#steve and tony can have every smol puppy imaginable

[straightupsickfics]

@softersteve said sick steve + puppy so 🥺🥺🥺

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“Steve?” Tony nudges Steve with a gentle hand, surprised to find him sound asleep on the couch, Dorian sleeping peacefully beside him.

“Mmm? Tony?” Steve asks, eyes fluttering open, his voice tired. “When did you get home?”

Tony smiles, leaning down and running a hand through Steve’s hair. “Just now. The real question is, how long have you been home?”

“Most of the day? Umb…. What time is it?” Steve asks, struggling to sit up and look at his phone. Dorian huffs a little sigh before curling up in an even tighter circle and going back to sleep on Steve’s chest.

They'd found the dog on the last mission they'd been on together, a little more than three months ago now, and despite the short amount of time, Tony knows that neither of them can imagine life without him now. Steve, though, is the clear favorite between them, and Tony pretends not to be jealous of this fact as he watches them lay there, sleepy and comfortable as can be.

“Almost four,” Tony tells him, reaching over to pet the golden retriever’s ears. “Did you keep daddy company today? Hmm? You’re so good, yes you are…” He trails off, smiling when Dorian wags his tail a few times, even half asleep.

“All day, then,” Steve admits. He rubs a finger under his nose, like he knows he’s going to start sneezing soon and is trying to buy himself enough time to prevent it. He clears his throat a few times, too, eyeing the tissue box beside him on the floor as if wondering how soon he’s going to need it.

Steve’s wearing one of Tony's old MIT hoodies, and his eyes and nose are pink enough that Tony knows he must’ve finally come down with the cold Tony himself had a week and a half ago. He’d spent the majority of it draped over Steve in bed, sniffling and sneezing and apologizing enough that Steve had finally made him promise to stop.

“Well, that’s probably my fault,” Tony says. He gives Steve a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to being patient zero. Usually it’s the other way around,” he adds, tapping the flushed pink tip of Steve’s nose.

This earns him a sleepy smile, though Steve's face quickly turns more bleary and irritated than fond.

“C-cand you, grab h-himb… ? Steve gives his head a shake, turning away from Tony and Dorian, eyes filling with irritated tears as the itchy-ticklish feeling in his sinuses builds and crests. “Hdt! IItshh! Huh-Utshhuh! EeeiishhiEW!” Steve manages to aim the sneezes down at the blanket, unable to free his arms to muffle the fit in time.

Tony, puppy now cradled safely in his arms, makes a soft, concerned sound in the back of his throat. “Steven,” he says, “god bless you.”

“Thandks,” Steve sighs. “Don’t know why I keep getting sick like this, shouldn’t the serum make mbe…. Immune or something?” His voice has a distinctly stuffy, congested sound to it, and Tony wants nothing more than to hug him.

“I thought so, but Bruce and Dr. Cho think otherwise,” Tony tells him. “At least you had great company while I was at work?” Tony really does feel bad for infecting Steve, even though he knows Steve wouldn’t have left him to suffer on his own even if he knew this would be the outcome.

Steve nods, looking blearily between Tony and the puppy cradled in his arms. “Yeah, but…” He blinks up at Tony even as he trails off, and Tony knows exactly what he's thinking.

He can’t help but smile at the soft, slightly needy look on Steve’s face. “I missed you, too,” Tony says. “Let me just get changed, then I’ll come keep you company myself, yeah? Do you need anything while I’m up? Meds? Water? Tea?” He tries to think of anything else that Steve might need while he’s dealing with his cold, but his boyfriend just shakes his head.

“Just you,” Steve says, his eyes falling shut again.

Which, really, sounds perfect to Tony. He changes quickly, smiling as Dorian trails along, his collar jingling as he traipses around the room behind him, sniffing at Tony's discarded clothes and ankles all the while.

“We come bearing blankets,” Tony announces when he’s back in the living room, Steve already half-asleep on the couch. “That didn’t take very long, sleepyhead."

“M’tired,” Steve admits. He looks comfortable laying there, his large frame curled beneath a soft, knit blanket that Bucky had made them once upon a time. “Glad you’re home, though.”

“Me, too,” Tony agrees. He puts Dorian down on Steve’s chest again, where he wastes no time curling up and settling in against Steve, who smiles tiredly, petting his ears.

“Good boy,” Steve murmurs.

“And to think, that used to be reserved for me,” Tony teases, sliding in beside them on the couch. Steve looks so comfortable there beneath the blankets, somehow more tired and sick than Tony remembers feeling when he had the same cold, that he feels a little helpless. He wastes no time curling up beside him, scooping Steve into his arms and pressing soft, warm kisses agains the soft nape of his neck.

“Really did miss you all day,” Tony says. “I’m sorry I got you sick.”

Steve mutters something unintelligible, his face tucked into his pillow, hand still resting on Dorian’s head. “Just glad you’re here.”

Tony sighs, breathing deeply, taking in the warmth of Steve, and the blankets, and Dorian. “Yeah,” he says finally, just as Steve curls into him, his nose damp and soft against his shoulder. "Me, too."