Chapter 11: Out

When Tony's eight weeks of sternal precautions finally ended, he immediately set out to do the most important thing the rules had prevented him from doing: holding his friends' babies. At eleven and nine pounds, respectively, Carol May and Lanyon were just outside of what he'd been allowed to carry. Well, he would've tried anyway if Parker or Bruce had let him, but they were adamant that he not risk anything. Now that he was cleared for heavy lifting, he wasted no time.

Carol May's eyes shone bright with her father's sparkle and her mother's wit. Tony never wanted to put her down. "I think she likes you," Parker said with a grin. She reached out a tiny hand and wrapped it around his thumb. Tony had already been sold on this kid from the moment she was born, but that beautiful, trusting grip managed to multiply his love several thousandfold.

"Parker, you're not getting her back," he teased.

"She might have something to say about that in the next hour or so when she gets hungry."

"Can…can I feed her? When it's time?" Tony asked. "If she'll let me?"

"Yeah, sure! We have plenty of bottles."

Tony's excitement grew impossibly bigger. When Carol May grew hungry, Parker showed Tony exactly how to hold her and the bottle. For a moment, he feared that she wouldn't eat with him because he was essentially a stranger to her, but she took the bottle eagerly. Parker watched them with a massive grin on his face. "You're a natural," he commended.

"It's not unlike putting gas in a car," he chuckled. However, as he continued to watch Carol May suckle away, he recognized the vast difference between the two. A car didn't make adorable facial expressions or gentle sucking sounds as it filled with gas. It didn't have tiny little hands that fisted in his shirt like they never wanted to let go. When he filled up a car, he did so for his own good, so that he could go places, but feeding this baby was all for her, so she could grow big and strong and smart like her mom and dad. Tony was just lucky to be a part of it.

"She's giving you baby fever, isn't she?" Parker remarked. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Baby fever? I think that's an understatement. This child of yours has an incredibly contagious case of baby plague."

He chuckled. "I'm assuming that's a compliment."

"It is."

"Okay, good."

"I'm taking her with me when I leave," he stated.

"You can try. I won't let her go that easily. And you'd have MJ on your tail if she disappeared."

"You're right; I wouldn't stand a chance."

Carol May gradually slowed her eager suckling, and Tony handed her over to Parker to be burped. While he was glad to be able to participate in rearing this child, he was a little relieved that he had the option to hand her over. He imagined it would be terrifying to be the parents, who didn't have the luxury of passing the child to someone who knew them better when they got fussy. Tony might have been exposed to the baby plague, but he doubted it would ever actually infect him.

~0~

"How many times have you done this before?" Bruce asked. Tony came to visit with Lanyon now that he was officially cleared for carrying heavier weight. He asked to help feed him, and Bruce anticipated having to show him the position step by step, but Tony did pretty much everything without prompting.

"Just the once, with Carol May," he replied. Bruce was surprised at first, but then he remembered this was Tony Stark. He could probably watch a song played on the piano once and be able to perfectly reproduce it. Feeding a baby would be easy for him to learn. Bruce watched closely as Tony fed his son. The light in his eyes was unmistakable; it was the same look he saw in Betty's eyes when she nursed, the one he imagined he had whenever he spent time with his son. A look of indescribable love.

"You'd make a great father, Tony."

Tony had the audacity to chuckle. "I don't know about that. This is the easy part; it's just mechanics and biology. There's a lot of other stuff going on, stuff that would be way over my head. I didn't exactly grow up learning from the best paternal role model."

"Neither did I," Bruce said stonily. That, they had in common.

"Bruce, I'm so sorry—I didn't mean…"

"No, it's okay. I know what you mean. I had a really hard time imagining myself as an acceptable father, with what my own childhood was like, but I got there. There are plenty of people in your life to look up to when it comes to parenting, not just your own family."

"That's true. We can always ask Parker—kid's got two amazing dads."

"That's two more than we had when we were his age," Bruce said, gesturing to Lanyon. While he was still nervous about his own ability to handle certain situations, he was beyond grateful that his son would grow up with such an abundance of role models.

"Yeah. You really think I'd be good at it?"

Bruce's eyes lit up. "Absolutely."

Tony's expression turned pensive and he gazed back down at Lanyon. "I had the thought at Parker's that I might want to do that someday—you know, be a father. But then I thought about how scary it would be to be that last line of defense, to not be able to hand the baby off to the experts when things get tricky."

Bruce smiled softly. "That's part of the fun of it. You are that last line of defense, and it is pretty scary, but at the same time it's the most fulfilling thing ever. You can't just hand it off when things get tricky, you have to figure it out yourself, and you can feel yourself getting better at it every day. I can feel that our relationship is strengthening, that me and Betty are his people, and it's amazing."

