"But why do we have to go to every wedding?"

Peggy looks up from her pottery wheel and blinks, "I thought you liked going to the weddings." She responds slowly, wiping the clay from her hands, "you've never complained before…"

"Well…" the young boy says with a frown, "now I don't like to. And I don't wanna."

Instead of forcing, Peggy nods. "Okay, you can stay here at home, with Ms. Nancy." Then Peggy looks back at her wheel and sighs, "but Uncle Michael will be so so sad you didn't come. I know he was talking about horse riding with you and your cousin Dalia. But oh well, I'll tell him you're not coming."

She doesn't look back up or try to see his reaction. Just sets back to work and falls silent.

It's a long silence. But she knows he's not gone. She can feel his presence.

"I…" he finally says, "I guess I can go."

Peggy shrugs, still not looking up, "whatever you want. You just let me know by this evening when I begin packing with Ms. Angie."

A quiet "okay" is all she hears and then she knows he's skittered away.

She looks up, the sun filtering in the room making it glow. The wheel makes a soft sound as it spins, her fingers running along the rim aimlessly.

This was new. This boundary pushing. The assertion of independence. She wants to blame it all on him growing up. But with her and Steve as parents, she knows it's partially genetic. The thought makes her smile.

—

A bit later she hears the front door open and two sets of running feet.

"Papa!" She hears a cry of joy from their youngest, Ivy.

"There she is!" She hears Steve call back, "how was everything today? Did you keep your mama company today?"

"Yes, papa!" Is the younger cry, "we played and we ate and we played!"

Steve laughs, loud and clear as she makes her way towards the group gathered at the front door. "Sounds like a productive day then."

"Did you bring it?" The oldest, their son Isaac, asks.

She just makes it to the banister as Steve turns, crouching down to be eye level, "is that doubt I hear in your voice?"

The boy tries to remain serious, but then a grin creeps through, "did you, papa? Did you bring it?"

Steve stands and with the air of a valet reaches ceremoniously into his bag and pulls out a book. The boy gasps and leaps, snatching it from his hands.

"Thank you, thank you!"

Steve leans down kissing him on the head and ruffling his hair, "all the way from Mr. Stark's personal library, so make sure it's returned the same way it's found."

"Yes, papa." The boy says firmly, then he takes off towards the library, his dark thick brown hair bouncing as he goes.

Steve looks up, catching her on the second floor and his smile grows, "there she is."

Peggy magnanimously bows her head and then looks up and winks. "How was the trip?"

Steve picks up their daughter and rubs his nose against hers, making her giggle, "the roads are better now, we should be good to leave tomorrow."

"Oh good." She responds with relief, "I'd hate Mr. Coulson to be driving us through the sludge."

"If it takes a turn we may have to alert them that we can't make it, but that shouldn't happen."

In their entire marriage, they've only missed two weddings. And both have been made up for with personal visits and extensive gifts. A few times she would groan and moan about having to continue to go to every wedding, just like their son, but then she would see Steve in his suit and the way he would look at her while they danced and all her complaints would die on her lips.

He's up the stairs and beside her very quickly. Peggy tickles their daughter's nose and she shakes her head wildly. "Mama, that tickles!"

"I know, dear."

"I wanna play!" The girl says, wriggling out of her father's arms and to the ground, running towards her room.

Steve watches her go, "when did she get so big?"

Peggy laughs, "she's been growing for 8 years. Blink and you miss it."

Steve looks at her and places a hand on her cheek, "how can it seem like only yesterday that you told me you were pregnant with Isaac?"

Peggy leans into his warm palm, relishing the heat, "it seems that way to me too."

He kisses her, slow and deep, cradling her head and neck and making her blood start to dance.

His hands grip her waist and she wraps her arms around him, under his jacket, feeling the radiating heat of him. "I missed you." She says when she pulls back, "even you being gone one day is too long."

He grins at her, "I hope I won't need to again."

"How was Anthony?"

"Still going by Tony."

"Right, right." Peggy says with a smirk. No matter how many times Anthony corrects her to call him Tony, she always conveniently forgets.

Steve grins at her. "Well, he's enjoying classes at the university, but I got to see him for a few hours before he had to go back. He's just like Howard."

She wrinkles her nose, "is that a good thing? Bless Maria's heart."

The humor dances in his eyes, "she's loving it. They keep each other busy. She says hello by the way."

Peggy nods, "I'll have to go see her when we return. Did you stop in town?"

His face grows more somber, "I did."

Peggy's heart stills, "is she… okay?"

He nods, "she is. Erksine is doing a fine job of helping her get and keep her strength up. But I just… I worry. You know?"

