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It was good to fight beside Bucky again, to have a warm back pressed against his as they held their ground, to have a gloved hand clasped on his shoulder as they gave mission reports, to have a laugh on his companion’s lips whenever the media tried to talk to the exhausted Captain after the battle. It was even good in a way to have Bucky pressing him back against the wall as he scanned his body for injuries after the mission, to have a voice snapping through the comm link telling him to stop messing around, to have Bucky creeping into his room late at night to make sure he was still breathing easily.
Bucky had always worried about him and before the Serum, Steve couldn’t blame him. He’d been colourblind, flat-footed, asthmatic, and often skipped meals so he could hide in his room instead of having to face his father. He was constantly ill and got into fights as often as Bucky picked up dames. But he was Captain America now; he didn’t need the help, and he certainly didn’t need Bucky to worry about Steve instead of himself. Steve was selfish enough to say that he would accept anything that kept Bucky tied to him, but Steve hated that Bucky felt to need to constantly check in on Steve and press shaking hands to the scars he had caused. “I’m alright.” Steve had soothed more times than he could count, but the brunet just shook his head, cast him a sharp glance, and then stalked off.
Bucky is usually close by Steve’s side when they’re on missions but the team had slowly gotten him to relax, to set up a gun on the rooftops with Clint or storm into a building with Natasha at his side, both of them with guns blazing. He’s with Sam, of all people, when everything goes wrong.
Steve isn’t sure what made all the town’s resident baddies decide to attack at once but he’s glad they have the Fantastic Four helping them push off hordes of Doombots and the strange, green sea creatures that Clint blames on Namor. Tony and Johnny are both high in the air, shooting fire and trading jokes – a teenager and an adult who acts like one. Natasha and Susan Storm seemed to have hit it off, the latter offering force field covers to the assassin as she charges through the mess. Sam’s carrying Bucky, dropping the Winter Soldier into the mix and scooping him back up whenever he’s needed somewhere else. And Reed – well it’s best to just let Reed do his thing, sometimes. The fight is thick with technology that even Tony is awed at, strange rays and beams that the Avengers are just trying to avoid.
And then one hits Steve and he falls to the ground with a scream.
Bucky’s at his side in seconds, twisting himself free from Sam’s arms and dropping flat-footed to the ground, knives flashing as he runs to Steve. Susan throws a shield around them as the Hulk and the Thing both screamed in rage, roads cracking under the force of their feet as they charge into the fray. Their anger comes too late and Steve’s vision faded to black.
When Steve opened his eyes for the first time after, Bucky was sitting by his side. “Hey, Buck.” Steve croaked, trying to shift into a seated position; the other pushed him back down against the bed, metal hand cupping the back of his neck. He’s angry and Steve hasn’t seen him that way in a while, not since Tony and Steve had last fought and Bucky had shouldered his way in when Tony told the blond that he should have caught Barnes. Steve’s expression had crumbled, grief and doubt clear in his self-depreciating gaze, and Bucky felt the faint stirrings of The Winter Soldier stirring in his chest. “What’s wrong? Is everyone else okay?”
“I don’t give a damn if they are.” Bucky replied in a growl, even though they both knew it was a lie. He cared about Natasha and had some degree of friendship for Sam and Clint, even if the others made him wary. “They’re fine. Sam and Bruce had to spend a few nights in medical, but everyone’s all healed – but you. You… you’re sick.”
“I spent most of my life sick; I think I can handle it.”
Bucky’s scowl only grew at the response, “As the person who had to take care of you when you were, I beg to differ. Steve,” he sighed, taking a steadying breath, “you’re back to the way you were. Before the Serum.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” The blond replied, obviously sulking, even as he felt panic tighten his chest. “I’m still me, Bucky.”
“Yes.” Bucky agreed, tone far too neutral for his stony expression. “You. Too damn stubborn for your own good even though you’re sick and half of your enemies could snap you in half with a glance. So until Tony and Reed can reverse this – because they say they can, and threats from the Winter Soldier tend to make people comply – you’re going to stay in bed and drink soup and actually take care of yourself for the first time in your life.”
Steve scoffed, trying to sit up again, and that’s how he found himself tucked against Bucky’s chest. “Bucky!”
“Shut up, punk.” Bucky laid himself out on the bed, tucking Steve between himself and the wall, metal and flesh arms both holding Steve tight. “Just… stay close for a little while, okay? You keep telling me you’re not small and weak anymore but now you are again. I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t have to be.” Steve protested, squirming around so he could face Bucky.
“I’m scared.” Bucky replied, tone subdued, and Steve didn’t have an answer for that because with all the dangers they faced on a daily basis that fear may well have been founded. “But I’ve got you now, Stevie. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Bucky’s grip was too tight and his chin was poking into the other’s shoulder but Steve knew he was safe in his arms. “You promised me chicken soup.” Steve said a moment later, cracking a brittle smile, and Bucky chuckled and held him closer. “But this will work too.”