Physical appearance aside, Rose's Ascension came with a plethora of unintended consequences. The first, and most obviously problematic for the blonde, was her new strength. For the majority of her life, Rose had to put Maximum Effort into the simplest of things- things like opening doors or climbing the stairs took the bulk of her strength to accomplish.
As she is now, the "bulk of her strength" results in more than one door being absolutely obliterated.
Admittedly, she's not the strongest of the Ascended (that dubious distinction went to Jane). If anything, she was probably physically the weakest, her strength about on par with the super soldiers'. However, her natural clumsiness and propensity for putting the full force of her body behind the simplest of movements resulted in a truly breathtaking amount of destruction. Darcy had sarcastically compared her to one of the Newborns from Twilight and Rose found she didn't have it in her to argue- mostly because she was right. The only thing she had successfully done without destroying something was get dressed.
Her clothes were another issue.
As she'd only grown about four inches, her clothes (with the exception of her bras) still fit. They just fit…differently.
After Hades had left, leaving them all with strict instructions to not share any of the information he'd given them with anyone not present at Rose's Ascension, and a promise to explain more once Rose had some time to process, Darcy had immediately latched on to the blonde and dragged her to see if any of the clothes she'd brought still fit.
The answer was a resounding "kind of".
She'd spent about five minutes struggling with her favorite pink romper, valiantly trying to squeeze into the delicate fabric without tearing it while simultaneously not getting her hair caught in the lace. When she finally managed to get it on, she frowned down at her body, examining the way the fabric hugged her new body with a critical eye. Before her little trip into the ocean, the pink lace outfit had been just the slightest bit baggy, the hem reaching her mid-thigh, while the sweetheart neckline showcased her collarbones and just the faintest amount of her small breasts.
Now was a completely different story.
Her four inch growth spurt, while not terribly impressive, had pushed the hemline from something almost modest to something borderline obscene, the lace just barely brushing the curves of her ass. What had once been somewhat loose now hugged the curves of her body, the tightness pushing her now substantial breasts up like she was wearing a damn push-up bra.
She wasn't sure she liked it.
Grumbling to herself, Rose strutted out of the bathroom, throwing her long hair over her shoulder while scowling at the brunette lounging across the bed. Upon Rose's exit, Darcy shot up, shooting her friend a wide eyed look while gaping at her scantily clad form. Completely oblivious to her friend's gawping, Rose did a little twirl, running her hands over the fabric before giving the brunette a self-conscious grin.
"So? What do you think?" Darcy immediately schooled her face into one of fake contemplation, tapping her chin while letting out an exaggerated hum.
"Well I like it- but I'm not a hundred percent sure. We should get another opinion." Rose furrowed her brow, absently tugging at the hem of her romper in a futile attempt to make it longer.
"What do you mean? Did you want to grab Nat and Dr. Foster or something?" Darcy emphatically shook her head, scampering off the bed and latching on to Rose's arm. Before the blonde could even think of arguing, the bustier woman began to drag her to the door. More than a little confused, Rose obligingly followed her, still gently tugging at the hem.
She figures out why Darcy had been so insistent once they make it back to the living room.
Steve and Bucky had been resistant to having her out of their sights for more than ten seconds at a time since her unscheduled dip into the ocean. Darcy, through sheer stubborn force of will, had managed to persuade them to let her go and change out of Bucky's shirt (much to the man's dismay) and into actual clothes. Reluctant as they were, both men had been anxiously eyeing the corridor Rose had disappeared down to go and change. As such, they are the first people to see her come out in her romper.
Steve sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening as he shot up straight. His hands clenched spastically at his sides, gaze roving her body as he swallowed drily. He'd thought Rose was beautiful before magic had made its home in her skin, but now it was like she'd been combined with one of the pin-ups he'd seen during the war, the dainty, retro style of the romper only enforcing this association. He struggled with his desire to draw her and his desire for her, his sudden arousal along with his bone deep relief combining in a heady way, like liquid heat and electricity pulsing under his skin.
Beside him, Bucky is having the closest thing he's had to a religious moment since 1945.
He's hopelessly torn between tearing the romper off of her body and building a shrine in its honor.
