fateandfortune | Just a kid from Brooklyn. [For Steve Rogers]

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Just a kid from Brooklyn. [For Steve Rogers]

Three months. That's all the longer Rogue had been in this world that wasn't hers, trying to scrape together a life out of nothing. She'd barely made a decent start of it when the world had tried to end on her with the Battle of New York. The city had been in chaos, was still trying to pick up the pieces two months later, and Rogue did all she could to help in her own way. In a small way.

Sure, there had been a few times she'd been tempted during the battle to run out into the thick of things and become her old self. Join the superheroes who had taken charge of the situation. But in the end she'd stayed back, because the reality was that without someone to borrow an active power from, she was just another normal person, and normal people just got others killed in fights like that.

In the weeks that followed the Battle, she'd taken to volunteering whenever she wasn't working. She'd joined an organization that worked with the elderly in various capacities, and they sent her where she was needed. Sometimes it was a nursing home to visit with the ones who didn't have families or who had simply been forgotten, sometimes to the retirement communities that put on events and could always use a few extra hands. Those were her big plans that Sunday - a party at a residential community, complete with cake, punch, music, and streamers. Lots of streamers. They'd really done the place up for the 4th of July holiday, which wasn't technically until Wednesday, with red, white, and blue all over the common room. It had taken hours for Rogue and a few others to get the decorations up and everything ready, but the smiles on the residents' faces as they were shepherded in by a fresh set of volunteers made every second worth it.

Laughing as goofy Mr. Samuels swept Mrs. Hawkins into something almost resembling a waltz, Rogue continued spooning out strawberries onto the whipped cream on top of the line of shortcakes. It felt strange to not be wearing gloves, even after months of having decent control over her mutation, but she'd still chosen a blue dress with long sleeves for the occasion. A simple dress, with sensible heels, so the sticker nametag reading "Marie" didn't look too terribly out of place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Work ate me. With a conference with 12-hour days. On the other side of the country. I was dead for a while after.]

Pushing feelings to the side to get things done was how Rogue had survived all these years. After her mutation had manifested, the entire world had changed, and while she did have a few years of angst, the events going on around her made her realize that there were bigger things at stake than whether she could kiss her boyfriend. The American public had started to turn on mutants, congress had pushed even harder on the registration act, and it didn't seem right that she spend so much time focusing on her own problems. They could wait for when the world wasn't ending.

Too bad that day had never come.

Hearing Steve talk about trying to figure out what to do next hit so close to home it nearly took her breath away. The war had lasted for so many years, and while she'd spent the last of them locked away, the beginning had seen her in the thick of it, fighting to rescue her fellow mutants and the humans who had helped them, to find some way to take down the Sentinels and the puppet masters who controlled them. And even before that, she'd had at least one mission a week with the X-Men since she'd turned eighteen and become a full-fledged member of the team. Moving on from that was... difficult, to say the least.

At his rather comical observation, Rogue glanced over at the offending retiree and frowned. "Mrs. Petrelli! We've talked about this!" she called over, setting a hand on her hip and using her stern teacher voice.

Looking back to Steve, she smirked slightly. "Didn't anyone warn you to check her for a flask? She's the reason we have a backup punch bowl. This is the third time in two months." She set her cup of punch on the edge of the nearby table and tossed over her shoulder, "Come on, Mr. Not So Ordinary, make yourself useful. Grab the bowl while I wrangle that flask from Mrs. Petrelli."

Edited 2016-04-19 04:19 (UTC)

[I was afraid you'd gotten tired of the thread, or something. *insecure* I watched Cap2 just before replying last time, so Steve got more melancholy than I'd planned on, I was afraid you got tired of his Debbie Downer routine. Lesson learned, that, lol!]

"Well, yeah," Steve replied, rather abashed as he followed her over to the table, "and I did, but..." He shrugged as he placed his cup beside hers and grabbed the punch bowl. He leaned toward Marie and spoke softly, not wanting any of the other participants to hear. "I saw where she took that flask from, and I wasn't gonna put my hand up an old woman's skirt!" He'd felt awkward enough when he'd had to search her purse, especially with the way she'd been eyeing him the whole time; he was pretty sure she wouldn't have minded at all if he'd put his hand up her skirt, which was just one more reason he'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of it.

Sniffing delicately at the bowl of punch, he was pretty sure she hadn't actually managed to get anything in there, but it was hard to tell. He could smell now that she'd opened it that she had Sherry in the flask (and she'd definitely been sampling the merchandise, which every bootlegger and runner would tell you was bad business practice), but the punch seemed fine. It was hard to tell since Sherry was so sweet anyway, but he didn't smell alcohol in the bowl. Maybe a few drops, but not enough to affect anyone's liver or impair their judgment. It was cooking Sherry, for heaven's sake!

