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One of the perks of working at the Avengers Tower is that it has everything you could possibly need. From a state-of-the-art gym to a food court packed with excellent restaurants, you honestly would never need to leave if you didn’t have a cat waiting for you at home.
And today, you’re thankful for one amenity in particular: the fully stocked pharmacy.
A small red shopping basket dangles from your arm while you shuffle along the aisles, blearily looking for something that will help alleviate the awful stuffy-shivery-sore-throat feeling that you’re currently fighting. Your shift at the reception desk starts soon, and you have managed to get to work just early enough to grab some medicine before you’re stuck at the desk all day.
It would have been reasonable for you to call off, considering the horrible cold you woke up with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. If you miss work, your boss Pepper Potts has to come cover your shift, and you know she has much more important things to do than greet visitors and make coffee.
So you’re determined to make it through your shift somehow, hopefully with the help of the strongest medicine the pharmacy carries.
You throw a couple of tissue boxes in the basket, along with a bag of cough drops. Then you pick up a bottle of cold medicine, trying to read the tiny print through your watery eyes.
“Detka?”
A familiar, soft voice makes you whip your head around. Your heart drops as you spot the two people you were hoping to avoid today – Natasha and Wanda – standing at the other end of the aisle.
It’s not that you don’t like seeing them. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. You’ve had a hopeless crush on both women for over a year now, even though you know there’s no chance of it ever being reciprocated. They have each other, after all, and the three of you are friends, but nothing more.
Although the pet names that Wanda insists on calling you certainly aren’t helping you get over your feelings.
“Hey!” you say, trying to infuse some pep into your voice. You shift the basket so that it’s more hidden behind your back, although you can see Natasha’s sharp eyes already tracking the movement. “What are you two doing here?”
Wanda steps closer, holding up a bag of chocolate and a box of tampons. “I got a surprise visitor, so Nat promised me treats.”
You give her a sympathetic look. “Ugh, that sucks. You definitely deserve all the chocolate. They have Lindt over by the register.”
Natasha moves forward, her gaze trained on you. You feel your cheeks heat under her scrutiny. “You look like you’re not feeling well,” she says softly, cocking her head as she studies you.
You duck your head, blushing. “No, I’m fine! Just – the weather, you know. It’s chilly.”
It’s a lame excuse, and if Natasha’s expression is any indicator, she doesn’t believe it for a second.
“Sweetheart?” Wanda’s voice is so gentle that it makes a lump rise in your throat. Her green eyes are full of concern as she comes over to you and cups your cheek in her palm. “Oh, honey. You’re warm.” She pouts at you, her cool fingers resting against your skin. “You should be in bed, poor thing.”
“You’re not working today,” Natasha says decisively, already pulling her phone out of her pocket.
Although a part of you wants to melt into their care, you remind yourself that you have a job to do. And that they surely have better things to do than worry about you. You don’t want to bother them.
“I’ll be fine,” you repeat, straightening your shoulders. You hold up your basket as evidence. “I have plenty of supplies, and I’ll rest when I get home. It’s nothing, I promise.”
Both women hesitate, looking like they want to say more, but you glance at your watch and grimace.
“It’s almost nine – gotta run. I’ll see you two around!” you say, your voice full of fake cheer that comes easily due to your job. You shoot them a reassuring smile before moving away.
But despite the smiles, your heart is sinking.
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“Did you see how pale she looked?” Wanda asks, accepting the two pills that Natasha drops into her palm. “And her cheeks were flushed too. She’s definitely running a fever.”
“I know,” Natasha says, handing Wanda a water bottle and sitting down on the couch with a sigh. “Take your meds, babe.”
Wanda swallows the pills dutifully before frowning at her. “Should we talk to Pepper?”
“I dunno,” Natasha says, running a hand through her hair. Her expression is tight and worried. “I mean, she’s not ours, Wands,” she says pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
Wanda crosses her arms with a huff. “She should be. You want her. I want her. What’s the issue?”
“Um, whether she wants us?” Natasha says with a lopsided grin. “There’s this thing called ‘free will’, babe.”
“She turns three shades of red every time either of us even look at her,” Wanda says flatly. “I’m pretty sure she likes us too.”
“Yes, but we agreed not to rush her.” Natasha wraps an arm around Wanda’s shoulders and presses her lips to her temple. “How about we check on her at lunchtime? You still have cramps right now, and I have a mission report that Steve’s on my ass about.”