When he sees the blush make its way up her chest, the pretty rosy color slowly making its way up her neck and painting her cheeks in the most delectable way, he decides that, like in any religion, the romper will just have to be a martyr for the greater good- the greater good being him getting his baby doll naked and in his bed as quickly as humanly (or inhumanly, as the case may be) possible.
Rose takes in their rapturous expressions with no little amount of confliction. The part of her that they've nurtured with patience and affection is positively gleeful at the looks on their faces, answering arousal flaring up at the matching heat in their eyes. It knows they care about her and desperately wants to explore this new body with them, finally share the love she's only just acknowledged in the oldest and most sacred of ways.
The other part of her is older and much, much darker.
It's a shadow that was often times literally beaten into her, an insidious thing that whispers that they must like her better now that she's not defective- now that she's actually pretty. It's the part of her that feels like an imposter in this new skin, a monster wearing a princess' face. It takes in the wolf whistles from her friends and the hunger on her boy's faces and makes it something ugly.
As illogical as it is, it feels like they're cheering for someone else- some beautiful stranger who's replaced her, even though it is her.
They all like you better now- now that you actually look like a person.
That's not true- they're my friends. They've told me how much they care about me!
Sure they did- but like a pet or a beloved stuffed animal.
That's not—
It was a cyclical argument in her head, one she'd thought that she'd conquered. Yet our demons are insidious things, lurking and waiting for a moment of vulnerability in order to strike. She pastes a smile on her face and does her best to pretend to enjoy the attention, still absently pulling at the hem of her clothes in an attempt to cover more of her alien body. Despite her best attempts, however, she's unable to hide her discomfort from the men she loves.
More specifically, she can't hide from Bucky.
Both men had made their way to her side, showering her with compliments and attempting to "reassure" her that her outfit still looked fine. Her act falls apart when Bucky goes to place a gentle hand on the small of her back, a move he'd done dozens of times before her Ascension. In the mess of her mind, her shadow whispers that it's almost like he's touching another woman, the thought like a razor blade between her ribs. Despite her best attempts at normality, she tenses, flinching just the slightest amount before he can make contact.
The former assassin freezes, his hand hovering over her skin as he eyes her face more closely. He takes in the tense line of her shoulders, the strained edge of her smile, and that same, familiar pain, now returned to her periwinkle blue eyes.
It's like they've gone back in time, returned to that first day together, when she'd flinched at their every move.
It pisses him the fuck off.
They've all gone through too much, shared too much, for him to let this shit stand. He knows he should probably let her work this out, but he suddenly just doesn't have the damn patience for it. A thunderous scowl slowly appears on his face, hands clenching spasmodically as he quickly scans the room.
"Stark!" The billionaire, only just returned from dropping of the marine biologist and attempting to get caught up on what he'd missed, gives him a raised brow, seemingly unimpressed by the sharp tone. "The bungalow we had set up. Is it still good?" Tony barely replied in the affirmative, no doubt intending some sort of lecherous follow up, but was promptly ignored as Bucky put the entirety of his focus on the now confused blonde. Rose had just opened to mouth to question the brunet when she found herself abruptly thrown over his shoulder, not unlike an unruly bag of potatoes. She let out an indignant yelp at the sudden change in elevation, half-heartedly smacking at his back as he bounded out of the house, Steve following closely behind them.
"What the hell, Bucky?! You can't just-" The brunet all but snarls at her, stalking through the sand and heading toward the tiny beach cabin they'd set up before their day had gone to shit.
"Don't argue, Rosie. Something tells me that we need to have a talk right the fuck now. Don't think I didn't notice that little flinch, baby doll." Her mouth closes with a nearly inaudible click, lips pursing as she stares pointedly at the rapidly moving ground. Bucky takes her silence as the unintentional confession it is, teeth grinding as he picks up the pace. "That's what I thought. I don't know what the fuck is going on in your head right now, baby doll, but it stops right fucking now. You're telling us what's going on- I just figured you'd appreciate not having an audience while you do it." Steve trailed just behind them, eyeing the sullen blonde and fuming brunet with no little amount of trepidation.
Like his lover, he had noticed the tension building up in their girl, along with the minute flinch she'd made. Unlike Bucky, he'd resolved to talk to her about it later, attempting to treat her with a more delicate touch than the brunet apparently felt capable of giving. As it was, he dedicatedly followed behind them, closing the door to the small bungalow once they made it inside. He watched as Bucky gently placed the blonde in the middle of the room before standing tall again, arms crossed as he scowled down at the pouting woman.
