Chapter Two

It was late afternoon when Bucky started to panic a little. The rain hadn't stopped falling and it matched his mood. Steve's fever hadn't gone down. Bucky had given him the aspirin, but Steve kept moaning and wouldn't stay asleep. His mom wouldn't be home for another five hours. Sweat had drenched the top of his t-shirt and his hair; the kid looked absolutely miserable. Bucky pulled off the extra blankets, giving him a light sheet in exchange. Even if he thought he was cold, he was definitely too warm.

"Bucky," Steve said with a rasp in his voice.

"I'm right here. What's wrong?" He hated how worried his voice sounded to him. Steve would certainly pick up on it.

"Stomach… really hurts." Steve took a shallow breath. If he started to panic, it would only cause an asthma attack. Bucky had been there for a few, but it always left a sick feeling in his stomach. "Might… throw up."

"You better not. I just shined my shoes this morning," Bucky teased.

It worked, causing Steve to give a small smile. "Liar. You like… to be dirty." He coughed once and rubbed a hand on his chest. "I hate this."

"I know you do." Bucky touched Steve's forehead, feeling the kid shift a little into his touch. Too hot. The fever wouldn't budge. He'd have to try something else.

Bucky headed into the small bathroom and turned on the faucet. It was the only thing he could think of. Steve would protest, but he wouldn't give him an option. The water wasn't exactly warm or cold, but it would hopefully help lower the fever for a little bit. He went back into the living room to see Steve with both arms wrapped around his stomach, making a low moaning noise as he choked back a sob. Bucky managed to grab a bowl from the kitchen and shove it beneath Steve's chin. He threw up the meager meal he'd eaten a few hours before.

"I'm… sorry." Steve panted in between words. He leaned his head back against the couch and let out a shallow breath. It was like the weight of the world was crushing his small shoulders.

"Don't worry 'bout it." Bucky cleaned out the bowl and came back. "I'm gonna help you cool down."

"I'm… okay."

"No you aren't."

Not letting him answer, Bucky carefully started to lift Steve off the couch. It was a little tricky, but his best friend weighed very little. Steve cried out, but didn't say anything. It seemed that words had left him. Bucky took him into the bathroom and stripped his clothing off. He thought about leaving his underwear, but it wasn't like they hadn't changed in the same room before. It was a bit different when Steve was so sick. The rash circled some of his limbs. Bucky didn't think about how the water would feel on the rash as he carefully lowered Steve into the water. A tear ran down Steve's cheek. Bucky quickly wiped it away. His muscles tensed and his breathing increased a little as he settled into the water.

"It's gonna be okay," Bucky lied.

Steve whimpered. "I'm tired." The water splashed a little as he attempted to sit up a little higher in the water.

"Just stay still. We have to get your fever lower."

"I prefer that… beautiful blond dame from… yesterday. She could give me a bath." Steve tried to laugh, but it came out as a gasping wheeze.

Bucky shook his head, using the opportunity to wash Steve's face with the lukewarm water. "Shut up." He used the washcloth to poke Steve's nose. "Dame? You need to talk to girls more. She was pretty though."

"Why… don't I get… any bubbles?" Steve smiled.

"Bubbles are only for good kids who eat all of their lunch." Bucky rolled his eyes. "Maybe next time you can have bubbles."

"I ate some." Steve moved a little, biting back a groan. "I just… didn't keep it down."

"Yeah. That's alright. Is your stomach feeling any better?"

Steve shrugged. "Not really."

He waited a few more minutes to give Steve's body time to cool down. The water seemed to relax his muscles and he looked comfortable. Bucky hated to move him, but he couldn't stay in the water for too long or it would make him feel worse. This had to have lowered his fever some. At least the sweat on his skin was gone. Bucky even took the opportunity to wash the kid's hair, despite his little protests. He might as well get him clean at the same time.

"Okay, Stevie. Let's get you dried off. Maybe if you behave, I'll read you a bedtime story."

"It's not even bedtime yet." His words were slurred.