"Of course. It was such a bad bout, I'm just glad she made it through."

Steve's mother had fallen ill last winter. Consumption almost stealing her from them. But Steve, Howard, and Erskine had done everything in their power to keep her alive, and they'd managed. Now she was on the mend, but still gaining strength. Not quite to her previous level yet, but getting there.

"She's still refusing?" Peggy asks.

"I ask all the time. I tell her we have plenty of space and help but she's adamant. She likes living close to the village. She's worried if she moves out here that no one will need or be able to use her as a healer. Which I understand but…"

"But you worry."

He nods, "I do."

"James and Natasha?"

"They've got their hands full with the twins. The house is chaotic but they're good. They seem to thrive off of it."

Peggy laughs, they do indeed seem to love the wild energy their children seem to have. She and Steve have been lucky to have relatively calm children. Of course they have their bouts and tantrums, but nothing like the Barneses.

"They're having the party for them when we return. That way Isaac and Ivy can attend."

"I'm so glad. I would have been sad for them to miss it. They've both been dying to attend a birthday party since Dalia's in the summer."

"And James said that it wouldn't be a party without them."

She rests her head against his chest and hugs him. His arms snake around and hold her tight. "What a full and wonderful life we lead."

She feels a kiss on the top of her head and then his chin rests there. "I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Me either."

—

Isaac reads in the carriage and Peggy has to keep from running her fingers through his hair and squeezing him to absolute bits with how strong her love is for him. His coloring is hers, the dark mahogany hair And deep brown eyes, but the bone structure is more Steve's. Although… more of Steve's natural state. Sharper features, more lanky. When he'd been born, too early and too skinny, Steve had panicked, worried that he'd cursed the child to grow up the life he'd had, ill and suffering.

But no. Their constant source of food and heat and good medical care had ensured that Isaac was well taken care of and never had anything more than a slight sniffle.

Ivy was born a robust baby. Round and plump and golden as could be. She has Steve's eyes and golden hair that shines like the sun, curling at the ends naturally.

They were smitten with each child immediately. She's sure that neither Isaac nor Ivy touched the ground or their beds for the first three weeks of their lives as they were always in one of the other's arms.

Ivy sleeps in Steve's arms now, lips parted and cheeks flushed from how warm Steve is. But it's such a help as it keeps the carriage toasty. Not a chill entering from the outside.

When Isaac yawns, Steve taps his chin, "you know that book will be there when you wake up."

Isaac pouts, "I'm not sleepy."

Steve gives her the side eye and she tries not to grin. "Alright." Steve relents.

But within minutes, Steve snags the book out of Isaac's now limp hands. The boy leans against the side, asleep.

"He's stubborn." She comments, "just like you."

Steve quietly scoffs, "let's not argue about this again. In that department, you win by far."

She laughs softly, then rests her hand on his thigh. "You want to play this game?"

Steve looks down at her hand and then to their two sleeping children, "if you tickle me that will wake them, and they will be grouchy the rest of the day. Then I will have to teach you a lesson."

Her grin gets salacious, "would this lesson happen to take place in our bedroom with no clothes? Because if so—"

He groans, his ears turning pink. Still affected by her advances, even after all this time. She never gets tired of eliciting that response.

—-

The long carriage ride finally rolls to a stop and they start to unload.

"Monty!" Peggy shouts as the man approaches to help, "how are you?"

"Fine, Lady Rogers, how are you?"

She rolls her eyes, "still so formal." She looks around, "is everyone here?"

"They're all in the house, Dalia has been talking about seeing them nonstop, miss."

At that, Ivy squeals and practically throws herself from Steve's arms and goes running towards the door. Isaac follows quickly after.

"We may never see them again." Steve says with a wry grin.

Peggy just shakes her head.

—-

They greet the rest of the family, and true to form, the kids are nowhere to be seen. Dalia is a year older than Isaac and they were quick friends as children. Ivy is they're little shadow, but thankfully Dalia loves her as her own little sister.

Steve rubs at his eyes, "I can't believe she's 14."

Micheal claps him on the back, "It's terrifying that's what it is. Time is flying so fast. And Isaac, he's thirteen?"

"Yep. And Ivy is 8. It's like they were toddlers, throwing food and now they're…"Steve wrinkles his nose, "little people. It's madness."

Lily smiles and nods, "Dalia asked about getting her first corset and I was thrilled and almost knocked over in surprise."

Peggy grabs Steve's arm and her eyes are wide, "Oh my heavens. One day Ivy will ask for a corset."

Steve looks positively ill but then he laughs, "I refuse to accept that."

They all join in the laughter and move towards the library to catch up.

