Flu Season (February)

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue felt awful.

She'd rolled out of bed that morning feeling sluggish and foggy-headed, and no amount of coffee had helped her break free of the funk she was in. Her limbs felt heavy and she was exhausted despite having gotten a full night's rest. It was a struggle to get through her morning tutoring session, and she'd never been more glad to hear that the second client was sick and needed to cancel. So she trudged home, her throat beginning to itch as she called to see if Steve was there.

When silence answered her, she dropped her bag by the door and toed off her shoes, shrugging off her coat as she padded toward the couch. The coat was discarded on a chair before she plopped down on the couch, pulling down a throw blanket from the back as she stretched out and promptly fell into an uneasy sleep.

Comments

[on_ur_left]

Paperwork was the worst. It had been bad enough during the war, but peacetime had made it multiply exponentially. Fury had been making noises for several months now about Steve officially joining SHIELD's ranks, even if he stayed auxiliary and didn't go on many missions. Well, now Steve was officially employed by SHIELD, although he felt vaguely like he'd just signed his soul away to do it.

Knowing that Rogue would still be with her second appointment today, Steve made a quick trip to the butcher's, to get some fresh ground beef. He figured he'd make stovetop hamburgers for supper, since they were easy, filling, and something he could actually cook without assistance. He knew Rogue enjoyed cooking, but he still felt guilty with how often and how much she cooked, especially when he always ate the majority of it.

Steve wasn't quiet when he arrived home, since it was the middle of the afternoon, and Rogue wouldn't be finished at work for probably another hour yet. He kicked the apartment door shut with his foot while he headed toward the kitchen, putting the meat in the fridge until he was ready to start on dinner. It was only when he turned to head through the living area toward his studio room that he noticed Rogue on the couch, covered in a blanket.

[theycalledmeacurse]

The sound of the door shutting was loud enough to startle Rogue awake, but she wasn't present enough to actually feel any fear at the sudden sound. Instead, she just blinked for a few moments, trying to muster the energy to sit up, but it wasn't until Steve turned to face her that she managed to do so.

"Hey, sugar," she greeted him in a low, raspy voice, lifting a hand to rub at her face. "How did you meeting at SHIELD go?" She couldn't remember where she'd left her bag, but she remembered the meeting that he'd been grumbling over for days, knowing what was likely going to be brought up.

[on_ur_left]

"Hey," he greeted quietly, moving over to crouch down in front of the couch to be eye-level with her. "It...went. I'm officially employed, now. Got the paperwork signed to prove it. Fury said they probably wouldn't pull me for anything without some company training, but he didn't seem in much of a rush to get on it. Which is fine by me." He kept his voice soft and gentle, while his eyes catalogued Rogue. Her eyes were a little glassy and unfocused, and her face looked flushed along her cheeks. He reached out to brush her hair away from her face, using the habitual move to feel her temperature. Steve's body ran hot all the time, so when Rogue felt slightly warm to the touch, he frowned in concern.

"Have you taken your temp yet? I think you're running a fever." He didn't want to say any more - he knew how Rogue got about being sick. He tried to sound as casual and non-motherhen as possible.

[theycalledmeacurse]

He could try as much as he liked, but she knew him and could hear the motherhen instinct creeping into his voice. She did appreciate the gesture of him trying to keep it in check, though. Steve took care of people, it was just who he was, and with her he was always a little more intense with it.

Shaking her head, she ran a hand over her hair, feeling the bumps and growing nest of tangles that had once been a perfectly nice french braid. "My second client canceled because she's sick with the flu, so I came home and just--" A gesture to the couch before she leaned back against it and closed her eyes. "I saw her two days ago, I must have gotten it from her."

[on_ur_left]

It was a good thing Rogue had closed her eyes, because Steve couldn't quite check his instinctual flinch away from her as she mentioned she probably had the flu. People died from influenza!

