#cute sneezy bucky
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Chill
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I wrote a thing! A Bucky-With-A-Cold scenario bc that is my favorite thing in this life, in which he is pretty Winter Soldier-y but not in an angsty way, and Steve is all tender for him.
Canon-ish, post-WS, Steve Bucky and Sam are going on missions against Hydra while Bucky/the Soldier recovers his memories & self.
IDK about this title but I'm stoked I finished this so it's goin up :D
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“…Hey Buck. You wakin’ up?”
The Soldier cracked his eyes open. Took stock of his surroundings: bare wood, high windows looking out onto cold gray sky and earth, unfamiliar lumpy couch, scratchy wool blanket, tall blond man hovering with a cup of something steaming in his hands— Steve. He was with Steve.
He relaxed as the rest came trickling back. Safehouse. Northern Canada. A mission: chasing down a small Hydra cell that had gone to ground in this remote area. Then… helicopters…
“How are you feeling?” Steve liked to ask that question. The Soldier had come to realize it wasn’t a taunt or a deliberate attempt to confuse him or make him feel weak, but it was still hard to answer most of the time. He grunted vaguely, then frowned at the scratchy ache in his throat. Had he been screaming in his sleep? There wasn’t the tight misery on Steve’s face that usually resulted from that.
He was actually smiling a bit, managing to look concerned but also the slightest bit amused. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Helicopters.” Big ones. “Three of them. You, me, and” the man with the wings— “Sam. He was fine. I took out the crew on mine. You fell,” he finished accusingly. Talking scratched at his throat and resonated oddly in his nose, which felt sort of cotton-wool-stuffed and sensitive and increasingly tingly.
Steve’s eyes went to his leg and he finally noticed the splint and bandage engulfing his right knee. “…Then what happened.” He still forgot to put inflection into his voice sometimes, to make his words a question instead of a flat statement. Steve didn’t mind, anyhow.
“You went jumping right after me, ya goof.” Steve suppressed a chuckle as Bucky’s eyes narrowed further at the suggestion that he and not Steve was the goof. “Threw me clear of the hole in the ice while the damn helicopter crashed on top of you.” It hadn’t been funny at the time, but Bucky lying safe on the couch, bundled in blankets, and giving him that accusing narrow-eyed glare that was so familiar, was making him feel giddy with relief and happiness.
He was also starting to scrunch and wrinkle his nose a little —Steve had a guess why— and it was a little, well, cute. “A rotor hit your leg, not too hard but hard enough for a fracture and a pretty bad wound, and you sunk with the chopper, so you were under for a few minutes before me and Sam could get to you. You were hypothermic. I was worried.” He knew his face was doing something very soft and tender but he couldn’t help it. Bucky looked exasperated as he often did in response to Steve’s worry. He was also getting a hazy, confused little expression on his face.
The Soldier wanted to roll his eyes, a recently discovered expression Steve often inspired, and snark back at the big blond idiot, but before he could, the building tingling itch in his nose crested, seized his breath in a series of hitches, and— “heh…hih-ehschoo!” it only abated for an instant, and then returned. “hitschoo! …heh-heh, adt—” the last one fizzled away and left him blinking and shaking his head. The cotton-wool feeling was still there, even more than before.
Steve looked more sympathetic than surprised. “Bless you. This is for you to drink, if you want it—” he put the cup of tea on the coffee table within arm’s reach. “It’s good for sore throats, which I think you might have right now.”
The Soldier squinted at him suspiciously. How did he know that? He sniffled. The feeling that had made him sneeze had backed off, but felt like it could return any second.
Steve did his concerned smile thing. “I think you might be a little, well, sick. There was a mention in—in a file I found” now he was glaring at the floor like he’d like to murder it. “Something about immune sensitivity to severe cold temperature. And even though the serum’s supposed to stop us ever getting sick, I’ve gotten a little under the weather when I was healing from an injury before. You might be dealing with a cold, pal. Might not have had one since the last one you caught off me in the ‘40s, or, I guess, you might not remember.”
The Soldier didn’t remember much from Before, though things came back once in a while. Did he remember feeling like this? He had to sniffle again. His head and face were starting to feel big, and heavy, and a soft pounding had started up behind his eyes. His leg hurt, but that was more familiar than this other —just feel crummy, Stevie—feeling.
He shrugged uncertainly in lieu of answering, sat upright just enough to reach the cup of tea and take a few cautious sips. It hadn’t been an order, but he could tell Steve wanted him to drink it. It did feel good on the soreness in his throat. But the steam rising from the cup, despite being a barely perceptible sensation, felt like a feather tickling his nose, and suddenly the sneezes were back.
“hdtsch, h-h-hitsch!...hitshiew!” He turned toward the back of the couch and managed not to spill the tea, sniffled a few times in a row, but his nose wasn’t done: “huh…huh-ISHhhoo!”
“Bless you, Buck! I think that’s a ‘yes’ on catching a cold. Let me get you some tissues, or find something in this place that’ll work…” Steve moved off with purpose as he spoke. It was a safehouse: well-stocked with non-perishable food and basic medical necessities, but not much else. He waffled between bandage cloth and toilet paper for a few seconds and then grabbed both. As he returned to Bucky on the couch he heard another soft but itchy-sounding sneeze— “hih-etssch!” followed by a series of urgent sniffles. “Here you go, pal. Couldn’t find tissues but you can blow your nose with either of these.”
Bucky grabbed a rectangular piece of cloth meant for bandaging wounds, clearly needing to tend to his nose too much to freeze over the decision as he still sometimes did with minor choices offered to him, and blew his nose with an expression of relief.
“Sorry I don’t have any handkerchiefs. I carried one for a while after I woke up, but people don’t use them much anymore and I got tired of getting looks like I was insane or getting called ‘Grandpa’ every time I pulled one out.”
Bucky blinked up at him. His nostrils were already pink and sensitive-looking, and there was a slight flush showing on his cheeks as well. “I don’t remember…this,” he said, gesturing at his face with the makeshift tissue. His voice was getting a bit rough and congested. He cleared his throat. “S’not too bad.” He rubbed his nose itchily, turning it more red, and gave a soft cough. His eyebrows turned up and he gave a shivery inhale like he was about to sneeze, but then it deserted him and he sunk back onto the couch cushion with a sigh. He looked like he was feeling pretty miserable, whatever he might say.
“Not too bad, but not too much fun, either. I sure remember how it felt for me.” Steve said softly, putting his hand on his friend’s warm forehead. Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, and on instinct Steve put the back of his hand to Bucky’s cheek, and watched as he leaned into the soft cool touch, vulnerable in a way he so rarely was. Something clenched in Steve’s chest. “You definitely have a fever. I’m sure you’ll be better before long, especially if you rest. Get some more sleep; I’ll heat up some soup when you wake up.”
“What ‘bout you,” murmured Bucky sleepily, followed by another soft sniffle.
“Don’t worry about me, Buck.” Steve could feel how sappy his expression must be, and was grateful Sam was sacked out in the back bedroom. “I ain’t tired yet, I’ll be on watch.”
“You were—snfff—in the water too” said Bucky accusingly, fighting sleep as he tried to turn the tables of fussing onto Steve.
“You tossed me outta there so fast I barely had time to get wet.” Steve’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “Too worried about me, as usual.” Bucky scowled at that like Steve knew he would, scrunching his red nose.
“Like hell. Just didn’t want you to go getting yourself…fro—frohoze…huhh…HUH—USHchoo! Ugh. Frozen againd.” Bucky replied, interrupting himself with a heavy sneeze into the cloth in his hand. He really sounded like he had a cold. He lifted the cloth again just as he shivered into a tiny soft “hih-tishh” and blew his nose tiredly.
“Sleep, Buck.” Steve gave into the urge to stroke his hair and Bucky gave a little sigh, eyes finally sliding closed. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
#snzfic#captain america#cute sick bucky#cute sneezy bucky#snz kink#snzblr#mcu#bucky barnes#winter soldier#steve rogers
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Omg omg omg hi I’ve read your fics omg I can’t believe you’re writing again!!!
If it’s not too much, could I request a sick and sneezy Bucky and any Steve of your choosing??
Thank you so much for the prompt!! It's definitely not too much to ask (and if you ever have any more ideas for Bucky I am happy to take them! I don't give Bucky nearly enough love, which is honestly a travesty) <3 <3 <3
Bookshop/Cafe AU where Bucky works in the bookshop part of the store and (post-serum) Steve works in the cafe part, and they’re cute boyfriends.
Steve was supposed to be off today, but he had all but jumped at the opportunity to cover for a coworker for no reason other than wanting to keep an eye on Bucky. They don’t work immediately together, but Steve works at the coffee shop within the bookstore that Bucky works at, which was how they met in the first place.
Anyways, he knows how it sounds, picking up a shift solely so he can make sure Bucky is okay, but hear him out. He promises it’s not for anything nefarious.
Bucky has been coming down with what’s shaping up to be an awful cold for the last day and a half or so. He’s still in that annoying phase of illness, where his body can’t quite figure out what it wants to do and is freaking out. He’s feeling way more rough than he usually does at this point of a cold, but he doesn’t really have many specific symptoms.
His head is throbbing, and his throat feels really scratchy and raw (and it sounds like it, too), but other than that he’s just dragging. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for a year.
