It was a usual day in Brooklyn as you got out of the factory you worked in. Your dress had sustained a tear while working and you had just noticed, making you sigh as you studied it, making a mental note to stitch it before you went to bed that night. As you walked yourself home, you wondered what you were going to make for dinner for yourself and Steve. Steve. You had met Steve through your friend, Dolores, when Bucky Barnes had asked her out for a date and she had begged you to come along for her date’s friend. You weren’t thrilled about it honestly, you hadn’t had any pleasant experiences with men in the past, you hated how they didn’t treat women like humans just because they had taken birth in female form. Yet, you had given in to your friend’s request, thinking it was a one time thing only, and you wouldn’t get to see your date ever again. The thought made you laugh to yourself now. You were so grateful Dolores had asked you to accompany her that evening, because you had found everything you were looking for that day.
Steve wasn’t like other men, he was the perfect gentleman, so kind, so caring and so respectful. You wish his Ma would’ve been alive so that you could meet the wonderful lady who had raised him. He might not be as big and built as his peers, but he had a heart bigger than the others could ever have. You still remembered the first time he had kissed you, he obviously had asked you for your permission before his lips had met yours softly. The kiss had been sweet and loving, but didn’t last as long as you would’ve liked it to, but Steve needed to breathe. He was panting as he had pulled away, and you could see the reddish pink color spread from his cheeks to his ears and down to his neck.
You might not have admitted to him, but you knew you loved him. That was probably why you were grateful that he hadn’t been able to get into the army yet. Yes, it was selfish of you, because you knew your man, you knew just how much he wanted to serve his country, and fight to defend it, but you would never tell him that you were happy just as long as he came home to you every night. You would patiently listen to him vent about how terrible he felt for not being able to make it even after trying multiple times but you wouldn’t utter a word. You would just nod, stay silent for a few more moments and very subtly change the topic. You couldn’t be blamed though, it was hard enough to patch him up when he came home after being beaten up in one of those alleys, simply because he refused to give up. You admired that about Steve, but the thought of him leaving to fight the war out there was your worst nightmare, you could never imagine yourself being okay with that.
You let out a tired sigh of relief as you opened the door to your tiny apartment. You had decided on baking a meatloaf for dinner, so the first thing you did was to work on it so that you could get changed and freshen up as it cooked. Once you were done with that, you made your way to your room to change into an old, white cotton blouse and worn out pale pink skirt. It wasn’t fancy, but you couldn’t really afford luxurious clothes or just new clothes at that, when you were already not being paid enough because of the ongoing war. The outfit was simple, but elegant and since you knew Steve was coming over for the evening, you wanted to look good for him. You were reading the newspaper on your couch while waiting for the meatloaf to cook when you heard the knock. You felt a surge of energy at the sound, even though you were tired from the activities of the day. Your feet hurriedly took you to the door, which you opened to find yourself staring into the familiar blue eyes you loved so much. You greeted your boyfriend with a smile, while he stepped forward to wrap an arm around your waist.
“Hey, doll,” Steve said, “you look beautiful, as always.”
“Hey, Steve,” you responded, feeling your cheeks heat up in response to his words. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, your red lipstick leaving a stain on the spot.
“It smells delicious in here, what’s cooking?” he asks as you wiped off the stain with your handkerchief, his lips curved into a lopsided smile at your flustered state.
“Meatloaf,” you answered, “you seemed to like it when I cooked it last time.”
“I loved it,” Steve said, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face so that he could get a better look at you.
He seemed quite relaxed, and happier than usual. You attributed that to the fact that it was your date night, and he was just happy to see you, so you did not think much of it.
“It’s almost ready,” you said, making your way over to the kitchen, “take a seat while I get it out and serve it."
You heard Steve moving behind you, while you bent down to take the meatloaf out of the oven.
"Y/N, honey, I have something to tell you,” he said as you placed the oven tray on the kitchen counter.
“Yes, what is it?” you asked, looking up at him with a frown. Suddenly, he seemed kind of anxious, but that happy spark was still there in his baby blue eyes.
“I made it,” he answered, leaning against the dinner table, watching you pick up the knife to slice the meatloaf.
“You made what?” you asked with a smile as you slid the blade through the loaf.
