rogue_america | Summertime Butterflies

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Summertime Butterflies

Over the last several months, Steve had been taking on more and more missions for SHIELD. He didn't really need to, but it made him feel useful, needed in a way that he never could quite manage any other time. It gave him an outlet for his energy that running, boxing and even sparring never quite could. It was as if his body knew what it had been engineered for, and it grew restless if it wasn't used for its intended purpose.

All of this was to say, when Fury made a comment about Steve moving to Washington, D.C. to be closer to SHIELD headquarters, Steve gave it due consideration. The Avengers hadn't been called on again after the Battle of New York, and while he appreciated being able to hang out with his teammates, who had become fairly good friends in the last year, they weren't holding him back. If nothing else, technology was such that he could make video calls if he wanted, and he knew they'd talk to him any time of the day or night. (He was also under no illusions that Tony wouldn't send a private jet for him on a whim. Asshole.)

The only thing really keeping him in New York, besides nostalgia and familiarity (and even that wasn't very strong, with seventy years of changes to the city he'd grown up in), was Rogue. Which brought up several other issues.

First, he didn't know how she'd feel about moving. If she wanted to stay in New York, he wasn't going to just leave. If she did want to uproot and move with him to D.C....

It brought up thoughts of permanence that Steve had been trying to keep tamped down. They'd rushed into their relationship at lightning speed, and while he didn't regret it one bit, he knew now that there were a thousand ways it could've gone wrong, and he didn't want to rush into anything else.

They hadn't ever discussed marriage. They'd been dating, living together for ten months, and they knew each other well by now, and he thought she would be agreeable to marrying again... and to him, 10 months wasn't that short a time to go from dating to proposing... And they did mention forever - he still occasionally told Rogue she was stuck with him - so that was promising...

Those were the things he kept reminding himself, when he grew nervous and unsure. Not so unsure that he didn't already have a ring picked out. But under what circumstances he should ask, on that he was clueless.

So in the meantime, he went about each day as usual: reading, drawing, spending time with Rogue when they were both around. But his words and actions always had a nanosecond's hesitance, while he wondered 'should I just say it? Is this the right time? Should I ask at all? Maybe I should just bring up the possibility of moving together to D.C., and forget marriage.' He was constantly weighing risk versus reward. But despite the reward, the risk always seemed just slightly too high, the potential fall-out a little too devastating. So he fumbled, and pressed on, waiting for something, he just didn't know what, to tip the scales that little bit more in his favor.

Of course, he wasn't going to forget; while he'd had no real problem with living together out of wedlock, marriage was still the endgame for him, and he wanted to marry Rogue. It wasn't from antiquated thinking about making her an 'honest' woman - he wanted that physical, tangible proof that she was his, and off-limits to anyone else. And he wanted the same for himself. He wanted his friends, the country he served, and God to recognize that they were bound together, and let no man (or woman) tear asunder.

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Steve's increased involvement with SHIELD was... troubling at times for Rogue. She knew that he liked to feel needed and like he was being useful, but there was just something about the whole affair that set her nerves on edge. Perhaps it was his constantly being put in danger. Maybe she just didn't quite trust SHIELD. Whatever it was, it left her feeling unsettled and ill at ease, and she worried that it would affect their relationship -- that was why she didn't bring it up with Steve and instead pushed her concerns aside. He was happy, or at least he seemed to be, and she couldn't ask him to stop helping people. He needed this sort of thing in his life, and that was just something she had to accept and deal with if they were going to have a life together.

Sometimes, though... Sometimes she worried. Occasionally she was even a little bit afraid. There were moments when he seemed to stumble around something in their conversations, sidestepping a topic that seemed to weigh on him. She couldn't begin to think of what it might be beside the present state of their relationship or his ever increased involvement with SHIELD. It was entirely possible that it was both, and she was fairly certain she wasn't going to like that outcome. Old doubts rose every time she started down that path and it was starting to eat her up inside.

But she kept pushing through it, doing her damnedest to make sure he had no idea that she was at all bothered about anything beyond the norm. It wasn't fair to him.

