Chapter Text
Panic set in as the large buildings seemed to tower over you, amplifying the growing tightness in your chest. You weren’t sure how or when, but you’d been separated from your friends in the middle of Bucharest, and you didn’t speak Romanian. You’d left that to your friends, knowing that if you needed to talk to anyone they would just help translate. And yet, there you stood, shivering against the cold and feeling like a lost puppy surrounded by complete strangers.
You sighed in relief upon remembering you did in fact have a cell phone, so you pulled it out and dialed your friends as quickly as you could. The line rang. And rang. And rang. And cut to voicemail. Apparently, whatever higher power looked after you, they were really pissed off with you today.
You placed your phone back into your coat pocket and tried to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest as strangers bumped passed you, excusing themselves in a language you didn’t understand. It only added to your dismay. The acid in your stomach jumped from its home to your throat, burning the whole way there. You swallowed hard and tried to concentrate, to find a solution to your problem at any cost. You settled for wandering around in an attempt to search for your friends, squeezing past people as your eyes darted around desperately.
Small flurries of snow began to fall from the sky, coating the ground in a thin layer of a clumsy persons worst nightmare. Flakes stuck to peoples hair, their clothes, cars on the side of the road, anything they happened to fall upon. The temperature felt like it had dropped by ten, maybe twenty degrees as you continued your search. The fear of being lost in a foreign country on your own became all too real to you and you found yourself feeling hopeless.
Your fingers began to tingle, even from inside your coat pockets. Your cheeks burned from the icy air and you admitted defeat, opting to dip inside of a coffee shop that was conveniently close by. If anywhere would be warm, it would be there.
Once inside the small shop, your breath stopped fogging up and the familiar scent of coffee grounds helped your anxieties to subside, but only a little. You ordered a drink- decaf, because seriously the last thing you needed was more jitters- and felt thankful that you’d been getting coffee throughout the trip, otherwise you never would have been able to order anything. You sat down in a booth and stared at your drink for a moment before dropping your head onto the table like a weight.
How could you have lost your friends? They were there one second, and gone the next, like some kind of sick disappearing act by a cheap magician. Your heart sank into your stomach and tears began to prick your eyes as you accepted your fate. Were you being a little dramatic? Maybe, but anyone in your situation would have felt the same way, maybe even worse. You sat in silence and tried to come up with a plan in the middle of the coffee shop as snow piled on outside.
“Scuză-mă, te simți bine?” a voice said above you, making you sit up abruptly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t-” you tried to explain, your words failing you as you observed the man before you. His hair was trailing over his shoulders from under a baseball cap, a kind look in his eyes. Though he looked friendly, he was huge, and that scared you. This massive dude whose face you could hardly see was talking to you and you couldn’t even respond in his language.
“Ah, I see,” he said, the English making your fears melt away, “I was just wondering if you were alright.”
“Um, not really,” you admitted, “I got separated from my friends.”
You mentally kicked yourself. Had you seriously just told this complete stranger that you were lost? What if he was a serial killer? Were you really that desperate to find your friends? Apparently the answer was yes.
“And you don’t speak Romanian,” he clarified, staring at you like a lost child. It felt almost demeaning.
“I don’t speak Romanian,” you repeated, your head falling against the table once more. You thought you heard him chuckle.
“I could help you, if you’re comfortable with that,” he offered, placing his hands in his pockets and studying you. The least he could do was help you find your friends, but only if you trusted him enough to let him.
“Why do you want to help me?” you asked, your voice muffled.
The man shrugged, even though he knew you couldn’t see him. “You look like you could use it,” he said.
You considered this for a moment, trying to decide if you could trust this man. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to help you, but you never can tell when someone has bad intentions these days.
“I can take you to the police station?” he offered, knowing full well the risks of going to the police. His face was plastered all over the media after what happened in Washington DC, but if it meant getting you back to your friends, he’d risk it.
You sighed and lifted your head. You knew self-defense, if this guy tried anything, at least you could say you tried to fend him off. And you really, really, needed the help.
“Okay,” you said, grabbing your drink and standing, “Lead the way.”
