whumpybucky

[whumpybucky]

Okay, it’s WIP amnesty day around here this weekend, and I’ve been working on this fic for about a year, and…it’s time to let it go, I think. I hope somebody else out there is in the mood for some tropey fake married Sam/Steve with a super sick Steve R/ogers? Set between W/inter Soldier and Age of Ul/tron…

M/C/U, C/aptain A/merica | Sam W/ilson // Steve R/ogers | 8.5k, sickfic, fake married, pining, mostly plotless fluff and cuddling… 

“New mission?” Sam asks as soon as Steve drops his phone into Sam’s lap.

“New mission. Should be easy, but…” He hesitates, and nods at the phone. “There’s a catch.”

“Huh. Your murder boyfriend gonna show up?” Sam flicks open the message from Nat, then looks up when Steve tsks at him. “Okay, I know, he’s not your murder–”

“–not my murder boyfriend,” Steve says at the time as Sam. “And, no, I don’t think so.”

They’ve had about three encounters with Barnes in the past six months, all near misses, and Sam’s starting to think the guy’s going to be found when he wants to be found, not when Steve wants to find him. Now, to bring Steve around to that way of thinking…

That’s a conversation for another day. After two weeks hanging around the Avengers Tower and wandering the city with Steve, they finally have something to focus on. Sam scrolls through Nat’s message, a bubble of laughter threatening to rise up from his throat.

“Suburban, professional, gay, married,” Sam reads the words off Steve’s phone, emphasizing each one, good and clear. “Wait. That’s the catch?”

“That’s the catch.”

Keep reading

[whumpybucky]

Happy new year, friend! I hope you’re doing okay! I just saw your prompt list and I want all of it for Steve haha. But if I had to choose, I would request 💙🤍🩵 for Steve, any ship, any AU because everything you write for him is my fave, no matter the context. Thank you, as always, for sharing your gifts with us 🥰 (From whumpbucky 🌲)

oh 🥺 that combination of prompt is so soft and sweet, ty so much for sending them along... i hope you enjoy some 2012 stevetony vibes, friend 💙

~ ~ ~

“You really need to be in bed.” Tony slips his arm around Steve’s waist as soon as he slumps against the elevator wall. “I don’t even want to know how you’ve kept yourself awake all morning.” 

“Yeah, you probably don’t…” Steve’s voice dwindles down to a low, hoarse whisper after only a few words and the grimace on his face only reinforces how badly his throat must hurt. “I’ll probably crash soon.” 

“Pretty sure you’ve already done the post-mission crash thing, along with the whole getting sick thing. Did med check–” Tony starts to say, then pauses when Steve turns to cough into the crook of his elbow. He has to tighten his arm around Steve’s waist, just to keep him close, and Tony’s sure his own chest aches in sympathy. 

The cough sounds awful. Chest-deep and rough, and even though he doesn’t cough himself breathless, it still sounds like it hurts. When Steve raises his head from his arm and looks back at Tony, his eyes are glassy and there's a flush over his nose and cheeks. 

“Bed,” Tony says again. “Then you can tell me what med told you.” 

Steve groans. “Tony, I just have the flu. They told me to rest and take Tylenol and drink a lot of fluids.” 

“Yeah, okay, that’s… that’s it? You–” You’re special, Tony completes in his mind, and drags Steve off the elevator in the Tower and into the penthouse. Special, and vulnerable in ways that nobody–not med and not SHIELD and no scientist–could ever know. “You just sound really sick.” 

Steve’s gaze flickers to Tony, then down at his hands. He’s shivering now, in addition to sniffling and coughing, and he looks like he wants to huddle down into his jacket. At least he’s out of his uniform, that’s some small blessing after coming back late last night and getting pushed into meetings before and after his trip to med this morning. 

“It’s just the flu,” he says again, but his voice drops low and soft, almost small, and he gives Tony another uncertain sort of look. 

Tony’s about to tell Steve that people die from the flu, but he knows that Steve knows that, and he knows that Steve can remember a time when that happened, and Tony’s chest goes weird and achy all over again. 

“You could come home with the sniffles and I’d try to push you into bed. Indulge me,” Tony says. “Let me bring you juice and blankets and Kleenex, take your temperature and rub Vicks into your chest. The whole nine yards. Ninety yards, even.” 

That gets him a tired smile from Steve, and Tony’s heart gives a little flip as the ache there lessens. 

“Okay, for you.” 

“For me.” 

Steve looks like he blushes a little, but Tony’s pretty sure that’s just the fever flush over his pale face. At least he doesn’t protest when Tony gets him out of his button-up and chinos, and into sweats and a tee shirt. He frowns at the bed, but doesn’t argue about going to rest on the sofa, which is a lot more compliance than Tony expected. It probably helps that Steve’s coughing again, and rubbing his nose against the side of his wrist. He pushes the heel of his hand into his left eye, too, and his eyelashes are a damp, dark gold when he lowers it. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Steve says when Tony drops down onto the sofa next to him and reaches for the thermometer. 

“What was it in med?” Tony picks up the thermometer anyway and resets it to take Steve’s temperature. “Super high, or…?” 

“102°? Something like that… H-hold on…” Steve rubs at his nose again, then reaches for the tissues from the coffee table and tugs a couple from the box. Pushing his nose into the tissues doesn’t have whatever effect he hopes for, and he still ends up muffling a strong, stuffy sneeze into them that leaves him sniffling over and over again. 

“Steven… bless you. Blow your nose, sweetheart,” Tony says. As much as he hates seeing Steve miserable, the bashful little expression on his face and the way he curls in closer is endearing. 

Before he finishes blowing his nose, he sneezes again, twice in a row this time and though they’re still strong and congested sounding, there’s also an edge of exhaustion to them. Tony’s already draped one blanket over him, and Steve pulls another up to his chest with such a sigh of tired resignation that Tony has to lean in closer to him. 

He kisses Steve’s cheek, and noses against the blond hair that falls over his forehead to press a kiss there, too. Steve shivers against the touch, then sniffles a little, too, even when Tony stops him from moving away. 

“You feel really warm,” he murmurs against Steve’s skin and holds his lips against his forehead for another lingering kiss. This close, he can hear how congested Steve’s breathing is, a sure sign he’ll go through that box of tissues before the end of the day. 

“A much more accurate reading…” Steve’s tired, hoarse voice goes really low that time, and he just rests his forehead against Tony’s. “I feel really bad,” he admits, in that small, quiet voice. It sounds like it costs him everything to say it, and he shivers afterwards. 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Sleep will help. We’ll do juice and Tyelonol, and you can get some sleep out here.” 

Steve nods. “I can do apple juice. I’ll try to sleep,” he adds, and rubs at his face. Here, at home, he looks and sounds more sick than he did in the conference room, and only half of that is Steve letting himself rest and be sick. The other half really is just how incredibly run down and flu-ish he is. 

God, he has such a hard time being sick and having to go to med on his own probably makes it ten times worse. He won’t fall asleep immediately, not with how he’s been running on adrenaline for the past few days, but even that supersoldier serum won’t be able to keep up with how exhausted he is. 

[whumpybucky]

Hi!!! I’d love to request some steve softknk!!! Maybe he has a cold and bucky is absolutely enameled with his baby?

ohhh, i haven't written this for steve and bucky in ages, anon, so i hope you enjoy this little snippet... 💙

~ ~ ~

Bucky’s half working, half watching the flurries outside when Steve pads out of their bedroom, rubbing his eyes and sniffling. He’d been in there while Bucky had a meeting, trying to take a nap, but only an hour later he’s already out of bed. 

“I’m surprised you lasted that long,” Bucky says. He motions for Steve to come join him on the sofa, then pulls Steve right into his lap. 

“... think I dozed off for a while,” Steve replies. He rubs at his face again, then pushes it into Bucky’s shoulder to scrub at his eyes and nose in that ridiculous, affectionate way he has when they’re alone. “I just get restless. snff-snff! Being home sick. snff!” 

“Baby, you’ve been home sick for one day. Not even a whole day,” Bucky adds. Steve’s still bed warm in his lap, nestling in close and tucking his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck. All messy blond hair and constant sniffles from not wanting to blow his nose when he was probably drawing in bed. 

He’s tired and stuffy, too, for all his protests that he’s bored at home with this cold. He spent most of the morning coughing and sneezing, too watery-eyed and sensitive to even consider going into the art museum today. Even now, he’s so pink around his eyes and nose, all the way up to that sweet little bump on the bridge of his nose. 

Bucky shifts on the sofa to get Steve closer to him; when Steve sniffles again, then tenses, Bucky tightens the arm he has around him. For all that he wishes Steve would let himself rest a little more, Bucky loves this. He loves how Stevie wants to curl up with him, how he wants to stay close, and how he lets go of being self-conscious about being sick. 

“Uhh… huh–tschoo! Tsch’oo!” Steve sneezes twice in a row, soft and off to the side, and rubs his nose against the sleeve of his grey sweatshirt from the Met. 

“Bless you, Stevie… again?” Bucky asks, though he doesn't really need to. Steve’s been like this since yesterday evening, and Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t love this, too. 

Steve shakes his head, then turns it into his sleeve just as the next two sneezes come over him. He muffles them firmly into his shirt, blond hair falling over his forehead, and only raises his face for about two seconds before his eyes narrow shut once more. 

“h’Uhh… CHushh! uhh… Chshoo! Oh… snffSNF! snff… Excuse mbe… snff! I thing’k– ndoh,” Steve adds, uncertain and congested, when he doesn’t sneeze again despite the way his nose quivers. He gives his head another brief shake, then pushes his nose against his knuckles hard enough to flush it a deeper pink. 

That’s enough to get Bucky to nuzzle a few quiet kisses against Steve’s jawline and wait for him to melt right into the touch. He murmurs a quiet bless you against Steve’s neck, and smiles against him, too, when Steve shivers a little. 

“Maybe I can convince you to get back in bed, yeah? If I go with you?” Bucky kisses Steve again along his jawline. All he wants now is Steve as close to him as possible, especially while he tries to fight and eventually give into all those cold symptoms. 

“I’mb snffSNF! I’m not sick enough…”  Steve’s protest dwindles away when Bucky slips two fingers underneath his sweatshirt and strokes his tummy, then finds the waist of his boxers. “Oh. Okay… okay, yeah, Buck, we can do that.” 

He blushes a little, really sweet and a little shy, like he always does when Bucky gives him this kind of attention when he’s sick. He doesn’t slip off Bucky’s lap immediately, though, and instead leans in to brush one kiss, then another against Bucky’s mouth between sniffles. 

[whumpybucky]

could I request anything smol Stevie? This is always a hard time of year for me :( 🫶

oh, of course, friend 💙 it really is a rough time of year, but i hope you enjoy some holiday sickfic .... 🥺

~ ~ ~

Steve makes it through Thanksgiving, through the museum’s holiday events, and even makes it through Bucky’s work holiday party before his body decides to give up. He can feel it coming a couple days before he actually gets sick. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day he spends feeling tired, achy, and cold, enough so that he dozes off at his mom’s house one night, and at Bucky’s parents’ house the next. 

