fateandfortune | The Sweet Gestures Meme

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The Sweet Gestures Meme

the sweet gestures meme

Everyone loves sweet gestures—little things that remind someone that you love them, that you think of them, that you care for their general, and other things. A gesture could be made towards a friend, a family member, or some other loved one. Maybe towards a total stranger you think deserves something to make them smile.

prompts

1. LOVE NOTES ❤ Everyone loves love notes, and they don’t even have to be romantic. It could be simple as ‘have a good day at work’ or even something funny to brighten someone’s day.

2. BREAKFAST IN BED ❤ Especially on a Sunday morning or after a long, late shift at work, breakfast in bed with their favorite foods is surely the way to start the day off right.

3. PHONE CALL ❤ Who doesn’t like a phone call from someone they love, for no reason? A nice conversation can be all someone needs to have a better day or make a good day be a great one.

4. SWEET TREAT ❤ Late at night when you’re both tired from work or just general day-to-day things, something sweet from the local bakery can be just the thing you need.

5. MASSAGE ❤ While a wonderful idea, swapping massages can be a good idea too, or doing it after a nice bubble bath you made for them, or just randomly.

6. RANDOM HUG ❤ Even if they are not having a bad day, how could a hug not bring a smile to someone’s face?

7. SMALL GIFT ❤ It could be a piece of jewelry that caught your eye and reminded you of them, a stuffed animal you won at the carnival… just something small and sweet that you are sure they are going to love no matter how cheap or expensive it is.

8. FLOWERS ❤ From a florist or from a random patch of green, the surprise of flowers for someone you know and/or love is always welcomed! Look into their meanings to make the bouquet, big or small, become extra special.

9. RENT A MOVIE ❤ Sure, you might not like the genre of the movie, but if the other person does, then that is all that matters.

10. SLOW DANCE ❤ Middle of the living room, randomly while on a date, or maybe that is the whole purpose of the date. Slow dances are so underrated.

11. SURPRISE GETAWAY ❤ Yes, that is just what you guys need: a vacation from things, even if it’s just for a day or two and is not half way across the world. From a family vacation to a romantic spur of the moment, everyone loves going to a new place.

12. SURPRISE KISS ❤ Who doesn’t like a surprise kiss? A soft one on the cheek, a kiss being the thing to wake you up in the morning, or a big one right when you walk through the door.

13. HOLD HANDS ❤ There is nothing like holding hands. It’s a simple and intimate gesture, and if you do it the right way, it could have a whole different meaning.

14. COOK DINNER ❤ Come on, give it a go. Who cares if you’re not the best cook in the world or possibly the worst? It’s the thought that counts.

15. WILD CARD ❤ Was there something missed? Did you have another scene in mind? Want to roll again?

POSTED BY luuupin @ allmymemes

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had been a rather trying morning, and Steve found himself rushing to meet Marie at her apartment. He'd decided, at the last minute, to make one final stop, so he was running slightly behind. Clutching his purchase in one hand, he squinted into the glass of a nearby window and tried combing his hair down with the other. It was a lost cause, of course, after having to wear his motorcycle helmet, but he felt like he had to try.

This was a date. A real, official date, the first he'd ever had (that hadn't involved the words "She's got a friend" beforehand), and while Steve knew that his concepts of dating were laughably out of fashion... He knew Rogue wouldn't mind. She seemed to find it charming, and so long as she enjoyed it, he wasn't going to worry or try to change.

Steve located the address pretty easily, using the side door beside the little first floor tea shop's entrance, and quickly climbed the stairs. Checking his watch, he winced as he knocked; 10 minutes late. Not the best start, but he hoped she'd forgive him.

He glanced down at the bouquet in his hand. The florist had given him a prolonged questioning look when he'd requested it, but Steve was sure about what he wanted. Bird of Paradise, white 'mum, several daffodils, gladiolus, hydrangea, orchid, and Queen Anne's lace. It did look a bit haphazard, compared to the very professional bouquets they'd had on display, but these symbolized exactly how he felt and thought about Rogue. Even if no one else seemed to know the meanings of flowers anymore, he would know. And if she asked, he would tell Rogue. Hopefully she didn't start crying; he knew why she cried at these kinds of things, but it still broke his heart. She needed, and deserved, to hear it every day, though.

