Bucky lay on his side facing her, his wife. Lark was on her side as well—the only sleeping position her body would accept in its current state of growth—and his metal hand rested gently at the swell of her belly. The midwife was on speed-dial, she could give birth at any moment now that it was a week past her due date, and it was certain their first child would be a large one. Their first. Bucky smiled. The idea of more children following this one filled him with inexplicable joy, love, and a surge in his bloodstream of absolute panic. But then, so did just the thought of one child.

That train of thought was interrupted when his Lark shifted in her sleep and whimpered softly. She was uncomfortable; he knew that noise. Bucky could read her every gesture, sound, and look from her. His senses were attuned to his wife more than ever now that she was pregnant, and nothing was more important to him than her needs.

"He's restless. Can you feel him?" With eyes still shut, Lark murmured and put her hand over his metallic fingers, lowering them so that he could feel what she felt.

Bucky could not stop the grin from spreading on his face, looking with all his love focused on her. "She's dancing." He answered, earning a smile before she winced and moved in an effort to find that sweet spot of comfort again. Without having to ask him, Bucky soon eased her into another position and had the perfect pillow under her belly before the baby could move again.

She opened her eyes and gazed on her husband appreciatively. "It's not a girl, James." Softly, she admonished.

"Yes, it is." He answered matter-of-factly, but whispered it against her cheek as he kissed her eyes. "You need a daughter, first, Lark."

"I think you need a son, first. Then, when we have a baby girl, she can have him there to protect her." This 'argument' had gone on for the entire course of the pregnancy. Although each one had settled on victories, really, neither one could claim the title of being 'right.'

"I'm going to protect her."

"You're such a good daddy." Though her voice was filtered by sleep, Lark's words were spoken sincerely and she looked into his blue eyes with a love that grew deeper every day. "You can't help it. You're such a good husband to me, it's just the next step."

Coming closer to curl around her, Bucky put his flesh arm over her head and fingered her curls away so he could kiss her, and kiss her deeply. "I love you." Breathing against her mouth, they melted one into another until Lark gasped and made a grimace suddenly. His hand was still on her abdomen and there, where she'd put his fingers, their baby was visibly moving in the womb.

"There's not room in me, anymore." She rasped against his neck, regaining her breath from the pain of such a phenomenon. "Your baby girl needs to come out and let daddy hold her." They laughed softly and Bucky felt her calm down again, rubbing his hand along her back now to soothe her.

"I want that."

Labor was induced the next morning, and now it was night again, with no baby. Steve and Natasha had come, they were waiting in the outer room with support for Bucky, but no real words of encouragement other than 'they'll be okay.' They neither one knew that for certain. They weren't parents. Bucky stayed with his wife except to bring her food and drink. They walked around the room a hundred times. He massaged her lower back and kissed her often. Lark was so quiet in her pain that even her longer contractions could only be told by how her body tensed and her breathing changed.

He knew it was time when she gasped his name and gripped hard on his metal wrist. "James, the baby's coming down. I need to let him come down—"

Immediately, he was moving around her and gently carrying her legs so that she propped on the edge of the bed, leaning over and supporting her hands on his shoulders. "You're strong, baby. You're almost there." Voice deceptively calm, Bucky touched her face before bringing his hands to her sides, cradling her womb between them.

And then, before he knew what had happened, Bucky was cradling a startlingly beautiful, sporadically crying baby girl. A little girl. He looked at Lark with wide eyes and saw how flushed her face was, how perfect she looked with tears of love blinked away and her lips peeled in a grin. She laughed, pushing a few more tears down her cheeks. "You were right."

"I love you, Lark." He breathed, tears of his own making his eyes burn and blur as he sat beside her. With a reverent touch, he circled the baby's head with his hand, grazing a ruddy cheek with his thumb. The little one paused to huff a breath before squishing her face and opening her mouth until a short, delayed cry came out.

Switching arms from one parent to the other, Lark gathered her daughter against her breast and crooned softly, her voice instinctively going into a mother's soothing cadence. "Oh, oh, sweetheart, come here. You just don't know what to think, do you? You were so warm in the dark, and now there are lights and people, and you don't know what to think about all this, do you?" At the familiar sound, she ceased her cries and settled into little whimpers before a midwife came over and helped Lark latch her onto her breast for the first time. "Is that better, honey? I know you're hungry, you are so big and you needed mama's milk, didn't you, sweet girl?"

Bucky was in awe. How perfectly Lark transferred into motherhood and this natural ease with their child that kept her calm and tender. He put his arms around them both and kissed Lark's temple before resting his forehead to hers. "Thank you." Whispered, he felt her move against him and rest her head in the crook of his neck.

"What's her name, then?" A midwife peered at them fondly, a clipboard in her hand and pen at the ready.

Bucky answered without looking up. "Lila Catherine Barnes."