Hello Sergeant (Bucky Barnes)

Who the hell is Bucky?

James' POV

The feel of her soft lips pressed to mine jolted me, a strong sense of deja vu gripping me. I'd expected a knife to the ribs, not a kiss on the lips; no one ever dared to touch me like I was human – until now.

"I'm sorry; you're mistaken, miss. I'm not who you think I am."

My voice was slightly rusty with disuse, and it had been a while since I'd used French. I knew I should let go of her, but I didn't want to – not yet. If that was how she greeted him, I wanted to be whoever she thought I was for a little bit longer.

The woman in my arms boldly reached up to brush my hair from my face, studying me closely. She felt the planes of my jaw under the dark beard, holding my eyes with her own golden brown ones before her face fell, disappointment filling her beautiful eyes. I felt a strange pang in my chest as I realized I was responsible for the change.

"So I see now. I'm sorry for bothering you; you just look very much like my friend from back home in the States. I'm here to perform with the Kiev Ballet company, you see."

"You dance very well," I couldn't help but murmur. I knew she'd seen me watching her at practice and in the streets. Something about her had caught my eye, and I'd found myself near the theater more often than was wise, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the streets. "I like to watch you sometimes."

I carefully removed her small, delicate hands from my face and neck, holding them in my own large, rough ones. As always, I wore a leather glove on my left hand to hide the metal, but the right hand was bare; her skin was so soft, I didn't want to stop touching her.

"I thought you looked familiar," she said with a soft smile, tilting her head slightly. "You must like ballet a lot to come every day to watch us." I nodded as she continued. "What do you think of the show so far? It will be awhile yet before we perform it. Have you see my friend, Natalia, dance? She's the redhead."

I had indeed noticed the redhead from my vantage point; she was a beautiful woman and I was drawn to her, but not as strongly as I was drawn to the woman before me. "She's an excellent dancer. I look forward to seeing the upcoming show."

We'd been too long on the open streets, I needed to get out of sight before the streets became deserted and I started to draw attention I'd rather avoid. I started to edge away from her, but she tightened her hold on my hands, looking up at me through long, dark eyelashes.

"Won't you come have a cup of coffee with me? I'd like to talk with you more."

I blinked at her, momentarily entranced. "I'd like that," I blurted out, then shook my head, clearing it. I wanted to spend more time with her, but it wouldn't be wise for me to be seen alone with her - simply because I didn't ignore her like every other woman I met. I decided to give her one more chance to leave, aware of how time consuming it was to be a professional dancer. "I really shouldn't impose on you; you have so little time to yourself."

"And I choose to spend some of that time with you. Please? I'd really like to stay with you for a little while longer. It's so boring back at the company housing; we aren't allowed to do anything fun."

I couldn't remember the last time I'd done something just to make someone happy...but then again I couldn't remember a lot of things. "And you're sure-"

"Yes," she grinned, cutting me off. She and squeezed my hand gently. "I'm sure. What should I call you?"

"James," I said quickly. I didn't want to be called Winter - not by her, not tonight. It was a name I vaguely remembered; I wasn't even certain it was really ever mine. "You can call me James."