Only a scar: Doctor Strange x Fem!reader

Chapter 20 - Sick day

Morning blues started to settle in as the night before was almost forgotten, nothing but the long night and scares received left. Perhaps also the slight worry Strange was sick. A single coughing fit from the foyer confirming your dreads.

"Morning," if his voice wasn't raspy enough during the early hours of the day, it sure was now... but admitting it was sightly attractive? They'd have to pry that from the depths of your dead cold brain.

"You're sick,"

"I'm not," he pours his cup of coffee while trying to hold back a cough.

"Strange, get back to bed,"

He turned unamused but immediately dropped his attempt to argue when he saw your stern glance. "Fine," he put his cup down stalked away as you get rid of the coffee and let some tea steep.

Sending a spell to make some oatmeal, you use the time in between to cut up fruit and wring out a wet cloth. Pilling it on a tray, you make your way upstairs to his room before stopping and placing it two rooms away, moving into the astral plane to check on him.

Your gut feeling was right as you saw him in his astral form doing work. "Ehem," you place both hands on your hips as he throw the papers in the air and jumps away. "Sleep," you order as he gave an annoyed glare before moving back into his body while you went to fetch the tray. "No magic, got it?" You order when entering the room.

"Thought you weren't a doctor," he tosses his book onto his dresser before sitting on the bed.

"Doesn't mean I don't know how to take care of a bratty patient,"

"According to Natasha you're the actual brat," he hums, laying back in bed with a groan and light cough.

"I will hit you with a bowl of oatmeal,"

"Ouch," he muses while you toss the wet cloth onto his face. "Rude,"

"I'm aware, now say ah," you place the thermometer in his mouth and match his glare. "Good boy," you take it out his lips and grin from his reaction. "Behave and eat your food while I get some tablets,"

~~~

"For a doctor you're awfully against agreeing with an obvious diagnosis," cracking the pills out their casing and into his hand, you hand him some warm tea to help.

"Because it's not a big deal," he takes the medicine and places the mug down. "And I deal with patients in life threatening conditions,"

"If you don't stop talking back I'll put you in life threatening conditions, Stephen," you warn, moving the breakfast tray into the kitchen through a portal.

"How did you get through the day if you're not an actual doctor?"

"There's a thing called google," it seemed your comment didn't convince him. "And I had an actual doctor helping me through the day, he did all the things I couldn't but let me take credit so I could keep my cover,"

"He? What's his name?" Strange suddenly became interested.

"Jealous?" you press the cloth against his forehead again as well as fixing his bed hair.

"No, just trying to figure out how bad of a doctor he must have been if the information he fed you was that," he laughed as you firmly push his face away. "I'm kidding,"

"You better be," putting it down on his bed side table, you wipe away a droplet of water. "Get some rest, alright?"

"Or what?"

"You won't get any lunch," you tease. "I'll be back to make sure you're not disobeying orders,"

"I look forward to it," he murmurs as you give a quick glance as well as smile.

"Rest," you insist again, closing the door behind you.

~~~

Knocking twice on the door, Stephen was actually fast asleep which made you sigh in relief. His soft breathing while nestled up in his bed, that small curl of hair hanging out from the rest, utterly at peace. Besides the fact he was evidently sick. A bowl of warm chicken noodle soup was placed on his desk as you went and pull the curtains close.

"Y/n?" God, that voice was starting to do things to you.

"Just closing the curtains, don't worry," you whisper back to him, walking around to grab the bowl. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine,"

"And honestly?"

"Like shit," he lets his head drop back into the pillow while you kneel down and push back his hair. "And what have you made to poison me this time?"

"If you don't want it, guess I'll give it to Wong," you tease, poking his nose.

"No, hold on," he took your hand before you could leave as you chuckle.

"I'm kidding, Strange," thermometer back into his mouth, you wait before removing it. "Not any different... try and eat a little,"

He obliged as you stood and looked around his room. One by one you picked up his strewn about clothes. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up, because it seems you're too busy to do it yourself,"

"You don't have to," he reminds.

"Yet I still am," throwing his dirty shirts into a basket, you awkwardly pick up his boxers and toss them with the rest. Summoning a cloth and a spray bottle, you run it over every surface, cringing at the sheer state of the room. "You live in filth,"

"I live with you," he then flinches away with a warning glare when you turn the spray bottle to him. "Jokes exist,"

"And so does Windex," getting rid of the supplies you do the same with his empty bowl before sighing out. "Anything else, your majesty?"

"A few things, actually,"

"Well, I'm not doing them," grinning smugly, he lays back in bed as you sit at his side. "Give it a few hours and we'll see how you go,"

~~~

D:

- Anna ❤️