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.

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[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.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue was still asleep and in much the same position she'd been in when Steve had left the apartment, although somehow the blankets had ended up bunched up at the end of the bed and half on the floor. She shifted when he came into the room, less at the slight sound he made but more the shifting of the air and the instinctual knowledge of someone else being in the room.

"Hey," she croaked quietly, her throat aching something fierce. "Back already?"

[on_ur_left]

He hadn't meant to disturb her, and Steve winced at her hoarse voice. But she was awake now, at least partially, so he moved over to the bed and knelt down to be closer to eye-level with her.

"Yeah, I knew what I was getting," he murmured softly, ghosting a hand over her hair. He was glad he couldn't get sick anymore, because he couldn't stand the thought of having to leave her alone while she didn't feel good. "Do you need more to drink? I'm gonna go make some soup, but I can get you something real quick."

[theycalledmeacurse]

Just seeing him made her feel better. Safer. More secure. Even as she felt miserable and like she wanted to claw her own skin off, knowing he was there was such a comfort.

"I'm alright," she assured him, resettling against the pillows and glancing over at the nightstand. "I've still got that. You go play chef, sugar, just don't destroy my kitchen." She wasn't so far gone yet that she couldn't tease him a little.

[on_ur_left]

It made him feel better to hear her joking, even when she obviously didn't feel well. Still, he couldn't let her get away with that. Unable to quite hide a lopsided smile, he tilted his head, trying to look affronted. "I'm not a disaster in the kitchen. I was cooking my own food since I was 15, and helping out long before that. Just because I like convenience, doesn't mean I don't know how to do it, without making a mess."

Smoothing her hair down again, he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, before stroking her cheek. "You just relax, and don't worry about our kitchen. It will survive. But it'll miss you, so you gotta get better. The sooner you're back in there, I'm sure the happier it'll be."

He was trying to make light of the situation and being deliberately ridiculous, not wanting her to worry about how he was feeling about seeing her laid low by illness.

[theycalledmeacurse]

This wouldn't be the first time Steve had cooked for her, but she could certainly count the number of times quite easily, they were so few in number compared to her own daily ventures in the kitchen. It was sweet that he was going to do so now, though, and she appreciated his efforts immensely, even if she couldn't express her gratitude as thoroughly as she'd like.

"Our kitchen," she repeated, smiling despite the way she felt physically. It hadn't been that long since she'd move into the apartment with him, and it was still nice to hear the spaces referred to that way. "You'd better not make the soup too good, or I'll start expecting you to cook more often."

[on_ur_left]

"Yeah, well, I make no promises," he teased, smiling a little easier as they talked. She wasn't dying, she was just sick; she'd bounce back, and soon be up and around again. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. And until she was, he would take care of her as much as she allowed. "Besides, you can't judge it now - your taste buds are sick too, everything tastes different. And food made by someone else always tastes better." He knew both those things from plenty of experience growing up.

Pressing another kiss to her forehead, Steve stood up. "Get some more rest. It's gonna take a while to make the soup. I'll bring you some when it's done." He was about to turn away to leave, before remembering, "Oh. I got some Jell-O and pudding, too. I can make those while the chickens cooking, if you want some now. Any preferences? I got... strawberry, orange, and raspberry for Jell-O flavors, and vanilla, chocolate and butterscotch pudding mixes."

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was hard for Rogue to let anyone take care of her, she was so used to being the one looking after everyone else. And it had been so rare for her to be sick after her mutation manifested -- usually, the first sign of sniffles and Logan had demanded she take a bit of his healing factor to help get over it. The majority of the time, that step had worked, and she could only remember a handful of occasions when she'd been at all bad off. And before her mutation... Well, she'd been like any other child, though she'd done her best to push through any illness and take care of herself, she'd always been so afraid of being a burden. It was a great sign of trust that she was letting Steve help her now, and when she let herself think about it, it was actually quite a relief.

Jell-O and pudding. Oh, wasn't he wonderful. "Raspberry sounds nice," she told him, sitting up a bit more so she could reach over to get her travel mug of ginger ale off the side table. "And you know how I love chocolate."

[on_ur_left]

If Steve had thought about it, he might have tried talking her into doing the same thing as Logan, although he would've had no idea if the serum's effects on his immune system were the same as a mutation and might help her or not. Probably a good thing he hadn't thought of it, anyway. He wouldn't want to upset and alienate her while he was trying to take care of her.

He gave her an affectionate grin. "I do know how you love chocolate," he agreed. "I wasn't sure about the raspberry, but figured even if you didn't want it, I'd eat it. I'll make that first." It didn't require as much tending as pudding did, and he wouldn't have to have two pots on the stove at once, that way. He didn't want Rogue eating anything with milk while her fever was still strong, anyway.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Had Steve suggested it, she would not have taken it well, that was for certain. She'd only ever agreed to the practice with Logan because she knew the effect her mutation had on the other mutant, and she knew how quickly he bounced back from varying lengths of contact. With Steve things were less certain, and with the way she was feeling she would never have agreed to taking such a risk.

