The man, not the legend.

"I'm glad you like it." Steve chuckles when she pulls him into a hug, but it dries up when he realizes he's been outted.

"Yeah, sorry. I just got out of the shower a bit ago. Being able to use hot water as much as I like is a luxury I might have overdone a bit."

It's...well it's not untrue? It's just not the whole truth.

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It's the truth, but... she's giving him a look. A look that shows quite clearly that she does not believe him.

"Steve, if you're sick, you need to tell me. I know I'm not your mom and I'm not Bucky, but right now, I'm here. And I want to help you."

Don't make her beg, Steve. Neither of them would appreciate that.

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Steve doesn't want this. Doesn't want to be someone's burden here, too. She's not his mother, and she's not Bucky and that shouldn't matter but it does.

He doesn't lie to her face though. And he doesn't pull away in a temper tantrum. He sags somewhat, and how did he even slightly hide the circles under his eyes or anything else?

"...Day after the party I got a high fever. Been more or less resting ever since. Today's the first day I've felt remotely human again, but.." But even so much as delivering the note and walking around the hotel room are quickly wearing him down.

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Burden? Nonsense. Even when he sags and she shifts slightly to support him, he's not a burden.

"Oh, Steve. Why didn't you tell me? You sit down, we need to find you a doctor." She'll help him over to his chair and kneels down in front of him once he's sitting. "Steve. Please don't think I'm doing this because I pity you or think you're weak. You're one of the strongest people I know."

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Steve hates always having to be the one being saved. Some day, he'll do the saving. He's sure of it. But it won't be today.

"I didn't really have any way to reach you." He points out quietly. "Wasn't up for walking to your place until today, so..." He gives a bitter laugh that says more than any reassuring lie he could tell her.

"Well, I think I'm pretty weak right now."

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"Telephone," she points out. "Even better: wireless telephone you take with you in your pocket." Like the one she's pulling out of her purse. It must be for him, the case is the same pretty shade of blue as his eyes. "My number's already in it, so next time, no excuses."

It's not a super fancy phone, but it's smart enough. He won't care if it's five years old and doesn't have all the bells and whistles. It makes calls, texts, has alarms, and can play Angry Birds.

"Everyone's weak sometimes. That's kind of the definition of being sick. But it won't be forever. So, what kind of medicine do you want: magical or scientific?"

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"This is a telephone?" Steve looks down at it, then back to Verity. Bites at his lip. He wants to ask if it was expensive. But that's rude, and it's a gift. And a useful one at that. "Thank you." He says instead.

She's going to have to show him how it works, but thankfully it won't be as difficult as showing her racist grandpa how to use one.

"...Science?" He's not sure there's a difference between the two. They're both a level beyond what he understands. Steve shrugs weakly.

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"It's a telephone, among other things. And it's for me as much as for you. I kind of freak out when I can't contact my friends right now..." She doesn't have to spell out why, does she? "So I'd feel a lot better if you keep it with you, please?"

It's amazing how much she picked up from Loki without realizing it.

"Okay. I'm going to call Samus."

Well, text. "Can you try and finish your muffin? You're going to want to eat now, before she shows up."

Hey Samus, you busy? Steve is sick. Says he has been since the ball.

Edited Date: 2015-11-09 04:24 am (UTC)

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Since the ball? It's been a week. No wonder I haven't seen him around.

What are his symptoms?

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He wants to ask what 'texting' is, but figures that will be shown to him at some point. Instead he'll get up and go get the latter half of his buttered muffin and sit down at the table to eat it.

Steve wishes he didn't have to force it down, because it really is good, but it leaves him feeling queasy and he's really just tired of that. When he's done he'll settle back into the chair across from Verity, pulling a blanket from his bed around him and sinking into it.

Getting more people involved and seeing him like this sounds like a wonderful idea let's all take a gander at Steve and laugh and/or pity him. They're just trying to help. They're just trying to help. Besides? What all has he done since the ball, aside from drag himself from his bed to the bathroom and back wishing he could stop shaking.

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So far, 'texting' is 'poke at the screen a lot and sometimes it chimes'.

