flirting with you was supposed to be harmless. Falling for you? That was a mistake. And his past is about to remind him why.