Lots of stuff going on for our team, so now it's time for a bit of a breather. We've got some nice fluff, Steve's 17th birthday, and Steve and Peggy go on their first real date that doesn't involve getting shot at.
Steve didn't wake up until that afternoon, and when he left the dorm, he found the castle was abuzz with the news about Kendall. Nearly everyone stopped him to ask about it, and it was a relief to get outside. He wasn't sure what he was going to do out there—he'd actually been headed to the kitchen, but decided he wanted to avoid the crowd between it and him more than he wanted to eat. He debated taking a walk, then headed instead for the little garage off the physical training area where his motorcycle was. Mr. Barnes had been right back when he'd offered Steve the key to his garage and the pile of scrap that slowly grew into his bike—having something to do with your hands was a good way to get your mind to settle.
He found a big rock to prop the door open and let the sunlight in, then headed for the back corner where the tool box was. The bike was running fine, but it was making a weird rattling noise. Bucky and Gabe had looked things over with him some earlier in the week, and between them they'd decided it had something to do with the spark plugs. He hadn't gotten very far into the process of inspecting them when Peggy appeared in the door.
"I thought you might be down here," she said. "Got mobbed on your way out, did you?"
Steve smiled. "Yeah. How did everyone know so fast?"
"Well, there was a battle in the staff room yesterday afternoon," she pointed out. "People are bound to wonder."
Steve nodded in agreement. "You okay?" he asked.
She nodded back. "I am. Sleeping helped. You?"
"I'm good. Kind of tired of talking about it, though," he added. He knew he wasn't done figuring out all this mess, not by a long shot, but there wasn't any rush to get it done right now.
Peggy nodded. "Lucky for you I didn't come out here to make you spill your soul."
He smiled at that. She probably needed a break from it too. "Then what'd you come out here for?"
"I came to hold you to your promise to teach me how to ride this thing. But seeing as it doesn't appear to be road-worthy at the moment…" She grabbed an empty bucket, flipped it upside down, and sat down on top of it. "Teach me how to fix it."
Steve's smile widened. "Well, you're not gonna learn anything sitting over there. Come over here and grab that little wrench on the floor."
She grinned, pulled something out of her pocket to tie her hair up, and moved over to kneel beside him. He showed her what he was doing, then turned the bike on to demonstrate the noise he was trying to fix. She listened intently, asked a couple of questions, and they got down to work. They spent the next couple of hours tinkering and talking about spark plugs and combustion chambers and engine valves and crankshafts and not thinking about Hydra or spies at all. "Beautiful," Steve said, testing the engine again when they were done. "Oh, listen to her purr." He nudged Peggy's shoulder proudly. "We'll make a mechanic out of you yet." He looked up towards the door. "I'd say we could take her out for a spin, but it'll be dark soon. May have to save your driving lesson for another day."
"There's one more day in the weekend," Peggy pointed out. "Sunday afternoon drive?"
"Sounds good," he replied.
She stood up and started picking up the tools she'd been using. "What?" she asked, looking back at him.
Steve realized he was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. Framed in the doorway, she was outlined with a ring of light from the setting sun. Her dark hair was glowing gold, flyaway strands that had escaped the hair tie creating a shining halo around her face. She was covered in dirt and sweat and engine oil and she was absolutely breath-taking. Steve stepped forward and brushed her cheek gently with his fingers before sliding his hand around and cupping the back of her head, pulling her forward gently to kiss her.
She was smiling up at him softly when he pulled away. "What was that for?"
"Because I love you," he said happily. "That's all."
Her smile widened, warmth dancing in her hazel eyes. "Well, in that case…" She went up on her toes and nuzzled her nose against his. "I love you too." She kissed him softly. "So very much."
He barely even noticed the attention of the crowd when they went in to dinner.
They ate dinner over the Slytherin table with Monty and his girlfriend, Reinette. Bucky was over at the Ravenclaw table, and it looked like he was explaining to Vicki and Becky what had really happened in the castle, and the two of them were alternating between being angry and worried, and neither one at the same time. Jim and Gabe were not helping, just watching. That was a conversation Steve was very glad not to be in the middle of.
Though spending the evening with Peggy was an inviting prospect, just because they'd caught a Hydra spy didn't mean they didn't have exams on Monday. Steve walked her up to Gryffindor Tower, then took the back way back down to his dorm, avoiding the curious attention of his schoolmates. He got cleaned up and headed for the common room, which was thankfully nearly empty, taking his stack of books and dropping down into one of the nice chairs.
