A/N: Today is my sister's birthday, so here's a new chapter. Thanks for reading.

For Art's Sake

After dinner (accompanied by Roadrunner cartoons), Steve and Leslie set off for the craft store. It was a nice evening for a walk. The street was nearly empty. Early diners were already seated and late diners hadn't arrived. It was a peaceful lull in the busy city.

Steve bent to speak in Leslie's ear. "There's someone lurking in the next alley. See?" A head peeked out, looked up and down the street, then ducked back into hiding.

"Could be a mugger," Leslie worried.

Steve stiffened and set his jaw.

"Could be someone grabbing a smoke in a nonsmoking area," Leslie added hastily. "Don't hurt anyone," she almost pleaded. Fury would kill her if Steve made a scene.

Steve was aware of this, but his hunting instincts were aroused. When the head peeked out and ducked back again, Steve lunged forward around the corner. Leslie scampered to catch up in time to see an Army sergeant in uniform leap backwards, startled at Steve's sudden appearance. The sergeant's sudden move caused his hat to slide and he grabbed it to keep it on. The quick move of hand to head brought an automatic response from the super soldier. He saluted.

The sergeant equally automatically saluted back, then both men grinned sheepishly. Since Steve wasn't in uniform, neither should have saluted at all.

"Man … sir, you startled me," the sergeant said. "Sir" was a safe choice.

"Sorry," Steve said.

"My nephew just got out of the Army," Leslie said, to rescue the men. "Still has those automatic reactions."

"I saw someone lurking in the alley and …" Steve shrugged.

"I'm lucky you weren't carrying," the sergeant joked.

"No weapons here," Leslie said, in case Steve didn't know what "carrying" meant.

"I'm sure I'll have the same problem in a couple of weeks. I get out on the first."

"Congratulations," Leslie said.

"I'll be glad to be done with MREs," Sgt. Hatch said. (Uniforms have nametags. It's very convenient.)

"We still had C rations when I was in the Army," Leslie said. World War II had used K rations, but Leslie figured Steve would understand "rations." "Meals Ready to Eat were actually developed while I was serving. Very handy that they came in soft pouches, not hard cans."

"Cans would be painful if you had to throw yourself into cover," Steve agreed, catching up.

"MREs really aren't awful," Hatch said. "But I was always glad to be at a base where we had full meal service …" Steve nodded fervent agreement. "And I'll be even more glad to be home where the cooking is even better."

"Home cooking is always best," Leslie agreed.

"Where did you serve?" Hatch asked Steve.

"If he told you, he'd have to kill you," Leslie said conspiratorially. "Shh, special ops, top secret."

Hatch looked impressed. Steve shrugged modestly. "We all serve where we're sent," he said. That thought had kept him going in his USO days.

"That's true," Leslie said. "I never got farther from home than Virginia. Of course, we weren't at war with anyone at the time."

"Really? There was a time the U.S. wasn't at war?" Hatch joked.

"Really truly," Leslie said. "Between the end of the Vietnam War and the First Persian Gulf War, there were a couple of little things but no sustained combat. The longest crisis was the Iran hostage crisis, but that wasn't military action."

"Iran hostages?" Hatch asked. Steve felt free to look just as puzzled.

"Iranians stormed the U.S. embassy in Teheran and took the people hostage. It was in all the papers for months." The men still looked clueless. Leslie thought a moment and threw up her hands. "Of course you don't know. This is before you were even born," she said to Steve, referring to his 1981 birthdate. "Now you boys are making me feel old," she mock complained.

"Sorry, ma'am," they chorused.

Leslie made a face at them. "If you're on leave, don't you have better places to be than lurking suspiciously in an alley, Sgt. Hatch?"

"Yes ma'am," Hatch said. "I mean, no ma'am, not right now. I got a couple weeks leave before I sign my separation papers. My girl Cynthia thinks I'm still in Georgia. Her friends are meeting here for her birthday and I'm going to surprise her."

"That's so romantic," Leslie cooed. She plucked at Steve's arm. "Can we go in and watch? I've never seen one of these surprises in person."

"Sure. Weren't we going shopping?" Steve asked.

"We can shop after," Leslie assured him. "We can have dessert first."

"You know I'm always ready for dessert," Steve said amiably. "And you'd better get ready," he added to the soldier. "I see three women coming this way and one is carrying a balloon that says 'happy birthday.'"

Hatch peeked out, using Steve's big frame for cover. "That's them!"

The women were coming from the other direction, so didn't have to pass the alley to get to the door. They entered the restaurant. Steve and Leslie followed close on their heels, making sure to get a table with a good view of the birthday booth. Cynthia's friends made sure to seat her with her back to the entrance. While the women studied their menus, Hatch entered, getting winks and smiles from the servers who had all collected near the register. One of Cynthia's friends began subtly filming with her smartphone.

Now everyone in the dining room could sense something was up, but Cynthia remained oblivious. As Hatch approached, silence fell, so everyone in the room could hear him say, "May I take your order?"

"I'd like …" Cynthia began, as she looked up from her menu. Her mouth remained open but all the words ceased. Her friends giggled.

"Surprise?" Hatch said.

Cynthia squealed, threw herself out of the booth and flung her arms around her man. They kissed deeply, drawing whistles and catcalls from the other diners and a dreamy sigh from Leslie.

