Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers (the comics, movies, characters etc.) or any of the characters; I only own my OC Art.
26. A Promise Upheld
A week had passed since Art's return to New York. In that time, Art and Steve had talked through many of their problems and resolved a good handful of them, if not most of them. The tension they'd become accustomed to had completely melted away, leaving none of it left in their small apartment, which they would soon be moving out of. Fury had informed the two soldiers that they would be better suited moving to Washington D.C., where S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters was located. They were assured they wouldn't be called away for a mission until they'd arrived in D.C.; that essentially meant they should expect to be ready for field work the minute they set foot in the nation's capital. A good portion of their apartment was packed, seeing as they didn't have much of their own stuff to pack. They weren't taking the furniture, so all they needed to store away was personal items, kitchenware, and clothes. Neither Art nor Steve had lived anywhere other than New York City and the borough they'd grown up in––Manhattan for Art and Brooklyn for Steve. It was bittersweet. They were leaving a place that they'd made so many memories in and, in one way or another, had impacted just as it had impacted them.
Art pushed herself into a sitting position, sweeping sleep rumpled hair out of her eyes. For the first time in a very long time she had slept in, and it had felt glorious; she hadn't even woken up when Steve had gotten out of bed. A glance at the clock on the bedside table told her she'd slept in till ten, which was a fantastic accomplishment. Both her hands braced themselves against the mattress, giving her just enough leverage to push herself into a righted position. Sleep rumpled hair slouched into her eyes, obscuring her vision in thin tendrils. Just as she folded back the sky-blue blankets, Steve walked in with both hands clasped behind his back. He was beaming for one reason or another, slowly pacing towards the bed till he could sit down on the edge. Art raised an eyebrow, yawned and then scrunched her hair up whilst contemplating whether or not to tie it back.
"Why are you so chipper?" she asked groggily. From behind his back, Steve produced a long, thin rectangle, and proffered it to her. After rubbing the heel of her palm against her eye, Art slowly accepted what she'd been offered, and held it in her hands gingerly. It was a Hershey's chocolate bar. Steve slipped further onto the bed, braced one hand on the mattress behind her, and kissed her temple.
"Happy birthday," he replied softly, smile matching his tone. His eyes were twinkling with a happiness that had once been so rare to see at the beginning of their modern adventures. The vague twinge of confusion she'd had turned to understanding in a quick moment. She listed into Steve's side, a smile quirking up the corners of her mouth. The chocolate bar was suddenly so much more than a chocolate bar.
"Happy birthday, Pretty-Boy!" called out Bucky, flopping down beside his fellow Sergeant in the mess tent. Art's brows arched and then scrunched together, looking between Steve and Bucky with a rapid flick of her eyes. Bucky was grinning a bright, boyish grin that lit up his whole face. Steve's smile was a little more reserved, but none the less excited, and was directed at her from across the table.
"Is it?" she asked. ould it be June already? It couldn't be. It was mid May last she had bothered to check. Art tapped her fingers sequentially atop the table, mentally counting the days that had passed since the last time she'd actively looked at a calendar. Her eyes, which had been cast somewhere to the side, widened and her fingers froze. She realized that she had, in fact, forgotten it was her birthday. To her credit, there had been more pressing issues––like the war, HYDRA, and keeping up her façade around the remainder of the one-oh-seventh that didn't know her identity. Those were fairly good reasons to not be keeping track of the days. "Oh. I guess it is my birthday, isn't it?"
Bucky looped an arm around her neck, hauled her into his side, and grinned down at her boyishly.; he then grasped his wrist with his free hand to create a loose but locked hold around her. He hadn't changed the way he'd acted around her after discovering she was a woman, and for that Art was forever thankful. She wouldn't have changed their dynamic for the world. They were like siblings. Her size disadvantage often meant he could haul and jostle her around as much as he pleased, which made him the older 'sibling,' which was fitting, because he was, in fact, older than her. Art made a bit of a show trying to escape his hold, tugging at his arm as she leaned to the side. Bucky merely laughed and tugged her closer."That it is, Artie! That it is!"
