"No," she mumbles under her breath, rolling over onto her side and curling into a little ball, kicking her blankets off her warm and sweaty body. She keeps her head under her pillow to try and stop the pounding echoing through her head, but it doesn't do much with the knocking at her door.
The knocking gets a little louder and she whimpers as it feels like someone is stabbing her skull over and over again. "Sergeant Barnes is at the door," Friday informs her in her calm accented voice. It does little to soothe the ache in her body and the pain in her head.
"Jus' open the door, Friday," she mumbles in a slur, squeezing her eyes shut as the sunlight from her windows manage to make its way through the curtains and under her pillow. She hears her door unlock and swing open, but she doesn't hear him walk in over the thudding in her skull.
"Vi?" he questions through her closed bedroom door. She answers with a low groan. "You were supposed to meet up with Steve, Sam, and me for training an hour ago, Violet. You okay?" She whimpers and she can hear the doorknob of her bedroom door click before it is pushed open.
His boots thud lightly on the wooden floor-the reason she asked for them in the first place was so she could hear anyone walking in her room and apartment-before she feels her bed dip. She rolls towards him slightly and she scrunches up into a tighter ball. "It hurts," she whimpers out.
"Friday, can you close the blinds?" Bucky asks. She sees the bright lights dim to a much more manageable level and she sighs in relief as some of the aching in her skull diminishes. Her face scrunches up as he pulls the pillow away from her face, laying his skin hand against her forehead. He hisses out lowly, moving some sweaty hair away from her face. "You're burning up, doll. I think you've got a fever."
She just moans lowly, weakly pushing his warm hand away. She can hear the concern in his tone, but she's too hot and in too much pain to care. There's also the matter that she's half-asleep but unable to actually fall asleep due to the pain in her skull.
"I need to get you down to medical," he mutters, causing her to shake her head slowly in protest. She can practically feel the scowl he's sending her. "Yes, Vi. You need to get to medical to make sure this fever's not critical." She mumbles weakly and rolls away from him, keeping her eyes closed.
"Miss Thorin's current temperature is one-hundred and three-point four degrees Fahrenheit. I advise you seek medical attention," Friday says calmly. She just moans lowly and rolls so she's facing Bucky completely. Her head, by chance, comes in contact with his metal hand and she sighs in relief at the cold metal against her flushed skin.
She can feel him begin to pull his hand away, she knows that he doesn't like people touching his metal arm, but she weakly grabs it in her arms and pulls him down into her bed with her before he can react. She sighs in relief as her head rests on his upper arm and she hugs the rest of the arm to her body.
Last night she had felt like complete crap and she had ended up falling asleep in a thin tank top and some loose pajama pants, so she can easily feel the cold of his metal arm through her shirt. "Feels nice," she mutters lowly, feeling Bucky try to pull away again. He stills his actions as she speaks.
"Violet," he says in a calm warning tone. "You're fever's bad. I need to get you to medical before you end up fainting." The concern in his voice is very easy to distinguish and she mumbles into his arm before speaking clearly. Or as clearly as she can, at least.
"Might be a little too late for that," she mumbles, feeling it begin to be a little bit easier to give in to her exhaustion than it was a few minutes ago. "M'so tired." Her hold on him slackens, but he doesn't pull away from her, though he does push himself up.
"Violet?" he questions, but she's already passed out.
He stares down at the woman hugging his metal arm and shakes his head. He pulls out his phone with his right hand and texts Steve:
You: She has a fever and I think she fainted. I'm taking her to medical.
Steve: You want us to come up?
You: No. Continue training.
Steve: Call if you need anything.
He raises his eyebrows, somewhat surprised that Steve didn't insist on coming. He shrugs it off, focusing on the sick girl. He's only known her for a little over half a year even though he's been here over a year. She had been on a long undercover mission when he first came and it kind of came as a shock to him when she first came home, dressed in sweats with her black hair in a messy bun, a bandage on her forehead, and her arm in a cast.
