The alarm clock wails at 7:00 and Darcy glares balefully at the thing before smacking the snooze button. She'd finally fallen asleep a few hours ago after constant tossing and turning to get comfortable and worrying about today's doctor's appointment. Not to mention countless trips to the bathroom. According to the pregnancy calendar app on her phone, the baby is only the size of a kumquat and weighs less than a quarter of an ounce, so how something so small makes her have to pee a hundred times a day is beyond her. She lays still, eyes closed, and takes a few slow, deep breaths to calm the churning in her stomach. It doesn't always keep the morning sickness at bay, but she'd rather give it the ol' college try than pray to the porcelain god. Her alarm sounds again and she turns it off this time, carefully sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She sits there a moment longer and thinks she's in the clear this morning. That is until her heightened sense of smell detects the breakfast her upstairs neighbor is cooking. "Fuck!" Slapping a hand over her mouth, she sprints to the bathroom.
After her shower, she nibbles on a piece of dry toast and sips from a bottle of ice cold water. Breakfast of champions it isn't, but it's the only thing she can keep down in the mornings these days. She takes her time with her makeup, carefully concealing the dark circles under her eyes that the lack of sleep left. Steve's worried enough about her as is and she doesn't want him to make a fuss before the appointment. It's nice that he's so concerned and he's been sweet about it, but with her crazy, hormone-induced mood swings, she wants to tell him to knock it the fuck off sometimes. Sighing, she scolds herself for being mean and sweeps blush across her cheeks.
Darcy tries three different pairs of jeans from her closet and when none of them button comfortably, she wills herself not to dissolve into tears and ruin her makeup. "Like you didn't realize this would happen, dumbass," she mutters, throwing them to the floor in a huff and reaching for black leggings instead. She already had to buy new bras to wrangle her size enormous pregnant boobs and it looks like she'll have to add shopping for new pants to her list. She pairs the leggings with a long purple cardigan that hides her tummy and tall brown boots. No one else knows about the pregnancy yet and she needs to keep it that way until after her dad and Pepper's wedding. The last thing she wants to do is ruin their special day with the news they're about to become grandparents to Captain America's baby.
She lightly sprays on the one perfume that doesn't make her gag and wraps a gray chevron infinity scarf around her neck as a knock sounds on the door. With a glance at her watch, she sees that Steve is precisely on time again. Nerves over the doctor's appointment are swirling wildly in her stomach and she has to close her eyes and breathe deeply to keep from tossing her cookies again. Darcy glances at her reflection in the mirror and Steve knocks again, more insistently than the first. She hurries to open it before he pulls some big damn hero move like kicking the damn door down just to make sure she's okay. Steve smiles at her when the door opens. It doesn't quite reach his eyes and she knows he's nervous about today, too. Oddly, that makes her feel so much better about her own feelings. "Hi," she smiles softly up at him.
"Hi," Steve says, holding up a cup from her favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood. "Brought you some tea."
"Thanks." She takes the cup and gives it a tentative sniff before sipping slowly. Steve's eyeing her cautiously, and she tamps down on the desire to roll her eyes at him, choosing instead to give him a tight smile. "Steve, can you please not stare at me like some wild animal exhibit at the zoo? I'm not going to jump through the glass and shred your stupidly handsome face with my claws," Darcy says through her teeth.
Steve opens his mouth and just as quickly closes it again, nodding curtly. "I've got a car downstairs. You ready to go?"
Darcy heaves a heavy sigh, her eyes falling shut. "I'm sorry. This hormonal rollercoaster is a cruel bitch and I don't mean to take it out on you. Promise."
"S'okay," he shrugs. "We should probably get goin' in case we get stuck in traffic."
"Yeah." She grabs her bag and sunglasses and locks the door behind her.
Things are fine until they get outside and Darcy doesn't see any signs of a cab waiting for them. The irritation bubbles up inside like a pressure cooker. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she snaps, stomping her foot on the sidewalk. "The damn cab just left?"