"Weekend you've had, you'd think they'd be gracious about the homework," came a voice from beside him. He turned to see Donovan standing there, his own pile of books in hand. "Don't worry," he said with a smile, dropping into one of the other chairs. "I'm not going to ask you to tell me all about it."
"Thanks," Steve replied. "It seems like it's all anyone wants to know about."
"Well, sure," Donovan agreed, digging in his school bag for a piece of parchment. "Off-campus missions aside, it's got to be the most exciting thing going on around here all year. Me…" He shrugged. "I figure he's a traitor and he's out the way now, and that's good enough for me. I've got enough excitement in my life as it is. And I didn't much like him anyway," he added with a smirk.
Steve laughed at that. "Oh, I hear you on that. Although, it would seem the feeling was mutual on his part."
"Doesn't surprise me at all. Although, evil geniuses and espionage aside, you think we're still having a Potions exam?"
"Probably," Steve sighed. "Phillips has a lot to handle with all this, but he's efficient. I bet he's got, like, three subs lined up already."
"Yeah," Donovan agreed.
They worked in companionable silence for a while, occasionally asking a question like how to spell something or what the correct ratio of lacewings to dried vanilla pods was for a sleeping potion. The common room was starting to fill up as the evening went on, but aside from the occasional congratulations or asking if, after the events of the weekend, he was okay, people mostly left Steve alone. He really appreciated that about Hufflepuff. It hadn't taken him long to feel at home here after he'd first arrived, and though he knew some people better than others, everyone seemed to want to make sure all the rest of them were doing alright.
"Right," Donovan said, standing up and scooping up his pile of books. "Think I'll finish up in my room—that lot's about to start practicing disarming spells," he added, nodding at a knot of Second-Years in the corner. "That's about it for the peace and quiet, I reckon," he said with a smile.
He left for his room, and after a few minutes of the Second-Years' dueling, Steve decided to follow his example. He realized as he picked up his books that after these exams, Donovan would be leaving school. As far as the 107th was concerned, Colin would take over, and Colin was great—Steve didn't have any reservations about that. He'd just really come to appreciate Donovan's steady, reassuring nature. Steve had been working with him on these missions for a year and a half now. He was going to miss him.
Once he got to his room, the quiet and the fact that Steve was still exhausted after everything with Kendall made it difficult to focus much on his homework. He startled abruptly when the door shut, jerking up from where he'd apparently been laying down on the bed and knocking his Herbology book to the floor.
"Working hard, huh?" Bucky said from where he stood by the door with wet hair and a towel around his waist.
"I wasn't sleeping," Steve said automatically.
Bucky snorted. "What, so, when I came in here earlier to get my stuff for the shower, you were lying facedown in the book so you could see the words better?"
"Shut up," Steve complained, sitting up and stretching. He bent over and picked up the book, dropping it into his bag. It would seem that was as far as he was getting tonight. "At least I got some studying done. What have you been doing all evening?"
"Putting out fires," Bucky said from behind the closet door. The towel flew up to hang over the door and he reappeared in his pajama pants, shirt in one hand. He scratched absently at his left shoulder—the scars from where the siren had bitten him last year had healed more neatly than Rains had originally thought they would, but they hadn't vanished entirely, and what was there sometimes still itched and bothered him. "You would think," Bucky said conversationally as he slipped his shirt over his head and smoothed his hair back down. "That I might get some sympathy for having my memory erased. But certain little sisters and girlfriends of mine seem to think that I should have been more forthcoming with that information."
"They were mad you didn't tell them?" Given the circumstances, that seemed a little unfair.
"Well, yes and no," Bucky amended. "Given the fact that I could have gotten killed, I did get a lot of sympathy for that. But they were both a little huffy about the fact that I did not trust them enough to tell them the truth."
"You didn't tell them because Phillips told you not to," Steve pointed out.
"Yes, and I said that," Bucky said. He sighed. "I don't think they were actually mad, just…It's been a weird week for everybody. But we got it all smoothed out."
"Good."
Though it was earlier than they both usually went to bed, they were both tired, and so, after talking a little longer, they both went to sleep. Steve's dreams were like a fast-forwarded version of their missions, as though now that he wasn't under the influence of a sleeping potion, his brain wanted to sort through everything Kendall had brought up the night before. He woke up with a gasp to see Bucky leaning over him in the pre-dawn light, one hand on his shoulder.
"You okay, Stevie?" he asked.
