[WWII AU] you and your baby went to town

[from_the_outside]

Waiting for Bucky's day off has been as difficult as waiting for Christmas used to be when she was a kid. And it doesn't help that they just don't seem to be able to manage time alone together after the mission – not enough of it, anyway. A few stolen kisses here and there are all she gets, even as she feels like she's burning up from pure want.

When he finally tells her, grinning, that he's gotten another R&R day, she spends the next few days in a haze of relieved anticipation. Not just at the thought of finally being able to touch him, but just because she loves spending the time with him. She knows it's a bad idea, knows it's only going to hurt so much worse down the line, but she can't stop herself, and she doesn't want to.

She doesn't ride with him into town this time. Instead, he'd told her to meet him at the little chapel he'd shown her earlier. Wilkins is happy to give her a lift, after she spends extra time and care on her hair and makeup and clothes – the civilian outfit he likes so much and which Lorraine had tried to ruin. 

She's right on time as she walks into the little chapel and looks around for him. "Bucky?"

Comments

[from_the_outside]

They fall back to the bed like puppets with their strings cut, and she lies in his arms, her skin sweat-slicked and glowing in the slanting afternoon sun, her back rising and falling with her rapid breath. Pleasant aftershocks ripple through her from the pressure of his body against hers, and she makes a small, content sound, then lifts a hand to push damp hair off her forehead.

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles up at her. “Hi, baby.” Bucky reaches to brush her hair back.

[from_the_outside]

"Hi," she murmurs back, and closes her eyes to tip her head into his touch, then smiles back at him as she opens them again. It's been a while since she's had this much of this particular type of activity, and she can already tell she'll be sore tomorrow.

Worth it.

[nerves_of_ice]

They’ll have to go back soon, he knows. He can walk her back to the village, make sure she gets back safely before he takes care of things here.

But not yet. They have a little time left. He draws his fingers through her hair and holds her close.

[from_the_outside]

She curls close to him, boneless and warm and relaxed, and closes her eyes to enjoy the way his fingers feel in his hair.

It's a bad idea. But she can't care. She makes herself a promise that she'll savor every moment she can steal with him, no matter what the future has in store. And for now, she's perfectly happy to be in this one, here in this quiet little cottage, somewhere in the war-torn fields of France.