December, 1950

In which things are very soft and far less traumatic than they were in the last chapter.

Peggy smiled as Steve shifted and made a happy little noise, not unlike the sort a sleepy cat might make. She was leaning back on the sofa, propped up on a couple of pillows, and Steve was lying across the cushions, his casted leg propped on the far arm of the couch and his head resting on her stomach. He liked to lie like that sometimes and talk to the baby, his hand reaching up to pat her belly whenever the baby gave a kick. Right now, however, with stronger-than-usual painkillers pumping through his system and Peggy's hand resting on top of his head, scratching gently at the hair behind his ear, he was minutes away from falling asleep.

"Comfortable, are you?" Peggy asked, taking a sip of the tea she was holding in her other hand. He made that little cat noise again and nuzzled a little closer to her and her smile widened. She started stroking her fingers in wider loops across the back of his head, humming quietly, and it was barely a minute later that he started snoring softly. Peggy's fingers continued their rhythm, and she looked down at the man stretched across the sofa, marveling at the fact that he was there and more or less in one piece, not minding in the least that her leg was falling asleep with his weight on top of it, because that meant that he was alive to do that to it in the first place. The car accident had been two weeks ago, but there were still moments where it felt as raw as if she were still sitting there in the wet grass, staring at Steve's body sprawled out like a rag doll across the pavement. She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of his breathing and the feel of his hair underneath her fingers until that nightmarish image vanished and she was back here with him on the sofa.

Greatly to the doctors' surprise, Steve had been well enough to be released four days after waking up. Peggy had been worried at first, especially considering he'd been unconscious for a week, that something might have gone wrong with the serum and it wasn't healing him as it should. But it was working now, and Peggy chose not to dwell on how bad it must have been if the serum was working and he was still unconscious for that long, choosing instead to rejoice that he was better now. His stitches had healed enough in the week he slept to allow him to be able to move around on crutches only a couple of days after waking up, and she'd heard the doctors whispering about medical miracles. She'd said nothing, acting as surprised as they and glad for the week-and-a-half-old stubble disguising Steve's face, even if it was unlikely anyone was going to suspect Captain America was here in 1950. The extra-strength pain medication was courtesy of some of Erskine's old notes and Dr. Aloysius Samberly, who'd been eager to do a favor for his Deputy Director and had asked no questions, simply mixed up rather a lot of it and sent it to the hospital with a forged physician's note containing instructions for the hospital staff on the special medication that 'his' patient required. She hoped he wasn't going to be too insufferably pleased with himself when she saw him at work tomorrow.

She sat there for a long time, reveling in the feel of Steve alive and in her arms, feeling nearly as joyful as she had done the day he showed up on her doorstep almost three years ago. He seemed to have a talent for not dying when he was supposed to, and Peggy couldn't have been happier about it. Blissful as it was, however, sitting there and holding him, eventually she could no longer ignore the call of nature that had gotten abruptly louder when the baby shifted and kicked her in a rather sensitive area.

Though she was eight months pregnant and felt like nothing so much as a beached whale these days, she was quite pleased with how nimbly she managed to extract herself from underneath her sleeping husband without waking him. A quick trip to the loo, then she decided she had best get a start on dinner. Steve had been cooking for her for nearly three years, and she'd gotten rather spoiled by it, but once she'd picked up the knack of it again, she'd remembered that she actually kind of enjoyed it.

Once dinner was in the oven, she decided she fancied some Christmas cookies and set to making a batch. They didn't feel like proper Christmas cookies without Christmas music, so she turned the radio on to low volume and grabbed a mixing bowl. When she looked up a bit later, Steve was still lying out across the sofa, but his eyes were open now and he was watching her with a happy smile.

"Love watching you dance," he said, swallowing down a yawn.

Peggy chuckled a little self-consciously, unaware that she'd been moving in time to the music until he pointed it out. "I'd hardly call what I'm capable of doing these days dancing," she replied, setting the bowl of dough in the fridge to chill. "I believe the image you're after is more that of a bowling ball rolling about."

