Imagines and more

You don't have to hide ♥️ Natasha

Your girlfriend, Natasha, is quite obviously sick with one of the worst colds she's ever had. You see the flushed cheeks. You hear the soft sniffles and stifled sneezes. But Natasha is adamant she's 'not sick'. Can you convince her it's okay to let herself be looked after?

**

You send Natasha no more than a glance as she perfectly stifles yet another sneeze into her shoulder. You were both sat at the dining room table working on mission reports, and you had been doing so since the early hours of the morning after crawling your way out of bed. You'd barely spoken a word to one another, but it wasn't from lack of trying on your end.

Your stubborn girlfriend was sick and apparently thinks giving you the silent would stop you from worrying. The flushed cheeks, the stifled sneezes and wet sniffles were concerning enough on their own, but the fact that she was adamantly refusing she was sick was another thing entirely and it was safe to say you were growing increasingly concerned.

If Natasha wasn't as strong as she was and wasn't capable of throwing you across the room with only minimal effort on her part, you would have hauled her ass to bed already.

You weren't quite sure what had caused her sickness, but you did have an inkling it might have something to do with her latest mission. She'd refused point blank to put on anything else other her black widow suit despite the freezing temperatures, and that along with snow was enough to make anybody sick.

Even stubborn Russians with red hair.

But she was refusing to admit it, and each time you even acknowledged one of her sneezes, she turns a blind eye and pretends she hadn't heard you. You took the hint, and you hadn't said a word to her in over an hour.

When Natasha sniffles wetly for the fifth time in a minute, you reach behind you and grab the box of tissues from the kitchen counter before sliding them over to her without a word. Natasha eyes you as she pointedly pushes them back, and you could no longer hold back the heavy sigh of frustration that slips from your lips.

"For the love of god babe, just blow your nose." You finally break the silence, dropping your pen to the table and running a hand through your hair.

"I'm fine." Natasha mutters hoarsely as she pointedly averts her gaze.

"No," you counter with a roll of the eyes as you stand up and begin to clear up your work space. You could no longer be in the same room as her without giving in to the urge you had to haul her ass to bed and make her rest. "You're not. You're sick. You've been sick for three days and you sound miserable."

Natasha sniffles wetly, unintentionally proving your point.

"If you don't want me to take care of you, fine. But at least take some medicine." You murmur, rounding the kitchen table. You stare down at her for a moment before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Just like you'd suspected, her skin was boiling to the touch, and you let out a soft, defeated sigh before leaving the room.

*

The rest of the day passes with radio silence on Natasha's end. She coupes herself up in the spare bedroom of your shared apartment, but that doesn't prevent you from hearing the wet, gravely coughs and throat scraping sneezes that escape through the thin walls.

It breaks your heart, but there was nothing you could do if she didn't want to accept your help.

As the clock strikes six, you find yourself stood in front of the stove stirring the homemade chicken noodle soup you'd spent the last hour preparing. You didn't know if Natasha would want to eat, but you figured soup would be a better option should she choose to.