Steve had tried talking him into calling out since he’s not feeling well, but Bucky is nothing if not stubborn. He doesn’t want to take time off for this. It would feel ridiculous calling out for feeling vaguely unwell and not actively sick.
So, Steve feels like it’s his duty to keep an eye on things. And honestly, picking up a shift to make sure everything is okay is far less weird than browsing the aisles of the bookstore for hours until his shift finishes.
*
Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him. He does his best to ignore it, but can’t stop himself from glancing over in his direction. They make eye contact and Steve’s eyes widen slightly, and then his head immediately drops down. He goes back to wiping down the counter by the register.
Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head, laughing lightly. What a ridiculous man.
He turns his attention back to stocking the shelves. His boss had taken pity on him and wasn’t making him work in any customer-facing role (unless absolutely necessary) when she heard how gravelly and rough Bucky’s voice was when he got to work that morning. If they were less busy, his boss probably would have sent him home. She’s not in the business of torturing her employees. However, she’d already had three callouts, and she really does need Bucky there.
She promises that Bucky can have all the time off he needs soon, though.
Bucky clears his throat with a grimace. He really does need to track his boss down and see if he can go grab some tea at some point. That might help.
As if she can sense his question, he spots her walking over to him from across the room.
“How’re you holding up?” She asks with a frown. “I’m sorry you have to be here.”
He waves her off, “it’s fine, promise.” He winces when he hears his own voice. It’s shot to hell, and he knows he’s close to losing it.
“Do you need anything?”
He nods his head towards the coffee shop, “would you mind if I go grab some tea? I’ll be quick.”
“Not at all. Why don’t you go ahead and take your fifteen now.”
He furrows his brows, “but I already took that earlier.”
“Oh, did you? I don’t remember,” she says, shooting him a look. “It’s fine, James. Go take another.”
He looks around the store, there are people everywhere. A line is forming at the front of the store, and he can’t help the pang of guilt in his chest. “Peggy, we’re so busy.”
“I know,” she says, “but I just feel bad I’m keeping you here when you’re not feeling well and you being here at all is helpful. Go get some tea, sit down, come back in fifteen.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” he relents, but it’s more so he doesn’t have to keep talking.
He puts the last book back on the shelf and heads over to the coffee shop.
“Steve,” he croaks when he reaches the register.
Steve winces, “God, you sound bad, honey.”
“I sound worse than I feel. Peggy told me to take another fifteen.”
“I would have sent you home,” Steve grumbles, casting an annoyed glance in the bookstore’s general direction.
Bucky rolls his eyes, “stop. You know she can’t, and you know you’d still be here if it were you.”
“Fair enough,” he sighs, shifting his focus back to fussing over his boyfriend. “How do you feel other than your throat?”
He scratches at his nose, making a face at the prickle in his sinuses. “Eh…not great. Not awful. Hih…hih’tschiew! Snff! Snff! Sorry. Somewhere in the middle. I’m just so fucking tired. Could I get some tea? I don’t care what kind, surprise me.”
“Language,” Steve teases. He hands Bucky a napkin and then grabs a hot cup from the stack next to him. “Bless you. Want something with caffeine, then?”
Bucky turns away to blow his nose, and then he rubs at his chest with a sigh, “dunno…heart’s kind of racing. I’m not sure caffeine would be the best idea.”
Steve frowns. Bucky’s heart always races when he’s not feeling well, and even though he knows this is normal for him, he can’t help but worry.
“Go sit down, I’ll bring you something.”
*
Bucky makes it exactly two and a half more days before he has to admit defeat and whatever plague he’s caught decides it’s time to kick his ass.
Peggy sends him home after his lunch break. She tells him not to worry and to take as much time off as he needs.
He’s currently curled up in the blanket den on the couch that Steve insisted on building him, sniffling miserably into a tissue. This cold from hell has decided to take up residence in his head, and he’s less than thrilled.
His head is throbbing with an intensity he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s in his skull, and sinuses, and his head feels like it’s packed with cement. He’s been sneezing pretty much nonstop since he woke up, which is definitely not helping with how hazy he’s feeling. The only bonus of feeling this bad is that he doesn’t feel as disgusting as he probably should. His throat is killing him too, it feels like someone’s shoved a white-hot branding iron down it, and his voice is nearly gone at this point.
“hhh…hihh’isschh! isshh! Isschhh! Snff! Guh…this is so anndoyi’gg,” he sniffles, scrubbing at his nose with the tissue before blowing his nose into it. He balls it up and adds it to the growing pile next to him. He plucks another from the box, sniffling into it as his sinuses itched and burned again. “How is ihhh….it t-twendty twendty th-three a-and-heh…hhih’schhieww! Snff! Snff! And we h-havend’t combe up wihh…with a cure for the c-commbond cold yet-ihtschiew! Snff! Snff!”
“Bless you, sweetheart,” Steve frowns, rubbing his back. “Man, this cold is really kicking your ass, huh?”
Bucky groans, sniffling again. His breath catches, and then he’s coughing miserably into the blankets. A shiver runs down his spine, and he’s hit with a really woozy, disorienting feeling. He looks up at Steve with the biggest, most tragic eyes possible.
“Do I feel warmb? I thi’ggk I have a fever. Hih…hih’ihtschiew! Eh’tschuh! Snff! Snff! Hih-hih…Hih! Hih’ITSHHOO! Snff!” He blows his nose again, giving a couple more stuffy coughs before slumping back into the couch.
“Bless you. That last one sounded like it hurt,” Steve murmurs, pressing his fingers against Bucky’s cheek and stroking it. He grimaces, “ah...yeah, I think you’re right. You’re hot.”
Bucky blinks heavily, and then gives him a strange look, “Stevend, this is a weird timbe for a combplimbendt…you’re…hot…too?”
Steve smothers a laugh, “fever, honey. You have a fever.”
Bucky is quiet for a few moments while he processes what Steve just said. Then, he groans and buries his face in the blankets. “Oh mby god I’mb and idiot.”
“You aren’t an idiot…but…that does make me want to get a reading on your temp.”
“Hih’ihtschiew!”
“Bless-”
“Nng’xxcht!”
“-You. Don’t stifle, you’ll give yourself a headache.”
“I already have a headache,” Bucky grumbles, breath hitching again. “Ih’tschieww! Tsch! Iht’schieww!”
Steve kisses his cheek, leaving Bucky to go find him something for the congestion, as well as the thermometer.
“I’m going to make you more tea while I’m up,” Steve calls over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Bucky sniffles, groaning in annoyance when the sneezing just doesn’t let up. “hihh’itsschh! itsshh! Itsschhh! hhih’tschhieww! Ihtschiew! Snff! Snff!” He’s lightheaded at the end of it, head swimming as he tries to re-orient himself.
“How do you feel about taking NyQuill now?” Steve asks when he returns with everything. “I know it’s a bit early, but you’re miserable.”
“How about you just kill mbe indstead?”
“Mmm,” Steve says, handing him the tea and crouching down in front of him so he can stick the thermometer in his ear. “I think that sounds like a permanent solution to a very temporary problem.”
“Mbaybe this cold will kill mbe.”
“I don’t think it’s going to kill you…but I’m not entirely sure it’s a cold,” Steve frowns, looking down at the thermometer once it beeps. 101.9. He sticks it in Bucky’s other ear, hoping maybe the reading is off. 102. “You don’t usually get fevers…or feel this awful with colds.”
Bucky shrugs. Whatever this is definitely doesn’t feel like your normal, run-of-the-mill cold, but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He lifts the tea to his lips, but practically shoves it back into Steve’s hands as the steam makes the congestion shift, and then he can’t stop sneezing. After what feels like a dozen or so, the itch finally dissipates, and he’s left sniffling and coughing and so exhausted. All he wants to do is curl up and sleep for the rest of the day while Steve rubs his back and plays with his hair.
“Bless you. God, that sounded miserable, poor thing.” Steve fusses.
“Yeah,” Bucky croaks, eyes closing.
Steve hands him the meds, and then stands up and flops next to him on the couch, “take the NyQuil. Can’t sneeze if you’re unconscious.”
Bucky chuckles, which just launches him into another coughing fit. Steve grimaces and rubs his back. “Bei’gg undcondscious sou’dds ambazi’gg.”
“Wanna pick a show to watch while you’re waiting for them to kick in?”
Bucky sniffles, nodding as he slumps against Steve.
“Sorry for probably sndeezi’gg ond you a mbilliond timbes,” Bucky mumbles, voice muffled by the blankets.
“Hazards of being in a relationship,” Steve smiles, wrapping his arm around Bucky and adjusting so that he’s laying with his head on Steve’s chest. “If I get it, I get it. It’s fine.”
“Sorry.”
“James, look at me,” Steve says gently. Bucky looks up at him, and Steve cups his cheek. “It’s fine. You’re sick, and I care way more about you than I do about avoiding this. Stop worrying.”
“Okay. I love you.” Bucky sniffles, sounding very tired and far away. He can feel himself drifting off to sleep.
“I love you too, sweetheart.” Steve says softly, kissing the top of his head.
And then, Bucky sleeps.
#stucky#fever#congestion#coughing#sneezing#steve rogers#bucky barnes#now I wanna write a part two where Steve catches it and Bucky is the sweetest ever but also that's always what I want in my fics lmao
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Can I request winteriron with a sneezy, annoyed Bucky with an autumn cold and Tony kinda teasing him but being all protective and soft 🥺
“I told Sam we would stop by later,” Bucky says, turning and rubbing his nose against his shoulder. He can’t possibly have to sneeze again so soon, and yet he’s almost positive he’s going t-to…
“huh… chsshh! heptCHssh! eh… heh… huhCHussh!”
