on_ur_left: ([av] disappointed)
Steve Rogers ([personal profile] on_ur_left) wrote in [community profile] rogue_america2016-12-16 09:22 pm
Entry tags:

First Christmas

Glancing back to make sure Rogue was still in the bathroom around the corner, Steve stopped fiddling with his tie, and went over to his closet. Keeping one ear trained on the quiet sounds of Rogue moving around, he ducked down and pulled out his portfolio bag. Along with the shield he always stored in there, underneath the shield was a wide, fairly flat box that he pulled out. He flipped the lid open to make sure nothing was tangled, reaching out with a finger to delicately rearrange a few pieces, before snapping the lid shut.

Taking a deep breath, he repeated to himself that he could do this. Giving a gift had never been so nerve-wracking, honestly; he hoped Rogue liked it. She'd probably accuse him of spoiling her, especially once he explained that this wasn't his actual Christmas gift to her. But he'd seen it in the window of a little indie clothing store a few blocks away, and had immediately known it would look stunning on Rogue.

Right. Okay. Time to do this. Straightening up and shoving the bag back in the closet with one foot, he passed a hand over his suit and slacks to get rid of any wrinkles from crouching, before moving toward the bathroom.
theycalledmeacurse: (perfection)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-06 04:54 am (UTC)(link)
It was the best reaction she could have hoped for.

Watching Steve unwrap the framed photo, seeing the way so carefully touched the glass, she knew it had been the right choice. She could hear those tears in his voice, her vision swimming in response to that sound. He missed them all terribly, she could hear it in every story he'd shared with her and all the hundreds that he didn't, but as far as she knew, the only photographs he had of them were in the files provided by SHIELD. Sure, there were dozens of photos that he could find on the internet, and footage of them all from newsreels that had made it into documentaries, but it just wasn't the same.

She slipped her arms around his middle, leaning into his solid warmth. "I don't have any photos of my family, the friends I left behind," she explained softly, the words sad but not anywhere near as much so as they had been on other occasions. "That's just not possible for me. But it was for you, so I-- I asked Tony to look through his father's things from the war. I made him promise not to say anything, but I'm kind of surprised he actually managed it."
theycalledmeacurse: (emotional)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-06 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
Rogue took a deep breath before sliding her fingers along that pretty wrapping paper, finding the edge to gently start tearing the paper. It became obvious pretty quickly in the process that there was a canvas under that paper, but she couldn't begin to guess what Steve might have painted on it. He'd worked in his studio a bit more than usual lately, but she'd just assumed that he'd been hit with inspiration and hadn't bothered him. The studio was his space, and she rarely went in there without his invitation - not because she didn't feel welcome to do so, but because she wanted him to have that space. She did spend an awful lot of time in his apartment when she didn't actually live there.

When the canvas was finally free from the paper, she carefully turned it around and felt her breath catch in her throat. The figures he'd painted, the colors he'd used. They were exact depictions of her loved ones, but they were the best he could do without having actually seen those people himself, and they were perfect. Jubilee's coat was just the right color, Logan's claws and sideburns, Charles and Erik in their usual uniforms, and Remy...

She could barely see the painting by the time she finished giving it a good once-over, and the tears spilled over her cheeks before she could stop them. "Steve, I--" She tried and failed to thank him, the words stretched thin and cracked in the middle. Her hands shook slightly as she so very carefully set the canvas against the table, and then she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did indeed start crying her eyes out. He knew her so well.
theycalledmeacurse: (real life)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-06 06:24 am (UTC)(link)
Which of course only made her cry even harder. It was the best thing he could have said, the most touching and genuine, and so she held on even tighter and just let out all the emotions he'd brought to the surface with that beautiful painting. Grief at the loss of those people, happiness at the memories of being with them in the good times, utterly pure love for the man sitting beside her.

It took a few minutes, but she did manage to finally pull herself together enough to loosen her hold on Steve and lean back to give him just a little breathing room. She just looked at him for a moment with red-rimmed shining eyes before saying in a completely deadpan tone, "Only you could make me cry on Christmas and get away with it."
theycalledmeacurse: (ap1)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-06 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
As she always did, Rogue leaned toward that touch like a flower seeking the sun. She couldn't help it, the move was completely unconscious; even if she did notice it, she wouldn't have tried to stop herself. His touch made her life worth living.

"I love it," she assured him with a gentle smile. "It's perfect. I don't know how you did it, but everything about it is just... perfect. Thank you, Steve. Thank you so much." She'd never be able to thank him enough for the beautiful gifts he'd given her: the painting and his heart.
theycalledmeacurse: (all that i am)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-10 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
I love you. With Steve, it really did explain everything. So few people seemed to realize just how much he paid attention, the details that he noticed and committed to memory. She shouldn't be at all surprised now by the things he was capable of, but every so often he did something that was so above and beyond what she expected that it just took her breath away.