Fever, sweating, he's really pale, he's eating even less than usual...

Verity puts her phone down long enough to help tuck the blanket around Steve, making sure he's as comfortable as he can be for the moment. "Samus needs to know your symptoms so she can bring the right medicine. What should I tell her?"

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Also, local conditions. In a room? Is there heat? Running water? Power?

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"I got sick once, but I'm pretty sure that was just because I couldn't stop shivering. That was a couple days ago. Fever isn't as bad as it was then. Thought I was on fire and freezing at the same time."

"Right now I just feel...sluggish. Tired. Grumpy--sorry in advance for that one."

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Vomiting, he thinks from not being able to stop shivering, a couple days ago. He thinks his fever's gone down. It was fire/freezing.

He's in a nice hotel. Heat, bathroom, electricity. (address/directions here)

She makes sympathetic sounds while he answers. She's listening, but her eyes are on her phone so that the message isn't garbled. "Grumpy is assumed, sweetie, we'll get through it. You want her to bring anything else? Or want me to go out for anything while she's here?"

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Has he been eating, or should I add "probable malnutrition" to the list?

Give me the address, let him know I'm coming. There are probably going to be a few shots coming with me, and not all of them will be painless hypos.

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"...Just wanted to get you your painting. Sorry for all the trouble." He feels like he has to say something, anything, to ease the trouble he feels he's causing.

"Uhm...soup maybe? Something to drink might be nice. The little plastic cup they have in the bathroom is nice and all, but I haven't had it changed or housekeeping in since I got sick..."

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Long-term malnutrition is definite. He had a hard time finishing a muffin so I'm guessing he hasn't had much the last couple days.

He knows you're coming. I didn't tell him about the shots he might try and make a run for it. (more/better directions?)

"Shh. No trouble, sweetie. This is what friends do." She pats his knee and gives him a little smile. "Soup, drinks, and I'll send housekeeping up. No trouble at all. Stop acting like I'm doing anything difficult. Trust me, you'll know when I don't want to do something."

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Point. Keep him there, keep him calm, I'll be up shortly.

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Steve would be almost upset at how they're talking about him if he knew. It's a cold, and yeah he gets sicker than most people do and it's more severe, but he was honestly trying to take care of himself since the ball.

He's not...he's not a kid or anything anymore. He's used to this.

Luckily all he knows is that Samus is coming and he will get soup later. It's probably best that they're keeping him so calm. The last thing any of them needs is for Steve to have an attack while he's already having a hard enough time with the rest of this.

Edited Date: 2015-11-09 05:15 am (UTC)

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Texting was a winning strategy today. Steve having an attack would make things so needlessly hard on himself. As for how they're talking about him, is it so different from doctors? They're brisk and honest. But Verity's bedside manner beats most white coats hands-down.

She sets her phone on the table before giving Steve her undivided attention again. "Samus will be here soon. She's just going to make a quick stop for supplies. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable while we wait?"

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"...Let's just...talk. Or something." Anything that isn't reminding him of his mother or Bucky because those people aren't here and Steve really doesn't want to cry because Verity is being amazing and helpful.

He'll reach over to the small sidetable and scoop up his sketchbook and pencil. Not opening them. But just having them at hand makes him feel better, if only a little.

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"Okay." Verity shifts herself up into the other chair. "So, the chao have been demanding a lot of music the last few days. Apparently since the ball they all love to dance. It's adorable, especially when they start bouncing off each other. It starts as waltzing and ends like a mosh pit of cuteness."

The chao are an endless stream of adorable stories and she can keep telling them until Samus gets there.

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That just means that when Samus does arrive Steve has filled a page with doodles of various chau all trying to dance.

At least he hasn't run away and seems to be in a decent mood for someone who's under the weather.

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*The wait isn't long. That firm knock on the door is either Samus, or the specter of death, and when you can tell them apart only one of them is likely to knock. She's got a duffel bag large enough to carry a body in slung across her back, and something cloth and suitcase-like in each hand. She's also wearing a set of amber lenses over her eyes, on which a keen observer might catch the occasional flicker of lights that aren't reflections of things in the room.*

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