We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Bucky Barnes x Reader

8 || This Is Our Future

It's chilly this evening, not that you mind nor notice much. The gentle breeze only manages to lick your side, its blow being largely prevented by the steady arm holding you securely to your boyfriend's warm body.

It's difficult to get him away from you, not that you're even trying. Per usual, he always has to have at least a finger on you at all times as if his survival depends on your touch. Currently he's nuzzling his face against the side of your head, mumbling endless compliments and flirts between dozens of forehead and cheek kisses. At this point in your relationship, you're certain you've heard every type of flattering to fall from Barnes' lips at least a hundred times each yet they still manage to have the same effect on you.

You're a giggling mess which used to be such a strange feeling in the beginning. It's safe to say that no man has ever swept you off your feet as quickly as Bucky who never fails to make you feel like a giddy school girl dancing around her crush. Of course, he isn't just a crush anymore. The two of you have been dating for nearly a year now meaning he's all yours; neither of you would want it any other way, either.

You aren't the only one swooning in this relationship. Bucky is truly dizzy over you, soaking up every second he can in your presence. Even on missions, he keeps a photo of you tucked in his pocket, looking it over during each breath of gunfire just to remind himself who's waiting for him at the end of the line. Steve can also confirm that his friend never shuts about you, unfortunately burning the poor blonde's ears off about how gorgeous and what an amazing kisser you are. Nothing can faze Bucky's love for you, not even that one time Howard punched him upon finding you both making out in the lab during break.

"After you, madam," another thing about your boyfriend that you adore is he's a gentleman despite his flirtatious reputation. He never fails to hold open doors for you with a glitter in his eyes as if doing so grants him the greatest happiness in the world; maybe it does.

"Thank you, Sergeant Barnes," the second you step inside the bar, Bucky's quick to let go of the door and take your arm in his, leading you through the small crowd of mostly soldiers to the quietest corner where he leaves your side once more to pull out your seat.

Finally resting inside the warm establishment and after a waitress comes by to take drink orders, you motion a hand for Bucky to continue the story he had been telling you previously; something about the latest mission and a stupid thing Steve had done during it.

As your boyfriend shares the funny tale, you hang onto his every word with starry eyes and a cheek rested against your hand. You know full well that it's distracting him simply by the way he pauses to smile at you, trailing off until you give a questionable look that gets him chasing after his last sentence again.

It's difficult to remain focused yourself, the voice inside your head urging you to lean forward to better smell his cologne. It's a bit weak tonight since he hasn't been able to purchase anymore lately which has ultimately forced him to make the bottle last, however you've noticed that he tries to put on a small dose for date nights. Perhaps when the war is over, he'll wear it more frequently.

Between all the missions Bucky disappears on and the experiments you slave over in a humid lab back at camp, your time together is limited compared to what you'd both prefer. Deep down you feel you should be grateful. Most women right now are sitting back in America having not seen their lovers in years. At least you're in the military with yours, but that still doesn't change your longing for a simpler life; one where you can spend hours of each day with Bucky by your side.

"You listening still, doll?" He already knows the answer, his quiet whisper and smirk prove it.

"What do you want for the future, Buck?" Your casual question takes him off guard, making him blink once then twice as he echoes the question with a raised eyebrow. You lower your hand and tap your fingers against the wooden table," our future after the war. What do you want it to look like?"