Steve realized he was sweating and he'd been breathing hard, but he nodded. "Yeah," he said, feeling his breathing and his heart rate start to slow back down. "Just a bad dream."
"Zwart?" Bucky guessed.
"Yeah," Steve nodded. Once he'd gotten all of Zwart's drugs out of his system, he'd only had the occasional nightmare about his time locked up in the Hydra officer's house. But of all the missions Kendall had brought up, that one was still pretty fresh in his mind, so he didn't suppose it was unusual that this would bring them back.
"Wanna talk about it?" Bucky offered.
Steve sat up and twisted his torso, turning until he felt a satisfying pop in his spine. One of the things Zwart had tried to get him to talk had involved some sort of potion injected directly into his spinal column—something about getting it into his brain more efficiently with the nerves or…something. It had hurt too much for Steve to really pay attention. "Nah, I'm alright," he replied. That was what he'd been dreaming about, but he'd cracked the ghost of the feeling out of his back now, and he felt okay. He smiled up at Bucky. "Thanks. Sorry I woke you up."
"Don't worry about it." Bucky looked him over, seemed to decide he believed him when he said he was okay, and patted him on the shoulder. Steve yawned and Bucky smiled. "That's right," he said. "Go back to sleep." He nodded at the faint light coming through the window. "It's way too early for you to be getting up."
Steve smiled and shifted back down into a more comfortable position as Bucky crossed back to his own bed. He was tired.
He met Peggy at breakfast the next morning, and they decided to change their afternoon drive to a morning one since it was so nice out. They headed down to the little garage and spent a while sorting through the meager selection of helmets available. Steve already had one, but they weren't going anywhere until Peggy had one too.
"Look, let's just use this one," Peggy said, drawing his attention away from considering the ones he had laid out.
"It's too big," he protested.
"Yes, but…" She tapped it with her wand and it grew smaller. She placed it on her head, adjusted the strap, then tapped it one more time. "Perfect fit," she said with a smile.
"Right," Steve agreed, feeling his cheeks go a little pink. It hadn't occurred to him to use magic as an option for shrinking it.
He wheeled the bike outside and popped down the kickstand. Peggy got up on it, shifting a bit to get comfortable, and he pointed out where everything was. Once she seemed confident, he had her kick the stand back up and start the engine.
"Alright, give it a shot," he said.
"You're not coming?" she asked.
"You should figure out how to balance by yourself before you add me into it," he told her. "I'm kind of heavy."
She grinned, clearly pleased at the idea of taking it out herself. She revved the engine and took off with more gusto than Steve had the first time he'd tried it and Steve laughed. He watched her until she was out of sight, then sat down on the grass to wait for her. She was just going down the trail to the lake and back.
About ten minutes later, the sound of the engine came up over the hill, and then she was pulling into a mostly steady stop in front of him. "I love this thing!" she declared happily.
Steve grinned. "That's great!" He looked at the streak of dirt running the length of her right leg. "Did you fall over?"
"Just once," she said, waving the comment away and making a half-hearted attempt to brush off the dirt. "I did like you said, I rolled away from the bike when I came off. You're right, the balance is a bit tricky. But I think I've got it. Can we go for a proper drive now?"
"Sure," he told her. It was kind of weird climbing onto the back of the bike, and it took him a second to figure out where to put his legs so they weren't in her way. It was nice wrapping his arms around her waist though, and holding her so closely.
They took off toward the main gate and the road that led to Hogsmeade. He instructed her to branch off where the road forked before they got into town, taking them out into the countryside. At first, Steve sat very stiffly, trying to move as little possible so he didn't affect her steering, but he relaxed as he felt her gain more comfortable control of the machine. It was nice out here—the sun was warm and the air was clear, and this was really why he liked to come out and ride. It was nice to get out of the school gates, to get out into the world and just enjoy it instead of having to fight someone. And it was…There was something that felt really good about being able to share it with Peggy.
They drove for an hour or so, Steve pointing out the places to turn that kept them in a slow loop around Hogsmeade, but otherwise they didn't talk. Just a mile out from town, Peggy had to stop and swerve abruptly to try to avoid a rabbit that ran out into the road. She probably would have been able to correct if it was just her, but Steve's weight along with hers was enough to put the bike into a fall. Steve rolled away from the bike, proud that she remembered how he'd shown her to take a fall as she rolled away too, although the elbow to his gut when she landed on top of him, he could have done without.