[I'm never going to get tired of this beautiful thing we're creating! Even when he's a Debbie Downer, Steve is precious and I will gladly accept him. <3 Seriously, though, I love this thing and will continue it through eternity.]

Steve's little aside confession about the location of that masterfully hidden flask was too much for Rogue. She struggled to keep a straight fast and lasted all of four seconds before she broke out in a grin, followed by a stream of giggles. Oh, that was just too good. Captain America really was dealing with a whole new world of troubles now, wasn't he?

Mrs. Petrelli miraculously didn't give her any trouble when she went up to the elderly woman and extended her hand for the flask. The other woman didn't even bother to look chastened as she handed over the silver container, she just smirked and sent a highly inappropriate glance in Steve's direction. Oh boy.

Heading back over to Steve, she gave a little shake of the flask and pointed toward the small prep kitchen off the recreation room. "Better safe than sorry. It doesn't feel like she got much in, but we've got the punch to spare."

[Is it just me, or are these two just adorable together? I added some hints of shipping to this, but not much, you can do whatever you want with it.]

At Marie's laugh, Steve's shoulder's drooped in relief. He really had been trying to follow all the instructions he'd been given beforehand by the other volunteers; but it had already been hectic with preparations when he'd arrived, and he'd never done any volunteering with the elderly before. He'd just figured this would be less emotionally taxing than going to visit the VA or hospital, seeing the blank stares of soldiers that uncomfortably matched what he saw in the mirror most days, and that wasn't a reminder he needed just a few days before his birthday.

He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he'd signed up for a senior citizens' event, though. Apparently it was either be reminded of his past as a soldier, or be reminded of the fact that he was, technically speaking, more suited to being a guest at this type of party than a young volunteer. He thought of the ID card Fury had handed him when he'd moved out of the SHIELD compound, with his height, weight, and coloring all listed correctly, but his birth year listed as 1988, instead of 1918. He'd stared at the card for so long, Fury had made sure they hadn't spelled his name wrong or something. Of course he understood why they'd had to change his date of birth... But it had hurt, in a visceral, aching way that he couldn't explain. Just one more thing taken from him by the ice, no more important than anything else, but it had been a part of him literally his entire life. And now it was just one more thing to lie about and hide.

Making his way over to the sink in the kitchen, Steve poured out the punch and sighed. No use moping over it now; just had to carry on and make the most of it. He thought about Marie giggling at him earlier, and how sweet she'd been, and easy to talk to, and how she hadn't shut him down after his first bumbling attempts at conversation - but then shook his head. He was still learning his way around the world again, a relationship with anyone probably wouldn't work, even if he'd known how to be in one in the first place. Still, she was very nice, and sweet, and he was glad he'd gotten to meet her, and hoped they stayed in touch.

You fall fast and you fall hard, Rogers, always have and always will, an inner voice said, sounding so like Bucky he almost expected to look up and see his best friend standing at his elbow as he poured more punch.

Too bad he couldn't get drunk; some of that sherry added to his own glass sounded really good right about now.

[Not just you, they are precious. I am totally down with hints of shipping, bring them on and let's get this ship slowly sailing! And sorry for the delay again, going to try to be more prompt.]

If it were ever to come up in conversation, Rogue would explain to Steve that she completely understood that inexplicable ache of having to give up something that was such a part of yourself. For her, changing her date of birth on identification hadn't been the struggle, it had been changing her name. She'd debated it for days after her arrival, whether to take the chance to shed Marie, a name she'd always rather disliked, and become someone completely new. In the end, though, she hadn't been able to do it, because Remy had called her by that name, and that was why she'd taken his name officially as her own in a way she hadn't been able to in her world.

Rogue's thoughts weren't far from Steve's on many things, really. As she disposed of the now empty punch containers, she contemplated how easy it was to be around Steve - he was kind, funny, and not demanding about anything. She'd met so many men over the past few months who had had only one thing on their minds while getting to know her, and it was so incredibly refreshing to meet someone who didn't seem to have that same mindset. Their conversation had been amusingly awkward at times, but he hadn't hit on her once, and if anything that just made her want to get to know him even more.

Nevermind the fact that they had so much in common with their superhero pasts.

She turned back to him and just watched him for a moment, studying his expression and body language and frowning at what she saw. Stepping a little closer, she leaned her hip against the counter and asked him with real concern in her voice, "Are you alright, sugar? You look like you've got a thousand pounds of heavy thoughts weighing you down. I know we've only just met, but if there's anything I can do, even just listening, I'd like to."

It wasn't that Steve wouldn't flirt with Marie, if he thought he had a chance; it was more a matter of he had absolutely no idea how to do it, and never considered that it might work on anyone. He'd seen it in practice watching Bucky at the dance halls and parks plenty of times - but he'd never understood how it worked, because the few times he'd tried, it had fallen completely flat. Part of it had been his size and looks, but part of it, as Bucky had pointed out, was his technique. Of which he had nil, apparently.

