Tell me when you hear my heart stop (MCU, Steve/Bucky, PG-13)
Title: Tell me when you hear my heart stop
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Five times Bucky and Steve shared a bed
A/N:Written for Jain for avengersfest.
They’re ten and Bucky sneaks into the infirmary at night. He hasn’t seen Steve in days but he knows he’s still alive because there wasn’t a funeral.
Yet.
He was coughing for days before the Nuns decided to put him in the infirmary. Most kids that go to the infirmary because they cough don’t come back, Bucky knows that.
He wants Steve to come back very, very much.
At the moment Steve is the only kid in the infirmary and Bucky has no problems finding him. He just follows the coughing.
“Steve?”
“Bucky?” Steve asks.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Bucky shrugs. “Rory tried to hit Georgie. So I knocked him out.” He shows Steve the bruises on his hand. Rory is twelve and more than a head taller but Steve would have helped Georgie and so Bucky did it for him.
He shivers because it’s cold and he doesn’t have shoes on. So he lifts Steve’s blanket and crawls into bed with him just like they do in winter when it’s cold.
“They’ll catch you”, Steve warns but burrows into the heat of Bucky’s body.
“Not before morning”, Bucky says. Steve feels clammy and thin like a baby bird when Bucky wraps his arms around him.
Steve’s coughing keeps him up half of the night and Sister Mary gives him extra chores for the next two weekends but that’s fine because Steve comes back from the infirmary three days later.
/
Steve’s actually two months older than Bucky but the nuns wait until he’s sixteen as well before they let them both go. Sister Agnes gives Bucky a copy of her cookbook and tells him to take care of Steve.
As if Bucky would do anything else.
They find an apartment in Brooklyn and Bucky does every job he can find and Steve works as an illustrator for the local newspaper. They eat breakfast together and dinner, Steve gets into fights with bullies and Bucky rescues him and usually patches him up afterwards as well. These are the good days.
The bad days come in different categories. It depends how sick Steve is and how long it takes for him to recover. In Bucky’s book every day that isn’t a bad day is a good one.
The worst one comes during the winter when they’re both 22. Steve feels good in the morning when he leaves for work but when Bucky comes to pick him up in the evening his face is flushed and he can barely stand, let alone walk.
The next morning he feels fine and goes back to work but by 7pm he’s worse than the night before.
Bucky wants to keep him at home but Steve is nothing if not stubborn and goes to work the next day because once again he feels better in the morning.
“We need the money”, Steve reminds him when Bucky protests.
“I’d rather have you alive than the money.”
“Mother hen”, Steve says and smiles. “I’m fine, see?” He does a little twirl, overbalances and stumbles.
“You just jinxed it, stupid.”
And because Steve is a very mature man he sticks his tongue out.
Things go to hell from there very quickly. One of the runner boys from Steve’s newspaper comes in the early afternoon to tell him that Steve fell asleep and hasn’t woken up yet.
When Bucky arrives at his workplace someone already put Steve on a couch and draped a blanket over him. He’s shivering but when Bucky touches his forehead he feels too warm. There are pink rings all over his arms that hadn’t been there yesterday and when Steve opens his eyes they’re bloodshot.
Bucky gets a doctor even though they cannot afford it but he’s too afraid to think straight. He thought he’s already seen Steve at his worst and he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Rheumatic fever”, the doctor says. “Give him aspirin, keep him in bed for a few weeks even when he feels better. Listen if the heart murmur changes.”
“Is it good or bad if it changes?”
“That’s up to him now”, the doctor says and looks at Steve as if letting him die would be more merciful.
Bucky’s heart clenches painfully at the idea of a world without Steve.
That night he rests his head on Steve’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. It’s too fast, too hard and too erratic. Steve’s still too deep in his fever delusions to even recognise Bucky or anything really and Bucky does what he can to alleviate it, wiping Steve’s sweat soaked face with cold rags and making him drink tea and when they run out of that hot water. He rations what little food they have and uses their last money to buy a single packet of aspirin.
At night he keeps listening to Steve’s heartbeat and hopes it will change.