Rogue had been up bright and early that morning to prepare for their date. It was the first date she'd had in a very long time, and despite that fact that they'd already told each other 'I love you', she was nervous. They were going out of order with the relationship, doing things a bit backwards, but that didn't exempt her from the butterflies in her stomach and jittery nerves as she worked in the kitchen. She wanted everything to be perfect for Steve because he deserved nothing less.

Their lunch was packed up in the small picnic cooler she'd purchased the day before, the kind with the fabric outside and insulated lining, with a long shoulder strap for easy carrying. The outside was a stars and stripes design that she thought especially appropriate and just a little bit hilarious.

Once she was done in the kitchen, she kept herself busy fretting over the outfit she'd chosen: a red knee-length dress with an open white cardigan over the top to cover the tattoo on her arm. White ballet flats and a small red crossbody purse completed her outfit. She left her hair down, though she added some loose curl to it, trying for a subtle feminine look that she hoped Steve would like. She wanted to look nice for him, it was his birthday after all.

It was only when the knock on her door came that she looked at the clock and noticed he was running late. Smoothing her hands over her hair, she took a deep breath and opened the door with a bright smile that turned happily surprised at the sight of the flowers in his hand. Glancing from his handsome face to the flowers and back, she finally greeted Steve with, "Hi there, sugar. Are those for me?"

It almost felt like they were starting over again. The last two times they'd spent the day together, at least one of them had cried at some point, and it had been highly emotional for both of them, yesterday. He was making no guarantees that he wouldn't end up a wreck at some point today, but he felt...clean, refreshed, like he had a new beginning. He looked back at the bouquet, picking out the six-petal star and cup shape of the daffodils. Rebirth, and new beginnings. Yes, absolutely.

When the door opened, Steve of course had been expecting Rogue, but his eyes got caught on her dress, which was gorgeous on her, and the way her hair looked, worn loose and curled, changed her look completely. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that she stole his breath; she looked like she'd stepped out of the same time as him, and he hadn't realized just how much more attractive he'd find that, until he saw it with his own eyes.

Staring at the picture she made, he almost didn't catch her words. He started, glancing down at the flowers as if he'd forgotten he was holding them - which for a second, he had. He looked back up and smiled at her; he carefully extended his arm with the flowers to her; he did not thrust them at her like an awkward schoolkid, although that was really what he felt like doing. "Yes. I wanted-- well, I wanted to get you something. I never said I wasn't going to buy you anything, today." He smiled impishly.

Rogue had picked out her outfit with an old-fashioned, classic look in mind, trying for something reminiscent of the days in which he'd lived before. For a few minutes, she'd contemplated trying to find something that was of a vintage design as well, but she worried that might be too much for him - she didn't know what the woman he'd loved had worn, and she didn't want to bring up any painful memories for him. Today was going to be difficult enough without her help.

Seeing the way he looked at her made her heart skip a beat. Everything in his expression said that he found her attractive, she could see it written on his face, and that made her truly feel attractive, which was something she hadn't experienced in a while. It was nice, and the feeling buoyed her spirits even higher.

She took the bouquet from him delicately, rolling her eyes at his words. He was a troublemaker in the best ways, and she loved him for it. Tracing her fingers along the variety of petals, she studied each type of flower for a moment. The selection didn't blend as well as a normal bouquet from a florist would, so she assumed he'd picked each one out himself. Steve wasn't the type to go for looks alone, so... "You picked them out for their meanings, didn't you?" she asked him quietly, her eyes still on the blooms. "Daffodils are new beginnings, I remember reading that somewhere. What do the rest mean?" Dark eyes rose to watch him expectantly, eager to hear about the beautiful gift he'd given her.

