The days pass torturously slow for Steve, confined in a hospital bed with nothing to do but wait for the arrival of Natasha –his wife! He still couldn't believe it!– and then mourn her departure until she could come again. He knows it's selfish of him; she's eight months pregnant, ready to pop, and here he is, feeling like an abandoned puppy every time she has to leave to take care of herself and their child. But it's just the sight of her, heavy with their child –their little James– that make him want to hug her –them– and never let go.
He still hasn't regained any of his memories and is making him antsy, frustrated and cranky. He even snapped at Bucky a few days ago. Sam had immediately come to the rescue and Steve had felt like he was ten again, getting scolded by his Ma for getting in another fight with the bigger kids. He's still restless, though, and Natasha is starting to pick up on it. It surprises him that it's taken this long, actually, but he supposes that with the pregnancy and trying to find a way to get his memories back she's been too preoccupied to notice his barely concealed behavior.
He looks away from the window when the door opens and Dr. Cho steps in, followed by Natasha with the assistance of… a teenager? His confused frown doesn't go unnoticed by his wife, who requests to be seated in the chair while the doctor does a last check up. Today they're releasing him! Thank God!
"Steve," his attention is centered back on Natasha the second she opens her mouth and he notices the way the boy hovers close over her. "This is Peter, he joined the avengers two years ago." Steve frowns, the kid barely looks sixteen! "Don't frown at me like that, mister. It was Tony's doing. He'd already given the boy a suit before telling the team." The teen grins from behind her, she raises a brow and without turning around ads. "Wipe that smile off your face, Parker." Steve snorts when Peter presses his lips together.
"Sorry, Aunt Nat." he murmurs, catching Steve by surprise. Aunt? "In my and his defense, it was an awesome suit."
"Ok, all healed up!" interrupts Helen, already working in unstrapping the removable cast in Steve's leg and cutting away the wraps on his torso. Lastly, she presses her thumb on the scan and the shackles pop open. "Remember, take it easy. You haven't moved in almost a week and your body will resent it for the first few hours. And don't stress yourself, if your head starts to hurt just sit down and take a break." He nods at the instructions and by the time he's standing, Peter has already helped Natasha to her feet and is eagerly gathering the few possessions Steve had in the room.
"Don't worry, Uncle Steve, you'll get your memory back in no time! I've been making some research and while there's always the possibility of never remembering, the probability of it happening is closer to zero than one, and that's without taking the serum into account." Says the boy when he turns to the man, gifting him a big, bright grin. "I take your things, you help Aunt Nat. C'mon! I'm sure that as soon as you are in a more comfortable environment you'll start to remember!" he bounces out of the room and Steve turns to Natasha with an amused expression on his face.
"How old is he again?" he asks in a whisper as he takes her arm into his and he feels her lean her weight on him. It makes him frown, she's putting too much. "Are you ok?" he asks worriedly, letting go and circling an arm around her back so he can hold both arms. Natasha chuckles under her breath, he may not have the actual memories at the front of his mind, but they're there somewhere.
"He's sixteen and I'm fine, Steve. It's just that I haven't had a proper foot massage in a week and it's starting to take a toll on me. Believe it or not, it's been a really easy pregnancy; at least compared to Laura's. Lila was already a handful even before she was born." They both laugh and walk towards the elevator, where Peter waits for them with a patient smile.
They ride to the wing in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. They are halfway there when ECHO interrupts the quiet.
"Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark requests your presence in the laboratory 3 ASAP." Peter groans and bangs his head back against the metallic wall.
"But I thought I had the day off!" whines the boy and Steve sees Natasha smile from the corner of his eyes.
"Mr. Stark said that you will like it." Continues the AI. The elevator reaches the wing and they get off. Peter huffs and lays his load on the table before going over to the pair and dropping a kiss to each cheek and then another one to Natasha's stomach.
"I'll come back later, ok?" he waves at them and gets on the elevator again. "So… what does that crazy–?" his voice is cut when the doors close and Steve and Natasha are alone at last.
He helps her to the couch and then takes the seat next to her. She shuffles closer to him and rearranges his position –moving his body as if it were her own– so his torso is facing her, one arm thrown over the couch so she can rest her head over it and his other hand pressed over her belly bellow her own. He takes over then, moving the hand over her belly to her legs and moving them so they're over his and curling the other arm behind her back to bring them closer until her head is cradles in the crook of his neck. Finally, he returns his hand to her stomach and shimmies it beneath hers so her warmth surrounds it. He can feel her shoulders shaking and for a second he panics, fearing he's done something wrong, until she presses her face to his neck and he can feel her smile.
