Thanksgiving. Bucky mulled over the word, the name of the holiday, as he sank down on the weight bench in the basement.
Nearly two weeks had passed since he'd been brought to live with Steve and Holly, two weeks since he'd evacuated the rehabilitation facility and reentered the world as a free man. While the blackness of his dreams and the haunting nature of his memories did not make him think he had much to be thankful for, at least he knew he had a safe place to stay. For the time being.
A safe place, staying with good people (with a friend, no less), and something to occupy his time. While he was not yet on the payroll, he was unofficially starting his work for SHIELD, his level of training under evaluation and his mental capacities being examined in the pursuit. Steve and Fury had both wanted him to get up to speed in regards to preparations for field work, and he was doggedly pursuing them. His presence at the base, while causing a stir, did not do much more than ripple the surface. His identity, such as it was, was kept a secret from the whole of the base for the time being. Only the team knew who he was, and that was how it had to be until he'd completed his trials. There was some reticence from the team about his granted access to the facility (Rhodey had voiced his concerns, and Wanda had flinched when she'd gotten close to him, muttering about how there was such a thing as 'too much red').
Even despite the strange looks, the sidelong glances, the askance lobbed at him from day to day, Bucky was grateful for it. It all meant that he had a chance, was pursuing his chance to right his wrongs. No matter how much they ate away at him, burrowing deep in his mind even when he was gathered with the others at the table, the holiday meal hosted by the captain and his wife that year. Most of the food had been store-bought, but it went down well enough. Mostly, he'd been quiet as Wanda asked about traditional holiday observances, having grown up outside of the states, and with Steve telling stories about the way he and his mom had passed the day. Holly spoke about her dad's side of the family taking over her parents' house, large and unruly as they were (she missed them, that much was clear; taking a trip to see them could not be justified, Steve had told him, sad to see his girl unhappy). Natasha spoke of a friend's young kids climbing all over her, begging her to act like a Macy's float for them, with Steve and Nick Fury smirking at the story in a way that no one else was. And speaking of the director, he had rounded out the party, eating his fill and spouting off every now and again with glances cut in his direction every so often.
The clamor in his mind, and the voices of the others, became too much to bear, eventually, and once the meal was more or less finished, he escaped into the basement. Steve's gaze tracked him as he went, but he did not stop him. He needed a respite, needed to collect himself. Carding a hand through his hair, the swept-over strands knocked loose from the product holding them in place, he took deep breaths and reminded himself that he was supposed to be thankful for all that. That he was thankful, but he was just...
"Overwhelmed by the family togetherness?" a voice came from the stairwell, and he glanced up. A partial grin curved his lips as he shrugged his shoulders. Studying the toe of his boot, he listened as Natasha Romanoff came gliding across the floor to him. As her feet came into view, he snickered; her stately attire for the evening was marred by the fuzzy, warm socks she was wearing. Pink and purple stripes wrapped around her feet, disappearing into the hem of her black slacks; her boots had evidently been put to the side. Hardly something one would expect in the wardrobe of a woman of her caliber, but there she was, owning them like they were just as neat as the rest of her attire.
Her interruption of his thoughts was not unwelcome; indeed, her company was preferred over stewing in silence, given how dark his thoughts turned in that silence. She was definitely better than others. If Sam had meandered down there to find him, he wasn't so sure he would tolerate it as well. Not that he had anything against Wilson, per se, but the two men did find themselves at odds. (He was more sardonic than he cared for, which was a surprise.) In any case, Natasha could intrude, and he wasn't bothered by it. Not too much.
There was little that she'd done in the last couple of weeks that bothered him about her. Given her reputation, and her personality, he supposed that some would find her off-putting, or too incisive for comfort, but he didn't have a problem with it. At least she treated him as more than some random entity that showed up at the base with Steve.
Scooting over as much as he could on the bench, he waited until she'd perched beside him before answering.
"Something like that," he muttered, shaking his head. Letting out a sigh, he scratched at the curve of his jaw. "I haven't celebrated...well, any holiday for seventy-odd years. It's like...I know what it's supposed to be like, but I'm—"
"Not really part of it?" she filled in, tipping her head to the side as he nodded. Cupping a hand in the air, she continued, "It's understandable; you haven't been here long enough for it to be even remotely at ease."
"I just...I guess I don't understand what I've done to deserve it. Honestly, I'm the type of person you're supposed to be hunting down, not breaking bread with."
"So am I," she nearly whispered back, the truth of the statement in her eyes. A truth he'd often seen reflected at himself in the mirror. She flicked her gaze up to the ceiling, up one floor where the others were congregating and conversation milled. "But they have let me in. They'll let you in, too. Well, some of them."
A dark brow arched at her. "Some of them?"
"Our party is missing a member or two this year, as you may have noticed. A couple are off in their own worlds, and some are...not secure with your presence just yet."
"Like Tony Stark." The name left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he stared down at his hands. His metal fist knotted into the material of his pants briefly before he stood. Walking over to the punching bag, he gave it a light push, letting it swing back and forth. The creak of the chain as it slid on the hook echoed in the empty silence, the clamor of sound eating away at him. In place of the screams that were, for the moment, hushed. Looking back at Natasha, he held her bright gaze, his body stiffening. "He knows?"
Her head bobbed, and she slunk off the bench to stare at the weight set. Running a finger along one of the barbells, she exhaled softly.