Today he woke up with his sinuses a complete mess, coughing and sneezing, and pretty sure he’ll end up with a sinus infection or bronchitis if he’s not careful. He can already feel that ominous feeling in his head and chest that tells him he’s in for an awful cold, at the least. At least he’s on winter break from the art school, and at least they’re home now. He can be gross and sniffly, and use his inhaler as much as he needs to, and spend the rest of the week in his boyfriend’s oversized clothes. 

Which–yeah, he hates doing any of that at anyone else’s house. Even if his mom’s seen it all, she’ll fuss, and it’s different from the way Bucky fusses. 

“Embarrassing,” Steve mutters to himself. He hates being sick in front of other people, though he knows neither side of his family cares if he needs to rest or whatever. 

“You talking to yourself in there?” Bucky peers around the edge of the bathroom door and holds out a mug to Steve. “I made you ginger-honey tea, babydoll. Can I come sit with you?” 

Steve nods. Not that sitting in a steam-filled bathroom is actually comfortable, but he’s dragged a couple blankets in here, and he’d much, much rather be in here with Bucky than by himself. He makes room for Bucky on the floor, then tugs an edge of his blanket up over his boyfriend’s lap. 

“Didn’t feel like getting in the shower again?” Bucky kisses the top of Steve’s head, and then just pulls him in close when Steve coughs and rubs at his face. 

“Ugh, ndoh… snffSNF! snff! Mby skin already… snff! hates winter,” he finishes, nose runny and and stuffy and itchy all at once. 

Instead of handing him his tea, Bucky pulls a few tissues from the box by Steve’s blanket pile. He hands them to Steve, then strokes his hair back from his forehead between noseblowing rounds. 

“I’ll shower with you next time you want to, okay? Love doing that,” Bucky murmurs, smiling, and then touching his nose to Steve’s when Steve looks up at him. He’s got his long hair pulled up into a bun, and he’s just in jeans and an old tee shirt. Barefoot, relaxed, perfect. “D’you want to pick out dinner while we’re in here?” 

Steve nestles himself in closer even though he’s still snuffly. When Bucky pulls out his phone, Steve rests his head against Bucky’s arm, pushing his nose into the tissues, and watching him scroll through delivery menus. Between the steam and the constant sniffles, he has to reach for tissues a couple more times, and the second time, he just buries his face in them. 

“uhhh! uhhISH’oo! ISH! eiiishh’oo! Oh…” Sneezing three times in a row almost takes Steve’s breath away, but it’s the throb in his sinuses that really gives him pause. His eyes water and his nose quivers, already feeling tired and swollen. Trying to head off another sneeze doesn’t work, so he just ends up curling into Bucky. “uhhhISHiioo! h’isshh! h’IShh!” 

“Aww, Stevie… bless you. Bless you,” Bucky says again, and he’s back to stroking Steve’s hair. They’ve been together so long, basically forever, that Bucky’s done this countless times. When the fit winds down, he blesses Steve again, and only then goes back to his phone. 

“Thanks, sorry… snffSNF! Umb… d’you want pizza? You said you were thinking about that before,” Steve says. He nods when Bucky finds one of their favorite places on the delivery app. 

“Fancy vegan pizza?” Bucky offers. He shows Steve his phone, then finds the veggie supreme one they both enjoy. “Christmas pizza, even…” 

Steve laughs, but laughing makes him cough, and coughing has Bucky’s hand on his chest, right at the center, warm and heavy and secure. He doesn’t say anything, but he kisses Steve’s temple, and nuzzles against him when Steve’s breath comes in a soft wheeze. 

“Let’s get pizza,” Bucky says. “And I’ll do soup for us tomorrow. Sick person soup.” 

“That actually sounds really good, both of those things.” Steve leans over to grab himself more tissues, blows his nose again, and finally picks up his mug of tea. The hot water will probably run out soon, and they’ll trade the bathroom floor for the sofa. And even this stuffy and miserable, Steve’s so glad for the small comforts of their little home: the blanket nest on the sofa, the Christmas lights, the warm food they’ll have together. 

[whumpybucky]

Sicktember Prompt #10: "The only place we're going is to the pharmacy..." 🍂

MCU | Steve/Bucky | grad student au; established relationship 💙

For @fluffyllamas-23, who requested tired, overworked, sick grad student Steve Rogers. I hope you enjoy, friend!

~ ~ ~

“You look terrible,” Bucky says and drops down next to Steve on the sofa at the back of the lounge. The room, like the entrance to the dorm and the bulletin board by Steve’s apartment, is already decorated for Halloween. “How did you stay awake for two movies?” 

Steve groans and gives Bucky a look that would have been a glare if he had the energy to muster one. He barely looks like he has the energy to keep his eyes open, and there are dark smudgy circles beneath them that tell Bucky he probably didn’t sleep through the dorm’s Halloween movie night tonight. He probably hasn’t slept much at all this week, between having two projects due, being on call a few nights, and a fire alarm last night. 

And he’s getting sick. Even if Steve thinks it’s just a stuffy nose and scratchy throat, Bucky can tell it’s more than that. Or that it’s going to be more than that in a couple days. 

“I’m okay,” Steve says. He pushes the feel of one hand against his left eye and squeezes both shut, as if doing so would help him scrounge up any strength or motivation to protest further. “I think I dozed off during Hocus Pocus. snffSNF! Had to leave a couple times to blow my nose, too.” 

“Yeah? You also sound terrible.” Bucky’s about to give Steve a talking to for pushing himself too much, not just here at the dorm where he’s the Resident Coordinator, but in his MFA program, too. He’s been running himself ragged for the first month of the fall semester trying to get the first-year students settled in and keep them out of trouble. 

But Steve just looks at him again with his tired blue eyes and fever-flushed face, blond hair rumpled and the sleeves of his oversized navy sweatshirt pulled down over his hands, and all Bucky can do is melt. The summertime freckles are still visible over the bridge of his nose, flushed just as pink as his nose, and Bucky can’t stop himself from leaning in to press a kiss to them. Steve gives a tiny, stuffy sniffle in reply, then turns to press his face into Bucky’s neck. 

“My sinuses feel so bad,” he says. Even that one small admission has a note of resignation to it, though, and Steve sighs against Bucky until doing so makes him cough. He doesn’t move too far away, just enough to hold his sleeve in front of his face. 

“Yeah? You still have that headache?” Bucky rubs Steve’s back through the coughing fit, his own chest aching a little when he can hear how Stevie’s is starting to get congested already. “How long have you been coughing like that?” 

Steve shrugs. He has to reach down to the floor for his water bottle, and after a few sips he hands it over to Bucky to hold on to for him. He always gets sick like this in the fall, when the weather changes and he stresses himself out to the point where he’s not taking care of himself. He cares so much for everyone else, for the kids in his dorm, for the other grad students in his MFA program, for Bucky…

“I don’t know… I’ve just felt kind of bad all week, but not bad enough to do anything about it.” Steve pushes his face back into Bucky’s shoulder, stays close for a couple minutes, then pulls away again when Bucky starts to nudge him off the sofa. 

“Typical Steven Grant Rogers. Come on, let’s at least go back to your apartment here.” Bucky grabs Steve’s water and travel mug, then slips his keps from Steve’s hoodie pocket so they can get into Steve’s dorm apartment. 

“We can still go to the library. Or just the coffee shop to study?” Another couple coughs, then Steve slumps against Bucky after the short walk from the tv lounge to his place. 

“That’s definitely not happening tonight, baby. The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy to get you cold and flu meds, and you’re only coming if we stop on the way to my place.” 

Steve groans again, but he lets Bucky tuck him against his side, and he doesn’t try to escape even when he starts sniffling over and over again. He already has that nasally sound to his voice that means his sinuses are a wreck, too. From the warmth radiating off his body, Bucky can guess he’s already running a fever, too. 

Before they get inside, one of the students snags Steve, asking about mid-terms and hourly exams. All Steve does is apologize for sounding sick, then answers all the questions without letting himself cough or sniffle. He does have to push his nose into the cuff of his sleeve a couple times, and Bucky can’t help but rest a hand at the small of Steve’s back as he does so. 

“You do too much,” he says once they close the door to Steve’s apartment behind themselves. 

“Maybe?” Steve says, but he’s rubbing at his nose again, sniffling with that tired, stuffy sound he always gets when he’s sick, and then turning his face into the crook of his elbow. “Heh-ehhh! etCHSSHoo!” 

“Bless you!” Bucky rubs Steve’s back again through his sweatshirt, smiling a little when Steve’s to sniffly and distracted to thank him. 

“hehh…. Ehhh… heh-TSCHoosh! Tschiiew!” The second sneeze bursts out right on the heels of the first and leaves tears standing in Steve’s eyes. He sniffles quietly and rubs his nose against one finger, then heads for the box of tissues by his desk. “Sorry… snffsnffsnff! Stuffy sinuses,” he says, like he actually needs to explain to Bucky. 

“Yeah, I can hear… bless you, babydoll,” Bucky murmurs. As soon as he can, he slips his arms around Steve and kisses the back of his neck, and then again when it makes Steve sigh into his arms. “Can you come rest with me while I read for a while?” 

Steve smiles at him, soft and sweet and shy, just over his shoulder, then gives a little nod. Another kiss coaxes him closer, and Bucky knows a few more kisses, along with some hot tea and warm affection, will get him further than telling Steve what to do. 

[whumpybucky]

Sicktember Prompt #8: Persistent fever 🍂

MCU | Steve/Bucky | shrinkyclinks; bagel au

(I'm pretty sure this was also for a prompt from @whumpybucky for pre-serum Steve with a sinus/ear infection, but I accidentally deleted the ask... ty, friend 💙)

~ ~ ~

Bucky sits down on the edge of the sofa and touches the back of his hand to Steve’s face. His right hand, not because it can feel the fever any better, but because he’s fond of the way Steve nuzzles into his touch, then sighs. 

Just as he does this time, though the sigh sounds ragged and hoarse, and Steve coughs almost immediately after. Not the rough, congested coughs of a chest cold, though, thank god, but those tired, sore throat coughs he gets with a sinus infection 

“I have tea and apple juice for you, baby,” Bucky says. “Which one do you feel like drinking first?” 

Steve groans a little. “M’tired,” he says and, yeah, Bucky can hear how exhausted he is from running a fever for the past couple days. 

“I know… having something to drink will help, though. Can I get you water instead?” When Steve shakes his head and rubs at his face, Bucky’s chest goes a little tight at how rough of a time Steve’s having. 

Aside from being exhausted, he’s achy all over and congested, and that headache that he’s had since the start of this sinus infection hasn’t let up yet. He’s had a hard time sleeping, too, napping more on the sofa during the day than sleeping at night, and even now, in the middle of the afternoon, he looks like he could use a couple more hours rest. 

“Juice? I’m okay,” he adds as Bucky helps him sit up on the sofa, but he leans into the arm Bucky puts around him nevertheless. Even just changing positions on the sofa and rearranging his blankets seems to tire him out, though, and Steve presses his warm forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. “Can you check again?” 

“You definitely still have a temperature,” Bucky says, then: “Yeah, of course, Stevie. And you can take more Tylenol after your other meds and some food.” 

Steve nods and shifts, then wraps his hands around the glass of apple juice mixed with cold water. It’s the easiest way to get Steve to drink water when he’s this sick, half-juice, half-water, and just cold enough that he’ll drink it slowly. 

