fossilised | It's AU time

It was both a good and a bad thing that Steve was awake and cognisant now. Good, because it proved the doctors hadn't been lying when they said he would be okay. And bad, because now he didn't have to be so stressed about Steve, it was a hell of a lot harder to hold off his own panic about being here. His smile was small and tight as he shook his head.

"Not until the morning. They said you have pre-pneumonia, it'll probably develop over the next few days, but they're sending you away with a bunch of antibiotics and medicine so you'll be fine in a couple of weeks."

He fidgeted, the fingers of his right hand playing with the glove that covered up the plastic of his left hand.

"You should'a called me, you dumb idiot. I'm right upstairs, you think I wouldn't want to come and help out the dumbass who gets pneumonia a month before Christmas."

Mentally ticking a tally count of every single time he'd had pneumonia before, Steve had let his eyelids close only to catch the edge in Bucky's voice. He knew that the other man had done a very brave thing coming here with him but he also knew that he had to go home before he completely freaked himself out.

"Why don't you go home? Give me my phone and I'll call for an Uber," Steve said, more than willing to be generous. He couldn't believe that Bucky had come with him-- Hed need to think about that for awhile. It meant more to him than Nat because it was harder for Bucky to think outside of the apartment building.

At least the Uber would be private.

"If they let me come home tomorrow, I might need to take you up on that offer to call you. I'm probably going to be stuck in bed and Nat's in Norway." It took him some time to wheeze the words out.

Tense and stressed he might be, but Bucky shook his head immediately and without even having to think about it. Even if Steve hadn't quickly become the most important person in his life - and wasn't that a sad fact, when a new friend became that important - but he had been in the army such a long time that 'no man left behind' was practically imprinted on his brain.

"Shut up, Steve," he said, mock growling as he sunk lower in his seat. "If you suggest me leaving when you've got pneumonia again, I'm gonna have to punch you and then I'll be in trouble for punching a patient. I'll make sure you get home okay, and then I'll kip on your couch until you're doing better. I can do the housework and shit, no problem."

His deep blue eyes challenged Steve to argue with him. There was no pity there, no obligation, just concern. "You're my friend; and that means that I'm with you 'til the end of the line, pal. Got it?"

"So... To Grand Central?" he joked, poorly. Grand Central was a terminus for most of the trains in the city after all! He was still pleased at his joke, though the look he gave Bucky was a bit of blushing awe. He felt a little silly, so weak and in need of comfort, but he appreciated it just the same. Bucky had been thankful when he helped out and Steve told himself to at least reciprocate so that his friend didn't feel so bad.

He turned to keep Bucky in view. This could be just another room, minus the medical equipment and the frail young man laying in that bed with the guard rails.

"Thanks, Buck." He knew he needed to say more but it was difficult to find the words. There were a lot of things rolling around on his tongue and he couldn't get just one line of thought to stick enough to say anything of real worth. "For... For everything. I mean it. Thank you so much. I don't like being alone in here anyway and-- I really owe you now. You and Loren. I'm going to end up owing everyone by the end of this."

"I'm pretty sure I told you to shut up," he mumbled, not wanting all the gratitude. He'd come with a sick guy to hospital, that was surely something that any decent person should do, and he didn't need to be owed for it. Especially not when he already owed Steve a hell of a lot, even things he didn't know about like tattling to Mrs. Johnson about his potential rent issues.

He settled back in the slightly lumpy chair that was provided for visitors and tried to look as though he was fine and this whole situation was no big deal for him. He could freak out on his own time when Steve was asleep again.

"Get to sleep, I'll wake you when the bag is empty and you can go home."

The same Doctor came in from before about five hours later, but he looked more frazzled than the last time and didn't bother to shoo out Bucky despite visiting hours being over for the last two hours. He checked the sleeping man's vitals, told his attending nurse to burn his pager and groaned when he heard the call for Doctor Banner over the PA system.

He didn't say a word about what it might be about but he left Bucky with some of Steve's perscriptions and told him that he would have one of his colleagues comes in to discharge Steve in a few hours.

At least Bucky would have the bathroom to hide in if things got to be too much.

Just after nine in the morning, Steve was put in a wheel chair and sent on his way with more medication that someone his size should be on. The chatty young nurse that wheeled him out obviously was flirting with Bucky even if Bucky didn't seem to care much about it.

Even Steve seemed better. Still sick and wheezing but not deathly like he had the night before. He might let himself lean on Bucky on the way home in the back of the cab.

This had become a matter of endurance for Bucky. The long hours where Steve slept took him back to weeks spent in a hospital himself, of agony and bright lights and blood that seemed to permeate his every waking second. It made him retreat into himself for the defensive mechanisms he'd cultivated during his time as a POW, maintaining a calm facade only because he wasn't even really present any longer.

