Sebastian Stan Short Stories

Bucky Barnes [24]

"Convalesce"

As per the request of Wife_of_SexySeaBass

*

"How did you manage all this?" the medic asked, glancing up at me from her computer screen. There was no doubt my X-rays or MRI or whatever far more sophisticated diagnostic scans were at her disposal in Wakanda. Neither of us were natives to the country, but they had taken us in like orphans.

"Rough mission," I explained shortly, breathing slowly and evenly so she'd hopefully overlook the grimace on my face. Anything that required a deep breath was difficult.

"Rough mission," she repeated. "I'm giving you painkillers and muscle relaxers, and the Wakandans have some sort of vibranium-based injection that promotes tissue regeneration and repair. I want to try that too."

"Whatever you say," I agreed. She directed me to lie back and pull part of my hospital gown out of the way. My entire right side was black and blue, the consequence of a long fall and a hard landing.

"Fair warning, this will probably hurt," she warned gently. She handed me a couple of the painkiller pills, which I quickly threw back and swallowed. "Those should kick in while I'm working, but let me know if the pain gets to be too much."

I nodded and braced myself.

~

The worst part was having to roll onto my side so the medic could get to the muscles in my back and ass. Getting dressed was a challenge, but at least the painkillers had kicked in by the time I was pulling on my pants and shrugging into my shirt.

"Now, go back to your quarters and let that dreamboat of yours take care of you," the medic ordered. "Get off your feet as soon as you can. Those pain meds are going to lay you out within the next hour. I'm surprised they haven't already."

"If you think I'm going to tell Bucky that I'm hurt, you need your head check out. Do you not remember the last time I had a minor injury? When I dislocated my shoulder in Dubai?" I asked.

"It takes a special kind of person to consider a dislocated shoulder a minor injury," the medic deadpanned. "But I will respect your idiotic wish not to tell Barnes about your injuries. Here are your pills, and come back tomorrow so I can look at the bruises."

I said goodbye to the doctor, tucked my pill bottles into a pocket on my pants, and left the treatment room.

I had been a part of a three-person reconnaissance team, assigned to survey a rogue arms dealer's vacation home in the foothills of a mountain range in Europe. Recon was my specialty, but literally being dropped out of a camouflaged Wakandan aircraft onto the side of a mountain was decidedly not my specialty. Nonetheless, my team and I persisted. After 36 hours monitoring the security around the home, our extraction team arrived. When we landed in Wakanda I was drug to the infirmary for treatment. Bucky, Steve, and a few other heavy-hitters had already left for a mission, and I spent the night under observation while getting scanned and assessed hourly.

I made it out of the medical wing without incidence, but my head began swimming soon after walking through the sliding glass doors at the entrance. I compensated as best as I could given the circumstances: muscles that were still tense, dozens of little pin pricks on one side of my body, painkillers coursing through my veins.

The farther away from the infirmary I got, the more I felt the heady effects of the drugs and the more crowded the hallways became. I wasn't a strangers amongst the people who lived and worked in the extensive underground compound, but I began to attract attention when I began to lean against the wall every few steps. The angles between the floor and the walls and the ceiling started curving, and the flight announcements coming in through the overhead speakers sounded like they were coming through an atmosphere of water.

"Flight Alpha Foxtrot 47 is now in hangar 3. Mechanical crew Charlie and technical crew Echo please report to hangar 3," the same not-quite-human voice announced. "Repeating, M.C. Charlie and T.C. Echo report to hangar 3 to receive flight Alpha Foxtrot 47."

Even in my haze, I recognized that flight designation. It was Bucky's return flight from his mission, which meant I needed to get my drugged up ass into bed before I hit the floor. The only problem with that plan was trying to navigate to my quarters. After twenty minutes, I had meandered and stumbled through the hallways until I wasn't quite sure where I was anymore.

A familiar face came to my rescue though.

"What are you doing way out here?" Bucky teased as he approached. I held out my hand for him and tried to lean against the wall casually, although it turned into more of a stumble that further bruised my side.

"Looking for you," I answered with a drowsy smile. Bucky looked around, presumably at the signs hanging on every door that looked like hieroglyphics, not the standard Wakandan alphabet I had been learning to recognize.

"Near uniform repair and low-priority storage?" Bucky asked.

"Where else would I wait?" I replied. Bucky reached out and put a hand on my hip, the left one thankfully. I couldn't feel my feet anymore so I put more of my weight against the wall.

"Maybe in your quarters or in the mess hall. Maybe even the hangars," he listed. I blinked slowly and put my hand over his.

"You took longer than normal leaving the hangar so I came looking for you. I must have gotten lost," I explained. Then my knees became jelly and nearly dropped out from under me. Bucky, realizing I was going down, grabbed my other hip. Pain broke through the medicine, and I winced and pushed away from his hand.

All I could remember before everything blacked out was Bucky cursing loudly and bending down to catch me.

~

"There's something about that painkiller," the medic muttered. "If you lay down and put your feet up, it's fine. If you fight it, that stuff knocks you out cold. Should have known better than to trust her to go straight to her quarters. Speaking of, hey there, sleeping beauty."

I groaned at her volume and attempted to roll away, only to find my nose buried in someone's shirt.

"You feeling okay?" Bucky asked, and I could feel the vibrations through his chest. "You passed out a few hours ago."

"Please tell me I'm not back in the damn infirmary," I muttered. The sound was muffled and distorted but clear enough not to need repeating.

"No, you aren't in the damn infirmary," the medic answered. "You're in your quarters with Bucky like I told you to do earlier. I'm just making a house call."

"I swear I was trying to get here," I said. "But I got lost."

"Definitely should have walked you here myself," the medic told me. "Let me check on the bruises while I'm here."

"No, Bucky might see them," I argued, rolling closer to him and making it easier for the medic to see my bruised side.

"Wow, you're still high," she laughed. "Bucky already knows you got hurt. Someone from your team told him in the hangar bay."

I groaned again and blindly pulled my shirt out of the way. Admittedly, I probably wasn't much help; she ended up swatting my hand away while Bucky laughed softly. He didn't say a word as she gently poked at the bruises though. The meds were still numbing the pain in my side, thankfully.

"It already looks better," the medic announced. "I'll have to talk to one of the senior doctors about the normal treatment regimen with those vibranium injections, but you may not even need another round. I still want to see you tomorrow though."

"Fine," I grunted.

"I'll make sure she's there, first thing in the morning," Bucky promised.

"First thing in the morning," I mimicked. "Like hell."

Bucky laughed again, the medic probably rolled her eyes, and I promptly fell back asleep.

*

Author's Note:

Thanks again to Wife_of_SexySeaBass for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get around to writing this one, but I hope you enjoyed it.