Steve laughed, moved to sit up and didn't quite make it, and flopped back onto the sofa. "Oh, you're not giving yourself enough credit," he said as Peggy came back and sat down beside him. He stretched up and kissed her. "You're gorgeous," he told her.

"I think you're still high on your pain medication," Peggy told him, helping him maneuver his injured leg off the arm of the sofa so he could sit up.

Steve grinned and kissed her again. "It's not that strong," he told her. "You are that beautiful, though."

Peggy couldn't help smiling at that, and she leaned over to kiss him back. "How are you feeling?"

"More clear-headed now," he said. Though the medication made him inordinately sleepy when he first took it, once he woke up, there was a sweet spot of a few hours where he was both lucid and free of pain before it started to wear off. "You want help with dinner?"

"It's already in the oven," Peggy said. Steve's face fell just a little and she laughed. "I can cook, you know."

"What? No, I know," Steve said hurriedly. "That's not what I meant, I—"

Peggy placed two fingers over his mouth to stop him talking. "I know," she said with a smile. "I was kidding."

"Oh. Right."

"And I know you're thinking this is supposed to be your job, but I think a broken femur is a more than reasonable excuse for taking some time off."

"Yeah," Steve said. "But you're all…" He waved a hand at her, encompassing the baby and her vastly growing midsection. "You shouldn't have to do it. I know how bad your back and your feet get to hurting, and it gets all hot in there, and—"

This time, she kissed him to shut him up. "You're very sweet, darling," she told him. "But I am more than capable of managing this."

"I know, but you shouldn't have to—"

"I want to," Peggy interrupted him. She smiled at him fondly. "Please let me take care of you."

Color rose in Steve's cheeks. "Okay," he said softly. He gave her an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I'm not very good at being laid up like this."

"Oh, I know," she said, patting him on the knee as she stood up. She couldn't recall a time that he'd gotten injured enough for an extended hospital stay during his turn in the war (though the few overnights his injuries had required had been rather challenging), but that wasn't where she was drawing her information from. She smiled. "Bucky told me all sorts of stories."

Steve's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then he scowled. "That jerk," he huffed. "I'm not nearly as bad as he says I was."

Peggy laughed. "I think I'd best be the judge of that. We'll see by the time this comes off," she said, nodding at the cast on his leg. "In the meantime," she went on, turning to the chair by the sofa and picking up a box that had been sitting on it. "If you're really feeling the need to do something constructive, you can help me decorate the Christmas tree." Steve perked up at the prospect of having a job, and set to untangling the string of fairy lights sitting on top of the box.

Christmas was only a few days away, but with the madness of the past two weeks, there hadn't been much time for festivities. They'd actually gotten the tree set up the afternoon of Steve's accident, intending to decorate it after dinner, but it had been sitting bare in the corner of the living room since then. Peggy put a record of carols on to play and started sorting through the box of ornaments.

"It's odd to think," she said. "That this will be our last Christmas just the two of us." The baby was due to arrive mid-January, and though he might put in an early appearance, a Christmas arrival seemed rather premature.

Steve smiled. "I'm picturing a lot more toys under the tree next year." He eyed the tree appraisingly. "And all the glass ornaments higher up."

Peggy laughed. "An excellent idea. And perhaps a barricade of some sort."

Steve shot a thoughtful look at her stomach, as if considering its tiny occupant. "Come next Christmas, the little guy won't be too far off from walking, will he?"

"Oh, stop that," Peggy replied, tossing a handful of tinsel at him. "He's not even here yet and you've got him growing up too fast."

Steve smiled and returned to his lights, and Peggy rubbed a thoughtful hand across her stomach as the baby fidgeted. "Heard us talking about you, did you, love?" she asked with a smile.

It took Steve until dinner was ready to get the lights undone. Peggy consented to let him prop himself up on one leg and lean against the armchair long enough to drape them over the tree while she set the table. Steve was starting to shift uncomfortably in his chair by the time they were finished eating, a faint line appearing across his forehead as his medication wore off.

"Is it starting to hurt?" Peggy asked sympathetically. "I can get some more of your medicine for you."

