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.

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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."

Steve let himself relax when she obviously wasn't pulling away. He practically melted with relief when she started comforting him. He was also a little mortified; surely, at some point, they would be able to get through one day together without one or both of them crying--right?

He squeezed his eyes shut, reaching up to rub the tears out of his eyes before pulling back enough so she could see him. Clearing his throat so he didn't sound quite so raspy, Steve took a steadying breath. "I'd better not," he said, giving a small, but heartfelt, smile. "My plans for world domination kinda hinge on you sticking around," he joked. Every diabolical plan ended with world domination; any kid with a comics allowance could tell you that.

"Guess we both kinda panicked for a second there, huh?" he glanced away, shame-faced. He was an idiot, telling her how he was feeling like that. He wanted to be honest with her, but he surely could've worded it better than that. He should've known, should've realized after she'd told him how people gave up being near her, that it had taken her husband - Remy, she'd called him - years to convince her that he was serious about her.

At this point, Steve was pretty sure he didn't have years of that kind of fight left in him. So much of the time now, he felt like he was running on empty, just because what other choice did he have? Dying hadn't taken, so now he was left with living. Living some kind of life he couldn't make sense of.

Ironically, the one part that did make sense was Rogue. Who shouldn't even exist in this world.

Rogue wasn't sure she had that kind of fight left in her either. She didn't want to struggle to get past her own fears and insecurities, she wanted to just be with Steve, happy and secure in her feelings for him. That comfortableness of a relationship, the thrill of being with someone who returned your affections, that's what she wanted, not the constant back and forth barrage of doubts and worries.

Cupping a hand against his cheek, she applied the lightest pressure, trying to get him to turn back to her. She needed to see those beautiful blue eyes. "We'll just have to work on the not panicking part of things," she informed him, trying to keep her tone light and succeeding at least somewhat. "Steve, sugar, I'm falling for you faster than should be humanly possible. It's absolutely nuts, but I'm willing to run with it if you are. I sure want to."

It wasn't that he was trying to hide from her, Steve just didn't like feeling weak, didn't like others to see him and think him weak. He was so used to controlling his emotions, when that was the only part of him that would obey his wishes, that it felt like a failure when he broke down. He knew he held himself to higher standards than others held him, but sometimes that was the only thread he had left holding himself together, anymore.

But he turned easily when she prompted, and watched her intently as she spoke. Not panicking: sounded good in theory. In practice it might be a little harder to maintain. But he would definitely give it a shot, if she was willing to.

Listening to her, Steve could no longer ignore or deny what he'd been feeling, since shortly after they'd started talking that first time. That feeling of rightness, of hope and terror and elation and giddiness. He was falling, too, but there was nowhere left to land; he was pretty sure he was already in love with her. He'd never felt anything quite like it before, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating to have a name for this all-encompassing feeling.

He wasn't about to tell her about it yet, though. He was pretty sure a sure-fire way to get her to panic was telling her he was in love with her. Although he was pretty sure people were supposed to panic at hearing talk of forever, too, especially so soon after meeting; but they'd both said it, and both meant it, no matter what joking form it might have taken.

"Definitely willing," he responded softly, turning his head enough to kiss her palm. Touching her was natural, and so long as he ignored the part about third parties watching them from inside her head, nothing she'd told him changed the way he thought about or would act with her. With his lips still pressed lightly against her skin, he murmured, "And the falling part's mutual."

The plan to not panic would definitely take some effort on both their parts, especially when they were both drowning in these feelings they had for each other. There was a desperation involved when emotions were heavy and new, and their situations in this new world didn't help that any.

If Steve had told Rogue about his realization of being in love with her, she wouldn't have panicked. There would have been no laughing or name-calling or worrying that he was nut-job for falling in love with her so quickly. She would have simply come to her own realization and echoed his words, because there was no denying the depth of her affection for him. Perhaps it wasn't healthy or the best indicator of the future of their relationship for them to have fallen in love at their second meeting, but she wasn't afraid of or worried by it - she accepted and embraced it because their lives were too short to do anything but that.

"Good," she commented quietly, her heart racing at that kiss to her palm and the way his lips lingered on her skin. If only he would do that every day for all their years to come. Maybe one day she would ask that of him, but for now she just basked in that small but meaningful romantic gesture. "We're partners, after all. It only makes sense that we do these things together."

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."

There would be much laughter on their melodramatic ways in a few years, when they'd settled into things together. Rogue was able to do much the same now when looking back on her teenage years when everything had seemed to be so life and death, especially where her powers were concerned. She looked forward to those future days when things would seem a little easier.

After three months of being able to touch people, Rogue couldn't imagine going back to that former life. She couldn't even contemplate the idea of not being able to touch Steve, to feel his hand in hers, press her lips to his cheek. It would be agony to have to go without that, and she'd only had a few hours of it - if they had years of time together and she lost her control, it would destroy her.