"Thank you, sugar," she murmured, sipping at her drink before returning it to the table. "You're the sweetest." And then she turned onto her side again, wrapping herself around his pillow like before. For a moment, she contemplated retrieving the blankets she'd pushed off in her sleep, but she wasn't cold and they kept feeling too constrictive, so she left them where they were.

[on_ur_left]

Steve moved over to the foot of the bed and picked up the discarded blankets. He thought about covering her up, but remembered how uncomfortable fevers could make a person - probably how the blankets had ended up by her feet in the first place - and instead settled them loosely beside her, so she could grab the edge and cover herself easily if she got chills.

"Holler if you need anything," he said, before thinking about how sore her throat already was. "Or text me, I've still got my phone in my pocket." It seemed kind of silly to him, texting someone who was just a couple rooms away, but it was also amazingly convenient if you couldn't talk well.

In the kitchen, he set up a large pot with water, cutting and adding vegetables while the water started heating, then set to work on deboning the chicken and cutting it into bite-size pieces. Once he'd added the chicken, he also added a few liberal dashes of seasonings; he wasn't really working from a recipe, just his own memory of watching his mother and what she had done. She also hadn't used a recipe, per sé, not a written one anyway. Just a general sense of what should be added and approximately when, knowledge handed down from her own mother. The motions were familiar, no matter how long it had been since he'd done this or watched it, and it helped soothe some of his nerves at seeing Rogue so sick.

Once the soup was boiling, he started the kettle heating for water for the Jell-O. He started putting the extra boxes of Jell-O and pudding away as he waited, glancing at each one before organizing them in the cupboard.

That's when he noticed it. The instructions on some of the pudding boxes were... wrong. You just added cold milk to the mix and then... that was it? He started comparing the instructions on all the boxes, and realized some were what he was used to - heat milk, add mix while stirring, let simmer, let cool, etc - and some were just 'add milk', basically.

Steve blew out a flummoxed puff of breath. He really was starting to acclimate and enjoy the 21st Century... but Jesus, people had gotten lazy.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue stayed where she was on the bed for around twenty minutes, trying and failing to doze off again because of the pain in her throat. She shifted onto her back, stretching out in an attempt to find a comfortable position, before turning again onto her other side, even going further so she was partially on her stomach. No matter how she lay, she felt awful, like her skin was too tight and everything inside was being pushed and pulled in the wrong directions. It was enough to make her want to cry in frustration.

Her hand was clumsy as she reached over for her phone, holding it for a while longer in agonized debate before finally turning it on and opening her messages. The idea of bothering Steve for anything made her uncomfortable, but if she climbed out of bed and collapsed in the hallway, he'd be so upset.

Could you check the drawer in the bathroom? I think there's a bag of lozenges in there.

[on_ur_left]

Steve had decided to try making one of the cold-mix butterscotch pudding mixes, so that if it came out sub-par, he wouldn't feel bad eating it all, since Rogue's main flavor was chocolate. He almost dropped the mixing bowl, he startled so much at the sudden vibrating at his hip. He shifted the bowl over to his hip, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone, swiping his thumb across the screen to read the whole message.

Blowing out a breath, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and quickly finished stirring the pudding, before shoving it in the fridge. He wiped his hands habitually on the apron he'd put on, even though he hadn't actually gotten anything on himself; one of his few contributions to Rogue's kitchen had been an apron for each of them. With long strides, he moved into the bathroom and started looking for lozenges. He found them in the bottom drawer, a fancy sort of paper package that boasted honey and lemon and menthol to help soothe sore throats and clear out your sinuses. Having never needed any or tried them before, he pulled open the bag and sniffed - pulling back a little with wide eyes. Wow, that really would clear your sinuses, he thought as he headed into the bedroom.

"Hey," he called softly. "I got your lozenges." He settled on the side of the bed, placing a hand on her arm. Even her arm felt hot to the touch, which worried him, since he knew his own body temperature ran slightly higher than normal, and upper arms were usually cooler to the touch than the forehead or wrist.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Her eyes had drifted closed while she waited for Steve, and she opened them again at the sound of his voice, turning her head slightly so she could look up at him more easily. "Thanks, sugar," she replied just as softly, though her voice was a good deal rougher than his.

Taking the package from him, she fished out one of the little individually wrapped drops. It was automatic for her to twist it open and pop the drop into her mouth, letting it rest on her tongue as the menthol and lemon swept over her tongue. The cool rush on her throat was a relief, the numbing sensation almost immediately starting to take effect, and she sighed quietly.

