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

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Steve glanced over as he heard Rogue's murmured words, smiling softly as he watched her. He turned back to his presents. The books came back out of the box and got placed flat in front of some other books on his shelf; he'd find a place to put them away later. The notebook and pen he left on the coffee table; he was definitely going to be taking those with him next time he went out, might as well leave them where he would see them. And the photo...

The photo got set up on the coffee table as well, right in the middle, facing the couch. He remembered half a year ago, on his birthday, when he'd smoked a cigarette with a sketch he'd done of Bucky, in bittersweet celebration of another year lived. It ached, still, not having his friends around anymore, but it was something he could live with, now. He wanted to see this reminder of the good times, every time he passed through the room.

That taken care of, he started gathering up the wrapping paper and tossing it in the box. He'd sort out the recycling later, but for now it was enough to just get it cleared away.

"I liked the wrapping on my presents, by the way. Very creative," he teased lightly.

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Walking into the bedroom, he noticed right away that the curtains had been drawn there as well. The Christmas lights hung along the tops of the walls gave it an ethereal, mellow glow, and as he climbed into bed and pulled Rogue against him, Steve didn't even think about the cold. All he could think about was what a fantastic night they'd had, and what a wonderful gal she was, and how incredibly lucky he was that she was with him.

Tonight had been great, and he hoped as he fell into a dreamless sleep, that tomorrow would be even better. It was Christmas, after all.

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

It was a testament to how tired he was, that when Rogue jerked away, Steve's only reaction was to hum in discontent, reaching out for her. "Too early," he mumbled. "Come back to bed."

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Something was wrong. Steve's brow furrowed as he surfaced from his sleep, trying to figure out what was going on as his brain continued to wake up. He stretched his arm out, but even as his hand only hit the quickly-cooling sheets where Rogue usually slept, he remembered her saying she was going to get something to drink.

"What time is it?" He muttered to himself, glancing at the digital clock. Just after 7 am. They'd gotten to bed about five hours ago. It was a holiday, so there was really no reason for Rogue to voluntarily be waking up so early. If anything, it was usually Steve who was up first, especially if there was no coffee to entice his girl out of bed, unless...

Groaning a little, Steve rolled over and aggressively rubbed at his face, trying to force himself awake. He was not, contrary to what people seemed to believe, a natural morning person. He just didn't need a lot of sleep, and thanks to the war, he could usually be up and alert in a matter of seconds. But apparently his body and mind knew that there was no reason for it, so it was taking longer this time. Except there was a reason: Rogue probably had a nightmare. It was becoming less common, but between the two of them, they were lucky to go a few weeks without one of them having an episode. So far, the first nightmare for both of them had been the most... dramatic compared to subsequent episodes, but he still wanted to go check on her, just in case.

Getting out of bed, he padded on light feet out into the apartment, across the living area and into the kitchen. He stopped at the island, bracing his forearms on the counter. "Alright?" he asked, his voice husky with leftover sleep.

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Steve sighed softly, pushing off the island and moving to stand beside her, facing out into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter beside her, his hands holding the edge, within sight and close to her, but not threatening to touch her. He wanted to, dearly, but he knew at times like this, he had to let Rogue come to him first. It hurt, but he understood that's how she was.

Glancing over, he could see she was still upset. He averted his eyes, not wanting her to feel pinned to the spot, but kept his head turned toward her as he murmured, "Rogue. Marie." He tried not to use her given name too often; she preferred Rogue, and it held more impact if he saved it for certain occasions. In this instance, when he wanted her to be honest with him. She didn't have to tell him what the nightmare - because really, 'bad dream' surely didn't cover it - was about, but he didn't want her to lie to him and say she was okay, when clearly she wasn't.

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Steve closed his eyes at her response, making a supreme effort so that his disappointment didn't show on his face. He knew she'd take it the wrong way, that he was disappointed in her, and that wasn't the case. He was disappointed she wouldn't, or couldn't bring herself, to confide in him, and he was getting sick of being so understanding, but he did understand. So he'd keep being understanding, and let her get away with it. She was in no state for him to push, right now.

If he'd had his eyes open, if he'd been more alert, he would've realized what was happening, been able to react faster. He might even have been able to catch the glass before it hit the floor. As it was, the sound shot a much-needed adrenaline rush through his system, and he was suddenly on high-alert.

