Archive of Our Own ^beta

Responsible~

The quinjet ride home was too quiet. Not the easy quiet that came after a clean mission, when Steve would loosen his tac straps and start picking apart the details, running down what worked, what didn’t, what they’d do better next time.

This was different, Steve sat hunched in the jump seat, tac jacket shrugged half off his shoulders, sweat beading along his temple, his hair cloud damp to his forehead. It wasn’t the aftermath of a fight kind of sweat, it was wrong.. fever wrong

Bucky drummed his metal fingers against his knee, eyes narrowed, he could read Steve like a mission map, and this one had red flags all over it

“You plannin’ on talking?” Bucky said finally, breaking the hum of the engines “or ya’ just gonna melt into the seat”

Steve blinked at him, slow, tried a laugh that didn’t land “Long day”

“Long day doesn’t make you drip like a faucet” Bucky tilted his head toward the overhead vents “Airs cool, steady. You’re sittin under one, wanna try that again?”

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, jaw tight “Guess the adrenaline hasn’t worn off”

Bucky leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, his voice going flat “Adrenaline make your hands shake too? That new?”

Steves gaze flicked away, once, that look had been enough to shut Bucky up. Not anymore

When the quinjet touched down, Steve shoved himself to his feet too fast. His knees dipped, just enough that Bucky was already there, his hand gripping his elbow before he could fall

“Easy sweetheart” Bucky muttered, steadying him “aint a race”

“I’m fine.” Clipped, defensive, he tugged free, stomping down the ramp like nothing was wrong

Bucky watched the stubborn set of his shoulders, knew how thin the thread was. He followed anyway

The locker room was nearly empty when they came in off the ramp, just the faint echo of boots on concrete and the metallic slam of lockers as a couple agents stowed away their gear. Steve didn’t wait for anyone, didn’t even bother with the usual after action nods. He beelined for the far bench, his fingers tugging at the damp straps, movements sharp but shaky

Bucky hung back a step, watching, Steve peeled his tac jacket off like it weighed a hundred pounds, tossed it onto the bench, his undershirt clung to him, plastered to his back and chest, darker with sweat that hadn’t come from the fight. He braced both of his hands against the metal locker, head bowed, his breath coming too fast

Bucky closed the door behind them with a soft click, the quiet was heavy

“Stevie”

“Don’t start” Steve’s voice was rough, clipped, like he could cut the words short enough to end the conversation

“Not starting” Bucky said, stepping closer “Just noticing” His eyes tracked the sweat sliding down Steves temple, the tremor in his arms where they held him up “you’re burnin’ up. That aint normal sweat”

Steve’s head lifted, just enough to meet his gaze, his jaw was tight, pride wound up with his fatiguw “Can’t just sit out, not when theres work-”

“You’re not Captain America right now” Bucky’s hand closed firm around his arm, grounding “You’re Steve, my Steve, and you’re sick”

Steve shook his head “Don’t have time to be sick”

Bucky chuckled, low, humorless “Time don’t care doll, your body’s callin it whether you like it or not” he gentled his grip, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric of Steve’s sleeve “Let me”

For a moment Steve fought it, fought him, shoulders rigid, his pride too high, then his knees dipped, just enough to betray him. Sweat dripped from his brow and his weight slumped back against the locker

Bucky caught him before the collapse could turn into a fall, both arms steadying him

“Easy” Bucky murmured, close enough for Steve to feel the warmth of his breath on his neck “I’ve got you”

Steve’s eyes closed, too tired to argue, too wrung out to keep up the façade, his body leaned heavy into Bucky’s hold, his breath stuttering with the heat of his fever

That was all Bucky needed, the smallest surrender

Bucky half guided, half carried Steve down the hallway, the man was a furnace against his side, every step uneven, his weight dragging heavier the farther they went

“You gonna let me help now?” Bucky muttered, tightening his grip when Steve swayed

Steve huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh, came out thin “I’m walking”

“Uh-huh. More like leaning.”

By the time they reached Steve and Bucky’s room, Bucky had the door open and the lights dimmed before Steve could protest again, he steered him straight to the bathroom

“Sit”

Steve braced a hand on the sink, stubborn as ever “I can change myself”

Bucky crouched, tugging at the laces of his boots “Sure you can, but you’re two seconds from faceplanting, so how about you let me?”

Steve opened his mouth, shut it again, pride losing to the exhaustion, he let Bucky tug the boots off, one by one

“Good” Bucky murmured, standing again “Arms up”

“Buck-”

“Arms. Up.”