—-

Peggy watches as Steve dances with Lily. They'd become close friends over the years. They're similar upbringings and complaints about their Carter spouses forging a bond as strong as sibling blood. She laughs at something he says and he grins in return.

"You ever worry they're conspiring against us?"

She looks up to see Michael beside her, a glass held out in offer.

She takes the cup and sips. "Everytime they're together I just know they're plotting our demise."

Michael laughs and settles beside her, "How are things in Acirema?"

"Wonderful." She answers honestly, "Isaac's starting to need more schooling than I can provide adequately. So, he's traveling to the village with Steve once a week, It's so precious to see him absorb and learn. He's very studious and dedicated to his work."

Michael nods, "and Ivy?"

Peggy laughs, "it's like raising the sweetest little daredevil that's ever existed. You know she climbed on the banisters and was about to leap off to the first floor?"

Michael gasps, "what!"

"If she hadn't wanted an audience I don't even know what would have happened. But she called for Steve to watch her, who about had a stroke seeing her up there. Thankfully he was able to stop her but…" Peggy laughs, "that was over a year ago. And we've been very stern about safety since. Now she just runs full tilt outside like the devil is chasing her."

"So she takes after you?"

Peggy grins, "yes. She does."

They looks over to see all three children dancing in a circle. Isaac looking like he's pretending not to enjoy it, but truly is. Dalia and Ivy are swaying and laughing easily, teasing Isaac who grins and then teases back.

"I don't know what my future would have been." Peggy comments with a thoughtful gaze, "I keep wondering. It haunts me sometimes."

Michael looks at her, waiting for more explanation.

"There's a thousand things that could have changed my life."

"Like?"

"What if I hadn't rebuffed Fred?" She blinks, "I wouldn't have been chosen in that damn ceremony." Michael laughs and she grins, "and even then. Steve had months to choose to hate me. Awful as I was."

"True."

She punches his arm lightly and he laughs.

"Or I could have chosen to let him suffer that night, in the bathtub. Or what if he hadn't found me in that pond?"

"This is a lot of would've, could've, should'ves." He says with an amused tone.

"There's so many more. And I can't help but feel like I've been given such an amazing life that I never even deserved."

"Barring your atrocious actions towards Steve." Michael teases, "I think you deserve this life just fine." And Michael then nudges her, "and you know Fred is here tonight, don't you?"

She glares at him, "he is not."

Michael points, through the dancing couples and all the way to the opposite side where other tables are. There sits Fred, and his wife.

Peggy grimaces then chuckles, "think I should go over there an thank him?"

Michael blanches, "you wouldn't!"

"I very much would."

He leans towards her, and every bit of their childhood mischievous nature comes flooding back to his eyes, "I dare you."

Peggy grins, "you are on."

She stands and starts to walk carefully towards Steve, knowing she'll want him at her side. It's actually quite surprising that she's never really talked to Fred in all these years. She's seen him from a distance at one or two events. But never thought about approaching him.

"May I steal him?" She asks Lily, once she's mananged to make her way towards him. "I need him just quickly."

Lily smiles, "yes, you can have him. But I want one more dance before the night is over." She says sternly to them both, "I barely get to talk to my brother about our plot to bring about you and your brother's demise."

Peggy blinks in surprise and Steve lets out a loud laugh, looking at her with such affection, "in my defense, you were speaking loudly."

The scoff of indignation that leaves her lips is ruined by her wide smile following shortly after.

"Come on," she tugs at him, "there's someone I want you to meet."

—

Peggy brings Steve to a stop in front of Fred, who looks up, blinking in shock. "Hello, Freddy." She says with a grin, using the nickname she knows he hates, "I've been meaning to thank you all these years. For making your father pull my name at that ceremony." Her grin gets wider, "I may not have realized it at the time but I've matured, and it's the best thing that has ever happened to me." She gestures to Steve, "this is Steve, my husband." Then she turns to his wife, "and you look lovely, what's your name?"

The woman, seemingly lost in the conversation, sticks her hand out, "I'm Talia."

Peggy shakes her hand, "nice to meet you, and my condolences."

"For what?" She asks, confused.

"Being married to Fred."

Then she turns back to Fred who is still looking caught off guard, "I don't remeber you being so nonverbal."

"Peggy—" Steve says, surprised in his voice.

"Margaret." Fred finally manages out, "it's been a long time."

Peggy laughs, "that it has. Where is your father, is he here? I'd like to thank him too-"

"Peggy—" Steve says again, then he turns to Fred, "I'm Steve."

"Fred." The man says slowly, shaking Steve's hand, "I've heard a lot about you."

Steve's brow pulls down, "oh, have you?"

Fred nods, "yes, I…" he looks nervous, "I visit the university occasionally."

