Emily bit the palm of her hand as she struggled against the arm pinning her hips down. Her thighs shook, and she cut off a strangled gasp when the fingers inside her curled as lips closed around her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she breathed, her own fingers curled in blonde hair and tugged, causing the man between her legs to moan. His shoulders forced her thighs wider when his tongue replaced his fingers, and Em twisted to bury her face in his pillow to muffle her cry as she came. Hands gently pried her thighs apart from where they'd clenched around his head, and she could hear chuckling through the slight ringing in her ears. She managed to crack one eye open in time to see Steve's grin as he shed his shirt and wiped his mouth with it before tossing it away to press feather-light kisses up her torso.

"Seeing you try to stay quiet is fun," he chuckled, kissing her so she could taste herself on his tongue. His jogging pants did little to hide his erection, and she grinned against his mouth when it was his turn to stifle a groan as she lightly dragged her nails up the length of him.

"You're the one who decided to live in a glorified barrack with someone who can literally phase through walls." Steve let out a different type of groan, remembering the unfortunate incident where Vision came to investigate what he thought was an injured teammate and got an eyeful of his ass instead when he collapsed onto Em to cover her. He hadn't been able to look the android in the eye for nearly a month, and Sam roared with laughter when he found out.

"Only part-time," he corrected.

"Seems like it's more and more time away from home. Trying to hint at something, Rogers?" Arching an eyebrow, she rolled them and planted a hand on his chest when he tried to sit up. "Already bored with your wife?"

"What would you do if I said I was?" he teased, folding his arms behind his head and smirking. Smiling sweetly, Emily leaned down, letting her hair fall and cover them.

"Divorce you, take the house, and half of your assets." The startled look on his face disappeared when she started laughing. "Didn't you know? Apparently, our marriage is over, you're dating Nat, and I'm a gold digger who schemed to get you to fall for me as soon as you woke up. Oh, and I took advantage of your old-fashioned sensibilities to keep from having to sign a prenup so I can get everything when we divorce." He rolled his eyes. "It's almost as good as the story about your secret love child with Peggy suing for back child support."

"I thought you were going to stop reading those?" he said, reaching up to cup her face. Even though they knew there was no truth in the stories gossip magazines published, Em still found it painful to see people commenting on their marriage. Almost worse was the near-constant fixation on her weight and speculation about if she was pregnant.

"Can't help what I see in the check-out line." After a moment, she seemed to shake herself and pasted on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Fuck it. As long as you're not getting tired of me, I don't care what they say."

"You do tire me out, but I'm never tired of you," he attempted to tease. She ground her hips down on his and raised an eyebrow.

"Apparently, I haven't tired you out yet."

"Well, you did just get here." She threw her head back laughing and had to catch herself on his shoulders when he lifted his hips to push down his pants.

OOO

"I'm not going off the grid so let me know if we need to get back," Steve said, glancing over his shoulder to where Emily was reading in the back of the quinjet. Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.

"You do realize the whole point of training a team is so that other people take care of the job too, right?" When he opened his mouth to reply, she shook her head. "It's two weeks, Steve. Unless it's the end of the world, you're not going to hear from us. Now go strap in because we're landing in a minute, and Wanda's still shaky on that part."

"I heard that," came a voice from the cockpit. Smirking, Nat turned away and went to reclaim her copilot seat. When she caught wind of Steve's plans to finally take a vacation, she'd quickly volunteered to fly the couple so Wanda could continue her training. The newest Avenger was completing her first trans-Atlantic flight.

"We're about to land," he said as he sat next to Em, noting that she hadn't turned a page in at least five minutes. "Might be a bit bumpy."

"I know I shouldn't complain because we just got a free flight to Europe," she sighed, adjusting her glasses, "but with how much you all fly around the world, I thought that these seats would be a lot more comfortable." Laughing, Steve turned to grin at her, taking in her bleary eyes. She'd stayed up the whole flight, from the time they boarded at 3:00AM until now, in an attempt to get on the right time zone. While that normally wouldn't have been a problem, she hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before, instead using the time to catch up with the team and explore the facility he spent so much time at.

