Avengers Imagines (Part One)

Peter Parker X Reader - Sick

A/N- This imagine is based on a dream I had the other day when I was feeling super gross and ill. Peter and Reader are in their mid-twenties. I hope you all enjoy it.

Everything in you ached. Your head was pounding, your shoulders tense and screeching, and your nose felt as though it had never been so blocked. For the life of you, you couldn't remember the last time you had been so sick. And so, you had left work at lunch and crept home to huddle under your duvet and feel sorry for yourself. 

Peter wouldn't be home for a few more hours yet, and you were hoping you could sleep off whatever ill you had gained before he got back and woke you. So, you put on the tv to some 24 hour news channel and settled yourself in bed, allowing the news anchors to lull you to sleep. 

You had slept for three hours, only waking when you heard the door to your apartment creaking shut, followed by Peter's voice, cursing quietly. "Fucking shoes." You could tell, without seeing him, that he had tripped over the shoes you had kicked off in the doorway, in your hurry to get back into bed. "Y/N, you need to put your shoes in the cupboard when you get home," he called out into the apartment, his voice getting closer to you as he spoke.

When his head poked around the doorway, he was smiling, or he was until he saw you burrowed away in your little nest of covers, your eyes heavy and face paler than usual.

"What's up?"

You sniffled slightly as he came to sit beside you. "I'm sick."  You sighed when he held out his arm for you, allowing you to nuzzle close to him, your hands escaping the duvet to grip his t-shirt. 

Peter leant in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're burning up, angel," he started softly, and you simply shook your head.

"I'm freezing," you corrected quickly. 

"Well, you feel boiling." His brows furrowed together as you shifted, burying your face closer to his body. He placed the back of  his hand against your forehead, his lips turning down into a deep frown as he pulled away from you. "I'm going to run down to the chemist, see if they have anything to make you feel better, okay sweetheart."

You grumbled when he tried to pull away from you, your own personal heater escaping you and leaving you icy cold again. "No," you whined, reaching out for him, and watching his frown deepen.

Peter leant forward again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back, I promise."

"Fine," you grumbled, burying yourself back into the duvet and pressing your eyes shut as he left the room, the front door slamming shut as he hurried away.

Sometime between Peter leaving and him returning, you had fallen asleep. When you next woke up, he was sitting beside you on his phone, his fingers running gently through your hair as he scrolled.

"What'cha reading?" you huffed, shifting a little closer to him and watching as he turned to look down at you. 

"Nothing," he answered quickly, "an email from Dr Banner." 

You nodded, "What's it say?"

"That you'll be fine, and it's just flu." 

A small chuckle escaped your throat, slowly changing into a fit of coughs. Peter helped you sit up, rubbing his hand over your back as you stopped hacking. "You did't need to message him," you told him, your voice thick and scratchy.

"I was worried about you," he uttered softly, "and the internet's no good at this stuff." 

You smiled, moving closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder. "You're cute," you told him, causing him to let out a short laugh. "But for a literal superhero, you scare pretty easy."

"Hey, don't be a dick," he exclaimed as quietly as he could, "I'm looking after you."

You took a deep breath and stole the tv remote from Peter's lap. "I know, baby. You're being real good to me."

Peter snorted with laughter as you flicked through the channels. "You know, if it weren't for all the snot and the gross sickness, I'd kiss you right now."

"What a true gentleman," you exclaimed, a bout of laughter escaping you until you winced, lifting your hand to your forehead and groaning. 

Peter reached out and took your hand in his for a moment, "I'm going to get you something to eat, Angel." You nodded slightly, your fingers rubbing circles into your temples. He got up and left the room, coming back a moment later and placing a pack of painkiller on the bed in front of you before leaving again.

You were still massaging your forehead when Peter returned bearing toast and a cup of tea, but you managed to muster up a small smile for him as he placed the tray down on the bed.

"Come on," he uttered as he sat back on the bed, reaching out his arm for you. You furrowed your brow at him as you took the first sip of your tea. "Come on, I'll sort out your head whilst you eat." He patted his knee lightly, waiting for you to put your head in his lap.

"You don't have to do that," you started, watching as he shook his head.

"No, but I want to." He patted his knee again, smiling when you gave in and settled down, your head resting on his flannel clad thigh. 

Peter's fingers worked wonders on your headache, massaging the pain to an almost non-existent state as you continued to eat the food he had brought you. To say you felt lucky was an understatement. In that moment, and in many other moments in your life, Peter was the best boyfriend in the world, and you were more than happy to call him yours.

Please consider supporting me for just £3 using Ko-Fi. The link is available on my profile page. If you have any questions about Ko-Fi please feel free to private message me. Thank you. L x