Oops I Overdid It Again - for @americanass

[phasing_cat]

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...

Comments

[phasing_cat]

The next time she stayed over.

"I like the sound of that." Staying over and not being completely helpless the whole time was what sounded the best. Him also having more food around wouldn't be a bad thing, either.

"Later, remind me to introduce you to Instacart." She took another sip of juice and watched as he set out his ingredients. Pancake mix, eggs, milk, and the berries, of course. She was happy to see they were fresh ones and not the dried ones that are supposed to rehydrate but never really do.

As she set her glass back on the table she spotted his sketchbook. Mostly out of curiosity, and a little to avoid making him nervous by watching him like a hawk, she pulled it over and opened to the page the pencil was stuck in. She immediately smiled.

It was a drawing of a ballerina in passe, legs creating a perfect triangle. Toes en pointe, arms stretched gracefully over her head, tutu perfectly flared out from her waist. Her eyes, though, were closed, and little 'z's floated out of her mouth and up and away from her head. Kitty chuckled as she picked up the book and showed him the page.

"Did I really sleep like this?"

[americanass]

He chuckled quietly as he started to cook, deliberate movements clearly unfamiliar with the process, though he'd practiced enough times to make himself sick of pancakes while she'd slept. Instacart he was familiar with, it was how he'd gotten the things he needed to practice in the first place, but it was far from his favorite way to do things. It just wasn't the same as taking his own two feet down to the store, and doing his own shopping. Maybe one day he and Kate could do that sort of thing together. That was something sort of mundane in a nice way that he definitely wanted to explore. Eventually.

After they got past the consciously staying over hurdle.

Something to think about another time. He was otherwise engaged taking care of his girl.

He glanced over when she picked up his sketchbook, thought nothing of it until she was holding it up to him. Another glance over and he had to hold back his laugh, nodding solemnly. "Exactly like that. It's a really good likeness, actually."

There was unmistakable humor in his eyes, though, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling completely.

[phasing_cat]

She laughed and shook her head.

"You could have said 'just the arms' and I would have believed you." She watched him for a minute, measuring ingredients into a bowl, before turning her attention back to the book. She flipped backwards a few pages, finding his usual doodles - combinations of observation and whimsy - until she came upon one that was different.

It was her, sleeping. Well, half of her face, the other presumably hidden by the pillow. Nose, eye, most of her lips. Hair sweeping away at the edge, making her wonder if he'd moved it there and away from her features. It wasn't professional by any means, but it was recognizable as her. She had not thought in much depth about what he did while she was asleep. The drawing made her wonder just how much of that time he'd spent watching her. Had he been scared? Had he formulated a plan in case she stopped breathing? He hadn't been in the room when she woke up so he must have eventually felt comfortable leaving the room. How long had that taken?

She closed the book and put it back where she'd found it, suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of emotions she had trouble separating. Guilt and sadness the most prevalent.

"I guess it'll be a while until I can dance again."

[americanass]

“Legs feeling a little weak?” Steve wondered as he worked on pancakes. Carefully and precisely. He could imagine they did after being in bed for as long as she was, knew they had to be with the help she’d needed moving around his small apartment. No doubt it would be a day or two before she felt strong enough to move around on her own.

It did seem to him though that trying to dance might be good exercise for unused muscles, and that might be what she needed. He didn’t say as much, wouldn’t want to imply he thought he knew any better than she did about it, or about what her own body was capable of.

He’d made it clear more than once that he’d be gentle with her if she needed him to be, but he’d let her tell him if she did. He had to trust her to know herself best and even when he thought maybe she was pushing herself too far, he knew better than to say it. All he’d ever needed to be sure of that choice was to imagine what he would say if, when, someone had made the implication he couldn’t handle something.

He would just push harder, and that wasn’t what he wanted to press her into doing with a wrong word.

[phasing_cat]

"Something like that," she answered softly. She closed the book and set it back where she'd found it. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and watched him quietly for a few moments. He didn't seem nervous like she would have expected. He must have been overstating just how bad of a cook he was. Still, she couldn't help but want to help, even from across the room.

"Want to know a trick?" she asked, not wanting to be bossy or tell him how to do things. She waited for him to give an indication that was okay.

