𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

- 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛-𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 [𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟶𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝-𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚖]

      You had gotten Steve's letter a week ago. You were still brainstorming a way to keep track of him.
     You strolled down the streets of Brooklyn, anxious that you hadn't received a letter from Bucky in a while. He was your closest friend, right after Steve. You were so used to protecting you smaller, health-challenged friend and having you taller, muscular friend around to help you that it felt so... odd. Being alone. You didn't know what to do with your empty hours. They used to be filled with your Steve and Bucky and laughter and ice cream.
     "Help your country!" A man called from your right. You turned to see him waving a flyer, next to a poster of a girl dressed in an American flag leotard.
     "Ma'am! You can aid America by auditioning for one of the dancers and singers in Captain America's tour!"
     You perked up.
     Sure, you only danced when you were little, and you could sing pretty well, but this was your chance. It didn't matter who was judging, you would get a spot. You would.
     "I guess I'll try my luck," you smiled sweetly, plucking the flyer from his hand. He grinned.
     "Good luck beautiful." Your smile faltered. That was Steve's nickname for you. Not that you two had anything romantic. He would joke around. It was just that... it was Steve's name for you. No one else's.
     "You okay, ma'am?" The man looked concerned.
     "Yeah! Yeah, sorry. I'm fine."
     You walked away with the flier in hand.

     "Next!" The man called. You stepped nervously into the room. A panel of judges sat in front of you, and a dance instructor stood by the door.
     After three attempts, it was clear you weren't going to make it. 
     "Thank you, have a good day, miss." One of the judges waved. You paused at the door.
     No. You were going to be a dancer. No matter what.
     "Okay... I know I didn't get in. It's obvious. The only reason I tried out was to meet Captain America."
     "You can meet him on tour. I'm sorry, but we have a very tight schedule. If you cou—"
     "You don't understand. That's Steve Rogers. He's my best friend. Bucky—my other friend, he got drafted—I promised him I would look after Steve. Please. I need to find my friend."
     The man sighed.
     "Fine. How good are you with task managing?"

     As it turned out, you were an excellent task manager.
     As it was the simple job of making sure the show was on schedule, and checking costumes and props, you managed perfectly.
     You were only at rehearsals, and hadn't seen Steve yet. The few dress rehearsals they had oh were out on errands, and missed him.
     But tonight, opening night, you were determined to find him.
     You checked with each of the showgirls, making sure they had the right costumes. You helped "Hitler" fix his "mustache," and made your way over to the prop table.
     You spotted the broad shield resting on the table, labeled "FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA. DO NOT TOUCH!" You smiled, then, making sure no one was looking, picked it up. You held it properly, then noticed Steve's scribbled writing.

      Not all of us can storm a beach, or drive a tank. But there's still a way all of us can fight!

     You kept reading. There was a lot about bonds, then a bit where he punched Hitler. You had yet to see how your little Stevie was going to imposing enough to punch fake-Hitler, but you knew he would manage.
     "Alright everyone, we're starting in ten!" The director yelled. You quickly put down the shield and jogged up to the lighting department. After making sure they were all set up, you went to the side of the stage, biting your thumbnail. You were nervous. For Steve, for the dancers, for everyone. You wanted to give hope to the people. But if anyone could do that, it was your best friend. 
     "Quick, we need the shield!" Someone whisper-shouted.
     "I got it!" You called quietly, then ran over to the prop table. Grabbing the shield, you sprinted back. Panting you handed it to a shorter man in a suit. His hair was slicked back with gel.
     "Here," you gave it to him. He tapped a tall, muscular man in front of him.
     "Rogers, take this," he shoved the shield at him. The man turned around just as the lights went up.
     "Steve?" You gaped.
     He caught sight of you, and his eyes widened.
     "(Y/N)?"
     The music began.
     "Go!" The man shoved him forward. Steve stumbled onto the stage. You ran to the wigs, and peeked from in between the curtains.
     "Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way?" The girls sang. You watched Steve, your Steve, stroll up to the front of the stage.
     "Not all of us can storm a beach... or drive a tank. But there's still a way all of us can fight." His voice, the voice you knew oh so well, sounded nervous, though you doubted anyone could tell. You knew him long enough that you picked up on his mannerisms.
     "Who's vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?"
     "Series E Defense Bonds. Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy's gun!" He was beginning to get the hang of it, you could see.