And then common sense kicked in, and he felt silly. First of all, thanks to the Serum, he couldn't catch the flu anymore; second of all, it hadn't been a devastating illness since literally the year he was born. But a lifetime of being frail and prone to catching every illness, as well as a mother who'd worked the influenza wards during the Spanish 'flu, meant he had a slightly different outlook about it than other people in this modern era.

Taking stock of the situation, Steve nodded to himself decisively. "Right. You really shouldn't've told me that," he joked gently. "Because now I'm gonna end up playing nurse. And you are a lousy patient." There was plenty of affection in his tone to take the sting out of his words, at least. "I'm gonna go get you some Ginger Ale. You need to stay hydrated."

And he had some Googling to do. He knew all the home remedies he'd been put through, but no idea how many of them had actually been helpful, and how much had just been old wives' tales, or even potentially harmful. He'd smoked special cigarettes for his asthma when he was younger, for heaven's sake! Modern medicine had come a long way since then.

[theycalledmeacurse]

If she'd seen that flinch... There was no way it wouldn't have gone badly. In her right mind, Rogue would have immediately made the connection to influenza being a much scarier thing in the early twentieth century, but in her current state where she wasn't even quite sure what day it was anymore, she would have only seen the reaction of so many people when they learned she was a mutant. That flinch haunted her dreams even now after almost a year in this world where she was the only one of her kind, and it was something she wasn't going to get over anytime soon.

His joke made her chuckle quietly. "I am a lousy patient," she agreed quietly, opening her eyes again to watch him. "I think you might have an easier go of it this time, though, sugar. I feel lousy in general right now." She tugged at the neck of her blouse, feeling far too warm even as she continued to huddle under the blanket. "Ginger ale sounds good, though."

[on_ur_left]

Feeling uneasy with the fact that Rogue felt bad enough to voluntarily let him take care of her, Steve nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead (definitely running a fever) before moving back to the kitchen to get her drink.

He also pulled out his phone, tapping the search bar and typing in 'how to take care of the flu'. The first site he found was for the Mayo Clinic, which was comforting, since it had been around even before he'd been born. He frowned as he read 'take acetaminophen or ibuprofen to relieve fever'; he'd grown up hearing that a fever was your body's way of naturally fighting off an illness, and unless it got too high, or lasted too long, to just let it run its course. The site also only mentioned drinking water, broth, or sports drinks, but not ginger ale, which was Rogue's preferred beverage when she didn't feel well.

He'd make chicken soup later and try to get her to drink that; it was all about picking his battles.

Clearly he had a lot more research to do, but at least he didn't see anything about homemade chest poultices, or breathing in steam with black pepper added to it. (He did remember sneezing a lot from that one, but it had never seemed to clear a congested head.)

He put Rogue's drink in a travel mug, with ice and a straw, so that if it got tipped or dropped, it wouldn't spill as much, before bringing it back to her. "I wanna take your temperature," he told her quietly. "I know you're running a fever, but I wanna see how high it is."

[theycalledmeacurse]

Pajamas would be really nice right now, Rogue decided while Steve was gone. Much better than the green blouse and black dress pants she was wearing that felt too tight and constrictive and hadn't been at all comfortable while she'd been laying down. She was contemplating the amount of effort it would take to haul herself off the couch and down the hall, find and change into pajamas, and finally climb into bed when Steve returned.

Blinking slowly up at him, she was grateful that he was posing it almost as a request rather than just manhandling her, as would have been so easy to do with her current state. "You're lucky I don't have the energy to protest," she informed him with a small smile, taking the travel mug from him but not making a move to actually drink any of it yet - she couldn't remember what type of thermometer was in the medicine cabinet.

No, she'd let him take her temperature, but if he so much as hinted at her going to the doctor-- It didn't matter how bad she felt, there was no way she going anywhere near a hospital or clinic. She'd rather feel like death than risking bringing up the worst of the memories of her imprisonment, which going anywhere medical was sure to do.