“Honey, I don’t think you’re going anywhere tonight,” Tony says, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist and pulling him down onto the couch. “Bless you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the nape of Bucky’s neck. The way they landed, Bucky’s half on Tony’s lap, half on the couch, and he turns in Tony's arms to frown at him.
“S’just a few sneezes, Tony,” Bucky argues, though he rubs at his nose with a knuckle and Tony can see the irritated tears as they appear, dampening his lashes and making him look ... well, sick. Like he's coming down with whatever cold Steve had a week ago, the one going around the Compound at breakneck speed.
“A few this minute, a few ten minutes ago, and fifteen minutes before that—“ Tony ticks them off on his fingers and Bucky rolls his eyes
“You tracking this on a s-spreh… hEh! hdt'ISH! Spreadsheet somewhere?” Bucky asks, sniffling. Tony knows he hardly minds all the attention, though, not when it's from him. They're similar in that way, neither of them are big on PDA, but this, quiet affection at home, where it's just the two of them is more than welcome.
“No spreadsheets. I'm a genius, remember? Plus, you’re cute when your nose is all… pink like that,” Tony says, tapping the tip of Bucky’s nose affectionately. He watches the way it flares in response, twitchy and irritated, and pulls a tissue from the box on the coffee table before Bucky can say anything.
"Bless you," Tony says when Bucky's breath stutters again. He smiles sympathetically as he ducks away to sneeze a few more times into the handful of tissues.
“Huh…. hutCHUShhhoo! USCH’iiew!” The sneezes are stuffy, louder than usual, and Tony can tell that Bucky's nose is getting more stuffed up as the night goes on. It'll be time for a dose of cold medicine soon, but for now, he's happy enough to keep him company on the couch while he works through the beginnings of his cold.
"That definitely sounds like a cold, Buckybot," Tony tells him.
"Thanks," Bucky sighs, the sound congested and tired enough that Tony knows he's likely done protesting about their missed plans tonight.
Tony pulls Bucky closer to him, then reaches up and strokes a hand through his hair, letting his hand linger along the shell of his ear. "Wilson will thank you, too, for not infecting him," Tony points out. "Plus, I'm thankful to get you here to myself tonight, so really it's a win-win."
Bucky presses his face into Tony's shoulder at the words, and Tony can feel the soft, damp press of his nose against his t-shirt. It shouldn't be so... cute is the only word coming to mind. And maybe it shouldn't, but there's something about having Bucky here like this, tired and sick and more vulnerable than he lets himself be with anyone else, that makes Tony want to stay like this forever.
"I'm a mbess," Bucky mutters, looking up long enough to give his nose another swipe with his tissues. "You cannot be glad for that."
"Sure am," Tony says easily. "I'm a mess on any given day, too, so we'll call it even, yeah?"
Bucky smiles a little, tentative and suddenly bashful, and nods, lets Tony rub his back and talk about dinner and which movie they should watch while they lay there.
#buckysnose#winter//iron#my fic#tony loves him sm and so DO I#honestly this prompt is quite old i'm sorry!
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Disobedient sneezy sub!Bucky with a dom!Cap!Steve who is caring even if he wants to show who is in charge :) pleaseeeeee
eeee what a cute prompt!!! obviously, bucky's a birdwatcher. nobody's surprised by that.
w: (slight) mess warning
***
Steve can’t say he’s pleased by the sight before him. It’s Bucky, shivering in a chair on their back deck, nose, lips and cheeks chapped.
It’s lightly snowing, but expected to pick up in the late afternoon. At least Bucky’s got on Steve’s coat and knit hat. Still, he can tell Bucky’s shivering. Steve sighs, frowns and opens the sliding glass door.
Though Bucky normally turns at the sound, he doesn’t this time. he knows who it is. Plus, he’s fucking freezing.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
Bucky chuckles, pulling the collar up a little bit higher, attempting to cover his exposed neck. He blearily blinks before wrenching forward with a volley of ticklish sneezes. “H-Hih! Hh’XXXNT! Hih’KNNT! H-hoo. Sorry, those sduck up od be.”
He pulls something out of his pocket with shaking hands. “G-got a light?”
It’s his fucking vape.
“Very funny,” Steve snaps. “Now come inside.”
“Aw, c’mon, I’b fiiiiide,” Bucky wines, pouting a little. His nose starts to run and he desperately needs to sniffle, but decides against it. Of course, the cold is making his sinuses prickle, and suddenly he’s gasping again.
“KXXXXGNT!”
Steve winces at the sound. Bucky’s always stifled his sneezes.
“You’ve got a cold, Buck. I told you not to stay outside too long. What are you even doing out here?”
When Steve says ‘hear,’ he gestures to the blanket of snow and scattered, icy trees in front of them. It’s quiet.
“Oh, I’b jusd bird wadching.”
Steve sees the corner’s of Bucky’s nostrils glistening and instinctively pats himself, searching for his handkerchief. “Here,” Steve says, handing it to him.
“Ew,” Bucky says, snatching it anyway. “These are so gross. I cad’t believe you sdill use one of these. Dod’t people use like, tissues dow?”
“Yeah, right, right.” Steve shrugs, rubbing the back of his head. “Guess it’s just one of those old habits right?”
Nostrils flaring, Bucky desperately shakes open the handkerchief and buries his nose into it with another pair of squelching stifles. “H-hih’XXXXT! KKKKNT!”
“Yeah, exactly,” Steve grins. “Like that. Now come inside, I’ve got some broth on the stove.”
“Oh, sobe br-broth? You tryig to woo be?” Bucky says sarcastically.
“Take it or leave it, Buck.”
***
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#bc yeah bucky is a birdwatcher it's canon#snz#snez#snz things#sneezefic#capsnz#stuckysnz#snzfucker#snezblr#snzblr#sneeze art#sneezefucker#drabbles#mcusnz
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Do you have any Bucky sneeze hc’s for this crazy time? Maybe like if they’re messy, how many, how often in a day, hows he cover, does he like/hate being blessed, does he bless everyone? Honestly just need all the distracting cute thoughts rn
Ahhhh anon this is a very cute ask!!
I feel like his sneezes aren’t really messy at first, but if he’s around something he’s allergic to, or he’s day 3 into a cold, they’ll definitely get messier. He tries to hide it though, always keeping a tissue in his pocket.
Usually if he’s allergic to something, he sneezes in triples, and the last one takes a few more seconds than the other two. If he’s sick, it’s probably all just. A hitchy mess, where he sneezes three times but they’re drawn out longer. He typically isn’t a very sneezy person.
I’d say post ws he probably either presses his face into his shoulder as much as he can, or sometimes he’ll pull the neck of his shirt up to sneeze into. Back before the war his mother raised him to always sneeze into a handkerchief.
He gets a little shy when he’s in the middle of a fit from allergies, and he likes to just. Go unnoticed. When he’s sick, he thanks people, but he’s honestly not all that into it in general. He’ll bless Steve, or maybe other avengers, but won’t bless anyone else, especially not strangers.
I like to think that he usually gets stuffy really fast. When he’s sick he gets grumpy, and doesn’t like being tactile, but then he gets to day 2 or 3 and then becomes a koala.
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I’m stuck between 🎡 and ❗️for a miserably sniffly and sneezy Bucky.... so take your pick?
🎡 A and B are up in a ferris wheel at a carnival. B thinks A is shaking because they’re scared of heights, but wait why is A so warm for a cold night…
(this one was too cute omg. post!ws au where everybody’s chill)
-
“Isn’t this thing older than the popsicle twins?” Tony asks, eyeing the Coney Island ferris wheel with some concern.
“Aw, come on, Tony!” Clint laughs, jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow. “Unless you’re chicken?”
Clint proceeds, to precisely nobody’s surprise, to cluck like a chicken until Tony swats at him. Clint is far nimbler on his feet than Tony could ever be, however, and dances away from his hands with ease.
Thor is also frowning up at the ferris wheel but for a different reason which soon becomes clear when he leans closer to Steve and says, “So, the wheel simply turns slowly? And this passes for amusement in Midgard?”
“Yeah, it’s mostly for kids,” Steve agrees, squinting up at the wheel himself since everybody else seems to be doing that. “But you can see for miles from the top.”
Thor breaks into a bright grin. “I do enjoy seeing things from a great height.”
Thor’s words give Steve pause and he turns back to look at Bucky who is continuously scanning the crowds around the fair. Before the war, Bucky wasn’t a fan of heights. The first time Sarah Rogers had taken the two of them on the Wonder Wheel, Bucky had held it together well until they were about three quarters of the way up before he’d started crying. It had been silent and utterly heartbreaking to watch and, even at nine years old, Steve felt a desperate ache in his chest - he couldn’t take Bucky’s fear away. It had been the first time he’d felt truly helpless.
It’s not a memory Steve thinks about often. Honestly, there are so many worse memories which spring up unbidden at night that Steve supposes a trip to the fair probably wouldn’t make the cut of his Top Ten Worst Moments. Still, he’s thinking about it now. Logically, he knows that Bucky is probably over his fear by now. He hardly thinks Hydra would have catered to the Winter Soldier’s phobic tendencies.