"You can use that measuring cup to scoop the batter out of the bowl and pour it into the pan. It's easier than pouring out of the bowl and all of the pancakes will be roughly the same size."

[americanass]

Something like that wasn’t really an answer, or rather it was one that spoke of something deeper. Steve would file that away for the time being. She was in no state to be interrogated by him worrying over her. She was subjected to enough of it just being there. He’d press later if she was noncommittal about it when he asked again. In a few days at least.

He glanced her way with a raised eyebrow and a little tug of amusement on his lips at her suggestion.

“Who ever said pancakes need to be the same size?” he countered. The chaos of them was just part of their charm, he thought. Not that he was any expert when it came to pancakes. He’d honestly never given them much thought at all. They were something he ate occasionally and not much more than that.

Until they’d turned out to be his girl’s favorite. They suddenly meant something.

[phasing_cat]

"The person who invented silver dollar pancakes," she replied, impressed that her sleep-addled brain managed to come up with a retort.

"But if you want to make a mess, go right ahead." Normally she would have offered to clean since he was doing the cooking, but these were not normal circumstances. He'd be left to clean up on his own. Which, of course, he already knew but was willing to do both without complaint. She had respected him since their first conversation, but she was starting to admire him as well. He was so much more than a soldier. He was a caretaker, too.

[americanass]

That was a fair argument and Steve just laughed softly, shaking his head. He was absolutely going to continue making a mess, mostly out of stubbornness at this point, though the part that did it for her amusement wasn't small either. From their first evening spent together, he'd been invested in making her smile, bringing her any scrap of joy he could provide her. He only wanted that more the more time they spent together. The greater the feelings he was developing for her grew.

"I promised you edible pancakes," he pointed out lightly, "not good looking ones." Good looking really was asking too much. Even the few things Steve could cook, all old recipes, all from before the war, weren't nice to look at. By design for the most part, but not even artistic talent could save his cooking from looking a little messy.

Edible really was the most he could have offered.

[phasing_cat]

Good looking. Her brain struggled to make a joke about how he was all the good-looking she could handle but, after a minute or so, she gave up. He probably would have balked at the compliment anyway. He did that a lot.

"I don't think my stomach will care what they look like." As the first pancake cooked the smell wafted over to her, making her stomach growl in what sounded like agreement. She just laughed.

"You know about the bubbles, right? Using how many there are to tell when it's time to flip?" She really didn't want to sound like she was telling him how to do things. So in the spirit of being there for moral support, she changed directions.

"That smells really good."

[americanass]

"I know about the bubbles," Steve confirmed with a soft chuckle. He'd done enough research to make sure he wasn't going to produce something grossly over or undercooked to know about that at least. He'd practiced a few times while she'd been asleep and had figured out the rough range to make sure they weren't raw at least, though he had no idea how to tell if hey were a little overdone. Better that than the other way, though, he figured, and he could be sure of still in the edible range.

Turned out pancakes were pretty simple, even with blueberries in them.

He made the choice not to tease her about having a lot of opinions for someone who'd said she couldn't cook either, figured he'd be cautiously nosey too if she was trying to cook him his favorite thing. Instead he cast a glance over at her and offered a smile at her praise.

"I think I managed to track down a halfway decent recipe. Don't give me any credit until you try it, though." It would taste fine. He had that confidence. Now. "Maybe next time you're over, it'll be with more warning and I can do better."

He'd want to make an effort. But for now, he just brought the first pancake out of the frying pan and placed it on a plate that he immediately set in front of her. It wasn't pretty, far from it, and maybe a little darker than it should be, but it passed as a pancake and his girl was hungry. She could eat while he cooked. Steve would just keep putting pancakes on her plate until she told him to stop.

[phasing_cat]

She grinned up at him as he set the plate down in front of her, briefly touching his hand in a silent 'thank you'. If it hadn't been fresh out of the pan she'd have picked up the pancake, rolled it like a taquito, and inhaled it in three bites. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to instead take the time to put butter and syrup on it, then use a fork to cut off a piece and blow on it to cool it down.

Once the first bite was down, the floodgates were opened. It felt like she lost control of her own body - again. After she swallowed the last bite, she wasn't even completely sure she had tasted it. Sheepishly she looked in his direction and was relieved to see him focused on his cooking. Something had changed that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Not in him, per se, but in the way she saw him. He wasn't America's hero any more. He was her hero. Hers. And all the anxiety she had felt around being intimate with him was gone.