"How do you forget your own birthday?" Steve laughed, leaning his elbows atop the table. He was dressed casually in a green jacket and white shirt, a look that he hadn't been sporting often; a look that he looked undeniably handsome in, despite what he may protest. Art snorted and tugged herself out of Bucky's grasp, fixing her shirt collar, which had become rumpled and popped on one side. She fixed Steve with a wry look and leaned towards him from across the table. One of her brows was cocked upwards and her lips were fighting to keep a smirk at bay, evident by the twitching that was being made at the corners.
"Says Mister 'I-Was-Born-On-The-Fourth-Of-July.' That's a hard date to forget, ace."
Steve chuckled and arched a brow playfully. "Well, you know what, Kensington?"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Bucky jokingly placated, jumping off the bench to sit on the edge of the table. He had one hand splayed out in front of either 'combatant,' grinning at his two friends. "Let's keep this day, which twenty-whatever years ago brought us Arthur Kensington and his lovely twin sister Artemesia," Bucky winked, "as combat free as possible, okay?" Bucky angled himself so he was facing Art, only half of his bottom perched atop the table. "Now, Artie, we don't have permission to leave camp tonight, so we can't go to the pub. That means we can't get good food, can't get ourselves a couple of pints, and we can't go see a picture. We'll just have to do all that next time we go out. But, in the meantime…" He raised his eyebrows at Steve, who extracted something from his pocket. It was wrapped in wax, which was crinkled and torn at the edges. He passed it off to Bucky with a smile, and their dark haired friend, who proudly winked Steve's way, proffered her whatever it was in the wrapping.
Art reached out and took the wax paper and its contents, cradling it in her palm for a moment before she unwrapped it. Inside was a hunk of chocolate, a portion of what had once been part of a larger bar. She stared at it, mouth already beginning to water. Chocolate was a precious commodity for all of them. It was hard to come by in camp, and whenever someone had some, it was coveted and eaten sparingly.
"It's not much, but…" Bucky shrugged and leaned his forearms atop his knees.
"We know you love chocolate," Steve laughed, smiling brightly. Art grinned and immediately went about breaking off three uneven pieces. She passed a piece to Bucky, and then one to Steve, holding up her own shard of chocolate in front of her, as though it was the sacramental bread given at Communion.
"It's the best gift I could ask for. Thank you, guys, really." Art popped the chocolate into her mouth and hummed, leaning her cheek into her hand. "Oh, god, that's delicious. Just don't tell Jim I've got this––he'd steal it right out from under me, birthday present or not."
"Don't worry, Sarge, we've got your back," Bucky said with a grin, chewing on his own piece of chocolate. He patted her shoulder and hopped off the table. "We always do."
"It's not much, but…" Steve trailed off. Art grinned and slouched sideways and into Steve's chest.
"You know that I love chocolate," she finished, turning the chocolate bar over-and-over in her hands. Steve's arms curled around her midsection, chin falling to rest atop her shoulder; Art leaned back into his chest and let her fingers skim over the glossy packaging. "Thank you."
"And since we don't have to wait for a specific day to go out on the town like we used to… I'd like to take you out tonight," Steve informed. Art's lips twitched up at the corners and she turned her head towards Steve. Their noses nearly brushed and her smile grew into a bright grin.
"Like a date?"
Steve beamed at her and tightened his arms around her, forehead tilting forward so it rested against hers. "Exactly like a date. The first date we should have had."
Art set the chocolate aside and shifted around so she could wind her arms around Steve's neck. She threaded her fingers through Steve's newly shortened hair; the haircut looked good on him, she had to admit, though she would miss the side-flick. Steve had mentioned that cutting his hair had been his equivalent of her starting to regularly wear jeans. It was his way of accepting the new style of the era.
"The date in the pub?" she asked. Steve nodded in confirmation, lying back so they were comfortably leaning back against the headboard. She would have been perfectly contented with going back to sleep, curled up in the warmth Steve's arms. With a smile rising to her lips, Art dragged her fingers through his blonde locks. "I had fun on that date––even if we had to pass it off as two army buddies going out for a drink."
"Well, this time around you don't have to wear a uniform," Steve laughed. Art pretended to be affronted, withdrawing a hand from his person in order to place it in the center of her chest.
