#sick!steve

His whole head felt entirely too hot, and he wished some of that heat would transfer to the rest of his body as a sharp chill ran down his spine tugging his flimsy cotton jacket around him. 

It wasn’t nearly warm enough for the weather outside, but Steve couldn’t remember which kid he’d lent his good jacket to last. He figured it would last him until he made it to Family Video. What Keith had failed to mention this morning when he’d called and told him he’d be covering Robin's shift was that the heating was out. So when he walked in this morning he was greeted by a piece of paper shoved into his hands with instructions to figure it out. Now here Steve was leaned over the counter at family movie with his face pressed into his hands as if it would ease the pressure of the congestion he could feel building in his sinuses. He’d been on the phone with the heating company for nearly a half an hour, going round and round with them about whether or not they could send someone to fix the heating. After the second time being put on hold, Steve is ready to just give up. He wanted to sit down where he was standing and just cry, when he heard someone enter the store. Straightening up he tried his best to look like he wasn’t ready to have a complete mental breakdown in the middle of his crappy job. His posture relaxed a little when he saw it was just Eddie.

Waving at the other man, he watched Eddie open his mouth to say something before thinking better of it when he realized Steve was on the phone. Instead he hoisted himself up sitting on the counter, for once waiting patiently for Steve to get off the phone. “I’m on hold.” Steve croaked gesturing to the receiver, clearing his throat with a wince. Eddie takes this as an invitation to start up a conversation. “I hope it’s with someone interesting.” He says with a cheeky little grin that makes Steve's heart do a backflip. “With the heating company,” Steve rolled his eyes at the implication that he'd be using the work phone for that, “but if that’s what you consider interesting, then who am I to judge?” “I was wondering why it felt like an icebox in here,” Eddie complained shivering as he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, “I think it’s colder in here than out there, bet you I can see my breath.”

Thor drops down next to him, reaching out to support him and Steve tries to brush him offand get to his feet. He manages to get one leg under him and then nearly faceplants. Thankfully, Thor is there and gets ahold of himbefore that happens.

“What happened?” Natasha demands, feet clanging on the ramp as she rushes down to join them.

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbles, but Thor speaks over him.

“He appears unwell. I can feel the heat of his skin through the suit.”

“Christ, Steve, why didn’t you say something?” Tony demands. He crouches down andreaches to feel Steve’s forehead despite his alarmingly uncoordinated attempts to dodge. He winces at the heat of it. “Yeah, you’ve got a fever all right.”

“Has something like this ever happened before?” Clint asks, hovering around theirlittle huddle at the bottom of the Quinjet ramp.

Natasha shakes her head. “Not on record.”

“Get offa me,” Steve says, pushing at their hands. He’s too weak to shake them, and a knot of fear winds up in Tony’s belly. “Just need some sleep.”

They all exchange looks over his head and Tony cups his neck, right at the base. “Sure. Let’s go get you cleaned up and you can sleep.”

Thor doesn’t give him a chance to protest, just gets Steve’s arm over his shoulder and hauls him to his feet. Steve groans without seeming to realize.

Tony leads the way inside and Bruce looks up at the sound of their entrance. He squintsand sits up on the couch, pushing his glasses back on. “What’s going on? Steve?”

Steve is now too busy clinging to Thor and breathing heavily to respond. His skin is white except for the streak of red cutting across his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Bruce says, scrambling to his feet. “How long has he been like this?”

Natasha shrugs tensely. “It doesn’t seem likely that he was fine when we went out. He has a fever and it seems to be spiking.”

“We’re taking him to bathe,” Tony says, beckoning Thor along.

“Check his temperature,” Bruce orders. “I’ll get a fever reducer.” He hurries off and the rest of them head to the elevator to get Steve to the penthouse.

When they get to the bedroom, Steve tries to pull out of Thor’s grip. “I’m fine. I’m just going to go to bed.”

Tony catches him by the chin. “Honey. You are not fine. And you’re not going to bed yet, you’re filthy.”

