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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

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“Are you almost ready love?” Caitlyn asks, slipping a hand around your waist. She dips her head to kiss your cheek, her long navy hair brushing over your shoulder. Then she straightens, still holding you close and smiling at the reflection in the mirror in front of the two of you. “You look beautiful as always.” 

You blush slightly, as you finish tying the straps of your sundress. But then you frown when Caitlyn moves away from you and muffles a dry but rattling cough into her elbow and sniffles softly afterward. 

“Are sure you’re feeling up for this?” You put a hand on your hip, studying your girlfriend through narrowed eyes. “You still sound sick, Cait.” 

“It’s just the cough and some sniffles now,” Caitlyn says, giving you a firm look. “I feel much better, and I’m dying to get out of the house. Let’s go out and enjoy the nice weather, darling.” 

You sigh softly and reach up to squeeze Caitlyn’s shoulder gently. “I worry because I care,” you murmur, standing your tiptoes to kiss her. “Sorry if I’ve been overbearing. I just hate seeing you sick.” 

Caitlyn’s lips curve in a small smile. “I know, my love, and I appreciate your concern. You have taken excellent care of me these past few days. But I really will go mad if I don’t get out of here soon,” she chuckles. “So hurry up, please? You look lovely.” 

You laugh as well, but then your breath catches in your throat and you hurriedly turn away from your girlfriend, coughing into your shoulder. The cough calms quickly enough, but it leaves your throat even more irritated than it was before. That, plus the annoying itch in your nose and the faint throbbing in your head, are making you a little more sluggish than usual. 

“Are you alright?” Caitlyn asks, her eyebrows knitting together. She retrieves a glass of water from the nightstand and brings it over to you. “Have some water, love.” 

You take a few slow sips of water, relishing the feel of the cool liquid on your burning throat. “I’m fine,” you say, trying to look healthier than you feel. “Let me just get my shoes and then I’ll be ready.” 

You head into the huge walk-in closet that houses your racks of shoes. Normally, you’d be having fun getting all dressed up for a day spent in the warm spring air, pursuing the shops of downtown Piltover with your girlfriend. But today, you already feel exhausted and kind of want to crawl back into bed. 

There’s no denying now that you’re catching the same cold your girlfriend has been fighting the past few days. It was probably inevitable, what with how you two have been cuddling practically non-stop, and you haven’t exactly been careful about not kissing her. 

You’re not entirely sure why you haven’t mentioned it yet to Caitlyn, though. Despite her outwardly tough and calculating demeanor as Commander, you know that Caitlyn is actually quite sweet – or at least, she is with you. You know she’d be perfectly understanding if you told her you weren’t feeling great, even as much as she’s been looking forward to finally getting out of the house. 

But your relationship is still relatively new, and you’ve never been sick before since you’ve been dating. Taking care of Caitlyn was easy and felt natural, but the thought of her returning the favor makes you feel a little vulnerable. And plus, besides your itchy throat and nose, you really aren’t feeling that bad. You can make it through a little shopping trip just fine, there’s no need to cancel. 

Gathering your resolve and rubbing your nose hard on your sleeve to try to get rid of the itch, you select a pair of shoes and put them on. This is going to be a great day, you’re sure of it. 

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Downtown Piltover is busy but thankfully not too crowded. With your hands intertwined, you and Caitlyn stroll down the street, enjoying the fresh air and the delicious smells coming from the various eateries lining the street. The trees are starting to grow white, fluffy blossoms, and it’s warm enough that you only need a light sweater. Caitlyn is dressed casually – or at least, her version of casual – in a neat pair of black pants and a dark turtleneck. Besides an occasional cough, she’s looking and sounding much more well than she has been. 

If only you could say the same for yourself. You try to stay your usual cheerful self as you stroll down the cobblestone sidewalk, but it feels like your energy is draining away with each step you take. Your headache is getting worse and your nose is starting to run, making you need to repeatedly sniffle into your sleeve. You probably should have brought tissues, but you hadn’t thought of it before leaving. 

“How about we get some coffee?” Caitlyn suggests, nodding toward a cafe that’s up ahead. “That spot is one of my favorites. They have the finest coffee in Piltover.” 

“Sure, honey,” you say, slightly distracted by the burning itch in your sinuses. You pull away from her when the feeling crests, ducking into your elbow to sneeze once, then two more times. 

“Bless you, darling!” Caitlyn says with a hint of surprise, wasting no time in handing over the handkerchief she never leaves the house without. “Are you alright?” 

“Excuse me, thanks,” you mumble, accepting the handkerchief and rubbing your nose into it. “I’m fine. Let’s get that coffee, yeah?” 

Caitlyn doesn’t move however, instead she’s scrutinizing you with a small frown. “Are your allergies bothering you, love?” 

“Oh, um…” You blow your nose quietly, buying yourself some time. You actually had forgotten about your allergies. You definitely are getting sick, but allergies are a convenient enough excuse. And who’s to say the pollen isn’t bothering you, anyway? 

“I guess so.” You shrug, pocketing the handkerchief and slipping your hand back in Caitlyn’s. “But I’m okay. Do you want to get some pastries as well, honey?” 

Caitlyn doesn’t look entirely convinced that you’re fine, but she allows you to tug her in the direction of the cafe anyway. 

Your girlfriend’s status as Commander and Kiramman heir gives her quite a bit of notoriety, even out of uniform. The cafe owner hurries to fill the order with wide eyes, even as Caitlyn assures him there’s no rush. She orders two coffees for the both of you and also an assortment of pastries. 

There’s a cozy bench located in the shade between some oak trees behind the shop, and the two of you sit down together. A light breeze rustles through the trees, and you suppress a shiver. You’re starting to feel chilly, even though it’s a warm day out. You tug your sweater tighter around yourself and gratefully accept the hot coffee Caitlyn hands you. The warm drink is soothing on your irritated throat, and you hum quietly in appreciation. 

“I love having quiet moments like this, with you,” Caitlyn murmurs, smiling softly at you. Her eyes are filled with warmth. “It feels so rare these days, to find peace. And comfort.” 

“I’m glad for it too.” You idly trace your fingers over Caitlyn’s thigh, appreciating the moment. In all of the uncertainty of your lives, you are grateful for peaceful times like this. 

The two of you sip your coffee in companionable silence, punctuated only by the sounds of city life and the breeze. Well, that and the fact that the warm drink is making your nose run, and you have to keep sniffling to keep it in check. 

Eventually your itchy nose gets the better of you, though. You curl away from Caitlyn and into the handkerchief with several shuddering sneezes. You sniffle afterward, biting down a groan. Your sinuses feel packed with pressure, and your head is throbbing. 

“Bless you, love” Caitlyn says sympathetically, putting a hand to your back. “Those sounded painful. Maybe we should go back home, have you take an allergy pill.” 

“No, you’ve been looking forward to this,” you argue, your voice starting to sound thick with congestion. “I can stay, I’ll be fine, promise.” 

Caitlyn studies you, her eyes sharp and assessing. She frowns when you fail to suppress a shiver, as the wind picks up again. 

“Darling,” Caitlyn sighs, gently cupping a hand to your cheek. “This isn’t allergies, is it? You’re coming down with what I had.” 

You try to protest but you break into an inopportune coughing fit instead, twisting away from your girlfriend. She rubs your back soothingly, urging you to take small sips of coffee when you’re able to catch your breath. 

“Poor love,” Caitlyn hums, her voice unusually soft and tender. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” 

Your shoulders drop and you let out a long breath. There’s no point in pretending now. “I wanted you to have a good day out,” you frown. “You’ve been tired of being cooped up.” 

“You’re more important than some silly day out,” Caitlyn chides gently, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Have I made you think you’re not?” 

“No, of course not.” You squeeze Caitlyn’s hand reassuringly. Then you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, glancing away. “I suppose I’m just not used to it…Having someone around, someone who cares.” 

“Well I do care.” Caitlyn lifts your hand and presses a soft kiss to your palm. “And I’d like to get you home, alright? I can tell you feel more poorly than you’re letting on.” 

You smile fondly at her, your heart filling with affection for how much she truly does care for you. “Yeah, okay, Cait.” 

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By the time the two of you make it home, you’re exhausted and starting to feel worse. Your nose is annoyingly stuffy and you still have an awful headache, not to mention your incredibly sore throat. 

