Chapter Text
Captain America had to resist the urge to scowl out the window at the pollen and dust floating on the breeze, visible in the beautiful morning sun. He may be (at least nearly) immune to normal illnesses, but his lifelong seasonal allergies had proved their tenacity even through the effects of the serum. As an added bonus, he was told there were great remedies for allergies in this decade, but his heightened metabolism made them useless. At best they just made his mind fuzzy without lessening the symptoms.
Just the thought of opening the window made his nose start to twitch and his eyes water. The sneeze was upon him before he had time to try to stifle it.
“huh-ISSHH’YOOO! httt-KNNT-chhuuh! HEEHHTT-CHOOOOO!” With a disgusted groan, he wiped the slime from his upper lip. His throat had already been scratchy, and now it was scraped raw. He sighed as he began to pull on some comfortable clothes, rubbing his sore nose again. He had plans to spend some time with Bucky today, but he almost felt like cancelling. Between the itchy eyes, stuffy nose, scratchy throat, and the feeling that his head was stuffed with cotton, he was miserable.
Bucky was recovering more all the time from his “service” with Hydra, coming out of his shell even around the rest of the Avengers. Steve knew how much their one-on-one time meant to Bucky, though. It reminded them both of the old days, before serums and Hydra, and he didn’t want to disappoint him over something as minor as hayfever. Of course, Bucky would pretend it was no big deal if he did cancel, but Steve would know, and it would eat at him for weeks. So, he would go.
Steve shuffled to the kitchen for breakfast, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He rather hoped no one else would be there so he wouldn’t have to pretend he was fine. They all knew about his allergies, but the more human Avengers sometimes found it funny to see “Mr. Perfect” beset by normal human issues, so he mentioned it as little as possible on principle. Today especially, he wasn’t in the mood for any teasing.
It wasn’t his lucky day though, as Clint and Tony were both in the main living space. Clint was sprawled out on the couch, and Tony was drinking coffee in the kitchen. They sat in silence, evidently ignoring each other. Both acknowledged him as he walked in though, and he tried to give his normal, cheerful morning greeting. Hawkeye, true to his name, looked at him more closely.
“You look like you got dragged through the wrong side of the bed this morning. You okay, Cap?”
“ ‘M fine. Just ragweed season is all.” He tried to be nonchalant, but Clint’s expression told him he had not succeeded.
“Call a press conference, America’s supersoldier taken down by plants,” Tony chimed in snidely.
Steve chose not to reply as he pushed past Tony to rummage around for his oatmeal ingredients. Tony was in one of his moods though, and wouldn’t let it go.
“Oo, Capsicle is a little icy this morning. Wouldn’t the women of the world love to know their red, white, ‘n blue sweetheart gets just as crabby as the rest of us when he’s got the sniffles.”
Steve felt himself redden, stifling a sneeze.
“Lay off, Stark. Just let him be,” called Clint from the couch.
“I don’t listen to people who take other people’s last bag of chips, so keep your suggestions to yourself, Katniss.”
Clint rolled his eyes. “I told you I’d get you more when the store opens. Stop whining.”
Bruce shuffled in just then, dark circles under his eyes, and headed straight for the coffee, barely looking at anyone.
“Long night, Banner?” asked Steve, eager to change the subject as he stirred his oatmeal. To his chagrin, his voice cracked in the middle of the short phrase. He reddened again as everyone looked at him, and he dabbed his dripping nose awkwardly.
“Mmph. You sound like I feel. I’ve been stuck on this project I’m working on, and last night I somehow erased some of the data I need. It’ll take me forever to recover it. I was up all night trying. So now I’ve got a splitting headache.”
“Lady Jane tells me to drink more water when I complain of head pains! Have you been drinking your fluids, Dr. Banner?” a familiar booming voice interrupted. Everyone jumped, and Bruce flinched, wincing as everyone’s favorite demigod appeared, bright and cheerful.
“Thor! Inside voice, for the last time!” yelled Tony, making Bruce wince again.
“My apologies, friend Tony,” said the God of Thunder, in a slightly lower tone, striding to the cupboard to find his Poptarts. “It is difficult for me to remember the rules of our home on such a beautiful morning. Did you know sound carries differently here than on Asgard? My lady Jane has been explaining such sciences to me. She reminds me that the way I speak is often startling to Midgardians, and is helping me overcome this. So I apologize for startling you all!” His voice had already returned to nearly his normal volume, and Bruce put more distance between them, covering an ear as he sipped his coffee, jaw clenched.
