A/N - You know that TikTok sound that's some guy speaking and then a woman just loudly says "HELLO"
That's… the embodiment of this.
There's not even a point to this. What happened to the original plot of the movie?
I just couldn't get in or out of my head space to write anything else. So I here we are.
I don't have answers for why my brain does these things. Enjoy?
(I did not edit this at ALL so forgive my mistakes please)
Also… I'm about to update a bunch of stories, so if you don't want a bunch of email updates, take off my alerts o.O
—-
"Isaac."
"Yes?"
"I'm fine."
"I know."
"Stop hovering."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You are and don't lie."
"I'm not hovering." Isaac says firmly, and then a grin crosses his face, a mischievous grin that his father wears often, "I'm on guard."
Peggy sighs, shifting her weight and holding the railing. "It's just the stairs."
"Of which, Dr. Erskine told you expressly to avoid. Miss Angie can grab things. I can grab things, Ivy—" he frowns, "nevermind. But there's plenty to help you."
"I can do it myself."
He frowns, "I knew you'd say that. Remember the water glass?"
She huffs, "that's a totally different scenario!"
Her son crosses his arms in a move that mirrors her own, "you're not supposed to be out of bed."
"I—"
"If the baby comes early while Papa's away because you couldn't follow Dr. Erskine's orders then papa'll be cross with me. Dr. Erskine tasked me with making sure you followed orders."
"Isaac—"
"When he asks me if you left the bed I'll have to tell him the truth. You want me to disappoint him? I couldn't keep you in your bed?"
She rolls her eyes and sighs, "when did you plot this up?"
"Since I saw you eyeing your slippers this morning." Isaac grins, grabbing her elbow and leading her away from the stairs. "Now, what is it you want from down stairs? I can grab it."
"Just a book." She answers, "I'm withering with boredom and I want something to help."
"Are you hungry?"
Her eyes narrow, "not at the moment."
"I'll bring something anyway. Thirsty?"
"Isaac—"
"I'll have Miss Angie bring up tea and something cold to drink."
"Now really—"
"Anything else I can get you so that way you can't come up with another excuse to leave the bed?"
She huffs, hands on non-existing hips at the moment. "I'm not an invalid!"
Her son raises an eyebrow, which looks just like her, but tilts his head and smiles, which looks just like Steve. "Dr. Erskine—"
"Oh for bloody sakes." She snaps, huffing and puffing as she turns around, gripping the rail and walking slowly back to her bedroom.
Isaac settles beside her, a stance saying he's ready to grab her should she stumble. She wants to bark at him because of her pride. But she's also so endeared to him in the moment for his care. With a humored huff she realizes she hasn't changed very much in the last 20 years.
Once she's settled back in bed, she sighs, "I swear if someone else says 'at my age'."
Isaac is trying not to laugh as he arranges the covers and then sits on the bed beside her. Then his face shifts to serious and he looks at her, "why…" he pauses and she tilts her head, moving a hand to rest on his.
"Why?"
"Why did you want another child?"
She huffs, "This wasn't on purpose." He wrinkles his nose and she laughs, "one day you'll understand. Although to be honest the thought had crossed both our minds." She squeezes his hand, "who wouldn't want another child as lovely and smart and stubborn as the both of you?"
He rolls his eyes and grins, then he stands, "I'll get that book."
"It's the one on the little table with the brass candle holder."
He's nodding as he walks out the door and Peggy sighs, looking at the room she's been cooped up in for two weeks, with another two weeks to go.
—-
8 Days Later
Warmth envelopes her, and it's like her body finally feels safe as she sighs and relaxes into the heat. A warm hand slides across her belly and a kiss is placed on her shoulder.
"Mhmm." She intones, still drenched in sleep.
Steve holds her gently, wrapping his large frame around her.
"You're home?" She asks groggily, eyes still closed.
"Yes." He whispers back, "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."
She blinks her eyes and gets the confirmation that it is indeed still nighttime. She shifts, holding her belly and turning towards him. His hair is mused and he looks tired. "You rode all night?"
He smiles at her and kisses her softly, "just go back to sleep."
She frowns, "you were supposed to be here tomorrow afternoon."
"I couldn't wait."
"You rode all night?"
"I wanted to be home."
She frowns, "who told you?"
He looks at her with a guilty expression, "Howard."
She huffs, "I swear that man knows everything somehow. You came home because you were worried?"
