"I love you too, Steve, so much," Peggy vows, a touch breathless and in disbelief at saying these words to the man himself and not just a memorial of him or some whisper to the sky. She stares at him reverently, cupping both of his cheeks with her palms so that she can lean in for a slow, familiar kiss. It's not frantic or needy, but rather the sort of kiss that they might have in ten, twenty years.

Swallowing back tears, she focuses instead on the last bit of clothing between them. "Steve," she says, softly, heart thumping, "I'm ready if you are," she says, keeping hold of his eye. There are orders she could give (take off my pants, get the condom, touch my breasts), but just this once, she wants to let Steve have a bit of control about what he wants to do.