"I'll make sure Tony hears that." When they landed a few minutes later, the jet was off-balance, and his arm shot out to push Emily back in her seat, even though the four-point restraints meant she wasn't jostled too much. They could hear Nat explaining to Wanda precisely what had gone wrong as the quinjet's ramp lowered.

Before it had even touched the ground, Carter Falsworth bound inside. "Hello, love," he grinned, reaching her before she was able to get the restraints opened. As soon as she did, however, she hopped out of her seat and threw her arms around Carter's neck. He held her tightly and pressed a kiss to the side of her head before meeting Steve's gaze over her shoulder. Stretching his right hand out to shake while holding onto her tightly, the Brit grinned, "Good to see you."

"You too," Steve replied, unable to keep the wide smile off his mouth as he took the offered hand. "Thanks for having us."

"Course." When Nat and Wanda climbed out of the cockpit, the latter had an uncomfortable expression on her face when she was introduced to Carter. Her eyes darted between Em and Carter, whose arms were linked, before shooting over to Steve. Quick introductions were made before he motioned them off the plane and onto the sprawling grounds of Falsworth Manor.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen pictures before, Steve thought as they walked towards the house. The word 'manor' had implied a certain grandiosity, and he'd looked at pictures online, but seeing the family seat of the Earl of Dymhurst wasn't something he could compare to.

But it was more than that. It was seeing where Peggy and James had made their lives.

Steve's gaze landed on Carter and Emily walking in front of the group, his arm over her shoulders and hers around his waist. This might have been what she had if he hadn't woken up.

Forcing that thought away, he adjusted his grip on their bags and smiled when Em grinned over her shoulder at him. Peggy had her happy ending. He had his.

OOO

"Captain." He could feel the brittle bones under thin, papery skin when Steve reached to take James Montgomery 'Monty' Falsworth's hand.

"Union Jack." The answering laugh was tired, and Steve felt himself swallowing hard against the lump in his throat as his eyes swept over his bedridden friend. He'd almost waited too long to get here. "It's good to see you."

"I only wish I'd been able to greet you properly to my home, but I'm sure my grandson did well." He motioned to the chair beside his bed, and Steve sat. "May I ask where your wife is?"

"Dinner - Carter had it set for us, but I figured I'd come up and see you first. Emily's being tactful and giving us some alone time."

"Wonderful girl, that Emily." Watery eyes swept his face, and Monty tutted while shaking his head. "I never get used to it."

"What?"

"Seeing you and how you haven't aged." Steve pasted on a half-smile and shook his head.

"There are days I still can't believe it myself. There's days when I don't...when I feel like this is my time, but then something happens, and I can't help but think that's not how it's done, that it's not…"

"The traditional way, I believe, is what they call it now."

"Who'd'a thought we'd live long enough to be the old-fashioned ones?"

"We certainly did our part in trying not to get here - the Soviet Union in '45."

"The U-boat in '44."

"Dernier was so seasick," Monty chuckled, reaching to cover Steve's hand with his own. "I am happy for you, and I know that Peg would be too. One of her greatest regrets was that you never got to have the life you deserved after the war. And she would have heartily approved of you and Emily."

"Can I ask you something?" At his nod, Steve cleared his throat. "Why didn't you take Steinberg's Infinity Formula?" The question seemed to surprise him, and Monty settled back onto his pillows, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment.

"It wasn't… natural. We'd talked about it, of course - who wouldn't want to slow their aging, to have a bit more time with their family? But then Brian and Anne… it's hard enough to bury one of your children, but both? It took the heart out of us. Even with Carter and later Sharon, we just… the idea held no appeal for us. And now, without my marvelous, mesmerizing, mischievous Margaret, I'm happier with my decision. I've had enough time without her." Steve had to clear his throat again and blinked to clear his vision. The smile that graced the older man's lips was a tired one, and his gaze shifted to something over Steve's shoulder. "I've kept you from your dinner, and I'm tired. Please make yourself comfortable, and give my apologies to Emily for not greeting her properly." They said their goodbyes and, just as he stepped out of the door, Steve heard him murmur something. "'Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.'"

