"You told him no gifts, right?" Natasha asked.

Bruce nodded. "I'm sure everyone else on the invite list will understand that, but I make no promises for Tony. I'm scared to think about what his baby shower gift will be."

Natasha wrinkled her nose. "As long as there are no stupid baby games."

"Tony swore. Just a near-unlimited buffet of all the things you've been craving lately appropriately dyed to match the baby's gender," Bruce replied.

"I don't want to eat pink or blue salsa," Natasha said.

"Then we'll just tell him to keep the food coloring to the bounty of cupcakes he's promised."

Bruce tried his best not to fidget while sitting in the lobby of Natasha's doctor's office. There were a few other women in the room, two with bellies bigger than Natasha's. This morning was their anatomy ultrasound. He'd done his best to avoid the internet and reading horror stories of what all could be spotted and worried about during the forty-minute procedure. Natasha would never admit it, but he knew she'd fallen in to the wormhole of WebMD a few nights ago. She'd handed him her phone after dinner and made him swear not to let her look at it for the rest of the night.

They hadn't really talked about whether they wanted a boy or a girl. Bruce always thought that he'd lean one way or the other, but he found himself in the same camp as all parents before him, simply wishing for a health child. In weak moments, he let himself imagine tea parties or needing to learn the name of every train or heavy piece of machinery on wheels as possible. But for the most part, he shut that off. He was more relaxed about the idea of the three of them being a family, but was still scared to do any ore than dip his toe into that pool of thoughts.

A nurse called Natasha's name, and the pair of them walked back to a room. "We'll start with the examination first. Do you want Dad to go back to the lobby until we're ready for the sonogram?" she asked Natasha.

Natasha shook her head. "Seeing that much of me is why we're here in the first place." Bruce tried to contain the blush he could feel creep into his cheeks.

The nurse nodded. "You know the drill—strip from the waist down. You can store your things in the bottom drawer. You can use the giant paper towel they call a sheet to cover yourself, and the doctor will be in here in a few."

Bruce had the urge to turn around as Natasha undressed, which was stupid because as she'd said, he'd seen her naked enough not to feel embarrassed about it. Especially with all the times he'd seen her naked in the few weeks. Once her morning sickness had passed, the uber-libido had hit. There'd been a few times that Bruce was tempted to raid the Viagra stash everyone knew Tony had despite his vehement denials.

The doctor went through her usual routine of taking measurements and asking questions. Natasha was feeling good; yes, there were some new strange cravings; she thought she was getting enough calcium; and she'd felt the baby move for the first time this past weekend. When she'd told Bruce about it, he'd been extremely happy and jealous. "It just feels like little flutters," Natasha had told him. "You're not missing out on too much."

Then came time for the ultrasound. Bruce was about to stick his hand in his pockets when he noticed Natasha's fingers tighten on the edge of the exam table. He edged closer and held his hand out near hers. She immediately took it and squeezed his fingers tightly. Together, they watched image after image—learned how the baby's body was catching up with its head, studied the spinal cord, and were mesmerized by the beating heart.

"Is that a hand?" Bruce asked, pointing to the extremity floating near the baby's face.

"Foot, actually," the doctor replied. "One of you an athlete?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to dread life if I passed on my gymnastics habits," Natasha commented.

The doctor smiled. "Just prepare yourself for a lot of tumbling and kicks. This is one active baby. Do you want to know the gender?" They both nodded. The doctor maneuvered the wand around Natasha's stomach, pressing in a little too much for Bruce's comfort. "Active and stubborn," the doctor muttered. "Natasha, I'm going to poke you in the stomach to try and get the baby to shift so we can see between the legs." She paused to look up at Bruce. "It's going to look like I'm trying to hurt the baby, but I promise it's fine."

"Okay," Bruce said with only a slight hint of doubt in his voice. She was right. It was not fun to watch, but it apparently worked.

"Congratulations," the doctor announced a moment later. "It's a boy."

Bruce's ears filled with buzzing for a second. He did his best to savor the thoughts of building Lego towers and exploring animals at the zoo with a little boy while trying adamantly to shut up the small niggling voice that his father's curse would be passed down to damage another Banner son.

Natasha squeezed his hand again to bring him back in the present. "You okay with that?" she asked.

"I don't think I get a choice at this point," he answered before leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "Never been happier," he whispered. "You okay with it?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "Text Tony and tell him to bring on the blue."

