𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

The sound of water running from the faucet was the only thing that filled the kitchen as you and Bucky finished washing the dishes. He was focused, his brow barely furrowed as he wiped the cutlery with a cloth.

—I didn't know the Winter Soldier also knew how to dry dishes you joked, gently nudging him with your elbow.

Bucky let out a low laugh. —I learned that if I cook, I have to clean. And if you cook… I have to clean, too.

Before you could respond, the old radio on the counter changed songs. A soft guitar strum filled the air, followed by the warm, nostalgic voice of Ben E. King: “When the night has come…”

You and Bucky exchanged a look. A smile spread across his lips. Without saying anything, he placed the cloth on the table and, with an exaggeratedly formal bow, extended his metallic hand toward you.

—May I have this dance, Miss Sink?

You laughed, but agreed. The kitchen smelled of soap and freshly cooked food. The warm light from the ceiling illuminated the drops of water still falling from the sink, like tiny sparkles.

Bucky gently took you by the waist, tapping out the clumsy but sweet rhythm. They moved slowly, twirling between the clean plates and half-dried glasses, while the singer's voice filled the space: "No, I won't be afraid..."

For a moment, the world shrank to that: his careful steps, his calm gaze, and the feeling that, finally, the past didn't hurt so much anymore.

Bucky leaned his forehead against yours.

— 𝐦𝐞

Bucky said, looking into your eyes, still with his forehead slightly pressed against yours

And between soft laughter, water, and an old song, the kitchen became just that again: a small shared refuge.