"Darcy," Steve says sharply, and she whirls around to glare at him. That look quickly fades into a smile when she sees him smirking and holding a set of keys.
"Oh. You have a car?" she asks as he unlocks and opens the passenger side door of the shiny black sedan.
"Nah, I borrowed it," Steve answers and opens the door for her.
Darcy sits down in the front seat and looks up apologetically at Steve. "Are you ready to hurl me off the Brooklyn Bridge yet? I don't think I could blame you if you wanted to."
"Dunno, it's still pretty early," he deadpans, and Darcy barks out a laugh. Steve's answering smile reaches his eyes this time and it puts her at ease.
"Pretty and he makes jokes," she says laughingly.
Steve chuckles and walks around to the driver's side.
The ride to the doctor's office is relatively silent, save for a couple of attempts at nervous conversation and the radio playing lowly on a non-descript station. Steve pulls the car into an empty space in the attached garage and his stomach is a mess of knots; he can only imagine what Darcy must be feeling right now, the cloud of the unknown hanging heavily over both of them. "You ready?" he asks, voice shaky.
Darcy fiddles with the plastic tab on the lid of her tea, eyes cast down, and nods. "Yeah," she answers softly. "Yeah, let's go."
He reaches for her hand on the elevator and wraps his fingers around hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze and not knowing exactly who it is he's trying to comfort more. The elevator doors ding and slide open on the fifth floor of the medical center and Darcy pulls her hand away. Steve follows her off the elevator and down the hall towards a frosted glass door that reads Lupton and Associates – Women's Health.
She hesitates outside the door and looks over her shoulder at him, a sad smile on her unpainted lips. "Thank you for being here," she murmurs. "I can't imagine how much worse this would be on my own." Her eyes shine, and Steve's heart twists in his chest, that seemingly ever present feeling of helplessness against her tears.
"You don't have to thank me, Darcy," he says, laying a hand on her shoulder. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Darcy snorts. "You're a liar, but thanks just the same." She takes a deep breath and reaches for the handle on the door. "I'm probably going to need you to hold my hand. Okay?"
Steve nods and squeezes her shoulder. "Okay." He opens the door and walks in behind her to the cheerfully painted waiting area.
Darcy checks in with the receptionist and is handed a clipboard with several sheets of paper and a pen, and told to bring the forms back once they're filled out. Steve leads them to a bank of empty chairs and sits down. As is habit for him wherever he goes, regardless of the fact that he's not on a mission, he scopes out the room, taking note of the number of doors and windows and people. His attention is grabbed by a married couple sitting across the waiting room, the happy looks on both of their faces as the man rubs his hand over his wife's heavily pregnant belly and whispers something that makes her laugh. The woman glances up, and Steve forces a polite smile on his face before quickly looking away.
There's a television playing a video of some 'expert' named Heidi Murkoff giving advice to parents about their toddler's sleeping habits and how to establish a bedtime routine. Up till now the baby has seemed a bit abstract, if he's being honest. Obviously he knows that Darcy will become visibly pregnant and their son or daughter isn't going to remain a baby forever, but seeing the other women in the room in various stages of pregnancy and watching this little girl on screen toddle around squealing has him crashing hard into a vat of reality. His stomach in knots and he feels as overwhelmed now as he did when Darcy broke the news about the baby in the first place.
Darcy huffs beside him, and quickly follows that up with a whimper and that's all it takes to snap him back to the present. "What's the matter?" Steve asks quietly, turning in his seat. Her face is sad and just this side of miserable.
"I don't know any of this stuff," she whispers, frustrated, gesturing to the section on the forms for the father's information and medical history.
Steve wordlessly takes the clipboard from her and wraps his left hand around her right, giving it a gentle squeeze. She's slow to lift her gaze to his, watery eyes silently pleading with him, for what exactly he isn't sure, but he finds he's powerless against that look. "Don't worry, Darce. I've got it. It's all okay." Darcy takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling through her mouth. "Okay?"
