Glue and Duct tape

by Nemo et Nihil

A super spy and a super soldier. Both had seen and done things they rather not remember. They were both a little bit worn, a little bit tattered, a little bit broken and lost one too many people. Yet what glue and duct tape couldn't fix, love could. Even if its just little things, and it was the little things that mattered. Oneshot collection semi-connected

21. Keepsake VI

MCU (c) Marvel Studios

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To say the last three years had been tough would be a woeful understatement; it had been gut wrenching miserable. After Christmas in 2016, she had gone to Bruce in an effort to reverse whatever sterilization the Red Room had done to her. He had phone a colleague: Helen Cho, a leader in cellular regeneration research. The two examined her, determining that the scarring of her uterus and cervix, along with her tubes being tied contributed to her sterilization. To reverse it, Helen had said she'd need to undergo a special operation at her facility in South Korea. Since the technology was new there was a low success rate. So, April of 2017, she and Steve went to Seoul where Helen performed the operation and the regeneration of the interior of her uterus and cervix.

Helen told her that once healed, she and Steve could try for a baby. They did with gusto. She looked up online about the best positions to conceive, downloaded an app to help track her periods and ovulation cycles, ate the miracle foods she found on the internet and increased the protein (Steve didn't seem to mind the protein increase) in their diet. The first few months after the procedure, she failed to get pregnant, and she feared that the procedure hadn't worked and that the Red Room had taken away any chance of having a family. Glum, and feeling like giving up, Steve had taken her on a small road trip around the Northeast and somewhere along the line they had conceived. The first time the over-the-counter pregnancy test came back positive she didn't believe it and took two more with the same results. She sat down in the bathroom and cried for joy, Steve almost busted down the door when he heard, but the smile on his face when she told him would forever stay in her mind. He had held her, his large hand over her still flat stomach, his joyous tears plinking against her neck.

The joy was short lived however. A few weeks later she miscarried. She didn't even realize it happened. She woke up with some cramping and a heavy flow; it was only when she went to Bruce the next day to do the ultrasound that she learned the awful truth. Telling Steve was the worse. It hurt to see his face crumple in sorrow, to know they came close to having a baby but not quiet. Their sex life had dried up after that, their marriage hit a speed bump and she feared that their desire for a child would ruin something she treasured, driving an irreparable wedge between her and Steve. She felt like a failure, that the lost baby was her fault and that if she never had sex again she'd be spared that pain and suffering. She withdrew from Steve, their bed became rigidly separated into his side and her side. He tried to coax back into intimacy, but she rebuked his advances. Betty had told her that a miscarriage wasn't her fault and wasn't a reflection upon her as a person. So, she got back on the horse, surprised Steve with a lovely dinner (meatloaf and potatoes with whiskey glazed carrots) and seduced him.

It followed like that for the next three years. She'd get pregnant, it would survive a few weeks, and then she'd lose it. Bruce had her on a cocktail of different drugs designed to make sure her body didn't reject the pregnancy. It made her feel sicker than the pregnancy did and still she lost baby after baby. He even had a theory that her chronic miscarriages didn't stem from her repaired reproductive system but from the combination of her and Steve's serums within the developing child. The worst was the fourth lost pregnancy last year; the baby actually developed enough to look like a vague alien-esque version of a human and had a heartbeat. She and Steve went to the weekly checkup and much to their horror their baby no longer had a heartbeat. Steve said she screamed. She didn't remember what happened after Bruce told her that. It didn't help that a few days later Ginger came over to their doorstep (she refused to let the woman into her house), to tell her she was pregnant.

She endured nine months of her neighbour prancing around, pregnant and happy. She tried convincing Steve to let her killer her, promising nobody would ever figure it out that it was her, or find the body. Steve had shaken his head and packed their suitcase, feeling it was best to stay in their suite at Avengers Tower for the duration of Ginger's pregnancy. She was thankful that she couldn't hear Ginger's baby cry, but her heart hurt whenever she saw the child, knowing that no matter what she did, she seemed unable to have her own child.

During all this Steve had remained by her side. He bought her little charms about how their unborn children had wings, the three Mother's days he gave her white lilies for each child they lost and did everything to cheer her up. She watched him add the sonogram pictures to her little box and add other baby items: a little baseball cap for a boy, tiny ballet slippers for a girl. Onesies with cute sayings about how the baby was daddy's MVP or daddy's perfect princess. He'd hold her and promised everything would work out. He even investigated adoption, but the adoption agencies refused to allow them on account of her background and their profession (Tony gave them a long tirade about how its utter bullshit that Captain America was unable to adopt a kid).

But all that seemed behind them now. Her fifth pregnancy seemed a success and so far, she had yet to lose the child (Bruce kept saying the baby was hitting all the prenatal markers). They had kept it secret for the first trimester, only Bruce and Betty knew. The second trimester she and Steve told their close friends. Tony and Pepper had been ecstatic, Tony opened a trust fund for the baby. Clint and Laura gave them parenting books and advice on how to deal with the coming months (she laughed when Clint told Steve to just shut up and do as she says; don't even argue). Sam promised that he'll be there if they needed it.

Bucky was the last to find out, having been away on a mission for Fury during the excitement. It was a good thing too, for Bruce brought in a special machine that took 3D imagery of the baby. He showed them their baby in a golden image, real and alive. She watched their child suck its thumb, tiny lips moving as it did so. She could see Steve's features: his strong chin and nose. They had found out they were having a boy. She smiled at Steve as he squeezed her hand, kissing her temple as they stared at the screen, at their baby, their son. "James," Steve had whispered.

"James Clinton," she had added. Steve nodded, agreeing and everything seemed too real and too perfect in that moment. The day after that she had invited Clint over and Bucky had just returned. They announced that they were having a son, and that both would be their child's godfather and that his name was James Clinton Rogers. Bucky wept, hugging Steve tight and Clint tried to keep a straight face, but he too was moved by such an honor.

And now she was six months pregnant, the end was in sight for James was due on March 9th. It was a week before Christmas and they had been so busy setting up the nursery that they only had time to decorate the inside. It was a chilly afternoon, James had been bouncing about inside her all day, and all she wanted was to take a nap once Steve got back from New York (Tony needed him to test some things). She checked the mail — most of it was Steve's from the Army and the VA and a few bills and one or two things for her — and was heading back to the door, mindful of the icy patches, not wanting to slip and fall. "Hi, neighbour!" Ginger called.

Natasha froze, her hand going to the swell of her belly as if Ginger was some horrific demoness that would eat her precious unborn baby. Bruce had warned her that due to her past history, her PTSD (which she had well under control, thank you very much), she could have prenatal anxiety. It didn't bother her too much, she never was prone to excessive worrying, but there had always been something about Ginger that set her on edge, and it just seemed to ramp up ever since she was pregnant; she needed to end the conversation quickly and get inside to relax. She looked up and gave the woman a queasy smile. "Hi, Ginger," she said, putting her hand on the doorknob. "How are you and Robbie doing?" she asked, smiling at the little boy in her arms. She was pretty sure Henry wasn't Robbie's father as Ginger kept hinting at something about Robbie's parentage. All she knew was that the UPS man changed to a UPS girl that did this route. It could be a coincidence, but she was a spy and learned that such things weren't coincidences.

"We're doing great. Robbie's super excited for Christmas, aren't you Robbie?" Ginger asked. The little boy blinked, chewing on his finger. She smiled and already felt like the superior parent. Her own son would be the cuter baby, the smarter baby, the better baby. "Where's Steve?"

"Work," she said, with a little shrug. That sixth sense of someone watching her scratched at the base of her neck; she ignored it. "Why? You want to talk to him about something?" she asked. Though she had no proof of this, she suspected Ginger had been trying to get into Steve's pants since they met (the way she kept saying how handsome he was at their first ever meeting was more than enough grounds for cause of suspicion). Steve took his vows seriously and had turned down handyman jobs at Ginger's house more than once (this was partly due that she learned that Steve was inept as a handyman).

"Well, I was just wondering when he was going to put up the Christmas lights, you two have been slacking!" Ginger hugged her son. "We need you to step it up!" She bounced her boy on her hip, smiling. "So, would you tell him that when he gets home?"

She grinned, using every ounce of her training to belie her hatred for this woman and wishing she could show her up or murder her. Murder would be the better option, but Steve would be disappointed in her, if he found out. "I would start pulling out lights and planning the display, but you haven't told us the theme this year, Ginger. I may be pregnant but the company I work for still requires me to do IT work. Steve and I have just been too busy to attend the block meetings."

"I know, and it's such a shame that you two haven't come. We'd love to have you. It's so much fun," she said. "Anyway, the theme is Christmastime with the Avengers." She grinned. "Think you and Steve can pull it off."

She stared, wondering if this woman figured out who they were. She'll have to call Hill and have her look into it. If Ginger had indeed figured out who they were, she and Steve would need to move. They had already painted James' room a nice pale blue, decorated it with dinosaurs. She had placed the blue stuffed elephant she had gotten against the pillows of his crib. Pepper had gotten them the best baby furniture: state of the art changing table, the best crib, small dresser for the little clothes. The baby shower wasn't until late February, but James' doting aunts and uncles already gotten him things. She spent her evening scrapbooking her pregnancy under Steve's watchful gaze as he drank his chamomile tea. It had become their pre-bedtime routine and she felt sad that it would all end in a few months. Somehow, deep in her bones, she knew James would be their only child and she wanted to preserve each moment of this once in a life time experience. "Yeah," she said, nodding at her neighbour. "I'll let Steve know."

"Excellent!" Ginger said. She nodded, watching a sleek black car drive pass their houses, the windows tinted dark and she was unable to see whoever was inside. Fear prickled up her spine as her once idyllic neighbourhood became transmogrified by her fear. Remember your purpose Natalia. The wind seemed to sigh, andshe jerked away from the other woman, eyes wide. Her hand went to her belly and she almost dropped the mail. She stared at Ginger, who looked surprised and a bit worried (or as worried as a snobby suburbanite woman could look). "Natasha something wrong?"

"Did you say anything?" she asked, keeping the fear from her voice. The black car pulled into one of the driveways, a man getting out and going to the house. It's nothing, it's probably just a friend of whomever lives there. No need to panic, Bruce said to keep your stress down. "I'm sorry, absentminded today" — she offered Ginger a blithe smile — "I missed that."