"When you showed up in May, he had questions about the sudden survival and reappearance of yet another super soldier." She smiled wryly at him, not surprised when he did not return it. Resting against the wall, Natasha's lids lowered. "He knows what Rhodey's told him, and what Fury had to report. Steve might have said a thing or two. He knows what you were capable of; I don't think he's quite comfortable with you, yet."
That was putting it mildly. If the final battle over Sokovia and the subsequent relief efforts hadn't occupied his attention, Tony would definitely have voiced his concerns about another aged, old man from the 1940's taking up defense against the evils of the world. As it was, he maintained his distance as much as he could, the two men barely interacting save for the fact that they both showed up to meetings headed by Nick. And when Steve had confided to them all about bringing Bucky in to find him placement somewhere in the organization, Stark had a few opinions to share. However, sharp looks from Natasha had stemmed those, given how a lot of what he had said could have applied to her as well. 'Not comfortable' was only somewhat accurate.
Bucky blinked at her words, bringing the heel of his hand to his forehead.
"But does he know?" he asked emphatically, striking the punching bag when she did not answer. Off her quirked brow, he rolled his eyes. She was not ignorant of what he meant; he did not appreciate her playing the fool. Or, as he realized, forcing him to own up to the horrible truth. "Know what I...?"
Minutely, she shook her head, forbidding him from continuing. It was not the best time or place for him to confess to the murder of Howard Stark, not even in the safety of the Rogers home. Arms crossed over her chest as she mulled over the unspoken truth. In his letters, Barnes had alluded to his contracted kills, the hits that HYDRA forced him to perform. Where once the faces in his memory and dreams were nameless, he found that a few could not be called as such anymore. He'd taken to writing down every single incident he could recall, every death in detail so that he would never forget. And when he shared with her, she knew she would not be able to forget, either. She would not let their memories die, not let him release them from his soul. Nat should have refused him, but by that point she was too far gone.
Too far gone, and too mired in blood and death to really make a judgment against him.
"That, I don't think so. When the SHIELD intel was dumped, there a few contracts hidden within from HYDRA. I know the one about Howard was included; I made sure he found it." Natasha felt Bucky's gaze bore into her then, at her tacit insistence that Stark know that much. After Zola had taunted Steve with that information, had rubbed in her face the lack of ability SHIELD had shown in not being able to prevent it, she had to tell him. She wasn't about to apologize for it. Stepping away from the wall, she walked over to him, palm out to stop the bag from from swinging. "He suspects foul play now, but I doubt he has concrete evidence, since none was in those files. Hard to come up with any on a shut case over twenty years old."
"I see."
Minutes crawled by, man and woman drowning in the silence between them even as the rumble and creak of the people above them went on. Slowly, carefully, Natasha crept closer to him, laying her palm upon his bicep. Upon his left arm, the warmth of her fingers bled into the material of the shirt he was wearing, sinking into the cold metal plating. The touch registered in his brain, compelling him to meet her eyeline.
"You're going to tell him, aren't you?" There was no other reason for him to bring up the subject of Stark, otherwise. She'd known that much, and her eyebrows rose. The decision was not an easy one to make; Bucky would be surrendering all that he had worked for over the last year and a half, would lose everything he had gained. Natasha did not know if it was folly-driven integrity that was forcing his hand, or a stupid sense of righteousness, but she bit her tongue before those thoughts were voiced.
"...I have to," Bucky confirmed aloud, the sharp, broken edge in his tone slipping from his tight hold. As much as he had to be thankful for, there was still too much to atone for. He could not remain silent, not when he was living and working at the expense of a man whose life he had altered terribly. He didn't deserve to be left in the dark, not any longer. The clicking fingers of his prosthetic hand tapped against his leg, his eyes dropping to the ground. "As soon as possible. I heard that he is coming up after the holiday."
That was correct. Tony Stark had gone on a flying trip to the home offices of Stark Industries, planning on staying through Thanksgiving until the following week. Once he made it back East, he intended to come up and look at the progress made for his private laboratory and suit wing. Wednesday was the earliest conjecture date, and when it came to his suits, he actually preferred to be on time. Less than a week left, then. Natasha felt a sick feeling slide in her gut, one which she could not allow herself to name, let alone register. Instead, she glossed over it, tipping her chin up and giving his arm a pat or two before letting her hand fall away.
"In which case, we better go have a drink," she pronounced, hooking a thumb at the stairs. Invitation issued, she made her way to the steps, throwing over her shoulder, "I might not get the chance to enjoy your company after you do."
Despite not having a reason to do so, despite knowing she had spoken sarcastically, he grinned at the offer and plodded after her.
"Might be the last time I get to spend with a..." Bucky started to concur before he snapped his mouth shut, his tongue threatening to run away from him without permission. Heat flooded into his face as Natasha stopped on the stairs, leaning over the banister and smirking at him.
"Yeah?" she asked, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. Against his better judgment, his gaze lingered over it, over her face and the curl of her fiery hair, for longer than he supposed was appropriate. Scratching the back of his neck, he glanced to the side. The end of the sentence was there, hovering between them, unbidden and unwanted (something inside him lurched in protest against that tendril of thought, but he refused to pay it any mind).
"...With you," he supplied, meeting her bright blue eyes, tilting his head and the loosened strands of his hair falling across his brow. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the sight of him. Idly, she wondered if he purposefully emitted that charm, or if it had been so much a part of him that not even HYDRA could knock it out. It did not seem feigned; she knew when appeal was used as a tactic, as a weapon, and given his state at the moment, he couldn't fake something like that.