Steve crouched down almost before Rogue had even started speaking. He took in her words, as well as the overall scene, in an instant. Neither of them was wearing shoes, and she was picking up glass with her bare hands. He reached out on instinct to grab her hands and stop her, but pulled back at the last second; in her current state of mind, she might flinch away from him, and he didn't want her cutting herself.

"Rogue - Rogue, it's okay!" He shifted a little to try and get her to meet his eye. "Honey, they're your glasses. I mean, if you'd just move in already they'd be our glasses, but it's not a big deal."

It took a couple seconds for him to realize that he'd said that out loud, when he'd meant to just think it. Clearly he wasn't as awake as he'd thought.

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Not at all how he'd wanted to bring it up. Stupid, Rogers, so very, very stupid.

He watched her shake her head, and his shoulders slumped. He didn't need to hear her words confirm it, but he made himself listen anyway. "No. Yeah, sure," he heard himself say in a dull voice. "It was stupid - I didn't mean to say it now, anyway, it just, slipped out..."

Angry at himself and his stupid mistake, Steve's brow furrowed and he didn't check himself before reaching out automatically for Rogue's wrists, to halt her movements. "Stop picking it up, yer gonna cut yerself!"

[theycalledmeacurse]

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.

[on_ur_left]

Steve felt that tug, but had no idea what it was, and couldn't have pulled away even if he'd wanted to. He blinked and suddenly Rogue was three feet away from him, there was blood on the linoleum, and his brain was just as sluggish as when he'd first woken up. After a frozen second, he lost his balance and went from crouching on his heels to falling back and landing on his ass.

Blinking in bewilderment, Steve got his bearings, and the first thing out of his mouth was, "You're bleeding. Let me see. Please." But he didn't move, still a little stunned by what had just happened. Still trying to figure out what exactly had happened.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Usually when she touched someone, Rogue would push aside everything she received from the transfer. All the thoughts, memories, and emotions would be shoved down into the depths of her mind to be dealt with later, and the psyche was carefully left behind one of her many shields. Unless she was purposefully looking for something, as she had done during the war, it was the easiest way for her to deal with the influx of foreign information. She couldn't do that now, though. This was Steve and there were thoughts and feelings of her mixed in there, and she could bare to hide his psyche away as she had so many others.

"I'm not bleeding anymore," she murmured, holding up her hands that just had the leftover streaks of blood in a far from substantial amount. Her voice was distant, though, her mind too busy processing everything to really be present at the moment. Sorting through the memories.

One time (one of many) when Steve's mother had held him through an asthma attack. When Bucky had made him ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. When Bucky had fallen from the train. When Steve had first seen her at that party. When he'd watched her from across the room at the Christmas party. When she'd said she couldn't live with him and his heart had broken.

It was overwhelming, painful and beautiful, but she couldn't look away.

[on_ur_left]

Taking a slow, cautious breath, brow still furrowed in confusion, Steve leaned forward, moving from sitting to kneeling, squinting at Rogue's hand but taking longer than it should have for him to comprehend what he was seeing. He reached out to swipe away the drying blood, but paused with one arm outstretched, not wanting her to pull away from him again.

Still, he didn't have to touch her or remove the blood to see that her skin was unbroken, fresh and pink and new. He could practically see the small scars disappear as her skin continued to heal rapidly, just like--

Just like his did, when he got injured. He glanced down at his hand, still suspended slightly in the air, before looking back at her. "Was that your power?" he wondered quietly, more to himself than asking her for confirmation. "I'm glad you're okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

He paused, remembering what she'd explained about her power, how it absorbed the memories and thoughts of people she touched. If she'd absorbed even a fraction of him, then she knew... She knew what kind of person he really was. What he'd gone through, what he'd learned at a very early age. No one was ever supposed to find out about that.

Steve's face took on a look of panic. "I'm so sorry, Rogue. Please, I don't care if you don't move in, it was just-- Just-- stay, okay? Don't leave."

Don't leave me. Please, his mind whispered. I can do better, I promise.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was good that he didn't touch her. In the confusion and stress of the moment, she would have pulled away from him again, and that would have caused so many more problems than they were currently facing. Problems that she could see piling up ever higher with each word he spoke.

The memories weren't enough to explain to her what was happening, but the Steve now nestled in her mind did a pretty good job of giving her the Reader's Digest version. A brief glimpse of a brutal man, fear of Steve's own temper, a promise that he would never hurt her-- She moved forward then, careful of the glass but needing to circle her arms around his neck so she could be close to him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him softly, making sure to keep her hands closed so she didn't get blood on him. "You didn't hurt me, sugar. I know you'd never hurt me."

