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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[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.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Between the fever and her exhaustion, Rogue's mental shields were lowering enough that things were blurring together. She recognized Steve as he stopped at the door, knew who he was to her, but it was buried beneath the need to reach her husband. There was something wrong, she knew it, and she couldn't just stay there in bed when Remy was out there.

"Where is he?" she asked in her broken voice, leaning heavily against the wall while she tried to find the energy to start walking again. "I have to find him--" There was a tickling at the back of her throat and she coughed, grimacing at the aggravation to her already sore throat.

[on_ur_left]

Worry warred with emotion as Rogue continued to be confused, looking for Remy. It wasn't that she'd woken up disoriented and it had taken her a moment to remember where she was. On top of her fever, it wasn't a good sign at all. Underneath all that though, it hurt that when she was sick and confused, she instinctively looked for him. Steve ruthlessly pushed the feeling down, because what did he expect? She'd been with Remy for he didn't even know how many years, through some of the worst times of her life. He'd been in Rogue's life for approximately six months. There was no comparison.

"He's--" his throat closed, and he couldn't help but move forward, reaching out to support her as she started coughing. "You're sick, Rogue. You need to get back in bed. Come on."

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was instinctive for her to lean back away from Steve when he was trying to get her to stay in bed. She couldn't lie down again, she had to keep moving, he just didn't understand. Steve didn't know the war, he hadn't lived on the run from the Sentinels...

But Steve wasn't part of that war. He was from after that, wasn't he? Her head was aching and everything else felt just as awful. She didn't have the time or energy to sort out the conflicting details.

"No, I have to find him," she insisted again, shaking her head and regretting it. "They're looking for us, he can't fight them alone--"

[on_ur_left]

Steve made his own involuntary move back when she pulled away from him; in truth, it hurt more to have her pull away than it did asking for her husband. Remy made sense, but what she was saying made it sound like she didn't know where or when she was.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to stay calm over his rising panic at her state of mind. "No one's after you, Rogue. You're safe here. No one knows you're here, no one's gonna get you. I promise."

He started to reach out again, before placing his hand on the wall and leaning there; he really didn't want to see her pull away from him again. "Remy's not fighting them alone. He's...he's safe now, too. Rogue, please - you're sick, I just don't want you to hurt yourself. Let's get you back in bed."

[theycalledmeacurse]

"He's safe?" The words were confused but hopeful, though not quite trusting. It didn't make sense. If he was safe, then he would be there with her. He'd never left her, he'd promised that he never would--

Let me stay wit' you, chere.

She shook her head again, leaning away from the wall and took a step forward toward the bed, though that wasn't her intention. "He's not--" He wasn't here. This wasn't her world, buildings were still standing and people were still alive. But he wasn't. The realization hit her like a fist to the stomach, the memories clicking back into proper order and she covered her mouth in shock.

[on_ur_left]

Damning whether she wanted him to touch her or not, Steve moved forward again. He knew as soon as her words broke off that she had realized what had happened to him. He didn't know if she remembered, but it was clear from her actions. "Sw--" he bit off the term of endearment, desperately wanting to say it, but not wanting to possibly upset her more. "Rogue. I'm sorry. Come on, come here." He reached out and took her gently by the upper arm, ready to guide her back to at least sit down on the side of the bed.

[theycalledmeacurse]

She let him help her back to the bed, going without protest this time. His touch was grounding, reminding her of the life she had on this world. The life she had with him.

"Steve, I--" She wanted to apologize for having put him through that, for making him worry about her, but the words wouldn't come. Opening her mouth to try again, all that came out was a sob as she leaned into him and started to cry from the weight of her grief, guilt, and frustration.

[on_ur_left]

Heart breaking all over again as she started crying, Steve gathered her up against his chest, soothing a hand down her back, the other cupping her head against his shoulder. "Shhh," he soothed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, darling," he murmured, swaying just slightly.

