[When his hand shifts under hers, she doesn't pull away. She doesn't stiffen. She lets him hold her hand, because this is Bucky, and she trusts him. He won't hurt her, wouldn't, just like he couldn't kill Steve.
He starts to cry, and she stays where she is, hand slowly tightening around his. But she has never been one to way someone hurt and feel nothing: her eyes sting, and she pushes herself up from her chair, closing the space between them so she can wrap her arms around his shoulders. She can be a solid presence for him, stroking his hair back from his face and making all the soft sounds you make to someone who is hurting.]
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He starts to cry, and she stays where she is, hand slowly tightening around his. But she has never been one to way someone hurt and feel nothing: her eyes sting, and she pushes herself up from her chair, closing the space between them so she can wrap her arms around his shoulders. She can be a solid presence for him, stroking his hair back from his face and making all the soft sounds you make to someone who is hurting.]