July 4th, 1948
In which it is Steve's birthday.
(This one was originally published separately as "July 4th, 1948", but this is where it falls into the larger story.)
Steve woke up as the mattress shifted beside him, and he opened his eyes to see Peggy sitting up. "Hey," he said.
"Good morning," she told him. "No, no, don't get up," she said, leaning in to kiss him as he started to sit up too. "Sorry; I was trying to get up without waking you. I was going to make you breakfast in bed."
Steve smiled. "Peggy, you don't have to do that."
"It's your birthday," she said with a smile. "Of course you should get breakfast in bed." She arched a cheeky eyebrow. "You were in the wrong century for my birthday this year, so you get a pass, but I expect my own breakfast in bed come April 9th."
Steve chuckled. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Good answer, soldier," Peggy replied. She kissed him again, then moved away to the dressing table, sliding on her bathrobe and running a brush through her hair. Steve watched her with a sleepy smile. He loved the way the light caught the shimmery fabric of her robe, the graceful movement of her fingers as she took the pins out of her hair, and the way her lips curved up in a soft smile as she hummed quietly to herself.
Peggy caught his eye in the mirror and smiled warmly. "Go back to sleep, darling," she said, standing up and coming over to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll wake you when breakfast is ready."
She drifted out the door and down the stairs, and Steve smiled to himself and shut his eyes. He didn't fall back asleep, but he allowed himself to drift off, reveling as he still did in the fact that he was actually here with her.
He opened his eyes at the clink of dishes to see Peggy setting a tray down on the mattress beside him. "Not many people can sneak up on me, you know," he told her with a smile. He hadn't heard her come back in.
She grinned. "I am a professional spy," she said. "One would hope I'm a bit stealthier than most." She patted his shoulder consolingly. "You'll catch me at it one day."
Steve laughed and sat up. "Wow, this looks great," he said. The tray contained a large stack of pancakes, butter and syrup, a plate of bacon, and a bowl of fruit. There were two cups of tea, but only one plate of everything. "Aren't you going to eat too?" he asked.
She grinned, pulled a fork out of the pocket of her robe, and took a bite of one of the pancakes. "I thought we could share."
They ate their meal together, careful not to spill anything on the sheets, talking and enjoying taking the morning slowly. "I know the office is closed for the holiday," Peggy said. "But I have keys, and I was thinking we could go in and go up to the roof to watch the fireworks tonight. It's high enough, it should give us a lovely view all the way out to the Statue of Liberty."
"That sounds nice," Steve said. He chuckled. "We used to watch the fireworks from the roof of our building when I was a kid. My ma always said they did the fireworks for me, for my birthday." He blushed a little. "I was older than I care to admit when I realized that wasn't actually the case."
Peggy laughed. "Well, I think by this point, you've certainly earned your own firework display."
They finished the meal, and Peggy got up to take the dishes downstairs. "No," she said. "I refuse to let you do the dishes on your birthday. Go on and get dressed, and I shall take care of them."
She went downstairs again, and Steve moved into the bathroom to shave. He was only halfway dressed when music started floating up the stairs, and he paused. He…Wait a minute, he knew that song! "Peggy?" he called down the stairs curiously. There was no reply except for the painfully familiar lyrics asking, 'Who's strong and brave, here to save the American way?'
He hurried down the stairs and into the living room, empty but for the record player merrily singing, 'Who's here to fight like a man for what's right night and day?' He quickly turned the record player off and heard a mischievous giggle behind him.
"Where in the world did you get that?" Steve asked, turning around to see Peggy standing in the doorway. He hadn't even known they'd made records of that song.
Instead of answering him, she just smirked. "Who will campaign door to door for America?" she continued with the song.
"Stop that," he said, not quite able to stop himself from smiling as he took a step toward her.
"Carry the flag shore to shore for America?" she kept singing, dancing out of his reach with a laugh.
"Peggy!" he complained, laughing as he moved after her.