Carol sighed. "I'm not listening to you."

"Except you totally are," Jessica retorted, and Carol rolled her eyes as she reached for her drink. "You're hearing every word I say, and you're committing all of them to memory. Maybe even in order."

"I've had too many daiquiris to remember them in order," Carol retorted.

"Well, maybe you'll remember a song instead. I call this little number 'Commitment in D-Sharp-Flat.'"

Carol frowned. "Is that even a real key?"

"Do I look like Trip?" her friend shot back, and Carol actually snorted at her indignation. She stirred the dregs of her daiquiri (complete with extra umbrellas) while Jessica cleared her throat. "Vacations," she sang a second later, "are serious. They mean you wanna get hitched. Or at least, Rhodey does, because he keeps inviting you. And if—"

"Wait," Carol interrupted. "Are you singing that to the tune of the 'Star-Spangled Banner?' Because you're off key, but I think—"

Jessica huffed. "Times like this, I wish I could punch you through the phone."

"Not the first time you've threatened that," Carol reminded her, and she swore she heard Jessica's eye roll.

She waited until Jessica changed the subject to her new binge-watching obsession to stretch out across her deck chair and sigh. When James had suggested a spring break trip to Florida, Carol'd scowled. "Do you actually want to spend a week surrounded by drunk co-eds? Someone will throw up on your flip-flops."

He'd smirked. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"Don't change the subject," she'd threatened, jabbing a finger into his chest when he'd snickered. "We're too old for that kind of spring break."

When she'd jabbed him again, he'd raised an eyebrow. "What about spring break somewhere quiet? A friend of mine offered to lend me his place."

"Wait, you have friends besides Tony?"

He'd muttered something about "having friends all day," but the second he'd shown her the pictures of the beach house, the almost-white sand, and the near-perfect water, she'd folded like a bad poker hand. A fact Jessica enjoyed more than cake pops, tequila, and her (weird) chess club, because she kept poking Carol about—

"He could propose," Jessica commented suddenly, and Carol groaned. "Now that you sleep over and eat dinners in? That could be the next big step. A princess-cut ring and—"

"Aren't you seeing Barney sometime this week?"

Jessica squeaked before snapping, "We're not talking about that."

Carol raised an eyebrow. "So, is that a yes?"

"Listen, Danvers, I'm here to torment you about your relationship, not the other—"

"Are you going to finally admit that you're back to dating?" Carol pressed, ignoring her friend's weird sounds of distress. "Or did you decide you don't want to marry into the Barton family? I can't remember."

Jessica heaved a sigh. "It's official," she decided. "I hate you. You're fired. I'll find a new best friend."

Carol grinned. "Good luck with that."

"Hey, like your chocolate-covered banana of a boyfriend, I have friends all day," Jessica shot back, and Carol laughed.

When they hung up a few minutes later, Carol abandoned her glass and swimsuit cover-up to wander down onto the beach. The sun warmed the sand without turning it lava-hot, a nice contrast to the cool, salty breeze. She walked all the way up to the water's edge, humming—

"You know, much as I like that you're patriotic, the national anthem's a bit much."

Carol grinned as James jogged up next to her, his t-shirt almost translucent thanks to sweat and the misty air. She spent a couple shallow seconds studying his chest and stomach before asking, "Good jog?"

"Until I ran into the old guy running naked, sure," he replied, grinning when she laughed at him. "What about you? Jessica driving you nuts?"

"She spent most of the call teaching me a new song." He frowned in confusion, and she waved him off. "It's a long story, and I need to wash her crazy off me. Want to go for a swim?"

James eyed her for a moment, his brow still a little creased. "This one of those situations where you tell me everything's fine but go on a rant a couple days later?"

"No." He narrowed her eyes, and she sighed. "What do you want me to do, swear on a stack of Bibles? Make Girl Scout fingers?"

He smirked. "Now I just want to hear about your wayward Girl Scout days."

"Says the Eagle Scout," she retorted, shoving him in the shoulder when he laughed. Except he felt so good, so warm and certain, that she slid her hand along the side of his neck instead of releasing him. "I think I'm finally immune to her teasing," she admitted honestly. "And to celebrate, I want to take a dip in the ocean with you."

James smiled. "Maybe in a minute," he replied, and he tangled his fingers in her swimsuit strap to draw her in for a kiss.

