Just a kid from Brooklyn. [For Steve Rogers]

[theycalledmeacurse]

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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[theycalledmeacurse]

Now Rogue was finally the one to blush in self-conscious embarrassment, ducking her head a little before glancing back up at him. "I've got a few not so tiny ones that aren't all that lovable," she warned him. "It's sweet of you to say, but I'm anything but perfect."

One of those flaws was something that she genuinely worried over how Steve would react. She'd seen how he'd taken the news of how she had all sorts of people crammed in her head, but how would he deal with the knowledge that some of them had a major influence over her? Thoughts, emotions, preferences - sometimes she wasn't sure if she really did like the foods and movies she thought she did, or if those feelings were from someone else. Sometimes it was a simple as being asked how she liked her eggs and she would have to really think about it because she didn't know. Other times, she wasn't able to separate their memories from her own, tragedies and celebrations she didn't experience jumbling all together to torment her. How would he deal with that when even she struggled with it?

[on_ur_left]

Steve shrugged philosophically. "Well, I know nobody's perfect. But so far, you're perfect for me." He couldn't imagine meeting anyone who was better-suited for him. Sadly, that meant she had her own hardships and heartbreaks that she'd had to bear, but he hoped he'd be able to help her, if and when the time came, as much as she'd been helping him.

It wasn't the fact that they were there, influencing her, that bothered him, so much as that they seemed to be separate from her, and aware of the outside world. He didn't like the thought of having an audience every single moment he was with her. But if she could deal with his ghosts, he could deal with hers - even if hers were much closer to being literal than his own were. He'd never known her before, when she was a different person, without all the influences of others inside her head. They'd shaped her, more than any casual relationship could. He'd never wish her power on her, but it was a part of her. And he loved her. Simple as that.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Perfect for him, the same way he was perfect for her. Perfect in spite of or perhaps because of the heartache and traumatic pasts they carried with them. "Thank you," was the only thing she could manage in response to that.

If Steve had spoken any of those words aloud, Rogue would have been a crying mess in his arms in five seconds flat. She'd always felt like such a burden to everyone around her because of the restrictions her mutation put on her life and the effect it had on her mental state, and she'd always tried so very hard not to both anyone with her troubles. It was a holdover from her days as a foster child, always trying to please everyone so someone might finally want her. That instinct had waned during her teenage years once she'd been adopted by the D'Ancantos, but after just a few short years of living with her mutation it had come back full-force. Remy had made some progress in easing that deepset fear in her, but Steve would have his own turn with it before long.

Rogue opened her mouth to try to turn the conversation in a different direction, but what came out was a sudden, heavy yawn that she failed to hide behind her hand. Once it had passed, she looked sheepishly at Steve and explained, "It's not you, sugar, I swear. I had a pretty late night, is all."

[on_ur_left]

The only issue he had with Rogue breaking down in tears was that he could never fix what she was crying over, and he couldn't convince her that she wasn't a burden, that she was more than worth it, after years of believing that wasn't true. But it wasn't in his nature to stop trying, either. He would tell her, over and over, that it didn't bother him, that he loved her for exactly who she was, people in her head and all, until she started to believe it. And then he would keep saying it, because it would still be true.

Steve couldn't help laughing. He shook his head. "Sorry--sorry. I hope I'm not so boring you're falling asleep on me." His face settled into concern, and apology. "I'd like to say that I wouldn't have dragged you out today if I'd known you'd already had a long night..." he grimaced. "But I probably would have. I was so worried, about whether you knew who I was, or not. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I just wanted to get it out of the way. I didn't want to potentially ruin tomorrow, by telling you then, either."

[theycalledmeacurse]

Once Rogue discovered some of Steve's more pressing 'issues', so to speak, she'd end up doing the exact same thing of course. He felt guilty over things, she could see that, and she very much doubted that he deserved to. She would do everything she could to help him, even if took years to make any real progress.

She was in this for the long haul.

"I understand, sugar, don't worry," she assured him. "I was all kinds of nervous about what would happen tomorrow in regards to that. If you hadn't told me, I'd have beaten you to the punch. So it's better this way - we'll get to really enjoy tomorrow now."