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

Entry tags:

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

He was bound to see her own displays of grief, which she wasn't yet as skilled at controlling. It didn't help that her negative emotions were often exacerbated by those of the people she'd absorbed. Part of her dreaded the day that Steve would inevitably see her lose control of her mental hold on things, the 'bad days' that left her practically incapacitated as she rebuilt her mental shields and tried to find her way back to being whole again.

Rogue laughed at his dry comments, especially when a few particular men decided to chime in that the guy had a pretty good idea there. "Well, I'm certainly not the sort of girl that guys take home to their mothers," she tossed back at him, though it was a darker joke than she'd intended, ringing just a little too true to her own ears.

Edited (late edit for typos) 2016-05-27 21:26 (UTC)

Everybody had bad days, Steve understood that, and most of them hadn't gone through the kind of trauma and ordeal that Rogue had. Steve certainly wouldn't be looking forward to seeing one of her bad days, but when he did, he would do everything in his power to help her through them, whatever she needed.

Steve pursed his lips in though, giving her a considering look. "Maybe they didn't want their mothers to be jealous of the great gal they'd found," he finally said. "My ma - Sarah - I think she would've liked you. She was sweet as apple pie, but God, could she be vicious if she was provoked. Not in a hellcat kinda way, but she had a razor-sharp tongue. And the best disappointed and disapproving faces ever. One look from her and you'd be apologizing for things you hadn't even thought about doing yet."

It was easier to talk about his mother than it was Bucky; he'd come to terms with her death, and was able to look back on his life with her without regret. Sorrow that she'd died too soon, but it had been a slow decline, and he'd been able to grieve for her properly.

Rogue listened to Steve describe his mother and wished she could have known the woman who'd raised such a wonderful son. He didn't have to say it for her to know that he'd loved his mother dearly, that he was proud to call her family. She envied that.

"She sounds like my kind of woman," she told him with a smile and half a laugh. "I'm sure she'd be proud of the man you've become, and I don't just mean the whole saving the world bit." He was such a good man, she really didn't deserve him.

Rubbing her cheek on his shoulder like a cat scenting its human, she quietly asked, "You had a good life with her, didn't you?"

Taking a long, slow breath, Steve nodded slowly. "I certainly hope she is." Steve firmly believed in heaven, and if anyone had deserved a halo and a set of wings, it was his mother, who shoulda been sainted just for being able to deal with two rowdy boys who'd had way more bravado than common sense.

It had been a while since Steve had pulled his early memories out and thought about them; he had so many other, more pressing things to do, it was nice now to just relax and remember, and share things with her. "I did," he agreed. "It wasn't an easy life, and I sure as hell didn't help that. But she made sure I was happy, made sure..." he thought about telling her about some of the less pleasant aspects of his young years, but he never liked thinking about those events. This was one secret he was perfectly fine ignoring, and keeping to himself - for now, at least.

"Well, made sure I could take care of myself, knew right from wrong. Knew to respect women. She was a suffragette, so I come by my feminism honestly," he joked. One thing he didn't like about the future, was how everyone seemed to think that 'feminism' equated to women hating men and thinking they deserved more than men did. He'd met women like that even in his time, but the gap had been so wide back then it never would've been possible. He'd been pleased, proud even, of all the progress women had achieved - but feminism was a hot-button issue these days, and he'd been dismayed when he'd first heard people's opinions of it. Like so many other things from his time, while he'd slept it seemed to have morphed into something almost unrecognizable to him.

Rogue didn't know what she believed about what happened to a person after they died. She'd been raised in a Southern Baptist household, but none of it had ever really set right with her, not after the life she'd led. Spiritual was how she would describe herself rather than religious, but she didn't fault anyone for their beliefs.

A quiet giggle followed his joke and she leaned in to kiss the curve of his jaw. It was good that he was a feminist and had been raised by a strong woman - this thing between them wouldn't possibly work if he didn't have the sense to let Rogue be her own person. She hadn't always been strong-willed and minded, but her years at the mansion had changed her deeply. She had grown into the type of person who would sooner kick ass than kiss it, and that was who she'd always wanted to be, in a way.

