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Rose was tapping her finger again. She hadn’t even realized it was her nervous tick until Peter pointed it out a few days ago. She felt justified in her nerves right now. Peter was a few floors down, finding out what had happened to his father. No matter what the truth was, she knew Peter was going to be torn open by it. Be it the confirmation that his father was innocent and he could never prove it or that his father had betrayed the country and everything Peter had done in his adult life to prove his worth was meaningless.
Rose stood up and started pacing the room. The agent assigned to watch over her glanced her way before turning back to their phone. She just wanted Peter here, with her. It was hard enough being apart under normal circumstances but Peter was hurting right now and Rose wanted to be by his side to offer whatever comfort he needed.
There were other reasons that Rose was nervous. She had a nagging suspicion of what else the President may want to talk to Peter about. She already knew that Chelsea was in for a new role in the President’s detail. Which meant that-
The door to the room Rose had been forced to wait in opened. Rose spun around. The President walked in but Rose’s eyes were glued to Peter. He wasn’t meeting her eyes, sign number one. His posture was completely rigid and his jaw was clenched. Signs number two and three.
“I wanted to thank you again,” President Travers began. Rose had to tear her eyes away from Peter to focus on her. “Your aunt and uncle would’ve been incredibly proud of you, Rose.”
“Thank you,” Rose said. “Madam President,” Rose added as an afterthought.
Travers' smile looked genuine but Rose could hardly feel anything positive towards her. “I’ll let you two get going then. It was great seeing you both.” Travers exited through another door.
Rose walked up to Peter, taking his hand. “Peter-”
Peter squeezed her hand and shook his head. She understood. Not here, not now.
Rose drove. That’s how bad things were. Peter let Rose drive. Sure, they weren’t expecting to have tails on them these days but Peter still preferred to be the one driving. Rose didn’t say anything on the drive. Peter spent the whole ride looking out the window. Rose tapped the steering wheel.
The tension was building as the two rode up the elevator. Peter’s fists were clenched so tightly. She’d never seen him so riled up like this. Even on the boat, Peter’s anger and desperation had been nearly…subdued. Now, Rose felt like everything was gonna come to boiling.
Rose tried to remain calm as she unlocked the front door. Peter stormed past her. Rose locked the door quickly and set down her bag. Peter was pacing the living room like a caged animal.
“Whatever you need, however you need to express yourself, go ahead. No judgment,” Rose reassured him.
Rose wasn’t sure if he had even heard until it started. The desk chair was the first to go, thrown halfway across the room. Peter stood looking over at it as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually done that. Next was a lamp. Peter smashed it against the floor. Good, Rose thought, she’d always hated that lamp. Then there was no stopping him. Peter started overturning or breaking every piece of furniture in the living room. Rose made her way to one corner of the kitchen. The last thing that needed to happen was for Rose to get cut on some shard of glass and send Peter into a spiral of guilt. But she stayed present, not wanting Peter to think she didn’t want to see this. Peter threw or punched every dining room table chair and overturned the cabinet behind the couch. His knuckles were raw but Rose kept herself in her corner. She’d only interceed either when the anger had passed or when Peter was about to severely hurt himself. Peter then turned to the couch and kicked it. He gripped the back of the couch and started repeatedly kicking it.
When she heard the first sob, she knew it was time to step in. Rose approached him slowly. She lay one hand on his shoulder. If he shrugged her off, she’d give him more time to let the anger out. He didn’t though. He seemed to deflate at her touch. Peter crumbled to his knees. Rose knelt next to him, arm around his back. The crying was uncontrollable. Rose brought him into a tight hug, his head on her chest. Peter’s arms wrapped around her waist. He sobbed into her shoulder. Rose didn’t say anything. She only held him through the pain.
They stayed like that until Peter passed out from exhaustion.
Peter’s back was killing him. That was the first thing he thought as he came to. Then he was flooded with memories of that day and his back seemed like the least of his worries. Peter sat up suddenly and looked around. A blanket fell to his waist.. Things were better than he expected to find them. All the glass and broken pieces had been picked up. The dining table chairs and computer chair had been righted. The books his godfather had sent him were neatly on the bookcase. Only the cabinets he’d toppled over remained in place.
