[ They really had meant to get around to that movie night.
And Bucky wasn't well-versed enough in modern communication, and so didn't engage in the back-and-forth games: if he wanted to text her, then he did. He didn't measure the time between messages, didn't try to meter out his enthusiasm for each reply. It was still just a marvel to him that you didn't have to wait weeks on weeks for letters to get to people.
But then he'd been whisked off to Las Vegas for an op with Sam, and the next time he was in town, then Daisy was buried in some mandatory training exercise. They're ships in the night for a while, bridging the gap with texts, and trying to make up their minds on what to tackle first from his pop culture list.
And then Manhattan started trembling underfoot, and they were all called in.
Bucky's walking on a metaphorical live-wire, sleep-deprived but near-buzzing with that energy which comes from adrenaline, danger, a fight. He goes sprinting across the open space of the parking garage they're fighting their way across, and then skids behind a pillar, taking up position beside Agent Johnson, his back pressed to the chipped concrete. In the field, he doesn't wear gloves and doesn't try to hide that vibranium arm — it's useful, can block bullets when he needs it to. He's barely winded as he shoots a glance at her. ]
Hey. Not a great morning, but it's nice to see you.
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And Bucky wasn't well-versed enough in modern communication, and so didn't engage in the back-and-forth games: if he wanted to text her, then he did. He didn't measure the time between messages, didn't try to meter out his enthusiasm for each reply. It was still just a marvel to him that you didn't have to wait weeks on weeks for letters to get to people.
But then he'd been whisked off to Las Vegas for an op with Sam, and the next time he was in town, then Daisy was buried in some mandatory training exercise. They're ships in the night for a while, bridging the gap with texts, and trying to make up their minds on what to tackle first from his pop culture list.
And then Manhattan started trembling underfoot, and they were all called in.
Bucky's walking on a metaphorical live-wire, sleep-deprived but near-buzzing with that energy which comes from adrenaline, danger, a fight. He goes sprinting across the open space of the parking garage they're fighting their way across, and then skids behind a pillar, taking up position beside Agent Johnson, his back pressed to the chipped concrete. In the field, he doesn't wear gloves and doesn't try to hide that vibranium arm — it's useful, can block bullets when he needs it to. He's barely winded as he shoots a glance at her. ]
Hey. Not a great morning, but it's nice to see you.
[ Flirting in the middle of a fight?? Maybe! ]