Can I request some super sick Steve with a bad cold/sinus infection and Bucky being all cute and protective? Canon or AU! Thank you :))
Okay so I somehow missed the part of your ask where you requested that Bucky be cute and protective. I think I got the cute thing, but not sure about the protective thing. I hope you like it anyways! I'm on a real Stucky kick and this was so fun to write.
(Modern AU Stucky with post-serum Steve bod bc I can lol)
“Which pumpkin do you want?” Bucky asks, hands on his hips as he stares down at the pumpkins in the pumpkin patch they’re visiting..
Steve shrugs, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself as he shivers. “I’m good with whatever. Hey, can we stop for hot chocolate or tea or something on our way home? I’m freezing.”
“God that sounds incredible. Absolutely.”
Steve sniffles, rubbing at his nose. He reaches down to pick up one of the pumpkins near his feet. “hhh’ISCHih! Snff! Sorry. This is a good one.”
“Bless you. That is a good one,” Bucky agrees, looking at the large, round, bright orange pumpkin that Steve has in his hands. Steve adjusts the pumpkin, holding it like one might hold a baby on their hip.
When Bucky just stares down at the other pumpkins without making any move to pick one, Steve quirks a brow at him, “so…are you going to make a decision for yours, or are we going to be out here all night?”
Bucky rolls his eyes, “it’s a very important decision.”
“Clearly.”
“Can’t pick the wrong one.”
A tickle blooms in his sinuses, and he rubs at his nose again, trying to ward off the impending sneeze. “Oh god no. Can’t have that. World War III might start if you pick the wrong pumpkin.”
“So you see my dilemma.”
Steve turns away from Bucky, “Ih’tschiew! Nng’tsch! Snff! Excuse me.”
“Bless you, sweetheart. Okay, I think I found one.” He says, walking a few feet to pick up one of the pumpkins he’s had his eye on since they got there.
“Well thank god for that,” Steve chuckles. “I was starting to worry we’d die here before you ever made up your mind.”
“I’d probably have gotten us out before we died,” Bucky says. Steve is still fussing with his nose when Bucky looks up at him. He looks deeply bothered. Bucky’s eyes soften, “hey…you okay?”
Steve nods, trying not to wince when he swallows past the sudden sharp, raw feeling in his throat. “Cold and windy out. That always bothers my nose.”
“Let’s get you warm, then. Still want to stop for tea or whatever?”
His breath hitches again, and he muffles a volley of sneezes into the crook of his arm. He nods, sniffling and trying once again to get rid of the itch that just does not want to leave his sinuses.
He scrunches his nose. “Y-yeah that s-hih…hih’TSCH! Tsch! Ihhh…hih’tSCH! Snff! That sounds ndice-hhh’ISCHih! h’sschUH! SnffSnff!...Snff! Oh mby god, sorry. Do we have andy tissues in the car?” Congestion seeping into his voice, blurring all of his consonants together.
“I’m not sure…are you feeling okay, Stevie?” Bucky says cautiously.
Steve grimaces, “I think I might be getting a cold.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky frowns, nudging him with his shoulder as they walk to pay for their pumpkins.
“It’s ndot a big deal,” Steve sniffles. “I’mb finde. I really dond’t feel that bad.”
“Okay…you promise?” Bucky says, and they both set their pumpkins down to be weighed. He hands the man behind the till his credit card and looks over at Steve.
Steve holds up three fingers, “scout’s hondor.”
“You sound like shit.”
“Gee, thagks. I’mb finde. I swear. It’s just a cold. I’ll take sombe mbeds whend we get hombe and ndap.”
Bucky decides to drop it, but he suspects that Steve is bullshitting him. The fact that he’s volunteering to take medication and have a nap instead of needing Bucky to sweet talk him into it is suspicious as hell. This never happens unless Steve feels downright awful.
But he isn’t going to get anywhere by forcing the issue if Steve isn’t ready to admit he feels awful.
So Bucky pretends he believes Steve.
*
“I’mb finde,” Steve says sharply as Bucky casts him what feels like the umpteenth concerned glance that car ride. “Stop looki’gg at mbe like that.”
