#heart skip

[after-avenging-hours]

Heart Skip [Epilogue]: Steve Rogers x Reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Series Summary:  A soulmate AU where from the moment you are born, two partners share a heartbeat.  They race in times of joy, slow in times of sadness, and they skip at the same moment. They share every big emotion, including heartbreak. Based on this post

Chapter Summary: After saving the world from Thanos and bringing back those that were lost to the first snap, you decide to travel back in time with Steve to return all of the Infinity Stones. In 1970, Steve confesses that he wants this to be his last mission, because he's ready to finally give you everything you've been waiting for.

Word Count: 15,820

A/N: When the epilogue is a quarter the size of the entire series, you know the author is unhinged 🤣

Heart Skip / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /  Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 /  Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 /  Part 16 / Part 17

Warnings: 18+, Contains explicit sexual content, baby making talk, unprotected sex, slight breed kink, pregnancy, Steve is insatiable, babydaddy!Steve, lots of emotional scenes (mostly happy crying), changing the canon ending of several characters (i.e. nobody's dying on my watch), female reader, no use of Y/N

Divider Credit

The next few years are an absolute whirlwind. Once your business takes off, you start traveling nearly as much as Steve does. You get invited to fashion shows, design outfits for celebrities, and do all sorts of collaborations and charity work across the globe. You’re at a show in Milan when the whole Ultron/Sokovia fiasco occurs. Then again in Paris, when the Accords break up the team. After that, the only times you get to see Steve are during stolen moments in hotel rooms or for a few weeks at a time in Wakanda.

It’s there that you get introduced to Bucky’s firecracker of a soulmate, who’s staying there with him while he’s in recovery from the Winter Soldier commands. The two of you bond immediately over your shared experiences of being soulmated to the two super soldiers and become fast friends. Also, whenever you’re in Wakanda, you get to use all the training Natasha has been giving you and take it to the next level by training with the Dora Milaje. They kick your ass basically every time, but you’re lasting longer against them with every session.

Everything changes when Thanos appears. That time, you had actually been home in New York. You saw the giant circular spaceship hovering over the city with your own eyes, only for it to disappear back into space carrying Ironman, Doctor Strange, and Spiderman. When Steve called you later to warn you about what was coming, it felt like a stone settling in your stomach. You knew that he had faced several dangers before and always managed to survive, but something about this particular threat just seemed so much worse than anything he had faced before. And then, the unthinkable happened. Steve lost.

Sam. Wanda. Bucky and his soulmate. T’challa and Shuri. So many people. Gone. With just the snap of a finger.

When Steve came back, he wasn’t the same. He was broken. Defeated. He’d lost more than just the battle. He’s lost his team. His friends. He lost half of the whole world. And he shouldered that burden as if he were the embodiment of Atlas. He carried the guilt like shackles on his wrists and weights on his ankles.

All you could do was be there for him. You were a shoulder to lean on. Someone to help carry the load on the rare occasions he would let you. A warm embrace to chase away the nightmares of that day on the battlefield. You let him grieve and take the time he needed to figure out his next steps.

Then Scott Lang arrived at the front gate of the Avengers compound, and suddenly Steve was full of hope again. The plan was insane, but you couldn’t deny the spark that was making Steve’s eyes shine brighter than they had in years. You watch from the foot of the time travel platform as the team shrinks out of sight to retrieve the infinity stones from the past. The feeling in your chest for the few seconds that they’re gone is incredibly uncomfortable. Even though you know Steve is alive, apparently, him existing in a separate timeline from where you are makes the bond do strange things. It feels like your heart is beating in an echo chamber. It’s slightly painful and highly unpleasant, but then you blink and he’s suddenly back. The echoes of pain disappear, only for your heart to break all over again when you realize that Natasha didn’t make it back at all. You’re still grieving the loss of your close friend when the team assembles the new Infinity Gauntlet and Bruce uses it to snap everyone back into existence.

When the second Thanos appears and blows up the compound, it’s only Steve’s fast reflexes that keep you both alive. He wraps his arms around you and clutches your body to his chest, using his shield to protect you from the majority of the blast and the falling rubble. The ensuing battle is complete and utter chaos. You thought the battle at the Triskelion was bad, but that was like a child playing Battleship in the bathtub compared to the madness of this fight. There are enemies raining down from the sky. Allies coming out of glowing, mystical portals. Steve is fighting with fucking Mjolnir. And you’re using every single bit of training you’ve learned over the last several years just to stay alive.

