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buckets-and-trees · 3 days ago

Note

I am even more excited about Fridays because of you and Presidential Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. I’m so looking forward to how everything turns out with those two!

Well, nonnie, we're finally back!

Red, White & True: Tuscon & Denver [12/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, side of Bucky and Sam Word Count: 4.7k Summary: Your mom joins the campaign trail.

Content/Warnings: political policy discussion, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Author Notes: For the seventh day of the Valentine Storygrams!

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[OCTOBER 12 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The tension between your mother and Steve simmers beneath the surface over the next two hours. You try to keep things light, showing your mother around campaign bus and introducing her to more of the staff. But there's an undercurrent of unease that you can't shake.

At the hotel the campaign’s logistical director has managed to assign adjoined rooms to you and your mom. After changing into your pajamas, you knock on the door that connects you, and a moment later your mom opens up. The two of you sit on one of the queen beds and begin to talk, just the two of you. There’s much less tension, and she gives you stories and updates about family and friends and old neighbors from your old home. You soak up the nostalgia, but it also feels strange to hear about all the normal things happening - so opposite from your whirlwind days and weeks on the campaign.

Your phone buzzes with a message, and you pause your conversation briefly to check what it says. “It’s just a couple of logistical updates for tomorrow morning,” you say, before looking back up.

When you do, you see your mother’s expression has changed. Now she’s watching you with a pensive expression as she rests against the pillows piled up in front of the headboard.

“What is it?” you prod.

"Honey," she begins, her voice careful. "Are you sure about all this?"

"What do you mean?"

You knew at some point the two of you were due to have this conversation. It’s a conversation that had begun to grow into an argument that had been deterred only by your father father insisting that the two of you not get into it on your wedding day.

She sighs, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the bedspread. "This campaign. Running for office. It's just so much pressure, so much scrutiny. After what happened with those awful photos, I can't help but worry about you. Is this really what you want?"

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. "Mom, I know it's not an easy path. But yes, this is what I want. I believe in Steve and what he stands for. And I believe I can make a difference by his side."

Your mother's brow furrows. "But at what cost? Your privacy, your peace of mind? I saw how those false accusations affected you - it’s why I’m here, why Steve called and asked me to come. And that's just the beginning. If Steve wins, your whole life will be under a microscope."

You nod, acknowledging her concerns. "I know. And it's not always easy. But Mom, the good we can do outweighs the challenges. I've seen firsthand how Steve inspires people, how he brings out the best in them. The plans he intends to put into action based on what he wants to do for the people? I want to be part of that."

She shakes her head slightly. "But honey, you barely knew him when you got married. And now you're in the middle of this huge campaign. Don't you think it's all happening a bit fast?"

You can't help but bristle at her words, even as you try to understand her perspective. "Mom, I know it seems fast from the outside. But Steve and I... we've been through so much together already. The campaign has only brought us closer."

Your mother reaches out, taking your hand in hers. "I just worry about you, sweetheart. I’ll always worry about you. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, Mom," you say, squeezing her hand. "Yes, there are challenges, but I'm doing something I believe in."

She studies your face for a long moment, then nods slowly. "I can see that. I just... I guess I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. My little girl, potentially becoming the First Lady of the United States."

You chuckle softly. "Trust me, I still don’t feel like that could be real, even though getting Steve elected is our only goal and fuels everything we do. I’m glad you’re here - you’ll be able to see what we do, and what I’ve seen while we do it.”

You can see your mother's expression soften slightly as she listens, though you can sense there is more she’s still thinking about.

"Tell me more about what you've seen," she says, leaning forward slightly. "What's it really been like out there on the campaign trail?"

You can't help but smile, feeling a surge of enthusiasm as you begin to share your experiences.

"Oh Mom, it really is incredible," you say, your voice filled with wonder. "We've been to so many places, met so many amazing people. There was this small town in Iowa where the entire community came out to hear Steve speak. They had handmade signs and everything. And in Detroit, we visited this incredible urban farm that's providing fresh produce to food deserts in the city."

