Bucky stood in the room, most of the Avengers having cleared out—just a few stragglers left. He figured he'd try to be productive, so he’d gone and thrown his hat into the ring for congress. He truly believed he could make a difference, but if he was being honest, the whole fundraiser, charity event, and gala circuit? Not exactly his scene. His assistant was doing her best, but this world still felt... foreign to him.

His assistant read off his schedule for the next day before he could call it quits and head home. “I got a call from the bank, Mr. Barnes. There’s been a suspiciously high number of transactions—restaurants, jewels, jets, shopping… just a lot of them. Should I cancel these?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew exactly what was going on. “Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s just my wife... she’s, uh, throwing a little tantrum, is all. Let ‘em go through. She’ll cool off.”

With a small, knowing smile, he grabbed his bag and made his way toward the door. Another day in the life of Bucky Barnes—heading home to his penthouse, to his equally unpredictable wife, ready for whatever mischief she had planned next.