"I like that plan," she murmured, looking forward to curling up in his arms. Using the coffee table for leverage, she hauled herself up before picking up the beautiful painting and taking it over to one of the low bookshelves. She propped it up there so it would be out of harm's way, letting a fingertip drift over one of the visible brushstrokes. "We'll find somewhere to hang you tomorrow," she promised softly, then went back to the coffee table to collect the various dishes. Uneaten cookies were returned to their container and the mugs of hot chocolate were quickly washed out in the sink along with the pot Steve had used earlier.
theycalledmeacurse: (grin in blue)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 03:36 am (UTC)(link)
Wiping her hands dry on a dish towel, Rogue grinned at that teasing. "It was too good to pass up," she explained, leaving the towel on the counter to dry before heading over to help with the smaller bits of paper. "You did a lovely job yourself, though, sugar. It was really beautiful."

With the last scraps in the box, she looped her arm through Steve's, leaning into him with a tired, happy smile. "Let's go to bed, Steve. I've got a pair of pajamas calling my name." They were light green and had pies on them.
theycalledmeacurse: (sleepy)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
Curled up against Steve, Rogue could almost forget that they weren't just two normal people in love. The horrors they'd faced faded into the background and she could focus on the future they were going to share. Lately, it had led to some beautiful dreams that left her feeling content and at peace.

This wasn't a night for those dreams.

Perhaps it was a subconscious reaction to the windows being covered, or some other subtle trigger from the day that had gone unnoticed. Whatever caused it, the nightmare latched onto her suddenly and abstractly, more feeling than memory. She shifted only once before jerking awake close to dawn, gasping and shaking as the dream slipped away.
theycalledmeacurse: (shadows)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
Taking a few slow, deep breaths, Rogue carefully untangled herself from Steve and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. "In just a minute, sugar," she murmured, her heart still racing. "I'm gonna get a glass of water." Maybe her hands would stop shaking by the time she got back.
theycalledmeacurse: (cautious)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
She should have known that Steve would follow her out of the bedroom. The poor thing looked like he was barely staying upright, so he must have been in a deep sleep when she'd woken him. Guilt gnawed at her stomach and she took another sip of water from the glass she was holding before nodding.

"I'm okay, sugar," she assured him, though her hand was still trembling. "It was just a bad dream, nothing out of the norm." She wanted to brush the whole thing off, claim that she didn't even remember the dream -- but she couldn't lie to him. She did remember what little of it there had been, and he had been front and center.
theycalledmeacurse: (not yet)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
Why did he have to be so perceptive? She could see it in his eyes that he didn't believe her assertions that she was just fine. Of course he didn't, who would? Her hands were shaking, her voice was strained, she felt like she was about to have an anxiety attack. She wasn't okay, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it.

"I'm alright," she insisted with an ounce more of firmness and a shake of her head. "Let's go back to bed."

The glass was supposed to rest on the counter. She wasn't supposed to lose her focus and fumble her grip as she let go, the bottom of the glass only half on the counter so that it teetered over the edge, water spilling as the star-speckled glass hit the floor and shattered, pieces skittering across the kitchen floor. It was an old, automatic instinct for her to immediately crouch down and begin gathering up the shards.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll replace it." The words ran together in a steady murmured stream. She'd been the one to buy the glasses, one of the many special holiday additions to his apartment, but all that was registering in her mind was that old familiar terror at the prospect of being cast aside for something she'd done wrong.
theycalledmeacurse: (frightened)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
If you'd just move in already...

Rogue froze at those words, her heart skipping a beat at what he was saying without saying it. Did he want her to move in with him? Yes, she spent a lot of time there, but didn't he realize that if she moved in, there wouldn't be anywhere for her to go when he decided he didn't want her anymore? That thought had her shaking her head again and continuing to try to clean up the mess she'd made. It was always her mess that ruined things, her own damn fault that people abandoned her. It had to be her fault, it had happened so many times.

"I can't do that," she informed him, tears in her voice even as it cracked on every word.
theycalledmeacurse: (not yet)

[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse 2017-01-11 07:04 am (UTC)(link)
If only she knew that's what he was thinking, if she understood the emotions behind those words, then maybe things would have gone differently. Rogue might have had a better handle on herself, and Steve might have had the presence of mind to realize what he was doing. Instead, his hands wrapped around her wrists and she instinctively panicked, the mutant version of fight or flight kicking in as her mutation activated. Her power tugged where skin met skin, siphoning his energy through those few bare inches, and she was absolutely terrified when she felt those first memories drift into her mind as a copy of his psyche began to form.

No no no nO NO NO NO. "NO!"

One. Two. It took until the third second before she had the sense to pull away, twisting her wrists out of his grasp so she could throw herself backward and out of reach. Glass pieces scattered as she dropped them, a few bloody from cuts on her palms that were already beginning to itch with healing. Her breathing was labored at she stared at him with wide eyes, waiting hoping praying that he was okay.

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