Bucky drained the water from the tub and grabbed the blue towel hanging on the back of the door. Just a few minutes in the air and Steve started to shiver. The kid couldn't catch a break. Bucky could count every single rib and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Once he was better, Bucky was going to make sure he ate some good food. Bucky quickly covered him with the towel and took him to the mattress in the bedroom. He dressed him in clean shorts and a t-shirt, ignoring the red flush of Steve's cheeks.

"I don't care, Steve." Bucky brushed Steve's hair off his forehead, feeling it was a bit cooler than before. "Stay here. I'm gonna get you some more water." Hopefully he could keep some water down.

Steve's eyes closed and he let out a soft, "okay."

Bucky didn't like this at all. Steve making a joke about a girl giving him a bath and being complacent about being treated with kid gloves; it didn't feel right. He splashed water on his own face, trying to clear the image of his best friend's ribs. Steve didn't deserve this. Bucky filled the cup with tap water and headed back to the bedroom. Steve had finally fallen asleep. Stepping closer, he saw sweat running down the side of Steve's forehead. The fever was refusing to go away.

Bucky set the cup of water on the floor next to the mattress. "I'll be right back. I promise. You just rest."

It confirmed his fears more when Steve didn't respond to him. Bucky rushed out of the apartment and down the short flight of stairs to the unit below the Roger's. He knocked on the door. It took a long moment before an older woman with gray hair answered the door. She frowned at him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Temple, but I need to use the phone." His heart contracted as he thought of Steve alone in the bed. Bucky blinked the raindrops from his eyes. "Please."

"What's the problem?"

"Steve is really sick and I need to get ahold of his mom."

Mrs. Temple pursed her lips. Bucky immediately knew her thoughts on the situation. Steve spent most of his time sick and people believed that those who were weak had no place in the world. He'd seen the signs posted about people being a burden to society. They treated him like he wasn't worthy of a good life because of his illnesses. He'd never be a contributing individual in society according to their stupid posters. That wasn't Steve. Steve would do anything to prove himself. Bucky clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palm.

Mrs. Temple finished wiping the glass cup in her hand. "Alright, you can use the phone."

Bucky hurried in before she finished talking. He'd used her phone before and knew where it was. It took a few minutes to get ahold of Sarah Rogers.

"He's getting worse. I can't keep his fever down. There's a rash on his skin and…" Bucky paused, noticing Mrs. Temple leaning in from her chair, trying to hear their conversation. "Every time he moves, he cries out. His breathing isn't right. Steve's agreeing with me and he isn't protesting me taking care of him like he normally does."

Sarah paused. "I shouldn't have left him. It's a slow shift. I think I can get out of here soon. I'll bring some more medicine for him. I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you, Bucky."

"Just hurry." Bucky hung up the phone and almost crashed into Mrs. Temple. He had to get back to Steve and make sure he was still asleep. "Sorry. Thanks for letting me use the phone."

She sighed. "Just stay there for a moment. I have something for you." Mrs. Temple headed into the kitchen and returned with a plastic bag of ice from her icebox. "To help with his fever. It's at least something."

He smiled and took the offered bag. "Thanks. That'll help."

"Now go. Poor kid shouldn't be left alone if he isn't feeling well." Mrs. Temple gave him a forced smile as she walked him to the door.

It was more than Bucky ever expected from her. He carried the ice back into the apartment. Just as he set it in the kitchen, the sound of retching reached his ears.

"Steve?"

There was no answer other than the same horrible sound again. Bucky ran into the bedroom, finding the blankets ruffled, but no Steve. The small light was on in the bathroom. Steve coughed loudly. Oh Steve. Bucky stepped in and saw his friend kneeling in front of the toilet, clutching the edges as he tried to keep himself upright. Bucky didn't waste time in picking him up and moving him back to the bed. He helped Steve wipe his mouth and take a small sip of water.

"You forgot… to tell me a story." Steve's glassy eyes followed him around the room as he found a different t-shirt.

