"Agh, s***," Steve hisses as he presses himself behind a trash can, waiting for the boys to leave him alone. Ankle throbbing, Steve grits his teeth and shakily rises. Bucky was not going to like this.

He was close to their apartment. Breathing hard, Steve forces himself to walk evenly, refusing to limp and show any weakness.

Bucky didn't want him fighting anymore. Well -- that was impossible for Steve, but it was only more important than usual because Bucky had to work longer hours that week, and wouldn't be able to chime in and help his smaller friend in a fight.

"Rogers! Where you been?"

Steve cringes. He wasn't good at lying -- especially to Bucky.

"Went to the docks," he answers as he heads up the flight of stairs, to where his best friend stood waiting at the top, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Uh huh. Anyways, I've got some food ready inside," Bucky mentions, glancing back inside. Steve nods distractedly, shifting his weight.

"All right. Be in in a sec," he answers, looking at him. Bucky nods slowly and then shakes his head, sighing as he steps through the door. Steve rubs his ankle and winces a little, swallowing then gritting his teeth as he carefully steps up the flight of stairs.

"Hope you aren't tired of stale bread and weak soup, 'cause it's all I can make without burning much," Bucky comments, turning back to the blond. Steve has no time to hide how warm he's gotten, his ankle pounding painfully. Bucky's smile slides off his face and is replaced with a look of concern. "You gettin' a fever?"

"No, I'm fine," Steve breathes, sliding into his seat. Bucky regards him strangely.

Steve makes sure to speak at the right times, make his usual sarcastic comments when cued by Bucky, and generally act the same as usual.

Bucky seems suspicious.

"Oh, it's this one! I love this song," he speaks, seemingly to himself, before grinning over at Steve. This artist was his favourite -- Vera Lynn had a beautiful voice, Bucky always claimed. He often taught Steve how to dance to these songs.

Steve curses inwardly, giving a small smile and roll of his eyes outwardly. His ankle was screaming in pain. He was surprised Bucky hadn't noticed it swelling like a balloon. "Tonight? What's the occasion?"

"I like music, and you need to learn how to dance so you don't stomp on the pretty ladies' feet," Bucky replies, taking his hand and pulling him closer. Steve staggers against his chest, his ankle giving out. Too warm already, Steve pushes himself back, pushing against his chest to stand up properly. Bucky studies him, with a cocky grin on his face. "You in?"

Steve forms his reply on his lips. No, he was tired, he wasn't feeling well, his ankle was sprained -- all valid answers. But looking up into that hopeful face, Steve sighs and nods. He did like their dancing sessions, and really, with Bucky busy every second night, sleeping every other, Steve didn't get a lot of chances to do it often.

"Okay," he relents and Bucky's smile gets bigger. "But show me how to dance good, yeah?"

"Obviously," Bucky retorts, one hand already moving to rest on Steve's hip, the other clasping his.

They dance slowly at first, but they gradually pick up pace. Not too long after, Steve falls against him again, panting.

"Sorry, I... can't..," he gasps, balancing on his good leg. Bucky rests his hand against his forehead, frowning.

"You're burning up. Sure you're not getting a fever?"

"Yeah. It's just..." Steve wobbles a little and Bucky wraps an arm around him to keep him secure. He examines him for injuries, and Steve avoids his gaze. Bucky gets steadily and steadily more impatient.

"Down by the docks, my *ss," he growls. Steve wobbles once more. Bucky picks him up and plops him onto the couch, finding the injury. He gives him a look. "When'd this happen?"

"Couple hours ago?" Steve answers, gritting his teeth as Bucky wraps his ankle and does what he can to fix it. Bucky doesn't say anything for a while, shaking his head.

"Idiot," he mutters, pulling back to look at him, searching his face. "One to ten, how much pain are you in?"

"Eh... five," he answers. Bucky nods.

"You sit here and don't move, okay?" He shakes his head, muttering to himself about Steve.

"Sorry," Steve sighs. Bucky gives him a look and softens a little.

"Just be more careful, yeah?" He sits on the couch beside him. Steve shifts a little and nods against him, leaning on his shoulder. "Tired?"

Steve shrugs indifferently, closing his eyes. Bucky pulls him closer and squeezes his shoulder.

Steve could be an idiot, too stubborn sometimes, but he was Bucky's idiot. Bucky would do what he could to help him whenever he needed it.

////

Man, sprained ankles suck. Kind of a short idea.