Steve got back from his run that morning a little earlier than usual; he hadn't slept well the night before, chased by strange dreams - not nightmares, not precisely, but unsettling. He knew they were from his ongoing thoughts and worries about moving, and asking Rogue to marry him. He usually ran from five to six am, before the sun was really up, just as the city that never sleeps was about to catch her second wind; today he'd finally gotten out of bed, after laying awake for some time, just after four, but only returning less than half an hour early.

He would've been back sooner, but he'd gotten a text from Natasha (who knew his routine, probably had his normal routes memorized as well as he did, and so knew when she'd catch him awake and otherwise unoccupied), asking if he'd given any more thought to moving to D.C. and working more officially for SHIELD. She wanted a partner, and if she couldn't have Clint (the WSC were dragging their heels on clearing him post-Chitauri/brainwashing-by-Loki), she'd "settle for the pinnacle of human perfection, I suppose. You're not bad to have for partner in a fight."

Sass. He got nothing but sass everywhere he turned, he needed a better class of friends, honestly. But her message had brought up all the thoughts and feelings he had just been--well, not getting a handle on, but had just about bottled and corked back up after his dreams, and now they were in a maelstrom inside his head again, so he lengthened his run to push them back down. Again.

One reason he ran in the mornings was because the heat hadn't had a chance to soak into the streets and get reflected back; there was still a cool brisk feeling to the air, and his body ate up the miles and hardly broke a sweat. This morning, that wasn't the case. He'd pushed himself more, and run for longer than usual, so by the time he returned to the apartment, his shirt was damp in spots, and he was panting a little. It was good, it felt good to actually tire himself out, even if he knew it wouldn't last, but he also really needed a shower now.

He hoped Rogue wasn't up yet. Sometimes she was, despite not being a morning person, just because he wasn't around. She never said that, of course, but he'd grown so accustomed to sleeping with her that it felt too foreign to try and sleep alone, and he could only assume it was the same, or at least similar, for her.

Of course it was similar for her. Whenever Steve wasn't in bed beside her, Rogue found it difficult to sleep at night and achieve any measure of actual rest. She'd toss and turn, plagued by disquieting dreams and memories that weren't her own, and eventually it just seemed easier to throw in the towel and get up. A fresh cup of coffee helped brush aside the cobwebs, and sometimes she'd catch a nap if her schedule allowed in the afternoon, when the sun was high and she could see the sky through the windows.

That morning wasn't any different. Being so attuned to his presence, she shifted around for a short while after he left before finally checking the clock, frowning at the numbers that informed her it was ungodly early even by his standards. She'd noticed that he'd been a bit more restless the night before, but to be bothered enough to throw off his usual routine... That meant something, and it sent off all her alarms.

She was out in the living room when he returned, perched beside an open window with a half-empty mug in her hands to watch the sky slowly brighten. Only the kitchen light was on, and she waited until he'd moved further into the apartment before glancing over her shoulder to carefully, almost hesitantly ask, "Everything alright, sugar?"

If she was being honest with herself, she was a little afraid of the answer.

Of course she was up already. And of course she was at the window. Seeing her silhouetted there, haloed by the slowly rising sun, brought an unconscious smile to Steve's face, even as he felt guilty at the thought he might have caused her to be awake. His eyes took in the whole scene, and he thought maybe today he'd jot it down in his sketch book, maybe try to paint it later. Watercolors, he thought, to give the whole image a soft, ethereal, flowing quality. Dreamlike, and just a little surreal.

But then she asked if everything was alright, and his smile slipped, just a fraction, as he took a steadying breath - he was still panting a little, and hoped that masked it. Should he bring it up now? And which 'it' did he mean? The text gave him the perfect ~~excuse~~ reason to bring up moving. But should he--? He didn't want to ask her to marry him while he was covered in sweat from his run, but he should tell her about the text, and the potential move. If he asked after he told her about the offer with SHIELD, he didn't want her to think that was the only reason he was asking. (Although to be fair, it was a deciding factor in getting him to ask now, but he didn't want her to know, or even think that, since deciding factor or not, it wasn't what had gotten him thinking about it in the first place. But if it was so jumbled in his head he couldn't even explain it to himself adequately, there was no way he'd be able to explain it satisfactorily to her.)

