phasing_cat | Oops I Overdid It Again

Entry tags:

who: americanass; verse: captain pryde

Oops I Overdid It Again - for @americanass

Kitty struggled out of the taxi, nearly falling to one knee when she stepped up onto the sidewalk. Every part of her felt like it was filled with lead, and her clothes and hair smelled like smoke. She assumed that she looked as disheveled as she felt, but that wasn't important at the moment. Looking up, she was greeted by a small miracle. Since the last time she'd been there, a shelter had been built over the bench at the bus stop just a few feet away. She shuffled over to it, planted her feet, locked her knees, and leaned back against it. Immediate threat of collapse handled.

It was late, after midnight, and the street was deserted though the sounds of traffic from the main thoroughfare a couple blocks away floated in the air. This was a good neighborhood, on the nicer side without being obvious about it, and the building was very secure. She didn't have the key fob or code to get in on her own. So she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Steve's number. If she weren't so utterly exhausted it would have occurred to her to call while still in the cab, so that if he wasn't home she could have chosen a different destination. But she was committed now, for better or worse. Glancing up at the darkened windows she knew looked into his bedroom and living room, she prayed that he was there. And awake. Or at least had left his phone ringer on.

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up...

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"Ah, Mr. Rogers. Katherine has told me a lot about you. It's nice to meet you, such as it is. I wish it were under different circumstances." Storm took a moment to consider what he'd said in combination with Kitty's actions. She would always think of her as Kitty, even if she no longer wished to be called that. And though she would prefer to be the one taking care of her, Kitty was no longer a child - even if Ororo did love her as if she were her own daughter.

"She chose you to help her, and I trust her judgment. But you should know what you are getting into. If the news report was remotely accurate, Katherine did not overdo it 'a little'. Rescuing those children alone would have exhausted her. She would have slept, well, for a night or two. But she had already helped nearly two dozen people before she went into that basement.

The last time something like this happened she was 16 and testing the limits of her ability. She phased herself and 3 adults through mostly air but some solid material for almost two continuous minutes. Afterwards she collapsed, and slept for about 36 hours, if memory serves. She is older now, of course, and stronger, but without knowing exactly how many people or long she phased them, I can't tell you for certain how long she'll be out. It could be days.

Do you think you can take care of her for that long? Because if not, we can come get her." She would not have thought less of him if he said it was too much. Having someone you care about be completely helpless and dependent upon you for their survival was more than the average person would ever want to deal with. But if Kitty thought that Steve could do it, then Ororo was willing to give him a chance.

The average person, Steve Rogers was not. There wasn't even a beat of hesitation behind his answer.

"I've got this," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. Not that he expected one. The woman on the phone was giving him information and giving him the chance to back out gracefully, but she didn't know him. Didn't know that he couldn't back out. Kate had chosen him for safety and he couldn't let her down. Even if he hadn't cared for her the way he did, he wouldn't have run from that. His feelings for her just meant he was that much more determined to take care of her.

Knowing just how much she had to have done to be so exhausted just made the feeling stronger. She'd done the right thing and she deserved safety after all that. He could give that. Any urgent rush toward the end of the world that required him to step in again aside, but that sort of thing had seemed to die down in the last several years, leaving Steve a lot more reliable. He'd never been so glad of it as he was the second Kate had needed his help.

"I appreciate the offer, though," he added as diplomatically as he could. "I'll get in touch if there's a need, or keep you updated if that'd be better, but otherwise I'll let her know to call when she's up to it." And not a minute sooner. "

Storm wished that she felt as confident as he sounded. Maybe she would, if he had any experience with mutants or medicine or had even known Kitty for more than a couple of months. She had to remind herself that she did not know him as well as Kitty did - maybe not enough for Storm's comfort level but obviously enough for her own. But how much could she trust the judgment of a girl so smitten, still looking at him through rose-colored glasses?

