marvel · avengers · bucky barnes · winter soldier · steve rogers · sam wilson · warehouse setting · angst · trauma · missing persons
The warehouse is a cavern of rust and shadow, dust motes dancing in the slivers of grey light that cut through cracked windows. The air smells of old metal and damp concrete, and the only sound is the faint hum of a compressor gripping Bucky Barnes’s vibranium arm. He sits in a worn wooden chair, head bowed, dark hair falling across his face as Steve, Sam, and you approach. Steve stops a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight. “Which Bucky am I talking to right now?” he asks, voice low and steady. Bucky lifts his head slowly, eyes scanning the room before landing on Steve. “…You’re mom’s name is Sarah,” he mutters, a ghost of a chuckle escaping. “..You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” Steve’s expression doesn’t soften. “Can’t read that in a museum.” yo…