One day, Steve hoped to be able to look back at this, their beginning, and just laugh at how ridiculous and melodramatic they'd both been. He hoped he'd be able to reminisce with Rogue and get her laughing about it too. He wanted to be able to look back, years from now, and in the easy confidence of a long, close relationship, be able to share his insecurities from the time with her, sure in the knowledge that she would understand what he meant, and not just what he was saying.

Obviously, they weren't there yet. But someday, he wanted them to be.

At this point, Steve felt he'd do almost anything, should Rogue ask him to. He wasn't quite so far gone off his head for her that he'd compromise his morals (not that he ever expected her to ask that of him), but anything even remotely reasonable, Steve would move heaven and earth to provide it for her. Touching her, kissing her, was certainly no hardship for him, all she had to do was ask. He couldn't imagine feeling like this, and not being able to touch her. His heart ached for her when he realized that was exactly what she'd had to go through, for years; over a decade with no touch from another person, unless it drained their life from them.

He gave a small, sweet lopsided smile, that probably said more than words how he felt about her. Then it turned amused, and he teased lightly, "Maybe we shouldn't panic at the same time, though. One of us has to be able to snap the other out of it."