#I've drawn too much OCS so I'm returning to the classics

[lovelyrottingcrows]

that's right, I drew Yuri (not just the chr)

This might be the funniest art meme to ever exist

og from Twitter

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #28

Prompt: “I should have stayed home.”

Fandom/OCs: MCU (Sick Steve Rogers)

Words: 860

Sicknario inspo: "You ARE sick" from this post and this post.

Author’s comments/background: Read the label on this one I guess. Sick miserable Steve as requested with caregiver Bucky. Short and sweet as always. Nothing much to see here. 

CW: Emeto, v*mit. Not overly long or explicit, but definitely there. 

~~~***~~~

Steve was lying facedown on a bunk in the Quinjet when the rest of the team (except for Bruce, who was working on de-Hulking) entered, talking in low voices. Natasha went to him immediately, looking worriedly at the blood coating one side of his uniform as she shook his shoulder. He turned toward her, his face drawn and pale.

"Steve, are you okay? Did you call for a medevac?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm not dying. There's no emergency."

"Then why the hell did you pull out? We almost had them!" Tony shouted. "You almost cost us the fight!"

Steve winced. "I was a liability out there. I was barely functioning. I'm not… I'm not well at all…."

"Wait, was that spear that hit you poisoned or something?" Clint asked anxiously, joining Natasha at his side, probing the area to find the source of the blood, but Steve moved away, shaking his head.

"Think I'm coming down with something," he mumbled. "It started a while ago, even before we left. And I think my side is already healed. It's just the old blood now."

Natasha pressed a hand against his forehead, none-too gently, but pulled it back almost immediately. "Whew, you ARE sick! Jesus, I almost got a first degree burn from your skin."

"I thought you couldn't get sick!" Tony chimed in.

"So did I," Steve groaned. "I have no idea what's happening."

"Well we're not gonna figure it out in the middle of the jungle. Let's just get out of here. We can deal with it when we get home," Clint said. 

"Roger that," Tony said, going to the controls. "Soon as we find our big green friend."

"Are you sure you'll make it, Steve?" Natasha asked. "You look awful."

"I feel it, too," he agreed. "But I don't think I'm dying just yet. I can hold out a while longer."

~~~

Many hours later, Steve was again lying facedown, this time in bed in his suite in Avengers Tower. He heard JARVIS unlock his door and swing it open to admit Bucky, who had just returned from his own mission. Neither spoke at first as Bucky took in the bloody clothes on the floor and the supersoldier huddled on the bed under a mound of blankets. 

"How's it going, Stevie?" Bucky finally asked, sounding overly casual as he pulled up a chair to the side of the bed. 

"Not so great, Buck. I feel absolutely awful."

"It must be really bad if you're admitting it, especially to me. Did something happen to you on the mission or is it just that you're sick?"

"Nothing happened on the mission, but I might as well not have gone. I wasn't feeling great before we left and it only got worse. That's how I got stabbed--I was totally out of it and my reflexes were shot. The team handled it. But going didn't do me any favors. I should have stayed home."

Bucky leaned forward to press the back of his hand to Steve's cheek. "Classic Stevie with a raging fever, just like the old days," Bucky sighed. "At least you're not a 90 pound shrimp anymore. What did–?"

"Oh God," Steve interjected with a guttural groan. "Bucky…."

"Oh shit!" Bucky said, leaping up when he saw Steve's expression. "I've got it, hang on…."

He dashed to the bathroom and snagged the garbage basket then rushed back to Steve's side, holding the pail to his face just in time to catch the rush of sick that came spewing out of the younger man. The explosion was short-lived and, thanks to Bucky’s quick action, overall mess-free. It left both of them panting, though. Poor Steve fell back into the pillow with another groan, this time self-pitying and exuding abject misery while Bucky made his way back to the bathroom, holding the bin at arm’s length. 

“Whew, you ARE sick,” Bucky said, trying to take on a lighthearted tone as he washed out the can in the shower.  

“Nat sat the same thing,” Steve replied with, Bucky thought, a hint of a smile. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever known who throws up from a high fever. Unless there’s something else going on that you’re not telling me,” Bucky said, glancing at the bloody clothes again as he reentered the main room. 

“No. Just the fever. I’d really hoped the serum had taken that lovely symptom away, but no such luck. It’s like adding insult to injury. And Medical says they don’t have anything I can take for it, either, as usual. I’ll just have to ride it out apparently.”

“And they have no idea why you’re sick? I thought that couldn’t happen to you anymore.”

“So did I. Another thing I thought I left back in the 1940’s. No, they have no idea. They just drew a bunch of blood to run tests, but none of them sounded hopeful that they'll find anything. Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” Bucky chuckled, sitting back down at his friend’s side. “But you’ll make it through this just like every other sickness you’ve ever had. And I’ll be right here with you the whole time, just like always.”

“Really, Buck?” Steve said, a hopeful, innocent look crossing his face as he lifted his head slightly to look over.

“Really, Stevie. Cross my heart.”

The pair shared a tiny smile before Bucky helped Steve lie back down, covering him warmly.