The line shuffles forward steadily until Clint, Natasha, and Tony crowd into a cabin and Thor, Jane, Darcy, and Bruce settle into the next. That leaves just the two of them. Steve smiles back at Bucky.
“Ready?” He asks lightly.
Bucky smiles back. It’s small and tight but it’s there. Steve takes Bucky’s gloved left hand and sits down so that their legs are presses together.
“I remember Ma told me that my dad kissed her at the top of this thing once,” Steve says, speaking without really thinking as their cabin begins to climb.
Bucky flashes him a crooked smile and mutters, “You tryn’a flirt with me, Rogers?”
Steve can’t help it; he blushes all the way down to his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Steve Rogers is not a bushing virgin but something about the way Bucky sweet-talks him has always tickled him pink, as it were.
Now that they’re so close together, though, Steve frowns. Bucky is shaking. Barely, and it’s well-contained, but Steve can still feel it.
“Okay?” Steve whispers even though there’s nobody else to hear him.
Bucky raises one eyebrow with such perfect nonchalance that Steve is instantly suspicious. “I can handle a ferris wheel, Steve,” he says, sounding bemused. Bemused and...nervous? His voice sounds hoarse with what Steve can only assume is anxiety.
“Not how I remember it, you can’t,” Steve shoots back playfully, refusing to go in for the kill straight away. Bucky has been making such good progress lately with asking for help and Steve wants to give him an opportunity to let him know what’s going on before he has to figure it out for himself. “Ma was ready to treat you for asthma that day.”
“So dramatic, punk,” Bucky smirks. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Was too,” Steve retorts childishly.
As they climb closer to the peak of the wheel, a sharp evening breeze rushes through the bars of the cabin, making it swing in the wind. Bucky only shakes harder.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says, winding an arm around the back of Bucky’s shoulders. “It’s just the wind. I won’t let you fall.”
Bucky tries for another casual roll of his eyes but Steve can’t help noticing that they look a little pink, like Bucky’s been crying or maybe about to start crying any second.
“M’not scared,” Bucky mutters, sounding petulant.
Steve sighs fondly, lovingly brushing Bucky’s hair away from his sweaty forehead. “It’s okay if you are, you kn-” But Steve stops dead.
“You’re hot,” he says dumbly, already able to see Bucky’s response coming a mile away.
“Not too bad yourself, Rogers,” Bucky says, predictably. Steve almost mouths the line along with him, he’s heard it so many times before.
“You know what I mean, Buck,” Steve mumbles, trying and failing to keep the sadness from entering his voice.
Bucky notices, because of course he does. When it comes to Steve, Bucky notices everything. And, in a reversal of how this scene is supposed to be going, Bucky gently cups Steve’s face in his hands and runs his thumbs delicately over his cheekbones.
“I’m sorry, babydoll,” Bucky whispers hoarsely and he sounds so sincere that Steve wants to cry. “I didn’t want to ruin everybody’s fun.”
Steve frowns. “But you could have told me.” He says, trying not to sound as pouty as he feels.
“Didn’t want to ruin your fun either, baby,” Bucky amends, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Steve’s nose.
Steve is quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say. He doesn’t want to be upset with Bucky for not telling him, especially not when they’re going to be trapped in this tiny dangling cage for at least another two rounds of this thing. He super especially doesn’t want to be upset because Bucky had sounded so apologetic and sad (and the soft, loving hitch in his voice when he’d called Steve his babydoll was sending all kinds of shivers right through Steve’s body).
So, Steve concedes.
“I know,” he says, because he knows he’d have done the same stupid, stubborn thing. “But you gotta be honest with me about how you’re feeling starting now. You’re burning, Buck. You gotta feel awful.”
It takes a moment, but Bucky’s instinctive army posture finally starts to soften and he curls in close to Steve, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve tugs him in close, feeling his heart swell unexpectedly when he hears Bucky’s quiet, wet sniffles in his ear. This is Bucky trusting him, letting him in.
Bucky sniffles and hitches his way through the next three turns of the wheel and lets himself be led out of the cabin when they reach the ground at last. The press of Bucky’s weight against him has Steve feeling more content than he thinks he ever has.
“Next time,” Bucky rasps, making another shiver race through Steve which has nothing to do with the chill. “I’ll kiss you at the top of this damn wheel until you’re begging for me.”
Steve almost swallows his own tongue.
“Hey, Grandpa and Cooler Grandpa!” Tony yells around an enormous stick of cotton candy. “Wanna ride the cyclone next?”
Steve and Bucky share a look.
“We’re gonna head back to the tower,” Steve says after a moment.
Tony gags. “You didn’t have a gross make out session up there, did you?” He asks, poking Bruce with the end of his cotton candy stick. “I told you you should have ridden with them. They need a minder.”
“Goodbye, Tony,” Steve says pointedly, shoving his and Bucky’s joined hands into his pocket.
“Use protection!” Yells Tony’s voice in the background followed by a yelp of pain. Steve hopes Natasha stepped on his foot.
#acefic#acefic stucky#okay so there's hardly any primo snz stuff which i know was in the prompt#but there's some whump and feels and fevery stuff#i hope that's okay anon!
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I basically had to do a continuation of my last Winterironshield fic, where Tony inevitably catches smol Steve’s cold, right? Right. Because Bucky and Steve are very worried and cute with him. And it’s cold and winter and we (fine, I) need this. 😍
“TOUCHDOWN!”
Steve and Bucky grab each other in excitement and slap fives with Natasha and everyone else around them. It was football playoff season, and while Tony didn’t care per se, he liked seeing the two of them so excited and happy about their team winning.
Tony took the moment of chaotic celebration to lean forward and release the sneeze he’d been pinching back for for the better part of a half hour now. But one quick Heh-iSHHiew! quickly turns into a full-fledged, itchy fit that has Steve looking at him, eyebrows coming together in concern.
“Are you sure you’re okay? We can leave, really, we don’t mind,” Steve assures him softly. Tony had woken up with a sore throat, unbearably tired despite having slept through the night, and it was clear now that he was getting the cold that Steve had a week or so ago. He’d figured himself immune at this point, having avoided catching the first few colds of the season. Though to be fair, Bucky had warned him that winter was the worst time of year for Steve. He’d told Tony about Steve’s frequent, sneezy colds, warning him to stop getting so close unless he wanted to get sick himself. As if Tony could just let Steve fend for himself when he was tired and sick and cold.
Now, though, he could feel the congestion taking up residence in his sinuses, and while he would never regret time spent close with either of his boyfriends, Tony could admit he was feeling… not great. He nudges at his nose with his wrist, sniffling once, twice, before answering Steve.
“I’m good, really. The game’s almost over. We can wait until then,” He tries his best to sound sincere, because he really doesn’t want to ruin their time. Their team was in the playoffs, and despite not knowing much about football, he thought it was cute to see Steve and Bucky get decked out in jerseys and scream at men they didn’t know for running a ball up and down a field. Steve, in particular looked adorable. Tony kept this thought to himself, though, already knowing that Steve would get all huffy about it, self conscious as always about his lanky frame. But the oversized jersey, combined with the flush of excitement over his face and the shine of happiness in his huge blue eyes made Tony forget how exhausted he was, for a few minutes anyway.
Tony himself was bundled up in a hoodie he may or may not have snatched from Bucky’s dresser that morning. Just a little big, it was warm and comfortable on a day like this: gray and cold, snow turning to a brown slush on the sides of the road. He’d done his best all day not to sneeze into it, knowing Bucky would give him some well-meaning shit for not using the tissues he’d brought him.
Tony tries to focus his attention back to the TV, to at least pretend to be watching the game. But he’s in the early stages of his cold, and his nose can’t seem to make up its mind. He felt constantly on the verge of a sneeze, but the buildup was perilously slow, leaving him unfocused with itchy, watery eyes, his nose stuffy and pink from him rubbing at it. He tries again, sniffling and giving it a firm rub in the hopes of finally coaxing out another sneeze. Something happens on the screen that causes everyone to scream in frustration, shaking their heads in annoyance. It would be the perfect time for another discreet sneeze, but he’s not that lucky. His nose keeps him on edge for another thirty seconds or so, twitching and stuffy enough that he feels his breath start to come in shaky, hitching gasps.
“Heh-uhh-uhhSHHiew!” After what feels like forever the sneeze finally comes, itchy and strong and Tony is so relieved he doesn’t think twice about burying his face into the elbow of his stolen sweatshirt. It feels so soft on his nose and cheeks he’d take all the comments Bucky threw his way.
“Sure, germ it up, Stark,” Bucky says, leaning over and wrapping his arm around him nonetheless. “Bless you,” he adds at the sheepish look Tony gives him in response. “Game’s almost over, think you’re okay to stick it out? We can leave now if not,” Bucky tells him. Tony rolls his eyes. He loves them, but they were acting like he’d never been sick before. It wasn’t a common occurrence but still.
“I’m good, Buck, I HehETSHH!” Tony’s nose proves him wrong as the words leave his mouth, and he leans away from Bucky and into the sweatshirt once more as it rushes through him. Bucky just raises an eyebrow and pulls Tony in against him, warm and close, his nose scrunching and twitching as the never ending itch starts once more.
