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Steve is laying on top of Bucky on the couch. He has his whole body cuddled into Bucky, their skin touching in every place. The afternoon sun casts a warm light over them from the window.
They don’t have many afternoons like this. Calm, peaceful, with no obligations. If they’re not wrapped up in work, they’re wrapped up in life. Always doing the next thing, running the next errand, fixing the things that aren’t even broken yet.
Tonight, they can finally relax, taking time to be with each other and not think of anything else. The paperwork can wait, the creaky door, and loose screws can be fixed later, the grocery shopping and prescription pickup can be done tomorrow.
Bucky’s fingers trace patterns on Steve’s skin, his metal fingers warmed up from Steve’s touch. Neither one has spoken for the past half hour. Too wrapped up in this moment shared between them.
They stay that way until Bucky’s stomach starts growling, loud and insistent. Steve chuckles, lifting his head to look at Bucky.
“We need food.” Something shifts in the air between them with Steve’s words. Bucky’s arms wrap around him, holding him even closer.
“I know, I want to stay here forever too.” Steve stretches out his legs, trying to bring energy back into his body.
“Let’s stay a little longer.” Bucky says with a suggestive tone. Steve eyebrows raise, Bucky isn’t one to take initiative, not verbally. He will push up against Steve, kiss him, anything to show him what he needs. He won’t ask for it.
Bucky has a hold of Steve’s collar, pulling him down to capture Steve’s mouth in his own and Steve decides it doesn’t matter. He kisses Bucky back, with enough force to leave them breathless. All his worries melt away as he gets lost in Bucky’s touch. His strong hands hold Steve in place and Steve couldn’t be happier.
Even when Bucky’s hands start fumbling with Steve’s shirt, trying to pull it up, Steve can’t detach himself from Bucky’s lips. He tries to maneuver himself into a position where Bucky can pull off his shirt without having to get off the couch, but it’s clumsy and his shirt gets stuck at the armpits.
Warm hands touch Steve’s bare skin and he sees white, moving to kiss down Bucky’s neck. Bucky shivers underneath him and Steve takes it as a good sign. Moving back up to Bucky’s mouth, he starts fumbling with Bucky’s belt.
Bucky hums against Steve’s mouth, tugging at him. Steve tries to move into the position Bucky wants, but Bucky seems to be pulling him in different directions. His metal arm is clawing, almost desperately at Steve’s back, his other hand is pushing at Steve’s chest. It’s clumsy, filled with need as he whines and twists away from Steve’s mouth.
With a start, Steve realizes what Bucky is trying to communicate. Get off. Steve tries to hide the hurt that flashes across his face. Did he misinterpret Bucky’s signs earlier? Did he not want this? But he seemed so into it.
Bucky’s movements grow rougher, his metal arm is now also pushing at Steve’s chest. In one fluid motion, Steve is off of Bucky and Bucky sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. He hunches his back, and leans his forehead on his cool palm, his eyes closed in a frown.
“What-?” Confused, Steve tries to piece together what he did wrong, what set Bucky off. What part of what they just did triggered his trauma. Going through it in his head, he can’t think of anything they haven’t done every other time.
“I got really nauseous all of a sudden.” Bucky offers in explanation. He breaths slowly through his nose, not looking at Steve as he talks. Every muscle looks tensed up and he shivers violently.
“Did you panic?” Steve scrambles for a reason, a way to help Bucky. All earlier worries are gone. What happened, happened, helping Bucky is all he’s thinking about now.
“I don’t- I- I think-” Bucky’s voice is weak as struggles with his words, as if the mere act of talking takes too much effort. Steve’s shirt is still pulled up to his armpits, so he pulls it down, straightening it out as if he can erase what they were just doing.
“Take your time.” Steve encourages patiently. Whatever happened, Bucky will find a way to communicate it when he’s ready.
“I-” Bucky swallows thickly, looking paler every moment. “I’m gonna-” In a moment, Bucky is up and running. Steve sits back, baffled for a moment, before he can hear Bucky heaving and something splashing into the toilet.
Steve snaps out of his head and moves into action. His hands shake as he goes to the kitchen to grab a few things. He winches when he hears Bucky retch loudly, followed by a sick moan and more liquid splashing. He doesn’t know whether Bucky needs space or wants him there, so he busies himself with getting Gatorade and wetting a kitchen towel. Just in case, he also puts a bowl by the couch.
