Bucky was worried. Steve was sick. Had been for days, and he looked like hell.

Rogers was always sick in some way or other. The tenacious little squirt just refused to let it stop him until his body gave up and crapped out.

Normally Steve just suddenly stopped showing up to meet him after school, and Bucky would understand why. This time, Bucky had actually seen the asthma attack in action, and it had scared the hell out of him.

Steve's frail chest had started to spasm as they were walking home, and he'd instinctively grabbed onto Bucky's sleeve for support, doubling over with a painful sounding wheeze. Bucky had panicked. Steve's face was turning red, then slightly blue, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Fortunately Steve's house wasn't far, so he'd scooped his friend up, unnervingly fragile and light, and sprinted the rest of the distance, with Steve slowly passing out in his arms.

If Steve's mother hadn't had the medicine handy, he wasn't sure what would've happened.

Steve was pale and quiet under a worn out quilt when he arrived. His breath still rasped harshly in his lungs, and he looked feverish. Bucky pulled up a wooden chair and sat beside him.

"Hey Rogers."

"... Hey… Buck…." Steve rasped, reaching out one skinny arm for him. Bucky pushed it firmly back under the covers.

"Stay warm, numbskull. You wanna get worse?"

"...No." Steve answered honestly. He still looked tiny and fragile and miserable, just like the day they'd met, though he was nearly 11 now.

"Then sit tight." His hair was too long, Bucky noted, and poked out in dirty blonde spikes around his head. It gave him a manic look. "You thirsty? Your mom gave me some water for you."

He helped his friend to sit, carefully arranging a spare blanket he'd brought from home over Steve's spindly shoulders before handing him the glass. It wasn't much, but Steve needed every bit of help he could get.

The kid took his time, slowly sipping the water down, so he wouldn't cough and wretch it all back up.

Bucky put his feet up on the bed and watched him drink.

He couldn't quite say why he felt so protective when it came to Steve. Maybe it was that Steve was so fragile - so easily felled by his own bad health. Maybe it was his friend's short scrawny stature that did it.

Maybe it was that stupid stubborn streak that kept getting the kid into fights he couldn't win; leaving him with a new bruise or a black-eye just about every week. Bucky was losing count of the number of times he'd come upon Steve getting the stuffing knocked out of him by bigger, older boys, and he'd had to intervene.

… Hell, maybe it was just the stubborn little twit's tough-as-nails determination that he'd still grow up to be a soldier one day - just like his dad had been. Whatever it was, Bucky hated to see his best friend suffer. Steve deserved a lot better than this…

He'd do what he had to do to keep Steve safe and well from now on - no matter what, Bucky decided on the spot. Steve Rogers needed a protector, and dammit he was going to have one.