Peggy wants to beam with pride. There's now a whole art wing dedicated to Steve and he teaches classes there on occasion. His idea having become a resounding success, more marriages mixing the villages than that damn council could have ever dreamed of. The distance between the villages grows smaller every year as they each grow and expand, both moving towards the university. Peggy hopes that in a lifetime or two they actually meet in the middle.

Steve just nods and Peggy looks at Fred, "how are things for you? Is your father still mayor?"

"He isn't." Fred says with gritted teeth, even though they both know she already knows that. "But he's doing well. He's not here."

"Oh, too bad." Peggy lies, "well, it was nice catching up. See you around."

Then without further adieu, she pulls Steve away and back onto the dance floor.

"What the hell was that!" Steve whispers, "you could have warned me!"

"You would never have agreed." Peggy grins, "and Michael dared me."

"Dared you?" He scoffs, humor dancing in his eyes, "And you blame me for Ivy's reckless behavior!"

She just kisses him so hard it makes him blush.

—

That night, Steve sleeps, fully at rest as she lays there, thinking of a million little things she wants to do. He makes a noise in his throat and she turns to study him. His nose twitches and she brushes her fingers against his hair so softly.

A chill sweeps the room and she does what she always does. She snuggles closer, sighing at the heat he provides. Her hands trace the shapes of his collarbones.

"You should be sleeping." She looks up to see him barely holding an eye open.

"Oops," she says, "sorry. I always forget how sensitive your skin is."

He drags open the other eye, "no, you didn't."

The heat in her stomach grows, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He rolls onto his side, facing her, "you know exactly what you're doing."

She pretends innocence, as her hand runs lightly, tantalizingly along his skin, lower and lower. "You're mistaken."

His hand finds her waist, pulling her flush to him, "Oh, am I?"

Already it's making her heart race, her breathing elevate. His presence something she willing drowns in day after day. Never once has their passion for each other faded. Even on the nights where she was more tired than she could possibly imagine, she would see him holding one of their children, humming softly to them or feeding them or sketching them, and all that tiredness would fade, dragging him to bed at the first possible moment.

She wastes no time, dragging off his sleep shorts and kissing him. The contact of all their skin makes her temperature rise a couple degrees.

He's pushing his thigh between her legs and dragging her against him, returning her kisses fiercely.

His hands find her backside and his grip makes her melt, completely at his mercy as he kisses her neck and collarbone, sucking the sensitive skin there.

Her hand is in his hair and the other searching lower, feeling his excitement grow as the sleep wears off.

His fingers are raising her sleep gown to take it off, higher and high— suddenly he goes rigid and yanks it down, pulling back from her.

The whiplash startles her, but she doesn't have time to ask why when their door opens.

Steve sits up, looking at the door, and Peggy turns, expecting it to be one of their children, but it's Dalia— a lantern in one hand looking rushed and hectic. She looks surprised to see them awake, and then whatever she has to say gets cut off as she looks down at Steve's chest. Her lantern bouncing off his skin. Her eyes widen and a gasp escapes.

"Dalia?" Peggy asks, still coming down off the adrenaline, "is everything alright?"

"It's Ivy—" Dalia chokes out, her eyes still on Steve's scars, "she's crying, and I don't know why, she won't stop."

Peggy maneuvers the covers to protect Steve's dignity and she gets to her feet, righting her gown, "thank you for letting me know."

She turns back to see Steve, and in the glow of the lanterns, his scars do look quite macabre. But she just follows Dalia out the door.

—

The girl is quiet as they make their way to Dalia's room. She enters to see Isaac sitting at Ivy's side and looking worried, "It's alright," he's whispering, "mama's coming."

"I'm here," Peggy says softly, sitting on the bed, "my dear, what's wrong?"

The girl tosses, and turns, looking miserable, "I wanna go home."

"We will be leaving tomorrow." Peggy reassures. She feels her forehead, but it isn't warm, "is anything hurting you?"

"My tummy."

She looks up but Isaac and Dalia both make shoulder shrugs like she hadn't mentioned that before. Peggy lowers the covers and gently presses on her daughter's stomach.

"Ooowww—" Ivy cries out, shoving her mother's hands away, "that hurts!"

And Peggy has to purse her lips together to keep from laughing, "Ivy Rogers, just how many pieces of cake did you eat tonight?"

Ivy grows quiet and her face pouts, "none."

Isaac snorts, and shakes his head, "don't lie, Ivy. It's bad to lie."

She hears so much of Steve in just that statement.

"You're not in trouble," Peggy says softly, "no matter how much you ate." She gently feels her daughter's stomach, it's hard as a rock. "I just want to know."

