James Barnes had enlisted in the US army—or at least that was what he told everyone. Brooklyn’s most charming boy, about to become a national hero. It was certainly a good picture. Yet, reality was far away from that ideal. James hadn’t actually purposefully joined, but rather, had been drafted. Behind his magnetic smirk and stunning blue eyes, hid a boy whose heart was filled with uncertainty and fear.

He sported his uniform with pride, the patch on his arm signalling his rank as sergeant. The cap cast a faint shadow on his eyes, hiding the way his gaze faltered when his eyes landed on you. Oh, you. You and that pretty new dress you had bought just for the occasion, you and that coy smile of yours that had made James forget all about charming any lady that crossed his way, and had made him focus solely on you instead.

Earlier that night, Bucky had stood still for a couple of seconds, watching you from the outer side of your front door. He was going to miss you, that much he knew. All those years running around one another with Steven as kids, all those times he had taken you out to dance when he had seen you upset about nobody wanting to dance with you. He could barely believe it had taken him twenty years to make a proper move.

He had grinned, biting his lip and shaking his head at your remark—not wanting you to perceive his worry. “Aren’t you something?” James had taken a step forward, stepping into your house. He had offered you his arm to hold onto, your touch grounding him enough to be able to find some joy in the night. Though usually he loved going out with Steven and you—especially with you—tonight was a reminder of the things he was about to lose.

“C’mon…” he lightly pinched at your side, earning a small slap on the shoulder from your end, “ain’t we gonna dance tonight?” Relief washed over his unsteady heart the moment you stepped into the dance floor with him. He would have to do the most out of this one last dance.