"I'm glad you have that to look back on," she told him with sincerity. "And I'm glad you had other people that you cared about, and who cared about you. I know it's hard to have to go on without them, but you'll always have those memories to take with you."

It hadn't been her intention for the tone of the conversation to change to something so... heavy. It was something she couldn't avoid though, not when she was remembering her own less than perfect assortment of family and friends.

Steve had always been drawn to strong, independent-minded women, even back when women like that were looked down on and scoffed at. He was sure it was his mother's influence, and meeting Peggy sure hadn't helped. Rogue was just the perfect mix of gentle and feisty for him; caring and understanding, but didn't seem afraid to speak her mind about things.

"Yeah," Steve murmured, "I did. And now I've got you." With memories still swirling in his head, he couldn't help smirking a little and telling her "Bucky would definitely say I've upgraded my class of friends. He always said I deserved better than a jerk who always talked me into trouble. And he'd definitely say you're better eye-candy," he said, rolling his eyes.

Rogue had been drawn to the men who accepted her, who weren't afraid to be close to someone who others would label as being dangerous. She'd looked for someone thrilling to change her life in ways she couldn't do on her own, and she'd found all of that in Remy. But she was a different woman now, altered by the war. Now what she drawn to Steve's strength of character and his good heart that she didn't doubt for one second. She needed support and kindness more than wild adventures, and she just hoped that wasn't asking for too much.

"Well, that's flattering," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "But something tells me you probably talked him into just as much as trouble as he did you. Not the really bad kind of trouble, of course, but enough to get one of those looks you mentioned from your mama."

If it was one thing Steve wasn't known for, it was having wild adventures. Well, not on purpose, anyway - they seemed to keep happening to him, but he certainly never went looking for them.

"Well, you've kinda got a mouth on you," Steve responded drily, "he'd certainly appreciate that." He wasn't sure how to explain it to her, but her having Bucky's approval would've meant just as much as getting his mother's. He and Buck had gotten in plenty of fights with each other, they were both too stubborn not to butt heads regularly; but when push came to shove, he knew Bucky was just trying to look out for him. "And it's like you know me, or somethin'." He gave a lopsided, devilish smile. "I was the one who convinced him that rum-running would be the best way to earn some dough. Actually, I had to convince him of that, and then convince him that I could handle being the spotter, and distraction from the G-men if they came sniffin' around."

Steve hadn't yet realized that thinking back to those days and recounting them for her, his accent had thickened, and he'd started using slang he was most familiar with. He'd been raised to be polite and speak properly, but around Bucky and the other boys, he'd been able to shoot the breeze in the common shorthand and code words of the lower class.

It was like being back there and living through it herself, listening to him tell the story and slip back into that old way of speaking. She could just picture a little scrawny Steve with that same devilish smile talking his best friend into crazy harebrained schemes to earn money. The handful the two of them must have been for Steve's mother - because that's how it worked with best friends, at least one of them was usually adopted into the other's family.

A slow smile spread across her face as she listened to that accent thicken and picked up on the bits of slang, and she sat up a little to prepare for what she was about to do. "I'm gonna bet no one's ever told you that it's incredibly hot when you go all kid from Brooklyn and talk like that," she said in her smooth southern drawl, voice pitched low and with a hint of sultry thrown in. "And that smile - sorry, sugar, I just can't help myself." She moved in to kiss him again, not quite as intensely as before, but enough so to prove her point.

Sarah Rogers had had a hard enough time taking care of one son, but she'd definitely adopted Bucky along the way; he'd been born a middle child to a Catholic family, so he was always being shuffled around and forgotten in the chaos of his own siblings. He'd been happy to go stay over at the Rogers' place, away from the bustle, Steve had always enjoyed it, and his mother had always been welcoming, treating him like a second son. He wasn't so sure his ma would've been so welcoming if she knew exactly what the two of them got up to sometimes, but he knew she was happy to see he had a close friend, who would always stick up for him.

Oh, Lord, was Steve's first thought, when she pointed out how he'd been speaking; he tried to not do that, not wanting to stick out any more than his lack of knowledge on current and past events already made him. Rogue was probably the first person he'd ever spoken like that around, so no, they'd never told him it was 'hot.'

