Fever
(Steve’s POV)
He, Clint and Natasha were sitting on the huge couch in Avengers Tower. It was dark out and all the lights were off, the only source of light was from the tv playing Bambi. It was his turn to pick the movie and Bambi had been made in 1945, so it reminded him of when he and Bucky had gone and seen movies when they were boys.
They were about halfway through and he and Clint seemed to be enjoying it, but it looked like Natasha was falling asleep. He thought she liked Disney movies. He remembered that Natasha hadn’t been acting like her usual self today. She seemed extremely tired and didn’t eat much for lunch or dinner.
He looked at her a little more carefully. She had a thick blanket wrapped around herself which was odd since it was the middle of July. But the more concerning thing was that despite the blanket she was shivering. And it wasn’t like it was cold in the tower, he and Clint were doing perfectly fine in shorts and t-shirts.
Natasha must of sensed him staring at her because she turned her head to face him.
“What you staring at Rogers?” She said defensively.
He took this as another sign that something was wrong as she usually wasn’t so quick to snap at him. Not unless something was wrong.
“It’s just that it’s the middle of July and your shivering and wrapped up a blanket.” He responded. He internally cringed at himself as he sounded like an overbearing grandmother. And he could tell by the unimpressed look in Natasha’s face that she didn’t appreciate it. It only made her more angry when Clint decided to chime in.
“And I beat you every round we did in the training room, much easier than usual.” Clint teased. Not a good choice in his opinion.
“You wish you could beat me Barton, I’m just cold so stop staring at me and watch your stupid movie.” She spat angrily. With that she got up off the couch where she was sitting in between him and Clint and went over to the opposite side of the room and laid down on the couch over there, her back to them.
He exchanged a look of concern with Clint before deciding to drop the subject and continue to watch the movie. But he couldn’t focus on it anymore, his head too clouded with thoughts of worry over Natasha’s strange behaviour. He could tell Clint felt the same. But they decided to just let her be till the movie was over, she seemed pretty pissed off right now anyway.
About an hour later, the movie was over. And Natasha hadn’t moved from her spot. Her back still to them. He couldn’t even tell if she was awake or not. He hadn’t even noticed Clint staring at him, but the archer seemed to have read his mind.
“She’s asleep. I can tell by the way she’s breathing.” Clint stated matter of factly. He couldn’t help but hide the confusion on his face as he wondered how Clint would know that. Clint noticed and quickly added, “I know from missions and stuff like that when one of us would sleep and the other would keep watch.”
“Do you know what’s up with her?” He asked, assuming Clint would know since they were so close. Something he was a bit jealous of, but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. He could barely admit it to himself.
“I think she might be getting sick or already sick, that would explain why she was wrapped up in a blanket. She doesn’t like telling people she’s sick because she hates it when we try to help her.” Clint responded.
This made sense to him. It would also explain why she hadn’t eaten much that day. He realized he had forgotten about getting sick. Ever since the serum, he hadn’t even had so much as the common cold. It reminded him of when he was younger. When he was plagued with diseases and was sick for weeks at a time. The thing he hated most about being sick was the way it affected his mother.
She would have to stay home from work so often to take care of him that she was eventually fired from her job at the bakery. With only his father working and without the extra funds from the bakery they had to move into a smaller apartment in the poorer side of Brooklyn. Farther away from Bucky. He had always felt guilty about that because he knew it was his fault no matter how many times his mother insisted that it wasn’t. He vowed from a young age to make it up to her. Even now it upset him that she had died before she could see who he turned out to be. Would she be proud? Or would she be disappointed? He could never say for sure.
Just then he noticed Clint get up from the couch and walk over to Natasha. Clint hesitated for a moment, worried that he might wake her, before lightly resting the back of his hand against her forehead.
“Jesus Christ” Clint gasped. This was enough to alert Natasha to his presence. And even though she was sick she was able to strike like a snake and grab Clint’s wrist, pulling it roughly off her forehead.
“Get off me!” she spat, but she didn’t get up from where she was laying.
“Your burning up!” Clint shot back, with just as much anger as Natasha had given him. Upset over the fact that she didn’t tell him just how sick she was. He was at his feet at this point. Watching the two spies argue from afar.
“It’s none of your business! Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I have to act like a child like you!” Natasha argued. She managed to sit up on the couch. But he could tell it took a lot of effort and she was leaning heavily against the back of the couch.
He tried his best to hide the smile that emerged on his face after her last statement. Mostly because they were scabbling like children. Arguing wasn’t doing her any good. He decided then that he would try to take care of her, just like his mother had once taken care of him. Whether she wanted it or not.
“Clint” He said, trying to give Clint a look to signal that he would take care of it. He didn’t think he did it very well but thankfully Clint got the message.
Throwing his hands up in the air he turned to walk out of the living room towards the direction of his room. “Good luck Cap.” Clint shouted back. And with that he was gone.
“I don’t need to be taken care of” Natasha growled at him, shooting him a glare.
“I know” He simply replied, walking over to where she sat and dealing down in front of her. He reached up to rest his hand on her forehead but she stopped him. “Just let me do this, please, I want to help you.” He repeated the words his mother had used on him when he had tried to convince her he wasn’t sick. He felt an ache in his chest when he said them, missing her more than he had in a long time.
Natasha looked at him for a few seconds before letting go of his wrist. Her small way of giving in. She must really be sick. He put his hand gently on her forehead. Clint was right, she was burning up. Her eyes were red with fever and the fight that was in her face changed into a look of exhaustion. Even if she didn’t want his help he knew she needed it. This was much more than a small bug.
He put his arms underneath her and picked her up, blanket and all. She melted into his touch, resting her head against his chest. As he walked towards her room he looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks red with heat. He noticed that even though she was sick she looked at peace. It was the first time he had seen that look on her face. She felt safe with him.
When he got to her room instead of putting her in her bed like he had planned, he decided to sit in the soft chair next to it. Holding her close to him, resting his cheek against her forehead. She opened her eyes for a moment but quickly closed them again. They were silent for a long time. He had almost thought that she was asleep, but her soft voice filled the room.
“You tell no one about this.” she said, a small smile spreading across her face. This night was just for them and no one else.