OOO

Em bit back a shriek when a hand darted out and squeezed her side a few days into their visit. Whirling, she tried to smack Carter, but he danced out of the way and threw his head back laughing. "Connard!"

"Not my fault you weren't paying attention," he smirked, moving to stand beside her. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the painting she'd been studying. "The 7th Earl of Dymhurst."

"And you'll be?"

"The 19th. There was a year where three Earls died, passing the title to the third son, where our line starts," he shrugged, gently leading her to another series of portraits to point them out. They stood in front of an oil painting for a long moment before he sighed and shrugged. "It's a minor earldom, but an old one - created in the 1400s." At her surprised look, he chuckled. "I'm surprised my grandfather didn't give you our whole history when you visited last time."

"I was only here for a couple days, and we were a bit preoccupied looking at your grandmother's papers to see if there was enough for the book."

"No background on the family she married into?" he asked, bringing her to stand in front of his grandparent's portrait. His grandmother had told him one night, not long after he'd moved into the manor, how much she'd hated it but had agreed to the sitting to uphold the tradition.

"I've been trying to keep you all out of it as much as possible, to be honest. My editor's been pushing me to include more about Peggy's personal life, but..." Sighing, she threaded her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. "Can I say something without you judging me?"

"Always."

"I hate writing about her and Steve. I hate looking at the newsreel that catches her picture in his compass. And I hate that I hate it because it's not even that I'm jealous. It's just...I don't even know. And I don't want to include you because, for all of your swagger, you're a private person, and I don't want to be the person who tells them about…" A lump swelled in Carter's throat when she squeezed his arm, the unspoken acknowledgment of his mother's suicide hanging between them. Gently shaking off her hold, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close to press a kiss to the top of her head. "I miss you, Cart."

"I miss you too, Em," he said softly. They were quiet for a long moment until she cleared her throat.

"Are you okay? I've been worried since the last time we talked." He'd had too much to drink and forgot about their scheduled call, and slurred some half sarcastic story about having tea with the owner of the estate next door. Em poked his side, making him squirm. "Words are necessary." With a sigh, he pressed a kiss to her hair again before gently drawing her from the house so they could walk in the sprawling gardens.

"I am, and I'm not," Carter said, his expression unusually solemn. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her frown and heaved a sigh. "Do you know how I spend my day, Emily? I wake up and go for a run, even though there's nothing I'm training for. Then I meet with my grandfather to go over the estate plans because, as the heir, I'm meant to know everything going on whilst being unable to change anything. After that, I go into my study to look over the finances and try to find ways of increasing revenue and debate whether or not to turn this place into a wedding venue or open it to tourists. And that's it - that is the extent of my day." He'd spat the last words and ran a hand through his hair, pulling away from her to stride ahead.

"Cart - "

"This place is a prison, Emily, don't you see that?" he demanded, spinning to wave an arm back at the house. "A gilded prison, but a prison nonetheless. Why do you think I kept pushing off coming back here? Why Sharon never does? Hell, why Gran spent so much time in the States with SHIELD? I never wanted this. It wasn't meant to be mine. It should have been Brian's and his children's, not mine."

"Then leave. Come back to New York with us."

"It's not that simple."

"It could be. I know you sold the penthouse, but we have so much room in our house. I'm there by myself a lot of the time so having you would be - "

"Emily."

"And you could join the Stark security team. Maria Hill runs it. God, having you be there with Steve would be so - "

"Emily." His tone was weary, and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, something she'd never seen him do before. "Be realistic. I'm tethered here as long as he's alive, and doubly so once he's gone."

"Oh, Carter."