Bucky’s chest gives another little squeeze when Steve nestles right into his side, curling against him and sniffling quietly, then making a small, pleased sound as Bucky hugs him closer. Bucky knows Steve’s not, and he’d never tell Steve that he is, but sometimes when he’s wrung out from being sick, he feels so fragile next to Bucky. His blond hair rumpled and his nose red and his blue eyes shadowed from the lack of sleep. 

“You’ll feel better soon,” Bucky murmurs into Steve’s hair and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“God, I hope so… I feel so stuffy and woozy and the headache…” Steve winces, unable to hide from Bucky how miserable he is, and turns his face back into Bucky’s shoulder. He stays close for a few minutes, only moving to let Bucky kiss his forehead and stroke his hair. “You always feel good, though.” 

That achy little squeeze in Bucky’s chest dissolves and leaves behind a tender warmth, something he knows he only feels for Stevie. It’s not just the need to protect him, to keep him close and warm, but the reassurances that Steve only wants Bucky to hold him and protect him, that Steve always, always does the same for him, too. 

That’s fucking sappy, he thinks, and kisses Steve’s forehead. 

It doesn't hurt that Steve’s so sweet on him, and that he’s cute, even like this. He nuzzles against Bucky, apologizing when he has to sniffle again, and then pulling away to push his nose into his own shoulder. 

He exchanges his juice glass for the handful of tissues Bucky offers to him and gives a weary sigh before burying his face in the tissues. Blowing his nose makes him cough and curl into himself, and for how congested he is, it doesn’t seem to help much. He even has to press his fingertips over his forehead, then his cheekbones, to help the pressure there afterwards. 

“Come on, babydoll, let me help…” Bucky winds his arm around Steve’s shoulder to tug him back in close. Once he’s sure Steve’s settled in nice and warm, with his favorite blanket pulled up to his chest, he hands Steve back his juice. 

He takes a few sips and rests his head against Bucky’s shoulder with another little sigh. 

“I can’t tell if I feel hot or cold anymore,” he says. He gives a little shiver, though, narrow shoulders trembling beneath the borrowed flannel he has on over his tee shirt. 

“Yeah, that’s definitely your fever. Tea?” Bucky asks when Steve shivers again. 

“No… I’ll finish this. Then tea,” Steve says. 

“Both drinks? I’m lucking out this time.” Bucky smooths Steve’s hair back from his forehead, over and over again. 

He does have to stop to let Steve blow his nose a couple more times, especially after he finishes the juice and moves on to his warm tea. It probably means the mega-decongestants the doctor gave him are working, but he’s just so snuffly and so tired from everything, that Bucky can’t help but want to pull Steve right into his lap. 

Bucky won’t have to wait, though. Eventually, Steve will want Bucky to check his temperature again, before he takes any more medicine for it, and then he’ll curl himself up right Bucky’s lap, fever warm and weary. Maybe he’ll fall asleep for a while, or doze off while Bucky strokes his hair, or just close his eyes and rest listlessly while Bucky reads. 

Any of those are fine. He’s not working, he’s not pushing himself, and if Bucky can keep Steve this close to him until he really is feeling better, then Bucky knows that some need inside himself will be met, too. 

“Let’s put on a movie, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs. “You pick… I just want … just this,” Steve says. 

“Yeah, me, too.” Bucky kisses his forehead once more and settles into the warmth of Steve’s body curled into his. 

[whumpybucky]

Sicktember Prompt #3: "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" 🍂

MCU | Bucky/Tony | canon/comics

For another little prompt from @whumpybucky ❤️

~ ~ ~

Bucky waits until he’s settled on the sofa, drink on the side table, cat curled up by his feet, before he lets Tony look at his arm. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want Tony to look at that, fuck, that’s just about all he wants. He’s feeling sore and stubborn tonight, though, and Bucky knows once Tony leans in close and makes that quiet hmmm sound he makes when he’s concentrating, he’ll melt. 

“About when were you planning on telling me how bad you were doing?” Tony asks once Bucky’s settled in next to him. “I mean, I’ve been home for like ten minutes and I can tell, but…” 

Bucky shrugs. He’s only been back in Indiana about twelve hours himself, and only back on the grid post-mission a few hours longer than that. 

“Didn’t feel bad when I got home.” And he didn’t, just tired and run down, and it wasn’t until he woke up a little while ago that the congestion and fever made themselves. “And I’m… I’m all right. Not that bad, anyway.” 

“Mhmm… you sound awful,” Tony says. His voice is already low and thoughtful, with that faint touch of worry at the back that has him leaning in to press a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. “You sound like you’ve been gone a million years.” 

That has Bucky smiling and turning to press his face into Tony’s wind-rumpled hair. He wants to slip his arm around Tony now, right now, but Tony’s already fiddling with something, poking at wires and one of the mechanisms in there. Even while Bucky coughs and sniffles, pushing his nose against the back of his wrist, and frowning every time either coughing or sniffling makes his throat ache. 

Bucky keeps sniffling as Tony works, enough that he also has to keep crushing his nose against his knuckles. He thinks he’s getting a headache, or maybe a fever, or who knows what’s making the congestion in his head ache. 

“uhh… uhRRSHh’uuh!” The sneeze comes over Bucky rough and sudden, jerking his body away from Tony, and leaving his throat sore and eyes damp. 

“What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?” Tony’s voice still sounds fond and sympathetic, though, and he waits for Bucky to finish this round of coughs and sniffles before slipping shut the access panel on his arm. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know… don’t even know where I picked this up.” He hasn’t been sick in so long that he half-forgot what it felt like, what part of the achiness is from fever and what’s from exhaustion. “Are you finished?”

Tony gives his arm another poke, then leans in to kiss Bucky’s shoulder again. 

“I’ll fiddle with it later. I can do boyfriend things now. Taking care of a sick person things now,” he adds, then pats his lap for Alpine to come curl up with them on the sofa. 

“M’not really sick,” Bucky says. He leans into the arm Tony wraps around his chest, though. 

“Okay… taking care of a not-really-sick boyfriend things. I can do all that,” he adds, and Bucky can’t help but settle into that reassurance, too. 

[whumpybucky]

Sicktember Prompt 1: Hopelessly bad at self care 🍂

MCU | Steve/Bucky | Modern academic AU (JB/Grant)

(for @whumpybucky who requested this prompt for sick Grant. thank you, friend 🧡)

~ ~ ~

JB stops at the cafe in the campus museum to grab coffee for himself and ginger-mint tea for Grant, almost a hundred percent certain that Grant will be late meeting up with him. He had two meetings this morning, and he was supposed to do a tours of the recent acquisitions with an intro to Fine Art class afterwards. 

JB’s also almost a hundred percent sure he’ll be handing at least one tour off to Sharon if he can. After watching his boyfriend stuff extra tissues, cough drops, and painkillers into his bag alongside his inhaler and allergy meds this morning, JB’s pretty sure Grant feels like a mess by now. He sounded a little stuffy and hoarse this morning, but he always gets some kind of gross combination head-and-chest cold thing halfway through the fall semester. Once he feels awful enough to stay home for a couple days, he’ll rest. But leading up to it, he’ll just work himself to that point of exhaustion. 

“Hey, there you are,” Grant says and walks up behind JB. He rests a hand on JB’s back, then his head against JB’s shoulder briefly. 

JB doesn’t need to even see Grant to know he’s feeling worse. His voice certainly sounds worse, strained like he’s been coughing and clearing his sore throat frequently, and even the way he turns to press a kiss to JB’s shoulder is weary. 

“Hey, sweetheart… did you give the tour this morning?” JB hands Grant his tea, then slips his arm right around Grant’s waist to pull him in close. 

Grant gives an uncertain frown. He has his glasses on instead of his contacts, and his blond hair is a little mussed. He still has the sweater he pulled on over his button-up this morning, though the afternoon is warm enough to merit taking it off.

“Sort of?” He frowns again, then turns aside to cough a few times. There’s a small, soft, wheezy catch at the back of his breath, and Grant doesn't turn back until he catches it. “I had one of the interns walk through it with me. They did most of the talking,” he admits. "I think I might be able to get through the shorter one this afternoon."

“Let’s go up to your office.” Another quick, warm hug, and JB can’t help but want to tuck Grant in even closer to him. 

Another uncertain look from Grant. He looks past JB to the museum desk, then nods. 

“I haven’t even been there all morning.” Even one sip of his hot tea has Grant sniffling, more and more as they walk to his office, and the more he sniffles and rubs at his nose, the more tired and sensitive he looks. 

He blinks when JB slips the tea cup back out of his hands as soon as they get into his office. He sniffles, too, the sound getting that stuffy, weary edge to it, too, and it takes JB nudging the box of tissues towards him for Grant to realize badly he needs them. 

Blowing his nose over and over a few times leaves Grant pink-nosed and teary-eyed. He drops down into the seat at his desk with a sigh and eagerly reaches for his tea. The cough drops are on the desk next to his tissues, untouched, and JB feels a twinge of worry when Grant practically closes his eyes and sinks into his cup of tea. 

“Drink your tea, baby, and I’ll get you another cup before I go teach my afternoon class. Do you need anything else?” Jb asks. 

Grant shakes his head. “I don’t think so? This morning felt long,” he says, then reaches across his desk to slip his fingers between JB’s. “Thanks for tea.” 

“I need to check on you and make sure you remember to take care of yourself. Yeah, I know, you’re just getting a cold, but…” JB lets his voice trail off. They both know he’ll feel worse tomorrow, and that he’ll make more of a fuss then. 

For now, tea, and JB can also check to make sure Grant takes some medicine or a hit from his inhaler if he needs it. That’s reassurance enough until he gets his boyfriend home and curled up on the sofa tonight. 

[whumpybucky]

"you're going to get sick if you keep coddling me." "and you're just going to get worse if i don't..."

I think this would be cute for shrinkyclinks. Bucky trying to keep Steve from catching whatever he has and Steve basically being a magnet that refuses to be too far from him 🥺

Awww, this really is a perfect shrinkyclinks prompt 🥺 I hope you enjoy this 💙

~ ~ ~

"...you're going to get sick if you keep coddling me,” Bucky murmurs when he feels the edge of the mattress dip.

It’s Steve. He knows it’s Steve from the weight of his body, from the press of his foot against Bucky’s leg, from the quiet sound of his breathing. He’d know Steve anywhere, and the knowledge is a comfort despite how tired and sick he feels right now. 

“You don’t know that. You don’t,” Steve adds when Bucky gives a skeptical cough. He nudges his foot against Bucky again, then moves in closer when Bucky opens his eyes. “Besides, you're just going to get worse if I don't…”

Bucky wants to tell Steve off for getting so close when he’s this sick, all fever and congestion and the frequent coughs and sneezes that tell him he’s still in the midst of whatever he picked up. But it really does only take one look at Steve, at his worried blue eyes and at the frown pinched between his eyebrows, at the way his glasses slip down his nose and his collarbones peak through the vee in his shirt as he leans closer, for Bucky to dismiss the thought. 

All he wants is Stevie. He’ll take the tea and medicine and everything else Steve offers him if it means he gets Steve to himself, too. 

Before he can voice that thought, though, Bucky feels his sinuses twinge as soon as he props himself up on his metal arm. He rubs his nose against his shoulder, then against the back of his other hand, sniffling over and over again. 

“I got you, it’s okay, Buck…” Steve puts the mug of tea he’s holding down on his bedside table, then pulls the box of tissues from there to the bed, and tugs a few out for Bucky. 