"I said I can't wait to see what you and Steve come up with this year and if you need anything just give me a call," Ginger said. "Are you sure you're alright? You look like you seen a ghost? Do you want me to call Steve?"

"No, no," she said, smiling and shaking her head. "I'm fine. Just need to sit down. Thanks for telling me the theme." She went inside her house and locked the door. Tense, she went to the kitchen table and dropped the mail next to her half-drunk tea before going around to lock and close all the windows and draw the blinds. She checked the security system and locked the doors leading to the outside. Get a grip Natasha, it's been years since you left the Red Room. They hadn't sent anyone after you. Steve will be home soon. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. James must've sensed her distress, for he gave a sharp kick to her side. "It's okay little one," she said, rubbing the spot. "It's okay." She sat down on the couch and turned the tv on.

Afternoon tv consisted of crap. Mostly talk shows and soap operas that she had no interest in. She selected the most mind-numbing of these, stretched out on the couch and traced patterns on her stomach. The tv was loud enough that someone at the window could hear it but low enough to allow her to hear what was going on in the house. "You're imaging things," she told herself. "You're tired and imagining things."' She laid her hands on her belly, smiling whenever she felt James move. "That's right, Mommy is just being silly and imaging things." She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. "Nap time big guy," she whispered, smiling as she felt her son tumble inside her. She drifted off, falling asleep on the couch.

She woke up, only to see the sterile white walls of a hospital room. "Hello?" she called, wondering where Steve was, if he came home, did she go into labour and he brought her to the hospital. She dismissed that, knowing that she would have felt labour pains even in her sleep. "Hello?" she called again.

"Here's Mommy," a woman in a white nurse gown said, bringing over a blue wrapped bundle. "She's happy to see you." The nurse gave her the bundle and she smiled at the sight. Her son, her James, pink and new and healthy. She felt a love so powerful she didn't know it could exist before as she kissed her baby's forehead. He smelled new and innocent.

"James," she whispered, "James. I'm so happy… so happy." She traced his tiny face and looked up to find Steve, to show him their son and how perfect he is. "Steve?" she called, but her husband wasn't there. A slender shadow fell over her and her son, instinctively she pulled him close, shielding him from whatever horror had appeared. "Madame B," she whispered, recognizing the rat-faced woman with her silver hair pulled tight into a severe bun. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"You forgot your purpose Natalia," Madame B said and yanked James from her arms. Her son wailed, squirming and unhappy in Madame B's arms. "Remember your purpose."

"Please, no don't this," she begged, reaching for her son. "Give me back my son, please, give him back to me." It hurt hearing her baby cry, James needed her, but she felt weak, unable to move, unable to help her son. She whimpered, tears leaking from her eyes. "Please, give me back my son." Madame B handed her a gun instead, James continued to wail. "No… no."

"Remember your purpose. Remember who you are."

She picked up the gun, the cold metal familiar and cruel. "I have no place, no name. I'm Black Widow." Madame B nodded, James cried louder, and the cruel woman looked to her left. She followed her gaze.

"Kill him," Madame B ordered, and she fired three times. "Good girl." She said, walking away and taking James with her. She looked around, her teacher was gone, her son was gone. At least she still had Steve.

"Nat?" it was Steve's voice, one filled with hurt and confusion. She turned, seeing her husband standing there, three bloody gunshot wounds in his chest, blood on his hands. "Why Nat?" he asked. "I thought you loved me? We were going to have a family, a little boy. Nat, I loved you."

"No, Steve!" she jerked forward, reaching for him but her hand met air and she fell.

She jerked awake, catching herself on the table before she fell off the couch; the local news was playing now, giving a report about local news story. "I don't need this." She turned the tv off and pushed herself back onto the couch, James fluttered about inside her as if he was asking if everything was okay. It was a strange sensation, one that never made her not smile and she swiped her hand over the swell of her stomach to sooth her son. Keys scrapped in the lock of the door, it took her a moment to realize that she was home, but she still looked around, making sure everything was how it should be: the tree in the corner by the window with lights and decorations. The Christmas village on the mantle, and their assortment of knickknacks on the table and windowsills, the wreath on the door. The door opened to reveal Steve, a couple of pizzas balanced in his hand. "Hey, honey," he said smiling at her as he came in. She smiled and got up, resting her hand on her belly and smiled when she felt James' tiny fluttering movement. He was safe and sound inside her.

It was all a bad dream. I was just tired today. She went over to her husband and kissed him. "What did Tony want?"

"Usual, test out new equipment. He built an obstacle course, wanted to see how fast I could do it. Set a record," he said as he went to the kitchen to set the pizzas down. "You didn't start the oven."

"Oh? Was I supposed to?" she asked, coming over to join him. She didn't remember him calling her about the oven.

"I called about twenty minutes ago, told you I was breaking take-n-bake pizzas home, told you to start the oven." He turned the oven on. "Didn't you hear your phone?"

"I uh… fell asleep on the couch," she said. "You got some things in the mail." She got a glass from the cabinet and poured herself some milk. "From the Army and VA."

"Oh." He washed his hands and unwrapped the pizzas. "How was your day?" he asked, throwing away the cellophane wrapping. "Nothing happened?"

"Quiet." She took another sip of milk. "Ginger told me the theme, Christmastime with the Avengers."

"Do you think she knows?" he asked as he went over to the coat rack to take off his coat and gloves and hang up his keys. "I'd hate to move, we just got the nursery set up and—" he stopped. She looked around, wondering why he had stopped. She glanced at her feet, there was no evidence that her water broke, or she had gone into labour (it was too early for that anyway, but Bruce warned that things could happen). James fluttering inside her disproved any notion of a premature birth. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"Just… tired," she said as he came over. He kissed her, and she rested her hands on his chest, whole and undamaged. It was just a dream. Just a dream. "Do… do you think Bucky can stay with us? It's a bit lonely in the house when you're gone."

"Uh… sure," he said, "don't think he'd mind. Probably wants to get away from Tony." He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into his embrace with a sigh. "I'll call him in a bit and ask."

"Thanks." She sighed, enjoying the scent of his cologne, the strength of his embrace and his hand on her belly, a protective shield over their unborn son. He pressed a kiss to her brow, a content sigh escaping his lips. "Steve?"

"I don't like leaving you home alone," he murmured into her hair. "We're so close Nat. Just a few more months and he'll be born." He grinned. She smiled and nodded. "So long as nothing happens, I'll be here for the birth. I know you hate being benched but… you can't exactly fight while pregnant and—"

"What do you mean so long as nothing happens?" she asked. Steve sighed, pulling away from her when the oven dinged. She hated being out of the loop with the dangers of the world, more so now that she was pregnant. Her maternal instinct to protect her son was strong. "Steve?"

"There's a situation in Mongolia." He put the pizzas in the oven and set the timer. "Maria's monitoring it, and she'll let us know if the Avengers need to assemble. So far nothing's been happening, but you never know." He took her hand and squeezed it. "I promise I'll be there for you when he's ready to be born."

"You better, it's a scheduled C-section," she said, smacking him in the stomach. He made a soft ow, and rubbed his abused abs. "You even picked the date." She drank the rest of her milk; she rested her hand on her belly and smiled when she felt James move. "Anything else you need for dinner?"

"Chicken wings, but I want you to go sit down, you shouldn't be on your feet so much," he said. She rolled her eyes and opened the refrigerator and grabbed the two packs extra-large chicken wings. She brought them over to the sink, got out a baking sheet and placed some paper towels on it before she rinsed the chicken wings. "Natasha."

"I know my limits, Steve." She hated how he doted on her, making sure she ate according to Bruce's diet, making sure she took the prenatal vitamins, the medicine that helped her body recognize the pregnancy as not a threat. Did she sleep well, take her afternoon nap, did she eat her afternoon snack. Did she do the stretching exercises Bruce recommended. She swore Steve had a list of questions for her; she was surprised he hadn't asked her yet. It was impossible to get mad at him, she knew it was his way of showing he cared and was trying to make sure nothing bad happened to their baby. But he had perfected a look that Tony was quick to dub the Disappointed Dad look, and to know she had disappointed Steve — Captain America, the shiny beckon of all that was good and true and honest — made her feel awful. So she ate the foods he bought her: pickles for salt, peanut butter (she hated peanut butter, but for some reason it wasn't so bad now that she was pregnant) for fats, salmon and avocado for the healthy fats. The list went on and on. She knew there was nothing he could do to prevent another miscarriage, but she was convinced he believed if he could fill her up with enough healthy foods he could at least lower the risks.

Steve gave her a look and she huffed, kissing his cheek. "Alright, I'll go sit down and turn the tv on," she said, walking off and rubbing at the annoying kink in her back. Steve made a little sound in the back of his throat and she went over to the couch and turned the tv on before flopping into the plush cushions with a sigh; well, she didn't really flop — she hadn't flopped into something for at least the last four months, the ungainly awkwardness of her body was something she was still trying to get used to. She pushed the button to make the recliner work and closed her eyes with a sigh. Everything was starting to hurt: her feet, her back, her breasts (those had been hurting on and off during the entire pregnancy), hell even her hands hurt. Groaning, she changed the channel to the national news and closed her eyes. The tv was a low hum, but she knew Steve could hear it just fine. It was peaceful, listening to him cook and the steady drone of the reporter on the tv.

The reporter said something, and she cracked an eye open, a cold chill wriggling its way up her spine. The strange anxious feeling came back, the one she felt while taking to Ginger this afternoon and she folded her arms in a protective fashion over her belly. She couldn't hear Steve cooking. "Steve?" She swallowed, her mouth going dry. "Steve?" she called again, glancing at the window that faced Ginger's house. She lowered the recliner and stood up with a grunt. "Steve?" she took slow measured steps. The toilet flushed, and he came out of the nearby bathroom, tucking his shirt into his pants. He finished adjusting himself as he came over to her.

"Yeah?" he asked, a befuddled expression on his face. She relaxed and felt stupid for thinking something horrible had happened to him. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes and he came over, wrapping her in his strong arms. She would not cry, she would not cry, she would not cry! A shaky whimper escaped her throat. "Nat, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, rubbing her back.