If she'd gone for red and vintage, Steve would have been uncomfortably reminded of Peggy - they really did have quite a lot in common, not just in looks, but spirit as well. But she'd chosen just the right look, and while he was imagining having met her back before the ice, Peggy didn't cross his mind. What did, was the idea of taking her to a dance hall, flirting and dancing and laughing together. Together being the operative word.

His stomach began to knot a little as she started to examine each flower. Part of the reason he was late was because, after leaving the florist's (he hadn't wanted to seem rude by doing it right there in the shop), he'd stopped and rearranged the flowers to his liking. His mother had taught him how, and she'd always been very impressed with his arrangements. He'd tried to make them look as neat and tidy as possible, giving each flower its own spot of importance within the arrangement, keeping those that clashed in color or shape separated... Still. It wasn't a dozen pink roses.

At her soft question, Steve's breath caught slightly. He should have known by now not to underestimate her, but if even a florist didn't realize what the bouquet said, he hadn't expected anyone to, anymore; it was somewhat outdated even when he'd been young in the 20's. He cleared his throat, but nerves still made his voice a little huskier than usual, as he reached out, pointing to each flower as he explained.

"Daffodils, for new beginnings, and high regard - but it has to be several, for happiness, just one means something else. Bird of Paradise, for excitement and anticipation. Queen Anne's lace, delicate and complex, and a haven to rest in. Hydrangea, for gratitude for understanding. Orchids, for..." He knew he was blushing; this was the part he was nervous about. Part of him hadn't wanted to come on too strong, but after everything they'd said and revealed yesterday, he didn't think it would be. His stomach and nerves weren't listening, though. "For proud and glorious femininity; refinement, thoughtfulness, and charm. Gladiolus, for strength of character. And white Chrysanthemum, for... truth, and loyal love."

He remembered learning all of the meanings when he was small, poring over the book and memorizing them; now, he felt the wording sounded like a dry text book, but there was a wealth of sincerity in every word he spoke.

The flowers were absolutely beautiful despite not being the traditional arrangement, and she could see the care that had been put into them, either by the florist or by Steve himself. She wondered idly if he had been the one to arrange them, since it seemed like it would fit his personality to do something important entirely by himself.

It became increasingly difficult to breathe as Steve explained the meanings of each flower, and her eyes followed his pointing finger, committing the words to memory so she could look back on them later. Her throat tightened as tears burned at her eyes, and when he'd finished speaking and she finally looked up at him, those tears slipped down her cheeks. She was so glad she's decided not to wear any eye makeup that day - something had told her she'd end up crying at least once, but she'd thought he'd at least get through the door first.

"Steve, I-" Her breath hitched and she tried to away the tears with the backs of her fingers, but they just kept coming. What could she say? Thank you? It meant the world to her? No, the only thing that would come out was, "I love you."

When he looked up, after finishing his explanation, he was dismayed to find her crying. It certainly wasn't what he'd intended - but then he thought about all the things she'd told him, about her past, and how for so long she'd felt unworthy of things. He couldn't bring himself to regret the flowers, or telling her their meaning. He meant all of it, and he knew sometimes, tears were the only way to relieve an excess of feelings.

Still, he couldn't just stand there and do nothing while she continued to cry. Reaching over, he moved her hand with the flowers out of the way, then wrapped his arms around her middle and drew her into a hug. "I love you, too," he said quietly. He wished he had the words to explain to her just how much she'd come to mean to him, in even this short amount of time, but besides I love you, he just couldn't articulate it. He finally settled on, "You're the first girl I've ever bought flowers for. I'm... kind of hoping you'll be the last."

Pressing his nose to her hair, just above her ear by her temple, he breathed out, "And I mean every one."