"Right," Natasha replied, smirk gentling into a genuine grin. Leaving it at that, the pair climbed back upstairs, rounding the bend swiftly (Holly had spotted them, flicking her gaze between them and letting a smug look play over her features as she turned her attention back to the television). Both of them indulged from the closest bottle of wine, a red that was somehow untouched. Glasses clinked a salute, and they spoke on and off between sips about the training program he was being put through, her plans about incorporating his preferred weapons back into the mix. The chatter from the living room masked their conversation, and they had their brief moment of peace together.
xXxXxXx
Monday the thirtieth came, and with it came Helen Cho, stumbling up to the infirmary level of the Avengers base with a coffee mug in hand and a full load of work to do that day. Work that had to wait, at least, until she finished with her clinic duties. A new wave of physical examinations were scheduled for the next few days, and they needed all hands on deck for it. Passing the receptionist, she managed a decent hello as she picked up the cases she would be working with that day. Her first patient had already arrived, scheduled for the earliest possible slot before the work day began for her. Shaking her head, Cho's eyes widened in recognition when she glanced over the name. Taking her things off to the private office at the back, she read through the filled-out information sheet that the patient had gone through. Everything seemed in order as she exchanged her winter coat for the lab coat she'd been commissioned for her tasks, her dark hair in its utilitarian bun and the rest of her outfit lying straight. Tools of the trade were slipped into her pockets as she went, one last swig of coffee bolstering her before she gathered up her charts and went to Exam Room #2.
"Hello, Holly," Helen greeted her pleasantly enough, noting the captain's wife had already change into the standard gown. Besides occasionally passing in the halls, the two women were not close and had not spoken much to one another since the move to the base. In the early months, Cho was occupied with moving her operations and research from overseas, her time spent rebuilding the Cradle that had been unfortunately destroyed with the birth of the Vision. Having relocated permanently to the base, she spent many hours devoted to the discoveries to be found in the Vision, studying him whenever he had a free moment to allow her access. Not only that, she was also one of the top physicians there, and personally treated many of the agents as well as the Avengers when they needed to be patched up. As Holly was neither an active agent nor an Avenger, she rarely came anywhere near the infirmary, and so they had been kept to their separate worlds. Well, except for when the captain came in banged up and bleeding; then she saw the girl flitting about, the stubborn strength she'd quietly employed hovering around her as she waited to hear about his condition. When the other woman did no more than mumble a return greeting, she sighed inwardly and took a look at the information form copies that Holly had filled out. "I suppose you're one of the stragglers, huh?"
"Yeah, I, I guess," Holly replied, canting her head to the side. "I thought the physical was optional for office personnel, but, well..."
Cho dipped her chin. While the agents were required to have a physical examination at the beginning of their employment, the office workers were not held to the same stringent demands. It was, however, a strong encouragement, and some, like Holly, had chosen to suck it up and get it over with.
"It is, but it's also recommended for the betterment of your health to at least have a regular check-up. Which is what I'm assuming you're doing here," she reminded her in a helpful tone, snickering silently when Holly wrapped her arms around her middle and groaned.
"Uh-huh." Clearly the lecture was one she'd head before, and most likely did not want to hear again.
"You're here now, though. We'll make it as relatively painless as possible," the doctor promised her, putting down the charts and withdrawing the stethoscope from her pocket, looping it around her neck.
"O-okay," the younger woman agreed, shifting around nervously on the table top. Rising when Cho gestured for her to do so, she let her fingers trail through the air. "Sorry about making you do this. I'm sure there's a hundred other things you need to do."
"I'm just like anyone else around here," Helen responded amicably, peeking at her body to inspect it for any unusual growths or marks. Finding none, she continued, "I have the training and the medical license, I volunteered to do clinic duties. Although, I did hear that you requested me specifically."
Her glance would have appeared casual, were there not a hard edge to it. In general, doctors at the base were assigned at random to patients; specific referrals were made on a case-by-case basis. She had to wonder what case it was that made Holly choose her, other than the fact that both women had survived a robot attack at the Avengers Tower.
"I know you," Holly told her, hopping back onto the table and lying down. As Cho began to feel along her abdomen to check out the lay of her organs, she bit her lip momentarily. "And...well...something's, something's off with me. I trust you to be with me on it."
The examination paused, and Helen shot her a quick glance. The paperwork hadn't mentioned any abnormal symptoms, but perhaps she was embarrassed to speak of them. Or perhaps she thought it would be cautious not to do so. She had nothing to fear, due to doctor-patient confidentiality, so Cho was suspicious.
"Alright. Just relax, and we'll get to it," Helen murmured smoothly, a hiss drawn out of Holly when she pressed against her lower abdomen. Making a mental note of that, she left off there, moving on to listen to Holly's lungs and heartbeat. Percussion tapped against her body showed that no fluid had accumulated where it was not meant to be. Blood pressure, when measured, appeared to be a little higher than normal, but that was attributed to the obvious nervousness in the patient's demeanor. After taking her through a few breathing exercises, the BP had settled in back into the healthy range. Height was recorded once again, and weight was tallied up (the stress of the early summer months had made her lose several pounds, but it appeared that she'd gained those back fairly quickly, putting her slightly over where she should have been). Finishing with that, the doctor allowed her patient to step behind the curtain to change back into her normal clothes again, motioning for her to take a seat when ready.