"Alright, baby doll, talk. What's going on it that head of yours?" For a moment, it looks like Rose is going to puff up, indignation lining her every feature. Then, like air being let out of a balloon, she deflates, something terribly sad and terribly lost appearing on her features. She bites her lower lip, eyes shooting between the two as her hands come up and grasp her upper arms, a move Steve had come to recognize as the blonde attempting to hold herself together when particularly upset. She takes a deep breath, seemingly steeling herself before speaking, her voice only just louder than a whisper.
"Do you know what I was thinking? Right before the ocean came for me?" Neither man responded, taking her question for the rhetorical one it was. "I was thinking about how terrified I was. I was scared because of my cancer- not the dying, though that was part of it. No, dying is easy. I was scared because one day, and soon, I would die- and that would mean I might never see either of you again." Her voice is unbearably tight, periwinkle eyes desperately blinking back tears. "I was starting to lose feeling in my feet, and I was more scared of never seeing your faces again than I was of impending paralysis." She snorts derisively, eyes resolutely glued to the floor. "I just couldn't figure out why." She squeezes her eyes shut, petrified of the reaction her next confession will bring.
"I love you- both of you. I love you both so god damn much that it honestly hurts some times." Before either of them could respond, she continues. "I loved you and I didn't think I deserved you- not as broken and ugly as I am." Her lips snap shut, something terribly uncomfortable appearing on her face. "Was." She pushes on, anxiety speeding up her voice. "The first foster mother I ever had spent every damn day beating into me just how ugly I was- that my very existence was a sin that I needed to 'repent' for. She'd tell me over and over that no one would ever love me, looking the way that I do- did. I kept trying to prove her wrong, kept trying to make friends or something- but it never worked. I was desperate and they just tortured me for it." She absently wipes at the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, gaze still locked on the floor as she gestures helplessly at her body. "My whole life I dreamed about looking like this- not out of some misplaced pressure from society, but because maybe, just maybe, somebody might want me if I did." Her eyes squeeze shut again, throat working as she swallows wetly.
"You want to know what I'm thinking now? I'm thinking that I'm scared again. I'm scared because I love you and, as beautiful as you said I was, a part of me that I can't seem to fucking kill keeps saying you must like me better now- now that I'm 'pretty'- now that I'm worthy. It's so stupid- neither of you deserve that! You've never, not once made me feel ugly or lesser but it just won't shut up! So I just- I just need to know. Do you?" She trails off, eyes big and lost and still glued to the floor. "Do you like me better now?" There's a beat of silence and then she feels gentle, distinctly calloused hands lightly nudge up her chin, directing her eyes to a beaming Steve.
Her breath unwillingly catches in her throat.
The smile on his face in nearly incandescent, something soft and achingly tender lighting up his face in a nearly ethereal way. The sky blue of his eyes glow, his gaze tracing her features with a sort of worshipful hunger, like if he stopped looking she'd disappear. He uses his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks, slowly pulling the petite blonde in close to his body. She goes along willingly, the golden weight of her heart tugging her in just as surely as his hands. His voice his terribly soft, joy leaving him almost breathless as he takes her in.
"Rose- angel- you were, are, always have been, and always will be, the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet. I know what its like- to want to be something else, just so you feel worthy. And I know what it's like to suddenly get it. But, baby doll, take this from someone who loves you-" She makes a strangled noise, that soft, warm feeling she'd come to crave suddenly exploding through her body, her joy and matching love making her limbs shake. "-you have always been worthy. I know for the first part of your life people lied to you- lied over and over, telling you that you were ugly. I know they lied often enough and loud enough that you started to believe them. I know its going to be hard, unlearning that lie, but I plan on spending the rest of my life reminding you of the truth. You are beautiful, Rose Gray, no matter what shape you take. You are beautiful, and I love you too."
Bucky watches his loves embrace and is, once again, made aware of the dichotomy of his life- his joy and his pain. Lately, it seemed like the two had become more intertwined than ever before, something which didn't really surprise him.
After all, what was love, but the marriage of joy and pain?
