bakerstreet | The Superhero's Significant Other Meme

The Superhero's Significant Other Meme

The Superhero's Significant Other Meme

You're just an average Joe (or Joanna, as the case may be). You live a normal, unassuming life and go on with your day-to-day business. There is, however, one thing about you that is a little unusual - beside your sparkling personality.

You're dating a superhero.

So, what's in this week's issue? Are you childhood friends come together? Do you actually know your love is that caped crusader? If you do, is it a thorn in your side that you will always come second to the cause? Of course, there's always going to be that annoying time where they try to "protect" you by breaking up with you. Oh joy. Well, at least, how's your sex life? Surely those super powers can make for some interesting bedroom trysts. Maybe after one of them, you can tell your beau that you're a superhero, too.

...but what if your significant other isn't the hero? What if they're the villain?

Comment with your character, preferences, their position (superhero, significant other, either, etc), and comfort level (ie, no smut).
Reply to others.

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Steve tapped a quick rhythm against his legs with the fingers of his free hand, his entire body thrumming with nervous energy. "Please go to voicemail," he chanted under his breath, holding his cell to his ear, "please go to voicemail, please go-"

The automated voice started talking, interspersed with Rogue's personal answers, and Steve slumped like his strings had been cut against the building wall.

"Hi darling," he started after the tone. "I'm fine, first of all, we're all okay. We got down to the basement before those--those things got too close. I tried calling, but there must be too much concrete and metal, I couldn't find a signal." This, thankfully, was true; none of his coworkers at Marvel Entertainment Comics had been able to make phone calls to their loved ones to let them know they were alright, until it had been safe to come up onto the street.

"It's gonna be a little while before I can get home, though," his voice was genuinely regretful, because this was also true, although not for the reason he was about to give her. "The police are insisting everybody give some kind of statement. And yeah, most of us didn't see anything or have anything to do with it at all, but even saying 'I have no idea, I didn't see it at all' times 240 people... it's gonna take a while." And Rogue knew him well enough to know he'd be courteous and let his other coworkers go first, so they could get home to their loved ones quicker. And she'd understand completely. Just one of the many reasons he loved her.

"Anyway, before this thing cuts me off," because he was still getting the hang of technology, but to everyone else it just seemed like he was absent-minded and always forgetting the nuances of how it all worked, "wanted to tell you I'm safe, I'll be home as soon as I can, and I'll see you as soon as I can. I love you."

Steve pressed the end button without saying goodbye. He never said goodbye over the phone, because he never wanted that to be the last thing she (or anyone else) heard him say, should the worst happen. (He did want it to be something better than inane talk about dancing and a date they both knew he was never going to make it to, though.)

Waking up in the 21 century had been... hard. Which was such an understatement it was stupid, honestly. SHIELD had helped teach him as much as possible about everything that had changed, politics and culture and attitudes, and Steve soaked it up like a sponge; but there was only so much you could learn from books and people explaining things to you, especially people who hadn't lived through at least part of the whole thing. (He'd called Coulson up after his first 'history lesson' and asked that if they were going to send someone to teach him 70 years of history, if they could at least find someone who's voice had broken in the last five years. Coulson himself had shown up the next day, and all the others after that, which hadn't been Steve's intention, but it had been a huge help.)

After he'd learned all the facts he could, Steve had moved to an apartment in Brooklyn. Which had been 'gentrified' since he'd lived there, and was thus much cleaner, safer... and pricier. But he had army back-pay, since he'd been listed as MIA and not deceased, a pension, a retainer from SHIELD listing him as active duty on stand-by as Captain America... and a trust, set up by Howard Stark. Which had been awkward as hell when he'd learned about it, from Tony of all people.

Now, five years later, he had a comfortable job as a comic book penciller in the City - something he'd always sort of dreamed about doing, in that way you dream but never expect it to actually happen - and, occasionally, he donned his Captain America costume and went out and fought bad guys. He also had a gorgeous wife he'd met, about a year after he'd woken up, who was sweet and kind and feisty, and pretty much perfect in Steve's books. They'd been married almost 3 years now, but were still straddling that line of 'settled married couple' and 'honeymoon phase', which they seemed to have entered almost as soon as they'd met, and were in no rush to get away from.