"They're sixth graders, Jasper."

Jasper grit his teeth as his sometimes lovely, sometimes terrifying girlfriend appeared at the end of the toy aisle. For a couple seconds, they just stared one another down: Maria with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised, and Jasper with his lips in a tight line.

"Maybe I'm shopping for me," he finally said.

"In the Hot Wheels section?"

He shrugged. "Adults like Hot Wheels, too."

"Some very specific, very stunted adults, maybe. You, on the other hand . . . " Snorting at the amusement in her voice, he glanced back at the ridiculous display of tiny cars. "You know, you didn't worry this much about meeting my parents."

"You mean when I brought you gas at that rest stop?" She rolled her eyes, and Jasper pointed a finger at her. "You didn't warn me."

"Because I didn't know you'd show up in your superstitious Miami Dolphins sweatpants." He scowled—mostly because he still remembered the way Maria's mother had stared at his thighs in those threadbare aqua monstrosities—but Maria just walked over and touched his arm. "You don't need to buy their love," she reminded him.

"In case you forgot, they think I'm some kind of octopus overlord."

"And as much as I wish you had eight hands, we already survived that disaster." He snorted, and she leaned their shoulders together. "They're only visiting for four days," she said, "and Colin knows that their trip with their dad is contingent on a good report from me. They're not going to stage a coup."

Jasper frowned at her. "At the risk of pissing you off: you've met your kids, right?"

She screwed up her face, probably to hide her little smile. "You're lucky I like you," she replied, smacking him when he grinned.

They finished at Target in record time, no Hot Wheels in sight, and Jasper felt a slightly queasy feeling wash over him as they climbed back into Maria's car. He liked that she'd asked him to tag along to pick up the twins at the prearranged exchange point—it meant she trusted him—but shit, those boys hated him. He wasn't just an unpleasant authority figure from their past, he was the authority figure from their past who still dated their mom.

Worse, and unlike a year ago, he knew all sorts of probably embarrassing details about them, like how Colin loved Disney movies and how Keith's favorite color was actually purple. Maria usually dropped these gems into conversations without thinking, and every time, Jasper imagined the boys' twin scowls. Not because he'd ever harass them about that—they were kids, and pretty vindictive ones at that—but because he knew how much they'd hate him having that information.

Even if he liked knowing these facts about Maria's kids. And even if, deep down, he felt bad about Keith's recent homesickness and Colin's struggle to keep his grades up.

They pulled into the rest stop—the regular site of Maria's custody exchanges—right on schedule, and Jasper swallowed around the huge ball of dread in his stomach as he climbed out of the car. A couple parking spots down, Maria's ex-husband leaned against the side of his (annoyingly expensive) sedan, talking to the boys. For a second, they looked kind of like a normal, happy family.

At least, until one of the kids glanced over and shouted, "Mom!"

Jasper could barely tell the kids apart up close, never mind at a distance, but both barreled over to Maria and halfway tackled her in a hug. She staggered a little, her face as surprised as delighted, and despite feeling like a huge interloper, Jasper smiled. The ex-husband smiled too, almost fond, and glanced in Jasper's direction.

Jasper shrugged, the weakest damn hello of his life.

The ex-husband nodded back.

The boys kept talking a mile a minute, regaling Maria with the plans for the second half of their spring break until she finally nudged them away. "I need to talk to your dad and grab your bags," she said. "Go bug Jasper for a couple minutes."

The twin who'd shouted—Colin, Jasper was pretty sure—frowned. "Who?"

Keith elbowed him. "Mister Sitwell," he hissed. "Mom's boyfriend."

Colin wrinkled his nose. "I didn't know his real name was Jasper. That's stupid."

"Tried changing my name to Dragonfire when I was ten, but it didn't take," Jasper said with a shrug, and both kids jerked their heads in his direction. Keith grinned, but Colin crossed his arms. "What? I liked dragons a lot as a kid. Dragons, snakes, and octopi."

He somehow kept his face completely neutral even as Keith, probably fearing his mom's wrath, clamped a hand over his face to hide his laugh. Colin narrowed his eyes. "Did you really like octopi or are you trying to get us in trouble?"

Jasper shrugged. "You sure you want the answer?"

The boys exchanged glances. Eventually, Keith nodded. "Okay, yeah," he decided. "We want to know."