[on_ur_left]

Steve's eyes closed as Rogue wrapped her arms around him, but it took another couple seconds for him to be able to return the embrace, cautiously reaching out to gently - so, so gently, because he always had to be mindful of his strength, didn't he? - wrap around her slight form.

It was those words, I know you'd never hurt me, said so matter of factly, that had Steve's face crumpling, and the entire emotional debacle of the morning came crashing down on him. He sat back, pulling Rogue with him, and buried his face against her neck as he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry," he cried quietly, again and again, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

[theycalledmeacurse]

Why did this keep happening to them? Why couldn't they be whole and happy and make it through a holiday without one of them breaking down because of their past and their insecurities? Would they ever get to that point, or would they always be fighting their demons?

Rogue felt tears slide down her cheeks as she listened to those broken words, and she wished that she could stroke his hair, rub circles over his back, something. But instead, she just held onto him tightly, trying to convey in that embrace that she wasn't letting go until he was good and ready for her to.

[on_ur_left]

Eventually Steve's voice tapered off, but he continued to hold on to Rogue for long minutes afterward, unable to make himself let go. He had the irrational fear that she would vanish if he did - not just get up and leave, but cease to be there at all.

Finally though, Steve loosened his arms, reaching up to gently pull Rogue back by her shoulders, before sliding his hands down her arms until his fingers were gently encircling her wrists, above her still-closed fists. "Lemme see. We'll clean 'em off, okay?" He didn't care if she got blood on him (a dark part of his mind thought he deserved to have her literal blood smeared on him, considering the damage he'd done to them tonight), he knew that blood washed off, even if sometimes it felt like it never would. He just had to make sure, had to see again that she was alright. He was the one who'd grabbed her, made her jerk away and cut herself, even though he'd known that would be her most likely response.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It was an accident, this whole situation was caused by one thing sparking another, and neither of them were fully to blame for it. She would argue that point for hours if that's what it took, but she sure hoped it didn't come to that. She didn't have the energy to argue with him for that long.

Nodding slightly, she uncurled her hands to let him see the drying blood that covered new skin. None of the cuts had been that bad to begin with, but it all looked far worse than it was. She was still careful not to get any of it on him, though, because even if he didn't mind, she didn't need an image of him all bloody in her head. It was too much like Remy and she had enough nightmares reliving that horrible day, she didn't need for her mind to start substituting Steve in there.

"I'm okay, sugar, really. Are you?" It was a hesitant, frightened question, because while he did look alright, she was terrified of hurting him with her power.

[on_ur_left]

Steve cupped her hand in his, stroking the side with his thumb; his face was filled with guilt and remorse.

Was he okay? No, he really wasn't. He'd screwed up asking her to move in with him, but he was pretty sure now she would've said no no matter how or when he'd asked. If he'd been back home in his time, he never would've asked her to move in, but by now he would've proposed. After five months, if he hadn't proposed, people would've been pestering him constantly about it, especially because it was clear they were crazy about each other.

Back home. It wasn't his home anymore though, was it? He was here in this strange world with crazy inventions and completely different ideals, and he was just trying to keep his head above water - and for a time, he'd been managing it, had been swimming with the current, and it was due in large part to Rogue. Now he was being swept away by the undertow, and he didn't know what he was going to do. Except soldier on, just like he always had, and not let anyone see just how fractured he was getting.

That wasn't at all what Rogue was asking about, but Steve didn't realize that, because physically, he was fine; her power had made him a little groggy for a few seconds, but he'd bounced back almost immediately. It was barely a blip on his radar, other than realizing that now, she had a piece of him inside her. He was one of the figures always invisibly looming over her shoulder, now. That thought brought him a little comfort.

Taking a deep breath, Steve paused slightly before responding, "Sure." Another pause, while he quirked a smile at her. It was a little lacking in strength, but still sincere. "Yeah, I'm okay." If she could lie about how she was feeling, then so could he.

"Come on. Let's get this cleaned up." He got them both on their feet, but glanced at the floor, where glass and blood still littered it in front of the sink. "Maybe in the bathroom would be better."

[theycalledmeacurse]

This wasn't going well. Of course it wasn't, but it was getting worse by the second. She could see it in Steve's expression, hear it in his voice. She had to do something or this was just going to keep spiraling and--

"Okay," she murmured, turning to carefully make her way out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. Halfway there, though, she paused and glanced over at Steve. "We need to talk, sugar. Please."