The only downside to the whole thing was, he couldn't tell Rogue that he was actually Captain America. He thought she'd probably believe him, and there were plenty of times he wanted to tell her - but he literally wasn't allowed. Non-disclosure agreement with SHIELD; he told any civilian, it made his contract null and void, and he had to hang up the suit and shield. (Tony had argued vociferously in his defense, saying it was ludicrous, because Steve was Captain America, it wasn't just a matter of handing the shield to a guy in costume, calling him Cap and that being that. But it hadn't done a lot of good.)

At least this way, Steve knew Rogue was safe. Nobody besides the Avengers, Fury, and Coulson knew who the man was under the winged cowl, which meant nobody could trace him back to his civilian life and his ordinary wife.

So, Rogue continued to believe that he was just Steve Rogers, a dorky comics book penciller who looked like a professional bodybuilder, who was a little absent-minded sometimes, wasn't very used to technology even after years of having used it, because his parents had been very strict about it at home; he'd been home-schooled due to numerous illnesses as a child, so he hadn't been exposed to a lot in the outside world either, until he'd moved away to college, where he'd studied drawing and art. It was all a lie, and a somewhat imperfect one at that, but there was enough truth in it that Steve only felt a little guilty when he had to say anything regarding it, and it was easy to remember, rolled off his tongue like silk.

"Captain America?" Tucking his phone away in his pocket, Steve glanced over to where Coulson was standing. "We're ready to start the debrief now. I know everyone's anxious to get home." Steve knew what Coulson meant; he was the only one who was trying to juggle a 'regular' life on top of the superhero one, and Coulson was supportive of it, thank God. Nodding, Steve started jogging over to the makeshift command center where his teammates were already gathered and chatting, waiting to start discussing the confrontation they'd just had with some genetically engineered killer wasps. Killer wasps, the size of small ponies. Made on purpose. People were insane in this day.

Yeah. Steve Rogers was a liar. Convincing the whole world that he couldn't lie was probably his greatest one ever.

Rogue had never in her wildest dreams thought that she would find happiness in this new world she'd been plopped into after the war in her own world. When the timeline had reset, she hadn't woken up back in the mansion with a new set of memories, but in the middle of New York City, on a pile of garbage with every second of trauma still crammed into her head. It had taken weeks for her to really pull herself together, during which time she'd stolen to survive, relying on the skills her late husband had taught her in order to find the right marks for a bit of pick-pocketing.

Eventually, though, she had a little apartment and a job as a waitress, because it was easy work to come by. That had been what she'd been doing when she'd met Steve, who was one of the sweetest, dorkiest men she'd ever met, with his old-fashioned ways and deep-set sense of mischief. He'd reminded her what it was to laugh, to be happy, and she had embraced it with the permission of the husband who would always be with her.

But every day she lied. Steve called her Rogue because she'd explained it was a nickname from her school days. The nightmares and scars were from a bad experience overseas, where she'd worked as an English teacher in an area of contention and things... hadn't gone well. It was why it was hard for her to be around children sometimes, why she hadn't taken up teaching again even though she loved it. And thank goodness Steve never pried. He'd never demanded that talk about those experiences, he'd just been a pillar of strength for her while she decided what she really wanted to do with this second chance at life that she'd been given. And when she'd decided that she was ready to be a teacher again, he'd been nothing but supportive.

It was truly a miracle that she was able to have this life at all. Somehow in this new world, she was able to control her mutation, and she had yet to have any accidents with Steve. Not a single one in the four years she'd known him, though there had been a few with others... It was how she knew that she still had her power, and there was always a worry at the back of her mind that one day her luck would run out and she would hurt Steve the way she'd hurt so many others. She still carried a great deal of guilt over what had happened during the war, and she likely always would.

