YN tried to speak, but she couldn't get her lips to form the words she knew she needed to say. She'd thought she'd been prepared to handle him, but just like she'd been shocked by Steve, this version of Bucky was so much more than she'd initially planned for. How had the women in this day and age handled the waves of charisma and charm oozing off of him?

Bucky started to say something to Steve, but just then the band started playing a new tune. He turned and looked over his shoulder and then quickly turned back to her as his hand moved from the small of her back to grasp hers. "C'mon, doll, this is my favorite song."

The intensity of his smile had been magnified by the song that was playing and she found herself being pulled onto the dance floor. It was an odd sensation to feel two warm hands against her own, and for a moment she missed the cool vibranium hand she'd grown used to in such a short amount of time. This small inconsistency was enough to pull her out of her stupor and in one rush of adrenaline, she finally felt in control of herself.

"I didn't say I wanted to dance with you," she curtly informed him as he continued to twirl her around the dance floor.

"No, you didn't," he agreed with a wink. "But you were about to give poor Stevie an asthma attack over there. I had to save my best friend from an untimely death, now didn't I?"

YN looked over her shoulder to see Steve hunched over his glass of water again. Occasionally, he'd glance their way, but for the most part, he seemed to be trying to blend into the background as much as possible. That definitely wasn't the Steve Rogers she'd come to know in the past few years.

"Well, maybe if you didn't barge in and interrupt people when they're trying to have a conversation with him, he wouldn't have that kind of reaction," she said, her tone a little bit snippy.

Bucky spun her into a corner of the dance floor opposite from where Steve was sitting and narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you so interested in Steve? A pretty dame like you should have a hoard of good looking guys waiting in line for a dance with you."

"First of all," she shot back, her finger poking into his chest with every word she spoke. "I'm not a dame, or your doll. You may refer to me as either a woman, or a lady, but I won't put up with any derogatory terms from you."

His initial look of shock turned sultry as he silently appraised her. He had to admit she had spunk. "You're not like other girls are you?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she huffed indignantly. "Why do men always think that's some kind of compliment? I have a personality like any other human being on the planet. How would you feel if I told you were just as big of a jerk as every other guy I'd ever met?"

"Ouch," he exclaimed, holding a hand over his heart. "You can't go lumping all of us guys together like that. . ."

"That's my point," she interrupted with a satisfied smile. "Men always stereotype women and then seemed shocked when we don't fit into the mold they've created for us, but God forbid we do the same to you."

He paused for a moment to consider her words. "Touché." He looked at her long and hard. "So, you really did want to talk to Steve? You weren't just using him as a way to get to me?"

A look of utter disbelief came over her face as she began to shake her head. "You've got to be kidding me. Please tell me women don't actually do that? I may have to kill half of the female population of Brooklyn before I leave."

Bucky took a step back to think for a moment. This woman was unlike any other he'd ever met before, but somehow he wasn't put off by her brash attitude and sharp tongue. He was insanely attracted to her, but she seemed to only have eyes for Steve. What were the odds of that ever happening?

"Unfortunately, they do," he finally answered before taking a deep breath. "If you want to talk to Steve, I'll help you out."

"I truly doubt Steve Rogers needs your help to talk to a woman," she told him as she thought of the easy way in which she and Nat teased and joked with him. "And I definitely don't need your help. I'm not interested in him in the way you're implying. I just need his help on a sensitive matter. . ."

"I can help you with anything you need," he interrupted, trying to charm her again. If she wasn't interested in Steve romantically, then maybe he still stood a chance with her.

She gave him a sad look as she thought about the broken man waiting for her back at Howard's house. Laying a hand on his left arm, she told him, "I'm sorry, Bucky, but you are literally the last person on earth that can help me with this problem."

She started to walk away from him, but something she'd said was off. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and spun her back around. "Wait a second. I didn't tell you my name."

Realizing her mistake, she plastered a smile on her face and turned around to face him again. "Seriously? I didn't think there was a single woman in all of Brooklyn that didn't know Bucky Barnes."

The suspicious look in his eyes faded quickly and was replaced with a smug smile. "Well, it seems like you have the advantage over me, dol. . ."

Her eyebrows rose when the familiar pet name started to roll off of his lips, but he caught himself just in time. Failing to keep the smirk off her face, she turned away from him again and started back across the room toward Steve. "See? Old dogs can be taught new tricks."

"Man, he really did a number on you," Bucky said to her retreating back, unable to help himself.

She froze. It rankled her that men automatically assumed her assertive attitude was due to some guy breaking her heart, but right now it really stung because Bucky wasn't too far off the mark. She wanted to pretend that she didn't know why she'd been so snarky with him, but she knew. She'd known it from the first moment he'd spoken to her. That cocky charisma, that sultry smile, and that sexy swagger – those were all reminders of the man who had been tacitly rejecting her for years, and her defenses had automatically went up the second he'd pulled her into his arms.