"Just… been edgy ever since I talked to Ginger this afternoon," she said, knowing it was better to just get it off her chest instead of letting it fester. It was times like these she hated being pregnant, just wanted the entire experience over and have her baby in her arms. Steve made a comforting sound, holding her closer. "I… I had a nightmare…" she shook her head, squeaking a bit when he scooped her up bridal style. She felt safe in his arms as he sat on the couch, snuggling her.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked, running his hand through her hair. She didn't want to, but she knew she should. Being in his arms, listening to his breathing and heartbeat helped calm her down.

"I dreamt that James was born" — she smiled up at him — "he was perfect, Steve. Tiny, pink and new and… I love him. I love him so much already." She put her hand on her belly, smiling. His hand joined hers.

"I know. I love him too."

"Then Madame B… one of the instructors from the Red Room came… she… she took him away and told me to remember my purpose." She closed her eyes, shaking. "She gave me a gun and told me to shoot him. James was crying, Steve. My little boy was crying and I couldn't do anything but obey Madame B and so I did and…" she stopped, putting her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm. "I shot you. You asked me why and told me we were going to have a family… asked me if you still loved me. I woke up after that."

"Oh Nat," he whispered, smoothing her hair and kissing away her tears. During all of this, Steve had been a stalwart rock. He held her, comforted her, even went to the Lamaze classes with her, read parenting books and pregnancy books, rubbed her back and feet and took care of her. The doting annoyed her, but she could proudly say she had the best husband, the most considerate father-to-be. Most of the women in her Lamaze class were jealous of how attentive Steve was, the other husbands all ashamed that they weren't living up to Steve's standard. But, then again, they didn't know she was married to Captain America. "Hey, it's okay. You've been out of the Red Room for thirteen years, they have yet to come and get you."

"I know, I know, and its probably just hormones but… I'm still…" she curled closer to him. "I feel weak Steve and I don't like it."

"You're not. You're just vulnerable right now." He nuzzled her brow. "Look, I have to go back to New York tomorrow, but I'll take you with me. You need to get out of the house, you've been cooped up too long. Bucky'll spend the rest of the pregnancy with us and you and he can do things while I'm not home."

"Does removing Ginger count as one of the things we can do?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice. He groaned, rolling his eyes. "Alright, alright."

"I'll call Hill, see if she can't pull some strings or something," he said. "My point is, Nat, you're gonna be fine. I'll keep you safe, and if I can't do that we have friends that are just as capable." He hugged her. "I know James is our son, but he's also the first baby to be born since the Avengers formed, and it's kinda a big deal and really special. So, everyone is gonna help."

"Thank you." She kissed the corner of his mouth. He smiled, kissing her on the lips instead. "You're going to make a great dad."

"Aw, shucks." He flushed. "Don't sell yourself short Nat. You'll make a great mom too." He hefted her up and set her on the couch. "Now, I have to check the pizzas and make the wings." He kissed her again, then he kissed her belly. "You behave James. Be a good boy and finish growing. Your mom and I can't wait to meet you." He rubbed her belly, a dopey smile on his face. She stole another kiss from him before she let him go back into the kitchen to finish dinner.

"You're making your famous wings, right?" she asked, leaning her head back to project her voice further into the kitchen. It surprised a lot of people that Steve was such a talented cook. Most people figured she did all the cooking and cleaning, but that wasn't true. Steve did most of the cooking (she could only make a few Russian dishes and a few American ones, but she loved baking). Those that visited and noticed the collection of cookbooks always asked her if they were hers and were surprised when she said they belonged to her husband. Steve loved cooking (he also loved cooking shows), and every spring and summer went to the nearby Farmer's Market. He cooked Asian, South American, Mexican, French, Italian, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, Indian, Thai, African, Caribbean. He even cooked Russian dishes. She always loved it when he'd beam with pride at her enjoyment of a dish from her homeland. She asked him once why he enjoyed cooking some much, and he told her it's the plethora of food and his desire to try everything. But if she had to pick one dish that was his specialty, she'd have to say it was his chicken wings. On one of their rare date-dates, she suggested Buffalo Wild Wings, and the concept of having chicken wings as an entrée blew his mind. It became one of his top five favorite foods of the 21st Century. Of course, it amused her that the wait staff at Buffalo Wild Wings were surprised about how much he ate (it was one of the reasons they hardly ever went out to eat). The next day he had gone out to make his own, even making his own secret sauce (which Tony had tried to get him to market a time or two).

"You bet, can't have pizza without chicken wings," he said. She sighed, mouthwatering at the thought of his chicken wings, she'll down a couple of tums after to curtail the heartburn. It also sucked she was pregnant and her sex drive was low. Watching him suck the sauce of his fingers was erotic (in fact she was pretty sure they had chicken wings when they conceived James). "I'm making a special honey barbeque sauce for you. So, you don't have to worry about heartburn."

"Oh." She looked at the tv. Well that put a damper on things. She drummed her fingers on her belly. For once she wanted to eat something without having to worry about her stomach deciding that this just wasn't going to fly. Morning sickness sucked for the first trimester, and then she finally got her appetite back, she started getting cravings and heartburn. She was glad that she hadn't suffered constipation (yet). "I can take some tums."

"No, it's fine," he said. She sighed, rolling her eyes and focusing on the tv. She couldn't wait until she was no longer pregnant and can eat normally again. After a while she heard the sizzle of chicken frying and the pungent aroma of whatever spices Steve used in his wing sauce. She could hear him humming a song from his era, sometimes singing. It amazed her how well he took to domestic living, once he opened himself to the idea. She knew his home would always be the battlefield, protecting innocent people the horrors of the world, but it made her happy that he now had a second home, a life away from combat, a life with her and soon with their son. "Here you go," he said, causing her to jump. He chuckled. "Did I scare you?" he kissed her brow. "Sorry."

"Just lost in thought." She took the plate and inhaled wonderful smells of pizza and chicken. He set a bottle of beer on the table. It was a high end brand, Steve had taken her suggestion of being snobby about what alcohol he drunk to heart. "This looks yummy." She dug in, enjoying the pizza and wings with a happy hum. He sighed as he sat next to her one plate full of pizza another piled high with reddish-orange chicken wings. She could smell the sauce and she itched to have one, heartburn be damned. "You know," she said between bites of pizza, "if people didn't know better they'd think you're the one pregnant."

He chuckled, grinning as he reached for his beer and took a long swallow. "This is… Nice," he said, reaching over to rub her arm. He went back to eating. "Are you sure you don't want to give him a Russian name too?" he asked.

"He already has a Russian name," she said. Steve arched a brow. "Yakov Stepanovich Romanova." She shrugged. "I asked Clint to pull some strings with the Kremlin to get James Russian citizenship as well."

"But you denounced yours," he pointed out.

"Doesn't mean my son shouldn't have Russian citizenship." She knew that look, it was one of worry. "Don't worry, Steve. It's all very hush-hush. Clint knows what he's doing, nothing will trace back to me. He'll be safe. And the US doesn't recognize duel-citizenship. So, his citizenship is primarily to the US."

"What about Russia?"

"They recognize duel-citizenship, though the holder of a passport is exclusively Russian. It's… I want James to know about his Russian heritage. I gave up my Russian citizenship as a part of my agreement with Shield thirteen years ago, but I don't see why my son can't have it too." She placed her hand on her belly. "He's Russian too in a way, I want him to at least have that from me."

"He has a lot of things from you already," he said and nuzzled her cheek. She could smell the sauce and tried to kiss him to get a little bit on her lips. He pulled away. "Nope, I know what you're doing."

"Steve, please!" she whined. "Just one."

"No, I made you honey barbeque wings." He pointed to the generous helping of wings in their dark brown glaze. She made a face. "What?" he licked his thumb and she growled. She swore he knew exactly what this did to her. "I thought you liked my wings."

"I do," she said, poking at her wings. "I just like your sauce better." She looked at him, trying to muster her best puppy pout. "Please, can I have a few of yours."

"Nat, you'll complain about heartburn in a few hours. And the antacids never seem to work or they make you feel queasy. You know that."

"I know." She didn't care though. She'll suffer for this. "I won't complain." He arched a brow. "Promise." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I had a horrible day and my feet hurt and so does my back. Spice isn't going to hurt James and I know you're being considerate by making honey barbeque, you should know I hate honey barbeque." She kissed his cheek. "Always had. Also, I'm pregnant."

Steve let out a great big sigh and closed his eyes. "Happy wife, happy life." He set his plates on the table and took hers. "Alright. Alright." He swapped her helping of wings with some of his and wiped the sauce off on his napkin. "There you go, honey." He kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," she said and ate the wings with gusto. "I love these." She watched him get up. "Whatcha gettin'?" she asked. He grunted and opened the fridge. He came back with a glass of milk for her. "Oh, thanks." She took a long swallow and went back to eating. He grabbed the remote and opened the menu, looking for something to watch. They settled on My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Sure enough, she did end up having some heartburn (the milk and antacids helped), and she didn't complain to Steve as she promised. After the movie Steve shooed her upstairs to get ready for bed while he did the dishes. He came up a while later, showered and crawled into bed with her. It looked odd, with her propped up by a bunch of pillows and him with his only one. Steve didn't complain though, as he could caress her belly until he fell asleep. She would watch him sleep for a few minutes before drifting off herself.

---

The nice thing about being an Avenger and pregnant was that the medical staff was all in house. Bruce was her doctor (though when she had asked him he had blushed awkwardly, pushed his glasses up and said he hadn't done gynecology since med school), and that meant she could get a check-up, whenever she went to the Avengers Tower. Like she was doing now. "I don't see why you wanted another one," Bruce said, "you were here last week. He looks good."

"I wanted to see him," she whispered, touching the screen as she watched James suck his thumb. She could see Steve's facial features already in her son and it made her wonder if he'll have any aspect of her. "Do you think he'll have the serum?"

"He should," Bruce said. "He should have both your serum and Steve's. What percentage I'm not sure and I won't know that until I draw some blood." She glared at Bruce and he flushed. "Look, I won't experiment on him, Tasha, but… at least let me draw some blood after he's born. Not a lot, he won't even know. If Erskine's formula can be passed on genetically, we should know… especially once it leaks that James is Steve's son." Bruce made a face. "Cause they won't even need James. They'll just need to get ahold of Steve and well…"

She huffed. "I get it," she said and turned her gaze back to the screen, watching as James waved his little hand. She smiled, tracing the image of his tiny fingers. "He's beautiful."