Some days she wondered what her life would be like if she'd taken up the superhero mantle again. Her powers worked in this world, and she'd spent years re-honing her fighting skills as a form of exercise and recreation. She'd watched countless news reports on the Avengers and all the good they did for the city and the world at large, individually and as a team. With everything that she was capable of, sometimes she felt that she was wasted in this normal life, that she should be out there helping to fight the good fight. But at the same time, she knew that it was just too much. She'd already fought, and she'd lost too much to be able to do it again. But she always supported those who continued to do so.

She was watching one such news report when she heard her phone buzzing distantly. Having just stepped into the apartment with a bag of groceries and her own set of news that had her all kinds of anxious, she'd missed the beginning of the strange attack by giant wasps that had apparently taken place near Steve's workplace. As soon as she heard that particular block mentioned, she frantically reached for her purse, fishing around inside until she found her phone with its little blinking light that indicated a voicemail. She listened to it with bated breath and sighed in relief at Steve's reassurance that he was alright. With all the crazy things that happened in the city these days, it was a wonder that anyone lived there.

She tapped out a quick reply via text, I love you, too. before turning off the television (she was stressed enough as it was) and starting to work on dinner. Anything to keep her mind off what the doctor had told her that afternoon.

When all was said and done, Coulson (with a little prompting from Steve, after he'd received Rogue's text) called an end to the debrief, allowing everyone to go home, saying he'd contact them if he had any further questions.

Steve went to a corner of the makeshift tent, and quickly changed into his civilian clothes, stuffing his folded uniform into the bag and placing his shield and helmet on top, for Coulson to take back to headquarters. That was one of the harder things about nobody knowing his identity - he couldn't take his shield home with him. Even 5 years later, he felt a little naked without it, and not having it on hand made him a little twitchy at times, still.

There was nothing to be done for it though, so Steve headed toward his bike. Out of the costume, he was no longer Captain America, but Steve Rogers again, and he began thinking about all the things he'd pushed aside in order to stay focused on the battle. Like the fact that Rogue hadn't been feeling well recently, and he felt inappropriately guilty for the worry he was sure this had caused her. She always tried to stay busy, and he understood that it helped her take her mind of things, events, that still haunted her - but it also meant, occasionally, she got sick, wearing herself down. It didn't happen as often as when they'd first met, which he was exceedingly glad for, but he still hated when it did happen. And not just because she kind of made a lousy patient. He could understand that part; he just hated to see her feeling unwell, and being unable to do anything to fix it.

Thankfully, there wasn't too much traffic, and he made it home at good speed, taking the steps to their apartment two at a time. Letting himself in, he called out "Rogue? I'm home. Safe and sound, promise."

Rogue had decided to make comfort food. When she wasn't feeling well or had something on her mind, she fell back into southern cooking, because it was what came easiest to her. It was also a dead giveaway that something was wrong, because the only other time she made southern dishes was special occasions or if Steve asked for them. She wasn't thinking clearly enough to realize that, though, so fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans it was.

The problem with making something she knew so well, though, was that she didn't have to think about it, and that left far too much energy to think about other things. Like how she was going to tell Steve. Not just about her present condition, but... other things. Who she really was. Because he had to know. He deserved to know. This was going to affect him now, too, and she couldn't keep him in the dark about that. She'd already lied to him far too much.

She heard the door open around the corner from the kitchen and glanced at the clock on the microwave. He was home earlier than she'd expected. "You'd better be," she called in reply, trying to put some oomph behind it and failing miserably.

Time for a game plan: First, tell him that she'd even scheduled a doctor's visit. Then she could conquer the big stuff. Right? Right.

Steve hadn't made it two steps into the apartment, before the scent of fried chicken, beans and potatoes hit his sensitive nose, and his stomach knotted; not at the smell itself, because it smelled delicious, as always, but because of what it represented. Rogue may not realize what she was doing, but Steve certainly understood the implications of her cooking, and he felt another wave of guilt come over him, thinking she'd decided on comfort food because the attack so close to his office had rattled her.

When they'd first started seeing each other, Rogue had been upfront in telling him that she was widowed; eventually she explained that her husband had been killed during a terrorist attack, and while she'd survived, it had left her with emotional as well as physical scars. It had taken her years to recover enough that she was comfortable teaching again, and even now sometimes she would have nightmares from it, triggered by little everyday things, or sometimes nothing at all.

