The next morning Amelia woke up earlier than usual. Maybe it was the couch she was sleeping on that made her wake up so early. She was used to sleeping on her comfy bed, which she could sleep on for hours and when she woke up she would just grab her laptop and not get out of bed because she was too warm and comfortable. But the leather sofa was sticking to her skin as her body began to sweat, and the back of her neck felt stiff and unnatural that it made her groan and sit up, moving her neck side to side to remove the unusual feeling.

She checked the time: 9:47 am.

She got up from the sofa and trailed into the kitchen, turning the kettle on and grabbing a food pouch of cat food for Alaska, tipping the chunks of meat into her bowl as Alaska tried to eat the food as it tipped out of the pouch. Looking around the kitchen she noticed what a mess it was. She hastily cleaned up last night but now in the natural sun light she noticed specks of dry blood and scratches on her furniture from their fight. Did last night really happen?

She flicked the kettle on, they made her way upstairs to check on the man in her bed.

She walked into her room, seeing Bucky laying peacefully on her bed as he slept. His face looked soft and relaxed. Yesterday when she had seen him he looked angry and confused, but when he slept it was like all the things he was feeling had left. Like it was the only time he could truly escape reality.

Remembering the state he was in yesterday, she didn't blame him for wanting to escape it.

She left and slowly closed the door behind her, not wanting to disturb him. She returned downstairs and filled her cup with two teaspoons of sugar and a tea bag, pouring the boiling hot water into her cup and then removing the teabag before adding milk.

She grabbed herself a breakfast bar and walked back into her living room, putting her cup of tea on the coffee table and turning on her TV. She decided to put her Sherlock season one DVD in before grabbing her remote and sitting on her sofa again, burying herself in her fleece and pressing play on the remote. She had watched Sherlock tuns of times and she still never got old of the brilliantly written script. It was one of her favourite shows, but not even that could take her mind off the strange man upstairs. She quickly ate her breakfast bar and Alaska soon joined her for a cuddle. She had work at 1pm — granted, she worked from home, but she couldn't imagine dedicating time to write for the company she worked for when there was some kind of fugitive is upstairs.

After watching a couple episodes of Sherlock, she decided to check up on the stranger in her bed again. She climbed off the sofa and walked back upstairs, opening her bedroom door and peeking her head through. He was still sleeping.

He could be dead.

Amelia's eyes widened at the thought. She always over thought things, however, he did come into her home looking like a ship wreck. It could be possible that he was dead.

She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and walked into her room until she was towering over the bed he lay in. She saw his chest rise up and down, which was a good sign, but he still needed to wake up. He had lost quite a lot of blood and he needed to keep himself hydrated.

She awkwardly, but gently shook him. After a while of her gentle shaking he still didn't move. She sighed, and shook him harder, causing him to bolt awake and jump out of her bed quickly.

He looked around, noticing he was in someones room. His eyes fell onto Amelia and he suddenly remembered last nights events. His arms fell down from his guarding position now that he knew he wasn't under attack. He rubbed the sleep out of his eye and yawned.

"Uh, enjoy your sleep?" She asked, trying to keep her eyes from looking at his exposed body. He was only wearing underwear.

He was only wearing underwear.

He nodded, "Your bed feels like a cloud."

It was true, he hadn't slept in something so comfortable before. He normally slept on a old bed with a hard mattress while he recovered and then he was frozen until HYDRA next needed him.

Amelia walked towards her wardrobe and picked out a pair of black joggers that Evan had left last time he had stayed here. She figured Bucky would like to wear some proper clothes instead of the armour he wore. "You can wear these, I'm not sure if they'll fit though..." She offers, holding the joggers out towards him. He was more muscular than Evan, that was for sure.

He took them and thanked her, looking at them in bemusement. Amelia than grabbed a shirt of Evan's that had a Star Trek quote on, and gave him that to wear too. It was safe to say that Evan and Amelia were dorks, to say the least. Bucky examined the clothes with curiosity, he's never seen clothes like these before.

"Come down stairs when you're done changing. I'll cook you some food." She walked out after she told him that, unable to be in the same room as him when he was shirtless. You couldn't blame the woman.

Bucky pulled on the black soft joggers. Beside them being a bit tight they fitted fine. He then put on the shirt that had 'Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!' written on it. He didn't understand what he meant, but slowly put the shirt on over his head, being careful not to hit in bandage on his stomach or to hurt his arm.

A little bit of his stomach was showing as the shirt didn't fit him well, but he didn't know what else he was supposed to wear. Maybe he could put his uniform back on? It was uncomfortable but at least if someone attacked Amelia's home because they found out he was hiding in there then he'd be in suitable attire.

He leaves on the clothes Amelia had given him nonetheless and walked downstairs. He walked into her kitchen where they had first met, feeling self conscious about his metal arm as it was now more noticeable with the white top he was wearing. He wondered why everyone he had saw had two identical arms and why he hadn't. He knew he had the metal arm for work purposes, but how did it get there in the first place?

Amelia turned around when she heard him walk in, giving him a small smile. She noticed that Evan's shirt didn't fit him properly, and thought about suggesting that he could always take the top off if it felt uncomfortable but thought that she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes off him.

She didn't stare at his metal arm as she saw how uncomfortable it made him feel, but she couldn't help but to be intrigued. Why did he have a metal arm for? What happened?

"I'm cooking spaghetti." She told him, irrupting her own thoughts.

"What's spaghetti?"

Amelia look's at Bucky like he had just grown another head, "What's spaghetti?!"

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Was he supposed to know what that is? He felt ridiculous for not knowing, but he couldn't help it. It's not like knowing what spaghetti was would help him in the field anyway.

"Well, uh, spaghetti is a meal people make. It has some sauce on, and it has some chunks of meat in it and tomato. Someone people can cook it differently. Ring a bell?" She questions, but Bucky just shakes his head, still not knowing knowing what it was.

The food he 'ate' when working for HYDRA was compressed into a thick liquid. They said he needed the certain foods in there to make him 'stronger'.

"Okay, just make yourself a glass of water and have a drink whilst I'm cooking it. It won't be done for another twenty minutes."

He drank some water, and after thirty minutes Amelia dishes out their meal onto plates. She asked him if he wanted a cup of tea, and he just nodded even know he didn't know what the heck that was either.

They ate at Amelia's dining table. She watched Bucky in amusement as he poked the pasta with his fork. "What's wrong?"

"It doesn't look very appetising. It kind of looks like worms."

"It's only pasta."

"I thought pasta was that swirly, chunky yellow stuff?"

"You can get pasta in different shapes and sizes."

"Oh."

"Yeah." How did he not know that? She thought.

She watches him as he scopes some up on his fork and shoves it into his mouth. She tries to keep her chuckle in as he gets sauce over his bottom lip. Bucky closed his eyes for a moment and let out a small moan.

"Enjoying that?" She asks, smirking.

He opened his eyes again and nodded, scooping some more food on his fork and eating it.

Amelia carries on eating her meal, watching the man in front of her as he ate his food as well. Yesterday she had seen him as a threat but now she sees him as someone who was confused. She didn't really see him as a threat at all.

It wasn't that she had already trusted him, because she didn't. But intrigued is a word she could defiantly use. She was intrigued and eager to find out more about this man.