"Yeah, he's gonna look like a squashed beetroot when he's born." Bruce cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm being cynical." Bruce moved the wand to get a better picture of James. "And how have you been?" he asked.

She closed her eyes with a long world-weary sigh. "Tired, sore. It's the last leg and I'm already ready for this to be over." She smiled despite it all. She frowned, biting her lip and debated if she should tell Bruce about yesterday. She had minor bouts of worry and anxiety during her pregnancy, but it was normal things: what would giving birth be like, would she recognize a contraction when it happened, would her baby like her, would she be a good mother, could she do this? Yesterday was different. "Yesterday I… I thought the Red Room was coming back for me. I had a dream that my old instructor took James and forced me to shoot Steve." She looked away, studying the equipment in the room, listening to the hum of the ultrasound machine. She looked at the screen when James's head came into view. She smiled at her baby, hoping that the dream was just that, a dream. "Is that normal?"

"I wouldn't say it's normal," Bruce said, "pregnant women can have really weird dreams. The hormone changes, along with the physical and the growing attachment to the baby all lead to unique dreams." He rubbed his nose. "Also, you have to factor in you do have PTSD, well managed as it is. This could lead to prenatal anxiety."

"I haven't had any symptoms of PTSD in years and ever since Betty took over the mental health management for us, I've—"

"I know, Tasha," Bruce said, "but like any mental health issue, you go without displaying symptoms for years and then it pops up again. You'll always have PTSD, you're just more willing to work with the therapy available than Steve is. That's all." Bruce nodded at the screen. "Look, he's waving at his mommy."

"Hi baby," she whispered, touching the screen. "Will it happen again?"

"Possibly. A lot of anti-anxiety meds don't mix well with pregnancy, so the best thing I can tell you to do is relax, don't worry and if you feel anxious or something talk to Steve. And if it gets real bad, leave. Have him take you somewhere, go for a walk."

"Bucky's gonna stay with us until the end."

"Speaking of the end," Bruce said, "I want you to relocate to the Tower no later than the end of February. I'm not expecting you to go into labour before the scheduled C-section, but on the off-chance you might, I rather you be two floors down from medical rather than an hour and half away."

"I'll tell Steve, I'm sure he'll agree." She smiled, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that in a few months she'll be a mother and she'll hold James in her arms. The door behind Bruce hissed open; Steve and Tony walked in. She smiled at Steve and gave Tony a nod.

"So, this is the little Caplet," Tony said, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Not seeing the family resemblance." She glared at him, wondering why Tony insisted on following Steve in here. He never shown any interest in viewing the sonograms before.

"It's an ultrasound image, Tony, it's not the best quality," Steve said, "and don't call my son Caplet."

"Why not? He's your kid, gonna throw your mighty shield one he's grown up" — Tony mimed throwing the shield — "though he is Tasha's boy so… he could be like her instead. All deadly spider-y-ness." She rolled her eyes. "I got it. Capling."

"No, Tony, he's not even born." Steve rubbed his face. She sighed as Bruce switched the machine off and handed her a paper towel to wipe the jelly from her belly. She agreed with Steve, James didn't need a dumb nickname. "His name is James."

"Should've gone with Anthony. Lovely name. I know, it's mine." Tony leaned against a wall. "But think about it Steve. Capling is perfect. Baby spiders are spiderlings, he is a baby spider — cause his mother's one — and he's Captain America's son, so he's an honorary captain—"

"That's not how military ranks work," Steve protested. She reached for him and he took a step forward to help her sit up. He rubbed her back with his hand and she smiled, enjoying his touch.

"So, you put the two together and boom!" Tony clapped his hands. "Capling." He grinned, impressed with his own logic. She rolled her eyes and shimmied off the bed. Steve was at her side and she had a death grip on his bicep.

"Bruce you made the bed too high again, I can barely touch the ground with my toes," she said, allowing Steve to mollycoddle her (eve if it vexed her that he did it in front of their friends). She dug her nails into his arm as she found her balance again.

"Do you think Pepper would like a baby?" Tony asked as she gathered up her purse. She arched a brow, surprised Tony even brought it up. She could see Pepper being a mother but could not picture Tony being a father. In her opinion: he was still too egoistical. She snorted at the notion. She handed Steve her purse as he picked up her coat.

"You have to marry her first, Tony," Steve said, holding her coat for her as she slipped her arms in. "Then you talk about babies. Doesn't work the other way around." She smiled when he kissed her head and handed her purse back to her.

Tony made a face. "Anyway, Tasha, Steve told me about your neighbour problem. I'll be by tomorrow to fix everything." He grinned at her. "The theme should a piece of cake."

"Tony," she asked, her voice low in warning, "what do you plan to do to my house?" She didn't need a disaster and she was pretty sure she and Steve could out do Ginger by themselves. "I don't want a mess and I don't want Ginger to know who we are. To everyone else, Steve's a mild manner veteran that works at West Point and I'm his computer geek wife that heads up Stark Industries cybersecurity division."

"And how did you—"

"Pepper." She gave him a sweet smile. "I expect to keep that façade in place. Nobody knows that Captain America and Black Widow have a quiet life in the New York suburbs." She draped her arm over the top of her belly, feeling average and normal with Steve be her side, his arm over her shoulders.

"If you want to win this thing, you must let me do it my way," Tony said. "Besides, I thought Steve here was going to talk to Hill about getting the Angry Cookie Mom relocated?"

She snorted a giggle at that. "Angry Cookie Mom?" she grinned. "Alright, fine. Nothing too over the top, just enough for me to win this stupid trophy she gets every year." She ran her hand over her belly, James fluttering about. Bucky appeared outside, looking uncomfortable and awkward, torn between wanting to go in and remaining outside. "Can you do that?"

"Tell me no secrets and I'll tell you no lies," Tony said. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. Pick up lights while you're at it. A lot of lights."

"We will," Steve said as they headed out of the medical wing and greeted Bucky. "You know you could've come in."

Bucky shook his head. "Nah. Don't really like… medical wings," he said, rubbing his left arm. She wondered if he had feeling in the metal limb, she knew the motor function mirrored that of a real arm, but she never had the heart to ask him if he could feel with it. She imagined he couldn't considering she had seen him block bullets with his hand. "You two ready to go?" he asked. "How's the little guy?" he asked, his right hand resting on her belly. She smiled as she watched Bucky's eyes widen when he felt the baby kick.

"Healthy, perfect. Bruce said he has some growing left to do then he'll put on weight before he's born," she said, smiling at Steve. Bliss washed over her when Steve dropped a kiss to her forehead. Thirteen years ago, when Clint pulled her from the Red Room, she would have never imagined that one day she'll be married and pregnant. If someone had to her this was her future, she would have laughed. Yet, here she was, and she wouldn't trade it for the world.

"That's great," Bucky said. "I'm happy for both of you." He patted her belly. "Well, let's get going." He turned and started heading to the elevator. "I brought my bag down to the car already."

She watched Steve's friend for a moment. "Did you tell Bruce about what happened yesterday?" Steve asked, leading her and she followed. He kept his arm around her shoulders, making sure she remained close. She leaned against him, content.

"Yeah. He told me that because of my PTSD, I could have a higher chance of prenatal anxiety."

"And?"

"Told me to relax and keep calm, and if you have to take me away." She smiled up at him. "You're gonna be home more right? I mean it's almost Christmas." They reached the elevator and Steve pressed the button to call it. Bucky was leaning against the opposite wall. "I can't imagine Tony'll want you to test more things."

"I'll be home more," he said. "And if I have to go, you'll have Bucky."

"Bucky isn't you," she murmured. "No offense, Bucky, but—"

"None taken, I know you want your baby daddy close." He winked at Steve. She glanced at Steve, who frowned.

"I thought that term was used for children born out of wedlock," he said, pressing the button again. "Damn elevator."

"Language, Stevie, tiny ears are close," Bucky said, nodding at her belly. She smiled, running her hand over it. "He can hear right?"

"He can, but I don't think he hears the same way you and I do. I know he recognizes my voice and Steve's," she said, feeling James flutter. He always did whenever they talked, as if he wanted in on the conversation. The elevator doors open and they went in, Bucky using his metal arm to prevent the doors from closing too soon. The doors slid shut; she leaned against Steve with a sigh, a smile on her face when he kissed the top of her head.

"Tired?" he asked, his voice soft.

"A little."

"Don't worry, we just have to stop off at the hardware store and buy the Christmas lights for Tony and then we'll go home," he said. She nodded, leaning into him and wondering what Tony had planned for the theme.

---

The house felt packed and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. She could hear Tony and Sam on the roof, banging away at whatever mad idea Tony had for the Christmas light competition. She was in the kitchen, with Laura and Pepper, making finger food and talking about everything baby (which she was starting to get bored of), and funneling bottles of beer into the living room for Clint, Steve and Bucky as they watched the tv. It was Die Hard, and she was still surprised that Laura and Clint let Cooper watch it. Lila was in the kitchen with them, helping her mom make Christmas cookies. Steve came in, smiling and kissed her. "Doing okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, leaning back to check the jalapeño poppers. "You sure Tony doesn't need you outside?"

"He said he wants Bucky and I to lift the heavy stuff but since that's not happening yet, he wants us on standby." Steve frowned. "I should go out and check how he and Sam are doing, it's getting dark. I should get the flood light." He headed to the garage, muttering to himself. Pepper and Laura chuckled.

"He's a goof sometimes," Laura said. She smiled, nodding. "He's gonna make a great dad."

"All the women in my Lamaze class are jealous," she said, "they all want a husband like him. Steve tries to give pointers to their husbands, but nobody can compare to Steve. He's just… a good man."

"Why are you doing a Lamaze class, I thought you're having a C-section?" Pepper asked as she whipped up a dipping sauce for the poppers and poured some chips into a bowl, mixing it with shredded cheese. Pepper often joked she doesn't get to play domestic much anymore, but there was a time when she cooked her own meals.