Tony looked up at him at the conclusion of his little speech with admiration in his eyes. "Fatherhood has done wonders for you, Bruce. You're a new man."

"I feel like one." As strong as his initial trepidation had been, his newfound confidence and love for his son was even stronger. When Bruce imagined that same transformation one day happening to Tony, his heart soared. A kid with Tony Stark as a father would be the luckiest kid in the world.

~0~

At their second session, Dr Raynor wanted his life story. Essentially. She didn't phrase it like that, but that's what she asked of him. "You don't have to go all the way up to your husband's death if you're not ready, but please include him wherever it's relevant."

Wherever it's relevant. Dr. Raynor was in for a surprise; Steve was a part of just about every memory Bucky had. "I met Steve when I was four," he began. If Dr. Raynor was surprised that he'd known his spouse since early childhood, she didn't show it, but she did write it down. "We were best friends all throughout school, and then it turned into a romantic relationship and then, obviously, a marriage."

"How did that transition occur?"

"I'll get there eventually." Bucky continued through all the important things. He talked about Steve's CF and how it impacted their lives and relationship in those early days. Alex Pierce featured briefly in his account of their school days, and so did Jim, Timmy, and Gabe. He pretty quickly reached the time of his cancer diagnosis. Bucky explained those nine months in and out of Gravesen in as much detail as he could recall off the top of his head. This time, he offered Raynor real names, because it would save them both time and stress in the long run. Carol, Parker, Natasha, Thor, Bruce, Nick, Clint, Tony.

"We became like a little family," he explained. "And we still are, to this day. Parker and Bruce, they're the ones who just had babies, want their kids to call me Uncle Bucky. We get together for holidays, travel together, do everything regular families do except share grandparents or whatever. It was during one of these group trips that Steve and I finally figured our shit out."

Bucky talked about Paris with a sheen of tears in his eyes. God, how he wished he could go back to that moment. He talked through their dating lives, their engagement, and the wedding, but didn't go much further than that. Talking about Steve had actually made him feel good, and he didn't want to layer sadness on top of it. Discussing anything after his neuroma surgery would do just that.

Dr. Raynor had been writing the entire time. "Thank you," she said. "I know that was probably hard, but I really appreciate you sharing."

"It was actually nice," Bucky corrected. "I think about that stuff all the time to avoid the sadness, but actually telling another person about it makes it even more effective."

"That's great. Glad I could help. However, I do think you should continue the story."

Bucky's eyes darkened. "I don't want to."

"I know, but in the same way that telling another person about the good stuff makes you feel better, telling another person about the bad stuff will too."

"No it won't." He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he'd do anything to get out of talking about that.

"I've had a lot of clients come through this office and insist that talking about their loved one's death won't help them. I proved all of them wrong."

Bucky said nothing. At the beginning of this session, she'd said that he didn't have to go there if he wasn't ready, and he certainly didn't feel ready. At the same time, he thought his level of readiness would probably decrease over time, not the other way around. If he didn't talk about it now, Dr. Raynor would continue to pressure him and he'd only get more irritated each session she did so.

"Fine," he grumbled. Then he noticed the box of tissues beside him was almost empty. "But you got another one of these? I'm probably gonna need it."

She opened the rightmost drawer of the table behind her and pulled out another box of tissues. Bucky set it down beside him on the couch. He skipped over the neuroma stuff because it wasn't exactly relevant and began with Steve's BOS diagnosis. Keeping the details vague, he took Dr. Raynor through those few years of continued decline. However, when he reached the point where Carol May entered the story, he suddenly found he couldn't skip the details anymore. "He kept himself alive long enough to meet Parker's baby, and then he died the next day," didn't do justice to the strength of Steve's will or the emotional trauma Bucky experienced watching him fight for that goal.

Talking through those last six months took him longer than talking through the several years before it, because he took the narrative through the little moments. Bucky spent an entire five minutes just on the day Steve met Carol May, and another five on the morning after. He'd finished off the first box of tissues and made a significant dent in the second by the time he concluded with the moment Steve took his last breath against his chest.

"That was great, James," Dr. Raynor commended. "Really phenomenal work."

"Thanks," he said, without much actual gratitude behind it. He was exhausted and his fucking eyes hurt from crying.

"Does it feel better? To have it out here instead of in there," she gestured to his chest.

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe a little." Truthfully, he had no clue how to gauge how he felt at the moment. His mind was completely shut down and on overdrive at the same time.

"Good. As much as it hurts, this is just as much a part of your story as all of the good stuff. All these feelings take up just as much space as the others."

"Feels like they take up more," he remarked bitterly.

Dr. Raynor nodded. "That's often the case for people whose loss is so recent. Part of what we're going to do here is teach you how to make room for all the feelings, without letting one or the other take up more space than it deserves. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. So, how do I do that?"