"Well, you're checking out healthy, but you said earlier that you don't feel quite right," Helen returned to the earlier point of conversation. Sitting herself down on a rolling stool, she pushed her way over to the small counter nearby, a pen and pad of paper pulled out of her pocket. Normally, she'd use her digital tablet, but she'd left it behind in her office. Writing utensil poised, she motioned for the other woman to speak. "Why don't you go ahead and describe what's been going on?"
"Well, I'm more tired than usual. My sense of smell has kinda gone into overdrive; coworker had tuna a few days ago for lunch and I almost puked when it hit me. And these puppies are not feeling the greatest," Holly reported, motioning offhandedly to her chest. That had been an unpleasant development, and a very recent one at that. Even an accidental brush drew out hisses of pain. "Frankly, you're lucky I came in with a bra at all."
Helen's eyebrows rose a fraction, and her smirk returned in a brief flash. At least she could appreciate the attempt at levity. Running her gaze over her patient again, the doctor jotted down the symptoms described on her notepad, theorizing her gathering thoughts into a possible diagnosis.
"Anything else?" she inquired, flicking a glance up at her again. Holly swallowed hard, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
"Yeah. I suppose it's the most glaringly obvious one," she said, a weak smile settling on her lips. Her cycle was like clockwork, one of the few things in life she could depend on happening. Every month, it came, she endured—and dear Lord, some days it was like running an endurance race of mood swings and pain—and it was over.
That time, it hadn't come. That time, she was late. Brief spotting, cramps, and then…nothing. It was different; it was too short, and so very unlike what she was used to. The clockwork had been disrupted. Not to mention the side-eye Wanda had given her at Thanksgiving dinner, the drop of her gaze to her belly and the sparkle in her irises. As if she knew. And maybe...maybe she did.
"We can do the blood test, but it sounds pretty certain to my ears," Cho was saying, pushing through her private thoughts. The older woman peered at her closely, noting her noncommittal nod. "Have you not taken an at-home—"
"I need the blood test," Holly interrupted, stern certainty in her voice. The look in her eyes was unwavering, and her hands balled up in the ends of her sleeves. "I do. I need to see it for myself."
She did need it. She'd already been to the pharmacy in town, twice, frozen in the correct aisle and staring at the tests for sale. Twice she'd gone in the last week, and twice she'd walked away empty-handed, either convincing herself she was mistaken or unable to handle doing it. With her physical appointment scheduled for that Monday, she reasoned there would be definitive proof to be had there. There was always a chance of the at-home test being wrong, and if there actually was something else wrong with her, the blood test would be able to negate that particular suspicion.
Another long look passed between her and Helen, with the doctor finally nodding. A sting and pull later, her blood had been drawn and sent for analysis, and she was rubbing at the bandage gracing her forearm. With it being so early in the week, Helen was confident that she would be able to get first crack at the centrifuge and get the results more quickly than expected. Dismissed for the time being, Holly plodded her way back downstairs to her office. She still had more sorting to do in regards the Strucker files, and she lost herself in the task. It was nearing completion, and she was glad for that. The less time she spent thinking about him, and the days of Ultron that followed, the better. The project had already taken over a month's time, and she was starting to hate it even more so than she had before. Little was said to her coworkers, though Todd did remark on how pale she seemed when he stopped by to collect finished folders for drop-off. He was given a brush-off, an excuse dripping from her lips that had him shooting her a look over the rims of his glasses. Still, he did not push it, and left her in relative peace to work.
A message was left on her phone near the end of the day to return to the infirmary at her earliest convenience, and after a nerve-wracking forty-five minutes, she quickly shut down her computer, exiting the office as fast as she could. Going back upstairs, she was conducted straight back to the private examination room. Depositing her jacket and bag on the floor, she perched on the table again, swinging her legs and the paper sheet beneath her crinkling. Within a few minutes, Helen came into the room, business-like in her demeanor as she shut the door firmly behind her and looked down at the charts in hand. Her dark gaze raked over Holly, and she felt another nervous twist in her gut.
"The results came back, and well, it should come as no surprise that you were right." At that, Helen finally cracked, and she allowed a small grin to come through. "Congratulations, Holly."
Staring at the print-out she was handed, Holly leaned all the way back on the examination table. Once fully reclined, she rested the sheet of paper on her stomach, Helen coming up to explain the heightened levels of hormones listed and how they were picked up to confirm the pregnancy.
Confirm the pregnancy. She was pregnant. Hands passed over her face, and the constriction around her stomach and heart had loosened. She knew the truth. She knew the truth, and she was...
Happy, her mind told her as she brought her hands away. Anxious, nervous, but ultimately, she was pleased. A tiny, delighted smile sprang onto her lips. It made her happy to know, to be. It just took a moment to sink in, to realize it.
"Thank you," she said eventually, sitting back up and staring at the paper again. A rueful grin spread across her lips, and a shoulder raised. "I'm just…a little stunned. This wasn't planned, not for right now. And we've always used condoms without this happening."
"It's not common, but it is possible to get pregnant while using protection," Helen informed her, cupping a hand in the air. A corner of her mouth lifted. "Welcome to the Eighteen-Percent Club."
Holly snorted at that. "Do I get a jacket for joining?"
"You do get something, that's for sure. It's on back order for nine months, though," the doctor replied, a full smirk coming onto her lips. The younger woman hooked a thumb's-up into the air, and giggled.
