A/N: Hi All,

I warn you – this is more of a filler chapter. I'm about to move into the, I guess, 'snapshots' of Grace and Bucky, so that we get to see the development of their friendship, rather than their day by day; otherwise, we would never really get anywhere.

Also, I know it's been all quiet and nice so far, but I am planning some more high-intensity stuff, I just want to establish some kind of foundation between the two main characters first.

So, yeah, I hope you like it.

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It should've been weird.

After all, one doesn't just take a strange, homeless-looking man into their home and expect everything to just slip into place.

…Except it sort of did.

It had been a week now. Bucky Barnes had been living in her apartment for exactly one week, and as strange as it might have sounded to anyone else, the living arrangement was working perfectly.

She would emerge from her room each morning for breakfast, and each morning, less than 2 minutes later he would join her. At first they had eaten mostly in silence, but as the week drew on, and Grace continued her nudging, they now ate breakfast with a steady flow of conversation. That being said, it was still her that did most of the talking; but he willingly engaged with her now, so that was something.

And then, she would leave for work while he, from all reports, would busy himself with whatever he could find. He did little bits of reading, but his unexplained outburst days earlier was holding true: he didn't really like books.

The television, on the other hand, seemed to be a different story. Even though she knew he didn't spend all day in front of it, he had to be cutting it close. Especially when considering that that was where she usually found him when she returned home at the end of the day.

She found she didn't really mind though. Particularly since it never failed to get him talking. When the conversation in the evening seemed to run to a halt, all she had to do was ask what he had watched on TV that day and he was off; animated and, sometimes, even excited about whatever he had seen or learned. It was somewhat akin to asking a small child what they had done on their first day of school. And, it was adorable.

She knew for a fact, however, that he did other things during the day as well. For example, he had taken on nearly all laundry responsibilities – except for her underwear. It might have been childish of her, but she felt that it was best for both of them if her delicates were left to her.

He had also started washing up. Before she had merely rinsed her dishes throughout the day before attempting to wash everything at the end of the night after dinner. However, more often than not, she found that she ended up letting the rinsed dishes pile up for a few days, only washing them when she ran out of plates.

But not anymore. At least not with Bucky around.

In the back of her mind, she knew it was crazy. You didn't just take strangers into your home and integrate them into your life – especially not when said stranger was a 98 year old assassin with a serious case of amnesia. But that's what she had done.

And it had turned out fine. For now.

That was the part that was secretly worrying her – the 'for now'. What was the outcome here? Was he going to stay forever? Is that what he wanted? More importantly, is that what she wanted?

She thought on this for a moment. What did she want?

She wanted to help him.

She had said that right from the start. And it was no less true now than it had been then. And what's more, is that now, he was her friend.

At least, that was how it felt. Yes, it had only been a week but, after a quick mental survey, she was pretty sure they could tick all the boxes to qualify as friends.

One – they talked all the time. Well… most of the time.

Two – she told him things about her personal life. Granted it was only small bits and pieces here and then, but to her, it still counted.

Three – he told her personal things about himself. Sort of.

To be fair, he pretty much had no idea what personal things were going on in his life – in fact, it was probably accurate to say that she knew more about him that he did. But he did try.

Every now and then he would say little things. Sentences or even just words that screamed volumes about what he'd been through. He'd told her about his last mission, and how he was supposed to kill Captain America, and how he almost did, and how he decided not to.

Maybe it wasn't much, but she knew it was far more than he'd ever told anyone else. Well, anyone else he could recall anyway.

Four – they trusted each other. She might have no idea why, but she did. And she could tell from the way he had opened up in the past few days that he had put his trust in her as well.

She liked that.

And five – they were constantly teasing one another.

She knew there were others that would probably question her sense of friendship on that last one, but she didn't care. For Grace, being able to laugh with and at friends was incredibly important. And she and Bucky picked on each other as though they had been doing it for years.

Her mother said that that was what made her a flirt, and was why she had almost never been allowed out of the house without her brother as a teenager. Grace, as always, chose to disagree. What did her mother know anyway?

So, yes.

She didn't know if or when he would choose to leave, or if or when he would get his memories back. But that was okay. They were friends. And that was the only thing that really mattered right now.

