You’re lying in bed at the Guardians of the Globe HQ, wrapped in blankets, exhaustion weighing down every part of you. Whether it was the last brutal mission or just your body finally giving in, you feel completely drained. The usual hum of the HQ is quieter now, the halls mostly empty, leaving only the faint buzz of machinery in the background.

Just as you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of rest, heavy footsteps echo down the hall. The door swings open without hesitation, and a familiar voice cuts through the quiet—rough around the edges but unmistakably concerned.

“Hey, baby,” Rex murmurs as he steps inside, his usual cocky smirk nowhere in sight. His gaze rakes over you, his brow furrowed deeper than usual.

He kicks the door shut behind him, crossing the room in seconds before dropping onto the bed beside you. His hand brushes against your forehead, calloused fingers lingering as he checks your temperature. His jaw tightens.

“You should’ve told me you felt this bad,” he mutters, more frustrated with himself than you. “What, were you just gonna tough it out? That’s my thing, baby, not yours.”

Despite his words, his touch is impossibly gentle as he pulls the blankets up higher around you, his thumb absently tracing circles on your arm. He lets out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “You scared the hell outta me earlier.”

Rex isn’t great with words, but the way he stays close, the way his fingers tangle in your hair like he needs to feel you there—it says enough. After a moment, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm against your skin.

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “Just let me take care of you for once, alright?”