Addiction

Sting sat on the sofa, listening to the retching in the bathroom slowly fade into lethargic groans before Rogue stumbled back into the room and collapsed on top of him. He was starting to regret switching all their coffee to decaf (banking on the fact that Rogue was too tired without it for his nose to work properly and rat him out) in an attempt to deal with his mate's terrible caffeine addiction. It wasn't just coffee that was switched, oh no, tea, chocolate and even ice cream had to go if Rufus' research was right.

He was really in for it when these withdrawal symptoms died down and Rogue found out. Currently he was drifting on the verge of consciousness, curled into himself in Sting's lap as cramps wracked his body and his nose streamed. Irregular rhythms rocked his heart as it beat erratically against his ribcage, fuelling red irises with panic behind drowsy lids. Little childlike snuffles filled the room as he leant heavily into the caring hand on his head.

Part of Sting, the draconic side that told him to protect and heal and hoard, was screaming at him to stop this, find some caffeinated coffee and cure Rogue. But the more rational side stayed strong, knowing that if this is what withdrawal did to his mate's body that the drug itself was even worse.

Instead he stroked lazy circles across his hair and back while staring lovingly at the pained face beneath him. He didn't like intervening with Rogue's choices so brutally but this was how their relationship had evolved over time, looking out for each other in ways that worked out best in the end, whether the other agreed or not.

In the beginning it had meant so much to Sting, finally being free of Giemma and planning for a future rather than just how they could survive from one day to the next. Now it was ingrained in everyday life; Rogue putting plates of food in front of him when his stomach forgot, Sting dragging him to bed when he was up too late for the fifth time that week and sharing the brunt of guild work, paperwork, housework or anything really was completely natural at this point. Still, it held such a significance for the both of them that it was no surprise when a wave of emotion hit him. Cradling his boyfriend in his lap he felt tears drip down his skin to land on Rogue's paled cheeks, joining him in muffled sniffing. He scrunched his nose up in confusion, wrinkling the old scar across it, and looked up questioningly.

"What's wrong?" His voice was weak and hoarse after the toll the withdrawal symptoms had taken which only fuelled Sting's tears.

"It's all my fault! I hurt you." He sobbed.

Unfocussed eyes were tempted to roll but Rogue knew the only thing Sting needed right now was comfort.

"What are you talking about?"

"…I may have, uh, thrown away everything caffeinated we own and switched it to decaf? These are all withdrawal symptoms."

Now the eyes really did roll, the fog filling his brain muffling the anger and annoyance he normally would feel.

"I'm gonna kill you when this is over. I thought I was fucking dying." Rogue slurred behind a wry smile.

"I know." Sting pouted.

"You're safe for now though." He mumbled, burying his face deeper into Sting's clothes and letting the scent comfort him.

Soft strokes brushed through his hair as Rogue drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours, still nestled snugly in his partner's lap. Eventually having enough energy to sit up, he shifted to rest against Sting as an old movie lacrima played in black and white and the apologetic attention turned into feather light kisses against his neck. Smiling through the drowsiness Rogue tilted his head back, both giving Sting more room to pamper him and giving himself a place to rest his head while sleep took him in ebbs and flows.

By the time Rogue woke it was dusk. He was propped awkwardly on the couch on top of Sting who was sound asleep and emitting little protective growls through his snoring. Getting up to stretch out sore muscles, Rogue stared at the white dragon subconsciously reaching its claws out for its mate. I am so lucky to have you. He thought as he scooped up Sting to lay him down on their bed in the next room. Deciding it was time to call it a day as dizziness and a slight headache still plagued his mind, he slipped under the covers and curled up next to his boyfriend.

Little wake up calls like today were never pleasant but as the withdrawal symptoms faded for the day Rogue could admit that Sting's compassion and concern for him made up for it. The next morning he wasn't so sure.