He got the medications, he got Steve into the back of a cab, and he got them up to Steve's apartment all without saying anything. Mouth clamped tightly shut, but otherwise seeming to be handling it okay.

He let Steve lean on him, he took it slow up the stairs, and then he eventually got Steve settled on his couch back in his little living area. Only then did he sink down himself next to Steve, just for a second, though, before he was on his feet again and into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water which he held out just as silently as before.

Steve was on his inhaler when Bucky started to his backs and forths, taking slow puffs as he watched the man prowl. He hadn't dealt with anyone with PTSD before, though his life drawing classmates sometimes told him about model drawing where war vets and amputees came in to share their stories and have their bodies displayed for the class. Steve didn't have any connection to that himself, so he stayed quiet for a long time before he lightly patted the seat beside him.

"If this is too forward," he said, ignore it. "But do you think I could borrow you as a space heater? I'll rent a movie from Amazon as payment. Awesome Friend's choice."

He was already looking like that monkey from the drawing, bundled up to his ears in soft blankets. It would be stupid for Bucky to decline the offer, but it would also give him a way out if he wanted. Especially when Steve mentioned going to get some rest himself, just take the key to let himself back in.

There. No strings attached.

Bucky remained where he was with the glass held out to Steve, his brow furrowed as if slowly and desperately trying to figure out where he was and what was going on. It took him a good thirty seconds before he finally lowered his arm and sank back down beside Steve to offer himself as the space heater he had been asked for.

"Where am I?"

Low and soft, ever so slightly broken.

This whole situation seemed very fractured right then, with Steve looking as if he were half in an apartment and half in a desert. He hated his mind, he hated that the beep of hospital machines still rang in his head even though they weren't even in the hospital any more.

"I want to help you."

Tell him that he can be useful and do that much.

Struggling to remove a hand from the blankets, Steve took the glass and sat it aside immediately. "You're with me," he said with concern in his voice. He couldn't help the guilt from slipping into his voice. He did this to Bucky. His sickness had forced the other man's loyalty and now he managed to hurt him. God. He felt so sickened by that. "We're in Brooklyn. And this is my apartment. You liked the watercolor. Remember?"

Steve kept his distance. He wasn't going to curl up with someone thst probably needed to flee. He leaned back against the arm rest instead, unsure of how guarded in all of this he was supposed to be. It hurt his head. It made the space behind his eyes pulse.

"You've been helping me out already, Buck. You got me water and we were maybe going to watch a movie. I just wanted the company but I understand if you don't. You must be really tired and hungry."

It was exactly what Bucky needed. Sometimes he couldn't locate himself, or pin down which of his fluctuating realities was actually the true one, so to have it spelled out was really helpful. It still took about five minutes for him to focus on the walls, on the artwork around them, and then on Steve himself.

He let out a shuddering breath.

"Yeah-- yeah, I'm here, I'm okay. Movie. Fine. Space heater, I can be that."

He wasn't quite fine, but he sure as shit didn't want to flee to his own apartment where his only company would be his memories, he'd rather be useful here and help out with Steve who seemed to anchor him into the present. He even managed a shaky sort of smile.

"You pick the movie, okay?"

Once Steve had eased into the space between Bucky’s arm and his chest, knees still up because it felt better to breathe when he was scrunched up, he pulled up a menu from one of the food apps he had on his phone and opted for Chinese. He was just going to order a bunch of things and hopefully Bucky could get to the door to get them when they came. He wasn’t too hungry himself but he could practically hear the older man’s belly rumbling beneath his t-shirt.

In his sweater from the hospital, Steve tilted his head against Bucky’s shoulder and flicked through the offerings for rent on the screen before he settled on and finally selected Zootopia. Did he select a children’s movie for a reason? Absolutely. There was nothing in the animation that should be too frightening for Bucky and it had a good and wholesome message.

Also, Steve really loved Judy Hopps. She overcame her own physical limitations to be what she wanted to be. And that was a message he could get behind.

“You let me pick,” he murmured as he let his muscles go. “So this is all your fault if you don’t love it.”

Steve was a good friend to have, and he made a lot of the right decisions. Bucky nearly snatched the food from the delivery guy when he went down there out of a desire to be back up in the apartment, but other than that things went well. The cartoon movie was an excellent choice, and by the end of it Bucky would be a lot more relaxed by Steve's side.

"That was really cute, but if you ever tell anyone I said that, then I'll have to kill you."

He stretched and reached out to grab another egg roll, tossing it in his mouth in a much more casual way than the tense and efficient manner he'd eaten when the food first arrived and was unpacked.