Bucky reaches for the tissues just as his eyes start to tear up. Before he can grab them, he shakes his head and pushes his nose against the back of his hand. Before his breath catches, he can feel the steady warmth of Steve’s hand against his metal arm. The same kind of warmth that flickers inside his chest when he holds Steve, he thinks, just before he pushes his nose more tightly against his hand. 

“H’uhh… hNXttsh! uhh’GXttshsh! Ugh… snffSNF!” It doesn’t matter if he tries to keep the sneezes back or if he lets them out fully. The heavy ache of congestion in his head gets worse, and so does that scraped raw feeling in his throat. 

“Here… bless you,” Steve says and pushes the tissues into Bucky’s hand, then takes up stroking his hair as he snuffles into them. His fingers are warm and careful as he does, and he tucks a few strands of hair behind Bucky’s ear before leaning in to press a kiss there. “I have soup for you, but with lots of noodles and chicken and veggies, so it’s an actual meal.” 

“When did you cook? snff! snff… Don’t– Stevie, baby, no–” Bucky tries to pull away when Steve pulls him in even closer, then drops his head against Steve’s chest when he fails. “You’re gonna get sick…” 

“I don’t know. I already had a cold this season. Anyway, it’s fine.” Steve’s fingers stroke through Bucky’s hair again, and again, until Bucky sighs against his chest. “I cooked while you were sleeping. Soup’s easy–I just put everything in a pot to simmer, then log in to do work.” 

“You should– h’Uhh–huh–! hTCHUSH’ooh!” When Bucky’s breath catches, Steve stops stroking his hair. His arm slips around Bucky’s shoulders just as he tries to lean away, and stays there when he sneezes. “huh… hrr’USshoo!” 

“Bless you… bless you, that’s better,” Steve says and for all that he’s slimmer and smaller than Bucky, his arm stays strong and tight around Bucky’s shoulders through all the coughing and sniffling. 

He coos over Bucky a little, just quietly, and keeps on handing him tissues when he has to sniffle through his cup of tea. He’d probably crawl right into Bucky’s lap if Bucky let him, and, really, if he tried, Bucky’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to resist Steve at this point. So, when Steve offers to bring him soup in bed and to eat dinner with him there, Bucky doesn’t try to resist that attention, either. 

[whumpybucky]

And there’s a part two!!!

So… do you ever just want all the tropey sickfic ever and it’s the only thing that sounds nice when life is being super stressful? 

Yeah. 

~4k of Stucky soulmate fic, where Bucky is kind of sick and sore and he and Steve find each other when they both need it the most… 

Keep reading

[whumpybucky]

So… do you ever just want all the tropey sickfic ever and it’s the only thing that sounds nice when life is being super stressful? 

Yeah. 

~4k of Stucky soulmate fic, where Bucky is kind of sick and sore and he and Steve find each other when they both need it the most… 

Keep reading

[whumpybucky]

Quiet Bucky Who Doesn’t Live With Steve bc he’s still a little feral and WS-y sickfic

Steve didn’t like bad guys messing with New Yorkers, but he did like being able to protect his city. And for the last few months, there had been another reason to enjoy hometown missions.

“Tell our mystery pal thanks for the assist,” Sam said dryly as he finished his sweep to confirm everything was contained, which it was, in part thanks to perfectly aimed shots winging the two jerks at separate control stations directing the big insectlike robots. Clint hadn’t been available for last-minute sniper support, but Steve had said “I might know someone,” and everyone had sort of nodded in vague acceptance and ignored his possibly over-eager tone. The Winter Soldier was still officially at large, whereabouts unknown. Unofficially the search had petered out.

“Thanks for the help,” he murmured into his earpiece— set to an encrypted channel. “Specially on short notice like this.”

After a short pause the reply came, soft, “…You had ‘em on the ropes.” Steve barked a surprised laugh, unable to stop himself from scanning nearby rooftops though he knew he’d see nothing. “Was in the neighborhood anyhow.”

“Feel like sticking around?” Steve tried for casual. “Got nothing going on after this myself. It’s soup weather.” It was freezing, and drizzling in a way that looked light from indoors but soaked you if you were out in it for more than a few minutes. He bit back the words where do you stay, is it warm and dry enough there, just come home with me, but he thought them loudly.

A longer pause this time, but then, “It is, huh. Yeah. Yeah, alright Rogers,” and Steve couldn’t help the grin stretching across his face. Wherever Bucky was hidden, he was clearly in his sights, because he heard a husky chuckle. “Sap,” came the parting shot. “See you there.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, mock-serious, and won the sound of another laugh starting before the commlink cut out. He was allowed to be a little happy, he thought as he hopped on his bike and headed to his Brooklyn apartment. He hadn’t seen Bucky in over two weeks. Trauma and justified paranoia and unfairly dubious legal status combined to mean that Bucky couldn’t yet handle anyone knowing where he slept. For a long time Steve’s only contact with him consisted of mysterious sniper shots obliterating enemies about to get the drop on Steve and Sam as they hunted Hydra remnants down, but over the summer by tacit agreement they had both settled —for a given value of the word— back in New York. And now they talked on the phone, and sometimes Bucky provided don’t-ask-don’t-tell overwatch on missions, and sometimes he came by Steve’s place for meals and company. Steve worried about him constantly, and missed his steady physical presence as he had since before the ice, but Bucky was getting by the best way he had, and he would respect that, no matter what.

If Bucky hadn’t picked up his call or agreed to come over he probably would have spent the night staring at the cold rain out the window, but that was nobody’s business but his own. He opened the door to his apartment, nudged the thermostat, and began pulling out the ingredients for simple chicken soup, feeling warm inside and out.

Before long there was a soft breath of chilly air, the sound of a window closing, and a quiet throat-clear. He turned and there Bucky was, in the corner of the living room, looking a little tense and sheepish as water dripped from his coat. The sight of him in his apartment gave Steve the immediate sense of all being right in his world. “Hey, pal.”

Bucky gave a small smile in reply. “Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat again, “drippin on your nice floor.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” said Steve, hearing his accent come out stronger as it always did around his oldest friend. “I got plenty of towels. I’ll get you some.”

He came back with and armload of fluffy towels as Bucky shrugged out of his coat. “Warm in here,” he murmured, with a little shiver as his body adjusted to the cozy temperature Steve had set.

“Sometimes I’m still surprised at how I can just make my place any temperature I want,” Steve chuckled, “I sure coulda used that back in the day.” Bucky just nodded, a hint of wonder in his face as he took the towel Steve offered. “I pulled some clothes out for you, you may as well let your things dry out while you’re here.” Wet clothes had been one of Bucky’s favorite fussing subjects back in the day, he couldn’t begrudge Steve this.

He did go to change after only a moment’s hesitation. Steve went back to the kitchen area but just hovered there. He wasn’t eavesdropping, he just had super hearing. There was another throat-clear, a sniff, and a husky cough as Bucky changed behind the closed door. He came out a moment later, rubbing his nose absently, wearing the crew neck sweater and thick soft black pants Steve had left out, and quirked an eyebrow. Steve blushed as he realized he’d been staring at the door waiting for it to open.

“I missed you, sue me,” he muttered as he moved toward him. He looked so soft, and still cold. Steve telegraphed before going in for a hug, but Bucky just moved into it with a little sigh, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder and rubbing a little. He seemed tired. Steve wrapped his arms around him with his own sigh. He was so glad he was here.

Suddenly the shoulders he embraced tensed up with a quiet but sharp inhale, and before either of them could react, a silent “mmp!” of a stifled sneeze was pressed into Steve’s shoulder. Bucky pulled back but only had time to blink once in surprise before his nose visibly twitched. “Dish!” This sneeze, tiny and only a little less held-back, went more or less into Steve’s left pec.

They stared for a second, arms still loosely wrapped around each other. Bucky sniffled, rubbed his nose, muttering “Jesus, sorry” at the same time Steve said “bless you” with a little nonplussed smile. Steve’s cheeks felt warm and Bucky was blushing. His nose was also a faint pink, and he looked pale, with a particular tiredness around his eyes. Steve tucked his damp hair behind his ear to see more clearly, and Bucky shifted under his scrutiny, clearing his throat again with a rasp.

“You sound like— are you sick?”

Bucky started to roll his eyes at Steve, but he had to sniffle, and then his breath caught and his expression changed from exasperation to mild surprise as he stepped back and lifted his bent arm to muffle a soft strong sneeze. “EHh-tschuhh!”

“Aw, Buck,” Steve tutted, sounding like his mother.

“snfff, It’s nothing,” Bucky tried for a casual brush-off, but after a moment under what Sam called his Piercing Earnest Puppy-Dog Gaze he deflated, rubbing his nose on his wrist like it still tickled. “It’s been cold and wet for a week,” he groused in explanation, “sff, guess it got to me.”

“And you were out on that rooftop for hours,” Steve clucked, moving to the kitchen instead of wrapping Bucky up again and not letting go, “siddown. Lucky for you I was already making chicken soup.”

Bucky sat at the counter to watch Steve finish throwing ingredients into the pot. “Ooh, the one meal Steve Rogers can cook? Lucky me is right.”

“I can make breakfast!” Steve replied indignantly. Bucky scoffed, which turned into a little cough and sniffle. “Fine, well, I can make oatmeal. And meatloaf!” He said in triumph.

“Sez y-you…heh,” Steve glanced over to see him blinking up at the kitchen light and scrunching his nose ticklishly, but the sneeze abandoned him at the last minute and he buried his nose in his sleeve to rub itchily with a little growl. It was all fairly adorable.

They kept up the banter as Steve set everything simmering and cleaned up. Bucky kept having to sniffle and rub his nose, which was turning completely pink, and he had to pause with hitching breaths a few times. Steve remembered the war and all the years before— you could always tell when Bucky had a cold and not just a tickle in his nose because he’d spend the first few hours being mercilessly teased by sneezes that refused to manifest and left him blinking pinkly and sniffling like mad.

Eventually Steve took pity on him and rooted around a drawer until he found his small stash of clean folded handkerchiefs. Bucky glanced at what he was being offered with plaintive eyes, trying to get the sneeze to finally come, head tilted up and his metal hand pressing gently on the bridge of his poor nose, taking big, hitching inhales, building up torturously, “ehhHehh…hehhhh…hehh—HEH—……HEHdjtcschOOoo!”

He’d been unable to focus on anything but the sneeze, so it just got aimed at his wrist and ended up sort of everywhere. He snatched the handkerchief in the second he had before another tickly spraying sneeze overcame him, and caught this one in the soft cloth. “HIHHDtsschuhh! Ohhh, mby god.” He groaned dramatically and blew his nose with relief. Once he’d gotten cleaned up he slumped down to the counter.

“Alright fidne, I’mb sick,” he sighed. Steve felt sorry for him, but he was caught up in warm nostalgia as well. Bucky never held out long with the tough-guy act before getting a bit pitiful. His mom and sisters had loved to fuss over him the rare times he was poorly, and after token resistance Bucky had lapped it up. When he and Steve lived together the dynamic was always Bucky mother-henning him, but Steve had reveled in the few times their roles had reversed. Bucky acting pitiful and Steve coddling him in his sharp bossy way had been one of the ways they flirted when neither really understood what they felt.

