First Christmas

[on_ur_left]

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.

Comments

[on_ur_left]

Steve didn't really notice on a day-to-day basis whether Rogue wore jewelry or not. Not in any sort of opinionated way, anyway. His mother, and many of the women he'd known, hadn't worn jewelry for the most part, either because it got in the way, they couldn't afford it, or they just couldn't be bothered. Jewelry had mostly been for special occasions where you had to dress up. But he saw more and more everyday women wearing necklaces, bracelets, large earrings... So in passing, he'd noticed Rogue's lack. He didn't know if she didn't enjoy jewelry, or just didn't have any. Considering she'd appeared in this world only a little before him, she couldn't have accumulated much even if she did want some. (Plus, while he realized this was probably horribly sexist and old-fashioned of him, Steve's opinion was: what woman didn't enjoy jewelry, at least on occasion?)

In that regard, it was nice to be able to spoil her with something, something material. He showered her with affection and attention, but that almost seemed trivial to him, as it was natural for him to act like that with someone he loved. But giving a gift, something real and permanent and with beauty to highlight Rogue's own, to have her wear something that he'd personally picked out with her in mind...

Well. It wasn't a gold ring, by any means. But it was a start.

Reaching out, Steve carefully accepted the necklace, holding it with both hands so the delicate silver feathers wouldn't get tangled with the other strands. Laying it gently against her throat, he moved around behind her to see the clasp in order to hook it. Once that was done, he leaned in and placed a kiss at the nape of her neck, where all of that gorgeous hair usually hid the delicate skin. He slid his finger under the row of emeralds, down under the feather strands, ostensibly to help settle them in place better; really it was an excuse to touch Rogue, which he would never get enough of.

"Gorgeous," he murmured, not meaning the necklace at all.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue would never get enough of him touching her, looking at her like that. It was amazing, the things that he could do to her with the slightest bit of effort. And when he did make an effort-- There was no fighting it. Not that she ever wanted to.

Turning to look up at him with eyes full of affection, she leaned up high to press a kiss to cheek. "I love you," she murmured to him before pressing another kiss to those perfect, soft lips. She would never get enough of saying that to him, either, and it would never not be true.

[on_ur_left]

Steve gave a small sigh of happiness, chasing her lips for just one more kiss. He pulled back after just a peck though, laughing breathlessly. "Okay, no. We cannot start that, or we'll never get to the party." He pulls away, but runs his hands down Rogue's shoulders and over her arms, taking her hands in his and bringing one up to his lips for a kiss. "Which we should really get to, if we don't want to be more than slightly fashionably late."

He's still not entirely on-board with the whole party idea, more because his teammates/friends were all crazy, but the closer the time came, the more excited he got about it, too. He never thought of Rogue as a possession, or as anything besides her own brilliant, amazing person; but the idea of arriving at the party with her on his arm, being associated with her... yes, even having his friends meet her and being impressed that he'd managed to find and hold on to a gal like her... well. It did have a large appeal to the scrawny kid from Brooklyn still inside him, who was perpetually surprised any time something good happened to him.

[theycalledmeacurse]

She couldn't stop the giggles that rose up at his protests, because he was completely right. If they did start something, they'd be at it all evening, and as lovely as that prospect was, she'd been looking forward to this party all week. Steve had told her about his teammates and she'd met a few of them, but now they would all be together in a much more relaxed situation than usual. She was still a bit nervous though, hoping that they liked her and thought the best of her as Steve's girlfriend, but she was trying not to concentrate on those feelings and focus on the excitement of spending their first Christmas together.

There was talk that it might even snow that night.

"Then we'd better go," she declared a bit mischievously before wrapping her free hand gently around his tie to anchor herself as she leaned in to plant another quick kiss on his lips. It was over in a second, followed promptly by her turning to practically dance out of the room, there was such a bounce in her high heeled step.

[on_ur_left]

Steve pursed his lips at that mischievous little kiss, but he couldn't quite stop the smile from spreading over his face, either. He heaved a sigh that was far too love-struck and not nearly exasperated enough at Rogue's antics, before grabbing his suit jacket and following after her. "Minx," he muttered under his breath.

