Chapter Text
"The true test of a soldier's mettle is whether or not they will cling to what they believe in, even in the face of impending death."- Matthew S. Williams
At first it was easy to convince himself that nothing was wrong, that the pain and fatigue that had been dragging him down were simply the side effect of a string of difficult missions with little time to recover in between. But after 4 days into his first real break in months and only feeling worse with time he was beginning to question whether or not his plan to ride things out was going to work. The only sign something was amiss was a crescent shaped rash that spread from his left shoulder to his spine and a small, swollen lump right next to the prosthetic. Sure, the pain would get infinitely worse if he poked at it but as long as he didn’t move his arm too much it was manageable. If anything it was just another sign of being overworked and a good excuse to take some time off.
Currently, he found himself on the couch in the living room staring blankly off into space while he waited for Steve return from a briefing about their most recent mission. At least twice Bucky had attempted to distract himself (both from his impatience and the throbbing feeling in his bones) by reading one of his books but he found it impossible to concentrate with the way the words and letters swirled across the page. It was for the best anyways: he had purposefully shut the lights off half an hour ago when he started to feel sick from just the sight of them, leaving him in the relative dark of the evening.
He continued his glazed staring contest with the wall for quite some time, faintly hearing the sound of voices approaching the door but not reacting to the sound. He barely flinched at Thor’s booming laughter and the door slamming open immediately afterwards, only bothering to look up when Steve’s voice called out to him from just a few feet away. It doesn’t take Steve long to spot Bucky’s shadow sitting on the couch and walked over to stand in front of him with a slight smile, “Hey, love, you ready to go out?”
But Bucky didn’t respond despite his eyes being open and his body’s unconscious response to the sudden surge of sound around him, causing Steve to kneel in front of him and put a gentle hand on his thigh. It was then that Steve could feel an intense fever burning inside of Bucky and pressed his hand down a little further so he could shake Bucky out of his trance.
“Buck, are you feeling ok?” Steve asked in concerned tone, moving his hand from Bucky’s leg to the left side of his face, worrying further when he felt just how hot his partner had become.
“I think ‘m sick,” Bucky responded dully, sinking his face into Steve’s cool hand.
Steve just sighed and sat down next to Bucky on the couch before pulling him close so he could rest on Steve’s chest. Bucky could feel the low rumble of someone talking and a voice responding just behind his head (when did someone else get here?) before he heard the soft sound of the door clicking shut and the living room went back to buzzing silence. He closed his eyes and let himself relax into whatever was holding him, feeling the rumbling again as they spoke.
“You awake, Buck?” Oh yeah, it’s Steve. Steve is back.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” he mumbled in response, burrowing into Steve a little deeper, “Just exhausted from the last few weeks. Everything feels like I haven’t slept in years.”
He couldn’t see his face but Bucky could practically feel Steve frowning. The room was silent for a few moments longer before he opened his eyes again and craned his head upward to look at his partner. Steve smiled down at him but there was a distinct crease of concern around his eyes, not that Bucky was coherent enough to really notice. Instead, Bucky chose to push off of the other man’s chest in an attempt to stand and stretch the exhaustion from his system. Unfortunately, he only made it as far as bending over to move off the couch before he felt his joints lock up and sent him crashing into the floor. The world spun even faster around him and he moaned pathetically from his position on the hardwood.
“Bucky?! Hey, what happened!” He was aware of Steve’s voice shouting nearby but whenever he attempted to open his eyes again the world just bled into an overwhelming spray of noise and color.
He tried to pick himself up but as soon as he got his arms underneath him a strong hand on his shoulder pushed him back down. “Steve, wha— why am I on the ground?”
The hand continued to press and Bucky allowed himself to go completely boneless underneath it. Steve just sighed above him, “I don’t know but don’t try to get up. I just messaged Bruce and he’s on his way here.”
Bucky hummed in reply and he melted further when the hand on his shoulder moved up and started playing with his hair. They stayed in that comfortable silence for the five or so minutes it took for Bruce to take the elevator from his lab up to the residential floors. Bucky could feel himself starting to drift back off to sleep when there was a soft knocking at the door. “Be right back,” Steve whispered before standing up and pulling his hands away.