You drop onto one of the fluffy couches in front of the fireplace with a grateful sigh. It feels really good to be off your feet and in front of the warm fire. You can’t seem to shake the chilled feeling you’d picked up while you were out, so you’re glad to have a chance to warm up. 

Caitlyn sits down next to you, looking at you with a soft, concerned frown. 

“How are you feeling, darling?” she asks. But then her breath catches and she starts coughing into her elbow, turning away from you. 

You put a hand on her back, rubbing gently, until the fit calms. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask instead, reaching up to tuck some of her navy hair behind her ear so you can get a better look at her. “Your cough still sounds awful.” 

She sighs softly, wiping a tear from her watery eyes with a flick of irritation. “It’s simply nagging, but it’s nothing to worry over, love. I’m sure it will ease in due time. Now, you didn’t answer my question. How do you feel?” 

You tilt your head at her, considering. You still think she sounds sick, but the look in Caitlyn’s eyes tells you that she’s not going to give up until you let her take care of you. 

You rub your irritated nose on your sleeve, which then makes you need to sneeze. You sniffle hard afterward, pressing your wrist to your nose and trying to keep it from running over. 

“I feel like I need a tissue,” you huff in annoyance, shooting Caitlyn a sardonic smile. “Sorry, I’m really gross right now.” 

“Bless you, my love,” Caitlyn coos sympathetically, running a hand down your arm. She kisses your cheek, then stands. “You are not gross, you’re ill. I’ll be right back, darling.” Her eyebrows furrow slightly, then she turns and strides out of the room, evidently on a mission. 

You recognize the determined look on her face. Your girlfriend is clearly in problem-solving mode, and you already know she won’t rest until she feels like she’s done everything she can for you. Caitlyn can be incredibly single-minded when there's something she wants to fix or a mystery for her to unravel. And you can guess that she’s not going to be any less focused about treating your cold. 

You shake your head fondly to yourself with a quiet chuckle, wrapping up in a blanket hanging on the back of the couch while you wait for her to return. You suppose there are worse things than being doted on by your tenacious girlfriend. 

Just as you expected, when Caitlyn returns, her arms are laden with supplies. She sets everything down carefully on the coffee table in front of you, organizing what looks like the entire contents of the medicine cabinet.  

“Cait, what is all of this,” you ask with a small laugh. Your voice is incredibly congested from your blocked nose, and you sniffle again, trying to clear it. 

Caitlyn looks up at you with a disapproving look, then hands you a stack of neatly folded handkerchiefs. “Blow your nose darling, I can hardly understand you. And this is everything I need to take care of you, of course.” 

You follow her order, although it doesn’t help much with the congestion. “I really don’t think I’ll need —” you lean forward to pick up one of the glass vials of medicines, reading the label, “oral rehydration salts, honey.” 

“One can never be too prepared,” Caitlyn huffs, although you can see a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks. She plucks the vial out of your hand and sets it aside. “You – rest.” She points a finger at the couch with a firm look. “I’ll handle this.” 

“You do know I’m not dying though, right?” You raise your eyebrows, wrapping back up in the blanket again. You cough a few times into your fist, then continue. “It’s just a cold.” 

“Yes, my love, I know you’ll live,” Caitlyn says dryly, picking up a thermometer and handing it to you. “But it’s my turn to fuss over you a little. Under your tongue, please.” 

You slip the thermometer in your mouth, then mumble around it, “I don’fink I hab a fevuh.” 

Caitlyn rolls her eyes at you. “Hush, darling. And if you don’t have a fever, then explain to me why you’re shivering and wrapped in a blanket when it’s perfectly warm in here.” She cuts you off with a sharp look when you start to answer. “Stop talking.” 

You give her flat a look that hopefully conveys your irritation. 

“You’re cute when you pout,” Caitlyn smiles with a soft chuckle. She comes over to sit next to you, kissing your cheek and pulling you into her side with a long arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well, angel,” Caitlyn murmurs, her voice going all soft and soothing in the way you’ve only heard her use with you. She tips your head toward hers with a gentle finger on your chin, giving you a soft, but serious look. “Will you let me take care of you, please? I would very much like to.” 

You feel a blush warm your face and you glance away. It’s as if Caitlyn can see right through your sarcastic jokes and straight to that insecure, anxious part of you that feels awkward being taken care of. 

Caitlyn, ever perceptive, brushes a gentle hand over your cheek, cupping your jaw tenderly. “It’s alright, love. Let me check this temperature of yours.” 

She takes the thermometer out of your mouth and frowns at it. She gives a disapproving hum. “I’m going to give you some fever reducer pills. And then I think you should get in bed and rest.” 

“I can rest here,” you argue, pulling your legs up on the couch and wrapping the blanket around yourself. You curl into the blanket as you start to cough again, then groan afterward and lie down on your side. You close your eyes wearily “The couch is comfy.” 

Caitlyn smooths a hand over your blanket-clad shoulder. “Sweetheart,” she says softly, a hint of concern in her voice. “Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in bed?” 

“Just wanna be with you,” you mumble croakily, rubbing at your aching head. You’re definitely starting to feel worse now. “‘m okay here.” 

“Alright, my darling,” Caitlyn sighs quietly, but she doesn’t protest. “I’ll just get you some water, and then you can take your medicine and rest.” 

You peek an eye open, reaching for her hand. “You’ll stay with me?” 

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.” Caitlyn leans down and brushes her lips over your forehead. Then she tsks, pulling back and pressing the back of her hand to your forehead instead. “Poor love, you’re much too warm. You certainly need medicine, I’ll be back in a tick, darling.” 

“Thanks, honey,” you murmur, burrowing further into your blanket and closing your eyes again. “Do you have anything that would help a headache, maybe?” 

“Of course, you should have said something,” Caitlyn reprimands softly, rubbing circles on your back. “Is it just your head that’s hurting?” 

“And my throat,” you admit, coughing. 

“I’ll make you some tea with honey.” Caitlyn kisses your forehead again. “And give you some painkillers for your head. Now, just rest until I come back, alright?” 

“Aye aye,” you mumble, and Caitlyn chuckles. 

You must drift off to sleep, because next thing you know you wake to your girlfriend softly carding her fingers through your hair. You sniffle a little, sitting up and blinking hard to clear your bleary eyes. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” 

“It’s fine, you need your rest,” Caitlyn soothes, handing you a glass of water, followed by a few white pills. “Take these and then you can lie back down, darling.” 

You swallow the pills dutifully, grimacing slightly at the pain in your throat. The ache in your throat makes you cough, and you lean away from Caitlyn, trying to muffle the fit in your elbow. 

Caitlyn rubs your back in firm circles while you try to catch your breath, helping you take some sips of water once you’re able to. 

“I’m sorry I gave you my cold,” Caitlyn frowns, stroking your hair, a tender look in her bright blue eyes. “I hate seeing you so ill.” 

“It sounds worse than it is,” you say bracingly, and Caitlyn gives you an unamused look that clearly conveys her disbelief. You laugh, then cough again. “Well, it wasn’t on purpose, honey. I wasn’t exactly keeping my distance, was I?” 

“I suppose not,” Caitlyn sighs. “I’ll have to be more firm next time.” 

“Nah, I like it when you get all clingy,” you grin fondly. “It’s cute.” 

“I was not clingy,” Caitlyn protests. “I just wasn’t feeling well!” 

“I know, sweetheart.” You kiss your girlfriend quickly, then lay down and settle your head in her lap. Caitlyn grabs a pillow and slips it under your head to make you more comfortable. “Like I said, I like being able to take care of you.” 

“And I appreciate it,” Caitlyn hums, running her fingers through your hair again in a soft, repetitive motion. Your eyes instinctively close, and you break into a huge yawn. “But now all I want you to do is rest, angel. You need to get well.” 

“Thanks, honey,” you mumble, and Caitlyn tugs the blanket higher over your shoulders, gently tucking it in around you. You feel soothed and safe, as she continues to stroke your hair, and the tension drains out your body. Your thoughts go hazy, and drowsiness pulls at you. 

Maybe being taken care of isn’t so bad after all. 

