Bucky's Sick Day
There isn't much to do around Steve Rogers' apartment, considering how ancient it is. While sitting in his chair by the TV, his mind wandered to Bucky. His best friend who saved him. The captain smiled to himself. It was nice to know they both wanted to be more than friends.
He decided to go pay his lover a visit. They hadn't seen each other in a few days, far too long in Steve's eyes. The super soldier walked out his door and into his apartment building's garage to fetch his motorcycle and head over to Bucky's.
AT BUCKY'S APARTMENT
"Bucky, are you there? It's me, Steve." Steve said while knocking on Bucky's door. After the whole Hydra incident, he'd gotten an apartment in a different building for security reasons.
All Steve heard in response to his knocks was a groan that sounded like Bucky, which worried Steve.
"Bucky? Is that you? Are you okay?" Steve said. He needed to find out what was going on. "I'm coming in." He was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. But what he found inside was shocking at best and horrifying at worst to Steve.
He found Bucky, but he was in bad shape. He was a beached whale on his gray brown couch, a sheet of sweat on his face and matted hair, but still shivering under a blanket. The captain quietly walked over to him and knelt down so they could make eye contact.
"What happened Buck?" Steve asked.
"I'm sick. What does it look like?" Bucky bitterly said.
Steve knew what he had to do. "What are your symptoms?"
"Headache, tired, gut hurts, and I'm freezing, yet I'm sweating."
"Fever?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Do you have a thermometer? I need to take your temperature." Steve said.
"I think I have one in my kitchen drawer." Bucky answered.
Steve promptly rummaged around in the said drawer and found a blue digital thermometer. He went back to Bucky on the couch.
"Open." Steve playfully ordered. Bucky rolled his eyes, but complied anyway. He closed his lips around the tip and they both waited the few seconds for the reading to be done, staring into each other's blue eyes the whole time.
Two beeps signaled the reading to be done. Steve pulled the thermometer out of Bucky's mouth and read what was on the screen.
"102.3 degrees." Steve announced. "We're going to have to do something about that." He strolled back into Bucky's kitchen and found a dry dark blue washcloth looped around the refrigerator door handle. He took it and proceeded to wet it with cold water under the former spy's faucet.
He returned to Bucky, leaned in, washcloth in hand, and began gingerly wiping away the sweat from his face. Bucky flinched and resisted at first, but gave in to the cooling relief that Steve's hand delivered.
"Thanks." Bucky said. "But I'm still cold." He burrowed deeper into his blanket.
"I'll look for some more blankets." Steve said. He searched the apartment and found a beige quilt in a closet near the bathroom. He draped it over Bucky, whom accepted and curled up into it.
Soon after Steve gave the blanket to Bucky, he quickly fell asleep. During that time, Steve wandered around the apartment, which looked just as old as his own.
A FEW HOURS LATER
"Steve, I'm hungry." Bucky whined upon waking up.
"Do you want homemade soup?" Steve asked.
"Sure."
Steve instantly regretted saying homemade. He didn't know very much about cooking. That was always left to the women. But he decided he would at least try for Bucky.
He found some pasta and a carrot after a few minutes of ransacking Bucky's pantry and fridge. He found a pot under the sink, filled it with water, put it on the stove, then fumbled with the knobs to turn on the flame.
"You've seen women do this a million times," Steve whispered to himself. "You can do it once." He clumsily unearthed a knife and diced the carrot on the counter, then added it and the pasta.
If awkwardness were a glue, Steve would be coated in it. He felt like a clumsy oaf waiting for the soup to be done. But it was finally done after what felt like forever to Steve.
"It's about time." Bucky said when Steve walked out.
"Just be happy I did this for you." he said back.
Bucky achingly sat up, placed the bowl of soup on his lap and frowned at it. "You call this soup? It's just carrots and pasta in water."
"Are you gonna eat it or not?" Steve retorted.
"Yeah..." Bucky said. After he slurped up his soup, he laid back down in his original position. After a few minutes, he started to rub his stomach.
"What's wrong?" Steve said when he noticed.
"My stomach hurts really bad." Bucky replied, his face scrunched up. "Will you rub it for me?"
"Of course Buck." Steve said. He pushed back the blankets as far as Bucky would allow, slowly slipped off the white long sleeved shirt he was wearing and started rubbing gentle circles on his abs. Then Steve proceeded to perform more forceful strokes, which made Bucky sigh with relief.
"Thanks for doing that." Bucky said, smiling at Steve. "You can leave now."
"No, I want to stay." Steve pleaded.
"Go. You've done enough. I just want to sleep now."
"Well, if you say so." Steve said. He leaned in to get a kiss from Bucky. "Night Buck." He waved back with his metal arm, it glinting in the late afternoon sun. Steve sauntered out the door with a proud feeling in his chest.