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Bucky was jogging, no, straight up running down the blinding white halls of the hospital hallways of the Avengers tower. He was out of breath. But not due to the fact of actually bolting around corners.
Steve was hurt.
Had been hurt. He’d heard it over the Avengers radio, Bluetooth piece in his ear. He hadn’t been cleared for fighting yet. His triggers too close to the surface to engage in hand to hand combat. So each and every mission he would listen helplessly as the team talked back and forth. Listening helplessly to Steve fighting.
Steve’s voice. An anchor to reality, ringing through, giving orders, receiving updates. He had been at their kitchen table, chewing his bottom lip raw when he heard the commotion, then a begging of ‘Cap where are you?’ and then static.
He was called shortly after and told Steve had been injured and that they were currently on their way for medical help.
He felt as though his heart was about to beat out of his chest, he was nauseated and dizzy. His boots made a loud squeak as he rounded the last corner and he was already spouting, as he barged through the door, “Where is he?!”
“Calm down Barnes,” Bruce’s smooth and cool voice arrived, “He’s just banged up, a concussion, nothing his super serum body won’t eventually fix.”
“That’s not the goddamn point, you all think he’s unbreakable because of that super serum bullshit. What the fuck happened?!”
Then there was Tony, seemingly out of nowhere, “It wasn’t like that! He’s Mister golden boy and we were screaming at him NOT to go in there!”
Bruce still had his hands out, as if to placate him, put one out to silence Tony, “I didn’t say that it isn’t a ‘big deal’ that he’s hurt. I was just trying to assure you he’ll be okay. Building was unstable, he went in any way to retrieve a civilian. You know Steve…” he sighed, shaking his head, hands on his hips.
Bucky ran all ten fingers through his hair, loose around his face, “They make it?”
Bruce’s gaze had yet to lift, “No, little girl was just out of reach and the place collapsed. The sheer velocity of the blast shot Steve backwards, out a window.”
“Can I see’em?” Bucky swallowed convulsively, heart sinking. He knew how Steve would react to this, stranger or not.
“Sure, right in there, he hasn’t woken up yet. A little in and out. Should be able to head upstairs once he’s lucid.”
“Thanks Dr. Banner,” Bucky answered listlessly.
Finally opening the door, his stomach flip flopped. Steve in bandages. Swollen bottom lip, cheeks cut up and a brilliant white bandage across his forehead. He was stripped of his suit, only clad in loose fitting sweatpants and an Avengers T, his feet bare. He didn’t dismiss the IV he was hooked up to, making him wonder if it had been worse than what Bruce had told him. Unlike what most people believed, Steve did not heal on contact. He wasn’t a Norse God and he wasn’t a mutant. It took him days to heal up, sometimes weeks, even. And that was what infuriated him. Some of the team members did indeed believe that he was some super soldier.
He wasn’t.
Sure, all his ailments from when he was tiny were gone, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get sick. Didn’t mean he couldn’t get hurt. And what was worse is that he somehow felt that Steve believed these notions too. He was even worse about taking care of himself than he was before.
He sidled up to the bed, eyes burning, he placed a hand on Steve’s bruised cheek which earned him a low groan, “Stevie, honey, you wanna open those baby blues for me?” he swiped his thumb below one eye, and then threaded his fingers through the short, blonde strands, “Steve…”
“S’happen,” Steve slurred, turning his face against Bucky’s palm.
Bucky gulped, desperately trying to steady his voice, “You’re an idiot, that’s what happened. A big heart of gold idiot.” he leaned forward and kissed him gently on his split lips.
“Buck?”
“Yeah, baby doll, it’s me,” Bucky took a seat on the edge of the bed, lacing their fingers together, with the one hand that was void of an IV.
Thankfully, slowly but surely, Steve’s eyes opened, almost sticky like. Obviously trying to clear his vision and see the man in front of him, “It was so loud…” he murmured, running a pink tongue over lips, “Thirsty.”
Bucky leaned sideways and retrieved a cup of ice-chips, he knew full well that Bruce had left them shortly after he was notified, “Can’t have water just yet Stevie, just ice,” he pinched one of the pieces between his thumb and pointer finger and pressed them to Steve’s lips.
He stuck out his tongue, seeking the cure to his dry throat, “I’m okay…” he murmured, once he was seemingly somewhat satisfied.
“You’re not okay, Steve, you’re busted the hell up.” Bucky tried not to growl.
