fateandfortune | The Sweet Gestures Meme

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The Sweet Gestures Meme

the sweet gestures meme

Everyone loves sweet gestures—little things that remind someone that you love them, that you think of them, that you care for their general, and other things. A gesture could be made towards a friend, a family member, or some other loved one. Maybe towards a total stranger you think deserves something to make them smile.

prompts

1. LOVE NOTES ❤ Everyone loves love notes, and they don’t even have to be romantic. It could be simple as ‘have a good day at work’ or even something funny to brighten someone’s day.

2. BREAKFAST IN BED ❤ Especially on a Sunday morning or after a long, late shift at work, breakfast in bed with their favorite foods is surely the way to start the day off right.

3. PHONE CALL ❤ Who doesn’t like a phone call from someone they love, for no reason? A nice conversation can be all someone needs to have a better day or make a good day be a great one.

4. SWEET TREAT ❤ Late at night when you’re both tired from work or just general day-to-day things, something sweet from the local bakery can be just the thing you need.

5. MASSAGE ❤ While a wonderful idea, swapping massages can be a good idea too, or doing it after a nice bubble bath you made for them, or just randomly.

6. RANDOM HUG ❤ Even if they are not having a bad day, how could a hug not bring a smile to someone’s face?

7. SMALL GIFT ❤ It could be a piece of jewelry that caught your eye and reminded you of them, a stuffed animal you won at the carnival… just something small and sweet that you are sure they are going to love no matter how cheap or expensive it is.

8. FLOWERS ❤ From a florist or from a random patch of green, the surprise of flowers for someone you know and/or love is always welcomed! Look into their meanings to make the bouquet, big or small, become extra special.

9. RENT A MOVIE ❤ Sure, you might not like the genre of the movie, but if the other person does, then that is all that matters.

10. SLOW DANCE ❤ Middle of the living room, randomly while on a date, or maybe that is the whole purpose of the date. Slow dances are so underrated.

11. SURPRISE GETAWAY ❤ Yes, that is just what you guys need: a vacation from things, even if it’s just for a day or two and is not half way across the world. From a family vacation to a romantic spur of the moment, everyone loves going to a new place.

12. SURPRISE KISS ❤ Who doesn’t like a surprise kiss? A soft one on the cheek, a kiss being the thing to wake you up in the morning, or a big one right when you walk through the door.

13. HOLD HANDS ❤ There is nothing like holding hands. It’s a simple and intimate gesture, and if you do it the right way, it could have a whole different meaning.

14. COOK DINNER ❤ Come on, give it a go. Who cares if you’re not the best cook in the world or possibly the worst? It’s the thought that counts.

15. WILD CARD ❤ Was there something missed? Did you have another scene in mind? Want to roll again?

POSTED BY luuupin @ allmymemes

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Steve couldn't stop his bark of laughter, more at the look on Rogue's face than the fact she was obviously hungry. If there was anything Steve understood, it was the constant need for food. His body regulated his energy more efficiently, so strenuous activities didn't make him that much hungrier than usual - but he was always borderline hungry anyway.

"Let's get some food," he said. Glancing at his alarm clock, he added "Actually, we could still catch the fireworks if we hustle a little. We can grab some food, the blanket, and settle on the roof." He looked back to Rogue to see what she thought of the idea.

Rogue wasn't used to feeling hungry or for the feeling to make itself so blatantly apparent. She'd spent so many years in that lab where she'd barely ever had a solid meal, subsisting instead on intravenous nutrients and borrowed healing factors, that even after the months she'd been in this world, she still struggled with remembering to eat and maintaining a healthy appetite. Maybe Steve and these sorts of activities were just what she needed to help with that.

"That sounds perfect," she agreed with a wide grin. "I was actually feeling kinda bad you were gonna miss the real fireworks on your birthday."

