The man with the gloves [bucky barnes ff]

16

"Here's some tea." I place it in front of Bucky and pour some more water in for Sam. Bucky? I have to stop using his nickname even if it's just in my head. I'll accidentally say it out loud if I keep calling him Bucky in my thoughts and he clearly doesn't even want Sam to refer to him as that.
They are sitting at each side of the sofa, trying their best not to make eye contact. Now, I could sit down between them but I refuse to be in the middle of this war on two fronts. I take the folding chair that was leaned against the wall and sit across from them.

"You didn't offer me tea." Sam half-jokingly notices.

"You don't walk around without a scarf and with a thin jacket when it's all rainy and cold." I explain. "But if you want, I can make you a tea as well?"

I attempt to stand up but he signs me to sit down again straight away. "No, I was just messing with you. Don't worry about it."

"Do y'all want anything else? Are you cold? Maybe a blanket. Or hungry, something to eat?" This is my mother speaking. I always hated it when she became so obsessed with feeding me and my friends or babying us but now I am exactly like this. It's creepy how I am slowly turning into her when I always swore to myself that I wouldn't.

"I'm good. Thank you." Bu- James. James replies, Sam nodding in agreement.

This is followed by a silence that feels like an eternity. Neither of them talks. Sam pretends to analyse my furniture and the ceiling, James sips the tea and stares at it as if it's the first time he saw something like that.

"If you want, I can wait outside. Then you can talk on your own." I offer.

"Don't be ridiculous. This is your apartment. We're not going to kick you out." Sam grins.

"Fine." I breathe out. "Then talk. I hate the silence."

"She's right." James agrees with me and turns to Sam. "Be quick and tell me what you want here so we can stop this nonsense."

"I told you that I wanted to see if you were doing alright. I wouldn't have to check up on you like some child if you picked up my phone calls." Sam argues.

"And I told you on the phone to stop calling me. I'm fine. And I don't need you to take care of me." He argues back.

"That's not how it works. You can't just tell me to stop caring and expect me to actually be able to. You're my friend. And you meant a lot to St-"

"Stop." James interrupts him.

"All I am saying is that you meant a lot to him. And he meant a lot to me. So I care, even if you don't like it." Sam explains. He's really trying. I wish James would be more open and allow Sam to help him. Maybe he wouldn't have so much on his plate if he had a friend to go to. I mean, I am already trying to be a good neighbour so that he is at least talking to another human being. Otherwise he'd go crazy in his little apartment with all the beer and cigarettes, lack of human contact and insomnia.

"Why don't you accept some help?" I interfere. I didn't want to but I couldn't stop myself. It's a mixture between curiosity and wanting to fix their friendship.

"It's complicated." James replies.

"Why don't you explain it to me then? Your conversation isn't going anywhere anyway so might as well talk about something else." I am the nineteen year old. I should be the childish ones. But they are in their thirties and act even worse. "Where do you guys know each other from? Sam said something about you both working for the government. What exactly did you do?"

"Oh, did he say that? Yeah Sam, what exactly did we do for the government?" James raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in front of his chest, almost as if he's provoking Sam. I can sense a slight sarcasm in his voice. Did Sam lie?