For A Few Weeks, Claudia Thinks That She’s Collecting Her Son From The Hospital After He’s Visited

For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.

Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.

Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.

One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”

She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.

Claudia opens the door quietly.

It’s not Max who’s in the bed.

She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.

And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.

Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.

He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

She takes one step forward.

Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.

Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”

Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.

And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.

She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.

She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.

“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.

Dustin blinks, so unsure.

She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.

“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.

He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking. Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.

Eddie stares at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”

It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.

But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?

“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.

Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”

His hand is shaking again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”

Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.

Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”

When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.

“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”

Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.

“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know.”

It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.

And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.

The door abruptly slams open.

Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.

But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…

And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.

Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.

Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.

She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”

She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”

“As long as you do one thing for me.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”

Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”

Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.

“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”

“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”

The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…

Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.

“How did you know that?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”

“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”

“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”

She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”

They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.

Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.

Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”

“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”

“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”

“Yes, Dusty?”

“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”

“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”

Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dustin makes an uncertain noise.

“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.

“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”

Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”

“Great. Thank you, honey.”

Dustin’s already asleep.

Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.

Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.

But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.

Green paint

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: babysitting Morgan with Steve gets a little bit out of control.

Word count: 1,637

Warnings: fluff

Masterlist

“The number for the hotel is this one, the number for the restaurant we’ll be at is here, and this is her physicians numb- Y/n are you even listening?” Pepper asks as she notices you staring off.

“Yeah you said the number for hotel, restaurant and the morgue is on this nice fancy piece of paper”.

“You’re hilarious you know?”

“I know, look Pep it’s not the first time I’ve had the pleasure of babysitting Carly so don’t worry”

“Who the hell is Carly?” Tony asks as he walks in with your boyfriend, Steve.

“Umm your daughter, Pep sorry to tell you this but your husbands losing his mind”

“Doll stop winding them up” Steve chuckles coming over to you.

“I can’t help it, anyways I say this in the most nicest way possible but you two leave, eat food that cost way more than my apartment and top it off by having mind blowing s-“

“Alright alright we’re leaving Jesus Christ” Pepper practically shouts.

Tony hands Pepper her coat and purse as he calls for Morgan to come and say goodbye.

“Be good and we love you” Pepper says kissing her daughters cheek.

“Who me or auntie Y/n?” Morgan asks with her eyebrow slightly raised.

“Both.” Tony laughs.

The moment the door closes Morgan grips your hand in hers and drags you to her play room, talking a mile a minute.

“-then we’ll play dress up and then we’ll play with my dolls and-“

“Morg slow down sweetie” you say chuckling at the six year old.

“-and we’ll have nuggets and fries and…where’s uncle Stevie?”

“I’m here sweetheart, I was getting your juice for you”. He says and sure enough he had a juice box and a drink for the two of you.

“Thanks uncle Stevie”

“You’re welcome, so what’s the plan tonight then girlies?”

As Morgan retells her plans to him you stand and watch as the six foot super solider holds a pink bunny teddy in his hands, getting ready to hold the elephant teddy as Morgan hands them to him. You couldn’t help but take your phone out of your pocket and snap a few photos of him.

“What are you doing pretty girl?” He asks you after being handed the elephant and now crocodile teddy.

“Oh nothing pretty boy” winking at him as his cheeks start to turn a little shade of red.

Playing dress ups were done after 30 minutes as Morgan got bored of it.

Then you three played doctors, it was your turn to be the patient. You only went to the pretend hospital with a really bad tummy ache and left with an amputated leg. Thanks to Doctor Morgan and her assistant Steve - I wouldn’t recommend going there, ever.

Playing with her dolls was over with pretty quickly as all the dolls were tired and needed a nap.

Steve left Morgan’s playroom - which looked more like a toy store - to make dinner for the three of you, leaving you and Morgan sitting on the very comfortable bean bags.

“Auntie Y/n can I ask you something?”

“Of course pudding”

“When will you and uncle Stevie have babies?“

Ah the good old question your asked constantly now you’ve been dating Steve for five years. Explaining to adults was easy, it mainly consists of you telling them to mind their own business - not necessarily that politely - but explaining it to a six year old? That’s new territory, she’s never asked it before.

“I’m not sure sweetheart” is all you can say.

“Do you like babies?”

“No”

“Why?”