“Had to,” he huffed, eyes closing once more, “Could hear her crying….cryin’ for her mom.”
Bucky had to will himself not to react, “Still stupid, darlin’,” he said instead, “You rest up and then we’re going back up to our place. Close your eyes.”
“What’s wrong…” Steve started, blinking blurrily up at Bucky and clumsily taking his hand.
“Nothin’ baby,” he hurried himself into Steve’s space and kissed him sweet and gentle, “Go to sleep,” he kissed him again, “Close your eyes and go to sleep.”
Steve grunted minutely and then unconsciousness seemed to take hold once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was over an hour when Bucky heard Steve stir again, but Bruce was also in the room and they were talking softly. He had dozed off in a chair next to Steve’s bed, their hands loosely entwined.
“Hey,” Steve’s voice arrived, a soft smile on his lips.
“I was just telling Steve he should be okay to go upstairs. But bed rest and nothing else or he’s coming back here,” Bruce warned.
“Oh, he’s not leaving for quite some time,” Buck answered curtly, he took note that the IV had been removed and he was, albeit hardly anything at all, sitting up in bed.
“Buck,” Steve began to argue, “I’m….”
“Not buying it, not even close,” he tried not to growl, “You got a wheel chair around here?”
“Right here,” Bruce provided, disappearing for only a moment.
“Guys I don’t…”
“You’re sitting in the damn wheelchair, no argument,” Bucky did indeed growl, he tried his damndest to keep his anger in check, but Steve’s ‘I am righteous can’t do no wrong attitude’ began to eat at him. What kept it in check was that was given the awesome role of telling Steve that, despite his efforts, he hadn’t been able to save the little girl.
It was gonna devastate him. He knew. But Bucky was also angry because Steve NEVER knew how to take care of himself. Whether it be a cold or some bully in a damp, dark alleyway. The memories of him getting pneumonia but trying to work anyway scurried across his mind.
“Sit, punk, now,” Bucky commanded, practically lifting Steve up from the bed and setting him down in the seat of the wheelchair.
“I don’t need it Buck, I’m okay,” Steve huffed.
“You and I will talk later,” Bucky answered sharply, “Bed rest, like Bruce said.” he noticed the resigned nature of Steve’s attitude, so he softened his tone, “You need rest, baby, lots of it. No arguments, got it?”
Steve nodded, but said nothing.
They made it into the apartment and Bucky wheeled Steve directly into the bedroom, “You’re not leavin’ this bed until Bruce clears it.”
“Bucky stop, I’m okay, really I’m okay,” he wasn’t only pleading with his hands, but his crystal blue eyes had Bucky locked in.
He shook his head, “Stevie, you coulda not been okay. You throw yourself into these situations and it drives me nuts! It was bad enough when you were little ya know?! But now? It’s almost worse! You think you’re this big, indestructible guy but you aren’t! We didn’t fight hard, come this far to be together only to be ripped apart!”
When he came down from his rant he looked down, Steve’s chin was to his chest, arms limp, hands in his lap, “It was a little girl, Buck, what could I do?”
Bucky reeled in his rage, his worry, “Stevie…”
“Bruce told me, you don’t have to…you don’t have to tell me how much more I failed…”
Bucky’s brow creased, nearly broke, “Stevie,” he said again, “Why the fuck would I say you failed?!”
“I shouldn’t fail!” Steve snapped, “I was given this,” he swiped both hands in gesture to himself, “I should be able to save them. But I didn’t! I failed, failed, failed!”
The brunette surged forward and gathered the blonde into his arms, “Stevie, stop, stop it, stop it!” he shouted when he could feel him fighting, “You didn’t fail, baby doll, you didn’t. You tried. You always try so hard. But sweetheart, you don’t owe anyone anything! Just because you were given this doesn’t mean you own people your safety. Not at all. Jesus fucking Christ.” he wrapped his arms more securely around him, peppering kisses into his hair.
“She died,” Steve sobbed wetly against his shoulder.
“Baby, baby doll,” Bucky whispered against the soft, warm shell of his ear, “Sweetheart, we lose some. That’s how it works. I’m sorry. I wish you wouldn’t feel all of this so deeply. Wish I could take it away but if I did you wouldn’t be you. You could have died.” he stated plainly, “I want you here, with me. And failure or not I’m glad you’re here. Thankful. So thankful I feel sick. You’re feeling that too and that’s okay. Got that baby? It’s okay to be alive.”