Rogue wished she had the words to tell him that she was crying because she was happy. She was overwhelmed by that happiness, by the feeling of being loved and appreciated, of having someone really care about her. They were emotions she hadn't felt to this degree in years, and it was just too much for her to handle without letting some of it out. Unfortunately for Steve, that meant crying all over him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, careful of the beautiful flowers, and tried to get control of her breathing. It took a few minutes of just holding onto him, just riding that wave of emotion, before she could lean back enough to give him a watery kiss. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, Steve," she told him softly. "The very best. I'd be happy to be the last girl you ever buy flowers for, so long as this isn't the last time. I kinda like it," she finished with a mischievous smile and another quick kiss.

So long as they were happy tears, Steve didn't mind his shirt getting wet. He'd gladly endure it, if it meant she understood how he felt for her. For now, he just held her, rubbing a soothing rhythm up, then back down her back. He unconsciously started to sway gently in place, listening to her breathing slowly even out, until she pulled back. He couldn't help but hope that, eventually, the number of non-teary kisses would begin far exceed the watery ones, but every one was unique and perfect to him.

"Definitely not the last time," he responded, unable to stop his grin. "Though next time, maybe I'll give you orange roses and lilies. Maybe some red carnations." He didn't mind telling her what flowers he'd get her - but he'd save their meanings until he actually gave them.

It would take some time, but eventually they would both get to a place where they could get through a day together without one or both of them crying. It might take a lot of time, considering everything they'd both been through, but it would be worth the wait.

"That sounds beautiful," she told him, wearing a grin to match his. She had no idea what those flowers meant, but she looking forward to finding out. Stepping back and unwrapping herself from him, she wiped at her eyes again with a breathy laugh. "You haven't even gotten in the door yet," she realized aloud, reaching out to wrap her hand around his elbow and tug him inside. "Come on in, I need to put these in water."

Her apartment was small, just big enough for one person or two if they got really cozy, and the building definitely showed its age, but she'd done her best to make it nice. The furniture was all second-hand, from the worn grey couch in the living room in front of the windows to the scratched dining table set up in the corner, but there were bright yellow pillows on the couch and paler yellow curtains on the windows. Her kitchen was tiny, which was the one thing she had trouble coping with, but everything was perfectly clean and tidy. There were no photos of people around, no real personal touches other than the general decor, except for three large framed prints of the French Quarter in New Orleans, proudly mounted on the wall in the living room.

Steve smiled as she steered him inside her apartment, looking around with open interest as she moved around the small space. He'd lived in places like this his whole life, so it didn't feel that small to him; it did make him notice how much bigger he was from back then, though.

The window and the yellow accents made it feel more open and happy; it suited her perfectly, he thought. He noted the framed photos, and remembered her mentioning visiting her husband's family in New Orleans. Some men, he thought, might be jealous that she still had that sort of thing up. He'd never make her get rid of them, though, or even want her to, unless she wanted to. They were a part of her past, that had helped shape her, and that was reason enough to like them.

"I like the yellow," he told her, coming to stand just outside the kitchen, so as not to get in her way, but still be able to watch her. He could watch her move for hours and never grow tired of it. Especially in her own space, where she was confident and at ease, sure of where everything was, and just how much reach she needed to get something. "And the prints. They're beautiful."

If Rogue had the money, she would live in an apartment with floor to ceiling windows, and she would always leave them open for the sun and stars to shine through. For three years, she didn't once see the sky, and that experience had taken its toll on her. She avoided being in places that felt enclosed or didn't have windows, because she'd found out the hard way that such things tended to cause panic attacks for her now.

"Thanks, sugar," she said to him over her shoulder as she trimmed the ends of the flowers with a pair of scissors to fit the vase she'd pulled out from under the sink. Everything was kept the same proportionate height so she didn't mess up his arrangement. Tossing the trimmed off stems into the small trash can beside the faded avocado green fridge, she picked up the filled vase and turned to face him.

"New Orleans feels like the only home I have left," she explained with only a flicker of sadness in her voice. "When I think of going back to somewhere I felt safe and accepted, it's what comes to mind. I lived in the school where I taught for almost a decade, but during the war, they..." She looked down at the beautiful flowers in her hands, reminding herself that she wasn't back there anymore. "That's where they put the lab, in the place that was my home. So even though I only stayed in New Orleans for a few months, it's all I have left."

Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at Steve with a small, fond smile. "This city's starting to suddenly seem like home too, though," she continued. "I wonder why that is." It was because of him, of course. Steve Rogers, the man out of time who had stolen her heart.

Steve listened to her talk about the places she'd considered home, and how one of them had been taken from her. He didn't know what to say -- knew there was nothing to say, that could comfort her over that. She couldn't even recall the school without being reminded of what had happened after, and his heart ached for her. For all that he had a hard time going to once-familiar places and recalling long-lost days, at least they'd always been happy memories of that place, no matter what had come after. Saying 'I'm sorry' felt more than inadequate.

And then she came out with something like that, and Steve couldn't stop the fond smile spreading over his face, love, and more importantly affection, being evident in his gaze. "I hope so. It would be a much dimmer place without you."

He took a deep breath; no. No, no, none of this moping, and that meant for either of them. On any other day, he would let each of them go through whatever emotions they needed to. But today... Today, he wanted to be happy, to make new happy memories, and he wanted the same for Rogue. "So. I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. I'm pretty much always hungry, but still. I was told there would be a picnic with a gorgeous gal. I see the gal. All we need now is the basket." At this point, he wouldn't put it past her to pull out an honest-to-goodness wicker basket for their vintage outing.

She supposed, in the end, it wasn't really the city that was starting to feel like home - it was him. He was very quickly becoming her safe port of harbor, the place she could come back to and always feel safe and wanted. It just so happened that the 'place' would be wherever he was. She would travel to the ends of the earth to be with him if that's what it took, and she wouldn't hesitate for a second.

He was the only person who could make her laugh so easily. Rogue grinned at Steve and chuckled, moving past him to set the vase of flowers on the low coffee table in front of the couch. They brightened up the room even more, adding a beautiful touch that she would greatly enjoy.

"Well, I did try to find a basket," she said as she turned back to him and gestured to the cooler waiting on the corner table, "but unfortunately baskets are so old-fashioned that they're damned expensive now. But I'm pretty sure I made enough food to tide you over until later, so let's get a move on, handsome." There may not be a vintage basket to hold their food, but she had found one of those red checkered blankets. Hopefully that would suffice.

Looking at the flowers on her table filled him with something he couldn't easily define. Warmth and happiness, and something almost possessive - not dark, but rumbling and primitive. Now, at least for a few days until they withered, she had something that would remind her of him every time she looked. And then, he'd just have to buy her more.

He turned to look where she gestured-- and had no idea how to react. He raised his eyebrows and just stared for a second, before making a face. "They really make those? I--" he burst out laughing. "I can't decide if I love it, or if it's hideous." He stepped over and picked up the cooler, letting it hang from the strap over his hand, spinning a little so he could see the different sides. "It is rather apropos, isn't it?" He slipped the strap up onto his shoulder.

It honestly didn't matter if they stored the food in a basket, a plastic cooler, or a cardboard box. This was all about the company, and he knew Rogue understood that. He moved forward and offered his arm to her. "Yes, ma'am. Lead the way."

Rogue wouldn't say no to more flowers, or to Steve's brand of possessiveness. He already possessed her heart, she had no problem with him taking up residence in her thoughts as well. She was already thinking up ways that she could make a mark on his apartment, just to make sure he didn't forget about her when they weren't together.

His laughter had her grinning and she just shrugged at his question. It wasn't the classiest thing, but it would keep the food cold and it was extremely fitting for the entire occasion. She simply hadn't been able to resist it.

Taking his arm, she steered them out of the apartment, sparing a moment to lock the door behind them before heading down the stairs. The steps were a bit narrow, but she'd take any and every excuse to be close to him, so they managed. "Do you have any ideas of where we can have this picnic of ours?" she asked him with a smile as they reached the street.