[on_ur_left]

The thought of forcing Rogue into doing anything didn't even cross Steve's mind. He was still considering how she acted when she was healthy, which was usually: damn stubborn and resisting. And he knew better than to even suggest a clinic visit. He wasn't much one to think about going to the doctor's unless it was urgent, anyway, though for different reasons; there just hadn't been the money when he was younger, and having a nurse for a mother meant he'd been taken care of well enough at home.

He quirked a weak smile at her words. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find the energy, if I say something you really want to protest. But I'm working my way up to the really awful stuff you won't like," he teased. "Right now, let's get you comfortable. You wanna stay on the couch, or go to bed?" It was a comfortable couch, and Steve knew how staring at the same four walls could make you feel even worse after a while; but Rogue hadn't gotten to that point yet, and he figured she might prefer bed at the moment. And if that's what she chose, he was perfectly willing to carry her. Whether she wanted him to or not.

[theycalledmeacurse]

He knew her so well. She was almost looking forward to him suggesting something she didn't like, just so she could see that exasperated look in his eyes when she put up a fight whatever it was. They could both be as stubborn as mules, and sometimes it was just a waiting game to see who would give ground first for one reason or another.

"I think bed would be better," she decided, sitting up properly with a deep sigh. "And pajamas." The last bit was added because she had a pretty good idea that he would be determined to help her get to said bed, and she wasn't entirely sure she could change clothes without falling over at this point. Still, she grabbed onto the arm of the couch and pulled herself up, holding tight to the travel mug in her hand and being quite proud of herself when she didn't drop it or wobble as she stood upright.

[on_ur_left]

Steve pressed his lips together to hold in his sigh as Rogue stood up on her own. But he let her, and even managed not to hover too much. "You know if you wobble even a little, I'm gonna scoop you up and carry you, right?" he asked, the question mostly rhetorical, and more just to warn her in case she hadn't figured it out yet. "Do you want to at least lean on me?"

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue gave Steve a side-eye look as she considered her options. He would swoop in the second she looked like she might fall, and he was faster than her even when she wasn't sick. Groaning slightly, she rolled her eyes in exasperation before reaching an arm up to his shoulder.

"Might as well just go ahead and do it, sugar," she informed him. "It'll be faster, anyway." She could pick her battles too.

[on_ur_left]

It felt really inappropriate to smile, but Steve still found himself biting his lip to hold back his grin at Rogue's reaction and words. He tucked his arm around her waist, then stooped and swept her legs up, being careful to move more slowly than usual as he straightened back up, so the change in position hopefully wouldn't make her dizzy.

He was aware of every shift of her in his arms as he walked into the bedroom, and tried to move as smoothly as possible, before lowering her to the side of the bed. He grabbed her pajamas and put them beside her, before saying, "I'm gonna go get the thermometer while you get changed, okay?" He knew better than to suggest the indignity of helping her change clothes - really, he needed to just start treating Rogue as if she were him when he used to get sick all the time. Of course, if she acted like he had, she probably would've tried to slug him already. Rogue was actually a much better patient, in that regard.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was more than apparent that Steve was struggling to hold back his smile, but she was fairly certain that were their positions reversed, she wouldn't have managed nearly as well as he did. She didn't blame him for finding her reaction amusing, lord knew how much delight she took in getting him to make all sorts of expressions.

Giving him a nod, she started working on the buttons of her blouse. It was easy to switch shirts - the pants were more of an obstacle. Since standing was a bit of an iffy venture, she shimmied out of them while staying seated, and managed to get the pajama bottoms on in much the same way. It was probably quite the spectacle, but she thankfully managed to complete it before Steve returned, though the oversized t-shirt may have been inside-out.

[on_ur_left]

It took Steve several minutes of increasingly-frantic searching before he finally found an oral thermometer in one of the cabinets - partly because it was plastic and digital, and the last time he'd had to use one, they'd all been glass and filled with mercury.