"I… I trust you can see yourself back inside?" The words were somewhat strangled, and the acknowledgment had barely left her lips when he gave a curt nod and strode away.

OOO

"I need your help," Steve said, leaning forward to accept the offered glass before settling back into the well-worn couch in the study. Carter collapsed into the one across from him. He lifted his glass in salute before knocking its contents back and letting it dangle from his fingers behind the couch. His hair was mussed, and his eyes red-rimmed; the knuckles on his left hand were scabbing over. Running his thumb around the rim of the glass, Steve could see what Em had told him when she stormed back into their room and demanded that he do something - anything - to keep Carter from being trapped in this house.

But if anyone knew what it was like to be trapped by duty, it was Steve. Since the moment he'd been injected with her grandfather's serum and seen the man die in front of him for it, he'd been running. Fighting. And it had never stopped.

"Anything. You only need to ask," Carter shrugged. His words slurred slightly, and Steve wondered if he'd consumed anything other than alcohol since breakfast.

"I need you to look for Bucky for me."

"You've got a new lead? Will Sam be joining?"

"No, no leads yet. I need you to take over the search." A tense silence fell between the two men, and Steve cleared his throat. "I can bring you all the research I have and hunt down any leads that you - "

"Did Emily put you up to this?"

"No. She, uh, told me about your conversation, but I'd made the decision to ask before we got here. And she doesn't know that I'm asking. I can't…" He ran a hand down his face and shook his head before sipping his scotch. "I'm tired, Carter. I can't keep doing this. If I'm not being called out with the team, I'm tracking Bucky across the globe. Do you know the last time I was able to spend more than a week with my wife? Not since our wedding, almost two years ago."

"Hence the belated honeymoon," Carter smirked, pushing to his feet and circling back to the glass decanter by his desk. He lifted it and raised an eyebrow at Steve, who shook his head, then refilled his glass and circled to stand behind the couch. "I'll do it."

The gleam in his eyes made Steve pause. "You have to promise me that you won't go looking for him alone."

"I'm not suicidal, Steve."

OOO

Emily set aside her book and glanced at where Steve slept beside her, his back turned away from the light and snoring softly. Sighing, she slipped out of bed and took her water glass to the pitcher sitting on the small table by the window to refill it. But when she lifted it, it was empty as well. Annoyed, she tucked the pitcher under her arm and eased out into the hallway, pressing her hand to the door to muffle the click of the latch.

The overhead lights were dim, allowing her to easily navigate the hallway to the grand staircase as her eyes flit across the artwork decorating the walls. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the fact that this was where Carter had grown up, with the man who had crashed on her futon after the Battle of New York and ate her leftovers standing over the apartment sink. Here… there was a new tension and weariness in his face that she wished she could take away.

Suppressing another sigh, Em trailed her fingers down the banister as she walked down the stairs. She'd just reached the bottom one when the study door opened and Carter stepped out, scrubbing a hand down his face. A half-empty tumbler hung loosely from his fingers, and he swayed slightly while pulling the door shut behind him. When his bleary eyes locked on her, he grinned. "Hello, love."

"It's nearly three, Cart - are you just going to bed?"

"Could ask the same of you," he shrugged before tossing the rest of his drink back. She frowned at his slurred words, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Come on, time to get you to bed," she huffed, reaching out a hand to him. He walked closer and set his glass down on the first step before reaching for her. But instead of letting her draw him up the stairs, he tugged her closer and plucked the pitcher from her grasp, setting it beside his tumbler. "Carter." He lifted her hand and wrapped his other one around her waist, pulling her to the middle of the room. His eyebrow cocked, then his hand on her waist gently pushed her away before spinning her back into his arms.

She'd expected him to lead her in one of their heart-pounding Lindy hop dances, but he kept a respectful distance between them, guiding her in a waltz. His smile grew the more she stumbled, her feet stepping on his. When he started to count steps, she rolled her eyes but followed his lead. "You're a natural, Harthorn-Rogers."

