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She sank lower beneath the waterline of the tub, submerging her body under the soft waves and suds. Exhaustion from the day weighted her eyelids, threatening to close and leave her to drown in the lukewarm water.
It had been twelve days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes since she’d heard his voice or received a text. Never mind seeing him - that had been an even longer and more painful count.
His absence wasn’t uncommon, given the nature of his status as an outlaw in the United States and constant need to lay low. He spent his days conducting covert battles with the members of his team that he’d managed to break out of the Raft nearly two years prior. She knew that, in between doing whatever he deemed necessary, he would drop in unannounced for days at a time before disappearing again. But he was overdue for one of those weeks and it was highly unlike him to go for more than a few days without so much as a simple text.
She’d seen the earlier fight outside of her office window. The large and menacing ring floating in the sky as Iron Man and several others battled fiercely in the streets. The news told her that Tony Stark was missing - a telling sign that something was wrong. Despite the grave circumstances and the well-known rift between the two men, she wondered whether Steve was involved in some way or if he was safe in one of his many hideouts across the globe, as he’d always been.
She shook her head and ducked it below the surface, trying to drown the worry and concern that was beginning to cloud her mind. He’s Steve goddamn Rogers, he can take care of himself. You need to take care of yourself.
Repeating the last sentence one last time, she came up for air, a gasping breath escaping her lungs once she broke the surface. It hurt her chest almost as much as his absence.
She stayed in the tub until the water grew too cold for comfort, wrapping herself in the towel he’d regularly use when he was home with her.
Home. It felt like such an insignificant subject in the grand scheme of things. In the year and a half that they’d been together, since that first chance meeting on a street corner to the very moment she was standing in the mirror alone, he had been home exactly seven times. She understood the terms of his criminal status and the danger posed to them both if he returned to her. She understood why he couldn’t mention her mere existence to anyone. She understood that she couldn’t call or text him first, because who knew what he was doing? Who he was with? If he’d even get it?
Yes, she understood. But understanding and accepting were two very different things, the latter escaping her most days.
She relented to the couch and chose a show she’d already watched three times before. Sighing heavily, she plugged in both of her cellphones: the one she used everyday and the solid brick he’d given her just for him. Curling into a ball, she fell asleep in the middle of the opening monologue of The Vampire Diaries.
Steve paused at the door of their semi-shared apartment and listened against it. He smirked as he realized that she’d fallen asleep in front of the TV again. On the other side of the door, the love of his life waited, asleep like the princess in a fairytale. He would do as he’d done at least a hundred times before: walk in, strip himself of his gear, and pull her into his lap before sinking into one of the few deep sleeps he had experienced in the last 70 years.
He opened the door and was overwhelmed by the feelings of comfort and warmth that washed through him. Home. He was home.
Kicking off his shoes, he sat down on the far end of the couch, pressing to continue the TV series. Carefully, he pulled her into his lap and absentmindedly stroked her hair. When she stirred, he kissed the top of her head, making her hum at the contact of his beard in her hair.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
She opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times before recognizing him. “Hi,” she said sleepily as she closed her eyes again.
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He scooped her into his arms and got off of the couch. Before she could protest, he hushed her, “I’ll stay for as long as I can.”
“How long will that be?” she asked as he set her down in bed and crawled in next to her. “Because I don’t wanna waste time —“
“As long as I can,” he repeated, pulling her into his chest. He traced circles into the small of her back and sighed, “We’ve got a pretty big fight comin’.”
“Always do,” she grunted, reaching up to dance her fingers on his collarbone. “When do you leave?”
He shrugged against her, “Whenever the coast is clear at the Compound.”
Propping herself up on her elbows and forgetting the sleep that she had desperately wanted only hours earlier, she quirked a brow. “The Compound? The one where you’ll be arrested on sight?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why the hell would you need to go there?”
“Something big is coming, I know it. We had to get Wanda and Vision in London and it was this crazy fight and —“
“Shh.” She put a finger to his lips and smiled sadly. “I don’t wanna hear anymore.”
“I don’t know if we’re all gonna make it outta this one, sweetheart.”
“Course you will,” she replied assuringly. “You always do.”
He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “This “thing” has a plan and we have to have a plan, but I don’t know where to start —“
“Please, stop.” She rolled off of him and into the vast empty space where she usually slept. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from him. Usually, she’d let him brainstorm aloud, a stream of consciousness that often ended with a solution. Sometimes, she’d offer an idea, sometimes she wouldn’t. Either way, she had acted as a sounding board for the last year and a half.
But not tonight. Tonight, she had woken up in the arms of the one she loved and whatever relief or happiness she’d felt had boiled over into rage. He hadn’t come to “just drop in.” He came to say goodbye.
Reaching an arm around her, he pulled her closer. “I —“
“Steven Grant Rogers,” she sobbed shakily, “you’re gonna stop talking like that. Under no uncertain terms are you allowed to die, do you understand me? You’re not. You can’t.”
“Okay.” The finality in her voice was enough to silence him.
He laid awake next to her, long after the crying and heaving ended. He ran a gentle hand through her hair before deciding to shower and finally falling into the deep sleep that had been taunting him since his return.
She woke up before he did, leaving him to sleep as soundly as he needed. Her head was pounding - likely the result of crying herself to sleep. Before heading to the bathroom, she took another look at him, the tears from last night threatening to resurface.
Clumsily, she turned on the light and ran the cold tap before splashing it onto her face. She, like him, looked weathered and weary.
