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Sharon was having a bad day.
She was a grouch in the mornings.so that wasn’t even a part of it, but desk work was not agreeing with her.
She tried it. She really did. Every morning she woke up cranky, made her coffee, dressed herself in a buttoned-up blouse, there was a blazer to pair with her trousers because she refused to wear those god-awful skirts anymore, and she carried a briefcase. A briefcase! All because she agreed she would lay off fieldwork.
They both did. But Steve’s work as a consultant with the Avengers had him going back and forth between their apartment and the Avengers Compound, and he certainly did not need to carry a briefcase. Not that Steve would mind.
When she first came home with the laptop-provided briefcase, he looked on with an eager smile on his face. His eyes even sparkled a little, and he told her it suited her. Sharon rolled her eyes at that.
So after months of moping quietly to herself and buried in stacks of paperwork, she secured a field opportunity in Wyoming.
Steve would not be happy.
It would be an easy recon though. Nothing drastic. Easing back in with a simple task would be the perfect opportunity to convince him that this life wasn't for her.
She could tell he missed it too. He was stubborn, but so was she, and that meant neither of them would pop the question.
This task was for Fury. Of course, it was for Fury. He'd been muttering to himself ever since she requested desk work, and to be fair, the report she was working on had everything to do with the recon. It was the perfect combination of the two, and it only gave just cause to her actually being there.
So her day wasn’t too bad. She was happy and ecstatic after receiving the mission details and excited to stretch herself past the confines of her desk.
The problem?
Steve.
Sharon spent the rest of the afternoon rubbing her temples and formulating a decent opener with how to bring up the subject. To make matters worse, he’d been excited to spend the holidays tucked neatly away in a blanket in front of their fireplace together.
It was a nice picture that he painted. She remembered making a sarcastic remark about it, and Steve being Steve, just laughed and poked her in the area between her eyebrows. He always said she grumbled too much and that the line there was becoming more prominent by the day. She let him do it most of the time, and this fireplace idea was one of those times.
The mission would see her back a day before Christmas, so really, there was nothing to be worried about..right? Sure, he wouldn’t get the two weeks of cuddling he had in mind, but she’d still be home before the twenty-fifth.
It was strange. The more Sharon thought about this, the more it sounded convincing. But she wasn’t Steve.
They were doing so well too, and while Sharon spoke her mind and did as she pleased, and he certainly didn’t have a choice in the matter and he let her be, they were also in a place in their relationship where it was so good, she almost didn’t believe it.
Their relationship was always rough. There were always people in the way, fights that had to be won, disagreements... The time they spent apart played more of a key role in it all. That, and death. And now, they were... good.
As the day passed, her mood turned sour. She usually left by three-thirty. It was a deal she secured with Fury and one that Steve strongly suggested she stick to. The consequences for staying past three-thirty was nearly an hour-long wait during rush hour in her car, and that would not do well for the throbbing vein pumping in her temple. She wasn’t the most patient person.
So now, not only was she thinking about this mission and Steve, some poor soul actually cut her off on the freeway.
It just wasn’t a good day.
When she finally pulled into the parking stall of their apartment, Sharon spent a good fifteen minutes seated in the driver’s seat. She stared at the wheel, at her reflection on the rearview mirror, the dash-- anything she could find that would delay her from taking the elevator up.
She was confident around noon. She even had a speech prepared, and now she already felt stirrings of their inevitable argument as she dragged her feet away from the parking and through the doors. Her shoulders were slumped and the churning pit in her stomach was becoming worse.
She just couldn’t stand seeing that look on his face. The holidays meant everything to him. He told her once that he missed his mother, and that they had little time to spend together because she was often away to tend to patients. He cherished what little time they had, but most of his holidays were spent alone.
He pulled her in his arms then and whispered that he was thankful they were spending their first Christmas together.
Her lips twisted at the memory.
“Sharon?”
She blinked.
How long had she been standing outside their door?
