Steve Rogers Imagines

Sniffles

He sighs this time, a tired, heavy sigh that makes your heart ache. "Just a cold, love. It'll pass, nothing t'worry about." He mumbles, squeezing your waist.

"Chris! You have to take care of yourself. Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" You squawk indignantly, shaking your head at the man in front of you. He's so considerate, taking time to care for everyone he comes across- except himself.

"Because m'fine, love! Busy guy, aren't I? Can't let a cold stop me." He says with a laugh, looking up at you with a cheeky smile.

You aren't laughing, though. Your lips are pressed in a tight line and you're worried. He'd been working so hard on his new album, flying back from LA and London, he'd been so very busy.

"Hey, I can hear yeh over thinking. Stop tha'. M'okay, love. See?" He says, craning his neck up to try and press a kiss to your cheek.

"Chris!" You whine, pushing against his chest and he laughs, settling for nuzzling his face into your chest.

You let out a exasperated sigh of your own, scratching his scalp with one hand and resting your cheek on top of his head.

His phone starts ringing on the counter then, and he groans into your shirt before reluctantly pulling away to glance at it.

" 've got t'go, love." He announces, squeezing your waist once more before he scoots his stool back and stands up to bring his cup to the sink.

You stare after him in shock, "Go where, exactly?"

He turns around and gives you a quizzical look, pink lips turned down in a frown, "T'work, where else?"

"Chris, you're not going to the set! You're sick!" You cry, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him.

He laughs at you, and your blood boils a bit as he speaks, "Sweetheart, told yeh m'fine. Got a big meeting today."

You shake your head at him, "Chris, you're fine now. But if it gets worse, you're just going to miss studio time. Don't be silly, you're staying home and I'm calling in too."

You move to grab your phone but his warm hand covers yours before you can lift it off the counter.

"S'not happening, pet. M'goin." He states with a stubborn look, leaning forward and over you to grab his phone and keys from the counter.

"Chris, please just-" You try again, a defeated tone to your voice. He's so damn stubborn.

"Listen, love tha' you're worried 'bout me. But I need t'go to work, love. I'll be okay. Have a good day, yeah? Love yeh." He mutters, uncovering your hand to bring it to the back of your head. He presses his lips to your forehead and runs his hand over your hair before he's out the door and you're left in the kitchen accompanied by only the deadly silence.

It's a week or so later when you're met with the same deadly silence, unusual for a Friday night.

You crane your neck when you push through the door of your flat, not hearing the usual sound of the tv on but seeing the light from it flickering across the living room is alternating shades of blue and green.

"Chris?" You call out as you pull your jacket off and set your keys down on the counter.

No response, and you humph as you slip out of your shoes and pad into the living room.

He's there, sprawled on the couch with a blanket slipping off his body onto the floor. He's got a box of tissues and half drunken glass of water sitting on the coffee table and the remote is tucked into his hand loosely.

You can't help but smirk at his state, he's got his mouth agape and he's breathing heavily out of it. You notice his nose is a deep red now as the light from the tv reflects off of it.

You kneel down beside him and scoop the blanket up off the floor, tucking it in around him and moving the remote from his loose hold before you cup his cheek and then trail your hand to his forehead, it's blazing underneath your touch and you hiss.

He stirs under your touch, sniffling and leaning closer to you as he opens his puffy eyes. He blinks at you from the harshness of the tv light and whines, flopping onto his side and drawing a hand out from under the blanket to grab your forearm.

"Hi, sweetheart." You mumble, reaching up and pressing your hand to his chest while the other runs gently through his hair.

" 'Lo, love.." He manages with a staggering raspy voice.

Your heart pangs as he doubles over towards you and coughs roughly.

"Oh, baby, shhh it's alright." You mumble, rubbing his back as you get up and sit next to him on the couch.

He calms down after a bit and you lean over to grab the glass of water from the table and hand it to him, still rubbing his lower back.

He leans up on his elbows and mumbles a thank you as he takes it from you, gingerly taking a few sips before he hands it back to you and collapses back onto the couch.

He lets out a shaky yawn and drapes an arm around your waist as he buries his face back into the pillow.

A muffled set of words escapes him and you frown, leaning down closer and cupping his cheek, "What was that, Chris?"

He peeks an eye open at you and speaks again, "Yeh were right. Should've listen t'yeh..."

He's so pathetically sick, your poor baby, that you don't even think of how prideful you feel that you were right.

"Oh, love. S'okay, how're you feeling?" You whisper.

He whines and you get your answer. "Alright, you're okay. Gonna take care of you." You reassure him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You get up to go get a soup started for him, but you yelp when he pulls you back down.

"Chris-"

"Stay here, please. M'sorry, pet. Jus wan' a cuddle from yeh." He whines, throwing his other arm around you with a fumbling flop.

"Okay, alright. M'right here." You soothe, as he moves a little to let you crawl onto the couch next to him. You lift the blanket and he clambers his way on top of you, burying his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hand resumes it's scratching through his curls as the other snakes its way under his shirt and scratches his back.

He sighs in relief and snuggles closer to you and you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his head. "Chris, you're burning up..."

"Mmmm. Don' stop. Feels good, pet. " He manages, sniffling at your words.

"Do you want me to make you some soup? Maybe rub some of that vapo rub we have? It'll make you feel better, love. " You ask after a few moments, leaning your cheek against the top of his head.

"Later. Jus want you. Stay. " He huffs, tightening his arms around you. Chris's tendency to be affectionate increased a tenfold when he was sick, or sleepy. The combination of both led to a good snuggle for you.

"Alright, m'not goin anywhere love." You reassure him with a gentle voice.

And his sniffles have dissolved into sharp breathes against your neck within a few minutes, but you don't mind taking care of the sick boy tucked into your side, even if he is a bit stubborn. Not when he takes such good care of you.