"Sorry," she said, hopping back up. "Are you alright?"
"I'm good," he said, rubbing his offended midsection. They hadn't been going at great speed, and had landed in the grass. No harm done to either of them, or to the bike, which had slid into a bush. The rabbit was sitting in the middle of the road staring at them.
"Sorry," she said again, looking embarrassed.
"It happens," he told her. "I nearly ran into a deer out here once. Sorry, I should have mentioned there was wildlife to look out for."
"I'm a country girl, remember? I'm aware that animals live in the woods," she told him with a smirk. She picked up the bike, then glared at the rabbit, which was still sitting there. "You could get out of the way, you know. You get run over sitting there, you've got no one but yourself to blame."
She leaned the bike towards Steve, offering him the handlebars. "You done?" he asked her.
She shrugged, her cheeks going faintly pink. "Well, I just crashed your bike, so…"
"So, get back on and try again," he told her. He wasn't mad that she'd crashed it.
She smiled and got back on, and he climbed on behind her. The noise of the engine restarting was enough to send the rabbit scampering into the bushes, and they continued their journey towards town.
They came to a stop outside of the Three Broomsticks. "You want some lunch?" Steve asked, nodding to the pub. "My treat. Last time we were on this thing, I did tell you I'd bring you down here on a date sometime."
"Hopefully it will less eventful than our last date," she said with a smile, hopping off the bike and extending her arm so he could take it.
Steve still didn't like to joke about the time she got shot, but, even with that aside, the mission in Paris had been pretty eventful. He smiled and took her arm and they went inside.
They sat at a table by the window, and Steve felt a little self-conscious when he realized how dirty they were from the dust on the road and the crash, but no one else seemed to mind. It was less crowded than when they used to come down for Hogsmeade weekends, but there were still enough people around to watch. They commented on some of the more garish robe choices, speculated about a suspicious-looking bunch of men playing cards off in one corner, and spotted a couple of Aurors they recognized from work. They didn't want to talk about work, though, or classes, so they talked about Quidditch, compared notes on some of the gossip around school, and talked about the mystery novel Peggy had insisted Steve read.
"I still don't buy that you saw that twist coming," Steve protested. "The narrator was the murderer? That's just…That's just cheating. Why would it occur to anyone to suspect him?"
"That's the beauty of it," she argued, reaching over and stealing a french fry off his plate. "She's playing with the rules of the genre, but she's not actually broken any of them. The narrator just gave us the same story he gave the police, which is quite clever when you think about it. Did you really not like it?"
"No, it was really good," Steve said. He and his ma had always listened to the whodunits on the radio, but he'd never been much of one for mystery novels before. Peggy devoured them, though, and he'd picked up a couple at her recommendation. They were pretty good. "I liked it, I'm just annoyed. You know how hard I was thinking trying to figure out which of the characters did it?"
"Your problem is, you're too trusting," she said, taking another fry and pointing at him with it for emphasis. "Just because the narrator was telling us the story, it doesn't mean we should trust him."
"And your problem is, you're too suspicious," he countered. "The narrator is in a position of responsibility, and we should be able to trust him."
"Most of the time, sure," she agreed. "That's what makes a twist like this one so clever. It wouldn't work if everyone did it."
"It was a good twist," he admitted. "And once he confessed, it all fit in so well. Stop eating my french fries."
"But they're good," she protested, picking up another one.
"But they're mine," he countered. "You already ate all of yours."
Very slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole time, she reached over and grabbed another one and stuck it in her mouth. Steve narrowed his eyes and slid his plate farther away. "You think they're safe over there?" she asked.
"Safer," he allowed. "You can't reach them now."
"Who says I need to be able to reach them?" she asked. Before Steve could ask what she meant, she opened her eyes wider and batted her eyelashes softly, sticking her lower lip out in just a hint of a pout.
"Stop that," Steve told her. She blinked sadly. "Stop it. Oh, come on, that's not—" He looked down at his plate but it was like he could still feel her making that face at him. "That's not fair," he muttered, shoving the plate back to where she could reach it.
She laughed, grabbed a handful of fries and dropped them on her plate, then leaned across the table and kissed his nose. "Thank you," she said, still smiling. "You are sweet."
After they finished eating, they walked up and down the main street for a while, looking in all the windows and popping into a few of the stores. Peggy picked up a few things from the apothecary to refill some of her dwindling potion supplies, then they headed back to the bike.
"You want to drive home?" Steve asked.