Your mother listens intently as you continue, describing the passionate volunteers who work tirelessly for the campaign that you’re meeting across the country, the vibrant energy of rallies in big cities, the intimate town halls in small communities, and the countless conversations with people you never would have met across every pocket of America.

"We met this incredible woman in New Mexico who's been fighting for clean water rights for her community for decades. And in Florida, we toured a cutting-edge renewable energy facility that's creating jobs and combating climate change. Every day, I'm learning so much about the issues facing our country and the innovative solutions people are developing."

You tell her about the late-night strategy sessions with the campaign team, the thrill of seeing poll numbers climb, and the humbling moments when you've comforted supporters who've shared their personal struggles.

"It sounds amazing," your mother admits, a hint of awe in her voice. "I can see why you're so passionate about it all."

You nod eagerly. "It really is, Mom. I feel like I'm part of something so much bigger than myself."

Your mother's expression softens further, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. "I can see how much this means to you, sweetheart. And I'm proud of you for being so passionate and dedicated." She pauses, squeezing your hand. "But I want you to remember something important."

You tilt your head, waiting for her to continue.

"You are still important," she says firmly. "You, as an individual, not just as Steve's wife or as part of this campaign. Don't lose yourself in all of this."

Her words remind you of something Helen Santos once said to you, about the importance of maintaining your own identity amidst the whirlwind of the campaign. You nod, acknowledging the truth in her statement.

"I know. I'm trying to keep that balance. It's not easy, but I'm learning."

She squeezes your hand gently. "And what about that awful photo scandal? Are you really okay? I know you’ve shown such a put-together and brave face for the media, and even for me tonight, but I’m your mother, you don’t need to be strong for me."

You take a deep breath, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest at the mention of the incident. It’s surreal to believe it only happened yesterday morning.

"It was hard, Mom. Really hard," you admit, your voice catching slightly. "When I first saw those photos, I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. I was terrified, embarrassed, and angry all at once. It was like my world had been yanked out from under me."

You take a shaky breath, feeling the echo of the emotions of that moment. "I couldn't stop thinking about all the people who would see those photos, judge me, make assumptions about who I am. For a while, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was terrified it would derail everything we've worked for - and all the worse because the photos aren’t even real."

Your mother wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean into her embrace, grateful for her presence.

You continue, "But then, as we dealt with the fallout, as I spoke with our team and supporters, I realized that this wasn't just about me or the campaign. It was about a much bigger issue - the lack of understanding and support for women's health in our country."

You pause, feeling a surge of passion as you continue. "It’s only been a day since I’ve started to learn more, and I’m just stunned by the amount of things I did’t know, Mom. Like did you know that it takes an average of seven to ten years for a woman to be diagnosed with endometriosis? Or that heart attack symptoms in women are often dismissed as anxiety?”

Your mother nods, her eyes widening. "I remember when your Aunt Sarah was struggling with her symptoms for years before they finally diagnosed her fibromyalgia. The doctors kept telling her it was just stress or depression."the

"Exactly!" you exclaim. "And it's not just about diagnosis. It's about research funding, access to care, and education. Did you know that for decades, most medical research was conducted primarily on men? Even in animal studies, they used male rats and mice. It means we have huge gaps in our understanding of how diseases and treatments affect women differently."

As you speak, you feel a familiar fire igniting within you. It's the same passion that drove you to join Steve's campaign in the first place - the desire to make a real difference in people's lives.

"And then there's the stigma," you continue, your words tumbling out faster now. "So many women's health issues are shrouded in shame and silence. Menstrual health, fertility struggles, menopause - these are all normal parts of women's lives, but we barely talk about them openly. And don't even get me started on maternal mortality rate in the United States. It's shockingly high for a developed country, especially for women of color. Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. It's a crisis that's not getting nearly enough attention."

You pause, taking a breath. "The more I learn, the more I realize how much needs to change, and if Steve gets elected, this will be one of my initiatives as First Lady.”

Your mother's eyes widen as she listens to you speak, a mixture of pride and admiration crossing her face. "Honey, I had no idea you'd become so… well, I’m... I'm just so impressed, and I couldn’t agree with you more."

