A tiny bit of wrap-up on the 'hurt' before we get to the 'comfort'—and the much needed R&R for our intrepid trio.
Three hours later, Steve was slowly coming around. After the doctors had reexamined him and been convinced the negative reaction with the serum had abated, Steve had been sent to an adjacent room where both Bucky and Sam were sitting by his bed, watching his every twitch. He was still shirtless though his skin was now a drastically warmer shade than the bandages wrapped from his ribs to his waist.
Finally, after a few false starts and raised hopes, Steve's eyelids slid open.
"Hey," Bucky said softly but Steve didn't respond before he drifted back to sleep.
"He's been through a lot," was all Sam said, though it was obvious in his tone he'd been just as eager as Bucky to see his friend regain consciousness.
There were a few false alarms after that too, but then suddenly, Steve was awake and, for all intents and purposes, conscious. He was moving within the next second, trying to free himself from the bed sheet with one hand while simultaneously pushing something invisible aside with the other. His efforts were severely hampered by the IV in the back of his left hand and the monitoring patches on his chest. He scowled at the IV then turned his glare to the room.
He froze in a half-upright position when he saw Bucky.
"B'k?" he slurred, barely understandable. His eyes were wide, pupils uneven, and his movements were short and choppy. "What're you—"
Suddenly, his face drained of all its color and he barely managed to drop his head over the side of the bed before he was spraying the floor with whatever was left in his stomach.
"Doctor Cethe!" Bucky cried as he lurched forward to keep Steve from falling out of the bed during round two. Sam was on Steve's other side in an instant, holding the soldier's hand steady to keep him from ripping out the IV, while rubbing wide circles on his back.
The door behind them flew open and two Wakandans entered. Doctor Cethe, who was tall and lean and wore her curly hair tied back by a brightly colored cloth, and Nurse Ndaba, an older fellow with streaks of white in his close-cropped hair but who was no less capable than the younger medical staff, gently but firmly pushed Bucky and Sam out of the way so they could attend to their patient. They were exchanging quick and measured dialog in Wakandan but it was Sam who had the state of mind to look at the screens flashing around Steve's head.
"He's running a fever," he announced after doing some quick conversions. Dr. Cethe nodded her agreement then, while Nurse Ndaba helped rest Steve back in bed, she added another bag to Steve's the IV and affixed an anti-nausea patch to Steve's arm. Steve immediately stilled and the harsh lines etched in his face softened. He was conscious only a minute more before his eyes fell closed.
"An IV of antibiotics and a mild sedative to get him through the next few hours," Dr. Cethe explained.
"What is causing the fever?"
"It could be a variety of things, Sergeant. It could be a reaction to the last remnants of vibranium, to your blood, to something in the wound." To Bucky's dismay, she actually shrugged. "We have never treated anyone with blood like his. We are as…" she slipped into her native tongue for the idiom. As far as Bucky and his limited Wakandan could tell, it was something along the lines of 'in the dark', which was not at all reassuring, "...as you are," she finished before turning to converse with Nurse Ndaba.
"We will try filtering his blood again," she reported back to the former Avengers.
As she began pulling equipment out of a nearby drawer, Bucky's kimoyo beads flashed.
You were not this much trouble, a text from Shuri read.
Bucky had to look up at Steve and take in his slow, steady breaths, before he could type back, Steve's never been one to do things halfway.
A beat later, You are very lucky you brought him here.
Yes, Bucky thought as he continued to watch his friend sleep soundly, despite the new needle being inserted into his arm, yes we are.
Much to everyone's relief, Steve's fever broke two hours and twenty minutes into the modified dialysis and new round of antibiotics. Then, four long hours after that, he drifted back into full and stable consciousness.
It took a minute to get his eyes to focus on the same object but, after that, he looked down to find Bucky and Sam passed out by his feet. Bucky had his right elbow pillowed underneath his head with his arm stretched out so his hand was resting on Steve's sheet-covered ankle. Sam was on Steve's left and was resting his forehead against his crossed arms which were braced against the bottom section of the hospital bed.