"Yeah," he answered, smiling again as he moved over toward her. "Just had some stuff to think about, work out in my head. Still a work in progress," he joked, "but I'll tell you about it once I take a shower." He pulled his damp shirt away from his chest in demonstration. "Some SHIELD stuff I'm thinking about."

He leaned forward for a kiss. "You taste like coffee," he teased, as he did most mornings.

SHIELD stuff. Of course that's what was on his mind. She tried to reassure herself with that fact, but it only shifted her worry in a different direction instead of alleviating it. SHIELD made things more complicated for them, but as with every time her thoughts turned down that path, she couldn't even contemplate asking him to give up his work.

She accepted the kiss with a soft smile, rolling her eyes at the teasing. "I wonder why," she retorted with a hint of sass, lifting her mug for another sip of her coffee. "Go on and shower, sugar, and I'll work on breakfast. How do omelets sound?"

"Honestly, nothing but sass from everyone I know," he murmured, smiling in spite of his turmoiled thoughts. "Omelets sound fantastic."

Marry me. The words circled round his head, and Steve turned toward the bathroom before Rogue could see him bite his lip - a nervous gesture he knew she would recognize, but also a physical reminder to keep himself from just blurting out the words. Today. He had to ask her today, no matter what else, or he was going to go crazy.

He was one to talk, being the sassmonster he was. Sometimes he was worse than she was! Still, there was no denying that she loved it, that she loved him.

What if he leaves me? It was a ridiculous notion, one that she knew Steve had worked hard to hammer out of her head, but all this mess with SHIELD lately had brought it back into her thoughts. Yes, they'd talked about forever, but they'd made no plans and they weren't married or tied together by children. If his career took him down another path, who could say that he wouldn't choose it over her?

She sighed at herself, shaking her head and setting aside her mug before rising and heading into the kitchen. It was hard to keep her thoughts focused on something she could make in her sleep, but she did try.

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.

Rogue had no idea what Steve was going through in the shower - if she had, she wouldn't have been stressing out in the kitchen, agonizing over the little signs of how strange he'd been lately and all the things that were changing in their life. She tried to concentrate on chopping the tomatoes and peppers, on melting the cheese just enough, not letting the eggs burn. It wasn't easy, though, and one omelet met a gruesome fate and ended up in the trash.

She was plating the omelets that survived when Steve came back out, and she gave him a small smile while setting their plates on the island. His was obvious, with double the portion. "Want some juice?"

Steve's shoulders relaxed at the typical morning scene, unaware of Rogue's doubts about his behavior. "Orange juice would be good, yeah, please."

He wasn't going to say anything until after they finished eating. He'd learned over the last year that it was best to stick with idle conversation, or Rogue had a tendency to get worked up and not eat as much.

"So, what are your plans for the day?" He kind of liked it when she spent a lazy day around the apartment with him, when he had off time, but he also knew Rogue handled idleness about as well as he did, if not less so. She liked to keep busy, keep moving, and there was only so much to do around the apartment before he had to physically stop her from rearranging the place, or cleaning yet again.

The bottle of juice was retrieved from the fridge and two glasses poured. While she twisted the cap back on and set it inside, she contemplated how she would answer his question.

"I don't know," she finally replied, deciding to go with an honest answer. "I... don't really have anything." The numbers of students she met each week had dwindled down and she hadn't yet built them back up. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I'm... thinking about trying to get my license to teach. In a school, I mean." Her words were hesitant, like she hadn't quite settled on the idea and wasn't sure about telling him, but it was too late now.

"Yeah?" Steve glanced up from his omelet, surprised, but pleased. He heard the hesitation, but he knew how much teaching meant to Rogue. He also knew at least the bare details of why she hadn't taken that step yet. The fact that she was thinking about it said a lot about how she was feeling, and it made him happy, and proud of her. "That would be--great..." He trailed off, realizing that if she got her license, she wouldn't want to move. It brought an even stronger sense of urgency to the situation, because he didn't want her making any decisions, he didn't want either of them making any decisions, until all the cards were laid out on the table.