"From Hoboken to Spokane!" she sang gleefully, running up the stairs. He ran after her, not quite as fast as he otherwise might have done, he was laughing so hard. She ducked back into their bedroom and he darted after her, finally catching her and looping an arm around her waist. "The Star-Spangled Maaan—oof!" She broke her rhythm slightly as he tackled her onto the mattress, but she continued, undaunted. "Wiiith a plaaaaan!"
Still laughing, Steve leaned down and planted his lips on hers, kissing her long and deep.
"Well," she said with a grin when he pulled away. "That's one way to stop me singing. Was I really as bad as all that?"
"How do you even know that song?" he asked. "You were off doing S.S.R. stuff while I was doing, you know, that."
Peggy smirked. "A girl's got to have her secrets." She laughed as he kissed her again and twitched his fingers against her ticklish spot. "Darling, everyone knew that song. They played it on the radio."
Steve's eyes went wide. "Really?"
Peggy laughed. "They did. They never really sold records of it, but, of course, Howard had one. I borrowed it."
Steve couldn't help laughing, even though he was pretty sure he was blushing. "You know, that was one of the good things about waking up in the year 2012. Nobody knew that song. I thought I finally escaped it."
"Never," Peggy chuckled, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Besides, it seemed more appropriate than just singing 'Happy Birthday'."
"You're going to do this on my birthday every year, aren't you?" he sighed.
Her grin widened. "Definitely."
"It's a good thing I love you," he said, as sternly as he could muster, which wasn't much.
"I don't suppose if I put the record back on, I could convince you to do the dance?"
"No, you could not," Steve said. "Besides, it was the girls who danced, not me."
Peggy laughed, kissed him soundly, then rolled out from under him and moved to get dressed. He was forbidden from doing any of his usual household chores today, but Peggy did allow him to take the new toolkit she had gotten him as a gift out to the garage to work on his motorcycle while she made him a cake, since that was more enjoyable than it was a chore. He spent a couple of hours happily tinkering on the machine and most definitely not humming 'The Star-Spangled Man' to himself.
"Don't think I didn't hear that," Peggy said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, smiling.
"It's just stuck in my head," Steve complained. He pointed his screwdriver at her accusingly. "It's your fault."
She laughed and moved into the garage, perching on the seat of the motorcycle. "You can admit you really like the song," she said. "I won't tell anyone."
"Never," he insisted. He grinned, bent down like he was going to pick his tools up, then grabbed the underside of the motorcycle and hoisted it up above his head just like he used to do in the show, though he was sure to balance it carefully since Peggy wasn't expecting the move.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, letting out a squeak of surprise. Then she laughed, twisting around to look down at him. "Showing off a bit, are we?"
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to reenact the Star-Spangled Show," he told her with a smirk.
"I suppose I did ask for it," she said. "But put me down now so we can have lunch."
Steve lowered the motorcycle back to the floor, tilting it so that if she fell, she would fall against him.
"That was slightly less graceful than going up," she said once she was back on the ground.
"We always did that part after the curtain went down," he explained, and she laughed.
Lunch was accompanied by a chocolate cake with strawberries on top, as well as two candles shaped like the numbers three and eight. "I contemplated putting one hundred and five candles on top," Peggy said as she set the cake down. "But I think it would have melted the icing off."
"You think you're very funny, don't you?" Steve said.
"Oh, I know I'm very funny," she said with a smile. "No, no, wait! Don't blow the candles out yet. I want to take a picture." Steve felt a little silly sitting there and smiling alone with his cake while Peggy took a photo, but at the same time, the smile was truly happy and genuine because it was just such a normal thing to do. He thought the last time he might have done that was for his eighteenth birthday.
The cake was delicious, and Steve enjoyed the fresh-cut strawberries on top, which he knew Peggy knew were his favorite. Perhaps because it was his birthday, she merely arched an eyebrow instead of complaining when he stole one of the strawberries from off the top of her slice.
"How was it?" Peggy asked when they were done. "It's been rather a long time since I've baked anything."
"It was great," Steve said. "Really delicious." He pointed to her mouth. "You've got a little bit of icing right there, though."
"Oh," she said, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin.