Ivy looks at the three of them and then buries her face in her covers. Peggy hears a muffled 'three'.

Her mouth drops and she puts a palm to her eyes, "my…" she says after a second, "that's a lot of cake. And after dinner that would be quite the amount of food for your little stomach."

"It hurts."

"I'm sure it does, love." Peggy responds, "that's why we eat till we're full and then we stop."

"But I wanted cake."

"I understand that. Everyone wants cake. But I promise you, that there will always be cake in your future. No need to eat it all at once."

She hears the door open and looks up, seeing Steve dressed, all scars covered. Dalia looks at him with wide eyes, but he doesn't address it. "What's the matter?" He asks, scooping Isaac up into his arms and sitting at the head of the bed, careful of Ivy's hair, "are you alright?"

Isaac wriggles, "I don't need to be held."

He's thirteen. Perhaps a bit too old to be carried, but Steve just looks at him sadly, "I know you don't need to be. But what if I want to?"

She's not been able to carry Isaac in her arms for almost four years, but Steve's unyielding strength has never lessened.

Isaac looks at him, almost weighing his desire to be seen as an adult and the fact that he has always loved being picked up by his father.

"You must allow your father to pick you up." Steve says softly, "It's good for me, don't you know?"

And that makes Isaac give in. "Okay." He says, then immediately leans his head against Steve's shoulder, looking tired.

Steve grins in victory then rests his free hand on Ivy's forehead, "what's wrong?"

"Your daughter decided that eating dinner and three pieces of wedding cake was a good idea."

Steve's eyes widen and he tries to keep the amusement off of his face too, "Oh…" He holds Isaac and leans forward, "You know, cake is very tasty. So I understand that temptation, little Ivy." Ivy's looking up at him, watching his face and listening to every word, "how about this, next time you only eat what you can manage. And I promise that if after that, you start to feel hungry enough to eat more, then you can. Deal?"

"Okay, papa."

"Good." Then he looks at Isaac, "how about we go see about making some ginger tea for your sister."

Isaac nods, loving being included in the adult task.

"Come on," Steve says with a grin, standing and slipping Isaac around his side to carry him on his back, "let's go."

They walk out, Isaac's hands clinging around Steve's neck and a smile on his face.

Peggy picks the girl up, holding her gently in her lap, "how bad is it?" She asks seriously, "should I call the doctor?"

Ivy shakes her head, "no, I don't need the doctor."

Peggy tilts her head, mock seriousness, "are you sure? Perhaps you're going to turn into a wedding cake!"

Ivy shakes her head vigorously, "no!" She giggles, "I will not!"

"Okay…" Peggy responds slowly, as if pretending to be unsure, "if you say so."

Ivy closes her eyes, snuggling tighter against her. Peggy looks up to see Dalia standing there, in her nightgown looking wary.

But she leaves it be. If the girl wants to ask, she can ask.

—

The tea helps settle Ivy's stomach and Isaac is sound asleep long before that. Dalia settles back into bed and Peggy thanks her for helping alert them. Steve picks Ivy up out of Peggy's arms and carries her to their room, settling her between them.

She falls asleep quickly and then it's just them two again.

Peggy brushes back Ivy's curls, "Dalia…"

Steve winces, "I know. I should have had a shirt on. Especially in another house."

"That's not what I'm saying." Peggy responds, "I'm just saying that she's going to be curious."

Steve lays on his side, looking at their daughter. A small coiled curl near her temple catches his eye and he wraps it around his index finger. "I remember when Isaac truly saw them the first time."

Peggy grimaces, "I do too."

—

7 Years Ago

"Mama!"

Peggy looked up, tilting her head, "yes, baby?"

"I wanna go swimming!"

Peggy looked at the snow piled up outside, "I don't think that's a good idea." She grinned, "I think you'd be quite cold outside."

"No, I wouldn't." He insisted, "I'll bundle up warm!"

Peggy shifted Ivy to her other hip, gently batting away the little fingers trying to grasp her lips and ears and eyelids, "how about you go find your father and see if he can fill your tub super deep and you can swim in that, hmm?"

Isaac was gone before he even responded. She turned, wiggling her eyebrows at her daughter, "You and I need to have a frank discussion about boundaries, young lady." She kissed her on the nose, "these are my nostrils," she said with mock sternness, dragging the grasping fingers away, "you have your own." Then Peggy tickled her nose, "see? There they are."

Ivy was giggling and reaching for her face again when she heard the scream.

All senses went on alert and she rushed out of the living room and up the stairs where the sound came from.

She flew through the house, hearing the scared crying.

"Isaac!" She called, "Isaac!" But the crying led her to her and Steve's room.