You lean forward, your eyes bright with excitement. "I've been thinking about how we could approach this. We could start with a nationwide listening tour, hearing directly from women about their experiences with the healthcare system. We could partner with medical schools to promote more inclusive research practices. And we could launch a public awareness campaign to break down the stigma.”

Your mother's enthusiasm is palpable, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind as she absorbs all the information you've shared. Suddenly, an idea strikes you, and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

"Mom," you begin, your voice brimming with anticipation, "You've always been so passionate about women, about building strong communities, and you have such a way with words. Would you maybe... want to help us build out the messaging for this initiative while you're here?"

Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and delight dancing across her features. "Me? But you know I'm not a political strategist or a healthcare expert."

You shake your head, grinning. "That's why you would be great! We have plenty of experts and strategists. We need is heads in the room who can translate all of the complexities into real-woman information. And this could be ongoing - after you go home, you could coordinate and consult remotely easy as anything.”

Your mother's eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh honey, I would love that. I've… I haven’t really said this to anyone, but I’ve been starting to wonder what I could do that would mean something getting older, and this feels like something I could really contribute to."

You feel a small lump in your throat at her admission - something that clearly had been worrying her - and now you’re even more enthusiastic about how things are developing with this initiative. Not only has your mother begun to understand your passion for the opportunity this campaign and opportunity could bring, but she's now eager to be a part of it.

"Oh, Mom! I can't wait to introduce you to the team and get your insights. We could start tomorrow morning if you're up for it."

She nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I'll need to brush up on some of these issues, but I'm ready to dive in."

You continue to discuss potential ideas and strategies, and you feel a shift in the energy between you and your mother. The tension from earlier - from the months since you married Steve, honestly - has dissipated, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and excitement.

You and your mother continue talking late into the night, brainstorming ideas and sharing stories. As the conversation winds down, you feel a deep sense of gratitude wash over you. Not only has your mother come to understand your passion for the campaign, but she's now eager to contribute her own skills and experiences.

"Mom," you say softly, "thank you for being here. For listening and for wanting to be part of this."

She smiles warmly, pulling you into a hug. "Oh, honey. I'm so proud of you. I may not have understood at first, but I can see now how much good you're doing, how much this means to you."

As you settle into bed that night, your mind is buzzing with possibilities. You send a quick text to Steve, updating him on your conversation with your mother and her willingness to help with the women's health initiative. His response is immediate and enthusiastic.

STEVE: That's fantastic! I’m sure your mom's perspective will be invaluable. Can't wait to discuss more tomorrow.💙

You heart flips over his use of the heart emoji, but his response in general makes you smile, loving how your lives are moving forward, your relationship, and the ease you feel to share everything with him now. You’re feeling a renewed sense of purpose and excitement for what lies ahead. As you drift off to sleep, you find yourself imagining the potential impact of this initiative, the lives it could touch, and the changes it could bring.

[OCTOBER 13 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The next morning, you wake early, eager to start the day. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you knock on your mother's adjoining door. She answers promptly, already dressed and looking just as excited as you feel.

"Ready for your first official strategy meeting?" you ask with a grin.

Your mother smiles a little nervously, but her eyes are still twinkling with anticipation. "I suppose so. Lead the way."

You guide her down to one of the hotel's conference rooms for the current makeshift campaign headquarters. As you enter, you're greeted by the familiar buzz of activity - staffers huddled over laptops, phones ringing, and the ever-present aroma of coffee.

Steve is already there, engaged in a conversation with the communications team, but he breaks away when he sees you and your mother enter. He strides over, a warm smile on his face.

"Good morning," he says, giving you a quick kiss before turning to your mother. "I'm so glad you're joining the team. Your daughter tells me you have some great ideas for our women's health initiative."

Your mother nods. "Thank you for having me. I'm looking forward to contributing."

And her smile - the real one - is gone.

Oh.

Your eyes flicker to Steve, and although his expression remains open, you notice the note of wariness behind his eyes.

Things had gone so well with your mom you forgot the little issue of her not liking Steve.

