Many thanks to Aublanc, my beta for this story.

Title: Decoration Day

Prompt: "Musical Cues: Fanfare for the Common Man by Aaron Copland" and "Write a Holiday Story."

Warnings: N/A

When Steve woke up that morning, he knew the Tower was…different. Everything seemed more muted; subdued in a way that was the antithesis of everything Tony Stark. The lights on his floor were dimmed, and black and white photographs were tucked away in every corner—pictures that were almost eerily familiar, but that he'd never seen before.

And the Tower was never this quiet. If Tony wasn't blasting rock music throughout the building, the television was often playing or the percussive notes of combat training echoed through the vents. But today there wasn't so much as a whisper. It made him nervous.

"JARVIS," he whispered. "What's going on?"

"Your presence is requested on the main floor, Captain. A change in attire is recommended."

Steve's eyebrows knit together.

"Why? And change into what?"

"My apologies, sir; I am not permitted to reveal that information at this time. It has been indicated that formal dress would be most appropriate on this occasion."

Mystified, Steve changed into a charcoal gray suit. Whatever was going on, it probably wasn't combative in nature and he didn't think it had anything to do with SHIELD since he couldn't hear Director Fury shouting at Tony anywhere.

When he reached the main floor he was surprised to see the entire team waiting on him, somber in their own suits. Tony waved and checked his wristwatch.

"Good, you're up. Right on schedule. Okay team, let's move out."

Clint and Natasha were the first out the door, heads together and talking quietly. Thor followed with Dr. Banner, and Steve realized how odd it was that they were wearing suits as well.

"What's going on?"

Tony raised an eyebrow.

"It's a surprise. Don't tell me you forgot today was a holiday? And I was worried you wouldn't want to come."

Steve rifled through his memory, trying to remember what was being celebrated. When he finally did it felt like he'd taken a punch to the gut.

"Decoration Day."

Tony cocked his head to the side.

"If by that you mean Memorial Day, then yeah. It's your first since being back, right?"

Steve's mouth tightened and he blinked rapidly.

"Yeah. I… think I might want to just spend today alone, Tony."

Tony shrugged and began towing the other man towards the door, ignoring his faint protests.

"See, that's we thought you'd say. And then we decided that we weren't gonna let you mope around by yourself. So we're taking a trip and you can mope around with us instead."

Steve's shoulders slumped and he allowed Tony to bundle him into the waiting car.

"Where are we going then?"

Tony shut the door without answering and hopped into the driver's seat. Clint answered instead, absently fiddling with his tie.

"Airport. Then DC."

Steve grunted and fell back into the seat, letting himself sink into thoughts of the war, ignoring the subdued conversations around him. Too soon but not soon enough, Natasha nudged his knee with hers, making him jerk in surprise.

They were the only two left in the car. She smiled and looped a small purse over her shoulder, ducking out without saying a word. He followed, trailing after her and climbing the steps to the plane in a daze. Just as he was settling into a beige couch at the rear of the plane, Tony strode out of the cockpit and plopped himself on the other cushion.

He didn't say anything until after Clint had already completed the takeoff procedures, messing around with one of the tablets he made a habit of stashing everywhere instead. Steve didn't mind. He was just…there. Half listening to Natasha and Bruce explain Dec—Memorial Day and the traditions that came with it to Thor, half lost in his memory. Eventually the plane levelled off and Tony stood with satisfaction.

"Here." He pushed the tablet into Steve's hands. "Took us a while to find some of those, but we managed."

Steve blinked in confusion and Tony smirked before sauntering off to join in the more lively conversation across the cabin. Steve shook his head and began examining the tablet, breath catching in his throat. Somehow, Tony had managed to dig up photographs of his old platoon. Steve looked through picture after picture, a slow smile growing on his face.

That was the night Morita had shown them how to sew patches onto their clothes—the right way. In this one, they'd been writing letters home and arguing over how to spell 'embarrassment.' And that was the time he'd been on kitchen duty and burned the soup. And here was a candid shot of them all while Bucky led them to sing Happy Birthday to their youngest troop.

Steve blinked rapidly, placing the tablet on the couch and scrubbing at his face with both hands. Tony couldn't have known it, but the day after that picture was taken, the kid had stepped on a landmine. He took a shuddering breath and picked up the tablet again, immersing himself in the memories until he'd seen every photograph there.

He cleared his throat and approached the others, sliding into one of the spinning chairs Tony had installed. They had quieted expectantly at his approach, all regarding him with varying degrees of curiosity.

"I just wanted to say thanks for the pictures. They were… I appreciate it."

Tony shrugged.

"No problem. Barton and Romanoff helped. Took a while to go through Pop's collection, but we picked out the ones with you or the Commandos in them."

"There's more?"

"Yeah, but we didn't really recognize anyone. Didn't know if they'd interest you or not."

"I'd like to see them."

"Sure. It'll have to wait 'til we get back to New York though. I only uploaded those to JARVIS. All the rest are still locked up back home."

There was a beat of silence and then Thor was gesturing at the tablet.

"I am most curious, my friend. Perhaps you would share the tales behind these images, Captain?"

Steve hesitated before nodding. He flipped through the images before settling on just starting at the beginning and going through the end.

"This was taken right after we rescued my best friend Bucky from the Nazis. You can't really see, but that's me, that's Bucky, and that's Dum Dum, Gabe, Jim, Monty, and Jacques. We were known as the Howling Commandos." A wistful smile stole across his face. "It's funny, right after this picture was taken, the boys decided to celebrate by whipping up a pot of instant coffee. Now don't ask me why, but somebody thought it'd be a good idea to put Bucky in charge of watching the pot and…"

"Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die."

Mary Elizabeth Frye