"No," Steve sighed. "I'd rather it hurt for a little while and just take it before I go to bed if it's going to knock me out anyway."

"Alright," she agreed. She got up and got the cookie dough out of the fridge. "Baking and decorating some cookies might take your mind off it."

Steve's smile returned, and he stayed sitting at the table and rolled out dough and cut out shapes. Peggy mixed up icing and popped the cookies in and out of the oven as the sheets filled up, then she sat down with him to do some decorating.

"I don't know why I even bother," Peggy said after a while, looking over at Steve's pile of cookies. Hers were neatly decorated with simple solid colors, accented with stripes, polka dots or sprinkles, but the artist over there was turning out an array of reindeer with highlights in their fur and bells on their harnesses, angels with feathers in their wings holding stringed harps, and carousel horses with rainbow-colored manes and tails.

Steve chuckled, adding a miniscule dot of white icing to create a twinkle in Father Christmas's eye. "It's not a competition," he told her, as he did each year when she made the same complaint. He shot her a cheeky smile. "Not much of one, anyway."

"You're awful," she said, returning to her gingerbread man with as much dignity as she could muster. A thought struck her, and she reached for the bowl of blue icing. "There!" she declared several minutes later, spinning around the plate holding the cookie so Steve could see it. "What do you think?"

Steve tilted his head to one side, studying the cookie, then burst out laughing. "That's the best Captain America gingerbread man I have ever seen."

"It is rather good, isn't it?" Peggy said, pleased with herself. Sure, he was on the chubby side, as gingerbread men were wont to be, and his face was a bit lopsided, but she'd gotten all the stripes in neatly, and even managed to include the star and harnesses across his chest.

They finished with the cookies (Steve made a little shield for the cookie captain), and Peggy sent Steve upstairs while she cleaned up, reasoning that it would take him nearly as long to hobble his way up there as it would for her to get the dishes clean. He had just finished filling up the bath when she made it up, and he allowed her to help him wrap his cast and get down into the bath while propping the leg up out of the water and on the soap dish with only minor complaining.

"You're really going to sit there and watch me take a bath?" he asked. "I can handle this part on my own."

"I know," she said, settling down as comfortably as she could manage on the closed toilet lid. She leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest and grinned. "I just like looking at you."

Steve grinned at that, pleased and a bit embarrassed, and he chuckled. "You're welcome to come in and join me, you know."

"It's a tempting offer," she said, and it really was. "But if I got in that tub, I don't know that I could get out again." She was starting to have trouble even getting out of bed without a great deal of awkward and undignified rolling, and that was on a relatively flat surface. With the enclosed nature of the tub, she wouldn't stand a chance. "But since I'm staring," she offered. "You're welcome to do the same when I shower after you're done."

"Sounds fair," Steve replied, his grin widening.

They chatted a bit as he washed, Peggy trying not to sound overly much like a mother hen about what he was going to do tomorrow. She had to go back to work, and though it should have been fine for him to just lie in and rest, she was worried he was going to try to do something and end up hurting himself further. Evidently, she wasn't as casual as she'd been shooting for.

"Peggy," Steve told her, fond exasperation in his voice as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. "I know I can be a little stubborn—Okay, a lot stubborn," he amended when she snorted. "Yeah, I want to do stuff and not feel like I'm lying around being useless, but I know how worried you've been with the accident, and I know how worried you still are. I hate being lazy, but I hate hurting you and making you worry even more." He smiled up at her. "So if you want me to just lie around and rest my leg and not do anything, then I will."

"You will?" she asked, touched by the sentiment but still feeling slightly suspicious.

"I will." He reached over and took her hand and kissed it. "I promise." He shot her a knowing smirk. "Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No," she said, smiling. "So, that means when I come home from work tomorrow, you're not going to have tried to do any laundry, or gotten anything ready for dinner, or anything else that might be considered keeping house?"

Steve threw his head back with a long-suffering, dramatic groan. "I won't. I promise."

Peggy leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "Good."