The question really shouldn't have surprised him - and yet, it did. Steve wasn't used to anyone except Bucky, and later Peggy, asking him what was wrong, possibly even noticing something was bothering him. It was nice, but it hurt, because it made him miss his friends all the more, which he hadn't thought was even possible, at this point.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the thumb and forefinger of one hand against them, making it look like he had a headache, and not pressing against the sting of tears starting. He wasn't going to cry, especially not in a kitchen nook at a community center, in front of an attractive woman. The humiliation alone would do him in. It wasn't that he thought there was anything wrong with crying; he just knew what an ugly cryer he was. An Irish complexion meant he couldn't hide blushes, which he did far too often, or the splotchiness of crying.

Getting ahold of himself, Steve shook his head, and gave her a self-deprecating smile. "Got a time-machine?" he asked, before shaking his head again, as if to dismiss the question. "Thank you, for the offer, but... right now, I'm not sure I could really talk about it." Not without breaking down completely, anyway, which he'd been studiously avoiding for... well, ever since about a week after waking up. And that was without taking into account it would mean having to explain exactly who he was to her. Steve Rogers might have no problem crying, but Captain America breaking down would send even the hardiest of souls fleeing, he was sure. "Sorry, guess I just don't have my head in the game right now, that's all." Steve set his jaw determinedly. He could push this aside; look at the situation like a mission, and ignore everything else until later.

Usually your mission teammates aren't quite so attractive, his inner-Bucky piped up, and Steve wondered what the world would think if they learned that Captain America had lost his mind and was hearing voices in his head. Particularly this voice, who'd had to be censored at the best of times.

If only Rogue had been able to know the Steve of the past. His physical size and looks wouldn't have mattered one bit to her, and she probably wouldhave found his lack of technique to be completely charming. All her life, she'd had men falling over themselves to get her attention, and only a fraction of them had ever been worth it. Steve would have been worth it.

She watched him closely as he pressed at his eyes, and at first glance she would have assumed it was just a typical headache as the gesture was meant to convey. But there was something in his stance, a weariness about him that told her it was something more than that, and that something tore at her heart because Rogue knew that technique better than perhaps almost anyone. She'd used it so many times over the years, after all. Laying her burdens out for other people wasn't an easy thing to do, not when it took so much explaining for anyone to comprehend what life was like for her, let alone try to even remotely understand it. It hadn't been until Remy had wormed his way into her heart that she'd really let go of her emotional burdens long enough for him to take some of the weight, and even the it had taken a good long time for her to not feel incredibly guilty about it.

She nodded at his qords, concern still firmly rooted in her sympathetic expression, and she reached out to carefully set her hand on his upper arm. Giving it a gentle squeeze, she smiled softly and told him, "We all go through that, don't worry. And if you ever do want to talk, I'm happy to listen. I might even understand things a bit more than you'd think."

Another squeeze and then she pulled back, thinking of something and holding her hand up to him in a 'wait a second' gesture. There was a small storage room connected to the kitchen where there volunteers had stashed their things, and she went inside to rifle through her small handbag. Extracting a white business card, she walked to Steve with a much larger smile on her face and held it out to him. On it was her name, a phone number and email address, and her licensed credentials for teaching English as a second language.

"Here's my number," she told him, even if it was stating the obvious. Feel free to call or text or email, hell you can smoke signal if you want, though I'm not sure how effective it would be. But I'd love to hear from you after all this, even if it's just to grab some coffee and talk about all the stuff people think we're weird for not knowing."

Steve considered himself a fairly open guy, not ashamed of his emotions or his weaknesses (he'd never been proud of his physical weaknesses, but he'd never been ashamed of them, either), but the fact of the matter was, he'd been born and raised in a time when it was expected of men to be stoic and put-together. It had been one more way he hadn't quite fit the mould back then; he'd been called 'sensitive' by his mother, and while she'd meant it as a compliment, it had taken society a great deal of time to begin to see it the same way. But while he felt a great deal of connection with Marie, just from their relatively short (but intense) conversation, the fact of the matter was, she was still a virtual stranger to him, and it was impossible to let his guard down any further with her. At the moment, anyway.

Saying she might understand better than he thought struck Steve as a little odd, but he figured she was still talking about what she thought were the ordinary troubles of a recently-returned veteran. But still... her offer was so tempting. To be able to talk to someone who was in no way connected to SHIELD, or the Avengers, someone who was removed from the entire situation, but was sympathetic, sounded so nice, even if she couldn't adequately grasp the finer nuances. And so far, no matter what he'd said, she had been sympathetic, no confusion or scoffing at him. If they did stay in touch - and now, he found himself thinking of ways to get that to happen - he would tell her, soon, about his patriotic alter ego. He'd just have to wait and see where it went from there.