"Fantastic."
From there, the two women went on to discuss options. A few basic ground rules were laid out in the meantime, certain things to avoid now that her pregnancy was a sure thing. That Holly would need a more thorough examination with an obstetrician was clear, and Helen had a few people in mind in the area that she could go to. The younger woman had yet to find a permanent doctor anyway, something she admitted to overlooking due to the stresses of a new job and a new home (not to mention having a husband who insisted on throwing himself headlong into danger, but Cho wasn't going to point that out). It had been wise to reach out to the local medical communities and establish relations, as one could never know if the base could get swamped with work, or that they would need additional help outside of the facility. One doctor in Saratoga Springs came to mind (thankfully one who would be covered by her insurance), and she made Holly take down her name and number. Offering to set up the referral herself, a question that had been sitting at the back of Helen's mind resurfaced, one that she aired once the call was made and the appointment was set up for the coming Saturday.
"Is this why you requested me?" she wondered, a finger circling in the air and pointing to her patient's abdomen. Lowering her gaze, Holly's fingers began to fidget again, and she set aside her pen and paper to lace them together. Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on her knees, collecting her musings.
"I trust you," she reiterated, seriousness invading her tone. "I knew that if this proved to be what I thought it was, that it should be you confirming it. This baby...is partially Steve. That comes with implications, which I think we're all aware of." Holly directed a wry glance at Cho, both of them frowning at the pronouncement. "I know so many people are going to treat it like a study or an experiment, but...you know us. You won't treat us that way. If the serum has any effects on the baby, or me, I want, I want you to be the one to know about them. Even though I think it's unlikely that would be the case." Helen Cho was a brilliant doctor, one of the best medical minds in the world. Genetics was her primary field of study. If anybody had a shot at figuring out how to keep a super soldier's child alive in highly strange circumstances, she would be their best bet, and Holly knew that. "I think you'd be able to help us if it did."
Several long seconds of silence passed between them, and then Helen blew out a short breath.
"I...very well. I'm still going to recommend you keep the appointment with the OB in Saratoga Springs; I know her personally, and she would work well with you, I think. But I will keep an eye on the situation. If you begin to experience any abnormal symptoms—and I mean, extremely abnormal—come to me immediately," she stated firmly, taking the paper from Holly and scrawling out her personal cell phone number. She was entirely sincere about that requirement; it would be best to catch anything untoward early on, no matter what time or where she was. "Since we don't know how deep the super soldier serum would penetrate, we should keep that channel open. Just in case; you may be right in that it may come to nothing, and you'll have a somewhat typical pregnancy."
Jumping off the table, Holly impulsively hugged Helen, the older woman giving her a few awkward pats on the back before she let go. Fetching up her results, as well as a few pregnancy health pamphlets, she stuffed all into her bag, the relief of confirmation flooding through her and overriding all else.
"Thank you so much, Helen," she blurted as she threw on her coat, pleasant farewells exchanged. The trip to the garage had passed in a haze, the young woman wrapped up in the new developments and thoughts as she traversed back to her home. Now that she knew, she had to think of a way to tell Steve. How would he take the news? Would he even be home when she got back? She hadn't thought to check to see if his truck was still there when she'd left, and she cursed herself for her lack of observation. She wasn't sure how long she could hold out, didn't know how long she could wait to tell him about it. Turning up her own drive, her headlights gleamed as she turned into the garage, shining off the body of the black Dodge. Shockingly, Steve had actually beaten her home for once. Typing in her codes and sweeping through the kitchen, she could see that he had, apparently, been there for awhile. The television played in the background while he slept, ignorant of her arrival. For a moment, she looked down at him, pausing at the end of the couch and letting the pads of her fingers trip along the back. Thankfully, he hadn't come straight home in his uniform and crashed out (an occurrence that wasn't as uncommon as she wished it to be). He'd swapped it for a dark gray shirt and the jeans with paint splotches—both from his art projects and from the days they'd spent repainting the yellow bedroom to a neutral color. His larger frame was stretched across the sofa, head nestled into a few throw pillows, another trapped in his arms. Sleeping peacefully, he was allowed another minute or two of comfort by her.
Then she had enough of that and circled around to the other end of the couch, bending and tapping on the end of his nose repeatedly to rouse him (she never claimed to have endless patience). Shifting against the cushions, he grumbled under his breath, rolling and trying to evade her hand. Swatting blindly, he groaned as he scrubbed at his face, and she chuckled. Folding her arms and leaning against the back of the sofa, she waited as he regained his bearings.
Glimpsing her out the corner of his eye, he smirked and snorted. "Enjoying the view, doll?"
"Well, you are quite pretty, Steve," she remarked drily, coat taken off and draped over the end of the couch as she winked at him. Grinning back, he sat up fully, tossing the pillow he'd been cuddling away and opening his arms to her.
"C'mere," he beckoned, ignoring her initial pestering. Letting her bag settle on the floor, she sat down beside him, enfolded into his embrace. The strength and the security of his hold made her melt, but he was pulling back soon enough, looking her over. "How did—"
"Is James here?" she spoke over him, shifting her gaze around the space. She wouldn't go so far as to say Bucky and Steve were attached at the hip now that the former assassin had taken up residence with them, but she could often find the pair of them when she came home, reminiscing about the past or attempting to navigate a new device they'd brought back from the base, the technology of the day baffling them at turns. Due to his extractions as the Winter Soldier, Bucky generally had a better handle on those sorts of things, but neither of them were experts. However, it did not appear that he was even in the house.