She helped him up and out of the tub and onto his feet again as the water drained out. They were getting a bit better at this, but it still took a bit of finessing. Once Steve was dressed and dry, she helped him move to take her earlier seat and started disrobing. As promised, she pulled the curtain closed enough to keep the floor dry but left it open enough to give him a view, and they continued their chat.

Steve was starting to yawn profusely by the time she got out. "Are you awake enough to manage a shave?" she asked, eyeing the box of medicine and glass of water on the counter.

"Was I supposed to do that tonight?" Steve asked, yawning again. The stubble from the hospital was rapidly transforming into actual facial hair, and it was rather too scratchy for Peggy's taste. Steve wasn't a great fan of it either, but had been too tired to see to it yet. "Forgot, or I would've waited to take the medicine."

"I can do it," Peggy offered, slipping on her nightgown and dressing gown. Steve sort of hummed but didn't actually say anything, so she took that as a yes. He closed his eyes and let her lather his face, tilting his head back or to the side as she directed. She slipped the blade deftly across his face, wicking away the whiskers and shaving cream and revealing the familiar jawline underneath. "There you are," she said, planting a quick kiss on his lips. "I knew you were under there somewhere."

Steve huffed a soft laugh, and it looked like it took a bit of work for him to coax his eyelids back open after she cleaned his face off with a warm, wet cloth and patted it dry. "Feels nice," he said. "You're good at that. Should have you do that more often."

"Anytime, darling," she said with a smile, stroking her fingers along his cheek. "But it's time for bed now, I think."

"Mm," Steve agreed. She levered him back up to his feet, and with one of his arms over her shoulders, they hobbled down the hall to the guest room. Peggy didn't even bother turning on the light, simply lowering him down into bed. He tried to shift a bit to help her as she propped all the pillows he needed underneath his leg to elevate it, then tucked the blankets around him. "Mmmm," he sighed as he sank into the pillow. He opened his eyes just enough to look up at her as she leaned in to stroke her fingers across his forehead. "Y'know, getting took care of by you…s'not so bad."

"Told you," she said, smiling and leaning down to kiss him.

"Love you," he told her, eyes sinking shut as he faded out.

"I love you too." She kissed his forehead and straightened up, shutting the door softly behind her as she left.

Back in their room, she didn't spend much time brushing and setting her hair before getting into bed herself, though she knew she wasn't going to fall asleep as quickly as Steve. Despite Steve's promise to behave, she was worried about going off and leaving him tomorrow—even if he followed every order about taking it easy to the letter, he could still easily fall on the way to the bathroom, or coming down the stairs. More than worrying, though…she sighed. What was really keeping her from sleeping, what had been giving her trouble sleeping since they came back from the hospital, was that she was lonely. She missed Steve—the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the simple reassuring fact that he was there…It just didn't feel right, not having him on the other side of the bed. Like something was missing.

The trouble was, they were in a bit of an awkward situation, the two of them. Peggy was rapidly running out of positions in which she could sleep that didn't hurt her back or feel like various internal organs were being crushed as the baby continued to grow, and lately the one position where the baby wasn't in the way—on her back—no longer worked because it hurt too much and she couldn't breathe. Steve had solved the problem by building her an adjustable mountain of pillows, which allowed her to sleep in numerous positions once more and still have enough support to breathe, keep her back from aching, and keep her from needing to run to the loo every twenty minutes. That had worked for the both of them until Steve broke his leg. Another mound of pillows was required for his leg, and the simple fact of the matter was that between the quite frankly alarming number of pillows necessitated by their various conditions, they no longer fit in the same bed.

Peggy sighed, switched off the lamp, and spent a few minutes shifting and shuffling about until the pile of pillows beneath her was in a configuration that both she and the baby seemed to agree upon. She closed her eyes and tried not to worry about Steve or work or the empty space next to her pillow mound, and eventually, she fell asleep.