After checking that Maria was still negotiating with her ex-husband, Jasper leaned down to their level. He spent so long looking at them that they started to shift their weight nervously.

Finally, he smiled and whispered, "Hail HYDRA."

Their immediate, shocked laughter almost deafened him, but hey. Worth it.

"So Carol's practically married now," Jess grumbled as she plopped down on the catch.

Barney quickly pulled his mug off his knee before the shockwave of Jess's collapse caused his hot coffee to dump all over his lap. "Rhodey proposed?" he asked as he handed Jess the cake pop he'd purchased for her.

"No," she answered with a mouth full of sweetness. Possibly the only sweetness left in the galaxy, now that her best friend had turned to the dark side. That wasn't a racial joke, she swore. The dark side meant that her sister in singlehood—that alliteration was five hundred percent Stark's fault—was now totally calm when discussing her boyfriend, which was also Stark's fault. "Not yet, anyway."

"And it would be the end of the world if he did?" Barney questioned.

Jess heaved a dramatic sigh. "A little, yeah."

"Why?"

Jess sucked off the remains of cake batter from the white stick as she considered her answer. "It's just… It's hard to find someone with your bitter, jaded world view. And when you do, you finally feel like you're not alone. But now she's met someone. And don't get me wrong—I'm happy she's happy."

"But now you're alone again," Barney summarized.

"Yeah. Why? Something you can identify with?" she asked.

He gave her an unimpressed look she'd seen way too many times on Clint's face. "You remember that I'm a felon, right? Sat in prison for a couple of years?"

"Are you saying I have the mindset of a dark, disturbed criminal?" Jess questioned.

"Dark and disturbed, definitely," Barney responded with a grin. "Criminal? You probably just haven't been caught red-handed yet."

Jess arched an eyebrow. "What crime would I be arrested for?"

"Murder," Barney answered without hesitation.

Jess's jaw dropped in mock horror. "What makes you say that?"

"The number of times you've texted me knife emojis whenever you feel like your class is out of control. Also, I've been in the car with you while driving. That's scarier than prison." Jess shrugged at his answer. He elbowed her in the arm, and she glared at him. "You're not alone," he told her softly. "Just remember that."

The two sentences caused her pulse to quicken. Jess wasn't sure at all if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She honestly didn't want to think about it. A voice in her head—she decided to name that voice "new Carol"—mocked her for that. "Thanks," she mumbled after too long of a pause.

Barney snickered and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"Actually, that is something I'm well aware of."

"So what should lonely people like us do with our lives?" Barney asked before taking a sip of his coffee while staring her down.

"I'm not having sex with you."

Barney choked on his drink. "That's not what I meant," he said.

"I'm not saying the sex we had was bad, I'm just saying that I'm not sure—"

"I can't imagine why you end up feeling alone if this is how you handle a conversation," Barney grumbled.

"You're such a Barton," Jess sighed.

"Was that a compliment?" Barney asked.

Jess gave him another dark look. "So what do you suggest, oh wise relationship guru?"

Barney shrugged. "We could make a pact."

"Is this a murder pact?" Jess asked.

"No," Barney said as he shook his head. "I don't need to go back to prison, thank you very much. This is a 'if we never find anyone in x amount of years, we'll end up together' kind of pact."

"I think I'd rather marry a dog," Jess replied before she could stop the words.

She watched Barney quickly change his face into a mask of humor. "I can arrange that. Birdie could use a good kiss."

"You do know we're off school, right?" Henry asked with a ridiculous amount of side eyeing.

"No," Darcy replied, "I hadn't noticed that I hadn't been at work all week. Thanks for clarifying that for me."

"Why are we going to a school?" George asked.

"To see Uncle Loki teach," Alva answered with a slight hint of exasperation. "He's going to tell us fairy tales. Miss Darcy has told us that a hundred times."

If Alva weren't strapped into a booster seat in the back of the Odinson SUV, Darcy would have high-fived the girl. "We're going to watch your uncle teach a class, then we're all going to lunch, and maybe we can have play time on the quad."

"Do they have a playground?" George asked.

"Not quite," Darcy answered. "But there's plenty of room for freeze tag, or maybe some college students will let you join in on a game of ultimate frisbee."

"Is that better than regular frisbee?" Henry questioned.

"Uh, it has the word ultimate in it, so yeah," Darcy said. That seemed to appease the boys well enough. Alva happily swung her feet back and forth, grateful for any chance to see her beloved Uncle Loki. Darcy understood that feeling.