"H'y," Steve said, though his voice was little more than a whisper. Not surprisingly, his friends didn't respond. He worked to gather all the saliva he could, swallowed hard, then repeated himself with marginally more force.
The effect was instantaneous. Bucky jolted upright, incidentally pulling on the sheet which woke Sam. Their collective gazes honed in on Steve in less than an instant.
"You're awake!"
Steve winced as the sound drilled into his ears but closed his eyes in what he hoped they'd understand as a 'yes'.
He looked over at Bucky who looked overjoyed to see him awake. But something about that was wrong. Bucky hadn't been there when he'd been injured. Bucky'd been in—
"Wakanda?" Steve rasped. Nodding, Bucky reached over and offered Steve a drink from a clear cup with a crazy straw spiraling out of the top. Steve eyed it cautiously but was too thirsty to put up much resistance; thankfully, the liquid defied physics and was easy to pull through the straw.
"Bad?" he asked once the cup was empty.
"One step short of evisceration," Sam replied.
Steve winced.
"Bucky here had to give you a blood transfusion just to make sure you survived Shuri's tech."
Steve blinked in surprise then looked over at Bucky, who lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Steve still couldn't make his arms and legs move at will but, thankfully, Sam reached over and swatted Bucky on the shoulder. "It was a pretty big deal," the pararescue said, levelling an unimpressed gaze at Barnes.
Bucky looked extremely uncomfortable under the praise and almost immediately shifted so he was looking more at Steve. "Let's not make a habit of it, okay?" was all he said as he reached out and laid his hand on Steve's.
It was then that Steve saw the tightness in his face and the sharp lines of his shoulders. Too tired to have a full conversation about that right then, he just nodded. "I'll try."
Bucky's lips were still pressed so tightly together they were almost white but the edge in his eyes had softened. "Good."
Just after the sun rose, Steve was released from the medical wing on little more than a technicality.
Shuri had wanted to keep him around to see if she couldn't adapt the Cradle to work with the serum instead of against it but Steve had politely refused. He knew what a fragile relationship they had with a majority of Wakandans and didn't want to stress that by being discovered at the palace by someone who wouldn't be as accepting of them as Shuri and her family were. Steve had suggested phoning Natasha, who apparently had only dropped him and Sam off in hopes that the smaller party would convince the Council to treat Steve, to come get them but he was emphatically and repeatedly told by multiple parties that that was a bad idea. After a lot of unnecessary discussion, they compromised by having him stay at Bucky's new home until he was completely recovered.
It ended up not being the worst idea as it would give Steve and Bucky some much needed time to catch up.
After one final examination by Dr. Cethe, Bucky drove the Jeep Shuri had loaned them along the river to the hut he now called home. Though he was going slowly and was being careful to mind the bumps, he could still see Steve's jaw tighten every time the Jeep lurched.
Still, his friend perked up when they arrived at Bucky's hut. "I can't believe you run a farm," Steve said as he began to slowly maneuver himself out of the backseat.
"It's not a farm yet," Bucky countered as he held out a hand for Steve to use as balance. As expected, Steve just scrunched up his face at his friend and lowered himself to the ground on his own accord.
"That's something a farmer would say," he replied once his feet were beneath him.
Bucky really couldn't deny him that.
Shuri had sent them home with a basket of food, on the suspicion Bucky wouldn't have enough for his two new visitors. She had been correct as always so, after they unpacked the neverending basket, they sat on mats inside his hut and feasted.
"I'm fine," Steve mumbled sometime into the meal, around a mouthful of crusty bread and goat cheese. Confused, Bucky and Sam looked over at each other and simultaneously realized they'd both been spending more time watching Steve than actually eating themselves. They returned to their own food but both saw the other continuing to check on Steve's progress more subtly throughout the meal.
