Chapter Two
"You have reached the voicemail of Tony-" Steve hanged his cell phone abruptly and tossed it on the bed. "Voicemail, again!"
He had tried calling Tony over five times in the last hour but the call always seemed to be going to voicemail. He briefly thought about calling Pepper so she could knock some sense into him, but then realize that he didn't have her number.
"Why am I even worrying anyway?" he mumbled to himself as he sat in the leather chair in his small apartment and turned on the TV to an old Little House on the Prairie episode. "Stark's a big boy, he can take care of himself and besides Banner lives like two minutes away, so why am I worrying?"
Despite his efforts Steve couldn't stop thinking about the billionaire and how terrible he had look and he guessed, from a once sickly child's point of view, that he felt even worse than he looked.
Flushed cheeks. . .dazed eyes. . .shivering . . .the guy was like a walking infection.
Another episode began and Steve wasn't even pretending to pay attention to the show. He was trying to remember when had been the last time that Tony had gotten sick. He honestly couldn't remember. The man was a life size model of healthiness. Minus the attitude.
He had seen Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and even Fury get sick, but never Tony and he with the super serum genes felt protected by all kinds of viruses.
"I'm just one of those people that never really gets sick," Steve had heard Tony telling Pepper one day.
"But when you do?" Pepper had pointed out.
"But when I do, which is rarely, very rare," he felt the need to point out. "I get really sick. Like if I'm on my deathbed, thank god that rarely happens."
What if he was on his death bed right now? The worrywart part of Steve couldn't help but wondering. "A little visit wouldn't hurt," Steve told himself as he turned off the TV. He put on his warmest clothes and gloves and headed down Stark Tower for a quick visit.
He was surprise and annoyed that it was still raining outside. He had never really liked the rain it depressed him and made him sleepy. He couldn't wait for summer to come. When he reached Stark Tower he rang on the doorbell and he hardly flinched when Jarvis asked, "Yes? Welcome to Stark Tower, how may I help you?"
Steve grinned knowing how freaked out he had been when he had first met Jarvis, he had nearly had a heart attack when he first visited the tower causing Tony to tease his merciless.
"Hey Jarvis, it's Steven. Steve Rogers? I'm looking for Tony." he said clearly into the speaker.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Rogers I'm afraid Mr. Stark is not accepting any visitors or calls other than Miss Potts's until further notice." Steve was surprise to hear that the AI sounded truly apologetic.
"Oh," he wasn't surprise to hear that. Tony was generally opened and welcome everyone to him home, but when he wanted his peace he sometimes took too extreme measures. And Steve wasn't falling for it.
"He's sick right?" Steve said slyly. Maybe he could trick the AI into letting him in. "Miss Potts told me to uh, deliver some medicine for him." Steve had never been much of a liar.
"Why didn't Miss Potts call Mr. Stark herself?" Jarvis asked suspiciously.
"He knew Tony wouldn't buy the medicine himself," Steve lied smoothly. "Bruce called Pepper who called me to get him some prescription. I just need to drop it off, personally."
The AI hesitated for a moment and Steve was positive that he wouldn't let him in, when the doors suddenly swung open. "Welcome to Stark Tower."
Steve entered the room and found everything in it's usual place. The liquor cabinet and the wine glasses, the flat screen TV, the modern kitchen, and the leather chairs. But no Tony.
"Jarvis, where is Tony?"
"In his bedroom, sir," Jarvis quickly said. "Please do not turn on the lights, he's sleeping."
Steve nodded. Tony, sleeping in the middle of the afternoon? That was a first.
Steve stepped inside of a very warm room that made him feel extra hot in his warm coat. "Gezzus, Tony what did you do installs heat lamps?" he noticed the pile of clothes on the floor. "Messy, messy." he picked them up and placed them in one of the chairs, surprise they were wet.
"Ok, I'm just going to check that he's not dead and then I'm going to leave," he promised himself. He walked towards where Tony was sleeping soundly. He was sleeping with a blanket over his head which reminded Steve of a polar bear.
He grabbed the blanket with his fingertips and pulled it slowly down, careful not to wake him and just enough to see his face. Steve managed to get a glimpse of Tony and was disappointed to see that he looked even worse than he had back at the helicarrier.
"Tony?" Steve whispered.
But Tony didn't seem to hear him.
He pressed a cold hand to his burning forehead and felt the hotness and sweat from the fever. He pressed a hand to his cheek and then to his neck. Hmm, he frowned. It was a little swollen.
Tony yelped. "Shit, that's cold!" his shocked features twisted into one of anger when he saw Steve standing at the edge of his bed. "Rogers, what the hell are you doing here? I asked Jarvis not to tell anyone in."
"Then you better work on your security," Steve said flatly. "Tony, you're sick."
"No, I'm not," he protested. "I'm just tired, some of us don't go to sleep after the nice o' clock news." but his voice sounded empty and hollow.
"Don't be stupid, you're burning up," Steve replied as he opened the little first aid kit that was conveniently located under the bed. He fished out a thermometer. "I'll even make you a deal, if your temperature is less than 100 degrees I'll leave you alone and I wont complainer every time you tease me about my age, if it's more that 100 then you have to admit your wrong."
"Screw you!" he replied furiously. "I don't need you talking my temperature like I'm some three year old-"
Steve pressed the thermometer in his mouth. "Stop acting like a spoiled brat."
"I'm not a spoiled brat." he protested through the thermometer.
"That's hard to believe," Steve said sighing as he removed the thermometer. He smirked when he saw it. "102.4 I win."
"That's my normal temperature," Tony protested lamely.
"Yeah, if you were a tea kettle," Steve snorted. "Go back to sleep."
Tony sighing rest his head back on the pillows, thankful that Rogers was just going to get the hell out. He open his eyes when he realize that Rogers wasn't even moving. He had sat in one of the chairs flipping thought a magazine like he was having the time of his life.
"Rogers, aren't you suppose to, I don't know, leave?" he snapped.
"I'm not going to leave you here alone," Steve said as if it should have been obvious. "You're very sick, Tony."
"I'm sick, not dying." Tony snorted, but that was all he could say before he closed his eyes and fell into another uneasy sleep.
-End of Chapter Two-
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