After just a moment, he pulled them both over the couple steps to the side of the bed, sitting down and settling Rogue beside him, still holding her and whispering reassurances and apologies into her hair.

[theycalledmeacurse]

He shouldn't be apologizing, it was stupid, all of this was so stupid. He'd been gone for almost five years now, she shouldn't be crying like this. That's what she kept telling herself while she struggled to regain her composure, not able to face just how strong her grief was after having, for just a few minutes, forgotten that Remy was gone. In a way, she'd lost him all over again, and made her feel like she was dying inside.

A few minutes passed before she calmed, exhaustion weighing her down even more so now than before. "I'm sorry, Steve," she murmured against his shirt. "I'm so sorry."

[on_ur_left]

"You have nothing to apologize for, okay? Nothing." He kept his voice soft, but his words were adamant. He pressed a kiss to her hair just above her forehead. "Let's lay down for a little bit, okay? Come on, I'll lay down with you."

Gently, he urged her onto the bed, scooting close to her and keeping an arm wrapped around her.

[theycalledmeacurse]

She didn't have the energy to argue with him, barely had the energy to curl up properly on the bed instead of just falling face-down into her pillow. It was good that he stayed close - she pressed even closer, finding comfort in his warmth and solid presence.

"Please don't leave me..." was her whispered request before she fell asleep, her body demanding that she give in and rest.

[on_ur_left]

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, holding her just that little bit tighter. "Never," he whispered, even though he was pretty sure she'd already fallen asleep. "Never ever."

He stayed there, holding her while she slept, for quite a while. He wasn't at all tired physically, but emotionally he was a little drained, as he always was after Rogue had nightmares and he had to help settle her down. Being strong and seeing her in so much pain was exhausting. So he lay with her, letting his mind wander, not allowing it to settle on any one thing for too long.

Eventually, he remembered that he'd left the stove on; the heat had been lowered, but that wasn't going to keep the food indefinitely. With great reluctance, pressing a kiss to her forehead first, he gently shook Rogue awake enough to murmur, "I have to go back to the food. I'm still here, okay?"

[theycalledmeacurse]

While he held her, Rogue slept pretty heavily, exhaustion pulling her deep enough that she didn't notice how terrible she felt anymore. It wasn't until Steve gently shook her that she woke, blinking up at him in confusion for a few moments before registering what he'd said.

"Okay," she finally croaked, letting her eyes close again as she nodded slightly. "Love you." It would have been nice if he could stay, he was so warm and she felt so safe with his arms around her, but the part of her that was still thinking logically knew that she needed to eat something and that Steve would be insufferable if she didn't.

[on_ur_left]

The last thing Steve wanted to do was get out of bed and move away from Rogue, but practicality won out over his own wishes. "I love you too," he murmured, kissing her forehead before moving back to the kitchen.

Thankfully, since he'd left the stove on low instead of turning the burners off completely, the food had continued to cook. Testing the soup, he figured it needed another 5-10 minutes at most. The pudding he looked at dubiously, but after a tasting, he decided it was salvageable, after skimming the film that had started to form off the top of it, and giving it a thorough stirring.

Not quite twenty minutes after he'd left her, Steve was moving back into the bedroom, this time carrying a lap tray with a bowl of soup, smaller bowl of homemade chocolate pudding, and another cup of ginger ale. He set it down at the foot of the bed, reaching out to skim his hand along Rogue's upper arm, before gently shaking her shoulder.

"Hey, sweetheart. I brought food."

[theycalledmeacurse]

Had she the energy to startle, she likely would have at waking from a deep sleep again, but as it was, she just blinked up at Steve a few times before comprehending what he'd said. Food. Right. He'd been cooking, that's why he'd had to leave her earlier...

Sitting up slowly, carefully, she reached for more pillows to prop herself up with when her eyes caught on the tray. "Chocolate pudding," she murmured, a subdued smile curling her lips when she looked up at Steve. "And soup. You take such good care of me."