Three years, one month and five days (1)
T-minus nineteen weeks and three days.
"Olivia, you ready?"
Peter's distant voice inundates her thought process. She is shaken from her trance and looks up from the untied laces still in her hands, trying to remember how to make a simple knot.
His footsteps draw closer and finally cross the threshold of her bedroom.
"'Livia, are you okay?" His voice is laced with concern and it makes her stomach muscles constrict.
"Yeah, I'm fi-"
"Remember what we talked about?" he cuts her off, and she drops her head slightly in defeat.
"I was just thinking, is all. I'm okay, Peter."
The floor creaks next to her as his knee falls upon the hardwood surface. "Did that thought make you forget how to tie your shoes?" he jokes, gently pushing her hands away so he can finish the knot.
She sits up slightly and shrugs, dragging the back of her hand across her lips.
He pats the tip of her shoe when he's done and leans back on his knee. His smile falls when he meets her eyes.
"Seriously, Liv, tell me what's going on."
"I don't-" she starts, but this time she cuts herself off and captures her lower lip in her teeth. "I'm a little scared."
A look of fear crosses his own eye, but his voice remains steady and warm. "Scared of what?"
"Not of," she tells him. "For. I'm scared for this baby."
Her hands come to rest possessively over her minute baby bump, only just starting to show even though she's nearly twenty weeks along. And then moments later, they're gone and running through her long hair.
"Why are you scared?" he asks quietly, because even though they're in her apartment alone, they've begun to whisper.
For a moment, he thinks she's speaking quietly so the baby won't hear.
"I'm afraid that I won't be able to protect our child."
"Liv..." he starts, but she places the tips of her fingers gently over his lips.
"Peter, we risk our lives every day. Whether it's chasing a bad guy or trying to save worlds, we're not invincible. What if we get hurt, or worse? Our baby would be alone. And I don't think I can handle that."
Her fingers move slowly from his lips to his cheek, and he leans into her touch.
"I won't let that happen," he whispers. The words fuel her, swell in her chest and give her hope. But the worry lingers.
She sighs. "But anything can-"
"No," he insists, "I won't let it happen. And I know you won't either."
Her forehead falls softly against his, and the contact just solidifies the statement into her even deeper. She tilts to place her lips against his, and he reaches up to cradle her face as she is his.
"It'll be you, me, and this baby, no matter what. I promise."
And in that moment, she believes it with all of her being.