"I think I made a very beautiful man in the uniform, thank you very much!"
Steve grinned and tucked hair behind her ear, settling a warm palm against her cheek once the sleep rumpled lock was pushed out of her face. Their smiles became gentle as the flirtatious teasing wound down. "I know you did. You were a very beautiful woman in that uniform, too, if I recall." Art closed the distance between them and kissed him, snaking an arm back around his neck. She felt one of Steve's hand slip over her hip to rest on her lower back, a couple of his fingers resting on the bare skin her shirt had ridden up to expose. When their lips detached, Art smiled and pressed another kiss just beside his mouth.
"I'd love to go out tonight," she murmured. She snuggled her head into the crook of Steve's neck and shut her eyes. "I'll leave the uniform at home, though…"
"That's good 'cause our new ones are kind of… how does Stark put it? Spangly."
Art chuckled, her smile slowly forming into an open-mouthed yawn. "Oh, god, I need coffee…" She placed another kiss against Steve's jaw and then extracted herself from his warm embrace. When she slipped off the bed, Art made sure to snag Steve's hand and pull him with her. "And I think the spangly suit works better on you than me––I'm better suited to more solid, singular colors."
"Missing your Commandos uniform?"
"Like you wouldn't understand."
OOOO
The last thing that Art had expected to do on her birthday was drive to the Cemetery of the Evergreens in Brooklyn. She had been under the impression that she and Kenneth would be going out to lunch, but he had surprised her by shoving his car keys into her hands before he told her to drive. The cemetery was more like a park, with countless trees and bushes, all of which flowered and bloomed in the spring. When the sun was shining, the cemetery was actually quite lovely; but the day had proved overcast and thick with humidity, which threatened rain. It was there that Joanne and Vernon Knoll had been buried after their deaths. It was there that Artemesia's empty grave had been placed when, in nineteen-forty-five, her death had been announced. That was where Kenneth and Art were walking towards, a bouquet of flowers clenched in Kenny's aged hand. Art had noticed he was getting slower, his age beginning to catch up to him. Her baby brother was proud, however, about the fact he could get around without a cane. There had been a joke or two about how spry he was for an old man, though not as spry as Steve. Nevertheless, Art had her arm looped through his, under the guise of an innocent, fond gesture; in actuality, she wanted to make sure he wasn't going to trip over any uneven ground.
"I have been coming here, on this day, for sixty-seven years straight. Not a year forgotten," Kenny mused with a sigh. They stopped in front of a headstone made of shining black marble; it was shaped like an obelisk, at the base of which was a set of two or three stairs. A laurel set above two crossed swords was depicted over an epitaph that gave a brief history of a the deceased's life. A name was carved into the front in large letters, which had been inlaid with gold in more recent years.
Lt. ARTEMESIA KNOLL
Loving Sister, Brave Soldier, and an Inspiration to All
June 4, 1919 – 1945
The date of death wasn't specified. Kenneth had told Artemesia that was because, in the letter that had informed them of her death, it hadn't told them the day. It had simply read that the army sent their condolences and that she had met her death in the line of duty. The letter had been short, as Phillips had not had the authority to tell the general public––or her family––the circumstances of her death. If Art remembered correctly, Kenneth said that Phillips had written that it had been a covert operation, the details of which were to remain classified. Two condolence letters had been sent, though––one for Lieutenant Arthur Kensington, the other for Lieutenant Artemesia Knoll. The latter had been a smidgen more personal than the first, informing Florence and Kenneth of her bravery and how much of a difference she made. Art had been unable to see the letters for herself, as Kenneth had parted with them when the Smithsonian had mentioned their interest in opening an exhibit on America's first superheroes.
"This is the second headstone," Kenny informed, waving the bouquet at it. "The first one was smaller. More… modest. It also only read as 'loving sister.' When it was announced to the public that the brave Howling Commandos Arthur Kensington was actually the brave Howling Commando Artemesia Knoll, we thought it would be fitting to change it. The public actually started to demand it. The, uh, Barnes family actually threw in some money to have it changed. So did Arthur––and the rest of the Commandos, too. They even dropped by to give their condolences in person."