Ten days in he wakes up to a thin hand stroking his hair. Pale winter sunlight is falling through the window and under his ear Steve’s heart beats slower, steadier than it has in weeks.
“Hey”, Steve rasps when Bucky looks up.
“Hey” Bucky replies and shifts so he can lay his forehead against Steve’s. “Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again.”
“Only if you don’t.”
“I’m not the one who’s nearly dying on a regular basis.”
Steve gives him this sheepish little look that means he knows Bucky is right but has no intention of saying so. What he actually says is:
“I’m hungry.”
For Bucky they’re the most beautiful words he has ever heard.
/
They’re 24 and America is at war. Steve has been trying to enlist four times now but they all had enough common sense to reject him whereas they took Bucky right off the bat. As his friend he’s sympathetic to Steve’s wish to become a soldier and fight but mostly he’s glad that Steve will stay here where it’s safe. And another part worries what will happen to Steve once he’s not here anymore to take care of him.
Since Pearl Harbour there has been more work which means more food and coals for the oven and there have been less bad days than ever but Steve still gets into fights, still has asthma attacks and heart problems.
Steve clearly hasn’t expected him to come back that night but Bucky would rather spend his last night with him than with some girls.
“Hey”, Steve says and sits up in bed. They could afford two beds by now but the topic has never come up and sleeping together is warmer in winter. “How was the dancing?”
“Pretty good”, Bucky says as he undresses. He doesn’t ask how Steve’s attempt in the recruitment office went, he can guess.
Bucky slips under the covers and rests his head on Steve’s chest. He needs to do this ever since Steve nearly died two years ago.
“Bucky”, Steve says and usually that means he’s becoming too heavy but Steve’s thin hand keeps him right where he is. “Don’t die.”
“Not planning to.”
Steve smacks him lights in the back of the head. “No one ever plans to.”
Bucky shifts so that he leans over Steve on one elbow. In the dim light from the street lamps he can just about see his face. “I’ll come back to you.”
He’s not sure who moves first, who kisses whom but in the end it doesn’t really matter.
“You’re timing sucks”, Steve tells him as soon as they part. He’s flushed and breathing hard but for once it’s not setting off the alarm bells in Bucky’s mind.
“You could’ve said something too, punk”, Bucky says and punches him lightly in the shoulder.
Steve rolls his eyes, threads his hand through Bucky’s hair and kisses him again.
/
“Have you seen my friend? His name is Steve Rogers and he looks a little like you if someone had shrunk you.” Bucky sits on a cot, still looking like he went through hell but he’s alive and he’s grinning.
“You’re not funny.” Steve says.
“Liar. You turned yourself into a living experiment just so you could hear my jokes again.”
“Among other things.” Steve gives him a sheepish smile that makes Bucky want to kiss him senseless.
So he closes the tent flaps and does.
“So...uh...this is okay?” Steve asks tentatively.
“No, I’m not having morning after regrets three months later.” Bucky pulls Steve down to the cot. He’s the taller one now. That will take some time to get used to. He pushes him over until Steve lies down and Bucky rests his head on his chest. Steve’s heartbeat is reassuringly slow and steady and Bucky can finally let himself relax.
/
His dreams are landscapes of snow and blood. He fires a shot and people scream. He fires a shot and blood splatters over walls and pavement. He’s a man without a past, without a name and he follows orders without questions.
“Bucky.” Someone says but he doesn’t care because that is not his name.
“Bucky.” The voice sounds familiar but it cannot be because he is no one.
“Bucky.” He opens his eyes.
Steve’s strong hands are wrapped around his wrists to keep him still. Bucky takes a few breaths and tries to relax. Steve lets go of him and doesn’t ask whether he’s fine.
They both know he’s not.
Not yet.
It’s strange, having Steve take care of him instead of the other way around and Bucky doesn’t like it.
He crawls over Steve and lies down on his chest. Steve’s heart beats slow and steady. It always does these days. Bucky listens to it until he falls back asleep or until morning comes.
Steve’s 96, Bucky’s 95 but they’re alive and together and mentally Bucky ticks it off as another good day.