He didn't deserve the way she'd treated him, and in fact, he'd gone out of his way to try to help her and Steve. She felt like a fool for being so horrible, but she wasn't sure what she could do to make amends. Thinking that being honest with him, or as honest as she could be, would be a good first step.

"I apologize," she told him, putting all the sincerity she could muster into her words.

He eyed her skeptically. Gone was the snarky attitude from earlier, but he was still suspicious. What had made her change so quickly? He must have struck a nerve when he mentioned the man that had broken her heart. Someone as beautiful as her should never be forced to suffer heartache. Deciding that she did need his help, just not with whatever problem she'd gone to Steve with, he reached out a hand and eyed her questioningly.

"What?" she asked, looking down at his hand like it was a snake.

"Let's start over, shall we?" he replied with a charming smile that had her breath catching in her throat. "I'm Bucky, and I would love the honor of dancing with you this evening."

Dear Lord, he could switch the charm on and off like a light switch, she thought. She remembered how much fun she'd had dancing with everyone back at Howard's house and how she'd asked Bucky to dance with her. That version of him had refused, but this one seemed thrilled by the idea of holding her in his arms. The few minutes she'd spent dancing with him earlier had been enjoyable, but she'd been to angry to fully appreciate it. Still. . .

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," she said with a sad smile. "I really need to talk to Steve. Alone."

His smile faltered a bit as he looked over her shoulder at his friend sitting by himself again. Bucky felt guilty for denying Steve the opportunity to talk to this mysterious woman, but maybe she had a friend she could bring along with her next time. As much as he loved Steve, he felt like if he let this woman out of his sight tonight, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

"Can't it wait?" he pleaded, as he gave her the most pathetic look he could muster. "It's not a matter of life and death, now is it?"

She wasn't normally one to be affected by puppy-dog eyes, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that pulled at her heart strings. She knew what was about to happen to him in a few years, and a part of her wanted to let him experience as much happiness as he possibly could before HYDRA got their claws into him. Glancing over her shoulder at Steve, she realized that it didn't matter if she spoke to him tonight or tomorrow night as long as she was able to get the message across to him that he needed to remember her. What better way to make an impression than to have Bucky talking about her all night to Steve once they left the club?

"I guess it could wait a little longer," she finally said, earning her another one of the heart-stopping smiles.

Before she had a chance to say another word, he'd grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto the dance floor. She'd had fun that morning, but it was nothing compared to dancing with Bucky.

"You never did tell me your name, dol. . ." Bucky began, stopping himself from calling her "doll" yet again.

She had to give him credit for trying – "doll" was a term of endearment he would still be using eighty years later. He was making an effort for her, and that meant something, didn't it? Shaking her head, she pushed the thoughts away and answered him. "YN YLN."

"That's a beautiful name," he told her as the band began to play a slow song. He pulled her closer to him as one hand held her firmly against him and the other held onto her hand.

Twisting and twirling around the dance floor had taken the breath away from her due to the fast pace. Being this close to him had the same effect, but for different reasons. His body was leaner than she was used to – long lines and lithe muscles – but he still exuded an aura of strength that she'd always looked for in a man. He was an excellent dancer and led in such a way that even someone as inexperienced as her could follow along with no problem.

After a few moments, his left hand tightened against her back, drawing her even closer to him as his right hand guided hers to his shoulder. Trailing a finger along the bare skin of her arm as his hand moved to join his other one on her back had her nerve endings sending shocks of pleasure straight through her. She had to give him credit – he knew exactly what he was doing and had no qualms about seducing her in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

As they swayed to the lilting melody the band played, she watched as his bright blue-grey eyes darkened with desire, and she knew that hers were a mirror of his. She was playing a dangerous game right now, but her baser needs were slowly overtaking the rational side of her as she continued to allow him to weave his web of seduction.

When one hand lazily slid up along her ribs to cup her jaw, she offered no protest, but instead gave into the desire to thread her fingers through his soft, brown hair. His lips were gentle as they brushed against hers, and a little voice inside of her screamed that this was wrong, but she quickly quieted it as she allowed herself to get lost in the kiss.

He was aware of their surroundings and knew what would be overlooked by the crowd around them and what would warrant censure. He did his best to keep things as chaste as he could, but her mouth was hot and demanding and he was struggling to stay in control as the taste and feel of her overwhelmed his senses.

The song ended and the band began to play a livelier tune. The couples around them began twisting and twirling again, so when someone accidentally bumped into them, they broke apart in surprise. He loved the faraway look in her eyes that spoke volumes about how much his kiss had affected her, and he knew he'd do whatever it took to get her back in his arms again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but she really wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. She had enjoyed the kiss – probably a little too much. There was a part of her that felt guilty for kissing him, but only because she realized that it wasn't really fair to the version of him waiting for her across town. This version of Bucky was exactly what she looked for in a guy, but she knew it was foolhardy to travel down this path. Disturbed by her own feelings, she backed away hastily and quickly lost herself in the crowd.