Numerous bouquets of flowers lay in front of it, all fresh and fragrant; a couple of letters and cards had been left, too, most of which had her name written across the front in distinctively different scrawls. Kenneth climbed the set of stairs slowly and placed his own bouquet at the base, one of his hands braced against the cold stone.
"I didn't know that," Art admitted, adjusting the collar of her cardigan. She had visited her own grave before, as knowing of its existence had spiked a sense of morbid curiosity. Kenny shoved both hands into his jacket pockets and his head tilted back so he stared up at the top of the monument.
"Well, it's true. We waited till all of the, uh, trials calmed down. We wanted you to be properly remembered––as a loving sister… a brave soldier…"
"And an inspiration to all?" Art smiled and nodded to the inscription on the stone. Her brother bobbed his head in confirmation. Her eyes slid over the monument as she joined her brother at the base of it. "Well, this is the last year you'll have to make this yearly trip."
Kenneth reached out and looped an arm over her shoulder, drawing her close to his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a smile on his aged lips. "About damn time, too. It's been sixty-seven years, Artie! Why didn't you come back sooner? You would have saved me a lot of footwork," he chuckled. Art knocked her head into his shoulder in playful retaliation. She felt him jostle his arm a bit in order to lovingly shake her. "Promise you'll come and visit New York as often as you can?" Suddenly he sounded like the little Kenneth Art had left behind when she joined the military. Looking up at him, she nodded.
"Of course. I've gotta spend my birthday with someone, right?"
"Ah, you've got Steve. I'm sure he's more fun to spend your time with." Art rolled her eyes and bent over to pick up the notes and letters that had been left at the base of the grave. "I just… I know I'm getting up there in age, and not all of us have some super-juice inside our bodies to keep us goin'."
Art looked up sharply, eyes wide and gleaming with what could have been fear. What he'd said was true, she understood that; but it was a truth she refrained from thinking of too often. She was his older sister in years, yes, but biologically she was only twenty-six. It was heart-wrenching to acknowledge that she would live to see her little brother die. Her sweet-faced little brother who had read comics under the covers, grown into a strong man and a dedicated soldier, and had lived a life filled with happiness. Kenny's aged face was smiling down at her, and her brows pinched together in sad response.
"Don't talk like that, Kenny," she admonished, using her 'big sister' tone. That drew a smile to Kenneth's lips.
"I'm just stating fact, Artie. Now, whaddya say we get out of here? This is no place to spend your birthday. 'Sides, I'm sure that you and lover-boy have got plans later; I gotta make sure you've got enough time to doll yourself up!" Kenneth laughed happily, slipping his arm through Art's once she stood. She curled her fingers around his elbow tightly, and the chuckle that sounded in his throat let her know he knew exactly why she was holding on so tight. He patted her knuckles fondly. "I'm glad you two worked out your problems. He cares about you a lot."
With a smile blooming across her face, Art nodded and rested her head against Kenny's arm. "I know."
"And I look forward to one day saying that I am related to the great Captain America." Kenny beamed cheekily and laughed heartily when Art tossed her elbow into his side none-too-gently.
"Kenneth!"
"We'll be the most patriotic family in America!"
"I swear to god, Kenneth Samuel Knoll…"
"Happy ninety-second birthday, sis!"
OOOO
The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly. She'd gotten a text from Clint––detailing messages from Laura and the kids as well––and one from Nat wishing her well, a voicemail from Bruce, a rushed phone call from both Matt and Foggy, who seemed to be rushing to get to a meeting, and––unexpectedly––a call from Tony. Each well-wish had made her day a bit better, and the skies got sunnier as the day wore on. By the time early evening had rolled around, the sky was starting to become a pale lavender and the air was pleasingly cool. Art, like Steve, had taken an hour or so to get ready, having exiled herself to what had once been her bedroom in order to do so. She had meticulously curled her hair, done her make-up, and slipped on her choice of dress and shoes. It felt like getting ready in the old days.