“Fine,” Wanda sighs, curling up on the couch, pressing the heating pad in her lap against her stomach. “But I don’t like it.”
“I know,” Natasha says, holding her close. “Me either.”
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By the time your lunch break rolls around, you’re well and truly miserable.
Sure, you’re still doing your best to push through. But you can’t stop shivering despite the perfect seventy-two degrees the lobby temperature is always set to, and your throat feels like you’ve been swallowing knives for fun. You’re wearing a mask to avoid spreading whatever bug you’ve managed to catch, and you’re hoping it hides how sick you truly are.
Usually you would go to the cafeteria for lunch, but the idea of food makes your stomach turn. Instead, you put up the little sign that tells visitors you’re on break and head to the small employee break room located behind your desk.
There’s not much inside, just a small couch, a mini fridge, and a table with a few plastic chairs around it. You make a beeline for the couch, flopping down onto it and burying your overheated face in the cushions. It feels amazing to be lying down, and you have just enough presence of mind to set an alarm on your phone before slipping into a fever-hazy sleep.
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Natasha glances at the sign on the reception desk and frowns.
“She already left,” she says, looking around the lobby for any sign of you.
“I’ll check the cafeteria,” Wanda decides, already turning in that direction. “You check the break room?”
Natasha gives her a curt nod and heads for the door behind the reception desk. There’s a pit of worry making her stomach churn uncomfortably. She feels like she needs to get eyes on you now. She doesn’t like not knowing where you are, especially not when you’re sick.
A mix of relief and concern washes over her when she finally finds you curled up on the break room couch. She can breathe easier now that she knows where you are, but you look awful. Your cheeks are stained a feverish red, and there’s a thin layer of sweat making your hair stick to your forehead. You’re curled up on yourself tightly and shivering, practically in the fetal position.
Her heart aches sharply, and she strides over to you, crouching down and watching you sleep for a moment. She knew she shouldn’t have let you work when you were clearly sick. Hers or not, she still cares about you and would do anything for you.
But she’s going to make this right now. She pulls out her phone and shoots off a quick text to Wanda letting her know that she found you. Then she starts stroking her fingers through your hair, calling your name softly.
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Everything feels wrong when you wake up. Your skin feels too tight, like you have the world’s worst sunburn, but you’re also somehow wracked with violent shivers. Your head is throbbing horribly and it feels like you’re swimming through a fog, your thoughts disjointed and muddled.
But you do recognize one familiar pair of blue-green eyes gazing into your own.
“Nat?” you croak, then your breath catches and you start coughing. It makes your chest ache and your throat burn, and you gratefully accept the water bottle that Natasha suddenly hands you from somewhere. The cool liquid helps soothe your throat, but only a little.
You clear your throat and blink several times, trying to sit upright and get your bearings. But Natasha holds you down with a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Just rest,” she says, her voice soft. “You’re burning up.”
“Where’m I?” you mumble, trying to clear your foggy head.
“Work,” Natasha answers patiently. You realize she’s carding her hand through your hair, slow and steady. It feels amazing and you never want her to stop. “You fell asleep on the couch.”
“Oh, crap!” Your eyes widen and you fumble for your phone. “What time is it? I have to get back to work.”
Natasha lets you sit up this time, but she shakes her head at you with a frown. “Nope, you’re done working for today, baby. This week too, probably, with that fever you’re running.”
Your stomach flutters. Baby. That’s definitely new.
But you shouldn’t read into it. Especially not when you’re gross and sweaty and probably contagious…
Realization dawns on you and you slap a hand over your mouth, trying to scoot away from the woman next to you. “I need my mask!” you exclaim, your words muffled into your hand. “I’ll get you sick. You should leave, like, now. Seriously, I’m so gross.”
Natasha gives you an amused, lopsided smirk. “You’re cute,” she says, making no effort to move. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s fine.”
“This is not fine!” you protest, gesturing vaguely at yourself. “You don’t want this, Nat.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow at you. “So you admit you do feel like shit, then.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Natasha says, shaking her head at you and pulling out her phone. “I’m calling Pepper. There’s no way I’m letting you work like this.”
You should probably be upset at Natasha for talking to you as if it’s up to her what you can and cannot do. It’s definitely not her place to call you out of work.
