Steve shows up at 7:00 on the dot with a paper bag from a deli around the corner tucked under his arm. Her nausea thankfully eased up a bit during the afternoon and she feels hungry for the first time in days. He hands over the bag and eyes her cautiously. Darcy laughs dryly and ushers him into her apartment. "This smells wonderful, Steve, thank you."

"You're welcome," he answers, a lopsided smile playing on his handsome face. "Feeling better I take it?"

"Mmm," she hums. "Much." She shuffles to her tiny kitchen and gets plates and bowls out of the cabinet. "The lemon drops worked wonders this afternoon, so thanks again for those."

He grins winningly at that. "I'm glad."

"Drink?" she asks and opens the refrigerator. "I've got beer, water, Gatorade, Coke."

"Beer's good." She twists the top off the bottle and hands it to him. "Thanks." Steve takes a sip and looks around the apartment before dropping down on one of the two barstools at the counter. "You've got a nice place here, Darcy."

Darcy smiles wryly and pours the soup into two bowls, plates their sandwiches. "I like it. Though it's probably not what you were expecting from Tony Stark's daughter, am I right?" she asks, sliding his food across the counter.

"I don't care about that stuff," he shrugs, and while that probably is true, Darcy fixes him with what she likes to call her don't bullshit me expression. "Alright, not exactly. Figured Tony'd have you set up with a suite in the tower or a penthouse somewhere."

She sits down opposite him at the counter and slowly stirs the soup with her spoon. "Oh, believe me, if he had his way that's exactly where I'd be living. This," she gestures around the small space, "drives him insane." Steve's answering snort makes her grin. She knows what a handful her dad is, and since Steve is on his team, he's also well-versed.

"Is that by design? Driving Tony crazy, I mean?"

Darcy swallows her soup and shakes her head. "Nah, just an added bonus, I guess. I don't want to live off his money. I mean I do live off his money through Stark Industries because I work there, but at least I've done something to earn it and not just because I'm his daughter, you know? Oh, my god, sorry," she says, raking a hand through her hair. "I ramble when I'm nervous."

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners his lips are quirked in amusement. "You're cute when you're nervous."

She ignores that statement. And the accompanying butterflies in her belly. "I made a list!"

His brow arches curiously while he chews. "A list," he repeats behind his hand. "Of what?"

Darcy hops off the barstool and grabs the notebook she left setting on the coffee table. "I just thought of so many questions this afternoon and since pregnancy brain has rendered me stupid, I started writing them down."

"Pregnancy brain?" he asks laughingly.

She looks up from her notebook and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You laugh, but it's a thing. I'm so forgetful lately and I've started misplacing things—pretty common amongst the pregnant set, apparently—but it's annoying.

Steve wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans forward to try and see her notebook. "What's on your list?"

"A fuckton of stuff," Darcy admits. "Like, when's your birthday? What year were you born? How'd you become Captain America in the first place?"

Steve smirks. "You mean to tell me you didn't hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system for my file?"

Darcy shrugs and takes another bite of soup. "I considered it," she tells him honestly, "and could've had it in no time, but that seemed like a huge invasion of your privacy. And I'd rather hear it from you than from anything S.H.I.E.L.D. has to say about it."

"Fair enough," he says wryly and takes a bite of his sandwich. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair. "I was born July 4th, 1918."

"Shut your mouth," Darcy giggles, and Steve says nothing, just looks at her with raised brows. "You really were born on the Fourth of July?"

"Yes, I was." Darcy bites the inside of her cheek and snickers as she scribbles the answers on her list. "You really gonna write all my answers down?" he asks.

She puts her pen down and rests her elbows on the counter. "No, I'm not going to write everything down, but we're having a baby together, Steve. I want us to learn as much as possible about each other. We need to."

Steve takes a long pull off his beer and looks at her thoughtfully across the counter. "You're right," he finally says. "What's next?"