He and Rogue were the last to arrive, and although that wasn't precisely what Steve had meant to happen, it was nice having everyone already there to see them show up together. He was a little perturbed and a lot exasperated when Natasha had zoomed over at once to steal Rogue's attention, once introductions were out of the way, leaving Steve to fend off manly back pats from Tony. Thankfully, Pepper distracted him and Steve was able to move away, getting a drink and mingling with his friends more sociably.

He kept an eye on Rogue throughout the night - how could he not just watch her, of course, but also watching for any sort of social fatigue. They drifted together and then parted throughout the night, drawn into different conversations, but always gravitating back to each other. It was... nice. Pleasant. Comfortable. It was everything Steve wanted, and he still couldn't believe he had it.

The party drew to a natural close around midnight, and as they left the tower, small flurries of snow were indeed swirling around. Steve had mixed feelings about snow, but right now it was perfect, adding a dreamlike quality to the streets, and the night in general.

They'd taken a taxi to the party, so went home the same way, and it was almost 1 am before they arrived back. Not having to worry about looking at all presentable now, Steve shook his head once they were back in the apartment, before scrubbing at his hair to get rid of the rapidly melting snow. It was pretty while it was outside, but he really didn't like the cold, now.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was one of the best nights Rogue had ever experienced, in this world or any other. Steve's friends and their significant others were absolutely lovely, completely welcoming her into the circle and drawing her in with their stories of daily life mixed with Avengering. For anyone else, transitioning from a story of arguing with a self-checkout to one of tracking down a criminal mastermind would have seemed completely surreal, but Rogue's life had never been anything resembling ordinary, and none of it took her by surprise.

By the time the party ended, she was feeling the strain from being social for so many hours, but the sight of the gently falling snow brightened her up considerably. She loved snow, had always been fascinated with how it softened the world and made everything a little more beautiful. The cold that came with snow, however, was not as beloved, and she joined Steve in shaking out her hair and shedding her coat, shivering slightly at the chill in the apartment.

"I think I'll turn up the heat a little," she decided, moving toward the thermostat in the living room.

[on_ur_left]

"Yes, definitely, please," Steve agreed, being completely unsuccessful at hiding his relief at the idea of more heat. He shivered as he took off his coat, and couldn't help but glance out the large windows, where snow was starting to stick to the glass, and thin fingers of frost were slowly but steadily creeping inward from the corners.

This is gonna be a bad night, he couldn't help thinking - and immediately tried to shake the thought out of his head. It was Christmas Eve, technically Christmas morning now, and he refused to let ghosts and paranoia ruin his first Christmas with Rogue. They intruded so often still anyway, he wouldn't let them take hold now. Even if it meant not sleeping the rest of the night, he was going to make this Christmas count with Rogue, for all the right reasons. Nightmares wouldn't happen tonight, for him.

It was Christmas now, he realized. Moving over to Rogue, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck before resting his cheek against her hair. "So, we never decided. Are we waiting until morning-morning to give gifts... or are we doing it now, since it's after midnight, and so technically Christmas."

Yes, he was very much a little kid at heart, and wanted presents now. Really, he just wanted to see Rogue open hers.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It wasn't hard to put together the pieces of just why Steve suddenly looked so relieved. She knew that certain things bothered him far more than he ever let on, and that anything to do with ice and cold were on that list from the fact that he'd been frozen for so many decades. It didn't matter who you were, that wasn't something that was so easily moved past. They both had their demons, and she accepted his as he did hers.

She leaned back into his broad chest, resting her hands on those strong arms that were wrapped around her, and sighed contentedly. The night had been wonderful so far, and while part of her wanted to be traditional and save the presents for the morning, she thought that perhaps it might help take Steve's mind off those demons for a little while.

"Let's do it now," she decided softly, her gaze moving to those windows that showed the dark snowy night. "Why don't you make us some hot chocolate first, though? I know I sure could use it."