"Bruce wanted me to take one, as a fall back if I go into labour before March 9th or on that day. He said my due date is kinda sketchy considering everything I had to go through to get to this point." She patted her belly, smiling when she felt James move.

"He's moving, isn't he?" Laura gave he a knowing smile. "I can tell. I had that same look whenever I felt Lila or Cooper move. It's special." She sighed wistfully. "Clint and I have been talking about having another baby."

"Oh?" Natasha cocked her brow. She figured Clint and Laura were done having children. They already had Lila and Cooper, she couldn't fathom that they wanted to add a third child.

"Tony's been nagging me about babies too, ever since he saw the ultrasound image," Pepper said. "So, you know what he did last night?" Pepper was giddy, a wide smile on her face and she was almost bouncing with the need to tell them. Natasha smiled, remembering when she first told Steve about this pregnancy, she could barely contain her excitement.

"Mommy, can I turn the mixer on?" Lila asked, hopping up and down in her pretty pink apron, pulling everyone's attention away from Pepper. "Please?" Laura peered into the bowl and nodded. "Yay!" Lila turned the switch on and the machine whirled into life. "You're gonna have some cookies too, right, Auntie Nat?" Lila asked.

"Wouldn't miss your cookies for the world, just remember to save some for Santa," she said, running her hand up and down Lila's back. It was easy to imagine James in a few years, helping in the kitchen during Christmas, wanting to be just like his daddy. She looked to the window, hearing some commotion outside; Steve was yelling and Tony was yelling back and there was a bloom of white light.

"Okay!" Lila chirped, looking at the mixing bowl. She watched it for a bit before holding up the cookie cutters. "Do you think Santa would like reindeer cookies or Christmas tree cookies?" she asked. "Auntie Nat!"

"Hmm?" she turned away from the window to look at the little girl. "What sweetheart?" she asked. Lila gave a long suffering sigh and held up the two cookie cutters.

"Reindeer cookies or Christmas tree cookies?" she asked. "Which one do you think Santa would like better?"

Natasha tapped her lip. "Hm. I think Santa would like both!" she tweaked Lila's nose. "So, make both and we can decorate them."

"Who's going to play Santa?" Laura asked, as she mixed the icing for the cookies. "The dough's reading Lila. Turn the mixer off and we can start rolling it out." Lila squealed, reaching for the switch on the mixer. "And watch your fingers."

"Okay, Mommy."

"Who normally plays Santa?" Pepper asked, as she pulled the poppers out and put the bowl of chips and cheese in. "Tony would probably want to make an Iron Santa suit or something." She smirked. "He proposed to me last night."

"He what?" Natasha almost dropped the plates she was carrying. She set them down and went over to Pepper, who held out her left hand to show off the stylish engagement ring. She and Laura oohed and awed over it. "That's a beautiful ring."

"It's lovely, Pepper, oh congratulations!" Laura hugged her. "I'm so happy for you and Tony. When's the wedding?"

"This summer, we haven't set a date yet, but we're thinking having it in Malibu," she said. "You're all invited of course. We'll fly everyone out."

"I'm not sure if James'll be old enough to fly," Natasha said, in a low murmur. She wasn't sure how she and Steve would adjust to life as parents or if they'd want to take their baby across country so soon.

"Nat, it's in the summer," Laura said, "you can fly with your baby two weeks after he's born. Plus, this is months after James'll be born. You'll be fine."

"And it's a private jet. Nothing to worry about," Pepper added. "Tony would be upset if you two miss our wedding."

"Wedding?" Clint asked. "There's another wedding?" he looked between the women. "Poppers done?"

"Right here," Laura said, handing over a plate full of them. "Is Bucky still in the room?" she asked.

"Nah. He went out with Steve when Steve went to bring out the flood light. I guess they're still out there." Clint turned to the living room. "Coop. Poppers and cheese sticks are done." Clint loaded a plate with marinara sauce and cheese sticks. Cooper trotted in. Natasha was surprised how big the boy had grown since last year. Cooper almost came up to Clint's armpit. "Here. Don't fill up on this stuff, your Uncle Steve's gonna make chicken wings once he's done helping Uncle Tony." He took his plate of poppers and went back to the couch with his son. Laura rolled her eyes and followed them with a beer bottle in one hand and a can of ginger ale in the other.

"Oh, I need to get the chicken out," she said and opened the fridge, pulling out the six packages of chicken wings. She brought them over to the sink and began washing them, dumping them into a large bowl. She looked up when she heard clunking on the roof and more shouting.

"I was thinking Steve can play Santa this year," Laura said, as she came back from the living room. She smiled at Pepper and Lila, the little girl busy cutting the cookies. "I have a costume, it should fit him."

"I'll ask," Natasha said, grimacing as the cold water numbed her hands. Laura joined her at the sink. "Thanks."

"Did you buy out all the chicken wings at the grocery store?" she asked, eyeing the packs of chicken. Natasha laughed. "Because holy moly."

"Just about, Steve and Bucky can eat a dozen in one sitting. Super soldier metabolism, and I can eat a lot, because I'm pregnant with a super soldier."

"He has the serum?" Laura asked, nodding at her belly. She shrugged.

"I think so. He kicks hard enough and he's pretty active." She smiled. "Steve said that the serum effected all his cells, and I'm sure the Red Room serum they used on me did the same. Bruce said we won't know for sure until he takes a blood sample. We could probably know sooner by testing the amniotic fluid, but he doesn't want to risk it. So we'll wait until he's born and let Bruce take his blood sample." She shook her hands, having gotten through a pack and a half of chicken. "I need to get Steve in here otherwise he'll be frying chicken wings all night." She rinsed her hands and dried them. "You don't mind taking over do you?"

Laura looked over at Lila and Pepper. "Yeah, I'll finish these up. Go get them otherwise Cooper and Clint will eat all the poppers."

"I heard that," Clint said from the living room. She and Laura laughed. She walked out of the kitchen, pausing at the door to grab her coat and slip on her shoes before heading outside. It was dusk, the western sky fiery orange and golden yellow with purplish indigo bearing down. She couldn't see many stars, just a prick or two of pale white light. Their neighbourhood was decorated with tacky blown up figures of the Avengers wearing Santa hats (one even featured Steve but his shield was red and green with a Christmas tree in the middle). She couldn't deny that it was rather festive and goofy, but in a fun carefree way that brought a smile to her face.

"Hey honey, whatcha doing out here?" Steve called from the room. She turned around, hands tucked into her armpits and her mouth fell open. Christmas lights outlined her house and atop the roof were animatronics versions of the entire Avengers team (including Thor and his Yule goat). Black Widow, Hawkeye and Iron Man were in a sleigh, while Captain America and Hulk pulled it and Thor led the way with his goat tucked under his arm.

"Tony, what did you do to my house?" she shrieked. Tony appeared, grinning like a loon. "What do you expect us to do with this once Christmas is over?"

"I'll take care of it Tasha," Tony said. "What do you think?" he surveyed his handiwork. "They even move and sing."

"I think we'll win," Steve said. "Nat, are you…"

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "And what are these two on the lawn?" she asked, pointing to two more decorations. They weren't brightly lit like the ones on the roof. Tony smirked, pulling out a controller and hitting a button. She yelped, taking a step back, her hand on her belly as the two decorations came to life.

"Falcon and War Machine," Tony said. "Can't have the Avengers without these two."

She watched as Falcon's wings moved up and down, and War Machine's head turned side to side. Both wore Santa hats and carried a present. "Steve, you need to come in and start the wings," she said.

"Oh." He looked around.

"Go on, Bird Man, Manchurian Candidate and I got this," Tony said. Bucky and Sam grumbled about their nicknames. Steve nodded and walked to the edge of the roof.

"Steve, no, don't" — he jumped off the roof, landing in a low crouch with a grunt — "jump of the roof."

"Why? Nobody out here but us," he said, wincing a little as the impact faded from his feet. He kissed her. "Let's go back inside and I'll start cooking. How are the cookies coming?"

"Fine, and Laura wants you to play Santa later."

"Uh… okay?" he looked at his middle. "Think I may be a little lean for Jolly Ol' St. Nick, though."

"We can tie pillows to you," she said, patting his stomach with a chuckle as he opened the door. "You know," she said, walking into the garage. "Bruce was right."

"Huh?" he gave her a moonstruck look. "Right about what?"

"Remember back in 2012, when we got caught beneath some mistletoe during Tony's Christmas party?"

He frowned, thinking about it for a moment. "Oh, yeah." He smiled. "I said I could damn well kiss my own dame" — he nudged her — "and I did."

"You did, and Bruce said that German tradition says that a couple that kisses beneath the mistletoe will end up being married. Now look at us."

"Married and with a baby on the way," he said, smiling and rested his hand on her belly. "I can't believe it. Sometimes it doesn't even feel real."

"Oh, it's real. He kicks hard, definitely your son." She smiled. "You never explained to me what you meant by fondued." She said, stopping at the door that led from the garage to the interior of the house. He flushed, and they could hear lively chatter through the door. She shivered a little. "Well?"

"When I went to rescue Bucky from the Hydra camp near Azzaro, Howard and Peggy went with me — well not with me with me, Howard flew the plane and Peggy was there to tell me what I needed to know. Anyway, Howard asked her if she wanted to get some fondue and I had no idea what fondue was, so I thought it meant" — he flushed and made a vague gesture to her stomach; she cocked a brow — "uh… sex." His ears and cheeks turned pink. "Peggy rolled her eyes when I asked her if she and Howard fondued. Come to think of it she always rolled her eyes when I said something obtuse like that." He chuckled. "You do the same." He gave her a boyish half smile.

"Ah, so that's what you meant by fondue," she said. "C'mon, those chicken wings won't fry themselves." She opened the door and entered the kitchen. By the looks of it Laura had started frying the wings, the cookies were cooling on a few racks and Pepper was in the process of making another round of nachos. Lila was nowhere in the kitchen, but she heard a grunt and the little girl appeared.

"Auntie Nat! Auntie Nat! Come and watch Rudolph!" Lila said, tugging her hand. She looked over at Steve.

"Go sit down Nat, I'll bring some food over to you," he said. She smiled at Lila and allowed the little girl to lead her to the couch. She sat down with a groan next to Clint.

"You okay?" he asked. She smiled patting her belly.