But if the result was to get kissed like that again, he was certainly gonna remember it. He tightened his arm around her shoulder, and ran the hand on her arm up until he was enveloping her, never able to get enough.

When they separated, his voice was husky and deeper than usual as he said "Sweetheart, you haven't heard nothin' yet."

Rogue hadn't had friendships like that growing up. Shuffling from one foster home to the next didn't lend well to forming lasting bonds with other children, and when she finally did settle in with the D'Ancantos, there just hadn't been anyone she was really close to. Oh, she'd had friends of course, girls at school she'd sit and chat with at lunch, but it hadn't been until her adult life that she'd known the close bond Steve seemed to have had with Bucky. And, as the icing on the cake, her very best friend was the psyche of an old man who'd tried to kill her. Talk about complicated.

Good god, if she'd thought he was hot before, hearing that husky deep voice was just... Why did they have to be in public? Why did they have to be in such an early stage of their relationship that it was probably not a good idea to be all over him like white on rice? Because lord she wanted him so badly at that moment.

A shiver ran through her despite the summer heat and her breathing was slightly ragged as she tried and failed to keep that need for him out of her eyes. "You keep talking like that and I'm really not gonna be able to help myself," she warned him, letting him know that he was effecting her now just as much as she'd effected him before.

Steve knew just how incredibly lucky he'd been to have a best friend, really a brother, like Bucky. There were times he probably would have died if he hadn't had the people in his life to make him want to fight. "God's surely got an angel lookin' out for ya," his ma would say in her pretty Irish lilt. Bucky would snort and respond with "pretty sure the devil's there as back-up, too." Because he was a jerk, like that. Now, Steve imagined them as the cartoon angel and devil on his shoulders, whispering in his ear what to do. He was pretty sure they were both encouraging him with Rogue, although Bucky's would be a much earthier kind of encouragement.

When he realized just what she was talking about, Steve's eyes widened rather comically. He coughed, then cleared his throat. "Okay, okay," he said, "bank's closed, for now." He forced himself to ease up his hold on her, but didn't move his arm from around her shoulders. She fit too perfectly there to bring himself to release her. "So, anything else I should know about you? Or have we already officially run out of things to talk about?" He knew that wasn't true, but he was trying to stay light-hearted; he didn't want to discuss things that would make either of them cry, again. There had been plenty of tears today already. He'd just never been good at idle chit-chat, and he'd never known how to talk to a woman. Rogue was one of the easiest to talk to that he'd met, but that didn't really mean much.

Rogue had a veritable entourage of angels and devils giving her advice on what to do. They never shut up, either. Steve was lucky that his weren't actual voices in his head that could argue back when she put up a fight.

That reaction to her warning was absolutely adorable though, with those wide eyes that made her want to laugh, and that delightful cough. She was glad he didn't let go of her entirely, or he would have been the one with a fight on his hands - no way was she ready to let go of him yet.

...and she should probably tell him why.

It hit her suddenly, the urge to tell him that part of her secret, even though she'd been planning to never mention it unless specifically asked. This would be so much easier, to just have it out there so he could understand part of why she was so forward about touching him. So, giving him a smile that wasn't quite sad but definitely close, she offered, "I suppose I should tell you about my mutation. Unless you'd rather not know." Because she had to give him that choice.

No, no, no. It was not his choice to make, and he told her so. "If you want me to know, of course I'd like to. I wanna know-- everything. But don't tell me just because you think you should, for whatever reason."

He tilted his head to look her square in the eyes, and said very seriously, "My diabolical plan is to keep you forever, remember? You're not gonna scare me away." Because he was pretty sure that's what she was worried about, at least partly. She'd been hated, feared, shunned, hunted, and ultimately imprisoned and tortured because of her gift - of course she would be worried he'd end up like so many others that she'd known.

If she hadn't been in such a good mood, those words might have set off another crying spree, but instead now they just made her determined to share this part of her life with him. She needed for him to understand... and she needed to be sure that he wasn't wrong about his running away.

"Thank you, Steve," she told him, her own voice quiet but serious. "I want you to know. There are some things about me that won't make sense otherwise, so it's important that you know."

