Steve considered sex just as awkward and embarrassing, at least at first, as throwing up - but with the added benefit of being fun and pleasurable to make up for it. But so long as Rogue let him take care of her at some point, before, during or after, he could live with being shut out at certain times. If anyone understood wanting independence, it was him.

He was just glad when she didn't brush him aside, or tell him she was fine. Because clearly, she was not. He nodded at her answer, pulling back to kiss her forehead before catching her eye. "Walk, or be carried?" If she was that tired, her legs might not hold her now that the adrenaline was fading as quickly as it had come, but if he tried to change her upright position, it might make her sick again. "Lemme get you in bed, and I'll get you something to drink."

He did have ginger ale (he'd never had a pantry so well-stocked in his life as he did now, thanks to Rogue), but ideally he'd like to see her drink a glass of water, as well. He should start stocking up on Gatorade as well, really, for both of them, but water would re-hydrate her better than ginger ale.