And yet, all you manage to feel is…relieved. Relieved that someone else is doing what you couldn’t. That you don’t have to be in charge right now, when you already feel so awful. There’s something oddly comforting about Natasha’s straightforwardness.
Just then, Wanda bursts into the room. She spots you and immediately hurries to your side.
“Oh, honey,” she coos, crouching down next to Natasha and reaching up to feel your forehead. Her soft green eyes are big and worried as she looks you over. “Sweetheart. Straight to bed with you, you’re feverish.”
You sigh, then have to turn away when you cough again. You know they’re both right, even if you don’t want to admit it. Being in bed sounds amazing, but the part you’re not looking forward to is the long subway ride and ensuing walk home.
“Let me just rest a bit and then I’ll be up for the walk to the subway,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. You honestly don’t know if you can walk that far without collapsing right now.
Both Natasha and Wanda stare at you as if you’ve grown two heads.
“Walk to the subway?” Natasha frowns. “Nuh-uh. You’re coming upstairs with us.”
Your mouth drops open slightly. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to –”
“You’re not asking, we’re offering,” Wanda interrupts, smoothing a hand over your hair. “Please, detka. Let us look after you. You shouldn’t be alone when you’re this ill.”
“But what if I get you guys sick?” you ask, biting your lip, your gaze flicking between them. While a part of you wants to give in, you know you would feel awful if you passed on whatever you have to them.
Natasha turns to Wanda, smirking. “You scared of getting sick, babe?”
Wanda shakes her head. “I haven’t had so much as a cold since I got my powers,” she says, smiling softly at you. “I’ll be fine.”
“And I hardly ever get sick,” Natasha adds firmly. “So that’s settled. You ready, sunshine?” She pushes herself to her feet and offers a hand. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
You accept her hand, feeling something warm grow in your chest.
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Wanda leads you over to the huge king bed in the middle of the room, and you sit down on the edge of it. You still feel a little shy about being in Wanda and Natasha’s room, even though you’ve been there before.
Natasha stands across from you, her arms crossed over her chest as she studies you. “I’m getting the thermometer,” she announces, turning to head toward the hallway.
“Bring the cold meds too, please!” Wanda calls after her before turning to face you. “You certainly need to take something for this fever of yours,” she murmurs, her eyes full of worry as she tucks some hair behind your ear. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, hm? Would you like to borrow some clothes?”
You hesitate, biting your lip. “Um, only if you don’t mind…”
“Of course not,” Wanda assures you, already getting up. She goes over to the dresser in the corner and pulls out a comfy-looking t-shirt and pair of sweatpants.
“You get changed and into bed, sweetheart,” Wanda says, handing you the clothes. “I’m going to get some tea and soup started. Do you need anything else in the meantime?”
“No – this is – …um, thank you,” you stutter, your cheeks feeling hot. You still think the other women are being far too nice to you, even though they’ve always been somewhat protective of you. This feels like above and beyond.
Wanda gives you a reassuring smile, before heading out of the room and closing the door softly behind herself.
It takes more energy than it should for you to change out of your work clothes and into the ones Wanda gave you. Your joints are aching with every movement, and you feel weak and clammy. It’s a relief to crawl into bed once you finish.
You relax back against the pillows, pulling the covers up to your chin. The blankets smell like a mix of Natasha and Wanda, and you find yourself missing both of them already.
It isn’t long before there’s a gentle knock on the bedroom door, though. “It’s me,” Natasha calls. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” you say, although your voice is almost too croaky to be useful at this point, and you dissolve into a coughing fit.
You’re still coughing by the time Natasha enters and sits down on the bed next to you. When you catch your breath, you realize that she’s rubbing your back in slow circles. There’s a concerned frown on her face as she looks at you.
“You alright?” Natasha asks softly, handing you a cool glass of water. “Drink a little.”
“Sorry,” you apologize hoarsely after sipping the water. “I’m so gross right now.”
Natasha shakes her head. “You’re sick. Don’t apologize.” She holds up a thermometer. “Let’s get your temp, okay?”
You nod, opening your mouth and allowing her to slip the thermometer under your tongue. While it works, Natasha sets a few supplies on the nightstand: A box of tissues, a bottle of cold and flu medication, and a bag of cough drops. You’re touched at everything she’s thought of for you.
When the thermometer beeps, Natasha plucks it from your mouth and studies it.
“101.4,” she reads, frowning again. “You definitely need to be in bed.” She tilts her head, her eyes finding yours. “Why’d you even come in today, baby? You should have called off and stayed home.”