Apparently, her mission ended badly. He wasn't given all of the details, but her cast was removed three months ago, so that was good. Except for all of the whining she did, of course about not being able to use her arm.
He moves another piece of sweaty hair from her face and frowns at how hot her forehead is. He slowly removes his metal arm from her, gaining some mumbling from her, before putting his arms under her body and lifting her up.
He shifts her around in his arms so her head is pressed against his metal arm and her body is cradled closely to his chest. He toes her door open and walks out of the apartment, Friday closing it for him. It doesn't take him long to walk over to the elevator and make his way down to floor seventy-five; Banner's lab and the medical bay.
The doors open and he can see numerous different experiments going on. He's surprised to see Bruce sitting at a desk going over something as the man is usually four floors up at Tony's lab going over some new Stark Industries thing.
"Oh, hi," Bruce says, lifting his head up as the doors close behind him. His eyes widen as he sees Violet in his arms. "What's wrong?" He sets down an eyedropper and immediately leads the way down the stairs to the med bay area. They walk into an examination room and he places Violet on the examination table/bed. She groans and rolls onto her side.
"She's sick," Bucky explains, nodding to Violet who seems to have woken up and is now cradling her head in her hands. "She was supposed to meet up with Sam, Steve, and I an hour ago for training, but she wasn't even out of bed when I went to check up on her. She has a fever."
"Friday, temperature?" Bruce asks, nodding to his explanation.
"One hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit," Friday states, causing him to frown in worry.
"It's gone up from a few minutes ago," he states, gaining a worried frown from Bruce. Bruce nods and grabs a few things, a cotton swab among them. Violet tries to push herself up, squinting at the bright light in the room. Her muscles are trembling and he immediately pulls her up into a sitting position. She weakly pushes him away from him, mumbling under her breath.
"I'm fine," she says weakly, blinking her eyes open. Her head bobs a bit in what he's pretty sure is exhaustion and he and Bruce give her worried glares at her attempt to leave. "Or I'm not."
"Violet, I'm going to check you over and get a swab sample to see if you have the flu or not," he says kindly, but sternly as she tries to mumble a protest. He then looks over at him and gives him a stern look. He purses his lips, looking at Violet in worry, before walking out of the examination room.
Five minutes go past before Bruce walks out of the small room, a small tube with a swab in his hand to analyze. "I'm pretty sure she has a bad case of the flu, but I'm going to run a test just in case she has something else," Bruce says, lifting up the sample and walking over to the machine to get it analyzed.
It barely takes a minute until the results pop up on the screen and Bruce nods, confirming his findings. "She has the flu," Bruce states, causing him to continue frowning. "She can't be alone due to how bad it is, so are you willing to stay with her since it's impossible for you to get sick?"
"I'll take care of her," he says immediately without any hesitation. "I know what to do since I used to take care of Steve all of the time when he got sick. I should be fine." Bruce nods his head and he follows him back into the examination room.
Violet is leaning back on the table, rolled up in a ball. Her skin is still shiny with sweat and her face is pale, despite the rest of her flushed body. She's holding her head in her hands with her eyes scrunched up tightly. He immediately walks over to her and lifts her to his arm, frowning as she shivers against him.
Bruce nods to him. "Make sure she gets plenty of fluids and that she's not buried under mountains of blankets," he explains. "Give her some Advil to try and lessen the fever and make sure she eats something, even if it's a little bit of soup. Make sure to wash your hands frequently or if you plan on leaving. I know you can't get sick but I'd rather not have it spread throughout the Tower. If the major symptoms don't fade within the next few days, I can prescribe her something."
He nods his head as Violet tucker her head into his neck, sniffling a bit due to her stuffy nose. After going over a few more things, he makes his way out of the medical bay.
She tugs her blankets to her chest and between her legs after he places her on her bed. "Vi?" he questions, making her hum. "I'm going to get you some water and some Advil. Are you hungry?" She just shakes her head and presses her face into her blanket, feeling her eyes begin to fall shut.