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Chapter Text

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You wake up with a low groan. Your head is pounding and it feels like every muscle in your body is aching. You push up on your elbows and squint blearily at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just past nine, which explains why the left side of the bed is empty. 

Your girlfriend – King Valkyrie – usually is out of the house before you’re awake. You miss waking up together, but you understand. She takes her duties as leader of New Asgard very seriously, and she’s dedicated to her people. It’s one of the things you love most about her, the way she leads with strength, compassion, and deep devotion to bettering the lives of the people of New Asgard. But as attentive as she is to her duties, she also makes time to prioritize your relationship. Weekdays are dedicated to her duties as King, but on weekends she makes sure her schedule is free so that the two of you can spend plenty of time together. 

The two of you have only been dating a few short months, but it feels longer because of how quickly your relationship progressed. You had heard tales of King Valkyrie being a notorious womanizer, but with you she’s different. Both of you had fallen hard and fast for each other, and Valkyrie has been nothing but loyal to you. It wasn’t long after you started dating that you found yourself taking your relationship to the next level by moving into the King’s residence officially. 

Although she presents a tough and reserved outward demeanor as King, Valkyrie is actually incredibly sweet and devoted to you. You’ve never felt more loved in your life, and you know you’re lucky to experience her softer side that she reveals to very few people.

Since the two of you haven’t been together that long, you’re still experiencing a lot of ‘firsts’ together. Neither of you have been sick since you got together, although apparently that’s about to change now. 

You rub your nose with a thick sniffle and another groan. You’re already miserably congested, and every time you swallow you’re reminded of how much your throat burns. You had gone to bed last night with a slightly scratchy throat, but you had hoped that you could sleep it off. Apparently you hadn’t been so lucky. 

Coughing a few times, you wearily get yourself out of bed. Maybe a shower will help you feel better. You don’t intend to miss work today, even if you’re not feeling great. You love your job working as a secretary for the King’s Council. It was how you had gotten to know Valkyrie in the first place, and your relationship had quickly blossomed after you started working for the Council. Even after your relationship became official, you decided to keep your job since you love it so much. 

You can work through a little cold. You gather your resolve as you take a long, hot shower, hoping it will relieve your congestion. It doesn’t help as much as you would like, and you mostly just feel exhausted by the time you finish. 

You check your phone after you get dressed. It took some time, but you finally got Valkyrie to start using a smartphone and taught her how to text. She still prefers raven-mail, but she begrudgingly admits that cellphones can be useful in some cases. You try not to tease her too much about her old-fashioned habits, it’s cute, after all. 

There’s a text from her waiting on your phone, as there always is when you wake up. 

Good morning, my love. I hope you slept well. Meet you for lunch at 12:30? 

You smile fondly, texting her back. Good morning, babe. Yeah, sounds great!

You figure there’s no reason to mention your burgeoning cold. She’ll just worry, and you don’t want to distract her from her duties. You can take care of yourself, and it’s nothing worth fussing over.

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You pinch the bridge of your nose with a quiet sigh, then rub your watery eyes. Despite the painkillers you took before coming in, your headache isn’t abating in the slightest. Your usually enjoyable work is feeling extremely tedious today. You keep having to cough or sneeze, and your head is fuzzy, making it hard to stay focused. You grab a tissue from the box on your desk and blow your nose for what feels like the millionth time, tossing it in the rapidly growing pile in the trashcan next to your desk. 

You make it through some more paperwork, slowly but methodically. Eventually you get to some documents that need the King’s signature, so you gather them up in a folder and head down the hall toward Valkyrie’s office. Normally you’d be happy for an excuse to see your girlfriend, but today you feel a little torn. Valkyrie is extremely perceptive, so the chances of you hiding your cold from her are low. You’ll feel guilty if she has to take time out of her busy schedule to take care of you, so you’ll do your best to keep it under wraps. 

In accordance with her no-frills personality, King Valkyrie’s office is elegant, but not lavish. A large mahogany desk sits at the center of the room, framed on either side by the flags of New Asgard and Norway. The walls behind the desk have built-in bookshelves laden with books on all variety of subjects imaginable. You’ve spent hours before pursuing Valkyrie’s book collection, both at her office and at home, in awe of what an avid bibliophile your girlfriend is.

Valkyrie is wearing another one of her signature three-piece suits, a navy blue pinstripe today, with a neatly done-up tie and a starchy collared shirt. She looks stunning, per usual, her long braids done up in a loose bun with a few strands framing her face. You wonder for the millionth time how you got so lucky. 

Valkyrie glances up from her desk when you enter, a soft smile forming on her lips. “Hey, you,” she says, putting down the pen she had been writing with. “Nice to see a pretty face.” 

“Hi Val,” you come over and bend down to kiss her cheek quickly, not wanting to infect her with a kiss on the lips. “How’s work going?” 

“Mm, about the same as usual,” Valkyrie says, leaning back in her chair and tracing her eyes over you. “No major crises today, at least. How’re you, love?” 

“Fine.” You clear your throat softly, trying to get rid of the tickle there. “I have some more paperwork for you, I’m afraid.” 

“Ah, death by paperwork,” Valkyrie sighs with a wry grin. “It truly never ends. Thank you for bringing it over, darling.” 

“Of course,” you nod, placing the folder on her desk and stepping back a little. You want to make a quick exit before your girlfriend realizes something’s up. “I’ll see you at lunch, honey?” 

“Wait, hold on,” Valkyrie stops you just as you turn to head out of the room. You swivel to face her questioningly, and she tilts her head, studying you with furrowed brows. 

“Come here, my sweet,” Valkyrie says, her voice gone soft now, laced with concern. She beckons you over with a bent finger, and you oblige, letting her gently tug you to sit in her lap. You resist the urge to bury your face in her shoulder and stay there the rest of the day. You’re still determined to be self-sufficient today. 

Valkyrie runs her hand up and down your spine lightly as she frowns at you, her piercing eyes raking over you. You can't help but sniffle slightly, pressing the back of your wrist to your runny nose. 

Your girlfriend sighs quietly, giving you a sympathetic look. “You’re not feeling well,” Valkyrie says. It’s a statement, not a question. 

You duck your head, your cheeks heating up. “It’s nothing,” you mumble. 

“Your health is not nothing, my love.” Valkyrie guides your eyes back up to meet hers with a gentle hand cupping your chin. She holds your gaze steadily, her dark eyes intense, but also full of warmth. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have stayed home. You should definitely be at home, in bed.” 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admit, leaning into Valkyrie’s hand as she reaches up to run her fingers soothingly through your hair. “You have enough on your plate already, without me adding to it. It’s probably just a cold, no biggie” 

“I can handle my responsibilities just fine. You will always be my first priority, sweetness. Understand?” Valkyrie gives you a firm look, pausing her ministrations. 

You nod, an apology on your lips, but then the itchy in your nose suddenly sharpens and you hastily lean away to muffle several sneezes in your elbow. 

“Bless you.” Valkyrie’s voice is laced with tenderness as she starts rubbing your back again. “Come, my love. Let’s get you home.” She shifts, gently helping you off her lap so that you can both stand up. 

“Oh, I can get home myself,” you protest, putting a hand on your girlfriend’s shoulder to still her movements. “You don’t need to come with. I know you’re busy.” 

Valkyrie rubs a thumb over your cheek, then leans forward to give you a chaste kiss. “First priority means first priority, sweet girl. I’ll work from home.” She’s firm, and you already know you won’t be winning an argument on this. 

Your heart flutters at her tender care. It’s still new for you, being with someone who truly prioritizes you above all else. You didn’t think it was possible to feel so loved. 

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Back at home, Valkyrie helps you out of your shoes and coat, then takes your hand and tugs you toward the bedroom. Gently guiding you down to sit on the edge of the bed, she kneels in front of you and gives you an assessing look. 

“Tell me how you’re feeling, please,” she commands softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Um,” you hesitate, wanting to put up a strong front. But you’re honestly exhausted and your girlfriend’s eyes are so kind as she looks at you that you feel your walls come tumbling down. “I feel crappy,” you admit, pouting slightly. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” Valkyrie frowns, running a hand up and down your arm comfortingly. “Could you be more specific for me? I want to look after you.” 

