1937

Sleep had become nearly impossible after shipping back home. Flipping onto his stomach, Bucky let out a huff, crowding his arms beneath his head.

It's not like he wasn't used to it, because he was; sleepless nights was just something that happened to you after shooting a gun and watching bodies drop so many times. It hasn't even been eight years and his ears are already starting to ring, along with his knee joints beginning to ache.

He should be quiet. Finish his tour, then come back and settle down, take care of Steve. Be with Dolores.

Dolores Nightingale.

He grins into his pillow, unable to help the smile that she evokes from him every time she comes to mind. Between her bowtie lips and bouncy auburn curls, she was a right dime. If there was ever a time he thought about quitting, she was always at the end of the list, the bittersweet realization that if it weren't for the war, they'd probably be married by now. Her father ran a tight ship, her mother even worse. Bucky supposedly owning his own gun manufacturing business had its perks, but it kept her father busy, leaving her mother to raise the family, and Mrs. Nightingale took her role very seriously.

Shifting to his side, Bucky stares at the wall, contemplating. He could call her, echo her nickname, Dot, into the phone, and grin as she laughed at the title. It'd been a while since he'd heard her voice, that sparkly little laugh that made his heart rush. Bucky had been back less than 36 hours, and Dolores was one of those girls that knew not to crowd. She understood the stress he was under and didn't blame him for his lack of communication.

They weren't dating, weren't bows. He couldn't provide that for her while being shipped off, they both knew it, so they'd decided they'd be friends for now. Friends that did unfriendly things in the back of his mustang but they never labeled it. Not until the war was over.

With a sigh, Bucky sits up gingerly, arching so that his back stretches and pops lightly before swinging his legs off the side of his mattress. Beneath his feet, the floor is warm, slightly sticky, and his eyes flutter shut as he inhales slowly.

Dolores was a dime, and he missed her terribly.

Knowing fully well he'd be back way later than he should be, he scribbled a note, sticking it on the front of his door so that a bleary-eyed Steve would know to let himself in the next morning. The boys had decided to get waffles at the diner down the road, but Steve would understand Bucky's late timing. He always did.

Swinging on his jacket, Bucky shoves his feet into his unlaced shoes, bending down to tie them. Keys in hand, he locks the door, taking the apartment steps two at a time before he's out in the damp Brooklyn air. He's grinning ear to ear as he begins his walk, looking up and down at the familiar street and signs that he hadn't seen in over a year.

Growing up, Bucky and Steve had always complained about the city being too loud, too dirty, too busy. Now as the car lights go whizzing by him and the smell of cigarettes fills his nose, Bucky has never been so grateful. He'd been homesick without even realizing it, and as he looked up into the night sky, he gave a quick thanks to whoever was listening for bringing him home.

Dot kept her window open, and if one climbed the fire escape, it was easy enough to slink in and out of. Maneuvering past that well-worn brick and trash cans, Bucky silently lowered the ladder, hoping it didn't squeak as he gripped the edges. Moving slowly, he climbed the rings, careful to move over the one that was loose and might snap under his weight. Landing lightly, he takes a shaky inhale.

He hadn't seen her in months. A part of him feared she wanted nothing to do with him; she wasn't his girl. Dolores was beautiful, funny. It's not impossible for her to have moved on in his absence, as she didn't owe him anything.

"I knew you were back."

Smiling at him through the flimsy glass, Dot blinks in the moonlight. Her hair was loose, curls draped over her shoulders, the slope of her neck disappearing into her cotton pajamas.

She hadn't changed a bit.

Together, they eased the window up, careful that it didn't slam against the panels lest it wake her ma up.

"Hi."

"Hey there, handsome."

Dolores reaches forward before pressing her hand lightly against his chest, fingers spread wide over his heart. It reminds him of pillows, the comfort they provide, and he grips her wrist gently, motioning for her to take a step back. When she moves, he swings one leg into her room, balancing lightly so as to not make any noise before standing upright.

She's in his arms immediately, hands wracking into his hair as she presses herself to him, hugging him tightly. He can smell the daisies in her hair, and he grins into her shoulder as he loops his arms around her waist.

"I prayed for you," she whispered into his neck, her lips brushing over his skin so lightly it made him shiver. "I'm not a praying kind of girl, but oh my God, did I pray for you to come home."

He presses a kiss to her skin, revealing that he can, digging his fingers into the backs of her hips. She's quiet against him, pressing soft, comforting kisses along his neck and the edge of his jaw before pulling him to sit at the edge of her bed, tucking her legs beneath her. Her hold is strong on him, fingers curled in collar, and he knows it's because she's telling herself he's real.

Dropping his hands from around her waist, Bucky traces the muscles of her calves and thighs, dipping his fingers just below the length of her shorts. She tips her head back, lips searching for him in the semi-darkness. Cupping her neck, Bucky presses his thumb against the line of her jaw so he can kiss her properly, and she hums against him, leaning into his touch.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" she murmurs, her mouth a fraction away from his. Bucky shakes his head slowly, exhaling slowly. Dot nodded knowingly, cupping his face between her palms, fingers stretching behind his ears. "It's okay, Buck. It's okay. You're back. You made it."

Her lips are like honey on his tongue, warm and sweet when she finally kisses him. Looping her arms around his neck, Dot nearly sighs with relief. Bucky pulls her closer, settling her on his lap as her thighs fall on either side of his legs as she straddles him. Her tongue pokes out gently, swiping at his lower lip and he opens his mouth, eager to let her in, to taste her again. It had been too long.

"What are you doing here so late?" she whispers, before kissing him again.

He waits until he's through with kissing her before he answers. "I couldn't sleep. Had you on my mind."

She rolls her eyes but he can feel her smile. "You need rest, Buck. You don't sleep enough."

He chuckles and pulls her closer. "I sleep just fine. Is your ma just as strict?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

It's Bucky's turn to roll his eyes. He kisses the corner of her mouth, his heart lightening as she smiles from the contact. "Lie, then. Come over tomorrow, tell her you're at Elaine's."

"I'm not friends with Elaine anymore."

"Then use another one of your hundreds of friends, say you're going to spend the night with your girls and come stay with me." Bucky sighs, tracing his hands up her sides, reveling in her softness. Dot tucks his hair behind his ear, her eyes bouncing all over his face. He gives her a look. "What? I got coal on my face or something?"

"Hush now," she whispers, eyes wide in the moonlight that comes in from her window. "I'm trying to get a good look at you, see if you're as handsome as I remember."

Bucky barks out a laugh and Dot shushes him. "You trying to be chased down the street with a frying pan?"

They spend the evening curled up in her twin-sized bed, fingers laced together as they whisper to one another. Dot traces the new scratches and bruises that litter his arms and chest, and Bucky kisses the place between her brows every time she frowns when she finds one.

"You still dancin'?" he asks as they lay on their sides, legs tangled. Their hands are raised between them, fingers intertwined as the desire pumps between them. She won't sleep with him, not while her ma's just down the hall, but he doesn't mind. She's worth every wait, every sneaking opportunity.

Dot lets out an irritated groan. "No. I stopped a few months ago. These girls are something else, something vicious. I doubt I'd make company anyways."

"Not true. You've got a gift Dot, ya gotta use it," Bucky counters, swiping his thumb over her palm.

Dot shifts, grinning at the nickname but her mind is still elsewhere. "Why would I wanna dance if you aren't there to watch me?"

Bucky's glad she's looking away. His face is an open book, and he knows his guilt is written all over his features. "I will be there one day."

She glances at him, before smiling gently. Leaning forward, Dot cups the side of his face. "I know it."