If Rose was love, then his definition was an apt one. She was so unbearably kind that he often forgot that her past wasn't one he'd want for her- one filled with the love she so desperately deserved. His baby doll had been told over and over that her worth was defined by her appearance, had the message literally beaten into her skin. Didn't he know what that was like? What that kind of conditioning could do? Even now, nearly five years free from Hydra, he still had trouble convincing himself that he wasn't just a tool- that his worth was not defined by the blood unwillingly soaking his hands. He'd had years of support and professional help to get where he was today.
Rose only had a couple of months' worth of support versus a virtual lifetime of conditioning.
That she let anyone close to her at all was a testament to how god damn strong she was. Every day he fell just a little more in love with her- in love with them both- and it never ceased to surprise him. His love was a living, breathing, thing, a second heartbeat that filled up his body just as surely as his blood did.
Watching Rose and Steve stand together, wrapped in each other's arms, was like staring into the sun. They were a beautiful combination of Irish golden skin and equally golden hair, two wingless angels that he'd been god damn lucky enough to snare.
They had been trying all week to make a special moment for Rose- build up to something worthy of her first time.
Maybe that had been the problem?
Maybe, as was the tradition in their lives, making the moment was the issue? Maybe it was time to do what they'd always done and steal it?
Rose is so wrapped up in Steve that she doesn't notice Bucky until he's already on her. One moment she's cocooned in the blonde's arms, the next she's suddenly being hoisted into the air and yet again thrown over the brunet's shoulder. Before she can do more than yelp indignantly, Bucky is speaking, his voice a rumbling, hungry, bass.
"You asked if we liked this body better? Well I do." Her center of gravity shifts again as she finds herself abruptly tossed on to the largest bed she's ever seen, the fluffy white comforter billowing out from the sudden pressure of her body being slammed into the middle of it. Hurt and confusion warring for dominance, she pushes herself up on her elbows, mouth open as she prepares to say something—
The look on his face steals her voice.
He's stood at the end of the bed, body the picture of predatory stillness as his eyes rove her sprawled form. There's a desperate sort of hunger on his face, silver eyes nearly black as he traces the curves of her body. The look is pure heat, only softened by the raw affection so blatantly expressed in his eyes. Seemingly done observing her, he bends forward and crawls onto the bed, his movements nearly feline in their smoothness. Her heart thunders in her chest, breaths coming fast as liquid heat courses through her veins, arousal sparkling like pop rocks under her skin. His smell invades her senses, something warm and just the slightest bit spicy as he crawls up her body. He stops when they're finally nose to nose, his arms caging in her body. He licks his lips and then takes in a slow breath, seemingly savoring her smell before speaking again, his voice a desirous purr.
"You want to know why I like this better?" He suddenly darts downwards, turning his head and resting it above her racing heart. Bucky pauses for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as he listens to the strong, steady beat, relishing every moment that it thundered onward. Ear still pressed against her heart, he breathes his confession into her skin. "Baby doll, I've been in love with you since that first day together- when you told me you wanted to be the kindness you'd never gotten? That was it. Right then and there I fell in love with this heart." He takes in another breath, his lips quirking minutely at the little gasp Rose gives at the sensation of his breath across her chest. "I don't know if you know this, Rosie, but Stevie and I? We hear much better than your average Joe. Mind you, not as good as Darcy, but good enough. When it comes to you, that was a blessing and a curse." He lifts his head just slightly, making eye contact with Rose and taking in the blush slowly spreading up her chest. Her eyes are round in her face, eyes shining with her combined love, arousal, and confusion. "Every day I'd listen to your heart beat and every day I'd hear it fail- hear your pacer fire as it worked to keep you alive. Every day I'd listen to this heart- this perfect, precious heart- falter. I can't tell you how terrified I was- terrified that one day it would just stop and take half of my world with it." He leans forward and places a soft kiss just above her heart, nosing the spot where her pacemaker used to sit while savoring the little hitch in her breathing from his tender ministrations. Full to bursting and desperate to touch him, Rose lifts a hesitant hand and runs it through his dark hair. Bucky lets out a pleased hum at the contact, nuzzling into her hand.
