Tummyache
They are planning in their secret hideout, and Nebula can tell something's wrong with Loki. Something has felt different for some days, but not it's more noticeable, more obvious.
“You are ill.” She announces, because she's just understood what was going on.
“I've noticed.” Loki says, with his usual mix of sarcasm and bitterness, and Nebula kicks herself for not having realised earlier.
It all makes sense now. Why he is even whiter than usual, why the shadows under his eyes are so pronounced, why he sometimes looks near green and needs to stop for a moment or two and breathe deeply. And she understands now that the sounds she heard this morning was him, probably retching. That's why he didn't eat with her, not because he was busy, but because he was too unwell to eat. Huh.
She stares at him. She's used to Loki being as functional as her, sharp, agile, quick in his movements. She didn't even know his kind could get infected by Terran diseases. She doesn't like that, not at all.It bothers her. Loki should be immune to everything and nothing should hurt him. Not even his enemies' blades.
Back when she was with Thanos, being sick was a sign of weakness, which meant more pain from the mad titan, so it was something to be ashamed, to hide. The last thing you wanted to be back then was weak, and being ill made you weak, less proficient in battle. She hadn't been sick often, and too many parts of her mechanical now to catch anything, but she remembers the shame and how bad it felt on top the symptoms to feel that she was a disappointment for Thanos. She doesn't want Loki to feel like that.
Loki is her friend, he is fierce and ambitious, he is smart in battle and out of it, he doesn't seem to mind her brutal and sometimes unkind demeanor. Most of all, Loki understands: he knows what it's like to be always second best, he knows what it's like to one's father, he knows what is like less liked than one's sibling by all the people who matter, he understand the need for retribution, the craving for love and companionship, he knows what it is like to feel like a monster while your sibling is the definition of beauty. Loki knows her, accepts her, doesn't judge her. Looks for her if there are team ups, has her back, asks for her opinion.
Nebula never had a friend before. And he mean a lot to her.
There is something strange as she looks at Loki's pale frame... A feeling she doesn't quite identify.
“Not to worry, dear Nebula.” he says, with a soft smile. “I can work just as well being sick.”
But Nebula doesn't need to Loki to work, isn't worried about that. No, as she sees him rub his eyes tiredly and get even paler and run to the bathroom, she realises that she wants to make it better. She wants to fix Loki and stop him from feeling bad. She wants to help him, diminish his unease.... comfort him, somehow.
This is an alien feeling for her, and she doesn't know what one does when one wants to comfort a friend. She has never comforted anybody, her usual line of action being fighting people or glaring at them. If she wanted to, she knew over two hundred ways in which she could kill Loki, but comforting him... She doesn't even know what she is to say.
But some time later Loki is thrown on their couch looking miserable and she knows that he is feeling too cold, despite an elevated temperature she can read with her bionic eye, and Nebula decides that she has to do something. So she leaves, thinking about which of the people she knows form this planet she finds more tolerable and can be willing to help. Of the heroics team they have met here, she likes the ones with criminal backgrounds best, but Romanoff reminds her too much of Gamora. She will go to Lang. He has been in jail and has less problems associating with herself and Loki, but was not as excellent in crime as the deadly Black Widow.
“I require your assistance.”
Scott's eyebrows shoot up to the sky. Nebula is not a person that needs anything, except maybe revenge and weapons.
“Oh?”
“I have a friend who is sick. It does not look life threatening, but he is...not well.”
“You were bunking up with Loki, right? I didn't even know gods could get sick.”
“Me neither, it is upsetting.” For a moment Nebula looks genuinely distressed, and Scott thinks that is cute that she is worried for her friend. And he never thought the scary blue lady would do anything that could be called cute. “I wish to help him, but I do not know how.”
“No bedside manners in outer space, huh? Sure, I can tell you. What does he have?”
“He is uncommonly warm and pale. He has not eaten in the last two days and has been vomiting and nauseous, I think.”
“Seems like a common intestinal virus.”
“Is there medication for it?”
“Not for viruses, generally, specially not for mild ones. What we normally do is make the person comfortable, diminish the symptoms while it passes.”
“Do go on.”
“Well, whatever it is you guys are doing, tell him to take a day off, to rest. A couch, a blanket, some pillows, you know, get him comfortable. Chamomille tea is good for upset stomachs, and water if he's been puking. A cold compress on the forehead for the fever, to relieve the heat, that's good too. And you know, just company is nice.”
Nebula takes note of everything the Terran says. Seems good advice.
“How could I procure some of that Chamomille you spoke of?”
“Let me get you some.” Scott says, with a faint smile. Psychopathic space warriors, he thinks to himself, can be just like us. It is nice to see that there is a heart behind all the resentment and violence of Nebula. It is nice that they are not alone, despite their conflictive relationship with their family. Now he's thought of Nebula as nice. This is a surprising day.
Loki is feeling really, really bad. He has been throwing up and dry heaving in the toilet of the hideout he shares with Nebula for what feels like a eternity and is now feeling dirty, weak, tired, just plain wrong. His head feels heavy and his stomach won't stop still. The whole room seems to be circling around him, and he hates it and wants it to end. His hands are shaking and he finally manages to get away from the toilet and get his back on the cool tile wall behind him. The bathroom spins around him and his stomach....
“Loki.”
It's just Nebula, carrying some gadgets.
“I'm sorry.” he says “I couldn't finish the...”
“No.” She interrupts. “You will not work until you are recovered. Let me take you to some place more comfortable.”
Ten minutes later, Loki is in the couch covered by a blanket, with a cold compress on his forehead and a chamomile tea flask next to him. He is looking at at her with confusion, but with a marked gentleness.
“I will stay with you until you are feeling better.” She says, and knows that she is too harsh, but can't help it, it's the only way she knows how to be. Loki signs for her to come closer.
“Sit next to me, tell me something terrible about this planet.”
And Nebula does, pleased, because there are always things to complain about in Terra, and Loki thinks, for once since his mother died, that he doesn't quite mind so much being sick, if it with a friend. Scott Lang sends a get well soon card.
Suddenly the pain doesn't hurt quite so much.