Before she could contemplate the issue any further, Grace found herself distracted as flying projectile collided with her face.

A pillow.

Looking across the couch, she was met with the expectant face of the culprit.

"Did you just throw a pillow? At my face?"

"Well, calling your name 5 times just wasn't having the desired effect." He shot back at her. "Someone's at the door."

"Oh," was all she could offer. "Probably pizza, I guess."

Climbing off the couch and making her way to the door, she was sure to snatch the pillow off floor and hurl it back in his direction.

He caught it, of course. Damn.

Doing a quick check to make sure that it was, in fact, the pizza delivery at the door, she quickly removed the chain and greeted the teenage boy at her threshold. She made the usual small talk as she paid him before closing the door, pizza in hand.

As soon as the chain was back on the door, Bucky was up and removing the pizza box from her hands, making a hasty beeline for the kitchen.

"Hungry, are we?" she quipped at him.

"What can I say? Laundry and washing up is hard labour." He returned easily, grabbing two plates from the cabinet.

She laughed at his comment. "Oh, speaking of hard labour – I've been meaning to ask you… Have you been shifting my furniture?"

"What?" Although she could only just make out the word through the mouthful of pizza.

"I don't know… it's just a few things really. Like the coffee table, it just seems a bit off. I didn't move it, so I was kind of hoping you did… Otherwise, I'm going crazy."

In truth, she had noticed a few little changes when she came home on Monday. The day she had been 'late'. OCD wasn't necessarily how she would have described herself, but when you've lived in a place as long as she had lived in her apartment, you tended to know exactly where things went. And certain pieces of furniture had recently been set askew.

"Um… Yeah. I might have moved them. Sort of." He replied, not meeting her gaze.

She shrugged. "It's okay, you know. If they were in your way you have every right to move them. I just noticed, that's all."

Finally, he met her gaze, a twinge of guilt evident upon his face.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"They weren't in my way…" he said. She had never heard him so sheepish before, so naturally, her curiosity peaked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's more that I was… using them."

"Using them for what?" her brow furrowed, and the eyebrow instantly went up.

He coughed awkwardly before blurting out the word "weights" so quickly she could barely hear it.

And then after a few seconds, it clicked.

"Wait, you've been using my furniture for…. Exercise?!" She didn't know if she was angry or not. Surprised was probably the best term for what she was feeling, although, that didn't quite cover it.

"It's just… you know… I need to be ready. In case."

"You know there's a gym on the 7th floor, right?"

She could feel that her eyebrow was still raised, but she didn't seem to have the power to bring it back down.

"Oh. No, I didn't know that." He said after several seconds. "But, it's not like I can go there. I can't risk being caught on camera, or even having other people see me there. It's not safe."

She thought about that for a few moments. He was right. Even if the gym didn't have the CCTV cameras, you could never tell when other tenants were going to be in there. Anyone could see him.

"Touché" she offered, making a mental note to come back to the exercise issue at another time. "So, what are we watching tonight?"

"Um…" he seemed somewhat surprised by her sudden subject change, but apparently decided to run with it. "I don't know. What do you want to watch?"

"Well, I looked at the guide and narrowed it down to 2 options; either of which are totally acceptable, and quite frankly, I'm going to make sure you watch them both at some point anyway…"

"Why?"

"Because, films are a crucial part of pop culture, and these 2 are practically compulsory." She replied simply.

"Okay. So, what are the choices?"

"Movie number 1 is called 'Speed' and the other one is called 'The Terminator'."

"That was informative." He muttered sarcastically. "What are they even about?"

"One is about a bus that will explode if goes under 50 miles per hour and the other is about a futuristic robot sent back in time to kill the leader of the human resistance before he's even conceived…"

He shrugged. "Which one is better?"

She gasped at him, a look of mock-horror on her face. "You might as well just ask a mother which of her children is her favourite…"

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Because there's nothing like being overdramatic…"

She slapped his arm playfully before rolling her eyes. "Fine, we'll watch 'Speed', but only because I haven't seen it in ages."

And with that, they found themselves back on the couch; the remote in her hand, and a pizza in between them.