She was able to park the SUV with minimal swearing under her breath and together, the four of them formed a human chain as they began to traverse campus. Thankfully, Loki was earning his Ph.D. from a small, private college and not the huge state university downtown where Darcy had earned her degree in political science.

The classroom was small, four tiers of wooden desk-and-chair combinations. Darcy corralled the kids into a corner in the back. She was worried that she'd have to bribe them with Netflix or games on her phone, but they at least feigned interest as soon as Loki strode into the room. He looked up into the corner where they were all sitting and smiled for a split second before his typical professor mask slipped back into place. Darcy knew it was supposed to be an intimidation factor for his students, but all she could think of was role playing some scene where she was a student needing to find a way to boost her final exam grade. If it could involve Loki's actual office desk, all the better.

But she tried to shake her head free of those thoughts. She didn't need to get carried away with her imagination and have the Odinkids stare at her when she accidently let a moan slip out. Again.

Since she'd been off all week, and too poor to go anywhere, she'd sacrificed some amazing alone time at the house to sit in on Loki's lecture two days ago. Darcy honestly had no idea what he was talking about in his Viking folklore class. Sure, he'd tried to explain it to her, but unless he paralleled the unpronounceable names to television characters, Darcy couldn't bring herself to care enough to track what was happening. She'd suggested time and time again to rewrite the tales as a telenovela for his thesis, but apparently, that wasn't a good idea. What did the academics know anyway?

Knowing how short the attention spans of his nephews and niece could be, Loki called them down to the front of the room. He assigned them each a character, and for the next forty-five minutes, he had the kids act out the particular story he was telling that day. They earned a round of applause by the end of the lecture and were begging to miss school to help Uncle Loki teach all through lunch in the commons.

As promised, Loki led them all out to the quad. All three kids looked confused at the co-eds who were out sunbathing in sixty-degree weather. Darcy couldn't blame them. She and Loki got them started with a game of freeze tag before they both proclaimed that as adults, they were already exhausted after two rounds and would just sit in the grass and referee.

"I wish you could miss school and come sit in on all of my lectures, too," Loki said as he ran his fingers through Darcy's hair.

She hummed appreciatively, her head resting in his lap. "Do you know how hard it was for me not to make obscene faces and hand gestures while you were talking?"

"Should you be rewarded for controlling your behavior or punished for thinking such dastardly thoughts?"

Darcy smiled while biting her bottom lip—a move she knew for a fact drove him crazy. "Actually, I was wondering. If a student came to your office after bombing her final exam, is there anything she could do to bump her grade up a little?"

He visibly swallowed, clearly catching on to what she was suggesting. "Would be difficult to say. But my office hours are from ten to noon tomorrow morning, if she wanted to stop by. God knows none of my other students will be there."

"To be fair," Bruce said, "you told him to 'bring on the blue.'"

"And your encouragement means absolutely no complaining about my décor choices." When Natasha sighed, Tony jabbed a finger right at her. "No. You said no presents, and there are no presents. There are also no stupid games, no cakes with weird blue innards, and no blue salsa."

"Not for a lack of trying," Pepper muttered as she passed.

"It's not my fault that purple salsa is an affront to god and man!" Tony shouted after her. Steve hid his grin behind his drink, and Bucky snickered—at least, until Natasha shot him her don't you dare egg him on death glare. "The point," Tony continued once Pepper waved him off, "is that I followed all the rules. Meaning that all this is entirely on you two."

He spread his arms wide, and for the second time that afternoon, Bucky soaked in the "splendor" of the big gender reveal party. Unlike the grayscale invitation from a week ago—appropriate for tiny humans regardless of genitalia, Tony'd noted in fine print—the actual party looked like someone had broken into Steve's paint supplies, stolen six gallons of blue tempera, and dumped it on all of the decorations now littering Stark's living room. Scalloped blue streamers trimmed the windows and doorways, blue tablecloths covered the tables and even the island in the kitchen, blue balloons swayed on their blue strings, and guests drank suspicious blue punch out of blue plastic cups. Aside from "Natasha's Craving Bar" (labeled by a predictably blue sign), guests could decorate blue-frosted cupcakes with sprinkles, little silver ball-bearings, or more blue embellishments.

Bucky's eyes actually hurt from it all.