Feeling on top of the world, Steve leaned over Rogue with a silly grin and kissed her. "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure we already had the real fireworks. Now it's just a light show we get to watch." He gave her another, slower kiss, before pulling back and murmuring, "Clothes. Food. Blanket. Roof. Preferably in that order. Unless you really wanna shock my neighbors."

Lord, she loved seeing him smile like that. She wanted to see those silly grins every day for the rest of her life, and she'd do whatever it took to make that happen.

Giggling at his words, she covered her eyes with her hand for a moment before letting her hand fall away again. "In that order," she confirmed. "I'd like to make an impression on your neighbors, but maybe not quite that one."

Steve loved hearing her laugh, as much as she loved his smile. He leaned in for another quick, feather-light kiss and murmured, "Good idea. Kinda wanna keep that part of you to myself." One more kiss - he was never going to be able to stop touching her now, kissing her; it had gotten worse after what they'd just done, not better at all - and he, somewhat reluctantly, rolled away from her.

Climbing out of bed and starting to locate his clothes, Steve was far less self-conscious about his nudity than he had been when disrobing earlier. It was all in the context; he'd never been particularly shy about his body, and any shyness he might have had to begin with had died a swift death during boot camp.

Sneaking a quick, surreptitious glance at Rogue, Steve skipped putting his briefs back on, and just pulled on his pants. He had a feeling they'd be falling back into bed again as soon as the fireworks were over, and this way there would be less layers to have to deal with. Even if they just went to sleep and didn't have sex again, it saved him some hassle undressing. He also snagged his over-shirt and quickly buttoned it up, leaving the top 2 buttons undone.

Rogue was perfectly fine with Steve constantly touching and kissing her, he would hear no complaints from her on the matter. He was going to find that she would be more liberal with her physical displays of affection as well, though of course they would be kept tasteful when they were in public. In the privacy of their own homes, however... that would be a different story.

She stayed where she was on the bed for a moment, simply enjoying the view of a naked Steve, before climbing out of bed with a sigh. Her muscles protested certain movements as she located her underwear and bra and got them back in place, but the zipper of the dress was what gave her real trouble. She got it partway up her back before it became a struggle to reach. Two attempts later, she glanced at Steve over her shoulder and asked a little hesitantly, "Sugar, would you mind helping me with this?"

Steve looked over in confusion, to see what the problem was. He couldn't stop the soft smile as he realized she couldn't get her zipper back up. It felt so domestic, in the most pleasant sense, to be asked to help her get dressed. "Sure."

He couldn't figure out at first why she sounded hesitant to ask him to help; he wasn't thinking about the scars on her back, but of course when he moved over, he caught a glimpse of them, peeking out of the partially zipped dress. He made no comment, just took the zipper and moved it up to the top, making sure he felt it catch, before smoothing his hand back down her back to smooth out the fabric, bending his head to press a kiss against the nape of her neck. "There. All zipped." He smoothed his hands down her bare arms, before making himself step back.

"It's gonna be pretty warm on the roof," he told her, looking around briefly before locating his shoes, "especially this late in the evening. If you wanna just leave your cardigan off, might be more comfortable." He made a slight face; did he really want to put his shoes on, just for a trip up to the roof? He'd run through the streets before in his bare feet, surely the roof couldn't be any worse, right? Maybe he should invest in some of those sandals he'd seen young men wearing recently...

It was going to be a long time before Rogue stopped being self-conscious about her scars, but Steve's attitude toward them was helping a great deal already. The way he didn't even really acknowledge them but instead saw them as an accepted part of her was something she'd never stop being grateful for. And then his suggestion about the cardigan had her turning to look at him with an almost confused awe, watching as he made a face at his shoes. He really didn't care about the tattoo on her arm that represented such terrible things.

She loved him so very much.

"We need to get you some summer shoes," she announced, slipping on her own white flats with ease. "Things you can slip on easy for when you need to run down to the corner store for milk or something." Sandals would be best for that, of course, and they'd keep him a little cooler, but she didn't know if they'd be to his taste.

