The soft, but distinct noises of him moving about the flat are welcome, given the almost contented sigh that escapes her. She is aware, but not awake, clinging to the last dregs of sleep.

So for a bit, Bucky can enjoy his book in peace. But eventually she slowly starts to stir. An annoyed growl first, reaching blindly for the first thing her hand lands on— a tiny throw pillow, which she immediately shoved against the side of her head.

A deeper, more resigned groan is next as she huffs and shoved the pillow under her head instead, tilting her head to squint over at Bucky perched in his chair. “Your couch is trying to eat me,” as evidenced by the way she managed to wedge one leg between the cushions in her sleep.