As the tension threatens to settle in, you're saved by Mariah, the campaign's health policy advisor, who sweeps into the room with an armful of folders and a tablet balanced precariously on top.

"Oh good, you're all here!" she exclaims, her curly hair bouncing as she sets down her load on the nearest table. "I've got some amazing data from our latest focus groups, and I think it's really going to shape our approach."

Steve checks his watch and grimaces slightly. "I'm afraid I have to leave for that appearance on 'Good Morning Tucson' in half an hour minutes." He turns to you and your mother. "I'm sorry I can't stay, but I'm looking forward to hearing all about it later. I know you'll come up with some fantastic ideas."

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. "No worries, we've got it covered. Good luck at the tv station.”

With a quick squeeze of your hand and a polite nod to your mother, Steve heads out of the room. You turn back to see your mother's smile has become a bit more forced.

"Well," you say brightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness, "shall we get started?"

Mariah nods enthusiastically, gesturing for you and your mother to join her at the table with other members of the team. As you settle in, she begins to lay out the data from the focus groups, explaining the key findings and areas of concern that have emerged.

Your mother listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration. You can see her analytical mind working, processing the information and forming connections. Despite her initial coolness towards Steve, you can tell she's fully engaged with the topic at hand, and she easily builds rapport with the rest of the team.

[OCTOBER 15 - DENVER, COLORADO]

"Hey, you," you say as you collapse into the seat next to Steve on the campaign bus. It's been a whirlwind few days since leaving Tucson, with back-to-back events across Arizona and New Mexico before arriving in Colorado. Along with interviews and slew of daily meetings, you've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone spend any quality time with Steve.

The bus rumbles to life, pulling away from the community center where Steve just finished giving a rousing speech on education reform. Through the tinted windows, you can see the crowd still waving signs and cheering as you depart.

Steve looks up from his tablet, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey yourself," he replies, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eye. "Oh really? And here I thought you might be avoiding me. Have you perhaps developed an aversion to your lovely wife?"

Your tone is light, but there's a genuine curiosity beneath the playfulness.

Steve chuckles, but you catch a flicker of something—nervousness?—in his eyes. "Avoiding you? Never. How could I possibly want to avoid the most captivating woman in the world?" He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You narrow your eyes and try to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his affection, not quite buying his charm offensive at face value. "Mmm-hmm. So if you're not avoiding me, perhaps you're avoiding someone else? Someone who happens to be my mother?"

Steve's smile falters slightly, and he lets out a small sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

You give him a knowing look.

He runs a hand over his beard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so transparent. It's just your mother clearly doesn't approve of me, or of our relationship, and I guess I've been trying to avoid giving her more ammunition."

You feel a pang of sympathy for Steve. Your mother's disapproval has been weighing on you too, but you hadn't realized how much it was getting to Steve - your confident husband, the man who seems so fearless and unflagging.

"Steve, I've seen you face down hostile reporters and debate seasoned politicians without breaking a sweat. Hell, you battled Thanos and his legions twice. But every time my mom enters the room, you suddenly have an urgent phone call or meeting to attend."

“Thanos was nothing to your mother.”

You scoff, playing up being very affronted. “Are you really saying my mom is scarier than Thanos?”

He laughs. “Yeah, in a way. I only needed to defeat him, not get on his good side.”

You better angle your body to him, and pull his hand into your lap, holding it in both of yours. You can see he’s thinking, so you keep quiet and let him speak.

“I've been feeling a bit out of my depth with your mom. I know how important she is to you, and I want her to like me, but I can't shake the feeling that she's judging my every move."

You nod, understanding dawning. "She can be a bit intense. She's always been protective of me. And our sudden marriage didn't do anything to ease any potential concerns. I don’t know if she would have been more accepting of the arrangement if I’d handled it differently because… well, it was what it was, but…”

You sigh.

“She was very alarmed over how quickly everything happened, and so I did tell her it was a marriage of political strategy and convenience just before the ceremony. I was trying to reassure her that there was no pressure, nothing to be concerned about, but it didn’t make her any happier, just shifted the nature of her concerns.”