"Alright. Then... keep her comfortable. Keep her warm." A pause. "She will look worse when she wakes up than she does now. She is slender, as you know, so there's little for her body to draw on to heal itself. It'll use what little fat she has, then muscle." If she was at home they could give her IV fluids and nutritional support, lessening the impact on her body. Again, Storm had to defer to Kitty's choice.

"If she's not awake in 48 hours, or anything happens that concerns you in the slightest, call me. We can quickly come get her and bring her back to our medical facility." Where Storm preferred she already was, of course. Where she could watch over her, hold her hand, until she woke up.

"If everything goes perfectly, she'll need calories when she wakes up. Blueberry pancakes are her favorite." She found herself getting choked up, a rarity for her. She really did love her more than just about anyone.

"Steven... take care of our girl."

Her instructions were helpful, more than they were an irritating implication that he wasn't up to the task, and Steve filed each bit of it away. She needed more than just sleep, but sleep the most for the moment, and it very well could take days. It wouldn't be easy but Steve didn't run from hard.

And he couldn't help but smile, just a little, to himself at the knowledge that Kate liked blueberry pancakes. That was news to him, unsurprisingly, they were still very firmly in the stage of getting to know each other, but he found it endearing. Steve absolutely could not cook, but if he had a couple of days? Maybe he could figure that much out. It would be the thought that counted regardless.

"I will," he promised. "She's safe with me." No matter what happened, she would be safe and protected and cared for. He'd let her rest as long as she needed, do whatever he needed to do for her until she got her strength back. Make as many questionable blueberry pancakes as it took, or attempt it at least.

Steve didn't think he even had anything to make blueberry pancakes with.

Those were not immediate problems, though. Immediate problems included the fact that Kate was unconscious on his sofa and in clothes that he hadn't noticed smelled of smoke, but they probably did, and her shoes, that wasn't exactly keeping her comfortable.

Storm sighed. There was nothing more to say, really. Even though she wasn't directly talking to Kitty, hanging up the phone felt like letting go of the only tangible connection she had to her. To think of doing so was disquieting, to say the least.

"I'm sure she is." If she kept saying it she would hopefully, eventually, believe it.

"Your offer of updates is appreciated, and will be go a long way in alleviating everyone's concerns. She is well loved here and will be missed." And with that she was completely out of stalling tactics, and had no choice but to let him go.

"Good night." She hung up and immediately went online to make sure the GPS in Kitty's phone was on and transmitting. There it was, right in the city where she was supposed to be.

Steve looked down at the phone in his hand for a moment and just shook his head. Really not the ideal way to meet, in some way, Kate’s friends, her family as far as Steve could tell, but it was what it was and what it was, was sort of nice to know that there were people like that looking out for his girl. He knew he wouldn’t always be so close by, near enough to call for help. He’d never doubted she had plenty of people who cared about her, but knowing it and experiencing it were different things.

He moved quietly back to the living room, Kate’s phone placed quietly on the table again, paused only a second to just look at her. It might be smarter to have someone who knew her abilities better to take care of her, but the very thought of letting anyone else take over squeezed his chest. He’d just take every piece of advice Ororo had given him and layer it all with his good intentions and affections.
He’d let her rest for now and worry about the rest as it came.

Steve took a glance at her boots, decided those definitely weren’t helping anything, and moved to kneel on the floor beside her to take them off.

Kate would be disappointed to know she missed seeing something so adorable - big burly Steve, kneeling on the floor, pulling off her small-in-comparison boots. She would be touched to learn about the conversation between Steve and Storm, and of Steve's almost stubborn insistence on protecting her even if it was from someone she loved.

But at that moment, she was adrift in sweet oblivion. There was no exhaustion, pain, or fear. There was no discomfort, even though her body was contorted in a less-than-ideal position. The waistband of her jeans were cutting into her side. The underwire of her bra was poking her sternum. Thankfully she felt none of it.

Steve might wish the situation was different. He surely had questions about what she would want, what she would agree to, when it came to taking of more than her boots. She would answer those, if she could. She wasn't shy about her body, and she would tell him to do whatever needed done and not worry about it. She would suggest he order her some pajamas on an app with same day delivery. He should have been grateful, really, that she wasn't conscious. If she were, but too physically exhausted to move, she would be the grumpiest invalid in history. Not a good look, when you're in the beginning of a relationship.

