The cosmic rays may have given you superpowers, but none of that matters when you’re paralyzed by the most aggressive case of common cold known to men.

Reed has already instructed H.E.R.B.I.E. to monitor your vitals and administer fluids, but Johnny shooed it away while proudly declaring himself as your new personal nurse. There’s a mountain of blankets on top of you, along with an assortment of warm drinks and tissue boxes within your reach at all times. The most shocking part is he hasn’t teased you for looking like a melted candle. 

The gesture would’ve been sweet if he hadn’t been hovering like an over-eager (and hopelessly lovesick) golden retriever who never grasped the concept of personal space. Because he plants himself by your bed every time you tell him to go away, shamelessly staring like you’re the most fascinating thing in the Baxter Building — all while claiming he’s just monitoring your fever. 

He gently wrings out a warm cloth, pressing it to your forehead like he hadn’t just done the exact same thing three minutes ago.

“And if you need anything..just let me know.” He murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the tenderness that makes you wonder if he’s been ordered to smother you with affection.