They then dragged the mats outside and layered them with some of the beanbag-like blobs that served as rather comfortable chairs. From this spot, the three were able to see the land Bucky was working down the hill by the river, as well as the wide range of other homes and farms that spanned almost the entire horizon. Even one-armed, it was obvious Bucky was keeping up with most of his neighbors in preparation for the upcoming seeding.
They were sitting mostly in silence, enjoying the soft rush of the breeze through the trees, when Steve spoke up: "So, blood brothers for real, huh?"
"Yup," Bucky replied, drawing out the last sound in hopes Steve would take the hint that he really didn't want to revisit the events of the last day.
Unfortunately, Steve didn't drop the subject entirely but, thankfully, he did pick a marginally happier memory to segue to. "Wonder what Sister Catherine would say now."
"Who was Sister Catherine?" Sam asked, his ears perking up almost comically, as if sensing he was going to get a (hopefully embarrassing) story. Bucky saw this and made a rather rude gesture in Sam's general direction. Sam immediately returned it which led to the two of them scowled at each other until Steve glared at both of them in turn.
"Don't make me come over there…" he warned from the depths of his heavily padded seat. If Steve would have been slightly healthier, Bucky would have dared him but, as is, he let the subject drop.
Then, Steve met Bucky's gaze and held out his hand in an invitation to finish the story, if he remembered it. Fortunately, this memory was so deeply ingrained that even the Hydra's wipes hadn't been able to remove it for long.
The things he did for Steve.
"Everyone else was doing it," Bucky grumbled obligingly, "so one day we borrowed my pa's knife and went behind the school at lunch and tried it—"
"I cut my finger just fine," Steve interrupted, fixing Bucky with his most winning grin.
Sam looked over at Barnes, who was scowling but had yet to continue to the story. "I take it you didn't?" he prompted.
"I guess mine was a bit deep."
"A bit? You cut all the way to the bone!"
"Okay, so more than a bit."
With a slight wince, Steve shifted so he was facing Sam. "We couldn't stop the bleeding so we had to go see Sister Catherine. We told her he fell but then she saw my finger and we got busted."
"Clapped erasers for a month and got one of the worst verbal dressing-downs of my life." As if on cue, Bucky's ears started to burn and he rubbed both against the tops of his shoulders until the feeling subsided.
"She stitched it up for him though," Steve continued, "and rinsed out his shirt so his parents wouldn't find out."
"I think she liked me."
Steve snorted. "That's one way of putting it. Joey Mantagola tried it with Drew Houghton a few days later and got his knuckles rapped but good."
Bucky looked over at Steve in surprise. "I don't remember that." He hadn't meant to make Steve upset by saying it but his friend's smile drooped just a little and he glanced quickly away.
Before Bucky could say anything though, the grin was back at just under supernova brightness. It was an obvious deflection but it was equally obvious that neither of them had the energy to unpack that right now.
Thankfully, Steve was on the same page. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before changing the subject. "Anyway, I really owe you. And you too—" he said, once again shifting to look at Sam, "—for getting me in here."
Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Like Terminator said, let's just not make a habit of it."
"Really? Terminator?" Bucky questioned with a forced sigh.
"I'm a little short on sleep," the pararescue retorted as he closed his eyes, kicked out his legs and leaned back his head. "I'll come up with a better one later."
"A nap doesn't sound like the worst idea." As he spoke, Bucky looked over at Steve, who was obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. "My bed isn't half bad."
It was a testament to how poorly Steve must have really been feeling that he allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed with only minor protests that he really should take the futon.
After a nap and lunch, the three went down to the land Bucky was clearing. Sam ended up doing a lion's share of the work, citing that Barnes too was recovering from yesterday, while Steve had been relegated to supervising from under the shade of a nearby tree. They'd made it about fifty minutes, which was about forty more than Bucky had actually thought they'd get, before Steve volunteered to help.
"From a seated position!" he chimed in, as if that'd make a difference.