Taking a bite of omelet to stall a little and give himself time to think, Steve finally said, "Whatever you decide, I'll support you. I'm proud of you."

The way he trailed off set her anxiety skyrocketing again, and that pause before he finished didn't help. Not even his statement of being proud of her was able to calm her nerves, and she was sure he'd noticed how strained her smile was. Perhaps not, if she was lucky, but she wasn't usually lucky.

Should she just come out and say it? Would bringing up whatever this was fix anything, or would it bring ruin that much quicker to her door? She cut off a piece of her omelet, separating the cheese from the egg with the tines of her fork, and--

"What is it?" There was fear in her voice and she hated it.

Steve just attributed her anxiety to the idea of teaching again and the uncertainty that came with it. He looked up in confusion for a second at her question, before realizing-- shit, she had been picking up on his own anxiety.

Grimacing, Steve leaned back from the counter and scrubbed his hands over his face. Okay. He could do this. He just had to be careful how he phrased things.

"Remember when you said one time 'we need to talk' and I freaked out, because I thought you were breaking up with me? It's like that. I have some things we need to discuss, but it's not--it'll affect both of us, but not our relationship. I hope. I mean--well, it might, but not-- not like that. I'm not breaking up with you, I don't want to break up with you, or you to leave, or anything like that. But just-- hear me out, for a minute."

He scrubbed a nervous hand over his mouth. "Fury's been making some comments, lately, about me working in a more official capacity for SHIELD, as an actual field agent. Natasha would be my partner most of the time. The thing is... it would mean a move to D.C. And I-- I wanna take the spot, but if you don't want to move, I-- I won't." He didn't even sound disappointed when he said it, which was good, but also a little surprising, because he wanted the opportunity.

For those first couple of sentences, Rogue felt like she was strapped to a guillotine, waiting for someone to release the blade. Her heart was in her throat when he talked about things affecting their relationship, and even when he assured her that they weren't breaking up, she was terrified. But he asked her to listen, and so she did, her hands tightly wrapped around each other in her lap.

Moving to DC. They weren't breaking up, but... he was leaving? That was all she could hear of what he said, the thought ricocheting around her mind. After a moment, the rest did catch up though, and she stared at him in fearful hope. "You... want me to come with you?"

Steve's shoulders slumped at her question; of course he wanted her to come with, and the fact that she seemed at all surprised by the thought made him feel like somehow he was failing. He knew Rogue's default was to assume people would abandon her, but he'd been trying so hard to show her that wasn't the case. He knew ten months wasn't nearly long enough to undo a lifetime of feelings - he'd had four years in this body and he still acted like he was that scrawny kid from before most of the time.

Reaching out, he placed his hand on her arm. "Yes. Of course I want you to come with. I--"

He had to do it now, he realized. Right now. "There's something else. I've been thinking about it - well, for a long time, but it always seemed too soon, and we never really talked about it, but then the whole thing with SHIELD and moving came up, and I don't want you to think that's the only reason, but-- whether I take the job or not..." He took a deep breath, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. Brace for impact. "Will...you marry me?"

He had better damn well brace for impact. Three seconds after those words left his lips, Rogue was launching herself out of her chair and right at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

"Yes!" she exclaimed in a squeaky, almost whisper, her throat so tight with emotion that the words didn't want to come out at a normal volume. "Yes, I'll marry you."

She didn't have to think about it. This was something she'd dreamed of, something she'd hoped would happen despite their never having explicitly spoken about it. When you dream come true was presented to you on a platter by someone you loved, you sure as hell didn't turn it down.

Steve reached up instinctively to wrap his arms around Rogue; they tightened when he fully comprehended her answer, and he squeezed his eyes shut as sheer relief threatened to overwhelm him. "Oh, thank God," he mumbled.

"Wait! No, shit," he swore, pulling back and looking panicked. "I had-- just-- stay here!" He held up a finger to indicate 'one second', then turned and sprinted into the bedroom. He reached into the closet and pulled out his portfolio, digging in the pocket for a second before racing back to Rogue.

He wasn't sure... he'd already proposed, she'd already accepted, it seemed a little silly to get down on one knee now...

