Marvel Imagines

Too Good to Me ('40s Bucky Barnes X Reader)

You had no idea how it happened.

You hadn't been around anyone who had showed any signs of being sick.

But yet, the minute you stumbled through the door of the small, three bedroom apartment you share with your two other best friends and roommates, fatigue instantly crashed down on you like a pile of bricks.

So much so, that while you managed to drag yourself towards the living room couch, flopping down onto the cushions with a sigh, the both of your friends had came looking for you, having had ignored their usual greeting.

"What's going on, Y/N/N?" Steve had instantly murmured worriedly, bee-lining towards your evidently paling and sickly looking form sprawled out on the couch.

Before the blond could've gotten too close to you, the other man in the room had halted him, his much larger form blocking the smaller lad's path.

"We can't have you going down on us too, Pal," Bucky had sighed heavily, softly urging his friend towards the chair sitting at the end of the couch, away from you slightly, before turning to face you, genuine concern dancing over his handsome features.

"Before you ask, Buck," You had chuckled weakly, holding up a hand as if to gesture to yourself and the current state you're in. "I have no idea what's going on."

"You're obviously sick," Bucky states plainly, allowing himself to chuckle softly, shaking his head before re-focusing on you. "How can we help?"

You had sighed, holding back a cough as exhaustion began to creep up on you, your eyelids beginning to close.

"I just need some sleep. I'll just sleep it off."

So you had.

You'd been sleeping.

For who knows how long.

For the first while, you knew for a fact that you were laying on the couch, rather comfortable, the soft sound of the radio a tell-tale sign of that fact.

But now, as you begin to toss and turn, shivering and sweating, you can't help but feel like you're somewhere different now, the previous music that had been playing now silenced.

Or maybe that's just whatever 'bug' invading your immune system, talking.

But the sweats and shivers say otherwise.

"Hey," A familiarly comforting tone sounds from outside your sleepy state, sounding slightly distant. "You need to wake up, Doll."

A gentle hand is placed on your shoulder, shaking you lightly, but firmly, enough to tear you from your uneasy slumber.

Your eyes force themselves open, though surprisingly, there's no harsh light from the living room window.

No, rather, as you twist your head slightly, taking in your surroundings, you realize you're not in the living room, and nor is it daytime any longer.

Instead, you're now in your bedroom, and, by the looks of the bleary eyed state of the man sitting on a chair from the dining room table next to you, a cloth and bowl of water in hand, it's also late.

Late enough for the only light to be coming from the small lamp beside your bed.

"What time is it?" You murmur hoarsely, your voice drying up in your throat as a cough rattles through you, earning a sharp intake of breath from the person at your side.

"Here," James whispers gently, having set the washcloth and bowl aside, now handing you a glass of water.

Wordlessly, you prop yourself to a sitting position, taking the glass from his hands and drinking the water rather eagerly.

"And to answer your earlier question, it's around two a.m."

You nearly choke on the water you'd just downed, your tired eyes widening in shock.

"What are you still doing up, then?" You scold weakly, frowning at the man at your bedside. "You have to work tomorrow."

Bucky once again just chuckles, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, the dim light from the lamp illuminating his features perfectly.

"After you feel asleep in the living room, I told Steve to keep an eye on you while I ran down to pay a visit to Mr. Goodman. I explained your situation, and he was kind enough to give me the day off tomorrow." He explains gently, leaning towards your form now settled back in under the blankets, glass set aside.

"To stay home and take care of me?" You wheeze out in an attempt of a laugh, your eyes squinting at Bucky's compassionate expression.

"Of course, Doll," He grins, taking the washcloth from the bowl, wringing it out and placing it on your forehead. "You've always taken care of me, so it's only fair. Plus, you're running an awfully warm fever, which I don't think is benefiting your cause."

You murmur something even incomprehensible to your own ears beneath your breath, leaning into Bucky's touch now on your warm cheek.

"You should get some rest."

"So should you. I'll be fine by myself."

The man who had been sitting beside you sighs heavily, glancing at the empty spot on your bed, seeming to be debating with himself about something.

"I don't really want to leave you hear without anyone nearby..." He mumbles, his touch leaving you as he makes his way to his feet and clambers into bed beside you, snuggling in beside you, though he doesn't bother to get under the blankets.

"You'll catch whatever this is, too," You urge, shooing him from your side rather pathetically. "Go back to your own room, Buck."

"I can't leave you alone, Love," He mumbles softly, laying an arm over your stomach, the gesture comforting you immensely. "I'll be fine here. And if I get sick; that just means more time together, right?"

All you can do is drearily grin at his remark, sleep weighing heavy on you once again.

"You're too good to me, Buck."

You could swear you hear him laugh softly and press a kiss to your cheek, though maybe it's just the fever and the fatigue playing tricks.

"Love you, Y/N."