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Steve/Bucky
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Five times Bucky and Steve shared a bed
A/N:Written for Jain for avengersfest.
They’re ten and Bucky sneaks into the infirmary at night. He hasn’t seen Steve in days but he knows he’s still alive because there wasn’t a funeral.
Yet.
He was coughing for days before the Nuns decided to put him in the infirmary. Most kids that go to the infirmary because they cough don’t come back, Bucky knows that.
He wants Steve to come back very, very much.
At the moment Steve is the only kid in the infirmary and Bucky has no problems finding him. He just follows the coughing.
“Steve?”
“Bucky?” Steve asks.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Bucky shrugs. “Rory tried to hit Georgie. So I knocked him out.” He shows Steve the bruises on his hand. Rory is twelve and more than a head taller but Steve would have helped Georgie and so Bucky did it for him.
He shivers because it’s cold and he doesn’t have shoes on. So he lifts Steve’s blanket and crawls into bed with him just like they do in winter when it’s cold.
“They’ll catch you”, Steve warns but burrows into the heat of Bucky’s body.
“Not before morning”, Bucky says. Steve feels clammy and thin like a baby bird when Bucky wraps his arms around him.
Steve’s coughing keeps him up half of the night and Sister Mary gives him extra chores for the next two weekends but that’s fine because Steve comes back from the infirmary three days later.
/
Steve’s actually two months older than Bucky but the nuns wait until he’s sixteen as well before they let them both go. Sister Agnes gives Bucky a copy of her cookbook and tells him to take care of Steve.
As if Bucky would do anything else.
They find an apartment in Brooklyn and Bucky does every job he can find and Steve works as an illustrator for the local newspaper. They eat breakfast together and dinner, Steve gets into fights with bullies and Bucky rescues him and usually patches him up afterwards as well. These are the good days.
The bad days come in different categories. It depends how sick Steve is and how long it takes for him to recover. In Bucky’s book every day that isn’t a bad day is a good one.
The worst one comes during the winter when they’re both 22. Steve feels good in the morning when he leaves for work but when Bucky comes to pick him up in the evening his face is flushed and he can barely stand, let alone walk.
The next morning he feels fine and goes back to work but by 7pm he’s worse than the night before.
Bucky wants to keep him at home but Steve is nothing if not stubborn and goes to work the next day because once again he feels better in the morning.
“We need the money”, Steve reminds him when Bucky protests.
“I’d rather have you alive than the money.”
“Mother hen”, Steve says and smiles. “I’m fine, see?” He does a little twirl, overbalances and stumbles.
“You just jinxed it, stupid.”
And because Steve is a very mature man he sticks his tongue out.
Things go to hell from there very quickly. One of the runner boys from Steve’s newspaper comes in the early afternoon to tell him that Steve fell asleep and hasn’t woken up yet.
When Bucky arrives at his workplace someone already put Steve on a couch and draped a blanket over him. He’s shivering but when Bucky touches his forehead he feels too warm. There are pink rings all over his arms that hadn’t been there yesterday and when Steve opens his eyes they’re bloodshot.
Bucky gets a doctor even though they cannot afford it but he’s too afraid to think straight. He thought he’s already seen Steve at his worst and he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Rheumatic fever”, the doctor says. “Give him aspirin, keep him in bed for a few weeks even when he feels better. Listen if the heart murmur changes.”
“Is it good or bad if it changes?”
“That’s up to him now”, the doctor says and looks at Steve as if letting him die would be more merciful.
Bucky’s heart clenches painfully at the idea of a world without Steve.
That night he rests his head on Steve’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. It’s too fast, too hard and too erratic. Steve’s still too deep in his fever delusions to even recognise Bucky or anything really and Bucky does what he can to alleviate it, wiping Steve’s sweat soaked face with cold rags and making him drink tea and when they run out of that hot water. He rations what little food they have and uses their last money to buy a single packet of aspirin.
At night he keeps listening to Steve’s heartbeat and hopes it will change.