But where to start? At the beginning was usually best. Taking a deep breath, she dove straight into the deep end with a memory that still haunted her. "When I was seventeen, I kissed my first boy. I was so nervous and excited and... Mutations usually manifest during puberty, at times of extreme stress. For me, it was that kiss, and he ended up in a coma for three weeks."

Listening to her begin, Steve could tell she was determined to get this out, and his heart went out to her. He had no frame of reference for what usually happened when mutants first manifested their abilities, but he couldn't imagine how frightening and traumatic that must have been for her. He got the impression it was something she hadn't known to expect, so he wondered if it was random, or some sort of recessive trait that no one had known to watch for.

But he wasn't going to interrupt her personally story now, just to ask for clarification that he didn't really need to understand at the moment. Right now, he was just going to listen, and make sure she understood he wasn't going anywhere. "What happened?" he asked, as gently as he could.

Edited 2016-05-28 04:43 (UTC)

Those first few weeks of living with her mutation were some of the worst she'd ever had before the war. Everyone around her had been terrified of what she could do, and she'd been terrified of herself.

"My mutation is in my skin," she explained carefully, the way she'd told dozens of people before, but none in this world. "When I touch someone else's skin, I... I absorb them. That's the best term for it, really. Thoughts, memories, personalities, skills, special abilities - I get all of it, though the intensity and duration depends on the length of contact." It was easier to explain it like this, using the impersonal terms and putting distance between the situation and her emotions.

"I also drain the person of their life force in the process. Ten seconds is all it takes for me to kill a normal human, fifteen for someone not so normal." She'd found that out the hard way and it showed in her voice, the way she frowned and turned her head away just enough to hide part of that uncomfortable expression from Steve. "I couldn't control it in my world. For fifteen years, I couldn't touch anyone for fear of hurting them."

It was a lot to take in and consider, and although Steve hated it, he knew he'd be thinking about it for a while, now. He'd be hyper-aware of every point of contact they had. He'd carefully go over her words, trying to put things together, to understand, at least a little, of what she'd gone through.

For right now, he didn't need to worry about any of that, though. They'd been touching and kissing all day, and nothing had happened. Rogue clearly wasn't afraid of touching him, which meant she had control of it now. She said in her world she couldn't control it, so she must have control of it here. But that still left fifteen years worth of emotional and mental scars. No wonder she was fine with being handsy - Steve had no real frame of reference how much physical contact a modern woman would initiate, or tolerate, but he began to really understand that in this case especially, Rogue was anything but ordinary.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, pulling her into a gentle hug, pressing his cheek against her hair. "That-- I won't pretend to understand what that must've been like for you. Tell me..." he floundered; he knew he couldn't fix anything - there was nothing to fix, but he wanted her to not hurt, and it frustrated him that he didn't know what to do, didn't have someone he could go punch and punish for any of it. "Is there anything I should do? Or not do? Touching is okay, right? I mean, you don't mind?" Maybe all of the touching was to force herself to get used to it, and that wasn't something he wanted at all. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable just because he wanted physical affection, if she wasn't interested in it, too. He could keep his hands to himself, if that's what she wanted.

Rogue wouldn't blame him in the slightest for thinking on things a while, mulling it all over and mentally digesting the information. It was a lot to take in, she knew. So long as he didn't change his mind and run screaming from her, she'd be fine.

"Oh, sugar, I don't mind, I swear," she answered, a bit of desperation seeping into her voice. "I- I love being touched. It's like air to me. That sounds strange, I know, but it's true. For all those years, I had to stay covered up so I didn't hurt anyone, but even with all those precautions people were afraid to get close to me. Every hug or handshake was a gift, and all I ever wanted was more of it." Especially hugs.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she shook her head slightly, sighing at herself because she wasn't done yet. "Being touched by someone helps to ground me, too. It keeps me from getting lost in my own head. Every person I've ever touched is still inside me, these full imprints of their psyche that I can't control even if I want to. There are hundreds of them in here now, so it can get pretty bad sometimes."