"You may not remember it, Steve, but this is the way we usually spend our evening." Her voice is husky, sleepy even, as if the mere position is soothing her. His vision flashes for a second before he regains his bearings. Her legs stretched before him and his hands all over them, massaging away the pain and the swelling of her ankles.
"And then I give you a massage…" she looks up at him sharply, her eyes wide and hopeful. He smiles and tucks away the lock of red hair that has fallen before her eyes. "I just remembered." His smile dwindles slightly when he tries to remember something more and a headache appears instantly. "I'm sorry… I–" she shushes him with a finger over his lips.
"Don't worry, Steve, it'll come to you. Don't pressure it. You just remembered something and that's amazing! Baby steps, ok?" he sighs and nods reluctantly. She presses a kiss to his jaw and lets her head fall back to his chest.
Silence falls over the couple, but it's not awkward, it's peaceful; the kind that doesn't need to be filled. Steve's fingers comb through Natasha's hair, disentangling knots and smoothing it down her back. It's long, just a bit longer than last year– no, six years ago when they'd fled form SHIELD. It's curly too and in her natural red, which he loves. Natasha is caressing the back of his hand, moving it around her stomach to follow their baby's movements.
"Nat?" asks Steve and she hums, the vibration reverberating into his chest and spreading across his body like wildfire. "How did I react the first time you told me you where pregnant?" she chuckles lowly before rearranging he legs and leaning more on her husband.
"Well… you froze for like thirty seconds and you had this look in your eyes as if you honestly couldn't believe it was happening, as if you were dreaming." Her voice is soft and full of emotion and when he looks down her eyes are lost, clearly remembering the moment. "When the shock wore off you asked me if I was sure and when I said yes, you just dropped to your knees and pressed your face against my stomach. Then you looked up and said–" his vision flashes: afternoon light, Natasha towering over him and her abdomen is still flat. She's smiling and her eyes are glassy. He hears himself speak and he repeats the words.
"–'God, I love you so fucking much!'." His voice is merely a whispers and when she looks up, his eyes are glassy, as if he's living it all over again, experiencing the feelings all over again. She smiles and draws circles over his hand when it twitches. "And you said–"
"Language…" she giggles –she'll blame it on the hormones later, like everything– and nuzzles her face into his neck. He returns the laugh, dropping his head over hears and releasing a content sigh. "You ready for bed, Soldier?"
Steve tenses suddenly. Bed, he forgot about that. He has to share a bed with Natasha, and although he knows it's nothing unusual –she's pregnant for God's sake!– it still makes him terribly uncomfortable. Natasha, ever attuned to her husband's reactions, simply pats his hand and disentangles herself from him.
"Hey, don't worry. You can take the guest bedroom." When she tries to get on her feet he's quick to help her up and steadies her until she pats his arm. She then waddles across the room and down the hall, stopping at the second door on the right. "You'll have to take this one. The other one is practically Peter's now and that one is the nursery." Natasha says, pointing first at the adjacent door and then at the one right in front of it. He wants to ask more about Peter –the kid has a room in their home?– but the word 'nursery' immediately catches his attention and his eyes trace over the painted swirls in a rainbow of colors at the edges and the JAMES in Natasha's beautiful handwriting in the upper center.
"Can…" he swallows the lump in his throat and starts again. "Can I see it?"
Natasha smiles –God, he loves her smile– and nods, opening the door and turning on the lights. He steps towards it and takes a deep breath before standing in the doorway. The first thing he sees is the sunrise colored wall: light blue, yellow and pink mostly. There's a big window too, with white curtains with blue, pink and yellow embroideries. He steps inside and sees that the ceiling is white, but that there are shaded clouds and painted birds of different colors and sizes. He looks to the right and sees a beach like scenery, with seagulls, crabs and even a turtle. In the corner that connects with the sunrise there's a small part of sea where a couple of dolphins play with the waves. There's a big closet that divides the wall in two. At the other side the sand climbs into dunes and it's not until Steve sees a camel with a cactus behind that he realizes it is a desert. There's a fennec too, and even a snake and a scorpion. That is where the changing table is, with a little thrash can on the side.