“Headache,” you grimace, putting a hand to your throbbing temple. “Throat hurts, stuffed up. Usual cold stuff.” You shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Valkyrie nods, straightening up, a familiar look of resolve on her face. “Alright. Let’s get you into something more comfortable and tucked into bed. Then I’ll get you a few things.” 

She retrieves one of her oversized t-shirts for you to change into, knowing you find it comforting to wear her clothes. She helps you change out of your work clothes, and also gently wipes off your makeup with a cloth, before you climb under the covers. 

You curl up in the blankets, muffling a small coughing fit. Your eyes are teary and your throat scratchy by the time you finally catch your breath. Valkyrie is rubbing your back over the blankets, looking at you with a concerned frown. 

“I’ve never seen you ill before,” Valkyrie hums sadly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I don’t like it. I want to get you well, sweetness. I’m going to make you some tea and soup, okay? Do you need anything else?” 

“No, that sounds perfect,” you smile weakly up at her, before a sneeze overtakes you again. 

“Bless you, my love.” Valkyrie kisses you tenderly again. “I’ll bring the tissues as well.” 

Soon, you’re propped up in bed with a warm bowl of soup in your lap, a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table, and a box of extra-soft tissues resting next to you on the bed. Valkyrie has her arm wrapped around you, cuddling you against her side as you slowly sip on the fresh chicken noodle soup she had made. 

“Thanks, Val,” you say, taking another sip of soup. “This tastes amazing. You’re so sweet.” 

“Only for you.” Valkyrie tips her head against yours, her fingers tracing gentle shapes on your shoulder. “I will always be here for you, pretty girl. You’re my world.” 

“You’re mine,” you smile, and Valkyrie smiles back, kissing your cheek. 

“Good. Now finish your soup so that you can get some rest. You’re staying in bed the rest of the day.” 

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Chapter Text

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The locker room is a muffled din of voices and clanging of metal lockers, the air heavy with the scent of hairspray and deodorant. You’re tucked away in the most private corner of the room you could find, sitting on a bench next to your girlfriend.

“How’re you feeling, sweetie?” you ask gently, running a hand through Caitlyn’s hair that hangs loose over her shoulders. You let your fingers smooth over her cheek – not quite a fever check, but close enough to tell that she’s warmer than she should be. 

“I’m alright.” Caitlyn lets out a soft breath, catching your hand and lacing your fingers together. Her deep blue eyes are tired as she traces her gaze over you, but also soft. “It’s just a cold, darling. Nothing worth fussing over.” 

“You’re always worth fussing over.” You press your lips to her temple briefly, then motion for her to turn around so you can put her hair up for her. Delicately combing your fingers through her soft navy hair, you take your time pulling the strands up into a high ponytail, making sure to smooth out any bumps before you finish. 

“Thanks love,” Caitlyn pulls at the ponytail when you finish, fluffing it out a little. Then her hair swings as she ducks away from you to sneeze a couple times, pinching them off silently. “Excuse me,” she sniffles afterward, her eyes watering. 

“Bless you, sweetheart,” you sigh, dropping your hand to her toned shoulder, rubbing softly at the tense muscles there. “Are you sure you should be playing, Cait? I’m sure there’s someone who could sub for you.” 

“I’m fine,” Caitlyn repeats stubbornly, and you can hear the hint of an edge in her voice warning you not to push further. Your girlfriend’s tenacity is one of the things you love most about her – except when she’s pushing herself far past her own limits. “I’ve got to go start warming up.” 

Caitlyn is the center for the university’s women’s basketball team, and one of the best players on the team. You know she battles guilt anytime she doesn’t meet her own impossibly high standards, feeling like she’s letting her teammates down. No one on the team knows she’s under the weather, as Caitlyn refuses to put today’s game in jeopardy by sitting it out. 

You only know because the two of you practically spend every waking moment together outside of classes, games, and your cheer competitions. It wasn’t hard for you to pick up on the fact that she’s coming down with something, despite her adamant protests to the contrary. 

Caitlyn rubs her nose against her wrist, the tip of it going slightly pink. You stand up and retrieve a travel pack of tissues from your locker, handing them over to your sniffling girlfriend. 

“Thank you,” Caitlyn says, plucking out a tissue and blowing her nose quietly. You frown as you hear how congested she’s already starting to sound. She tosses the tissue, then presses a swift kiss to your forehead. “I need to go – I’ll be fine, promise. Try not to worry too much, darling?” 

She smiles softly at you, brushing her thumb gently over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have such a sweet girl who cares so much about me, but I can play.” 

You pout slightly, nodding. You’re not happy about it, but you know there’s no point in trying to argue. The game is starting in an hour, and the determined look in Caitlyn’s eyes tells you that she won’t be giving in anytime soon. 

“Okay, honey,” you sigh, giving her a peck on the lips. “Have a good game.” 

“Thanks, love.” Caitlyn adjusts her ponytail one more time and then stands. Your heart flutters slightly at the sight of your tall, lithe girlfriend, clad in her jersey and shorts that show off her toned muscles. You always think she looks so hot in her basketball uniform, and you know she loves you in your cheer outfit just as much. 

“Be careful if you do any flips, please?” Caitlyn raises her eyebrows. She’s been worried about your acrobatics ever since you took a small tumble a few weeks ago. You hadn’t been seriously injured, but Caitlyn had made you rest for a full week, fussing over your sprained wrist and making you soup. She had also had some rather sharp words to squad members who had dropped you, much to your embarrassment. 

“Promise.” You stand up too, grabbing your pom-poms and pulling down your skort. “Give ‘em hell,” you grin. 

“We always do,” Caitlyn chuckles. 

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As much as you can, you keep an eye on your girlfriend from the sidelines as the game progresses. The team is playing well, putting points on the board almost immediately, and Caitlyn makes a three pointer within the first ten minutes. To anyone else she probably looks the same as usual, jogging up and down the court with seeming ease, a slight frown knitting her eyebrows as she concentrates on the game. 

But you can see the hint of a slump to her shoulders, how she’s a little more flushed than she usually would be, and how she stumbles over her own feet a couple times. You want nothing more than to get her tucked up in bed at home, but you know there will be time for that after the game. You try to focus on your cheers as best you can, following your captain’s lead and putting as much energy as you can into your kicks and dancing. 

In the end, the game is no contest. Caitlyn’s team wins at a hefty sixty-two to thirty-five, and you and the rest of the cheer team wave your pom-poms in jubilant celebration when the final buzzer sounds. 

Caitlyn is smiling, but you can tell she’s definitely feeling worse now. There’s exhaustion seeping into her posture, her movements sluggish, and a bright pink flush running across her cheeks that looks less than healthy.  

You know she won’t take well to public fussing though, so don’t meet up with her until you both get back to the locker room. Heading back to the secluded corner, you find your girlfriend slumped on a bench with her head in her hands. 

Your heart breaks a little, and you gently start rubbing your hand up and down her spine. “Hey, sweetheart,” you murmur, sitting down next to her. You kiss her cheek, not caring that her soft skin is slightly damp with sweat. “You played great.” 

“It was a good game,” Caitlyn nods, straightening up and shooting you a half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “And you were very cute. I like that little twirl thing you do now.” 

You chuckle softly, but you frown when Caitlyn leans away to cough harshly into her elbow. “You must be exhausted.” 

“A little,” Caitlyn hums, which is about as clear an admission that she doesn’t feel well that she ever gives. 

“How about we just stay in and cuddle tonight?” You play with a curl of baby hairs at the nape of her neck. “We can watch a movie and you can rest.” 

“That sounds heavenly,” Caitlyn sighs, letting her head drop to your shoulder with a quiet sniffle. “You’re too good to me, darling.” 

“Not possible, honey.” 

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It’s later, when you’re both cozied up on the small couch in your dorm room, Caitlyn resting between your legs with her head pillowed on your chest, that her walls start to come down. 

You’re gently running your fingers through her hair that’s damp from the shower and smells of her favorite cherry blossom shampoo. There’s a rom-com playing on the TV across the room, but neither of you are paying much attention. Caitlyn is halfway to sleep already, relaxed and languid in your lap, her body warmly pressing into yours like a weighted blanket. 