She groans as someone shakes her shoulder. She rolls over and blinks up at Bucky through blurry eyes. He's holding two little light blue gummy-looking pills and a glass of water. She swallows and pushes herself onto her elbows, reaching out for the pills. He places them in her hand and she places them on her tongue, reaching for the water.
His right arm presses against her back to hold her as she drinks the water, holding the glass with shaking hands. She gulps some of the water down before placing it on her nightstand. Bucky gently lets her fall back onto her bed and she immediately grabs onto his one arm.
"Violet, what are you doing?" he asks her, causing her to tug him down to her as he was standing beside her bed. He lands above her, his knees braced on either side of her hips, his left arm by her head, and his right arm held against her stomach. She blinks up at him.
"Lay with me," she mumbles, letting go of his arm. "I'm cold and you're so warm." He's staring into her eyes and she can see the bags beneath them despite the limited light. He's still having trouble sleeping, then? "You're tired," she says softly. "Just sleep with me for a little while."
She smiles as he sighs, rolling himself so he lands beside her on her bed. He kicks off his shoes and pulls his hair out of his hair tie. She rolls towards him as he lays on top of her covers, blinking at the ceiling. He's a bit tense, though she can tell he's tired.
She pulls at the covers and he immediately lifts himself off the bed so she can get them. He lays down when she gets them ans she throws them over him. He rolls over so he's facing her, though there's about a foot of space between them like he's afraid to be any closer.
She just sighs and rolls so her back is to him, closing her eyes as exhaustion takes over.
When she opens her eyes again, she finds that her position has changed. She's on the other side of the bed with Bucky in her original spot, his metal arm wrapped around her waist and his other one wrapped around her chest. Their legs are intertwined and his head is tucked between her neck and shoulder with his scruff scratching her slightly. She makes patterns on his metal arm as she waits for him to wake up. She's feeling much better, though the headache is still there and her throat is very sore.
She wiggles slightly and Bucky's hold on her tightens and his head moves, his beard scratching her shoulder slightly. She shivers as his breath blows over a sensitive spot on her neck and his chest rumbles in a sleepy chuckle.
"What time is it?" he asks, his voice much deeper and rougher than normal. She sucks in a small breath and blinks at the digital clock on her nightstand.
"It is five o' seven in the morning, Sergeant Barnes," Friday says before she can say anything. "You have been sleeping since one thirty-seven p.m." She scrunches up her eyebrows and does the mental math.
"We've been sleeping for... fifteen and a half hours?" she says in disbelief, whistling lowly despite the echo of a headache. His arms wrap around her tighter before he lets go of her completely, sitting up on his elbows. She rolls over so she's on her back, clearing her throat with her face screwing up because of the pain.
His left arm reaches out and he moves a strand of black hair away from her face. "Your fever's gone down," he murmurs. "Friday?"
"Miss Thorin's temperature is one-hundred point two degrees Fahrenheit. No medical attention is needed," the AI says in her Irish accented voice. He sighs out in what she assumes in relief as he looks down at her.
"You hungry?" he asks her, a sleepy smile quirking on his lips as her stomach rumbles. She blushes and nods her head, shifting so she's leaning on her elbows. She turns away and sneezes, groaning as it causes the pain in her throat to worsen. He pulls himself out of her bed and heads off to her kitchen.
"Where are you going?" she rasps out, sitting up completely to drink the warm water on her nightstand. It doesn't do much to cool the aching in the back of her throat. At her question, he pokes his head around the corner.
"I'm going to make you breakfast?" he says, his voice lilting up at the end in question. She just shakes her head and pulls the covers off of her, but before she can stand up, he protests. "No, no, no. You're going to sit here while I make breakfast for you. You need rest."
She gives him a dry look and pushes herself onto her legs anyway. She grumbles as her legs shake underneath her, but she doesn't fall down. "We slept over fifteen hours, Sarge," she deadpans. "I think that's enough rest for right now." He doesn't give up with his stern looks and she sighs. "Fine. If I can't help out with breakfast, I'll take a shower. I smell horrible." He frowns but doesn't push anymore. Good thing he knows how stubborn I can get.