At her gesture, he did wait, but while she darted off to the supply closet, he began pouring more punch. She returned just as he finished, and he set the bowl down to take the small business card she handed over. His lips ticked up as he read it, the unwilling thought that he'd actually gotten a girl's number, and he hadn't even had a chance to try yet. He smiled and gave a small huff of laughter when she suggested he could use a smoke signal. Even he wasn't quite that old.

"Thank you," Steve said, flicking the edge of the card a few times with his finger. The words came out softer than he'd intended. "Maybe... Are you... doing anything on the holiday?" Despite having just thought to himself jokingly that he'd gotten a girl's number, it took a second to realize just how that question sounded. "I mean-- just-- I've never really--" He finally made himself stop talking, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I've never really been alone on 4th of July. It's my birthday, and I've always had someone drag me out and enjoy myself." He rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously. "I make absolutely no promises I'll be any better company than I am today, but... getting something to eat and watching the fireworks with a friend sounds a lot better than sitting alone in my apartment."

The change in his voice was noticeable, and she frowned in concern as he seemed to struggle with finding the right words. But when he did... She couldn't stop the smile that curled up the corners of her lips, because it was the sweetest invitation she'd ever received, and there was no way in hell that she could say no that. He couldn't have many other people to ask, not when he was still so new to this time, and she couldn't let him spend the day alone.

"I'd love to spend your birthday with you, Steve," she assured him. "I'm sure you'll be perfect company, and if not, the fireworks will undoubtedly make up for it." There was more than a bit of teasing in that last part, and she decided against admitting that she'd be hoping a little for a different kind of fireworks between them. Eventually. Maybe.

She cleared her throat a little before grabbing the refilled punch bowl and nodding toward the open door to indicate he should follow her as she headed out to return the bowl to its rightful place on the table. "Now, for a very serious birthday question," she began, giving him a pointed look. "What's your favorite kind of cake, sugar?" Because what was a birthday celebration without cake?

Steve hadn't realized how anxious he was about asking, until Marie easily agreed; his shoulders slumped in poorly-concealed relief, and he smiled happily. He'd tried not to think about it, tried to keep moving and keep busy so his mind didn't have a chance to dwell on spending the day alone. He wasn't sure if birthdays were dealt with differently now, but he remembered every one of his being treated like summer Christmas. Not a lot of money for food or presents, but things were always scraped together to make the most of the day, with lots of celebrating and laughter, and at the end of it all, watching the fireworks with his ma and Bucky. He remembered being little and his mother bundling him onto her lap as they stared up at the sky, and her whispering that the light show was just for him. He's wondered, over the years, if his birthday was made such a big deal because it was proof that he'd managed to live yet another year, when all the doctors at one time or another were skeptical to downright disbelieving that he would.

"Fireworks make up for everything," Steve agreed with a smile as Marie started gathering the punch. He stepped forward automatically to take it from her, but stopped himself; it was okay to let women carry things now, it was expected. It wasn't a mark against him as a gentleman if he didn't offer, and might be considered chauvinistic if he did. It was hard to remember all the social niceties that had been flipped around in the last seventy years. Steve had to just keep reminding himself to treat every woman like he'd learned to treat Peggy, because it seemed like all the women he was attracted to were strong, independent types.

Steve paused, first at the 'very serious question' comment, and then again, but for an entirely different reason, at the question itself. He thought about the small slices of different cakes he'd had over the years, about food and especially sugar rations, about limiting his sugar intake because of his (now nonexistent) diabetes, about all of the different kinds of cake there probably were now...

"Well," he finally said, once they'd reached the serving table and started refilling glasses with punch. "Chocolate, definitely. But I've only ever had vanilla and chocolate, so I don't know if I'd like something else, better. And everything tastes different, now." Which was very true, but not in the way she probably thought. "I mean, for the last three years, I've been living on K-rations and coffee that tastes like it got scraped from the pot and reboiled in an unwashed boot." He'd discovered after the serum that he could eat almost anything and not get sick, but just because he could eat it to survive, didn't mean he enjoyed it.

Birthdays were important to Rogue, because she'd had so few of them celebrated when she was little. Growing up in foster care had meant being passed from one family to another quite frequently, and other than the 'special day' at school, there had never been parties with friends invited, no cake, no presents. No parents to be grateful she had come into their lives. There had been one wonderful birthday that she tried so desperately to forget, and then she'd been adopted by a proper southern family. Birthdays hadn't been a time for her friends, but for those of her parents, and in truth she'd just been glad to be wanted... It was just too bad it hadn't lasted past her mutation manifesting.

