Stories of war – Steve Rogers
I was sitting in a small café with my old notebook in front of me, tidying up the war stories of my father for a special World War Two novel that I was going to be writing soon. It made me sad, knowing I wouldn't be able to talk with him again; he died last month from an old war injury that kept flaring up. I sighed softly before looking up as someone came over to me. I blinked in shock when I realised it was captain America.
"Sorry to intrude ma'am, but you remind me of an old friend." He said, making me smile.
"Oh? And what was this friend's name?" I asked, being polite.
"He was called Ben Tanner, but I haven't seen him in years. We used to work together."
"You worked with my father? During the war?" I asked, looking at him in shock; making realisation appear over his expression.
"Yes! That's why you looked so familiar, you look exactly like he did when he was younger." Steve sat in the seat opposite me and I smiled sadly at him.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but my father passed away last month from an old war injury." I said quietly, making his smile fall.
"I apologise Miss Tanner, I did not mean to bring up sad memories." I waved my hand at him with a small smile.
"It's fine, it's not like I'm not surrounded by reminders of him. I have a collection of all of his war stories, one stating that he had a friend called Steve Rogers; or perhaps better known now as Captain America."
"He told stories of me?" Steve questioned, looking slightly touched by what I'd just said. I nodded and turned the notebook so it was facing him the right way up. He gingerly took it and scanned over a couple of the pages. "Would your name be Samantha by any chance?" he asked, looking over at me. I smiled and nodded. "Your novels are perhaps the only true accounts of what happened in the war. It's nice to read them as they do not lie."
"Most of the accounts were from my father. He used to sit with me every Sunday night and tell me his memories and experiences in the war." I replied softly, letting my mind drift back to the last time I was with him telling stories. I blinked back the sudden wave of tears and cleared my throat lightly as I found Steve looking at me. "If you wouldn't mind, could I have some of your stories too? They'd be incorporated into my new book."
Steve smiled and slid the notebook back over to me and sat back in the seat a little more before beginning to tell me his recount of the war, including his transformation into a super soldier.
/
Steve and I had spent a good couple of hours talking in the café and I found my fondness towards him growing with every word he spoke. My hand began to cramp from the amount of writing I had been doing by taking notes and put down my pen, trying to rub the cramp out; making Steve's attention zone in on my sore hand.
"Sorry, I tend to immerse myself in the memories sometimes." He smiled apologetically at me before reaching over and taking my hand in his, gently massaging the cramp out with his fingers. The muscles in my hand started to relax again and I felt myself blush, making me look down at the table top shyly.
"Thank you for sharing it with me Steve, it actually means a lot."
"Would you mind if we do this again sometime?" he asked almost shyly. "As a dinner instead of coffee." He elaborated, making me blush lightly as I realised he still had a hold of my hand.
"I would love to." I smiled.