I Thought You Were Different

Parenting

minor language

You managed to get your soiled shirt off without making any more of a mess, but you were left standing in the lounge with nothing on top but your sports bra, which was needing a change as well. Steve continued to spew into the garbage can with the sounds of a moaning green beast filling the room, drowning out Tony's laughter at the scene before him.

"Hey, old man, how about you make yourself useful and grab some towels? Maybe a few washcloths and a shirt."

"Yeah," he groaned under his breath and pulled off his worn and faded Black Sabbath t-shirt, tossing it to you with a snap before he made his way to the kitchen, "definitely just great to see you back."

"What am I gonna do with you boys," you whispered, returning to Steve's side to again rub his back to calm him. "I said breathe slower. You're making it worse."

"I know how to puke, (Y/N)," he panted between retches.

"But you don't know how to avoid it? What the hell were you two thinking?" you ridiculed, turning to look at the Hulk, still curled into himself on the floor. "Is he gonna change back any time soon? He's only making the mess bigger."

"Where did you go?"

"Asgard."

"Why?"

"It's a long story that I'd rather tell when your head isn't buried in a garbage can." Tony returned with a handful of linens, tossing half to you so that he could attend to his friend at his feet. "So, Captain, tell me what you've learned today."

"That for a genius, Bruce Banner is a goddamn idiot."

"You could've said no, Steve."

"I didn't know where you were or when you'd be back, or if you were okay," he groaned as another wave of nausea struck. "I was nervous."

"I know, honey, I'm sorry. I tried to get back as fast as I could, I promise." A few silent minutes had passed, with Steve's heaving coming to a stop and Bruce now back to his own form, though still looking plenty green. Steve reluctantly took a towel from your hands and covered his face for a moment before standing to look at you.

"Be honest with me," he whispered, "did you get hurt?"

"Yes, but I'm okay now."

"Okay," he mumbled with a slight nod, taking your hand to retreat to your room. To anyone else it might have seen like Steve had accepted your answer and would move forward, but you knew that this conversation was far from over. If you were injured on a mission that he couldn't attend, then he would harbor guilt, and he would try to keep you from going on any more. If he hadn't been feeling so ill right now, the argument would have been a given.

He pushed the door to your room open with a quiet moan and flopped himself on the bed with a shudder at what he had done to himself, even when he fully knew better and had even warned Bruce that it was a bad idea. You weren't going to lecture him; he was a grown man, for the most part, and he felt bad enough to learn from that alone.

"I'm going to change into my own shirt and go talk to Tony," you whispered, leaning down for a quick kiss on his cheek. "Get some sleep, I'll be back in a bit."

"You're sure you're okay, (Y/N)?" came a small voice just as you reached the bathroom. It broke you that he was so worried while you were gone and that you had no way to get to him. He trusted you to keep safe, and you put yourself in harm's way for Thor. You thought that he would have done the same if it were him in your place, but that didn't matter. He put you before himself, and you began to feel nervous that this would drive a wedge between him and his Asgardian friend.