"Maybe next time, we can have breakfast in bed."

[americanass]

Steve glanced over and lifted an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You might have high hopes for my cooking if you want it anywhere near a bed,” he teased. Lightly, so as not to put any pressure on the theoretical next time. While he absolutely, intensely, wanted her to stay over intentionally, for there to be more than just one next time, he wasn’t going to give her any reason to think he wanted it before she was ready. Before they both were, really, though his thoughts were rarely toward his own comfort.

“Though I’ll take the idea as a compliment,” he added with a breath of laughter. He’d clearly done a passable job of feeding her with the way she ate, the way she invited doing it again. That was something to take pride in, being able to take care of his girl any way she needed him to. Even if he couldn’t manage more than pancakes and scrambled eggs that were a little bland.

[phasing_cat]

She finished the pancake in three distinctly unladylike bites.

"I have faith in your ability to eat in bed, not cook in it. I've had enough of fire for the foreseeable future, thanks." That came out pretty muffled, because shoving nearly a whole pancake into her mouth turned out to be harder to swallow than she would have anticipated.

"Could I get some water?" The juice was good, but she knew from experience that it would taste weird and not so sweet compared to pancakes and syrup. It was time to go back to water.

[americanass]

Without a word, Steve just turned around to pour her a glass of water. That, at least, he had in the house. Beyond what he needed to make her pancakes he hadn’t thought to have anything brought by and as someone who didn’t cook with any regularity at all what he‘d had was scarce. But water he could provide.

Just like he’d provide support for as long as she needed it.

“I’d really be more worried about the quality than fire risk,” he noted, amusement still in his eyes and in his smile. “And since you’re not going anywhere until you can do it under your own power, next time’s a lot sooner than you think.”

He knew the theoretical next time was one where she chose to be there, where she wasn’t in his bed because she couldn’t move, but he didn’t want to put that weight on staying over. Especially not while she was convalescing. He wouldn’t add any expectation to his hopes.

[phasing_cat]

The water was just what she needed to swallow her mouthful of pancake.

"You can stop pretending to be inept in the kitchen. You've set the bar low enough that anything not resembling a charcoal briquet will be impressive." And more so, it was not accurate. She had enjoyed the first pancake for the few seconds it actually came into contact with her taste buds.

"Wait... is this what you were doing while I was zonked out? Practicing making pancakes?" She marveled that she hadn't figured it out sooner, because she could not think of a more Steve-like thing to do. "Want me to pass out for a couple more days so you can learn how to make omelets?"

[americanass]

It really was only a little pretending. Playing up what he knew was bad. He could feed himself, sure, but his taste was questionable at best. But poking fun at himself was plenty worth it if it made her smile. The surprise in her expression at the realization that he’d put in a bit of effort for her, though, was rewarding in its own way. 

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I did. Had to keep myself busy somehow.” And more than that he wanted to give her something she’d actually enjoy. At the very least not butcher her favorite food. But he had needed something to keep himself busy. He wasn’t going to leave her alone and he wasn’t a sit around the house sort of guy. Practicing pancakes has been good for him too. “If you want omelets, that’ll take a day at least. Two if you want it presentable.” 

As it was he could present slightly overdone scrambled eggs.

[phasing_cat]

That was the sweetest thing a guy had ever done for her. She preoccupied herself with her glass of water while that sank in. If she had been able to get up she would have walked up behind him and put her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. Then she might have stood on her toes to peer over his shoulder while he worked. She doubted she would ever get the chance to repay all of his kindness, but if the opportunity presented itself she would definitely take it.

"Hm. I think I'll just get better and make my own omelets."

[americanass]

“That sounds like a better idea,” Steve agreed. Though not a comment on his lacking skills this time so much as a wish for her to improve. He had no problem with spending as much time as it took learning to do the things that would make her happy but it was unquestionably better for her to simply recover.

“Breakfast can be on you next time,” he added with an easy smile, finishing up cooking, scrambled eggs really were something already in his repertoire though they were clunky and a little over cooked, and joining her at the table with a mug of coffee for himself. “But for now, I’ll make you all the pancakes you can stomach until you’re on your feet again. Properly on your feet.”

