We're okay. We're okay? Steve felt far from okay, honestly, and right now he had a feeling that yes, they needed to talk, or they wouldn't be okay, because... this emotional roller coaster was gonna give him whiplash one of these days.

Taking a deep breath, Steve tilted his head to press a kiss to the crown of Rogue's head - because he wanted to, and to try and take at least some of the sting out of his next words. His face was gentle as he said "Yeah. I kinda think we do."

Part of this was his fault, he realized. He tiptoed around Rogue, trying not to hurt her, to be considerate, but he was doing it so much, they kept getting their wires crossed. Rogue didn't - or couldn't bring herself to - tell him things, how she was feeling about things, what she thought about things, and that-- that had to stop. They had to work on all of it. It wasn't gonna be easy for either of them, but they had to try, or this wonderful thing they had wouldn't have a solid enough foundation to last. And he wanted it to last.

"How 'bout you say your piece while you wash your hands. I still want to take a look; usually things like glass get pushed out when I cut myself, but sometimes they get healed over and stuck in there, and have to be cut back out again. Trust me, it's better to check it now than find out later, the painful way."

Huh. Not a bad metaphor for what was happening to them right now, too.