#basically steve whump

“Hey there, squinty,” Nat teases as Steve walks into the bright kitchen, extending a mug of coffee to him. At his confused expression, she clarifies, “Coffee. You look like you need some.”

“Oh,” Steve responds after a beat, accepting the mug and taking a sip. It tastes more bitter than usual today, but he doesn’t comment on it, choosing rather to just enjoy the warmth of the ceramic in his hands. He feels foggy in a way he can’t really quantify, and as tired as if he hadn’t slept at all, but maybe caffeine can help him get jump-started.

“Someone’s quiet today,” Bruce ventures from across the island where he’s reading the paper, and Steve sluggishly shrugs in reply.

“I’m just, not awake yet, I guess.” Steve sets his mug down on the counter top behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. The scientist’s head perks up at that, looking a little confused.

“You mean your run didn’t wake you up?” Bruce asks slowly, noting the sweat on his teammate’s brow.

“I… didn’t go?” Steve breathes, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye in the vain hope that it’ll somehow clear the cobwebs in his brain. “Must have just slept through my alarms or something.”

“Well if you’re that tired maybe you should go back to bed,” Nat prods, concern pooling in the pit of her stomach as she watches the world’s most enthusiastic morning person suppress a yawn. “We can switch that coffee for water or something.”

“Might have to take you up on that.” Their leader closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face, looking out of sorts in a way that his teammates have never seen him. “Kind of got a headache brewing.”

Bruce’s heart sinks. “Do you want an Advil or something? Or a heating pack to put over your eyes?” Steve declines his offer of medicine, but is surprisingly receptive to the hot compress idea. As soon as it’s popped out of the microwave, Steve heads out to the couch and wraps the bag around his forehead, draping a blanket over himself. It’s not long before he’s back to sleep.

-

It’s three hours later that Steve comes to for the second time that day. It isn’t any more pleasant than the first time, and in fact, it might be worse. Now instead of just the exhaustion and headache, Steve feels completely drained. His head throbs with any movement, his muscles ache, and he shivers despite the blanket he’s wrapped under. A small part of him wants to go back to sleep again, but Tony sits down on the couch near his feet and that hope is squashed.

“Hey Spangles, how’s the headache?”

“Ugh,” was his only reply as Steve turned his face into the back of the couch. He still couldn’t understand the fatigue that had settled over him, how it was so much effort to open his eyes and focus them on the engineer.

“That great, huh?” Tony mumbled, resting a hand on the super soldier’s leg in quiet comfort.

“I just,” Steve trails off, squeezing his eyes closed as he sits up, “sorry, my brain is mush right now.” He winces as his movement ripples through his skull, resting his head in his hands.

“Do you think it’s a migraine?” Tony asks quietly from the other end of the couch, examining the kid.

“No,” Steve answers quickly. “I’ve had migraines, and they didn’t feel like this. I mostly just feel, weird? Like half awake kind of, but my whole body is buzzing.”

That trips Tony up a bit, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s extending a hand to rest on Steve’s forehead. The heat that rests there doesn’t surprise him, but he still sighs in sympathy for the man. “Yeah, Cap, you’re running a bit hot.”

“Figures,” the soldier mumbles, standing. “Well, I’m gonna go get dressed. Nat’s surveillance shift is almost up at the warehouse.”

“Wait what? No, you shouldn’t be going anywhere but to bed.” Tony’s protests are met with a resigned shrug.

“Can’t just leave her there, Tony. Besides, I think I can handle sitting in a car for a few hours.” Steve walks off before Tony can object again, swapping his sweats for a pair of jeans and grabbing his sunglasses and car keys on his way out the door. Belatedly he realizes he probably should have popped a few ibuprofen, but he’s already in the car by the time he comes to this conclusion, and is in no mood to take the elevator back up to grab any.

Steve gets to the surveillance spot with little trouble, but he is finding it hard to stay focused. The glinting sun is doing nothing for his headache and his nose has started to run ever so slightly. It’s all very distracting and all he really wants is to go to bed. He’s beginning to think that maybe Tony was right, but he pulls up to Nat’s car anyways.

“Jesus, you look like shit,” is the first thing out of Nat’s mouth when he rolls down the window. Steve just laughs humorlessly and leans his head back against the headrest with a sigh.

“Any movement?” He asks, dodging her statement with as much grace as a baby elephant learning to walk for the first time.

“None,” She susses out, but it’s still clear she’s focused on Steve. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s nothing, okay?” Steve tries to evade, but a sharp glance from his teammate has him backtracking. “I’m just not feeling great.” Nat pauses for a long moment, considering him, before taking the keys out of her car’s ignition and settling back into the driver’s seat. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m surveilling.”

“No, Nat, I’m surveilling.”

“No, Steve. You’re going home. I’m not gonna make you sit in the heat when you’re so obviously not doing okay.” Nat looks equal parts annoyed and concerned, which is an odd mix on her, but Steve doesn’t have much to say in response. “Send Tony or Clint out here, they can take the next watch.”

Steve frowns at the way she won’t meet his eyes and sighs, bringing his head down to rest on the steering wheel. He wants to tell her she’s being ridiculous, that she’s overreacting and he’s fine, but he can’t. He wants nothing more than to lie down in his bed and sleep until the worst of it is over, but he can’t help but feel guilty that he’s extending Nat’s already long shift. He doesn’t realize how long he’s been sitting like that until magically Nat is opening his door.

“Hey, Steve. Move over.” She pokes his side, ignoring his confusion as he’s shoved from the driver’s seat to the passenger side of the bench.

“Wait, what?” He finally manages, proud of himself for stringing together two intelligible words.

“I’m taking you home. You shouldn’t be driving.”

“But, your car?” Steve trails off as he notices Barton sitting in the front seat of Nat’s car, giving him a little wave. “Oh.” The details are a little fuzzy but he just buckles himself in as Nat starts his truck and they drive off.

“Why’d you even bother driving out there, Steve?” Nat asks, glancing at him as she steers the car onto the highway. Steve looks like he’s almost asleep, but she can tell he isn’t by the crinkles in his forehead and eyes.

“It was my shift, had to let you get home.” He sounds as bleary as he looks.

“Steve, I’m going to give you a pass on this one because you’re running one hell of a fever and aren’t thinking clearly, but I’m a big girl. You didn’t need to come out there and rescue me from an extra hour in the car.” She glances at him, frowning at how uncomfortable he looks curled up in the passenger seat. She can tell by the crinkles at the corner of his eyes that the brightness of the day is bothering him, even with sunglasses on. Seeing him like this makes it hard to believe that he’s a superhero, their leader; he looks small, and maybe just a little bit pathetic.

As soon as they get back to the tower, Natasha ushers Steve into the elevator and to his floor with strict instructions to change into sweats and go to bed. So naturally, like the good little soldier he is, Steve curls up under his duvet and unceremoniously falls asleep.

When he wakes up hours later, there’s a sticky note on his forehead written in Tony’s handwriting:

“Come downstairs when you wake up, Cap! We’ve got soup and movies :)”