Things had been different at the mansion, though. Each and every resident had their birthday celebrated not in style, but with genuine affection. Her classmates had left little presents at her door, and then her students had decorated her classroom and made questionable attempts at baking her cakes. And Remy... He'd always made sure she knew how grateful he was that she was alive.

She didn't know what she would do for her next birthday, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Listening to Steve answer her question, she realized it hadn't even occurred to her what the era he'd grown up in might have meant for the life he'd led. During his childhood, no one would have had much money, and in wartime just about everything had been rationed. Going from that environment and into the Army, it was no wonder he'd never gotten to try other kinds of cake. And coffee that tasted like a foul boot? That just wasn't something she could let stand.

"Well, we're definitely going to have to fix that," she informed him with a grin. "I'm a coffee addict with a huge sweet tooth, especially for chocolate, so you'll be in good hands with me." She was already planning what she would need for the day, making a mental grocery list. Store-bought cake would be such a hassle and nowhere as good as what she could make herself, and he deserved the best after everything he'd been through, everything he'd done for the world. Making sure he had a good birthday was the very least she could do for him.

More than that, though, she was excited to get to spend the day with him. There was just something about Steve that drew her in, made her want to be around him for longer than they had that day. He was easy to talk to, funny and sweet, and they each had their secrets. It wasn't fair that she knew his without his knowing though, she acknowledged that, and so she promised herself that she would tell him next time they met.

Whether she would share her own secret with him then, though... Well, they would just have to see.

"Oh, no!" Steve exaggeratedly groaned, laughing a little. "Please tell me you're not one of those people who orders those weird-sounding, overly-complicated drinks at coffee houses. Like a 'venti mocha frappuccino vanilla soy latte macchiato, with extra caramel.'" He was pretty sure you couldn't combine all of those things into one drink - but then again, the way some people ordered, he wouldn't be too surprised if it was possible, now.

He paused, glancing over at Marie as her last words sank in. "And don't go to any trouble for me, okay? At this point, I'm just thankful I won't end up moping around my apartment all day." Or going to a bakery and buying the place out just because he could, now.

Overall, despite the lows that he'd hit from watching people three times his age but from his generation, and thinking about the past that he could never get back, Steve was going to mark today as a success. He'd met someone, completely randomly and on his own, and become friends. It was nice, learning that there was still more to him than just a national icon and an eye-catching costume.

[sorry this is so short! I just... have no idea what else to write. =|]

[short is just as good as novels! not all our tags need 300 words of introspection, haha.]

Hearing Steve make fun of the Starbucks ordering system and the people who bought those super fancy and insanely expensive drinks was absolutely hilarious. She couldn't stop the giggles that spilled out at that, though she didn't manage to keep them on the quieter side, and just shook her head at him in amusement.

"Sugar, it's not going to be a lick of trouble for me to find you a decent cup of coffee," she informed him with a very pointed look. "Which is not at Starbucks, by the way. I do enjoy a latte every now and then, but I'm just fine with a normal cup of joe. No weirdly complicated names necessary." She blamed Remy for her particular brand of coffee snobbery, but at least enjoying plain coffee helped to save her some money.

There was no way she was going to tell him her plan for the rest of his birthday treats, though. Not if he was going to be all sweet and protest her going to any trouble. They probably didn't know each other well enough for her to be able to elbow him in the side and insist that she'd go to whatever trouble she damn well felt like, thank you very much. She really didn't want to send him running just yet...

Marie giggling made Steve grin. He wasn't sure he'd ever in his life made a grown woman giggle before. Not without being the unintended butt of the joke, anyway. He shrugged at her look. "I know Army coffee was the worst, but I've never drunk much of it in the first place. It always... well, it wasn't healthy for me when I was younger, and I don't─need the caffeine, really, so I just don't drink it that often."

He'd almost said he couldn't feel the effects anymore, but realized it might sound hinky. He may not be able to feel the caffeine rush, but at least now he could enjoy the social niceties of having coffee with someone. Even now, he was still surprised sometimes when he drank coffee and didn't feel his heart start pounding out of his chest.

"So long as you know you're not obligated to do anything, or buy me anything," he finished, deciding not to fret over what Marie might be planning for him. Contrary to what his friends had seemed to believe, he didn't have to worry over every little thing. Really, his biggest worry was always money, but slowly he was coming to grips with the fact that, while everything was so much more expensive, people could afford things now. And, if they so chose, they could afford to spend money on others without having to go without themselves.

Rogue couldn't imagine not needing caffeine in her daily routine. Before the war, she'd needed her morning, afternoon, and evening jolts just to get through the crazy days of teaching superpowered teenagers and the endless nights of missions with the X-Men. Now, she needed it to keep herself focused after night after night of restless sleep, being woken constantly by nightmares and even occasionally her own screaming. It was one of many reasons why she wasn't quite ready for a real relationship yet - how was she supposed to explain that to someone? And who would ever understand it even if she did?

