Soldiers Aren't Supposed To Cry

Chapter 18

"Hey Steve?" Bucky whispers, looking over at his husband. Steve takes a deep breath and stares back at Bucky, his eyes half closed from being woken up.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they're going to notice that when I go and get my documents updated and stuff that my license expired in '48?"

"Meh, Tony can just pay them."

"Okay."

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"You hit my ass with that towel one more time Bucky and I swear to god. I will throw these waffles in the trash and you will starve until you make yourself lunch." Steve threatens, sending a glare over his shoulder to the soldier. Bucky pauses in the middle of his action, his arm still hanging out with the towel in his hand, twisted and ready for fire. Steve grabs the cloth, taking it away from Bucky and placing it on his own shoulder.

"Aw, come on!" Bucky whines. Steve lets out a short laugh before flipping the waffles and turning around once each one was flipped.

"Eat your waffles. They're gonna get cold and then you're gonna whine." Bucky mumbles something incomprehensible and grabs the plate from Steve. He takes a few before setting the plate back down, moving the waffles he wants to his own plate before smothering them in syrup. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack, cool it on the liquid sugar."

"Meh, I've lived long enough anywa-" Bucky begins, pausing when a weird feeling passes over him.

"You okay, Buck? You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't tell me you're having a heart attack cause I was kidding when I said that."

"I'm-I'm fine. Just feel kind of nauseous all of a sudden." Steve immediately turns around and walks over to Bucky, placing his hand against his forehead.

"You don't feel abnormally warm. Maybe it was something you ate last night. You don't normally eat that much cake and drink that much alcohol in one night."

"That's true, plus I usually don't move that much in a night."

"RABBITS!" Tony screeches, making both of them laugh.

"I'm just gonna go take a nap and hope I feel better."

"Okay, love you Mr. Rogers."

"Love you too, Stevie."

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"Buuuuck."

"I'm comin' Stevie, I'm comin." He whispers, holding a soup of Mrs. Roger's infamous chicken soup.

"I don't feel good." Steve complains, whining a little while longer before coughing up a storm.

"I'm well aware of that. That's why you're staying home." Bucky sets the bowl down on the small nightstand and sits at the end of the small bed.

"I wanna be teaching kids how to paint and how to draw and how to not stick erasers up their noses."

"You're sick, and you don't want to get the kids sick, do ya?"

"Noooo."

"Then you are doing your part by staying home. Besides, they can always find a fill in for you."

"But I don't want a fill in, I wanna be there."

"I know ya do Stevie, I know ya do." Bucky puts his hand against Steve's forehead, his forehead almost burning to the touch. "Why don't you take a nap. After you wake up, you can paint and draw some more, okay?" Steve manages a weak nod before placing his head back against the pillow, slowly falling asleep. Bucky smiles at him before standing up and walking out the door, going to find something to do while Steve sleeps.

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"How are ya' feeling Buck?"

"Meh." Bucky mumbles, still clutching his pillow as he slowly walks into the kitchen area, clad in one of Steve's sweatshirts and a pair of boxers.

"Didn't feel like pants?"

"Not really."

"Are you sure you're okay? You look really pale."

"Yeah, I'm fi-" Bucky starts, stopping when his vision starts to get blurry.

"Buck?"

"I'm fi-fin-fine." Bucky's vision gets worse as he stumbles, his vision finally waving in and out as he collapses. The last thing Bucky sees is Steve's panicking face before he passes out. One line of words getting through to him, the voice not sounding familiar as anyone on the team.

"He's waking up!"