Steve didn't get ill, not really.
Flu, stomach bugs, colds, nothing human born bothered him anymore.
But alien diseases were something else entirely, and sometimes not even a super soldier could fight off those kind of illnesses.
Whatever they'd last fought had brought some kind of disease with them and somehow for once, Steve was the only one who had caught it.
It may have had something to do with the sheer amount of alien goo that had covered him when they'd finally gotten home.
Whatever it was, the morning after the fight, Steve had woken undeniably sick.
It wasn't a good feeling, something he remembered too well from childhood but he'd thought he'd never really feel again.
Had hoped he'd never feel again.
It was much like human flu in that Steve woke up way too warm, sweating, shaking.
His head pounded as his eyelids fluttered open and as he sat, his stomach rolled and he had to run to the bathroom to throw up.
Now, a few hours after waking, Steve was huddled under a mountain of blankets in his and Bucky's shared bed.
Bucky sat up beside him, waking the man every hour to force water into him since his immune system was already working overtime to fight the bug, they didnt need him getting dehydrated on top of that.
Steve would then drift back into that uneasy, restless sleep.
Bruce had given him some meds, but with Steve's metabolism, he was burning through them in less than an hour.
It was down to Steve's own body to fight off the infection, though Bruce and Tony were down in the lab trying to figure out if there was anything else to be done or even if they could work out approximately how long the illness would last.
"Steve-" Bucky murmured, gently shaking his shoulder and helping the other man sit up a little bit so he could drink the glass of water Bucky held up to his lips.
"How can I be hot /and/ cold at the same time?" The blonde murmured, tiredly leaning his head against his boyfriends shoulder.
Bucky chuckled lowly, smoothing his flesh hand through sweaty strands of hair.
"Because you're sick, love." The brunette hummed. "It won't last forever. You'll be as right as rain in no time."
Steve sighed, clearly feeling very sorry for himself as he started to kick off the first layer of blankets.
"Too hot?" Bucky asked, helping to peel them off and placing them at the end of the bed for when he would next need them.
"Yeah." A pause. "Lay down with me?"
Bucky had so far been sitting up against the bed frame, alternating between reading a book and fussing over Steve.
"Of course." He let Steve get comfortable before settling on his side behind him, his flesh arm cushioning Steve's head.
The blonde hummed and shifted his back closer to Bucky's front.
"Still too hot, Stevie?" Bucky asked softly against his ear.
"A little." Was the hoarse reply.
"Do you want me to get you a cold cloth?" He whispered.
"Mm no. No moving." Steve grumbled.
Bucky sighed and bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. He knew what Steve was hinting at with that comment. Although, maybe he was reading too much into a simple sentence.
Because for whatever reason, his metal arm ran colder than the rest of his body.
His fist was clenched at the side of his body and he inhaled carefully.
It wasn't like he'd never touched Steve with the hand before, but it was usually during the heat of the moment when they were...getting busy and rarely ever gentle touches with full thought behind them.
"Buck, you know it's okay if you don't want to. But I do know you would never hurt me." Steve murmured.
So not reading too much into it then.
"I already have." The man whispered, swallowing back the rise of bile in his throat that came whenever he remembered the bad things he had done.
"You weren't you then. You would never hurt me know. It's just an arm, Bucky." He said softly.
An arm that had killed and tortured a whole lot of people.
But Bucky could feel the heat coming from Steve, even through the material of his shirt and if his boyfriend didn't want him to move...
Bucky slowly lifted the hand from his side, flexing the fingers for almost a minute before bringing it up.
He pressed the flat of the palm against Steve's burning forehead, touch feather light.
Immediately Steve exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut. "Mm that feels good."
Bucky smiled softly, ever so slowly settling a little more weight into his touch. "Sleep, Stevie."
And he did.
The next few days were spent much the same; soothing Steve's fever as best as they could, feeding him water and soup, crackers when his stomach felt better, watching shitty day time TV and keeping close to one another.
When they hit the three day mark, Steve's fever broke and they could finally venture outside of the room.
...
That evening, with most of the team across the sofas as they watched some old film on the tv, Natasha passed him a mug of tea.
Without thinking, he reached to take it, metal fingers wrapping around the handle instead of the usual flesh hand.
It wasn't until later that night, Bucky realised how second nature it was becoming to use the hand like it was any other.
Maybe one day using the hand wouldn't surprise him or shock him anymore.
Maybe one day the mere thought of that hand wouldn't send shudders of revulsion, guilt, terror and shame down his spine.
Maybe.
/ / / /
Probably shorter than the others. I apologise and will try to do better next chapter. Thank you all for sticking with me. Please drop a comment if you enjoyed they make me so happy.