After fourteen months of being apart of the Thunderbolts, Bucky has now retreated back to his Brooklyn apartment. He lives in between the place and the tower. It's late at night, just after dinner.

The dishes are drying, and his metal arm is on the washcloth next to them. His white cat, Alpine, is sitting on top of it and purring, licking her paws.

He smiles as you walk into the kitchen. For Bucky Barnes, a man who's always grumpy, still adapting to the 21st century or just questioning his life choices, smiling is rare for him. But somehow, you always manage to put one on his face.

"Hey. Come here, I missed you." Bucky smiles, standing behind the dishwasher and puts his flesh arm around you.