Steve looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding. "I see. That explains a lot."

You nod, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that conversation earlier. When it happened, we weren’t really…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for that. I didn’t foster any real, deeper connection in the beginning.”

“…and then things between us changed so quickly," you continued.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Again, no need to apologize. I understand. And you're right, things did change fast between us. I still can't believe how lucky I am."

His words warm your heart, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. "Steve, my mom's opinion is important to me, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. We're in this together, remember?"

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together. I like the sound of that. More and more every time we say it.”

“Me, too,” you reply.

Suddenly the rumbling of the bus and the chatter of staff members fades away.

Steve's eyes soften as he gazes at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the bus windows bathes him in a warm glow, highlighting the flecks of green in his blue eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. You feel a familiar flutter in your chest, a mix of affection and desire that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Steve leans forward, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is feather-light, reverent, as if he's still amazed that he's allowed to touch you like this. You find yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss starts soft, a gentle press of lips, but quickly deepens as Steve pulls you closer. His beard tickles your skin, a sensation that never fails to send shivers through you.

Steve's lips move against yours with a tenderness that ignites sparks beneath your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, and he pulls you closer. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, a comforting heat that makes you feel safe and cherished.

You taste a hint of coffee on his breath, mingled with the spearmint of his favorite gum. The scent of his cologne envelops you, now so familiar and intoxicating. Your free hand hands finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss is intense yet affectionate, a perfect balance of passion and emotion. Steve's lips move against yours with a reverence that makes your heart swell, and you find yourself wanting more, but remember where you are.

You break off the kiss, but you want to stay close and so rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing a little heavier. The world around you slowly comes back into focus - the rumble of the bus engine, the murmur of conversations from campaign staff, the whir of laptops. But for a moment longer, you stay in this intimate bubble, savoring the closeness.

You reach up, running your fingers along his jawline, feeling the soft bristles of his beard against your skin. Steve leans into your touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. You're struck by how vulnerable and real he is in this moment - so different from the candidate the public sees.

"Steve," you say finally, causing his eyes to flutter open. "What do you think about having dinner with my mom tonight?”

Steve's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Dinner with your mom. Tonight."

You nod, your hand still resting on his cheek. “She flies home tomorrow.”

Steve nods, a determined look overtaking the apprehension from a moment before.

Steve nods, a determined look settling on his face. "So, what's the plan? Do we have time between events?"

You pull out your phone, quickly scanning the day's schedule. "We have a gap after the Denver Tech Center tour.”

"If your mother tries to throw me out a window, you have to promise to come to my aid."

You laugh, the tension broken. "Deal. Though I think even my mom would have trouble throwing Captain America out a window."

"You'd be surprised," Steve chuckles.

“Maybe Sam will loan the shield back to you,” you tease.

The shield isn’t borrowed, but you do rope Sam, Sophia, and Bucky into having dinner with you as well as your mother has grown incredibly fond of and friendly all of three of them over the past three days.

After you’ve ouly just ordered drinks, Sophia gets a message that the two of you need to step out of the restaurant to take an urgent call about some last-minute campaign trail changes. You catch Sam and Bucky exchanging a meaningful glance, and you try to give them a smile that conveys your appreciation that they’re serving as a buffer.

The matter - in your opinion - is really a non-issue, but Sophia says she thinks she better go consult with the logistics team, and you don’t argue when she’s that determined.

But it makes perfect sense when you step back inside the restaurant and take in the scene before you.

Sam and Bucky are standing in the waiting area, looking slightly sheepish, no sign of your mother or Steve.

"What's going on?" you ask pointedly.

Sam steps forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Now, don't be mad. We thought Steve could use some alone time with your mom."

You feel your heart rate quicken. "You left Steve alone with my mother?"

Bucky nods, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "He's faced down HYDRA and alien invasions. We figured he could handle one mother-in-law."

Sam adds, "Steve's been practicing what he wanted to say to your mom for days. Figured this was as good a time as any."

You're not sure whether to laugh or panic. "How long have they been alone?"