—
That night, after tossing and turning in vain, his stuffy nose getting the best of him, Tony relegates himself to the living room couch. He has the TV on, though he’s not really watching it. The cold medicine he’d taken before bed had done distressingly little in helping him actually sleep. After a few hours of shifting around in bed, getting up to sneeze or blow his nose in the bathroom so he didn’t wake Steve or Bucky, he’d given up. At least out here he doesn’t have to work so hard to try and keep his nearly endless sneezes quiet. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cold like this one, all in his head and sinuses. This afternoon it had meant drawn out buildups leading to one itchy sneeze at a time. It had been torturous, but at least then he could blow his nose.
Now, however, nothing seemed to help. Sneezing offered him no relief, though he hoped each time that it would ease some of his congestion, let him blow his nose, sleep, something. But so far, no such luck. His eyes felt heavy, but then again, so did his entire head; he’d been so tired all day, and now here he was at two in the morning, awake. He pulls the blanket up around him, shivering slightly, and groans to himself. How did Steve do this all the time? One cold and he was completely miserable.
As if hearing his thoughts, Steve comes padding softly into the living room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking at Tony, worry plain on his face.
“What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you in bed?” Steve asks, yawning.
“Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to HuusshESHhoo! Snf! wake you guys up with this…” Tony rubs his nose, an expectant look on his face. He snaps forward with three harsh HuhESSHH! Ushhoo! Eiiisshh’oo! sneezes, muffling them into the blanket on his lap and looking up at Steve, watery-eyed and miserable.
“See?” He asks, as if Steve hadn’t been standing there, watching in sympathy. Steve makes a soft sound of concern, reaching over and passing Tony a handful of tissues, before turning around and wandering off.
Tony is too focused on trying in vain to blow his nose to wonder where Steve had gone, and by the time he stops to think about it, Steve’s back, another blanket and two mugs of tea with him. Tony’s heart melts a little at the sight, and he shifts to make room for Steve next to him on the couch. Steve’s warm next to him, settling himself in close next to Tony and shivering.
“God, you’re freezing! Drink this…” Steve hands Tony the mug, and it’s Tony’s favorite tea, the kind he’d bought for Steve when he was sick. He takes a careful sip as Steve wraps the second blanket around them both. “I’m sorry, I definitely got you sick,” Steve says quietly, leaning over and dropping a soft kiss to Tony’s increasingly red nose. He scrunches it up in response, hating the guilt in Steve’s voice.
“I HiitSHH! kndew what I was getti’g into snf! S-Stevend. Heh-uhSHHIEW!” Tony sneezes a few times, each stronger and stuffier sounding than the last.
“Bless you,” Steve says, passing him a new handful of tissues. Tony can tell he still feels responsible, and knows his sneeze-laden reassurance hadn’t been exactly convincing. “Well, you can at least let me take care of you, since you spending a whole weekend with me while I sneezed all over the place is how you got sick in the first place,” Steve murmurs, running a hand through the soft curls at the nape of Tony’s neck.
It’s nice, Tony has to admit, and for a minute he thinks he might be able to fall asleep, just like this, curled up with Steve and his hands in his hair. His nose, of course, has better ideas, and he shifts quickly away as a prickling in his sinuses hits him. He leans away from Steve and into the remaining tissues as a quick double “Iiih-TSHHH! Huuhrrshh!” rips through him.
He manages to sniffle a few times, blinking tiredly at Steve. “You should go to bed, Steve, this could be all ndight,” he says hopelessly. “Plus, I don’t want you to get this.”
“First of all bless you, Tony. Secondly, I already had this, remember? That’s how this all started.” Steve argues indignantly.
“With your track record though, you never know.” Tony isn’t wrong, and Steve knows it, but he just rolls his eyes and curls himself in closer to Tony, who is done resisting at this point. He’s cold and exhausted and his eyes are feeling heavier by the minute. It’s nice having Steve out here, despite the insane hour. They’d both be dead on their feet at work tomorrow, but that was something they’d deal with in a few more hours.
Tony lays his head against Steve’s shoulder, and by some miracle, falls asleep tucked in warmly beside him.
--
“Would you stop it? Take that off and get back in bed, I’m not kidding!” Bucky stares in exasperation as Tony continues getting dressed, his eye-rolls only punctuated by damp, ticklish little sniffles. Bucky turns to Steve as if for support, but he just shrugs, like, what can you do?
“I’m snf! finde, really!” Tony insists, straightening his tie and giving himself a once-over in the mirror. His nose was red and he looked pale but, it would have to do. He had to stick it out at least for his meeting this morning. “I have to get through the m-morning hehh-snf! But I’ll l-leave ehh if...UHH-Hett’shhhiew! Ehh-Hiitshh!”
“You can’t even get through your argument, Stark, you’re gonna go to work and do, what, exactly? Fall asleep at your desk? Sneeze your way through meetings? Get back in bed.” Bucky heaves a sigh, and Tony can see he’s wondering how he ended up here.
Steve pipes in just then. “You were up pretty late last night, Tony,” he reminds him quietly. “Play hooky, just this once,” he says, and he looks so hopeful Tony almost gives in then. A day off would be nice, but he had that vendor coming in and he couldn’t cancel so last minute.
“I love you, but I’m snf! Fine!” He sniffles back the sneeze he can feel itching its way into his sinuses. “I’ll leave early if it gets worse,” Tony promises. He kisses them both and is leaving the room when he hears Bucky mutter something that sounds a lot like “too fucking stubborn,” and smiles a little at the concern evident in his voice.
He was fine.
--
Tony was not fine.
The medicine he’d taken before leaving the house had done exactly nothing to help him, and he’s spent the majority of the morning exactly as Bucky had predicted: sneezing through meetings. He made it until late afternoon when his assistant had quietly suggested he leave, insisting they could handle the rest of the day on their own so he could go home and get well. He’d rolled his eyes, but at this point was feeling too exhausted from trying to stop or muffle the ticklish sneezes that were coming every few minutes, he could only agree.
When he got back to his office, he found Bucky there, a styrofoam cup of tea in his hand.
“You look like shit, Stark. Come on, let’s go home,” he said, sliding an arm around Tony’s waist even as he said it.
Tony didn’t bother asking how he knew to show up here and bring him home. They always knew; Bucky and Steve both. It was kind of nice, actually, to have people there to look out for him. They walk to the car, Bucky shouldering Tony’s briefcase on one arm, the other still firmly wrapped around Tony. They settle into the car, and Bucky gives Tony a long, concerned look from his spot in the driver’s seat.
“I’d ask how you’re feeling but…” He trails off, still taking in Tony’s peaky demeanor. Tony just bends forward as a sneeze overtakes him, sniffling and shaking his head.
--
That evening, Steve and Bucky insist on soup for dinner, with a side of the extra strength cold medicine usually only needed for Steve’s worst colds.
“I think you got this one worse than me, Tony,” Steve says, his voice concerned and fond as he hands him the medicine. “This is awful but it helps, trust me.” Steve runs a hand through Tony’s hair reassuringly, brushing it softly back back from his forehead. He lets his hands rest on the back of Tony’s neck.
“I trust you,” Tony murmurs, taking it with a face but no commentary. He relaxes into the touch, soft and warm and Steve.
Tony’s so tired and just drained at this point that he doesn’t even think about arguing when Bucky quietly suggests they start heading to bed shortly after dinner. It’s not more than 7:30, but that doesn’t matter. They change, and Tony is sure he’s never been more relieved to be out of a suit than he is in this moment. He thinks briefly back to that morning and realizes once again that Bucky had been right. He should have taken it off right then and called it a day. He rolls his eyes to himself; he wasn’t sick enough that he would actually admit these things out loud.
Once they’ve all changed into warm lounge pants and t-shirts, Tony in a long-sleeve t-shirt and still shivering, they pile into bed. Steve and Bucky lay down on either side of Tony, Bucky with a book in his lap, Steve with his sketchbook. Both of them have tissues at the ready for their snifflish boyfriend.
“You know this means you’re snf! ndext, right?” Tony says to Bucky with a grimace. “Last man standing,” he says. As if to prove his point, he leans to the side suddenly. “Heh-etCHhush! Heh-ehh...” Tony is caught on the edge of a sneeze, his face comically expectant. Bucky leans in and brushes a soft kiss across the tip of his nose and Tony snaps forward in relief. “EH-TSHH! Snf! God when will it end,” Tony groans, gratefully taking the tissues Steve holds out to him and rubbing his nose into them.
“Bless you. And please, I’ve been immune to this punk’s germs for years at this point,” Bucky smirks, leaning over Tony to run a hand through Steve’s hair. “Besides, we’re here to take care of you right now, we can worry about what happens next later,” Bucky reassures him.
“Yeah, it’s my fault after all…” Steve chimes in, reaching around to pull Tony in closer to him. “It’s the least I can do,” he says softly.
Tony turns and gives him what would be a withering stare, was it not for his tired, watery eyes and pink nose. And the way he was practically wrapped around Steve’s small frame.
“For the millionth time, it’s not your fault, and if I did get it from you, I don’t even care. Anyway, thank you.” His words are muffled into Steve’s shoulder, suddenly bashful. Steve smiles down at him and Bucky bites back his own smile.
“Yeah, yeah, we love you too, Tony,” Bucky tells him.
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Novelty
Here it is! Just a little fic of Bucky in Wakanda having flower allergies and being a cute mess. 🌼💐🌸🤧 hope yall enjoy!!!!
Steve and Bucky walked along a path through Wakandan jungle, in the thick, lush forest that lay between Birnin Zana and the border village where Bucky spent much of his time.