She asks what his life was like before becoming Captain America. There will always be that distinct line separating the before and after. So he tells her. His voice sounds wistful to his own ears when he starts talking about his mom, but the memories he carries are good ones despite his poor health back then and the way his mother had struggled to provide. There are tears in Darcy's eyes when he tells her about the pneumonia his mom couldn't shake and how he had a new home at the orphanage after that. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, and he shrugs. It is what it is.

Steve keeps talking, makes her laugh with tales of his and Bucky's shenanigans as teenagers, makes her shake her head and laughingly ask if he had any sense continually going after guys twice his size. "You sound just like Bucky," he says fondly.

"I think I would have liked this Bucky character," Darcy smiles, propping her chin up on her hand.

"Dames—women—always did. But you already met him," Steve tells her with a crooked smile. "This morning."

Her brows shoot up. "Wait—the guy with the arm?"

"That's him."

Darcy blows out a breath. "This tale just keeps getting stranger by the minute."

Steve huffs out a laugh. "You have no idea, Darce," he says candidly.

"Tell me more. How'd you even become Captain America anyway?"

He tells her that story, too. The several failed attempts at trying to get into the Army, Bucky getting his orders and dragging him out on a double date to the Stark Expo, and Darcy cuts him off right before he tells her about Dr. Erskine.

"Those girls were idiots."

"'Scuse me?"

"I said those girls were idiots for ignoring you."

Steve blinks at her. "I didn't look like this back then."

"Well, yeah, I know that the serum made you big and strong, but your face couldn't have changed that much. And did these morons even bother talking to you before writing you off?"

"Bucky was there in uniform, so no," he tosses back.

Darcy waves her hand like he's full of it. "I need a visual. You have a picture anywhere?"

Steve grabs his wallet and pulls out a picture of him and Bucky. "I'm the little guy," he says dryly, handing her the picture.

"You're a smartass," she says with a smirk on her lips and holds up the picture for a closer look. She doesn't react the way he expects. In fact, she doesn't react much at all, just keeps looking up at him and back down at the picture. "Handsome," she says finally and sets the picture down.

"Yeah, Bucky had all the—"

"I'm talking about you," Darcy smiles warmly and swirls her spoon around in her bowl. "You still had the same kind and handsome face." Color seeps into his cheeks and a smile ghosts over his lips as he lifts the beer bottle to his mouth. "Are you blushing right now?" she teases.

"No," he answers too quickly. He doesn't know why he is. Maybe in part because no woman ever referred to him as handsome before the serum and there's something special about this one telling him differently.

"You are," Darcy laughs and nudges his calf with her bare foot under the counter.

Steve's eyes narrow slightly but he chuckles at her. His cheeks stain even darker and her grin grows a little brighter. "Please stop."

"Are you serious right now?" she asks, a bit incredulous. "After all the filthy things you said and did to me in bed, you're blushing like a virgin on prom night over being called handsome?"

"Shut up, Darce," he laughs and grabs her notebook. "What else is on here?"

"No, give that back!" Darcy insists, holding out her hand.

Steve picks up his beer again and scans the list, focusing on one line that had been scribbled out. He makes out 'super cock?' and chokes on his beer. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he asks once he stops coughing.

Darcy jerks the notebook out of his hands and pushes up her glasses. "A perfectly valid one. How else do you explain the fact that while we were in the shower you came twice and continued fucking me?"

"Darcy!" he croaks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"At one point I started wondering if you were a porn star or something."

He closes his eyes and that turns out to just be a terrible idea all around since all he can picture is Darcy pressed against the shower tiles, her legs locked around his waist, steam billowing around them, her cries echoing off the walls as she came apart and scratched her nails down his back. When he reopens them, Darcy's cheeks are flushed and her eyes are a little heavy and glassy. Steve can't help but feel at least a little proud over that. "That was fun." Her mouth falls open and she blinks owlishly back at him. "Now who's blushing?"