Steve grimaces, but he stops fighting and lets Thor haul him into the bathroom. There, Thor guides him to sit on the chaise next to the flush inset bath. Natasha leans over and gets the water running and Tony kneels at Steve’s feet.

He looks like a wreck. His face is covered in a sheen of sweat and he’s shivering now, hunched over and gray-lipped.

“Thermometer?” Clint asks.

Tony barely glances back over his shoulder. “Uh. JARVIS?”

“Bottom drawer on the far left, Mister Barton.”

Steve’s eyes are glassy as Tony cups his face and looks into them. “How long have you been feeling off?”

Steve sighs and lays his head down on Tony’s shoulder. “Felt okay this morning. Had a headache this afternoon, but it wasn’t bad.”

“Okay,” Tony says, stroking the damp hair at the back of his neck. Clint holds out the thermometer and he takes it, nudging Steve’s head gently with his shoulder. “Let me see you for a second.”

Steve whines in a way that he’d normally never be caught dead doing and lifts his head like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“Thank you,” Tony says and slips the thermometer in Steve’s mouth. “Hold it under your tongue till it beeps.” He takes a second to look Steve over again as he clenches his jaw around the thermometer. Tony doesn’t see any injuries, which is good. Thor ends up putting ahand on his shoulder because he keeps swaying in place.

Bruce joins them as Tony’s watching the readout climb to 103. It finally beeps at 103.6 and Steve’s jaw loosens, the thermometer clattering to the floor between them.

“Jesus,” Tony mutters, but he ignores it in favor of waving Clint over. “A hundred and three-point six. Clint, help me get him out of the uniform. Thor, you got him?”

“Aye.”

“Here, Steve,” Bruce says, cupping a few tablets in his hand. “Take these. They’ll make you feel better.”

Steve opens his mouth and takes the pills without a fuss, lifting a shaking hand to touch the cup of water Nat presses to his lips after. He gasps when he’s finished, breathing more heavily from that small exertion. Tony’s chest winds up tighter and tighter as he works the front of the suit.

Clint peels it off when the clasps are all undone.

“Can I lay down now?” Steve asks, head drooping forward.

“Not yet, solnyshka. Bath first.”

Steve sighs but submits to further manhandling. The muscles in his stomach flinch away as Tony hikes up the skintight blue undershirt, which is resisting from how soaked it is. It’s gross, but not remotely the first thing on Tony’s mind as Clint helps him pull it over Steve’s head.

“Help him up,” Tony tells Clint and Thor and they both get a good grip of Steve’s arms and pull him to his feet. Steve’s shaky on his feet between them and Tony moves fast to unfasten his pants and get them down around his knees. Tasha uses her quick fingers to unbuckle his boots and pulls those off so they can shuffle him the rest of the way out of his pants.

Then, hooking his fingers around the waistband of Steve’s briefs, he looks up at him and says, “Okay, I’m taking the drawers next. That okay?”

“If it gets me in bed faster,” Steve says irritably.

Tony huffs and drags them off. Steve winces as they come down his thighs, so his skin mustbe oversensitive. Tony runs a gentle hand over one thigh. “Sorry about that. Okay, tub time.”

He and Bruce hover, moving back and forth behind them as Thor and Clint maneuver Steve over toward the tub and help him climb in despite his unsteady legs. He groans as the water moves up his body. Once he’s settled in the water, albeit shifting restlessly, Tony claps Thor on the back.

“Thanks, guys. I can take it from here.”

“Check his temperature again after,” Bruce instructs. “If it gets near 104 we’re taking him to medical.”

“Got it.”

Natasha bends over the side of the tub and brushes Steve’s hair back, laying a kiss at his hairline. “Feel better, solnyshka.”

Steve blinks blearily after her as they leave, the door whispering shut behind them.

Tony sits down on the marble edge around the tub and reaches across to grab a washcloth. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, so he’s not worried about getting a little wet. Dipping the cloth in the water, he pushes gently on Steve’s shoulder until he lies back against the slanted end of the tub, watching Tony with hazy eyes.

“You don’t feel very good, huh?” Tony asks.

Steve shakes his head, grimacing. “Haven’t felt this bad in a long time.”