You sniffle, reaching for a tissue. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” you say honestly, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to cause trouble for anyone, especially not Pepper.”
Natasha sighs, giving you a long look. “You’re too sweet for your own good, sunshine,” she says, shaking her head. The corner of her mouth curves in a small smile. “But luckily you have me and Wanda to take care of you.”
Your heart does an unceremonious little flip. “Thank you,” you say. “You really didn’t have to, I swear, I’ll be fine –”
“We want to,” Natasha says, cutting you off. “As hard as you find that to believe,” she chuckles, running a hand over your hair. “We care about you. And we want you here. So no more thank yous, ‘kay? Just let us look after you.”
You blush, not quite sure how to respond. But then your nose tickles and you hastily turn away to sneeze into your elbow – once, twice, then a third time. It leaves your head spinning and your nose running uncomfortably.
“Bless you!” Wanda exclaims, walking back into the room with a tray in her hands. Natasha blesses you as well and hands over several tissues.
“Poor thing,” Wanda tuts sympathetically, settling the tray on the nightstand. “Did you give her any medicine yet, Nat? She’s so stuffy.”
“I was getting to that,” Natasha grumbles, but her tone is fond. She reaches for the medicine bottle and pours out a capful of the red syrup. “Bottoms up,” she says, holding it out to you.
You grimace a little, eyeing the medicine warily. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” Wanda and Natasha answer in unison.
“Ugh, you two are bullying me,” you complain, which makes both of them chuckle. You swallow down the syrup, making a face afterward.
“Good girl,” Wanda hums, and your heart flips over again. She pulls the covers up further over you and smooths them out.
“How’re you feeling?” Natasha asks, sitting down next to Wanda, her gaze never leaving you. “Tell us your symptoms.”
“Please,” Wanda adds, giving Natasha a look. Natasha rolls her eyes.
“Um…” You do a mental once-over. “I mean, I think I’m okay?”
Natasha sighs, giving you a serious look. “That’s not what I asked.”
Wanda nods. “We want to know, sweetheart. Please tell us, so we can take care of you.”
She’s so earnest and there is so much care in both their eyes, you feel all your walls crumbling.
“Um,” you cough, then let out a long breath. “The usual stuff? Throat hurts, headache, muscle aches. Can’t breathe through my nose. I kind of have chills too, I guess.”
“Thank you for telling us the truth,” Wanda hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I made chicken noodle soup, do you want to try some? It might help your throat.”
You nod, feeling warm. You can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this. If ever. Wanda carefully lifts a bowl of steaming soup off the tray and hands it over to you.
Natasha pulls a blanket off a couch in the corner and drapes it over you, tucking you in. “This’ll help you warm up,” she murmurs. “And I’ll set up the humidifier, that’ll help your congestion.”
You sip the soup, nodding. You’re too overwhelmed to say much, and there’s a faint prickling at the corners of your eyes.
After a few spoonfuls of soup, you lower the bowl to your lap and look up at the women still sitting next to you. You set the bowl aside, clearing your throat.
“Why are you…” you start asking, your cheeks warm. You fiddle with a loose string on the blanket. “I mean, I don’t really get why you guys are doing all this for me? It’s really sweet, it’s just…I don’t understand.”
You chance a glance up, your heart pounding.
Natasha and Wanda exchange a glance, something unreadable in both their faces. Silence hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation.
It’s Natasha who speaks first. She reaches for your hand and threads her fingers through yours, her soft skin cool against your own.
“We care about you, sweet girl,” Natasha says, her voice low, steady. She holds your gaze, her eyes soft. “More than you know, I think.”
“A lot more than you know,” Wanda adds, smiling gently. She cups your jaw, then presses her lips to your cheek, lingering against your skin. Your heart races.
“We didn’t want to rush you,” Natasha explains. “But we’re here, baby. If you want us too.”
Your eyes fill with tears, and you almost wonder whether you’re having some sort of fever dream. Can this really be happening?
“I do,” you say, your voice thick. “I want you too.”
Wanda and Natasha break into matching, beaming grins.
“Good, malyshka,” Wanda murmurs, brushing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Now you just rest and let us take care of you, honey.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Natasha moves over to your side, lifting her arm so that you can curl up against her. She holds you close, kissing the top of your hair. “You’re ours.”
You can’t remember the last time you felt this happy.
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