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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Always Close By

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.1k hehe kinda long

Summary: In which even the mightiest of superheroes aren’t immune to sickness, and when Steve falls ill, you end up babysitting him.

Warnings: none, just steve being a big baby ahaha

Sleep had never really come easily to you. Your insomnia had been a consistent issue since before you first joined the Avengers, so days like these in which you mindlessly wandered around the compound downing two or three cups of coffee and eating granola bars weren't uncommon.

You hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night yet for some reason, weren't feeling drowsy like you usually did when you stayed up. This time Sam and Bucky were also awake with you, and the three of you switched between playing Mario Kart and Animal Crossing to kill time.

One by one the rest of the team began to wake up and you and Wanda decided to start preparing breakfast. After everyone had finished eating you'd noticed Steve still hadn't come out, and decided to go check up on him.

"Steve?" you knocked carefully on his bedroom door as to not disturb him. "It's time for breakfast."

You didn't get a proper reply but heard a light groan in response, deciding to go inside after several more attempts.

He was buried under his covers, forehead glistening with a cold sweat and his dirty-blonde hair disheveled. When he looked up to meet your gaze you noticed his cheeks were flushed a bright red from heat, and were immediately concerned at the sight.

"Hey," you said softly, carefully approaching him. "You okay?"

Steve just shivered and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Don't know."

You brought a palm up to his forehead and were alarmed by how hot it felt, hissing at his feverishness as you pulled your hand back. "You're burning up."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," he chuckled, but his laugh turned into a coughing fit. "I'm, just, fine."

"You're coming down with a fever," you stated. "I thought you couldn't get sick."

"Apparently, I can," he coughed, "But it's just a simple flu. I'll be back to normal before you know it. We have our weekly sparring showdown tonight, right? I can't miss out on that."

Despite the calm tone in his voice, you still weren't convinced. The thermometer read a whopping 105.6 degrees and from what you knew, that meant you had to get medical help right away.

"No, you're not. Your body temperature is abnormally high. You're staying in bed," you ordered, then sighed. It was hard not to go soft at those puppy dog eyes, but you knew denying him from being able to do any strenuous physical activity was for the best.

"Can you please speak more quietly," Steve whispered, "I have a migraine."

"I'm sorry," you were quick to lower your voice, "hey...how did this even happen to you? Did you eat anything weird?"

"Food poisoning?"

"No, that can't be. We all ate takeout together for dinner last...shit, shawarma." Your eyes widened in realization. "Dammit, it is."

"Language," he said weakly.

"You're staying in bed for today, alright?" you gave him a stern look.

"I'm not completely disabled, I can stand. Just let me go get some breakfast and afterwards I'll come right back to bed."

"Fine."

You gripped his forearm to help him stand up and his arm immediately went around your waist. You weren't sure whether the heat radiating off him was from his fever or from the way he generally made you feel. Brushing the thought off, you helped him to the kitchen.

"Damn, Cap. What happened?" Sam raised a brow at his friend's appearance.

"I think Tony poisoned him," you shot the billionaire a death glare. "I knew something was up with that shawarma place."

"Then how come none of us are sick?" Tony questioned. "We all had the same thing."

"No, we didn't. Steve and I were the only ones who specifically ordered the chicken shawarma. You guys took kebabs."

"Then why aren't you sick?"

"I don't know."

Steve pulled up a chair to the kitchen island, immediately laying his head on the cool marble counter and closing his eyes.

"Hey, Cap, you think you can try and stomach this? You need to eat or your condition will get worse," Pepper urged as she pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and French toast towards the super-soldier. He pulled himself back up into a sitting position and took a bite out of his toast, but quickly set it down after a wave of nausea washed over his body and he bit back a gag.

He tried to stand up and stumbled, but you and Bruce were quick to catch him by his shoulders.

"Cap? Are you okay?" the scientist asked gently. "Steve."

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping your waist tightly as he grew lightheaded, the world around him beginning to spin rapidly.

You lowered his head onto your lap as Wanda gave you a cold towel, and you pressed it to his sweaty forehead as you ran your other hand through his hair.

"We should get him back to his room, then I'll go get the treatments," Bruce explained as you tried to pull him back up, which was a lot harder than it seemed. "Then we'll figure it out from there."

"Jeez, how heavy are you," you said as you tried helping him to his feet. "I swear you're twice my weight..."

"172," he replied plainly.

"Feels a lot heavier than that. Thought you were at least 200 with all that broad muscle," you grunted as Bucky came forward to help you, and Steve slung his arms around both your shoulders.

Once you led him to his room, Steve lazily crawled back into bed and you pulled the covers over him. It didn't take long before he fell asleep, breathing steadier than before though it still sounded somewhat plugged.

“You sure you’re okay staying here with him?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “If you’re tired too, I can step in if you want.”

“It’s fine, I can handle it. But thanks,” you yawned, waving him off. “Now go and...kick Sam’s ass in Mario Kart so I can face off against you later.”

“You got it,” he ruffled your hair before leaving the room.