There's a soft light grey woolen rug beneath his bare feet with a dandelion seeds pattern and a Winnie the Pooh play Gym in a corner.
He turns to the left side of the room and notes that this one represents a forest and a field. The meadow, like the beach, takes half the wall and there are half a dozen of colorful flowers distributed across the grass. It's a bit difficult to see, with the white crib, so he steps closer and runs a hand over the smooth wood. He sees a horse grazing and a deer doing the same a foot away. He manages to see a rabbit and a fox between the bars and even a snail on a rock on the side. He steps away and looks at the forest part of the wall. The tall trees with the variety of birds and the squirrels. The underbrush with the wolf, the boar and the moose. There's too a little chest at the feet of the crib with a space nightlight, followed by a cocoon hanging chair, an armchair and a shelf filled with toys and what looked like a folded rocking bouncer on top.
He hears Natasha at the door and when he turns and catches sight of the last wall, his mouth falls open. There's a cacophony of colors: red, yellow, orange, pink, purple and dark blue. Of course, the sunset.
"So? What do you think?" she steps to his side and slides an arm around him and gives him a little squeeze before letting go. He finds himself missing her warmth more than he should; or maybe not, considering that they're married and with a baby due in less than two weeks, thirteen days if he's not mistaken.
"It's… amazing. I really don't know what to say… the animals are cute but without being too childish that we'll have to redo the room in a few years and the colors are perfect, not too bright but not too dull either." Natasha smiles, enjoying the way her husband looses himself in the paintings. He looks down at her, his eyes full of wonder and asks. "Who did this?"
Natasha just tilts her head to the side and smirks lopsidedly. "You did." She expects the silence that follows, just as much as the confused frown and the little pout. God, she really hopes that James doesn't inherit it because if he does, she's screwed.
"Nat, I've never painted in my life. Drawing yes, painting no." he stops speaking and sighs in frustration. "I started painting somewhere in this decisive five years I can't seem to remember." Natasha nods and raises a hand to comb her fingers through his hair.
"Don't rush it, Steve. It's only been five days since you woke up, you can't expect the amnesia to simply disappear." He sighs and nods, relaxing into her ministrations. She shifts her position and grimaces at the flare of pain that travels from her feet up her legs. "C'mon, let's go to sleep." She guides him to the guest room after turning off the lights, gives him a brief kiss on the lips and then enters her –their– room and leaves the door cracked open, only slightly. He suddenly has the urge to follow her, to lie in bed next to her and cuddle close to her and his unborn baby all night long.
But he doesn't act on it and merely gazes at the door longingly for a few seconds before entering the guest room. It's simple, a twin bed with white and grey sheets, a night table and a small closet next to the window. He prepares for bed quietly, his body going on autopilot. As soon as he's ready, he slips under the covers and spends the next few minutes gazing at the ceiling before his eyelids start to grow heavy and he finally succumbs to sleep.
The days pas torturously slow for Steve, who can't seem for the life of him remember the last five years of his life. He has made progress, of course, a few memories here and there, but nothing major like his wedding day of the day he found out he was going to be a father despite all the times Natasha has narrated him the moments. And he can't help but grow steadily anxious as the time passes and he can't seem to remember. Natasha's due date is only seven days away now, and Steve would've liked to regain his memory before the birth of his son. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like it'll happen.
"Steve, will you stop pacing? You're making me dizzy." He stops and turns to her where she's seated in the couch with a novel in her hands. He looks at the characters written in the cover, recognizing them as Cyrillic. What surprises him, though, is that he can understand the words. The Wings of the Dove, in Russian.
"When did I learn Russian?" he muses out loud and Natasha looks up at him, surprised.
"You know Russian?" Steve just shrugs before nodding to the book still in her grasp.
"The Wings of the Dove, by Henry James." She straightens in her seat, as much as she can with little James in the way, and sets the book aside.
"Can you understand what I'm saying?" she speaks in her mother language, testing his knowledge, and Steve nods without missing a beat.
"Yes." he pauses for a second before continuing, this time switching back to English. "You didn't know?" she shakes her head and caresses her stomach when James kicks her a little too hard. Steve kneels at her feet and tries to help Natasha calm their child. "Maybe I just learned recently and didn't say anything cause I wanted to surprise you." She chuckles and shakes her head, amused.