Her keys were still in her hand, and she dropped her eyes to stare at them. He must have heard the jingle of the metal or heard her footsteps draw closer to the door. He had impeccable hearing after all. She should have known.
“Sharon,” he said again, and this time she could hear the worry in his tone. “Did something happen?”
She shook her head and feigned a smile. Steve let her pass and took her briefcase from her hand. He set it on top of the dining table as she slipped off her shoes. He was watching her carefully, waiting. Her blazer came off next, and she hung it on the back of the dining room chair. He hated it when she did that, but he let it slide. He was still waiting.
“I’m taking a shower,” she mumbled.
Damn it.
She wasn’t a coward.
He may have opened his mouth to say something, but she brushed by so quickly and was in the shower the next minute.
She busied herself with the shampoo and the hot water, but she glanced at the closed door several times and saw the shadows of his feet between the gap and the light from their bedroom. He was pacing.
Sharon sighed. If she stayed any longer, he would become more worried. She never took long showers.
She twisted the knob and watched the water dribble from the showerhead. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. His shadow was still outside the door. He knew something was wrong and was itching to ask.
She wrapped herself in the towel and swung the door open.
Steve stepped to the side to give her some space, and she briskly walked by and to the dresser.
It was coming. She didn’t need to wait long.
“What’s on your mind?”
She drummed her fingers on top of the dresser. Her hair was damp, and she hadn’t dried herself properly. The carpet was slowly becoming a mess. He hated when she did that too, but he wasn’t commenting on it this time.
“I may go on a recon,” she said, and she looked over her shoulder.
He blinked. “A recon,” he repeated.
“It’ll be short. Two weeks max. There’s no one more fit for this mission than me.”
Steve was looking at her now with his lips slightly pursed and his eyebrows knitted together. She could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully.
“This isn’t up for debate,” he said. “You’ve already decided.”
She sighed. “I have.”
“But you’ll be back before Christmas?”
Sharon raised an eyebrow. “I should be.”
Steve dug his hands in his pockets and they were quiet for a while.
“Okay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Okay?” She scrunched her nose. “What the does that mean?”
He tilted his head to one side. “What do you mean?”
What…was he on about? She continued to glare. “That’s it? Just okay?”
There was amusement in his eyes. “You’ve been miserable for a while now, Sharon. Don’t think I didn't notice,” he said. “You’re cranky, you growl in the morning, and I see the speeding tickets you hide underneath the fruit bowl.”
“Your point?” She crossed her arms over her chest and a small grin appeared on his lips.
He took a few steps forward and his hands bunched around her waist and her wet towel. He pressed his forehead on hers. “I’m saying that I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”
She scrunched her nose. “You were waiting for me to say something?”
Steve continued to smirk. “Yes.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“You mean to tell me I’ve been tip-toeing around this thing, and you were just alright with it this whole time?” She narrowed her eyes.
He chuckled. “We promised to be honest, Sharon.”
He pulled her closer, and she leaned back and away, pushing the side of his cheek. “You made me rush through traffic,” she grumbled.
“Oh?” His eyes danced.
“Yes. You jeopardized the safety of civilians."
He laughed. "Is that so?"
Sharon let out a breath. "You're okay with this? Are you sure?"
He gently smiled. "I'm sure."
She tapped his cheek. "I'll be home for Christmas."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," he warned. "We're due for snow before Christmas. I wouldn't want you to miss it."
Sharon brought her arms around his neck. "I'll find a way. I promise."
When she left the following morning, her shoulders fell, because Steve was going through the boxes of decorations like an eager boy on Christmas day. He stopped to bid her farewell and it ended with her clothes pooled at her feet.
Damn him. Now she was late.
Sharon cursed to herself all the way to the jet, and her partner, a newly appointed S.H.I.E.L.D. agent nearly bit off his tongue when he saw her mood.
The mission was meant to be relatively simple. There was a political figure they needed to deliver to Chicago. The diplomat, a round and stubby fellow, had business in Wyoming for the next week, and she was meant to be in a party of five that needed to secure his safety.