"I like this body more because not once have I heard your heart falter. This body means I get to keep you." He presses another, more lingering kiss to her chest, grinning smugly at the goose bumps that spread across her skin. Rose gapes down at him, the feel of his skin against her own like a livewire connected to her body, heat scorching her veins before settling heavily in her core. "I love you Rosie. You and Steve? You're it for me. Till' the end of the line and whatever comes after, baby doll." She's only able to gasp out his name before he suddenly surges up and presses a scorching kiss into her mouth. She kisses him back just as enthusiastically, her hands coming up to grasp at his shoulders and the back of his head, body arching as she writhes against him. She loves them both so damn much- she's feels like she's going to burst with it. She savors the taste of him, clutching him as close as she can while desperately wanting to be closer. He pulls back when the need to breath becomes too much, dimples on full display as he grins sinfully down at her. Unable to help himself, he runs a teasing hand down the length of her body, relishing the way she shudders under his palm, her lips swollen and eyes bright as she stares at him.
"I know this body is strange to you, baby doll, but it would be a genuine honor to help you get to know it." Before she can respond there's a snort of laughter and Steve is suddenly on the bed with them, perched on the edge and eyeing them both with barely concealed hunger. Despite his obvious arousal his voice is tightly controlled, his tone drier than the Sahara.
"This isn't exactly how we planned this, Buck." The brunet just shrugged, licking his lips and quietly savoring the traces of her taste left lingering on his mouth.
"Seeing as how our plans never seem to really work out, I figured I'd steal a moment instead." The blond frowns at him, scanning his face before focusing on a breathless Rose. The petite blonde stares dazedly up at both of them, face fully flushed and eyes dilated with her arousal.
She looks like temptation.
He desperately wanted to get in the bed with them, feel her warm and soft and alive; he wanted to press his love into her skin and learn all of the ways that made her sigh. He wanted to taste and touch and fuck her until he could scarcely tell where he began and she ended. He wanted all three of them together- wanted to have an outlet for his love before he burst from it.
They just had to do this right.
He sighs, reaching forward to run a tender hand down her flushed cheeks, his love bleeding from his pores.
"Rosie, we had a plan. We were going to wine and dine you. There was going to be candles and flowers and-" He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. "We were going to make this special for you." He grumbles to himself for a moment before continuing. "Our plans never seem to go quite right though." He trails off, eye contemplative, before abruptly focusing on Rose, the hunger he'd been barely suppressing resurging with a vengeance. The sheer heat on his face sends a shudder through her body, thighs clenching as her core pulses angrily. Steve takes a deep breath, savoring the warm, peachy smell of her arousal. He licks his lips, like he can somehow pull her taste from the air, so hard that it was nearly painful. He continues, his voice little more than a baritone growl. "You've had a long day, baby doll- we all have. You've had a hell of a jarring change too. I know you aren't used to this body- that you may want to wait a little while and try and figure things out- but Rose, if you'll let us, we'd like to help you. Can we make love to you, baby doll?"
If you say no I will choke you to death with your own fallopian tubes, I swear to God.
I wasn't planning on it- I love them and, more than that, I trust them. They helped me love my old body. Why wouldn't I let them help me love my new one?
Oh thank Christ.
Without another word she shakily sits up, eyes nearly black as she scrambles out from underneath the cage of Bucky's arm. With little grace but an abundance of enthusiasm, she crawls into Steve's lap and presses a smiling kiss into his mouth. A breathless moment later she pulls back, heart racing, pumping liquid heat and electricity through her veins. Forcefully pushing her shyness aside she writhes against him, sensuously rolling her hips against his own and delighting in the heady groan he emits, the most delectable flush rapidly spreading up his chest and face as he reflexively grabs her hips. Her voice heavy with desire and just the tiniest bit of nerves, she gives him his answer.
"Yes."
-_-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-_-
The first time they make love is slow and sweet. They take their time with her, letting her discover them as she discovers herself. It is, more than anything, an affirmation of their feelings for one another, every stroke and caress a physical expression of something words can only just barely convey.
After that first time, though, all bets are off.
They break just about every piece of furniture in the bungalow and punch a hole in the shower wall (which was admittedly because Rose tripped- but there were sexcapades too!).
She thinks that without her Ascension, she probably would have been done after that first bout of lovemaking- too exhausted (or dead) to continue. As a mortal, she would have struggled to keep up with their stamina, while her fragility would have meant her boys would have constantly needed to be careful with her delicate body.
As it is now?
They struggle to keep up with her.