Work Text:
Dorothy
A wail sounded up, testing the boundaries at first; gurgling and whimpering. It grew louder almost exponentially from there, realising it was getting nowhere with the silent noises and muffled cries. The sound echoed dimly through the apartment but crackled as if in the same room through the walkie-talkie sitting on the bedside table where two bodies were in a deep sleep.
The body closest to it groaned into the pillow, bunching it up in his hands and rubbing his cheek against it, hoping it would engulf him so he didn’t have to wake up.
“It’s your turn.” the face to his side whispered, relish glowing on her face as she nuzzled her own pillow, the wisps of red hair falling across it and ruining the expression. “Don’t keep her waiting.”
Although battling with his lids to keep them open, Steve Rogers stretched languidly before rolling from his bed, landing on his feet and upright. Natasha Romanov chuckled from the bed as she watched him shiver in the brisk morning, pulling the coverings more tightly around her body as he threw her a smile over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry; it’s still your turn next.” He walked away, still grinning as her moan of displeasure filled the air behind him. The apartment was small, only just so, compared to the other Avengers and their living areas. Steve was sure it theirs was the smallest of them all in the Stark Tower, though they had the largest family – if you weren’t counting the Hulk for being “large” or the Iron Man suits for being “family”, that is.
Nevertheless, it was the one Steve had requested when he was first offered a chance to live there – when they all were, but had he known his little ideal would be infiltrated by no other than an international spy and their offspring, he probably still would have chosen this one. It was small, but big enough for the three of them, especially as they were hardly ever in it all at once.
Steve was warmed up by the time he reached the kitchen, mixing formula with one hand as he covered his yawn with the other. the sound of his daughter’s cries were weaker now, starting to be lulled back to sleep, but Steve tried to be fast so not to disappoint her. Once heated, the drink was poured into her favourite bottle and walked down the hall to her, where she lay in her crib, gurgling.
The girl was all tears and blonde hair, little face burning bright from screaming so loud. Steve hushed her as he leaned down to pick her up, wrapping her up firmly into one arm and kissing her forehead; guiding the bottle into her mouth when she’d reduced to a murmur. “That’s it. There we go.” The baby drank greedily, sucking from the cap as her head resting on his chest. The sight was wondrous to see, for she looked so miniscule compared to the super-soldier that was her father. At five months old, she was graced with Steve’s hair and Natasha’s green eyes, set in a chubby round face that bears a likeness to the both of them.
Steve whispered to her as she drank, little nothings that neither he nor she would remember in the morning, both being too tired and in bliss. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? You take right after your mom.” He chuckled as she made a noise that wasn’t coherent, but seemed like she was in agreement with him. “I know you think that too. Your mom thinks that too, even if she says you look like me.”
The bottle almost finished, the baby stopped drinking and pulled away, milk dribbling down her chin. Steve placed the bottle on the desk before sliding the tea-towel slung over his shoulder down, catching the few drops that had escaped. “Who’s a messy pup, eh?” His daughter wiggled in his arms in response, discomfort spreading across her familiar face. Knowing the signal, Steve lightly placed her against his shoulder, dropping the towel to the floor in the process. He rubbed her back, patting out a light rhythm and humming in time to it as he burped her.
“Don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky, stormy weather, since my man and I ain’t together…”
Steve was unaware of the presence that stood in the door, leaning in her trademark stance against the frame, watching the two of them rock back and forth in the dimly lit room. Concluded with different eyes: the sight really was wondrous to see.
Natasha allowed herself a few more seconds of silent observing before she slipped into the room, pulling a face at the dozing baby in Steve’s arms, but the baby was too far asleep to notice her. Instead, she curled her arms around her husband, paused in his movements as he heard her walk in. he wasn’t startled, and she addressed this.
“I’m losing my touch, I’ll assume?” Natasha’s forehead rested below Steve’s shoulder blade, to any other it would have been almost impossible to hear.
“The enhanced hearing may be a result of that. Or yes, you are definitely losing your touch.” There was a grin in his voice as he spoke, and Natasha smiled along with it.
“So why do we need to baby monitor if you can hear her when she starts to whimper? Hmm?” her tone was mocking and he knew it well, so he answered truthfully, to wind her up.
“I just love that it wakes you up too. Can’t have just one of us dog-tired every morning. This is a partnership. That’s why you married me.”
“Mhmm.” Her hands on his hips swayed him, dancing awkwardly to an invisible tune that had been in the air moments ago.
“You have to stop teaching our daughter all of these songs from before her time Steve; she’ll be years old and pining after Bing Crosby and Harry James because of you.”
“With her mother being Natasha Romanov, she wouldn’t pine after anybody who wasn’t worth her time. And those men, Natasha, are worth her time.” He hesitated before continuing, it always being a difficult topic. “Their songs got us through some hard times.”
“Oh and so did Stormy Weather, yeah?”
“I didn’t say they were all good songs.”
“No?”
“No, some of them were great songs.”
They were halted in their arguing by a hiccup and a cough, then the drone of a snore from the baby who didn’t want to be forgotten. Natasha withdrew her hands from Steve’s waist so he could rest her back in her crib, tucking her up in the blankets adorned with the American flag. Natasha moved to Steve’s side and returned her arm to around him, his own circling her shoulders and pulling her in tightly. He too kissed her on the forehead, an act that sent both his girls into a loving haze. They stared down at their daughter in her crib, soothing quietly at her slight sounds, admiring her tiny hands and fingers, her face that didn’t know who her parents were, and who they had saved. They were gracious for that fact.
“Back to bed?” Steve murmured in Natasha’s ear and squeezed her too him; they both planted kisses on their child’s head before walking hand in hand back to their room. Sliding into the cooling covers, Steve drew Natasha close to him, letting her rest her head where her daughter’s had been before. They listened to the baby monitor for a moment longer, checking to be sure their daughter was asleep before they could be granted with it too. When nothing more was heard, the nuzzled closer together and drooped their lids.
“I still say that we should have gone for something a bit more up-to-date. Or Russian.” Natasha teased voice thick with sleep.
“Dorothy is a perfect name for her.”
“You know, Cap, if I ever find out that was one of the names of a girl you had a crush on back in the days I will be changing it by deed poll. And moving out.”
“Now, would I do such a thing?”
“Yes.”
“Good job you’ll never find out then.”
Natasha nudged him sharply in the ribs, running her hand over it to soothe seconds later. They fell asleep to the sound of even breaths, peaceful and sore from the daily duties of being superheroes.