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"I'm telling you—"
"Tony, get back to bed—"
"—I'm not sick!"
Steve gave the brunet a stern look and crossed his arms.
It was the Captain Rogers look. Everyone (mostly Tony) teased him for how he always had the same furrowed brows, the crossed arms, looking like a disappointed grandpa. He knew that Steve meant well, but now that he was sitting here on the bed, not wanting to reveal how sick he was, he really just wanted Rogers to stop giving him that damn look.
"It's just a cough," Tony insisted. He stood up—slowly, since his muscles were absolutely fucking killing him—and smiled. "I'm fine."
The soldier wasn't impressed. He pressed a hand to Tony's forehead. "You're burning up."
"Only for you, baby." Tony really hoped the exaggerated grin was enough to get his husband off his back; just standing up was exhausting him.
Steve frowned. "I'm going to grab a thermometer. If you have a fever, I'm having FRIDAY lock down the tower just so you can finally get some rest."
"You can't do that!" Tony called out as Steve left the room. "You don't even have the clearance!"
The engineer tried to get to the bathroom as quickly as his could, forcing his muscles to push despite the fact that he was aching like hell. Just as Tony turned on the faucet to flush his face with cold water, a familiar blond stood behind him, arms crossed again.
"Geez, Rogers. Ease up on the bad cop routine."
The soldier placed the thermometer on Tony's forehead, sighing when the scanner displayed the temperature. "102."
"Barely a fever," Tony scoffed. "I'm fine, babe."
Steve sighed. "Okay, if you're fine, I don't wanna hear any whining that you're sick and miserable. Got it?"
Tony froze. He couldn't read Steve's face for a split second; the soldier was far too serious. Eventually, a smile broke through the stoic expression, and he slipped his arms around the brunet. He squeezed him a little, enjoying the smell of his husband's hair.
"I just want you to feel better."
"I'll be fine," Tony insisted, leaning up to kiss Steve's cheek. The blonde retreated for a moment and smirked.
"No kissing if you're sick."
Tony was incredulous. "You're a supersoldier. You wouldn't even get sick!"
"If you wanna kiss me, you'll have to let me take care of you." Steve crossed his arms as Tony whined. "I mean it. No kissing me, no touching me..."
"Fine, fine! You win!"
Steve chuckled and pressed his lips to Tony's forehead. "That was easier than I thought. Alright, let's get you to bed."
"I'm not tired—"
Without another word, Steve scooped Tony into his arms and carried him back to bed. The action almost caught Tony by surprise at first, but soon he relaxed into the blonde's arms. Soon he was tucked into bed, and he drifted off to sleep. The nap helped a little with the aching. His head still felt like it was filled with cement after his nap, but nonetheless, a little improvement was better than none.
Tony was surprised to go down to the kitchen and find his husband at the stove, donning the apron and everything. The blond was stirring something in a pot, and the aromas floating around the tower smelled like wonderful. The fireplace crackled, illuminating the tower. The sight was something of a dream, a movie. Walking up behind Steve, Tony slipped his arms the man's waist, relishing the warmth that radiated from his body.
"This is heaven, right? This is the good place?"
Steve turned around, wiping his hands on a towel before pressing one of them against Tony's forehead. He frowned and wandered through the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets.
Tony tilted his head in confusion. "Everything alright there, chef?"
"I'm just surprised that you're still so warm," Steve replied, "time for some medicine."
"I just didn't sleep enough—"
"Sit at the counter, Tony."
Tony grumbled as he sat on one of the bar stools; he didn't really mean it, though. He absolutely loved the fuss that Steve was making—he loved being babied.
Not that Steve wasn't attentive already. The man noticed the tiniest details, like the difference between Tony's fourth or fifth cup of coffee for the day, but knowing that a sixth cup would be far too much. He'd notice on the phone if Tony was growing anxious from all the meetings and plans he had that day, and he'd go up to his office make sure Tony took a break for tea. He'd know when Tony was getting far too tired in the lab, and when it was time to sweep the engineer off his feet to get back into bed.
Seeing Steve fuss about whether to give Tony acetaminophen or ibuprofen and which would be better in reducing the fever made his heart swell. Another reason for his complete and utter adoration for his husband.
"Alright, here's the medicine," Steve said finally, handing him the pill. "And I put some lemon in your water, make sure to finish it."
"Yes, Dr. Rogers." Tony relished the eye roll from his husband and dutifully took his medicine.
The timer on the stove went off, and Steve added some finishing garnishes to the soup before putting it into bowls. God, the man looked pretty while he was preparing soup—Tony could barely stop himself from swooning.
"There you are," Steve said happily, "chicken and rice soup. Best thing on cold day or when you're sick."
"Thank you," Tony said quietly. He couldn't stop looking at the man, trying not to smile now as Steve began to devour his creation. Steve blushed slightly as a result, wiping away some of the mess he'd made and pausing.
"Not hungry?"
"No, I am," Tony replied. "Just...thankful for you. Or whatever."
Steve smirked. "Well, you're welcome. Or whatever."
Tony took a spoonful of the soup, unable to suppress the groan that escaped his lips. "Why haven't you made this before? I want to marry this soup."
"Haven't made it in a while," Steve replied. "It was a recipe from Ma. It always made me feel better when I was sick, so I knew it would make you feel better."
"You always make me feel better," Tony said softly, "the soup was just a perk."
Steve leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "God, you're such a sap when you're sick."
The brunet pouted his lips. "Don't make fun of me when I'm sick."
Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Come on, let's sit in front of the fire."
Tony made a fuss at first, feigning weakness and the inability to walk just ten feet to the sofa in the living room. The soldier sighed, but he put on a smile and carried his husband to the living room.
"Oh, we need more blankets. Give me one minute."
Tony settled into the couch and continued eating the soup. "It better be just one minute! I'm cold and I could be dying!"
By the time Steve returned, the combination of warmth from the fire and warmth from the soup made Tony drowsy. The sleepy grin on his husband's face made Steve's heart swell. He placed the blanket over the both of them and wrapped his arm around Tony. He squeezed just a little, chuckling when Tony smiled again in response. Tony draped his arm over Steve's chest and sighed.
"You're too big for this couch. Sure you're comfortable?"
Steve pressed his lips to Tony's forehead. "I don't mind. I like being squished by you."
"I love you," Tony said softly. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"Don't have to say thank you for that," Steve reassured, "I love you, and I'll always take care of you."