"So-- if I'm gonna be a nurse for the next few days, you're gonna have to fill me in on how. I've never had pneumonia, or looked after anyone that does. Can I use my go-to flu nursing? Bed, pillows, bad TV, and lots of soup?"

“Minus the constant death threats, yeah,” Steve said, though he didn’t blame Bucky for that. That was just how male friends tended to react towards one another, with the constant jokes about violence. Steve had never had that before. He wasn’t a rough and tumble sort of kid, no matter how many times he tried to be. It didn’t always work out so well when scraped knees were the least of his worries. “But otherwise, you’re about right.”

Having Bucky around would be great, especially because he knew it was going to be worse before it got better. With fluid in his lungs, he needed to be extremely careful and hope that the medication didn’t affect anything in his inhaler.

He was trying not to make it seem like a burden, though. He didn’t want Bucky to be scared off. Having to take care of someone was a daunting task and Bucky had better things to do.

Probably. Then again, at least if he was here, Steve could make sure that he got himself some real food and not whatever was floating around upstairs. He was probably living off of ramen and ketchup packets.

“I only have one request. No daytime talk shows. I don’t care about anyone’s parentage. We’re going to be watching a lot of Disney.”

[This is totally the terrible sweater.]

"No can do, pal, Maury is my show."

Bucky put his feet up on the little coffee table, making sure that he kicked his shoes off first because he wasn't a total asshole, and wound his arm tighter around Steve to offer him that warmth that he needed. If his only job was being a space heater, then he would settle into it well.

"I watched a lot of it after-- in the hospital, before my discharge, the TV set in my room was pretty much Maury and Oprah, I got kind of addicted. America's Next Top Model too, I have to know how it goes."

He was only half kidding.

"So-- seriously, how can I help? I'm here for the long run, lay it on me."

((It is so perfect!))

Steve turned to try to get a good look up at Bucky but that seemed impossible. His neck was long and graceful but there was only so much it could do. Steve settled on looking at their reflection in the darkened TV screen, curtains drawn and remains of Chinese strewn about the table. His head slumped a little forward, cradled by the comfort of an arm.

"I guess you'll have to play go-for," Steve teased. "I'll wheeze and boss you around for a few days until you get sick of me. And I'll fall asleep on you right when you have to pee so you can't get up. It's your funeral. That's the price I enact for Next Top Model."

Steve handed the remote to Bucky, knowing he'd had to use the hand that was currently against his chest.

Pity. He liked that reassurance when he breathed.

Maybe it was a dumb thing to feel proud over, but Bucky couldn't help but feel a small glow of pride that he was actually going to do something to help someone else. For so long his world had been painted in blood and violence, and then it had been an endless cycle of self hatred over his inability to function like a normal person any longer, but this? This was good. He could do this.

He snorted and took the remote, deliberately flicking through the channels until he found the most vapid and stupid reality TV show possible. Only then did he slip his arm back around Steve, somehow the gesture not feeling awkward.

"You like the sweater, then? I had Nat pick it out, we met a couple of days back. She was really interested in if I was single, do you know anything about that?"

"I hate the sweater so much that it's now my favorite," Steve said, just the top of it peeking out before he shushed Bucky until the commercial break started. Honestly. How was he supposed to follow along if Bucky wouldn't let him pay attention?

He'd already dozed a little during Zootopia and had taken a little more medicine. His head wasn't exactly on straight though. He felt cotton mouthed and wheezy. His head ached. But Bucky felt good against him. Warm. Comforting and comfortable.

So he answered him when the Charmin commercial started, yawning and having to repeat himself. "She wants to set you up. Probably with Thor's friends. You'll need to tell her you'd rather date men or she'll start you off with the girls from her troupe first."

Somehow Bucky doubted that Nat actually wanted to set him up. Although they hadn't talked about it in so many words, within a few seconds of meeting she had already seemed to understand that he was pretty broken and not ready for going out on dates and that sort of thing. She had just come right out and said that her grandfather had fought in World War II and ended up with PTSD, she could still remember him and the effect that had on his entire family. He hadn't known what to say to that, so he'd just sort of pushed money at her and asked her to go and buy Steve a sweater.

That's when she'd asked if he was single. He had a feeling there was only one person she intended to try and set him up with.

"Wow, a load of hot ballerinas, sign me up. Now c'mon, I think you need to go to bed. You need any help getting there?"

"I've got it," Steve said, but only because he wasn't sure if he could get away with being carried. His personal belief was that he shouldn't be doing anything that made himself look weak because he wasn't weak, but it might have been nice to be carried just the same.