She could hear him calling out for her, but her emotions were raw, causing her to feel both confused and exposed. Spotting Jarvis leaning against the bar, she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. "We need to leave. Now."

Thankfully, he didn't argue as he rushed ahead of her and grabbed the door. The night air was cool against her feverish skin and she took deep gulps to help clear her thoughts. She still held Jarvis' hand, so he was able to lead her to where he'd parked the car.

Collapsing into the passenger seat, she leaned her head against the window and tried to come to terms with what had just happened back in the club. It had been a simple mission – get in, find Steve, give him her message, and then get out. She'd known Bucky was going to be there, but she'd assumed he'd be too busy on the dance floor with some floozy to pay any attention to her. Steve had told her stories about his best friend, but after meeting Bucky in Germany a year ago, she'd assumed Steve had just been embellishing his memories of him. Boy was she wrong. Steve's descriptions of Bucky had been vastly underrated, and somehow she'd ended up being the floozy on the dance floor with him.

"Are you okay, Ms. YLN?" Jarvis asked once they were on their way back to Howard's house.

"I'm fine, Jarvis," she said, hoping the lie sounded more convincing to him than it did to her own ears.

His lips formed a tight line which told her that she'd failed – yet again. He shot her a quick glance and opened his mouth to say something before snapping it closed again. He focused his attention on the road, but after a few moments, he finally allowed himself to speak the question that was plaguing him.

"That man you were dancing with," he began hesitantly. "I'm assuming it's no coincidence that he bears a striking resemblance to Sergeant Barnes?"

She let out a long breath as she considered what to tell him. Deciding that tonight couldn't get any worse, she went with the truth. "Would you believe me if I told you that Sergeant Barnes and I are from the future, we're trapped in 1942, and his friend Steve is the only person that can help us get back to our own time?"

His eyes grew large as he stared at her. A car honked its horn when Jarvis accidentally swerved into his lane and he jerked the wheel to correct his mistake. He stared intently at the road ahead of him for a moment before finally answering her. "A few years ago, I would have assumed you were suffering from a mental affliction, but after some of the things I've witnessed since becoming acquainted with Mr. Stark, I find myself believing every word you just said."

"Will you tell Ana?" she asked. She wasn't worried that Ana wouldn't believe them, she just wanted to make sure that everyone was on the same page. It would be easier if they didn't have to keep secrets any longer.

"I tell Ana everything, Ms. YLN," Jarvis answered.

She nodded her head as he pulled up in front of Howard's house. "Good."

Jarvis let her out at the front door before driving around the corner to the garage in the back. She took another deep breath and squared her shoulders. She couldn't afford to let anyone else see how frazzled she was by her encounter with the younger Bucky. Howard had given her a key before she left, so she didn't have to wait for Ana to let her in and for that, she was grateful. All she wanted to do was go straight to her room and take a long shower to clear her head.

The foyer was empty when she came in, but she wasn't taking any chances. Rising to her tiptoes to keep the heels of her shoes from clacking against the hardwood floors, she began quietly sneaking up the stairs to her bedroom. The hallway was just as empty as the front entryway had been, so by the time she made it to her door, she was able to breath a sigh of relief.

As soon as she closed the door of her bedroom behind her, she collapsed against its hard surface and closed her eyes. She would allow herself one more moment to relive the kiss before she pushed it to the back of her mind, never to be thought of again. She could feel her heart begin to pound in her chest as she remembered the way his fingers had dug into her flesh and the way his lips had felt against her own. Reaching up, she trailed a finger over her lips, sure that they would somehow feel different to her.

A sudden feeling of unease hit her, and her eyes shot open as she dropped her hand. The room was pitch black dark, so it was hard to scan her surroundings to see what had triggered her. The curtains weren't completely closed across the window on the far side of the room so a sliver of moonlight shone through. She followed the trail of light to where it glinted off the fingers of metal hand. The rest of the arm and body of the man it belonged to was hidden by the tall back of the wingback chair, but there was no mistaking who was waiting for her.

He slowly rose and as he did, the moonlight briefly highlighted his face for her to see. There was no hiding the anger set deep into his features, and with a surge of panic, she realized her mistake.

"Hello, doll."

___________________

Author's Note: Thank you for reading Part 11 of this story! I hope you enjoyed it! I've been dying to have her meet the 1942 version of Bucky since I started writing this story! What did you think of their first encounter? Could any of us resist his charm? She definitely underestimated him! What do you think she realized at the end? What do you think is going to happen next? I look forward to your comments and please consider voting if you enjoyed this part!