"And because I missed you."
"But you left early. You shouldn't have worried—"
Steve sighs and kisses her forehead, "can't both be true?"
"You should have slept and left in the morning, like you'd planned."
"Well it's too late now." He argues, pulling her closer and kissing her temple, "so go back to sleep and get some rest."
"How did your last class go?" She asks, struggling to push herself up, "did you enjoy it?"
"Peggy." Steve admonishes softly, "we will talk in the morning. Go back to sleep."
"If you wanted me to sleep," she says huffily, wincing as the muscles around her stomach pull. Steve immediately sits up, helping to arrange her and her pillows, "you shouldn't have gotten into my bed in the middle of the night. You know I can't resist my sun." She snuggles against him to prove her point.
He heaves a dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes, resting his arm around her, "It was wonderful. I loved teaching something new and the students were all eager to learn. I loved it, and I enjoyed it, and I would do it again." He leans down kissing her lips, "but I told Howard I won't be teaching for the next couple of years."
Peggy blinks, "years?"
He nods, "I'm not leaving your side again for the foreseeable future. Not now when we will be outnumbered three to 2. So I'm going to be focusing on being here."
"Steven—"
"Margaret— ow!" He yelps, as she finishes pinching him. "That's terribly unfair."
She grins, "why? Because you won't pinch a pregnant woman?"
He narrows his eyes at her, "you're playing dirty."
Her smirk is fierce, "I like everything d—" his lips cut her off.
—
Nineteen Days Later
Peggy smiles as Steve is asleep in the chair in the corner, holding the tiny naked baby against his bare chest, the little hand resting on the scar over his heart.
She tries to be as quiet as she can as she slips into her outside clothes and shoes.
She's exiting the door when she bumps into Angie. "Wait to clean, Steve's sleeping with the baby."
Angie nods, looking serious, "how do you feel today?"
Peggy sighs, "still weak. Don't think I've regained all that blood." She huffs and smiles, "thankfully I've got the perfect nursemaid."
Angie doesn't laugh at her jest, "are you sure?"
Peggy rests a hand on her friend's shoulder, "I promise. I'll be alright—"
"Dr. Erskine said—"
"I'm not going to relapse or get an infection. I already promised Steve I wouldn't." But again, the tease does not sway the somber expression of Angie's face. "Angie, I'm fine."
"Shouldn't you be resting?" She turns to see Isaac there, looking at her worriedly.
"I'm just stretching my legs a bit. Fresh air and sunlight is good for me."
"I'll come with you." He offers.
"Isaac—"
"I'm coming." Her son says worriedly, then he tries to look very stern, "I'm coming."
She relents, "alright." She extends her elbow, "I'd love for you to join me."
His arm supports her and they head towards the stairs.
They walk slowly, her legs stiff and joints achy. She does feel light headed but pushes through, knowing she needs to move and regain her strength.
"Where's Ivy?" She asks, "I haven't seen her today yet."
"She's in Papa's studio." Isaac answers stiffly.
Peggy eyes her son, studying his rigid composure. He's almost 15 and growing at an absurd rate. He's taller than her and his hair is thick, swooping in brown waves. He's quite handsome. She sees a bit of Steve in his jaw and Michael in his nose. Herself in his eyes and hair. He's growing too quickly into a man. "Is she setting fire to it?" She teases, "the way you said that makes me think it's something reprehensible."
"No." He answers, "she's just painting."
"Panting…?"
"You."
Peggy stops, turning her son towards her, "me?"
"You. Right after."
Peggy frowns, "why is she doing that?"
"She says she has to. She has to paint it so she'll stop having nightmares."
Peggy tips her head back, taking in a deep breath. The delivery had been an absolute mess. First the baby had been breach, then the cord had been wrapped around the neck. She'd torn in multiple locations and lost so much blood that she had truly been close to not making it. Her mind has blocked out a lot from that day, but she vividly remembers being out of her mind in pain and practically shrieking 'I can't do this, I can't do this!'
Peggy's absolutely sure that the searingly hot body and hands holding her, and the stern frantic voice that never stopped encouraging her and commanding her to 'come back' to him, were the reasons she was able to stay conscious enough to hang on.
