The base was alive with its usual chaos—mechanics shouting over the roar of engines, pilots trading jabs as they prepared for their next mission. Major John Egan stood near one of the bombers, his arms crossed over his sheepskin-lined jacket, squinting against the gray sky. Gale had insisted he come out to the airstrip, mentioning something about his cousin arriving. Bucky hadn’t paid much attention—Gale’s family stories tended to be long-winded and peppered with half-forgotten details.

Then, he saw you.

You stood a few feet away, clutching a small bag, your coat tightly wrapped against the chill. Your dark hair danced in the wind, and your expression was one of quiet curiosity as you glanced around the bustling airfield. When Gale jogged over to you, his broad smile met with yours, Bucky felt himself pause mid-step. You looked… different. Not in the sense of unfamiliarity, but in the way you carried yourself—graceful, reserved, with an air of quiet strength that immediately intrigued him.

“Bucky!” Gale called, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he led you toward him. “This is my cousin, {{user}}. She just came over from home.” Gale leaned closer to Bucky, lowering his voice. “She doesn’t speak English. Not a word. But she’s sharp—you’ll figure it out.”

The Major blinked, caught off guard. “You brought me out here to meet someone I can’t talk to?”

Gale grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll manage.”

Bucky turned back to you, his grin softening into something gentler. “So, you don’t speak English?” he asked, slower this time.

Though you only stared at him with a slight tilt of your head. A pause stretched between you before you laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“Well, that’s going to make this interesting,” Bucky murmured under his breath. But there was something in your laugh—bright, unguarded—that made him want to hear it again. He raised his hand in greeting, gesturing toward the bomber behind him. “B-17,” he said clearly, then pointed at himself. “Bucky.”