fightlikehell | call in sick

She's a lucky girl.

"Mm, they're pretty tasty. I can make you some later if you'd like." It's a little more involved than cinnamon toast, but not much. And it's worth his happiness. She's not sure it'd be the best thing for an upset stomach, but 'later' can be 'when you're not sick anymore'. She won't mention the cheesecake dip she makes to go with them on account of his stomach upset.

Considering all the things he's taught her about, that he's given her the courage to try and the room to explore, teaching him about new foods doesn't seem like a very big deal to her. Still, she's happy to do it. She always likes having someone around to appreciate her cooking. "Well, of course 'and me'. Tea and toast isn't going to make itself," she teases.

"Yes, on the left," she agrees as she begins to steer him toward it. "You can sit and relax while I deal with the taxi." Once he's sitting she presses a kiss to his forehead. "I love you."

She's his lucky girl. And he's her lucky guy. And lucky for them even though these symptoms are spelling out something, it's very untrue. Which might be one of the luckiest of things.

"Later," he agrees. Toast with some peanut butter and tea would be the most complicated he should handle. And he wouldn't want to miss a chance to enjoy it.

It doesn't seem like a big deal, it's an activity they can both appreciate. And there's a nurturing, simple pleasure about sharing her know how and palette. He also loves that they both have a tendency to want things natural. "I don't want to cuddle myself either," he grumbles softly to her with an all too practiced pout.

Taking a load off makes him sigh. The feeling of her lips on his skin has another grin. "I love you." And there's no shred of shame being less than his best with her knowing she understands.

She's his. The luck is implied in that statement and the girl. Yes, they're very lucky neither of them is unexpectedly pregnant. She could not handle that right now. Although it might be a smidgen easier on her if it were him; he's not likely to pass along his powers or her curse.

It's a treat he can look forward to. She'll make it when he's on the mend; the scent of the cinnamon sugar baking should rouse dormant appetites. One of them, at least. It does help that their tastes and preferences are so similar. She's been known to binge on junk food from time to time (and he's known her long enough to time those times), but generally, she'd rather keep him healthy. Gods know he needs all the help in that department.

The pout makes her laugh. She wants so much to kiss it away. Not while they're walking. "No, my love, I'll never abandon you to such a fate. You'll always have a cuddle partner in me. Or a pillow at the least."

She hums and kisses his hair before stepping away. It's not finding a cab that's the problem it's finding the right kind of cab. Her neighborhood doesn't allow cars, so it'll have to be a bike cab or rickshaw. Usually, she appreciates the quiet; today, she's frustrated by the wait. Doesn't the multiverse understand that Matt needs something? It should be right there waiting for them, damn it!

Ah, the universe doesn't work that way. Nor does Matt biologically. And really, their life has settled in a pace that has enough room for the both of them. No additionally cursed being or ultra-sensitive one is needed.

They both do have a weakness for the occasional junk food items. The periods of lapsing in good, clean eating have been kept up pretty well between the two of them with some enabling. Matt is just as bad though when it comes down to it. In the end nothing beats what Verity can cook up unless it has a Michelin star. Even then, being in her presence as she whips up another delicious thing is something he'd choose as a favorite.

"Partner first, pillow second," he amends. His touch lingers just a moment since she's there until she pulls away. Matt then tries to focus on what he's feeling. Surely it's starting to pass since it came on fast right? Right? As long as it doesn't get worse.

Figuring out their life together, just the two of them, is enough of a challenge for now. That's for sure. They'd need to get that all squared away before they start adding to the team.

As weaknesses go, it's not the worst sort. The only weakness less likely to hurt her is her weakness for him. Knowing he'd rather have her cooking for him at home over a gourmet meal is one of the sweetest things. And inspires her to try just a little harder to make things even better for him.

She isn't away from him for too long; a handful of minutes, and then she's coming back to collect him. "Okay, there's a bike taxi waiting. Ready to stand up?" Her hands rest on his shoulders until she has his agreement; then she'll lean down to help him up. Small and sturdy, and just the right height to be used as leverage if he needs it. There's perks to dating a short girl.

Certainly the new member would not be a humanoid. An animal would be better, a more neutral party with strong opinions on affection and food, it'd fit right in.

A greasy burger or pizza belly ache would be uncomfortable. A fraction of what he's going through right about now. Verity's cooking has never and would never hurt him. That's one of the many perks. Another is that he swears that love makes a difference in the recipe. Hence that eventual surprise pudding she has coming.

