Bucky held the wrench, gritting his teeth faintly as Tony pride up the plate.

"Of course he does," he breathed easily, though the idea made him a little uncomfortable. How similar they were still when he thought he'd moved further away from that part of himself.

"Well, I mean now I could kill you like that," he tried to dismiss with a smirk, "But then..." He frowned. It was like he needed the fear. The pain. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Oddly unfamiliar, despite all the fear, and pain he'd caused throughout his many years. The Winter Soldier was efficient, he didn't relish his actions or extract any personal pleasure from what he did.