You pulled out your phone to check the time, and sighed. 9:17.

I know I had a workout video scheduled to be posted, guys, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to have it up today, you typed out a quick message to your Twitter. Steve’s sick and I’m having to take care of him. Hope you all understand <3

Almost immediately, the replies came flooding in.

Awww we love a supportive teammate/gf

Couple goals uwu

Get better soon, Cap!

You smiled to yourself, setting your phone on Steve’s nightstand and running your hand through his hair again. He did look rather peaceful while asleep - and not to mention, flawless, with a face looking like it was sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. Times in which you saw him in a state like this were extremely rare, so you treasured every little moment you got. Between co-commanding missions with you, filing reports, and countless meetings with SHIELD officials (you let him doodle on your hand as he half-listened to the lectures), he was restless.

You didn’t know when or how you fell asleep, but when you woke up streams of bright light were filtering in through the windows, the sun high in the sky. You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed, gently laying Steve’s head against his pillow before standing up and shuffling down the hall to the kitchen.

“What time is it?” you rubbed your eyes with your sweater’s sleeve. “How long was I out for?”

“1:45. You want lunch? You hardly ate in the morning,” Rhodey pushed a plate towards you. “You’ve been asleep for roughly four hours, Y/N.”

You pulled your phone out again - the weather outside was apparently a breezy 68 degrees. The fact that it wasn’t even hot outside, but Steve was sweating profusely, made you concerned.

You let out a satisfied sigh as you bit into the sandwich (courtesy of Vision’s cooking), practically inhaling it in just a couple of bites. “Did any of you guys come down with symptoms...?”

“No, but you’ve been exposed so I’d advise that you take this,” Bruce handed you a small, blue pill. “It should keep you from catching Steve’s bug.”

You nodded and swallowed the pill down without even bothering to drink anything. “Alright.”

Just five minutes passed before your phone buzzed on the table. You were quick to answer, holding it up to your ear.

“Y/NNNN.”

“Steve? What do you need? Are you okay? When did you wake up?”

“A few minutes ago...I threw up and then went back to bed, but I couldn’t fall back asleep-”

“Oh, god. Hold on a second, I’ll be right there,” you promptly ended the call and got out of your seat, pushing the chair in before rushing down the hall to his room.

The super-soldier was sitting up in bed when you arrived, sweat streaming down his forehead as he leaned against the headboard, cheeks flushed a bright red. “Y/N-”

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, I’m here, what do you need? Water? Ice?”

“I feel horrible.”

You brought your hand up to his forehead again, and immediately jerked it away. “You’re still running a really high f...dammit, have you taken any medicine?”

“No...”

“Stay right here, I’ll go get some-”

“Don’t leave me,” he begged hoarsely as he reached out to grab your wrist. You felt a twinge in your chest at that damn pleading look in his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

You let out a sigh of defeat. “...I’ll have Bucky bring the medicine then, okay?”

“Mhmmm.”

It turned out, taking care of a sick super-soldier was a lot more difficult than it seemed. You initially thought that with the serum in his veins, that Steve couldn’t get sick - but for some reason it only amplified his symptoms. Damn that shawarma.

After alerting FRIDAY, Bucky appeared holding a glass of ice water in his metal hand and a small bottle of some medication in the other.

“How ya feelin’, punk?”

“Hey, jerk...” Steve said weakly, “Why is there two of you standing in front of me?”

“He’s getting worse, Y/N...” he looked genuinely worried, his gaze flickering between you and Steve. “...I gotta go now so I won’t get sick...but Y/N will take care of you. Got it?”

“Mhmm.”

As soon as Bucky left you popped open the bottle. “Hey. Drink this.”

“It smells disgusting,” Steve scrunched his nose up in distaste.

“You need to or you’ll only get worse. Now come on,” you urged. He turned his head away to avoid drinking the strong-smelling liquid. “Stop acting like such a big baby. For Odin’s sake, just drink it.”

“No.”

“Do you want to keep feeling like this?”

“No.”

“Then drink the medicine! It’s not that hard.”

“No.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you said sternly. “Drink. It. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

Your sudden firm tone of voice took him by surprise. “Fiiiine.”

He took the bottle from your hands and tilted his head back, gulping it down within seconds. As soon as he finished he made a face.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was.”

You pulled your chair closer to his bedside, propping your hand on your chin as you observed him. “Still feeling nauseous?”

“Mhmmm.”

“If you throw up, you’re gonna have to take this all over again. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“No..I don’t wike it.”

You chuckled lightly. “I know. It’s for your own good, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s wait for a bit, and if you’re feeling well enough, I can make some onion soup for you, okay? How does that sound?”

“Amazing. I love your soup. Why don’t you cook more often?”

“Just never really considered it,” you shrugged.

Steve rubbed his eyes, subconsciously reaching over to grab your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He then lifted your hand up to his face and pressed your palm to his flushed cheek, leaning into your touch.