She chuckled. "It's not that simple."

"I figured."

"Mindfulness is an ongoing process. Like any skill, there's technique to it, and it takes practice to get better."

Bucky was well-versed in practicing hard things until he mastered them. He was half-tempted to crank out a dozen one-armed push-ups just to prove to Dr. Raynor that he could do it. However, this sounded an awful lot harder than push-ups, or even pull-ups. Learning to thrive without his arm was small potatoes compared to learning to thrive—or even just survive—without his husband.

~0~

Loki was calling him. That didn't bode well. Whenever Loki had something to say, he usually texted. Thor picked up the phone, afraid he was about to hear that there'd been an accident or something.

"I need your help," Loki proclaimed.

Thor scratched Korg behind the ears to calm himself. "Anything."

"I want you to be there when I come out to Mor and Far."

That was not even in the realm of possibilities he imagined as the reason for this phone call. Frankly, Thor had assumed all this time that Loki was already out. He dressed however he felt on a given day, even overtly feminine. However, Mor and Far only ever used he/him, even on days Loki presented female. Maybe that's what he was talking about.

"Okay. I'll be there. When are you doing it?"

"When we go to the cabin next week."

"Sounds good. Are you…worried about how they'll react?"

Loki paused. "Maybe."

"You know they love you, no matter what."

"I know. It's still scary."

"Un-der-stan-da-ble." Thor was proud of himself for getting through such a big word.

"Thanks, Thor."

"You're welcome."

Thor smiled. Loki trusted him enough to support him in this, and that meant something. Korg laid his head on Thor's knee, begging for more head scratches. "I'll bet he didn't ask Hela for help," Thor said smugly. Though they no longer shared the bond of being brothers—not all the time, anyway—Thor definitely felt closer to Loki than he ever had to his elder sister, and he knew Loki felt the same.

Trips to the cabin still held the exact same magic for Thor as they did when he was a child, and Korg loved them just as much as Valkyrie used to. This time, though, more than just excitement bubbled up in his gut. Thor trusted that his parents would never disown Loki or anything like that, but he still worried that they wouldn't understand. Loki was just was nervous. She was female today, wearing her hair half up and a green blouse she'd stolen from Hela. Mor and Far didn't bat an eye at her fashion choices, not after the first few times she dared to dress affirmingly.

"How do you want to do this?" Thor asked her as the two of them sat together on the end of the dock.

"I still don't know," she admitted. "I've practiced different ways in my head but none of them feel right."

"Do you want me to bring it up? Say, I dunno, 'Lo-ki has something to tell you.'"

"Yeah that might help me not chicken out. Thanks, bror."

"You're welcome, søster." Thor didn't know at what age they stated calling each other 'brother.' It probably started as something ironic or mocking that over time became a term of endearment. "Let's go." He reached out a hand and helped Loki to her feet. Together, they marched back towards the cabin. Mor and Far sat in the living room, each reading a book.

"Loki has something to tell you," Thor announced, just as promised. He gave his sister a nudge forward and a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder.

They put down their books and listened. "Is everything okay?" Far asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine. There's just something about me that I haven't really explained to you as fully as I'd like."

"What are you talking about?" Mor questioned.

"I'm gen…That's why I dress like a woman sometimes. Because I am."

No! Thor must've had an absence seizure. He clearly missed a crucial chunk of the conversation. One of the most important moments of his sister's life, and he zoned out! Thor wanted to kick himself. He knew he had no control over the seizures, but why did his stupid brain choose that moment, of all the hours in the day, to go on the fritz? Hopefully, Loki hadn't noticed his lapse in attention.

"How do we know what to call you when?" Far asked.

"The way I dress should make it pretty obvious on a given day. If you get it wrong, I'll correct you."

"Sounds like a lot to keep track of. How do you know which one you want to be?"

"It's not about wanting to be one or the other, it's just how I feel."

Thor watched their reactions carefully. Both Mor and Far looked a bit puzzled, but neither the least bit angry or disapproving. He glanced at Loki next, finding her posture noticeably more confident than when they walked in here. Thor couldn't imagine the relief she must feel explaining that to their parents after hiding it away for so long.

"It might take me a little bit to get used to it, but I will try my best," Mor said genuinely.

Loki nodded. "That's all I ask. I know it's a weird adjustment, and I'm grateful that you're willing to put in the work to get it right."

"Of course, Loki." Mor smiled. "I'd do anything for my daughter."

Her eyes lit up. Mor didn't even hesitate on the word daughter after twenty some years of calling Loki a son. Thor had always loved his parents, but his appreciation for them gained a whole new dimension. The conversation couldn't have gone better for Loki, but Thor hoped she never realized that he missed the most important part.