Pre War Bucky Barnes One Shots

Nothing New

Bucky strode urgently down the footpath on the all too familiar route to his best friend's house. There was a nervous knot forming in his stomach the closer he got.

He hadn't heard from or seen Steve for two whole days now. Normally he bumped into him one way or another whether he came knocking on his front door or Bucky found him in an alleyway fending off a man twice his size.

He saw Steve at least every other day. If he didn't it could only mean one thing, something was wrong.

He jogged up the steps to the little house that Steve now occupied by himself and grabbed the spare key from its hiding spot under the boot around the corner, letting himself in without knocking.

"Stevie!" He called out to the empty room. "Steve are you home?"

He walked through the lounge finding nothing and into the kitchen once again finding it to be empty.

"Helloooo?" He tried again.

This time he was answered by two weak coughs coming from where Bucky could only assume was Steve's bedroom down the hall way.

He internally groaned as dread took over his body and winced to himself as another round of coughing fits filled the silence. There was no doubt about it, his best friend was sick once again.

The unsteady rattling of the noises coming from Steve suggested perhaps another bout of pneumonia. Bucky follow the blood curdling sound towards its owner and grimaced as he walked into the room.

"Oooohhhh Steve." He moaned sadly. "Look at you."

His tiny friend looked up at him weakly and gave him a pathetic little grin.

"You're a punk you know that?" Bucky sighed as he came over to the side of his pale faced, flush cheeked friend.

"Shut up jerk." Steve croaked in a voice so awful that it made Bucky cringe.

"Stop talking. Save your voice." He intructed. "Look at you! Why don't you have more blankets or a warmer top on?!" He exclaimed as he took in the thin sheet that came only to his hips and white singlet that Steve was wearing.

He just shrugged. "I can't find the energy to move."

"Well have you eaten?" Bucky gasped.

"Nope." Steve replied flatly.

"Have you been drinking water?" Bucky asked, the worry in his voice increasing.

"No." Steve huffed.
"Aren't you hungry?" Bucky cried out. "Or at least thirsty? Steven you know you need to eat."

"Sorry Buck, I'm just not hungry. Although I could go for a glass of water." He said in a voice that was nearly a whisper.

He drew in a shaky breath which drew on another round of coughs.

"Aw Steve." Bucky whimpered.

It hurt him so much to see his brother suffering like this. He reached across and rested the back of his hand against Steve's forehead. It was stark dry but burning hot with fever. Bucky's forehead creased into a concerned frown.

"I'll be back. Don't move." He instructed.

"Wasn't planning on it." Steve said in a husky voice.

Bucky rushed into the kitchen and chucked some kindling in the wood fire stove before lighting it. He filled the kettle with water and placed that above the flame before moving on to the cupboards.

He searched through Steve's mother's old herb cabinet until he had a concoction of familiar looking leaves which he crushed up after washing his own hands and placed them in a mug. He then found some plain crackers and crushed them up in a bowl before drizzling them with some cold water from the faucet and mashing them up so that Steve could swallow the mash easily.

By now the water had finished boiling so he poured it into the cup of crushed herbs thus creating a soothing tea.

Bucky also found a clean rag and soaked it in cold water. After grabbing a spoon and placing it all on a platter he rushed back down the hall, stopping only to search the hallway cupboard for a thicker blanket before heading back into Steve's room.

He looked down at his best friend who by now looked on the verge of hallucination. His eyes were screwed shut, his face showed utter discomfort and his head was rolling side to side on his pillow.

It physically pained Bucky to watch Steve like this, but he had to see it all too often. He placed the tray on the bedside table and tucked the blanket up around Steve's shoulders before he pulled the chair from the corner of the room over to the side of the bed.

"Steve." Bucky murmured and gently started to stroke the wet, cold cloth over his scorching forehead.

It only took a few seconds for his eyes to flutter open and land on Bucky.

"Look, I know you said you weren't hungry but you need to eat. How long have you need like this?" He explained.

Steve shrugged slightly. "When was the last time I saw you?" He croaked.

Bucky ran a hand over his face and through his hair. "Two days ago. Come on, let's get something into you."

He helped Steve adjust his manky little pillow so that he was propped up a bit and rested the cloth on his forehead and began to spoon feed the unappetising mush to his best friend.
The easy banter that normally flowed between the two men was replaced with an air of seriousness.

It was a long, arduous task and was a lot harder then you would think. Steve could hardly keep any of it down and was full after two mouthfuls. But they got there eventually.

"Thanks for looking after me Buck, you didn't have to." Steve said weakly.

"It's nothing new." Bucky shrugged but gave Steve a teasing smirk. "Now drink your tea and try to get some sleep. I'll be right here if you need anything else."