Completely unaware of Rogue's own thoughts, Steve made another face at his shoes. "I'd rather just go barefoot," he muttered, rather mutinously, sounding like a sulking child and not really caring. "I guess I'd probably better, though. People frown on you running around without shoes when you're not getting shot at." He slipped the shoes back on, but didn't tie them; it'd be fine for the quick trip up and back again.

Grinning a little at the memory as he turned back to Rogue, his smile was tinged slightly with melancholy. "Course, they frown on you getting shot at while running in the street anyway, regardless of what shoes, if any, you're wearing."

He did sound like a child, and somehow that was incredibly endearing to Rogue. He reminded her of a big kid who had never quite grown up, but was still brave enough to fight for what was right.

And then he started talking about getting shot at and she frowned, because he was smiling and talking as if it were nothing. She supposed that to him it was no big deal at all, but it was a huge deal for her. "I'd rather you not get shot at anywhere," she commented softly, her expression conveying quite clear that she was not comfortable with this topic of conversation.

Steve's smile fell as he saw the look on her face. "I don't--" mean to get shot at, it just happens, he started to say, but thankfully his brain was fast enough to stop his mouth from speaking the rest. He moved forward. "I'd rather not get shot at, either," he murmured, reaching up to rub her upper arms soothingly. "I'd just gotten the serum," he explained, wanting her to understand that it hadn't been an everyday occurrence, even back then. "A--friend, the doctor who'd given me the chance, had just been killed. I had to stop the guy. I do try to keep people from shooting at me," he said again.

The thing was, he was Captain America; he may be on reserve right now, but if something happened tomorrow and he was needed, he wasn't going to pass it up just to stay safe. He couldn't. If this thing between them, amazingly strong, but still so fragile and new, was going to work, she had to understand that.

Rogue took a deep breath and nodded as he spoke, taking comfort in that soothing touch of his hands on her arms. It was nice that he explained the situation he'd just been talking about, and she could understand why he'd gotten into it in the first place. She would have done the same thing in his place, after all.

"I understand," she said softly, reaching up to set a hand along that strong, handsome jaw of his. "I'm never going to ask you to stop being who you are. It's part of why I love you, that you want to help people. But I'm also never going to stop worrying while you're out there, so just promise me you'll be careful, okay? Just promise that you'll always try to come back to me?"

Her fear was beginning to show, the deep-set terror that she would lose him in a random moment and that there would be nothing she could do. It was a fear that would haunt her for perhaps the rest of their lives.

Steve had always been cocky, thinking he was invincible, never giving in to the notion that he couldn't handle anything, or anyone. It had driven Bucky spare, and it had only grown worse when his body had been enhanced.

He could tell he couldn't be blasé about it with Rogue, though, not like he usually was. And he understood; the idea of her fighting, being shot at - if he were in her shoes, he'd be worried sick. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said soothingly, "I will always find a way back to you. I promise. I have something incredible to come back for, I'm not gonna screw that up. Okay?"

This wasn't like his suicide mission on the plane, where all he had was a photograph, the memory of a kiss, and the possibility of a future - this thing with Rogue, it was a certainty, and he was going to see it through 'til the end.

Rogue was so very grateful that Steve didn't brush off her fear and worry as so many people might have. Any time he was out there doing his job as Captain America, she would be worried sick that it would be the one time he couldn't keep that promise to her, because there was always the one time. That one time had cost her Remy, and she couldn't bear to lose Steve too.

"Okay," she murmured in agreement, closing her eyes and just drinking in the closeness of him. When she opened them again, the fear and worry were gone, replaced by a playful mischief. "Weren't you going to feed me?"

Steve grinned, relieved that she seemed assuaged by his promise, for the moment. He knew it was a ridiculous, probably impossible promise to keep, but he was going to try his hardest, anyway. Captain America always kept his promises, right? He also knew that this wouldn't be the end to her worrying, either, but he was quite familiar with the old adage 'don't go borrowing trouble.'