“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” you murmur, your voice a whisper of tenderness. You comb a few strands of hair away from her face, let the tips of your finger dance across her forehead. She’s not as concerningly warm as she was when you first got home, now that she’s taken some medicine and drank several glasses of water at your insistence. But her breath puffs through her nose in adorably soft snuffles due to her congestion, and she shudders with a cough more frequently than you would like. 

“Mmmph, no,” Caitlyn mumbles, nuzzling further into your chest. She drapes a long arm around your waist, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your hoodie and cupping your hip. “Just you.” 

“I’m here,” you smile, bending down to brush your lips to her cherry-scented hair. “Rest. Get well.” 

“So bossy.” Caitlyn’s voice is barely audible, what with how her face is buried in the soft fabric of your hoodie, and you give a quiet laugh. It’s so rare to see her so utterly relaxed like this, her mask of perfection gone. You’re the only one who gets to see her like this, and it makes your heart warm everytime. 

Suddenly Caitlyn’s breath catches, and raises her forearm to cover a rough-sounding coughing fit, her body shuddering against yours as she works out the tickle. You rub her back soothingly, then hand her the glass of water that you’ve situated within easy reach, encouraging her to take a few small sips. She follows up the coughing fit with two itchy-sounding sneezes that she smoothers in a hastily snatched tissue, and you hum sympathetically. 

“Bless you,” you murmur, gently tugging her to lay back down on you when she’s finished tending to her nose. Your hands start threading through her hair again. “Poor thing, you sound so sick,” you pout, tenderly kissing the top of her head. 

“Just a cold,” Caitlyn says, but she snuggles into you even closer, practically pushing her head into your hand. You smile softly to yourself. Your girlfriend would never admit it, but you know there’s a part of her that loves being tended to like this. She can handle herself just fine, it’s true, but you know that this is the first relationship Caitlyn’s had where she gets to accept comfort, not just give it. And you’re more than happy to give it. 

The movie plays on, you keep plying Caitlyn with gentle touches, and you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

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You squint hard at the textbook in front of you, trying to focus on the words. You’re pretty sure you’ve re-read the same sentence five times now, but you still have no idea what it says. 

“Focus,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, giving yourself a mental shake. You blink hard a few times, rubbing a hand over your face. Your eyes feel gritty with tiredness, and there’s a faint headache throbbing in your temples. You reach for the energy drink on the table next to you and try to take a sip, but only a few sugary drops hit your tongue. You’re definitely going to need more caffeine soon. 

It feels like you’ve been in the university library studying for a century now. In reality, it’s only been the past three days that you’ve spent holed up in here, furiously preparing for your upcoming chemistry midterm exam. 

You need to ace this test. You haven’t been doing great on the weekly quizzes, and the midterm counts for a third of your overall grade. You can’t ruin your perfect GPA by getting a B, or worse, in chemistry. 

So you’ve been camped out in the library for days now, downing energy drinks and studying like your life depends on it. Even though you know it’s not healthy, it does kind of feel like you might die if you don’t get an A on this test. You don’t want to disappoint your parents, and your status as a member of the university cheerleading team is dependent on your GPA. You feel like you can’t afford to make any mistakes, even though you logically know that getting a B in chemistry would probably not be the end of the world. 

Your phone lights up with a message, interrupting the thoughts you’re stewing in. It’s a text from Caitlyn. How’s studying going, love?

Your heart aches faintly – you miss your girlfriend. You’ve barely seen her this week, what with her being busy with basketball practice and you spending all of your free time outside of class in the library. Usually you do everything together, but you can’t let yourself be distracted right now. You have to ace this test. 

You drum your fingers on the table, fighting the itch to text Caitlyn back. You don’t want to get off task. You frown down at your textbook again, but then the text seems to wobble, coming in and out of focus. Closing your eyes for a moment, you massage the bridge of your nose, trying to chase away the annoying ache behind your eyes. You’re starting to feel dizzy and a little faint, which isn’t good. It’s not even that late yet, only six in the evening, and you had planned to keep studying until at least midnight. 

The dizziness probably has something to do with the fact that you can’t exactly remember the last time you ate a full meal, or drank something that wasn’t packed full of sugar and caffeine. But you should be able to handle it. All college students live on energy drinks and no sleep, right? 

Letting out a quiet sigh, you give your eyes another rub and hunch over your textbook. You can do this. Mind over matter, that’s all. 

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You’ve lost track of time, your mind practically overflowing with a jumbled assortment of equations and molecules, when a soft voice interrupts your studying. “There you are, love.” 

Jumping slightly in your chair, you whip your head up to see Caitlyn standing next to your table. Her hand is on her hip and her head cocked slightly to the side, her deep blue eyes sharp as she frowns at you. 

“Oh,” you blink a couple times to try to clear your blurry vision and make sure you’re not seeing things. “Cait? What are you doing here?” 

Caitlyn pulls out a chair next to you and slides into it. “I came to find my girlfriend who I essentially haven’t seen all week.” 

She drops a hand to the top of your shoulder and starts gently massaging the tight muscles there. You bite down a moan at how good it feels, and you melt into her touch. 

“I’m sorry babe,” you groan softly, shooting her an apologetic grimace and running a weary hand over your face. “It’s just this chem midterm. I have to ace it, and I feel like I’m still so behind.” 

“I know,” Caitlyn murmurs. She cups your chin and pulls you in for a gentle kiss. “But I’m worried about you, darling. How long have you been here?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly.” You tap your phone, wincing when you see the time. It’s past eleven at night. “Since like, noon?”

“Sweetheart…” Caitlyn frowns, her face creased with soft concern. “You need to take better care of yourself. Did you even eat lunch, or dinner?” 

“Does Red Bull count?” 

“I don’t think I need to answer that, darling.” Caitlyn stands and starts gathering up the papers and books that are strewn across the table in front of you. “I’m taking you home. You can keep studying if you wish, but you at least need to get a proper meal in you. And hopefully also go to sleep at a reasonable hour.” 

“Cait, I’m all set up here,” you protest, although you’re too tired to really put any effort into stopping her. “It’ll just be more work to bring everything home.” 

“That’s why I’m helping you,” Caitlyn says patiently, but with a touch of firmness in her voice. “Come, darling. I’m not going to allow you to work yourself to death.” 

You sigh deeply, but you have to admit that a hot meal sounds amazing right now. And also maybe a shower, and getting into your coziest sweatpants. But you’re still determined to keep studying at home.

Caitlyn finishes packing your things into your backpack, then slings it over her shoulder and offers a hand to help you up. “Let’s get you home.” 

Still feeling slightly reluctant, but too exhausted to fight the pull of getting home and eating something warm, you take your girlfriend’s hand and stand. But as soon as you do, it feels like all the blood rushes from your head and black spots start dancing in your vision. You sway on your feet, closing your eyes as the room starts to spin around you. You fumble blindly for something to hold onto, feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out cold. 

“Love? Oh my goodness, sit down..!” You faintly hear Caitlyn’s voice, worried and sharp, but the sound in your ears is muffled, as if she’s talking into a pillow. You feel her grab your arm and guide you firmly back down to the chair. 

As soon as you’re sitting, you immediately lay your head down on the table, relishing the feel of the cool wood against your warm face and taking a few slow deep breaths through your nose. Even with your eyes closed it still feels like the room is tilting, and there’s a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. 

A hand softly brushes your hair off your forehead. “Are you alright, angel? What’s wrong, do you feel faint?” Caitlyn sounds so uncharacteristically anxious. She’s usually calm and collected, so you know she must really be worried to sound like this. 

“Dizzy. ‘m fine,” you mumble, letting your head rest on the table a few more moments, trying to take steadying breaths and willing yourself not to throw up. Caitlyn continues threading her fingers through your hair, staying close to your side. You can practically feel the worry radiating off her. 

Thankfully, the vertigo subsides a bit after a minute or two, and you slowly straighten back up, blinking hard. The wave of dizziness returns, but not quite as intense as before. 

“You’re not fine,” Caitlyn frowns, studying you with concerned eyes. “You need to eat something and hydrate. Do you think you can make it home, love?”  

The apartment you two share is about three blocks from the library, which wouldn’t usually seem that far. But right now it practically sounds like a marathon. 

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat, clenching your jaw and trying to force away the vertigo. You tentatively stand again, and Caitlyn hovers at your side, a firm arm wrapped around your waist holding you steady. You count it as a success when you manage to stay upright, and give your girlfriend a faint, tired smile. “See? All better.” 