"No, you go on," Peggy said, hopping up onto the back. "You haven't had a turn yet." Steve climbed onto the bike and she slid forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and nestling her chin into his shoulder. "Besides, riding in the back has its perks."
It was a short ride up to school, and though an afternoon by the lake sounded inviting, there was still studying to do. "Hang on," Peggy said, stopping before heading for the stairs up to her dorm. "I got you something."
She pushed a little box into his hands, and Steve opened it to see his favorite fudge from Honeyduke's. "Hey, wow, thanks!"
"You're welcome. I had a lovely time today."
"Wait, you got me this to say thanks for taking you out? Peggy, you didn't have to do that."
"No, that's not why I got it." She went up on her toes and kissed him soundly. "That is to say thank you for taking me out today. That," she went on, pointing at the fudge. "Is just because I felt like it. And because I ate so many of your chips."
Steve laughed at that. "Well, thank you. Wait, when did you…I was in the store with you, when did you get this?"
She laughed. "I'm a special agent," she told him proudly. "I'm supposed to be sneaky."
Steve laughed and pulled her close against him and kissed her again. "Thank you," he said again. "I had a great time with you today."
"So did I," she replied. "Can we do it again some time?"
"It's a date," he said.
Exams started the next morning—Phillips did have someone to cover Potions—and though everyone was up late every night studying, they seemed to be over just as soon as they started, and everyone headed for home.
The first few days at home were quiet, everyone just relaxing and catching up on their rest, though Steve couldn't help but get a little bit excited about his birthday coming up. Even though he was the Captain, he was the youngest one on the team, and he was ready to catch up and be a legal adult like the rest of them. And seventeen was a big birthday and it meant a party with lots of delicious food, and he was really looking forward to that too.
On the morning of his birthday, Steve woke up feeling like someone was looking at him, and when he opened his eyes, Becky's face was about six inches away from his, staring at him intently. He startled and jumped back and she giggled and stood up from where she'd been kneeling on the floor next to the bed. "Good morning," she said. "Me and Mama made you birthday pancakes. You should get up and come eat them."
Since there was usually a neighborhood cookout on the Fourth of July, they did a celebratory lunch for Steve's birthday earlier in the day instead of a dinner. Mrs. Barnes baked his favorite, a strawberry pie, and the Kowalskis and Mrs. O'Brien came and brought food and they had a party. Unlike Bucky earlier in the year, Steve had remembered as soon as he'd woken up that he was allowed to do magic now, and when Mr. Kowalski asked him what he had done first, everyone laughed when he replied that he'd levitated a pillow and thrown it at Bucky's face to wake him up for breakfast.
The Kowalskis gave him one of those nice telescopes like Bucky had gotten for his birthday. Mrs. O'Brien gave him a pair of leather gloves that she had made, and while they were very nice, they looked kind of big. "Try them on, dear," she chuckled.
Steve slid them on and gaped as they shifted and molded themselves perfectly to his hands.
"Perfect fit," she said with a smile. "Waterproof too, and sturdy. That leather won't crack or wear thin. Just the thing to protect those hands of yours when you're out doing whatever those dangerous things are that you do."
Steve smiled. "Thank you."
Mr. and Mrs. Barnes gave him a long, flat wooden box, the insides lined with felt and divided into sections containing a staggering variety of pencils, inks, brushes, pens, pastels and sticks of charcoal, all of much nicer quality than Steve could usually afford.
From Bucky, there was a new toolkit, everything he would need to work on his bike made out of metal infused with a charm that would keep each tool from dulling or breaking.
Becky gave him a little light in a box, like the one she had made for Bucky. "I love you, Steve," she said, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Happy birthday."
After the party had cleared up, it was time to get things ready for the cookout, but Mrs. Barnes brought him a couple of things that had arrived in the mail for him. The first was a gift from Peggy. She'd sent him a compass, small and compact, that would fit perfectly on the belt of his uniform. It carried a charm so that, instead of pointing north, it pointed to where you were trying to go.
The other was a letter from the S.S.R., like the one Bucky had gotten, informing him of the increase in pay he would be receiving to reflect the fact that he was an adult now. He'd half been expecting that. What he hadn't been expecting were the two silver Captain's bars that fell out of the envelope into his hand. Yeah, he was the team leader, and yeah, Bucky had gotten an official promotion to Sergeant when he turned seventeen, but Captain was just so…He shook his head. Wow. He sat there for a while, just staring at them. Having the nickname was one thing, but actually being a Captain now…That was a huge honor. He hoped he could live up to it.