The scene before her made her pause in shock.

Isaac was crouched in a corner, crying and holding his arms around his head as if for protection.

Steve was holding out his hands, looking anguished but not getting any closer.

His lack of shirt sent a question into Peggy's mind, "what's going on?"

Isaac, only 6 years old, cried harder when Steve stepped closer.

She quickly handed Ivy to Steve and rushed over to Isaac, "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?"

"He's scary! He's scary!"

Her eyes widened to saucers and she looked at Steve, who's own eyes are red and she can see the water there, threatening to overflow.

"Oh, baby, no he's not, that's your papa! He loves you, he would never hurt you."

"He's a monster!"

Her heart cracked and she heard Steve's choked sound of anguish.

"No, baby. He's not. Those are just scars. He's not a monster."

Isaac just cried harder, but he allowed her to pull him onto her lap, "you don't have those." He whispered.

"No.." she responded quietly, "but I didn't get sick like your papa did."

"You get those scars from being sick!?" The panic in his voice ratcheted higher and she shushed him soothingly, "No, no, my darling, no. This was a special sickness. One you can't ever catch. And those scars are what helped him get better. They're a good thing."

"They look ugly and scary."

She couldn't even turn to see Steve's face at the moment. She knew it was heartbroken. She could hear his shaky breathing.

"No." She responded firmly, "they're not. They're beautiful. They saved your papa. It's not nice to say something looks ugly or scary just because you don't know what it is or if you don't like it. That's not nice at all."

"He scared me."

Peggy leaned back and tipped his head up, "do you mean you ran into this room without knocking and you got scared?"

He said nothing.

She looked over to Steve who had his eyes closed, tears tracking out of it, but he was holding Ivy so gently, and his hands were shaking.

"I want you to apologize to your father, Isaac."

He looked up at her, voice petulant, "why?"

"Because he loves you with every fiber of his being and you just screamed at him and called him a monster. Has he ever hurt you?"

Isaac's shoulders raised to his ears, defensive, "no."

"Hasn't he played with you and fed you and loved you every day?"

His little eyebrows were pulled down, "yeah." Then his eyes flicked to his father. And his eyes widened, "Papa, are you crying?" Something he'd probably never seen his father do. Not that Steve didn't cry. But Isaac was so little it hadn't been often enough for him to remember.

"You called him a monster." Peggy admonished, "how would you feel being called a monster?"

"Not very good."

"That's right. That's not a very nice thing to say. So, I want you to apologize."

"Sorry, papa."

Steve's voice was raw, "it's alright—"

"No." Peggy insisted, "don't say it's alright. Because it's not alright. You say, 'I accept your apology'."

Steve nodded, knowing they were being very intentional with Isaac's education of right and wrong, "I accept your apology, Isaac."

"Can I show you your father's scars? That might make them less frightening."

Isaac shook his head vigorously, "no!" Then he buried his head back against her.

She sighed, "alright. Let me know if you change your mind."

"Can I go to my room?"

She didn't want to let him go. She wanted him to mature in an instant and understand how hurtful he'd just been. She wanted him to help erase the look of pure pain on Steve's face.

But that was not how life works. And that's not how a child's mind worked either.

"Yes." She whispered out, "you can go to your room." He dashed out, skittering around Steve and disappearing.

Peggy took Ivy from Steve's shaking hands and she hugged him, "he's just a child. He didn't mean it."

Steve didn't respond, feeling stiff and rigid.

"Steve?" She tried again softly, "Steve look at me." He still didn't, and she shifted Ivy so she could reach up a hand and rest it on his cheek, "nothing he said is true."

"I know." He whispered, "doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

Just that made her heart clench, the feeling painful, "I know, I'm so sorry, I sent him up here to find you, I didn't know you were undressed."

He opened his eyes, still watery and looked at Ivy, who was watching them with curiosity, "I had gotten sap on my shirt from some of the trees I was chopping, and he just ran in here, took one look at me and—" his throat cut off and she held him tighter, remembering the scream.

"I guess you haven't been shirtless for a while in front of him, probably not since he was self aware enough to notice. It's new. The fear will fade."

He looked down at Ivy and his face grew somber, "I don't ever want her to see when she's older."

"No." Peggy snapped harshly. Then she softened her tone, "no. No, that's not the answer."

He stayed quiet and she didn't like that, so she huffed and stepped back, pointing to the bed, "lie down."

"What?"

"Lie down."

"Peggy—"

"Steve, lie down this instant—"

He obeyed, laying on their bed. She lifted Ivy and went to set her on his bare chest, his eyes widened, "Peggy—"

But she did it anyway, laying the girl down stomach first onto Steve. Ivy was still curious, wondering what's happening.

