"May I ask you a personal question?" Georgiana asked James as she handed him a plate to dry up. It was nearing the end of October and James could now be found in her flat at least once a week for dinner, the days varying due to his work schedule.
James looked at her somewhat warily and she took this as permission to continue.
"You don't have to answer," she added, knowing that conversation, particularly personal questions, were not his forte.
"Go ahead," he said resignedly, putting the dried plate on the side and reaching for one of the glasses on the draining board.
"Why do you wear gloves all the time?" Georgiana wanted to know; she didn't think she had ever seen him without his gloves and had been curious for some time now as to why he wore them.
James froze, his eyes darting to her.
"I'm sorry," she said instantly, suspecting that she had crossed a line of some kind with this question. "I shouldn't have asked -"
"It's fine," he interrupted her quickly, too quickly.
There was an awkward pause as he took a deep breath, obviously thinking hard and then seemingly steeling himself for something.
Eventually, he exhaled slowly and looked at her once more.
"I have a prosthetic arm," he said simply, like he was reporting on nothing more interesting than the weather.
"What?" Georgiana said, blinking at him in surprise - of all the possible reasons why he wore gloves, she had never considered that he might be an amputee. "You do?"
He nodded, focused on drying the glass he was holding once more.
She looked between his two gloved hands, trying to work out which one was the artificial one - it must be a damn good prosthesis since she had absolutely no idea.
"Which one is it?" she asked after a moment, unable to work it out.
James gestured to his left arm with his right hand. "I lost it when I was serving in the army, so I now have a prosthetic. I wear the gloves to keep it hidden," he explained plainly, his voice low and quiet. He paused, then used his left hand to pull off his right glove. "This one's real though," he added unnecessarily, waggling his bare fingers at her.
"Huh," she said, curious beyond words to see the prosthesis for herself but doubting that he would want to show her since he said the whole reason he wore gloves was to keep it hidden. "How did you lose it, if you don't mind me asking?"
He grimaced and hesitated before replying. "I fell from a train."
Georgiana winced in sympathy. "Ouch."
"Yeah," James said dryly, pulling his right glove on once more. "Ouch."
She smiled at his expression. It was moments like this that he displayed his humour; he wasn't one for jokes or silliness, but he occasionally made dry or witty comments in their conversations that often took her by surprise.
Still, however, she had yet to see him smile or laugh - she had quietly made it her goal to coax at least one smile at him.
More often than not, they would end up watching something on television whenever he came around. James' knowledge of TV had been practically nonexistent, something that he had shrugged off by saying that his parents hadn't owned one growing up and he hadn't really had the time to watch things while serving in the army. He good-naturedly tolerated the various cooking and baking shows she watched, but had discovered a deep fascination with nature documentaries as well as enjoying Game of Thrones; when questioned about it, he claimed that he had visited many countries but never really interacted with the nature there.
He also seemed largely oblivious to different foods and cuisine from various cultures, once more shrugging off her questions by saying that army rations weren't great and that he wasn't much of a cook himself. She had been able to see just how much he enjoyed her cooking and making different dishes for them to share had become an interesting and invigorating challenge for her, though at some point she wanted to teach him to cook for himself, suspecting that he was living off pasta after catching a glimpse of one of his grocery bags as they had crossed on the stairs one day.
Their evenings together were calm, quiet and easy - James had rapidly become a good friend of hers.
"I'm having a few people around for Halloween next week," she told him, changing the subject away from his arm as they moved to sit down. "Nothing big, just a few drinks and costumes and stuff, then maybe heading out." She smiled at him. "Would you like to join us?"
"No, thank you," he said instantly, which was not exactly surprising - he was not the most social of people, after all.
"Are you sure?" she checked, feeling curiously disappointed that he wasn't going to come, despite having fully expected it.
James gave her an almost wry look; his eyes were a curious mixture of blue and grey, almost wintery in their colour. Her neighbour dressed undeniably scruffy, with an untrimmed beard and jaggedly cut hair, but she had noticed his handsome face and chiselled jaw beneath the scruff, not to mention his muscled physique. "Parties aren't really my thing," he said plainly, his voice faintly rasping.
Georgiana shrugged, settling in the corner of the daybed in her customary spot as she picked up the remote. "Well, the offer is there."
Bucky was on edge.
For the past hour and a half, there had been half a dozen or so people traipsing up the stairs and knocking on Georgiana's door. Looking out of the peephole, he'd been able to see that most of them were wearing costumes. Music, laughter and conversation in unfamiliar voices could be heard through the thin walls.
He didn't like it. He couldn't help but feel like the building was compromised with this many strangers on his floor.
