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IT WAS A chilly winter night in Bucharest. Charlie and Bucky had been there for a little over a month, quickly feeling at home.
This time they had found a hotel room. Sure, it wasn't even near a five-star room, but it was a home. Their home.
They had placed newspapers over the windows to cover themselves from the rest of the world.
The two were outside on the balcony. It was later at night, the moon at its peak in the sky.
"Hey, Buck?"
"Yeah?" Bucky turns his head to look at Charlie. He could see his own breath in the frigid air.
"Do you ever imagine what life would have been like if we didn't fall off the train back in '45?"
Bucky sighs at her question, not answering for a few moments after.
"I do. I imagine an easier life, a better one, where we both grow old. I got married, had kids. But that dream is over, reality has set in. This is our life. We will live it the way it's intended to."
"And which way is that?"
Bucky just shrugs. Charlie scoffs, shaking her head as she refrains from smiling.
Buck pulls something out of his jacket pocket. He opens the pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. He puts it in his mouth, taking a puff before releasing the smoke with a content sigh.
"Since when did you start smoking?" Charlie speaks up about his actions. She had never seen him do it before.
"Since I figured out it eases the pain and stress. You should try it." Bucky holds the lit cigarette out to Charlie with a raise of his eyebrow.
"No thanks," she declines. Steve wouldn't approve of that, Charlie thought in her head.
Buck shrugs, taking another drag. "Suit yourself."
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"Hold still," Charlie chides as she brushes out Bucky's hair.
"You're pulling my hair," Bucky whines, leaning his head with the brush to try and prevent the pain.
"Oh, don't be such a baby." Charlie puts down the brush, pulling his hair up. "Your hair is getting so long. I'll give it a trim soon."