Then Peggy grabbed her little hand and guided it to the large scar starting on Steve's chest, over his heart, "see this, baby?" The little girl tries to scratch at it, "Uh, huh," Peggy said with a smile, "that's your papa." She lifted Steve's arm, bringing the scarred bicep closer to Ivy, "See this?" The little girl reached for it, her tiny nails dragging at it, "that's your papa too."

Then the little girl lost interest, laying her head down and kicking her feet.

"See?" Peggy said softly, "she doesn't mind."

"She's one," Steve pointed out, "she doesn't understand."

"Well, then we spend every day making sure she understands. We couldn't have seen Isaac's reaction coming, but we can keep Ivy from doing the same."

He looked at the baby now drooling onto his chest and his smile finally returned, "I don't want her to be afraid of me."

"She won't." Peggy assured, "she won't."

—-

That night, once both children were asleep, Peggy took extra care to ensure Steve was feeling back to normal. Every inch of scarring received kisses and nips and copious attention. Especially the ones over his lungs and the one over his heart.

He seemed embarrassed, something he hadn't exhibited about his skin in a long time, and she refused to let that continue, trailing kisses down until she was kissing the thick gnarled scars on his thighs, making his breathing shift to something that made her nerves dance.

It didn't take long for him to melt into her ministrations of affection and she gently pushed at his side, "what?" He asked, still breathless.

"Turn over."

"Why?" His curiosity was clear.

But she just pushed at his side till he obliged, laying on his stomach. She crawled onto his back, sitting there, her bare thighs wrapped around his sides. Then she leaned forward and kissed the mirroring scars on his back, then the back of his neck and behind his ears. He was shifting almost as if she was tickling him, but she knew it was enjoyment. She bit the left side of his rib cage and he laughed. After showing both sides of him their proper attention, she gently prodded his side til he flipped back onto his back and she laid beside him. "I think you are the most handsomest creature on this planet." She stated firmly, "and each one of these scars only makes you more so."

His lips pursed and he looked at the window, the moonlight highlighting what she knew was disbelief.

"Steven." She said with a mock seriousness, "you know I don't like it when you don't believe me."

"I think you're just used to them."

She dragged her nails down his chest and then wriggled on top of him, her whole weight pinning him down. Not that he couldn't toss her. He could.

Her toes rested on his shins and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the strong heartbeat, her hair splayed on him, "I am never used to how much I love and want you." She then raised her head, resting her chin on his sternum, her fingers played at the skin of his sides, raising goosebumps wherever they went. "It's like drowning in something so potent that I never want a fresh breath of air again. I only want you."

His eyes were piercing at her and his hands slowly wrapped around her, holding her more steady.

He traced circles at her lower back, tantalizing slow circles, "you are intoxicating yourself, you know."

"In what way?" She teased.

His hand moved lower, softly tracing her backside and down to her thighs, "you've been on my mind ever since I accidentally brushed against you while undoing your corset that first day on our honeymoon."

Her eyes widened, "even though I was being the biggest brat?"

He laughed, the sound rumbling her chest and making her body shake. "Even then."

"I dreamt of that," she admitted, "I told you that, right?"

He tilted his head, "dreamt of what?"

"Those next couple of days. I woke from a few dreams of that touch. Your skin so soft against mine."

"You're lying."

She laughed this time, "I'm not. I wanted your long slender fingers on me again." Then she raised an eye, "or should I say, 'in me'."

His eyes got fiery and she had no time to react as he flipped them, pressing her to the bed and pinning her there. "You know I don't like when you tease about such things."

His mock serious voice made her wriggle, jutting her chin defiantly, "I suppose you'll have to teach me some manne—" her voice cuts off as his mouth catches hers, urgent and needing.

She smiled, kissing him back and enjoying the way his heat and warmth made her feel. He used his knee to spread her legs apart and she felt her chest heat and inhale as he moved his lips from her mouth to her neck and down and down and down until they were both blissfully drowning.

—

From that day onward, Peggy made sure that Ivy saw Steve without a shirt at least once a week. Kids and their minds accelerated at such a rate that she never knew when the actual recognition of something would happen. So she was dedicated.

But it wasn't until Ivy was almost three that a breakthrough was really made.

Steve had his shirt off, sitting on the ground, playing with Ivy, when she looked up, "paint!" She said, "I wanna paint!"

"Oh" Steve asked, a smile on his face, "what do you want to paint?"

"Papa!"

Peggy laughed, "you should take her up to your art room, I'll go see if Isaac is done with his music lesson and I'll see if he wants to come up."

Steve nodded, scooping Ivy up and heading to his art room.