...Steve might though, on some level. She wondered if he dreamt about the war, if the bad memories plagued him, or if anything kept him up at night at all. Perhaps not. He had been a soldier, after all, and she had been a prisoner. An experiment.

None of that mattered right now, though. They were new friends, forging what she hoped would be something meaningful and fun for the both of them, because they could sure as hell use it. And he had a birthday that she had to make wonderful.

"I promise that no gifts will be purchased, and I won't do anything that I don't absolutely want to," she assured him with a sincere, if slightly mischievous, smile. There was a lot of wiggle room in that promise, but he was just going to have to deal with it.

Coffee, like alcohol, just didn't affect him anymore, but unlike alcohol, Steve never missed the effects of coffee. He wasn't exactly a morning person, but waking up at dawn had been drilled into him during boot camp, and he needed less sleep than the average person anyway. He could go for several days with hardly any sleep, and longer than that if he could take naps now and then. He'd learned to sleep whenever he got the chance, because during a mission you never knew when you'd be needed in tip-top shape. He wouldn't consider most of his dreams as nightmares, because to him, nightmares woke you up in a cold sweat, panting and terrified. Most of his dreams made him wake up aching, and sometimes even sobbing over what he'd lost.

That wouldn't be attractive to anyone. But he wasn't planning on sharing his bed with anyone anytime soon, anyway. He was enjoying Marie's company, this new friendship they had, and while he was hoping maybe it could turn into something more, he was certainly in no rush. He recognized that he was still grieving; part of him wanted to just get over it and move on, but he knew he never really would. It was like Marie had said earlier; the ache never really went away. But when it lessened, maybe then...

Well. No use counting his chickens before they hatched. He just had to keep taking it one day at a time. And now, the next couple days were starting to look up.

Steve heard the vast amount of space her promise left open, and gave her an unimpressed look to show just what he thought of her clever wordplay. The effect was somewhat ruined when after only a few seconds he couldn't keep his lips from twitching in a smile. "Okay, fine. Not like I can stop you anyway," he gave her another pointed look, "so I'll just let you do what you want." He paused, taking a deep breath. "And no matter what, I'll be grateful." He smiled at her, to show he really didn't mind, no matter what he pretended.

Crying over what he'd lost would never be something for which Rogue would fault Steve. Never. She understood that pain all too well, and certainly shed her own fair share of tears at a great many things, some justified and others... Well, it was likely that no one who saw her burst into tears after a simple hug would ever count her as entirely sane, and she wouldn't blame them.

Rogue gave him a wide grin and reached over to clap him on the shoulder with her hand. "Wise decision, sugar," she informed him teasingly. "You'll go far with that kind of attitude, especially with me." Was that flirting he heard in those words? Oh, most definitely.

She was about to add something else when she spotted an elderly gentleman waving to get her attention, and the smile she gave Steve turned apologetic. "I'm being summoned," she explained. "Mr. Spalding always makes me promise to save him a dance, which turns into five." Walking around to the front of the table, she tossed over her shoulder before heading to her dance partner, "Don't you leave without saying goodbye."

Steve straightened a little, blushing at the flirtatious tone of her voice. But he reminded himself that half of their conversation so far had seemed flirtatious, to him at least. He didn't want to read too much into anything.

Flirting with him was all well and good, but if there was going to be any purpose behind it, Marie was going to need to be a lot less subtle. Steve still didn't think of himself as someone that any woman would seriously consider having a relationship with, and he wasn't the kinda guy to have casual dalliances. He certainly wouldn't consider having anything casual with a sweet, classy gal like her.

Steve smiled and nodded as she began to head toward the older gentleman who was indeed smiling and beckoning to her. "I'll still be here," he promised.

After Marie had turned away to speak with Mr. Spalding, taking his hand and beginning to dance, Steve let his shoulders slump. While he knew nowadays 'dancing' wasn't the pseudo-euphemism it had been in his time, this was the first time he'd felt like dancing since he'd woken up... He wanted to dance with Marie, but he still didn't know how, and he didn't want to make a complete fool out of himself in front of her. And even if she somehow miraculously didn't mind him stepping on her feet every five seconds, he didn't feel like having an elderly audience for it, either.

Straightening up various items on the table, finding busy-work while he wasn't needed for anything else, Steve occasionally glanced up toward the dance floor, unerringly finding Marie and Mr. Spalding every time. Maybe... Maybe they could dance when they met up on his birthday. That would be alright.

Unconsciously, Steve started humming as he straightened napkins. "I know why I waited, know why I've been blue. I've been waiting each day, for someone exactly like you..."

[the song playing that Steve's singing to. My Google history looks ridiculous searching all this oldies stuff, lol.]

