(no subject)

[dranksforthememories]

WHAT what you want
WHERE where you want
WHEN Day ""135""

[The rain has cleared, but it appears to have left some people with a case of the sniffles! The magic sniffles. Even if you've never been sick a day in your life, you might not find yourself immune. Then again, maybe you have a terrible immune system and you're fine. I'm not the magic sniffles police.

Symptoms May Include:

- runny nose
- sore throat
- fever
- thinking you're going to cough or sneeze but actually what comes out is A BURST OF THE TRUTH
- waking up in someone else's bed
- joint aches

At least the sketchy pop-up pharmacy at the mall has a special on tissues and nyquil?]

Comments

[divasterous]

Oh. Um. Good morning . . .

Are you okay?

[coldhand]

[a pause. well]

Morning.

[then a long, thoughtful pause, followed by a sniffle]

I don’t think I am.

[divasterous]

Just—just lie back down? Is there anything I can get you?

[coldhand]

[yes, okay, laying back down]

How’d I get here though...?

[rubbing her forehead]

I can’t have a fever...

[divasterous]

I mean, possibly the same magic that's causing your fever landed you here?

[he lightly touches his fingertips to her head]

[coldhand]

[she is too hot, and somehow just a little clammy]

Suppose... [huffing. then:] Doesn't seem fair, waking up in strange beds and not even having fun with it.

[it's the ghost of a joke]

[divasterous]

[he grins at that, gently smoothing her hair back]

Maybe another time, yeah? Ahh, you can stay here, though. I can get some medicine.

[coldhand]

Medicine might be good.

[wincing]

[divasterous]

[trots off, returning shortly with a cool washcloth, a glass of water, and some tylenol]

Here. Drink. Swallow.

[coldhand]

[sitting up enough to take a drink and swallow, pressing the glass against her cheek]

Thanks. Hopefully this works.

[divasterous]

I think rest will help most of all.

Do you want me to. Leave?

[coldhand]

No. You don’t have to...

[frowning a little as she tries to clear her thoughts]

Don’t mind your company.

[divasterous]

. . .

[settles next to her, curled up with some space between them. he's wearing an oversized t-shirt (probably Steve's) and a pair of boxers. looking especially small and twiggy]

Oh. I'm . . . glad.

[coldhand]

You sound surprised. [it probably is Steve’s shirt. And on him, it doubtless looks two sizes too small]

[divasterous]

Hah . . . I just always worry you find me obnoxious.

[coldhand]

No. No, it’s not that... [kind of flopping toward him, giving him a look over with reddened eyes] Not at all.

It’s more like, I’m not sure...

[don’t trail off there, Barnes, that’s not helpful]

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do sometimes.

[divasterous]

[he hesitates, then grabs the cool cloth again, gently pressing it to her forehead]

I don't know what you mean.

[coldhand]

[closing her eyes]

Not sure how to explain it. It’s sort of like... ever see someone who’s never been around kids when the end up holding a baby? It’s not that they don’t like babies. They’re just not sure what to do with them.

Sometimes, I feel like that. A lot. Not just with you.

[divasterous]

Did I just get compared to a baby?

[coldhand]

[‘_’]

Not... exactly? Maybe.

[divasterous]

[. . . wheezes out a soft laugh]

No—no. I kind of understand what you're saying.

I feel that way . . . I think? Just like . . . everyone else seems to know all these unwritten rules of how to interact with others. What you want out of it, what they want out of it, how to behave. And I just don't.

[coldhand]

Something like that, yeah.

[T’Challa has a way of being right]

Or like I used to know the rules once, but I forgot them all, and they changed hem since the last time I played anyway.

[divasterous]

[hums softly, head pillowed on his arm, elbow bent. eyes closed, still gently pressing the cool cloth to her forehead]

I'd imagine that would make it harder. Like, frustrating.

[coldhand]

I wouldn’t say that. Not like it’s a thing you can compare?

[she probably shouldn’t tell him all this. Like putting her problems on him. But she doesn’t want him to think he’s the problem—because he’s really not]

I spent seventy years as a weapon. The people who did it put plenty of shit in my head, to make me a better killer, or a better tool. A lot of that’s the exact opposite of being a person. Not even a good person, just... a real get a job, pay your bills, get married and die person.

[that’s probably a dated description too. It wasn’t even her thing in the 40s, but she thinks it gets the point across]

Shuri got rid of the conditioning and gave me back my mind. But even she can only fix so much.

[divasterous]

[his eyes widen, and he exhales softly]

Oh . . .