"You used to be a better liar." He chuckled and started to turn them faster, pulling her closer until they were chest to chest. When they were breathless with laughter, they slowed until they were swaying in one another's arms. "Carter - "

"I'm alright. You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you. Tu es mon meilleur ami."

"Your best friend? What about Christine?"

"I'm allowed to have more than one best friend."

"Kind of contrary to - "

"Come visit. I miss you, and you haven't even stayed at the house yet. It's nothing like this, of course, but you can have a whole floor to yourself and - "

"I can't, Emily. He's not doing well."

"I don't think staying here is doing you any good either."

"Family duty, and all that. I'm okay, love. Or at least I will be."

OOO

They took the train to Scotland. Carter drove them to the station, and Steve watched as he and Emily had a quiet conversation before hugging. Her fingers dug into his back before he kissed her cheek. After saying their goodbyes and saying they'd talk soon, Steve took their bags, and they climbed into the first-class car. Em was quiet when they settled into their seats, her book unopened in her lap as she stared out the window without really seeing anything. A frown tugged on her mouth. Sighing, Steve leaned across the table, catching her attention. "You wanna talk about it?" She didn't say anything for a long moment.

"It's just hard to see him like that. He's so unhappy, Steve, and there's nothing I can do to help him."

"This isn't something you can fix, Sweetheart."

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier." Her lip twitched before she smirked. "He promised that he would come to visit and try to figure out a way to tell me what's going on while you're out. Said he has some dirt on Tony that he can call in if need be." That startled a laugh out of him, and he shook his head.

"It's got to be bad if it'll be enough to make Tony do it."

"He wouldn't even give me a sneak preview." Chuckling, he sat back in his seat and smiled at her.

"What?"

"You're amazing, you know that?" Emily blushed and lowered her gaze before slowly raising her eyes to meet his.

"You're pretty great yourself, mon coeur."

They spent two days in Edinburgh, visiting the castles and climbing Arthur's Seat, and a night laughing while trying to keep up with the reels and steps at a ceilidh dance. Steve knew that he would always have the image of her eyes glowing with joy and laughing loudly stamped in his memory.

Seeing her so carefree drove home just how strained their relationship had become over the last year, between both of their jobs and the increased scrutiny they were under after Ultron. He couldn't remember the last time they'd gone to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't receive a call in the middle of the night to deploy. The more time that passed without so much as a check-in call from the team, or an email from ESU or the PR team, the more Em relaxed. He hated that she'd grown to distrust any of his promises that they'd have time alone together.

They took their time in bed, teasing and enjoying pulling each other apart rather than their quick couplings of late. They made the unspoken decision to head back to the hotel more than once rather than challenge public decency laws.

Next, they flew to Ireland, stopping in Galway for a day before renting a car to drive to the village his parents emigrated from. Steve had to blink back tears when they went to the local church and were presented with a copy of his family records that Emily had asked them to compile. It included a picture of his parents, and Steve could finally show his wife what his father looked like. The priest offered to put him in touch with some of his family still living in the village, but they declined. That didn't stop them from recognizing features in some of the people sitting in the pews with them when they attended Sunday mass, surreptitiously studying the others. More than once, they caught someone's eyes as they looked at the two strangers in their midst.

After signing an autograph for a little boy who recognized him, they continued on to Dublin. Em's gasp when they walked into Trinity library after seeing the Book of Kells made him happy that he'd pushed to visit the city. That night, they visited a pub that hosted traditional music and dancing for dinner before walking towards the river and bar hopping.

Their last stop was Paris, where they could see the Eiffel Tower from their hotel. They spent their first day strolling the city. Steve shared his memories of the city's liberation. She told him about her study abroad trip as they walked along the Seine, stopping at the bouquinistes and purchasing a few books and paintings. He took delight in seeing Emily drunk on wine and champagne, struggling to remember the differences between her Canadian and European French. He loved the heated look she gave him when he took over and clarified her meaning.