"You're kind of an ass, Steve Rogers," she says flatly, and he shrugs, chuckling under his breath.

"Okay, don't laugh when I ask this, but…do you have super sperm?"

He barks out a laugh anyway and earns himself a kick to the shin under the table. "I'm sorry, it just sounds funny."

"Yeah, well, so does 'Captain America's my baby daddy' but them's the breaks. Seriously, Steve. Do you have super swimmers or is this just a birth control malfunction?"

The look he gives her is sympathetic. "Birth control malfunction."

"Are you sure? The pill is 99.9% effective and we used condoms."

"Not in the shower," he reminds her and clears his throat. "Either time." She averts her eyes and blushes again. "If I did have, you know—"

"Super sperm," she supplies.

Steve scratches his jaw, shifts in his seat. "Yes. I never would've gone without a condom and put you at risk like that."

"Figures I'd be the point one percent that gets pregnant on the pill. Though I suppose that doesn't seem so far-fetched if there are superheroes in the world and I'm having a baby with one." She sits up straighter and her eyes go round. "Oh, Jesus! Is the baby going to be super?" That possibility hadn't occurred to her until now.

"I honestly don't know," he answers matter-of-factly.

"Oh my god!" Darcy cries. "I'm going to give birth to Bam Bam."

Steve's brows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"Rubble? From The Flintstones—which of course you don't know what I'm talking about because you were born in 1918 and then spent seventy years doing time as an iceberg. I doubt cartoons from the sixties made the list of things you needed to catch up on. Long story short, he was a really strong baby. So, it's possible the baby could be…enhanced?"

He's quiet for a long moment, and Darcy's eyes frantically search his face for some kind of answer. "I guess it's possible. Though I'd rather that than the alternative. With my old health problems I just—" he trails off with a quiet sigh. "Hope it's healthy," he says finally. "That's my biggest worry."

Darcy nods. "Mine, too," she says softly and reaches across the countertop to lay her hand on top of his. "We're both strong and healthy and this baby is going to be just fine. Let's focus on that."

Steve turns his hand over and wraps his fingers around hers, his thumb tracing patterns against the inside of her wrist. "Okay," he says after a moment, his eyes lifting to meet hers. "Okay."

Her pulse skitters and part of her wishes the counter wasn't between them so she could just lean into him for a hug. They both could use one, but standing up and bridging the gap between them seems awkward and too much, so she remains seated. Darcy gives his hand a light squeeze and slips it out from under his so she can eat the rest of her dinner.

They move to the couch after dinner and talk some more. The conversation is easy and comfortable and just nice. He'd been a little worried after their walk in the park earlier in the day that maybe whatever easiness they'd had between them in Texas was gone.

"Is that your mom?" he asks after a bit, gesturing to a framed black and white photo on the end table.

Darcy smiles and hands him the frame. "It is."

The woman in the photo is almost identical to Darcy—same dark hair, blue eyes, full lips, slightly different nose. "She's beautiful. You look just like her."

"Thank you," she says, voice tight with unshed tears. "My mom was the best. I wish she was still here to talk to about all of this, you know?"

Steve gives her a small, sympathetic smile and nods. "Yeah. "Do you want to talk about her?"

Darcy shakes her head. "Not tonight."

"Whenever you want to or need to—" he offers.

"Thank you," Darcy murmurs softly and focuses on her wringing hands. After a beat she lifts her head and meets his eyes. "She would have really liked you."

"My ma would've liked you, too," Steve says and Darcy smiles. "At least our baby will have Grandpa Tony," Steve adds with a smirk, and Darcy throws back her head and cackles, the sound reverberating through the small apartment.

"Jesus, my dad is going to lose his fucking mind over that title."

Steve snorts out a laugh and shakes his head at the thought of Tony Stark being his child's grandfather. He still hasn't fully wrapped his head around the fact that he's going to be a dad. Darcy yawns hugely and rubs her eyes. "I should get goin' so you can get some sleep."

