Mr. Buckets of Fun / Captain Charleston
It'd be a lie to say that Steve hadn't thought about checking in on Buck during the illness. Considering, though, how much of his time was spent in bed anyway -- it never seemed like an appropriate time. After all, if Buck hadn't been ill -- no sense in putting the man at jeopardy. Well, it made sense at the time, anyway.
Steve listened intently with an amused grin. "I see," he said. "Fizzy is fun. I've come to appreciate fizzy." They didn't have much in the way of options when it came to fizzy in 1940. But that mostly had to do with a) not having much money and b) shortage on certain foods for the War effort. There was something about the bubbles -- despite the occasional rumbly tummy -- that he appreciated. Or maybe it was the caffeine and sugar. He chuckled, though. "I guess that depends on the kind of night you want to have. Chill and relaxed or..." He motioned toward the fizzy blue concoction. "Eventful." It was the only word he could think of using. Because, good or bad, when people hit the sauce hard -- it was always an eventful night.
Assuming they didn't just pass out and vomit on someone's shoes. Though, he supposed, that was technically an event.
"You are old," Steve teased but then laughed, clasping Bucky's shoulder, and then p'shawed with a quick hand motion. "You held your own. Even if there were a few squeaks in the joints." He shrugged. "I'm sure you could keep up just fine."