They settled into a routine as the next few days passed. She would get up in the morning and make breakfast, and Steve was able to maneuver his leg out of bed and get himself downstairs. She would gather everything she thought Steve might need for the day in the living room to save him the need to go up and down the stairs on his crutches, then head off to work. She was off of field work until after the baby came, but there was plenty to do behind her desk, and she hoped the more she could get set in order now, the more smoothly things would run while she was away on maternity leave. (Phillips had been concerned at first that she'd be throwing in the towel after the baby arrived, and had been relieved to hear she intended no such thing. He'd arranged a rather generous leave plan for her, but she wanted to stay at work as long as she could before taking it so the boys around the office didn't get used to her being away.)

When she came home in the evenings, Steve, true to his word, would have restrained himself from doing any household chores. He would get a lot of sketching and reading done, and it wasn't until after Christmas that he accidentally revealed that he'd inadvertently become drawn in to the Guiding Light radio drama as well. He was always a bit antsy after being alone and on the sofa all day, so Peggy would consent to let him help her make dinner as long as it was something he could do sitting down, like peeling potatoes.

He was taking less of his medication now, and though Peggy suspected at first that he was just being stubborn and avoiding it because he didn't like how sleepy it made him, he did seem to be in less pain. The super-solider serum was doing its work of healing him quicker than normal, and Peggy imagined that it wasn't going to take near to the full four months the doctors had projected it would for his leg to heal completely.

She did appreciate that he was able to be lucid and awake more without being in pain, but the problem of the pillows persisted. He still needed the elevation for his leg, she still needed her pillow heap to sleep at all, and she still missed him and wasn't sleeping well because of it.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" he asked her at breakfast the day before Christmas Eve. It was the last day at work before they closed up for a couple of days for the holidays.

"I'm fine," she said. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You're just moving like you're tired, maybe a little down. You're not coming down with anything, are you?" He was trying to sound casual, but there was a worried note in his voice.

"No, I'm alright," she assured him. "I just haven't been sleeping well."

"Is it your back?" he asked. "I could fix you up a hot water bottle or two before you go to bed," he offered. "Or we could get some more pillows and—"

"The pillows are the problem," she sighed.

"I could take some of them away?" he suggested.

"No, I couldn't sleep if you did that, I just…" She sighed. "I miss you," she said. "I'm having trouble sleeping because you're not there."

A wide grin spread across Steve's face. "You miss me?"

Peggy felt her cheeks growing warmer. "I know it's silly, I just…" She trailed off and shrugged, and Steve's grin got even wider.

"It's not silly, it's sweet," he said, leaning over and kissing her. "And to be honest, if I wasn't so drugged up when I went to bed, I'd have trouble sleeping too. I get awful lonely without my best girl."

She smiled at that, feeling better knowing that she wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping alone. And she did like it when he called her that.

"I'll think of something," he said. He looked up at the clock on the wall. "You'd better get going so you're not late, but I'll try to come up with something while you're gone."

"Well, that something had better not involve any strenuous labor," Peggy said, standing up and kissing him on the cheek. The only solution she was able to envision that did not involve the expense of purchasing a king-sized bed was custom-constructing one, and that was physical labor Steve would not be doing.

"I will perform no feats of physical exertion without express spousal consent," he promised, kissing her back.

"Good man," she said with a laugh. "And don't finish off all the Christmas cookies before I come home, or I shall be very cross."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Her day at work was largely uneventful, and Peggy headed home happy at the prospect of a few days to rest and a nice quiet Christmas at home with Steve. Christmas Eve tomorrow would be spent preparing all the traditional things for dinner and filling the house with delicious smells, wrapping gifts, and a candlelight service at church. Then Christmas Day, exchanging gifts and kisses and snuggling up warm and cozy in front of the fire…Yes. A lovely little Christmas for their last one just the two of them.

Steve was terribly excited when she came home, and she thought he would have liked to pick her up and swing her in a circle if he thought he could manage it. "I figured it out!" he announced proudly as she hung up her coat.

"Figured what out?" she asked.

"The bed thing!" he declared. He hobbled over and kissed her. "I figured out how we can both be in the same bed again!"

"Really? How's that, then?"

"Well, you fit in our bed with all your pillows, and I fit in the guest bed with all my pillows, right?"

