Steve knew he had two choices once he was sent off to return the Infinity Stones to their rightful places in time.

The first choice was the one Sam, Bucky and Bruce expected - to come back having finished the job and continue life as he would in the 21st century, but he had another on his mind.

His trip with Tony that got them the Tesseract (after the failed first attempt in 2012) had given him pause. He was back in his time, a time he should have expected to live out his days, being a war hero and the man who beat Red Skull, that was it. He realised just how better he felt here, how comfortable.

He knew he spent his years after the ice doing good, being Captain America, saving his best friend from the clutches of HYDRA, but something still felt… missing.

It didn’t matter how many times he saved the world or fought for the better, It didn’t fill the space in his heart that only one person was capable of filling, and he had only the memory of you. Until now.

And he soon saw his second choice. He was terrified of the thought that fate’s hand would close if he waited, and he stayed. He stayed right in that moment of time where everything stopped for seventy years, when he knew one heart had shattered at the news, one heart he wanted to win back once again.

Your look of pure shock as Steve himself stood at your door would be something he’d never forget, and he could hardly get a word in with your quick-fire questions and noises of either surprise or excitement - he couldn’t really tell which one.

He explained carefully about what happened - the time travel, the fights, the stones. He kept is as vague as he could, and he gently pushed back your questions of the future, how the world played out. He had already played with time just to come back to you, and he wasn’t about to try his luck again.

The house you both found was beautiful - surrounded by grassland and stunning views. It was all he could have every wanted, and his heart soared at the thought that he’d spend his days living in it with you.

Every time he fell asleep, he always worried that he’d been in a dream all this time, and that he was elsewhere, away from you again. But of course, he was proved wrong morning after morning.

Today was the same. The smell of breakfast lingered in the air, the small rows of peonies and lilies in the windowsills as bright and pretty as ever. The small radio sat on the kitchen counter played a soft melody, only interrupted by the occasional crackle of signal static.

Steve let out a soft sigh as he approached you stood by the stove, his hand finding purchase on the small of your back as his chin rested on your shoulder.

“Mornin’.” He murmured, voice still thick with sleep but filled with undeniable affection.