Back in the bedroom once more, he handed over the thermometer. "I have no idea how this thing works," he admitted. He was sure it wasn't at all complicated, and he'd be able to figure it out easily enough if he had to, but he could figure it out just watching Rogue use it, and that way she wouldn't feel like he was babying her, as well. It had to be one of her additions to the apartment, anyway, as he had no need for one.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue never failed to find it adorable when Steve admitted he didn't know or understand something. There were so many people who would bumble through things just to try to save face, but Steve wasn't ever ashamed of his lack of knowledge, he simply took steps to fill in the gaps so he would know next time. She was proud of him for choosing to live his life that way.

Pressing the button to make sure the battery still had some juice, set the thermometer on the back of her tongue and waited for about thirty seconds until there was quiet beep that signaled the reading was complete. She removed the thermometer, took a glance at the temperature displayed, and promptly handed it over to Steve.

Yeah, she definitely had a fever.

[on_ur_left]

Steve sat by her knees and took the thermometer back, his eyebrows raising in surprise for a second, before drawing together in slight concern. It wasn't dangerously high, but it wasn't exactly low-grade, either. He shook the thermometer a couple times, before rolling his eyes at himself. "Force of habit," he told her absently, pushing the button to turn it off, before sliding it back into the protective cover.

"Alright." He rested his hands on his knees and leveled Rogue with a look. "Do you want Tylenol, or Advil, for pain? It'll help lower your fever, too. I'd say we should let the fever run its course, but honestly, I'm not real comfortable with it being that high for long. But if you wanna leave it, that's up to you."

[theycalledmeacurse]

As exasperating as he could be when he decided to be a motherhen, she also found it completely adorable when he tried to take care of her. This was the first time she'd really been sick, but on nights when her nightmares had been especially awful, he'd done everything he could to make her comfortable. He was such a sweet man, she really didn't deserve him.

"I'll take something," she decided with only a second of thought. "My throat's starting to feel like a cat scratched it all up. And it might help me sleep a bit better." Sleep was something she desperately wanted at the moment.

[on_ur_left]

Nodding, Steve leaned forward to kiss her forehead again, before going to retrieve the painkillers. He read the directions before shaking two out and taking them back to Rogue.

"Tylenol," he said, handing her the pills. "It didn't say anything about needing to eat food with them." Which, considering her issues with eating still, was probably why she had them stocked.

"Are-- will you be okay for a little while, if I run to the store?" He wanted to get the ingredients he'd need to make some chicken soup. He'd have to go through the cupboards and fridge first though, to see what they already had; this was one of the downsides to letting Rogue run the kitchen - he never knew what was actually there already, on the off-chance that he did decide he wanted to cook.

[theycalledmeacurse]

She popped the pills into her mouth and took a drink of the ginger ale, only mildly grimacing at the pain of actually swallowing them. If they managed to help her feel even a tiny bit better, then it was well worth it. Because right now she felt absolutely terrible.

"I'll be just fine, sugar," she assured him, leaning over to set the mug on the nightstand before slowly, carefully pulling back the covers so she could crawl in between the blankets. "All I'm gonna do is sleep. I promise I won't try any daring escapades while you're gone." It was exhausting to even consider getting out of bed, let alone actually doing anything once she was back on her feet. No, she was perfectly okay with spending the foreseeable future bonding with their pillows.

[on_ur_left]

Steve stood close to the bed, but back far enough that he wasn't in her way, trying not to hover. He clasped his hands together behind his back, falling into parade rest unconsciously; he wasn't wringing his hands, but they were clutched tightly together to keep him from moving forward and helping her. Rogue wouldn't appreciate it, and he needed her to be not-mad at him, so she'd continue to let him take care of her at least a little.

Looking around suddenly, he went into the living room, returning a moment later with her cell phone, which she'd left by the couch, and handed it to her. "Text if you need anything, or think of anything you want me to get. You know what's in the kitchen better than I do," he joked weakly. He was already making a mental list of things he wanted to check if they had, and buy if necessary.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Even when she was at far less than a hundred percent, Rogue could tell when he was trying his darnedest not to do something. In this case, she was guessing it was mother-hen her until she locked him out of the bedroom. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate that he wanted to take care of her, his affection meant the entire world to her, but she really just couldn't help the way it grated on her after a while. So they were the both of them going to have to work at being mindful of each other during this ordeal.

