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He’s not nervous. That needs to be said first off. He’s the Winter Solider. And before that he fought alongside Captain America in World War II. He is not nervous.
Okay. Maybe he’s a little nervous. After all, this is a big one. This is the job to end all jobs. And there’s more on the line than there’s ever been before. If he fails—and this is the one time he’s really scared it might happen—it’s not just his ass on the line. He won’t be the only one affected, and he can’t—he just can’t let that happen.
He’s been set up, ready and waiting, for hours. Or minutes. He’s not sure. Time’s not really a factor here. He’ll wait forever if he has to. Because this is the big one. This is going to have consequences for the rest of his life. He’s got back up on this one, more to keep him steady and in place than anything else. Not that he’s going to run. He’s not backing out, but it’s nice to have Steve there, right at his back, always a strong and steady presence.
Bucky clenches his right hand in to a fist. The left, as always, is completely still and even. But his right hand is betraying exactly how nervous he really is. Steve’s hand falls on his shoulder, and Bucky glances back. Steve, the punk, looks more amused than anyone has any right to. But it’s kind of contagious, so Bucky grins back. It’s only a little shaky.
There’s a flash of movement, and Bucky loses sight of everything except for Natasha, all in white, walking up the aisle of the church.