"Yes," he responded in a chipper tone, "I was indeed going to feed you." He took her hand - such a simple, innocent gesture, that had grown instead of diminished after the intimacy they'd just shared - and led her back out into the rest of the apartment, pointing things out as they went. "Bathroom," he indicated the door at the end of the hall, catty-corner to his own bedroom, then the door across from his, "second bedroom, but it's set up as a study-slash-artist's studio. It's a corner room, so it gets great natural light from the East and South." Steve knew it was a nice room, and he was lucky to have it, but he didn't understand the importance of having a corner apartment with such a nice view, in Brooklyn Heights, which was a pricier city as it was.

Next, the living area proper, which he just waved his hand at. "I think you can figure out what this is for," he teased, before guiding her into the area he knew she'd enjoy. "And, the kitchen area." He tried to look at it from a baker's outside perspective. There was the counter opposite the island, with a stainless steel double sink, the fridge marking the edge of the kitchen area before it opened into the living section; the stove was to the left of the sink, just by the corner, with a microwave attached above it. It was a new stove, that still confounded him slightly - not only was it not gas, it didn't even have any actual burners, just sort of pictures of burners, that glowed red when it was turned on. The oven had buttons to set the exact temperature digitally, and a digital read-out of the actual temperature, you didn't even have to open the oven door to check a thermometer inside. The whole thing intimidated him.

Beside the stove, the counter extended along the adjacent wall, with a blender and coffee maker sitting off to the side. Steve had never used either of them, but they'd been house-warming gifts from Tony (meaning Pepper) and, oddly enough, Clint, so he couldn't just leave them in the boxes.

With all of that counter space, there were also cupboards above it all, as well as drawers and cupboards below, along with cupboards under the island, which spanned the whole kitchen section save for enough room to easily maneuver around the counters. Besides a set of dishes, glasses and eating utensils, the cupboards and drawers were pretty bare. He had a couple lonely pans in a drawer, for when he felt like making breakfast foods on the stove, but other than that, he didn't really have a lot of items for the kitchen. He either made sandwiches, or grabbed something quick at one of the delis down the street.

Steve had the irrational feeling like he was presenting Rogue with a courting gift, and hoped she liked it, like a bird displaying its plumage in a mating ritual.

Going over to the fridge, he started quickly pulling out things he'd need to make several sandwiches for them. He didn't just slap condiments and some meat on a sandwich, if he was going to make one, it was gonna be done right. He pulled out lettuce, a couple tomatoes, a box of pastrami and another of thick-cut roast beef, mustard, and butter. The chopping board he pulled from the drying rack, then a knife from the block beside it, and began cutting up the first tomato.

Holding Steve's hand was one of her favorite things to do now. It was such a simple little thing, but it meant so much - that she could touch him at all and that he returned her affections. She could imagine sitting on the couch together, holding hands and talking or watching a film, and it was the most wonderful image.

She followed him through the apartment, really paying attention this time for the proper tour, noting the bathroom and his studio (which she was dying to explore), and eyeing those lovely windows in the living room. It was the kitchen that really caught her attention though, the whole thing newer and better equipped than her own by far, with so much more space that would make cooking and baking easier. Moving around the room, she ran a hand along the edge of the counter while she examined the stove - it was disappointing that it wasn't gas, but induction was still quite nice to work with. And with all that cupboard and counter space, she was practically drooling.

It was a good thing he didn't seem to want to get rid of her, because between his sweet personality, phenomenal prowess in the bedroom, and amazing kitchen, there was no way she was going anywhere.

Rogue waited for him to pull things from the fridge and get to work at the counter before she moved into place behind him and slipped her arms around his middle. She pressed herself to his back, like the way she did when she rode his bike, laying her cheek against the back of his shoulder, and just sighed contentedly. "I love your apartment, sugar," she told him with a smile that he might not see but would certainly be able to hear. "Especially this kitchen."

