(Pre-serum 1940's)

Bucky slowly made his way up the steps to his apartment that he shared with Steve. His whole body was aching, and he felt like absolute crap. It was 9:00 pm, and he was just getting home from his second job of the day. Despite how awful he felt, he would have to quickly get dressed so that he could make it to his third job. He started off his day at 4:00 am today after getting home at 3:00 am. His first shift was at the shipyard. He got home from that at 5:00 pm, and immediately headed out again where he was helping to build a house five blocks away. That's what he was just getting home from. Now he had to get dressed so he could go work his shift at the bar down the street. He probably wouldn't be home till 3:00 am again. He never complained about any of it though. He had to do it for Steve. He had to pay rent, and he had to pay for Steve's medicine, and he also had to pay for groceries so that they didn't starve.

He coughed into his elbow as he tried to unlock the door with shaky hands. It took a couple tries, but he got it. He hoped that Steve would be sleeping. He couldn't really conceal his condition for much longer. He not only felt like crap, but he also looked like crap. He opened the door as quietly as he could, and shoved his keys back in his pocket so they stopped jingling. He was halfway through the process of closing the door when he started coughing again. He covered his mouth with his elbow, but of course, Steve heard him. 

Steve stepped out of their bedroom, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing all day. Judging by the smudges on his hands, and face, he had been drawing, "Bucky, are you alright?" he asked, approaching him with a concerned expression. 

Bucky managed to stop coughing, "I'm fine," he said hoarsely.

"You're not fine, Bucky. You look anything but fine right now." Steve ushered him to the couch where he made him sit down. He inspected Bucky's face, and frowned. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed. He placed a hand on his forehead, and tried to hide his alarm. He was burning up, "how long have you been sick?" he asked.

"I'm not sick."

"You are the sickest I've ever seen you. How long have you been hiding this from me?"

Bucky huffed in defeat, "a week..."

"A week?! Why didn't you say anything?!"

"Because I don't need you to worry about me," he stood up, and swayed a bit before he regained his balance, "I have to go to work," He stated, taking a couple steps towards the bedroom so he could get changed. 

Steve grabbed his arm to stop him, "you're not going anywhere. Have you seen yourself? You look like you're going to collapse any second." He sat him down once more, and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. 

"Steve, I have to go. The rent's due tomorrow, and I don't have enough yet and-"

"Screw the rent. You can pay the rent when you can actually walk."

"But Steve-"

"Don't worry about it, Buck. You've been working almost twenty hours a day for weeks now. That's not healthy. You're not meant for that. You have to give yourself breaks."

"I can't pay for anything if I work any less than that..."

"You're working yourself to death, Bucky!"

Bucky looked at him in shock. He didn't know what to say, or what to do. All he knew what that he head was pounding, and his body felt like it was on fire. Despite the fact that he was burning up, he was also freezing. The shivers that shook his frame were proof of that.

Steve gave him one last look before getting up. He wrapped one more blanket around Bucky's shoulders, and then walked to the kitchen. He made Bucky a mug of peppermint tea, and saturated it with honey. He also grabbed a couple pills from the cupboard, and walked back to the couch, sitting beside Bucky, and handing him the mug with the pills. 

"Steve those are yours."

"You paid for them, so technically they're yours, and you need them more than I do right now."

Bucky begrudgingly took the pills with the tea, "thanks."

"No problem. I'm just doing what you would do for me."

Bucky's eyes immediately widened in fear, "Steve, you can't be in here with me. You could get sick. You could-"

"Bucky, relax. I won't get sick. If you've already had this for a week, you're hardly contagious anymore."

"But-"

"No. I'm staying. No matter what you say. I won't leave you alone like this."

Bucky sighed, and placed his tea on the table, his hands shaking, and his body swaying.  Steve wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him over lightly so that his head could rest on his shoulder, "get some sleep," he whispered. 

Bucky couldn't protest, his eyelids already shutting on their own. Steve slipped him the pills that make him drowsy. Bucky would have cursed at him for that, but his brain had already shut down. He fell asleep in no time. 

Steve let out a sigh of relief once he felt Bucky's breathing even out. He had never seen him that sick before. It scared the hell out of him. He prayed that he would be at least a little better when he woke up. All he could do at this point was wait it out, and that scared him even more.