Sam very slowly straightened up and reminded Steve that he'd literally been holding his organs in place less than a day ago. The supersoldier's jaw had clamped closed and he didn't make any more foolish suggestions for the rest of the afternoon.
Just before dinner, the three migrated back to Bucky's hut and sat beside the porch so they could have an unobstructed view of the upcoming sunset. Not long they'd gotten settled, the neighborhood kids herded the goats back into Bucky's pen and asked Bucky in Wakandan how his friend was doing. This, of course, led to introductions, to both the kids and the goats.
"You named him Steve?" Human Steve asked, as the goat in question charged up to a much larger goat, who was clearly annoying the female he was trying to woo.
"I can't imagine why," Sam deadpanned.
The much larger goat, Vincent Van Goat (named by Thandiwe and not by Bucky, thank you very much), stared at Goat Steve with disapproval before slowly backing away. Goat Steve was clearly surprised by his victory and bounced away...directly into the post of the enclosure.
The kids didn't seem surprised by this and just waved goodbye to Bucky before skipping back to their homes. Bucky, however, was trying to smother his grin while Sam was laughing so hard he would have fallen out his chair had Steve not caught one of his belt loops and pulled him back.
"I hate both of you," Steve stated before he crossed his arms over his chest with a wince and looked pointedly at the sky.
By the time Sam managed to right himself in the chair, he'd caught his breath enough to speak. "C'mon Steve. You have to admit it's a little funny."
"I should have let you fall," Steve groused but, after a second, both Sam and Bucky saw he too was fighting back a grin.
Dinner was quick and casual but the food was consumed by all three men without complaint. Along with the remainder of the bread from lunch, Bucky had thrown a majority of the meat and vegetables into a pot, which he'd left simmering over an open fire for the last few hours. He saved very little of what Shuri had sent, knowing he'd be making his daily trip to the neighborhood market to get fresh food for tomorrow's meals.
"It was good," Steve said to his friend as he washed dishes. While sitting in a beanbag. Expending very little extra energy.
Sam had volunteered to dry, which left Bucky sitting at the table, feeling oddly out of place while everyone worked around him. "Even you couldn't mess it up," he retorted to return some normalcy to the situation.
In lieu of replying, Steve threw the sponge at him. Bucky ducked out of instinct but quickly realized he hadn't needed to when the sponge sailed high over his head and out the open door.
Both Bucky and Sam looked over at the normally very accurate Steve in surprise. "It's the chair," their friend explained defensively, his eyes flashing slightly with the perceived challenge.
They were all far too tired to rise to that bait. "Uh huh," was all Bucky said as he hauled himself to his feet and retrieved the sponge...which he handed over Steve's head to Sam. Ignoring Steve's protest, Sam just nodded and shifted over to assume his new position as head dishwasher.
"Maybe if you cut that mop in front of your eyes, you'd be able to throw better," Barnes quipped as he dropped back into his seat.
"I like my long hair!" To prove his point, Steve ran his hand over his head and winced as his fingers got caught in a knot.
"Do you also like that thing growing on your face?"
Sam snorted then pointedly returned to washing the soup pot.
"It's a helluva lot less work than shaving every day," Steve countered, brushing at his chin with the back of his hand. "I do trim it, you know, so I don't look like a mountain man."
"Could have fooled me."
Steve reared back to throw the dish towel he'd been handed in the job trade but Sam snatched it out of his hand before it too could end up on the ground.
"Work now, joke later," he ordered, pointing at the stack of newly cleaned dishes.
Steve cleared his throat unhappily but started to dry dishes. Still from a seated position. Where he expended very little energy.
Bucky however was having far too much fun to let the conversation die there. As he began to snark back at Steve, mostly about his surprise that he could grow facial hair at all now, Sam just rolled his eyes and, not for the first time this trip, wondered how this had become his life.