And it would give her the opportunity to close up all the blinds and curtains throughout the apartment, and turn on the strings of lights she'd strung in each room. Small white lights along the bookshelves and the headboard of the bed, multi-colored strands on the tree, and golden stars lit from within in the kitchen. Christmas wasn't the easiest time for her, with all the memories of holidays spent with her chosen family at the mansion and that perfect Christmas with Remy in New Orleans, so she'd done her best to create new precious memories with Steve. She'd done everything she could to make the apartment look festive (in a tasteful way, of course), and she'd baked up a storm the whole month of December; if Steve didn't have an amazing metabolism, he'd have gained ten pounds from all the goodies she'd made for him.

Which reminded her. "And maybe some of those gingerbread cookies too." She'd frosted them to look like each of the Avengers in their uniforms.

[on_ur_left]

Nodding, Steve pressed a quick, distracted kiss to her jaw, even as his arms loosened and he moved toward the kitchen. He rolled his eyes at the mention of the cookies, though. He almost asked if she was really hungry again after eating at the party, but stopped himself just in time. It would only be teasing, but he'd vowed to himself that he'd never say anything against her eating habits, especially now that she was eating more and had slowly gained back some of her previous weight. She was still light as a feather to him, and maybe it was growing up with Bucky's large Italian family, but he still thought she should be eating more.

"These cookies are so true-to-life, I'm almost afraid to eat them," he joked. "They look like some kind of edible voodoo dolls." He put several on a plate anyway, then got a small saucepan out to start heating up some milk. He grabbed one and began nibbling off the Hulk's green foot - the fact that she'd made a small batch with added green food coloring just for the Hulk cookies was insane, and one of the reasons he adored her.

Still stirring the milk, Steve habitually glanced over his shoulder toward the window to check the progress of frost - only to see that Rogue had already pulled the blinds shut. He took an unsteady breath and turned quickly back to stare at the milk, which was just starting to form bubbles. Rogue hated having the curtains drawn, even at night. She liked being able to look out at the city and see all the lights that never faded, never went out. He knew she'd closed them for him, and... She knew him so well, and really, what the hell was he waiting for, a hand-written invitation? Just ask her to move in already!

The milk started boiling in earnest, and Steve lowered the heat slightly and started adding the cocoa and vanilla.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was true that she hated not being able to see the signs of life outside those windows, that even at night she would stare out at the lights and remind herself that this world was still alive and that it was all real and not simply the most perfect dream she'd ever had. But that was part of why she'd put up those light strings in the first place, and why she intended to keep many of them up throughout the winter months -- if they kept them on at night, then perhaps her mind would be satisfied with the star-like light and not bring her nightmares out. There was nothing to be done for those signs of cold, though, and so she would make this tiny sacrifice for him without even a shred of regret.

After plugging in the last of the lights in the bedroom, she grabbed the big fluffy blanket she'd stashed in the bedroom closet a few days earlier and returned to the living room to the delicious scent of vanilla and chocolate. The blanket was left on the couch so she could wander into the kitchen, lean against the counter to peer at his progress, and grab an Iron Man cookie from the plate. Said cookie's head was promptly bitten off with enthusiam.

[on_ur_left]

Steve was just letting the hot chocolate heat all the way through before taking it off the stove, when he heard Rogue walk through the kitchen. He moved the two mugs he'd gotten down, so they were a little closer to the stove, glancing over as she picked up a cookie, saying "It's almost done."

He started laughing at her antics. "What did Iron Man ever do to you?" The hot cocoa was poured into both mugs, and he added a dash of cinnamon on top to each one, before holding hers out. "Here, you savage," he teased, waiting until she accepted the mug before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Even after all these months, it was rare for her to actually enjoy eating something as much as she had that night. It was likely a combination of a happy atmosphere and genuinely good food that had allowed this happy occasion, and she found herself chewing the gingerbread with a smile. Steve's teasing about her choice of which cookie piece to bite first had her grinning, and she was full on giggling into his kiss after that playful name-calling.

"Tony let loose one too many quips tonight," she informed Steve matter-of-factly as she, her hot chocolate, and the headless cookie headed back into the living room. "He had it coming."

