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an itch to scratch

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Bucky’s flesh hand grazes Sam’s skin enough to feel the sting, even as he is wondering why the fuck he just hit him.

“Buck, what the hell was th-,” Sam trails off as he glances up to see a smug look overtake Bucky’s face.

“I saved you, Sam. It was close, but I don’t think it was able to get much blood before I got it.”

With one last sure nod, Bucky walks off to wash his hands of that terrible pesky little fucking mosquito.

“The mosquitos don’t love me at least,” Sam says.

“Given the amount of super soldier you have in and around you on a daily basis, I find that pretty ironic.”

---

Bucky visiting his favorite little shop a few blocks from their place, standing in the allergy aisle for hours reading through all the options available. Store goers edge around him, giving him a wide berth.

A young kid in a Captain America hat sidles up alongside him as he is comparing the ingredients between the regular benadryl stick and the maximum strength.

“It isn’t even a question, always go for the maximum strength.”

He was thinking that was the best choice, but he didn’t want to be swayed by some clever marketing when it comes to the mosquito bites from hell, but this helps make up his mind.

With a quick step forward and a swipe of his metal arm, he gathers all the boxes in the crook of his arm and does a quick sweep of the aisle, ready to leave.

He turns to the kid and says, “Thanks for the advice. Did you need one or two of these?”

The girl’s eyes light up and he sees the confirmation in her eyes: she didn’t know who he was, but she does now.

“Uh, no, no Sir,” she says, stammering. It only lasts a few seconds before he sees her stand straighter, shoulders forward, looking so much like Steve from before that it makes some part of him ache deep inside. “I don’t need any, but thanks.”

With a nod, he’s off to put his stock of benadryl sticks to good use because if he doesn’t get rid of this fucking itch...