Steve only cried louder, arms tightening around his waist, face finding itself more aptly in the crook of Bucky’s neck. They stayed like that forever. Bucky rocking him back and forth, kissing his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips. He idly threaded his fingers through his hair, whispering endless endearments. His palms documented each hitch and hiccup that his back produced, from each painful cry to every bubble of lost control.
He waited until it sounded as though Steve had his breathing under control, or at least leveled from what he could tell. He kneaded fingertips over his back all the while shushing and whispering words of comfort.
Glancing at the clock he murmured, “You ready for bed?”
“Feel dirty….” Steve choked, voice spent and broken.
“Quick bath and then you’re going to bed. No argument.”
Steve was suddenly squirming against the intimate touch, “Buck, I don’t know if I can sleep.”
Bucky held him in a way to stop him from retreating, “Didn’t say we had to sleep. We’ll put on a movie. I’ll stay up with you as long as you want, okay?”
With that compromise Steve nodded.
One of two things Bucky was thankful for most with Tony Stark and his décor. Big beds. Big tubs. Steve and himself fit easily, so much so Bucky could stretch his legs out as Steve fit perfectly in his lap. Nothing sexual. Of course because of certain circumstances. Not that they hadn’t taken advantage of such a large tub in recent past.
Not now.
This reminded Bucky of pre-war. When Steve was sick, tiny, in desperate need of him. But now? Not as much. So much to the point that Bucky had to remind him, in painful detail, that he did indeed need help.
He eased Steve into the tub, carefully into his lap, back to chest, just deep enough into the hot water that it soothed.
“I can do this myself,” Steve’s voice broke the silence.
“Stevie,” Bucky huffed, “You are beyond exhausted, what do you think would happen if I left you here all on your own?”
“I’d bathe?” he offered weakly.
“You’d fall on your face and add to your concussion, just shut up and let me take care of you.” he said this as he brought a suds filled wash cloth up and over his chest, washing away the debris and soot.
“I’m not that fragile thing you had to take care of back at home, Buck,” Steve said, hand halting his washing.
Bucky reached upwards and gripped Steve’s chin, “Never said you were, but you still need tendin’ to and I’ll be damned if you do the same shit you used to pull when we were kids. That you ain’t hurt and you don’t need help.” he stroked one cheek with his thumb, “You got banged up today honey, you lost someone. You sayin’ you’re completely fine? That you don’t need some TLC?”
Finally. FINALLY, the stoic look on Steve’s face broke, “I’m sorry….” he was falling against Bucky’s chest, “T-They don’t expect me…to break…and I can’t be the way I was before…if I do I’m failing.”
“Baby, no, that’s you, that’s Steve Rogers. The fella that feels too much, cares too much. You’re still that guy and that’s okay!”
“It’s not,” he sobbed, fully turning in the large bathtub and burrowing against Bucky’s chest, “I should be able to stop it now. I’m not that scrawny kid!”
“Big or not, you can’t save’em all,” Bucky answered resolutely, “Shhh, it’s okay, Stevie it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
It was reminiscent to when he lost a fight back in 42’. That same attitude of ‘I could do something’. And Bucky knew, just like then, he had to ride it out. He washed him up, tears and all, rinsing the soot from his hair, and urged him up from the tub and then into bed. His tears had slowed but not stopped.
Once the blankets were situated properly he gathered Steve tightly to his chest, “I know you’re into this Captain America business but you’re still Steve Rogers. I need you to not forget that. You can’t fix everything and that’s okay. I’m just happy, even with bad news, that you’re here with me tonight. Get that pal? I need you here. Ya need to stop with the sacrificing stuff…” he lost his will to talk, pressing lips into Steve’s damp hair.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” Steve sniffled against his chest, hands clutching around his waist, “I love you….so much…”
“I love you too punk,” he exhaled roughly, pulling the blankets around them both, angling Steve’s face upwards to plant a kiss on his mouth, “If you can’t take care of yourself, which I know is next to nothing, it’ll be me. Got it?”
Steve closed his eyes, nodding languidly, returning the kiss with fervor, “Got it.”
Without skipping a beat Bucky turned on the TV and chose the last movie they had been watching ‘Singin’ in The Rain’. He stroked fingers along Steve’s back, combed fingers through his hair as the movie played on with little notice, from one song to the next. He knew it didn’t matter the content, that Steve simply needed noise. He finally sighed in relief when, amongst the sappy commentary of the Fred Astaire movie, that Steve’s breathing had gone soft and gentle