She tucks a corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and gives him a noncommittal shrug. "I'm so nervous," she admits quietly.
There's a lurch in the pit of his stomach, his own nerves threatening to get the better of him. He can't afford to be nervous now, not when Darcy appears to only be holding it together with a rapidly fraying thread. "I know." Steve lifts their joined hands to his lips and presses a quick kiss to the back of her hand. "We're fine. It's going to be fine. Just breathe."
Darcy nods and tightens her hold on his hand, tentatively resting her head against his shoulder. "Somehow I almost believe you."
Shifting carefully in his seat, he maneuvers the clipboard with his right hand and begins filling out his portion of the forms. He hedges for a moment over the medical history and whether he should answer the questions as he is now or pre-serum. Deciding answering the latter would raise too many suspicions, he circles 'no' for all the questions asking if he or anyone in his family has had any serious medical conditions and hands the clipboard back to Darcy when he's finished. She gives him a grateful smile and stands up to turn in the forms.
When she returns, she pulls out her phone and starts playing a game with brightly colored game pieces. "Candy Crush is so stupid," she tells him. "Take my advice and don't download it."
That draws a chuckle out of him. "Then why do you play it?"
"It's a good way to pass the time and keep my mind off things."
That's something Steve understands. He wishes he'd brought a book or a sketchpad with him so he could do the same. There isn't much waiting time, however, as a young nurse in pink scrubs walks out and calls Darcy's name. He feels Darcy tense beside him before she pushes to her feet, and he stands to follow. She flicks her eyes up to his face and he thinks maybe he's made a mistake. "Should I not…can I come with you?"
"Of course you can. I just wasn't sure you'd want to."
"I want to."
Darcy nods and a smile flashes briefly across her face. "Okay. Let's do this."
The first stop on the tour is the bathroom and the nurse hands Darcy a cup, tells her to follow the instructions on the wall and fill it with a urine sample. Darcy's not sure why there are instructions given that it's pretty self-explanatory, but she agrees just the same and leaves Steve hanging out in the hallway while she uses the restroom.
When she's finished, she washes her hands and grabs the cup with a paper towel. Steve's eyes dart away uncomfortably when she opens the door and hands the sample to the nurse. Perhaps people who are in an actual relationship are less weirded out by cups of their baby mama's pee.
"Thank you," the nurse says. "Let's go across the hall. We need to get some blood samples next and then we'll get you into the exam room."
"All right," Darcy replies and gets ushered into the room where the phlebotomist is waiting to draw her blood. She hands over her driver's license when asked and takes a seat in the oversized chair with the moveable arm rest.
"Roll up your sleeve for me, please," the phlebotomist, Debbie, instructs, gently patting her right arm. She does and accepts the red stress ball Debbie holds out for her. "Keep pumping that in your hand until I tell you to stop."
Darcy can feel the weight of Steve's stare, so she turns her head and gives him a lopsided smile. "Wanna trade places with me?" she asks him as Debbie wraps a rubber tourniquet around her upper arm.
Steve shifts forward to rest his elbows on his knees and smiles back. "I would that I could, Darce. Not a big fan of needles?"
"Is anyone? Other than maybe smack addicts."
Debbie laughs and feels along Darcy's arm with her index finger searching for the best vein. "Go ahead and give the ball a tight squeeze and hold it." Darcy looks away and feels the cold alcohol wipe on the inside of her elbow. She's generally fine with giving blood as long as she doesn't actually see the needle go into her arm. So she focuses on Steve instead, and he gives her another encouraging smile. He's really good with those, Darcy's learning. She manages only a slight wince when the needle sticks her arm. "Relax your hand," Debbie says.
After she fills up several tubes of blood, Debbie removes the tourniquet. She then gently slides the needles out of Darcy's arm and presses a cotton ball to the area and wraps it in bright pink flex wrap. "Leave this bandage on for an hour. You're all set," Debbie informs her.