It really was unfortunate she wasn’t conscious enough to tell him what was okay. Because no matter how Steve wanted to make her comfortable, he wasn’t about to do much more than get her out of her boots.

He did, though, after another moment of consideration, move to gently pick her up from the couch, carry her through to his bedroom and tuck her, smokey clothes and all, into his bed. He’d wash it all later, that was no issue. He did worry about whether or not Kate would mind any of it, all of it, but it was worth her minding if she woke up as comfortable as he could make her.

He wound up taking her phone in as well, leaving it on the bedside table along with a glass of water, just in case, and left the door open a crack while he went back to the drawing he’d abandoned in the kitchen. He’d just keep himself quietly busy, check in on her every now and then until she woke up or something changed.

For nearly 25 hours, she stayed exactly where he put her, not moving a muscle other than to breathe. Then his next check in on her would reveal she'd rolled onto her side - and had removed her bra and dropped it on the floor. She wouldn't remember doing either. But it was the first change, the first sign that she might be starting to come out of it.

About ten hours later, as the sun was setting, was the first time she regained a modicum of consciousness. She wasn't really aware of a particular thought, it was more of a feeling - an urgent one. And as hard as it was to make her body move, she couldn't ignore it. She absolutely had to go to the bathroom.

She couldn't quite recall where she was but that didn't stop her from rolling toward the edge of the bed and pushing the covers off. When her bare feet touched the ground, she discovered that her socks were gone. She didn't know that she'd taken them off hours earlier, and they were stuffed down under the sheets and comforter. She should have tested her legs before trying to stand - she would have discovered that they felt like spindly toothpicks stacked end to end. She might have paused and forced herself to think, to remember where she was. But there was very little thinking going on. In fact, her eyes were barely even open, and she had no idea where the bathroom even was, just that it wasn't in the bed.

Which is why, rather than standing up, her legs crumpled under her and she fell to the floor. As she fell she reached out blindly for something to hold onto. She not only found nothing to grasp, but she knocked the glass of water off the nightstand to the floor, where it shattered with a loud crash.

For the whole day and a half, give or take, that passed, Steve checked on Kate every hour, almost like clockwork. He dozed on the couch in between, kept quiet and alert for any sign she was in distress, did a little reading and had a few things delivered so he could attempt those pancakes when she did wake up. But mostly he just waited quietly. Mostly in the other room with the bedroom door cracked, sometimes perched on the edge of the bed beside her for a few minutes.

More than a day of quiet meant the crash in the bedroom cut sharply through the air and Steve was up, moving quickly in his surprise, not knowing what he was expecting but ready to do whatever needed doing to protect Kate. It wouldn't be the first time his apartment had been attacked, though it was hardly a common occurrence, and he was ready for a fight. But, of course, wound up stopping short when instead of someone unexpected he found Kate on the floor, broken glass sprayed out in every direction.

"Kate?" Ignoring the mess, and the sharp sting of an errant shard in one of his feet, Steve crossed immediately to kneel beside her, hands on her arms gently to straighten her up. "You okay?" First things first, before he let himself be relieved that she'd come around, that he could do more than just wait and see, he was checking her for new injuries, making sure she hadn't hit her head or cut her hands.

Ow. She'd fallen right on her hip and it was going to bruise. She struggled to form a complete, rational thought. Her brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Her body didn't feel familiar, didn't even look familiar. Her arms and legs were thinner. Her jeans were loose around her waist. And where was she, exactly? Where had she been when she'd fallen asleep?

But the voice, the hands checking her over, she knew them. Steve. She forced herself to lift her head and open her eyes. She completely missed that he had asked her a question. With him there, figuring everything else out didn't seem so urgent. Her eyelids drooped again not unlike a drowsy baby's might. She managed to touch her temple to his shoulder and utter a single word.

"Bathroom."

