gnarkles!

Up owl night

Buckyquin, touch-starved Joaquín, sick fic, fluff and smut

on Ao3

Barnes slides his hand in the door before Joaquín can shut it in his face.

“Look, Barnes,” Joaquín gripes, “it’s touching how much you—”

“Sam told me to check on you.” Bucky promptly pushes past Joaquín without invitation.

“—don’t care at all.” Joaquín sighs, resigns himself to the added headache as he closes the door. At least Barnes has the decency to take off his shoes before going into the kitchen.

Bucky picks up the bottle of ibuprofen on the counter.

“This all you’re taking?”

“It’s what I have.” Joaquín’s elbows hit the counter with an uncomfortable thunk. He lets his head hang, mumbling his next words. “I don’ needa z-pack okay? ’M just gonna sleep it off.”