Isaac was just finishing up and she clapped once he was finished with his song. He wrinkled his nose. "You did very well." She stated, "how do you feel like you're doing?"

He set the little violin down, "my fingers still get tired."

"That's understandable," Peggy says, "it's a lot of training. But you're progressing beautifully."

Isaac, seven almost eight, nodded as if she'd just commented on the severity of the weather, "but I can get better."

"Of course," Peggy agreed easily, "with time and practice you will improve steadily." Then she tilted her head, "Ivy wanted to paint, and so your father took her up to his room, you want to paint too?"

He nodded, "okay."

Isaac had seen Steve with his shirt off many times since. At first Steve had protested, not wanting to scare him or force the issue, but Peggy had insisted. The scars needed to become commonplace, not something to be feared, but just a part of who Steve was. So Peggy had not shied away from Isaac seeing Steve.

But Isaac had still always been wary. Eyeing them with trepidation and not at ease.

Peggy entered the room and stopped, "what in heavens?"

Steve looked up, looking helpless to the two year old now painting on his chest, swirling colors wildly.

"Papa!" Ivy cried out, "Painting papa!"

Peggy bursted out laughing, "I guess she did warn us."

Steve chuckled, the sound filling the room, "I guess she did."

"Isn't it pretty, mama?" Ivy asked, gesturing to Steve's paint and scar covered chest.

Peggy rushed over, kneeling beside them, careful to not get her skirts in the paint on the ground, "It's beautiful, my darling!" She swipes at one of the colors, transferring the oils to her skin, and then tapping Steve's nose, "a masterpiece."

Ivy squealed in joy and then started spreading the paint wider, coating his arms and neck.

"It's cold—" Steve laughed, swiping at the paint and dotting her nose as well.

Peggy was smiling when Steve's eyes flicked up, widening slightly.

Peggy turned to see Isaac standing right behind her, looking at Steve's chest with curiosity. He knelt down slowly and his young hand reached out, resting softly in the paint against Steve's pectoral. Then he lifted his hand away to see the paint, a small smile started to grow before he reached out and placed his hand against the clean skin of Steve's cheek. Leaving a handprint.

Ivy giggled like mad and then tried to recreate her own handprint on herself, which made Isaac laugh. Peggy and Steve watched in awe as he looked at Ivy and grinned, "watch!" He said, resting his hand on Steve again and then resting it on Peggy's cheek, "see? Like that!" Then he grabbed Ivy's little hand and rested it on Steve, lifting it to Steve's other cheek and flattening her fingers so she could leave a smaller handprint.

Ivy shrieks in joy, "now mama!"

Isaac seemed to lose himself in the task, helping Ivy dip her hand against the paint and create as many handprints as they could on Peggy's other cheek and then on every inch of Steve's skin that was available.

At the end, both begin to tire and Ivy crawled into her arms, absolutely ruining Peggy's clothes. But she couldn't have cared less. She watched as a sleepy Isaac crawled into Steve's lap and snuggled tightly against his bare chest. His little hand resting on Steve's bicep, right over one of the scars.

She looked at Steve's face. It was pressed against the top of Isaac's head and she could see the tears streaming down it in relief.

He kissed his son's hair and then looked at her.

She smiled softly at him and nodded, "see? He knows you're safe."

Steve just held their son tighter.

—-

Present

"She's not 6."

Steve nods, "I know. Did she even know they existed?"

"Well," Peggy thinks, "I don't know. Michael knew they existed but has never seen them, I don't know if he told Lily or Dalia."

Steve leans forward, kissing Ivy's temple, "well, nothing I can do about that now."

Peggy nodded, sleep overtaking her.

—

All the next day, Peggy catches Dalia's eyes on Steve, and a worried look.

But she never asks. And they load up the carriage and begin the long journey home.

—

They arrive home and Peggy finds it curious that Ms. Nancy and Angie are standing in the foyer, waiting to greet them.

Isaac and Ivy take off running to their rooms and Steve sets his hat and coat on the rack by the door.

Peggy looks at them, "what is it?"

Angie wrinkles her nose, "well…"

Ms. Nancy looks fretful and Peggy's worry ratchets up a notch. "Don't keep us in suspense!"

Steve steps by her side and Angie's face looks truly apologetic, "here."

She hands over an envelope. A thick white envelope.

Peggy feels a sense of relief, suddenly worried they were going to be told that Sarah had fallen ill again.

But her relief is short-lived.

She looks over to the parchment that Steve has pulled out of the envelope and her eyes go wide.

You are cordially invited as the Unification Couple

To the Wedding of

Miss. Lorraine Marie Davies

To

Albert Franklin Ford

—