Seeing Rogue in his running shorts and shirt - especially that shirt - filled Steve with some strange, nebulous feeling he couldn't explain. Contentment and lust and a kind of primal, possessive love, almost a pride that she was his, which was ridiculous because he would never treat her like that, but that's how he felt.

Reaching out, Steve slid his hands along Rogue's waist until he had her in a loose embrace, pressed against her back. He leaned down and kissed under her ear, before murmuring, "I think that'll be fine. I usually sleep on the left, anyway." The left was closer to the door, and on the off-chance anything should happen, Steve liked being able to roll out of bed, grab his shield and investigate.

It was a small paranoia, and not something he usually gave conscious thought to; it was just something he'd done, ever since waking up, and even during the war when they'd been able to find a safe house to rest in. It felt strange, negotiating and discussing something as mundane as 'which side of the bed do you want?'

Steve gave Rogue another kiss under the ear, before pulling his arms back so they could actually get in bed. It was late now, and both of them had had a long day. Rogue especially must be worn out from crying, and he wanted her to be well-rested. Thankfully, he didn't need a lot of sleep, but it would be nice to just laze about in bed with her beside him, if he did wake up early.