Steve didn't quite catch himself before he swiped a hard hand over his face; it wasn't a great gesture, but he was so exasperated with her he couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or scream. Neither, was the option he had to go with, but both urges were pretty strong at the moment.
Instead, he took a deep breath, and sighed. "This is always-- whether you live here or not, no matter how you feel about it, this is always your home, to me. I mean--" he gestured around the bathroom and out the door into the hallway to encompass the rest of the apartment, with the lights lining the walls, all the little touches everywhere that spoke of her time there. "If nothing else, that kitchen is 100% yours," he teased, because at this point, he needed a little levity.
"But this is all your choice. I'm not gonna go over to your apartment some night and steal all your stuff and put it here and force you into anything - kinda the exact opposite of what I want. But I... I want you to choose me." He couldn't quite hide the longing and lingering hurt from before in his voice. "As for whether we get sick of each other - trust me, we will. I may have never lived with a romantic partner before, but I've lived with someone my entire life. You get comfortable with someone, the shine wears off, things get on your nerves, you fight." He shrugged insouciantly. "I've got my studio, you've got your kitchen. We go cool off, or I go for a jog, or-- whatever. That's how relationships are supposed to work. I don't give up on things I want, and like it or not, Marie LeBeau, I want you, and I'm not gonna stop. You're stuck with me." His lips quirked in an endearing smile, remembering saying those words so often when they first started their unlikely relationship.
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Instead, he took a deep breath, and sighed. "This is always-- whether you live here or not, no matter how you feel about it, this is always your home, to me. I mean--" he gestured around the bathroom and out the door into the hallway to encompass the rest of the apartment, with the lights lining the walls, all the little touches everywhere that spoke of her time there. "If nothing else, that kitchen is 100% yours," he teased, because at this point, he needed a little levity.
"But this is all your choice. I'm not gonna go over to your apartment some night and steal all your stuff and put it here and force you into anything - kinda the exact opposite of what I want. But I... I want you to choose me." He couldn't quite hide the longing and lingering hurt from before in his voice. "As for whether we get sick of each other - trust me, we will. I may have never lived with a romantic partner before, but I've lived with someone my entire life. You get comfortable with someone, the shine wears off, things get on your nerves, you fight." He shrugged insouciantly. "I've got my studio, you've got your kitchen. We go cool off, or I go for a jog, or-- whatever. That's how relationships are supposed to work. I don't give up on things I want, and like it or not, Marie LeBeau, I want you, and I'm not gonna stop. You're stuck with me." His lips quirked in an endearing smile, remembering saying those words so often when they first started their unlikely relationship.