"Just fine," she said, lifting her arm up so Lila could snuggle next to her. She smiled down at Lila, who put a small hand on her belly. "Saying hi to your cousin James?" she asked, taking Lila's hand and putting on the spot where she could feel James move. Lila's eyes grew wide and she gasped a little wow when she felt the baby move. Rudolph had joined the other reindeer in their games, but was soon outed for having a red nose and thus bullied.

"He's moving," Lila whispered. Natasha smiled, running her hand through Lila's hair. "Does it feel weird?" she asked.

"When it first started it did, but now not so much," she said. Lila nodded, rubbing little circles. "You're going to be a good big cousin to James, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be better than Cooper," Lila said, "he's not a good big brother. He's mean to me." Natasha glanced at Clint who rolled his eyes and shoved another popper into his mouth.

"Oh, I doubt that. He loves you," she said, looking at Cooper, who was seated between his dad's feet, a can of ginger ale in his hand.

"Maybe. But he yanked the head off my Barbie last week and tried to get me to play with him like that. I was so mad!" Lila's lower lip jutted out in a pout. "Daddy told him off though and made him apologize."

"I see," she said, looking at Clint.

"Kids fight," he said. "Popper?" he offered the plate. She grabbed a few cheese sticks. "Or cheese sticks, doesn't matter to me."

"Will James be strong like Uncle Steve?" Lila asked. Natasha smiled, looking over at Steve, mixing the wings that Laura had finished. She could see Steve and James working together in the kitchen, Steve teaching their boy the recipes his mother made, one generation's love passed down to the next like an unbreakable chain. She ate a cheese stick.

"Yes," she said, once she finished swallowing. "I think he'll be strong like Uncle Steve and have a big heart like him too."

"Good, I like Uncle Steve," Lila said. Natasha smiled. "I'm glad you married him, Auntie Nat."

"I'm glad I married him too." She looked up when Steve came over with a platter of wings. "Right, honey?"

"Huh?" he blinked. "Hey, Lila. Haven't seen you all day." He ruffled the little girl's hair. "You been behaving for your mom and dad? Been a good girl for Santa?" He winked and Lila nodded.

"I have!" she said. She shot a glare at Cooper. "Cooper hasn't, so that means he gets coal in his stocking!"

"Hey, I've been good, twerp," Cooper said, reaching for one of the throw pillows on the ground. Clint nudged him with his foot. "Ow."

"No throwing things, we have food and a pregnant lady with us," Clint said, "and Lila, stop antagonizing your brother or I'll call Santa and tell him to bring you both coal." The two children gasped and settled down at the thought of not having Santa visit them. Natasha chuckled and took some wings, turning her attention back to the tv, where Rudolph and his friends found the Island of Misfit Toys. She always did like the Misfit Toys, feeling a sort of kinship with them.

"Thanks," she said. "What flavor?"

"Honey and cracked pepper," Steve said and kissed her head. "And yes, I'm glad I married you too." He looked up at the ceiling. "I should tell them that the wings are ready, get them inside. They should be finished."

She nodded, munching on the chicken. Laura came over with another platter of chicken, this one coated in Steve's special spicy sauce. Clint dug in with gusto. "Steve, you need to tell Laura what goes into this sauce, it's excellent."

Steve laughed. "Sorry, but I can't. Captain America's secret, classified, you don't have a high enough clearance."

"Spoil sport," Clint grumbled, licking his fingers. "Do you know Nat?" he asked. She smirked around mouthful of food.

"He doesn't tell me anything," she said, after she swallowed. "The kitchen is Steve's domain." She munched on another wing and gave a surprised grunt when James gave her a hard kick. She rubbed the abused spot on her belly, looking up when she heard clunking on the roof and the creak of the metal ladder. A few minutes later: Tony, Bucky and Sam came in. Tony was beaming, Sam and Bucky made their way to the kitchen, Pepper holding two plates piled with nachos and wings for them.

"It's done. If you don't win I'll be personally offended," Tony said, coming over to the couch. "You'll have that stupid trophy on your mantel and Ginger can eat out of your palm for the next year." He glanced at her belly. "May I?" he asked. She nodded, and Tony placed his hand on her belly. "He's moving. Like an alien. Sure, it's not a chest-buster?"

She rolled her eyes and swallowed her mouthful of chicken. "I'm sure Tony. I'm very much pregnant with a human child." She smiled when Steve came over with some milk for her. "Thanks honey." She took the glass, sipping it.

"Tony, you want food?" Steve asked. Tony stood up, patting her shoulder.

"Of course," he said. "I'm feeling peckish after everything. Hey, you got any beer?" he asked, heading into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a bottle of beer. He took his plate from Pepper and found a spot at the table to sit. "Do you have a bottle opener, Tasha?" Tony asked.

"Uh—"

"You mean yours doesn't twist off?" Bucky asked, mock surprise in his voice. "Have you tried? Just give it a twist."

"Don't listen to him Tony. He's done this to me before. They both have," Sam said. "I hate it when you guys do it too."

"Steve always buys twist tops, right?" Bucky asked. Steve grinned and sat next to her. Lila smiled at him as she moved to make room for him to sit down. The little girl gave Natasha's belly a pat and went to snuggle against her father's side. Laura brought her children over some chicken wings.

"Yep." He took his own beer bottle and twisted the cap off. She rolled her eyes. "Twist tops Tony."

"Y'know, I'm trying and all I'm doing it hurting my hand." Tony grumbled as Bucky tried to hide his laughter. "Are you sure these are twist tops?"

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she told Steve as he took a long swallow from his bottle. "It's mean."

"And he never plays pranks on me?" Steve asked, arching a brow. "Really, Nat. It's harmless fun. If I recall you used to find it funny."

"Joke got old real fast Steve, besides you're going to be a father soon. What type of example will you be setting for James? You can't just play mean-spirited pranks on your friends. James will pick up on that."

"Last I check, James is nestled safe inside you" — she glowered at him — "why are you suddenly grumpy? I thought you were in a good mood."

"I am in a good mood, just because I ask you to stop being a jerk doesn't mean I'm grumpy."

"If I try to twist any more Steve, I'm gonna cut my hand," Tony said. She glared at Steve, jerking her head in Tony's direction. Steve pouted.

"Bottle opener's in the silverware drawer," he said. She heard Pepper get it, and Tony express delight at finally getting his beer open.

"That was a mean trick," Tony said, coming to loom over them from behind couch. "And after I made sure your wife's gonna win this stupid Christmas light contest." Tony tried to wiggle his finger into Steve's ear. Steve mimed punching Tony in the dick. "Hey, easy. I wanna have spawn one day."

"Did you such refer to our future children as spawn?" Pepper asked. Tony grimaced and went over to his fiancée, telling her he was only joking about calling their kids spawn. Natasha quirked a smile, setting her empty plate to the side. The movie had ended, the credits rolling and the channel announcer informing them that the next movie would be The Year Without a Santa Clause. She leaned against Steve, who slipped his arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping a kiss to her head. "I didn't know it bothered you that much."

"It's fine," she said. "I guess I'm tired. Didn't get my afternoon nap." She pressed herself closer to him. He was warm and solid, comforting. He made a little humming sound in the back of his throat and tilted her head up to peck her lips. She could taste the hops from his beer on his lips and she slipped her tongue into his mouth to try and get more of the forbidden taste. He grunted in surprised. "Sorry," she mumbled, once they broke apart.

"Don't be." He cuddled her. "Why don't you take a nap, I'll wake you up when the judging starts."

"But—"

"Go on, nobody is going to say anything," he said nudging her. "I don't mind." Mrs. Claus had sent the two elves, Jingle and Jangle, down to the United States in an effort to find some Christmas spirit and belief in Santa.

She nodded, pillowing her head against his shoulder. "Okay," she said, allowing her eyes to droop. She felt Steve's chuckle.

"I was thinking you head to our room and sleep there."

She shook her head. "Nope. Too far. Don't wanna walk." She quirked a smile. "Besides you make a nice pillow."

"Well, your pillow is getting up, he wants more chicken wings," Steve said and stood to get more food. "Don't worry, I'll be back." He went into the kitchen to refill his plate. She chuckled, closing her eyes again, her hands on her belly and a smile on her face whenever she felt James move. She was almost asleep when Steve sat down again, but all she did was snuggle against him once he got comfortable and drifted off to sleep.

---

She woke about an hour later, Steve's handsome face greeting her. She was grateful that her nap was dreamless. "Is it time?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. Don't worry, we got the kitchen all in order. Everyone else is outside," he said, taking her hand. "Ready?"

"Gimme a moment, Rogers," she said, grunting as she shifted her awkward body into a better position to get out of the couch. Steve pulled her out of the seat, and she held on to him until she got her balance. "Alright, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"Hopefully we win this year," he grumbled, helping her into her coat. They walked to the door, his hand on the small of her back. She stopped, staring at the door and envisioning the crowd of people: their friends and family, Ginger and her family, the other neighbours they barely knew, the mothers asking her about her pregnancy and when she's due and all the other typical questions people bombard a pregnant woman with. She didn't want to go out there. That anxiety she had earlier this week crept up her spine and she glanced around at the shadows, making sure nobody from her past was lurking within.

"Steve, I… uh… I don't wanna go out." She pulled away from him. He frowned, and she stared at the beige carpet. It was dirty from all the foot traffic and she hadn't had time to vacuum in forever. It bothered her that her house wasn't clean, that Bucky had to help set up the Den downstairs for Clint and Laura and their kids for tonight. She knew she shouldn't, none of this should bother her, she was pregnant after all and Bruce did want her to take it easy. But it did, and it annoyed her.