"Well, that wasn't so bad," Darcy says and rolls down her sleeve. The blonde nurse from before comes in and tells Darcy and Steve to follow her to the exam room. She stops just outside the room and asks Darcy to step on the scale. Once she records her weight she ushers them into exam room three.
"There's a gown on the table for you. Everything needs to come off under it. Just have a seat on the exam table and the doctor will be in here shortly." She gives Darcy a tight-lipped smile and closes the door behind her.
Darcy sets her bag on the empty chair next to Steve and starts unwinding the scarf from around her neck. "Do you want me to step into the hallway?" he asks.
She shakes her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not necessary. We're having a baby. There's nothing here you haven't seen already."
"Are you sure? Because I can—"
"Steve!" she snaps. "It's fine. If you go out in the hall it's going to make it even more obvious to the staff that we're not in a relationship and while I know it shouldn't matter, I don't want them to judge me. Just…look away if that makes you feel more comfortable." It's stupid, this insecurity that manifested the moment she walked into this office, but she can't help it.
He says nothing, just shifts in his seat and stares at a poster about reproductive health on the wall. Fine by her. Sitting down, she unzips her boots and pulls them off, setting them neatly in the corner along with her socks. The silence in the room is deafening and uncomfortable and she hates that there's weird tension between them. Darcy stands and unbuttons her cardigan, draping it over the back of the chair before peeling off her tank top. She reaches for the waistband of her leggings and looks up to find Steve staring a bit slack-jawed at her. "What?"
His eyes snap up to hers and then he glances away guiltily, color blooming on his cheeks as he smirks at his boots. "Nothin'," he says.
She wasn't born yesterday and even though they haven't spent that much time together, she recognizes that smirk. That stupid, sexy smirk is one of the reasons they're in this mess in the first place. "That's not a nothing face, Rogers. Out with it."
"M'sorry," Steve says, rubbing a hand over his face.
Darcy's not buying that either.
"You're sorry. What are you sorry for exactly, Steve? For staring at my tits or getting caught doing it?"
"I promise I wasn't trying to stare," he says, shifting again in armless chair.
"Mhmm, likely story," Darcy teases, narrowing her eyes at him. "I don't think that defense will hold up in court." She smiles and shimmies out of her leggings, and Steve makes an obvious point to look away. She turns her back to him and reaches for the clasp on her bra.
"I wanted to see your stomach," he says quietly, the deepness of his voice slicing through the tension in the room. "I wanted to see if there was a change yet."
Oh. She glances over her shoulder and finds him watching her again. The smirk on his face has been replaced with sincerity and it makes her eyes sting. "Oh." Darcy turns her head away and pulls the ugly mint green gown over her head.
"But then I got sidetracked by trying to figure out if your tits are really that much bigger now or I'm just not remembering correctly."
"Steve!" Darcy admonishes laughingly, whirling around and throwing her bra at his head. He catches it effortlessly, a slow grin stretching across his face.
"I'm sorry."
"If you hadn't smirked when you said that it'd be more convincing." Darcy reaches under her hideous gown and slides her panties down her legs, folding them carefully. "They are, by the way," she says, snatching the bra from his outstretched finger. Steve's left eyebrow ticks up questioningly. "Bigger. They're obscene."
Steve lets out a derisive snort and shakes his head. "I know I'm not supposed to say this given our situation, but they look damn good. You look really good."
It's her turn to blush now and she kicks his shin lightly with her foot. "Stop it." She wishes that would have sounded half as scolding as it did in her head. Holding the back of her gown closed, she turns and hops up onto the exam table to wait for the doctor.
Thankfully they don't have to wait long. There's a quick rap of knuckles on the door before it swings open. A woman in her early forties with bright auburn curls walks in holding a chart. "Good morning, Darcy. I'm Dr. Carmichael." She smiles warmly and shakes Darcy's hand before turning to do the same to Steve. "So, looking at your chart the first date of your last period was July 1st, correct?"
"Yes," Darcy answers.
