Bucky always just assumed that with his enhanced biology, and his incredible immune system after missions in HYDRA that forced him into all kinds of terrain, he’d be completely safe from colds and fevers.

He was very wrong. But, he still told himself that it would pass in an hour tops, just a ‘small issue’, even when he was basically dragging his feet around the apartment and sniffling heavily every few seconds, congestion blocking his nose and ticking his throat with heavy coughs he tried to stifle.

From your point of view, you were basically watching a lump of thick clothes and quiet grumbles wander the apartment, attempting to continue normal life like nothing was wrong.

He immediately rejected your help the moment you asked, but his narrowed gaze was weak and his eyes seemed to soften with regret as you surrendered and stepped away to let him do his thing for the moment. But he couldn’t let himself fall victim to a cold. He needed to be strong, tough… and not watch your every moment, stare at the couch like he wanted to flop onto it face-first and not leave for a week.

You really couldn’t stand around and watch him amble around in his misery all day, and you knew it wouldn’t take too long to get through his stubbornly-set walls of indifference with how much he seemed to drift closer to you, occasionally following you around the apartment before snapping out of it and acting like he was coincidentally heading to the same room that you were.

It didn’t take long for one of the thicker blankets to disappear from the bedroom and appear on the couch, having been used to wrap around Bucky’s frame as he sunk into the couch, watching the TV screen with a deep-set frown alongside a very congested and irritated sniffle once in a while that scrunched his face up in displeasure.

A mug of sweet-smelling and steaming tea was set down on the coffee table in front of Bucky, and his eyes flicked over to you with a small narrow-eyes stare.

“Don’t need it.” He huffed, though his words were very much juxtaposed by his hands tugging the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. You could only raise an eyebrow, but it soon shifted to a look of fond amusement as a metal hand reached out past the soft fabric to grasp the ceramic, raising it up to his lips to take a tentative sip.

The sigh he let out was full of relief, but he tried to mask it with a neutral grunt as he settled back against the couch.

“Be a waste not to drink it.” He mumbled, not meeting your gaze. He already knew the look you’d have on your face; that triumphant grin and twinkle in your eye that spoke volumes about how entertained you were with all this.