"You okay?" Steve asked, worry in his tone and on his face. "You've been hoping to win this stupid thing all year. Not showing up would give Ginger—"

"I know, and I don't care, Steve," she said, her voice shaky. Get it together, Nat, you're Black Widow, you shouldn't be crying over stupid things like this and — she hiccupped, trying to stave off tears. "I just… I don't want to go out. I'm not feeling well." She struggled out of her coat. She heard him sigh and help her. "I'm going to shower and go to bed, alright?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, giving her a helpless look. It broke her heart; he was so used to fixing things, correcting situations when they go south, that when she got like this — moody and emotional — he felt powerless to fix it. Women these days act like they didn't need a man to fix their problems, but she learned through Steve that it was almost instinctual for a man to fix a problem for a woman, not because they viewed them as helpless (and Steve knew she was far from helpless) but because it was something primal. She shook her head and his shoulders slumped. "Okay, uh… well, feel better." He kissed her cheek and headed outside. She nodded and went upstairs. She took a shower and brushed her teeth. She fluffed her mountain of pillows before getting into bed but couldn't sleep. She kept hearing the annoying song Tony had programmed the figures to sing: "Grandma got run over by a reindeer! Walking home from our house Christmas Eve." And she sat up when she heard fireworks go whistling off into the sky. In the end, she gave up on sleep and went to the nursery.

She turned the light on, looking around the room, the carpet new and springy beneath her bare feet, the walls painted a pale blue with cute dinosaur decorations. A small Captain America night light was beneath the window. To her left was the mahogany crib she picked out with Pepper, good for newborns to two years of age. It was a good sturdy crib with a slot for the baby monitor. The mattress was soft yet springy and she had bought a sheet with the Avengers on it.

Opposite the crib was the matching changing table, with drawers for diapers and diaper wipes and diaper powder and anything else she thinks would help change her baby's diaper. A trash can with an automatic lid stood next to the table, it's silvery chrome finishing contrasting with the soft colors of the room. And in the corner by the window was a rocking chair for her to nurse James and opposite the rocking chair was a small bookshelf. Baby books filled the shelves and on top sat a small collection of stuffed animals. She went over and picked up the little blue elephant she bought years ago and sat down in the rocking chair, running her thumb along the elephant's soft ear.

She bought the elephant after getting back from Russia after Shield fell. It was just sitting there on the shelf in a toy store she wandered into and finding it cute, purchased it. It was meant for a son she (at the time) thought she'll never have and so it went into her box. Along with all the other baby items she had collected ever since Clint pulled her from the Red Room. She had always wanted a boy, so most of the items she had collected now found new homes in the nursery. Yet, she felt wrong… as if she shouldn't be this lucky, as if something will happen to her or Steve or — heaven forbid — James. The Red Room told her she had no place, no future, no past, no present. She was a weapon, a shadow among many. They broke her down, experimented on her, remade her into their perfect weapon. How could a person like her be a good mother?

Last month, word got out to the public that she was pregnant and one of the news anchors accused her of being irresponsible and if she had a decent bone in her body she'd give the baby away to some nice family in the Midwest. Her life was too dangerous, too uncertain to raise a child. Many other anchors and women and "leading experts on child development" (hell even some big-name celebrities weighed in. God, she hated The View and how they verbally eviscerated her) seconded that opinion, all saying she should have gotten an abortion or give the child up to a safer and more stable family. In the court of public opinion, she was a bad mother, simply because she was Black Widow. She had tentatively brought the idea up to Steve and she had never been so thankful for his quick refusal and reassurance.

"Don't do this to yourself," Clint said, snapping her from her thoughts. She flushed, pressing the elephant close to her chest.

"Where's Steve?" she asked as Clint came in to look at the nursery. "Did we win?"

"You should've seen the look on Ginger's face," he said, squatting down to read the book titles. "The woman looked like she swallowed a lemon. Her husband is a wimp and had the gall to try and give her the trophy, but Tony stepped in and nixed that idea." He stood up and patted her shoulder. "So, congrats on being the best lit house."

"Yippee," she said, rolling her eyes and setting the elephant back on the bookshelf. "Tony and Pepper went home?"

"Uh-huh. Tony took the trophy to fix the engraving. Said he'll bring it back tomorrow." Clint looked her up and down. "Steve's with Laura getting dressed as Santa."

"Oh, right, we were going to open a present after that. Sam still here?" she asked. Clint shook his head. "Ah." She smoothed the nightgown over her belly. "He said he had plans for tomorrow anyway. Spending time with his family."

"Yeah, but you know him. He'll be back."

She nodded, looking around the nursery again and wondering if James will like it, only to chide and remind herself that James will be too little to care. She could've painted the room vomit green and he wouldn't care. "We better head down."

"Are you okay?" Clint asked. She pursed her lips into a frown. "Look, I know Steve asks you that ten times a day, but you kept going on about this stupid competition and you missed it and I find you sitting in here looking about ready to cry." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I know pregnant women can be hormonal and the water works come like lightning bolts, but if something's bothering you Nat, talk to Steve. And if you don't want to tell him then tell me."

"It's nothing Clint. I've just had some… worries," she muttered.

"Natasha."

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"If it's about what those people said last month—"

"They're still saying it Clint. Everyone knows about my past since Shield fell and they are using that to judge my fitness to be a mother. And I've been worrying about the Red Room finding me and—" she stopped, running a hand through her hair. "What if they're right."

"Well, they're wrong," he said. "They haven't seen you with Lila and Cooper. They don't know that I trust you a hundred and ten percent around my kids. They don't know that I've let you babysit them when Laura and I needed a weekend to ourselves. They don't know 'Auntie Nat'." He put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze. "And that's only with my kids. James is your son. You're gonna be an excellent mother, Nat."

"But what if the Red Room—"

"Nat, I won't let the Red Room hurt you again, and I know Steve won't let them hurt you either. They aren't going to hurt you, they aren't going to get James. Steve and I won't let that happen. And I'm sure the others will be right there with us in that sentiment. Now, c'mon. Smile. Let's go down and open a present or two before bed. Laura should be done dressing up Steve as Santa."

"Okay," she said and put the little elephant back. "You think he's gonna like it?"

"I think that elephant will be his favorite toy," he said, "c'mon, I don't want Laura yelling for me because Lila and Cooper can't sit still for five minutes." She chuckled following him downstairs to the couch.

Lila and Cooper were trembling with excitement, eyes fixed on Steve who looked awkward in the Santa costume, the pillows noticeable beneath the coat. It didn't help that his pecs and biceps bulged out beneath the costume creating a weird image of a buff Santa trying to be fat. "Next time, dear, let's just go with a buff Santa," Clint whispered to Laura as they sat down. Natasha smiled. Steve's cheeks were pink beneath the fake beard, but whether it was from embarrassment or he was too warm, she couldn't tell. Lila and Cooper kept eyeing the sack he held and shook with their excitement. "I think we're ready Santa," Clint said.

Steve muttered a curse and cleared his throat. "Uh… Ho ho ho, 'tis I! Santa Claus." He went up to Lila and Cooper first. "Ha'e ye been good fer yer mam an' da?" he asked, his words coated with a thick Irish accent. "Cause if ye ha'e been, I got somethin' fer both o' ye."

"I have! I have!" Lila shouted, jumping up and down on the couch. "I've been good, all year!" She glanced at her parents. "I have!"

"Lila, sit down," Laura said. Lila sat, rubbing her hands together in excitement. Steve looked at Cooper.

"What 'bout ye?" he asked. "Ye been good?"

"Yeah," Cooper said, and looked over at his dad. Clint nodded, encouraging him to play along. "I've been real good, Santa."

"Ho ho ho! I think I ha'e somethin' in my sack!" Steve opened the sack dug out two wrapped boxes. "One fer th' lil lass" — he handed Lila her gift, and the little girl ripped the paper with gusto — "and for the wee lad."

"I'm not a 'wee lad'— Ow!" Cooper rubbed his ear, shooting a glare at his father. Clint gave him a look and Cooper accepted the present with a thank you and began to tear at the paper. Lila shrieked so loud that Nat covered her ears in surprise at the noise.

"Mommy! Daddy! It's the Unicorn Princess Doll with her pet unicorn!" Lila shouted, jumping up and down on the couch. She hopped off and hugged Steve. "Thank you, Santa! Thank you!" She ran towards Natasha, but Clint caught her by the middle. "I wanna show Auntie Nat, Daddy."

"Settle down, Lila, remember Auntie Nat's pregnant," Clint said, glancing at her and she rolled her eyes at him as he let Lila go. Lila — grinning like a loon — came over and showed the box with the doll and toy horse.

"Oh wow, it's so pretty and sparkly," she said, taking the box from her niece. "I can see why you got it from Santa. It's really special."

"It is. Do you think I should let James play with it?" Lila asked. She smiled and kissed the little girl on her brow.

"James will have his own toys to play with, so he won't want to play with it." She smiled, smoothing Lila's hair. "Go give this to your dad so he can open it for you."

"Okay!" Lila went back over to her father and handed him the box. Clint sighed and went about getting the doll and toy horse out of the box.

"Whatcha get Cooper?" Natasha asked. Shyly, Cooper showed everyone the box. She arched a brow. "Slime ball dodge ball?" She wondered how that worked and what would happen once the slime balls popped. "Looks fun, you'll have to wait until summer to play."

"Gimme that Cooper, let's make sure this slime is washable first," Laura said, taking the box and reading about the toy. Steve handed Clint to packages, one for him and on for Laura and shuffled over to her. She smiled up at him.

"You really do look like Santa," she said, patting the pillows around the stomach. He chuckled. "Do you have anything for Mrs. Claus?" she asked, tugging the beard down so she could peck his lips without getting fake hair in her mouth. He hummed.

"I'm sure I got something for my best girl in here," he said and reached into the sack. She held her breath, wondering what Steve got her. He tended to shower her with gifts since Christmas was her birthday as well. She complained one year and now he figured out to sprinkle birthday gifts throughout December. He pulled out a mason jar filled with bits of paper and tied with a pretty candy cane pattern ribbon. She took it, arching her brow at the unusual gift.

"Wow, Steve," Clint said, "that's like… Depression era cheap." He poked the jar. "What's in there? Paper?"

"Shut it Barton," Steve said as he pulled the hat and beard off. "Damn it's warm," he said and pulled the pillows out from under the costume. "Next year, you're gonna be Santa." He set the pillows down on the floor and pulled the ottoman over next to her. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"I'm trying to figure out why you gave me a jar filled with paper," she said. He chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. She arched a brow and undid the ribbon, opening the jar. She pulled out the first slip of paper. "I love the way you think you can win on our morning runs." She looked at him. "What is this?" she asked. He gave her an imploring look, so she pulled out another. "I love how you kiss my forehead after—" she stopped flushing. "Steve, what are these?" she asked. She pulled out another. "I love wake up to you every morning."

