Time Set: 1930s-40s. Bucky comes home to see Steve passed out on the couch with his drawings everywhere.
Warnings: none (very fluffy)
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Bucky's POV
Grabbing my cap and coat, I walk out the door of the factory and down to O'Reily's Bar for a beer. Another long, hard day at work left me tired and sore. Working heavy machinery all day is almost worth one of the small paychecks I get. Steve and I don't have much, even with me working several jobs. Although, sometimes he sells his beautiful artwork for a few extra dollars. As long as my sick lil Stevie gets his medicine, I'm happy he's doin' alright.

Sitting down at the bar I throw a quarter at the bartender and take my beer with me while I walk down the street. Sipping it thoughtfully I think about the few weeks that have gone by.

I'm very glad Steve was doing much better this morning. He had me worried sick the other day when he had an asthma attack so bad he had to use half of his inhaler. I don't know what I'll do if he ever ...leaves me here. He's my responsibility but not only that I had a promise to keep. You see, on her death bed Mrs. Rogers, Sarah, asked me to keep watching out for Steve. Of course I had promised her, she's a second mother to me and I wouldn't want to let her down.

Approaching mine and Steve's apartment, I pull out my keys and unlock the squeaky door. Walking in and closing the door behind me, I call out to let Steve know that I'm home. "Steve...I'm back. " not hearing anything I start to feel concerned "Steve? Where are ya punk?" Still nothing. Panicking I race across the apartment, failing to look at the living room part as I dash into mine and Steve's shared bedroom. "Steve? ...Steve?!" I choked out, afraid I would find him somewhere on the floor.

Walking back out into the living area I notice a small tuft of blond hair on the arm of the couch. Walking over, I see little Steve spread out on the couch, covered in his various sketches and files. Chuckling to myself, I start to stack up all Steve's papers, being extremely careful as to not wake him up. Putting the pile of papers on the floor next to him, I place my beer bottle on top to be used as a paperweight.

Feeling hungry, I take off my jacket and place it over Steve's precious body, and place my cap over his face. Opening the ice box I pull out some bread. A quiet laugh pulls me out of my sandwich-making world. "Buck!" Steve said just loud enough for me to hear. "Yes, Stevie?" I say innocently, grinning ear to ear at the adorable smile that was on Steve's face.

"You're a jerk...jerk." He smiled. "Punk" I reply.

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A/N: Woah so that sucked I'm so sorry
Anyways, thank you for your patience it is really appreciated
See ya!
-Samael