And because she'd been so close to death, the children had forced their way in, wanting to be at her side. She does remember Ivy's terrified eyes and Issac's somber and rigid expression. She also remembers Steve trying to encourage them at the same time he was panicking himself. She knew him too well, the set of his eyes, the angle of his shoulders. He'd been terrified for her, and still trying to remain calm for his other children. She'd been calm knowing that even if she had lost that fight, there was no one better on this planet to serve as their parent.
But thankfully, (by the force of Steve's will, she's practically convinced) she had pulled through. Receiving second by second care from Steve, Erskine, Howard, and the house staff. But even though she's starting to feel a bit more strength and desiring to start life again as normal, no one in the house was taking that experience well.
Steve had been beside himself, silent and stoic in the days after. Only leaving to ensure there was firewood and supplies for everyone else. Once she finally got to him to explain why he was so upset, she'd been stunned to learn that he was blaming himself for not being more careful and getting her pregnant as if she hadn't been a willing (and demanding) participant. She'd chastised him for such thoughts and tried to make him see sense, but he wouldn't listen. Not leaving her side for more than a few minutes at a time. This walk was the farthest she'd been from him. And if he woke, he'd be upset she'd left.
But she needed to be normal, just for a second.
"Have you picked a name?"
She slowly walks towards a bench and sits, trying to hide how out of breath she is and woozy. "Not yet." She admits, trying not to sound breathy, "any ideas?"
"It should start with an 'I'."
Peggy smiles, "I did sort of rope myself into that tradition, didn't I?"
He nods, his hands restless in his lap.
"I'm alright, you know." She says softly, nudging him with her shoulder, "I know it was scary, but I'm alright."
Isaac stays quiet, looking out at the garden.
She's about to try to assure him again when she hears the door to the house open. She turns, already knowing who it will be. Steve stands there, still shirtless, baby still snuggled in one arm asleep. His eyes are trained on her, emotions flying across his face and his body rigid.
"I'm alright." She says softly, knowing even at this distance he can hear her. "I promise. I just needed air."
His hand is covering the baby's body, keeping the warmth on both sides. A flutter causes her eyes to flick up, Ivy's face flashes and disappears from sight and she knows that she needs to address this in total.
She lifts her hand, making it clear to Isaac she would like his assistance. He stands and she uses his strength and balance to stand. Then she walks slowly to the door and past Steve. "Come on." She says firmly, "family meeting."
—-
Isaac returns, Ivy in tow and they sit quietly on the couch across from her. Steve is standing, a shirt on, baby still in his arms. Never has a child not slept well in his arms. The heat, the comfort, his untiring arms have always been a haven for them. This child seems to think no different.
"I truly am sorry—" she begins, "for scaring all of you. As you are well aware, I did not do it on purpose, however I'm sorry all the same."
"You don't—"
"Steven." She cuts in, smiling lovingly at him, II'm speaking."
He goes quiet and she watches him bring the baby closer to his face, resting his nose and lips against the soft hair covering the head, eyes closing as he keeps himself from speaking.
"But I am on the mend now. And I want to return to normal. I am willing to accept help until I am back to fighting fit. But your presences have all been ghostly. I know it was a frightening experience, but it turned out alright, didn't it? So I need us to resume life as normal."
"We're being normal, mama." Ivy says quietly, eyes on the ground.
Peggy frowns, "you saying that statement, in that tone, with that expression, is the very definition of abnormal for you. You're all acting like the house is made of glass and there's already a growing crack."
The baby wriggles, already having slept for quite awhile and Steve looks down, "I'm sorry, I'll do better."
She huffs, "this isn't a chastisement! This is a gentle awakening. I'm here, I'm okay, the baby is alright, we need to start acting like it!"
"If you had died," Isaac says, his voice tight, "could Mr. Stark have saved you like he did papa?"
Her eyes snap to Isaac's, as does Steve's.
"What?" Ivy asks.
"Could he?" Isaac asks again, "could he?"
"No," Peggy says firmly, "no, that's not the same."
"Why not?"
"It just isn't. Death is not something to play with—"
"But papa—"
"Was in a very unique circumstance and situation. Unlikely to ever be repeated by anyone ever. No, that would not have been an option. One day—"
"Peggy—"
"One day—" she says firmly, "we will pass from this world. But that day is not today. So, we need to start acting like I;m alive and not like you're at my wake. Understood?"
"You were so pale, mama." Ivy whispers out, "and the blood was so red."
Their little artist. Something Steve is bursting with pride about constantly. But her vivid description and understanding of colors means she's apt to view things so sharply, so in detail. Images stick in her mind like she's taken a picture of it.
