Chapter Text
It was past 7AM when Tony woke up and Natasha was still tangled up with him in bed. He smiled as he kissed her lips good morning, but immediately noticed the unusual.
First, his wife was deep asleep. Normally, she got up way earlier than he did, even without an alarm. She would prepare their breakfast, and when he did not get up by 8:30, that was when she woke him up so they can have breakfast together.
Second, she felt warm. No, not just warm - she was hot. He cupped her face then her forehead and her neck. She was feverish.
With a little panic, he contemplated if he would call their doctor or he has to wake her up already and bring her to the hospital. Natasha was almost never sick. The last time she was closest to having a flu, they weren't even engaged yet. She was heavily wounded then, tired and stressed from an overseas mission, so the doctors had to sedate her and she slept for most part of her days in the hospital and even after she was brought back to the Stark Tower.
He figured, this one must be the side effect of the hormones injected to her so she could bear a child - something that she really wanted eversince they got married.
His anxiety doubled. He knew he was not supposed to blame himself but he felt close to that.
"Tash, wake up..." Tony went for the latter and shook her gently.
Natasha groaned.
"Honey, you have fever. I need to bring you to the hospital."
She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, with him helping her.
"W-what? No... I'm okay."
"Please. You're not used to getting sick. I don't wanna risk this," he tucked stray hair strands behind her ear.
"I'll be fine. Far from dying," his wife forced a smile but he did not like it. Not when he was this worried and guilty.
"Natasha."
"Hey, I'm kidding. But, really, I'll be fine. Just need to rest and take my vitamins plus more water."
Tony sighed. "I'm still calling the doctor."
"If it makes you happy," she lied down again after he arranged the pillows, then he pulled up the sheets to her shouders.
"Please look after Anya for a while," she lightly gripped the back of his hand. "I'll be better later."
"Yeah, don't worry. I got her."
Natasha smiled and he went out of their room. Then he did call their family doctor to come over.
*****
"Papa, where's Mama?"
Tony glanced over his shoulder to Anya, their 3-year old daughter seated on a chair while he struggled in cooking perfect pancakes and sunny side up eggs - her staple.
"Mama is in our room, baby. She's sick and she needs to rest."
"Can I go to her?"
"You can see her, yes," his eyes focused again on the task at hand. "But no hugging, no kissing Mama for now, okay? We'll just sit there and watch over her."
"Okay," Anya nodded.
He needed to concentrate because cooking was never his forte, but he also had to attend to her, and it was not as easy as he thought.
His admiration for his wife doubled upon realizing how she had to multitask in more instances at their home alone. Long before, they agreed not to get stay-in househelpers for security purposes. FRIDAY has been a great help in acting as a virtual butler though; Natasha was hands-on in taking care of him and their kid, while he worked on automating anything that his technology can automate and created additional bots for some tasks. They only called SI housekeeping agency staff on a per-need basis.
After turning off the stove, he placed two pancakes and an egg on her favorite plate. There were only two pancakes and one egg left, and he saved them for Natasha; he just had to add fruits on the side. She only had soup earlier, the fastest he could prepare, but not without spilling some and burning his fingers in the process. After the quick check-up on his wife by the doctor, she slept again while he woke up Anya in her room.
With almost an hour spent in the kitchen, the four uneven shaped pancakes and two eggs were all he had made... none left for himself. He was already tired to make some more.
"Good girl. But breakfast first."
When he placed the plate before his daughter, he almost expected the confused look on her face.
"I know, baby. It doesn't look like pancake-and-eggs," he sliced a portion of each and ate them. "But they taste good. Give it a chance."
"Okay," she smiled and he thanked heavens that Anya did not inherit his occassional bratty attitude. "Blueberries, please!"
"Oh, yeah. Wait," he grabbed the jar from the cupboards and put some on her pancakes.
"Thank you, Papa."
"Anytime, princess." He sat beside her and watched as she finished her food, not minding his own hunger, then he cleaned up after. He had to make sure that the kitchen was tidied properly so as not to stress Natasha once she gets well.
A few minutes later, he was on the way back to their room holding a tray of food and meds, while Anya tailed behind him.