“I made it into the army,” he spoke. You almost cut your finger hearing him. Steve saw your face go from relaxed to utter terror, the color from your cheeks draining, and your eyes widening as your head snapped to look up at him.
“What?!” you shrieked, dropping the knife. Now that wasn’t the reaction Steve had been expecting. He expected you to be ecstatic, just as he was, he wanted to see the look of pride in the eyes of the most important woman in his life, and for a moment he thought you had misheard him.
“But why would you do that to me, Steve?” you asked out of disbelief, because how could he do that to you?
“Do what, Y/N?” Steve asked out of confusion, “I thought you’d be happy, you know how much I have wanted this.”
“You are not joining the army, Steven!” you declared, “you- you just aren’t!”
“Y/N, doll, b-,” but you cut him off with your rant. ‘No way in hell,’ 'I won’t let you go risk your life,’ 'I can’t lose you,’ were the sentences that echoed off the walls until Steve stepped forward to grip you by the elbows.
“Y/N, calm down,” he said, raising his voice, which effectively shut you up, but only for ten seconds, because you were shaking your head already, opening your mouth to speak when he brought a finger to your lips, “shhh.”
How the hell was he telling you to calm down when he was the one who joined the army? What was he thinking?!
“You know how much I’ve tried for this, doll,” he started again, “and finally it all paid off, can’t you be happy for me?"
"Happy for you?” you asked, anger bubbling inside you, “how could I be happy knowing that when you leave, your chances of coming back to me would only be 1 out of 2? Don’t you know you could die out there?"
"Y/N, men are laying down their lives out there on the battlefield,” Steve argued, “I have no right to do any less!”
Ever since he had broken the news to you, you had a whirlwind of emotions inside you; fear, sorrow, anxiety, vexation, it was all there, and it was kind of hard for your system to cope with it, and there was only one way to do that. You felt the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes before your vision was blurred and you felt your lower lip quiver.
“No,” you whispered with a sniffle, “please, no. Don’t do that, Steve, I can’t- I don’t want you to go, I don’t want you to die.”
Seeing you in tears wasn’t a pleasant sight for Steve, he couldn’t bear seeing you like that, especially when he was the reason you were crying. His hand, which was still gripping your elbow, moved up, rubbing your upper arm soothingly.
“I am not dying, Y/N,” he said, softly this time, “and even if I did, wouldn’t you be proud that I died a hero?”
You shook your head, looking at the floor as a sob escaped your throat along with a few tears spilling from your eyes. That was selfish, you knew, but you loved him too much to let him go put his life in danger.
“I can’t,” you spoke, but you couldn’t speak any further because your voice broke. You took a breath in, but still didn’t have it in you to look him in the eye. “I’m not that strong, I can’t bear the thought of losing the man I love,” you admitted.
Slim, white fingers took hold of your chin gently, raising your head to make you look at Steve. His thumb reached out to wipe the tears off from under your eyes. You were surprised to see him smiling softly before he gently pressed his lips against yours to kiss you.
“The man you love, huh?” he asked as he pulled away, his smile growing at your admission.
You nodded in response, as new tears formed against your waterline.
“I didn’t know what I meant to be loved until you came along,” you said, “and I don’t want to lose you now, Steve."
His hand came up to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to the other.
"You won’t lose me, honey,” he answered, “I have a very good reason to return, I’ll have my girl waiting for me, the girl I love."
His words made you smile wide, even though a few tears had slid down your cheeks.
"I leave tomorrow,” he continued, and you visibly froze, “it’s just a training before I-”
“Before you get shipped off?” you ask, and he nods, “how long will it be?”
“Three weeks,” Steve says, but he could tell, you still weren’t convinced.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. He was only an inch or two taller than you, and his chest wasn’t as muscular and wide as other men his age, but you never let him feel that he was any less than others. Steve knew he wanted to marry you one day, the idea had been on his mind for a while now, but he just couldn’t find the right time to ask you. He had his mother’s ring that he wanted to see on your finger, and he figured he would propose once the war was over, and things would be calmer.
“I promise, Y/N, I’ll come back to you,” Steve assured, and you simply nodded. There wasn’t much you could do, because you knew, once he was out there fighting the war, he wouldn’t have the choice. The choice to return to you, you would have to leave it to your fates to decide, but for now, you were going to savor the time you had with him.