MCU Imagines

Terrible Feeling - Steve Rogers

Warnings: strong language, puking, a bit of angst, a lot of fluff
Request: Steve taking care of sick reader?? All full of fluff? Best friends to lovers🥺 BY rogersdrysdalebarber
A/N: Expect delays and slow updates from me. I'm very slow at posting and editing and everything in general. Hope you guys enjoy!
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"Y/N?" Steve shouted, a bit concerned that you hadn't shown up to the debriefing. Fury had wanted to go over the mission next week one last time, but he was adamant on having you there. So when you didn't come thirty minutes later, Fury told Steve to let you know of any change in the plan and went on with the meeting. Right when the meeting ended, Steve had made his way to your small longing area—everyone in the team had a section in the Compound that was sort of their own apartment.

"In here!" Your broken voice came from your bedroom. Steve let out a breath and walked over to your bedroom door, looking inside when he saw it was open—you never left it open. He glanced around the room, nostrils flaring when the strong freshener hit him. You hated strong scents. The curtains were closed and the only light source was coming from your bathroom—where you were.

He walked over to the bathroom, leaning against the door when he saw you brushing your teeth. You looked up at him from your spot on the floor, eyes puffy and tired. You were only wearing a shirt you stole from him and a pair of panties, making him raise an eyebrow in question. You raised an arm, silently asking him to help you sit up. Once he had helped you up, you finished brushing your teeth, leaning against the sink to hold yourself up. Steve quickly picked up on your exhausted posture and his concern grew more, brows furrowing slightly. He came to stand behind you when you had splashed cold water on your face and put away a towel.

"You okay?" Steve asked gently, placing his hands on your shoulders. You leaned into the touch, shaking your head. You turned around, making his hands drop to his side before you grabbed one and put it to your head. "Shit." Steve flipped his hand, making sure it wasn't just because he ran hot.

"Yeah, shit," you muttered, closing your eyes and leaning towards Steve. Steve wrapped his arms around your shoulders, but you whined and pushed his arms away. "'S hot." Steve's initial reaction was shock and hurt, but your admission made his heart skip a beat. At least you didn't want him gone.

"C'mon," he said, rubbing your back and letting you walk in front. "Since when?"

"Last night." You stopped on the side of your bed before flopping down and rolling to the middle. Steve suppressed his laughter at your childish behaviour and instead made sure you were comfortable.

When Steve pulled the blankets over you, you pushed them away and sent him a glare. "Sorry." Steve gave the best apologetic face he could manage when you looked like a puppy trying to threaten him. You were the least threatening thing in his life when you were sick. This wasn't the first time he had seen you sick, but last time, he wasn't your best friend; he was just a new colleague.

You shifted to face him with a gentler look at him. "No. It's okay. I'm being a child and I'm sorry," you mumbled, eyes closing even if you didn't want them to. "I don't wanna be a bitch, but I can't help it. Everything hurts and my head isn't working and... yeah." Steve placed a knee on the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead and massage your head lightly. He knew your head hurt when you shut the curtains and cut out any source of light.

"Did you have anything to eat?" Steve scanned your room once more, trying to see if he missed any dirty dishes or any other indications that you had or hadn't eaten.

"No," you replied, shifting again with a small groan, facing away from Steve. "I drank coffee, but I ended up puking everything out. And then an empty stomach at midnight. And once again this morning." Steve rubbed your shoulder in sympathy, giving it a small squeeze before he straightened up. "And now too."