“𝒯𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝐼 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓈, 𝐼 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒'𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉..”

The soft melody slipped through your lips as you stood infront of the kitchen sink. The sponge scrubbing the dirty dishes as you sung the song Peter had wrote for you on the day he confessed his love..

June sixteenth..

Which was also the anniversary of your marriage, and the day he had left to be in the army. It's not that you didn't approve, it was a because you knew you'd miss your lover man.

Your son, Maverick was sitting sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to the closet that stored away his grandfather's old clothes. He sat on the couch perched up on his knees on the armrest.

The sound of his little giggles caught your attention, you put down the yellow gloves and the sponge you hand used, taking off your apron. “Maverick!" You called this name, peaking your head from out the kitchen.

“What are you laughing about now?” A sigh escaped your lips as your hands rested on your hips.

The sight of your shaggy haired son dressed in an army uniform that was twice as big his size stood in the living room, looking at himself through the glass mirror.

“I want to be in the army! Just like daddy!” He said proudly with an excited grin on his lips, his chubby hands struggling to pull up the sleeves.

You clutched your apron through your slim damp fingers. You didn't want that dream stuck in his innocent thought. You didn't only have one, but two army dreamers..

“Take grandpa's clothes off. ” You chuckled under your breath. Maverick pouted, his shaggy brown hair casted over the tips of his eyelashes. “But, daddy said It looked good!” he whined, gesturing to the tall, British man standing in the doorway.

“I think it suits him, don't you, darling?” The build. Man asked.