As they exited the building onto the sidewalk, Steve nodded to where he'd parked his bike a ways down. It wasn't a bustling street, by New York standards, but there was still plenty of foot traffic, due to the holiday and gorgeous weather. Steve kept one hand against the side of the cooler, to keep it out of the way and stop it from bouncing as he walked, and his other arm drawn in to his side, so Rogue was fit snug against him.

"I figured we could go to Brooklyn Bridge Park. It shouldn't be too badly crowded yet. And it's not far from my apartment, we can get back there quick if we want to watch the show from there, away from the crowds." They'd made plans to watch from his roof, anyway, but he wasn't going to leave the possibility open that they'd be comfortable with their spot and just want to stay there for a while.

Rogue loved living in Chinatown because there was always something going on. Neighborhood celebrations, personal triumphs that were shared with everyone. She liked the people, especially her landlady who owned the tea shop downstairs - normally Mrs. Chen didn't like outsiders and would never have rented to someone who wasn't Chinese, but Rogue had always been pretty good at charming people. She'd even started helping out in the shop every so often, learning how to make tea properly, according to tiny Mrs. Chen.

"That sounds great," she announced with a squeeze to his arm. "I'm so excited to spend today with you. And to see your apartment later - I hope it's a bit bigger than mine, you barely fit in there," she teased him with a giggle, though he could live in a shoebox and she wouldn't care.

The day was really beautiful, just perfect for a picnic. It could have been overcast or rainy, but this year they were lucky enough to have blue skies and a nice breeze that would be better felt in the park.

Mention of seeing his apartment later made Steve blush. He tried not to think about having her come in, all the kisses from yesterday and the unspoken agreement they'd come to about what would most likely happen tonight. He did not have a one-track mind, he wasn't one of those fellas who was only looking for ways to have sex. On the other hand... This was kinda a big deal for him. Nothing was set in stone, but if Rogue still wanted to stay the night, he was more than alright with that.

"It's...bigger, yeah." Steve grimaced. "SHIELD - the agency that found me, that created the Avengers - they set it up for me. I'm renting it, but I'm pretty sure Fury finagled a great discount. Even with severance and back-pay, on top of my Avengers salary, there's no way I could afford Brooklyn Heights nowadays." Actually, thinking on it with what he knew now, he wondered if it had been Fury, or Coulson who had chosen the location, and made it possible for him to stay there. From what he understood, Agent Coulson had been the go-to man for Captain America trivia; he would have known where Steve had grown up, would have tried to give him some sort of familiarity to start his new life with.

Thinking on it some more, Steve was pretty sure Coulson had had some hand in it. "It's got a spare room, even. South-facing windows, it's got amazing natural light." It hadn't been set up as a bedroom, though, when he'd been moved in; rather a den or office, with a desk situated right in front of the windows, and bookshelves along the walls. They were filled now with novels, old and new, and textbooks on art and history, as well as sketchbooks, filled with pictures, and blank ones waiting their turn; art supplies lined the shelves, too, as well as littering the available surfaces of the desk and side table beside it.

She saw that blush, and she had a pretty good idea of what had caused it. Their unspoken plans for later were, of course, in her mind as well. She knew that this was important to Steve, on a personal level as well as for them, and it was important for her too. None of this was new to her, but it sure felt like it was. He would be the first man to really be with her, but in order for that to happen, he would have to see her scars. Part of her was genuinely worried about that, particularly on them casting a shadow over their time together.

But they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"I'm glad they did that for you," she told him with a smile. "Finding my way alone in this world was hard, but I've at least lived with most of this; technology, social conventions, history. I honestly can't imagine how difficult all of this has been for you, so I'm grateful for any small thing that's helped you." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "And it sounds absolutely lovely."

Steve shrugged; it had been nice of them, but he'd never figured Fury for the altruistic type, and events during the Battle had only added to his skepticism of the generosity. "I think he felt bad after he saw how I reacted to being told what year it was." As well as the whole phony hospital cock-up he'd awoken to. Even Fury wasn't completely immune to Captain America's reputation, it seemed; so long as it didn't interfere with his schemes, he could afford to be generous.