They slept in late, savoring the last few bittersweet days of their vacation. After breakfast at a cafe, they visited the Louvre and Musee D'Orsay. The only hint of work came after Steve mentioned that Nat had asked him to try and get more comfortable with the photostatic veils. He put it on for their trip to Versailles, where he slipped between tourists without their knowledge. It was harder for Emily. She lost him in the crowd and wasn't comfortable showing him any affection - it felt wrong to kiss him looking like someone else. After that, he put the mask away and went with the tried and true ball cap and sunglasses.

They debated heading out to Normandy for a day before Steve said he wasn't ready to go back to that beach.

On their last night in the city, Steve got them a reservation at a fancy restaurant that called for a suit for him and a plum-colored cocktail dress with a high slit for her. It took everything in him not to call the restaurant and cancel the reservation when he caught a glimpse of her upper thigh as they walked. They didn't speak English the whole meal, allowing themselves one more night to pretend that they didn't have jobs and responsibilities to face as soon as they got back.

Unwilling to call it a night, they went back to Notre Dame and purchased a crepe to share for dessert while staring up at the cathedral. From a street vendor near the Place de la Concorde, they got wine to sip while strolling along the Seine. Steve undid his tie and the top button of his shirt, shrugging off his coat to drape it over Emily's shoulders when she shivered in the river breeze. When they reached the hotel, she leaned against him in the elevator, her head resting on his shoulder. He laid his head on top of hers and smiled when her fingers squeezed his.

Steve opened the door and flicked on the lights, smiling at the soft groan Em let out when she kicked off her heels and flexed her toes on the cool floors, tossing his coat onto the bed. Her fingers trailed along his back as she made her way to the balcony and opened the doors to step outside. He paused long enough to toss his wallet and the room key onto the dresser before following her.

She stood at the railing, looking at the lights flickering on the Eiffel Tower. Steve stepped up behind Emily and gathered her hair in his hand, gently pulling her head to the side and exposing her neck. Her breath stuttered when his lips closed on her pulse point as his free hand skimmed the curve of her breast. "You're gorgeous, Sweetheart." She hummed and turned to face him. Her hands skated up his back as she tilted her head up, and he leaned down to kiss her. But when he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she pulled away with a sigh and rested her temple on his sternum, her grip tightening. Frowning, his hands moved from her hips to wrap his arms around her waist and shoulders, holding her tightly against him. "Everything okay?"

"I don't want to go home. This trip has been… we needed time for ourselves."

"I know. I'm sorry, I know I've been - "

"I want a baby." Steve stiffened in her arms, and Em forced herself not to pull away. "I know that we haven't found Bucky yet and that you're still going to be gone a lot, but now that I'm 30, I keep thinking about how long it took my mom to get pregnant and - " She stopped talking when she felt him shaking. Heaving a sigh, she forced herself to lean back and meet his gaze.

He was grinning and shaking with suppressed laughter. "Sweetheart, I've been trying to work up the nerve to ask you since Scotland."

"What? You want to have a baby?"

"I do."

"What about work? And you being gone so often?"

"Trying to talk me out of it?" Steve asked softly. "I'm tired of pushing off things that I want because of what I do. I've been thinking about it a lot since…" Emily's gaze lowered to his Adam's apple at the mention of the miscarriage, and her gut clenched at the memory of how angry he'd been at himself for her going through it alone. She'd been so caught up in her own grief she hadn't been aware of it until Clint showed up at her office. The team was worried that something was wrong because he seemed distracted and was taking hits in training that he could have easily blocked. They'd kept what happened quiet, not even telling her family, but their New York family was too close to not notice that something was going on.

OOO

Thor landed a sucker punch to the jaw that Steve made no attempt to dodge. He turned and spit blood before dragging a wrist across his mouth and resetting his stance. Em felt the team look at her when she stalked closer and grabbed her husband's arm. He whirled, thinking it was a sneak attack, and stopped the shield from hitting her by centimeters. She registered the surprise on his face and scowled at his split lip. Breathing heavily, she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the gym with a hissed, "If you're going to let anyone beat you up, it might as well be me."