Growing up in the time she had, Art was accustomed to making sure her whole outfit was perfectly put together before she walked out the door. She had to look in the mirror and make sure that her dress sat just right. That her curls were perfectly brushed out so they grazed the tops of her shoulders. That her lipstick didn't overrun the natural curves of her lips. A tugged skirt hem and a hair fluff later, Art swept out of the room and made for the living room. She spotted Steve standing by the small mirror they had hung just beside the door. He was tugging at the points of his collar, trying to get it looking presentable. Art beamed and stopped by the couch, picking up the small purse she had left there.
"Well, don't you look handsome," she complimented, dropping her lipstick into the purse. Steve turned on his heel, brows raised, and stopped to stare at her. And handsome he was. Steve had done himself up in a navy blue suit jacket paired with matching slacks, the hems of which kissed shiny black Oxfords. The collar of his button down was folded over a burgundy tie, which had been expertly knotted.
"Thanks. You look… gorgeous, Artemesia," Steve said softly. A smile appeared on his lips as he stepped away from the mirror, his collar completely forgotten. Warmth rose to Art's cheeks, which she didn't bother trying to hide; she had long since accepted that Steve had made making her blush an art.
"Thank you." Two of her fingers pinched the skirt of her red dress, which she pulled away from her legs a couple of inches. "It seems we both had the same idea. If this is the first date we were supposed to have…"
"Then we go back to the fashion of the forties." Steve grinned and bobbed his head, eyes dropping to the ground. He gestured to his own clothing, his grin becoming slightly lopsided. "Or as close to it as we can get."
"You forwent the vest," Art pointed out, waggling her finger at his chest. Steve leveled a finger at her head as he came to a stop in front of her.
"And you didn't pin back your hair," Steve noticed. Art shrugged her shoulders, which brushed against and disturbed her brushed out curls.
"There's still not a whole lot of it; it's decided to slow down its growth, apparently."
Steve smiled at her so sweetly for a contentedly quiet moment, eyes glimmering softly in the living room's lamplight. It was the sweetest look she had ever been given. It harkened back to a time long since passed, a time that felt homey and nostalgic. There was no evidence of the worried crease that so often worked its way between Steve's brows; he looked younger. Then, like he had done earlier, he reached behind his back and produced something from––presumably––his back pocket. His fingers had curled into a fist around something that Art was sure wasn't another chocolate bar.
"Kenny gave this to me, said you might like to have it." With his curled fist extended, he then extended his fingers to reveal what sat in his palm. It was a familiar rectangular locket, the front of which was engraved with flowers; it hung from a time weathered chain, links of which had started to rust. "It was your Aunt Florence's, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that." Art eagerly took the jewelry from his palm smiling down at the worn metal as she recalled the woman who wore it.
"She kept pictures of Kenny and I in this––embarrassing photos, really…" Art recalled.
"Kenny mentioned that those had been removed a long time ago––something about… water damage from it being stored in a basement. We figured that you'd probably want to choose the photo to go inside, so it's still empty." Art wedged her thumbnail into the space where either side of the locket met and pried it open gently. Sure enough, the locket was empty. After clicking it shut, she replaced the necklace she had been wearing with the vintage piece she had been given.
"Thank you, this is lovely." With a palm remaining pressed over it, Art smiled at Steve; it was a smile so bright and happy that it was infectious. "So, what are we doing tonight?"
"I thought that we could go see a movie. We're a bit too dressed up for it, but…" He shrugged and shoved both hands in his pockets, looking endearingly sheepish. Art slipped her arm through Steve's, squeezing it with a smile playing across her lips.
"I think we're perfectly dressed for anything you have planned."
Steering her towards the door, Steve grinned and pocketed the keys to their apartment. "Well, that's good, 'cause I've got a couple things planned."
OOOO
Like Steve had said, they were a bit too dressed up to go see a movie, but they had enjoyed it none the less. All of the looks cast their way fueled their laughter and good mood, taking none of the stares to heart. With grins on their lips they had proceeded to get dinner, stopping at the diner that Kenny had taken Steve to a couple of weeks prior; Art hadn't been back since before the war, and the elated look on her face had been priceless. After realizing that the menu practically hadn't changed, she ordered by heart, beaming the whole time. The order had been fairly large, and at the waiter's incredulous stare, Steve laughed and attempted to hide it behind his hand. The evening had been planned so that the activities they did could have possibly been done had they not crashed into the ice. It was like taking a tiny step back in time in the best way possible. They were creating the moments they should have had once the war had ended, perfectly fitted into the life they now had.
