Bucky One-Shots and Imagines

When he takes care of you

Hugs! Hugs are all I want as of now! God, how I'd kill for a nice Bucky hug hmmm

Requested by anon: "A sick day where Bucky tends to you"<3
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"Y/N/N, I'm home," Bucky sighs as he walks into your shared apartment. He kicks of his shoes and sets them beside the door, knowing you'll be at his neck fuming if he doesn't keep them in their designated place. The thought of you scolding him, your hands planted firmly on your hips and your cheeks flushing a cute pink from the yelling, makes a smile crawl it's way onto his face.

He sets his duffel bag on the couch and opens the weapons drawer as he removes his blades and guns from their holsters on his pants. Quirking an eyebrow involuntarily when he notices that your weapons aren't present in said drawer (even though you got off work almost an hour back) he strolls to the bedroom, throwing his sweater over his head along the way. Your weaponry belt lies placid on your bed, but there's still no sign of you.

"Doll?" He calls out again, a thick wave of panic starting to settle into his chest like an unwanted fog. He tries shaking it off as he walks around the apartment, checking the kitchen and the balcony. Finally he makes it to the washroom, slowly creaking the door open and stepping in.

He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees your hunched form in the tub, and laughs as he realized you've fallen asleep. Your chin is flat against your chest, wet tendrils of your hair stuck around your grimy cheeks.

Grimy cheeks?

This is when Bucky notices the pool of vomit surrounding you, wobbling chunks of your own throw-up. You're stewing in your own puke and he rushes over, planting his hand against your neck. 

"Oh, baby," He mumbles in pity as his hand comes away burning hot from your temperature. He kneels down beside you, moving your hair gently out of your face and planting a kiss on the side of your head. You stir awake slightly and groan, feebly opening your eyes.

"Bucky?"

He smiles at you as he drains the tub and wets a cloth with warm water.
"Hey, doll," he says softly as he nears you, "Let's get you cleaned up now," he continues, dabbing at your face with the damp cloth, and you squint at him, sighing as he runs the hot fabric over your aching arms and legs, massaging them simultaneously. He sets it on the edge of the bath and stands up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Come on," He says, "Shower time,"

Bucky takes both your hands in his and yanks you up, ignoring your weak protests. Turning on the water and making sure it's slightly cool, he makes you stand below the shower-head.

You settle underneath the cold downpour and he grabs your shampoo and conditioner, doing your hair with them one after the other. Then he takes your vanilla-scented body wash and gently scrubs you down with it. You just watch him do it, too tired to wash yourself or speak and he can tell as you cry out a giant yawn.

"Ok, darling," He says gently, "Turn around so I can do your back,"

You nod and swivel, so your back is to him and you're facing the wall. He gasps as he now notices the gash on your shoulder, although covered in a protective plastic seal (courtesy Bruce), still very visible. He trails his fingers along the edges of the wound and you hiss in pain as it starts to sting.

"Sorry- I," He pauses, and you can see his face already even though you're facing away from him, his mouth slightly parted, eyes wide in confusion and worry, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck, "How did this happen?"

You rest your head onto the marble tiling of your bathroom wall and groan in exhaustion again, "Too tired," You grumble, "Talk later," You finish and he chuckles as you hear him squeeze out more of your soap.

"Alright, baby, but you promise you'll tell me later?" He murmurs as he cleans your back, steering clear of your injury and any other cuts or bruises you may have. You just nod and say a muffled yes in reply that sounds more like a 'yheff' because your face is squished up against a tile, his muscled hands doing wonders for the tight knots in your back. You hum in pleasure and he washes you up.

"All done," He says, a smile on his face as you turn around, rubbing your eyes, "I'm just gonna grab you a towel okay?" He says and you nod again in reply as he pecks your lips and hurries out.

He returns and holds the towel open against himself, gesturing for you to step forward. He wraps you tightly in it as you abide and you sigh in content, sinking into his chest. Your eyes flutter close and Bucky laughs, wrapping his arms around your frail form.

He lifts you up out of the tub and carries you on his hip like how a parent carries their toddler. Setting you down on the bed gently, he takes out a pair of flannel bottoms and a shirt that belongs to him out of your cabinet.

Once he's helped you change, he instructs you to get into bed, tucking the duvet around you as he plays a random episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. A limp smile appears on your lips and he kisses your temple before disappearing momentarily into the living room. He comes back with a bottle of medicine and a thermometer in his hands.

His face scrunches in disapproval as he takes your temperature, shaking his head at the 39°C. You crane your head to look at it and smile apologetically.

He feeds you two spoonfuls of a terrible tasting liquid and you make a face, sticking your tongue out in disgust as you gulp it down. He laughs heartily and you gag.

"That was yucky," You mutter and he nods his head.

"Yes," he agrees, "But you have to drink it or you won't get better,"
He squeezes into bed with you once he has set the things down on your dresser. Your arms immediately dart around his waist, head resting in his chest and he smiles as he pulls you close to him, turning his face so he can give you a proper kiss. You gasp as he pulls away.

"Bucky! Now you'll get sick too," You exclaim and he grins in return.

"Then we shall be sick together, my ailing dame," he counters cheekily and you hit him lightly, giggling.

"You want anything to eat?" He asks and you shake your head, both of you turning back to the F.R.I.E.N.D.S episode that was playing on TV.

Shortly after, your stomach begins to grumble just as you were about to fall asleep.
"Buckyyyy," You whine, burying your face in his chest.

"Mhm,"

"Hungryyyy," You trail again and he sits up.

"You want me to get you something?"

"Yes, please," You say, as he gets out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen once more. You fall asleep while he's making you dinner and he shakes you awake, tugging you forward so your sitting up against the headboard.

"Food's ready, doll," He whispers and sits down on your side desk. He clutches a bowl in his hands and you open your eyes as he spoon- feeds you a mouthful of noodles. You moan in satisfaction.

"Stop making that noise, it's torture," He mumbles under his breath and you give him a goofy smile.

"Thank you," You happily gurgle as he brings another spoonful to your mouth.

"No need to thank me, doll, these are hardly any effort to make," He responds and you shake your head.

"No," You begin, as you take in the spoon he's waving in front of you, "Thank you for taking care of me, I love you," You manage to mumble somehow between the food stuffed in your mouth.

He chuckles to himself, "Doll, I'd be lying if I said you weren't an effort," He quips, earning him a thump on the thigh and an eye-roll from you, "But somehow I love you too,"