Work Text:
Steve’s technically at work, and James technically has the day off, though they both sit on the living room sofa. Steve has his laptop open on his knees while James scrolls listlessly through his phone.
Steve’s been working on the same story for going on two hours now, and he’s in high need of a break, not that he wants to admit it. He’s beginning to feel hot around the collar, and stars are creeping into the corners of his vision. A tremor starts at his pinky fingers and works its way to his palms. The next sentence he types is half gibberish, and Steve’s forced to lift his hands from the keyboard and flex them in front of him.
“What’s up?” James glances over top of his phone. “You ok?”
“Eh. Long draft,” Steve answers. His throat is dry, but his mouth is wet and sour-tasting. He rests one hand over the top of his laptop screen, unsure if he wants to close it.
James watches him closely, clearly noting the shakiness. “You feeling alright? You’re not looking so good.”
“I’m getting a little tired,” Steve admits.
“So take a break,” James suggests.
“It’s not quitting time yet. And I want to get this story done today. If I stop, I’ll lose my momentum.”
“What momentum? I’m pretty sure that rock’s rolling you back down the hill at this point.”
“That’s great, Buck.” Steve shakes his head, and the stars dance in front of his eyes. “I’m gonna check my feed...” He reaches for his backpack, which rests on the floor between them. Alpine lays snuggled against it, pinning the bag to the carpet.
“Get off,” Steve orders the cat. Then he addresses James. “You don’t think he chewed my tube, do you?”
James rolls his eyes. “He’s not gonna chew your tube. He just loves your pump. That thing practically purrs, you know? He thinks it’s his buddy.”
“Sure...” Steve pulls the backpack from under Alpine’s fluffy head. “Sorry, kitty.” He drags the bag into his lap and unzips it, then squints at the pump’s display. Nothing’s amiss there; his rate is as it should be, and the machine seems to be running fine.
Steve lifts the pump from the bag anyway and begins to examine the tube extending from it to the stoma in his abdomen. As soon as he does, the long tube falls from its neat coils into a single strand, save for a folded kink somewhere around the middle.
“Ah,” says James, eyeing the kink. “There’s the culprit.”
“Yeah, I don’t know how it was still running with that.” Steve pinches the line to flatten the fold. “The alarm should’ve been going off like crazy.” He watches his formula move through the tube, and the rate of flow visibly increases.
“Your pump is possessed sometimes.” James shrugs. “Give it ten minutes and I bet you’ll feel better.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He pauses for a moment. “You don’t think your cat kinked it when he sat on it--”
“Quit blaming the damn cat.” James gets to his feet, and Alpine entwines with his ankles. “I’ll get you some tea with sugar to speed things up. Or do you want a syringe of grape juice to just put through the tube? Get your blood sugar up faster?”
Steve thinks on it for a moment. “Tea,” he decides. “I think I can drink something.”
“Tea for two it is.”
“Thanks. Love you,” Steve says.
“Love you too.” James looks over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “And so does my cat.”