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 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."

[on_ur_left]

There was barely a fraction of a second's pause as he heard Rogue's words. Steve may have been born in the ninety years ago and skipped decades of changing culture and slang, but even he knew 'we need to talk' in a relationship wasn't good. Not after a disaster like this, anyway.

Whenever Steve Rogers hit rock bottom, he always managed to find a well of strength. It was what had allowed him to keep going, keep getting back up time and time again, no matter what life threw at him. No matter what happened, he'd survive, and he'd keep going this time, too. He wouldn't be the same person, but that was to be expected. He hadn't been the same after Bucky had died, either, or after waking up in the future.

So he looked at Rogue with a guileless, inquisitive face, and nodded. "Yeah, okay. Come on." He reached out and gently put his hand at the small of her back, urging her toward the bathroom. Butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth at that moment.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Bad move, Rogue. Of all the phrases she could have used, she had to go with that? Usually that was a death sentence for relationships, and that wasn't at all what she was intending. The realization that that was probably what he was thinking made her feel sick.

"Steve, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," she said quickly, letting him guide her but still looking back at him. "I don't want-- We're not-- We're okay, sugar, we just need to talk about all of this. I promise, I'm not running." She couldn't deny that the the thought had crossed her mind earlier in that initial panic, but she had moved past that and there would be no running. Not now. Not this time.

[on_ur_left]

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.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Better now than later, when it would be more painful. How accurate that was for this moment, in so many ways. Exhaustion was beginning to wear at her from a combination of too little sleep and too much adrenaline spent, and she guessed that the sun was up by now. It was Christmas, not at all the day for any of this, but it was better now than later.

Turning on the water, she waited a few seconds for it to warm up before holding a palm under the slow, steady stream. The dried blood would be easier to remove if she let it soak up the water first, and there was antibacterial hand soap there next to the faucet for when the water had washed away all but the most stubborn bits.

"I don't know that I know where to start, there's so many things that need saying," she admitted quietly, her voice just above the sound of the running water. "That comment about moving in caught me off guard, and I'm sorry for reacting the way I did. I've thought about it before, I actually like the idea, but I was so afraid in that moment of what it could mean that I let that fear get the better of me."

She started working on the other hand, fingers moving carefully in case there was a bit of embedded glass like Steve had mentioned. "I know you would never just toss me aside and abandon me, I know that, but I'm still so scared at the thought of it. And I just had this terrifying worry of what I would do when you got tired of me if I lived here, because I wouldn't have anywhere to go."

[on_ur_left]

Steve didn't care what day it was; this needed to be discussed now. It should've been discussed yesterday, but there was nothing he could do about that. And the way he saw it, Christmas was about celebrating the end of one life, and the beginning of another. Even the fairly secular Rogue should appreciate that.

He closed his eyes as he listened, relief a palpable, physical feeling in his sternum. He leaned his hip against the counter just to the side of her, watching her face; he had to make a conscious effort not to cross his arms, because he didn't know what to do with his hands, he didn't have any pockets to tuck them into politely, but he didn't want to look intimidating. Listening to Rogue, he felt it safe to place one hand on the small of her back again.

Steve tried to process what she was saying, and figure out a response. He took a deep breath, getting his thoughts in order. "You're right; of course I wouldn't. And I really didn't mean to say it like that. I... I've been thinking about it, for a while now." She'd been honest with him, and he knew it didn't come easily for her to share her insecurities, so the least he could do was explain himself, as well. "For a while, it was enough just that you spent so much time here. But then I wanted more, and-- I guess part of my 'old-fashioned charm' kicked in. But back in my day, I wouldn't've asked you to just move in with me-- and I'm not asking for anything else now, because neither of us is ready for anything else, and this is a whole different time."

He took another deep breath. Even more than obliquely admitting he would've proposed to her by now in other circumstances, this was the hard part for him. Explaining his thoughts and feelings over the last few weeks. "I didn't know-- yeah, it's acceptable for couples to live together, but I didn't know if I should make kind of a big deal about it, or just casually bring it up, or-- well," he gave a humorless huff of laughter, "clearly I know now that I shouldn't have tried for casual. But it kept popping up in my head, more and more, and-- everything was happening, and I wasn't thinking, and it just came out, because even if you didn't want to now, in my head I'd built it up as inevitable, eventually. I just kinda... skipped the part where I actually asked you."

[theycalledmeacurse]

Of course he'd been thinking about it. He was from a time where it was just a natural progression for a couple to move in together if they'd been in a relationship for a few steady months -- though that step would have been preceded by marriage. (And don't think she didn't catch that written between the lines of what he did and didn't say, it was just that somehow marriage wasn't as scary to her as moving in with him.)