"A sap jar?" Clint offered. She shot her best friend a glare and pulled out another one, smiling at what it said.

"No," Steve said, sounding hurt and a bit offended. "Fifty-two reasons why I love Nat. I wanted to get her something special this year because she's pregnant and… found this on the internet." He looked at his knees. "Thought it was nice. She could read them when she's feeling down."

"So… a sap jar."

"Clint," Laura hissed. "I think it's very sweet Steve. What about you, Nat?"

She didn't answer, holding the latest piece of paper: I love you just the way you are, damaged and perfect. Tears pricked at her eyes and her lip quivered. Damn pregnancy hormones. She took the bits of paper and shoved them back into the jar, twisting the lid on tight. "Thank you, Steve," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. She reached for him and he hugged her. She buried her face in his neck, sniffling. "This is the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten… thank you."

"You're welcome," he said and kissed her brow. "Merry Christmas, Nat" — he pulled away and gave her a boyish grin — "and Happy Day Before Your Birthday and Happy Anniversary."

"Oh right!" she laughed. "I forgot it was our anniversary." She watched him thumb her wedding ring. "Four years, huh."

"And going on strong." He winked, his hand going to her belly. Clint cleared his throat.

"I think it's getting late. Cooper, Lila, bed time. Hey, where's Bucky?" Clint asked. "Haven't seen him since the award thing."

"He went to bed," Steve said. "Christmas still… it's hard for him." He looked down and she knew he worried about his friend. Bucky had said that Fury was able to get most of the Hydra brainwashing out of his head but feared there could be lingers of it that they weren't aware of; so, Bucky withdrew whenever anything hit too close to the life he used to live. "Don't worry. I'll check on him. He'll be down for presents in the morning."

"Alright," Clint said, following Laura as they herded their children downstairs. "Night guys, see you in the morning." He turned off the lights on his way down to the Den.

"Night," she and Steve called. She looked at Steve as he sat down. He had that world-weary look on his face. She took his hand and kissed his palm. They sat there, in the soft glow of the Christmas tree and Christmas village, content in each other's presence. His large hand next to her smaller one on her belly, smiling whenever they felt their son move.

A door creaked, and they could hear soft footsteps coming their way. "Steve?" Bucky came out in his t-shirt and boxers, the lights gleaming off his metal arm. She and Steve looked over at Bucky.

"Hey Buck," Steve said. "Missed you for the Santa thing." Bucky gave a weird smile and sat down in front of them. "How you doing?"

"First Christmas I don't have a mission," he said, "feels weird." He smiled though. "Last time, I saw you get married."

"Yeah," Steve said, sounding wistful. He reached over and squeezed Bucky's shoulder. "Good to have you back, pal, wouldn't be Christmas without you."

"Thanks," Bucky said. "You know, I'm happy for both you and Natalia. Real happy. I never thought you'd have this Steve but… you do and both of you will make swell parents, and I'm honored that you decided to name your kid after me." Bucky wiped at his eyes. "Damn. Hate cryin' when I'm happy."

She laughed, wiping at her own eyes. "We're happy your home Bucky. Apart of our family," she said. Bucky nodded and pulled them both into a hug. "Just wait, you'll be holding your nephew soon enough." She said, putting his hand on her belly. "We all will."

"Merry Christmas, guys," Bucky said.

---

March 9th, 2020

Natasha was glad she had a schedule C-section because she didn't think she could stand to wait until she went into labour. She felt like a beached whale. She couldn't see her toes, her back and ankles hurt her something fierce every day (no matter how long Steve gave her a massage). She felt like she had to pee every five minutes and she no longer walked, she waddled — like a damn penguin — around their suite in the Tower. They moved into the Tower after New Year — Sam agreed to house sit or them — and would stay at the Tower until she healed. True to his word, Steve did call Maria Hill and got Henry relocated to some tiny town in the Midwest. Sam had called her one day in February to gleefully tell her how Ginger was moving and complaining about it. She cackled in delight at the other woman's misery. Steve had looked at her funny, but she didn't care: she was Black Widow, she could be vindictive as hell if she wanted to be.

Besides her body becoming more and more alien to her, the last few months of her pregnancy flew by like a summer breeze. And she had no reason to expect that today wouldn't be simple either. Bruce had called around seven in the morning to inform them that the Tower's operating room was prepped and ready, he and a team of handpicked surgeons were ready and waiting. She just needed to get up two floors, get prepped, get the local anesthesia and have her baby.

Only problem with this easy plan was her husband. Steve was running around their room like a chicken without its head. "Where are my keys?" he said, flustered; anxious and excited. She was too, but she was Black Widow, so she hid it better than him. "Nat, have you seen my keys?" he asked, holding his keys, as he scratched his head. "I can't find my keys and I swore I just had them in my hand."

"Steve, forget the damn keys, we're not going to the hospital. The medical wing is all prepped. We just need to go up two floors," she said. She patted her belly, smiling when James gave her a little kick. He hadn't been terribly active today, as if he knew what was happening.

"But I can't find my keys!" he said, as if she didn't understand the problem. She rolled her eyes. "Natasha."

"Look, can we have this baby, preferably today?" she asked. "We can find your keys after I deliver." The door sighed open behind her. She turned to see Bucky, looking confused.

"What's the hold up?" he asked. "Bruce is ready for Natalia."

"I can't find my keys, Buck. Have you seen them?" Steve asked. She groaned, leaving the room and waddling to the elevator.

"They're in your hand Steve, but you don't need your keys," she heard Bucky say as she jabbed her thumb on the up arrow. She was so ready to hold her son. She smiled when Steve made a happy sound and as the elevator doors open he and Bucky joined her.

"Found my keys," he said, she rolled her eyes. "I was holding them the entire time."

"Wow, you really must be an old man. To not even remember you were holding your own keys," she said, not trying to hide the snark in her voice. She leaned against him anyway.

"I'm just… jittery," he mumbled. "I'm gonna be dad."

"You just now realized that?" she asked, unable to hold back her teasing. He grumped, kissing her temple, she huffed, but a smile spread across her face as the elevator doors opened. "You ready?" she asked him.

"Let's do this," he said, a wide grin on his face. Bucky chuckled as Bruce came over and lead them to the prep room. She changed into a hospital gown and Steve lifted her up onto the bed and pulled her hair back into the hospital cap. "Everything's gonna be okay," he said, squeezing her hand. "All be over soon."

"Right," she said, wincing a little as Bruce gave her the local anesthesia. It was a weird feeling as all sensation was deaden from her waist down. She couldn't even feel James move. She swallowed, fear creeping up her spine with the lack of the primal connection between her and her son. "Everything will be okay."

"Steve, go with Betty and she'll get you prepped to go in," Bruce said. She whimpered when Steve let go of her hand. Panic rose up in her chest and she bit her lip, trying to remain calm. "Don't worry, Tasha," Bruce said, pushing the hospital bed through the doors and into the operating room. "I'm right here. Steve's gonna be back soon. Once he's here, we'll get this show on the road, huh?" he said as the rest of the nurses and technicians hooked her up to more machines that beeped every so often. Bruce did a last-minute check on James' vitals, declared them good. "Tasha, I'm pinching your toe, can you feel that?"

"No," she said, trying to maintain some sense of control. This reminded her of the Red Room, how they sterilized her. "No, I can't Bruce. Where's Steve?" she asked. It shouldn't be taking him this long. He just had to put on a cap and gown, right? Maybe scrub his hands and put some latex gloves on. "I want Steve."

"He'll be here in a minute," he said as a pair of nurses rolled up her gown to her breasts. It was weird seeing her round belly but unable to feel it. They placed a barrier around her belly, cinching it in close. She whimpered, the bad memories encroaching too fast, she wanted to bolt, but she couldn't feel her legs, couldn't escape. The doors open.

This was it, she was sure. The part where the Red Room revealed itself to her and took her baby away. She squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears escaped. "Hey, honey, no need to cry," Steve said, "unless those are happy tears."

She opened her eyes when he felt his gentle touch on her cheek. "Steve," she whispered, and he nodded, holding her hand. "It's really you?"

"Yeah. It's really me. Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and he gave a thumb's up to Bruce. She smiled at Steve. "You gonna be okay," he said.

"Yeah, I just… I'm just… scared," she whispered, while Bruce and Betty and the other doctors muttered to themselves as they talked about the best way to cut her open. "It reminds me of what the Red Room… did to me."

"Well this is far from what they did." Steve nuzzled her nose. "We're gonna hold our son in a few minutes." He grinned. "So, think about that. Think about holding James."

"Okay," she said, tears in her voice as she made herself focus on Steve's blue eyes and ignore the muttering of the doctors. Steve stroked her cheek and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. "Can you sing to me? Softly."

"Sure," he said, and sang to her an Irish folk song his mother always sang to him whenever he got scared. She relaxed, the low rumble of his voice soothing, she closed her eyes. A sharp cry broke him off and he sat up straighter, as Bruce held their squalling son. "Nat…" he breathed. She opened her eyes to see tears rolling down his cheeks. "He's beautiful."

"Lemme see," she said, pushing herself up onto her elbows to look at her son. Never had she felt such love. Pink and slimy, his fine red hair matted to his small had, James cried, wriggling his tiny arms and legs. "James," she whispered.

"Steve, wanna cut the cord?" Bruce asked. Steve paled, but nodded, standing up and letting a nurse put some latex gloves on so he could cut the umbilical cord. Betty clamped it as soon as Steve finished and wrapped a blanket around James before setting the squalling newborn on her chest. Natasha wrapped her arms around her baby.

"Hi, baby," she whispered, watching as James settle down. "I love you." She nuzzled her son, kissing his brand-new skin. "So much, Mama loves you, James." She smiled up at Steve, who put his hand on James' tiny back. "He's here."

He kissed her. "We did it Nat," Steve said, "we have baby."

She smiled, stroking James' small hand. "Yeah, we do. Our baby, our little James Rogers."

---

I couldn't leave this chapter without having James be born.

All medical mistakes are my own.

Thanks to toonanimals for the jar idea.

Thanks to beckyg10 for the idea that Steve is so flustered that he forgets he's holding his keys.

Next chapter is the last one. ^o^

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