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She has to get up. In an effort that feels superhuman to her, Ava raises her hand to her sweat-drenched forehead, as if that simple gesture could offer her even the slightest comfort. It doesn’t, of course. She has to get up, cross the short distance to the bathroom, and reach the medicine cabinet. It is, of course, much easier said - thought - than done. Her mind tries to convince itself that it’s easy, that she can do it. It tries to convince itself that she just needs to find the will and strength to move, but her body refuses to make even the slightest movement. The young woman is no longer made of flesh and blood, but of stone. She must get up, she must move, but she cannot. Her head hurts terribly, as if caught in a vise that a sadist is enjoying tightening again and again. Overcome by dizziness, she feels as though she’s falling even though she’s lying down, and every breath she takes makes her nausea worse. She has to get up, but she can’t. If she even makes the effort to try to get up, she’s sure she’ll collapse to the floor and be unable to get back up. Or worse, she, whose heart is in her throat.
On her nightstand, her cell phone vibrates and rings. The ringtone - a ridiculous song set by Bob as “revenge” after she’d done the same thing to his phone - pierces her ears, but even reaching out to grab it is out of the question. She can’t move. Her phone vibrates again, and that damn ringtone echoes through her room once more. She can’t move, she just wants to suffer in peace. Several long minutes later, she hears her bedroom door open and then close, a figure moving with ease through the room, plunged into near-darkness, to reach the bathroom before coming back out a few moments later to sit on the edge of the bed next to her.
- Drink this, it’s an aspirin. I’m running you a hot bath, it’s good for headaches.
- Bucky, please marry me.
In the dim light, she can barely make out his face, but Ava knows that Bucky is smiling. That smile she loved to see, the one that made his eyes shine with a tenderness that always made her heart beat a little faster in her chest. Without a word, he helped her sit up on the bed and held the glass for her as she took the medicine he had been kind enough to bring her. Under different circumstances, the young woman might well have found reason to complain - she wasn’t a child anymore, she could drink on her own - but this time, she doesn’t have the strength to utter the slightest protest.
Her fingers feel numb, as stiff as wood, and she can only manage a faint smile when her boyfriend’s arms slip around her shoulders and under her knees to carry her straight into the bathroom. The young woman staggers as her feet touch the floor again, her boyfriend’s arms around her waist are the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground.
The bathwater is hot, just a few degrees from being scalding, but she sinks into it with delight and is even happier to see Bucky join her. Ava hates being sick, it’s true, but this miserable state is more than made up for by the very presence of her wonderful boyfriend. Ava leans back against him with a sigh, Bucky’s arms wrapping around her. Bucky. A hot bath. The bathroom plunged into near silence, barely disturbed by the water lapping with every movement… She never wants to leave this place. The super soldier’s lips brush her temple, and the young woman can’t help but let out a faint smile.
Did she fall asleep? A little confused, Ava opens her eyes to the sound of Bucky humming to himself. Snuggled in his arms, the young woman shivers. The water is starting to get cold, and she hates that. As patient as ever, Bucky helps her out of the tub and dry off before slipping on her nightgown. All things she can perfectly well do by herself - after all, she’s just a little sick, not dying - but she can’t deny loving to see her boyfriend take such good care of her.
- You know what else is good for relieving headaches ?
Bucky’s hair is still damp, his lips stretched into a thin smile. Sitting on the edge of the tub, Ava can’t suppress her own smile. She knows that smile and that tone of voice by heart. That smile is usually proof that Bucky has a very specific idea in mind. An idea that, every time, results in their clothes strewn all over the room, an entire box of condoms used up in just a few hours, and her on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, her legs shaking so badly she’s convinced she’ll never be able to walk straight again for the rest of her life. Bucky was good at many things, very good, and he knew it ! The young woman returns his smile, already convinced. She almost always is.
- I have a little idea…
Once again, Ava found herself in Bucky’s arms, carried into the bedroom and gently laid down on their bed. Bucky always had excellent ideas, and this one was no exception. And if it allowed her to erase - or even just forget - her headaches, how could she say no ?