Natasha slipped in just then, ignoring them all, including her partner. A scowl shaded her features as she elbowed her way to the fridge for her morning juice.
“Good morning to you too, princess,” said Tony loudly. “So glad to see you so bright and cheery today!”
“Shut it, Stark,” she snapped, turning on her heel and striding to the table with her juice. Clint tossed her the toast he had saved for her. She flopped down in the chair next to Steve, who had just tucked into his oatmeal. He gave her a half-hearted smile, which she ignored, sticking her nose into the book she had with her, which was just as well, since he suddenly had to sneeze several times in rapid succession.
“Hnnnxx’CHUUH! Ehhcckgg’SHEEWW! HuuhhptCHHHUUsshh!” He tried to stifle them into his arm, but they resounded loudly in the crowded space. Once again, everyone was staring at him, and this time his nose was actively dripping. He kept his eyes lowered as he hastily wiped his upper lip.
“Those sounded painful,” said Bruce sympathetically.
“That’s disgusting, Rogers. Keep that to yourself,” grumped Natasha, scooting her chair away from him. “And stop fidgeting, you’re driving me crazy.”
Steve quickly dropped his hand to his lap from where it had been on the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t realize… I just have a bad ache in my neck all of a sudden. I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”
“Well, not that it isn’t fun being around so many happy, healthy people, but it’s getting crowded in here. I’ll be in my lab if the world needs saving.” Tony turned to Clint. “Two bags of crunchy, cheesy deliciousness better be hand delivered by 10:30, and a fifth of the good stuff for interest. Or I will hunt you down and deactivate your special arrows.”
Clint snarled in reply, pegging Tony in the back of the head with a well-thrown orange just before he disappeared. Tony shouted in surprise and let out a stream of curses, making poor Bruce flinch again.
“Ho ho! Excellent throw, Master Hawk!” roared Thor approvingly, his mouth full of Poptart.
“Thor, no yelling!” spat Tony.
“Jesus Tony, don’t take his head off,” snapped Clint. Bruce threw up his hands with a sigh of exasperation and made for the elevator. “Just because you’re pissy doesn’t mean you get to take it out on him,” Clint continued, ignoring him.
Just as Tony opened his mouth to reply, JARVIS politely chimed in, “Sergeant Barnes has arrived for Captain Rogers.” Bucky strode in slowly, his face expressionless as he surveyed them all, each and every one wearing some sort of scowl or grimace, aside from Thor. A few of them nodded coldly to the 2nd super-soldier. Steve stood quickly.
“Hey, Buck.” he said, sniffling while trying to sound cheerful. “Let me rinse this bowl out and we can get out of here.”
Bucky nodded, saying nothing as his friend hurriedly cleared up and made ready to leave. The room had fallen into icy silence. Steve almost thought he preferred the bickering.
They hurried out the door, barely saying good-bye, and the only one who returned the salutation was the irrepressible demigod. Without speaking, the two men from another century followed their normal routine for their days together: they took a long, leisurely walk to the movie theater, getting snacks and drinks along the way. They didn’t talk much as a rule, unless there was something Bucky wanted to discuss. Today they said even less than usual. Steve could tell Bucky was watching him out of the corner of his eye.
“What’s on--” his voice was raspy and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s on your mind, Buck?”
“Are you okay, Steve? You’re not looking or sounding so hot.”
“Just the old hayfever. Nothing to worry about, really. Once it rains and some of this pollen clears, it’ll ease up.”
“Okay… But also your team… something seemed off with you guys today.”
“Yeah… I think everyone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Steve said ruefully. “Tempers were a little short. I’m glad to get out of the tower for a while, for all our sakes.” He realized he was rubbing his neck again. The ache was getting worse. He dropped his hand, trying to ignore it. Bucky made no reply, and they continued in companionable silence to the cinema. When they got there, they bought tickets for whatever show was playing next, as was their custom. They made their way to their assigned theater and found seats in the middle-back just in time for the show to begin.
As the movie played, another tickle grew in Steve’s sinuses. He quickly brought his arm up to stifle it. “Hckxt! HMMkktch!” He removed his arm gingerly with a soft, “ugh” and a groan as he wiped his nose.
“Bless you. You ok?” Buckey murmured.
