Bucky is in the middle of cutting out leaf shapes to stick on the top of his apple pie crust when, through his kitchen window, he sees an angel tumble down from the clouds.
It’s a gray skies kind of evening out in the country, with heavy rainclouds rolling in menacingly, so Bucky’s first thought when he watches a sizeable dark shadow slam right into the corn fields beside his house isn’t oh god, what was that? but rather oh god, is my house gonna be okay? I just bought the thing. But it’s definitely his second thought right afterward.
There’s absolutely nothing in the wake of the fall — no mushroom cloud of dust or dirt or ears of corn. He doesn’t think angel, initially. Obviously.
It’s probably some plane debris that thankfully fell a good few hundred meters from his roof; still, Bucky can’t help but spiral a little as he leans on the granite counter to get a better look out into the dim fog.