Bucky sniffled and Steve could hear the building congestion. He continued grumbling, “ya happy ndow?”

“Well, not that you got a cold, but yeah, Buck, I’m real happy you’re here. No point in a swanky heated apartment if I can’t put you up once in a while.”

“Hmmb.”

“Now cmon, blow your nose again and eat some soup. It’s not Ma’s but it’s as close as I can get it.”

Bucky picked up the crumpled hankie, grimaced, chuckled, then quietly gasped into a smaller sneeze, “hhh-hhh-hHMptshh, ugh, this ain’t gonna last much longer.” He blew his nose thoroughly and it left him alone while they ate their soup, side by side at the counter, elbows and knees nudging.

[whumpybucky]

Hi friend, hope you’re well. I’m just having soft thoughts about smol Steve being *so* fed up with his allergies, everything is getting to him, and Bucky is *so* attentive and soft with him.

Oh, I loooooove this. 🥺 I've been in such a mood for Steve + allergies, so here's another little snippet inspired by this ask. I hope you enjoy, anon, bc these thoughts make me feel so soft him, too.

~ ~ ~

Steve’s half awake when he feels the mattress dip as Bucky sits down on the edge of their bed. Most mornings he’s awake before or with Bucky, but he had such a hard time falling asleep last night, woke up coughing at least twice, and spent about an hour watching the late movie between those coughing spasms. Bucky slept through most of it, thank god, but Steve feels tired and groggy even though he knows Bucky let him sleep through his alarm. 

“Hey…” Bucky leans down to press a kiss to Steve’s shoulder and nuzzles against him warmly. “D’you want tea or coffee?” 

“Mhmm…” What he wants is for Bucky to come curl back up in bed with him, but the more he comes awake, the more Steve realizes he does need to start his day. He has to be at the art school for a meeting by ten o’clock, then he should get some studio time. 

“That wasn’t an answer.” Another kiss, then Bucky pulls away to stroke his fingers through Steve’s hair. He’s always sweet, but he’s being extra sweet this morning and Steve can’t help but be grateful. 

Steve gives himself a couple more seconds. He closes his eyes and basks in the way Bucky strokes his hair, petting the nap of his neck when he starts coughing and sniffling, then just rubbing Steve’s back when he groans. 

“Coffee,” Steve mutters,now aware that his allergies are already acting up even though he’s just barely awake. His head’s congested and his throat itches and his sinuses just feel bad. Not too achy at the moment, but… bad. 

“You sound like you need tea.” Bucky’s hand slips from Steve’s back as Steve sits up, then rests there again when Steve leans into him. He’s already half-dressed for work, his hair pulled into a ponytail, his blue–plaid button up still open over a tee shirt from the art school. 

Steve turns to press his face into Bucky’s neck and shakes his head. It’s not that Bucky’s wrong per se, but despite the stuffy head and scratchy throat, he really does need coffee to get through his morning. 

“Coffee, please?” Steve says. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s neck, then turns aside to scrub his nose up against the side of his arm when another round of sniffles hits him. “Ngh… snfSNF! What I promise… snffsnff! snff…”

“Yeah? Promise to do what?” Bucky brushes his thumb against the nape of Steve’s neck when he tries to move away. 

“P-prom… hEH! heh-hehh… snffSNF!” Steve struggles to get the one word out between the way his breath is hitching and his nose is running. Rubbing at his nose doesn't even help and he can just tell he’s going to sneeze about a dozen times.  

“Promise not to survive on allergy medicine and caffeine?” Bucky laughs, but his hand is steady between Steve’s shoulder blades and he actually leans in closer himself. 

Steve shakes his head. “N-no… I …. snffSNF! h’ehh! Tih-tissues?”

“I got you, baby…” 

“uhh… uhNGxtt!” Steve ducks aside and stifles back the first sneeze against his arm, sniffles carefully, and curls into himself for the next couple sneezes. “h’uhh… hmptCHshh! mmptSH’uh! Oh… snff-snff-snff! hehh…. ehh…. ettCHsh-iew!” 

“Here… here, I got you,” Bucky repeats. He still has one hand at the small of Steve’s back, warm and secure, and with the other he holds a handful of tissues over Steve’s nose and mouth. “Bless you…?” 

Steve nods just as Bucky holds the tissues a little closer. He doesn’t even get a chance to go shy on Bucky, though there’s no reason to after all these years. His nose twitches once after a damp sniffle and Steve’s eyes flicker shut. 

“huh… huhSCHOoo! uh–utt–tCHiiisss’oo! h-huh… huh– sniff! snff… snff!” Steve’s breath catches on a sharp inhale and still he can’t stop sniffling. His nose is too runny and itchy for him to do anything else and he actually sighs in relief when Bucky rubs the tissues against his nose. 

“Grass pollen must be really high today,” Bucky says, then adds another bless you when he nudges the tissues back against Steve’s nose. 

“huhhIISH’ooo! Oh. snff! SNF! snff…” Having Bucky still fuss at him even when he’s just sniffling does make Steve go a little shy, but he can’t help but be grateful again when Bucky hands him more tissues and strokes his hair back off his forehead. 

Being able to blow his nose helps enough that Steve doesn’t feel like his head or sinuses are completely full, so that’s something, he supposes. He snags another tissue from Bucky when he’s finished and wipes his eyes, then his nose. Another couple seconds of evaluation tells him he’s still stuffed up, though, and his ears and throat have that itch somewhere deep between them that’s going to annoy him all day. 

A huff of a sigh makes him cough and Steve drops his head onto Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I feel like I’m allergic to everything.” 

“I know, babydoll…” 

Steve turns to push his face into Bucky’s shoulder, careful not to sniffle against his shirt. The respite only lasts a minute or so, what with how he really does need to blow his nose again after a while, and there’s some more coughing and sniffling, too. 

“I’ll bring you breakfast–” 

“It’s okay… snffSNF! I want to get d-dressed–hehh–” Steve holds the crumpled tissue up to his nose, waits for the sneezes to come, then shakes his head when they don’t. Not sneezing leaves him feeling stuffier and itchier, and staying in bed won’t help. “I want to get dressed and go over notes for that meeting. snff! I’ll take tea to work,” he adds when Bucky frowns at his stuffy, scratchy voice. 

“Okay, I know you’re saying that to shut me up.” Bucky looks pleased, though, and he slides an arm around Steve’s waist as they get off the bed. 

Eggs and toast and coffee await in the kitchen, and once he has his morning allergy meds and some food, Steve knows he’ll feel a little better. He has Bucky to himself, too, until his partner leaves for work, and that’ll help him get through the rest of the day. 

[whumpybucky]

oh 😪🤕is just so so soft from grant and jb!! i miss them if you're feeling it

Oh, I miss them, too, friend 🥺 I hope you enjoy this ficlet and tysm for the prompt 💙

~ ~ ~

Grant drops down onto the sofa as soon as he gets home, watches JB grade exams for all of five minutes, then devolves into about a half dozen sneezes that sound like they itch at his nose and throat. By the time he finishes, his nose is running and pink, he has to scrub at one eye over and over again, and when he lowers his hand, the expression on his face is more than normal allergy fatigue. 

“You look like you had a day. Here–” JB offers Grant his water bottle and rests his hand between Grant’s shoulder blades as he drinks. “I’m guessing the summer exhibits are still not ready?” 

“Maybe for next summer.” Grant takes another sip of water. His voice sounds a little scratchy, like he’s been coughing as well as sneezing. When JB rubs his back again, he tenses up, then lets his breath out on a long, low sigh. 

JB rubs Grant’s back again, then slips closer to rest his hands on Grant’s shoulders. “Did you at least get a chance to revise the exhibition program?” 

Grant nods, then half-shrugs and leans into the way JB’s rubbing his shoulders. He still has his hearing aids in, though JB wants to tell him to take them out, to take his contacts out, too, and just let JB take care of him now that he’s home from his long day on campus. His hay fever’s acting up and he’s worked himself into a tension headache thanks to some time crunch of events at the university’s art museum. 

“Sort of?” Grant reaches for his water bottle, then draws his hand back to cover a cough with his loose fist. Or, well, more of a throat clear than a cough, and it sounds like his throat’s more scratchy than sore. “I’ll proofread it again tomorrow morning, then send it to print. Thank goodness it’s for l-l…later… heh, heh… hetCHssh!” 

“Bless you.” JB’s hands tighten on Grant’s shoulders. Allergy season’s been bad enough for Grant that he’s sure that’s not the only sneeze. 

“httCHshh’ahh! Oh… snff!” Fist held to his face, Grant keeps the sneeze in check as best he can, then gives a little groan after. He’s rubbing his nose up against his knuckles and sniffling at the same time, which means he just sends endlessly ticklish from all the pollen in the air. “etCHISShoo!” 

“God bless you. Didn’t even see that one coming,” Warmth and fondness work their way through JB’s chest and he leans in to kiss the nape of Grant’s neck. 

Grant nods in reply and sighs into the touch. “That felt good. You always make me feel better.” 

“I definitely try.” Another small kiss, then JB goes back to rubbing Grant’s neck and shoulders. Trying to get him to relax in the middle of not only the work week but also a big work project is often futile, but the back rub is helping. “Drink some more water.” 

“Okay, now that’s just fussing. snff! I’m hydrating,” Grant adds when JB nudges him forward towards the water bottle. “Let me blow my nose first…” 

“I guess you’re allowed to do that.” 

Grant coughs, but reaches for the box of tissues even before JB’s hands slip from his shoulders. JB strokes Grant’s back through his blue-button up before leaning in closer again and resting his cheek against the back of Grant’s shoulder. 

They’ve only been living together for a few months, but JB knows now that this is all he really wants out of life. Being able to come home from work and find his boyfriend already home, or coming home and making dinner so Grant has something warm to eat when he finishes teaching. Being able to feel Grant sigh and lean into him, too, and glance at JB over his shoulder with a quiet smile despite the tired strain around his eyes and the pink allergy season flush over his nose. 

“If I take out my hearing aids and contacts, you can put on a movie that I hate.” He sniffles into his tissues, then wipes his nose back and forth a couple times. 

“Just so you can fall asleep in my lap, huh?” Not that JB minds, really. He likes grading papers to robots and explosions, and having Grant napping next to him makes just about any work more pleasant. 

“I don’t think I’m going to get much more done today.” This time when he sniffles, Grant sounds tired and congested. At least he’s not wheezing today, though if he’s this tired, JB can guess he needed a hit from his inhaler. “And if I sleep a little, then I can make dinner with you tonight.” 

“All right, sweetheart,” JB murmurs a kiss against Grant’s temple. Water and rest will help that headache, even if they won’t get rid of the runny nose and sneezes. 

[whumpybucky]

Well, if I’m allowed to indulge, what about a shrinkyclinks combo of thunderstorms + afternoon naps + sneezes + smol spoon Steve? (From whumpybucky 🌲)

Pls, this is so soft and cute to me. 🩵🩵 I love when they cuddle... I hope you enjoy this, friend. 🥺

~ ~ ~

“Were you at the museum all morning?” Bucky asks, shifting on the bed to make room for Steve. “Or did they pull you for art school meetings?” 