Steve was peripherally aware of Rogue wandering around the kitchen (he was always aware of his surroundings, now, but part of his attention seemed hyperfocused on her, and probably always would be, a little), so he didn't startle when she wrapped her arms around him, just slowed the motion of his knife, setting it down as he said in a mild, teasingly-scolding tone, "You're gonna distract me." He pulled one of her hands away from his stomach, tilting his head down to kiss her palm, before placing it back on his chest, over his heart, and smoothing his hand along her arm before reaching for the knife again.

Moving from the tomato to the lettuce, he deftly cut the stalk off and began peeling leaves away from the heart, stacking them neatly off to the side. "I thought you might like the kitchen," he teased, smiling in pleasure, and glad she couldn't see it. "I'd tell you you could use it any time you like..." he grimaced. "But uh... I don't really have very many cooking instruments, or utensils, really, for the kinda stuff you probably wanna do. If it needs more than frying in a pan or cooking on a griddle..." He shrugged lightly, careful to not disrupt her hold on him. "I mostly eat from one of the stores down the street. It's nice having so many options now - and there were plenty Before, too, so that's saying something."

Rogue giggled silently at his scolding, knowing he'd feel the slight shaking of her laughter against his back. There was something thrilling about him touching her when she couldn't see it, and she closed her eyes to properly focus on the sensation of his lips against her palm, and then the beating of his heart under her hand. It was pure bliss in an entirely different way than what they'd experienced together in the bedroom, and she wouldn't give up either for anything in the world.

"We do have a lot of choices when it comes to eating out," she acknowledged, listening to the light almost crinkly tearing sound of the lettuce leaves being separated. "But you can't eat out all the time, sugar, and sandwiches are only gonna get us so far. So I'll just have to bring up a few things to make sure I can prepare you a proper meal." She lifted her head enough to press a kiss to his shoulder blade, but didn't move beyond that - she rather enjoyed being wrapped around him, as he should know by now.

"You don't have to do that," Steve murmured, but it was clear that the idea pleased him. "It would probably be a lot cheaper than getting all that stuff to-go, though," he acknowledged. Yes, he may have money now, enough to buy what he wanted and not have to worry about running out, but it was still a constant thing on his mind, and probably would be for a while.

Moving on to the bread, Steve untied the bag and pulled a handful of slices out. "Do they still say something's the greatest thing since sliced bread?" he questioned aloud, getting the condiment jars and starting to apply butter to a few slices, before getting the mustard. "I remember when they first started slicing bread before selling it, everyone thought it was amazing. And then suddenly all these modern conveniences and new inventions were being called 'the greatest thing since sliced bread.'"

He found himself more at ease with asking her questions like this, especially since they were alone, not surrounded by people. He hadn't realized just how much being physically intimate with someone would change things, but at least right now, he wasn't embarrassed asking her about something he didn't know. "They tried banning it during the war, too," he continued. "Said something about the wrapping had to be thicker for sliced bread than unsliced, to keep it fresh, and it was a drain on needed resources. They even told bakeries with their own slicing machines that they had to stop using them. Only lasted a few months, though, finally the higher-ups came out and said 'actually, it doesn't save as much resources as we expected, and there's plenty of paper ready for it already, so yeah, go ahead and start selling it again.'"

The only thing that would have stopped her from cooking for Steve would have been if he really didn't like the idea, but the fact that it so clearly pleased him had her already planning out the things she could make. Good southern-style fried chicken, Cajun jambalaya, and all sorts of casseroles... Hearty home cooking to help take care of that appetite of his.

She listened to him talk and marveled yet again at the fact that he really had lived so long ago, long enough to have seen such monumental changes to the everyday lives of Americans. "It's still strikes me as strange sometimes when I think about all that you got to see and experience back then, and yet you're here now with me," she commented, loosening her arms a little so she could slip around to his side, still wrapped around him and with her hand over his heart, but able to look up at that handsome face now.

"I have some memories from back then, but most of them are from Erik during the war in Europe," she admitted, pressing another kiss to his upper arm, lightly and quickly so as not to bother what he was working on. "They do still say that, though, about sliced bread. It's more common in the older generations, but it still comes up in everyday conversation, even when people don't known the significance of it."