"No, he's at the base still. Nat's got some stuff for him to go over, more training," he responded, watching the brightening of her eyes. The details were not explained to him, beyond the fact that Nat was sure there were a few techniques he could improve upon with her help. Steve had just given them both a long look and a shrug at that, stipulating that they not wear themselves out too much before exercises the next morning. "He's probably not going to be dropped off until late. We've got the house all to ourselves."
His grip around her tightened, and a suggestive glint danced across his irises. Falling prey to it, as she had so many times before, she pressed her advantage, melding her mouth to his. Perhaps she could soften the impact of her news that way, she mused, her body flush against his as they leaned into the cushions.
"Then we should make good use of the time, right?" Holly breathed between kisses, a sharp hitch in her voice as he trailed his lips across her cheek to the tender spot below her ear. "Because, I mean, chances like this are few and far between, especially now. Even better that you're not roughed up or ready to run."
Pulling away from her then, Steve placed a hand at the crook of her neck, holding her back slightly. His expression had flattened somewhat, and a blond eyebrow spiked.
"You do know I know what you're doing, right?" he queried, well-versed in her methods of stalling and deflection by then. Clever as she could be, she wasn't as slick as she'd hoped, and he could see the slight deflation in her expression at being caught out. He peered at her closely, not sensing anything amiss, save for the fact that she avidly avoided his gaze. "Something's going on. Did something happen at work today? Or your physical?" A sharp intake of breath and the flick of her eyes told him he had hit close to the mark, and he frowned. A sudden spike of fear shot through him, that she was putting off telling him bad news. She hadn't been at her best, he'd known that much, but had the doctors discovered there was more to it than that? "Is…what's wrong? Are you, are you…"
A lurch of guilt flooded her, as she hadn't meant to draw it out or tease him in poor taste. Having struggled to find the best way to put things, she just decided to go ahead and spit out the truth.
"I'm pregnant."
Steve blinked, nonplussed, before choking out, "…What?"
"The Martin fertility streak struck again: got knocked up within the first year of marriage," she muttered, pulling a face at her own words for a second. It was true, though; every person in her immediate family had become pregnant or got their spouse pregnant mere months after getting married (or a month before, in Hank's case). Her mom, all her dad's sisters, her grandparents...they all had babies by the first anniversary. With the family blowing up that quickly, it scared the girls to think of how easily it could happen. It was why her sister advocated redundancy with birth control, which had worked for her and her husband...until nature reasserted itself and Cole was conceived. Something about getting a ring on the finger—or within a few weeks of doing so—seemed to amplify the fecundity in the clan, she'd grumbled. It was silly, and ridiculous, and Holly had thought that using condoms would do well enough. They'd worked out beforehand, and there was no reason to expect that to change so abruptly. Shaking her head, she gave him a sardonic smile and joked, "That, or your super soldier swimmers finally got the edge. Either way, the result remains the same."
Reaching down into her bag, she extracted a piece of paper, a few handwritten notes scrawled in the blank margins. She passed him the blood test results, his eyes flicking over the page and riveting to the black and white print-out. It was there, undeniable, unavoidable. And still, his mouth remained shut, his wide blue gaze staring at the paper in his hand as she did her best to explain how the percentages in the specific hormone levels proved it to be true. The grin that had formed on her lips had slid away the longer she went without verbal or physical acknowledgment from him. Holly's stomach clenched nervously, even worse than before, and she swallowed hard.
"Steve, say something," she begged him quietly, her voice cracking. The lack of response from him was making her wonder if perhaps he did not want this after all, not so soon, anyway. They had indeed talked about having children, but it always seemed to be a future endeavor, something they'd try for later on after...well, after. Not right then, at that moment. To her horror, tears began to fill her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, her fists curling in her lap and her nails digging into her palms in order to distract her. "I know we talked about having a family, later on, but I guess, well...I know the timing isn't great, but...well...Steve, please say something."
The shift in her tone caught his attention, brought his focus back to her. Upon seeing the watery eyes and bitten lip, he dropped the paper onto the coffee table, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around her, gently cradling her against him. She buried her face against his shoulder, with her weakly reciprocating his gesture. He felt her shake and take a shuddering breath, and cursed inwardly at his blunder.
"Oh, no. I didn't mean...geez, I'm sorry," he crooned, rubbing a hand up and down her back. He felt like an idiot, an insensitive jerk, for being silent for so long. So many thoughts and feelings had rushed into him when she uttered those two words, that he had no idea how to process them. At first, he had thought she must have been kidding, but it was impossible to deny the moment he looked at the blood test. Pregnant. Holly was pregnant. Carrying their child, his child...he was going to be a father.
Steve Rogers would be a father. A lump grew in his throat, one he had to swallow hard against as he held her.
"This is good," he told her, pulling back and cupping her face in his hands. He meant what he was saying, she could see the honesty in his gaze as he looked at her, the upturn of his mouth as he grinned. It was good, it was great. "Really. It's just...very unexpected."
She blinked, a cautious relief springing in her eyes. "You're not angry, or upset."
His brow furrowed as he swiped his thumbs beneath her eyes, brushing away the errant tears that had dropped. How could he be angered by something like that?