“Sorry.” Tony squeezes out the washcloth over Steve’s neck and shoulder and he shudders. “We’re gonna clean you up and get your temp down a little and then you can go to bed.”

Steve squints up at him. “Are you gonna be okay?”

The fact that he’s concerned about Tony even when he feels this crappy makes Tony flushwarm. “Yeah, I think so. You’re not coughing or sneezing and I’m not planning on drinking this water, so I think it’ll be all right.”

“Don’t want to get you sick.” Steve closes his eyes as Tony runs the washcloth over his chest in slow strokes before soaking it again and squeezing the water over him.

“We were making out this morning, so I think that ship’s sailed, but I appreciate the concern, honey.”

Steve sighs and sinks a little deeper into the water. He’s pliant and obviously barely awake as Tony cleans under his arms and runs more water down his neck and shoulders. When Tony has him lean forward so he can give his hair a quick wash, he’s pretty sure Steve actually falls asleep for a second.

“How are you feeling?” he asks after about ten minutes of this.

“Better,” Steve says, sounding surprised. “Don’t ache so much.”

Tony smiles. “Hey, that’s great. Let me check your temperature again and we’ll get you out of here before it gets too cold.”

He turns around and retrieves the thermometer off the floor, peeling off the protective plastic and replacing it with a new one. Then he pops it in Steve’s mouth, smiling again at the way his nose wrinkles.

Tony runs his knuckles over Steve’s chest while they wait and Steve watches him with a low-lidded look that would be entirely too sexy if he didn’t still look so out of it.

Finally, the thermometer beeps and Tony takes it back. Steve’s temperature has come down to 101.4, which is a significant improvement.

“That’s what we like to see,” he says. “All right. Gimme your hand and let’s get you out of this tub.”

Tony braces himself on the bathmat and Steve takes hold of his hand. Carefully, he helpshaul Steve to his feet and lets him brace himself on Tony’s forearms as he climbs out. Once he’s sure Steve is steady, Tony leans over to grab a towel and starts drying him off. Steve puts ahand on his shoulder and Tony smiles where he can’t see; the way he feels when Steve relies on him like this, it’s...it’s a lot.

“Let me grab some pajamas. Do you want to sit?”

Steve nods and sinks down onto the chaise again. Tony hurries out to the closet and grabsone of Steve’s thinner pairs of sleep pants and a t-shirt and scurries back in. Steve is huddled in the towel when he gets back.

“Sorry,” he says when he sees Tony.

“Please don’t make me smack you when you’re sick.”

He gets a slightly peeved look in response, but Tony doesn’t care. Steve’s being ridiculous. He waves a hand.

“Come on. Up you get.”

Steve gets slowly to his feet and grabs on to Tony shoulder again when he gets within range. He lifts one leg at a time so Tony can help him into the sleep pants and then wobbles a little as Tony helps him put the shirt on.

“There you go,” Tony says, smoothing out the shirt over Steve’s chest. “Better.”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps and leans in to rest his forehead against the side of Tony’s head. “Thanks, Tony.”

“’Course, honey. Bed?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, the desire clear in his voice.

They make their way to the bed and Steve crawls in while Tony strips out of his clothes. He’ll sleep in his underwear. He crawls in on the opposite side and leans over Steve, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. He’s still warm, but not fiery hot against his lips, thank God.

Tomorrow they’ll do some tests and see if they can figure out what’s going on, but he’ll be all right.

A New Kind of Mission

Chapter One: The Mandatory Meeting

***

Of course, just days after the battle with the Chitauri and Loki, Steve Rogers had managed to get sick. How this was possible, he had no idea. Then again, it was New York and who knew what kind of killer, super viruses were out there.

Normally, Steve would’ve stayed home and slept it off. The only thing truly stopping him was the mandatory Avengers meeting he had been informed of. At least Tony had said it was mandatory; it was most likely a party. For one, they were getting together at a suspicious time, 8 p.m. Secondly, it was at the Stark Towers, which were lavish enough to hold fancy parties, Steve assumed. Lastly, it had been Tony who’d called him in the first place. Ergo, a party.