"Nope, it's still there," Steve said. She wiped her mouth again and he grinned. "I'll get it," he said, then leaned in and kissed her.
"Cheeky," she said, but she kissed him back.
"Thank you," he said, sitting back in his chair. "This was all great."
"I'm glad," she said. "I've got another gift for you, though."
"Oh, Peggy, you didn't have to do that," he said. He knew the tool kit she'd gotten him hadn't exactly been cheap.
"This one isn't going to break the bank," she said, handing him a small package wrapped in blue paper. "And it's sort of for me, as well."
Curious, he pulled the paper off to reveal a small paperback version of Agatha Christie's newest book, There Comes A Tide. "Oh, wow, thanks!" he said. "You want to read it with me?"
"That's sort of why I got it," Peggy said with a smile. She let him help her clean up the lunch dishes, then they settled down onto the couch in the living room with two cups of tea and a plate of crackers. Steve stretched out across the couch and Peggy lay down alongside him, snuggling against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her and picked up the book. It was a habit they'd fallen into on sleepy afternoons and rainy Sundays, just cuddling together and taking turns reading a book aloud, and it had become one of Steve's favorite things almost right away.
They spent the afternoon reading their way through the mystery of the Cloade family and their inheritance, though there was a point in the middle where they both drifted off a little in a lazy summer afternoon nap.
"I still haven't gotten used to waking up with your arms around me," Peggy said sleepily, turning a little to kiss the side of his nose. "It's completely wonderful, and I hope I never start taking it for granted."
Steve smiled and hugged her a little tighter, and they just lay there for a while before going on with the book.
As evening came, Peggy shooed him out of the kitchen while she packed some things in a picnic basket, then they got into the car and headed for Peggy's office. They hurried through the empty building and up to the roof where they unfurled a blanket and set the basket down.
Dinner was sandwiches of various sorts, fruit, chips and Peggy's special spicy popcorn. "For drinks," Peggy said. "Coca-Cola, which I thought would be properly American."
Steve chuckled. "You seem much more into the 4th of July these days than I remember during the war. I seem to recall you and Monty having your own celebration in one corner of the mess hall to celebrate getting rid of a bunch of ungrateful colonists."
Peggy snorted and almost spat her Coke out. "I'd forgotten about that," she said with a grin. "In fairness, in the face of such overwhelming American-ness, we did feel the need to band together and reassert our roots from time to time."
Steve smiled. "So, what changed your mind, then?"
"I never said I changed it," Peggy told him with a grin, reaching over and stealing one of his grapes. "But I do have a certain soft spot for the date." She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder, staring up at him in a way that made him forget how to breathe. "All things considered," she finished with a warm smile.
Dusk was falling as they got to dessert, which was a pie Peggy pulled proudly from the basket, presenting Steve with a slice dripping with sugary strawberry goodness.
"When did you make all of this?" Steve asked in awe, swiping a finger through the puddle of filling oozing from one side of his pie and licking it.
"Just because you do all the cooking doesn't mean I can't," Peggy replied, cutting herself a slice. "I made everything while you were in the garage and I was already doing the cake." She popped a strawberry into her mouth and grinned at him. "You'll find I'm terribly efficient."
The pie was delicious, and Steve ate three slices. It was well and truly dark now, so they packed up the dishes by the light of the streetlamps coming on below them, then settled back against the wall to wait for the show. Peggy leaned in against his side, snuggling under his arm.
It started with a single red burst of sparks lighting up the night. Soon the darkness was ablaze with flashes of red, white and blue, with the occasional burst of gold thrown in for good measure. Happy memories from Steve's childhood flashed through his head along with the lights, of nights on the roof of their apartment watching the lights, him sitting in his ma's lap when he was little, or leaning out on the edge of the fire escape with Bucky when he got older. He looked down at Peggy, brilliant blues and reds reflecting across her skin, and she looked so happy and peaceful. Steve tugged his arm tighter around her and leaned down to kiss her.
"I love you," he told her, leaning his forehead against hers.
"I love you too," she said. She kissed him again. "Happy birthday, darling."