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It’s Bucky’s own fault really. He wasn’t paying attention to everything around him. As one of the best trained assassins in the world he should know better. But when he was The Winter Soldier, Steve wasn’t in the fights. Unless he was fighting Steve, but somehow, he knew Steve wouldn’t hurt him.
Point is, Bucky is preoccupied with keeping an eye on Steve, covering his six, and forgetting about his own six. Logically, he knows Steve has full control of his own six. Steve hasn’t been thrown around nearly as many times as Bucky has today.
When Bucky is hit hard in the back, with enough force to send him head-first into a concrete wall a few feet away, he knows he messed up. He was so caught up with protecting Steve that he forgot to protect himself.
Bucky’s been thrown into many walls, he’s had many injuries, and he knows a concussion as soon as he hits his head. It feels like his brain collides with the inside of his skull when his forehead makes contact with the wall.
He is amazed at the strength of the creatures they’re fighting against. It takes a lot of force to concuss a super soldier. But the combination of foreign creatures, a concrete wall and an inattentive soldier seems to do the trick.
He lands hard on the ground, hearing the fight rage on behind him. Supporting his weight on his arms, he tries to push himself back up. His arms are like jelly, unable to hold him up and he collapses back down.
Just a minute, he tells himself, then ill get back up.
The pain behind his forehead spreads, pulling at his jaw, shooting down his neck, leaving his scalp tight, head throbbing. It feels like his brain is swelling with each throb, pushing up against his skull, slowly being squeezed more and more, until his head will explode.
The world goes dark.
The first thing he is aware of is the sound. There are voices, boots sliding along the ground, the clang of metal on metal, and punches being thrown. Bucky feels like he’s under water, the sounds muffled, slowly growing louder as he floats to the surface.
There’s a ringing in his ears making him aware of the pain again. It throbs and stabs at his whole head. As he breaks the surface of the water, every noise around him is suddenly magnified tenfold. The only thing stopping him from screaming in pain is the tenseness in his jaw, leaving it locked in place.
His eyes involuntarily squeeze shut, trying to block out the world. Every punch, kick, or stab sets of a chain of throbbing.
He is still laying in the same position he landed in, curled up with his back to the fight. Unable to form complete thoughts, he stays down with his eyes closed, listening to the fight, and drowning in the pain.
After a while, the noise quiets down. There are only a few voices coming from behind him now. He recognizes Steve and Nat’s voices, but there’s at least half a dozen others as well. His mind clears up a little, so he decides to try to get up again.
Pushing his metal arm into the ground, he lifts his upper body off the ground. The movement sets off a wave of nausea. Letting himself lay back down, he clenches his jaw, forcing down the unsettled feeling in his stomach.
A moment later, there are hands on him. Someone is touching his shoulder, saying his name, while someone else is moving around in front of him, squatting down into his field of vision.
He sees two shapes of Steve in front of him, his vision too blurry.
“Bucky.” Nat says again from behind him, rubbing his shoulder. It brings his awareness out of his own body. He tries to focus on his friends. Suddenly there are too many people crowded around him, too many voices talking on top of each other. He looks helplessly at Steve, trying to convey how he feels.
“Give him some space.” Steve says sternly, “Guys, seriously.” Steve waves around with his arm as if to shoo them away. Following the motion with his eyes makes Bucky dizzy. He closes his eyes again, listening as the footsteps fade away.
“Bucky.” Nat says in a lower voice this time. Bucky hears someone groaning and moaning in the rhythm of the throbbing in his head. There’s a blush spreading over his cheeks when he realizes it’s him making the noises. Has he been doing that this whole time? Nat pulls carefully at his shoulder, rolling Bucky onto his back. The motion leaves his vision spinning, stomach rolling.
“That looked painful.” Natasha comments. Somehow Bucky manages a small smile in response, you have no idea.
“Do you remember your name?” Stave asks, concerned look on his face.
Bucky stays silent for a moment, trying to remember how to speak. “Buck.” He speaks slowly, dragging out the ‘u’.
“Good. And how old are you?” Steve asks again. Bucky wants to tell him not to bother, that he already knows he’s concussed, but that seems like too many words.
“Too… old.” He says after a while. Math is not working right now. He doesn’t go around remembering the exact number, sue him.
Steve and Nat laugh at him, he winces at the sound, groaning again. “Sorry.” Nat says as they stop.
“Where are you?” Nat asks this time.
“On the ground.” Bucky slurs. Can’t they see that?
“Yeah, but where?” Steve asks, they hold back their laughter this time.
“Didn’t ask.” Bucky barely gets the words out. He’s exhausted from doing this much talking.
“Right.” Steve seems to realize no one told Bucky exactly where they were going in the first place. “Let’s get you off the ground.”
Bucky is quite comfortable staying on the ground forever. Sure, it’s cold and wet and hard, but moving is too big of a task. It’s not up to him though.
Steve and Nat take ahold of one arm each, hauling Bucky up. It’s too quick for Bucky’s body, leaving him dizzy and holding back a gag. His head is so painful at this point, he can’t even describe it.
They support him as they take a few steps in what he assumes is the direction of the Quinjet. Each step makes everything hurt, making him unsure how much longer he can fight against his stomach.
They’re halfway there when Bucky can’t take anymore. His stomach is in his throat, his legs are shaking under him, the pain in his head throbbing, making everything feel so much worse.
“Feel sick.” He slurs, trying his best to warn them while keeping his mouth as closed as possible. He can feel Steve and Nat exchange a look over his head before they stop walking.