The only non-blue decoration in the whole room was a sheet of butcher paper taped to the wall by the snack table. There, in big block letters, Tony encouraged the guests to SUGGEST THE MANLIEST BOY NAMES KNOWN TO MANKIND. Unsurprisingly, the biggest name, written in bright red, was TONY.

(And immediately under it, a line of Clint's handwriting read please anything but that.)

Just as Bucky finished scanning the room—or recovering from the color overload, either way—Natasha reached over and grabbed his cup. "What are you drinking?"

"Whatever it is, it's not for pregnant ladies." Bucky laughed as Bruce sniffed the concoction and immediately cringed. "I think it's about three-hundred proof."

"At least," Steve agreed.

She scowled and handed it back. "Remember Maizy Henricksen?" she asked.

Bucky frowned. "From when we student taught?"

Natasha nodded. "That concoction reminds me of when she ate six blue raspberry ring pops and threw up in the gym."

Bucky glanced into his drink—bright blue with a hazy white foam around the edges—and felt a wave of seasickness wash over him. "I'm switching to water," he decided, and like a bastard, Natasha smirked.

Over in the kitchen, Pepper leaned against the counter, talking to Clint and Phil. "If you think this is bad," she told them, "know that Tony's original plan included a game."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "I thought Natasha said no games."

"Natasha said no stupid games. Tony swore that 'pin the anatomically correct genitalia on the baby' was not stupid." Clint snorted his drink, and Pepper almost smiled. "I reminded him about his lifetime Kinkos ban."

"You can get banned from Kinkos?" Clint demanded, holding up his hand when Pepper nodded. "Nah, you know what? I need three more of these before I find out how that happened."

"Do you really need to ask?" Bucky questioned as he rinsed out his cup.

"Need to? No. Want the blackmail once I've built up some liquid fortitude?" He waggled his eyebrows, and both Phil and Pepper rolled their eyes. "C'mon. He'd want to know if the roles were reversed."

"And you think you're mature enough to be this baby's favorite uncle," Phil sighed, and Clint wrinkled his nose at his husband.

Bucky laughed, drifting back into the accidentally blue-tinted sunlight in the living room. At the snack table, he dipped carrots into normal-colored ranch dressing and watched as Darcy scrawled a name on the page of suggestions.

He tipped his head to one side. "D'artagnan? Like the musketeer?"

"Like the hottest musketeer-in-training known to man," Darcy retorted, and he snorted. "Haven't you seen the Disney version with Tim Curry as the creepy cardinal? Chris O'Donnell is young and baby-faced. He could totally get it."

Bucky frowned. "Even over young Kiefer Sutherland?"

She wrinkled her nose. "You and blonds," she complained, and he smirked into his water. "What's your name suggestion? 'Steve Rogers, Junior?'"

The question curled in Bucky's stomach for a split second, but he pushed it away to shake his head. "Natasha's had too many awful students with that name to ruin her life with another. Same with William and— Who suggested Algernon?"

"Clint," Darcy and another voice said in unison, and Bucky smiled as Natasha sidled up to him. She leaned over to peer into his cup. "No more vomit," she pointed out.

Darcy's whole face crumpled. "What?"

"Long story," Bucky said, and she held onto her grimace even as she added Athos to the list. When she wandered off, he glanced back at Natasha. "Is Clint really teaching that story again?"

She shrugged. "I think he finds crying in class cathartic." Bucky huffed a laugh, but she kept studying her face. "Should I ask if you're okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure that's my line, given what you're growing in there," he replied, jerking a thumb toward her belly. "It's not just athing anymore. It's a human. With all the human parts."

"It was never just a thing." Even though she kept her voice low, Bucky heard the seriousness—and more importantly, the meaning—in her tone. Better still, her expression softened, no sign of her usual mask. "I'm not sure what I expected. Even feeling it—him—move, it still seemed surreal." She shrugged. "Less surreal now."

"Yeah, but are you okay with that? Okay with your baby being a—" He scanned the list of names. "—Talon instead of a Tallahassee?"

She shot him a withering look. "Please let Steve name all your children."

"I figured we'd just take the leftovers off the poster," he replied with a shrug. She snorted, but he knew she bumped their shoulders together on purpose. "It's only going to get more real, you know."

"I know," she admitted. "But I think we'll be okay."

Bucky smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling back.