Steve had then suggested they take an evening stroll through Central Park, remarking how lovely the weather was. On their walk there, Art had been given Steve's jacket to keep her warm from the slight chill. The oversized jacket hung loosely over her shoulders, but it provided just the right amount of warmth she needed. It was one of the best evenings of her life; she didn't think she had smiled so much in almost a year. Her fingers were threaded through Steve's, creating a tight lock that didn't loosen a bit as they walked. The night, while it seemed to be planned on the go, had clearly been the opposite––it had been meticulously planned by the blonde haired captain who was leading her to the park. Just as they were about to cross the street, Art shuffled to a stop when Steve held out an arm. They had stopped on the curb for seemingly no reason, especially seeing as there was no traffic whatsoever in the through street.
"What is it?" she asked, tucking hair behind her ear. Steve, with a cute, boyish smile, gestured to the edge of the street, where a sizable puddle resided. It was muddy looking and a couple of nicotine stained cigarette butts floated across it like little boats.
"There's a puddle," he pointed out. Art arched an eyebrow and cast the puddle a second, disregarding look. It wasn't terribly large, and it would be easy to walk around, so it didn't pose an obstacle or challenge.
"And…?"
"And I'm not going to let you walk through it. I am going to carry you across." Art laughed quietly, turning to face him square-on.
"Steve, people don't do that anymore. In fact, I don't know if people ever did that; that seems like something out of the movies," Art mentioned. She'd seen men lay their coats down across puddles for ladies to walk over, but she had never seen someone––besides, perhaps, a child––be carried over a puddle.
Steve scooped her up into his arms, holding her to his chest gallantly. Art had wound her arms around his neck tightly in surprise, having squeaked when the ground seemed to have disappeared from under her. She laughed as she looked over at Steve. He was smiling charmingly as he stepped off the curb and walked her through the puddle and across the street.
"Well, aren't you a regular knight in shining armour," Art laughed lovingly.
"Can't have my best gal getting her feet wet," Steve replied, grinning like there was no tomorrow. Art pressed a lingering kiss to his warm cheek, her eyes falling shut. Every time Steve called her his best gal, her heart fluttered and she felt just that little bit more breathless. It was a nickname he'd taken to covertly using once he had gotten used to the idea she was a woman and not a man. It had evolved from 'right hand gal' to 'best gal' somewhere along the way. The name had become progressively more affectionate, till he murmured it with such love in his voice that it made both their hearts ache. Art often lamented she had no such name to call him, though there was still a lifetime to find one for him.
Art was set back on her feet when they reached the other side of the street, which was bathed in the light of a street lamp. She immediately intertwined their fingers as they began to walk again. They strolled down the curving paths, which were illuminated by the towering lamps that dotted the walkways. Had there been more stars to gaze at, she would have tugged Steve out into one of the park's grassy expanse to stare at the twinkling lights. But contentedly strolling through the cool night air was just as fitting and relaxing. While they walked, Art lifted their clasped hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve's knuckles. She shut her eyes and let him lead her blindly, his hand still held to her mouth. Both had often reiterated the fact they were glad the other had gone into the ice with them; how lucky they were they had each other to explore a new world together. That evening had been one of the moments that reminded Art of that luck. She and Steve had fought Nazis, HYDRA agents, and aliens together. They had stormed beaches side-by-side during World War II, and they had teamed up together to eradicate the otherworldly invaders. They had been through every manner of situation together, they had run through the course of every emotion, and there was still so much more they could do.
"This birthday was one of the best I've celebrated––all because of you. Thank you, Steve," she murmured, slowly bringing their hands to hang between them. Steve squeezed her fingers and, when she looked up at him, she found that he was smiling at her gently. Both his brows arched over sparkling blue eyes.
"You're welcome. Besides, it's not every day that a girl turns ninety-two," he commented cheekily. Art snorted at the mention of her age and rolled her eyes skyward.