No significant injuries he could see, and however weak she seemed, however rocky her voice sounded to his ears, relief washed over him. She was alright, all things considered, and she was awake at least for a moment. That was a good sign. He was pretty sure of that.

"Bathroom," Steve echoed, the faintest hint of amusement behind the understanding in his voice. "Right. Come on. I've got you."

Carefully, he eased her up, supporting her weight, steadying her. She might not be strong enough to stand on her own after so long unconscious, but Steve was strong enough to do all the work if he needed to. It was no hardship for him to haul her a few steps further down the hall to his small and tidy bathroom.

To say he walked her to the bathroom would be inaccurate - he carried her. It wasn't in a traditional way, and her legs were moving, more or less, but he did all the work. She ended up using one hand to hold up her jeans, since they slipped lower on her hips with every second that passed.

His bathroom being small was a blessing in disguise. She was able to use the vanity to hold herself up and shoo him out of the room. No matter how bad of a shape she was in, there was no possible situation in which she would let him stay in the room while she used the bathroom. No. Hard no.

She didn't even have to unbutton her jeans, just let them fall to the floor. Sitting down was the easiest part of the whole adventure, and for a brief moment she nearly fell asleep there, black boy-short panties around her ankles. She summoned all she had in her to stay awake. When she was done she stood up and decided to leave her jeans there for no real reason other than she didn't know if she could bend over to pick them up without falling down. Again, thanks to the small room, she was able to just pivot on one foot to be in front of the sink. She turned on the water to wash her hands and was amazed at how good the cold water felt. All the exertion was making her hot. The porcelain of the sink was cool under her hands, as was the tile under her feet.

In fact, laying down on the cool tile felt like a really good idea. The best idea. She lowered herself down, enjoying the cold on her bare legs, then stretched out, cheek and palms pressed to the tile. The last thought she had before falling asleep again was that she'd left the water running.

He’d absolutely would have helped her if she needed it, but since she seemed stable enough on her feet by the time they reached the bathroom to at least not go crashing to the floor again, Steve let her be, waited in the hallway for long minutes. Ready to sweep back in and help her again once she was done. He heard the water running, and didn’t hear it stop. For a lot longer than it should be. On and on until he couldn’t just wait anymore.

Steve knocked first, of course, called out to her with no response. Gave it a few more seconds before deciding it was worth embarrassing her if she did need help, before letting himself in with half-hearted apologies that he knew fell on deaf ears before he saw her.

Curled up on the floor like a sleepy child.

Steve laughed to himself, shaking his head, moving without hesitation to scoop her right up off the floor, murmuring about it being no place to sleep. More for his own sake than hers, just because saying the words made him feel better. It was only a handful of steps to take her right back to the bed, leaving her pants behind, though her added weight, slight as it was, reminded him of the shard of glass in his bare foot. He ignored it the best he could all the same, picked his way carefully around the shattered glass on the floor to place her gingerly beneath the covers again. Not without a little hiss of pain when doing so put pressure on just the wrong spot.

Only once he’d made sure Kate was comfortable again did Steve go for the broom to clean up the mess first, careful to get every shred of glass from the floor in case she got out of bed while he wasn’t looking again. And only then did he return to the bathroom to deal with his own foot. Which turned into him first picking up her pants and folding them neatly.

He figured he probably had at least another couple hours, another day, before she woke again so he wasn’t in too much of a rush, just tidied up and tended to the glass sliver, went so far as to replaced the broken glass of water despite the risk of it winding up in the same state and went back to waiting just like he’d done before.

There were a few times she almost woke, nearly emerged from the abyss, only to roll over and sink back down again. When she did finally open her eyes the sun was just starting to come up. She'd been out for longer than 48 hours but not by much. She took several deep breaths, stretching her arms up over her head and her toes down as far as they would reach. Her body felt strange. Weaker but not weak, like it had been through something that had taken a lot out of her, but she could still get up and walk if she wanted to.