But Fury was absolutely the last thing he wanted to think about right now, as well as those first few days where he'd been in shock over the entire situation. And Rogue gave him a perfect opening. "Speaking of lovely," he quirked a smile at her, "I didn't get around to saying before, but you look--stunning. I really like your dress."

They reached his bike, and Steve stashed the cooler against his artist portfolio, which held both his shield and a sketchbook this time. He didn't want to get lost in his head drawing when he was with her... but he'd had the vague thought that, if she was alright with it, he could sketch her today, relaxed, maybe laying down or sitting resting on her arms on the blanket. Now he wished he'd brought a small pack of colored pencils, to capture the vibrancy of her dress, the rich brown of her hair and eyes.

Once Rogue knew more about Steve's situation and the people he worked for, she'd be pretty skeptical herself. But today wasn't the time for that, they both knew it.

His compliment made her smile in pleased embarrassment. Stunning. That was a nice thing to hear. "I was hoping you would," she admitted, feeling like a high school girl out for her first date. "I wanted to look nice for you on your birthday. I was worried it might be too much, though." If he liked the look, she'd gladly invest in more outfits like it, classic meeting modern. She'd never been much of one for shopping, clothing had always seemed a bit like a prison for her, but if he looked at her like he had before...

I wanted to look nice for you on your birthday. Steve ducked his head, unable to hide his pleased smile. He shook his head, grabbing the helmet as an excuse for looking away. "No, not-- definitely not too much."

He did think of Peggy, then; of back to when the two of them had been tentatively feeling out the thing between them; of the red dress she'd worn that had made the entire pub fall silent when she walked in. It ached, some, remembering that, but in a bittersweet way that all reminiscences on the past should.

He was letting her go, Steve realized - and that did hurt, a little, but he knew he'd always love her, the person in his memories, as well as the woman she was now. But... that part of his life was over; more than that, he was starting a new life, and he couldn't continue to cling to the past and let it affect his every moment.

Handing her the helmet, he said, "Every fella who sees you is gonna be jealous that I'm the lucky guy you're with."

Steve wasn't the only one thinking on lost loves. Rogue had a moment of remembering all the nights she'd gotten dressed up to go out with Remy, for things like dinner and dancing, concerts or the theater. He'd loved taking her out and showing her off, claiming that she would have the eye of every man and the envy of ever woman they passed. Those comments had always been brushed off with a shove at his shoulder or an eye roll in exasperation, but it had all truly done wonders for her self-esteem, which was what he'd been aiming for.

"And all the ladies are gonna be drooling at the sight of you, handsome," she informed him with a smirk, taking the helmet and settling it into place. "You already turn heads when you walk down the street, but in this sunlight - you're absolutely gorgeous. I could look at that smile all day long." And she hoped she got the chance to do so.

Steve could be objective about his appearance: he knew he was attractive, now, even if he forgot most of the time, because he was still just him. But he did know. He also knew that before Project Rebirth, he had been too scrawny, all skin and bones and sharp angles and no muscle, to be attractive. Bucky had always tried to convince him he was a catch, but they were best friends, and even Bucky had talked more about his personality than his appearance; they both knew no gal would be instantly attracted to his looks.

It was always a mixed feeling for him when someone complimented him; he appreciated it, because it was always nice to hear, but he'd done nothing for his looks, didn't even have to do anything to maintain his muscles. He ran and worked out because he had extra energy to burn, and just because he could, now, but he didn't have to.

Still, when Rogue complimented him, he knew she was seeing more than just his outward appearance, and mentioning his smile helped, too.

"Come on, flatterer," he said, swinging onto the bike and waiting for her to follow. He could've left the bike at home, taken a taxi to pick her up and get to the park -- but he knew she liked the bike, and he had a not-so-secret love of feeling her holding onto him, and moving with him into the turns.

Fourth of July Date (8. Flowers)

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