It was Rogue's default conversational tactic to flirt with the other party, especially a handsome man like Steve, but she found herself slipping into it with real emotion behind the words, a hint of true purpose that she wasn't sure what to make of yet. They had only just met, and while she knew she was definitely interested in what might hopefully develop between them along the way, she was also nervous and a bit afraid. It had been a long time since she'd opened herself up to someone, and this seemed like it was far too soon, but there was something inside that was urging her onward and she just didn't know which to listen to.

So it was nice to have the distraction from her own thoughts as she danced with charming Mr. Spalding, who regaled her all the while with tales of his youth and the many broken hearts he'd left in his wake. She laughed and moved across the floor with him, but ever so often her attention would drift toward Steve, and she was sure that at least once he'd been looking her way too. It made her heart ache in a way she hadn't experienced in so many years.

She wanted to dance with Steve, to have a moment of closeness and innocent physical connection with this adorable, handsome man she'd just met. Rogue had always loved to dance, as it was one of the few times she was ever able to really be close to someone without her mutation causing too many problems. Fast dances, slow ones, traditional or just moving to the music, she didn't care. It was all equally wonderful in the thrill it gave her, followed by a deep sense of peace. That was the thing she wanted to share most with Steve - that feeling of belonging that she found on the dance floor. Because with all the things wrong with her life, it was the one place where she could still be just a normal girl.

Her one dance that was usually more like five was interrupted during the second song by a very persistent Mrs. Petrelli asking (though more demanding) to cut in. Rogue graciously agreed with a knowing look before retreating back to the refreshments table and a waiting Steve whose very presence had her smiling as she approached. "I was granted a reprieve," she announced quietly, as if sharing a very important secret. And then, "You know this song?"

[You win all the awards for your Google-fu, perfect song!]

When he'd met up with Natasha recently to fill out some SHIELD paperwork required for his 'new' life (well, really she'd hunted him down at his apartment and thrown the paperwork at him with a stern glare and the terse words "sign those, and stop making me play errand boy, Rogers."), she'd started in again with dating, meeting new people, and he'd explained that in his day, you went to dances and fairs to meet potential partners. Which of course had led to ribbing about 'dancing', but Steve had explained to her that he had two left feet, and it was worse now because he weighed over twice what he had before; he could easily break a woman's foot if he misjudged his footing. She'd given him an incredulous look and stated she'd seen him fight, and if he could pull off spins and footwork like that while being shot at, he could certainly do it to music.

He'd just shook his head, because she didn't seem to understand: fighting required all his attention, so he didn't think about how he was moving, besides 'dodging things that will hurt and/or kill me'. Dancing required no attention except on how he was moving and where he was placing his feet, and when. Plus, being that close to a pretty dame always shot his concentration all to hell. True, he'd never had a chance to dance with anyone after receiving the serum, but the serum hadn't done anything to change his personality or his reactions around women, so just because he had faster reflexes didn't really mean squat. Maybe he should take dancing lessons; they taught all kinds of dancing now, he could learn from a teacher who wouldn't take it personally if he stepped all over her.

Steve glanced up again just as Marie was returning, smiling and looking happy, which made him smile in return. He thought maybe she'd been looking right at him, and not just toward the table he was basically just standing watch over, at this point.

He glanced toward the dance floor and saw that indeed, feisty Mrs. Petrelli was sashaying a bit more than necessary while Mr. Spalding spun her around the floor. Marie's question caught him off guard, and he realized he was still humming, even murmuring the words to the song still playing. Blushing bright pink, he tried to figure out how someone his age would know this song. He finally decided on the broad truth. "Yeah, I-- I like this kind of music. It's got a lot of soul. I like newer stuff, too, but... I wasn't really ever exposed to it growing up, so I'm still figuring out what modern music I like. Just one more thing I need to catch up on." He sent her a shy, self-deprecating smile.

There was that adorable blush again, tinting his skin a wonderful shade of pink that made her want to tease him with a laugh and give him a hug; neither was something she could really do just yet though. When they knew each other better, certainly, but for now she still felt she had to be careful about how far she took her usual teasing repertoire.

"I love this music," she revealed, hoping to put him back at ease after the way he'd seem to scramble for an answer. "Jazz really does speak to the soul. I didn't appreciate it much growing up, I only really listened to your standard Top 40 radio tracks, but my husband really introduced me to it. He grew up in New Orleans and jazz was just a part of his everyday life. I never really understood it until we went to stay with his family for a few months. Every night we'd go out and listen to live music and it was just... It changed me."

Now it was her turn to blush, something she didn't do easily, and she shook her head before giving him a slightly worried look. "Sorry, I tend to sort of babble when I talk about that part of my life. Does it make you uncomfortable, me talking about my husband like that? It's okay for you to say if it does, I won't be upset." Not everyone was interested in hearing her stories about the late love of her life, and she didn't want to bother Steve with them if it did make him uncomfortable at all. She didn't think it would, he honestly didn't seem the type, but she still had to ask.