She spoke to Steve when she could, and on the sixth day in, she was allowed to slip out and catch some sleep in the early afternoon. It was much needed. She was feeling queasy, but she decided to call him anyway and turn on her video.
He was in his pajamas. Christmas ones. He smiled and walked her through their gloriously decorated apartment.
“A little much, don’t you think?” She hid a grin.
“It’s our first Christmas,” he said. “I even bought marshmallows.”
Sharon pressed her lips together, amused. “Oh?”
“It’s for the hot chocolate,” he said. “I bought some of that too.”
“You’ve been busy.”
He bobbed his head. “How are things? You’re leaving tomorrow for Chicago?”
She sighed. “That’s the plan. Hopefully it goes well. Something just doesn’t seem right.”
His brows furrowed. “But you’re safe?”
She gave him a lazy smile. “Yes, I’m safe," she said. "Is it snowing yet."
He looked disappointed. "No. I think it's waiting for you." He gave her a boyish smile.
He called her again later that night, but she was preoccupied trailing behind the entourage of vehicles to the last gala on their itinerary.
She nibbled on her bottom lip and eyed the flashing screen on her phone. Steve was relentless. She would need to make it up to him somehow.
The gunfire was something she didn’t anticipate, not in the middle or the afternoon, but considering Fury wanted her on this mission, she should have seen the ambush coming.
Unfortunately, this changed their plans, and while Sharon was able to get him to safety, the transport to Chicago had to be put on hold until they were able to ensure that they could fly without trouble.
Her shoulders slumped. She felt sick already. This would set her back another few days, and when she got Steve on the phone, she silently wished she hadn't opted for the video option.
For one, he looked worried and commented on how she looked pale, and second, he looked downright crushed.
"So you'll be back the day after Christmas?" His face fell.
Sharon sighed and rubbed her temples. "Most likely."
He hummed. "You're not looking very well."
"Gee. Thanks."
He frowned. "I want to say I want to fill in and help out, but then I know you'll be upset. Please just come home in one piece."
"I will. Save me that hot cocoa."
He smiled. "Haven't even opened it. I was waiting for you."
There was a problem.
A big one.
While they were transporting the diplomat to the safehouse before the flight, she felt...sick. Really sick.
Her partner had to take over, because she emptied her stomach, pulled over on a side street that had the whole entourage or vehicles behind them stopped.
When they finally arrived, she excused herself. She hadn't eaten for nearly twenty four hours like she promised Steve she would. She could almost picture his grumbling face in the toilet bowl.
The safehouse was on the outskirts of town, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was sending a jet in the late evening with several more agents to assist.
Sharon frowned. When the jet landed and they boarded, the medical team approached her and started their protocol and questions. She eyed her partner with a subtle glare, rolled her eyes, and proceeded to the end tail of the jet.
"Swab."
"Is this necessary?" she asked.
The woman with med stared at her from her pointy nose. "It's protocol. We need to make sure you're not carrying a contagious disease. Someone could have slipped something into your food that could jeopardize the mission."
Sharon raised an eyebrow. "Will I explode and take down the jet?"
"Funny," the woman said, lightly chuckling. "It's happened before." She dipped the swab in a tube and placed it in the briefcase to analyze.
She was tapping on her computer, and Sharon sighed and watched.
"I guess I've been out of the loop. Haven't done this for a while," she mumbled.
The woman gave her a supportive smile. "I think you're doing just fine," she said. "I'm sure it's nothing--"
Sharon watched her brows wrinkle. "What is it?" She eyed the screen.
The woman gave her a firm look. "There's an abnormality."
--
The door creaked shut behind her, and Sharon dragged her feet and carefully listened.
It was quiet.
She was alone, but she tiptoed anyway down the entryway hall. There were decorations scattered and hung just as Steve showed her a few days back, and she softly smiled at the dangling snowflakes above the fireplace.