Fuck it. She knew he was cheesy and old fashioned, and she loved it. So Steve knelt down on one knee in front of Rogue. At least he wasn't nervous about what her answer would be, now. "I know I already screwed this up, but I wanna do it right. Marie LeBeau, you... are the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I don't know what I'd do without you." He held up the ring box he'd grabbed earlier, already open to show the silver ring holding emeralds along the sides to create leaves, surrounding a ruby in the center. "Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

It was a bit surreal to have Steve run away just seconds after proposing, but Rogue really wasn't all that surprised. He was a bit quirky at times, her soon to be husband, and she did so love that about him. She actually found it a bit comical to watch him dash off like that, and she was still smiling when he returned and got down--

Oh. Oh, Steve.

Tears filled her eyes and she tried her best to hold them back, because she really wanted to see that damn ring and see him and damnit, she was crying and there was no stopping it. "Well, I don't know, sugar," she replied, trying to make a joke despite her watery, silly grin. "I might have to think about it a little."

Steve wasn't at all surprised by the tears. He'd been fully expecting them at some point, had even figured it would be about the time he offered the ring. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised by her response, either, but he couldn't help the way his jaw dropped a little, more surprised at her sheer audacity.

"Oh, I see how it is." He looked down for just a second - before surging forward and up, wrapping his arms around Rogue's thighs so when he was standing, she was slung over his shoulder. "Looks like it's caveman rules, then," he told her, moving over to the couch, leaning over enough that she didn't have far to fall, then immediately flopped on top of her - being careful not to squish her, just... hold her in place. He reached for her hand, the ring out of the box and held in his other.

"This ring is going on your finger, and that's that!" he teasingly threatened.

Rogue squeaked loudly in protest at being manhandled, but it was quickly drowned out by the string of giggles that followed as he carried her to the couch. Even without him keeping her in place, she didn't plan on moving a single inch.

"You talk big, Rogers, but let's see you follow through with it," she taunted playfully, grinning like an idiot and just itching to have that ring on her finger. Not because it was beautiful (though good lord it was) but because it was a symbol that they would be tied together. She didn't mind just being with each other, but there was something so satisfying in being able to say she was someone's wife. Her previous life hadn't given her much opportunity to enjoy that luxury, and she fully intended to do so with this new one.

Steve held Rogue's hand and carefully slipped the ring on her finger, taking a moment afterward to just look at it on her hand. He slid over until he was resting more along the back of the couch, with just a leg and arm draped over her, and pulled her hand up to place a kiss over the ring.

"I know diamonds are traditional, but I liked this one," he told her quietly, as if confiding a secret. "You know what rubies and emeralds stand for?"

If she didn't, he was definitely going to make her cry again.

Watching him slip that ring on her finger, she was so happy and so desperately in love with him that she thought her heart would burst. It will silly, it was just this tiny piece of jewelry, but it was a symbol for so much more.

Her throat was tight as she shook her head at his question and, smiling slightly, accused him, "This is gonna be like the first time you gave me flowers, isn't it?" On his birthday, when she cried as he'd told her about each bloom and its meaning. She had no doubt she was about to cry all over him now, and she didn't feel all that bad about it -- it was his own fault for being so amazing, after all.

"Probably." He couldn't quite stop the guilty laughter that came through his words. "Is it horrible that I kinda like making you cry, so long as it's not from being sad? I like you crying from happiness... and laughter... even if it's at my own expense." He twined their fingers together, rubbing over her ring - his ring - with his thumb. He could already tell it was going to become a habit, touching that ring whenever he could.

"So, emerald - well, that was kind of a no-brainer, I know you love green. For a while I thought just an emerald instead of a diamond. It symbolizes growth, new beginnings, like spring. And healing. It's also got tones of blue in the stone, when it's cut right, which according to people who know more about gemstones than me say it represents a 'steadfast bond.'

"But then I saw some that had a ruby with the emerald, and I... well, rubies, like a lot of red things, stand for love and passion, energy and life. And..." he was a little embarrassed to admit this next part. "Ruby is my birthstone, so I liked, and I thought you'd like, the idea of... always having a part of me with you."

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Summertime Butterflies

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