A/N- I'm hopping I've got the translation right. I apologise if not.

-/-/-/-

It was late the next night, you woke with a start. Aware that someone else was in the room with you. You carefully roll so your arm slides off the bed. Hoping it looks natural as you take hold you the hockey stick you had put under there the previous day. The person in your room knelt behind you on the bed and was leaning towards you. Ever horror movie and ever horror game flash into your head. Why did you watch all those things?

You swung the stick around hoping to hit who ever it was.

Whoever it was, caught the stick and you saw a glint of metallic in the weak moon light through the gap in the curtains.

"Still with the hockey stick, (nick name)" a deep voice murmured, with a hint of amusement. You relaxed your body knowing exactly who it was. Not a zombie or a blood thirsty mechanical robot.

Muttering a swear word at him as you put the stick back beside the bed and sit up.

"Scare a girl to death why don't you, James." you hear a quiet chuckle. He shifts on your bed and you cross your legs to copying him. You wave a hand and the lights in your room turn up so they are still dim but you can see each other. The man before you looks tired, dark marks under his eyes and he was paler then you remember him being. He look like he had woken up from another nightmare.

"Hey," you say softly. You wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him and tell him it's ok but you know it's best if he reaches out first. He gives you a small exhausted smile, before focusing on your hands.

"Hey." he whispered. He reached out his human hand and brushes his knuckles against your hand that is resting near your knees. You turn your hand over so he can take it if he wants. He does and he pulls it into his own lap. Idly twists his fingers around yours. Dragging his digits along your skin with a gentle softness he forgets that he has.

"Did you ever make it to Romania? " you ask him after a few moments. He nodded, not looking up but you could sense the frown on his face. "What was it like? How long did you stay? Did you learn any of the language? What's the culture like? The people? Did you see the Caspian mountains? vampires, castles? " you always wanted to travel but were determined to pay for it yourself.

As yet the small apartment you rented took most of the money you earned. The trip to American wasn't a cheap one, but you were not going to touch your family's money unless it was the last resort.

Bucky looks up finally and gives you a patient smile, with something else hidden in his eyes.

"Mi-e dor tine înger" ((I miss you angel)). He reached out his flesh hand to gently tilt your chin with his fore finger and thumb. "ar trebui să facă mai mult gem de prune"((you should make/do more plum jam)).

You have no idea what words tumbled out of his mouth like water, but you knew your eyes lite up. You gifting him with a smile of your own. Drawn in by the unfamiliarity of the language wrapped in the familiar sound of his voice.

"What did you say?" You have always been so eager to learn knew things. Bucky just smiles, hiding it behind your hand, which he raised to kiss the back of. You try desperately to stop the heat raising to your cheeks. You shuffle forward, almost touching his knees with your own . You knew, you weren't going to get a straight answer from him. All because you recognised the tiny hint of mischief that twinkles in the corner of his soft blue eyes. It was such a rare sight you didn't want of extinguish it.

"What else did you learn?" Bucky spent the remainder of the night telling you all about Romania.

-/-/-

Before you knew it, you were waking up with his metal arm wrapped around your back and your face hidden in his warm, firm chest. You take a moment to pier at him through your lashes. One of your hands were incasked in his larger one and you were sure that you couldn't escape if you tried. Bucky was laying on his back with you half on top of him, your entire length pressed against his side. You weren't small by normal standards but beside Bucky you felt tiny. He was a mass of muscle. Big, strong, firm muscle and you ...were definitely not. You were softer, rounder with more shape then the "perfect" images the media force down your throat. You were bigger in some parts and smaller in others.

You were deep in thought about starting another attempt at losing a few inches off your thighs, when you felt Bucky stir. His mechanical arm bringing you closer to his chest while he murmured into your hair.

"Thinking too loud, кукла" he lightly brushed his lips against the skin on your forehead. кукл was the one word you vaguely knew. Russian, you think.

It was always кукла or Ангел мой when Bucky was tired or closer to his soldier self and doll or darlin' or sweetheart when he wasn't. You noticed his accent changes as well, one moment it sounded like he was Russian, the next he was from the Brooklyn. It took you a while to get used to.

You look up, muttering a quiet apology into his skin. He releases your hand to stroke the skin on your cheek with the back of his fingers, leaving your skin tingling. It had been a long time since he last did that and your heart speeds up at the memory.

The weight of his gaze is heavy on you for a long moment before he moves just enough to kiss your mouth. He tastes like you remember. You slowly switch positions so your on your back and he is half over you. The hand that had been on your face sides down your waist to you hips. He squeezes enough so that you will remember his touch later on.

Then as easily as that, you return to the same pattern of activity you had created the previous time you had met.