Steve Rogers/Captain America One Shots

Home for the Holidays

December 1945

The bright shimmer in the little girl's eyes, was not lost amongst the fluorescent lighting of the department store. And the tapping of her small Mary Janes against the tile floors, was still heard over the noise of bustling bodies and cheerful Christmas music playing. Her soft footsteps sounded as though a dance, the way she skipped her way down the aisles. Her arm swinging back and forth as her hand held tightly to her mother's; as not to get lost in the crowd of shoppers. Excitment radiated from the tiny body as though she was the strongest source of energy. And the smile that grew across her lips, was big and bright enough to light the entire store if their lights were to burn out. 

As the little girl approached the front of the line, she waited impatiently with her mother, for her turn to meet with the man in red. She gazed up at the white bushy bearded man who sat upon a throne in the midst of a winter wonderland, in wonder and awe. And as her mother watched her daughter's jubilant eyes looking with bubbly excitement in front of her, she recognized there had only been one other man in the world who could make her smile that way. Only one other person who could make that little girl beam with joy and jitter with anticipation like she did in that very moment.  

Her father. And it had been some time since she last smiled like this.

Her head full of curly blonde tendrils bounced, as she jumped up the stairs on her way to sit on Santa Claus's lap. He seemed to tower over her as he lifted her carefully onto his lap, her small frame almost disappearing into the deep red fabric of his large coat. And with a rumbling laugh that the girl could feel vibrate throughout her entire body, he smiled down at the little one who gazed up at him with blue eyes that glittered with excitement and starstruck fascination.

"And what would you like for Christmas this year, little girl?"

Her eyelashes fluttered softly before she answered the large man, without any sense of hesitation or thought to her softly spoken words.

"I want my daddy to come home."

*   *   * 

Steve Rogers rubbed his hands together in an attempt to create warmth for his frozen skin, hoping to spark enough heat to at least ease the stinging numbness in his fingers. His breath blew out in front of him in clouds that disappeared into the dark night sky, as though smoke from a cigarette or exhaust from a passing vehicle. And his body shivered from the cold temperatures and the lack of sufficiantly warm clothing he wore, as he walked swiftly down the snow covered sidewalk.

The infinity stones had been returned to their rightful time and places. Everything had been restored just as it was promised to be. But there had been one last stop on Steve's list that he couldn't stray away from vistiting. As much as he had tried to tell himself to stick strictly to the mission at hand, and to not risk changing something in history that didn't need to be, he couldn't keep himself away. There was something deep inside of his heart, perhaps even the very depths of his soul, that was stronger than any other part of Steve Rogers. And no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't strong enough to fight the pull inside of himself guiding him to that single place in time.

The house was still. Completely silent, as Steve slid the shimmering bronze key out from underneath the welcome mat, and carefully unlocked the front door. He listened for a sound, telling him that he had awoken the resting beings inside, but twisted the doorknob open when he heard nothing. The house was warm, as though a fire had been burning in the fireplace, but everything within the structure was dormant for the night. Shadows from the moonlight shone across the wallpapered walls, but darkness engulfed the structure in a single swoop. 

Steve walked slower than he would've liked, but he did so to ensure that all who rested upstairs wouldn't hear his boots against the floor below. The living room he strolled through slowly was always as it was, a picture from his memories laid out in front of him. A decorated tree stood in the corner between the right corner created by the set of windows, and although the lights were off for the night, Steve looked at the beauty that wrapped itself the small evergreen. He recognized the ornaments and spotted new ones that had undoubtfully been made by hand in some sort of art class. But the tree sparkled with an innocence, that made Steve's heart swell with a certain sense of familiar warmth.