Tony sighed, resting his forehead against the cool metal of his desk. The cold did nothing to alter the burning of his forehead. This was not what Tony had planned. It was nearing the end of the year, and he still had piles of work to accomplish before the start of the New Year.
He blamed the latest round of evil-doers for his bout of sickness. The suit had been disengaged midway through the battle, and Tony had to fight the bad guys in the cold winter weather with no protection. Not that it affected the supersoliders or spies on the team. Oh no. Of course, Tony was the only one to get sick from fighting in the cold.
Sucking in a breath, Tony banged his head against the desk in frustration. “That’s only going to make you feel worse, you know?” a voice spoke up from the couch across the workshop.
Tony groaned. “Oh yeah, because you’re so knowledgeable when it comes to something like this.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. If you only listened to my advice in the first place, sweetheart, you wouldn’t be in this position,” Steve said, raising his eyebrow at Tony.
Rolling his head to the side, Tony glared at Steve. “What, like I’d let you handle the fight without me? Yeah right, dear. That’s not likely. I had it all under control,” he shot back.
“Oh yes, very under control. Says the man who’s sick and pouting like a five-year-old,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes fondly.
“I am not pouting! I’m just sulking about my impending sickness while handling upgrades for the team and new tech for SI at the same time.”
“Pouting and sulking are the same thing, my dearest. I told you, you’ve either got the flu or early stages of pneumonia. You need to be resting. Working right now is only going to make you feel worse," Steve replied.
"Well, unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of sitting back and not working. I've worked through shit a lot worse than this," Tony said.
Steve just hummed in agreement; shifting his attention away from his boyfriend and back to the sketchbook in his lap.
Tony made a sharp disgruntled sound, followed by a coughing fit, which caused Steve to dart his gaze back up to the billionaire. "You could at least pretend to feel sorry for me," Tony whined, his voice cracking.
Steve chuckled softly. "I'm not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor."
"Doctors are shit. They don't tell you jack and they're useless at actually prescribing anything that helps," Tony said.
"Pretty sure you've said that at least fifty times today," Steve remarked, focusing back on the sketchbook in front of him.
"Steveee," Tony whined pathetically.
"No sympathy from me, Stark. I've told you to see a doctor. JARVIS told you it was best for your health to see a doctor. Even Bruce advised you to get medication from a doctor. Your own damn fault," Steve mumbled, distracted, as he picked up his pencil and began drawing again.
The workshop fell silent for a minute before Tony spoke up again. "I feel like shit, Steve."
Steve's eyes flickered briefly to his boyfriend before settling back on the paper. "So you've told me, a thousand times."
The room lapsed into silence again. Thankful for the peace and quiet, Steve took a deep breath and allowed himself to become absorbed in his sketching again. I
However, it only took a couple of minutes for another one of Tony's coughing fits to snap his attention once again.
Once the coughing fit had ended, Tony groaned and lay his head down fully on the desk. "I didn't think it was possible to feel this bad," he complained, his voice hoarse.
Sighing softly, Steve placed his sketchbook to the side and made his way to Tony. "JARVIS, can you make an appointment at the doctor's office tomorrow?"
"Certainly, Captain Rogers."
"No, 'm not going to the doctors," Tony mumbled weakly.
"Yes, you are. I'll go with you. Right now, I'm taking you to bed. All your work can wait until tomorrow. Right now, you need to rest," Steve instructed.
"You don't have to play nurse to get into my bed. Now I think of it, you'd make a sexy nurse. I'm getting you a nurse outfit," Tony rambled.
"Not what I meant, Tony. Now come on," Steve replied. Hauling Tony to his feet, Steve wrapped an arm around Tony's waist and helped him to the elevator.
A couple of minutes later, Steve had Tony curled up in their shared bed. Making sure Tony was tucked under the sheets, Steve got up to switch the lights off.
"Does this mean you are actually sympathetic?" Tony mumbled, his eyes lifting to meet Steve's.
"Go to sleep, Tony," Steve said with a soft smile.
"I'm taking that as a yes," Tony replied, his eyes falling shut involuntarily. Rolling his eyes fondly, Steve bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his lover's forehead.
Tomorrow, he would fight Tony tooth and nail just to spend 5 minutes at the doctor's office. But for tonight, Steve was content to just sit and watch over his sick boyfriend. Yeah, he knew it was cliché, but what could he say; he really was sympathetic about the situation Tony had gotten himself into.