"I know." Peggy admits, "I was not doing well. But thankfully, I am now. So, it will take time, I understand, but we will move on from this. And—" she reaches her arms out for the baby. Steve brings the child and sets it gently in her arms, "—we will have a very dramatic story for this little one to hear. One of trial and strength and perseverance of family. What a lucky little baby, hmm?"
Isaac and Ivy nod and she gestures to the baby, "I'm still waiting for name suggestions?"
Ivy grins, a bit of her old spirit firing behind her eyes, "anything?"
Peggy laughs, "within reason. And I get to make the final decision."
She eyes Steve who she has been arguing about names with for months. Everytime she would state a name he would wrinkle his nose or tease her, and the same was true the other way around. Each jesting that they would get to choose the name.
But now he stays silent. Unwilling to fight for that right. She'll address that later.
"What about Poppy?" Ivy suggests, "or Violet? Or Rose?"
Peggy raises an eyebrow, "hmm… I like them, I notice a theme." She turns to Steve, "don't you?"
He nods slowly, "a very floral collection. Would pair nice with some Ivy—" he barely manages the joke before the guilt is back in his eyes but she appreciates the effort all the same.
"I agree." She states, "but perhaps Isaac's suggestion of starting with an 'I' should be considered?"
"Iris." She looks over at Isaac who is looking at her with trepidation, "what about Iris?"
She smiles and she nods, "I like it." Then she turns to Steve, "how do you feel about Iris?"
He nods, "I think it's a wonderful name."
It settles in her chest as she looks down at the very light blonde hair on the baby's head. Her eye color hasn't settled yet, and her skin tone shifts often, and she has no idea who this baby will grow up to be. But Iris sinks deep through her bones and rests well in her mind.
"Iris it is."
"Iris Elizabeth." Ivy says quietly. Her almost 10 years seeming much older at the moment.
Peggy's heart squeezes and she feels her throat get tight.
"Mm-hmm." Isaac agrees, "I like it."
Steve's eyes are soft and sad, "it's perfect."
—
Steve sits beside the tub, baby in his arms again and eyes on her.
She tries to exude calm as she gently brushed her skin with the cloth and wash off the feeling of being too cooped up.
"I won't ever be ready."
She looks up, surprised at the sadness etched on his face, the expression aging him beyond his usual youthful glow.
"Ready?"
"Not ever. I can't picture it without feeling sick. I can't think about it without being terrified and angry." He shakes his head, tipping it back to the ceiling, "and it almost happened. I almost lost you. Now, so young and I almost lost you."
Her hands still and she sighs, "I'm here."
"I could have lost you."
"But you didn't."
"But one day—"
"You can't stop the future or the roll of time—"
"I can't lose anyone else." He cuts her off sharply. "I can't. You have to promise me."
She scoffs in a humored disbelief but then softens her gaze, "I can't promise that."
"You have to."
He's holding the baby in one arm, but the other is gripping the edge of the tube, knuckles white.
"Steve."
His head sinks further towards his chest and she reaches a wet hand out, capturing his cheek and lifting his head, his eyes meet hers and she smiles, "when my time comes, I will be ready. Not a minute before. And you will have to accept that." Then she touches on a very sore subject that they usually avoid but she must, "I know that losing Ms. Nancy and—" His eyes tighten, "—your mother all in one year was hard. But I'm not going anywhere. Not yet." His eyes close again, soft tears draining down and she wipes at them with her warm damp hand, "oh how I love you, my darling."
He just turns his head, kissing her palm and holding it there gently against his face.
—
Several months pass before the house truly turns to normal, but she breathes a sigh of relief when Ivy is found climbing the lattice outside and Steve has to climb up after her to get her down.
Isaac seems to take to being a young man very well and very seriously. He begins to pester her and Steve with questions about how to tie a proper silk tie, and when he'll be allowed to shave and how long until he'll be allowed to ride to town alone.
Steve is the last and most stalwart at her side. She hasn't seen him truly relaxed since the day before Iris was born.
She keeps trying, but he's as protective and pretending to be normal as he can be.
She hears him talking to Mr. Coulson about adding additional calling bells in rooms they don't usually have them in. Just in case.
Mr. Coulson agrees.
Peggy sighs.
—-
"Any changes?"
She shakes her head, "nothing for the worse. Only for the better."
"Such as?"