That needed specifying. For as long as he still had to help her walk at all, she wasn’t being released from his attentive care.

[phasing_cat]

The eggs weren't bad. If she had to pick one she'd prefer overcooked to under. Who wants wet, squishy eggs?

She didn't realize until she was finished with another pancake and halfway through the eggs that he was just sitting there across from her with nothing but a coffee cup.

"You're not eating?" she asked between bites. She had seen over the prior weeks that he had a robust appetite, she assumed because metabolism increased by the serum required more calories to keep running.

"And you're just going to sit there and watch me eat?"

[americanass]

She was absolutely right about his metabolic needs, but Steve just smiled and shook his head. 

“I’m pancaked-out after the last couple of days.” Not to mention he was pretty sure she needed to eat even more than he did. He’d been doing it regularly. She’s been unconscious. And he was taking care of her first, himself second. Himself always last, as was a bad habit that made him excellent at his job. 

“And maybe I just like watching you eat.” Which would be weird any other time. But right then, it was a relief to see her doing anything more than sleeping. 

Reaching across the table he just touched her arm lightly. And though it was gentle and his smile affectionate, he wasn’t accepting any argument. “Don’t worry about me for now. Just eat and then you’re going back to resting.”

[phasing_cat]

To her, it was still weird. It wasn't the attention that bothered her - she had no trouble performing in front of an audience when it came to dancing. But there was nothing artistic or attractive about her wolfing down pancakes.

"At least try the eggs so you can see what I meant about the butter." She put down her fork and sat back to stare him down until he did it. Doing so made her realize how uncomfortably full her stomach was. Strangely she felt like she should eat more - that she needed to eat more. But she was equally certain that if she did, she would make herself sick.

And as for his assertion that she was to go back to resting, as if 2 days of it wasn't enough, she only had one reply.

"Okay, Nurse Ratchet."

[americanass]

Indulgently. Steve tried a few bites of the eggs, which he did have to admit she was right about. Or her mother was right about. 

“You can tell your mom she’s impressed me,” he teased easily, more than happy to finish that part of breakfast off once she was done and he was sure she didn’t need any more. 

It struck him distantly that he’d probably need to figure out something different for other meals, would more than likely wind up just ordering in whatever she liked. But that was a problem for later. 

Her reference, though he understood the intention, went right over his head and he wound up lifting a curious eyebrow. “Must’ve missed that one.” There were a lot of things he had become familiar with but far more he didn’t know yet. “But regardless, you’re not going to get your strength back by pushing yourself right out of the gate.”

He knew from experience, but Kate was too much like him in too many ways, it seemed. 

[phasing_cat]

"I'll add it to the list." It had taken a bit but she no longer felt bad when she made a reference he didn't understand. She instead saw it as another opportunity for them to do something together. They would be logging a lot of couch time to complete that list, and she didn't mind that, especially considering that sitting might have been all she could manage for the foreseeable future.

"Guess I'll postpone that private performance of Swan Lake I was planning on giving you," she joked, taking a deep breath and deciding that yes, she definitely was too full to eat any more.

"Will you at least let me take a shower? I can sit down if I need to."

[americanass]

He actually really liked learning about every missed pop culture reference with her. The list was ever growing, but Steve looked forward to spending the time familiarizing himself with everything on it. With Kate. It never seemed as important to find the ones other people made at him. 

“As long as you call for help if you need it,” he insisted of the shower, picking idly at the remains of breakfast despite saying he didn’t want the pancakes. He didn’t want them. But high metabolism had turned him into a distracted eater. “Cleaning up might make you feel a bit better anyway.” 

Letting sleep linger around her after so much of it seemed like a sure fire way to drag her back to unconsciousness and even wanting her to rest, Steve wanted her awake and alert. He wanted the woman he knew and cared about, not the fear of her not coming around again. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. 

[phasing_cat]

"I will. I'm not running in there right away - there's no point until I have some clean clothes to change into." She hoped they would show up soon, because she felt positively gross. Having an overstuffed stomach was not helping the matter. When she saw him poke at the eggs, she pushed the plate toward him.

"Please. If I have another bite I'm going to explode."