"That puts you right around eleven weeks. How have you been feeling? Any morning sickness?"
"Tired. I usually feel like I've been hit by a truck at the end of the day. And I have all-day sickness."
"Are you able to eat?"
"Usually. I have snacks throughout the day rather than meals and that seems to help."
Dr. Carmichael notes that on her chart. "Well, the good news is that the nausea typically subsides at the start of the second trimester and you're almost there. If it doesn't and you're still miserable, call the office and I'll write you a prescription to help with the nausea, okay?"
"That sounds great, thank you."
"I'll also get you a script for prenatal vitamins that you need to take daily. Tonya will give you a bag with some samples in it on your way out, so if there's one you like better, just let us know. Today's appointment is very much like your annual exam. I'll see you once a month until you're around 28 weeks and then it'll be every two weeks until the last month of your pregnancy when you'll come in once a week. You'll start to feel like you live here. I've got a few more questions to ask and then we can get started with the exam. Sound good?"
Darcy feels overwhelmed again, but she nods and pastes on a weak smile.
Once the exam is over and Darcy is dressed again, they're led down another hallway into a darkened room with a large screen mounted high on the wall, an adjustable bed, and machines he doesn't know the name of. Darcy sits on the edge of the bed and he takes a seat in the chair beside it. "How're you holding up?" he asks. She's been quiet ever since their playful moment in the exam room and he isn't sure whether that's because of his stupidity or if she's just overwhelmed with everything.
Darcy shrugs. "Alright, I suppose. This is just a lot to take in. How are you?"
"Same." Steve doesn't want to let on that he's a nervous wreck; that he's worried when they do the ultrasound the baby won't be okay.
A young woman with cropped dark hair and purple glasses walks in and greets them with a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Stacy," she says, shaking hands with both of them. "Are you two ready to see your baby?"
Darcy's face pales and she digs through her purse for her stash of lemon drops and pops one into her mouth. She closes her eyes and holds up her finger, taking deep breaths in through her nose. "Sorry," she says after a moment. "False alarm."
"Oh, honey, you wouldn't have been the first to hurl in my room. Here's the trashcan if you need it. Lie back on the table and lift up your sweater and we can get started."
"Thank you," Darcy says and situates herself on the table.
Stacy rolls her chair and the cart with her machine to the side of the bed. "Push your leggings down to the top of your hipbones for me, please. Perfect." She grabs a bottle from the cart and squirts a clear gel substance on Darcy's stomach.
"I expected that to be cold," Darcy says, a smile ticking up the corners of her lips.
"Cold gel on your belly isn't fun," Stacy smiles. "Let's get started." She places the wand on Darcy's stomach and starts slowly moving it around.
Steve keeps his eyes glued to the screen, anxiously waiting for the baby to appear. Even with all of the things he's lived through and experienced in his life, it's still amazing to him that this type of technology exists that allows you to see your baby before its born. The screen is black and gray and grainy and he has no idea what it is he's seeing.
"I'm going to mark things on the screen so you know what you're seeing. I know it's confusing. Here's your left ovary," Stacy says, typing an 'LO' above it. "And here's your right." She moves the wand around some more and the screen becomes grainier still. "This is your placenta, and here is the yolk sac. And here," she says, moving the wand slowly, pausing when the picture becomes clearer, "is your baby."
The image on the screen is undeniable now, a profile of their baby. Steve can make out the nose and mouth and body, and he sees two tiny arms and legs moving on the screen. A sound fills the room, a rapid, rhythmic thumping that can only be the baby's heartbeat. "Wow."
"Good, strong heartbeat," Stacy says.
Steve's eyes prickle with the threat of tears as he watches the image of his baby—their baby—on screen and listens to the heartbeat echoing through the room. He feels Darcy's hand on his and she threads their fingers together. Turning, he sees tears on her cheeks and a smile on her face. "This is pretty incredible," she murmurs, tightening her hold on his hand. Afraid his voice will betray him, he says nothing and grins at her instead before turning his attention back to the screen.