Sorry about the repeating chapters! Should be fixed now!
"Uh."
Tony said, smiling awkwardly as if he had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. Steve nudged him again and resumed staring at Bucky. Sure, this Bucky wasn't going to try to throw him out of a helicarrier or you know, inadvertently expose a Nazi conspiracy infecting the entire government, but still. Weird.
Bucky sighed, the sigh of a man who has dealt with Steve Rogers on a daily basis. He ignored Tony, who was muttering about DeLoreans, and the rest of them, and walked over to Steve, who was still slightly stunned.
"Do you still have that fever, punk?"
Bucky asked him, reaching a hand up for his forehead. Steve paused for a moment, then did the first thing that came to his mind. It was like a natural instinct.
He licked Bucky's hand. "Nope, jerk." He said, cheerfully, and Bucky groaned and wiped his hand overdramatically on Steve's shirt.
Tony sputtered behind them, surprised, and Bucky massaged his temples, hand no longer damp.
"I thought I told you not to bring in any more strays, Rogers."
Clint choked out a laugh, then pretended to be looking with great interest at the table, which has more cracks in it than Steve would care to count.
"They're not strays, Buck. And besides, when have I done it before? That cat was cold! I was only going to bring it in for a day."