“Both? Well. snffSNF! I went in early this morning snff to go th-through… etCHssh! Sorry–snff–to go through grant letters, then… then…” Steve’s voice goes quiet and breathy as his eyebrows pull together in a frown of consternation; he shakes his head, then turns away from Bucky to sneeze a good few times in a row. “hetCHshhew! eiishoo! heh.. hehh… heeISH–ishh! ehhIShiioo! Oh.. snff!” 

“Bless you. Then you must’ve been outside at some point,” Bucky guesses. He already has the box of tissues on the bed for Steve, now all he needs is his boyfriend to come curl in next to him. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. His nose is already flushed pink and when he pulls off his glasses, he just rubs the bridge over and over. Not that it seems to help, since he ends up looking even more itchy when he lowers his hand. “Lunch meeting this afternoon. snff! So much grass pollen outside,” he adds in a softer voice and the little frown pinches between his eyebrows again. 

“And you got rained on.” Bucky pats the empty side of the bed and gives Steve an encouraging look after he tugs off his tee shirt. He’s still a little damp around the edges from that afternoon storm and he really does look like his allergies are going to start acting up again. 

Something inside Bucky’s heart always melts when he sees Steve like this. Standing in the middle of his bedroom, rumpled hair and bare feet and pink nose, all quietly soft and vulnerable, in about a dozen ways that nobody else ever gets to see. How Bucky ended up being the one to see Steve at all his softest moments is sometimes beyond him. 

“Just come get in bed,” Bucky says. “You don’t need clothes or anything to take a nap with me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know… snffSnff! I just need–” Steve knuckles at the bump on the bridge of his nose, pushing harder when he has to sniffle again. He gives a few little coughs, too, before ducking his face down into the crook of his elbow. “ehhh-EISHoooh! Oh… snff! Ndeeded that,” he says under his breath. 

When Steve finally does get in bed, he brings one of Bucky’s black tee shirts with him and tugs it on over his head before letting Bucky tug him in close. A little sigh sounds when Bucky kisses the back of his neck, then pulls him in closer at a rumble of thunder outside. 

His smaller, slimmer body fits right into Bucky’s and Bucky cannot help but skim his fingers over Steve’s hip and down his thigh as he nestles in. He loves having Steve this close, he loves spooning up behind him and holding him, even when he’s coughing and blowing his nose in bed like this. 

Bucky nuzzles another kiss to the soft, dark blond hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, then holds him closer when he shivers at the touch. His allergies have been bad enough this summer that he’s had a rough time trying to get enough sleep, waking up congested and itchy in the middle of the night more often than not. 

“Must be some kind of allergy season miracle, getting you in bed in the middle of the day,” Bucky murmurs. 

“I think I sneezed a dozen times on the walk home from the subway,” Steve replies. “So, yeah, something like that. Shut up,” he adds when Bucky coos over him and murmurs the word miracle again. “I probably won’t even fall asleep.”  

“You like the fussing.” Bucky kisses the join of Steve’s neck and shoulder, where the tee shirt he has on slips sideways to reveal the soft, warm skin.  He has a few little freckles there already, too, and Bucky feels his heart melt a little over those, too. 

“Mmh… Maybe. Sometimes. snffSNff! Is it supposed to rain all afternoon?” Steve pulls another tissue from the box, then another, then holds both against his nose for a quiet, snuffly blow. 

“Pretty much. I can still do fajitas for dinner, I think. G’bless you,” Bucky adds when Steve tenses against him. 

“h’ehhH!” Steve’s breath comes in a soft, sharp gasp first, though, and he actually curls into the hand Bucky has at his hip instead of into himself. For a moment, he’s all desperate sniffles and tickly coughs, then he shivers against Bucky again. “het–hTCHshiew! heeeISH’hh!” 

“Bless you… bless you, Stevie,” Bucky says and strokes his thumb against Steve’s hip. Even though he knows how Steve’s dealt with his allergies his whole life, part of Bucky goes super protective when they’re acting up like this. Constant, and relentless, and with that super runny nose and itchy throat along with the sneezing. 

Steve coughs in reply before burying his face into his crumpled tissues. 

“Uh… uhhISH! issh-issh… huh’SHoo!” The series of smaller sneezes has Steve rubbing at his nose over and over again, then aiming another couple of the tiny, futile ish! sneezes down at his chest. 

“God bless you. How long were you outside, Steven?”

Steve groans at the use of his full name and pushes Bucky’s hand aside when he tries to scrub a couple tissues against Steve’s nose. 

“Long enough… snnffSNF! Don’t,” he adds in a softer voice, then tsks when Bucky just rubs his thumb over the bridge of Steve’s nose. “I’m okay, Buck.” 

He turns against Bucky’s chest to peer up at him, blue eyes a little teary and his nose starting to get that red, swollen look it does on his worst allergy days. He smiles, though, and if Bucky’s weak for anything, it’s for that way Steve smiles at him. 

“Yeah, I know, baby. I know,” Bucky repeats before he leans in to brush a couple kisses against Steve’s lips, then the corner of his mouth. The afternoon is grey and rainy, and he’s pretty sure they’ll both doze off for a while before dinnertime, and that’s about all Bucky’s been wanting all day anyway. 

[whumpybucky]

can i request some hurt/comfort in the beach au? maybe stede and ed get into a fight and it’s stressing one of them out to the point where they get sick and of course the other one comes to the rescue?

ahhhh, this prompt is so old, so i hope you're still around, anon. 🥺 and i hope you enjoy some stede sickfic angst + fluff and both him and ed needing reassuring cuddles 🩵

~ ~ ~

It starts on Wednesday. 

Jack shows up at the end of Ed’s set at the Revenge, much to the delight of not only Ed but everyone else at the bar. The very loud, very raucous delight, actually, and before he even has a chance to agree, Stede gets pulled into an equally loud and raucous game of beer pong in one of the back rooms. 

Beer pong. 

Which, well, Stede knows he’s kind of a snob about this stuff, and he’ll get himself anything else to drink before he gets beer, but really. Ugh. 

That’s not the worst of it, though. There’s so much drinking and shouting and everything that by nine o’clock, Stede can tell he’s completely overstimulated. He’s tired and irritable and everything feels like too much, and he’s not exactly sure how to tell Ed he just wants to go home. He likes being around people, but he’s had a long day and now he wants his books and blankets and to spend the rest of the evening with Ed. 

Not that Ed would really notice if he did just leave, Stede realizes, after trying to tug Ed aside after the latest round of drinking and shouting ends. 

“I didn’t even know you liked beer pong,” Stede blurts out. He feels a little betrayed, but … he hadn’t meant to make it so obvious. 

“Everyone likes beer pong, c’mon, mate,” Ed says. He slings his arm around Stede’s shoulders, but even that feels like too much, and he sighs when Stede pulls away. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Stede says. It’s a lie, and Ed knows it’s a lie, and Stede closes his eyes against all the noise and the crowd in the bar. “I think I just need–” 

“You too busy with your girlfriend to hang out with us tonight, Eddie?” Jack shouts and comes to pull Ed against his side. He roughhouses Ed a little and gives Stede a nod. “Come out dancing with us, Steve!” 

Ed rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then leans away from Jack to rest his hand on Stede’s arm. His fingers brush against Stede’s sweater, the rosy pink one he’s borrowed so often, and something inside Stede’s heart just aches at the touch. He wants to go home and cuddle with Ed so badly. He wants to bury his face in Ed’s neck and close his eyes, just be somewhere warm and quiet with his boyfriend. 

“He knows you’re not a girl,” Ed says, and at least he cringes as he does so. “That’s not cool, man,” he adds and turns to Jack. 

Jack scoffs and somebody else calls for Ed, who turns at the sound of his name, and Stede thinks he might actually start crying if he has to stay one more minute. 

“I think I’ll just have an early night,” Stede says. His heart hurts and his throat’s getting a little scratchy, two sure signs he should probably get some rest. 

“Don’t go, Stede. Not yet.” Ed touches his arm again to try and get Stede to stay, but the look in his eyes is distracted. “Come dancing with us.” 

“No, it’s all right. Text me when you get home, all right? Ed?” 

Ed nods, then nods again, and leans in to kiss Stede quickly on the cheek. He’s gone before Stede can say good night. 

Which is fine. Ed deserves to have time with his friends, even his obnoxious friends, and Stede doesn’t have to stupid things like tear up on the walk home and feel stupid for not fitting in with Ed’s old friends. He doesn't have to fit into every corner of Ed’s life and Ed can hang out with people who aren’t him. 

He’ll have Ed to himself this weekend, anyway. That’s something to look forward to, at least. He has to work late on Thursday and Friday, but both he and Ed are off on Saturday and Sunday, and he starts late enough on Monday that he can walk Ed to the cafe. It’ll be perfect, especially after tonight and having to work two long days at the end of the week. 

Stede tucks that thought into his heart as he makes himself a cup of tea and gets in bed to decompress. He has his weighted blanket to wrap up in, his ocean documentaries to listen to, and then a book to read until he’s sleepy. Just before drifting off, Stede sends Ed a few texts good night with his little fish emoji. He curls up happily to fall asleep when he gets a good night message and selfie from Ed.

~ ~ ~

“The whole weekend?” Stede asks. “The whole weekend?” 

“Not technically,” Ed replies. “We’re leaving Friday afternoon–” 

“That’s the whole weekend,” Stede says, tired and dejected. It’s Thursday afternoon now, he has a headache, and he won’t be done at the theater until after seven tonight. Ed’s going out again tonight with his friends, and now he’s telling Stede he'll be busy Friday and Saturday and Sunday, too. 

“It’s just one weekend. And it’s not like we really had plans to do anything,” Ed says. He pauses to trace the edge of his cup with one finger. “We grew up together, me and Jack… For a while, it was just the two of us.” 

Stede rubs both hands over his face. He knows what’s implied there: he and Ed didn’t grow up together, he and Ed spend every other weekend together, and maybe Stede’s too needy or too clingy or too much. 

Wanting Ed to stay at his apartment this weekend probably doesn’t count as plans, either, Stede realizes. Especially when he’ll be exhausted from work and he feels like he’s coming down with something and who wants to spend the weekend watching stupid whale documentaries anyway. 

Stede rubs at his face again and sighs. 

“Edward…” 

“You didn’t know me back then, Stede,” Ed says. His voice sounds a little more fragile now, and he avoids meeting Stede’s eyes. He stares down at his hands and fiddles with one of the silver rings on his fingers. “You don’t know what I was like.” 

“I know what you’re like now,” Stede says. “And you’re not—” 

Not like him. 

Ed frowns even though Stede doesn’t finish the sentence out loud. Something works its way over Ed’s face and he reaches across the little table in the theater lobby to rest his hand over Stede’s for a few seconds. 

“Yeah. Maybe.” He waits a few more seconds, then stands up. They’ve only been there for five, maybe ten minutes, and Ed hasn’t even touched the coffee Stede bought him. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

“Oh. You’re–okay,” Stede says in a small voice and watches Ed leave. His throat aches with unshed tears and everything inside him feels wrong and empty. He’s not even sure what just happened, but his whole chest hurts. 

~ ~ ~ 

He hears from Ed once all day, a couple texts inviting him to go out tonight to a bar or club or something. It doesn’t sound like Ed really knows what they’re doing, but the invitation does sound genuine, at least. So he can’t be too upset with Stede. 

Part of Stede wants to say yes, just to have some time with Ed, but another part of him knows he’ll be miserable. 