Bucky swears under his breath, only to be cut off by another gag and more half-digested food, and Steve’s heart hurts for him.
Looking around the room, Steve looks for anything else he can do for Bucky. He has something to rehydrate him and soothe his throat, and a cold cloth, and a bowl, what else could he need? Meds. Steve is on his way to get them when he realizes they are in the bathroom with Bucky. He can’t get them without disturbing Bucky. The door isn’t closed, so Steve can see his back heaving as he brings up more food. It could be because Bucky didn’t have time to close it, or he left it open on purpose so Steve could join him.
When Bucky heaves this time, no splashing follows, so Steve tells himself to man up and join his boyfriend in the bathroom. He walks heavily to the bathroom, making sure Bucky can hear him coming, and softly knocks on the open door.
“Hey Buck, uhm…” He says awkwardly, taking in the sight of Bucky hunched over the toilet. He’s panting, occasionally hiccupping, and swallowing back gags, and Steve has to avert his eyes from the mess in the toilet to stop himself from gagging too. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bucky insists even as he swallows thickly and sits back on his heels.
“No, you’re not. You just puked.” Steve says awkwardly from the doorway he’s still hanging out in. Bucky hasn’t thrown up since before the war. He hasn’t got past nausea, even when he first came back and anything he ate was painfully rejected by his body. He would never get past the nausea because Bucky Barnes has a willpower made of vibranium and if Bucky didn’t want to puke, then he ‘wasn’t going to god dammit’.
“Think you’re sick?” Steve asks, still keeping his distance. Bucky hasn’t invited him into his personal space, so Steve stays out of it.
“Can’t.” Bucky’s eyes flicker between Steve and the toilet like he’s ready for another round. Whatever this is, it must’ve come on fast, even for Bucky. He never would’ve initiated anything if he felt this bad.
“I’ll be in the living room.” Steve says, taking the hint. He leaves the door half open like before, only realizing he didn’t get the meds when Bucky’s already started heaving again. The poor guy is just bringing up bile at this point. Steve can tell by the dry heaves and small splashes.
Bucky is just a little sick, nothing to worry about, Steve tells himself. Bucky has had colds since he came back, but he hasn’t been sick like this. The colds were over within forty-eight hours of sniffling, sneezing, and complaining. Hopefully this will pass quickly as well.
Steve sits awkwardly on the couch, listening to Bucky for a while. There’s nothing else he can do for Bucky as long as Bucky wants to be alone.
It’s only when the noises stop, and the room goes too quiet that Steve gets up to check on Bucky. He finds him sprawled out on the bathroom floor, pressing his cheek against the cold tile floor, and cleverly using his own cold metal hand to cool down his neck. Steve can’t help but notice how cute he looks like this. He plops himself down beside his boyfriend, using the back of his hand to check for a fever.
“Let’s get that shirt off, huh?” Steve says gently. Ideally, he would put Bucky in a cold bath to get his temperature down, but that won’t do with Bucky’s trauma, so Steve has to be creative.
Bucky pushes himself up so he’s sitting against the bathtub, letting Steve pull off his shirt. They both pretend not to see the puke stains on it.
“That came out of nowhere.” Bucky says. His voice is strained, like he’s trying to make it sound steadier. He struggles with showing vulnerability and being sick is to him the most vulnerable you can be. Even with Steve, it’s hard to let his guard all the way down.
“You seemed fine until you weren’t.” Steve says unhelpfully. Bucky just throws him a look that says what he can’t form into words, and Steve tries to come up with something more helpful to say.
“How are you feeling?” The question doesn’t feel much better, but Steve isn’t perfect, he doesn’t always know the right thing to say.
“How do you think?” Bucky huffs, deflecting the question. He wraps his arms around his stomach, and squints slightly at the lights. His top lip is shiny, and there’s a slight tremble in his hands.
“I think your stomach hurts, and your head is killing you, and you might have a fever and it’s all making you feel out of control.” Steve worries he’s gone too far, but a fond smile spreads on Bucky’s face.
“Why ask if you know the answer?”
“Because I care about you.” Steve states as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Bucky blushes and averts his eyes.
“That is so sweet I might puke again.”
“Alright, let’s get you back to the couch.”