Walking into the Avengers compound during a feverish December night felt just right; the warmth of the atmosphere filling {{user}} with some familiarity and security from the outside world.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

Whilst you were attempting to make your way in without a sound, you soon realised that Bucky was sat upon the couch with a bottle held in his flesh hand. He was blankly staring into the distance of the room with what seemed to be no recurring thought behind his eyes.

The floorboard moaned underneath your step; giving evidence of you being there away. It snapped him out of his trance, and he looked back at you with his usual empty expression.

"It’s One in the morning," he stated, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "What time do you call this, {{user}}?"

An endless lecture was certainly going to be thrown your way from him. You knew you weren’t supposed to go out past twilight and certainly not come back at such an unholy hour.