“Because they’re smelly”

“I wasn’t smelly” she laughs.

“Morg you was the smelliest baby in the whole world!”

Her cheeks puffed out as the smile grew more and more “no I wasn’t”

“I’m not lying to you”

“Auntie Y/n, where do babies come from?”

Oh boy. This whole conversation was throwing you off.

“Aliens” you even winced at your own reply.

“Aliens?” She raises her eyebrow reminding you so much of her father.

“Yep. Aliens come and drop off babies to parents”

“How do they make them?”

This girl was killing you.

“Magic?”

“Magic.” She gives you a deadpan look as you nod.

The second you heard Steve call for you two, you practically ran out of the room.

During dinner Morgan told Steve all about where babies came from and how they were made, his eyes looked over at you and with a straight face you nodded, agreeing with the girl.

“Auntie Y/n uncle Stevie” Morgan’s voice trailed down the corridor.

“What’s up?” You asked as you walked down to where she was.

“It’s time to paint”.

“Oh sweetie I don’t think that’s a good idea” Steve says softly.

It wasn’t. The last time you three painted together things…kinda got a little out of hand. Paint was everywhere. All over the floor, walls and even the ceiling.

Tony and Pepper weren’t happy.

“But please uncle Stevie!”

“Maybe if we do damage control it won’t be as bad as last time?” You asked, the pleading in Morgan’s voice chipped away at your heart.

“Babe, we said that last time”

“It’s okay uncle Stevie. I’ll sit in the corner” you both watch as she walks over to the corner and sits down with a huff.

“I’m not giving in Y/n!”

“Nope neither am I…but she looks so sad”

“Alright fine! But the moment things get out of hand we put everything away okay!”

“Yes yes thank you uncle Stevie your the best”

Steve places a kiss to her forehead and watches as she goes to her paint stand, pulling tub and tub out. “I was talking to you too doll”.

“I’ll behave, scouts honour”.

The three of you had been painting for well over an hour, showing each other your paintings after you finished them.

You were adding the last little bit of detail to your latest masterpiece when you felt something splattering across your face.

“Was…that…what…I…think…it…is” looking up from your work to Steve and Morgan who both sit there trying to contain their laughter.

“I won’t ask again you two”

“It’s paint auntie Y/n” Morgan bursts out laughing.

“I’m sorry doll but she told me to do it”

“Yo-you threw paint at me? Steven!”

“Oh oh you’re in trouble” Morgan sings looking towards Steve.

“Babe, Morgan told me to d-“

You cut him off with flicking your brush at him, leaving pink splashes of paint on his face.

He actually had the audacity to looked shocked whilst you smirked.

Morgan’s laughter filled the whole room but she too falls victim when you and Steve flick paint at her.

All three of you come to a stand-off. Eyes bouncing from one another. Armed and ready with paint. Silently daring each other to be the first one to make a move.

Morgan’s the first one to attack.

Brushes were long gone as hands were going into the larger tubs so you can get your next victim easier.

The screams and laughter fills the whole penthouse.

You stalked towards Morgan who was laughing whilst pleading for you not to get her, you was about to reach out for her when her eyes went wide, bouncing from you and behind you. Her arms went out and she started muttering.

Deciding to look behind you, you see your ever so loving boyfriend smiling at you.

When you see his hands it becomes your turn for your eyes to open wide like saucers and you’re moving away from Morgan.

His hands are dripping in green paint.

"Do not touch me!" You speak lowly.

“I wasn’t”

“I mean it Steve do not touch me!”

“I wasn’t!”

“Back up. Now, Steve!”

Morgan stands there eyes still wide and in fact they somehow grow even more. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’s finding the whole situation funny, her aunt and uncle slowly moving around the room - her auntie trying to escape her uncle whilst he tries to catch her - at six years old she’s smart, she knows that if her uncle puts his green hands on her auntie it’s going to take her auntie forever to get it all off.

“I’m not doing anything baby!”

“Morgan…give me some more paint” Morgan listens and finally moves, going straight for the pink paint. “Thanks sweetie”.

“Babe you’re overreacting, I wasn’t going to do anything”

“Ov-overreacting? How dare you!”

Morgan watches as her favourite auntie and uncle move closer to each other now that Y/n had more paint to her hands. Even though she’s six years old she knows, she knows that after tonight she won’t be seeing the pair for a few weeks.

