Avengers Sick-fics

Just a Graze - Bucky/Reader

"Buc-," the sobs cut off the word and someone started retching. Not quite someone. (Y/N).

Without thinking, Bucky dashed into the bathroom to find the young Avenger in tears. She was vomiting, her skin was blotchy and bits of vomit were caught in the strands of hair escaping a poorly tied ponytail.

Bucky raked back the hair, regardless of the clumps of vomit stuck to it and held them. Accidentally, his metal hand brushed (Y/N)'s skin and she let out a panicked gasp before retching again.

Finally, she managed to get ahold of herself and gingery twisted her head to face Bucky. (Y/N)'s hair escaped his hand and hung in limp strands about her face. "Here to mock me? Tell me off? What? Why are you here?" She hissed, the poisonous tone at odds with her pale, feverish features.

"I heard you crying," Bucky said softly, "do you want to get back into bed?"

"No! I-" and she began vomiting again.

Bucky sighed as more hair caught vomit and pulled it all back again, this time registering the heat emanating from (Y/N). When she stopped, she spat and then leaned back.

"Why are you still-" she began but was interrupted.

"Enough." Bucky placed his hands on (Y/N)'s hips and fired her onto the counter next to her bathroom sink. She was wearing long pyjama pants and a hoodie and both items were sweaty and in need of a wash. "You need medical attention. Have you even treated that wound?"

(Y/N) shrank back from the Winter Soldier and gave the barest of nods. Bucky grunted.

"You didn't do a very good job. Now you need to get over how much you dislike me and listen closely. I'm going to find you some shorts, you're going to wear them and I'm going to properly sort out this wound."

Apparently, the gruff tone worked wonders because Bucky spent ten minutes searching (Y/N)'s room for some suitable pyjama shorts and when he returned, she was still sitting on the counter, looking tired but wary with her head tilted back to rest against the mirror.

"Put these on and I'll get some bandages and a dressing," Bucky said and jogged off to his room before she could reply. When he returned, (Y/N) was hunched over the toilet gasping.

He flushed it and handed her a glass of water before lifting her back onto the bench where he finally saw the wound. (Y/N) was shivering and the bandages were badly put on. When he removed them, he found a deep sort of graze. All the skin around it was a yellowy-green colour and there was dried blood and puss over it.

(Y/N) sat quietly as Bucky cleaned her wound, grunting in apology when his cold, metal hand brushed her skin. He'd prefer to use his good hand to clean her up but he was using that to hold down (Y/N)'s leg so she'd stop moving it from shaking too much.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked when he was about to apply the dressing.

Bucky was silent for a moment before replying. "Before you even noticed me in here, you said my name. Why?"

(Y/N) gulped and closed her eyes. Bucky stepped between her legs. They were near enough to kiss and he could feel her breath escaping her parted lips.

"Why, (Y/N)?" He pressed, his voice low and husky. Why say his name, of all the Avengers, when he was the one she fought with the most?

"Why are you caring for me?"

"I've always wanted to. Now answer me."

"You're the one I think of when I'm afraid. When I want-" the blood drained from (Y/N)'s face and she scrambled off the bench, partially using Bucky to help support her, partially shoving him aside. She knelt before the toilet and retched, leaning crookedly so as not to place weight on her unbandaged injury.