"Congratulations, Stevie," Bucky said from behind him. He was smiling at him proudly. "You deserve it."
The rest of the day was filled with holiday celebrations and evening fireworks. Steve and Bucky sat up on the roof for a long time, watching the lights exploding across the sky until the last of the colors faded. They went inside then, and Steve went to tidy some of his things up while Bucky went and took a shower. There was a knock on the door, and Steve looked up from placing his new gloves in his school trunk to see Mrs. Barnes standing in the doorway.
"I hope you've had a good birthday, dear," she said.
"Yes, Ma'am," Steve replied. "Thank you again for the party, and the gift and everything. It was great."
"I'm glad," she said. "There, ah, there was one more gift for you," she said, pulling a small, flat box out of the pocket of her cardigan. "I thought you might not want the attention of the whole room when you opened it." She held the box out. "It's from your mother."
Steve's breath caught in his throat. "My ma?" he rasped, reaching forward gingerly to accept the box.
Mrs. Barnes nodded. "While she was in the hospital, she…Before you got there, she asked me…" She seemed a little lost for words. "Why don't you just open it?" she said, smiling gently.
Steve looked down and carefully unfolded the piece of paper taped to the top of the box. Moisture sprang to his eyes when he saw the words written there in familiar, gracefully curving letters. They were a little less neat than they should have been—she had already been sick when she wrote this, and her hand must have been shaking. But it was his ma's handwriting.
'My dear Steve,' it said. 'I can't believe you're already seventeen. It seems like only yesterday you were a tiny little baby, curled up asleep in my arms. I've thought about this day for a long time, and I'm so sorry I can't be there to celebrate it with you, sweetheart. I hope it was wonderful, and I hope you know how much you are loved. I don't know what sort of things you're doing now, or what the past few years of your life have been like, and it breaks my heart to have to miss it all, but, Steve, whatever it is you're doing, I know that you have grown into a kind, wonderful, strong young man. I am so very proud of you. So proud. I love you so much, baby, and even though I'm not there with you anymore, that isn't going to change. Happy seventeenth birthday, Steve. All my love, forever and ever, Mama.'
Steve sniffed and dashed the tears from his eyes. Those were the last words his ma had said to him in the hospital too, that she loved him. Carefully, he peeled up the tape holding the note down and laid the letter reverently on top of his dresser.
The box in his hands was old, battered on the corners, and whatever color it may have once been, it was now a dull gray. The top stuck a little bit before sliding off. Folded up inside was a faded piece of green silk, and nestled in the middle was a silver hunter-case watch. The outer edge of the cover was engraved with a thin ring of tiny interlocking Celtic knots, though it was so scuffed that some of the design had worn away. Steve picked it up carefully, setting the box down by the letter. Despite the battered edges, the watch felt smooth, cool and heavy in his palm. It opened easily, and time stopped completely, the world dead silent, as Steve read the name carved in simple, elegant letters on the inside of the case.
"Grant Rogers," he breathed, once he finally remembered how. "This was…" He looked up at Mrs. Barnes. "This was my dad's?"
She nodded.
Steve looked back down at the watch. This had belonged to his father. It had sat in his father's hand just the way it was sitting in his. He ghosted two fingers across the name carved there. His dad had touched this, held it in his hands, wound it and set it. He'd carried it into battle, keeping time as he fought in the trenches, and it got scratched and scarred right along with him, and kept going just like he did. Down by the hinge, a tiny dark spot marred the otherwise smooth silver interior. It looked like old, dried glue, and Steve could imagine his father placing a picture of his mother inside before he left for the war. His father. This was his father's.
"This was my dad's," he said again, all he could say.
"I hope you don't mind that we waited to give it to you," Mrs. Barnes said. "Your mother asked me to save it for—"
That was as far as she got before Steve stepped forward and flung his arms around her. She hugged him back warmly, tucking his head in against her neck as he cried into her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. He was so happy, so sad, so overwhelmed that it hurt, and there was so much he should say and nothing at all he could say. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she whispered back. She hugged him closer, cradling his head with one hand and kissing the side of his face. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."
Aaaw. Something nice and sweet, because these guys deserve to have things go easy for a little while.
In case you were wondering what book Steve and Peggy were discussing, it's Agatha Christie's (SPOILER WARNING for a 94-year-old book) The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. My reaction to the twist was the same as Steve's.
I'd love to hear what you're thinking so far! See you Monday!