He forced himself to sit still and ignore it, closing his eyes and trying to breath through the anxiety.
After about two hours of noise, there was a jaunty knock on his door.
Warily, he got to his feet and looked out of the peephole once more.
Georgiana stood in the corridor wearing all black, distorted through the glass.
He opened the door - as always, he tilted his body so that she could not see past him into the apartment.
"Hello," he said, looking bemusedly down at her; she was wearing a little black dress with heeled shoes, had cat's ears perched on the top of her curled hair, with whiskers and a little black nose drawn on her face - the sight of her sparked some vague memories of halloween and costumes from before the War, but nothing like what she was wearing.
"Hey," she said, bouncing on her toes and grinning at him; her eyes were bright and his enhanced senses picked up on the fruity hint of alcohol on her breath. "We are all heading out shortly so I thought I'd give it another try and see if I could persuade you to come join us for a drink."
Bucky felt himself frown - much as he had found himself enjoying spending time with her, his friend, he had no desire to socialise with anyone else. "No, thank you."
Georgiana's face fell and he felt surprisingly guilty at disappointing her. "I told you before, I don't think I'm really a party person," he added, wanting to explain in some way. "Besides, I'm working tonight," he added honestly, due to leave for the night shift in an hour or so.
Her expression suddenly brightened. "Well, what about going for coffee somewhere tomorrow?" she suggested. "I found a great little place a few streets away. No doubt far better than the instant stuff that I give you," she added with a slight wink.
They had only ever socialised in her apartment, never going out anywhere else; in response to that thought, a memory rose to the forefront of his mind.
"Put on your dancing shoes, doll!" he said, excited because he had received his first paypacket for his work in the navy yard and could take his girl out on the town.
"I'd like that," he replied simply.
"Great," Georgiana said, looking happy once more. "I'll message you and we can - oh wait, I don't have your number," she said, clearly changing what she was saying midway through her sentence and looking at him expectantly.
"I don't have a phone," he told her honestly.
Her whole face was suddenly incredulous. "You don't have a phone?"
"No."
"Oh," she said, her eyes still wide.
There was a brief pause, then she threw up her hands in exasperation. "Honestly James, it's the twenty-first century! How do you not have a phone?"
He shrugged - both work and his landlord had been irked at that fact as well, but he hadn't seen any reason to change it due to the security risks.
Realising that was all the response she was going to get, Georgiana shook her head in exasperation. "Okay … well, how about I knock on you for about … eleven-ish?" she suggested.
"Sounds good," he agreed, finding himself looking forward to it.
"Right," she seemed to be looking for a reason to linger, but then simply smiled at him. "Night James," she said.
"Goodnight," he replied, watching her turn and head back towards her apartment, where the sounds of music and conversation were still coming loudly. As she did so, he found his eyes trailing down her back; the little black dress she was wearing hugged the curves of her body, it's hem swaying teasingly a little above her knees.
For the first time he could remember, he felt a small twitch of arousal in his groin as he looked at her retreating figure.
That was new.
Georgiana got ready for coffee with James with a curious sense of anticipation, even though she knew it wasn't a date. Nevertheless, she showered and dressed with slightly more care than usual, partly as a way to dispel the lingering effects of having been out drinking the night before.
The cafe that she had in mind was a small, boutique place that had only a few seats inside, with the majority of the seating being outside on the pavement.
She and James found seats outside. Georgiana was glad that she had wrapped up warm with her coat and scarf since November was now upon them. James was equally layered, with at least two t-shirts visible beneath his zipped up jacket, plus his usual hat and gloves.
Once they had placed their order and were sat down, Georgiana hesitantly bought something out of her pocket and hid it in her hands. "So, um, by all means refuse or tell me off if I'm out of bounds here, but, um …"
"What?" James asked, frowning suspiciously at her.
"Here," she said, handing him a mobile phone. "It's an old one of mine that I don't use anymore, but still works fine," she explained as he turned it over in his gloved fingers. "I've set it back to factory settings and put my number in there. It'll need a pay as you go sim card, but beyond that …"
He raised his gaze to look at her. "Aren't phones expensive?" he said, sounding hesitant about this.
"Yeah, but I got a new one when I renewed my contract, so it's not like I paid any extra for it. I even have a spare charger back at the flat that you can have," she told him, hoping that he wouldn't refuse it.
There was a brief pause in their conversation as the waitress came over to deliver their drinks, coffee for him and tea for her.
"Do you think you'll take it?" she asked once the waitress had gone, with James continuing to turn it over in his hands.
