Steve stripped and tossed his clothes into the hamper - usually he wore them for a few days before they needed washed, since they were only for running, but they definitely needed it after his workout this morning - and barely gave the water enough time to warm before climbing into the shower. He ducked his head under the spray, letting the water run over him and trying to clear his head. He debated whether he should work out what to say to Rogue in advance, have a 'battle plan' as it were - or if he should just improvise as the situation called for. Improvisation wasn't his greatest strong-suit when it came to emotions and relationships, but a plan only lasted until the first skirmish, and he really needed to stop thinking about this in terms of tactics and warfare.
"You're an idiot," he muttered to himself, grabbing the soap and starting to clean himself. "You're being a coward," he continued, keeping his voice quiet still, but getting more vehement. "You're not a coward. That's like, your one defining trait. You're Steve Rogers, and you never run away from anything, even when it'll probably get you killed. This is not gonna kill you."
If she said no, though...
"She's not gonna say no!" he hissed at his thoughts. "And now you really are a crazy person, talking to yourself in the shower." He gave his hair a few good, vicious scrubs with the soap, forgetting to use shampoo and falling back on old habits while his mind was preoccupied.
Rinsing with quick, efficient movements, he got out and dried himself off, heading into the bedroom while he scrubbed at his hair to grab some clothes, moving on autopilot as his mind furiously turned over what he was going to say. A plan was slowly coming together, but he didn't know how well it would work until he actually tried it. Hopefully Rogue would hear him out.
Staring into his dresser drawer, Steve debated what to wear. Asking someone to marry you really called for something nice, but he wasn't planning on actually going out today, so if he put on anything besides lounging clothes, Rogue would know something was up. Grimacing, he pulled out a pair of lightweight lounge pants in navy blue, and a white undershirt. If-- when she said yes, he could change and they could go out and celebrate if she wanted.
It was a balancing act, trying to stay optimistic, but not counting his chickens before they hatched. So many things could go wrong, but if he didn't at least pretend to be confident, he'd end up a stuttering mess. And as much as Rogue generally enjoyed watching him stumble through things, this really wasn't the time. This was a time for decisive action.
The thought made Steve instinctively glance over at his shield, resting against the wall beside his side of the bed. He nodded; he could do this. It was terrifying, but that had never stopped him before.
He turned and headed out through the living room toward the kitchen island. Looking at Rogue made him feel both worse, and infinitely better. Get through this, Rogers, he told himself, and everything will be golden.
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"You're an idiot," he muttered to himself, grabbing the soap and starting to clean himself. "You're being a coward," he continued, keeping his voice quiet still, but getting more vehement. "You're not a coward. That's like, your one defining trait. You're Steve Rogers, and you never run away from anything, even when it'll probably get you killed. This is not gonna kill you."
If she said no, though...
"She's not gonna say no!" he hissed at his thoughts. "And now you really are a crazy person, talking to yourself in the shower." He gave his hair a few good, vicious scrubs with the soap, forgetting to use shampoo and falling back on old habits while his mind was preoccupied.
Rinsing with quick, efficient movements, he got out and dried himself off, heading into the bedroom while he scrubbed at his hair to grab some clothes, moving on autopilot as his mind furiously turned over what he was going to say. A plan was slowly coming together, but he didn't know how well it would work until he actually tried it. Hopefully Rogue would hear him out.
Staring into his dresser drawer, Steve debated what to wear. Asking someone to marry you really called for something nice, but he wasn't planning on actually going out today, so if he put on anything besides lounging clothes, Rogue would know something was up. Grimacing, he pulled out a pair of lightweight lounge pants in navy blue, and a white undershirt. If-- when she said yes, he could change and they could go out and celebrate if she wanted.
It was a balancing act, trying to stay optimistic, but not counting his chickens before they hatched. So many things could go wrong, but if he didn't at least pretend to be confident, he'd end up a stuttering mess. And as much as Rogue generally enjoyed watching him stumble through things, this really wasn't the time. This was a time for decisive action.
The thought made Steve instinctively glance over at his shield, resting against the wall beside his side of the bed. He nodded; he could do this. It was terrifying, but that had never stopped him before.
He turned and headed out through the living room toward the kitchen island. Looking at Rogue made him feel both worse, and infinitely better. Get through this, Rogers, he told himself, and everything will be golden.