"I completely understand all of that, sugar, really I do," she assured him, glancing over at him for brief moments while she carefully dried her hands. "And now that I'm thinking a bit more clearly, it's not so bad, but I still... I want to be with you, all the time. I want this to be my home so badly it hurts, because it's been an awfully long time since I had one that really felt like it. But I'm all sorts of broken when it comes to these things, sugar, and I'm so sorry for that."

[on_ur_left]

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.

[theycalledmeacurse]

It had been a while since she'd heard him give one of his speeches like this, probably because it had been a while since she'd needed one. Back in those early days, she'd been scared and skeptical, wanting to throw herself all-in to this relationship but worried that it wouldn't be everything it seemed. It had been wonderful, though, Steve had been wonderful and kind and understanding and funny... and she'd been able to move away from her doubts. Just not permanently, it seemed.

"I'm glad I'm stuck with you," she assured him with a faint smile in return. "Because I am choosing you. If you still want me to live here with you after all this, then I want that too. I just... I need you to understand why I'm so exasperating when it comes to these things." Oh yes, she'd noticed his reaction.

Holding her hands out to him palm-up, she instructed, "Have a look, then I want to go sit down. I need to tell you about my Mama Raven." It was a name she'd never spoken to him and had never planned to. Even now, the words were laced with pain.

[on_ur_left]

Steve ducked his head with a wry, caught-out sideways smirk as she mentioned being exasperating. Since he was already looking down as she held out her hands, it was easier to focus on reaching out to cup her palms, hiding his natural reaction to her last words. Even without hearing the change in her voice, the words themselves told Steve this was probably a story he was going to get very angry about, and protective of her.

To take his mind of that, at least for a few moments, he began inspecting her hands, running his thumb in lines up and down her palm, glancing up through his lashes to judge her reaction, to see if he hit any tender or painful spots. He couldn't even see any new pink scars anymore, just unblemished skin.

With a sickening clarity, Steve realized that this was how Rogue had gotten her scars. Not like this - as long as there had been a healing 'donor' she wouldn't have gotten any scars. But at some point, there hadn't been one available, and the bastard scientist butchers hadn't cared, had stripped bits of flesh off her back anyway.

It was a good thing he'd already made fairly sure that nothing was left under her skin, because it took every ounce of Steve's self-control not to instinctively clench his hands into fists; which, while he was holding Rogue's hands, would've hurt her, not to mention sent entirely the wrong message. Instead, he pulled her hands up slightly, bent his head, and kissed first one, then the other palm, right in the center.

"Right as rain," he murmured. "Okay. Let's go sit. Bedroom, or living room?"

[theycalledmeacurse]

Watching Steve's facial expressions, she could see that pause that meant he was thinking about something, and she had to wonder if he'd put together the pieces of how her power worked. Yes, she'd told him about it before, a number of times, but he'd never seen it. Even this was just a small display of what she was capable of, but it was this that would perhaps tell him the most about what her experiences had been like during the war.

"The bedroom," she replied just as softly, her nerves settling slightly at those sweet, tender kisses to her palms. "I don't wanna see the tree right now." They had lovely memories in that room with those decorations, she didn't want to taint them with the pain she was about to relive through sharing her past with him. Eventually one of them would need to clean up the kitchen, but it would keep. For now, they needed to talk about these things so they could move forward.

[on_ur_left]

Steve nodded, rubbing his hands over her palms, this time purely for comfort. "Okay. Come on."

Steve only let go of Rogue's hands once they were near the bed. He left her to get settled, while he moved toward the windows. He sidled up to the large windows almost as if he were approaching a wounded animal. He really didn't want to open the blinds, but the natural light would be good, and Rogue enjoyed the view. Steve could get over himself.

Overnight, the city had been covered in white powder, and the windows were coated in frost and ice along the edges. Steve made himself look at the frost and ice for a moment, letting memories of a frozen tundra rushing toward him swim through his brain, before deliberately turning back toward the bed, and Rogue. He wasn't going to get over his dislike of cold and snow and ice if he avoided it, and this way, maybe he'd start associating it with nicer things. At the very least, he had reminders that he wasn't frozen anymore, and the cold could touch him, but it couldn't consume him anymore.

Settling on the bed, Steve wasn't sure if he should hold Rogue, or if she'd want to hold herself apart while she told her story. Generally she liked the former, but he'd learned that during emotional talks, it was best to let Rogue lead. So he settled with his back against the headboard, and just tried to make himself look as comfy and inviting as possible.