He rolls his eyes as she walks over to her closet before leaving, closing her door behind him. She grabs a large t-shirt, which she stole from him after he lent it to her when all of her clothes burnt in a Tony-induced fire, and a pair of loose pajama shorts that Natasha gave to her. She grabs a sports bra-because who wants to wear one of those tight boob-crushing ones?-and a pair of boy short underwear.
It doesn't take her long to shower, but she ends up retching into the toilet due to all of the overwhelming shampoo and soap fumes, though her stomach was already uneasy. (She has a very sensitive sense of smell and she usually buys unscented soaps, but she got scented soaps from Natasha as a present a few weeks ago and she wasn't going to let that go to waste. And besides, they make her smell good.)
She knows that James heard her, but because she was in the bathroom and the shower was still on, he didn't dare to barge in. She rinses her mouth out after turning the shower off and immediately brushes her teeth to get rid of the God-awful taste in her mouth despite the fact that she'll be eating. She quickly pulls on her clothing, sighing in relief as she brushes out her very curly hair and gets the slightly overwhelming scent of it away from her burning nose.
She rubs her hands over her face and blows her nose before walking out of the bathroom, her back hunched at the discomfort in her stomach and the aching in her muscles. She hasn't eaten in a day. She easily picks up the scent of toast and eggs, and also tea. She can also smell the ginger and that makes her groan slightly. She hates ginger.
She sits at the counter because she doesn't have a dining table, and leans on her hand sleepily, sniffing slightly here and there. She doesn't know what's worse, a stuffy nose or a runny one. She watches as James, with his hair now up in a bun, puts eggs on two plates with toast. Within a minute, the burners are off and he's sliding a plate of eggs and toast over to her.
He sips at a cup of tea and hands her a larger one which suspiciously smells of ginger. She glares at it and he chuckles. "Don't worry, doll," he says, sitting down next to her with a larger plate of toast and eggs, moving the butter dish, salt, and pepper in between them. "I used a recipe I used to give to Steve when he was sick. It doesn't taste bad, trust me." He's smiling at her and she scowls at his distrustingly.
Her scowl smooths into a slightly blissful look as she takes a hesitant sip of the tea. It's not spicy like she expected, but nice and sweet and smooth. It's also thicker than she expected and the milky look of it tells her that he put milk and something else in it. She takes another sip and focuses on the taste. "Is this... honey?" she questions. He grins at her and lifts a spoonful of eggs to his lips, nodding at her own plate.
She rolls her eyes, sniffling a bit, and sets her mug down gently. She adds some pepper and a tiny pinch of salt before putting an egg on one of her slices of toast. She folds it into a little sandwich and takes a bite of it. She shoots him a perplexed look at the taste and she knows he put some spices in it.
It doesn't take her long to finish the other egg and slice of toast before she begins to feel like she ate too much, despite not eating much. She pushes her plate away and stands up, winces as her muscles ache. This is so much worse than when I started training, she mentally groans.
She can feel his eyes on her as she swiftly washes off her plate and fork before placing them in the cupboard. She leans against the sink as he stands up, walking over to her. She reaches out to take his plate and he pulls it away before she can grab it. He gives her a stern look. "You're not washing my plate or the skillet. Go sit down and rest a little." She groans, coughing a little due to the ache in her throat, before slouching over to the couch.
She pulls a rusty red throw blanket over her before grabbing the remote to her flat-screen, which Tony had obviously paid for along with nearly everything else in the apartment. She flicks through the channels before pulling up Netflix. She ends up looking through some Disney movies and a smile curls on her lips as she sees her new favorite movie: Cars 3.
Just as the movie begins to play, Bucky walks over to her with two mugs in hand. He hands her hers before sitting down beside her. She curls up to him, laying her head on his shoulder, and grinning excitedly as the iconic beginning of the movie starts.
"What movie is this?" he asks her lowly, sipping some of his tea. She's just recently learned that he's not too big of a fan of coffee like Steve, or everybody else is. She freezes before looking up at him in disbelief.