Ten days in he wakes up to a thin hand stroking his hair. Pale winter sunlight is falling through the window and under his ear Steve’s heart beats slower, steadier than it has in weeks.
“Hey”, Steve rasps when Bucky looks up.
“Hey” Bucky replies and shifts so he can lay his forehead against Steve’s. “Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again.”
“Only if you don’t.”
“I’m not the one who’s nearly dying on a regular basis.”
Steve gives him this sheepish little look that means he knows Bucky is right but has no intention of saying so. What he actually says is:
“I’m hungry.”
For Bucky they’re the most beautiful words he has ever heard.
/
They’re 24 and America is at war. Steve has been trying to enlist four times now but they all had enough common sense to reject him whereas they took Bucky right off the bat. As his friend he’s sympathetic to Steve’s wish to become a soldier and fight but mostly he’s glad that Steve will stay here where it’s safe. And another part worries what will happen to Steve once he’s not here anymore to take care of him.
Since Pearl Harbour there has been more work which means more food and coals for the oven and there have been less bad days than ever but Steve still gets into fights, still has asthma attacks and heart problems.
Steve clearly hasn’t expected him to come back that night but Bucky would rather spend his last night with him than with some girls.
“Hey”, Steve says and sits up in bed. They could afford two beds by now but the topic has never come up and sleeping together is warmer in winter. “How was the dancing?”
“Pretty good”, Bucky says as he undresses. He doesn’t ask how Steve’s attempt in the recruitment office went, he can guess.
Bucky slips under the covers and rests his head on Steve’s chest. He needs to do this ever since Steve nearly died two years ago.
“Bucky”, Steve says and usually that means he’s becoming too heavy but Steve’s thin hand keeps him right where he is. “Don’t die.”
“Not planning to.”
Steve smacks him lights in the back of the head. “No one ever plans to.”
Bucky shifts so that he leans over Steve on one elbow. In the dim light from the street lamps he can just about see his face. “I’ll come back to you.”
He’s not sure who moves first, who kisses whom but in the end it doesn’t really matter.
“You’re timing sucks”, Steve tells him as soon as they part. He’s flushed and breathing hard but for once it’s not setting off the alarm bells in Bucky’s mind.
“You could’ve said something too, punk”, Bucky says and punches him lightly in the shoulder.
Steve rolls his eyes, threads his hand through Bucky’s hair and kisses him again.
/
“Have you seen my friend? His name is Steve Rogers and he looks a little like you if someone had shrunk you.” Bucky sits on a cot, still looking like he went through hell but he’s alive and he’s grinning.
“You’re not funny.” Steve says.
“Liar. You turned yourself into a living experiment just so you could hear my jokes again.”
“Among other things.” Steve gives him a sheepish smile that makes Bucky want to kiss him senseless.
So he closes the tent flaps and does.
“So...uh...this is okay?” Steve asks tentatively.
“No, I’m not having morning after regrets three months later.” Bucky pulls Steve down to the cot. He’s the taller one now. That will take some time to get used to. He pushes him over until Steve lies down and Bucky rests his head on his chest. Steve’s heartbeat is reassuringly slow and steady and Bucky can finally let himself relax.
/
His dreams are landscapes of snow and blood. He fires a shot and people scream. He fires a shot and blood splatters over walls and pavement. He’s a man without a past, without a name and he follows orders without questions.
“Bucky.” Someone says but he doesn’t care because that is not his name.
“Bucky.” The voice sounds familiar but it cannot be because he is no one.
“Bucky.” He opens his eyes.
Steve’s strong hands are wrapped around his wrists to keep him still. Bucky takes a few breaths and tries to relax. Steve lets go of him and doesn’t ask whether he’s fine.
They both know he’s not.
Not yet.
It’s strange, having Steve take care of him instead of the other way around and Bucky doesn’t like it.
He crawls over Steve and lies down on his chest. Steve’s heart beats slow and steady. It always does these days. Bucky listens to it until he falls back asleep or until morning comes.
Steve’s 96, Bucky’s 95 but they’re alive and together and mentally Bucky ticks it off as another good day.