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]

She had just enough energy to summon up that bit of mischief, knowing that he would be comforted by it in some way. Her body still felt completely awful, but she was at least now more aware of her actions than she had been before. There was no telling how long it might last, though.

"You love me," she reminded him with a bit of playfulness, continuing to slowly eat her soup. After she swallowed her next spoonful, she softly added, "I'm sorry about earlier. I don't remember all of it, but-- I'm sorry."

[on_ur_left]

Steve took a slow, steadying breath at her apology. It still hurt, remembering how she'd reacted to him, how she'd been so frantically searching for Remy, but what was the worst was how anxious, and then devastated, the entire ordeal had made her.

"I hope you remember I told you there was nothing to apologize for," he finally said gently. "You were disoriented. Should I apologize if I suddenly started looking for Peggy, or Bucky?" He swallowed after saying it, their names conjuring up the image; frantically searching for Peggy, Rogue trying to comfort him - the horrible realization eventually hitting him that the Peggy he was searching for was gone, like a physical blow. He still remembered it from when he first woke up, but at the time there had been no one around to see him break down from it.

"You love him," he continued, deliberately using the present tense. "I--" he gave in and scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face a couple times. "It hurt, hearing you calling out for him, but-- I think it was the suddenness of it, more than anything. I didn't know what was happening, at first."

He left out her drawing away from him, even though it had hurt, too - it had been an instinctual move, and she'd eventually let him touch her. Regardless, he didn't blame or begrudge her for any of it, and he hoped she understood that.