Work Text:
“Hey, punk.” Bucky grinned, leaning on the doorframe as he looked at Steve, who was hunched over his latest sketch. “That looks like it hurts,” he said, laughing softly.
“I mean, when your spine has always been at least a little crooked, it doesn’t ever not hurt,” Steve retorted, not looking up from his sketchbook.
“C’mon, bud. We’re going to the science fair tonight, remember? Gotta get you all spick-and-span for the ladies.” Bucky said, making his way across the room to look over Steve’s shoulder at his drawing. “Wow, Stevie. That- wow.” Bucky murmured, always taken aback at Steve’s unmatched ability to bring life to paper and graphite. “I always liked that photo for a reason,” he said, looking at the picture Steve clutched in his left hand as a reference.
“I know,” Steve said, looking up slightly, barely moving his head. “That’s why I picked it,” he said, softer, smiling faintly.
Bucky grinned. “Why, thanks, Stevie. Now, let’s get going, or we’re going to be late to meet the ladies!” he urged Steve, patting him on the shoulder. It didn’t matter that Bucky knew it probably wouldn’t work out with either of the girls.
-----
Bucky couldn’t help but notice how Steve stared longingly at the Uncle Sam posters, glaring “We want YOU!” As if Steve needed another reason to go and fight. Bucky hated it. The war, the violence, the fear. All of it. But he could never hate Steve. He just hated how Steve’s unfailing sense of duty and honor seemed to chase him into alleyways, drawing him from one fight to the next.
Steve looked forlornly at another poster as they passed it, all bright and flashy, making it impossible to ignore. God , how Steve wished he could give his life for something better than the cause of “being sick”.
As they reached the stage for the main event, something to do with Stark Industries, Bucky said to Steve. “Would you look at that! ” he exclaimed, grinning like an idiot. Steve watched, half-interested, as Howard Stark, the man behind it all, spoke rather expressively about his newest invention. A flying car? Steve stared blankly, almost bored.
Bucky turned and smiled at Steve. This was the fourth- no, fifth science fair he had gone to with Steve, and he already had plans to go to the next one. They were so cool! The future, right at his fingertips! He watched Steve intently for a moment, his mind far away, a smile lingering on his lips, before he remembered how wrong it was. He felt a pang in his heart as he turned away. He had always been broken, he knew that, but Steve didn’t. He didn’t tell him, and he never would. Bucky coughed faintly, running a hand over his face and through his hair, to conceal his hurt.
-----
All those people at the fair must have disrupted Steve’s immune system, because the germs and other, various “icky things” got him sick. Bucky hated it when Steve was sick. Each time he got sick was another time where he might not recover, and that wasn’t allowed. Not for Steve. Bucky needed Steve.
“Hey Stevie,” Bucky said softly, leaning on the doorframe.
“Buck-” Steve smiled weakly, before dissolving into a coughing fit. Bucky looked on with concern, making his way over to the edge of Steve’s sickbed.
“How’re you feeling?” He asked cautiously, quietly, as if Steve would break at the sound of his voice. He probably would.
Steve looked up at Bucky with tired eyes, lips quirked up in a small smile. “Could be better.” He raised an eyebrow before attempting to shakily prop himself up on one elbow. “You ever hear back from that girl? What was her name- uh, Sandy? Sandra?”
Bucky laughed quietly, before shaking his head and looking down, a faint smile on his lips. “No, uh… it didn’t work out.” He raised his eyebrows, still looking down, before awkwardly shrugging.
Steve looked up, feeling oddly relieved. “Oh- sorry Buck, I… I didn’t know.” It’s not like he didn’t want Bucky to have a girl, he just… didn’t like being so left out. Feeling alone. He was just glad that Bucky still chose him, despite his sickliness.
“Thanks for taking care of me, Buck. It means a lot.” Steve rasped.
Bucky nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly, the corners of his lips quirking up into a faint smile. “Time and time again,” he murmured. “I won’t never leave ya, bud.”