He tells Ed he thinks he’s coming down with something and that Ed should go out and have fun. 

Ed doesn’t text back. 

~ ~ ~ 

Ed doesn’t text him good night that evening. Not even when Stede sends his usual message with his favorite fish and heart emoji. Not even when Stede stares at his phone for a half hour afterwards or when he checks it every few minutes until well after midnight. 

He checks Ed’s socials, too, though he knows it’ll just make him feel bad. Not that he finds much–just a couple pictures of a bar in a neighboring beach town and a comment about ‘old times.’ 

Stede knows he won’t be able to sleep, not with how his body aches with sadness, not without hearing from Ed. He’s so used to hearing from Ed right before they go to sleep if they’re not spending the night together. Little texts or quick phone calls or even a couple minutes on FaceTime. 

All Stede wants is for Ed to return his goodnight. Surely, that can’t be asking for too much. 

Which is stupid, but the past few months with Ed have been so good. 

The tight, hot feeling of tears crowds Stede’s already achy throat and he curls himself up more tightly under his blankets. He doesn’t want to start crying over something that’s probably nothing. 

He thought he’d found somebody. Somebody who saw him for who he was and loved him for all his weirdnesses and his passions and his softness. Who was soft and weird and passionate and genuine with him, too. 

Not that he’s lost Ed, but everything feels strange and wrong and he already misses Ed. He misses hearing from Ed and knowing Ed’s thinking about him, even just a little bit. 

Crying a little helps that tight feeling in his throat, but he’s left feeling scraped raw and vulnerable. That headache and scratchy feeling in his throat from the past couple days hasn’t faded, and now his eyes feel swollen and achy from crying. His sinuses ache a little, too, and when he grabs tissues to blow his nose, Stede feels them twinge ominously. 

He dozes off a few times, wakes up each time feeling more achy and anxious, and finally falls asleep for a little while just before dawn. 

~ ~ ~ 

Stede wakes up on Friday feeling awful. 

Well and truly awful. Stuffy head and sinuses, sore throat, body aches, and an itchy, runny nose. He barely gets himself out of bed to make tea, and when he does, he starts shivering as soon as his bare feet reach the chilly kitchen floor. 

He avoids his phone for as long as it takes him to mix honey and lemon into a cup of tea, then reluctantly picks it up when he gets back to his bed. 

Stede nearly bursts into tears when he reaches for his phone and sees no messages from Ed. Not even a little text to let him know he got home safely or crashed at Jack’s. Not even the little kraken emoji he sometimes sends Stede when he’s thinking of him. 

Maybe he has lost Ed. Maybe he really did do something wrong over the past couple days that made Ed want to leave him. 

For some reason, that thought hurts Stede more than anything else. 

Enough that Stede puts his phone aside again, drinks his tea, and drags himself through getting ready for and walking to work. Being awake and out of bed helps the congestion a little bit, but he’s still achy and tired and sniffly when he gets to the theater. 

Enough so that Lucius actually frowns at him and reaches across the ticket counter to rest his hand against Stede’s forehead. Another frown, then Lucius touches his cheek, too. 

“Well, you’ll be going home early today,” he comments. “You can go home now, if you like. Take your fevery germs with you.” 

“I’ll be fine. There’s nothing to go home to,” Stede adds, then droops into a sigh. 

The rest of the day at work is just as bad, though. He misses Ed, his whole body feels terrible, and sometime around the middle of the day he starts coughing and sneezing. By breaktime, he feels so gross and germy he doesn't even want to go sit with Lucius like he usually does. Instead, Stede sequesters himself in a quiet corner with his tissues and his phone, some small part of him still hoping Ed will call or text. 

“Here,” Lucius says, “let’s exchange.” He offers Stede a mug of hot tea and reaches for Stede’s phone with a grimace. “We’ll need to sanitize that.” 

Stede sniffles into the mug of tea and gives his phone one last, longing glance. Every notification today has made his heart catch, but none of them have been from Ed. Not a single one, he thinks, and feels his eyes tear up before he realizes he’s going to cry again. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” he says, sniffling, “and now he’s gone.” 

“Just for the weekend,” Lucius says. All the teasing is gone from his voice and he reaches over to rest a hand on Stede’s arm. 

Stede shakes his head. He’s able to get the tears to stop after scrubbing at his eyes for a bit, but the hot-cold shivery feeling lingers and his head and throat feel so bad. Tea doesn’t even help his sore throat anymore and he’s pretty sure his sinuses are even more congested now than they were when he woke up. 

“He doesn’t even want to send me the little kraken emoji,” Stede says. 

Lucius looks confused, but somehow he must understand because he squeezes Stede’s arm warmly and sits with him for a while in their quiet corner. He even hands Stede a few tissues after he starts sneezing, unable to stop until he’s worked his way through four of his itchy, stuffy sick sneezes, all muffled into the crook of his elbow. 

“I’m going to ask Oluwande to drive you home, okay?” Lucius pulls the last couple tissues from Stede’s pocket pack and hands them over. When Stede just nods and coughs and replies, he squeezes Stede’s arm again. “We’ll take care of you.” 

The warmth that fills Stede’s chest is such a relief that he nearly tears up again. Aside from Ed, nobody has ever volunteered to look after him, not even to give him a ride home or grab tissues for him. He’s not alone, and everything around him isn’t empty, even if he misses Ed so much it hurts and even if he’s more sick than he realized this morning. 

Oluwande does end up driving him home and doesn’t say anything when Stede dozes off on the five minute ride there. He offers to walk Stede into his apartment, but Stede refuses, mostly based on how many used tissues are scattered around his place already. 

“Probably better not to,” Stede says, “but I appreciate the offer.” 

“Yeah, all right. But text me and Lucius, okay? We’re both around this weekend, and I’ll just be at Jim’s.” Olu waits for Stede to nod, then waits for him to key into his apartment before pulling away. 

Once he’s inside, Stede nearly collapses onto the futon. He tugs off his shoes first and gets himself some water, but that’s really all he manages before he’s on the sofa. Tylenol would probably be good, too, but Stede’s too tired and woozy with fever to get himself up off the futon again. Maybe if he sleeps for a while, he’ll feel up to getting himself food and medicine. 

He half wakes up to the chime of a text message and his mind is so fuzzy he barely understands what the text says. Blinking at his phone a few times, he eventually figures out what Lucius is telling him. 

Sending dinner over to you along with sick people things. Soup and tissues and Theraflu. Should be there in about an hour! xx

Stede fumbles with his phone, but he knows Lucius will be worried if he doesn't answer, so he sends a quick thank you 🐟. Lucius sends the fish emoji back to him, and Stede pulls a blanket around his shoulders to try and warm up. 

He tries to fall back asleep, too, but the best he does is doze on and off, waking up more fully to cough and sneeze and blow his nose a couple times. The shivers grab him every time he wakes up, but he’s just exhausted and achy enough to settle for the one blanket he’s fumbled from the back of the futon and curls himself up more tightly beneath it. 

An hour of fitful, feverish dozing must pass because Stede wakes with a start at a knock to his apartment door. For a moment, he doesn't know what’s going on or why anyone would be at his door, then he remembers Lucius’s text. 

Probably a delivery person, since Lucius himself would text the whole time he was on his way to Stede’s. Stede burrows further into his blanket and waits the couple minutes it should take for bags to get left on his doorstep. No poor delivery person deserves to see Stede in this state; he probably looks and sounds so gross and contagious. 

About a minute passes before there’s another knock, this one softer and hesitant. Stede heaves a sigh before he heaves himself off the sofa. For a few seconds he’s too woozy to head towards the door, and then he does, he starts sniffling over and over again. He pushes his nose into the cuff of his sweater and considers grabbing his wallet to tip the delivery person extra for having to see him like this when there’s a third knock at the door. 

“Stede? Baby, are you okay? I have my key, but…” 

Ed. 

It’s Ed outside his door. Not Lucius and Oluwande, and not some anonymous delivery person, but his Edward. 

Stede stands in front of the door for a few more seconds, confused and woozy. Maybe he’s actually dreaming? Or hallucinating? Is his fever that bad? He never actually checked so–

His phone rings and startles Stede as he rubs both hands over his face. It’s the ringtone he only has for his boyfriend and Stede nearly stumbles as he goes to unlock the door. He fumbles at lock and chain, then sighs when he really does see Ed on the other side. 

“Oh, thank god,” Ed mutters, his arms full of bags that he drops once the door is wide open. His arms are around Stede before either of them can say anything and his face is buried in Stede’s hair. 

“You came back.” Stede’s so happy, just so, so happy and relieved that he tears up all over again. 

“Never left,” Ed murmurs and kisses his hair. When Stede shudders against him, Ed kisses him again and pulls away just far enough to nuzzle kisses against Stede’s forehead. “I’m here… And I’m not leaving.” 

Stede nods. He’s a mess of tears and sniffles and congestion, and, honestly, every other possible cold symptom, but Ed’s here and Ed’s smiling at him, and Stede knows they’re going to be okay. Everything inside him feels shaky, though, and when Ed kisses his forehead again, Stede shivers. 

“I missed you,” Stede says, too tired and relieved to hold himself back. “And I’m really sick, sorry…” 

“Ssh, no, that’s why I’m here with a million bags.” Nestling into his side, Ed makes a small, grateful sound when Stede hugs him. “Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” 

“Please,” Stede says. He tugs Ed to the futon instead of his sleeping nook, though, and pauses when Ed does. 

“Where…. where’s your nest?” Ed asks, his arm still around Stede. 

“My what?” All Stede wants is to crawl back under his blanket and take Ed with him, but Ed’s clinging to him now and pulling Stede into his chest. 

“Your nest. Your little sick person nest that you make when you’re not feeling good. With… with you soft fleece and weighted blanket and…” Ed’s voice tails off into a soft, sad sound and when Stede looks up at him, his eyes are shiny with tears. “Stedey…” 

Stede shakes his head and presses his face into Ed’s shoulder. He doesn’t even need to tell Ed that he was too exhausted to assemble his favorite blankets and pillows for a sick day on the futon. Ed can tell. Ed can always tell. He holds Stede closer and kisses his hair and murmurs something that sounds like another apology. He uses the little pet name he has for Stede again, too, and that’s enough for Stede to hug Ed very, very tightly. 

“... just didn’t get a chance,” Stede finally says. He’s not lying, but explaining to Ed how every inch of him was just pure feverish exhaustion when he got home earlier feels exhausting in and of itself. 

And, again, it’s futile. Because Ed can tell when he looks at Stede, he can tell when he brushes his lips against Stede’s forehead, and he can tell when Stede leans into him and rests his head against Ed’s shoulder. Stede knows Ed can tell because he’s the only one who’s ever known Stede well enough to realize when he’s really and truly sick. 

The only one who’s ever cared enough, too. 

He sits Stede down on the futon and runs his fingers through Stede’s hair. When Stede leans into the touch, he rests his hand against Stede’s forehead, then his cheek, and then the side of his neck before stroking Stede’s hair off his forehead. 

“You’ve got a little fever there,” Ed murmurs. 

Stede can’t disagree, so he just rubs his face against Ed’s hand and closes his eyes. Before Ed, it had been so difficult to be vulnerable like this in front of anyone, but Ed makes everything so much easier. Ed won’t scold him or leave him to be miserable on his own. 