Her throat was hot and dry, and as soon as she saw the glass of water she sat up, reached for it, and downed it in short order. Still holding the empty glass with both hands, she looked around the room. Steve's bedroom. She was in Steve's bed. With no pants on. Curious. She was pretty sure she'd had them on when she'd nodded off on his couch.

"Steve?"

The waiting was probably one of the most stressful things Steve had done. He wasn’t very patient and not being able to do anything to fix it was hard. But he filled the time by checking in on her regularly, making sure she was comfortable and not getting any worse, reassuring himself that as long as it went on she was just sleeping, and rather peacefully by the looks of it.

He almost didn’t register her voice calling out for him, half dozing on the sofa while a cup of coffee went cold at his elbow.

But Steve was waiting for her to wake up, so hearing what he’d been anxious for had him on his feet and down the short hall in no more than a moment, the concern on his face immediately shifting to relief to see Kate not only awake, but sitting.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, soothing, and he moved to perch on the edge of the bed beside her. “How’re you feeling?” She looked better than the last time she’d woken, that was for sure, if a little drawn.

A simple question that didn't have a simple answer.

"Weird," she said, the first word that came to mind that seemed remotely accurate. She didn't remember feeling like this the last time she'd overextended herself. She'd woken feeling and looking pretty much normal. She ran her fingers through her hair and wondered if she looked as drained as she felt. Drained was a pretty good word, too. As if she'd been attacked by a vampire cursed with a sense of restraint.

"Hungry." She grinned crookedly and reached for his hand.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. How long have I been out?"

Steve didn't point out he didn't need apologies, that yes he'd been scared, what sane person wouldn't have been? But that what he'd felt so much more of was relief that she was alright, that as long as she was just asleep she was still whole and safe. For as long as she had been, of course he'd worried, but exhaustion took time to come around from, he understood that, and so he'd been patient.

He felt much better seeing her awake and smiling, though.

Turning his hand in hers, Steve squeezed gently. "Couple of days." Long enough he'd been concerned, not so long that he'd panicked or felt he'd needed help caring for her. Close, but not quite. "It was a hell of a wait."

Not being able to act had been hard. But Kate was worth it. He cared about her, and she'd put her trust in him by showing up, by calling for his help. Steve wasn't about to let her down. The small things he'd been able to do had been enough. Making sure she was warm enough, making sure she had what she needed when she did wake up, little bits of fussing over her that he was glad she hadn't seen, had filled the time.

"Days?" She looked at him with disbelief and more than a little guilt. She'd known she was in bad shape and that she'd sleep for, well, longer than she'd probably led him to believe. But that long... no wonder she felt like she did.

"Everybody must be freaked." She spotted her phone on the bedside table. She quickly grabbed it and, on unlocking it, discovered that he had already handled the freakouts. And sent regular updates. And... he was friends with Storm now? That merited further investigation later.

She handed him the glass she'd drained a few minutes earlier. "I'm going to call real quick, let her know I'm still here. Mind getting me more water? Or juice... or Gatorade, actually, if you have it. My electrolytes must be all out of whack." Among other things. She was grateful, though, to be there with him and not at the mansion. He wouldn't treat her like a child and fuss over her. Well, he might fuss, but not in a demeaning way. In a caring way. Logan would probably have started calling her "half-pint" again.

“I think I can manage some juice,” he said, taking the glass with a nod, giving her hand another squeeze before letting go. “Just give me a shout when you’re done your call.” He would give her privacy for that, or as much as his small apartment could provide anyway. Which would be enough that he at least wasn’t listening in unintentionally, though he’d probably know when she was finished just because the quiet murmur of conversation was gone.

He would still wait until she called for him. And would under no circumstances suggest she just get up out of bed. At all. Until she was good and ready. She needed to rest and Steve didn’t want a repeat of her falling because her legs couldn’t carry her. He didn’t want to risk her actually hurting herself.

But as long as she stayed exactly where she was, now that she was awake, he wasn’t all that worried. She’d be just fine, and he’d keep her fed and hydrated.

With a gentle smile he rose and excused himself from the room, left the door open just a crack to give her that privacy to talk, and went to get her a fresh drink.