Guilt started gnawing at him quick. Rose had cleaned up the mess from his tantrum. He looked down at the blanket around him. Fuck, even his hands had been bandaged. That’s when he registered the music and smell coming from the kitchen.
Peter slowly got up. Rose was in the kitchen. She was still wearing the blue dress from earlier but her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Soft, guitar acoustics were playing over the bluetooth speakers. The kind of music Rose had repeatedly called boring. She was so busy chopping up vegetables for what Peter assumed was a salad that she hadn’t noticed Peter woke up. He stayed in his spot, looking at her. Aside from his earlier breakdown, it all felt so domestic. His heart clenched. The thought of losing her made him want to destroy his apartment again.
“Oh! Hey,” Rose said.
Peter refocused on the moment. He couldn’t even respond, the lump in his throat too great. He just managed a nod. Peter hung his head. His eyes were burning. He couldn’t go breaking down again. He’d already put Rose through so much.
Suddenly, there were arms around his back and Rose was pressed to his front. Peter hadn’t even heard her walk up to him.
“I’m here,” she said, rubbing his back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Peter wanted to hug her. He desperately wanted to hug her and lock themselves in this apartment like they had the last five days before President Travers had called them in.
But he couldn’t lie to her.
“President Travers offered you a job, right?” Rose asked. Peter stood frozen to his spot. Rose looked up at him, arms still around him. “As a Night Agent?” Peter nodded, slowly. Rose’s mouth twitched to one side. “When do you leave?”
Peter furrowed his brow. “I haven’t said yes.”
“But you’re going to, right?”
Peter didn’t answer. He had no clue what he was going to do. How could Rose stand there and act as if the decision had already been made? Didn’t she know what it meant if he said yes? How could she think this would be an easy decision for him?
“Peter?”
“I-” Peter stepped out of Rose’s arms. Out of habit, he bent down to pick up the blanket and started folding it up. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“What has you hesitating?”
“What- Rose, do you expect me to be able to end this-” Peter gestured between them, “-so easily?”
Rose was looking at him like he had two heads. “End this? Who said anything about ending this?”
Peter picked up the pillow on the floor and aggressively fluffed it before setting it on the couch. “You never asked for any of this. You didn’t ask to get wrapped up in a fucking government conspiracy. And if I take this job then…” Peter rested his hands on the back of the couch, unable to turn around and look at Rose. “I know it’d be too much and you’d leave. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Rose asked. She placed a hand on Peter’s back. “Hey, look at me.” Peter took in a deep breath and turned to face Rose. She had that determined look on her face. “Take this job or don’t. Either way, I’m not leaving. Not now, not in a month, or a year.”
Peter was shaking his head. “You don’t know that,” Peter said.
“Okay, yes,” Rose threw out her arms, exasperated. “I can’t predict the future. And I know that if you take the job, it means being apart from you. For months or longer. I know it means wondering if you’re even still alive.” Peter could see the unshed tears in her eyes. “But I’d take that over being single or being with someone else.” She came up and cupped his face, making sure she had his full attention. “I want you. I’m staying and that’s my fucking choice. So you decide if you want that job for you. I’ll be here either way.”
Peter leaned down to kiss her. Rose kissed him back with as much passion as their very first kiss on the boat. Peter kept kissing her until he could begin to believe her words. After, he brought her into a tight hug, hiding his face in her shoulder.
A phone alarm went off. Peter reluctantly let go of Rose and looked over to the kitchen.
“Come on,” Rose said. “I made lasagna.”
Rose grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him to sit on the kitchen bar stool. Peter watched as Rose pulled the lasagna out of the oven. She then grabbed a pair of tongs out of a cabinet and tossed the salad. Rose knew where he kept the oven mitts and where the tongs were.
Peter had no idea if he was going to take the job or not. But he had Rose. That’s all he needed to face whatever the future threw at them.