When he has to sniffle and rub at his nose, Stede turns his face into his shoulder. He’s so snuffly from all the congestion that all it does is make him more snufflish. 

“I’m sorry,” Ed says. He strokes his thumbs over Stede’s face and the rise of his cheekbones, gentle and warm where he must know Stede’s sinuses ache. “I should’ve realized you really weren’t feeling good.” “Only a stupid cold,” Stede murmurs. He can tell by his voice that it sounds worse than a cold and after a couple minutes together, Ed's going to be able to tell, too. 

“I don’t know… might take you to urgent care tomorrow morning,” Ed says. “You’re running a temperature for sure.” Or not even a couple minutes, then. 

“I just get stupidly sick like this sometimes… just a mess,” Stede says, that old shame creeping up on him unbidden. 

“I’ll look after you know. Take you to the doctor and buy you all the fucking fancy tissues and cough drops and tea you need…” Ed’s voice cracks and his brown eyes are glossy with tears. “I should've realized,” he says again. “You were upset and getting sick…” 

“I didn’t want…” Stede turns aside to cough, then coughs again, and the achy congestion in his head throbs. “I know you have friends. That’s… that’s how it should be. Even if they’re—” 

“Yeah, Jack’s a dick. I know, you can say it,” Ed says, then laughs when Stede grimaces. “Got us kicked out of two bars and I’m actually embarrassed to admit how hungover I was this morning.” 

Stede laughs in spite of himself and leans in to press a kiss to Ed’s shoulder. He looks so cute, with his long, dark hair in a messy ponytail and that tired softness around his brown eyes. A little frown pinches his forehead for a second and Stede feels his heart swoop a little at how very much he loves Ed. 

“You’re going to need to do a lot of groveling to get gigs there the rest of the month,” Stede says. 

“Ugh, fuck. You’re right,” Ed sighs. “Fucking Jack Rackham. Sent him packing, though, so I can have you to myself all weekend. If you want–”

“I love you, Ed,” Stede says. He rubs his nose against Ed’s sweatshirt, then gives a small oh when Ed cuddles him closer. 

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” Ed murmurs. 

“I love you,” Stede says again and sniffles a few times to keep his nose in check. “I love who you are now, and I love you for who you were before I met you. Maybe I didn’t know you then, but–” 

“I love you, too,” Ed repeats in a softer voice. “I get so scared sometimes. That I’m the mess you don’t want to clean up.” 

“You’re not that. Not at all, darling.” 

Stede strokes Ed’s chest and tucks his head against Ed’s shoulder. He’s going to need about a dozen tissues soon just to blow his nose; if the little tingling at the back of his sinuses means anything, he’s going to sneeze about a dozen times soon, too. 

“And I think we’re both like that sometimes. But I win today,” Stede says and reaches past Ed to his box of tissues to snuffle into those. “You might want to go get kicked out of another karaoke night instead of dealing with my sick person mess.” 

“I won’t.” Ed kisses his head and Stede leans back into him, happy to have Ed close and warm. “Besides, I brought you so much fucking stuff. I’m making a complete fuss over you.” 

Stede’s about to reply when his sinuses twinge. He can feel the tickle behind his eyes and at the back of his throat, a sure sign he really will need those dozen tissues. Pinching the bridge of his nose doesn’t really help, but it does give him a few more seconds to bury his face in a handful of tissues. 

When he sneezes, it’s another series of those strong sick sneezes that feel as if they ring through his head. They make his whole head itch, too, all itchy congestion and that sloping, woozy fevery feeling that leave him blinking and sniffling. He ends up sneezing three times in a row, raises his head to apologize to Ed, and then has to curl forward into two more sneezes. 

Ed’s arm is right around him immediately, though, holding Stede and hugging him closer. Instead of blessing Stede, Ed just nuzzles against him and coos over him a bit through the sneezes. 

“Bless you,” he murmurs when Stede raises his head enough to sniffle at his tissues and give Ed another apologetic look. “That’s a lot of sneezes…” 

Stede sighs and nods, then quickly turns his head into his shoulder to catch a smaller, softer, stray sneeze. This one leaves him sniffling over and over again, and he feels like such a mess that Stede almost curls away from Ed. 

But Ed just nestles in closer to Stede on the futon and coos over him some more, this time handing him tissues and petting the hair around his ear. He’s being so sweet and attentive, and Stede’s ready to melt right into him. 

“Sorry I’m so sick… I don’t even know where I got this,” he says, resting his head against Ed’s shoulder, and closing his eyes when Ed nuzzles against him again. 

“Probably work? And you were all stressed out…” 

Stede shrugs. “I already wasn’t feeling good on Wednesday night” 

Ed makes a small, worried sound, then curls himself right around Stede and hugs him very close. 

“I’m going to stay all weekend,” Ed says. “To spend time with you and take care of you, and we can both get lots and lots of sleep.” 

“That sounds perfect.” Stede rubs his face into Ed’s sweatshirt and cuddles him back. Nothing, nothing feels as  good and reassuring as Ed’s arms around him, especially when he hugs Stede so tightly and fits their bodies together just so. 

“Then let’s get comfy. Bed or futon?” Ed asks. 

Stede considers. “Futon, I think?” 

“Good choice. We can have soup and tea and nap for a while. Medicine for you, too,” Ed adds and presses his lips to Stede’s forehead. “So you don’t feel so shitty and can get some sleep.” 

Even though he knows Ed is right and that even just a couple Tylonol will help him rest better, Stede hides his face in Ed’s shoulder, abashed. He’s drained, though, from being sad and sick and not sleeping enough, and it turns out that it’s not difficult at all to let Ed fuss over him. Ed brings him tea to sip while he rearranges the futon, then starts heating up soup for them both. 

He collects blankets and pillows for them to curl up in and brings Stede his softest pajamas to change into. Soft, fuzzy socks, too, the blue ones that Stede loves most because they match his whale pj pants. He hands Stede one of his own sweatshirts, too, one that’s worn down to complete softness and that Stede’s curled up in more than a few times already for naps and nights without Edward there. 

“You look so cute in these,” Ed says after he’s changed into sweats himself. He pets a couple of the blue whales on the grey jersey pjs, and smiles when Stede nestles closer. “I love how much you love your whales.” 

“Really?” For some reason, that makes Stede go so shy and soft for Ed. He knows he can be overenthusiastic and eager about the things he loves, but Ed’s never, ever made him feel weird. “We don’t need to watch–” 

“Oh, no, we’re definitely watching those little fuckers. Nothing helps you fall asleep better and c’mon, they’re just cool.” He pets one of the little whales with just his fingertip and turns to brush a soft kiss against Stede’s lips. “Can I tell you that I love you again?”

“Please?” Stede leans into the kiss with a quiet, tired sigh and murmurs that he loves Ed again, too. 

Despite the fuzzy haze of fever and congestion, Stede is just basking in Ed calling his whale pajamas cute and his favorite documentaries cool. Once Ed has the nest in the futon arranged, including tea and soup and his collection of supplies, Stede curls into Ed’s side. He kisses Ed’s shoulder and the side of his neck, so relieved and so happy that he and Ed can have a quiet weekend at home together. 

“I was scared, too,” he admits. “I hate being away from you.” 

“Me, too,” Ed says and the way he cuddles against Stede is so warm and reassuring. “My phone died the other night, and then we got kicked out of the karaoke place. God, Stede…” Ed’s face crumples and he curls himself right into Stede. “I just want to be here with you.” 

All Stede can do is kiss Ed’s hair and hold him as close as possible. He gets so emotional when he’s overtired like this and Stede knows now that Ed would’nt leave him for somebody cooler or who enjoys beer pong more. 

Which, yes well, thinking about that now feels a little ridiculous, but Stede’s tired and sick enough himself for the realization to feel important. 

Stede also knows that all the feelings of being too much and simultaneously not enough won’t just go away now that Ed is back and they’ve talked it through. But he’s sick and worn out and he does know that Ed loves him. There’s not much more he wants right now. 

“You’re here, Edward,” Stede murmurs. His head feels so stuffy and heavy and resting it against Ed feels so good. 

Ed nods and curls in more tightly, holding himself in that position while Stede kisses his hair and tries not to sniffle and cough too much at Ed. Not that Ed cares–Stede knows that by now. So, when he has to turn aside and cough, he’s not at all surprised that Ed rubs his chest and continues to do so after Stede turns back with a stuffy little huff of a sound. He pushes the heel of his hand against his eye when the congestion shifts and just feels worse. 

“You’re so sick,” Ed says. His face looks like it’s about to crumple again, but this time he nuzzles a kiss against Stede’s cheek. “Lucius got you a million things and I felt bad so I also got you a million fucking things. Tissues and cough drops and Vicks rub and that liquid medicine because Lucius doesn't know you like I know you, sweetheart.” 

“Oh… snffSNFF! Well, sadly… I think I need them all,” Stede admits. That snuffly, itchy feeling fills his head again, and his poor nose needs about all the attention he can give it. Rubbing it into the cuff of his sweatshirt–or, well, Ed’s sweatshirt–doesn’t do any good and Stede resigns himself to another stuffy sneezing fit. 

He runs through half a dozen sneezes this time, but with about thirty seconds between each one so he’s just a tired, sniffly mess while Ed hands him tissue after tissue. Stede’s nose is actually sore by the time he finishes, tender and probably flushed red, and he just holds the last round of tissues over it as he sniffles. 

Stede’s shoulders droop as Ed strops his hair off his forehead and feels it again, tsking softly when Stede nudges closer into his touch. He can’t breath through his nose, but it keeps itching and dripping, and all those strong sneezes left his throat sore and raw all over again. 

“Why do I feel so bad?” Stede rubs his forehead against Ed’s hand, trying to get at that heavy, achy sinus congestion, and almost tears up when Ed makes a soft sound and kisses his forehead gently. 

“Hmm… because you’re super sick and fevery and haven’t had boyfriend cuddles in too many days,” Ed says. He smiles when Stede peers up at him, then just nudges Stede’s head back down against his shoulder. 

They cuddle for a while, just curled into each other, and Ed keeps murmuring kisses into Stede’s hair and against his forehead. Before Stede can doze off, though, he nudges him fully awake so they can have their soup. 

Vegetable soup, and Stede eats a quarter of the turkey sandwich Ed bought for himself for lunch. Given how badly Stede’s been eating and sleeping lately, the food is more than welcome, and Stede only pouts a little over how he can hardly taste or smell anything. That’s enough of a reminder for Ed to fetch him medicine and to rub his back while Stede swallows it down. 

Halfway through his sandwich and soup, Ed puts on an episode of Secrets of the Whales. Once he’s done, he burrows both of them into the blankets and holds Stede right against his chest, right where Stede can nuzzle sleepy kisses against him and slip a hand under Ed’s shirt to pet his tummy. Stede’s sure the medicine hasn’t kicked in yet, but having Ed here with him, curled up in the blankets, is so warm and cozy that he knows he’ll be able to fall asleep. 

[whumpybucky]

Are you taking requests?? If so I’d loooove a summer cold for Bucky 🥺❤️

Aww me too tbh. I'm not taking requests right now as I'm in the middle of a big AO3 project for my main, and about to get pretty hectic with life and work for the next little bit. But honestly, I'm always thinking about Bucky with a cold so maybe I'll post a little ficlet. If I do, I'll be sure to tag you :)