October, 1950
In which the Steggling announces their presence.
Steve's eyes raked over this store's selection of toothpaste, trying to find the one he'd been using that let him kiss Peggy without making her throw up. At five and a half months into the pregnancy, the dizziness and unpredictable nausea of morning sickness (which was a misleading name if Steve had ever heard one) had abated almost entirely, with the exception of some queasiness attached to very specific smells and flavors that was stubbornly hanging on. She was a few steps behind him, and he could hear the quiet click and snap of the lids of shampoo bottles as she tested their scents.
Steve found the toothpaste and threw it into the basket on his arm, smiling as he heard a soft, "ugh!" from Peggy, accompanied by the sound of a bottle being hastily shoved back onto a shelf. He'd had some time to get used to the fact that the two of them really were having a baby, but every now and then, it still threw him for a loop. Steve hadn't ever really thought that he would get this kind of life, and he still was blown away sometimes that he actually had it. Back when he'd been little and skinny and sick, there had always been the possibility that his health would keep him from having a normal life, or from even living long enough to do so. And then after the Valkyrie…Steve had sort of resigned himself to being alone. He'd found a family in the Avengers, but seeing Barton's family, or what Tony had with Pepper and Morgan, it always put this ache into his chest. Peggy had healed that pain, and Steve would have been more than content to live out the rest of his life with her, just the two of them, but the fact that the two of them were becoming three…These days, the ache in his chest didn't come from pain, but from happiness that there just wasn't enough room to hold in.
"Steve!" Peggy gasped, and he whirled around. For all that happiness, all that joy, all that he was trying very hard not to treat her like she was going to break, he did worry, and the urgency in her voice and the way her hands were clutching her stomach sent a little stab of fear spiking through his heart.
"What?" he said, closing the space between them. "What's wrong?"
Her eyes were distant, focusing on what she was feeling instead of what she could see, but they were slowly widening, a stunned smile stretching across her face. "Nothing," she said softly, her smile growing wider as she looked up at him. "He's moving," she said. "Steve, the baby's kicking!"
Peggy grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand over to touch her stomach. "He's moving," she said again. Steve stretched his fingers along the curve of her belly, and there, a little flutter, then a sharp tap, like a tiny foot kicking. "Did you feel that?" she asked.
"Yeah," he breathed, dropping the basket to the floor and pulling his other hand up to join the first. There was another flutter and then a couple of little bumps fading away into stillness, as though the baby had tired himself out. Steve looked back up at Peggy and she was still smiling, her eyes shining. "He's really in there," Steve said. That was a stupid thing to say, of course, the baby was in there, but Peggy knew what he meant and nodded happily.
Steve ghosted his hand across her belly, imagining the tiny little life tucked away inside. There was a real little person in there, someone who was part of him and part of her. A child. Steve's child, growing there inside of her, and that made him feel all kinds of things he didn't have words for, so he wrapped his arms around her and he kissed her. He kissed her long and deep and good and hoped that that was enough to say what he couldn't.
Peggy smiled up at him dreamily when he pulled away. "Sometimes I start to wonder if this isn't all a dream." She rubbed a hand across her stomach. "I guess he's reminding us he's on his way."
"What does it feel like?" Steve wondered.
"Very strange," Peggy said with a little laugh. She poked Steve in the stomach. "Sort of like that, just coming from the other way. It's strange, but it's a wonderful sort of strange."
Steve smiled and kissed her cheek, then picked up the basket with one hand and took her hand in his other one. "Hey, what makes you so sure it's a boy?" Steve asked. They were several years too early for ultrasounds, or anything that would let them know the sex of the baby aside from old wives' tales. Peggy had been referring to the baby as 'he' almost from the start, though, and Steve had just fallen into the habit of it because she did it.
Peggy shrugged. "I don't know." She trailed a hand thoughtfully across her stomach. "I just…I feel like it's a boy."
"Okay," Steve nodded. "I guess if anyone would know, you would. Mother's intuition getting off to an early start?"
Peggy laughed. "Yes. Although I suppose there's no way to know for sure. I may be entirely wrong."