The drive to their house was silent and tense, and the front door closing echoed loudly. He armed the alarm system while she moved to the living room and stood in front of the couch, pointing to it when he joined her. Standing in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, Emily gave him a simple order - talk. He didn't. She didn't move. They stood in that impasse, her only movement shifting to kick off her heels until he cleared his throat after she'd stared at him for 10 minutes. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Whatever you're mad at me for." She stared at him in silence, literally and figuratively biting her tongue to keep from saying anything. Finally, her temper only slightly reined in, she pointed to the bruise blooming on his cheek.

"Explain." His eyes dropped to the floor. "That's the last time," she finally said when the silence stretched too long again, "that you use your friends that way. You will not turn yourself into their punching bag because you feel like you deserve it for some reason. Do you understand me?"

"You know why I deserve it," he mumbled.

"Fine, that's how this goes? Alright. All I ask is that you don't hit my face because that'll be a bit awkward explaining it tomorrow." Steve's eyes shot up to meet hers, shock etched on his face.

"What?"

"You're letting others beat you up because you feel like shit, so why can't I? I mean, not only did my birth control not work, my egg didn't even implant in the right spot. My body is the one that screwed up. I'm the reason we might not have kids since I don't have an ovary and now a track record of ectopic pregnancies. And that doesn't even take into account my genetics with all of Mom's miscarriages."

"Emily - "

"And then I hurt you by not telling you about the pregnancy, so I definitely deserve a punch in the gut - a physical one this time - for making the decision to send you out on the mission instead of asking you to stay with me. I'll let you figure out what'll be the equivalent of my heart breaking, knowing that my decision to do that nearly killed you because you were at Sokovia instead of at the Tower with me. Let's add another thing for sitting here and not knowing how to - "

"STOP!" Steve leapt to his feet, his hands closing on her shoulder to shake her. "Stop, Emily - none of that is your fault."

"Then why is it yours?"

OOO

Gentle pressure tipped Em's face up, and Steve's blue eyes were soft as he cleared his throat, pulling her out of that memory. "Sweetheart, I want this. I want a family - our family. It's not going to be easy, but I already talked to Carter about taking the lead on finding Bucky." He raised his voice when she opened her mouth to cut him off, "I made him promise to be careful and not go after him alone."

"And you're okay with that? Taking a step back from finding your best friend after everything we've found out?" Hurt flashed in his eyes, but he took a deep breath.

"It's been two years. He doesn't want to be found, but I can't… I can't just give up. But Bucky would be pissed at me for putting my life on pause for him. James...he reminded me of that."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Tears were streaming down both of their faces as they just looked at one another. "I love you, Emily Rose."

"Je t'aime, Steven Grant." His hand drifted from her waist to cover her stomach, and his grin was nearly blinding. He leaned down to kiss her, and they slowly backed into the room, leaving the doors to the balcony open. They undressed one another, fingers and lips caressing every uncovered inch of skin.

When they left the hotel to drive into the French countryside to meet up with Wanda and Nat, her birth control and their depleted stash of condoms were left in the trash bin.

Author's Note: I feel like I owed you a bit of fluff after the last chapter (this takes place just under a year after Ultron), but I also needed to set up a few things and check in with characters that haven't made an appearance for a while. I love Carter and hated seeing him unhappy, but that storyline's been setting up since Change and his continued avoidance of leaving SHIELD. Lord James Falsworth is the Earl of Dymhurst in the comics, so that's what I went with in this story. His quote is from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As much as I love my headcanon of him and Peggy getting married (it fit before I watched her and Sousa who I also ship), it does present some logistical issues with her becoming the head of SHIELD so I have them be a transcontinental couple with responsibilities pulling them apart but also very focused on their family - they just had different opinions on what role duty should play in that.

For the French, Em calls Carter 'connard' which means ass, and says 'tu es mon meilleur ami' meaning 'you are my best friend'. As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!