➳ Oh, Well Imagine Marvel➳ FINISHED

•Hearts On Fire Pt. 2•

Stayed up for a long while to get this done. Spazattack99 BuckysWinterGirl Dorisagent101 aria_isabella14 and anyone else who wanted a part two to this here it is! Thanks for asking. (I may make this a series so stay tuned!) Enjoy.

"Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

To my dear Mrs. Barnes,

Hello my lovely wife, I hope these words find you well and safe at home, curled up on our couch and possibly knitting me a sweater because I'm freezing my ass off out here, but I'm willing to bet high stakes that's not where you are. You won't believe how cold it gets, but the stars, oh baby, you can see them all from out here. Most nights I think of you while I stare at them, but it's nothing like seeing your pretty face. And yes, I'm fine, you don't have to ask every time you write.

Speaking of which, I'm gonna need a new picture of you, I'm afraid the old one is barely recognizable now, so maybe you could round up another care box and send it over? Oh, but you're probably too busy, aren't you? Always so headstrong. Why, I'll be damned if you're not leading some war relief effort down at the station on Tenth Ave.! I'll wait to hear if that's true, but if word gets out that I'm damn proud of you, I'll deny it. After all, I don't want people thinking I'm too fond of you or that I'm soft for the doe-eyed girl I left back home. I'll swear up and down you're at home, making those butterscotch cookies Steve and I love so much, and if you so much as whisper a word of it, I'll withhold any and all forms of affection when I get home - kisses included. So, send me a picture and a batch cookies, would you? I know, I know, only if I shut up and stop pretending like I'm not wrapped around your ring finger.

You know, it's strange, but I think about your cooking a lot while I'm out here and it makes me too damn nostalgic for my own good. You know that pot roast you make, with the potatoes, carrots and onions, God, what I would give for a plate of that right now! And those cinnamon rolls! Baby, if that doesn't make my mouth water, nothing ever will. You spoiled me, you know, and now I can't stand this canned, boiled meat. I blame you. You've wronged me, peaches, really you have and I'll probably waste away out here thinking of roast and apple cobbler.

Did I say I was sorry for not writing? It feels like it's been so long, but it gets hard to keep track of time out here. Everything moves at the same pace, the skies are so gray that you can't tell the sunrise from the sunset, but there is the temperature difference - cold and colder, that is. Some days, I don't even remember how long I've been out here but it feels like years and with each, blurred second that passes I miss you more. I lay there and think about you every night. Sometimes, and don't you dare repeat this to anyone, I hum that song you like to sing and it helps me fall asleep. Maybe you'll sing it to me when I get back?

And it's so damned cold out here! I miss lying with you in that little bed you've had for years. I can see you so easily, laying there in that pale blue nightdress, and in those little minutes, I find comfort. Hell, I even almost miss that scratchy quilt, but anything would be good right now. I'm finding that you don't really miss things until they're gone and I miss everything about our apartment, small and freezing as it is. I swear you'll get that farmhouse one day, peaches, with the picket fence and the dog, God, maybe even a few kids. Can you imagine us with kids? They'll be Steve's size by the time they're twelve.

It's late and I can't even remember why I started this letter. I think it was just to talk to you, but I can't recall. Have I always had such a bad memory or is that just a side-effect of war? Honestly, it's embarrassing. Have I been too sappy? You're not crying, are you? I hate it when you cry, but so long as you don't send me any tear stained letters, I guess I'll never know. I think my lights about to go out, baby, so I'm going to have to wrap this love letter up, but I promise to pen another soon. Promise that you'll wait for me to come home, baby girl.