Steve glanced over at her, eyebrows raised a little when she talked about it being strange to her how old he really was ─ although she was much more polite about it, and he knew she didn't mean it like that, anyway. He smiled some, feeling strangely at peace with the whole thing for once, finally. "It's a lot to take in," he said, putting it very mildly; obviously he was still having issues with it at times, and he was the one living it. He couldn't imagine someone else trying to really understand what he was going through.

The older generation. Steve gave an amused half-smile to that. He wondered idly what other things had made it through the generations, that weren't even pop culture anymore, but just a part of every day life and speech. There were so many things he didn't recognize or understand, he hadn't really stopped to notice the things he really did. (Except for Tony's Wizard of Oz reference on the helicarrier.)

Quiet for a bit, just enjoying the moment, Steve started assembling one sandwich, then another. On the third one, he started hesitantly, "Do─ would you─ who was he?" he finally settled on. "Erik. He's... one of your─people?" He did not want to call them voices in her head, partly because that made her sound crazy, and he knew she wasn't; but also because, to her, they weren't just voices, but whole personas, whole people, with their own thoughts and ideas. They just happened to be connected to her mental party-line, that was all.

He also didn't want her to feel like she had to tell him anything more than she felt comfortable with, but he was starting to understand that Rogue wouldn't mention something, if she didn't mind talking about it, at least a little bit. Asking who Erik was gave her the chance to decide how little or much she felt like divulging.

Rogue didn't see it as Steve being old, exactly. He reminded her of Cable, who had lived in different times and places and referenced things that none of them could understand or properly imagine. She supposed she must seem that way to Steve, having lived through a war that would never occur in his universe. Their lives were certainly anything but simple.

It was actually a little surprising when Steve asked about Erik. She hadn't thought he would want to know about the people in her head, with the way he'd first reacted to the knowledge of their very existence, and so she hadn't planned on mentioning them much. The comment about Erik had just slipped out, like a few others had along the way, and now it was nice to know that he didn't seem to exactly mind it - she didn't want to have to filter everything she said when it was so natural to talk about the people who meant the most to her.

"He is," she confirmed, her tone fond but perhaps a little distant. It was difficult to know where to start with Erik. "Erik Lehnsherr. He called himself Magneto, because he could manipulate magnetic fields. He was one of the most powerful of our kind, and he was best friends with my mentor, Charles Xavier." Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from Steve then, her hands lingering on him for as long as possible before she leaned against the counter.

"Erik's Jewish family was relocated from Germany to Poland during the war," she explained quietly, her unfocused gaze resting on Steve's chest while she spoke. "He spent years in Auschwitz being tortured and studied, forced to use his abilities even though he was just a child. His mutation first manifested when he was separated from his mother at the gates, and they killed her in front of him to get him to show them what he was capable of. He never really trusted humans after that, and it seemed like they were always proving him right."

It hadn't been his intent to bring anything up that would draw her away from him; he should have realized though, if Erik knew about things from his own time, that would mean he would have been around during the war. It turned out he'd been in the thick of it, like Steve, not just living in worry and poverty as a civilian, but one of the many who had been interred in camps.

Steve's lips thinned in anger, remembering coming across one such camp, during one of their operations. It had been the most gruesome, dehumanizing place he'd ever seen, the prisoners barely treated with the dignity shown to animals before the slaughterhouse, and the things they'd done to them... He'd gotten sick at the sight of it (and the smell)... And then they'd killed all the guards, released the prisoners, and razed the whole area to the ground. Bucky had been a totally different person that day, he remembered, going quiet and still, anger simmering under a cool, distant and calculating façade. Most of the guards got shot through the head, which personally Steve had thought was too good for them, but hadn't spoken aloud. He'd had to stop the others from taking the few remaining guards and throwing them into the furnace already lit for the─ the bodies, while they were still alive. He'd refused, saying they were better than that, better than the enemy, and he wouldn't let them stoop to that level, no matter what they personally felt these men deserved.