Steve nodded, pretending to watch the show as he rubbed his neck again. However, he realized he was suddenly feeling very odd. It wasn’t the allergies, though that certainly wasn’t helping. The ache in his neck was radiating into his head, and it felt like a tight helmet was closing over his skull. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what was happening: a migraine. In the days before the serum, his hayfever, when it was really bad, would sometimes trigger these explosive headaches, which laid him up for days. He hadn’t had one in, well, over 70 years. Maybe even 75, he thought ruefully. But this pain was all too familiar. Out of nowhere, the light from the movie screen seemed far too bright in the dark theater, shooting daggers into his brain. He suppressed a groan, closing his eyes. Suddenly, all he wanted was his cool, quiet room in the tower, and a cold cloth over his eyes. He curled into himself, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his head to stop throbbing, and willing the movie to end.
He thought he must’ve blacked out for a bit, or else fallen into a strange sleep, because the next thing he knew, Bucky was shaking his shoulder as the people around them got up to leave. All the lights were on now, and as the brightness hit his eyes, a wave of hot, white pain rolled through his skull with two dagger-points directly in his eyeballs. This time a deep groan escaped.
“Woah, Rogers, are you okay? Talk to me, soldier!”
“My head,” he croaked. “Migraine. I can’t…”
“Aw, shit,” Bucky mumbled. He remembered Steve’s migraines, and all the days spent in the coldest, darkest room they could find, while Steve either writhed in agony, or lay deathly still. How he had hoped those were a thing of the past. “Alright soldier, on your feet. We’ll get you on a bus and go straight to my place so you can lie down.”
“No… the tower… my room…” Steve mumbled, unable to grasp on a complete thought.
“My place is cooler and quieter,” Bucky said firmly. Steve couldn’t think how to answer, so he let himself be led by Bucky’s firm hand around his bicep, using all of his willpower to simply stay upright and move his legs.
Once they made it onto the bus, Steve leaned all the way forward, putting his head between his knees. The world wouldn’t stop spinning, and it was making him more nauseous every moment. Bucky gently rested a hand on his back, trying to lend him what strength he could.
“We’re nearly there, Cap. Hang in there,” he murmured.
Once they arrived at Bucky’s out-of-the-way apartment building, Bucky half-carried him up to the flat. Every movement, every sound, every smell was agony on Steve’s head, which felt as if it was splitting in 2. His stomach rolled dangerously, and he groaned again. Bucky powered them up the stairs as fast as he was able, and they only just made it inside before Steve charged into the bathroom and painfully lost everything he’d eaten the past few days.
Steve was in the bathroom for quite a while. Bucky refrained from hanging out by the door and tried to ignore the miserable retching sounds, knowing Steve hated unnecessary hovering. Instead, the Winter Soldier changed the sheets on his bed and prepared the room for his partner in need by dimming the lights, closing the blinds, and setting the thermostat to a cooler temperature. Steve was still in the bathroom when all this was completed.
“Are you done puking?” Bucky called softly.
“I think so,” came the weak reply.
“Can you drink some water? At least rinse your mouth out.”
“I’ll try,” Steve said, weaker still.
“Come out when you’re ready. I’ll get a cloth for your eyes and you can lie down.”
The bathroom door opened a few moments later. Bucky heard him shuffling toward the couch, so he re-emerged from the kitchen and gently propelled him toward the bedroom instead. Steve weakly protested, but Bucky ignored him, helping him onto the big bed, and placing a cold, damp cloth over his eyes immediately to keep him from trying to get up. The room was almost pitch dark and notably cooler already. Steve’s slurred protests slowed, then stopped.
“Do you want to try some medicine? See if it helps?”
“You know most medicine doesn’t work on us.” Steve’s speech was slow, and his voice wavered with the effort of expressing coherent thought.
“I know. But it can’t hurt, right? I’ve found a few that work.”
“Guess it’s worth a try. Can’t get any worse.”
Bucky quickly brought him a dose of Excedrin. Steve swallowed them dry, but his partner pressed a straw between his lips and Steve drank weakly before turning away, falling very still. Bucky turned to leave, wanting to give Steve as much peace and quiet as possible.
“Would you stay with me for a bit, Buck? I hate being alone when I’m… when I feel like this.” Steve’s voice was barely a murmur now.
Bucky smiled, though he knew Steve couldn’t see it. “Sure, Cap. I’ll stay.”