"You don't turn ninety-three until next month, so we're both the same age now, bozo. Besides, I think I look fantastic for ninety-two." Art pretended to preen in a self-absorbed manner, fluffing her hair and holding her nose in the air all hoity-toity-like. Steve laughed, head tilting backwards as his eyes crinkled shut.
"And I don't?"
"I thought I saw you getting wrinkles around your nose…" Art teased, narrowing her eyes up at him. Steve jutted his lower lip out and put on a sulky face; the expression didn't live long and was replaced by a laugh induced grin.
"Laugh lines, Knoll, laugh lines! You're to blame for those!" Steve shot back. Art laughed and shook her head, hair fluttering around her face and shoulders.
"Just kidding you, Rogers––there isn't an age line on your perfectly handsome face."
Just as they rounded a curve in the path, they came across a man playing saxophone under one of the lamps. The case was open at his feet and crumpled up bills from those passing by sat inside. As they approached him, Art could feel herself taking the lead as they walked; Steve had slowed down till he had completely stopped, the tug on her hand stopping her in turn. After pivoting on her heel, Art was greeted with the sight of Steve, once again, beaming in her direction. He nodded to the man playing saxophone and then inclined his head to her in a silent suggestion.
"Wanna dance?" he asked. Art's look of mild confusion shifted to become a grin, which had become his silent answer. With a tug, Steve drew Art close enough to slip place a hand at the small of her back. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gazed up at him with an infectious smile.
"I would love to," she replied softly. With that said, Steve took the initiative and started the dance. The movements were neither too slow or too fast, fitting with the song that the saxophonist was playing. Art's skirt flared out around her legs whenever they turned or spun, causing a brilliant swirl of red to cut through the air. Steve's movements were confident and decided, not nearly as timid as they had been when Art had started teaching him all of those weeks ago. Beaming up at him as they twirled, her brows pulled together in a questioning look that was marred by her smile. "Have you been practicing?"
"I have, yes," Steve confirmed with a grin. He released her waist in order to spin her around, which made her giggle and also caused his jacket to fall to the ground. With a simple flick of his foot, Steve cast the item of clothing aside, clearing their makeshift dance floor so they could continue to move.
In Art's opinion, their dance in the park beat any dane they could have shared in a forties dance hall or club. They weren't being watched or glanced at by dozens of eyes, which made the moment incredibly personal. It was everything she would have wanted out of the dance Steve had promised to have with her whilst the plane had crashed. It erased her worries of the future and the past and urged her to enjoy the moment she was in; and that was exactly what she did. Art relished the cool evening air that brushed over her arms and threaded through her hair. It was a coolness that prompted her to seek out the gentle warmth of Steve's body, which brought her close enough to him to smell the cologne he had put on before they'd left the apartment. Steve grinned down at her in response to the grin that she had been directing up at him as they twirled and moved about. In that moment it was just them. There was no threat of alien invasion to make their chests burn in panic, no world-threatening situation that made them worn out and tired. They could simply revel in each other's loving company and enjoy it. For once, they looked towards the future with eyes brighter than they had been for a year––because the future, for the first time in a long time, seemed brighter than it had once been.
Afterword: And that concludes the Avengers portion of Artie and Steve's story! I thought it was important to get in their first date, even if I didn't detail it too much––there'll be more detailed dates later on, I promise! I just think it's time to move into events that will set up and lead into Winter Soldier, my all-time-favorite Marvel film! I really hope that you all enjoyed the chapter, which I figured I should post on Artie's birthday, 'cause that's just fitting, right?
Review Replies!
grapejuice101: Winter Soldier is up next! I have so many plans and I cannot wait till you get to read them. I'm literally so excited. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
Nik1804: I've officially seen Civil War four times and I have no regrets. Each time I get another idea––or potential idea––and I find more little nuances and things I didn't notice before. Baking was totally something Artie really liked to do prior to joining the military, and I believe that there is always cookies or something of that sort in their apartment because she just has this love for making pastries and stuff. And those details really do make characters seem more realistic––they're not just heroes, archers, soldiers, inventors, former assassins, doctors etc.. They're people. I love writing those little details, it's a lot of fun. Prepare for more gooey feels regarding Bucky coming up, as he will appear sooner rather than later… :) Bucky and Art's relationship/dynamic is probably one of my favorites to write between any characters I've ever written. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Rubyia: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
weasleylover10: StArt moments are so fun to write, and getting to write almost strictly StArt moments in this chapter was an absolute blast! It was also relatively difficult because I've not had the chance to delve into their romantic dynamic, as they haven't had the chance or time to do so. I just had to keep thinking about Steve's dopey/adorable little smile. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
darck ben: I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter and hope you enjoyed this one as well! Thanks again!