"You've never seen Cars?" she asks, disbelief clear in her tone as she stares up at him. He warily shakes his head and her mouth drops open. "We're watching the first movie first, but not the second. The second is horrible and makes no sense." She tries to search for the movie before huffing in frustration. "Friday? Can you please put Cars on?" The movie begins to play and she smiles. "Thank you!"
They lay there throughout the movie and then she plays the third one. She can tell Bucky likes it by the small grin on his face and she continues her movie marathon. She ends up playing different movies like Harry Potter and Twilight. They end up ordering Chinese food for lunch and then finish the tubs off for dinner.
They don't leave the couch all day and she finally feels her eyes beginning to fall heavy during Tinker Bell and the Pirate Fairy. She tries to fight off the exhaustion, but she's still pretty tired from her sickness and she ends up laying on Bucky's lap.
The next week flies by and Bucky has never left her side. She's feeling better and the worse of her sickness is gone, yet he refuses to leave her alone for more than an hour. She finds in heartwarming, especially when he insists on cooking her breakfast. She hates cooking.
She rolls over and finds herself face to chest with him. His metal arm is wrapped protectively around her waist and when she moves, he pulls her in closer to him. She hums sleepily, wrapping her leg around him. She's happy that her stuffy and runny nose is gone, though her throat and head is still a pain. Her muscles still ache a little, but she's perfectly fine with him wrapped around her because he's like a personal heater.
Too bad he'll be leaving me alone when I get better, she thinks with a frown.
She blinks as he groans into her neck, tightening his hold on her even more. It makes the ache in her muscles flare up a little, but she doesn't care. His grip loosens as he mumbles into her neck, causing her to shiver as his lips and beard brush against her neck and shoulder.
"Good morning," he says in a low rasp, causing goosebumps to spread across her collarbone and arms. She's been wearing tank tops to bed more frequently and that gives him more access to her neck, collarbone, and shoulder.
"Mornin'," she mumbles, nuzzling into his chest and pulling him closer with her leg. She rubs her leg against his as he brushes circles on her hip and waist. He leans back from her and she moves a piece of hair out of his clear blue eyes.
"How are you today?" he asks her warmly. She smiles up at him sleepily as he brushes his left hand against her forehead. "You don't feel warm anymore." She nods her head.
"I've just got some aches and a small headache," she murmurs. "The sleepiness hasn't completely faded, though. How are you this fine morning?" A smile quirks on his lips at that. They've made a routine over the past week to ask how each other is in the morning. It started as a joke, but now it feels normal.
"I'm good, Vi," he says, letting out a low groan as he stretches. She sits up and does the same, her tank top riding up to reveal her stomach. She notices how his eyes flicker down to her stomach, but she doesn't say anything since she's currently trying not to look at his shirtless form. he had pulled it off sometime last night after waking up in cold sweats. She didn't say anything, but she knew it was a nightmare. She knows that he still gets those. "So, are you ready to get back to training?"
She freezes and blinks up at him slowly. He lifts his eyebrows in an amused manner. "What?" she questions, her eyebrows furrowing. "I thought I was too contagious to go down to the gym." He's still looking at her with that amused look on his face.
"Don't worry," he says, sliding out of bed with a devious grin. "You won't be working out with everyone else. You'll be training with me in one of the smaller gyms." Her heart skips a beat and her eyes widen as she looks at him in disbelief.
"Really?" she practically whines. "You're brutal in team training! How on Earth am I supposed to survive alone with you?" Despite this, she drags herself out of bed and walks towards her closet, pulling out yoga pants and a sports bra, along with a tight-fitting t-shirt. She knows that she'll be sparring with the super-soldier and he'd use a baggy shirt to pull her around the mat.
"Don't worry too much, doll," he says, full on smirking at her. "I won't push you too hard. Jus' tell me if I'm pushing too much." She groans and makes her way to the bathroom, knowing that he'll change while she's showering-he brought some clothes up after the third day with her-and that he'll make a light breakfast before training.
She shakes her head as she stares at herself in the mirror. I guess it's time to get back to the land of the living.