He was wearing his apron, she noted, reaching out to set a hand on his leg, her fingers wrapping around the hem of the apron as she offered him a small smile. She always enjoyed it when he wore his apron.

[on_ur_left]

"I'm gonna set these over here for you," he said gently, placing the bag on the nightstand beside her ginger ale. He smoothed a hand across her forehead, over her hair. "The soup might be a little bit yet, but I made some butterscotch pudding. I'll make some chocolate next. You need anything else?"

He wished he could do more for her. He wished he could take away her illness, so she was the bright, energetic Rogue he was used to. Anything to stop her from hurting.

Then he realized he could stop her from hurting. If she used her power to take a little bit of his healing factor... but she'd never agree to it. Not in the weakened state she was in now, she'd be too worried about her control. She'd only done it a couple of times before, on accident, and it had always plagued her, even though it had always been short contact, and he bounced back with minimal side effects. The way she was now, even if she did agree, she might not have the control to stop when she needed to, and he'd learned that he was powerless to pull away until she released him.

It was a slippery slope, and he wouldn't ask her to make that decision. He desperately wanted to, but he couldn't stand being the cause of any guilt she felt afterward.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Her eyes closed at his hand on her forehead, his touch feeling almost cool since her skin was so much warmer than his. But more than that, it was comforting in the way that few other things were at that moment.

Shaking her head, she burrowed further into the pillow. "I'm gonna try and sleep some more," she murmured. "Wake me when there's soup?" The heat of the soup would make it easier to eat, and then she might be able to get down some of the pudding too. But for now, her main priority was getting through the pain in her throat long enough to fall asleep again.

[on_ur_left]

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hot brow. "Okay. I love you." He said it often enough, but she definitely needed to hear it now. It killed him to see her like this, and he knew she would get better - it was just a cold, at worst a common strain of flu, nothing to be worried about in this day and age, and yet there was still a part of him that always fretted, always panicked when she got sick, and especially now. If she started having coughing fits, he'd be hard-pressed to hide his anxiety from her. He'd end up standing outside the bedroom door, ringing his hands in worry.

Knowing there really wasn't anything else he could do, Steve stepped back, out into the kitchen; it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done to move away from her, but hovering over her wasn't going to help either of them. She needed to rest without feeling bad for making him feel anxious, and he needed to keep himself busy. He had a newfound appreciation for why Rogue was always cooking. He forced his mind to concentrate on what his hands were doing, testing the soup, and in a fit of productivity, decided to forgo the pudding mix altogether, and make his own from scratch.

His memory was a little spotty about how his mother had made it, but a quick internet search on his phone helped him find a recipe that sounded, if not exact, then close enough to what his mother had done that he was comfortable with it. Fortunately, it called for basic ingredients that they already had. He started pulling everything out and placing it on the island, testing the eggs in water to make sure they were fresh, before starting to beat them by hand in a bowl, adding milk and cornstarch, starting a second pan on the stove to heat up milk, cocoa powder, sugar and a pinch of salt.

Moving back and forth between his phone and cooking, enough of his mind and body were occupied that he started to feel a little more settled. He had a clear task and goal, and that was enough, for the moment.

[theycalledmeacurse]

When Rogue did fall asleep, it was restless, dreams and memories flitting in and out of her mind in a whirlwind. She shifted in her sleep once, twice, seeking comfort that wasn't there, and finally woke with a start, feeling cold and frightened.

"Remy?" she called, though her voice was cracked and barely more than a whisper. Sitting up, her head spun and she looked around the room that was familiar but didn't fit with the reality she expected. Everything was mushed together in her mind and all she knew for certain was that she needed to find her husband.

"Remy?" she tried a little louder, moving her legs over the side of the bed and heaving herself to her feet. She felt so weak, but she had to find him. Unfortunately, she only made it a handful of steps before stumbling into the wall with a smacking thud.

[on_ur_left]

Purposefully distracted by his different cooking projects, Steve was drawn out of his concentration by some noise coming from the bedroom. Glancing toward the doorway, he slowed to a pause, waiting to see if Rogue called out for him, or texted him again. She might have just bumped the bedside table.

When he did hear her call out - it wasn't for him. Steve felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach when he heard Rogue call out for Remy; followed quickly by worry and a spike of panic, because there was no good reason for Rogue to be calling out for her deceased husband, unless she was confused, possibly delirious. Quickly turning the heat down on the stove burners, Steve was already on his way toward the bedroom when he heard a thud that could only be from a body hitting a hard surface, a sound he was very familiar with. His stride turned into a sprint, but he came to a stop just in the doorway.

Thankful he hadn't heard her hitting the floor, he was still concerned that she was up and leaning against the wall - obviously what she'd fallen against. "Rogue?" he called cautiously.