He did need help out if the blanket burrito he'd wrapped himself up in however, fighting it off as if it was some sort of evil living thing.

Sweater and all would end up heading to the bedroom with a stop off at the bathroom, preparing the moment he was in bed to once again Cleopatra himself in the quilt. He sounded terrible, still wheezing, and he asked for another glass of water he was probably not going to drink much of.

The stripes on the sweater peeked out of the blanket after Steve was comfortable, hair more of a mess looking than he had been before, and smiled softly at the worried man taking care of him.

"Couldn't do this without you, Buck. Thanks so much."

Bucky didn't insult Steve's pride by insisting on helping him, or by lifting him up, but he did stay pretty close behind him just in case he fell or swayed too much in getting ready for bed. At least he seemed fairly able to handle it, and was soon wrapped up in his blankets ready for sleep.

"Don't mention it, pal. Get some shut eye, I'll be out there so call if you need anything."

He slipped back out to the lounge and began to tidy up more carefully than he ever did in his own apartment, wanting to make sure that Steve had a good place to rest and recuperate. He meant what he said, he intended to stay on the couch for however long it took for Steve to get better, even if that was the full month up until Christmas and beyond.

He'd be there with soup, cold cloths, comforting words, or just company. Whatever was needed. He would be here when Steve needed him.

A few days of sickness turned to a few days of recovery and though Steve was feeling a lot better by the end of the week, he almost wanted to kill his illness just for a little while longer. It wasn't his fault that he enjoyed being taken care of, was it? He'd been on his own for a few years now and had taken care of his mother for a few years longer than that, which made it really hard to trust anyone that wanted to come into his life to look after him. Or it should have. Bucky was on another level. Perhaps because he understood what it was like to have a disability and a need to take care of yourself. Perhaps because it was easier to let go to someone that could commiserate, even if not in the same way.

"Do you feel like going for a walk?" Steve asked, wearing his already thrice washed sweater and a pair of boxers like it was normally to just hang around with your friend in your underwear. "That coffee you really liked when you were drunk comes from a shop two blocks up the road." Maybe he could get Bucky to be more comfortable being out if they took it slow and he was still a little sick and needed caring for?

Eight days he had now slept on Steve's couch, only disappearing upstairs to his own apartment once to fetch a bag full of clothes, and he hadn't had a nightmare once. It was a goddamn record, he had never gone so long without waking up in a cold sweat or, as on one or two completely humiliating occasions, with sheets the needed changing. But somehow being here had helped, and though his dreams hadn't always been pleasant, they had never woken him or caused him to cry out.

He liked taking care of Steve, he liked being around the other man a hell of a lot, and he was almost dreading Steve being better again. Such a selfish and mean thing to think, he should be happy that the pneumonia should be gone for Christmas. Steve would probably spend it with Nat, right? Dumb to think they might do something together.

Bucky had been reading a book when Steve asked the question, giving it proper thought before responding.

"You sure that your lungs are up for the cold air yet? Weather forecast said it's gonna freeze tonight."

"It's two blocks. And the eagle will protect me," Steve said, eyes brighter than the day before and armed with his inhaler. He was going stir crazy. Nat had been over the day before with photos of her vacation and Steve have been so completely moved by the fjords and the mountains that he had already been making plans in his head to travel there before they even got to the pictures of the Northern Lights. It all seemed so beautifully romantic and though Steve didn't consider himself to be, anyone that knew him would have said otherwise.

He was an artist. He saw the world in charcoals and water colors. And what more could the aurora be likened to if not that?

"I'll put an extra pair of socks on if that will make you happy. And bribe you with a pastry if you promise to sneak me out passed Nat's door so she won't insist I march back inside and get to bed. I have to start work Monday anyway." Steve thought he was making very good points right now. He was also putting on his boots. It had snowed a few days back but nothing had really stuck. Even so, this was meant to be a placating maneuver.

Not that he was asking for permission. He was going no matter what.

Bucky had stayed mostly out of the way when Nat had come around, they had shared a brief hello and friendly smile, but then Bucky had retreated to Steve's bedroom muttering about changing the sheets to leave them alone. He had caught snatches of conversation, though, and he knew it hadn't all been about Norway. There had been mentions of Steve and his love life too.

He frowned, still unsure, but he didn't want to stop Steve. He didn't want to trap him when he should be walking around and strengthening himself, not because Bucky was too much of a coward to go far beyond his front door.

"Yeah-- yeah, okay. But we're only going for coffee, and you have to wear a coat over the sweater and a scarf. And pants. No going out in your boxers, you'll cause a riot."

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running out to an appointment and then the theatre so won't be back til later <3

I'll be here during work and the train home but probably not tonight unless Jen goes to her mom's

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