Bucky shivered at the loss of contact but decided to use his remaining strength to drag himself back onto the couch without Steve there to stop him. He was pulling a blanket around himself when Steve returned with the doctor in tow.
“Hi, James. Steve was telling me you aren’t feeling well,” Bruce said softly, very conscious of triggering Bucky’s anxiety around doctors.
Bucky huffed and pulled the blanket closer. “Yeah but I don’t know why. Everything hurts and I feel exhausted despite doing nothing all day,” he grumbled, trying to ignore Steve’s hand pressing against his face again.
Bruce just nodded in agreement, setting his bag down next to the couch and beginning to lay his things out on the table next to him. “Ok, we’ll just start with the basics then,” he said, still speaking softly as he took Bucky’s vitals, “We can come up with a plan when we have a better idea of what’s going on.”
Bucky reluctantly allowed Bruce to examine him, trying his best to not resist the hands pressing against random spots on his body, checking for injuries. “Do you remember getting hurt recently? Anything that hasn’t healed properly?” Bruce asked, starting a mental checklist on what he needed to get his job done.
Bucky shrugged and tried not to wince at the pain in his shoulder. “Not that I can think of, I woke up feeling sick and nothing’s really helped,” he answered honestly, flinching at the sound of Bruce pulling on gloves.
But he felt Steve squeeze him at that. “We noticed a spot by his prosthetic yesterday; there’s some swelling,” he added, and Bucky had completely forgotten that Steve had seen the rash, too.
“You hurt your arm?” Bruce sounded a little alarmed at that and Bucky hated that tone.
“I mean, I don’t remember hurting it but yeah it hurts,” Bucky sighed, wanting to throttle Steve for saying anything, “I kinda thought I just did too much on the last mission.”
Bruce hummed in response and motioned for Bucky to remove his shirt while pulling the stethoscope from around his neck in the same motion. He checked his heart and lungs and found nothing remarkable, so he had Bucky lean forward to get a good look at the back of his left arm. The rash was still there if only slightly redder and the small lump was still sitting stubbornly where metal met muscle. Bruce prodded at the area for a while, noting when Bucky would gasp or flinch in pain. He took the metal arm in his hands and carefully moved it up and down, watching the movement of the muscles supporting it but seeing no signs of anything broken internally. Bucky was able to maintain a full range of motion despite the discomfort so Bruce had him redress and lay back against the couch to rest.
After a few more minutes of Bruce asking questions and Bucky straining to answer, what little energy he had stored in his body was fully consumed and now he was too exhausted to even mumble back a response. The last thing he saw before falling asleep was Bruce bundling him up in his blankets again.
“He definitely has some kind of infection but with no visible injuries I won’t have any more information until I can process his labs,” Bruce explained while carefully packing his equipment back into his bag.
He and Steve had moved their conversation into the kitchen so Bucky could continue to sleep uninterrupted. Steve was currently trying to distract himself from said conversation by fiddling with the coffee maker. He knew it was a poor idea to drink caffeine after 7pm but he also knew his nerves wouldn’t allow him to sleep until he was sure Bucky was ok. Sighing, Steve asked the question that was burning into his chest.
“Should I take him to the med bay? I’m not sure he would cooperate but we could try…”
Bruce shook his head and smiled a little at Steve’s concern, “I think it’s in everyone’s best interest to treat this outpatient for now. I can get him a prescription for the fever and the pain and I can start on his blood work as soon as I get back to the lab.”
Steve nodded, feeling the dread in his chest deflate a little, and Bruce continued, “For now, just focus on keeping him comfortable and well hydrated. And please don’t hesitate to contact me if his symptoms change or get worse. As soon as I have an idea of what’s going on we can discuss a treatment plan.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Steve replied, voice sounding hollow and thin.
Bruce closed his bag and pulled it onto his shoulder and Steve took that as his cue to walk the other man to the door. He wished the doctor good night and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder to show his gratitude. “You’re very welcome,” Bruce smiled, opening the door and stepping into the long hallway, “Everything is going to be ok, he just needs some time.”
Steve sighed for what felt like the millionth time tonight, “Yeah, I know. It’s just… it’s always hard when Bucky has to suffer; when he’s already gone through so much already.”