The call didn't take too long. Storm was relieved to hear she was alive and seemingly okay. Kitty was happy to hear that, according to the news, there wasn't a single fatality in the fire despite the building being a complete loss. Kitty had to admit that Storm was right - she hadn't considered all of the phasing she'd done before the group of children in calculating how risky carrying them all would be. That was a frustrating aspect of her ability - she didn't gradually get tired. She could go without feeling anything until she hit her limit, and this time she'd hit it hard.

After getting Storm's promise to pack a bag for her and have someone bring it to her in a few hours, Kitty hung up and put the phone back on the table. Curious to see how it would feel, she pushed the covers off and swung her legs off the side of the bed. She tested putting weight on one, then the other. It felt strange, like how she imagined walking on stilts might feel, but she didn't think they would buckle under her. Using the bed and then the wall for extra support, she peeked out the crack in the door. Seeing nothing, she hurried as fast as she dared into the bathroom. The only thing worse than her full bladder was 48-hour swamp breath. She knew Steve wouldn't judge but still. They were nowhere close to that level of comfort.

So she used the facilities, splashed some water on her face, ran her fingers through her hair while lamenting not having something to put it up into a ponytail with, and brushed her teeth using his toothpaste and her index finger. She hoped to sneak back into bed without him noticing but alas, she made too much noise not to catch his attention. When she opened the door he was standing there, glass of juice in hand. She grinned sheepishly and waited for the lecture she probably deserved.

A lecture probably was deserved, she really shouldn’t be up and about given how bad of shape she’d been in the last time, but it didn’t come. Steve wasn’t really in any position to give lectures about being a good patient when he was about as bad as they came. Even before the serum, when every doctor had told him he wasn’t healthy enough for war, he’d stubbornly pushed through it all. Now, if he could move, no matter what power it took to get there, he was going to do it.

So he wound up just meeting her smile with one of his own, gentle and understanding, and offered her a hand.

“Back to bed until I’m confident you’re not going to wind up on the floor.”

No matter how quiet she’d tried to be, his apartment wasn’t big enough that he wouldn’t hear, but her getting up and going about her business under her own power was more reassuring than anything. It was surest sign that she was on her way to recovered.

“Not that I’m not glad you’re feeling better,” he added teasingly. If they could just ensure she didn’t wind up injuring herself on his watch, that’d be great.

She took his hand and let him help her back to bed, much preferring his help to using the wall. And speaking of ending up on the floor...

"Is that how I got this bruise on my hip?" She couldn't remember falling. She didn't remember anything after falling asleep while he soothingly ran his fingers through her hair. She waited until she was back in the bed, under the covers and propped up by several pillows, to take the glass from him.

"So, did you take my pants off, or did I do that?"

“I'm insulted you’d even ask,” Steve joked, his smile making it clear there was no actual insult to be had. It was ab understandable question, given how she’d gone to sleep. He was surprised she didn’t remember losing them, though, chalked it up to her being only half awake at the time. “You did that yourself. Right after you tried getting up and forgot how to use your feet.”

With an easy smile, he settled on the edge of the bed beside her again, one leg tucked up beneath himself.

“Guess you weren’t awake enough to realize what was going on, huh?” Probably for the best. She wouldn’t remember the shattered glass that had sliced his foot open, or him carrying her back and forth down the hall. There was nothing to be embarrassed about but not remembering took away the chance for it entirely.

She was so happy to see his smile. It reassured her that she'd made the right choice, coming to him. If she had found some way to get back to the mansion, it would have been at least a week, probably longer, before she was recovered enough to come back to the city and see him again. He couldn't come visit her there. She took a long drink of the juice and shook her head.

"I don't remember anything. What did I do? Drool all over your lap? Snore so loud you had to bring me in here just to hear yourself think?" She set the glass down on the table and leaned back against the pillows.

"Before I forget, Storm's sending someone with a bag of clothes and stuff for me. If you're sick of babysitting me, I can go back with them."

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