"Yes."

"So, we take the guest bed, move it into our room, and jam it up next to our bed. Then it becomes one giant bed, and we both fit!"

Peggy didn't say anything, taking a moment to wonder why she hadn't thought of that.

"And we need to move the guest bed sometime anyway," Steve continued, interpreting her silence as needing more convincing. "Since that room is going to be the nursery. And keeping it in our room until I don't need all the room for my leg gives us more time to figure out what to do with it."

"Steve, that's a fabulous idea," she said.

Steve beamed. "I haven't actually done it yet because I wanted to run it by you," he said. "And because I promised I wouldn't do any work until you got home."

She smiled at that. "It will be a bit of a process, but I think between the two of us, we can manage it," she said.

They went upstairs, and moved some of their other furniture to the side so they could get the second bed into the room. It was going to be something of a squeeze, but it should all work once it was in there. Getting the mattress off the guest bed and out of the way and getting the bed up on its side so they could carry it was a bit fiddly, but Peggy finally figured out how to stand so her stomach and the baby didn't prevent her getting a good grip, and Steve was able to use just one crutch and hold up his end of the bed with his free hand.

There was a good deal of bumping into walls on the way back to the room, and Peggy was certain they knocked a picture or two down, but they made it. The mattress was easier, as it could be slid along and pushed, and they soon had a very large bed taking shape in the middle of their bedroom, though they both had to stop and sit for a bit before continuing on.

They put the sheets back onto the guest bed mattress, then Steve began hobbling back and forth to transport all the pillows, and Peggy went back downstairs to find the larger blankets she knew they kept in storage somewhere.

It took her longer than she thought it would to find them, but she did, and headed back upstairs. Something was different about the room when she arrived, and she stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene.

"Steve?" she asked. The pillows were stacked up in the middle of the bed, not in the way she usually had them arranged to sleep, but in a formation resembling an igloo. A blanket was draped across one side of it. It twitched aside at the mention of Steve's name, and her husband's face poked out from behind it. She smiled. "Did you…" She eyed the structure on the bed. "Did you build a pillow fort?"

"I did."

Peggy laughed and shook her head. "You are a giant child, you know that?"

Steve grinned. "Don't act too good for the fort. You know you want to come inside."

Peggy laughed again. "I do, actually."

"Well, then, get in here," he said, drawing back and holding the blanket farther open in invitation.

Peggy smiled, deposited the blankets she was carrying on the nightstand, and climbed up onto the bed. The fort was big enough for her to sit upright once she got inside. "I think that this is a sign we have too many pillows," she said, looking around. Steve's construction was solid, and the pillows were plentiful enough to have been layered like bricks.

"They had to come in handy for something," Steve said.

"It's been ages since I did anything like build a fort," she said, looking around with a happy sigh. "Michael and I used to do things like this all the time."

"So did me and Bucky," Steve said. "Though our forts were more like blankets stretched over the back of the bed and tucked into something. Not enough pillows for something like this."

"We used to play games in ours," Peggy said. "We would be explorers in a cave, or bears hibernating for the winter."

"We liked to be pirates," Steve said, smiling fondly. "Looking for treasure and stuff."

Peggy smiled happily and leaned back a bit, rubbing a hand in a circle over her stomach, imagining the sorts of games the baby might play when he was old enough to make something like this. "What do you think he'll play when he makes forts of his own?" she wondered.

Steve smiled and shifted himself carefully across the mattress so he could sit next to her. "I'll bet he plays S.S.R. agent and Nazis," he said, resting a hand on her belly next to the one she had placed there. "Doing big hero stuff like his mom." He leaned over and kissed her.

"Or his dad," Peggy said with a smile, kissing him back. Her smiled deepened. "You and I might be a bit old for playing explorers or pirates." She kissed him again. "But one really should use a fort this nice for something."

"Like what?" Steve asked, looping an arm around her waist.

Peggy smiled and kissed him again, pulling him back with her until they were lying flat on the mattress. "I'm sure we can figure something out."