“It’s going to be ok, Steve,” Bruce repeated, starting to head for the elevator, “He’s got you to take care of him.”
Steve felt his heart clench again and could only muster the energy to wave as the doctor stepped through the elevator doors. Steve stood in the doorway, taking in the silence of the empty hall for a brief moment before turning and rushing back into the apartment so he could check on his partner. He, with Bruce’s assistance, had gotten Bucky up off of the couch and onto the plush mattress in their bedroom and Steve had been eager to check in on him as soon as he crossed into the other room.
He quietly stepped into the bedroom, making sure to not make any loud noises that would ruin Bucky’s rest. As he stepped as over to Bucky’s side of the bed he could see Bucky was shivering violently despite being wrapped in the sheets, the comforter, and their two spare blankets. Steve bent over him and caressed his cheek with the pads of his fingers and couldn’t help but frown when he felt how hot the skin was. Whatever medication Bruce had given him to reduce the fever had already been metabolized by Bucky’s supercharged system. He watched sadly as Bucky attempted to curl around his hand for extra warmth and started to wonder just how long he had to wait before deciding things were ‘worse’. The coffee maker wailed its tinny chime from the kitchen and Steve reluctantly peeled himself away so he could at least turn the machine off before it woke the other man.
He was halfway through putting some kind of evening meal together for himself when he heard fabric rustling and a low moan coming from the bedroom. He immediately abandoned the ingredients he had been working with and rushed back just in time to see Bucky sit up and promptly vomit over the side of the bed.
“Oh, Christ,” Steve muttered, side stepping into their bathroom to grab the trash can before sliding up to the bed and pulling Bucky against him.
Bucky opened his mouth to complain but instead just doubled over the trash can and vomited again, cringing at the sound it made splattering against the hollow plastic. He started to shiver again but was able to control his breathing enough to get his nausea tamped back down. He could feel Steve carefully lowering the trash can to the ground behind him before wrapping him up in the blankets again.
“God, I feel like shit,” Bucky groaned, laying his head back against Steve’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
Steve began to pet his hair. “Do you want to take a bath? It might help with your stomach,” he asked quietly.
Bucky nodded and curled onto his side so he could snuggle into Steve’s neck. “Only if you sit with me, though,” he countered.
Steve just laughed at that and stood up to get everything ready, propping Bucky up against their pillows to keep him comfortable while he worked. He took the time to add some sweet-smelling bubbles to the cascading water before heading back to their bed to get Bucky up and into the tub. He chuckled a little at the sight of Bucky struggling to get out of his t-shirt and helped him pull himself free from the fabric before pulling him into a stand. “Ready to walk?” Steve asked sweetly, wrapping a firm arm around Bucky’s left side.
“Jesus, you’re acting like I’m gonna shatter or somethin’,” Bucky muttered as they began their slow shuffle towards the en suite, “I’ve been sick before, you know.”
Steve shook his head, knowing it was Bucky’s inclination to downplay whatever he was suffering through. It’s not like Bucky being sick was completely out of the realm of possibility: he had a cheap imitation of the serum and it was created by someone who didn’t seem to care if infections affected his soldier’s performance. They used to be a more regular occurrence, back when Bucky was still learning how to vocalize his pain and how to say no to dangerous assignments. So it’s not like Steve was without experience in dealing with it but he had to admit things seemed to have gone downhill significantly faster than they had in the past.
Bucky sighed in relief once they crossed into the bathroom and all but dove into the tub, with Steve holding him still long enough to pull his sweatpants off before he settled into the steamy water. The heat probably wasn’t the best solution for the fever but it was doing wonders for the cloying chill that seemed to have overtaken him. He was playing mindlessly with the bubbles floating on the surface when Steve shut off the tap and sat on the edge of the tub. “Is it ok if I finish making my dinner? I can also make you something if you think you’re hungry,” he offered, smoothing the hair from Bucky’s face that had gotten stuck from the steam and sweat.
Bucky nodded, reaching up to grab Steve’s hand so he could kiss his fingers, “Go eat, I’ll try not to drown.”