"Okay... Okay," he soothed, smoothing his palm along her shoulder in a comforting gesture. If she didn't mind it - enjoyed it, as much as he was, if not maybe more-so, the way she spoke about it, then he wasn't going to worry about it, just carry on the way he had been.

It didn't really change anything between them, he decided. She didn't seem to want anything to change, just wanted him to know. Maybe she figured he'd think it was strange how often they touched - but he really had no idea what the norm was nowadays, in regards to touches.

Something else she mentioned drew his attention, though. She had... It basically sounded like she had voices in her head. Not irrational voices like she was crazy, but actual people in there with her. That was... well, that didn't sound like a great time. He wondered just how aware of her, and the rest of the world, they were, and how much control they had. How much of Rogue was really Marie, and how much an amalgam of everyone she'd ever touched?

He had to remind himself that none of this was new, for her. She wasn't suddenly a different person, with other people diluting the woman he knew; it was just that now, he was a little more aware of what was going on inside her head. "Well... I hope they like me?" he tried joking. He wanted her to understand that he was okay with all this, that it didn't change anything between them, or how he felt about her.

Rogue was perhaps more physically affectionate than most people would be this early in the relationship, but she wasn't about to second guess that part of herself. Fifteen years was a hell of a long time to not be able to properly hold someone's hand, and she was not going to give that up for anyone.

The question of how much of her was still Marie was something she'd considered many times over the year. It was true that with the longer absorptions, she borrowed personality traits from the individuals that were sometimes pretty far from her own. She still remembered what it had been like in those first few days following Logan saving her life at the Statue of Liberty - it had been a trying time for everyone.

It was nice that he was trying to joke about it, that he didn't seem to care, or at least he didn't mind it. But he had also hit the nail right on the head. "They do, actually," she told him with a soft, affectionate smile. "They like the way you treat me, and they appreciate how you're dealing with all of this. Remy especially... He always worries about who will take care of me now that he can't."

Steve had stopped questioning what was normal at any stage, because clearly, this was not a normal relationship. Captain America was... well, Captain America was dating a mutant, which wasn't even a thing in this world, after having talked to her for one afternoon. Nothing he ever did ended up normal, he was giving the whole thing up as a bad job, and just going with whatever worked.

The more Steve thought about it and was able to process, he really didn't mind it. It was a little... Okay, it was weird, but he was getting used to weird in his life.

Then she started talking about them like they were just people standing behind her shoulder, giving her commentary on everything that was happening, and Steve felt twitchy. God, was it like a movie theater in her head, everyone swarmed around with popcorn and giving color commentary at every opportunity? What about when they kissed? What about when they did more? Oh, Jesus.

No, no - she'd said touching helped ground her, so maybe it helped drown out the voices. At least that way she wouldn't hear the commentary while they were actually-- well. Well, so long as he didn't think about it during, it might be okay.

Yeah, he still needed a little more time to process, apparently.

Her husband; of course he was one of them, she would have touched him the most frequently of anyone, just due to their relationship. Steve felt uncomfortable knowing that someone she'd cared for so deeply was still around; it really brought home the fact that he was kinda taking the guy's place. He knew he wasn't really - that would be like saying Rogue was taking Peggy's place. It still felt a little awkward, though. But at least he approved, that was...good?

Some of his thoughts were probably bleeding through to his expression, because he had a horrible poker face in situations like these. Steve leaned his forehead against hers. "Okay, I have a confession. I'm not going anywhere, first of all. But, uh..." he squeezed his eyes shut. "I may... It's a lot to process, so I may be freaking out, just a little." He tightened his arms around her, to prove it when he said again, "Still, not going anywhere." He opened his eyes again, hoping he hadn't hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but he also wanted to be truthful with her.

His expression was... extremely telling and terrifying. What had she done? She'd told him to be honest and open, and she had ruined it. Steve was too kind a man to outright think she was a freak, but her life certainly was, and she'd just dumped all of it on him in one afternoon to make herself feel better. What had she been thinking? Her body slowly tensed as she watched him, taking in every little change on his face, and then he admitted how he was feeling and her heart broke.

