Chapter Text
Steve Rogers had lived in the apartment adjacent from Bucky Barnes for about five months now. The apartment building itself was rather sub-par, to say the least. The hot water in the building was non-existent, or so Steve had thought (he later learned the trick to a warm shower: let the shower run for 15 minutes, then flush the toilet twice). The walls were impossibly thin, so he got to listen in on conversations (whether he wanted to or not), and it wasn't uncommon to hear a moan travel through the ventilation. Vermin was also an issue. Now and again, he’d see a mouse and had caught his fair share of spiders and cockroaches.
Regardless, Steve was glad to be living in the city and it was a bonus that he could afford the apartment. The only thing he concerned himself with was keeping a low profile. Because of his identity, he hadn't met anyone, not even his adjacent neighbors. However, the recent cold weather and lack of hot water changed this.
“Mother, I don'’ need a blind date,” Mark Darcy protested from the television in front of Steve. “Particularly not with some verbally incontinent spinster who drinks like a fish, smokes like a chimney, and dresses like her mother.”
Steve watched on as Renée Zellweger’s character glanced up, embarrassed. He had never seen this film before, but he was quiet sure he liked it. A chill went through him, causing him to involuntarily shiver. With a quick inspection, he discovered the heating had stopped working. Great. Just as Steve had pulled out the room number of the maintenance worker, a sudden sound made him freeze.
“Uh’KZDSHSHHH!”
Steve cocked his head and listened as another violent sneeze interrupted his task.
“HURESHOOO!”
Huh. In the few months he'd lived in the apartment, Steve had never heard his neighbor sneezing. Come to think of it, the neighbor was pretty low-profile too.
He knew the man’s name was Bucky, thanks to the proximity of their mailboxes. Steve had seen him a few times as well: pale skin, dark eyes, long, ragged hair. He might’ve guessed that man was homeless, had it not been for them being neighbors and all.
When Bucky finally appeared to have stopped sneezing, he broke off into a short fit of coughing and continued on with what he was doing (which seemed to be watching the same film as Steve — ha!). Hmm.
Steve guessed Bucky was probably sick. It would make since, definitely. Mid-January in New York, freezing cold showers, lack of heat thanks to the shitty maintenance... poor guy.
Steve being Steve opened his cupboard and collected a few supplies. Two cans of Campbell's chicken noodle soup, a packet of Emergen-C, and a travel pack of tissues. Yes, this would do just fine.
Steve opened the door to his apartment and stepped out into the hall, looking around before placing the items outside Bucky’s door. He quickly scribbled a note (“Take care!”) and stuck it on one of the soup cans. He retreated back to his room and dug out the number of their maintenance man. If anything, the heat would have to be fixed by tonight.