The topics of their conversation ranged from Shuri’s genius-teenager antics in her lab, to Steve and the other fugitive Avengers’ globetrotting stealth missions, to the finer points of goat herding Bucky was learning, to shared memories from the past they were rediscovering together.
“God, he was a sonofabitch,” Bucky chuckled as they finished recalling a story about a prank they’d pulled on Murray, the bully of a dock manager Bucky had worked under in ’37.
Steve was guffawing with the memory, but noticed as Bucky scrunched his nose and then turned to the right, sneezing a soft, sudden “h-tchssh!” into his wrist and stumbling from it just a little.
The sight didn’t worry him—Bucky had only been out of cryo a few weeks, and while he was mostly adjusted to the missing weight of the metal arm, occasionally some residual tipsiness showed through in his balance. Sneezing was a little unusual for a supersoldier, but Steve was too busy giggling to give it any thought.
“I can’t believe I’d almost forgotten that!” he gasped.
The combined joy of having someone to reminisce about the lost world of his youth with, that person being Bucky, and Bucky chiming in to fill gaps in Steve’s memories, was enough to make him giddy. He felt like he could laugh all day.
“The whole thing was YOUR idea!” Bucky exclaimed. His own laughter was still dying down, until his breath caught, and his head snapped aside as more sneezes urgently overtook him: “hh-itsch—itsch! ITschoo!”
Eyebrows raised, feeling the rise of his awkwardly intense brand of worry where Bucky was concerned, Steve said, “Bless y—”
“Tschoo! ih-hitschiew!” Bucky’s nose interrupted as he sneezed yet again.
“Jeez, Buck! What’s got you doing that?” The last time he’d heard that many sneezes from his friend, maybe the last time he’d heard any, had been sometime like ’41, the last time he’d passed one of his interminable winter colds along to Bucky when they lived together in the drafty tenement apartment, before both of them changed forever into heroes that didn’t catch the sniffles. At least he thought they didn’t. Even then, as he recalled, they hadn’t sounded like these quick, ticklish, insistent flurries.
Bucky sniffed and rubbed his nose furiously while casting his gaze all around. “’S that fuckin—where is it…” he muttered. He was searching the surrounding vegetation for something. “There! Augh.” He pointed off the path. “See—those purple—h-tchoo—flowers,” interrupting himself with a small uncovered sneeze.
Steve peered in the direction he indicated and saw a small thicket a few yards off the trail of what looked like ferns festooned with purple blossoms, bobbing in the gentle breeze. He turned an incredulous look to Bucky, who was still sniffing itchily and rubbing at his nose. “What, you’re allergic? Can that even happen to us?”
“Apparently so!” scoffed Bucky, waving his hand at his rapidly pinkening nose and watery eyes. “Far as I remember I never had an allergy before in my life. But there’s all kinds of plants here that don’t grow anywhere else. Snff! Finally figured out it was those ones —hih— makin’ me…sneeze…” he trailed off, but shook his head and rubbed his nose with a vengeance and managed to shake the tickle off. “Thought I knew which spots to steer clear of. Now I’m gonna be like this- SNFF!- for the next three damn…hh-hours…
...huh…hh-h-Gnxtch! Mmptch—mmptch—HENKtchiew! Huh-esshha! Fuck!” He was overtaken by rapid sneezes that he tried to stifle into his hand, only half-succeeding, before letting the last one out with exasperation.
“Wow. Bless you! You alright?” There was that worry again. Ever since they’d been reunited it was all Steve could do at any given moment to stop himself from hovering over Bucky, flapping his arms like a literal mother hen.
Bucky shot him an amused look through his narrowed watering eyes, like he knew just what he was thinking. “SNfff-snfff! Been a whole lot worse, pal, trust me.”
The words might have been wry, but he said them sincerely, with his warm, crinkle-eyed smile, the one that had been so familiar on the Bucky of the past, but was new and miraculous to see spreading across his face here and now. It had only reappeared these last few weeks, since Bucky had been brought out of cryo, tested the Winter Soldier trigger words, and found himself free for the first time in 70 years. Steve breathed through a surge of emotion and kept himself from whooping, grabbing Bucky and spinning him around, or anything else he felt like doing at the sight of that smile.
“I sound like you used to in May,” Bucky remarked, sniffing again, pulling out a bright scrap of cloth and blowing his nose quietly. He quirked his eyebrows questioningly at Steve, asking for confirmation —“Right?”— without saying anything.
“Ugh,” Steve said, remembering, “yeah, but I was even more of a mess.” Bucky chuckled, stowing his handkerchief to rub his hand over his whole face repeatedly. “Which is how I know that—” he swatted at Bucky’s hand, “only makes it worse.”
“It itches,” Bucky growled petulantly, giving his eye a final rub, and grumbling, “like you ever followed any advice about feeling better when it was you.” He looked like he was about to embark on a Stubborn Sick Small Steve tale from the winters of the 1930s, but then paused, blinking rapidly, and ducked his head, to the left this time, with a quick “hih-kshchoo!”
Since he lacked an arm to sneeze into on that side, the soft spray caught Steve on the elbow and forearm, and he yelped a bit in surprise at the sensation.
“Sorry!” Bucky exclaimed, sniffing and laughing and not sounding very sorry at all. Steve was glad he wasn’t embarrassed, and despite his initial reaction he’d let Bucky sneeze on him a hundred times if it’d make him laugh like that.
“Every once in a while, I still forget,” he explained, gesturing to the empty space on his left side. “I’m used to doing most everything one-handed now, but I guess not snee—hih—heezing…heh...” he scrunched his nose and hitched, scrambling to grab the handkerchief and sneeze into it, “huh—tdschoo! eh-mptschuh! huh-gnxtchoo! etchumpff—tchmpff!” He emerged sniffling from the cloth, looking ridiculously pink and bleary, blinking and shaking his head and getting caught totally off guard by one last little tickly tsshiew! that burst out before he could do anything to cover it.
Steve knew well, from his own experience before the serum: allergy attacks were annoying, really annoying, to go through. But, God, he couldn’t help it— he snorted and then let out a peal of laughter as Bucky glared his itchy eyes at him. The scowl remained as Steve stifled his giggles and Bucky blew his nose, but Steve could tell he was smiling under the cloth.
“You poor guy,” he chortled and then dodged with a squawk as Bucky feinted whipping him with his sodden hanky. “C’mon, Sneezy, let’s get back to your place. I’ll show you how nice that wet cloth you used to put over my eyes feels.”
#love these guys#and they love each other#Steve is a goober with a giant crush and a lot of emotions#cute allergic bucky#cute sneezy Bucky#snzfic#wakanda jesus bucky#happy belated 40th!! to Seb
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Fic idea: WWII TFA canon. Steve and Bucky are separated from the others for a long cold wet march. Bucky is still adjusting to the fact that Steve is now ridiculously strong and invulnerable, and he’s determined not to be Steve’s damsel in constant need of rescue. Buuut he’s totally coming down with a sneezy miserable cold. Cue sassy cold denial from Bucky. Steve just wants to repay some of Bucky’s years of fussing over him, and Bucky is refusing to admit he needs/wants that even as his symptoms become totally obvious.
(I like the thought of Bucky struggling a little with the sudden change in his and Steve’s dynamic, without it being a big angsty jealousy thing in this scenario, just him feeling like “god damnit I’m supposed to be the big tough guy fussing over his little sick friend this is not cool *achoo* 😤”)
#I should just write this#but if anyone else wants tooo....#it could be angsty but I'm imagining it mostly cute/funny#snzblr#cute sick bucky#cute sneezy bucky
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Very jazzed to have written a thing and hurrying to post it before work :D
I wanted to write some very-early-recovery Bucky where he’s having a tough quiet day and coming down with a cold at the same time, and it became this. I was worried it would be too angsty but I think I succeeded in making it sappy and fluffy as well. I hope you enjoy and I’d love to hear what you think!!! <3
Steve could tell it wasn’t a good day when he finally got back to the apartment from debriefing. Bucky was sitting quietly on the couch, looking like he’d been there a while. He was wearing a large hoodie, left hand clenched in the sleeve so no metal showed. He wasn’t listening to music or watching the TV on the opposite wall, just staring out the window, but he also wasn’t shut up in his room or hiding in the closet or air vents like he would be if it was a really Bad Day. There had been enough of those since the Winter Soldier had come in from the cold to Steve’s apartment for him to be grateful for this: Bucky, quiet, tense, having not slept or eaten properly, but here, responding to Steve’s arrival with a glance and even a wan smile.
Still, god, he looked tired, and a little paler than usual. “Heya, Buck,” Steve said softly. “Hope your morning was as fun as mine.”
He barely got a shrug in response, but he hadn’t been expecting much more. As he watched, Bucky’s light blue eyes narrowed and looked slightly upwards. His breath stuttered, silent but visible in the hitched rise and fall of his chest. His face scrunched and he sneezed, a quiet but intense “htschu!” down into his right sleeve.
Steve shucked off his shoes and moved to sit on the other part of the L shaped couch. Bucky blinked up at him, arm still raised, looking like all sneezing had done was make him need to sneeze again. He made a face of hazy frustration, wrinkled his nose, and his breath shuddered as he ducked back down, “ihsschuh!” He held the pose for a moment before straightening with a sniff and small shake of his head.
