In honor of Memorial Day, a chapter from the perspective of our favorite Super Soldier! Thank you all for your continued support and input! I can't even believe there's ten chapters of this already!

Hope you're all having a lovely weekend. Enjoy!

When Steve awoke the next day, he had made a decision.

Clint had not reappeared to apologize. It didn't take a super-soldier to divine that he was probably exploiting the alliance he had formed with the good Doctor—perhaps Clint felt that acing the mission would make up for his less-than-gentlemanly behavior when it came to Natasha.

Steve hadn't intended to wedge himself into a partnership's like Clint and Natasha's. He had sensed the closeness there, and kept an appropriate distance. But how was he supposed to keep his distance when she was sleeping in the next room? Was Clint blaming him for being assigned this mission?

Thus, the decision was made: he would no longer let Clint's hurt feelings or over-the-top shenanigans get in the way of his training, his duty, or his feelings for N—

Wait a moment. He didn't mean feelings, feelings. Just, you know, normal feelings—the kind that any respectable officer would have for his talented, capable, beautiful, bendy—

That's enough of that, soldier! He had never been the kind of soldier that passed around penny dreadfuls or collected pinups for the walls of his tent (truth be told, no one ever got friendly enough with Cap to offer, but that was beside the point). He had always been consumed with his responsibilities as Captain America and, when he had the time, with his interest in Peggy.

He felt oddly guilty about that, as if he was letting Peggy down somehow by finding another woman attractive. He was seventy years late as it is; he hardly imagined Penny—who was easily ninety by now—would take it as a slight that a girl his own age had caught his eye.

But Natasha wasn't really his age, was she? And he wasn't hers.

Steve sighed and rolled off the too-small couch, stretching his back. Like any strapping, young-looking man would, Steve had pondered about what his life would be like in this time. Life apart from missions and spying and alien invaders, that is. Maybe he'd have a wife—even children. He knew that his procedure hadn't negatively affected his fertility. (If anything, he was sure it had been enhanced.)

He walked to the bathroom and met the young face in the mirror. He suspected Natasha wasn't really the marrying kind, but he couldn't help but imagine how closely life would parallel their stay here in Chicago. They'd be sharing one room, of course—Steve blushed mildly and almost missed his toothbrush attempting to apply toothpaste. He would get up first and make eggs. She would rise soon after and use the bathroom first, then brew the coffee. They'd go to headquarters and have lunch in the commissary together. After work they'd get dinner from their favorite place down the street, and watch old movies before bed.

Steve spat in the sink and shook his head. He was getting quite ahead of himself, but it was nice to think about, at least.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his reverie. Natasha's voice was muffled by the door: "Hey, are you almost done in there? I have a surprise for you!"

That certainly didn't make it any easier. "Yeah, I'll be right out." Honey, he added quietly, in his thoughts.