However, Steve, being the gentleman he was, knew it would only be right for him to go, no matter how crappy he was feeling. Besides, Fury was supposed to be there and the last thing Steve needed was Fury on his back. So Steve popped a Mucinex pill, got dressed, shaved, thought about taking a travel pack of Kleenex with him (then decided against it), and locked his apartment.

***

“Steve!” Tony exclaimed, opening the door wide. “Welcome to the party!”

I knew it, Steve thought to himself, smiling as he stepped into the threshold. It seemed everyone else was already present. His fellow comrades were mingling. Thor was drinking out of what looked like a chalice, Natasha was laughing at something Clint was saying, and Bruce sat cross-legged on the sofa, doing a sudoku puzzle. Nick was at Tony’s bar, having a drink.

“Huh. I thought this was supposed to be an Avengers Initiative meeting,” Steve wondered aloud.

Nick set his glass down. “Don’t worry, it is. We were just waiting on a certain member’s arrival.”

Steve rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh, right.”

“Don’t make him feel bad, Fury,” Tony interjected. “It’s not his fault he’s used to dressing up all formal. Probably took him 40 minutes just to do his hair.”

Steve blushed to his toes as Tony pulled up a chair for him. “Alright fellow Avengers,” he announced, clapping his hands. “This meeting is in session.”

“I think I’m letting Bruce host the next conference,” Fury muttered, taking a quick sip of his drink as the group settled down. “Okay,” he began, “let’s get started. Over all, the mission was a success. No more Chitauri, Loki’s... well God knows where he is, but it ain’t here. New York is safe from robots, aliens, and monsters for the time being.”

Steve stiffened in his chair. His nose had just begun to itch and it was causing his eyes to water.

“However, there were quite a few close calls and... unexpected battle tactics.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and Clint nudged her disapprovingly.

Fury continued. “The next mission, whenever that may be, we have to make sure we’re all in sync, together. If we—”

Steve couldn’t hold it back any longer. He slowly brought his hand up to his nose. “Heh’TSHH!” He let it hover there, feeling another sneeze coming on. “Ah’SHUHH!”

“Bless you,” Natasha whispered while Fury continued to talk. Steve shifted his position, uncomfortable with the attention.

“If we’re not together, bad things happen,” the leader informed them. “And by ‘bad things,’ I mean, people die. If—”

“Hh’NNGT!” Steve jammed two fingers under his flaring nostrils, breath quietly catching in his throat. “Hah’SHHT!”

“If—”

“TSSHH! Eh’XXXT!” The captain’s shoulders shook with the force of his sneezes. He lightly rubbed his nose, silently begging it to stop bothering him.

Fury started to talk for the third time. “If we—”

“Hap’SHUHH!” Steve sneezed harshly, unable to hold it in.

“Goddammit Cap, I’m trying to give a speech!” Fury snapped, taking a quick sip.

Steve flushed red as they glanced over at him. “Ahem. Um, excuse me. I hahh... uh, does anyone have any...?” He trailed off, one hand cupping his nose. Bruce, bless him, tossed Steve a box of tissues which he caught one handed. He turned away from them as he blew his nose.

“If we formulate a plan, let’s try to stick with it, okay people? Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. Anyone else want to say anything?”

Tony stood up. “I’d just like to thank all my supporters—”

“Boo!” Clint shouted, hands cupped over his mouth to amplify the sound. “Boooo!”

Bruce chuckled at Tony’s irritated look. “Well, anyway, here’s to us,” he said, raising his glass. “To us!”

“To us!” They echoed as Steve snatched a couple more tissues from the box and buried his twitching nose in them. “Hahh... hahH! Hah’TSHOO! Nn’XXXT! Hur’XSSH!”

“Bless you, Cap, Jesus... you okay?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. The others looked at him expectantly.

“I’m fine,” he waved them off, sniffling. “Just... huhh! Just some dust or something.” He had his knuckles placed firmly under his nose, effectively staving off the sneeze.

If there was anything going right for him that night, it sure wasn’t the Mucinex.

***