[on_ur_left]

Grinning, and probably looking completely besotted, Steve watched her walk into the living area before grabbing the plate of cookies and following with his own mug.

"In that case, I appreciate that you only bit off the head of his effigy. You wouldn't believe the paperwork involved when one of us gets injured." He said it glibly, and only afterward realized how it would sound to Rogue, and quickly backtracked. "Which, thankfully doesn't happen that often. Tony and Natasha tend to get dinged more than the rest of us, which is amazing considering Tony wears a metal suit of armor." He privately believed it was a combination of Tony thinking the suit would hold up to more than it really could, and the fact that Tony seemed to go through life believing that he himself was invincible. But that was a different conversation, and really not what he wanted to be talking about, with Rogue, on Christmas.

Not...that he had any idea how to bring up the conversation he really did want to have with Rogue. So he pushed it to the back of his mind again, to simmer until later. Right now they had presents to open.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was nice that Steve made the effort to amend his statement, trying to turn it into a reasonable joke instead of one that would send her into a flurry of worry over the next time he would be called away. Not that she didn't already worry like crazy every time he went out on a mission -- no matter what he said, she knew that even the most indestructible people could fall.

But that wasn't what she wanted to talk about on Christmas either, so she set her mug on the coffee table and grabbed the blanket from the couch before settling on the floor next to the tree. Their presents to each other were nestled under the pine branches, the wrapping paper and bows now dotted with fragrant needles that had fallen over the past few days. "Sit with me?" she asked, smiling up at him before holding the cookie between her teeth so she could drape the large blanket around her shoulders. There was plenty left for him to fit under as well.

[on_ur_left]

Steve set the cookies and his drink down beside Rogue's mug on the table, before sitting and scooting much, much closer than he needed to in order to be covered adequately by the blanket. He even wrapped his arm around her shoulders, stealing a kiss against her temple; it was almost second-nature to him now, and not something he consciously thought about. "I have big shoulders," he told her in a completely serious, innocent tone, "I need a lot of blanket." He could only hold the innocent face for a few seconds, before breaking into his little-boy-mischievous grin.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Rogue gave Steve a very suspicious look when he moved in close under the blanket, especially when he tried that innocent act on her. She'd seen it dozens of times before, and rarely was he ever that innocent. The man was a troublemaker through and through, he was just adorable while he caused said trouble.

"Sure you do, sugar," she answered skeptically after chewing a bite of cookie. Shaking her head, she added a muttered but amused, "Incorrigible," before eyeing the presents under the tree.

"Do you want to go first?" If he wanted her to go first, she would and that would be perfectly fine, of course. But she was certainly eager to see him open the packages carefully wrapped in blue paper with white stars and large red ribbon bows. (Yes, she'd done it on purpose.) There was one large box that would fill his lap, another that was slightly smaller and thinner, and one that was the size of a book.

[on_ur_left]

"Well," he began, cocking his head as if seriously considering it. "I would offer to let you go first, but I'm kinda afraid you're gonna start crying, so why don't I go first, and then you, and then you can cry as long as you want without feeling guilty about it."

It wasn't that he wanted her to cry, or ever set out with the intention of making her cry; he just had a tendency to get her thoughtful gifts she'd appreciate, which inevitably led to said crying. He didn't like to see her cry, but perversely, if she did, it meant that he'd done something that touched her, and that's what he wanted. In an odd sort of way, if she ever stopped crying, he'd be worried he was losing her, because it meant she didn't care anymore.

This time however, he'd gone and done something that might genuinely upset her. He hoped she liked it, he'd spent a lot of time racking his brain trying to come up with an idea. And then how to implement said idea once he had it, where Rogue couldn't see it, since she was in his apartment so much. Thankfully she mostly left his studio alone, so he'd been able to stash the painting in the closet. He would've known if she'd seen it - she wouldn't have been able to hide her reaction, even hours after the fact.

Now, it rested propped against the wall beside the tree, a large, fairly thin package, and if one knew what they were looking at, obviously a 16" x 20" canvas, wrapped up in shimmery green paper with faint silver filigree, and a gold ribbon and bow affixed in one corner.