The handful of minutes have him with a few more buttons of his shirt undone. He straightens when she comes forward. "Yeah, I think so." A good breath in, a good breath out. "I'm going to stand and then stay still a minute, okay?" Dizzy again. Bless is sturdy, sweet and short girlfriend. Matt's on his feet which still don't feel right and he holds onto her. "You're so good to me, I love you so," he miserably groans into her hair as the nothing he sees sways and sloshes.

Yes, clearly, they need to get a dog. But it needs to be the right dog. The perfect stripey-socked dog.

Love most definitely makes a difference. It's why everything is made just the way he likes it, and his food is always plated the way he finds most convenient. Another of those little things she does to try and make his life easier. She'd never let her cooking hurt him.

"Take all the time you need." Don't think she hasn't noticed those buttons being undone. If he weren't feeling so unwell... Later. When he's better. For now, she focuses on getting him up, then shifts a foot back so she can hold him steady. "I love you too, honey. I love you too. I'm going to pick you up now, so you just focus on holding onto my shoulders okay?"

He's given a moment to process this before she tucks an arm behind his knees and lifts him up. Her breath comes out in a sigh; it's an effort, but not a burden. He still gets a minute to feel steady again before she starts walking to the taxi.

The right dog, the right demeanor, the right stripes. It's like there's one just waiting to be found...

Verity's love is in the entire conception of whatever is on the plate. Matt has been sorely lacking home cooking for more than half of his life. Even if it's a daily occurrence he is still very, very appreciative and happy for it. No sit down establishment can replicate it.

"Uh huh," he swallows and keeps up with the even breathing. The buttons are to try and cool down. It's warm again. All the attention will come back to her. Might want to reserve a day to stay in bed. "Okay. Three. Two." Matt hopes thinking light thoughts will help her process. "I'm okay." Spins still on the go but he holds on, having faith that it will just not get in the way of their journey.

Soon. All in good time.

This is true; for all the exotic ingredients and exceptional skill, nobody in those fancy restaurant kitchens will ever love him the way she does. And the waitresses better not try to deliver his meals with the hugs and kisses he gets from her.

He can have all the stay-in-bed days he likes. They can sprawl and lounge and nap, all good things they need more of in their lives. She's got fans and ac for when he's hot and blankets and heaters for when he's cold. Everything will be better soon. All he needs to do is focus on her. The world may be unsteady, but her heartbeat isn't. And the ride in her arms soon turns into a ride in her lap; she's not putting him down, just climbing into the back of the cab and settling him against her. "There. Safe and sound, yeah? It won't be a long ride now."

Every time together is a good one. Even now has it's charm.

No fancy restaurant would get him the way that Verity does. And no staff would be to his liking completely the way that she is. Matt is very content to have her as his only source of physical affection. No others need to apply in that department.

Senses, as sloshed and mixed as they are, focus on her heartbeat. The way she smells. That carries him too right up until the moment they're still. "Better. Mmmm." Curling into her is easy to do once he's up next to her, on her mostly. A day in bed after recovery would be spent on her, just her. There are so many ways to feel good. Matt wants to be sure Verity knows more than a handful.

Now does have its charms, true. It isn't often she gets to be the strong one cradling him like this. It's an interesting role-reversal for them. She doesn't love the circumstances that brought them to it, but she loves being able to comfort him.

Puppies can still apply for physical affections, though, right?

Ver holds him close but not tight once they're settled. She's already arranged the route with the cabbie; a longer one than usual, but a gentler one with slower traffic. Ver's wearing the perfume they made, and her clothes are soft blends of silk and cotton. She tilts her head to lay her cheek against his hair, watching the scenery pass through half-closed eyes.

A day spent entirely with him would be a treasure. Right now she's concerned with his present comfort. He should know by now that she doesn't sing, but she can hum a meandering tune. It's something for him to focus on, close and soft and familiar. Better than getting lost in the sounds of life outside their bubble of safety.

"I love you," she interjects from time to time, sing-saying the words. It's as close to singing as she comes.

Usually Matt is the one doing the carrying. He never thinks it a chore or a burden and dimly worries that he is too bulky. It has been vanquished. Laying here with her in total trust, breathing the same air with her, trying to slow it with her's. If he has to be incapacitated he is with her and under her very capable watch.

Puppies do give snuggles and cuddles. He wouldn't refuse a puppy. Just an overly confident waitress or anyone else humanoid with the wrong idea. His favorite person is unbeatable when it comes to comfort.

Verity' said voice, soft and muted to most ears gets him exactly as she guessed it would. Matt reaches for her hand to hold it to his chest. He shuts his eyes and falls into a lull. "I love you," he answers softly, the words vibrate their joined hands.