The led lights danced in front of her. It wasn't a real fireplace. New condominiums wouldn't allow them, and she remembered Steve making a face a few times when they were first scouting for an apartment until he finally caved. The view from the balcony was beautiful in the morning, and they were facing west which he loved so he could paint the sunset.
There were two bedrooms, and she thoroughly convinced him that it was just the right amount of space they needed. She was a minimalist, and Steve's personal belongings consisted more of art supplies than anything else. All in all, it was the perfect home, and Sharon was a little attached if she were being honest.
She gently smiled but arched a brow at the bare tree. Boxes of ornaments were still stacked next to it.
Steve's favorite was the tree, and he--
"You're home."
She turned and her cheek dimpled.
He was standing by the entryway hall, clad in his sweats and running shoes. His cheeks were slightly flushed from his morning run, but he beamed at her.
"I thought I had an intruder," he said.
Sharon pressed her lips together, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "And who said you couldn't be a spy? That was some next level sneaking."
He slid his hands in his pockets and took a few steps forward, inching closer to her. "You're a good instructor."
"Oh?" Her eyes twinkled. Steve tilted his head to one side, and she gestured with her head. "Mind telling me why my tree is still naked?"
"I thought I'd save the decorating."
She hiked a brow. "And why's that?"
"Not the same with you so far away," he said.
She grinned and shook her head. "You're impossible."
His hands snaked around her waist, and he dipped his face down and kissed her forehead. "You weren't supposed to be back for another few days."
Sharon sighed and gave him a defeated smile. "Surprise?"
He scoffed. "I think I know you better than that," he said. "What happened?"
She cleared her throat and lightly pushed his chest. He took a step back and his brows furrowed.
"Sharon, what is it?"
She rubbed the side or her temple, and she paced in front of the fireplace. "I ran into a...complication."
He narrowed his eyes. "What complication?"
His tone was hard and firm, and Sharon sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Maybe we should decorate the tree first," she said.
His lips thinned. "Sharon, what is it?"
She sighed again and shook her head, holding onto his hands. "It's nothing. Can we just decorate the tree?" His nostrils flared, and she poked his cheek. "Please?"
Sharon had a feeling this wasn't over, but he was willing to let it slide for now. She was thankful for that. She was exhausted from the flight, and she just wanted to spend this time alone with him.
"It's a little crooked."
Steve raised an eyebrow but got up on his toes to move the star again. "There."
She frowned. "No. I don't like that. It doesn't look right."
"It looks the same, Sharon."
She waved a hand. "No, no. Try more to the right."
"There."
"A little to the left."
"Fine."
"It still doesn't look right." She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
Steve swung an arm around her and glanced at the star. "Maybe we should have the angel up instead."
Her eyes brightened. "The angel!" She bobbed her head and beamed.
He chuckled and shook his head, and the angel went up to the top of the tree.
Sharon released a satisfied sigh. "It's perfect."
"Wish it were snowing though," Steve told her. "The weather forecast keeps changing."
She tilted her head to rest it on his shoulder and smiled sweetly at the tree. "I'm sure it'll pick up."
"Hope so."
--
She really should tell him, but there was never a good time.
It was their first Christmas together, and Steve was ecstatic now that she was back. There were several holiday events around town that he listed for them to visit. Most were lights and parks, and others were markets filled with festivities.
His eyes were bright and animated, and he tugged at her hand, and they kissed under the mistletoe.
By the time they returned home, Sharon was exhausted. Steve was still going on about the lights and the train ride, and she lingered by the kitchen counter.
She placed her elbows on the marble and swallowed the tanginess in her throat.
"I'm just surprised they let us ride. It never said it was for children. They should have put up a sign," he said.
Sharon blinked, and she lightly shook her head as her fingers doubled in front of her.
"But the candied popcorn was good. Wish it was snowing though--"
"Steve."
He turned and caught wind of her pale face. He rushed towards her.
"They wouldn't let me see her."
