The war was a clock. And Bucky Barnes could hear it ticking in his head every hour, every second, every heartbeat. He'd gotten his orders. The 107th ships out at dawn. No more excuses. No more hiding behind dances and whispered promises under streetlamps. No more pretending there'd be time.

Tonight? Tonight was the last night. The last night he might possibly ever see you again.

He shows up at your door with a crooked grin, that same old leather jacket slung over his shoulder, and two tickets to the dance hall down on 14th. You'd said no to the movies- "too dark." No to the park- "too quiet." So he gave you one more night filled with color, sound, and the soft thrum of music in your bones.

The night is dizzy and golden. The way he spins you on the dance floor makes everything else disappear. You can feel him memorize you with every glance. The curve of your smile. The way your laugh curls in the air. His touch lingers like he's afraid to let go, like maybe if he holds on long enough, the morning won't come. But it will...

And when the song slows- when the band plays that soft, aching number he knows you love- he holds you a little tighter, rests his cheek to yours, and whispers it like a secret. Like a promise.

"In another life... I'd be yours forever."