𝔹𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕋𝕠 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕝𝕪𝕟 | Bucky Barnes⁽¹⁾

18 | Bullets Flying

January 1945 - Soviet Union

Snow hit the windows and fogged up the glass, all hidden behind the curtains inside the cramped trailer bedroom. The bitterly cold morning was dark, yet under the thin blanket of the small bed, Elenora was surrounded by the warmth of Bucky's embrace.

His face nuzzled into the back of her neck, before he graced her shoulders with soft kisses, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake on her skin. The shirt she slept in had ridden down her arms in the night, her hands tucked into the sleeves as they craved the same warmth as her heart currently bathed in.

"Good morning, Sergeant Barnes," Ella whispered, her eyes still closed as she took her time waking up.

"Hmm, good morning Sergeant Madison," Bucky replied in the same whispery tone, his voice fanning against her skin, through her hair. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

It was a bit of a lie. The nightmares that plagued her mind from her days trapped in HYDRA's clutches never really went away. Nine nights out of ten, she'd wake in a cold sweat, unable to catch her breath or take in the safety of her surroundings. It had been better recently, but that was only due to Bucky's help.

Whenever he woke to feel her moving around or struggling to breathe, he'd wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear that he was there, that he loved her, and that she was safe. More often than not, him doing that would put an end to the nightmare without Ella even waking up. She'd remember the nightmare, and she'd remember it ending. To Bucky, that was all that mattered.

And it wasn't just to comfort her, it was for him. His dreams haunted him too. The feeling of needles being prodded into his skin, the voices that spoke in echoes around him as he struggled to make sense of where he was. But holding Ella, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing that she was right there, it saved him. Saved him from going mad, from being lost to the war.

He missed their apartment, their home in Brooklyn. But only because Ella was there to make it a home. Wherever she was, that was his home. A small, one-man tent in the middle of the woods, a box room in the army offices, and this creepy old trailer with lights that never worked and windows that didn't close all the way.

He was at home.

"We should probably get up," Ella sighed, rolling over in bed to face her man. They smiled at each other, Ella's fingertips barely tracing Bucky's jawline, where a short amount of stubble had started to grow. "I'm liking the beard you got going on here," she giggled.

Bucky grinned and sighed. "Haven't had much of a chance to shave."

"Well, when you do get the chance, don't take it," Ella whispered. "You look... good."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, an eyebrow quirking at the way she blushed. "Good, huh? How good we talkin'?"

"Very," Ella bit her bottom lip to contain her smile – an action that had Bucky beaming like an excited child.

He leaned across to close the tiny gap between them, embracing the warmth of Ella's body against his when he pressed his lips to hers. Both taking deep breaths when their lips first met, they rolled themselves over until Ella was on her back, Bucky hovering above her, possessive of her in every way she loved.

His large, warm hands caressed her sides, stroking down to her hips, then back up to her chest, sneaking under her shirt to get a feel of the smoothness of her skin. When his kisses moved away from her lips to her neck, Ella's head fell back against the pillow, her long dark hair tangling behind her, spreading out as she hooked her arms under Bucky's shoulders, her nails digging into his back, leaving red crescent marks on his clear skin. He groaned at the feeling, Ella following with a whispery giggle in his ear, feeling him smile against her neck.