When you had decided to turn in for the night, just as the movie the team was watching had finished, you couldn't help but smile to yourself that you were only one sleep away from something you had been waiting too long for. You would be leaving the compound in the morning for the long flight to Wakanda and to finally see T'Challa again. You hadn't been able to see him for a couple of months due to both his diplomatic work and your duties with the team, but there was a window of time that had opened at precisely the right opportunity for you both, and neither of you were willing to miss it for any reason. Steve had a mission that would take him past the country, and you had convinced him to drop you off on the way by.

You had no reason to feel nervous about seeing T'Challa again, having been together for nearly a year now, so when the wave of nausea hit your gut, you paused before getting up from the couch with both intense curiosity and an intense need to find the bathroom before your stomach could erupt in the worst place possible. You hoped that no one realized what was happening, but you also knew that your luck was the worst and Sam was quick to follow as you hurried to the hallway and slammed the bathroom door behind you.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked through the door. He gave the handle a small jiggle just to test it in case you needed help, but you had the wherewithal to have locked it. "(Y/N)? What's going on?"

"Go away, Sam," you groaned between retches, "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you sound fantastic."

"Shut up. Please...go away."

"In a minute," he conceded, but held his position at the door. Soon, Clint was next to find his way there, along with Steve and Bucky. You had no idea that they had all congregated, but at this point, you knew that Sam had a big mouth and they would all know anyway.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Steve joined in, seeming to be the only one who was truly concerned and not just there to get the scoop. "Do you need me to come in?"

"I swear to god, Steve, if you come in here we'll never speak again."

Clint was next to step up to the door, giving it a gentle knock to signal his arrival, "hey, (Y/N), did you eat any of my leftovers in the fridge? I think I left some Pad Thai in there for like a month. That could be the problem."

"A month, Barton?" Steve nearly gagged. "Seriously, that's why we have rules. You date and initial everything you put in the refrigerator so things like this don't happen."

"I didn't eat your damn leftovers," you sighed, finally finding the strength to stand. You opened the bathroom door just slightly, enough for them to see that you were still alive, though you barely looked it as you leaned against its frame. "I think I caught a stomach bug."

"Mmm hmm," Sam smirked, "like some kind of Wakandan stomach flu? Lasts about nine months or so?"

"Pfft, no way. Not possible, Wilson. Besides, why is it that any time a woman throws up she just has to be pregnant? No other options are even considered. Clearly, our refrigerator needs to be quarantined and tested by the CDC."

Steve turned to Clint before he could retort and before he could admit to any more disgusting facts about his food habits, pointing the archer towards the kitchen with a look of unwavering authority. "Barton, you don't leave that kitchen until every nasty thing you've left in there is gone. I'll be in to check on it in ten minutes, go."

Clint began mumbling a few choice curses under his breath, only to stop when Steve changed his mind and followed behind him with heavy footsteps that actually scared Barton just a bit. As he followed his teammate, Steve turned back to Sam, pointing at you this time with the same look that Barton had just received. "Sam, get her up to bed, I'll check on her when I'm done here."

"You guys, I'm okay," you argued, "I can make it on my own."

"Nah," Bucky added this time, stepping in closer, "the thing is, you don't have to. I've got ya." He pushed the door open and stood at your side, sliding his arms beneath you to easily lift you to him. You didn't want to admit it, but the relaxation of not having to hold up your own weight was a tremendous relief that you were more than thankful for. "Just don't puke on me, okay? I know that I can't catch anything from you, but let's not take advantage of that."

Not being one to shirk his duties and orders from Steve, Sam was following quickly behind, holding doors and calling for the elevator as Bucky held you in place. Even with his task on his mind, he still had unanswered questions not soon to be let go. "So, (Y/N), what do you mean, it's not possible to have a little kitty in the oven? You don't like cats anymore, or what?"

"Yes, Sam, I still like cats. I love cats. I love cats more than I ever have," you answered sadly, "I just...I haven't had much chance to...play with one...in a long time."

Bucky looked at Sam and then to you and back to Sam, his brow slightly furrowed as his mind tracked the conversation. "We're still talking about T'Challa, right?"

"Yes, genius, we're talking about T'Challa," Sam groaned with a shake of his head. "How else would she get a kitten in her oven?"

