Chapter 1: Bonjour

Would someone turn the music down?

That was Bucky's first thought before he had even opened his eyes that morning. At least, he thought it was music. Lifting a heavy hand, he realised it wasn't music that was pounding- it was his head. His throat felt as dry as the Sahara desert, and it wasn't just his head that ached, it was his entire body. He hadn't even sat up yet and he felt terribly dizzy.

Deciding against getting out of bed just yet, Bucky cursed himself and his god awful hangover. His life as he knew it, was over. Finished. Done.

The city of Paris was beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than London or New York or even Rome. Bucky had always wanted to bring Vivian out here, but, they had never had the chance. The two had been together for just over a year, and Bucky had been convinced that she was the One. He had planned the whole thing, taking her on a midnight stroll through the City of Lights (and love) before proposing to her on Pont des Arts with the ring he had spent a large sum of his savings on. It would also be where he would be prepared with the little padlock from their garden shed. It would join the other lovers' commemorations on the bridge and Bucky and Vivian would ride off into the sunset.

He knew now that it was just some lousy fairy tale. Remembering the fateful conversation he had had with her last night, over the phone no less, reopened his very fresh wounds. How could she have so carelessly broken his heart like that? As if their time together meant nothing to her. He had loved her with all his being. She deserved the whole world and whilst he hadn't been able to always buy her the diamonds she lusted after, he did his best to provide for her and make her the centre of his universe.

Feeling his heart now throbbing, too, Bucky turned his head to the right and wearily opened his eyes. Squinting in the light, he saw it was only seven in the morning. Technically he still had one more night and one more day to spend in Paris, but quite honestly, he had no desire to do so. This city had once been his favourite place in the world. Now, it made him want to cry.

Bucky cursed Steve, his best friend, too. He had been out with him and his wife, Peggy, about to tuck into the chocolatiest dessert he had ever laid eyes on, when he received that fateful call from Vivian telling him she would not be coming to Paris. Steve had convinced him to go bar hopping, and against his better judgement, he had agreed. That was where his memories turned blurry. All he could remember was vodka being poured straight from the bottle into his mouth, he remembered a big red windmill, and loud bells.

Oh, and some of his very dirty dreams. He wasn't sure who the girl in his dreams was, but she was beautiful and she had been all over him. Not that Dream Bucky had been any less. He blushed as he remembered how rough he had been and how much he had enjoyed it. Vivian had cringed when he had suggested it once upon a time, but, not the girl in his dreams. She had been happy to indulge his every desire in bed… and in front of the mirror… and in the shower…

Shaking his head to rid himself of the erotic images his brain was conjuring up, Bucky sat up slowly. That was when he noticed he wasn't in his hotel room. Not unless his hotel had suddenly given itself a makeover overnight and gone from three stars to five.

The room was absolutely stunning. The taupe walls had snow white detailing on them, and an ornate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. There were more cupboards than he had back home, and finely crafted lamps set on every possible surface. There was a vase of lilies on the dressing table, adjacent to a small couch (one from his dreams, Bucky noted) and little velvet stools by the enormous windows. The door that led out into the rest of the suite was open, and Bucky swore the window there ran from floor to ceiling, offering a spectacular view of the Eiffel Tower. A telescope had even been placed there.

His heart pounding, Bucky noticed the little pile of clothes on the floor. Well, at least what was left of them. He recognised his shirt and his trousers, but, those lacey undergarments were new to him. They looked like they had been shredded to bits, as if the wearer had been in a great hurry to get them off.

Now, Bucky Barnes was a smart man, but, he was extremely hungover. It took him a little longer than normal, but, slowly, his brain started to put the puzzle pieces together and suddenly, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest as the realisation slowly dawned on him.

Drawing up the covers around his waist, Bucky froze when the bed shifted. Cautiously, he turned his head to the left and the final piece of the jigsaw slotted into place. The girl from his dreams was very much real and she was very much in his bed.

There was no doubt that she really was as beautiful as he remembered. Her chestnut brown hair was fanned across her white pillow, her pink lips slightly parted. There were some black smudges under her eyes, and her long eyelashes fluttered gently with every breath she took. There was something familiar about her, but, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She wriggled a bit, and the white sheet slipped down.

Bucky almost went into cardiac arrest at the sight of her bare breasts, and in an awful hurry to move away from her, misjudged the distance to the end of the bed. He ended up toppling straight off, landing on the floor with an almighty thud. Great, now his bottom hurt just as much as the rest of him. He had managed to bring the bed covers with him, but his fall had woken the girl, who shot up and blinked at him several times, before slipping out of bed and crouching in front of him.

"Ca va?" she asked and Bucky swore she had the voice of an angel.

Her hair was a little knotted, although, she probably had him to thank for that, and her brown eyes seemed to sparkle.

"Tu t'es fait mal?"

"I'm sorry." he managed to croak, desperately trying to keep his eyes from drifting down her naked body. "You sound gorgeous speaking French, but, I have no clue what you're saying."

"I asked if you had hurt yourself."

"Wait, you speak English?"

"Of course. I am English." she retorted, rolling her big, beautiful eyes.

True to her word, she did have an English accent. A very well spoken one, yet, Bucky could detect a hint of a London tone seeping through. Oh God, she had a London accent and looked familiar. He must know her from back home and he felt awful for not remembering who she was.

"Have you forgotten already?" she asked and Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry." he apologised again. "I don't remember much from last night."

"Well, I suppose that makes two of us." she giggled.

Music to his ears. And then she cocked an eyebrow, as her eyes flickered down to his bare chest.

"Although, there are certain things I don't think I will ever forget. Care to relive the memory?"

"Oh!" cried Bucky, standing up abruptly and wrapping the sheet firmly around himself. "That's very, I mean, thank you, but, no. Not to be rude, I mean."

"Just breakfast then." the girl shrugged, and picked up the phone, dialing room service. "Bon matin, le petit-dejeuner pour deux s'il vous plait. Merci."

Whoever she was, she sounded downright sexy in both English and French. She sprawled across the bed and Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly, quickly picking his clothes up and pulling them on. She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?" she posed, as he pulled his head through his shirt.

"No! Not uncomfortable. You're beautiful, stunning, really. But, it's the morning now."

"I'd better get dressed then." she sighed, springing out of bed and picking her clothes off the floor.

"I'm Bucky, by the way." he offered and she looked at him, apparently greatly amused.

"Lola." she offered back.

Then she spun around and held up her tattered bra, grinning at Bucky's red face.

"Sorry." he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

She grinned harder and sashayed past him to the bathroom, her hips swaying seductively. He heard the shower switch on and was overcome by a mad desire to join her.

Bucky told himself to get a grip, and as he pulled his trousers up, noticed a glint of gold. Even more confused than before, he raised his hand. Suddenly, his heart stopped for a split second. And then he let out a strangled cry.

There was a patter of footsteps and the girl was in front of him, wet and wrapped in a towel.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Bucky grabbed her left hand and pointed to the gold band that sat on her ring finger. The hand on her towel slackened and it fell to the ground.

"Bloody hell!"