"No!" Steve exclaimed, emphatically shaking his head. His palm dropped, coming to rest just below her navel, pressing into the folds of her blouse. Underneath, though it could not be felt or seen, was their child, already growing inside Holly. The thought boggled the mind, and yet he could not deny the wave of happiness that was swelling inside him. "Just...wow. A baby."
"Yeah, a baby," she breathed, a real smile crawling onto her face and assuagement flooding through her. Her fingers slid over his, looking down at her belly. "Our baby. We're going to be parents. That is so weirdly cool."
"Yes," he agreed, nodding and grinning broadly at her. A giggle blurted out of her then, turning into joyful laughter as she wound her arms around his neck. He held her close for a few moments, before drawing her up for a deep kiss. When they parted, his brow had furrowed, his gaze concentrating on a point over her head. Before she could ask what he was thinking, he piped up, "But, well, how..."
Off her arching eyebrows and deadpan expression, he spluttered, hastening to correct himself.
"I, I don't mean how, because that's obvious, but I thought—"
Her fingers waved superfluously in the air, effectively cutting him off.
"We're human, and even using protection isn't always a guarantee. It's a really narrow margin, but it's possible. The only things that work consistently are abstinence and..." she trailed off, mouth turning down in a frown. He raised an eyebrow at that, and she sighed. Bringing up a hand, she extended her index and middle fingers, miming a scissors and pointing them downward. Catching on, Steve visibly winced at the gesture.
Moving on, Holly retrieved the pregnancy pamphlets Cho had sent her home with, passing them off to Steve. He examined them carefully as she went over the notes she'd taken on the margins of the test, plugging in the numbers she was given. Quickly, they agreed to keep the news to themselves for as long as possible, neither of them wanting to tempt fate by talking about it too soon. When she reported that her appointment with the obstetrician would be taking place that weekend, he hummed at that. He would do his best to be there when she went in, he told her, but he could not promise anything between that moment and Saturday. Knowing he would certainly try, she accepted it as gracefully as possible, though she did reinforce the importance of it. His resolve hardened all the more, and he would do what he could, his eyes widening again as he turned over the pages of the pamphlet and saw some of the inset diagrams and pictures.
After a few minutes, he jerked his head up, as though he recalled something important as well.
"You know, I had thought the garbage seemed lighter this month," he announced suddenly, taking her aback somewhat.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "You noticed that?"
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "When you're primarily the one taking out trash, yeah, you start to catch on here and there."
"But you still didn't connect the dots."
He shot her an embarrassed, rueful grin, and lifted a shoulder. "Guess I was just more relieved that it was less to take care of. Particularly with a guest in the house, now."
"Suppose we better treasure that while we can, because I can guarantee that it won't remain that way for long," she riposted, leaning into his side. His arm came up to curl around her shoulders, and she snuggled in closer. His scent was much stronger to her than before, but at least he smelled pleasant. Tucking the pamphlets between his leg and the arm of the sofa, he grinned.
"Maybe we'll have to split the chore then, for once," he said, focusing on the television again. "Take it in shifts."
She let out a petulant groan at that; she really hated taking out the trash and he knew it. The chuckles rumbling in his chest were his only reply to that, and the conversation lulled into silence. As she grabbed up the remote, switching it to one of the saved shows on their box (the one with the brothers who hunted werewolves and vampires; he didn't care for it, particularly, but at least he could tolerate it) Steve turned more and more inward, elbow propping up on the couch's arm and his chin resting in his palm. The deeper he got into his thoughts, the more noticeable it became. Unconscious of it, he'd begun to bounce his leg, and Holly had to pause the show due to his agita.
"Get out," she mumbled, nudging him in the side to get his attention. Swiveling to look at her, his eyebrows flew up.
"Huh?"
"You've been in your head a long time," she stated simply, tapping a finger at the center of his forehead. Right against the line that had been cutting across it for the last several minutes. "You need to get out of it."
Steve barely managed to turn his lips up at that, his gaze dropping down to her abdomen and back up. "Have a lot more to think about, now."
"As if you didn't have enough. At least this is somewhat better than the other stuff you have to think about," she replied, noting the tightness of his smile. Her eyes scanned over his face, as though she was able to plumb out what he wasn't telling her. "What else, Steve?"
There was no hiding the flash of fear that streaked across his irises. No amount of training could disguise it, and with her, he could not hide the truth. He was a soldier, an Avenger, leading an elite team to face numerous dangers practically every day of his life, dangers that could potentially spill over into his private life. That had spilled over a time or two. He had cared and looked after so many, and now there would be another, this one far more precious than those who had come before. Not only that, his childhood was riddled with one ailment after the next. Though those had largely been corrected and eradicated by the serum, there was no guarantee that it had penetrated to the degree that they couldn't be passed on to the baby. That was why Cho would remain on watch for as long as Holly was pregnant, and after, in case any adverse effects were wrought in spite of—or because of—the serum.
Spying the streak, Holly looked at him for a long moment. "Are you scared?"
The deepest fear of all resided beneath the others. He had been a fatherless boy; he had no clue what he would be capable of, what he could do as a parent. And his work could leave his child fatherless, too. Due to negligence or even a freak accident, Holly would be left without a partner, and the baby would not have a dad. Those were the thoughts burning in his mind, seizing his fears and firing them up little by little.
Steve, underneath the excitement, was terrified.
"...Yes," he whispered, ashamed of the troubles of his heart. He passed a hand over his eyes, slowly exhaling as he combed it back through his hair. Looking at her again, he did not find condemnation in her gaze. Reaching up, she removed his palm from the strands, instead taking it in her own and lowering both back to his lap.