"I don't feel lightheaded any more. The stairs feel normal. My muscles seem to be at normal strength."
"Wonderful." Dr. Erskine comments, writing something down in his little notebook.
"Now," she starts, "about the question I had last time."
He looks vaguely amused and with a huff of exasperation he nods, "like I stated last time. Only you can tell if you're truly ready. From the purely medical side, your stitches have been removed. You're fully healed. Are you sore at all?"
"Not anymore."
"Then I suppose that's your answer. I only advise to start slowly."
Peggy sighs again.
—
Steve listens as Peggy gets ready for bed, her soft footsteps in the bathroom are a soothing sound to him. He hears her brush through her curls and apply oils and— he pauses. Usually she refills them for the next day. But instead he hears her shuffling something else. She must have decided on a different order for her nightly routine. That's strange. She's not a creature of habit but she's relatively easy to track after almost 20 years.
He doesn't ponder too much as he can hear her humming softly, so she must be fine. The sketch book in his hand gets his attention and he begins working on the finishing touches of the bouquet he is working on. Each flower represented an important person in his life.
The door to the bathroom opens and he looks up, a smile on his face, only for it to freeze in place and then drop to a frown.
Peggy scoffs, "well, don't look so excited."
He stands, sketchbook tossed to the side. "Peggy, we're not doing anything."
She stalks towards him, long brown curls not quite covering her bare chest, her exposed skin glowing in the candlelight.
"We absolutely are—"
"No." His response is sharp. "No. We're not."
Peggy places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow, "and why the bloody hell not?"
"Because I can't."
"Can't? Or won't?"
"Both."
"Steven, I'm still breastfeeding. I haven't even gotten my bleeding back. I can't get pregnant."
"You don't know that. It's happened before to women. I'm not taking that chance."
"It's been almost 6 months—"
"That's fine—"
"It's not fine! I miss having my husband!"
"And I miss you too, you know that—"
"I don't actually." She snaps at him, "I haven't felt your desire for me in 6 months."
Steve feels the expression on his face. Guilt and sadness. He walks forward, wrapping her in his arms and kissing the top of her head. Then he kneels down, kissing her collarbones and then ribs and then stomach. But he goes no further. "I love you. But I can't do this with you. Not yet."
Her expression is anger, "Then when?"
"I don't know. As soon as I figure out a way to—"
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Peggy snaps at him, leaning down to meet his eyes line, "I want you now."
"It's too soon."
"Actually according to Dr. Erskine, it's fine as long as we take it slow!"
Surprise fills him, "You asked Dr. Erskine?"
"Multiple times." Peggy states, "And he said that it's fine!"
Steve can't even pretend to consider it. "I'm sorry, Peggy." He rises, kisses her again, and then backs away, "maybe you're ready. But I'm not."
He can tell that she's surprised and annoyed, but that she doesn't know what to say.
She finally settles on, "Nothing in the world can guarantee I won't get pregnant again."
Steve knows she's baiting him. But he's set in his mind that he won't put her in that kind of danger again.
"Then I guess we will wait till you've gone through the finishing."
Peggy looks positively furious, and he knows she thinks he's being unreasonable and unfair. But he held her pale almost lifeless body as it bled out trying to deliver. He felt and heard her pulse weakening to nothing. He saw the light leaving her eyes as he begged her to stay.
No amount of pleasure was worth that.
"Steven Grant Rogers." Peggy grits out, glaring at him, "that could be a decade or longer. I'm not waiting even one more night, let alone 10 years! I want you now!"
And an idea forms.
—-
Peggy's not sure how it happens, but one second she's arguing at her husband for him to give in and the next she's breathless, languid and overheated on the bed. Steve lays beside her and kisses her hair, neck, temple, cheek, and shoulder every so often.
She'd managed to remove his shirt during his initial barrage, but then had lost track of who she was or what she was supposed to be arguing for as he'd continued to distract her. Never before had he used his strength quite like that or to much her disadvantage as he had kept her hands from touching him all while ensuring she'd had her fill.
And she knew annoyance at him would come back to her eventually, but at the moment she can't seem to think about anything at all other than the lovely circles he's drawing on the skin of her stomach.
—-
She wakes, ready to yell at him for not giving her what she wanted in the way she wanted, but he's still asleep, hair mused and the stubble of the night having grown in. His shirtless torso takes up a large portion of the bed and his arm thrown over his head makes it seem even wider.
