Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

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You don't know what time it is, all you know, is that you're hot, your head hurts, and you feel as if you're about to puke. The small pudge of a stomach slowly growing is keeping you awake, and now you're in slight discomfort the longer you sit on the bed.

Bucky is asleep behind you, arm thrown over your waist and pulling you closer every few minutes. The cool of the metal against your skin is keeping you sane, hand squeezing his occasionally every time he shifts.

It wasn't surprising that he was so close. He doesn't take a day off from protecting you, not even when sleeping. He absentmindedly rubs your belly, kisses your neck and sighs when you relax against him.

For a second.

He knows you like the back of his hand. He's trained himself to connect to your body, listen for any abnormalities so he can prepare for the worse. The arm underneath you is burning up, and his lips touch the back of your shoulder, burning skin meeting with his soft lips.

Something isn't right. He moves again, pulls you closer before he lifts his head to rest on your shoulder. His hand automatically moves underneath your shirt to help cool you off as he peppers your neck in soft kisses, eyes wandering to the clock on the nightstand.

"Buck," you whisper to him, shifting once more before stopping. He sits up the moment you do, watching as you race to the bathroom and kneel in front of the toilet. His steps echo the room before you feel his hands pull your hair back, your breaths harsh pants.

"What's going on, Pea?" He knows what's going on. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and by the ever growing fever, you don't feel good at all. His hand swipes hair away from your ears once you finally breathe, coughing into the toilet bowl "Friday, temp read please."

"102.5, Sargent Barnes."

"Shit, Y/N," he mumbles softly, throwing your hair into a messy bun before leaning over to the sink to wet a rag. "Any changes with the baby?" He asks the AI, kneeling next to you to pull you directly into his side to place the dripping rag on your forehead.

"Healthy, Sir."

Relief spreads through him for only a second, and then he is reminded that you're suffering, his lips attaching to your temple to check for himself. Definitely a fever. Sweat has even started to drop down your forehead, breathing uneven and heavy.

"Let's get you back to the room, sweet girl." In one tug, you're in his arms, head resting on his chest as he walks back to the bedroom to place you on his side of the bed. "Fri, go as low as you can with the temperature in here," he orders, but keeps his voice down as he places the covers over your body. "Have to go and get some medicine for that fever, and then I'll be right back. For now, just sleep, Pea, think you got a nasty bug."

"I'll be fine in the morning." Despite having a cracked throat, your voice comes out quietly, how he knows you like to argue with him. "I have a busy day tomorrow, have to help Natasha, Steve, and-"

"Not anymore, you're not," he cuts you off. He kneels on the floor in front of you and pushes your sweat-damp hair back, watching how you lean right into his touch. "We still have to announce the pregnancy, so for now, you're gonna stay with me until you get over this. I don't want you getting hurt and no one knowing, alright? Besides, you got a high fever we gotta bring down."

Arguing is your specialty with him, and at the moment, you fall asleep as he makes a point you probably couldn't see due to running on sickness. Which let's him know just how badly he needs to keep you in bed.

Bucky smiles as he kisses your head, then rushes out to med to grab everything he thinks you would need. He tries to strain his hearing as best he can, but it's not as easy in a building full of workers and non human people sleeping at two in the morning.