Steve mentally steeled himself for the night that lay ahead, preparing himself to be patient and understanding no matter how Rogue ended up reacting to things. He was never anything else with her, but if he was given some warning, a little added strength never hurt.

Her response was typical, but half-hearted at best, and Steve immediately moved into the kitchen, making his steps deliberately just heavy enough that she'd hear him as he moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Smells good," he commented neutrally, but sincerely.

Probably part of the reason she'd decided to make the meal she had was what had happened with Steve. The attack had rattled her in a different way than her news from the doctor, and she was steadfastly doing her best to let her thoughts drift down that avenue. If they did, there was no doubt that she would start thinking about the war, and Remy, and all the lies she had told Steve about what had actually happened. She would start worrying about something happening to Steve, thinking that maybe she was cursed and meant to be alone, that any man she loved would be killed, and that was ridiculous, but... Well, that's what stress did to her mind.

She heard him approaching and knew that he'd embrace her, but even so her body tensed noticeably at his touch, though just seconds later she relaxed into him and accepted that kiss with a strained smile. "Thanks, sugar," she told him quietly, and her exhaustion was clear as day in those words.

It didn't bode well when he felt her tense as he held her, even though she physically relaxed quickly against him. She was obviously still upset, but he didn't want to draw attention to it, for fear that she would withdraw, try to mask it better and say she was fine. It was always a guessing game with Rogue, whether she'd let him help her, or try to deal with things on her own.

He was never very good at coming right out and discussing things, with her or anyone; a product of the time he was brought up in, Steve was already considered 'progressive' for how in-tune and comfortable he was with his emotions. But it meant he never really knew how to ask what she needed, or even what was wrong, afraid of the fall-out.

Instead of asking what was wrong, he leaned over a little more and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, by her neck. "How're you feeling? Any better?"

When he asked her those very on the mark questions, she tensed again, just for a second, before setting a bare hand on his arm to keep it in place around her while she leaned forward to turn off all the burners. She'd been keeping the food warm while she finished up and waited for him, but things were done now and she... She couldn't put this off.

But how was she going to explain that practically everything she'd ever told him about herself was a lie? For a moment, she pondered if she really had to go that far. What if there was never a need for him to know? It would be a decade, at least, before anything was likely to happen, and even then there was the possibility... But then it would be 15-20 years that she'd lied to her husband, a man she loved more than anyone or anything in this world, and wouldn't that be so much worse?

With everything safe to leave now, she glanced back at him for a quick moment before looking forward again. "I'm alright," she assured him quietly. "I went to see a doctor today." She hated doctors, she always had as long as he'd known her.

He was glad for the hand she placed on his arm, or he would've thought she was using the food as an excuse to pull away from him, especially after he felt the tension return. He could feel his own tension mounting as she stayed quiet, subdued in a way that wasn't typical even when she didn't feel well. This was purely from nerves, which he didn't understand at all.

But then she told him she'd gone to see a doctor, and try as he might, his own body stiffened against her. Instinctively, without any conscious thought, Steve curled his larger body around Rogue, as if sheltering or protecting her from something. He'd known she'd been feeling a little nauseous and just 'off' lately, but she'd been much worse off before and absolutely refused to go to a doctor; had she been downplaying just how badly she felt? Not wanting him to worry and fret (as he had a tendency to do), maybe?

Steve inhaled, slowly, then exhaled, deliberately willing himself into a calm headspace, before saying softly and evenly and calmly, "Okay. What'd they say?" He wasn't trying to push, but she wouldn't have brought it up if she weren't planning on telling him more; this was just his way of showing his support.

Some part of Rogue registered that she was probably making this worse for Steve. She might have her secrets and not always be so open about her emotions or problems, but he could still read her like a book when it came to this sort of thing. He knew when there was something wrong, knew when she was having problems even if they didn't talk about them. This must be torture for him.

