Now it was Steve's turn to be unsure of how to respond. Of course he'd made her beautiful, she was beautiful, and not just because he loved her. He'd thought so the first time he'd seen her, floundering so badly he'd spilled his punch. Learning everything she'd gone through in her life only made her more beautiful to him.
Deciding to forego being casual about it, Steve scooted down the blanket until he could lay propped on his arm, mirroring Rogue, their bodies not quite touching, but intimate for such a public setting. He reached out and cupped her cheek, making sure to catch her eyes before saying with utter sincerity, "You are beautiful, Rogue. The only one who doesn't see it is you." The rebuke was soft, rounded out by love and his fervent hope that eventually, she'd come to believe him. He did recognize what a hypocrite he was being, though; he'd heard much the same speech from Bucky on numerous occasions, and he'd never believed him, either.
Steve had seen scars from war. He'd seen scars from bar fights, and what people now referred to as 'domestic disputes', but back then they hadn't been called anything, because people didn't talk about it. He was intimately familiar with those kinds of scars. He'd seen men with amputations, eye patches or false eyes; he'd seen men with no visible scars, but it was still obvious that they had them mentally.
Nothing on her body would shock or disturb him or make him change his opinion of her. The worst scar would always be the tattoo on her wrist, and while it was ugly and horrific, it marked her as beautiful.
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Deciding to forego being casual about it, Steve scooted down the blanket until he could lay propped on his arm, mirroring Rogue, their bodies not quite touching, but intimate for such a public setting. He reached out and cupped her cheek, making sure to catch her eyes before saying with utter sincerity, "You are beautiful, Rogue. The only one who doesn't see it is you." The rebuke was soft, rounded out by love and his fervent hope that eventually, she'd come to believe him. He did recognize what a hypocrite he was being, though; he'd heard much the same speech from Bucky on numerous occasions, and he'd never believed him, either.
Steve had seen scars from war. He'd seen scars from bar fights, and what people now referred to as 'domestic disputes', but back then they hadn't been called anything, because people didn't talk about it. He was intimately familiar with those kinds of scars. He'd seen men with amputations, eye patches or false eyes; he'd seen men with no visible scars, but it was still obvious that they had them mentally.
Nothing on her body would shock or disturb him or make him change his opinion of her. The worst scar would always be the tattoo on her wrist, and while it was ugly and horrific, it marked her as beautiful.