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Bucky sighs, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and letting his eyes fall closed. It's been a long few days, and he's sure that he hasn't caught more than a couple hours of sleep here and there, not that he necessarily minds. Steve's sick, so it's not like he has any other choice than to spend most of his time and energy looking after him; not because Steve doesn't have anyone else (although he doesn't) but because it is quite impossible for Bucky to not take care of Steve when his friend needs him. Some might have a problem with that, but Bucky, frankly, doesn't give a shit. So he's co-dependent enough with Steve to need him like air and the thought of losing him somehow, even just the thought, is enough for Bucky to feel like he's been punched in the gut. So what.
For three days, Steve's been hot to the touch, barely waking enough to swallow down some broth or water, or go to the bathroom. For three days, Steve's been shaking and moaning in his sleep, retching a little but with barely anything coming up because he just can't keep anything down. It's been hell on Bucky because whenever Steve gets sick, he's always so afraid that this will be the time that he can't make Steve better, and he can't lose Steve, he can't. He's spent the last three days constantly by Steve's side, except for the brief snatches of sleep or running out to the store to get broth (and Steve will surely give him hell for spending his personal money, but once again, Bucky doesn't give a shit.)
Bucky's spent three days smoothing back Steve's damp hair, putting a cool cloth on his forehead and murmuring to him, asking him please not to leave, to get better, letting Steve know that he's right there and he won't go anywhere, he promises, and Steve will be okay, he has to be, you're so strong, Stevie. Bucky's recollected more memories of Steve, fun ones and crazy ones and ones where he was dumb but Steve laughed so it was all worth it, and hell, he's even made up things, things that he and Steve will do once Steve's better, once they make a fortune and get out of the city. Bucky hopes and prays (though he's not exactly a praying man) that his words will bring Steve back from the brink.
He hopes, and in the end his hope is rewarded. Early this morning at nearly 4am, Steve's fever broke and he finally seemed to be resting completely, not fitfully, and Bucky feels like he can finally relax. He feels like everything is finally going to be okay, because Steve is his whole world and as long as Steve is with him and okay, then everything else will follow.
"I love you," Bucky murmurs, him wrapping around Steve's small frame as his friend mumbles quietly in his sleep and curls tighter against Bucky, head pillowed on Bucky's chest. "I love you so much."
"Love you too, Buck," Steve manages, and Bucky feels his heart warm, though he's sure that Steve's not awake, not really conscious of what he's saying, but hell, what does it matter - Steve said that he loved him, and those words will be enough to have Bucky walking on cloud nine for days if not weeks to come.