Bucky and Steve were in the car on the highway, driving to Clint's farm for an Avengers "get together". They'd been driving for about half an hour before Bucky started feeling the dread setting deep in his stomach and noticed how he felt nauseated but up in his chest. Bucky hates anxiety and how it can sneak up on you, and he hates how physical it is. It hurts.
"You feeling okay over there?" Steve asks with a quick glance towards him, not looking away from the road for too long.
"Yeah. All good." Bucky mumbled from behind his hand, knowing he isn't fooling anyone but feeling too weak to care. The anxious feeling is building with every passing second and he knows soon he's going to be having a full blown panic attack. He doesn't want Steve to know that, though.
"Hmm." Steve hums in response, not falling for Bucky's lies.
"I'm f-" Bucky stuttered, "Fine. I'm fine."
"Buck..." Steve leaned across the centre console and rests one hand on Bucky's thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
There was silence for a few beats until Bucky let out a long sigh and placed a hand against his chest, pulling at his shirt slightly, trying to be subtle. There was no point, really. Steve knows all of his body language and what he does when he's really, really not okay.
"Buck, we can stop for a bit." Steve suggests, noticing how the colour is draining from Bucky's face.
"No." He breathes out. "I'm fine."
Steve sighs softly and turns back to the road. There was another silence for a few minutes more until Bucky broke it.
"Oh my God!" He gasped.
"Buck..." Steve realised how fast the attack was hitting and was already looking for a place to stop, rubbing his hand up Bucky's thigh.
"Oh my God." Bucky whispered again, flesh hand grabbing at the material at the neck of his shirt. His metal fingers dug into his own knee and he instantly grabbed Steve's hand with it, holding his into his thigh.
"Okay, Buck. Nearly there. Deep breaths." Steve kept his tone calm as he spotted somewhere to pull over in the distance.
"Fuck. Fuck!" Bucky was getting more and more frantic by the minute; he shuffled to sit at the edge of the seat in anticipation.
"Buck, sit back. Just relax. We're nearly there."
Bucky gasped in air loudly.
"Pull over. Steve, Steve pull- pull over..." His voice cracking as his breath came through harsher.
"Sweetheart, I can't right now. There's a place over here. You're gonna be okay." He squeezed Bucky's metal hand.
"Steve. Steve I -" Bucky was starting to breathe heavily, eyes crinkling in pain at every intake of breath.
"Buck. Keep calm. You're alright." Steve was praying they'd be able to pull over soon. He wanted to get Bucky out of the confinement of the car.
"Fuuuuuckkkkk..." Bucky stretches the word out under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Normally he'd say it in frustration, but he was terrified. His face was paling and his flesh hand was getting clammy.
"You're okay. I've got ya..." Steve tried reassuring, barely turning away from the road as he stuck his tongue out in concentration.
"Can't. Can't breathe." Bucky choked out, shoulders heaving up and down as he began hyperventilating.
"Baby. Baby breathe slowly, okay? Look, there's a layby here. I'll pull in there." Steve intoned.
"Can't. Can't wait that long. I need to get out NOW. I can't breathe, I... I need..." He pulled at his shirt again, panting.
"Nearly there, sweetheart... Hang in there. Come on." The blonde haired man soothed.
Bucky gulped suddenly and whined in even more frantic panic. "I'm gonna be sick. Steve I'm..."
"Okay. Okay hold up... Can you make it till we get out?"
Bucky just convulsed in response, eyes clamped shut.
"Oh my God!" He whined helplessly, breathing heavily through his nose.
Steve scrabbled in the glove box and pulled out a plastic bag, opening it up and putting it in Bucky's lap.
"For if you can't make it. Honestly, we'll pull over in one minute baby. Try and keep calm." He knew that telling him to keep calm was long lost on him now; he was wheezing in air in long, desperate bouts.
Bucky suddenly doubled over, back lurching as thick liquid pushed against the walls of his oesophagus and splattered into the plastic bag. He grimaced at the texture and gagged again. Steve's hand was on his back in a heartbeat, rubbing in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.
They'd finally made it to the layby and Steve pulled in, jumping around to Bucky's side and flinging the door open, manoeuvring Bucky so he was sitting with his legs on the floor outside, thick strings of bile spreading from his lips to the tarmac.
"Get it all up, Buck." Steve gave him a helpful thump on the back, inducing another gag from Bucky as he continued to throw up his breakfast. A splash landed on Steve's shoe.
"M' sorry, Steve -" Bucky tries, before bending over again and heaving some more. Nothing came up now, and it left Bucky with sore stomach muscles. When Bucky was finished Steve takes a cloth from in the glove box and wipes down Bucky's vomity chin and mouth.
"There you go, baby. How you feelin'?" He knows its a stupid question, but he wants to hear it from him.
"Exhausted." Bucky mumbles.
"Oh sweetheart. We can get back on the road in a second, and you can nap. Do you wanna go to Clint's still, or should we go home?"
Bucky screwed his face up in concentration, biting his lip in thought.
"I don't know."
"What would you prefer, Buck?"
"Don't know."
"Okay. How about we make our way there, and if you start feeling worse we turn back? Sound okay?" Steve ran his hands through Bucky's sweaty hair.
"Yes."
"Okay. You're so brave, Buck. I'm really proud of you."
"Even though I puked on your shoes?" Bucky says with his signature smirk.
"Even though you puked on my shoes. They were my favourites, though. Maybe it's you who has to shine my shoes." He chuckles softly, ruffling Bucky's hair and getting back into the drivers seat, wrapping Bucky in a blanket in the process.
"Try and nap, baby."
And he did.