You and Steve were about to pounce on each other when you feel cold liquid drenching the pair of you.

Shocked you look to the side where Morgan stands with a grimace on her face. The now empty tub of green paint tightly held in her hands.

Before anyone can say anything the door comes open and a scream breaks the silence.

Pepper.

“Oh my… I think I’m having a heart attack!”

The three of you had gotten so carried away with the battle you were in that you didn’t realise how much paint was getting everywhere.

It was so much worse than last time.

So much worse.

“That was so fun auntie and uncle, we should do it again next time”

You, Steve and Morgan are in different parts of the room. Scrubbing and cleaning up all the now dried paint off.

“There’s not going to be a next time” Tony’s voice says but looking around the room you don’t see him. “Top left corner” you could practically hear the eye roll he did.

And that’s when you see it. The camera.

“Back to work!”

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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queen-honeybee-stories

1 year ago

[While decorating the Christmas tree]

Steve: Why is everybody using these tiny little lights nowadays? I remember when people used to use big lights.

Natasha: That's a good story, Grandpa.

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queen-honeybee-stories

1 year ago

Hear me out…

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queen-honeybee-stories

2 years ago

Other bloggers: man I need to clean out my askbox

Me:

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queen-honeybee-stories

1 year ago

I Love…

Summary: A request from @rororo06: “Chris Evans x reader where something is really bothering her and she says she’s fine but Chris doesn’t buy it.“

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~900

a/n: As always, let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You thought you were concealing it well, but he noticed.

He noticed when you went to sleep three hours earlier than normal.

He noticed when you didn’t sing along to your favorite song in the car.

He noticed when you stared off into space during breakfast and barely ate before leaving for work.

Now you’re sitting together watching a movie like you do most Friday nights when you’re both home. Admittedly, you’re having a hard time focusing. You can feel Chris stare in your direction all of a sudden, though.

“I can feel that,” you mumble.

Keep reading

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queen-honeybee-stories

7 months ago

Pregnancy Pillow vs Captain America

Pairings: Dad-to-be Steve Rogers x Pregnant Reader. Themes/Summary:Light-hearted. Steve is feeling lonely on his side of the bed, and it's the pregnancy pillow's fault. A/N: I haven't been giving Steve some love lately. . . so here a cute little oneshot of how he will react when y/n brings out the pregnancy pillow. I don't own any of the images ya'll credits to their owners.

tags: @mrsevans90 @haruvalentine4321

Steve comes out of the ensuite after his shower, his white t-shirt clinging to his body and hair damp. He throws you an easy smile, the kind that makes his blue eyes crinkle at the corners, as he heads towards the bedroom. But the moment he steps inside, he halts mid-stride, staring at the bed like it’s personally offended him.

There it is again: the pregnancy pillow. An immovable, unforgiving barricade that now divides your once-cozy bed like a dam, stretching from one end to the other. Steve tilts his head, squinting at it as if that might reduce its size.

He throws his hands on his hips and sighs dramatically.

“You know, I fought Hydra,” he says, voice dripping with exasperation. “I’ve been through hell and back. But this—” he gestures to the pillow, “—is the one enemy I can’t seem to defeat.”

You burst into laughter from your side of the bed, propped up by a series of other pillows meant to cushion every conceivable ache or discomfort. “Steve, it’s a pillow.”

“It’s a monstrosity,” he argues. “It’s like the Great Wall of China, but made out of—” he pokes at it cautiously, like it might snap back at him, “—fluffy foam and… whatever this is.” He groans, flopping down onto his side of the bed with a huff.

“Pregnancy pillows are supposed to be supportive,” you say in an exaggeratedly sweet tone, rolling your eyes.

“Supportive?” He scoffs, attempting to squeeze his hand through the tiny gap between the pillow and your hip. “It’s so supportive I need to make an appointment to get within three feet of my wife.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh as you watch him contort, his long arms flailing. “I know it’s not ideal, but I need it, Steve.”

“Why does it have to be so big?” He sounds like a sullen child, tugging at the end of the pillow like he’s considering wrestling it out of the bed entirely. “Can’t they make a smaller one? One that doesn’t make me feel like I’m living on the opposite side of the planet?”