"About five minutes," Sam replies. "We figured we'd give them a few more. Or you two will - I’m going to join someone else for dinner.”

You smirk at him. “Enjoy your meal with Sophia.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he says, handing you an earpiece before walking away.

You stand there for a moment, torn between curiosity and concern. Part of you wants to rush back to the table and make sure everything is okay. But another part knows that Sam and Bucky are right - Steve and your mother need this time alone.

Bucky gently places a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it'll be alright. Steve's got this."

You take a deep breath, nodding. "I know. I just hope she doesn’t swallow him up."

"If it helps, we can listen in," Bucky says with a mischievous grin, tapping his ear to indicate the communication device.

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Curiosity getting the better of you, you put the earpiece in, Bucky doing the same with his own.

"Okay, just for a minute," you concede, putting the earpiece in.

Steve's voice comes through, clear and steady. "I know our relationship moved quickly, and I understand your concerns."

Your mother's voice follows, her tone measured. "Do you?”

“I know it looks like I swept your daughter into a whirlwind marriage agreement and a high-pressure political campaign. And that is where it all started, but we’re so far beyond that now. It’s become so much more."

"I do know that. And I believe it it, too. I’ve been watching you, you know. Long before I got here, and then of course this week. And I’m perceptive."

Steve pauses, his voice thoughtful when he speaks again. "But you still have reservations about me, don't you?"

There's a moment of silence, and you can almost picture your mother's expression - that slight furrow in her brow she gets when she's carefully considering her words.

"I do," she admits finally, her voice soft but firm. "And I'm trying not to, Steve. I really am."

You hear the clink of glasses, the soft rustle of fabric as someone - probably your mother - shifts in their seat.

"I see the way you look at my daughter," your mother continues. "The way your eyes light up when she enters a room, how you lean towards her when she speaks. I see the gentle touches, the silent conversations you have with just a glance. It's... it's beautiful, really."

Steve's voice is warm when he responds. "She's incredible. But those reservations… I'd like to understand them, if you're willing to share."

Your mother sighs. "It's not just one thing, Steve. It's... well, it's everything. Your past, your public persona, this campaign. I look at you, and I see a man who's lived multiple lifetimes, who's seen and done things I can't even imagine. You've saved the world, for goodness' sake. And my daughter... she's brilliant and strong, but she's also young."

You hear Steve take a deep breath before responding. "I understand those concerns. They're concerns I've had myself. But your daughter, as it turns out, is one of the strongest people I know. She challenges me, supports me, grounds me in ways I never expected. She makes me want to be a better man, a better leader."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture Steve leaning forward, his eyes earnest as he continues. "I know I have a complicated past, and yes, a lot of responsibility. But your daughter isn't overshadowed by that - she shines even brighter alongside it. She's not just along for the ride in this campaign or in our life together. She's my partner in every sense of the word.”

Your mother's voice softens slightly as she responds. "I can see that. I've watched her these past few days, how she's grown into this role. She's always been capable, but now... now she's truly flourishing."

"She is," Steve agrees, warmth evident in his voice. "And I want you to know that I will always support her in that growth. Her dreams, her ambitions - they're just as important as mine."

There's another pause, and you can almost picture your mother nodding slowly, processing Steve's words.

"I appreciate everything you’v said, Steve," she says finally. "And I can see how much you care for my daughter. But I need you to understand something. My daughter - she's always been special. Always been driven to help others, to make a difference. But she's also had her heart broken before. She's been let down by life, everything turned upside down by The Blip."

You feel a pang in your chest at your mother's words, memories of past hurts flashing through your mind.

Your mother's voice becomes softer, more vulnerable. "And I couldn't fix any of that. As her mother, that cut like a knife, and I think... I think I never really took that knife out. I've been carrying it with me, this fear of seeing her hurt again."

You hear her take a shaky breath before continuing. "When she told me about your arrangement, about this whirlwind marriage and campaign, all I could think was, 'Here's another way for her to get hurt.' I was so afraid for her."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture your mother's eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But this week... this week has been eye-opening. I've seen her in her element, passionate and driven. I've watched her tackle complex issues with grace and determination. And I've seen how you two show up for each other. I worried it was all for the public, but I know now it’s not.”