“How are you feeling?” Steve asked before he could help himself. After 70 years of Hydra conditioning, asking the former Winter Soldier about his feelings often resulted either in a look of fearful confusion or a robotic status report. He hastily clarified: “Um…is your nose bothering you?”
Bucky frowned in perplexity, rubbing his nose on his wrist as though it still tickled. He gave another small shrug, lowered his hand, sniffled, and leveled his gaze at Steve. “Last night. You said. Snff! You’d tell me…about the—the mission—hh’esssch!” His voice thinned and his eyes fluttered under an aggravated scowl as he lost the fight to another sneeze, muffled down into his sleeved wrist again and sounding both quieter and stronger than the previous sneezes, and a little more wet as well. He sniffled and cleared his throat before going back to staring at Steve. “Everything.”
Then, either in exchange or just knowing Steve wouldn’t let up worrying, he added, “Nose tickles today, throat’s scratchy too. I don’t know why.”
Steve could see the spooled-up tension in his eyes, and as much as he wanted to wrap Bucky in blankets and cuddle him through what seemed like a rare super-soldier cold, he knew he wouldn’t be able to relax at all until Steve had told him how his mission had gone in full detail. He had been completely exhausted when he got back to the apartment at one am after five days away, desperate to see Bucky but unwilling to wake him as he lowered himself onto his bed with a stifled groan. His worries had been pointless, of course: Bucky appeared in his bedroom doorway within seconds, in pajamas but clearly wide awake and with dark circles under his eyes.
“Hey, pal,” Steve had sighed. “Back in one piece, just like I promised.” The silent figure entered the bedroom, and he felt the gentle tug of Bucky pulling his boots off, and then the shift of the mattress as he settled next to him.
“You need sleep,” Bucky said in a husky whisper. “But. Tomorrow. You’ll tell me? About the mission.”
“Everything,” Steve promised, fading into sleep. “ We’re all safe and sound, though. ’M so glad you’re here, Buck.”
He had felt an arm settle over his chest, so gently, and heard the soft whisper of, “me too,” before sleep claimed him.
It had been agony leaving Bucky, but the mission had been urgent, unavoidable, and Hydra: all reasons he’d had to go. In the light of day he could see the toll that being alone and unsure of Steve’s safety for that long had taken, but Bucky staying safe in the Tower was the best and only option for now, when Hydra still existed and wanted their weapon back, and when he was just starting to claw his way back from all they had put him through. All Steve had to offer was that safety, and his presence, which he tried to make as undemanding as possible, per Sam’s advice, but it was helping.
Steve wanted to fuss over him, but he needed to fulfill his promise to tell Bucky everything about the mission— he deserved to know, he’d feel better knowing what Steve had gotten up to, and he might have information on some of the captured operatives.
As he hesitated for a moment, Bucky sniffled again, twice, and his nose gave a precarious twitch. He made a frustrated sound as his breath started to hitch again, and ducked into his elbow as two more sneezes overcame him: “heh-ih-isshuh! ekschiew! ugh.” He came up with a tiny groan, sniffling constantly now, and giving his damp sleeve a rather disgusted look.
That decided Steve, who stood. “Hang tight for just one minute, pal.” He said, heading for the kitchen and the linen closet. “Full debrief, coming right up, just—just let me grab something first and I’ll be right back.”
Steve moved fast when he was on a mission. He didn’t feel like a good caretaker, unlike his mother and then Bucky had been for him, but when he racked his brain to remember why they had been good, he could at least come up with: they had neither asked what he needed nor pushed it on him, just figured out what it probably was and offered it, in a way that even his pre-serum stubborn self had felt foolish refusing. He returned to the couch with a blanket, a box of tissues, a glass of water, and a mug of tea; he had forced himself to stop there.
Bucky stared with suspicion, but let him tuck the blanket over his legs, and grabbed a tissue as his nose twitched yet again, “chish! eh-het-chumpff!” He half-stifled his sneezes into the tissue, then blew his nose with an expression of relief. It was turning pink at the nostrils when he was done. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked softly, with a glance at Steve.
Steve felt himself turning into a pool of concern and affection. “Officially, the serum prevents us ever getting sick,” he replied. “But it’s happened to me a couple times.” He didn’t add that he had stubbornly forced himself through those times, refusing to let anyone see his cold-stricken misery. “When I was healing a bad injury, or exhausted and hungry, or even…just under a lot of stress.” Bucky looked aside at that, coughing quietly as he did so. That was obviously what had brought this on, and Steve tried not to feel guilty, or pitying— either of those would just make his friend angry. There was no way for him to know what it was really like, but he knew enough: just keeping himself from flying apart took a lot of Bucky’s energy on a good day, and this had been a hard week.
“Anyway, I think you just have a little cold. You need rest, and tea and water— and maybe some juice and soup later— and you’ll be fine in a day or two.”
Bucky had hitched right up to the edge of another sneeze while he spoke, tissue held ready, but it abandoned him at the last moment and he was left scrubbing his nose itchily. He sighed, then got the faraway look of remembering something old. “This used to happen to you, snff-snfff! All the time. Before.”
“Yup,” Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. “Almost every month, if it wasn’t something worse. And allergies in spring that were just as bad. And after Ma died, you were the one stuck looking after me, no matter how much of a pill I was about getting fussed over. You always bragged that you never caught them, but sometimes you did, just not often, and you’d try to play it off.”
“That sounds…familiar,” Bucky said, with the ghost of a smile. His face scrunched, and he caught a quick, tiny “h-dish!” in his crumpled tissues. “So. I have the necessary supplies for sitting on the couch with a cold. Snff!” He gestured to Steve. “Time for debrief.”
“Ok,” Steve said resolutely. Maybe he had been putting this off a little. “The first thing you should know is that Sam and Natasha both already yelled at me for this, so there’s no need for you….”
More than half an hour later, Steve felt like he’d talked himself hoarse, Bucky had amassed a small pile of used tissues, and they’d somehow ended up curled together under the blanket on the same side of the couch.
“Well.” Bucky said. “Wow. How are you still such a dumb punk after all this timbe?” He sounded much more relaxed, as well as congested, his head on Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s arm around him.
Steve chuckled. “Guess that’s my real superpower.” The warm joy in his chest was like a working radiator in a freezing winter.
“Y—hih…atisshoo!” Bucky sneezed down at the blanket, half-catching it in the tissue he held. His sneezes had gotten heavier with more spray, and his nose was several shades pinker, but he didn’t seem too uncomfortable. “Ugh. Sorry.”
“S’okay” Steve replied, petting his hair as he bobbed forward with another sneeze, “mptshoo!” that he muffled into the tissue.He had big plans for Bucky: put on a nature show, get him to fall asleep for a while, then get some soup into him before bed.
Part one was already going well, Bucky’s eyes drifting closed as he sighed and snuggled into Steve more. “Missed you,” he murmured.
Steve tightened his arm around him a fraction, and whispered past the lump in his throat. “I missed you too, pal. I missed you too.”
#yay#my fic#sneeze fic#stucky#captain america the winter soldier#cute sick bucky#steve is soft for him#he doesn't know he's sick at first bc apparently I'm obsessed with clueless sneezy winter soldier bucky
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for some reason my reaction to adorable sneezefic that i love (that turns me on) (aka cute sneezy sick bucky) is mentally singing like LA LA LAAAAA in my head super loud and sometimes quietly out loud lol idk what’s up with that 🤷
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Oh my god, those asks are just🥺 How about 💯🗑💡😇 for mcu Steve?
If you were to rate them on a scale of sneeziness, from 1 to 100 based on how many times they sneeze on any given day, about where would they land? (Could be one number, or could be, say, “between 5-10″!)
Pre-War Steven obviously would sneeze all the time, and I like to think that that somewhat carried over? Maybe he sneezes when he chews mint gum, looks at the sun, things like that? It’s definitely cute.
Do they prefer tissues or handkerchiefs? Any particular reason why? Do they always have some on hand, or do they not carry them around?
Honestly? I know most people think Steve, being from the 40′s, would like a handkerchief over tissues, but I think when he realizes tissues are a thing, he likes them better? Certain ones are much more soft, and he likes that they’re not quite as germy. He probably carries a little pack in his bag, but I don’t think he’d keep them on his person.
Do bright lights make them sneeze? Does it matter if it’s the sun or just any bright light? Does it make them sneeze just once, or multiple times?
I think the sun definitely makes him sneeze, probably at least three times. It’s cute to think about Steve being in bed and Bucky opening the curtains to wake him, and sunlight hits him and he instantly has a tiny fit. Bright lights don’t do it for him really.
What do they say when somebody else sneezes? Bless you, gesundheit, something else? Do they not acknowledge it at all?
He probably blesses the team, and Bucky, but doesn’t say much to anyone else unless he’s directly speaking to them and they sneeze. Not just random strangers.
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Hi! Here's a winter//iron request. Tony and Bucky get in their first serious fight. One of them comes down with a bad cold and manages to hide it since they aren't spending much time together in the aftermath. The other discovers something that tips him off, and he goes to silly lengths to see how bad it is without making his concern obvious. In the end, it's a sneezy cold that brings them back together. Feel free to change any details or to ignore if you aren't feeling this request!
Omg, first of all thank you for such a cute, well thought out prompt! This is SO good. It took me forever to do, mainly because I honestly couldn’t decide what to make them fight about...lol. I hope you enjoy and this does your prompt justice!!