She nods and unfolds her legs to stand up. "I can barely make it past 9:00 these days. I'm such an old lady. Oops, no offense," she grins and punches him lightly on the arm.

"Are you calling me old or a lady?" Steve asks laughingly, walking backwards towards the door.

"Take it however you want to, Steve," Darcy answers impishly. "Thanks for coming over tonight. And for feeding me."

Steve's lips twitch into a smile. "You're welcome, thanks for inviting me. We needed this."

"I agree," she says softly and adjusts her glasses.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Steve promises.

Darcy nods. "Okay." She closes the gap between them and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she hugs him tightly.

Steve folds his arms around her and drops his lips to the top of her head while they hold each other for a while. It's nice, having her in his arms like this. A lot better than nice, actually—it's great—somehow feeling both familiar and brand new. He isn't quite so scared about the baby now, even if they still have a lot to figure out; he thinks Darcy can calm him in some areas and he can do the same for her in others, and together they'll be okay with everything in the long run.

She pulls back first, sliding her hands around to rest on his waist as she tips her head back to look up at him, lips ticking into a crooked half smile. There's a part of his brain yelling at him to not to be an idiot, that they shouldn't be doing this now, but he deliberately ignores it and lowers his head, pressing soft kiss against her lips. Darcy leans into the kiss, fingers curling around his shirt. Steve slips his hand into her hair to pull her closer, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips. She lets out a surprised squeak and pushes him away. He's a fucking moron. "I'm sorry," he breathes out and takes a step back.

"No, I'm sorry," Darcy insists. "I panicked. Jesus," she huffs, scrubbing her fingers down her face. "We shouldn't. I want to. At least a part of me does." She lets out this crazed laugh that ends on a sob and his stomach twists when he sees her eyes fill with tears.

"Darce," he whispers helplessly.

"Damn hormones. I'm such a mess," she cries, her voice thick and strained. "This is all just too much for me to handle and most of the time I feel like I'm just barely holding it together to make it through the day. And tonight was so great, talking, getting to know more about you, it just made me feel better about everything and—I don't know." She throws up her hands and lets them fall down to her sides again, and she starts pacing the floor. "I don't…I'm just…God, I am so attracted to you and it would be too easy to fall into something because of that and the baby."

Steve clears his throat and watches her go back and forth across the small living room. "Darcy," he says more surely this time.

Darcy stops pacing and turns to face him. "The baby has to come first. And it…" she sighs, "…he or she needs both of us. I can't risk us jumping into something and fucking things up between us before the baby is born. We're tied together now, Steve, and I think—I think we should just be friends."

He takes everything she's just thrown at him into consideration and while there's a part of him that wants to convince her otherwise, he knows she makes a very valid point. They're still just getting to know each other and despite an obvious physical attraction, they should work on building a stronger foundation first for the sake of their child. "You're right," he says after a beat. Steve closes the gap between them and swipes his thumbs through the tears on her cheeks. "Stop crying. Please."

Her eyes flick to the floor and she nods her head, sniffling quietly. Steve blows out a breath and pulls her into another hug that she eagerly returns. "M'sorry," she mutters into his chest. "I wish things were different. The whole rest of the summer I let myself think 'what if' but it was never like this."

Tears soak through his shirt and he rubs her back gently as he tries to get her to calm down and stop crying. "Me, too. S'okay, Darcy. We're gonna figure all of this out and we'll be fine. Promise."

She sniffles against his shirt and nods before extracting herself from his arms. "Okay," she blows out, taking off her glasses to wipe her eyes. "We will. You're right." Darcy gives him a watery smile and runs a hand over her hair once before turning to leave.

His hand hesitates on the doorknob and he turns his head. "I'll call you tomorrow." Darcy just nods again and lifts a hand to wave as he walks out the door.

Steve can hear her crying through the door as soon as it closes behind him and he has to force himself to keep walking.