Bucky found a chair and pulled it up beside the Captain. He grabbed his tablet as well, but he didn’t turn it on right away. He found himself mesmerized, watching as his best friend’s chest rose and fell softly, and listened to the soft wheezing in his chest that his allergies always caused. Steve snuffled softly every now and then, or cleared his throat, but otherwise was perfectly still, and Bucky could tell he was intently trying to control his breathing and shaking. Bucky had never had a migraine, and could not imagine a pain so intense that even the smallest movement led to such misery. His heart ached for Steve the same way it had when he got these 70 years ago. The more things change, the more they stay the same. He watched as Steve’s breathing began to even out, until his slow, deep breaths (and light snoring) indicated he was asleep. Bucky knew he could've left then, and gone out to the living room where he would be more comfortable until Steve woke again. But now that he was here, he didn't want to leave his best friend's side just yet. So, he stayed.
Steve slept for many hours while Bucky worked on his tablet beside him, and it was well into the evening before either of them stirred. Around 8:00, Bucky’s stomach was starting to growl, and he was about to go find something for dinner when he heard a strange sound coming from the living room. He crept out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly on his unconscious friend, and tried to track down the noise. He finally located the source in the jacket Steve had thrown onto the couch in his rush for the bathroom: Cap’s cell phone was ringing urgently, and Tony Stark's picture showed on the screen. Bucky frowned. At best, the team was wondering where their captain was. At worst, there was a call to assemble. He almost ignored it, but he knew enough about Tony Stark to guess that there were any number of tracking devices in this thing, and Captain America going AWOL would probably lead to the rest of the Avengers tracking the phone and eventually storming this apartment.
The phone stopped ringing just as he’d made up his mind to answer it, and the screen quickly locked. Luckily the password was Steve’s mother’s birthday. He saw Steve had several missed text messages, and even more missed calls. He found one of the texts from Stark and opened a reply:
“Staying the night at Bucky’s tonight. Do not worry,” he texted, then immediately tossed the device aside, not bothering to wait for a reply and heading for the kitchen instead. Bucky had just enough time to scarf down some cold cuts and cheese before he heard his partner begin to stir in the next room and quickly returned to his side, plying him with more water and medicine.
~~~~~
Steve tossed and turned all night, the pain in his head relentless. Bucky was by his side every moment, reminding him to drink water, distracting him with jokes and stories, replacing cool, damp cloths over his eyes whenever one got too warm, encouraging him to eat bites of food. Cap never complained, but the misery written on every inch of his body was evident. Bucky did everything he could, but as
always, was angry that it wasn’t enough.
As morning broke, Steve fell back into a deep, motionless sleep, curled into a ball in the center of the bed. Bucky heaved a sigh and quietly left the bedroom, willing him to be better when he woke. Knowing how much smell affected Steve when he was like this, he had cold cereal and yogurt for breakfast, rather than toast and eggs. As he quietly chewed, he heard Steve’s phone ringing again. Growling to himself, he retrieved it. Stark again. He ignored it, but as soon as it would stop ringing, it would start again immediately. Bucky watched it do this numerous times before he finally answered.
“Oh, now you condescend to answer. What the hell Rogers? Where are you? What the hell have you been doing for two days? You are so--
“This is Sergeant Barnes. Captain Rogers is here at my apartment and he is very ill. I'm looking after him.”
“Ill? What do you mean ill? He can’t get “ill”! All he has is allergies! What did you do to him, Barnes?”
Bucky’s temper boiled to the surface at Tony’s assumption. “I didn’t do a thing to him! He’s in bed with a migraine, no thanks to all of you, and he’s in so much pain he can hardly move. And I’m dealing with it, just like I’ve done plenty of times before. He's in good hands.”
“Let me talk to him right now!”
“He’s sleeping finally, after being up all night in agony. I’m not about to wake him up.”
There was some scuffling in the background and muffled voices before a new voice came on the line, a woman. Natasha, he remembered.
“Barnes, are you sure he’s okay? Should we send someone over to get him? You’re sure you don’t need assistance?”
“Like I said, I have everything under control. I took care of him for years before any of you were even born, and we don’t need any of you now. Please stop calling.”
He was about to hang up when he heard someone shout, “Make sure he calls us when he wakes up!” With a beep, he ended the call, scowling at the phone as he threw it down. Just then, Steve hurdled past him, rushing to the bathroom, and slammed the door. Hearing the retching recommence, Bucky heaved a sigh and went to remake the bed.
~~~~~
More hours passed with similar goings on in the little flat. When afternoon rolled around, Steve was back in bed, clenching and unclenching his fists in pain as Bucky sponged sweat off of his face and neck.
“Need to call… team. Prob'ly… worried sick,” Steve croaked softly. “Need to get back to... tower.” Bucky’s face twitched.
“I already took care of it. They know you’re staying with me. You’re not going anywhere for a while, soldier. You can barely stand. Besides, they’re the reason you’re like this in the first place.”