Too bulky? Far from. He's just right, in every possible way. Even incapacitated, he's perfect. Just the right amount of a handful for her to feel useful and free to fuss. He knows how much she loves an excuse to spoil him.

Ver's hand settles against his chest, shifting until it's under his shirt and she can feel his heartbeat. All those open buttons are finally good for something. The steady rhythm of his heart is as reassuring for her as hers is for him. Her melody gets a delighted trill in answer to those favorite words. He can relax and trust in her to take care of him for the rest of the ride.

She doesn't move until the cab's stopped, and at first it's only to deal with paying. Then she kisses his forehead and warns him, "I'm going to be picking you up again now." It's only five flights of stairs up to her apartment. Samus would tell them both it's nothing she can't handle and would tsk if she wavers.

His combined weight is really not as bad to lug the short distance to her place. It is like a very streamlined version of Samus runs. Not being too much or overwhelming feels grand. God willing he won't chance from that. Thus far the lifestyle with a good diet has only yielded good results, more lean muscle.

Skin to skin contact is another intimate comfort that soothes him. Her skin is so warm and smooth. His own flesh still feels too hot. But in stillness it's more livable. "Thank you," he says again for everything happening. It's just another way to proclaim love.

Coming to a halt, now for phase two. Matt swallows. "Okay, love. I'm ready. Take your time." His stomach still flops hard at shifting. Oh boy.

She does appreciate his lean muscle. On a daily basis, when he lets her.

There'll be more skin to skin when they're upstairs and alone. Soon, soon. "You're welcome, honey." Another sing-song answer, punctuated with a flurry of butterfly-light kisses along his brow. His skin is warm, which is usually one of the things she loves about him. She'll be taking his temperature properly before the cuddling can commence.

"Of course. No rush. Just keep your head on my shoulder so it doesn't bump into anything." She does take her time, easing them through every step to keep the ride as smooth as possible for him. "Can you handle the locks?" Otherwise, she'll have to put him down a few times. But on the whole, she's pretty good at this: he's not the first man she's carried up a flight (or five) of stairs. And he isn't even bleeding.

He lets her appreciate at any available time. Sometimes for hours with his working with hers.

Upstairs now is where they must go. And he lives in the breaths and heartbeats that match so well with the songs on her lips. All of this is temporary, he wants to look back on today and think of how wonderful her care is for him, not about how the sickness had come so fast and about ruined him in a few days. Can't be all that bad when cuddles will be at the end.

"Got it," he swallows and rests his head. "keys and all." The least he can do. "Oh darling, please if you need me to walk any, I can." That's a lot of flights anyway. She is strong and capable. "You're getting a trophy today."

And she appreciates how generous he is.

These troubles will pass. He'll be on the mend soon, and the memories of gentle love will overshadow the memories of discomfort and pain. She's determined to see it go that way, through sheer quantity if needs be.

Once she's got them out of the cab, it's smooth going. Her gait is even and easy, and she's careful to not rock of jolt him. "No need, my love. I've got you." He can handle the locks, and she'll take care of everything else. She rewards herself for reaching each landing by nuzzling his hair. "Mm, I've got you. What more could I need?"

Finally, finally! They're safe at home. She nudges the door shut behind them with her foot before carrying him into the living room to deposit him on the large plush chaise lounge they love to snuggle in. "Here we are, my love. Home again, safe and sound." Once he's down she leans over to give him the soft kiss they've both been wanting. "You going to be okay here while I get some things?"

There's so much in the touch of her hand that makes him feel emotions and sensations. He wouldn't want to deny that to either of them. Some days don't feel complete without her presence even if they do talk on the phone. At least then he knows that she's there in the world.

"Bless your heart." It comes out unbidden. All those steps and she's still going. Matt nuzzles back and murmurs his thanks and love. "You got me, that's all I need." And maybe air. There's plenty of that though. She's really in fit form now if she wasn't before.

Finally placed to sit Matt still reaches to pull her close for that soft kiss. His head and stomach are a mess. It's not one of his better ones but the effort is there. "I love you, I'll be fine here waiting for you." Because he's going to remove his shirt to try to cool down more. Shoes too if is up to leaning down again.

"Bless my heart?" Ver laughs at that, pausing to lean against a wall and adjust her hold on him. "What the hell did I do to deserve that, honey? I thought I was doing good."

Yes, she is super fit. He should have already known that; he's had plenty of time to explore.

Ver doesn't resist when he pulls her in, only trying to balance herself so she doesn't end up sprawled over him. Tempting as that is... maybe later. Any kiss from him is better than anything without him. She keeps the kiss light, simple, undemanding. Now is not the time for either of them to start wanting too much. "I love you too." She kisses the tip of his nose before straightening up again.