She started to set the cell phone on the bed beside her, then thought better of it and instead put it on the nightstand next to her drink. If she rolled over at any point, then who knew where it might end up. "Thank you, Steve," she murmured, managing to give him a small smile even though she felt like death. "Go on, sugar, I'll be okay."

[on_ur_left]

Sighing softly, he leaned onto the bed, reaching out to put one hand on her cheek and kissing her forehead again. "I love you. I'll be back in a while. Text me if you need anything," he said slightly forcefully, raising his eyebrows to try and get her to understand that he really meant anything, and not just trying to do something herself and falling and hitting her head and he really needed to stop thinking about this now.

[theycalledmeacurse]

"I love you too," she answered, wishing she had the energy to give him a playful shove to get him on his way. Not that it would have done much even when she was at full strength, but he usually got the idea. As it was, she simply made a point of rolling onto her side facing the window and grabbing his pillow to hold like a stuffed animal. He'd be lucky if he got it back when he came to bed that night.

[on_ur_left]

He couldn't help standing there for just a few seconds longer, just watching her even after she'd rolled away from him, before taking a deep breath and moving into the kitchen. Checking the fridge, he wasn't entirely surprised they didn't have the ingredients he needed for soup, as carrots, celery and onions were easy enough to buy, and Rogue liked using fresh ingredients. He'd have to get chicken while he was out, too, but thankfully the local markets had a butchery section with fresh meats.

He didn't find any Jell-O packets in any of the pantry cupboards, either, so he went off to the store with a mental list.

The produce and chicken were easy enough to procure... it was when he went looking for the Jell-O that he ran into trouble. Namely, the sheer volume and diversity of products. There was Jell-O already in individual boxes, but he figured Rogue wouldn't appreciate those. But that still left all the box mixes of various flavors, and boy, were there a lot of flavors. There was the regular fruit flavors; cherry, strawberry, orange. And then there was kiwi, pineapple, raspberry, blue raspberry, and combinations of pretty much all of those, plus flavors like fruit punch (which he at least recognized), arctic blast, tropical... What the heck did 'tropical' even mean?

Finally he just grabbed a few boxes of orange, strawberry, and decided to try the raspberry - even if Rogue didn't like it, he'd eat it. Even if he didn't particularly like it. Jell-O he made himself would taste infinitely better than anything he'd had in the army. (Although possibly with a similar consistency.)

Glancing along the aisle one more time to see if he'd missed anything, he spotted the pudding. Pudding... huh. Now there was an idea. It would definitely be richer and more filling than the Jell-O (although the Jell-O would be better at keeping her hydrated), and it probably had a lot more calories in it. Steve still didn't entirely understand the whole 'calorie counting' thing that everyone seemed to talk about now, but he understood that it helped you gain weight, which was something Rogue needed help with, especially while she was sick and probably wouldn't feel like eating much, anyway. Even less than usual.

His hand hovered over the boxes uncertainly for a minute. He finally picked up two boxes of vanilla, four of chocolate because he was pretty certain she'd always eat something chocolate flavored, and four boxes of butterscotch. He didn't know if Rogue enjoyed butterscotch, but he did, so again - if she didn't eat it, he'd have no problem polishing it all off.

That sorted, Steve swung by the dairy section and bought another gallon of milk - they had one half-full still, but he enjoyed drinking it, and he'd need more for the pudding anyway. Then, he was headed home, checking his phone to make sure he hadn't missed a text from her. She was surely still sleeping - at least he hoped.

Making it back into the apartment quietly, Steve stashed the perishables in the fridge for a moment, set the bag of boxes on the island counter, and went to check on Rogue. Just to make sure.