“You’re going straight to bed when we get home,” Caitlyn murmurs, obviously not buying your assurances even for a second. She stays close to your side as the two of you slowly make your way toward the exit. 

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By the time you make it home, you’re really feeling the bone-deep exhaustion you’ve been caffeinating away all week. Your limbs feel too heavy for your body, like they’ve been filled with concreate, and your head is pulsing with a relentless, sharp headache. You waste no time changing into your softest pair of sweatpants and an equally cozy hoodie, sighing with relief once you’re out of your constricting jeans and your hair is released from the ponytail you’ve had it tied up in all day. Caitlyn firmly insists you get in bed and you’re too tired to argue, so you slip under the covers and prop yourself up with a few pillows.  

Your head is still spinning slightly, making the bedroom seem like it’s tilting off its axis in a slow, sickening way. It makes you dizzy and nauseous, so you close your eyes, slumping back against the pillows. You figure you can just rest for a bit until Caitlyn brings you the soup she’s heating up in the kitchen, then you can try to study a little more. 

You must doze off, because next thing you know, Caitlyn’s waking you with a tender hand cupped to your cheek. 

“Here’s your soup, sweetheart,” Caitlyn says softly, putting a bowl of steaming chicken and stars soup on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” you say, and it’s mostly true. You do feel less dizzy than you did at the library, but you’re just as exhausted and you still have a headache. The lingering nausea also makes the idea of eating anything, even your favorite soup, unappealing. 

“Alright, love. Have some water, then your soup.” Caitlyn hands you a water bottle and you take a couple of tentative sips. She watches you closely, the worry in her eyes clearly visible. 

You set the water bottle aside with a quiet sigh, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry I scared you, honey. I’m okay, promise.” You give her a serious look, doing your best to reassure her. “I just overdid it a bit.” 

Caitlyn plays with your fingers absently, not quite meeting your eyes. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me, love.” There’s a soft vulnerability in her voice that makes your heart swell with both love and guilt. 

“I know. You are to me too, sweetheart.” You catch her lips for a soft, lingering kiss. Then you pull back and reach for the bowl of soup. You eat a spoonful even though you don’t want it. You know it’ll make Caitlyn feel better, and that’s all you care about right now. You pat the empty space in bed next to you. “Come relax with me, babe.” 

Caitlyn gives you a small smile, looking relieved to see you eating. She climbs into bed and grabs her laptop, opening it and pulling up Disney Plus. 

“How about we watch Encanto and cuddle?” she offers, knowing that’s one of your favorite comfort movies. 

“Sounds perfect, honey.” 

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You wake up utterly disoriented. The lights are off and you’re tucked securely in bed, but you can’t remember falling asleep. You look to your left and see that Caitlyn’s sound asleep next to you, curled on her side. 

You figure you must have fallen asleep during the movie you were watching. A quick glance at your phone tells you that it’s almost six in the morning now. It’s still dark outside, but at least you slept for a few hours. That should be rejuvenating enough for you to be able to focus on studying again. You still need to ace this chemistry test. 

You push up to a sitting position, and your head swims at the movement. Letting out a quiet groan, you press your hand to your temple. You still feel dizzy and weak, and a cold sweat starts to prickle your forehead as another wave of nausea overtakes you. 

Quickly realizing the urgency of the situation, you fumble your way out of the covers and scramble to the bathroom with your hand firmly clamped over your mouth. You end up on your knees in front of the toilet, throwing up almost as soon as you raise the lid. Tears start streaming down your face immediately, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach heaves painfully. 

It’s not long before there’s a gentle, warm hand sweeping your hair out of your face and holding it back in a loose ponytail. 

“Oh, my darling,” Caitlyn murmurs sadly, crouching down next to you and rubbing your back softly with her free hand. “Poor love. Get it all up, you’re okay. I’m right here.” 

You continue to throw up for a few minutes until your stomach is empty. When your stomach finally stops clenching, you slump against your girlfriend’s side with tears coursing down your cheeks, utterly exhausted. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble miserably, hiding your face in Caitlyn’s shoulder, your breath hitching with sobs. “I’m disgusting.” 

“Shh, this isn’t your fault, angel,” Caitlyn soothes, her fingers gently stroking some of your sweat-damp hair from your forehead. She kisses the top of your head and wraps her arms around you in a tight hug. “Come here darling, you’re alright. You’re not disgusting.” 

“I’m r-ruining your night,” you cry, your breath stuttering with sobs. You aren’t exactly sure why you’re so upset, but it just feels like all the stress and anxiety of the past week is spilling out of you at once, and there’s guilt gnawing at your chest. Caitlyn needs sleep, and you’re keeping her up. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“My love,” Caitlyn pulls back and cups your chin gently, tipping your face up toward hers. The concerned frown in her eyebrows deepens when she gets a good look at you, and she immediately brushes her thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m your girlfriend and it’s my job to take care of you when you’re not feeling well. I’m not upset, I promise.” 

“It’s gross,” you sniffle, wiping at your running nose with your sleeve. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shh,” Caitlyn holds your face in her hands and kisses your cheeks tenderly. Then she gathers a handful of toilet paper and starts dabbing at your teary face. “I don’t want to hear anymore apologies, angel. I would never, ever be mad at you for being sick, okay? Just let me take care of you now.” 

You still feel anxious and guilty, but you can’t help melting into Caitlyn’s gentle care. You let her wipe your face and nose, and then she helps you stand with a firm, protective arm wrapped around your waist. She leads you over to the sink and puts toothpaste on your toothbrush for you, handing it over. She holds your steady as you brush your teeth tiredly, and then fills a cup with water for you so that you can rinse your mouth. 

“Okay, let’s get you out of these sweaty clothes,” Caitlyn hums, her voice overflowing with endless tenderness. She pulls your hoodie up and over your head, and then helps you step out of your sweatpants. After tossing the clothes in the laundry basket, she brings you a fresh pair of pajamas and helps you put them back on. 

Then the next thing you know, you’re being swept up into your girlfriend’s surprisingly strong arms. She cradles you to her chest in a bridal carry, and you let out a surprised yelp. “Cait! I’m too heavy! Put me down, you’ll hurt yourself,” you protest. 

“Nonsense, I’ve got you.” Caitlyn shifts you so you’re more secure in her arms. You suppose there are some perks to having an athlete for a girlfriend, as it seems all the time she spends in the weightroom and practicing free throws has paid off. She strides over to the bed and gently lays you down, helping you settle under the covers. 

 After getting you situated, she sits down on the edge of the bed. She gazes down at you, her blue eyes full of love. “Can I get you anything, darling? How’re you feeling?” 

“I’m okay,” you say, reaching for her hand and tangling your fingers together. “I think my stomach is settling down.” 

“Good,” Caitlyn murmurs, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your forehead. Then she reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand and hands it over to you. “Have a little water, love, and then you can go back to sleep.” 

You take a few tentative sips of water then set the glass aside. “Thank you for taking care of me, honey,” you say, smiling softly at your girlfriend. 

“Always,” Caitlyn promises. She gets up and turns the lights off, then climbs into bed and pulls you into her arms. 

You fall asleep feeling fully loved. 

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“You’re gonna love it,” you grin, grabbing your favorite pair of wedges and taking a seat. You start lacing the complicated straps over your ankles, and Natasha lets out a noncommittal hum, sitting down next to you. 

“Am I?” she smirks, shooting you an amused glance. “You just know how much I love sifting through old, sweat-stained clothing.” 

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Nothing is gonna be sweat-stained , you’re so dramatic Nat. This is, like, a classy flea market. I heard it’s really cool, actually.” 

“Hmm I see,” Natasha says, the slight upturn of her lips clear evidence of her disbelief. 

“Oh whatever, you’re a lost cause.” You finish lacing up your shoes then stand. You wobble a little on your heels, and Natasha jumps up to steady you with a hand on your elbow. 

“You sure it’s a good idea to wear those?” She raises an eyebrow at the heels. “We’re going to be walking and you’re not exactly known for your great balance.” 

“Oh ye of little faith,” you retort, wobbling over to give her a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll be fine.” 

Natasha snorts softly, but lets you thread your fingers through hers and pull her out the door. 