He’s spent the majority of their drive to the coffee shop, and now on their way home, sneezing and coughing and sniffling. He’s sounding worse and worse, and Bucky can’t help the fact that he’s worried.
He’d been fine this morning, albeit a bit tired-looking and sounding, but nowhere near this level. It just kind of seems like it hit him out of nowhere with zero warning.
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” He says nonchalantly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls onto their street.
“Y-yes you-hihhh…oh for the love of god-hih’TSCH! Tsch! Ihhh…hih’tSCH! Snff! hhh’ISCHih! h’sschUH! Snff!” He sighs in frustration as Bucky pulls into the driveway.
“Bless-”
“-Dond’t say it,” Steve grumbles, rubbing his forehead. All of the sneezing has given him the worst headache. It’s throbbing and pounding behind his eyes and in his forehead, and he doesn’t care for it one bit.
“Stevie, come on,” Bucky says softly, putting a hand on his thigh. It’s like the touch melts him completely, and he suddenly deflates, sniffling pitifully. “It’s me. You don’t have to hide how you feel with me.”
Steve sighs in defeat. He’s right. There’s really no point in denying it any longer. He knows Bucky isn’t buying it.
He sure wouldn’t.
“I dond’t feel great, Buck.”
“I know,” Bucky says gently, giving Steve such a soft look, he could cry. “Come on, let’s get you inside. You can change and pick out something to watch and I’ll grab you some meds. Sound good?
Steve coughs into the crook of his elbow, “yeah that sou’ds great.”
*
“Okay, I really think we need to get you to a doctor,” Bucky frowns, looking down at the thermometer. “That, or this thermometer is broken.”
He had thought Steve felt warm while they were cuddling, but he wasn’t expecting the number it beeped in at.
“What’s it at?”
“102.4.”
“....Oh,” Steve mumbles, taking stock of how he feels. He grimaces when the conclusion he comes to is really bad. “Ndo, I thiggk that’s right.”
He’s been sick going on five days now, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting any better. He’s getting worse, in fact. He’s been so congested and sniffly and sneezy that he was having a hard time getting any sleep. All meds did was take the edge off, but not enough to let him get more than a couple of hours at a time before he was awake again.
He’s exhausted and achy, and Bucky hates how listless he’s been.
“How are you feeling? What’s bothering you?”
“Awful. Everythi’gg. Mby face hurts,” Steve groans, eyes closing. He feels so congested that his eyes feel swollen.
Bucky winces, “I think you might have a sinus infection, Stevie.”
Steve feels his face gingerly before inhaling sharply and dropping his hands. “Ow.”
“God, yeah, this definitely sounds like a sinus infection.” Bucky groans, “let’s go to urgent care…get you some antibiotics, maybe some steroids…and stronger pain meds.”
“Cand we go later? I’mb tired.”
“Sweetheart, the sooner we go, the quicker you’ll feel better,” Bucky says, stroking Steve’s cheek. “I know you don’t feel well and going to urgent care is the last thing you want to do, but you need medical attention.”
It takes some more convincing, but eventually, Steve relents.
Or, rather, Steve allows himself to be bribed with a milkshake (and as much soup and as many snuggles as he could possibly want). All this in exchange for being a good patient (and not a pain in the ass, which were stipulations Bucky may or may not have added to their agreement), and going to the doctor.
*
Finally, after what feels like forty eight hours, they’re finally home from urgent care. Bucky claims it was only three hours, but Steve thinks he’s probably lying to spare his feelings.
He’s not sure why Bucky would need to spare his feelings, but there’s also no way that only took three hours.
They’ve been to the pharmacy already and have picked up his antibiotics and steroids, as well as the milkshake Steve was promised.
“Okay,” Bucky says, shutting the door behind them. “I’m going to put these away, you go get comfy in bed and I’ll bring you your meds and some tea and then we can cuddle while you nap.”
“That’s a great pland,” Steve sniffles.
“I thought you might like that,” Bucky smiles, stroking Steve’s cheek. “Let’s get you feeling better, yeah?”
They go up the stairs into their bedroom, and settle in for another quiet few days until Steve is finally feeling better.
They also finally carve those pumpkins.
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