[theycalledmeacurse]

He was afraid she was going to cry at his gift? Oh lord, what perfect thing had he gone and done now? It seemed like every time Steve did something sweet and heartfelt, she ended up bawling her eyes out because of how amazing he was. The realization of just how much she loved him would slam into her and she would simply lose all control of her emotions. So if something like that was going to happen now...

"Start with this one," she told him, picking up the smallest box and placing it in his lap. Underneath all the paper and gift box he would find two things: an all-weather notebook with weatherproof pages, and a space pen that was able to write in practically any condition found on earth.

She fidgeting for a moment after handing him the box, hoping that he liked the gifts and didn't think they were too simple or generic, and finally she reached over to the table to grab her mug of hot chocolate now so she could have something to do with her hands. (And it smelled far too delicious to resist drinking it any longer.)

Everything was so beautifully wrapped, it had made the apartment all the more enchanting in the days leading up to Christmas. It seemed such a shame to destroy the works of art, but that was part of the tradition, wasn't it?

[on_ur_left]

A grin of excitement crossed his face as Steve accepted the wrapped package. While Steve was often rather fastidious, and liked to re-use a lot of things, gift paper was not one of them, and he eagerly tore into it, all but ignoring the carefully taped edges except as a starting point to tear through the paper.

Once he was inside the box, Steve pulled out a bright yellow notebook, and a rounded black pen, which looked very snazzy. He chuckled. "Okay, this is fantastic. Is it - not that I wouldn't love it even if it is just a regular old notebook and pen..." He fiddled with the pen a little and discovered that the clip was actually detachable, which was even neater, "but I feel like I'm missing something." He pointed at the cover. "Is it really all weather?" It did say 'Rite in the Rain' which he assumed was an intentional misspelling, meaning it could indeed get wet and be alright. Which, if that was the case... Wow. It was simple, and useful, and he loved it. He kind of wanted to hug the items to his chest, which was a little ridiculous.

When Steve had been twelve, his mother had given him a brand new box of 10 colored pencils. She must have saved for ages for it, because they'd never been very well-off to begin with, and the Depression had struck just the year before, and nobody could afford anything anymore. He'd been so careful with those pencils, but of course he couldn't not use them. He'd worn them down to the nubs, and when he finally couldn't sharpen them anymore, he'd put them all back in the box and left them in the cubby shelf of his room, and never forgot how much his mother loved him, and did for him. This wasn't exactly the same, of course, but it felt like it. How many other people would think to get him something simple like this - most people would dismiss it as 'lame' or 'not personal enough.' But it was incredibly personal, because it meant Rogue understood him, and his tendency to write and draw whenever the mood struck him. She understood that he didn't need big, flashy or expensive presents to make him happy.

He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. "Thank you." His voice was huskier than he expected, and he cleared his throat a little self-consciously.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Freeing one hand from her mug, she cupped his cheek and savored that kiss. Those husky words warmed her heart more than anything else could, and set her forehead against his for a moment. "You're very welcome, sugar." Leaning back, she tapped the pen with a finger. "You'll have to try it out later," she said encouragingly. "It can write in all sorts of places without any problems. In planes, underwater... This way, you can doodle whenever, wherever you end up in your adventures."

She took a sip of her drink before reaching forward to grab another present, the biggest box this time. Inside, he would find three books on the early years of Walt Disney's legacy. She knew how fascinated he was with the man and the art that he'd created, and they were still working their way through the body of work that the creative genius had left behind and inspired. Hopefully the books would give him insight on the creation of those animated masterpieces, and perhaps they would inspire Steve's own art. There might be some complaining whenever he left his supplies all over the apartment, but Rogue really did support his artist endeavors, and she'd love to see him realize those old dreams of actually doing something to get his work out to the public. He deserved to have every dream come true.

[on_ur_left]

Steve once again tore into the wrapping, then pulled the flaps of the box open. His eyebrows raised when he discovered a book on top - really? It was an awfully big box for a book. No, several books, he saw now. He started pulling them out, one by one, quickly scanning the covers for information, flipping them over and quickly reading some of the info on the back for more clues, before going for the next, and then the final book. There were only brief pauses between one book and the next, but he soaked up the information, processing it in the blink of an eye. By the time he stopped with the third book, he sat for a moment, just staring at the back. His breathing was steady; a little too steady, and heavier than usual. His eyes weren't really focused on the book anymore, either. He blinked rapidly a few times, swallowing heavily.

