I don't own the Avengers or anything you find even a little bit familiar… I wrote this in my history class today so if it's bad don't kill me. I really felt like writing about how each person on the team dealt with being sick, mainly because it would be fun. Ok on with the story like thing, first off Tony!

Grumbling I slowly peeled my eyes open, I was lying face down in my lab. Not the first time I've done this and it won't be the last but it was different this time,
"JARVIS? What time is it?" asking the question I pulled myself off the desk and into a standing position.
"Sir, it is six thirty in the morning. Might I add that your body temperature is higher than normal, four point six degrees above average." Great that explains things, I'm sick, awesome! Yeah not really, nodding my head in acknowledgement I slowly walked to the elevator. The doors slid open with a faint whoosh, stepping inside I pushed the button that led to the living area. I was too tired to step away from the panel so I pressed my head against the cool metal. I closed my eyes and hoped that I didn't look too sick.

After several minutes the elevator beeped lightly, letting me know I was on the right floor. Slowly stepping out I carefully made my way across to my room. On my way I passed both Bruce and Rogers sitting at the kitchen table. Neither looked up from their morning paper, nor did they call out a greeting. Shrugging I put it on my list of things to complain about later.

The amount of energy it took to get from my lab up to my room was startling, it had left me exhausted. My body was now shaking and I had broken out in a cold sweat. Kicking off my shoes I told JARVIS to turn the heat up before crawling into bed. I felt miserable, my nose was running, head was pounding and my stomach felt like world war three was occurring in there. After a particularly violent shiver I curled into a ball whimpered, this wasn't fair. All I'd done was to get thrown into the Atlantic while saving a little girl, I didn't deserve this. Ok, maybe I did, but that's not the point. I'm Tony Stark, and Tony Stark does not get sick, or hurt, or anything else that will get in the way of him being awesome.

Wait, did I just refer to myself in the third person, in my head? Yeah, its official I'm sick. Burying my face in my pillow I waited for sleep to take me into its soft black embrace.

Ripping my eyes open I scrambled blindly towards the bathroom. Throwing myself on my knees in front of the toilet I promptly threw up everything I had ever eaten. My head rested on my arm that was wrapped around the bowl, my free hand reached up to flush all evidence that I had ever thrown up away. After several minutes I decided to return to bed, after several attempts I was finally standing upright. Sadly my victory was short lived when I dropped back to my knees for a repeat performance.

I had stopped trying to return to bed and had been sitting with my head resting on the toilet seat for an hour or so. So I wasn't at all surprised when Rogers walked in the bathroom holding a glass of water in one hand and in the other clean sweat pants and a thermometer. He set the stuff on the counter then turned to me,
"Feeling pretty crapy?" I know he was only trying to be helpful but right now everyone was in danger of my snarky comments, that and he ignored me when I said to get away from the bomb, so I was currently only calling him Rogers.
"No shit Sherlock. Could you just leave me to suffer in peace? It's really not that hard all you have to do is turn around and leave. Please?" the last bit was thrown in when he wouldn't leave. As much as I love attention I don't want anyone on the team to see me like this. I'm the weakest link, the most easily replaced, the one not needed. Cap was currently muttering while he rummaged through my cupboards. After a while he emerged holding a wet washcloth. I had been watching him move around, he seemed unfazed, here I sit in the most vulnerable position you would ever see me and he was more relaxed around this than when I was healthy.

He crouched behind me and despite my efforts to get him to leave me alone. He gently pulled me up and away from the throne. His hands slid around and pulled my shirt up and off me, the thing was covered in sweat and maybe a little bit of vomit now and I wanted it off anyways, that's the only reason he got away with it. Next he pulled some toilet paper from the spindle to wipe at my face that was quickly followed by the washcloth wiping the sweat off my face. You know Steve really was comfy, all warm and firm and all… blinking I tried to focus on what he was saying,
"You know I was sick a lot when I was a kid and I never wanted anyone's help, but the more I think about it I just didn't want people to think of me as weak." He shifted so now I was sitting on his lap so he had two free hands to prepare whatever else he was going to do, "No one here thinks your weak Tony. We all get sick sometimes, just let me help you this once. As soon as your better we can pretend this never happened." I opened my mouth to argue but he stuck a thermometer in my mouth so speaking wasn't an option. We spent the next minute or so in silence waiting for the thing to beep, once it did Steve reached out to gently take it from my mouth.
"One hundred and three… "He was muttering under his breath, somehow we had gone from sitting on the floor to Steve supporting me while he pulled out some ibuprofen.
"Hey, I need you to take the pills them change into the sweats for me ok?" he spoke softly, like he knew my head was about to explode. Swallowing thickly I nodded, he left me leaning against the counter. Deciding I was going to get the sweats on first I sat down on top of the toilet lid and struggled to remove my jeans. The stupid things got all caught up around my legs and it took forever to remove them. Eventually though I got the sweats on. Using the counter for support I pulled myself into a standing position. Reaching forward I grabbed the two pills Steve had left of the counter for me, with a shaking had I put them in my mouth. When I reached for the water there was another hand there helping me lift it to my mouth, if I wasn't so weak from this whole being sick business I would find it immensely funny but I wasn't and all I saw was how helpful Steve was being after I treated him like an ass.

"Thanks." Smiling slightly I leaned against him and let Steve lead me to my bed. The covers were clean and already pulled back so all I had to do was lay down. I moved to leave Cap but was stopped when he pushed the water glass into my hands again. Looking up at him I arched my eyebrow in question, sighing Cap responded.
"You don't want to fight dehydration along with being sick, trust me. Drink it all, but slowly." So there we sat while I sleepily drank the water. It felt good, the water was light and cool in my stomach. Silently I handed the glass back to him and flopped down on the bed. A hand reached out and pulled the covers up to my shoulders the brushes against my face, but I was too far into sleep to even notice.

I woke up again hours later to find Pepper standing in the doorway, her hair was still up like she had just gotten back from her meeting. In her hand she held a note, slowly she made her way over to the bed. Leaning down she kissed me on the head and whispered into my ear,
"Sleep Tony, Steve took good care of you now it's my turn. It's ok your safe and will be better in no time, now sleep." And what would you know I did. For the first time in a long time I fell asleep safe, and loved , and wanted.

Ok… so yeah that was terrible. Tony is with Pepper there is no slash in there but if you wanted to read between the lines you could find some. I'm so horribly evil that I'm going to ask for you guys to read and review, not read and retreat. Again I don't own anything, but I hope you enjoyed it if I get anything productive done then I'll be posting the next chapter soon, this one's going to be Clint.