Her heart squeezes. He's simply the most handsome creature on the planet. And she feels all 19 years old again when she gently slides her hand over his chest and rests there, hair splayed on his skin and soaking in the heat.
He makes a content noise and she has to agree.
But soon, the desire to fix the "wrong" that was done to her last night— she grins, is too strong to ignore, so she slides her hand down to ensure he will wake up and know she means business.
She senses the moment he's conscious and he sighs, "Peggy."
"Don't think I didn't notice the way you distracted me last night."
"I wasn't trying to hide it."
"Well, now it's my turn."
"No." He sits up, hauling her into his lap and holding her gently but tight enough she knows he means to hold her there, "no. I'm fine and I enjoyed last night."
"So did I. But you didn't get any attention—"
"I don't need it."
"Stev—-" his lips cut hers off and suddenly she's being overwhelmed again. He's flipped them, his body weight pinning her down just as he knows she likes and his hands and mouth keep her too unbalanced to be able to argue her point.
—-
Steve slips out of the bed quietly once Peggy is back asleep. He runs through his morning routine at double speed and is out the door and into the backyard before the rest of the house wakes.
Today feels like a split wood by hand day.
—-
Peggy's positively satiated and annoyed when she wakes. It's such a tipping feeling knowing that Steve would genuinely refuse her for years at his own expense and still ensure she got what she wanted. Her curls drape limply and she brushes them back, eyeing the empty room.
Her body feels exhausted but in the best way and she huffs, flopping back into all her pillows.
Her door opens a few minutes later and she hears a "Morning." Peggy sits up to see Angie carrying in her morning tray and she sighs softly, having hoped it would be Steve. .
"Morning."
Angie blinks at her, "have fun?"
Peggy tilts her head, "what do you mean?"
Angie laughs setting the tray down and walking over, "you look like you've been in the best fight of your life. I don't ever think I've seen so many—" she points at a spot on her neck, "of those in one go."
"Twice." Peggy snaps back, then grins, "but it wasn't what I wanted. He won't sleep with me until he's sure I can't get pregnant again," her grin turns to a smirk, "and this was his solution."
Angie raises an eyebrow and grins back, "he's impossible and you are one lucky woman."
She nods, suddenly somber, "I know."
Angie senses the shift and leans in, "what is it?"
"He is terrified." Her hands shift in her lap, "he's genuinely terrified of losing me and I can't explain it… he's almost lost me twice now." Angie's brow furrows in confusion, "the pond incident, and this, and I'm worried he's—" she takes a deep breath, "he's right."
"What do you mean?"
"You've seen the way he heals. The way he has barely aged a few years in what has been 20. He's going to outlive us all, and he knows it. And he's terrified of it."
There's a long silence where Angie contemplates what she just said. Then the woman nods and turns towards the windows, walking over and opening them to let in the morning sun, "each day you have with him, and that he has with you is a gift. It's a memory being created. He will have Isaac and Ivy and Iris with him for longer than you and I. And that will be how it will be." She turns to Peggy, hands on her hips, "no point worrying about future events you have no power over."
Peggy rolls her eyes, sighing, "tell that to him."
Angie shakes her head, "no. You tell that to him."
"I will."
—-
Steve tries not to smile as Isaac walks calmly towards him. He looks like such a young man it's hard for Steve to believe. His school books tucked under his arm and the pencil tucked behind his ear.
"How was class?"
Isaac nods and pulls himself up onto the horse, "good. We're learning about the unification marriages."
Steve wrinkles his nose and laughs, "is that so?"
Isaac nods, "they're talking about how it shaped the two villages' relationship, and then next week we're going to be talking about how it changed."
"Ah, I see."
Isaac looks at him curiously, "everyone keeps staring at me."
"Well," Steve starts, gently nudging his horse forward and Isaac following suit, "they're just…" he winces, "curious."
"How come you and ma never really explained how important what you both did was?"
Steve feels like he's in uncharted territory. "I don't know that we really ever considered it that way. Your mother was the driving force behind the change, it all happened very fast."
"You changed an almost 1,000 year tradition in less than a year."
Steve looks over to Isaac who is watching him carefully. "We did."
"Ma told me she originally didn't want to be married to you."
Steve laughs, "indeed she did not. And the feelings were pretty mutual, although I did think she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."
"When did you know you loved her?"
