#pre-serum

 Finally Bucky stops acting like a goof and sets his bag down on the floor.  While he’s rummaging through it Steve spares a moment to wonder just how god-awful he looks – and smells - despite his brief foray to the sink this afternoon.  He knows it doesn’t seem to matter to Bucky, who has seen him in far worse shape, but it’s still hard not to feel like a dope in comparison to the strapping young man his best friend has become.

 While Steve hasn’t changed much over the years, puberty seeming to have only vaguely tipped its hat in his direction, Bucky is the kind of fellow all the girls fawn over, with his quick smile, dark hair and twinkling blue eyes.  While Bucky’s not thrilled with his job on the docks, he’s working hard in hopes of being able to enroll in college in another year or two.  And in the meantime, Bucky’s body is filling out, lean muscle everywhere.  Steve knows Bucky’s body almost as well as he knows his own, and he’s not complaining, but it’s tough on days like this when Steve’s own physical failings are so clearly on view.

 Bucky sits down on the edge of Steve’s bed and holds up a book.  “You sure?”  He mouths at Steve, pointing at the book and then to his own ears, eyebrows raised in question.

 Steve loves it when Bucky reads to him, but it’s not going to work today.  He nods, and Bucky shrugs, tossing the book down on the floor. Bucky leans down and grabs a napkin wrapped package in his hands, then gets up and leaves the room.

 Steve sags into his pillow and closes his eyes.  He’s glad Bucky is here, so very glad.  He’s not sure exactly when he saw him last, the fever doing odd things to his memory. Bucky often tries to time his visits to when his Ma’s going to be out – for privacy’s sake, when Steve’s healthy, and to keep an eye on him when he’s not.  It’s not as if whatever they have is a complete secret from his Ma, she’s not an idiot.  But it’s better that they don’t flaunt it, that they keep up the pretense as well as they can.

 Bucky comes back a little while later and turns on the lamp, softly illuminating the room.  Steve can see the steam rising from the mug in Bucky’s hand.  Tea, probably, although his sense of smell is pretty wrecked, too.

 He tries to sit up and struggles, his arms hardly able to brace himself, and then Bucky climbs into the bed with him.  Bucky’s strong arm slides around his back and tugs him up, arranging them until Steve’s back is against Bucky’s chest, Steve practically sitting on Bucky’s lap, Bucky leaning up against the headboard.

 With Bucky’s arms around him Steve wants to doze right back off, but now Bucky’s got the tea in his hand, and is holding it encouragingly close to Steve’s mouth.  Steve reaches for it, Bucky not letting go as they both hold the warm mug, Bucky steadying it as Steve takes small sips.

 The sweet tea soothes his painful throat, and Steve keeps at it until his arm starts to shake.  Bucky sets the mug down on the bedside table and waits for Steve to relax, then reaches for something else.

 It’s the napkin wrapped package Steve saw before.  Bucky unwraps it and Steve smiles when he sees what’s inside – slices of Bucky’s Ma’s poppy seed cake.  It’s Bucky’s favorite.  The first time Bucky reluctantly handed over the last piece of the poppy seed cake to Steve instead of gobbling it down himself, Steve had started to realize just how much this boy meant to him.  How much they meant to each other.  

 His eyes well up, remembering, as Bucky breaks off a tiny piece of the cake and holds it to his lips. Being sick makes him emotional.  Steve swallows hard, and Bucky pauses, shifting them so he can see Steve’s face.

 “You okay?”  Bucky mouths, concerned.  Steve nods and wipes at his eyes.  Bucky says something else, but he can’t tell what he’s saying, he’s not great at reading lips even when it’s Bucky, and it makes his throat close up tighter.

 Now Bucky’s got his arms around him, and Steve buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder.  He’s trying to keep from crying, as it will only make it harder to breathe.  Bucky rubs soothing circles on his back and pets his sweaty hair.

 Steve manages to avoid breaking out into a coughing fit, but it’s a near thing.  He can tell that Bucky is still talking to him - his face is up against the side of Steve’s head, and he can feel the air puffing against his neck.  He’s probably singing at this point, Steve thinks, like he always does when he’s at a loss for words.  Although he could be telling a story about his day at the docks, or berating Steve for not taking better care of himself… there’s no way to know, not when Steve is such a useless invalid.

 “I’m sorry I’m like this,” Steve stutters out, the words thumping dully inside his own head. Bucky freezes, and Steve sinks deeper into his self-pity spiral.  “You don’t have to do this, Buck.  You don’t have to stay with me.”

 He’s not sure if he means Bucky doesn’t have to stay with him right now, when he’s awful, or ever. It’s all blurred together for a moment, so many long days in bed, unable to go outside in the sun with Bucky where he belongs.  Unable to be what Bucky deserves, in so many ways.

 Bucky shifts them, still cradling Steve with one hand, while the other finds Steve’s cheek and turns it towards his face.  “Don’t be stupid,” Bucky mouths, eyebrows drawn.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  Bucky finds one of Steve’s hands and holds it tight in his own, long lashes against his cheeks as he looks down.

 For all his romance-novel good looks, Bucky’s not always great with words.  But he brings Steve’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, one by one.  He opens Steve’s hand, kissing his palm, gently, almost reverently.  Then Bucky lifts his eyes and gazes intensely at Steve.

 Steve practically melts at the look on Bucky’s face.  He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and then nods as he opens them, agreeing to what, he’s not quite sure.  Bucky doesn’t let Steve look away until he’s satisfied with what he sees, then lies back, gathering Steve up against his body, Steve’s face tucked against his neck. Bucky’s still got Steve’s hand in his own, and he presses it up against his heart, palm open, fingers spreading across Bucky’s chest.