He sighed reluctantly and looked back down at the phone. "I really don't need a phone," he hedged, still frowning a little.
"What about for emergencies?" she pointed out, then smiled at him. "Like if your bike blows a gasket at work and you need someone to come and pick you up?"
To her delight, the corner of James' mouth twitched ever so slightly, like the ghost of a smile and he finally slipped the phone into his jeans pocket. "Very well," he said then nodded at her. "Thank you, Georgiana."
"You're very welcome," she said happily, her hands wrapped around the tea cup for warmth.
For the next half hour or so they spoke quietly while they had their drinks, with Georgiana largely telling James about some of the things that had gone on the night before or during the week at university.
Throughout their conversation James kept shooting swift looks over to the table beside them, where a group of teenage boys were sat. They were speaking in another language, so Georgiana was not paying all that much attention to them - there were times that she could feel their eyes on her though, but elected to ignore it.
All of a sudden one of the boys gestured to her said something that made his companions laugh loudly.
James turned sharply around and said something low and quick in the same language that the boys had been speaking, his whole demeanor threatening.
The boy's eyes widened and the whole group promptly scarped, leaving half drunk cups behind them.
Georgiana was staring at James as he turned to face her again, her own eyes wide as well. "That … wasn't Romanian," she said, unable to think of anything else to say.
"No," James said shortly, watching with a fierce glower as the boys disappeared around the corner. He glanced at her once they were out of sight, finding her still watching him. "Russian," he elaborated with a grunt.
There was a long pause, then Georgiana spoke once more. "Is Russian the language you speak when you have a nightmare?" she asked quietly, having recognised the familiar language even though she hadn't been able to place it before.
James jerked his head, staring at her in shock.
She grimaced, her hands still wrapped around the mug. "Walls are kinda thin, James," she said by way of explanation, hoping that he wouldn't think that she had been trying to intrude on his privacy.
He swallowed and looked down at his empty mug; she could see a muscle tick in his jaw as he clenched it tightly.
"I spent many years in Russia, I now often think - and dream - in Russian …" he told her slowly, still looking down. Eventually, he raised his head to meet her gaze, his eyes both guarded and full of pain. "It ... wasn't a good time for me," he said simply, no doubt belaying the depths of what he had suffered there if his nightmares were any indication.
Georgiana nodded slowly, her face set into a sympathetic frown. "I'm not trying to pry, but I hope you know that you can talk to me about things if you want to," she told him softly.
"Not a chance in hell," James said sharply, making her jerk back slightly; he then grimaced apologetically at his tone, adding in a softer voice, by way of explanation and apology, "I don't want my nightmares in your head."
She nodded slowly; unless he chose to confide in her, there wasn't much more that she could do beyond letting him know that she was there for him.
There was a brief silence.
"So, what were those guys saying?" she asked him curiously, shifting the subject away from him.
"Nothing," James said, shaking his head and looking down at his cup once more
"Come on, I want to know!" Georgiana insisted, unable to believe that he wasn't telling her.
James sighed and met her gaze. "They were being very complimentary about you in a not very respectful way," he said, clearly determined not to give any details or a direct translation.
"And what did you say?" she wanted to know, unwilling to let this go.
"I told them that speaking about a lady like that wasn't polite and that if they continued to say such things I would be happy to teach them some manners," he told her bluntly - she strongly suspected that he had said something far more threatening than that considering the reaction that the boys had had, but was willing to let it slide.
She grinned at him. "Well, be still my beating heart. You're quite the knight in shining armour," she said, playfully pretending to swoon just as the waitress came outside, looking dismayed to find that the Russian boys had essentially dined and dashed.
He rolled his eyes. "Hardly that," he protested, though didn't seem to mind her comment all that much.
Then, as if to prove what she'd just said, he proceeded to flag down the waitress who was despondently clearing the boy's table and have a brief conversation with her in Romanian. Her sad expression quickly brightened and he pulled some cash out of his pocket. Georgiana knew enough Romanian to know that he was offering to pay for the Russian boys who had run off without paying and her heart melted a teeny bit.
The waitress gave him the change and James started to get to his feet.
"You paid for us too?" Georgiana said, blinking at him in surprise - she had fully expected to split the bill, after all.
James glanced at her. "Considering how many times you've made me dinner, I think coffee is the least I can do," he said simply, and then frowned as a thought apparently occurred to him. "In fact, I probably owe you several coffees."
Georgiana got to her feet as well, smiling her thanks at her neighbour and friend. "Then I guess we'll just have to do this again sometime," she said, her heart fluttering ever so slightly.
Big thank you to auntkia for betaing!
Leave a review, my darlings!