So, she had to tell him. Her other hand joined the first on his arm, her grip tightening as she tensed further and it became slightly difficult to breathe. Oh lord, how had she let this happen?

"I'm pregnant." The words were more breath than voice, and real fear began to creep into her veins as she waited for his response. Because it hadn't even occurred to her in all this that he might not even want the child to begin with. They'd never really talked much about children or having a family. He'd seen how hard it was for her to even be around young children in the early days of their relationship, and even now that she was back to teaching, her students were the older set in high school. What if he didn't want to be a father? She couldn't get rid of it, not when she'd caused so much death in her past, but what if he left her because of this alone?

It was possible Steve stopped breathing for a few seconds after he heard the hushed whisper - it was certain that he stopped thinking, all the worst-case scenarios he was trying - and failing - to not think about being wiped completely from his mind at Rogue's words. His arms tightened around her a little, before his brain jolted back online and he loosened his hold, realizing suddenly that he was holding her stomach, and there was a living being in there, and he had super-strength, and─

Breathe, he mentally instructed himself. He was getting ahead of himself; he needed to focus on Rogue, because right now, something was still wrong, and it had to do with─

Children. Christ. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face against her hair, continuing to just breathe for a moment. Rogue had been terrified to be around kids, for so long; he still didn't know the details, and he'd always figured he likely never would, besides that something horrible had happened, and Rogue had been there. She still might not tell him, even now, but it was obviously affecting her greatly. It was one more emotional landmine he'd have to navigate; except it was in completely the opposite direction from what he'd prepared himself for earlier, so now he didn't have any words ready to give her, or even any idea of how to handle the situation.

One thing he'd learned, being in this relationship, was that when he was in doubt, he had to set aside his pride, and just ask what she wanted.

"Okay," he repeated again. "Are we...happy about this? Are you upset? Tell me what's going on, sweetheart." Tell me what I can do to help. Steve didn't notice that he'd included both of them being happy, but only suggested Rogue was upset about it. If she was only worried about how he'd take this unexpected surprise, he was--well, still in shock, truthfully, but the excitement was there, waiting to come forward, only held back by how apprehensive she seemed about the whole thing.

No. No, no, no. Steve. Why did he have to be so perfect? So kind and sweet and understanding? Why did he have to be so focused in his concern to say just the right things to... Well, to have her crying in two seconds flat.

One hand still held onto him with a steady grip while the other pressed to her chest that was now aching from the swell of emotion coming out of her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she began to tremble from fear and anxiety, and her breathing turned ragged. She had to be honest with him. From now on, she wasn't going to lie. He deserved that and so much more.

"I want this," she said with a shake of her head, the words rough and scratchy through the tears, her southern drawl coming thicker than usual. "S-so much. I want- I want to be a m-mother." And she hated herself for starting with that, because of course those words would clear everything right up for him. But while she was thinking one thing, her mouth was producing entirely different sets of words that just tumbled out. "I'm sorry."

Steve didn't really calm down at her words, as his head settled into a familiar place, where he went when he had a clear objective, and was determined to see it through. Usually it happened during a fight or battle, but now the objective was simply 'calm Rogue down.'

Steve began thinking tactically, analyzing what was happening. She was acting scared, upset, and now of course she was crying - which he never enjoyed, and the part of him that was all emotion, currently pushed to the back of his mind, ached fiercely for her - but she was saying... well, not specifically that she was happy or excited about it, but she wanted it; she wanted a baby, the baby, and she wanted to be a mother. Which, inherently, meant that she was happy. Right?

So. She should be happy, she was saying things that would indicate she was happy, but clearly she wasn't. Did she think he would be upset about it? Was that why she was so distraught, why she was apologizing?

"Shhhh," Steve hushed against her temple, kissing her there and letting his lips rest against her skin while he chose his words carefully. "It's okay. I'm not...Do you think I'm upset? Because I'm not." He wanted that cleared up right now, even if that wasn't the problem. She had to know that he wasn't upset or angry about this turn of events.

