The porcelain of the toilet felt cool, so blessedly cool, against flushed skin.
The roiling nausea was finally beginning to ease after vomiting several times. Morning sickness was a stupid term since it seemed to hit at random times in the morning, afternoon and evening. Sometimes it was brought on by smells, like that new flowery perfume of Kitty's or the scent of bacon that wafted out of the kitchen that morning. Sometimes it didn't need a trigger of any kind, it just struck like lightning, resulting in a mad dash to the closest bathroom when inside or a bush when on the mansion grounds.
Eyes closed, trying to take deep steadying breaths though the nose as stomach muscles clenched again. A pathetic groan, followed by a soft touch on the back of the neck, spousal murmurs of sympathy and then the bliss of a cool washcloth on the forehead.
"It's okay, baby, it's gonna be okay now. You're alright."
Feeling quite the worse for wear, Logan opened one bleary hazel eye and looked up at Rogue, who was sitting perched on the edge of the bathtub with a look of concern.
"Darlin', did Hank say how long this sympathy morning sickness would last?" He wasn't sure but the particular tone he'd just used may have been classified as a whine by somebody with a death wish. Wolverine did *not* whine, for god's sake.
Rogue sighed. "Ah'm sorry sugah, Ah really am. Hank says that he thinks it's because we've absorbed so much of each other over time that the sympathy symptoms are so strong."
Releasing his death grip on the toilet, Logan leaned toward his wife until his face was pressed against the softness of her bathrobe. He knelt there, arms around her thickened waist as she stroked his hair. "I didn't know this is what they meant about that 'in sickness and health' thing."
Rogue kissed Logan's hair, then managed to stand up with a slight grimace, one hand pressed to the small of her back. "Get yourself cleaned up, sugah, while I go get ya some crackers and some of that mint tea that helps when ya get like this."
Pausing at the bathroom door, she looked at her husband still slumped against the tub. Bad ass Wolverine, mean in a cage fight and deadly in battle. People quaked in fear at his slightest scowl and here he was, brought low. Lips twitching, she schooled her features into an expression of concern. "Ah just hope your ankles don't start to swell."
As Logan moaned and slid the floor in misery, the sound of his wife's tinkling laugh rang in his ears.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
Thought a bit of Couvade Syndrome might affect Wolverine
Chapter End Notes:
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