"It’s not," Steve says, his response immediate and resolute. "And I want you to know that I take my commitment to your daughter very seriously. I know I can't promise that she'll never be hurt - life doesn't work that way. But I can promise that I will always be there for her, to support her, to lift her up when she needs it, and to celebrate her successes."

You hear your mother take a deep breath. "I can see that, Steve. I really can. And I... I'm sorry if I've been hard on you. I just want to protect her."

“Then we have that in common.”

“We do,” she agrees. “Just give me time. I always loved Jeff, her first husband, but I can see that we could get there, too, Steve.”

Bucky hands you a handkerchief, his metal arm glinting softly in the warm light of the restaurant's entryway. You hadn't even realized you were crying until you feel the soft cotton against your fingertips. You take it gratefully, dabbing at your eyes as you try to compose yourself.

Bucky's metal arm comes to rest around your shoulders, the weight of it comforting and grounding. You lean into him slightly, grateful for the support as you process the emotional exchange you've just witnessed.

[OCTOBER 16 - DENVER AIRPORT]

The Denver International Airport bustles with activity around you, a cacophony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and hurried conversations. Yet in this moment, your focus narrows to your mother standing before you, her carry-on bag at her feet and a bittersweet smile on her face.

"I'm so glad you came, Mom," you say, your voice thick with emotion. The past few days have been another slew of organized campaign chaos, but having your mother here had been a development you didn’t realize you needed.

She reaches out, cupping your face in her hands, her eyes shining with emotion. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad I came too. More than you know."

It was good for you, for her, for repairing pieces of your relationship you knew were strained and things you didn’t.

You lean into her touch, feeling for a moment like a little girl again, safe in your mother's embrace, and her strength as your mother had been the thing you needed most from her.

"I'm so proud of you," your mother says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "The work you're doing, the person you've become... it's more than I knew to hope for - a true new chapter for you."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, overwhelmed by her words. "Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me."

She pulls you into a tight hug, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, a comforting mix of jasmine and vanilla that instantly transports you back to your childhood home.

As you pull apart, your mother's eyes drift over your shoulder, and her expression softens further. You turn to see Steve approaching, a gentle smile on his face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, coming to stand beside you.

Your mother shakes her head. "Not at all, Steve. I'm glad you're here."

Steve's smile widens as he reaches out to shake your mother's hand. To your surprise, she pulls him into a warm hug instead.

"Take care of my daughter," she says softly, but loud enough for you to hear.

You smile and shake your head.

"Always," Steve replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

As they part, your mother looks between the two of you. "And you two take care of each other. What you're doing is important. Don't lose sight of that, but don't lose sight of each other either."

You nod, feeling Steve's hand come to rest on the small of your back as you reply, "We won't, Mom. I promise."

An announcement over the airport speakers breaks the moment, reminding passengers of the TSA safety checkpoint instructions.

"I better go," she says with a sigh. She picks up her carry-on bag. “Tell Pepper - I assume - thanks for the first-class flight. Of course, I’m ruined now, but it’s worth it.”

The two of you wave and watch her for a moment. It’s early enough there aren’t many people around to take notice of you and Steve.

“Thanks for asking her to come, Steve,” you say.

“I’m glad I did, too.”

“Even with as scary as it was for Captain America to meet his wife’s mom?” you giggle.

He quiets you with a resolute kiss on the mouth that melts away your early morning sass.

But it’s too brief for your liking.

He reaches for your hand as he pulls away. “We better go before we miss our flight,” he says, tugging you along.

You scoff, falling into step beside him. “Because the campaign plane would definitely lift off without its presidential candidate on board.”

He laughs, “Don’t put it past Bucky or Sam to convince them I am there and try to get them to leave without me.”

next part: coming 2/14

Y'all have been waiting a long time on this chapter, and I apologize for that break, but now it's here - and I'm ultimately happy with where it landed. And we're getting close to the end!

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