But it was still possible that she was worried about something else entirely. Maybe... was she worried to be around a baby, a child, the same way she was with teaching, due to her past? Just because you wanted something, didn't mean you weren't still terrified to have it. "Or is it something else? Please, baby, tell me what's wrong." He didn't mean for the last to come out so desperately, but he could only remain calm for so long, without knowing even what the problem was.

He wasn't upset. Did that mean that he... wanted this baby too? That he wanted this with her? The thought brought a tiny spark of hope out in the darkness that was consuming her, and she struggled to hold onto it while she tried to find the words to tell him what he wanted to know. Answers that she'd always avoided, sometimes to questions that had never been asked.

She shook her head, leaning heavily against him for a moment, before stepping away from him enough that she could turn to face him. She couldn't take the easy way out, she had to see his reaction. She had to know just how bad this was, just how terribly she'd ruined everything.

"I lied to you," she told him, the words tight and strained, and as full of fear as her expression. "I've always lied. For years... I'm not who I said I was. I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so, so sorry." And her own desperation leaked into her voice, as if she were begging him to understand and forgive her, despite not having yet admitted her transgressions or asked for that forgiveness.

When she turned, it was Steve's first indication that this might be bigger than just fear of having a child. This was... this was a confrontation; not from anger, but she was facing something, facing his reaction probably, which didn't bode well at all.

Steve couldn't hide his own initial expression of confusion, telegraphed by pinched eyebrows and a slight frown before it smoothed out again into concern. His arms had automatically loosened to let her move, just his hands against her sides now, and he shifted them restlessly, not quite pulling away, but not sure if she wanted the continued physical contact at the moment.

Screw that, he thought to himself angrily. If Rogue didn't want to be touched, she'd pull away entirely, but he wasn't going to give her a false signal that he was drawing away from her. They'd gone over this, when they'd first deepened their relationship, and he'd witnessed her nightmares first-hand. If she didn't want him anymore, she could walk away, but it wasn't going to be him pushing her away first.

His face settled into a neutral, determined expression. "I don't believe that," he said resolutely. "I don't believe that I don't know you well enough, the things that matter." He thought about his own lies, and barely suppressed a wince. "You're the same funny, energetic, feisty woman I fell in love with, will always be in love with. Even if you tell me your real name is Buffy Summers and you hunt vampires at night, I still know you."

Actually, now that he thought about it, that could potentially explain a lot. Not the time, Rogers, he berated himself. He dared removing one hand from her waist, to reach up and cup her cheek, stroking through the tear tracks with his thumb gently. "Tell me what you lied about, and we'll go from there." His voice was calm and soothing, coaxing, but with a firm undertone. Captain America, wrapped in velvet.

If he had pulled away from her, for any reason, it would have devastated her. Even a few inches would have been a dagger to her heart, and her eyes weren't still for longer than a second as her gazed wandered over him, watching for any sign that he was rejecting her. Because regardless of the wonderful words he used, she was still just this side of panicking, because Steve had no idea what she was about to say. He could offer all the reassurances he liked, but he had no clue what was coming his way. What she'd kept from him.

"What happened to me," she started the list, just barely resisting the urge to lean into that touch on her cheek and give in to the comfort he was offering her. "How I got my scars, how Remy died. Where I'm from. What I am..." The list could go on and on, there were just so many things. But she was starting to calm just a little, anxiety still in place but the sheer panic beginning to fade. For now.

While Rogue was watching him for signals, Steve was listening. She'd lied about those things - how they had happened, but not the actual things themselves. He'd seen her scars, run his hands and lips over them; her husband had died, and it had devastated her. The last two... The last, he had no idea how to interpret. She had the classic Southern accent, but that could be picked up - and she could be referring to something besides geography; he knew--well, she'd told him, in vague stories, about being an orphan, passed around foster homes before being adopted, by a family who ultimately couldn't handle the responsibility of loving a child wholeheartedly. (And he wondered why she was freaking out over this?)

Steve licked his lower lip, a classic giveaway that he was thinking, before leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Okay," he soothed. "So tell me now."