She shouldn't have said that. She shouldn't have told him that she could still talk to them, that they were whole people locked up inside her mind. It should have stayed a secret forever, it wouldn't have been so very hard to hide that fact, but... Damn it, why was nothing ever easy in her life? She wanted to be honest with him, and she wanted to be honest about them - they were the reason she'd survived that lab, they deserved at least that much recognition.

But what did Steve deserved? A normal girl, for starters. One who wouldn't break down crying once a week, wake up screaming in the night, hear voices chattering away all the time. He deserved to be with someone who hadn't killed hundreds of innocent people. She'd been so selfish in telling him, in wanting to have one person in this whole world truly know her - she was a monster, an abomination who didn't deserve happiness, just like she'd been told by so very many people.

The cavalry was circling in her head, Remy and Erik and Logan, rushing in to try to stop her self-destruct sequence just as they had for all those years, but she shoved them back, feeling guilty about... everything. About hurting them, about putting Steve through all of this. She wasn't a normal girl, she should accept that and stop this stupid dream of having a normal life with a good man. Her happy life had been taken from her and monsters didn't get second chances.

"I'm sorry," she finally squeezed out when he looked at her, so close and yet a world away. Her voice was quiet, tight, splintering into pieces just like every other part of her. "I shouldn't have told you, it's too much for anyone, you shouldn't have had to-- You don't have to stay. I know you won't tell anyone about me, I trust you, but you don't have to stay." Her breath was hitching and the words were barely making it out in one piece. She wanted to run away and hide, her flight instinct so strong that it hurt. Not that she noticed much; everything hurt at that moment, and there was no way she could keep any of the pain and fear off her face.

She didn't want to lose him, but she couldn't keep him. Steve Rogers deserved so much better than the likes of her.

If he knew even half of what she was thinking, Steve would refute every single thing she was thinking. He didn't deserve an ordinary girl, and it didn't matter what anyone else thought he deserved, anyway; he'd chosen Rogue, and it was his choice.

"Bushwa," Steve said emphatically. What she was saying was utter bullshit, and he wanted her to know it. "I didn't say it was too much, I said it was a lot to process. You're really bad at listening to what people actually say, aren't you?" He chided. "I ain't goin' anywhere, I said that too, and I damn well meant it. Now, if I'm gonna shut up and take it when you compliment me, you need to stop all this nonsense about me leaving, and just accept the fact that you're stuck with me. You wanna leave--" his throat closed up in panic at the thought, but he forced a swallow, breathed for just a moment, and continued. "You wanna leave, really want to, for you and not for me, then... I won't stop you. But if you get it in your head that you're doin' me any favors by leaving, then you're dead wrong. This is my choice, and I..."

He had to squeeze his eyes shut, and pulled her closer, resting his head against her shoulder. He thought about his choice to crash the plane, and how his one regret was knowing he was losing Peggy. He wasn't going to make that choice again.

He couldn't stop his tears, and she could surely hear them in his voice, which cracked when he next spoke. "I can't lose you, too. You're about the only thing that makes any sense to me, and I'm not giving that up without a fight."

Edited 2016-05-28 14:34 (UTC)

How many times had Remy ranted at her about accepting the fact that he wasn't going to leave her? It had taken years for her to believe that his interest was genuine, and for her own to grow strong enough that she couldn't resist his charms, and then he'd had to fight to get her to realize that he was in it for the long haul. That was when she'd finally absorbed him, just for a few seconds to make a strong enough connection to really get a good dose of him, and then she'd had two of them ranting their love at her.

She was falling back into her old habits of assuming the worst about the people who claimed to care about her, and it was wrong of her to do that to Steve. But it was just so easy to let herself sink into that pit of loneliness and believe that she'd never get out of it. It was good that he went about firmly setting her straight on the matter, she needed to hear things like that, she just wished it hadn't had to end with him crying.

Letting go of him long enough to readjust her hold, she wrapped her arms around him, one hand rubbing his back while the other smoothed over his hair, trying to be comforting. "You won't have to," she reassured him gently, keeping her voice low and soothing. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to stay with you forever, so that's what I'm gonna do. I'm sorry I panicked, sugar, I'm so sorry. You're not going to lose me."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

here! /throws feels at you

no subject