Steve takes a second to think about his answer. "I was always attracted to her. Alwaysentramced by her even if she was being particularly unkind." He smiles at the memory of her asking him to untie her corset for the first time. "But there was a moment, after she'd told me the truth about her trying to undo our marriage. She was vulnerable and honest and asked forgiveness for her actions." Steve smiles at Isaac, "I think that's when. I truly loved her starting then."
"When did she love you?"
Steve thinks back, "I'm not sure. I don't know if she has an exact moment. You'll have to ask her." He raises an eyebrow, "why all the questions about knowing when you're in love?" He grins, "is there a certain red-head I should be asking about?"
Isaac turns his own shade of red and frowns, "no."
Steve laughs, "alright, but one day you'll work up the courage to actually tell her how you feel and it will be worth it. I promise."
Isaac just tried to not smile as he pushes his horse faster, "race you back to the house!"
Steve grins, snapping his reins.
—-
"How was it?"
Steve turns and lets the sadness show, "hard."
Peggy nods, "is the stone laid yet?"
Steve nods, "it's completed. It's just as I drew it."
"I'm glad." Peggy says softly, "and I'm ever so sorry."
"Me too." Steve sighs, "if only she'd come live with us—"
"Stop." Peggy commands softly, "we've already been over this. You tried for years. But your stubbornness came from somewhere right? You can't beat yourself up. She's at peace now. Let it be."
Steve grasps her hand and rests it on her cheek. "I'm an orphan."
Peggy smiles sadly and kisses his hair. "I'm sorry."
"I'm only 41."
"I know."
"You have both parents still."
She pauses, looking at his face and seeing the grief he hasn't shown since before Iris's birth. "I know. It's not fair."
"It's not."
Peggy feels off balance. How to help someone grieve when you've no knowledge of what they're experiencing?
Steve's voice is frustrated. "And Ms. Nancy too."
Peggy closes her eyes, standing beside where he's sitting and resting a hand on his shoulders. "This year has been difficult."
"And almost you."
"But I'm fine."
"I can't take anymore."
"Anymore?"
"Loss."
"I know."
"Peggy?"
"Hmm?"
"When did you really decided you loved me?"
The question startles her. She's sure they've discussed this before. But this sounds like he might need reminding. So she shuffles through all their memories back to the early days.
"Do you remember the day before the storm? The one where you fell ill?" He nods. "I was still being awful to you. But there you were collapsed on the ground and I find out that not only had you made me three wonderful meals and tea but even after every horrid thing I did and said about you… you still placed a flower in a vase for me." She softly rubs her finger over his cheekbone and then kisses the soft shell of his ear. "That's when I knew I was dealing with someone completely special. And if I look back to when I truly started to understand and love you? I would mark that moment."
He rips his head back to look at her, and his smile falters from soft and sweet to pulling down at the corners as his eyes get watery, "I don't even know how to express how much you mean to me." He whispers out roughly, "what am I ever supposed to do without you?"
"Well, I know you'll be as strong and preserving as you always are. But there's a long time before you need to worry about that. I'm here and I will be for a good long while."
"You better."
She kisses him firmly, before kissing his nose, "I will be. I promise."
—-
Steve stops in his tracks and stares at the artwork.
Ivy's skill has skyrocketed in the last couple years, and he's in awe of the detail. But it's also horrific to look at. A black and white charcoal drawing of Peggy on the bed, red paint surrounds it in splotches. The sight takes his breath away as he just stares at it.
"I dream about it." A soft voice says from behind him. "I can't stop dreaming about it."
He turns, stepping towards his daughter and wrapping her up in his arms. "I know." He whispers, "I know. I do to."
"I have to paint it or draw it. I have to. I have to get it out of my head."
She's only 10 but she sounds so much older.
"That's fine." Steve says roughly. "You do what you need to do. Art is a way to process through the trauma you experienced."
Ivy pulls back, and her sad eyes are an exact mirror of his. "Where is your artwork?" Steve goes rigid, and his daughter, observant and quick, "where is your artwork?"
"I haven't been able to." He admits. "I can't yet."
"Is that why you're still so sad?"
The question slices through him. He bows his head, still holding her arms, "I'm not sad." He says, "I'm scared."
"But she is better."
"I know."
"You haven't smiled at Iris."
The accusation hits him, stuns him as his eyes pop back up and stare at his daughter who looks at him very hawklike, eyes catching his every expression. "What? Yes, have."
