kannibal:

(Preserum) Steve in a tucked-away powder room of a dance hall, washing himself after an epic spittle-flying, lungs-heaving coughing fit. He didn’t want to interrupt anything Bucky had going (and there were three dames, he noted, three smiling rogue-red and whip-smart, dancing around each other like territorial cats eyeing a prize), so he quietly endured the bout of allergy here. He sniffles, the breath rattling in his chest, traces of pollen threatening to run barbs down his lungs again. 

(April is the cruelest month.)