Very carefully and precisely, Steve moved the box off his lap, placed the books gently back in the box - and then lunged for Rogue, wrapping an arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, cradling her head as he kissed her fiercely. They tumbled over, but Steve twisted enough to land on the arm around her middle, cushioning her from crashing into the floor. He pulled back, only to start peppering kisses all over her face. "You are amazing," he murmured between kisses.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Watching Steve open the box and look through the books, Rogue found herself getting nervous again. Had she chosen poorly? They were books, she knew Steve enjoyed reading as much as she did, but still. Maybe he didn't see books as Christmas gifts? Maybe they weren't personal enough? All of her usual doubts and worries rose up again and she set aside her mug so she could face him properly--

But then suddenly she had a Steve Rogers wrapped around her, kissing her like the world was ending, and she was so shocked that it was almost comical. Thank goodness she'd set aside her drink when she had or they'd both have been covered in cocoa. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders to anchor herself and the other grabbed hold of his shirt, giving it a thorough wrinkling as she giggled quietly between those adorable kisses.

"You still have one more present to go," she reminded him, grinning at his exuberant reaction to his new books. It was also a way to mask the gnawing worry at this final gift, the one she'd taken a real chance on. The framed and matted photograph of Steve and the Howling Commandos posing like a bunch of victorious idiots with grins of their own, Bucky with his arm around Steve. It wasn't a photograph that was readily available to the public, and she'd had to wait weeks for the restoration to be completed, there had been so much damage to the original negative.

[on_ur_left]

Placing one more smacking kiss on Rogue's cheek, Steve pulled them both back up to sitting. "Okay, you're starting to make my one present feel a little inadequate," he joked lightly, although there was an undercurrent of nerves starting to act up. What if she didn't like the gift? What if it was too much, or not enough, or-- He should've gotten her something else. Something little maybe, but personal. Truthfully though, it had been hard enough thinking up the one present. He felt it was a little... well, a little sexist to get her something like a cookbook, even if it had been filled with Southern recipes, or something like that. Steve was a simple guy, and it was clear Rogue had put thought into his gifts, but he always felt like his own choices weren't adequate in that regard. He'd just happened to stumble on the necklace and it had immediately reminded him of Rogue. But when he tried to think of something he could search out and buy, he always came up blank.

Anyway, it was too late now. Leaning over, Steve pulled the smaller, thin present to him. It was obvious right away that it wasn't a book, despite its size (he had not picked it up previously, and so that's what he'd assumed it was, just by eyeballing it with curiosity). He found a seam along the back of the wrapping and tore into it - and was greeted with the back of a picture frame.

Before he even flipped it over, Steve's breath caught in anticipation. He had a flash of insight as to the general nature of the picture, because his Rogue was resourceful, wasn't she? What sort of picture would she have gotten him, if not something personal?

Pulling off the wrapping paper as he turned the frame over in his hands, Steve gave a stuttered gasp at the image that greeted him. Lightly, almost not daring to touch it, he ran his thumb over the glass protecting the picture. Fallsworth, Morita, Dum-Dum, Dernier, all stood clustered in a ragged semi-circle in front of a Jeep, grinning like the lunatics they were. Between them all, in the center, stood Steve himself, with Bucky beside him, one arm thrown over Steve's shoulder, just like he'd always done, despite Steve now being much too tall for it to be comfortable on his best friend.

"Jesus," he laughed shakily, the tears threatening his eyes evident in his voice, "I look so young." He had to make a joke about it, had to lighten the mood, or he would start sobbing.

And there, just on the edge of the frame, part of her shoulder and the back of her hair cut off by the edge as she was turned in profile to the camera and looking at the group, was Peggy Carter. She stood with her head tucked down, holding her hands together in front of her, and looking nothing more like a pleased mother watching her mischievous children indulgently. He remembered that look, half-exasperated and half-indulgent, full of pride. "Fuck," he exhaled sharply.