Steve chuckled and gave him one more kiss before standing up and making his way into the kitchen so he could get back to the half-made sandwich he had left on the counter. He also used the time to check his phone and answer any messages that had been left while he was distracted, including sending an apology to Sam and Thor for canceling their dinner plans at the last minute. He piled the sandwiches he had made onto a plate and made his way back to Bucky, trying his best to balance a mug and a cold bottle of Gatorade in his other hand.
Bucky smiled when he reappeared and watched fondly as he set his things on the sink before taking a seat on the closed toilet next to the bathtub. The smile quickly turned into a grimace, though, when Steve held out the bottle for him to drink. He was about to turn the offer down when Steve pressed it into his hand, seeming to beat him to the punch. “I know you don’t feel well but you need fluids,” he instructed, not leaving any room for compromise, “You don’t have to drink all of it right now but you need to have something in your system if you keep throwing up.”
“You’re no fair,” is all Bucky responded before taking a swig of the overly saccharine drink.
Steve chuckled and took a bite of his sandwich, smiling as Bucky continued to drink. They sat quietly together for a while, Steve placidly eating his sandwiches and Bucky morosely nursing the Gatorade in his hands. Bucky could feel himself starting to fall asleep again when Steve’s voice breaks through fog filling his head. “How’s your arm feeling?”
But Bucky doesn’t answer, only distantly aware someone was talking to him. Steve got louder this time, “Bucky, does your arm hurt?”
Bucky finally seems to snap to attention and turned his head to look over his left shoulder, glaring at the stubborn rash. “Yeah,” he grumbled, “But it’s not so bad…”
“What about your stomach?” Steve knew he was probably overwhelming Bucky with questions but he needed to know he would be ok.
“It’s doin’ better,” Bucky muttered, taking another reluctant sip of his drink.
Steve smiled and stood to take his empty plate into the kitchen and give Bucky some space to try and relax. He gave his partner one final kiss before leaving, closing the door behind him so Bucky could rest. Now that he finally had a moment to himself Steve was able to change out of his professional attire into pajamas so he could get himself ready for the night, not that he expected to sleep much with Bucky sick. He then made himself another cup of coffee and crashed onto the couch so he could stretch his legs after being stuck in a conference room all day. He answered Sam’s text messages about Bucky (ever the medic he was always concerned when something happened to his friends) and pushed down his own worries for his partner, telling himself that this was just a fluke and would go away soon.
A full thirty minutes had passed before Steve realized he had zoned out staring at his phone and hadn’t heard a single noise from Bucky the entire time. He shoved his phone into his pocket and rushed back towards their bathroom, shouting Bucky’s name as he ran. He threw open the bathroom door, startling a sleeping Bucky awake and causing him to jump and slosh water over the edge of the tub.
“Ugh, Steve? What?” He mumbled, clearly confused on how he ended up chest-deep in tepid water.
“I think it’s time we get you to bed,” Steve said, reaching down past Bucky’s legs to pull the stopper from the bottom of the bath.
Bucky just nodded and reached up for Steve when he offered to help him stand. Steve bundled him up into a fluffy towel, sitting him down on the toilet so he could get him some pajamas to change into. In the short time it took Steve to step into their bedroom and collect Bucky’s things the other man had fallen asleep sitting up. Steve was beginning to feel his concern turn into fear, he had seen Bucky sick before but it was usually a day or two of suffering and then he would be back to his normal self. He had never seemed so exhausted and confused even after his worst injuries. Steve managed to get him into some pants and underwear but Bucky would protest every time Steve attempted to lift his arm into the shirt so it lay abandoned next to the bathtub. Together they made their way to the bedroom so Bucky could slump back down on the mattress and curl up under his precious blankets. Steve set the trashcan next to Bucky in case he felt sick again and walked over to his side so he could crawl in next to the other man.
Despite falling asleep in cold water Steve could feel the intense fever leeching through Bucky’s bare skin. “Let me know if you feel sick again, ok?” He whispered, pulling the fevered man closer.
But Bucky didn’t reply and Steve could only assume he was already sleeping. He buried his face into the back of Bucky’s hair, breathing in the sweet smell of his shampoo, and tried to do the same.