First thing she does is put on the record she'd told him about. Then she puts on the kettle and gets the toast started. Spotting him undressing, she'll go get him some pajamas to change into, and heck, might as well change into her own while she's at it. Then she circles around to him again, setting his jammies next to him before she kneels to handle his shoes and socks. "Let me, love. I brought you some pajamas. I'll take these and wash them, just in case."

"No, no," he protests softly and reaches to pet wherever he knows her head is. "I mean that. Bless you because you're doing this. No other meaning meant." There's no way he'd imagine anyone doing this single-handedly. Claire needed Santino's help way back when. A lack of blood and trauma do make this easier for both parties.

Super fit is usually appreciated with no clothes and a different kind of physical activity. This is a more involved feat. He still admires her for what she can do.

Listening to the familiar sounds around them below the new record are soothing. Rustle of fabric and Verity's footsteps and steady heart. Everything's going to be okay for sure if there was any remaining doubt before. (There wasn't.) Matt stills when she comes back. Again he reaches for her to touch her shoulder, her arm. "Thank you, honey. I'm still dizzy. Do my feet look different? Maybe it's an allergy?"

Verity sighs at the pets, tilting her head into them. "I know. I'm used to more passive-aggressive uses of the phrase." Claire's an amazing woman, but she hasn't spent the last year training with Samus. And Verity's got a secret weapon: the power of love. Yes, that sounds cheesy af, but it's true. Loving him makes it easier to do these things.

She'll pay for it tomorrow.

His hand gets a kiss when it passes near her face and she nuzzles his arm affectionately. "Your feet look fine, honey, but I'll check more carefully if you want. Tell me if anything feels sore or odd, okay?" Ver sits on the floor and takes one foot in her hands, running her fingers over it and looking for signs of anything being wrong. Swelling, bruising, discoloration...

"Think you could stomach a potion? I've got a cure disease that might help."

They've long got over the simple fact that there are going to be cheesy moments. Matty wouldn't trade them for everything. It's a fixed part of his day like working, patrol, time with her, if it isn't cheesy, exceedingly cheesy then there's something amiss. And the power of love is nothing to be sniffed at. It does amazing things. More amazing than lifting a thirty year old, blind vigilante.

Tomorrow she's getting the pampering. He already decided if he's well enough.

He smiles lightly. Laying back and resting is starting to have everything settle. He lazily drapes an arm over his stomach and finds patting it a little feels...good. "Ooh, that feels good actually. Mmm." Her fingers and pressure there. Matt breathes in slowly and exhales slowly.

A potion wouldn't be a bad idea. It's worked before, right? "I'm game. And maybe I just need to throw up, you know? Get a clean start on the inside. I had breakfast with you. Left overs for lunch. Coffee. Pita chips. Nothing---" Matt stops thoughtfully.

She kinda loves the cheesy moments. Feeling safe enough to let anyone know that side of her is an amazing thing. The fact he seems to enjoy it makes it all even better. She loves every silly, cheesy thing he does. The single flower he brings home to her. The mornings he wakes her up by reciting poetry. The way he sings in the shower. The candies he sneaks into her purse for her to find at random points during the day.

A day of pampering would be lovely.

Ver smiles to see him relaxing. Sometimes, just being home helps so much. "Yeah? Maybe what you need is a foot rub." She doesn't wait in putting thought to deed. She'll start with his ankles and work her way down to his toes, one foot and then the other.

"That's possible," she allows. He gets a moment to think when he stops talking before she prompts, "What? What is it?"

Oh it is amazing and precious to him. Matt has been nurturing every quirk like a fledgling plant with more sunshine and water. Sometimes he'll hide small prizes for her flowers pressed in her books or new spices in the cabinet.

Pampering starting with a long, long time in bed.

He tilts his head back and moans a little. "And you think you're not magic." Magic fingers and a supernaturally professional sense of care.

"I had a cookie. It wasn't bad or anything. It tasted like it was home made." But. "There was a flavor in it I couldn't figure out."

She has to admit, he's good at picking out spices. His super nose always finds the freshest ones. And a mystery bottle in the cupboard means learning how to use it--just delightful. Does he know she's saving all the flowers? All the flowers that can be dried or pressed are going into frames that are slowly filling up.

Keeping her in bed will require incentives. Like his being there, too.

"Oh, I'm magic enough for you," she counters with a playful smirk. Her fingers dance over his skin with the assurance of familiarity. "But don't press your luck, Murdock."

Ah. She tsks softly at the revelation. "Someone was handing out cookies in the Nexus, and now you don't feel well? Sounds like a lol. My poor darling."

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