She'd be happy to see that sweet smile every day for the rest of their lives, too. "You're a genius," she informed him with a playful grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. "Let's walk a little, sugar. We could use a break from this emotional roller coaster."

Steve closed his eyes briefly, involuntarily, when she kissed him. God, he was so in love with her, and soon, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from telling her. Especially if she kept being so sweet and charming. He longed for the days when they'd already settled into an easy relationship, but the high of this new-found thing between them would be missed, as well. He'd take all of it, though, so long as he could keep her with him.

Taking a deep breath, he smiled, nodding. "I could go for that." He reached for her hand again, tucking it into his elbow. It was probably old fashioned to take a stroll with a gal's hand tucked into the crook of his arm, but he'd always envied the guys he saw doing that, and now that he had the opportunity himself, he wasn't going to squander it.

"And I know from experience, if you don't take a break from roller coasters, you will end up puking. It's not pretty." He thought about a day, long ago even in his memories, of being coerced onto a roller coaster, and the consequences that had followed, thanks to his defective body at the time. He focused his thoughts on just that memory, and didn't allow himself to think about anything that would set off his recent melancholy and depression. It wasn't an easy task, but he glanced over at Rogue, smiling at her, and it wasn't quite so hard, then.

It was sweet the way he tucked her hand into his elbow. Sweet and old-fashioned, a combination that was perfect when it came from him but would probably seem a bit corny from anyone else. She would happily accept any of his older ways, and anyone who said anything about them would have to deal with her. He was charming and she was completely in love with him.

It hit her then, that realization of her feelings. They didn't startle or worry her, they just felt right. And honestly, it was nice to feel that again for someone, and to know that they returned at least some of that affection.

Smiling back at Steve, she gave his arm a little squeeze and leaned her head against his shoulder for just a second. "Well, we can't have that," she informed him, laughter in her voice, and she decided that she'd have to ask him about the story sometime. Not today, though, not unless he wanted to tell it. She'd gladly hear any story he wanted to share with her.

Rogue had shared so much with him, Steve wanted to return that generosity. He thought maybe he could, right now, in this moment, without being overwhelmed by all his self-recriminations. Right now, he felt amazing, the lows from earlier swept away by the elation of this thing between them, unnameable in its intensity.

"You ever heard of the Coney Island Cyclone?" He couldn't help puffing up a little with pride at what he was about to reveal. "I went and rode it on opening day." It was a little ridiculous; he should feel embarrassed at being able to say that, but he thought she would enjoy the anecdote. It was one of the things he'd looked up when he had returned to New York after his brief tour of the country, and he'd been amazed that it was still there, after all these years. It was even on the National Register of Historic Places. Which made him both proud and despondent about the whole 'I rode it first' thing.

All the same, he ducked his head in embarrassment. "Okay, so I was basically dragged onto it by--" his voice hitched, but he was determined to get through this. "--my best friend. Bucky." He glanced off into the park for a second, before turning his gaze back to her. "He wanted bragging rights, and to be fair, it is something pretty brag-worthy, to be able to say 'I rode that first.'"

He started gesturing with his hands as he explained, "It's massive, right, and-- it's probably not all that impressive nowadays, but back then, we'd never seen anything like it. In our neighborhood, even! So, we went on it. And it was--" he laughed a little. "It was terrifying, honestly. But amazing."

He sighed in regret, but the nostalgic smile never left his face. "Unfortunately, it was June, so it was hot and muggy out, we'd been outside for a while anyway, and between my," he made a face, "'delicate constitution,' my intermittent vertigo, and just general crummy luck, I wound up throwing up once we got off." He shook his head. "I s'pose I'm lucky I didn't get sick during the ride."

Rogue could hear the pride in his voice and see it written across his face as he bragged about what was really an incredible story. Coney Island was a piece of American pop culture and had been for decades. She'd grown up hearing it mentioned in movies and television shows, and it had always been on her list of places to go once she managed to get away from the South. Knowing that Steve really had been there all those decades ago was nothing short of amazing in her book, and she was so pleased that he had decided to share the story with her.

She smiled through most of it, bright and excited to hear about that long ago part of his life, and she gave his arm another little squeeze at the mention of Bucky. It was easy to see how much the loss of his best friend affected Steve, and she understood that pain. The smile came right back when he started describing the adventure, and a laugh came with it, first bright with amusement and then a little less so as she sympathized with him.

"You poor thing, that sounds awful," she said between the remaining chuckles. She wasn't laughing at him, which he hopefully understood, but at the terrible turn the day had taken for him. "It would have been much worse if it had happened on the ride though, trust me. I've got that memory stuck in my head and it's the kind of mortification you just don't live down."

She tried not to think about who the memory had come from, because that was a dark path that had no place in their happy walk through the Park.

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here! /throws feels at you

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