All these years, she'd tried hard not to lie too much. It was one thing to fabricate an entire life from scratch, but she'd done her best to base the lies in fact, partially so they would be easier to tell, but also so they would be easier to remember. So yes, she'd told him Remy had died, that her scars were related to that incident, that something terrible had happened involving children. That she had left home at seventeen because she hadn't been wanted any longer by her adoptive family.

But the truth was so much worse.

He was so close to her in that moment as he continued to try to sooth her - she wanted to kiss him, because she was so afraid that it would be her last chance to do so ever again. After he heard what she had to say, she couldn't fathom how they'd ever be okay enough again to kiss or hold each other, let alone so the wonderful things that had led to their current predicament.

"My husband Remy died in a war five years before we met," she explained quietly, starting not at the beginning, but at the first thing that came to mind. "He was trying to keep me safe, but eventually I was captured and locked away for three years. I was... tortured and experimented on because... because I'm not entirely human, not the way you are. And they hated me for it. They hated all of us."

He tried to think of a war from 10 years ago - one that he would have only read about in books, been briefed on in more political, dry language than could ever accurately describe the horrors that happened during them. But those thoughts fell away as Rogue continued, just listening as her story changed from what she'd told him previously - it was one thing to say 'incident'; understandable to downplay the violence of the whole thing - but she'd never once mentioned, even hinted at being held captive, tortured...

He should have realized, a part of him berated angrily. He'd put down everything, her nightmares and anxieties, to the trauma of being a witness, being a casualty of violence, to survivor's guilt. It was all of that, but he should have known that it was more, as well. He knew the signs, had seen them first-hand on Bucky; another person he'd known so well, loved with all his heart, who had been hurt and would occasionally get lost in what had happened to him, been done to him. How often had he thought, sitting in the dark after Rogue finally settled, exhausted from screaming and crying-- how many times had he sat and compared the experience to calming Bucky down after awaking from his own nightmares? Things he saw but refused to discuss, menacing anyone who dared come toward him with a glare, and a death-grip on the hilt of his knife, ready to pull it out and defend himself... or end it so no one could hurt him again.

The thousand-yard stare that came over him for no discernible reason... his sudden fear of needles; Rogue's refusal to see doctors. Steve squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace of self-recrimination - not angry at Rogue, but hating himself for not realizing just how much suffering she'd been through. What else had he missed?

I'm not entirely human. Not the way you are. It was those words, oddly enough, that jumped out at him. Shit. This...

It hit him, then, why she was telling him all this, now. He'd been altered by the serum, his very DNA changed, enhanced. He'd picked up enough about modern biology to understand that it meant whatever had been done to him could possibly, if not likely, be passed on to any child of his.

And Rogue knew it, too, because she was... different. She was telling him, because their child might also be different.

Rather than being angry for being lied to, Steve was gripped with sudden, fierce love for Rogue - who was more like him than either of them had realized until now. He reached up to hold her cheeks in both hands, and gave her a long, hard kiss.

"I love you," he said, with utter conviction, staring right into her eyes to make sure she understood just what he was saying. "And... I think the food is gonna have ta wait. We have a lot we need ta sit down an'discuss." His accent started growing thicker, as it did sometimes when he thought about the past, or was gripped with particularly strong emotion. Both were the case right now.

If Steve had voiced his anger aloud, she would have insisted that there's no way he could have known. Regardless of how much he thought he should have noticed, she'd purposefully hidden things from him, and pushed the lie so heavily that he'd had no reason to suspect anything else. Really, how was he to know that his wife had been tortured and help prisoner for years, when things like that just didn't happen to normal people?

He was right, though. The only reason she was telling him any of this was because of their child. Because he had a right to know, and without that information being shared, their child might be at risk. As afraid as Rogue was of turning out to be a terrible mother, she knew that her child's safety was paramount, and she would do absolutely anything to keep her family. Including risk her marriage to finally tell the truth after four years of lying.

The kiss wasn't what she expected, but she returned it with enthusiasm, clinging to him until he broke that sweet connection and said those three beautiful words. His comment about dinner even pulled a smile out of her, though it was on the smaller side. It helped that she could hear the change in his accent, which she always noticed and loved, even when it came out when they argued. It was part of him, and she loved every inch of his being.