heroherondaletotherescue: Artie isn't one to let hospitality/a favor go unpaid. The least she would have done is help out around the farm. I'm glad the apology scene read well! It was grueling to write, but I'm thrilled that it did what I wanted it to do (be fulfilling and cute and all that jazz). I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
GreenEcho: I will post a note when the next story is up, don't worry! I wouldn't leave you hanging. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
alexachuPEW: I am incredibly flattered that this is one of your fave Cap/OC stories! I'm always very happy when someone enjoys my stories so much to the point of considering them the favorite in a category. And I've always adored Steve and I equally adore writing him. Because there really is so much more to him than just 'the super soldier.' He's someone who struggles to adjust to modern life and fights with who he is, something many people struggle with. And in contemplating which side Artie would be on in Civil War, I can see her siding (at least for a time) with Tony. I had initially just been like 'oh, yeah, she's with Cap on this,' but then I gave it a good think. I don't think she'd be with him all the way, but, like you said, swap sides by the end of it all. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
The girl with no life: Sam and Bucky's relationship is gold and perfection and I love it to bits. I want more of them interacting in future films, because… god it was amazing. Just as she gets back to New York, she's headed off to DC, which holds many an adventure for her! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
The Redshirt who Lived: I definitely will write his reaction, 'cause that'll be priceless! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
anonymouscsifan: Both Artie and Steve struggling to be two people––themselves and heroes––will be a continuing struggle. But they've got each other, so that load will be lessened a little bit; they'll help each other out along the way. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
Jo: It's totally fine! Computers are temperamental and like to do wacky things to annoy us. They'll definitely still be working out their tensions and whatnot, but they'll be doing it in healthier ways than arguing. They really don't get a lot of time to be with each other, which was why I really wanted to have this chapter be a thing––to start exploring what their romantic dynamic is, to let them have a moment to just be themselves. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
KMB: I was definitely not letting Artie walk away from the fight without taking part of the blame for the fight. She was, afterall, the one who prompted the argument by prodding Steve. I am very, very happy that you've been enjoying the story and, in turn, Artie. I love writing her and am impossibly happy that you enjoy reading her. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Protocol9: I do plan on continuing this into Civil War, and I have started to consider what side she'll be on. I had initially just said 'she's team Cap,' but then I realized her reasoning wouldn't be that singular or sound. She's going to have an interesting stance, I think on the fight. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967: I'm glad you loved it! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!
And thank you to those that have added this story to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
Over the course of writing this chapter I started to think about what Artie's life would have been like if she hadn't gone into the ice with Steve––like how she would deal with life post-war and being inevitably discovered as a woman who had snuck into the armed ranks. How she probably would have worked with Peggy and met Jarvis and how Howard would insist they hang out on the regular… I think it would make a great AU story :)
Also, random little fun fact, Artie's prefered makeup brand is Bésame (which happens to be my favorite makeup brand). All of their makeup is authentically vintage (running from the 1910's to the 1950's) and I think that Artie' totally takes solace in their familiarity. Also, the lipstick that Peggy wears in Agent Carter is made by that brand, so, that's pretty awesome.
That's that for this portion of the story! I cannot thank all of you enough for sticking with this story! Whether it was from when I first posted the Dawn of Change, or if you stumbled on the stories whilst they were in progress––thank you! I adore writing this story, and your enthusiasm for reading the chapters and guessing what's going to happen gives me that extra dose of encouragement to keep on writing it! As I always do, I'll post a note to let you know when the next portion of the story is up so you can go on and start reading the next portion of Artie and Steve's story. Next up is the Winter Soldier… hold onto your butts, the feels are a'comin'!
~Mary