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You feel like you could squeal with excitement when you see the flea market. It’s located only a few minutes walk from the Avengers Tower in downtown Manhattan, and it’s packed full of a dizzying array of tables, vendors, and art, lining the street for what looks like blocks. 

“Ooh this is so exciting!” you grin, squeezing Natasha’s hand. “I’ve been meaning to get some new prints to hang in our suite. That gray color on the walls is not working for me.” 

“Oh god, we’re going to be here for hours, aren’t we?” Natasha complains, but when you look at her, you only see fondness in her sparkling green eyes. 

“Thank you for coming,” you say, leaning in to give Natasha a brief kiss. “I know this isn’t really your scene.” 

“You being happy makes me happy, baby,” Natasha smiles, brushing a hand over your hair and tucking a strand behind your ear. “Where should we start?” 

“I think with the pottery section, maybe,” you muse, starting toward a table you see laden with what looks like antique china. But then you stop when Natasha doesn’t move. She holds up a finger, her eyes fluttering shut, then ducks into her elbow for several sneezes. 

“Bless you!” you say, coming back over to her and rubbing her back. “You okay?” 

“Fine, baby,” Natasha says smoothly, although she sniffles a little and rubs her wrist against her nose. You narrow your eyes at her. Now that you think of it, Natasha’s been slightly more sluggish than usual all morning. You attributed it to her lack of enthusiasm about the flea market, but now that you notice, she looks a little run down and pale. You hope she’s not coming down with something, but it would make sense – she’s been spread thin with her Avengers duties lately and hasn’t had a ton of time to rest. 

“You feeling alright, babe?” you frown, still rubbing your girlfriend’s back. 

“Yes, solnishka, it’s just a sneeze.” Natsha brushes off your concern, pressing her lips to your temple. “Now, where was this pottery you were so excited about?” 

You stroll through the market with your hand clasped in Natasha’s, admiring all the assorted trinkets, clothing, and art for sale. It’s a good thing you brought your tote bag with you, because you quickly start filling it up with knick-knacks, unable to choose between all the cute items you find. Natasha teases you gently, but you can tell she doesn’t mind, and she patiently follows you to every table. 

Your mind isn’t fully on the market, however. Natasha’s claims of it being ‘just a sneeze’ prove false when she continues to sniffle, sounding increasingly congested as time wears on. You keep an eye on her, wishing you had a tissue to give her, but also knowing that your girlfriend is highly stubborn and won’t take well to the insinuation that she’s sick. 

But after Natasha pauses and lets loose a dry cough that sounds painful, leaving her eyes pink-rimmed and watery after, you decide enough is enough. 

You pull Natasha into a secluded corner of the market, cupping her cheek with your hand. “Tasha, you sound like you’re getting a cold,” you pout sympathetically, smoothing your thumb over her cheekbone. “Why don’t we go home and get cozy?” 

“No, I’m fine –” Natasha starts to protest, but has to break away to cough. “It’s just allergies or something,” she croaks afterward, wiping an irritated tear off her cheek. 

“Babe, you don’t have allergies,” you sigh, leaning in to press your lips to her forehead. You linger a little to test her temperature, but you don’t feel a fever yet. “You need to rest and let me take care of you.” 

“But you’ve been raving about this damn flea market all week.” Natasha frowns, rubbing her now-pink nose with a fist. “I promise I can tough through some sniffles, malishka. Believe me, I’ve had worse.” 

“I know you have.” You run a hand over her arm, then lace your fingers back together, your heart squeezing with affection. “But you don’t have to. C’mon, I’m taking you home.” 

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Back at Avengers Tower, you and Natasha change into sweatpants and curl up together in the large couch in the main sitting room. 

Natasha ends up basically in your lap, with her legs draped over yours and her face tucked into the crook of your neck. You hold her close with a supportive hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles over her shoulders, pressing kisses to her hair every now and then. 

“I’m not sick,” Natasha mumbles into your neck, curling up closer into you. She sniffles heartily, and stifles a cough.  

“Of course you’re not,” you chuckle, moving your hand to her hair and scratching lightly at her scalp in the way you know she loves. “Just let me hold you a while, sweetheart.” 

With your free hand, you grab the remote and put some nature documentary on the TV, but you’re not really paying attention. You’re more focused on the warm, comforting weight of Natasha curled up against your side, and how much you love the woman in your arms. 

You stay like that for a while, content to hold Natasha for as long as she wants. It’s so rare for her to let down her guard, but you know that she’s secretly needy whenever she gets a cold, and just wants to be held. And you’re more than happy to oblige. You can feel Natasha slipping off to sleep, her breaths slowing and her body going boneless against yours. 

After some time, Wanda wanders into the room, a bowl of ice cream in her hands. She pauses when she spots Natasha curled up against you, raising her eyebrows in silent question. 

She’s sick, you mouth silently, trying not to move so that you don’t wake your girlfriend. 

Wanda nods in understanding, giving Natasha a sympathetic look. 

“I can feel you two talking about me,” Natasha grumbles without moving, apparently not as asleep as you thought. 

“Shh, we’re not talking about you,” you soothe, running your hands through her hair gently. 

“You’re a shit liar, baby,” Natasha mumbles, nuzzling further into your neck. “And I’m not sick. Hey, Wanda.” 

“You didn’t even look up,” Wanda laughs softly, sitting down on the couch and folding up her legs underneath her. “And here I thought I had superpowers.” 

Natasha answers with a sneeze that she smothers into her shoulder, followed by a low groan. You bless her, while Wanda gets up from the couch and retrieves a box of tissues, placing it next to the redhead. 

“Feel better, dorogaya,” Wanda says softly, giving Natasha’s shoulder a squeeze, then sitting back down with her ice cream. 

Natasha mumbles something that sounds like a cross between a thank you and a groan, before she takes a tissue and blows her nose. 

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, putting your hand between your girlfriend’s shoulder blades and rubbing gently. “Soup, tea?” 

“God no,” Natasha flops back down against your side, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you tight. “Let’s just stay like this.” 

“Can do, sweetheart,” you smile, leaning down to press your lips to the top of her head. You readjust your position so that Natasha is more secure in your arms. Wanda watches the two of you, a fond look in her eyes. 

“You guys are too cute,” Wanda says, eating a scoop of ice cream and pointing her spoon at you. “It’s a little disgusting.” 

“I feel disgusting,” Natasha grumbles, her body shaking against yours when she coughs again. 

“Sorry, babe,” you hum sympathetically, giving her another kiss. 

“I feel like this calls for a Disney movie,” Wanda decides, grabbing the remote. “That’s always my go to when I’m sick.” 

“Ooh good idea,” you agree, nodding. Both of you ignore Natasha’s quiet retort of ‘not sick’. “I vote for The Little Mermaid.” 

“That’s a good one,” Wanda says, flicking through movies on the tv. “Or we could go with The Princess and the Frog, I love the music in that one.” 

“I like the way you think, Maximoff,” you smile. 

Natasha shifts and peeks her head up to give you a disgruntled look. “Why do I feel like this Disney movie is more about you two than me?” 

“Nah, it’ll definitely help you feel better babe,” you chuckle, tightening your arms around her. “Just let us handle this.” 

Natasha grumbles again, but curls back into your side. Wanda shoots you a conspiratorial grin, and puts the movie on to play softly. 

As the familiar tune of “Down in New Orleans” starts filling the room, you press another quick kiss to the top of Natasha’s hair, trailing your fingers soothingly through the reddish strands. You may not like your girlfriend being sick, but you do love having her in your arms. 

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Chapter Text

You splash some cold water on your face, then pinch your cheeks, trying to bring some color back to your pale face. You feel awful but that doesn’t mean you have to look awful. You’re still determined to go about your day as usual. Sure, you woke up with all your joints aching, a stuffed nose, and your hair sticking to your forehead from a clammy sweat, but you can push through. It’s probably just a cold, there’s no reason you need to cancel your plans. 

You and your girlfriend Natasha have been planning all week for your trip to Little Italy this weekend, where you’ll pursue all the shops and eateries. But neither of you are as excited as Yelena, who will be tagging along and has been texting you all week about how all the food she wants to try. 