"I am, too," she confessed softly, toying with his fingers one by one. Coming up to his wedding ring, she twirled it around, the rotations of the band almost calming in their repetitions. Peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes, she murmured, "But we can do this. We can. Even if it scares the ever-livin' outta us."
Even if it shook both of them down to their cores, she had confidence and faith that they could. Even when it seemed like a huge, impossible task that loomed before them. People with less fortitude and courage had children all the time, raised them, and so could they. In the meantime, they could plan and prepare as much as possible, another rapid change coming upon them. Sighing, he rested his forehead against hers, silent strength passing between them as he gave the barest fraction of a nod.
The frisson of doubt was silenced, for a few minutes, at least.
xXxXxXx
Proclaiming his intentions to Steve had not gone over well, as Bucky could have guessed. Even with his suspicions proved, he did not think it would be best to give himself over so soon. His erstwhile best friend had misgivings about him seeking out Stark on his own. Tony, he said, had been through a lot over the last several years, so much that he had been greatly altered from the man he'd met when he came out of the ice. He'd been driven to the edge over and over, and this could be the thing that tipped him over it. Though he'd been seeking treatment like Bucky had, Steve wasn't sure that the news wouldn't set him back. He insisted for being present for the confrontation when it happened.
Steve couldn't let either of them face what would come without being near at hand. He didn't want either to be friendless, or alone.
He feared for both of them, that much was apparent in his eyes. And there was a good measure of fear to be found there anyway over the last couple of days. The morning of Stark's arrival at the base had been passed in tense silence, Holly staring at both of them at the table and picking at her breakfast. Questions about it all were ignored, or given some pat excuse, but the ex-assassin could see she was not buying it. A curt glance at Steve told him to hold his tongue; Holly did not deserve to be sucked into the mire with them, that much they could agree on.
As the morning slid into the afternoon, the announcement of Stark pulling into the lower garage level had him on high alert. Having spent the hours since he'd come in training with Natasha, he shared a glance with her, a planned motion she had reluctantly consented to signaling her to go. Watching her leave, he took a shuddering breath, gathering up his bag and disembarked for one of the private conference rooms upstairs. Once there, he waited.
Intercepting Tony as he crossed the floor towards the laboratories, Natasha insisted he come with her. Wheedling did him no good as he followed her, not taking the clench of her fists or the controlled roll of her gait into account (okay, so he looked, but he didn't read any special meaning in it).
"What's going on? I feel like I'm being walked to my own execution right now," he joked as they boarded the elevator, shaking his head at his companion's rigid posture. Glancing away, he missed the micro-flinch that passed over Natasha's features, the stiffening of her spine. "Is it firing squad or guillotine?"
"Neither. Sergeant Barnes wanted to meet with you, in private," she explained, shooting him a smirk. The lack of mirth in her eyes, though, was disconcerting, and the joviality in Stark's expression faltered. Lifting a shoulder, she posited, "Figured this was the best way to entice you to come."
"Because who could refuse such a lovely lady?" Tony snarked back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. As they stopped and exited the elevator, clattering down the hall that held a number of private conference rooms, his inquisitive gaze was fixated upon her. "What does he want to see me for?"
As far as he knew, the two men had no business with one another. Frankly, he had enough trouble with the one grumpy old man; he didn't need to associate with the one who was trained to kill on sight. It wasn't exactly a secret, either. Another flinch passed over Natasha, one that she did not bother to hide from him, and it made the hackles on the back of his neck raise. Quirking his brows together, he reached out, grabbing her forearm to pull her to a full halt. Silent questions ran between the billionaire and the female Avenger, but he found nothing more on her blank, beautiful face. Instead, she minutely shook her head, flicking her gaze to the nearest door.
"I'll let him tell you," she muttered, bidding him go with her tone. Tilting his head to one side, his dark gaze darted to the door and back again. Letting go of her arm after a few moments, he stepped away, marching straight toward his destiny without knowing. Understanding the impact of what was about to be thrown at him, she couldn't resist calling out. "Just..."
He paused, his hand on the door knob and a droll smile pulling at his lips. "What, Romanoff?"
Her lips thinned and she pulled herself to her full height. She took stock of him, the tired eyes, the cropped hair, the brittleness in his stance. Tony Stark was not the same man she'd met all those years ago, and he would doubtless be changed again after Barnes had said his piece.
"Brace yourself," she warned him, marching away as fast as her feet could carry her. She did not want to be witness to this form of destruction. She'd it before, far too many times, and she could will herself to stick around for it again.
The click of her heels faded after a few seconds, and Stark, brow still furrowed, took her words with a grain of salt. The door handle yielded to him, and he stepped inside the small room.
A/N:...Oh, this is not going to end well.
Early, TWO PART, update for you all this week! I have been waiting SO LONG to write about these chapters' events, you have no idea. So, wham! Two chapters. Next one will be posted immediately following this one.
Little more Bucky this time around. I hope I did alright with him, along with his interactions with Natasha. ;) And yep, Holly's pregnant. I'm not going to say, "Betcha didn't see that one coming!" Because I'm pretty sure a lot of you did. At least I didn't make Holly's pregnancy the opening chapter of the story or something. I could've done that.
I own nothing from the MCU, nor do I own any other pop culture references made in the text.
Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you all for the next one (very shortly)!