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The new cushioned rocking chair in their living room was finally giving Natasha’s back some relief. As she slowly tipped to and fro, she splayed a hand over her rounded stomach with a sigh. She still had two months to go with this kid inside of her, and though she revelled in the emotional connection, the physical strain was rather irritating. But she knew that rest would not come easy once the baby was born; by the way the little menace kept her awake at night with kicking, she knew that she and James would have their hands full the moment the kid figured out how to walk.
As she frequently did nowadays, she began to wonder whether the baby would be more like her or James. Red or brown hair? Which shade of blue for the eyes? Short or tall? Would she be a perfect blend of both of them? They both had enhanced DNA, which was cause for great concern: their daughter would be the first child ever born with two genetically enhanced parents. There was no way to know how either of their serum’s would affect a developing fetus, or the baby once it was born.
But honestly, Natasha was more worried about the nurture than the nature aspect. James could now recall the majority of his life pre-Hydra, and he had had a nice, normal, family-filled youth. He knew how to care for loved ones and helped raise his siblings. She had never had a childhood. She had had one handler who could have passed as a father figure, but he still failed to protect her from the horrors of the Red Room. She was still molded into a weapon, a killer, an emotionless shell. Her greatest struggle as mother would be making sure her daughter never knew that kind of darkness. She would not let the terrors of her past nor the shadows lingering in her present affect her baby’s future. She may never be able to change the fact that the cold Russian winters still flowed in her veins, but -
Oh.
Oh, no.
Oh noooooo
Three minutes later, James came through the front door of the house, his arms laden with groceries. When he saw her, his eyes widened, and the bags fell gracelessly to the floor.
“Natalia,” he said as he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Nat, what’s wrong?”
Tears were streaming down her face. The hand over her mouth was shaking. James’s knuckles were white on the arms of the rocking chair.
When she pulled her hand away, her unceasing giggles escaped her.
“Natalia?”
“I’m a nesting doll,” she choked out. Then more giggles overwhelmed her. James tilted his head to the side, his brow furrowing. Natasha did her best to inhale steadily, but her laughter made it futile.
“What?”
“Matryoshka. Russian nesting doll. That’s me. I have a Russian inside of a Russian.”
A barking laugh escaped her, and she slapped her hand over her mouth again as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. James blinked, and then a slow smile spread across his face. He chuckled once. And then his shoulders shook. And soon he was falling back on his butt as his own laughter consumed him.
It took them five more minutes, but they were eventually able to catch their breath. James gathered the abandoned groceries again as she dried her cheeks and hauled herself out of the chair. When James returned, they shared goofy smiles, and he wrapped his arms around her as best he could.
“My dear matryoshka,” he said against her ear. “How would you like to have and American inside of you, too?”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head back so she could see his face. “I think I would prefer to have a peanut butter sandwich inside of me, first. And maybe pickles on the side.”
James sighed, but his smile only grew.
“Anything for you, Doll.”