Tony could outwit and out talk just about anyone, that was true. He came off as brash and cocky and too smart for his own good, but those things usually worked out for him. It was better to surprise people than have them expect less from him. In his mind this made sense. But one other thing was true among all of this: Tony hated fighting with people he cared about. He wanted to be the best and the smartest, but not at the expense of the team, or Pepper or Rhodey. And definitely not if it meant having Bucky mad at him. Especially not then.
He sighed. This whole thing could have been avoided, had Bucky just let Tony help him. God, how had Steve put up with Barnes’ stubbornness for so long? Here were the facts: 1. Bucky’s arm bothered him more in the winter. 2. It was nearly freezing today. 3. Bucky was clearly in pain, and grumpy beyond belief. 4. Tony could make some adjustments to help him feel better, but Bucky refused.
And, okay, sure, maybe Tony could have insisted a little more politely. Used better phrasing at the very least, but really. It was idiotic for Bucky to suffer when he was literally dating a genius mechanic. Tony had just laid out those facts in a louder than normal manner. Out of love. So, whatever, now they weren’t speaking, Tony was in a foul mood, and someone had finished the coffee. Perfect. And, he would totally be sleeping on the couch tonight, because it’s not like he would make Bucky do it when he was already in pain. He was pissed, sure, but he wasn’t a monster. Tony rolled his eyes and made his way downstairs to get some work done.
--
Four hours later, Tony was starving, and desperately needed some coffee. He’d forced himself to focus on a new suit for Cap, and some new arrows for Clint. And if he’d drawn up some loose plans for how to help Bucky, well, no one had to know about that. His head was pounding, though, and he knew he needed something to eat sooner than later, so he strolled back into the kitchen, jaw set.
As he turns the corner, he thinks he sees a flash of long hair, and wonders momentarily if Bucky had been on his way down to the lab. To make up? Tony knows that’s unlikely, they’ve never really fought before, but even small disagreements leave both of them needing some space. He sighs, and moves to grab a mug for the coffee that is blessedly, hot and fresh in the pot. He happened to look down and noticed that Bucky’s mug was in the sink, a tea bag hanging out of it. Tony narrowed his eyes. Bucky didn’t drink tea. Well, not unless he was sick, and Tony would know if that was the case. Wouldn’t he?
--
Since Tony’s fussing was what got them into this mess to begin with, he wasn’t going to make a big deal about worrying over his boyfriend’s potential illness. He could figure it out on his own. He had sources.
Namely, he had Steve Rogers.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I haven’t seen him. I figured he was sulking somewhere after your fight,” Steve said with a pointed look at Tony. Okay, as if there was any doubt whose side he was on, this conversation was making it abundantly clear.
“C’mon Cap, you’ve known him for 70 years. You’d know if he was sick, right?” Tony knows he’s essentially pleading at this point, but he’d gotten a whole lot of nothing from Steve so far, and he was rapidly losing patience.
“It wasn’t… Tony, if you’re so worried about him, why don’t you just talk to him? Wouldn’t that be easier than pestering me?” Steve asks with a sigh, placing his sketchbook aside. “You guys never fight,” he says. “You’re sickeningly perfect,” he adds. “Why don’t you just apologize and move on with it? Then you can make him gallons of soup and remember how much you love each other.”
“Soup! So he is coming down with something!” Tony exclaims, victorious.
Steve rolls his eyes so hard Tony wonders if he can see his brain. “Talk to him!” is all Steve will say after that. Tony mutters something unintelligible that sounds a lot like “Captain Heartless” and leaves Steve to his sketching.
He tries Natasha next, though unsurprisingly, it’s like pulling teeth to get any information from her. She snorts when he asks if she knows what Bucky’s been up to since their fight, or how he’s been feeling.
“No way. I’m not getting in the middle of you two. You’re both acting like children. Kiss and makeup and leave me out of it,” she says firmly.
Tony knows better than to press his luck. Once Nat decided something, there was little to no chance of changing her mind. He knew he’d get a similar response from Pepper, and the rest of the team would no doubt put on their most innocent I know nothing faces too.
Even FRIDAY lets him down, informing him primly that “Sergeant Barnes asks not to be disturbed.” Fine. He’d retrace his steps and go back to the kitchen. Maybe Bucky needed more tea, and he would run into him there.
--
Bucky was not there.
But there was a bowl in the sink that led Tony to believe that he’d made himself soup, which, come on, Tony would totally have made for him. He’s getting ready to give in and text Bucky an apology, like they were in goddamn middle school or something, when he hears a muffled sneeze from the next room, confirming his suspicions.
He’s sprawled out on the couch, alone and surrounded by a pile of tissues. He’s clearly been there for most of the day, while Tony went around the compound like a crazy person looking for answers. His heart squeezes in his chest as Bucky looks up at him with watery, tired eyes.
“EH-Hehitshh! Huh-USHHiew! snf!” Bucky sniffles in the aftermath and looks like all the fight has gone out of him, and Tony has to resist the urge to fold him up in a hug.
“Bless you,” he says, tentatively, moving toward Bucky on the couch. He thinks Bucky will roll his eyes or push him away but he doesn’t say anything, just rubs at his nose with his wrist, eyes fluttering shut as he builds up against another sneeze. Tony grabs a handful of fresh tissues from the box at Bucky’s side and hands them over to him without a word.
“Th-haa-HetshIIEW! Uh-HpShhhH! iSHiiiew! Christ, enough already! Snf!” Bucky sighs, exhausted.
“Bless you, again,” Tony says, moving in to tuck a piece of hair back behind Bucky’s ear. “And...I’m sorry,” he says, softly. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. And I should’ve known something was ...off with you sooner,” Tony says, eyes liquid gold in apology and worry and love for his stubborn, adorable boyfriend. He’d make it maybe one more minute before he gave in and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him into tomorrow.
Bucky puts a hand on Tony’s thigh, not yet meeting his eyes. “Thanks, but I wa-heh...” Bucky scrubs at his nose with his fist, doing his best to fight back the sneeze before it could interrupt him.
“Ih-Hetshhh! HetShiiew! Uh-heh-eeh? Ushhiew!” He blows his nose into a fistful of tissues, snuffling into them gently before attempting to continue.
“Nah, I felt like shit and I was being a dick,” he admits, finally looking at Tony. “Shouldn’t have stormed off like Ehh-Hetshiew! snf! SNF! Like thad,” he says.
Tony wastes no more time. He pulls Bucky in firmly against him, feeling all the tension of the day leave them both. He runs his hands through Bucky’s long hair, kissing his forehead and nose, murmuring promises about soup and tea and a million other things Bucky can barely make out. He smiles into Tony’s embrace.
This wouldn’t be their last fight by a long shot; they were both way too stubborn for that, but it looked like neither of them would be taking the couch tonight, and that was enough for now.
#BOYS!#stop fighting and love each other#the only way i could make them fight#is by having tony care too much#i am who i am
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Hi! Can we get: Bucky is having a fit and he pauses for a bit thinking he might be finished, then Tony asks “done yet?”, with a playful little smirk before blessing him, cuz Bucky still has this adorably dazed & sneezy look on his face. He is in fact, not done.
This is so cute! It’s starting to feel like winter for real here so how about a tiny, snowy day Winter/Iron fic? ❤️
—
They’d gone outside for an hour, to shovel some of the snow from their walkway, and their neighbor’s front steps. Tony had sputtered when Bucky suggested it. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, he just didn’t see why they should go outside and freeze when one of the bots could have it all taken care of in a matter of minutes.
“Really, Barnes, it’s not 1942, we don’t have to walk to school uphill in the snow both ways anymore,” Tony said with a smirk, but Bucky just huffs out a laugh and hands Tony a shovel nonetheless.
“It’s the point Tony. It’s rewarding to do something with your own hands. Plus, it’s so perfect out there all white and untouched, it’ll be nice.”
“I’m going to teach you what nice really means,” Tony mutters, but he takes the shovel and humors Bucky. They bundle in their winter coats, hats, and gloves, and, okay fine, it is kind of nice out there. Warmer than he’d expected after an entire day of snowfall, with the sun just starting to break through the clouds.
They work quickly together, throwing snowballs every now and then, and making the shoveling into a contest for no reason other than to make each other laugh. Finally, sidewalks cleared and both of them red-faced and chilled, they decide to head inside so Bucky can teach him the “real” way to make hot cocoa as they warm up.
They hurry back inside, unwinding their layers, both ready for some Christmas movies and cocoa on the couch. Bucky sniffles a few times as he hangs up his coat; the cold feels like it’s seeped into his bones. He rubs at his nose with his sleeve, trying to push off the ticklish feeling caused by the quick change in temperature. He gives a few more helpless sniffles before giving in and sneezing into his elbow, a few quick, ticklish, “Uh-HETsshhh! Huh-eshiiiew! Snf! SNF! God damn i-ihh-hitsshhH! ESHHIEW! Jesus, bless me!”
Bucky rubs at his nose with his wrist as Tony looks on, amused.
“Done yet?” He asks Bucky, smirking a little and rubbing his back. Bucky tries to shoot him an aggravated look but his eyes are already shutting and he looks dazed, his nose clearly still bothering him.
“N-no-ahh-Hiishhiew! Hetsh! ISHIEW!”
“Bless you,” Tony says, moving closer and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Still think shoveling snow was so nice?” he asks, playfully.
Bucky just rolls his eyes affectionately.
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