I know that this is early for the poll but I don't think it's gonna get beat out lol (if it does I'll just write another :P) I hope ya'll like it!!!
Bucky wasn’t making sense.
Steve had seen him sick before—winter colds that left him grumpy, the occasional fever that made him shivery and quiet—but this was different.
Bucky was burning up, his body like a furnace under the blankets, and Steve had never felt so helpless. No amount of cold compresses or whispered reassurances seemed to ease the fever raging through him. Every few minutes, a new wave of chills would wrack his body, but Steve could feel the heat radiating off him like a fire that wouldn’t go out.
And worst of all, Bucky was delirious.
“Stevie,” Bucky mumbled, voice hoarse and distant. His half-lidded eyes flitted around the dim room as if he couldn’t see him. “Where’d ya go?”
Steve’s chest squeezed painfully. He squeezed Bucky’s hand in both of his, rubbing slow, steady circles over the back of it. “I’m right here, Buck. Not goin’ anywhere.”
But Bucky’s brows furrowed. His glassy, unfocused eyes searched the room, not seeing Steve in front of him. “Nah, I—” His voice cracked, rough and strained. “You—you left. Couldn’t find you.”
Steve’s heart ached. “No, Bucky, I’m here,” he murmured, pressing a cool cloth to his burning forehead. “You’re home. You’re safe.”
Bucky let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, but it was weak, barely more than a breath. “You never write, pal.”
He swallowed thickly, his mind flashing back—trenches, dirt, war-torn letters that sometimes never reached their destination.
Bucky wasn’t here. Not really. The fever had dragged him somewhere else, somewhere Steve couldn’t follow.
Steve reached for him, cupping his flushed face, thumb stroking the damp skin of his cheek. “Buck, listen to me. I’m not gone. You’re not gone. You’re home, with me.”
But Bucky barely reacted. His eyes were fluttering closed, sweat dampening his hairline. Then, suddenly—
“’S cold, Stevie,” Bucky shivered violently, curling in on himself.
Steve’s throat tightened. He knew it was the fever talking, but hearing Bucky, his Bucky, so small, so helpless, made something in him break.
“I know, sweetheart.” Steve worked quickly, tucking the blankets more securely around him, running the cool cloth down his overheated skin. “I got you, alright? I’m here.”
Bucky sighed softly, his breath shallow, his whole body trembling despite the heat pouring off him. He shifted weakly, like he was trying to move.
“Gotta go,” he mumbled suddenly, voice thick and distant.
Steve frowned. “Go where, Buck?”
Bucky’s breath hitched, restless and struggling against the blankets. His brows knit together like he was trying to work something out in his fevered mind. “Gotta—gotta get to you,” he slurred. “They—they said you—”
Steve pressed a firm hand to his chest before he could sit up. “Bucky, stop.” His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable waver to it. “You’re sick, doll. You need to stay put.”
But Bucky shook his head weakly, breath coming faster, more labored. “Can’t—” He was panting now, fingers weakly grasping at Steve’s sleeve, as if he was afraid he’d slip away if he let go.
Steve caught his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Bucky,” he said, softer this time, trying to pull him back to the present. “You’re safe. I promise.”
Bucky’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but exhaustion was winning.
“Stay with me?” he finally murmured.
Steve’s throat tightened. He pressed a lingering kiss to Bucky’s knuckles, voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”
Bucky sighed, the tension finally leaving his body as his eyes slipped shut.
Steve didn’t move for a long time, just listening to the shallow rise and fall of Bucky’s breathing. He kept his hand pressed firmly to Bucky’s chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat, the heat still radiating off him in waves.
He wasn’t out of the woods yet.
But Steve would be damned if he let go now.