The next day, the three were playing cards when Bucky received word through his kimoyo beads that some of the tribes had caught word of Steve's arrival and were looking for him. Shuri hadn't been able to discern their exact intentions but she obviously thought them serious enough to call.
"I guess that's our cue to leave," Steve said, slowly pushing himself up from the table.
"You can't," Bucky sputtered as panic rose within him. "You're not fully healed yet."
Steve smiled warmly at him. "I'll be fine, Buck. Promise."
"I'll make sure he gets checked out a few more times," Sam stage-whispered to Bucky, who grinned despite his friend's looming departure.
"I heard that," Steve snapped but there was no heat in his words. He stood and looked at Sam who motioned for Steve to go on ahead.
"I'll call Natasha," the soldier said then proceeded to slowly make his way out to the Jeep, with one hand pressed slightly to his abdomen for additional support.
Bucky waited until Steve was out of earshot before turning to Sam. "Thank you. For bringing him here."
Sam shrugged. "We didn't really have a choice."
"I know. But you did anyway."
Sam slowly reached out and clasped Bucky's shoulder. "I'm just watching his back until you're ready to do it yourself."
Bucky nodded then held out his right hand. Sam shook, at the same time pulling Bucky into a quick one-armed hug. It lasted for about a second before Bucky squirmed out of Sam's grip. The intention was nice and Sam had given him enough forewarning with his body language that he had been willing to try it but, as it turned out: "I'm not quite ready for that yet," Bucky said by way of explanation.
Fortunately, when he looked up, all he saw in Sam's expression was understanding. The pararescue nodded, grinned lopsidedly, then followed Bucky out of the hut.
"Did my eyes deceive me or are you two finally bonding?" Steve asked from where he was leaning against the side of the Jeep. He was positively beaming, his eyes crinkling from the force of his ear-splitting grin.
"Don't get used to it." Sam nodded Bucky's way one last time before clapping Steve on the shoulder and walking around to the driver's side of the Jeep.
Bucky quickly strode over to where Steve was standing, before his friend got it in his mind to walk back to the hut. "Don't be such a stranger," he said as he desperately tried to ignore the way his stomach was clenching and rolling.
"I promise to visit when I'm completely healthy," Steve responded. "I gotta see how your crops turn out and how Goat Steve comes to rule the herd." The corner of his mouth quirked upward, an expression which Bucky found hard to not replicate.
But then the smile dropped off of Steve's face and he looked somberly over at Bucky. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
The former Soldier snorted. "After all these years, it's practically my default state." But then he paused. "Just...be careful," he added after a minute. "The line's not over for a long time yet."
"I'm really going to miss you," was all Steve said before he held his arms out wide.
Bucky stepped into the hug without question and rested his head against Steve's chest so he could hear his friend's heart beating: slowly, steadily, powerfully. "Me too."
"Oh, so it's just my hugs you don't like?"
"Shut up, Sam," Bucky snapped while Steve laughed into his shoulder.
"I'll be back soon," his friend promised before tightening the hug ever so briefly.
Then the two stepped apart.
"Give Shuri, Dr. Cethe and Nurse Ndaba my thanks, next time you're back at the palace?" Steve asked.
"Tell them yourself next time you visit.'
Steve smiled at Bucky one more time then walked over to the Jeep and popped open the passenger door. "Bye Goat Steve!" he called as he carefully leveraged himself into the seat. "Look after this place for me!"
Sam waited until Steve was buckled in before slowly taking off the road, apparently mindful of the dust he'd leave in his wake. While that might seem status quo for a lot of people, Bucky was touched by the gesture from Sam.
Steve stuck his hand through the roll bars and waved at Bucky until the Jeep disappeared over the ridge.
When the last cloud of dust had disappeared, Bucky looked back at Goat Steve, who was standing at the bottom of the ramp to the front door, looking up at him with a cocked head. Bucky laughed then sat down on a mat and began pulling on his boots.
"C'mon Goat Steve," Bucky said as he headed off to the field. "We got work to do."
Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought on your way out!