For once, Steve listened, the damp undershirt peeled away, sticking to his overheated skin. Bucky tossed it into the hamper, snagged a towel from the rack, and pressed it gently to Steve’s neck, his hairline, Steve shivered under the touch, not from the cold, but his fever

“You’re ridiculous” Steve muttered

“Yeah? Well, you’re delirious, we make a good pair”

That pulled the corners of Steve’s mouth, faint but real

Bucky got him into clean sweats, soft cotton that clung loose instead of damp combat gear, and steered him toward the couch. Steve resisted, insisting “Bed’s fine-”

“Nope, Couch. Easier to keep an eye on you, bed’s too far if you decide to do somethin’ stupid like.. I don’t know, stand up alone”

Steve gave him a look, weak but sharp “I’m not helpless.”

“Didn’t say you were. Said you’re sick” Bucky tugged a blanket over him, smoothing it down with a firm hand “Difference”

Steve sank back into the cushions, head tilting against the armrest, his hair stuck up in damp tufts where Bucky had towel dried it. His fever flushed his cheeks and for the first time since the quinjet, he actually looked his age, not a soldier, not a symbol, just Steve

Bucky pressed the back of his hand on his forehead, his frown growing to be deeper “You run a marathon without tellin’ me sweetheart?”

Steve’s lips twitched “Feels like it”

“Mm” Bucky brushed a kiss to his temple “Next time you tell me before you drop in a locker room”

Steves lashes fluttered, guilt slipping through the fever “Didn’t wanna worry you..”

“Thats my job” Bucky said softly, pulling him closer so Steves head fit against his shoulder “You worry me either way, difference is this way I can actually help”

Steve let out a sigh that trembled on the way out, tension easing from his body “You’re bossy”

“Responsible” Bucky corrected, tucking the blanket closer, he kissed his damp blonde hair, his voice low “And I’m in love with a punk who doesn’t know when to quit”

Steve made a soft sound, half laugh, half groan, and let himself lean heavier into Bucky’s chest

“Rest doll” Bucky murmured, thumb stroking at his temple “Don’t gotta be Cap tonight, just be Stevie, I’ll handle the rest”

Steve’s breath evened out against his neck

—--

Steve didn’t stay under for long, fever sleep was shallow and restless, he shifted against Bucky’s shoulder, muttering half formed words, legs twitching like he was back in the fight

Bucky smoothed a hand down his arm, grounding him “easy Stevie, you’re home, you’re safe”

That pulled him back, Steve blinked, his throat working around a dry cough, his voice rasped when he spoke “Shouldn’t… be down like this.. not me”

Bucky tilted his head, watching him “Why not you?”

Steve’s jaw flexed, guilt cutting through “I can’t afford it. People count on me” he swallowed, his eyes slipping closed “Feels like bein.. like bein that kid again. Sick and small and.. useless”

The words sat heavy between them, Bucky felt the old echo too, Brooklyn nights, Steve burning hot under threadbare blankets, lungs rattling while he tried to insist he was fine, Back then Bucky had been the one running for medicine, sneaking soup from his ma’s pot, holding his hand through the worst of it

And here they were again, different bodies, different wars, same fight

Bucky caught Steve’s chin gently, coaxing his gaze back “Listen to me. You’re not useless. You’re sick. Happens to everyone, even super-soldiers” His thumb brushed over Steves heated skin “Doesn’t take one thing away from who you are.”

Steve huffed weakly, his eyes glassy “Weakness gets people hurt”

“Bullshit.” Bucky’s voice cut firm and steady. “Weakness is stayin’ on your feet when you should sit down. Weakness is hidin’ it ‘til you drop, what you’re doin’ now? Lettin’ me help? That’s strength Stevie. That’s trust”

Something cracked in Steve’s expression, his pride giving way to bone deep weariness, he leaned into Bucky’s hand, his eyes closing again “…Don’t deserve you”
Bucky kissed his forehead, lingering against damp hair “Other way around punk. You saved me more times than I can count, let me return the favor”
Steve’s breath hitched, then steadied back out, his body finally loosening into Bucky’s hold, for the first time all night, the tension bled away
Bucky shifted just enough to reach to the side table, setting a cool cloth across Steve’s brow, he pulled the blanket higher, pressed another kiss to his temple

“Sleep” he whispered “I’ll be right here when you wake up”

Steve’s fingers curled weakly in his shirt, a silent tether, his breathing evened out, shallow but steady, his fever still high but his fight eased back out

Bucky stayed exactly where he was, arm wrapped around him, the weight of his old world and new balanced in the quiet, watching over Steve wasn’t duty, it was instinct

And as Steve slipped into real rest, Bucky let himself breathe too