“Are you going to be sick?” Nat asks wearily. Bucky is surprised they were able to make any sense of what came out of his mouth a moment ago.
Bucky makes a humming sound, trying to portray the urgency as the need to gag builds. He should have warned them sooner.
“Okay.” “Alright.” They say at the same time, guiding him into an alley. He throws up behind a dumpster. The smell of trash doesn’t make his situation any better. Steve and Nat hold him up, knowing there’s no way he’ll be able to stand on his own.
The movements and straining of throwing up goes straight to his head, intensifying the pain. It’s a vicious circle of the puking making the pain worse, and the pain making the nausea worse. He feels like he’ll stay in this alley forever, throwing up because of the pain.
To Bucky’s relief, it stops after a while. He’s left gasping for breath, unable to hold back the groans of pain.
He hears intangible mumbling, making him wonder if they’re speaking in a different language or if he just hit his head that hard. He groans again and squeezes his eyes shut at the pain but having them closed only leaves him dizzy, feeling like he’s falling.
Then they’re moving again. If they didn’t start moving until next week, it would still be too soon. Bucky struggles to put one foot in front of the other as he’s practically dragged to the Quinjet.
At some point he thinks Nat is talking to him, but her voice is too faded to make out any words. The ringing in his ears is starting to annoy him. He just wants all the noise to stop.
“Huh?” He tries to ask, focusing everything he has on her voice even when it intensifies the queasiness.
“How are you feeling?” She asks, enunciating every word to help him understand.
“Mmmh.” He just moans, hoping the sound does justice to how bad he feels. The world is spinning around him, the ground jumping up to hit him in the face.
The lights are too bright as they step onto the Quinjet. They burn his eyes, sending lightning of pain into his brain. He groans, trying to shield his eyes from the light, but his arms are still in his friends’ grip to hold him up.
It’s too loud, the space being filled by loud chatter between their teammates. It sounds like the room is full of houting people. He can’t remember there being that many people on the mission.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Bucky jumps at Nat’s loud voice. The room goes silent. If Bucky wasn’t so out of it, he would be cringing at how many eyes are on him. He can barely see them through his squinting eyes and the blinding light.
There are a few muttered apologies as Steve explains to them that Bucky is concussed. Bucky feels so much worse than the concussions he remembers having in the past. But then again, memories are hard to obtain when you hit your head as hard as he just did, so he could be wrong.
Bucky feels the world tilting as Steve helps him lay down across a few seats. Now that his arms are free, he drapes them across his eyes, shielding them from the light.
“Just relax. We’ll be home soon.” Steve whispers. “But don’t fall asleep.”
Bucky tries to relax, to let go of the tension is his muscles, but his head hurts too much.
The little noise coming from the motors are ten times louder than he remembers. Normally he doesn’t pay much attention to the noise, but now it feels like it’s echoing in his brain. He can feel his brain throbbing, pushing against the inside of his skull.
The pain makes the nausea build again. This time he decides to warn Steve before it’s too late. He opens one eye to locate Steve, reaching out to tug at his sleeve. This gets Steve’s attention.
“Are you okay?” Bucky closes his eyes again; it doesn’t do anything to help. He feels just as sick and miserable with them closed as when they were open.
“Nauseous.” He whispers, his voice coming out broken and weak. There’s a shiver going down his spine at the thought of being sick in front of the others. No one wants to be in that situation.
Steve seems to be thinking the same as he helps Bucky sit up before him and Nat leads Bucky to a separate little room. When the door closes behind them, Bucky sighs in relief. It’s quieter here, and darker.
“Do you want me to stay?” Nat asks, sounding unsure. Bucky nods. Her presence is comforting. As much as he loves Steve, he can never stroke his fingers through Bucky’s hair the way Nat does.
They all sit down on the floor, leaning against a wall. Bucky is handed a sick bag; Nat is always prepared for anything. She has a bag with anything they could ever need, that thing rooms more than what seems possible.
Bucky is helpless against the building queasiness. Being nauseous is such a gross feeling. The sweating and the shivers, feeling like he can’t move. He just wants to throw up and be done with it. But his body has other plans, taking its time.
Bucky moves so he’s sitting cross legged, leaning over his lap. It relieves some of the strain in his legs and lower back. He rests his hands in his lap, keeping the sick bag open and ready in front of him.
Bucky lets out a whine when the nausea finally peaks. He lifts the sick bag up to his mouth as he starts gagging. It hurts his head, but this time it’s bearable. Thank god for super soldier healing. With some luck, he’ll feel fine by tomorrow.
Nat runs her fingers through Bucky’s hair just the way he likes as she gathers it at the back of his neck to keep it out of his face. Steve keeps a grounding hand on his lower back, the other on Bucky’s chest to hold him up.
Bringing up stomach acid burns his throat, distracting him from the headache. He feels bad for Steve and Nat having to listen to the disgusting noises he’s making. He lets his body take full control, surrendering to the illness.
He pitches forward with each gag, feeling Steve’s hand holding him in place so he doesn’t fall over. His stomach muscles ache between the heaves, having been used way more than they’re used to.
When it stops, Bucky is out of breath, but he feels better. His stomach feels more settled, his vision has stopped being blurry, and his pain has settled into just a bad headache.
Nat takes the sick bag from him, tying it closed and setting it to the side. Bucky lays down on the floor, resting his head in her lap. She keeps playing with his hair, helping him relax.
“How’s your head?” Steve asks after a while.
“No complains yet.”