I'm Fine. Honestly! ('40s Bucky Barnes X Reader)

                                    

                                          
"I'm fine," You insist for what seems the hundredth, no thousandth, time since the incident that had occurred roughly an hour or so ago. "Honestly!"
                          
"You're absolutely sure?" The soft and concerned sounding voice of your best friend, Steve Rogers, questions from your side. 
                          
"We can get you to the clinic, if you want, Doll," Another genuinely worried tone chimes in from your other side as the three of you walk along the streets of downtown Brooklyn.  
                          
Well, Bucky and Steve are walking just fine.
                          
You're more like limping. 
                          
"Buck," You sigh yet again, passing the brunet a small, forced grin through the pains of protest coming from what seems to be every fibre of your being. "I'm fine. I promise." 
                          
"That cut above your eye there should likely be stitched up by a professional," The blond murmurs, siding with the other male at your side, his larger form supporting a bit of your weight as you resume walking. 
                          
"See, Y/N! You know it's bad when Stevie sides with me," He pauses, his strides coming to a halt as you turn slightly to face him, annoyance likely evident on your bruised facial features. 
                          
"It was just a few good blows to the side of the head and my stomach! It's no big deal, honestly! I've been through worse, you know!" 
                          
"We know," Both men at your sides echo in unison, voices laced with a slight anger as the walking continues, your body groaning in protest. 
                          
At one point, as the three of you near the building your shared apartment is in, you can't help but allow your legs to buckle, fatigue and dizziness plaguing your mind abruptly. 
                          
"That's it," Bucky finally states sternly, annoyance evident in his tone as he gently scoops your battered form into his arms, carrying you bridal style. "I'm taking you to the clinic to get looked at. That bastard got a few too many hits on you before I got to him; maybe he actually managed to hurt somethin' this time around." 
                          
"And we can't have that," Steve chuckles sarcastically, your gaze flicking down from where you're being held firmly against Bucky's strong frame. "The all powerful Y/N! Injured of all things!" 
                          
"Oh, shut it," You groan, burying your face against Bucky's shirt, not wanting passerby's to see you like this. 
                          
"Well in that case, we best be going," The man carrying you nods towards his smaller friend, beginning to walk down the sidewalk once again. 
                          
"I'll have dinner ready when the pair of you get back!" Steve calls after you and Bucky, causing a grin to tug at your lips. 
                          
"He's too precious for this world," You laugh lightly, though you're cut off by a sharp stab of pain in your ribs. 
                          
Bucky must seem to notice your change in voice as he lowers his steely blue eyes to rest on you, his brows furrowing in concern. 
                          
"Are you-"
                          
Before he can finish the same question he hasn't stopped repeating since you'd been basically attacked by some bastard who felt like trying to rob some poor woman of the little bit of money she possibly had on her, you shush him. 
                          
"Okay? To be honest, no. I'm not okay, James," You retort, voice short and filled with a rising aggression. "I likely have a concussion, broken ribs and maybe a sprained, if not broken ankle to add to the mix!" 
                          
"Okay, okay," He muses aloud, seeming to try and calm himself down as well as you, his pace quickening. "We're almost there. The Doc'll look you over and then we can go home to a nice home cooked, Steve style, meal, alright?"