You and Natasha often hang out as a trio with Yelena. You don’t mind – it hasn’t been long since Natasha and Yelena reconnected, and you know how special their bond is. You’ve come to love Yelena, and so you and Natasha do your best to include her in your plans when you can. Yelena has become somewhat protective over you, claiming that you’re too sweet for this world, and insisting on looking out for you. Even though it can be a little overbearing to have two former assassins worrying over you, you appreciate their care all the same. 

That’s why you can’t ruin today by getting sick. Yelena would be crushed, and Natasha has been working herself so hard with Avengers duties lately. You know she needs a break, and this is the perfect weekend for it…if only your body would cooperate. 

Sighing softly, you finish getting ready in the bathroom and take some liquid cold medicine before you leave. You hope it will make your symptoms go away, or at least lessen them enough for you to enjoy the day. 

You find Natasha in the cozy kitchen of your shared apartment, sipping coffee and reading a book in the window nook. The morning sun is filtering through her hair, illuminating the beautiful auburn color of it. You come over and press a kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Good morning, honey,” you murmur. You turn away to cough when your voice comes out all croaky, trying to clear it. 

Natasha glances up at you with a smile, but then her eyebrows furrow once she gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “You look off.” 

Dang it. This is the problem with having a former spy as a girlfriend. She picks up on absolutely everything. 

“I’m fine,” you say breezily, heading over to the tea kettle to start some hot water. “It’s just early, Nat.” 

“Mhm, then why do you sound all stuffed up?” Natasha gets up from the table and comes over to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind and tucking her chin into your shoulder. 

“Allergies,” you lie, but not a second later you’re twisting out of her hold to sneeze several times into your elbow. “Ugh, sorry.” 

“You don’t have allergies,” Natasha murmurs, turning you around to face her. She brushes a hand over your hair, gently tucking a few strands behind your ear, and kisses your forehead. “Sweetheart. You’re sick.” 

Your shoulders slump and you give a deep sigh. “I thought I would be able to go at least a few minutes before you noticed.” 

“Why are you trying to hide this from me?” Natasha frowns, cupping a hand to your jaw and rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “You can tell me anything, baby.” 

“It’s not that. I just know how much you and Yelena have been looking forward to this weekend, and even though I’m fine, I knew you would –” 

“You’re not going out,” Natasha shakes her head firmly. “No way. You need to rest.” 

“Tasha,” you groan. “I can still go, really. I’ll be okay, it’s just a cold.” 

“And let’s make sure it stays just a cold,” Natasha says calmly, but firmly enough that you know you won’t be changing her mind anytime soon. “We can go another day, baby. Lena will understand. Your health is more important.” 

You intend to argue back, but you end up dissolving into a coughing fit instead. Natasha quickly fills a glass of water for you and rubs your back until you catch your breath, her soft blue-green eyes filled with concern. 

“C’mon, solnishka, you need to sit down.” Natasha gently guides you out of the kitchen and to the fluffy couch in the living room, draping a blanket over your shoulders. She presses the back of her hand to your neck, frowning. “I’m going to get the thermometer, you feel a little warm.” 

But then there’s a knock, and the front door to the apartment flies open not a second later. Sometimes you wonder whether giving Yelena a key was the best idea. 

“Who’s ready for some cannolis?” Yelena calls, striding in with a huge grin on her face. She pauses when she spots you on the couch and Natasha sitting next to you. “What’s this? You two aren’t ready yet?” 

“Lena, we might need to reschedule –” you start to explain, but you’re cut off by a sneeze. You grab a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table, sniffling miserably into them. 

Yelena rushes over to you, crouching down next to the couch. “Bless you! Oh zayka, are you sick?” she worries, bringing her hand to your forehead. “She’s warm, Nat,” she frowns at Natasha, as if your body temperature is somehow her fault. 

“I’m aware.” Natasha’s lips curve into a small smile. “I was getting to that.” 

“You need medicine, and rest dorogaya, we can’t go out if you’re ill,” Yelena says, tutting at you and pressing a kiss to your hair. “You should have some soup.” 

“You’re worse than Nat,” you chuckle, shaking your head fondly. “I’m fine, Lena. I just have a cold.” 

“A bad cold,” Natasha amends, giving you a firm look. “We’ll stay in today.” 

“Of course, you can’t be out in this weather when you’re sick,” Yelena nods. She pulls out her phone. “I’ll DoorDash some soup. And you should make her some ginger tea with honey, Nat.” 

Natasha crosses her arms, an amused smirk on her face. “Is she my girlfriend or yours, Yelena?” 

“Well, clearly you’re not doing enough to take care of her, if I come over here and find her dying –” 

“–not dying,” you interject, sharing a grin with Natasha, who’s shaking her head. 

“–all sniffly and feverish, and –” 

“Dostatochno, Lena,” Natasha interrupts, holding up a hand to stop her rambling. “I promise I will make sure she’s taken care of, alright? Why don’t you work on ordering that soup, yeah?” 

Yelena nods, letting out a long breath. She gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, zayka. I worry, is all.” 

“I know.” You reach for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s sweet. But I’ll be alright.” 

“Yes, you will be, and I’ll make sure of it,” Natasha pulls you into her for a soft kiss on the lips. “You stay here, malishka, and rest. I’ll be back with the thermometer and tea.” 

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Later, after you’ve had plenty of soup and tea, the three of you end up sprawled out on the couch together. You’re sitting in Natasha’s lap, with her arms wrapped warmly around you and your legs stretched out on the couch. Yelena is rubbing your socked feet absentmindedly while you all watch some action move that you’re not really paying attention to. 

It’s perfectly warm and cozy, you only wish you could enjoy it more. Your head has started pounding with an awful headache, and even though you’re wrapped in a blanket, you feel like you can’t get warm. You shift in Natasha’s lap, curling into her and laying your head down wearily on her shoulder. 

Her hand comes to your back, rubbing smooth, long strokes over your spine. 

“You alright, baby?” Natasha murmurs, her lips brushing over your forehead. She pauses, then brings her hand to your cheek. “Oh, sweet girl…you’re burning up. My poor malishka .” She starts threading her fingers through your hair in soothing strokes. 

You whine softly, feeling too sick to give a response. Then you curl up with a sneeze that makes your head pound even harder. 

“ Bless you,” Natasha hums sympathetically, and Yelena hands you a tissue, making a worried noise as well. “Time for you to get in bed, I think.” 

 “Here, let me take her,” Yelena says softly, scooping you up into her surprisingly strong arms. Then she carries you back to the bedroom, carefully laying you in the bed. Natasha sits down on the edge of the bed, holding out a thermometer. 

“Let me get your temp again, then we’ll do some more meds,” Natasha says, her voice laced with endless tenderness. 

“I’ll get her a cool cloth,” Yelena says, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Your head feels woozy and your thoughts are disjointed, so time seems to be passing in fits and starts. But eventually Natasha gets your temperature and declares that your fever has risen, and Yelena returns with a damp washcloth that feels amazingly cool on your overheated skin. Natasha doses out some more cold medicine for you and you take it, chasing the cloying taste with a cool glass of water Yelena hands you. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to get some rest.” Yelena settles a box of tissues on the nightstand within easy reach for you. Then she bends down and gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead. “Feel better, sweetheart. Let Nat take care of you, alright?” 

You nod, giving her a weak smile. “Thank you for taking care of me, Lena. Sorry I ruined our plans.” 

“Hey, none of that. Little Italy can wait. You just focus on getting better, zayka.” Yelena turns to Natasha, giving her a stern look. “You’re not letting her out of this bed till she’s better, right?” 

Natasha grins, giving her sister’s shoulder a fond squeeze. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll take good care of her, promise.” 

Yelena nods, looking slightly hesitant to leave, but eventually Natasha manages to shoo her out the door. Then your girlfriend joins you in bed, spooning you from behind and pulling you into her warm, soft arms. 

“I don’t know who’s more worried about you, me or Lena,” Natasha chuckles into your hair, her hand rubbing circles on your hips. 

“You two are overprotective,” you mumble, already feeling sleep pull at you as your eyes drift shut. 

“Mm, maybe you need it. Get some sleep, malishka. I’ll be here when you wake.” Natasha pulls you closer in her arms, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

You drift off to sleep held securely in your girlfriend’s arms. 

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