"I don't know, man! You're talking about putting animals in ovens, and loving cats too much and honestly, I don't know what kind of weird shit you're into!"

~~~

The next day, you felt better for the most part, but there was still a lingering uneasiness in your stomach that would catch you off guard here and there if you moved too quickly. You still hadn't found the source of your illness, but with each passing hour that went by without any more incidents, it became less of a concern as to why to make place for the concern of how to not make it happen again.

The quinjet came into land at the edge of the vast opening of Mount Bashenga, where T'Challa's sister Shuri was awaiting your arrival as her brother had instructed her to do. You had only met her a few times, given that she was always working in her lab and your visits were definitely few and far between, but your sense of her was that she would do pretty much anything that he would ask of her without hesitation. So when Steve opened the jet doorway, only to pick you up much as Bucky had done the evening before, she was standing ready with a few of her team members to bring you down to her work room to find out exactly what was ailing you.

"Steve, I can walk."

"I'm under strict orders to not let you."

"Are you serious?" you grumbled with disbelief. "What did you tell him, that I was dying? There's no reason to get everyone so worked up over this. It's a stomach flu and it's going away. Now, put me down."

"Sure," he smiled back, doing exactly as instructed, but rather than putting you down onto your feet, he gently set you down on the gurney at Shuri's side. "There. You're down."

"You smartass."

As if on cue, and to no one's surprise in the least, T'Challa's hurried footsteps began to fill the room around you as Shuri brought you inside to begin her examination. You heard his voice before anyone else, as if your mind had been trained to find it within even the loudest chaos, but in reality, you had just missed hearing it so much that it was feeding your desire to stay awake in your heavy fatigue. Even so, when the weight of your lids became nearly too much, you dared to close them for just a second only to open them again to find T'Challa mere inches away and staring at you intently with an expression filled with worry.

"Jesus, T'Challa, you scared me!"

"I'm sorry, my love, I did not mean to," he quickly apologized, "I'm simply concerned. How are you feeling today? Now that I have you here so that I can see you, I must say, you actually have a hint of...green about you."

"Maybe I've been hanging around Banner too much," you shrugged, trying to sit up. He was quick to put up a hand to stop you, but you wouldn't let it. "T'Challa, I'm okay, I can sit up. I felt much worse yesterday. I'm sure that by tomorrow, I'll be back to normal."

"Hmm," he considered with a gentle nod. "Yes, I hope that you're right." He turned away and looked to Shuri, only to take a deep breath as he waited for her to look up and give him the only answer that he was waiting for. "Sister?"

"Give me a minute, these things take time," she urged. "This isn't something that I should make a mistake with, you know, and being pushy will only make me move slower." Shuri didn't balk at the groan of distaste that came from her brother, and she made no attempt to look up from her work to appease his mood. She fully expected him to push her further, but in the reaches of her periphery she could see that he had taken a firm grip on your hand, and she knew that he would follow her lead. "Okay, now I'm ready."

"And?"

"Ready for what?" you asked, but you may as well have been talking to the wall for the lack of response that you got in return.

Shuri simply smiled and walked up next to you, holding some kind of blue, glowing device next to your side until she was satisfied with what she saw, turning to T'Challa with a wide grin. "She's not."

"She's not...what?" Steve now joined in, just as confused as you were, until you looked at each other and shared in a moment of clarity. "Oh! Yeah, we already asked her that."

"You guys, every time a woman pukes it doesn't mean she's knocked up, seriously! What is it with everyone? Can't I just have the flu?"

The two siblings both opened their mouths to argue, but the arrival of yet another visitor shut them up before they could utter a single syllable. "Of course you can, my dear. You must forgive my children for their lack of manners, and their presumptions without speaking to you first. I've brought you something that will hopefully show my regret but also heal whatever is ailing you. Here," the Queen smiled, warm and inviting, holding her hands out with a small tray towards you, "eat this, and I promise you that by the time you wake in the morning, you will feel better than you have in as long as you can remember."

Steve couldn't help but find his curiosity piqued, reaching out to take the tray from her to set on the gurney at your side. He lifted up the ornate silver lid to see what was inside the bowl, closing his eyes at the aroma that left his stomach gurgling and churning with a voracious hunger. "This smells amazing, ma'am, what is it?"

"It's a recipe handed down through generations," Ramonda explained, "and one day, I hope to pass it to my children who shall pass it on to their own."

"It won't be anytime soon at the rate you two are moving," Shuri snickered under her breath.

"Shut uuuuup," T'Challa hissed back between clenched teeth, "you are so annoying. Mother, please tell her that she can go."

"Hey, you're the one who brought your sick girlfriend into my lab. You go!"

"You really must stop embarrassing me-"

"Please, you do plenty of that on your own."

"Mother-"

As the bickering continued, you looked to Steve, who was still eyeing the bowl meant for you, and gave him a gentle nudge of your hand to get his attention. "I'll split that with you if you can sneak me out of here before they notice."

"Done," he agreed without a second of hesitation. Within barely a few second's time, the two of you were successfully in the hallway, still hearing the family quarrel continue as you sat on the floor together and made short work of the Queen's gift. "So, (Y/N), tell me...you really like this guy, huh?"

"Yeah, Cap, despite this new side we're getting to see today, I really do."

"Okay, then I 'spose I'll like him too." Steve took a quick spoonful of soup, almost before his last word had finished, leaving him to dribble the broth down the front of his shirt. You tried to quickly catch it, but it only left you to try to clean up the mess left behind with the edge of your sleeve. "But my rule stands," he warned as he watched, "if he hurts you, I'll hurt him."

"Oh, Steve, that's really sweet. But I'd like to see you try."