The man smiled and gestured for you to follow, holding the door to the shop open for you. You stepped out into the cold and braced yourself against the gust of wind that slammed into your body, your warm drink providing a small amount of heat. You sipped it once and felt your insides begin to heat up again.
“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he said as he walked next to you.
“I’m Y/N,” you said, shooting him a timid smile.
“Y/N, have you seen the Palace of Parliament yet?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation casual.
“We were going to see it tonight,” you responded.
“That’s the best time to see it in my opinion,” he said, “It lights up like a Christmas tree.”
“It sounds nice,” you said, finding comfort in having him around.
Bucky watched you out of the corner of his eye, admiring the pink color on the tip of your nose and the way you looked down to avoid staring straight into the wind. He couldn’t help the way his heart jumped at the sight of you, and he couldn’t understand why. He’d never have approached a stranger like that; they could have known exactly who he was. And yet, he felt like he was supposed to help you, and he was glad he did.
“Do you like it here?” you asked after a few moments, trying to keep the awkward silence at bay.
“It’s alright,” he said, his eyes scanning the city around him, “I’d rather be in Brooklyn, though.”
“Why aren’t you?” you asked. Bucky didn’t say anything, his eyes falling to the ground. He couldn’t explain it to you, though he desperately wanted to.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you apologized, realizing you’d over stepped your bounds.
“You don’t need to apologize, doll,” he said, immediately regretting using the nickname. He’d just met you, and he’d never called anyone “doll” before, had he? What was he doing?
You couldn’t think of anything to say, the term of endearment making you purse your lips together. You settled for giving him an understanding look.
Another burst of wind knocked into you and you had to stop in your tracks to replace the stolen air in your lungs.
“Not used to the cold?” he asked, stopping and waiting for you.
“Not this cold,” you said, your voice shaky. Bucky took pity on you and placed his left arm around you, fully aware that all it had to do was shift or make that damn whirring noise and he’d be found out, but he couldn’t stand to see you standing there so helpless against the blizzard.
“Thanks,” you muttered, your cheeks red not only from the cold, but from the fact that this attractive man you’d just met was being more polite than any man you’d ever met. Hell, he was being more polite than any man you’d ever dated.
“Gotta stay warm somehow,” he said, looking down at you and smirking, “Let’s get you to the station.”
Fifteen minutes and one awkward conversation later, you arrived at the station to find your friends waiting outside. You nearly jumped for joy the moment you saw them, but you settled for releasing your anxiety in the form of a sigh.
“That’s them,” you said to Bucky as you stood on the other side of the street, your voice relieved.
“I guess they’ve been looking for you, too,” he said, watching your friends from afar.
“Thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to find them if you hadn’t helped me, Bucky,” you said, turning to face him. You finally got a good look at his face, and holy shit was he handsome. His eyes seemed to light up when they looked into yours, and it made your stomach turn in the most delightfully strange way.
“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he replied, smiling down at you. It stung to know that he probably wouldn’t ever see you again, but he knew it was for the best. You were too sweet to bring into his world, and he knew eventually he would end up hurting you, but it didn’t stave off his need to hold you in his arms and keep you safe.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” Bucky asked, his heart heavy. You nodded in understanding, your eyes glued to his face. You didn’t want to forget what he looked like.
In a moment of bravery you stood on your toes and leaned forward, pressing your chapped lips against the skin of his cheek. His stubble tickled your chin, and you felt his cheeks rise as he smiled. You pulled away and smiled up at him one last time, taking in his love-struck expression before turning and walking away.
Bucky watched you reunite with your friends, his face hurting from how much he was smiling. It warmed his heart to see them all pull you into hugs, something he would damn himself for never doing. You looked over your shoulder at Bucky one last time, smiling as he waved at you from across the street. You offered a small wave before you were dragged away by your friends.
Bucky walked back to his apartment as quickly as he could, desperate to write about his short time with you in one of his many notebooks. He hoped he never forgot the way your lips felt against his skin, or the color of your eyes, or the way you practically melded against him when he put his arm around you. It definitely deserved a bookmark.