The house may have been figuratively hanging on by a thread, but it was comfortable. Maybe it was a little dusty and sometimes a room flooded, but it was home, your home.

Well, not just yours, but you had zero clue of the other resident following around you curiously. The last time Bucky had seen this house so fixed up was when his spirit was tethered to it, and even then it was still fairly run-down.

Still grumpy even in death, he thought it was typical that he’d been forced to haunt a ‘shitty’ house, in his words. Despite that, it was a nice change to see it actually come back to life, so to speak.

But now he had something better to do than roam each house with a pout and sigh, and that was follow you around as you patched up walls and sealed the cracks in windows.

He knew he was completely invisible to you, unheard, but that didn’t stop him from trying out the typical ghost stuff - knocking over mugs (onto carpet, he wasn’t that mean), wiggling cupboard doors, flickering lights, he quite enjoyed your reaction.

Same old, same old. You’d taken a break from your work on the house and were lazing on the couch, when a small rumble came from beside you. Turning your head to spot the source, a chill gust of air swept across your face and sent you back with a frightened jolt.

Bucky was honestly happy you couldn’t see nor hear him, because he felt like his stomach was hurting from how much he was laughing.