He wrapped his arm around Rogue in a sideways hug, the picture still held in his free hand, and pressed a kiss into her hair, resting his lips there afterward. "What am I gonna do with you?" he asked softly, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

The answer was obvious, of course. He'd known it since almost the moment they'd met: Keep her forever.

[theycalledmeacurse]

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."

[on_ur_left]

Steve exhaled a gust of air, closing his eyes at her words. Maybe this would be okay. He listened to her explain how she'd gotten the picture, and couldn't help but smile. "I'm not surprised at all. Tony loves being in on a secret, especially if it involves knowing something I don't."

Clearing his throat, he pulled away just enough to set the framed picture on top of the books, then reached out and cupped Rogue's face in his hands, giving her a gentle kiss. He pulled back and had to sniff a little, which made him laugh. "Okay. Now that you made me cry," he teased - although he hadn't really cried, despite what his nose seemed to think, "it's your turn."

He pushed himself off the ground, resisting the urge to groan at the change in position. He knew the aches of sitting too long were just in his head, put there by the ever-present knowledge that it was snowing and freezing outside, but he still felt a little like an old man with arthritis.

Retrieving the large present from against the wall, he moved back over to sit beside Rogue, placing the gift down in front of her before reaching out and wrapping the blanket around himself, and picking up his rapidly cooling cocoa for a quick slug. It wasn't liquid courage, but it did wet his throat.

Before she opened it, Steve said softly, "I know you don't have anything with your family, and can't. But... Maybe this will help."

He'd kept coming back to this while brainstorming gift ideas. Slowly, as they'd gotten to know each other, she'd started reminiscing more, explaining who her friends were, describing what they looked like. Still not a lot, but he was always visibly interested, which seemed to encourage her, and he always paid attention to her words. Finally, he'd come up with an idea, and after an initial sketch to block out what he wanted, he'd started painting.

Steve had never been very good at impressionism, and he still wasn't. But as he himself didn't know exactly what her friends had looked like, he'd had to make do with a dreamy, swishing quality that was really just sections of color to denote figures. The picture had a looming figure in maroon in the background, with a helmet of the same color covering the peach tones of a blank face - he'd left all the faces completely blank, without any features at all, because even shading for a nose or lips would ruin the illusion if he guessed wrong. In front of that was a figure in a silver, somewhat futuristic-looking wheelchair, wearing shadows of dark grey to denote a suit Rogue had mentioned her Professor habitually wore.

There was a shorter figure wearing blue pants he'd tried to approximate to look like jeans, one hand stuffed into the pocket of a brown leather bike jacket, the other hand down by his side with three thin slashes of silver extending from the fist, and black hair and sideburns in the distinctive style she'd described. Another, even shorter figure leaned against him, wearing an 80's style jacket in bright yellow (and Steve had had to Google 80s fashion and hope he'd picked the right one that most closely matched Rogue's description of Jubilee's signature jacket), shorts and a bright pink top with pink wraparound glasses sitting on her featureless face. Hers was the only really dynamic pose of the group, leaning with her arm propped up on Logan, the other angled to rest a hand on her hip, one leg crossed casually behind the other, her head cocked to the side.

The Professor and Erik were in the middle of the picture, with Logan and Jubilee to the left, while just beside them to the right was Rogue, the only one who's face he'd drawn in. Even doing impressionism, where everything was a little blurry and surreal, it had been harder than he'd expected, since he was so used to drawing her with a smile; he'd tried it, but it hadn't looked right, for some reason. So he'd painted her with a serious, business-like expression, in the black catsuit and white gloves she'd described to him as being her X-Men uniform.

And last, and most nerve-wracking of all: to her right, just behind her shoulder, a figure in a calf-length brown duster, with shoulder-length brown hair that fell against his featureless face, partially obscuring his non-existent eyes. Held in his fingerless glove-covered hands, a playing card, while the other hand had a staff standing tall against the floor, partially obscured by Rogue's shoulder.