Continuing to listen, Steve was thankful he'd finished with the heavy knife, or he might have cut straight through the chopping board. It was an effort to keep his hands gentle enough to finish assembling the sandwiches, and when he was done, he braced his hands on the edge of the counter, hanging his head slightly. "Yeah. I can see how he'd think that. Can't say I blame him, either."

Steve believed, whole-heartedly, in the kindness of humanity. But he wasn't fool enough, or blinded by his ideals so much, that he wasn't aware of what human beings were capable of. He'd seen racism before desegregation ─ just because a man was free, didn't mean he wasn't treated as lesser, dangerous, or sometimes downright evil. America itself had built internment camps for Asians during the War, and while it hadn't been as bad as Germany and Austria, he couldn't imagine it had been all that humane, either, with the fear-mongering that had happened toward the end of the war. He kept hearing now about gay rights, and it was the same thing all over again. He didn't pretend to understand what the mutants, and this Erik in particular, had gone through, but he could understand becoming disillusioned with humanity as a whole, if that's how they constantly treated you.

Even a loyal dog, if beaten and mistreated enough, will eventually strike back.

He took a deep breath before saying, "I refuse to believe that all of humanity is like that, though. There's always good in the world, if you know where to look." He'd told himself that all through the War, and had to keep reminding himself of it now.

Once Rogue started to actually listen to Erik and try to understand him, she hadn't been able to blame him for his actions either. So many people only saw the villain out to conquer humanity, but very few ever looked beneath that surface to see the suffering he'd endured or the crimes against mutants that had led to such extreme measures. Erik hadn't started out wanting to fight, and he would have been happy to settle down and have the life and family he deserved, but there had never been a time or place safe enough to try. Eventually, he'd lost all hope for humanity, and it had taken the end of the entire world to get him and Charles working together again instead of against each other.

Watching Steve's reaction to her words, the heaviness that seemed to pull him down, she felt a little ashamed for having said so much about Erik during the war. Steve had been in Europe at the time, might have even seen some of the campus, and that wasn't something anyone liked having to think about. But he'd wanted to know about Erik, and that was a major factor of who Erik was, and it was certainly a large part of who she was now.

"I'm trying to believe that, too," she told him softly, wishing she could say that she did believe it. Unfortunately, that faith wavered on a regular basis, particularly when she remembered her own ordeals, but she was trying and did truly want to believe it. That had to count for something, right?

But she wanted him to understand why she'd told him what she had about Erik. There were certainly a number of other things she could have mentioned, his life was anything but dull. "Erik saved my life," she explained, reaching over to set a hand lightly on top of one of his on the edge of the counter. "While I was in that lab, more than anyone else, he helped me cope with what was happening. Reminded me that if I gave up fighting, I was letting them win, and I was stronger than that." Every day he had reminded her in between their endless conversations and mental games of chess. Remy and Logan had always echoed his words, but he had been the most forceful and effective.

She had absolutely no reason to feel ashamed for reminding him of the past ─ it was something he never wanted to forget, because it was the reason he fought. It was the very reason he'd become Captain America, to save people who were being oppressed; to stand up against the evil, the bullies, and just the apathetic of the world, and say Enough. We are better than this. Her own story, and now Erik's, just made him want to fight harder, so that no one else had to go through what they had. What any of them had.

At the touch of her hand, Steve turned his own over, gripping her fingers gently. He turned to his head to watch as she explained how he'd helped her, how he'd kept her from giving up. When she finished, Steve pulled her hand up to kiss her knuckles; he pulled it back further, draping her arm over his shoulder, before leaning down to kiss her gently. He ran his hand down her left arm and said, "He was right. You're so much stronger than that." He pulled her left hand up, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist, reminiscent of what he'd done when she'd first told him what she'd gone through ─ had it only been yesterday? It had been a lifetime ago. He told her now what he'd thought then. "You are victory."

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