Sharon stirred.
"But I insisted, and--- No, I'm still waiting. I'm in the room with her now."
Her brows furrowed. She could tell Steve was frantic even while his voice came off smooth.
"I'll call you when we're--the doctor's here. I need to go."
Sharon blinked a few times. Her vision was still blurry. She saw tall, broad shoulders and the back of Steve's head.
"We found something."
That was a different voice.
"What is it? What's wrong with her?"
Sharon's throat was dry. No. Wait. Not now. Not here.
There was a sigh. "I think it's best we speak with the patient privately."
"No."
She tried to smack her dry lips together. "Steve."
He was by her side instantly and his face was clear now. He stroked the top of her head.
"Shh. Don't talk," he told her, and he looked over his shoulder to the man by the doorway dressed in a white coat. "What's wrong with her?"
Sharon watched the man approach.
"Ms. Carter, are you consenting to having…" He eyed Steve. "--him present for your results."
She lowered her eyes and pressed her lips together. "I--" She glanced at Steve's pleading eyes. "I don't mind."
The doctor sighed and pushed his spectacles up. He tapped a pen on his clipboard.
Steve narrowed his eyes, and Sharon paled.
"You may or may not know already, Ms. Carter, but it seems you're due in seven months."
Sharon nodded slowly, and Steve's eyes moved back and forth between them
"Due for what?" he asked.
She placed her hand on top of his. "I didn't want you to find out this way," she said. "I wanted to wait for the right time."
Steve's face crumbled. "Sharon, are you...are you dying?"
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
She thought she saw his bottom lip quiver. "Dying," he said. "Are you...dying?"
The doctor scoffed behind them, and Steve shot him a glare.
"I'll leave you two."
He darted out of the room quickly, and Steve turned back to her, both his hands on top of hers.
"Sharon. I can't--" he started.
"Steve."
"I can't lose you." He dropped his head.
Sharon exhaled. "Steve, will you let me--"
"There's so much that we haven't…and we need to, and I just can't--"
Her eyes sharpened. "Will you let me finish?" she hissed.
His eyes widened.
"I'm not dying," she said firmly. "Do you understand?"
He opened his mouth and she narrowed her eyes.
"I'm not dying," she repeated. "There's no danger, there's--" She paused.
Why was this so hard?
She fidgeted, and Steve took a sharp inhale.
"When I was on the mission, they had to send me back. It's protocol, and...I wanted to get home to you right away." Sharon pressed her lips together. "I wanted to tell you, but there wasn't a good time, and we were having so much fun."
His brows furrowed. "Tell me what? If there's no danger, Sharon, then what is it? You're lying in a damn hospital bed."
"I'm," she paused. "I'm expecting. I was late, and I didn’t notice"
He blinked. "Expecting what? Late…late for what? Where were you going?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm expecting , Steve, as in, we won't be alone in seven months."
He quirked a brow.
"Damnit, Steve. I'm pregnant, okay?"
His mouth fell open.
"There," she said, grumbling. "This isn't where I wanted to discuss this, but that's why I was sent home, and that's why I've been feeling sick, and why the damn star didn't look straight."
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You're...pregnant?" He smiled brightly.
She nodded slowly and her frown disappeared. "Is that...okay?"
"Of course that's okay," he said, and he was still grinning. "That's fantastic."
She looked on curiously. "It is?"
"Sharon, this is great news," he said, and he leaned forward and placed his lips on her forehead.
The corners of her lips twitched, and she smiled. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it," she said. "You wanted to get a dog."
"We can still get a dog," he said.
She chuckled, and she leaned into him. "Steve." Her eyes flickered to the window, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Look. It's snowing. Looks like you got your wish after all."
Her cheek dimpled as more snow piled on the windowsill.
He was still smiling, and he turned back to her and moved his hand to her stomach. He sighed. "I did." He rubbed his fingers in slow circles. "But I'm more excited for this."
She met his eyes. "Me too."