bucky keeps his left arm to himself, most of the time. it’s too hard and too strong and always colder than the rest of him - no one wants to be touched by a hand like his, he thinks.
but natasha is hunched on the couch with glassy eyes and trembling limbs, held upright by nothing but her own stubbornness (“i’m fine, for god’s sake, it’s just a head cold”), and there’s no point trying to bring her a damp cloth or get her to lie down. she whimpers when he presses his cool left palm against her forehead, and leans weakly into the touch.
“you’re being ridiculous,” she tells him, her voice hoarse and utterly convictionless. “i’ve had worse than this - you don’t have to look after me.”
“i know.” looking after people is a very new skill in bucky’s repertoire. it’s a soft, warm, tender thing that goes against all his training - but she’s nuzzling into his cold metal touch like it’s the kindest thing she’s ever felt, and he feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the hot, clammy presence at his side.
they spend the morning watching cartoons while natasha sips from a mug of instant chicken soup (dubious nutritional value, but better than bucky attempting to cook). by the end of it she’s pressing her burning cheek against his left shoulder, snuggling his entire arm like some kind of cybernetic teddy bear.
guys c’mon tag your posts about the new comic book movie that just came out, it’s not that hard