Bucky looked out the window of Clint's apartment. It was raining. The flowers on the balcony, Bucky argued with Clint to plant daisies, soaked up the rain drops. Each petal was dropping water from one petal, to the next, to the next.

Bucky's long hair was tied up in a messy short ponytail. His silver bionic arm was glistening against the cloudy outside. He leaned his head against the trembling window, and moved his head to the other shoulder every time it thundered.

He was relaxed. He was calm. He was at peace. He hasn't felt like this in a very long time.