When Cynthia finally pulled back, she demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you a birthday present," Hatch said. He took a small box from his pocket and dropped to one knee. Cynthia's gasp was loud in the renewed silence.

"Cynthia Stendahl, will you marry me?"

"Since you asked so politely," she said demurely. "Yes!" She yelled the last word triumphantly.

Hatch swung his fiancée around and around, as best as he could in the narrow aisles. A crowd emerged from the banquet room where they had been watching — all Hatch's family and all Cynthia's. The group swarmed around with congratulations, kisses and back slaps, then the whole mob moved into the back room receiving applause from the rest of the diner patrons, including Leslie and Steve.

When Leslie turned back to her friend, she found him wiping away tears. The waitress came up then and was taken aback by this sadness at such a happy occasion. Leslie realized Steve was thinking about Bucky and Peggy and the happy homecomings none of them didn't got.

"Some soldiers don't get a happy ending," she told the waitress. She patted Steve's hand in consolation.

The waitress rearranged her face in sympathy. "Thank you for your service," she said. "And my sympathies for your loss. Do you want to take a few more minutes?"

"No, I'm fine," Steve said in an obvious lie. He asked for lemon cake and Leslie chose chocolate cream pie.

After they gave their dessert orders, Leslie and Steve sat in silence for a long moment.

"What did you see?" Leslie asked.

"I saw Bucky surprising his family and getting hugs and kisses and backslaps." His lip twitched in a reluctant smile. "And I saw me sneaking up on Peggy and getting a punch in the jaw for surprising her."

Leslie chuckled. "She didn't stand for any nonsense," Leslie agreed.

Steve looked at her curiously.

"She's a SHIELD legend," Leslie pointed out. "We worked together in the old days."

"I thought you worked for the director."

"She was the director."

Steve grinned. "I should have known." He straightened his spine and knuckled away the last of his tears.

"Is that common these days?" he asked, gesturing toward the back room, determined to sound normal.

"The surprise or the crowd for the proposal? Both happen a lot. Since there's always someone with a cellphone, they get filmed a lot and put on social media. We'll find some on the internet. There are moms and dads surprising their children, too. Oh, and I'll have to find you some of the dog reunions."

"Dog reunions?" Steve asked curiously.

"When a soldier comes home after years away and is greeted by the family dog. They bring tears to my eyes," Leslie confessed. "There's no faking that kind of devotion."

They ate their desserts while watching reunion videos on YouTube, then continued on to the craft store. As they left the restaurant, they could hear the sounds of continuing celebration from the back room. They were both still smiling when they reached the craft store.

Steve's smile changed to a look of awe when he entered the craft store. "It's like the grocery store," he breathed. "So many choices?"

"Too many choices?" Leslie asked.

Steve stiffened his back and firmed his jaw. "We'll manage."

They entered, passing artificial flowers on one side and baking equipment on the other, with beads and jewelry visible beyond the baking supplies. Baskets were at the back and, when they turned right, they passed yarn and stencils and rows and rows of small plastic bottles of paint.

"And what's this?" he asked, fingering a sheet that looked like felt or construction paper, but was soft under his touch.

"It's called craft foam," Leslie said.

"But what is it?"

"It's a foam rubber or maybe plastic."

"What's it used for?"

"Crafts!" Leslie answered. She pointed out some of the examples on the display. "In my day we would have used construction paper or felt. This is another material. And, before you ask, yes, they still make construction paper and felt."

"Why?"

"No idea," Leslie admitted. "It just seemed to appear one day. It's fun to play with, but not what we're looking for today."

Steve tore his eyes away from the flexible sheets and scanned the rest of the children's section. He smiled at familiar crayons and clay and small figures of animals and people, then he saw what he was looking for and headed for the colored pencils.

"No, not those," Leslie said, catching his arm and steering him toward the fine art supplies. "Those are for kids. This is what you want."

First Steve saw the stretched canvases and tubes of paint, then Leslie pointed out the pencils. He reached for the smallest set, wincing at the $6 price. That was almost a dollar a pencil! Leslie gently slapped his hand away and pointed out two expansive sets.

"This one has 48 colors," she said. "This one has a several kinds of pencils — sketching pencils, watercolor pencils, charcoal, plus colored pencils. Pick one, or you can have them both. I'm buying. Call it a welcome home gift."

"I don't need all this," Steve protested. "I wouldn't know what to do with all of it."

"What would you like?" Leslie was firm. "Spend at least $20."

With prodding, Steve picked up a smaller set of colored pencils, some sketching pencils and a pad of sketch paper. He clutched the supplies and regarded his aunt hopefully.

"Acceptable," she said with a smile.

At home, they watched "Star Wars" while Steve sketched the Roadrunner on a treadmill with a note, "Thank you. It's perfect." It was signed "The Speedster."

Two days later, Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz compared the sketch with pictures drawn by Steve Rogers. The styles were different. The Roadrunner was in the traditional Looney Toons style, but that fact that this enhanced person was an artist like Steve Rogers confirmed their hypothesis.

Not that they would ever say anything to anyone. Over the years they would be asked to keep many secrets, but this was one they would never tell anyone.

A/N: This is my last completed chapter. We'll see how long it takes to get the next one done. It has been started.