"It'll keep," she agreed with a tiny nod, lifting her hands to wrap around his. "I love you, Steve," she continued with raw emotion in her voice. "I always have and I always will. No matter what." No matter if he changed his mind after he heard everything she had to say. You could love someone and not be able to be with them, after all.

It broke Steve's heart, the way Rogue was reacting. He thought about her saying 'they hated all of us', and wondered if she expected him to be the same. He was sure it wasn't true, though, because there wasn't any scenario where he wouldn't love Rogue. She had flaws, but everyone did, and for him, she was perfect.

"Come on," he said softly, letting his hands fall from her face, but catching her fingers with his. He drew her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "There's... I need you to tell me. And I know it's gonna be hard, but I absolutely promise you," he told her, while drawing her over to the couch, "that I will listen. And if I don't still love you after you're finished... well, I don' even know, because I can't think of anything you could tell me to make me stop loving you. If you told me you were an axe murderer, I might question your morals..." he joked, internally wincing as he realized her nerves were starting to affect him, making him babble. "But I'd still love you."

Settling on the plush couch, he drew her down against his side; he'd learned over the years that holding Rogue, that solid connection, helped ground her most of the time, and drew her out of her own thoughts, at least somewhat. He was beginning to get an inkling why, if she'd been tortured for years...

So many little things were beginning to add up, making up more than just a picture of Rogue, but of what she'd gone through, that still affected her to this day. Being easily startled; enjoying physical contact, especially skin-to-skin; lashing out if she was unexpectedly grabbed, never wanting her hands held immobile. (That had not been a fun night, because it had been a spur-of-the-moment move, and what had previously been the start of great sex, had ended up a harrowing experience comforting her and apologizing, even though he hadn't realized he'd been doing anything wrong.)

Edited (small typo) 2016-08-06 08:12 (UTC)

Steve had been doing so well up until that comment about being an ax murderer. He'd been saying all the right things to calm her down, to assure her that she wasn't making one of the biggest mistakes of her life by being honest with him. She'd been ready to spill all the proverbial beans, to lay it all before him, and then he'd said that word. Murderer.

That's what she was, wasn't it? That was what they whispered in her sleep, what she'd never been able to shake even with the years between the end of the war and now. They were still there, waiting, the ghosts of the people she'd murdered.

She stilled as he settled her beside him and the meaning of what he'd said tried to settle in, but the truth of his words couldn't get past the horror at him saying that one single word that her mind refused to let go of. Murderer.

"But that's what I am," she murmured, her voice distant and detached. "A murderer. They made me kill them, but I could have stopped it. That's what they keep saying, so they must be right." It was beyond her notice that she wasn't making sense anymore.

Unsure at first what he'd said wrong, Steve waited as he felt Rogue go still and quiet beside him. She didn't draw away from him, for which he was glad, but when she started speaking in that dull voice, he had to suppress a shiver. He listened intently to her words, trying to put the pieces together into some sort of coherent picture, but... it wasn't quite working.

"Darling," he murmured, "you have to tell me exactly what's going on. All right? Please tell me." So I can help. He leaned forward to press a kiss just behind her temple.

Her instincts told her to pull away from him, to not let his perfection be tainted by her monumental sins, but she resisted the urge and instead accepted the kiss and even leaned into him more. She took comfort in his closeness even as she felt she didn't deserve it.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," she murmured, looking at her lap so she didn't have to see his reaction. How was she going to put it? There was so much to explain. "I used to be a superhero." The words slipped out before she could really think about them, and they made her blink in surprise. Well, that was one way of doing it.

Steve had opened his mouth, to reassure her again that he wouldn't think she was crazy - when she said she used to be a superhero. The parallels - that she wasn't even aware of, yet - struck him so hard, he couldn't stop the sudden inhale of breath, almost choking on it; and although he tried to keep it quiet, sitting so close together, there was no way Rogue hadn't heard it.

Steve all but buried his face in her hair for a few seconds, before murmuring, "Tell me."

Oops, my fingers slipped on the keyboard...

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