"Consider me surprised." She muses and laughs along with Steve when he bursts out in peals of laughter. She doesn't really know how he can find it so funny, but his laugh is so contagious that she follows along with him. She really has turned soft.
They decide to stay in for the afternoon; just lazy about, watch a couple of movies and try to jog Steve's memory a bit more. Again, he remembers little bits –a night he had a nightmare and Natasha sung him back to sleep; a mission he had with Bucky and Sam and when the later got severely hurt, the former had been mad with rage; a day that James had been particularly fussy and Natasha had been mad with pain– but nothing major. When the sun starts to set, they decide to leave it be for the day and Steve makes a simple dinner. They eat in silence and then retire to their room. He had tried to keep his distance, but he'd caved at the third day of his return and had asked Natasha for his place in the bed. She'd, of course, accepted him back with open arms and a tender kiss.
Steve lays awake as Natasha tries to accommodate herself as best as she can. James has been moving around all evening, kicking and punching, softly this time. He's been restless and neither Steve or Natasha have been able to calm him down. When she finally finds a comfortable position, Steve curls himself around her and lays a protective hand over her stomach. The baby pats him and stills, finally. Natasha releases a relived sigh and melts into the bed.
"Goodnight, Soldier." She turns her head slightly and presses a kiss to his cheek before pecking his lips and settling in.
"Night." He whispers back.
Hours later, Natasha shakes him awake urgently, repeating his name over and over to wake him up. He's cold, and he can feel moistness in the blankets.
"Steve, for God's sake, wake up!" a harsh curse follows, one he's thankful he doesn't recognize, before the side of her fist collides with his stomach. It's not a strong punch, but it's hard enough to shakes what was left of his sleep and makes him bolt from the bed. He looks around, startled and momentarily disoriented.
"What? What's wrong? What's happening?" Natasha just groans and when he turns he sees her clutching her stomach. He can see a shadow surrounding her, all over the bed.
"My water broke," his brain suddenly stops functioning. Thankfully, Natasha already anticipated it, an is already snapping him out before the shock sets in. "Steve, focus! Get the bag while I change." She moves slowly, sits on the edge of the bed for a few seconds before getting up and walking gingerly to the closet.
Steve observes as she changes until he sends him a look that has him scrambling out of the master bedroom and into the nursery. He rushes to the closet and opens it, finding a flurry of colors in tiny dosages –black, green, red, pink, purple, blue, white–: tiny t-shirts, pants, bodysuits and pijamas. At the foot of the closet, there's a duffle bag that Steve immediately takes, swings over his shoulder and races back to Natasha's side. She's at the door, holding onto it and clutching her belly as another contraction hits.
"ECHO!"
"The medical staff has already been informed of your condition and are waiting for your arrival, Mrs. Rogers" says the AI and Steve makes a mental note to thank Tony later for programing his AIs to be proactive.
"Thank you, E!" answers Natasha and extends a trembling hand towards Steve, who takes it immediately and curls his other arm around her. He ushers her to the elevator, only to find it's already there. Seriously, he adores this AI.
As soon as they reach the medical bay, they are met by Bruce and the in-house doctor, along with a nurse that takes the duffle bag to prepare the baby's essentials. Steve has to take over as Natasha's feet when another contraction hits and almost drops her to the floor.
"Oh, God, that one was intense." She grunts out against his neck as he sets her down on a bed. Bruce appears and asks if she'll want the epidural. She starts to shake her head, but a small squeeze from Steve stops the motion. She's not alone, he's here for her and there's nothing wrong with requesting anesthesia. "Yes, Bruce. Thanks."
An hour later the in-house doc deems her dilated enough to administer the epidural. After that, five more hours of Natasha quietly groaning and whimpering in pain follow, paired with a worried and fretting Steve at her side, letting her squeeze his hand as hard as she needs and wiping sweat from her face follow. It's not until they're an hour away from dawn that the doctor says that she's ready.
"Ok, people! Ready to bring this kid to the world?"
'Kay! Third chapter? What do you think? Good, no good? Does it need some drama? I think it does! *enter super villain laugh* Yeah... something that will make you hate me like HYDRA breaking into the compound and stealing baby James. That would be dramatic enough, right?