Edited 2016-05-19 06:25 (UTC)

Music was always something Steve enjoyed talking about - not so much now, when people wouldn't understand any of his references, and vice versa, but back when he was younger, listening to music was something he could do, and enjoy, without exerting himself. Even when he was too tired and listless to draw, he could still switch on the radio and find some big band to listen to. He loved learning what Marie thought of it, what she'd grown up listening to and how her tastes had changed through life experiences.

Steve's immediate reaction to her apology was his eyes widening in surprise, and shaking his head, both in denial and disbelief. "No--oh, no! No, it doesn't bother me. I-- we all have a past, right? Everyone's shaped by events, but we're also shaped by the people we knew. And..." he reached up to rub his neck self-consciously, wondering just how frank he could be. He didn't want to upset her, but she seemed alright with talking about her late husband, so... "I mean, he clearly had a big influence on you, of course. It's... It's nice to hear that you've got great memories like that. I don't mind at all, I like hearing about it."

He thought about adding that he'd had someone like that, too; not a romantic partner, but a best friend who was in almost every single memory he had since childhood, and certainly all of the best ones. But while Marie seemed able to talk about her husband with the fondness of the past, losing Bucky was still too fresh for Steve to be able to recall those happy times, without feeling guilty that he was still here, and Bucky wasn't. Maybe someday, when the wound wasn't so fresh, he'd be able to share some of those memories with her. He'd like to share that with her.

Steve's reaction to her question was sweet, reassuring, and so extraordinarily endearing. She was grateful to him for understanding, for being the sort of person who appreciated those memories for what they were. Remy's death had been tragic, but his life had been wonderful, and she'd finally gotten to a place where she could separate one from the other. To have someone to share that with was... incredible.

"Thank you, sugar," she told him softly. "That means a lot to me. You really are a very sweet person, you know that, Steve? I wish there were more people like you in the world." More people who thought beyond themselves, who cared for others and showed it in their own way.

She hoped that one day he would tell her about the people and events that had shaped his life. His family, friends, the people he'd served with in the war. The days on which he'd been lost and brought back to the world. All of it was important, and she wouldn't want him to skip a single detail - unless that was what he wanted. Because secrets were important too.

Steve ducked his head, embarrassed by the compliment, especially because of how sincere she was about it. "Uh, thanks," he uttered, rubbing his neck. He knew he was blushing again, and worse, had no idea what to say. He'd just been being honest, he wasn't trying to be sweet or tell her what he thought she wanted to hear.

He was trying to think of what else to say, when an elderly gentleman stopped at the table and stared at the two of them intently. Steve turned his head, and while he didn't know the man's name, he realized he did recognize him, from a café he'd been at a few months previously. The man leaned in a little more, and in a faux whisper said "This time, ask--for--her number!"

Steve's face heated up more, but in a fit of mischievousness, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Marie's card and held it up for the man to see. "Thanks, got it covered." The man squinted, then nodded in satisfaction before grabbing a piece of cake and some punch.

Steve turned back to Marie and gave a small smile. "Sorry. He, uh--he tried telling me I shoulda asked for a waitress's number a while ago. Apparently she was flirting with me. It's--I didn't mean to imply that we're-- I just-- I was trying to be funny?"

[so I went to see Cap3 tonight, finally. Still processing, but I felt Stan should get a cameo in this. He deserves all the cameos.]

Sweet and adorable. With everything else thrown in, he seemed damn near perfect. There had to be a flaw in there somewhere, some horrible little thing that would bug her to no end, but for now she just wasn't seeing it. Or maybe she was and that blush was just distracting her from noticing.

Rogue watched the interaction with the elderly man with great interest, picking up that the two recognized each other, and she couldn't stop the grin that sprung up at the not so subtle urging, though she did try to politely cover it with a hand, at least.

"You succeeded," she informed him with a grin, dropping her hand and leaning over the table to move another plate of cake into the now vacant spot. "I'm guessing you're not used to people flirting with you, huh, sugar?" she asked gently. "Seeing as how you didn't notice when that waitress did it. Unless you were just really distracted that day."

[I'm glad you finally got to see it! I saw it two weeks ago and spent half the movie thinking about how much I wanted to RP reactions to everything. There's so much juicy material. And yes, Stan does deserve all the cameos; he's wonderful in each and every one. :D ]

I'm so so sorry for the wait!

Omg, don't worry about it! <3

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omg, I can't with these two. ♥

they are too adorable ♥♥

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;-; Steve feels

death by so many feels!

Stan Lee cameo!!

Haha, perfect! ♥