As she smoothed her hair and brushed her teeth, she wondered how she’d managed to find herself in such overwhelming love with someone who not only was absent most of the time, but was also self-sacrificial enough to drop in to say goodbye.
She thought about the first time they’d met and smiled to herself. Sure, there had been others, but none like him. Of course none were like him - he was Captain America. However, moments like these made her long for something normal and boring.
“Shoulda just gone out with that guy from the bar,” she mumbled, pulling on a pair of jeans. “At least he would’ve been dumb enough to stick around.”
She walked out of the bathroom and froze at the sight of Steve hunched over at the foot of the bed, staring at the floor with his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes flickered up to her and he let out a laugh. “Guy from the bar, huh?”
Folding her arms across her chest, she nodded, “He was an IT guy, played the saxophone, and had a pet bird.”
Steve’s expression changed from discomfort to amusement as she spoke. “But, you’re terrified of birds.”
“I could learn to love them.” She wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
“The first time I mentioned the names Hawkeye and Falcon, you flinched and started ranting about how birds are —“
“This is not about birds, Steve!” She stomped across the room, stationed herself between his knees, and gripped his impossibly chiseled jaw, lifting his face to look at her. “This is about you showing up here after I haven’t heard from you in weeks and implying — no, telling me that you ‘might not make it outta this one?’” She rested her forehead on his and sighed. “You don’t get to do that ... not after everything,” her voice trailed off as she started to cry, her body heaving in his arms.
He hushed her and pulled her into his lap. It was his turn to hold her face. “But you understand why I made sure to stop here before doing anything else, right?”
She nodded, finally relaxing at the touch of his hand on her cheek. “Because you —“
“Because I love you,” he finished. He kissed her slowly, putting intensity behind his words.
She pulled away and rested her chin on his shoulder, peering around their room. With him in it, holding her like he was, it felt normal. She wondered what it’d be like to have him come home every night.
Boring. It would be boring.
Without warning, she wriggled out of his arms and ran to his discarded pile of gear in the corner. Running her fingers over the weathered dark blue suit, she giggled. “Someone needs a new patch job.”
“Yeah,” he laughed, standing up from the bed, “that may have been the result of catching this crazy alien spear that was thrown at my face.”
Clutching his suit close to her chest, she walked over to the dresser and pulled out her makeshift sewing kit. In it was a handful of needles, some thread, and patches of reinforced neoprene. Settling back onto the bed cross-legged, she began her work.
Steve looked on with adoration. “You’re good to me,” he muttered quietly, “so, so good to me.”
“I know,” she shrugged, already patching a rip on a side seam. Her brows knitted together as she found another hole and resolved to start on that next when she was done with the side.
Laying down in the space in front of her, he stroked her knee. “I mean it.” Her gaze flickered up to his as her mouth opened to speak and abruptly closed, turning her attention back to the suit. “What is it?”
She shook her head quickly, not looking up at him. “I couldn’t think of a witty comeback,” she laughed nervously.
Steve’s eyes narrowed at the blatant lie. “No, that wasn’t it.”
“It was,” she insisted. Smoothing the suit over her lap, she sighed, “That should hold up until the next fight.” She leaned over and kissed him.
“Tell me,” he said against her lips. When she didn’t speak, he kissed her again, pulling her to lay on top of him. “Please.”
She scrunched up her face, twisting her expression into a painful grimace. “Christ, this sucks.”
“What sucks?”
Leaning back away from him, she felt a fresh round of tears welling in her eyes. Her breathing grew shaky as it quickened. She shook her head, “I really ... I can’t.”
“Gimme your best shot, darlin,” he urged with growing concern.
“Steve, I ... you ... we ... Steve, you’re gonna be a dad.”
Steve’s eyes widened as he sat up, cradling her in his arms. “Come again?”
“Oh, dammit,” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest, “you’re mad.” Her body shook with the weight of her cries. “I swear, I was gonna take care of it. I was. The timing is all wrong, I know that. You aren’t even allowed in the country!” A lopsided smile grew across her face as her voice grew quieter, “But then they did this whole ultrasound thing and I heard it.”
He kissed her harder than he had ever before, a wide grin spreading across his face. “I’m not mad,” he said, kissing her again.
“I couldn’t do it. It’s got a strong heartbeat, Steve. Strong, like you. And I couldn’t do it.”
“It?”
She nodded. Slowly, she reached over to the nightstand and pulled a crumpled envelope from the drawer, clutching it tightly in her hands. “I didn’t know what to do with this when it came in the mail last week,” she explained as he took it from her trembling hands. “I didn’t want to know, in case, well, you know.”
“You want me to open it?”
With a long exhale, she nodded, her stomach twisting into knots. She watched as Steve smoothed out the envelope and opened the seal. His eyes lit up as he read the paper and glanced at the ultrasound. Turning it to face her, she scanned the photo.
Girl.
Curling into herself, she began to cry. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. “A girl,” he whispered. “We’re having a little girl.”
“I’m gonna be really big,” she whined. “And I’m already always tired.”
“But a cute big and tired,” he said, trying to cheer her up.
But his efforts were cut short. His phone rang. The sound startling them both and wrenching him back into reality. She must’ve felt it too because she looked up at him with glassy, knowing eyes and nodded. “Guess the coast is clear.”
He sighed heavily, kissing her forehead, “I have to go.”
“Come back to me,” she whispered, as she had a dozen times before. She smiled sadly and tightened her grip on his hand. “Come back to us.”