Bucky sat down on the edge of the mattress, motioning for Steve to lift his arms. He carefully peeled the shirt off of him and put the clean one on. Kid hadn't even realized he threw up a little on his shirt. "No. You just don't remember the story. I told you the one about the kid who lost his stuffed bunny."

He shook his head slowly. "Liar." Steve swallowed and let Bucky help him lay back down. "Did you call my mom?"

There was a small tremble in his voice, but Bucky immediately picked up on it. "Yeah. She's trying to get off work."

"I can… take care of myself."

"No you can't. But that's why I'm here for you." Bucky went into the kitchen and put some of the ice into a smaller bag, while the rest went into their ice box. He wrapped the bag in a towel. Returning to Steve's side, he rested the ice against Steve's forehead. The kid shivered went the ice touched him. "Hey," he kept his voice gentle. "You're warm. I'm just cooling you down." He ran a hand through Steve's hair, getting him to smile. "How about I tell you a different story?"

"Heard the one… about the superhero named Bucky," Steve let out a breathy laugh.

"Dingy." Bucky fluffed his head and moved his hand back to the towel with the ice in it. "I'm gonna tell you a different one."

"But it's my favorite." Steve stuck out his lower lip in a fake pout.

"I know. But I want to tell you the one about this kid from Brooklyn, who went and saved the world." Bucky picked up the tepid cup of water from beside the bed. "As soon as you drink some more water, I'll tell you the story of Super Steve."

"'kay." Steve let Bucky help him take a few sips of the water. He tensed, waiting to see if his stomach would reject it. After a few moments, he lay back against the pillow.

Bucky prayed that Sarah would get home soon. Steve needed her help too. He started telling the story of Super Steve, the kid who saved other kids from bullies and animals from trees. Steve drifted to sleep after a little while, unable to stay awake to hear the ending. A sigh escaped his parted lips. Bucky gently put his hands on the sides of Steve's head and tenderly kissed his best friend's forehead. He had to be okay.

"8 o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

"You know, I still don't know how to dance."

"I'll show you how. Just be there."

"We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your –"

Steve shot up, disoriented, but fully awake. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark living room. He'd slept longer on the couch than he meant to. It had to be late evening or early morning. The forgotten ice pack fell onto the floor as Steve put his legs over the side of the couch. He ran his hands over his face. Standing up, he ignored the stiffness in his knee. It felt much better than when he'd went to sleep, but it was still a bit painful. He limped into the kitchen for a glass of water. His eyes caught a light outside in the yard. Someone sat with a candle in front of them. A blanket was wrapped around the person's shoulders, hiding them from him. Steve knew.

He moved slowly, stepping out into the cool night air. Steve plopped down on the grass, being careful not to pull his knee. "Bad dream?"

Wanda nodded. "Almost every night. I see his face. He was smiling at me and laughing."

"Your brother," Steve said matter of factly. "I'm sorry."

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Not your fault." Wanda sniffled and turned to look at him. "How's your knee?"

"It's been better, but it's getting there."

They sat in silence for a little while. Steve stared at the flame of the small flickering candle. It must have been to honor Pietro. The kid had died too young. He had so much life to live and so much potential. It had only been a month since his death and it was still very hard on Wanda. Pietro has been her only living family member.

The breeze blew a stay piece of hair across her face as Wanda looked at Steve. "Do you ever dream about your life before… before you woke up?"

Steve looked at his hands. The ghost voice of Peggy's last words to him was clear in his mind. "Of course. When I woke up, everything was different. Everyone I knew was gone. It's normal to have bad dreams."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. But it gets better. Things changed when I came out of the ice, but I have a family again. My team." Steve put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's head inside. I make a good cup of hot chocolate and we can talk. How does that sound?"

"That sounds nice." Wanda blew out the candle and stood up, brushing leaves off her skirt.

Steve sat for a moment. Wanda put out her hand. He took her offered hand and carefully stood up, being careful not to turn his leg. Wanda reached out, putting part of the blanket around his side against the cool morning air. Steve put his arm around her shoulder as he smiled. Together they limped inside.

There's more to come! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Emma