You swallowed hard as you allowed yourself to stare again at his messy-haired, exhausted figure. Your chest ached. The things you were willing to do for him... god, you loved him so much...

“...Why are you staring?” he mumbled, glancing over to meet your worried eyes. “What’s that look on your face? Y/N...are you okay?”

You inhaled sharply. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His brows furrowed together and he gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe what you said at all. “Sure you are.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“You’re acting like these are my final moments and that I’m going to die soon. Stop worrying so much.”

“This is coming from the person who waited eight hours straight for me to undergo surgery after that Belarus case?”

“Uh huh.”

Several moments passed in silence before he spoke up again. “Thanks for taking care of me...I’m sorry for being a big baby. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, “you’re not a burden at all.”

You ended up watching The Empire Strikes Back that afternoon, his head in your lap and you running your fingers through his soft hair. At one point in the movie he began to drift off, and you carefully slid yourself out of bed.

He stirred awake again, reaching for you. “Y/NNNN.”

“I’m gonna go make the soup for you. Rest up and if you’re feeling well enough, then shower and come out to the kitchen, okay?”

“Alright.”

“He doin’ better?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow at you.

“Fever’s gone down a bit but the nausea’s still there,” you exhaled as you began grabbing the necessary ingredients, “hey, uh, Pietro, can you go down to the cellar and grab some white wine?”

The speedster nodded and in a flash, he had the bottle in his hands. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s Cap right now?” Sam questioned.

You heard the water running and replied, “Taking a shower. He’s been sweating like the Amazon.”

With Pietro’s help and your additional powers, you finished up the soup that was supposed to take an hour in just twenty-five minutes. By the time you were setting the bowl along with some bread onto a plate, Steve was hobbling into the kitchen, hair wet and messy with a towel hung around his neck. The tight T-shirt he changed into showed off his toned figure, and you almost dropped your glass of water at the sight.

His eyes immediately lit up upon seeing the food, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I know.” You winked and took a seat next to him. The team smirked at the flirty exchange.

Surprisingly enough, he had the entire thing finished under five minutes so that you had to give him a second serving, which he basically inhaled in two giant gulps.

“You were hungry, huh.”

“After throwing up yesterday’s dinner, yeah.”

You shot Tony a pointed glare. “Thanks a lot, Stark.”

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, and held his phone up. “Look, I called them earlier while you were asleep and they gave us a full refund.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.”

Steve’s migraines started acting up again and you were forced to help him back into bed (with Bucky’s assistance, of course). After spending all day hovering over him, you fell asleep as well, a mere thirty seconds after he did.

...

When you came to the next morning, you felt an arm tighten around your waist and a sleepy groan coming from right next to you. You slowly opened your eyes and realized you were curled up against him with a hand resting against his chest, your legs intertwined together as he held you tightly to him. A breath of relief escaped your lips when his face no longer looked alarmingly pale and his cheeks weren’t bright red.

Steve woke up a few seconds later, giving you a sleepy smile as his grip around you tightened.

"Mornin', doll," he said in a husky voice that made you almost swoon. But then he too, realized what was going on and quickly snapped out of it. "What- oh my God, I’m sorry-”

“Are y’all fully dressed in there? Wanda made her famous French toast feast for breakfast so if you don’t get yo asses out here I’m eating your food!” Sam yelled as he pounded on the door.

"Just a minute!” you shouted back in reply as you and Steve sprung apart, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed a pair of clothes before heading to the bathroom to change.

“What the hell, Y/N, you actually slept for sixteen consecutive hours? I’ve never seen you do that before?”

“Huh? What time is it?”

“8:07. And why are you wearing Steve’s shirt?”

“What do you mean? I’m not...” you trailed off on your sentence and looked down to see that you were in fact, wearing one of Steve’s shirts. “...Oh.”

“Did you two...”

“No!”

“Cute,” you heard someone chuckle lowly from behind you and turned around to see a smirking Steve with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So I see now that you’re okay, you’re acting all cocky again, hm?” you raised an eyebrow at the super-soldier. “Guess those meds finally wore off.”

He just chuckled in response and pulled him towards you, engulfing you in a tight, hug.

“Let me go!” you squealed, squirming against his tight grip as the team watched in amusement. “I need to eat breakfast! Let me go!”

“Only if you say the words, sweetheart.”

“Let me go right this instant! I’m serious!” you began laughing uncontrollably. “Steve! Let me go!”

“Not until you say it.”

“Fine! I love you and you’re my favorite Avenger!” He released you from his arms and you brushed your shirt off. “There, happy?”

Steve laughed again, that same damn smirk on his face. “I didn’t know you could get flustered, Y/N.”

“I’m not flustered,” you muttered.

“Your face is like a tomato!” Peter exclaimed. “You wouldn’t look like that if you weren’t. Mr. Stark, looks like I owe you twenty.”

“Peter, did you make a bet with Tony again?” You frowned.

“Yep! We bet when we’d finally figure out you liked Cap and he bet within the next week, while I said three weeks.”

“Oh my god.”

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