“Wha’? No… jus’ a normal migraine. Jus’ like I always get.”
“Yeah, but you hadn’t had any migraines since the serum until now. Until all the problems over in that tower got you so worked up that it hit you. You said yourself that you needed to get out of there. They have no one but themselves to blame. You should never have joined Fury’s team. You should have stayed with me.”
Steve had either stopped listening, or couldn’t think how to reply, because he remained silent, deathly still except for his hands clenching and unclenching.
Soon Steve slept again. By this time Bucky was exhausted, so as soon as he saw Steve was peacefully settled, he crept back out to the living room to sprawl out on the couch and get some shut eye himself. He was out like a light as soon as his eyes closed. Neither moved for the rest of the day, until well after the sun had gone down.
Bucky started awake, though he wasn’t sure what had woken him. Ingrained habits kicked in and he barely breathed, didn’t stir. Someone was in his kitchen, rummaging in his fridge, but he couldn’t see the doorway over the back of the couch. Just as quickly as he had tensed, he relaxed, recognizing the footsteps. Steve.
He stretched luxuriously as he heard the tap running, and ice clinking in a glass. His partner emerged, carrying a big glass of water and a sandwich. Steve looked exhausted, with deep, dark circles under his eyes and his whole appearance more rumpled and tousled than Bucky had ever seen. Still, Captain America looked cheerful despite all this, and better than he had in days. They shared a tired smile, and Bucky made room on the couch for Steve to sit beside him.
“You look like you’re feeling all right,” said Bucky approvingly.
“Better than yesterday,” Steve agreed. “Still feeling a little like I got hit by a truck. But my headache is gone.” His voice was a croaking whisper at best. “Um, Buck… how many times did I throw up?”
“Well… technically twice. Once yesterday and once today. But they were--extended sessions. You were in there for about an hour today.”
Steve winced. “That tracks with what I recall. But I also have a vague memory of throwing up behind a movie theater, or did I dream that?”
“Well, you did that a few times when you got migraines back in Brooklyn. And this one did start at the theater.”
“Oh, that’s right.” With that, Steve tucked into his sandwich with gusto and drank all of the water in a few gulps. Bucky watched him closely.
“But you are feeling better now?” asked the Winter Soldier. Steve had been known to fake that he was getting better, only to make himself much worse.
“Like night and day. I woke up and it was like the headache was never there. I did finally lose my voice. But I’ll take that over a migraine any time. And it feels like we’re going to get some rain tonight. So overall, I’m just dandy. Thanks to you, Buck. I owe you another one.”
“You know I’ve always got your back. That’s what partners do. You would do the same for me.”
“You know I would.”
Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and shuffled his feet. “Rogers, what’s stopping us from partnering up again? Just you and me. Forget Fury and his bullshit. Go rogue for the cause of justice. We’d be unstoppable. No teams, no drama. Just old war buddies. We’d take care of each other better than anyone else could. We wouldn’t have to worry about anything or anyone else ever again.”
Once he started, he couldn’t stop, even though he knew he was rambling. Steve just listened, with that deep look in his eyes, and waited for him to finish. A look that was almost sad crossed his features as he replied.
“We can’t think like that, Buck. That’s not the path we’re on anymore. This team… this is where I’m supposed to be right now. It’s not my place to choose to give that up. It can’t be, even if I would want it to. The Avengers need me, and I need them, the same way I need you. My place is to fight beside them right now.”
“But… there’s so much fighting and trouble and anger in that tower. A soldier can’t thrive in that.”
“We all have problems and pasts, Buck, and none of them easy. Sure, we fight. But we always make up, and are all the stronger for it. It’s good to get away from each other from time to time, but that tower is also my home, and I know I miss it like crazy now. I miss my team. I need to be getting back.”
Bucky heaved a deep sigh. “I figured you would say that. But I had to ask. You should call Stark. He’s been calling you incessantly for two days. He’s worried sick about you. They all are. They asked that you call them as soon as you wake up.”
Steve stood and immediately searched for his phone, legs wobbling a little. Bucky smiled sadly.
“Hey, Steve… Why don’t you stay one more night? It’s already late, and we never got to have dinner. You promised you had a special recipe we were going to try. And you look like you could use one more good night’s sleep before you go back to Avenging. You can go back to the tower first thing in the morning.”
He could tell Steve was hesitant, but he also could tell Steve was very tired. Finally, the taller man caved.
“Alright Buck, you win. One more night. But I’m taking the couch this time.”