[Bucky rolls over restlessly onto his stomach...then his side, then his back, before he has to give up sleeping as a lost cause. It's both too warm and too cold in here; he wants to kick off all the blankets one moment, he wants even more the next moment.
He worms a hand out from the blankets, and places his palm against his forehead, and lucky him, he's running a fever here, which means these blankets have to go. Bucky starts to limply pull one off, then another, dropping them on the floor.
He sounds hoarse, miserable, and in a foul mood when he speaks. His head's turned and he's scowling at Steve, who of course, is healthy as a horse.]
Always thought it'd be a bullet or something that would lay me out. Can you get this last blanket?
[the last one's caught on his ankle and no amount of kicking is getting it off]
no subject
He worms a hand out from the blankets, and places his palm against his forehead, and lucky him, he's running a fever here, which means these blankets have to go. Bucky starts to limply pull one off, then another, dropping them on the floor.
He sounds hoarse, miserable, and in a foul mood when he speaks. His head's turned and he's scowling at Steve, who of course, is healthy as a horse.]
Always thought it'd be a bullet or something that would lay me out. Can you get this last blanket?
[the last one's caught on his ankle and no amount of kicking is getting it off]