"Not really. And not the way you used to smile before." She clarifies. "Iris hasn't seen you happy yet."
His lungs feel tight, he can't pull in enough air. He hasn't felt like this since he was a child. Had he been different to the baby? He can't remember. He's been so swarmed with grief and fear. He thought he's been doing everything a father should do. He doesn't blame the baby at all, there's nothing like that. But he studies his daughter's face and realization strikes. "I haven't smiled at you in a while either. Have I?" Her little lips pull down in a frown as her eyes water, and guilt explodes through him, "I'm so sorry." He pulls her in tightly, "Ivy, I'm so sorry. I have been so—" he shakes his head, squeezing tighter, "there's no excuse. He pulls back and takes a deep breath, trying to let all the fear and grief go even if for just a second. He wills every happy thought into his expression as he looks at her and cups her cheek, "I'm going to do better okay?"
"I know mama and losing Grandma—"
"I'm going—" he cuts her off gently, "to do better. There's no circumstance happening to me that should allow me to behave the way I have. So just know that I'm going to do better."
"You haven't done anything bad." Ivy corrects, "I'm just sad you're sad."
Another deep breath, "I love you." He states clearly, "and no amount of sadness will change that." He smiles, hoping it looks genuine, "are you excited for your first class next month?"
She nods, accepting the change in subject, "I am. And nervous. But mostly excited."
"That's good." He says firmly, standing and grasping her hand, "you're going to do great."
—
Peggy is walking past the playroom when she hears soft music that catches her attention.
She quietly pushes the door open wider just a smidge and locates the source. A record player, spinning its tunes while Steve is laying on his back, shirtless, holding Iris who sits on his chest. He's keeping her vertical but she's wiggling and making a happy gurgling sort of sound. She watches in adoration as Steve smiles and tickles her stomach and then lays her flat on his chest and begins pointing out his scars. "These are from a long time ago." She hears him whisper, "so long ago, you weren't even a thought in your mama or my minds. And they helped me get better so I could be here with you." He kisses her little hand and then drags her back up to a sitting position, "isn't that right, Iris?" She gurgles again and he nods, "exactly." Then he grabs something off the floor, a soft toy of some sort— Ivy's old stuffed lion, and he wiggles it in front of her, while she reaches for it. "This lion, she reminds me of your mama—" her heart squeezes again as he speaks, so much love she could burst, "she was so strong." Steve is saying, "she used so much strength to get you into this world. And I was so scared." Peggy sinks to the ground, her skirts ruffling around her silently. Her back is against the door and she just listens as he whispers. "And I was so scared for her that I wasn't doing right by you, and I'm so sorry—" there's a pause, and she hears gurgling and Steve is making silly sounds, "I won't make that mistake again." He says firmly. "I will do anything to make sure you are both happy and loved." His voice gets somber, "do you believe me?"
Iris makes a giggling noise, the first Peggy has ever heard and she has to place a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in joy.
Steve does gasp, "did you just giggle!?" He sounds overjoyed, "did you just giggle? Iris—" he's laughing, "you tell me right now! Was that your first giggle? We have to go tell your mama—"
Peggy jolts up and flees, a smile on her face.
—
Later that night, Iris is asleep in her arms and she's resting against Steve's chest in their bed.
"I can't wait for all of her firsts."
"Me either," Steve answers. "I still remember the other's one's firsts."
She frowns, "you mean when you saw Isaac's first steps and beards Ivy's first word and I missed both?"
She feels him smile against the back of her hair, "oops?"
She chuckles, "you have such luck. And her first giggle too." She kisses Iris' head, "it's like our children are plotting against me."
He laughs softly and nods, "did Isaac tell you about what he's learning in school?"
"What?" She asks, tipping her head back, "what is he learning?"
"About us."
She blinks, "us?"
"The dissolution of the marriage between the villages."
"Oh…" Peggy's eyes glaze for a second as she thinks back, "it seems strange."
"I know."
"We will be in history books."
"Don't remind me."
"I wonder if they include how horrid I was to you."
"Doubtful."
"I feel like it will be lacking so many details. Will they even have context for how it all happened?"
Steve huffs, laughing quietly, "I have no idea."
"The context is what matters." She insists.
"No," Steve says softly, resting his cheek against her hair, "you are what matters."
She looks up at him, "no. Us."
His eyes close and he nods, resting a hand on top of hers which rests on the baby. "Us."
—