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For Your Birthday

[mightysmall]

My Dearest Margaret,

... I think I'll stick with Peggy.

My Dearest Peggy,

That's better. Happy birthday. I've learned a lot about the infinite possibilities of the universe since coming here and it feels a little like a miracle that you and I met at all. Millions of people in New York. Millions more in London. You and I somehow manage to cross paths and even luckier than that in the middle of a war we manage to spend enough time together that despite my inability to talk to women at all you saw something in me worth loving.

I gotta be the luckiest S.O.B. in Brooklyn.

And now this second chance of ours seems to mean even more knowing how things go in our little universe. No matter what, though, it's worth it. The chances. The war. The Red Room. I'd take the same crazy ride again and again because you'd be waiting at the end.

I love you. I always will.

Yours,
S. Rogers

[ Left with the letter is a jewelry box. ]

Birthday

[pursuitofcappiness]

[ Sometime during the party or a little after, Steve hands Peggy an envelope. Inside it contains a couple tickets to all sorts of things - a play in Epiphany redeemable any time, hot air balloon rides over Folkmore, a pottery class, tickets to the museum in Wintermute. There's a letter, too:

Hey Peg,

Thought maybe you could use a couple excuses to spend more time with Steve. Happy Birthday.

All my love,

Steve Rogers (the other one.) ]