You shake your head. “Trust me, if there were a way to make it smaller and still work, I’d be using it.”

Steve finally manages to get a bit of his arm over the pillow’s edge, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. He lets out a soft noise of triumph, and then—he leans in close, his forehead almost bumping the pillow’s fabric.

“Hey,” he murmurs, as if the pillow itself is an eavesdropper. “Wanna come over to my side?”

Your laugh breaks out fully then. “Are you trying to seduce me over a pillow, Rogers?”

“Absolutely,” he deadpans, his face all faux-seriousness. He wiggles his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I’ve got ‘plenty’ of space over here, you know. Might be a little lonely, though. Could use some company.”

You lean back into the pillow, giggling at the sight of this fully-grown super soldier pouting at a piece of fabric. “I’m not crawling over this thing. You’ll just have to wait until the baby’s born.”

Steve blinks, his face crumpling in over-the-top shock. “Wait. Until the baby is born? That’s months away!”

“Yup.” You nod solemnly, enjoying the way his mouth drops open.

“Months?” He repeats, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m supposed to be a dad in a few months and I can’t even get a hug?”

You finally give in, shifting to face him.

“C’mere, you big baby.” With some maneuvering, you manage to reach over the pillow, clasping his face between your hands. He grins triumphantly and leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as if it’s the greatest victory he’s ever won.

Steve kisses your palm, peeking an eye open at the pillow. “We’re not done yet, pillow,” he mutters dramatically, earning another peal of laughter from you.

He straightens and stares at the pillow again, rubbing his chin like he’s trying to come up with a strategy. “Maybe… I can find a way to make this work.”

“Oh really?” you tease. “You’re gonna outsmart a pillow?”

“Absolutely.” He nods firmly. “If I can’t get past it, I’ll just have to—” With sudden determination, Steve heaves his leg over the top of the pillow, straddling it awkwardly like he’s mounting a wild horse. You raise an eyebrow, biting back a grin.

“Steve—”

He shushes you, waving a hand. “Shh. Let me have this.”

You watch, thoroughly amused, as he tries to maneuver his entire body over the pillow without crushing it—or falling off the bed. He flops, shifts, and mutters curses under his breath, but finally—finally—he makes it to your side, lying beside you with a triumphant smirk.

“See?” he pants, a little out of breath. “I did it.”

“Wow,” you say, clapping lightly. “Captain America, conqueror of pillows.”

“Damn right.” He beams at you, his face flushed from the exertion. “Now…” He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, despite the awkward angle. His hand, large and warm, comes to rest gently on your rounded stomach. His thumb makes slow circles over the fabric of your nightshirt, brushing against the small rise. The smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost reverent.

“Hey there, little one.”

The teasing, playful glint in his eyes fades to something softer, more intense as he gazes down at your belly. His palm splays wide, covering the bump entirely, and he rubs with a featherlight touch. You feel the familiar flutter of movement beneath his hand, and Steve’s entire face lights up.

“Did you feel that?” He whispers, eyes wide with wonder, his breath catching.

You nod, your hand covering his, sharing the moment with him. “That’s your baby, Steve.”

He swallows hard, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes as he continues to trace gentle patterns on your skin. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I can’t believe… this is happening.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion he’s never been able to hide from you. “You’re going to be a wonderful dad.”

He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Only because you’re going to be an amazing mom,” he murmurs against your skin. His hand lingers on your stomach, his fingers spreading as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of it.

The baby shifts again, and Steve lets out a soft laugh, a sound filled with awe. “I’m pretty sure this little one already loves you more than anyone else.”

“And what about you?” you tease, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

He shrugs, eyes still fixed on your stomach. “I’ll just have to win them over.” He glances up, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “Starting with getting rid of this pillow.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, Captain. It stays.”

He sighs dramatically but leans down to kiss your belly one more time. “Okay, okay, you win,” he mutters, though the smile on his face is nothing short of blissful. “For now.”

You lean back, resting your hand atop his, and the two of you stay like that for a while—Steve murmuring quiet promises to the baby, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your belly. Even with the pillow still stubbornly wedged between you, it’s one of the most intimate moments you’ve ever shared.

Steve might be fighting a losing battle against the Great Pillow, but right now, with his hand on your stomach and your laughter filling the room, he’s never felt closer to you.

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