When Tony uses the stones to snap away Thanos and his army, you nearly weep from relief and exhaustion, but then you realize what he’s actually just done, and you rush over. “Strange!” you yell out, grabbing his attention. You ignore the sting of your knees when you fall onto them next to Pepper and grip her shoulders. “Deep breaths, Pepper. Don’t let your heart stop,” you tell your mentor and friend sternly. You hear the crunch of gravel behind you where Steven Strange lands and crouches in front of Tony. “Hurry and use the Time Stone to reverse the damage,” you tell him.

He inspects the damage that’s been done to Tony’s arm and frowns. “I can’t reverse something that the time stone already directly caused.”

Your hands rub over Pepper’s shoulders encouragingly. “Then use it to reverse the damage created by the other stones. That should be enough to minimize the damage to keep Tony alive. We are not making an orphan of his kid. You’re a doctor, so fucking fix this.”

He raises a brow at being ordered around by you, but proceeds to pull the green stone out of Tony’s gauntlet and starts trying to reverse the damage. The other stones resist at first, but Steve had told you about how the first Thanos used the Time Stone to bring Vision back to life, so you knew that you had to at least try it here.

Sure enough, the damage from the other stones begins to reverse, and Tony gets some color back into his cheeks. Pepper collapses in your arms, but her breathing stays steady. By the time Strange is finished, Tony is also passed out, but is still alive. There’s a collective sigh of relief from nearly everyone on the battlefield. It had been an extremely close call.

The Sorcerer Supreme gives you a nod of approval when he’s finished. “That was some quick thinking there, Mrs. Rogers.”

You give him an exhausted smile. “I learned from the best.” Your eyes move to find your husband’s, where he’s standing just a few steps away, looking just as exhausted as you feel, but smiling so proudly that a gentle warmth settles deep in your belly.

There are several days of celebration all across the globe. Steve practically doesn’t let you out of his sight. He kisses you just about every chance he gets and keeps you in bed in the mornings until well past sunrise. You’ve both decided that you’re going to return the stones together. Just those few seconds apart had been a nightmare for you, and even though he’d traveled to timelines that still had you in them, his own experience with the separated bond hadn’t been very pleasant either. You spend those days after the battle planning out the journey before the two of you are suited up and ready to go.

Dr. Strange has already used the time stone to turn the other stones back into their original forms, and then you shrink them using Pym particles, so that they’ll all fit nicely inside a single carrying case. The Wakandans also repaired Steve’s broken shield for him, and he had Mjolnir ready to be returned back to the time where Thor took it from.

Steve takes your hand and helps you step up onto the platform. “Ready to go?” he asks, feeling your elevated heart rate in his chest.

You squeeze his fingers for reassurance. “I think so? Kinda nervous.”

He smiles and places a sweet kiss to your cheek. “You know I’ll keep you safe.”

You nod and shift from one foot to the other. “I know you will.” You take a deep, steadying breath, trying to expel the last of the nerves from your system. “Okay,” you nod once again, feeling a little more settled. “2013 first, right?”

Steve nods in confirmation. “Right. One less thing to worry about by returning Mjolnir first. It can’t be shrunk, so it doesn’t fit in the case with everything else.”

The two of you sync your time watches before the nanosuit materializes around your tactical uniforms. You share one last look between the visors of your helmets, and then you’re both shrinking down into the quantum realm. You land in Asgard immediately after the timestamp of Thor and Rocket leaving. Your helmet lifts automatically as the nanosuit disappears from around you. Steve catches your eye, a look of concern on his face as he checks to make sure you’re okay. You nod to assure him before breaking your gaze to look around.

“Wow…” you marvel at the architecture around you. Everything feels both ancient and timeless. There’s an open balcony just ahead, revealing the beauty of Asgard in its sprawling glory. “My God…” The view is breathtaking.

“Yeah, the Asgardians really downgraded when they came to Earth,” Steve jokes, admiring the view with you.

You scoff and smack his shoulder.

“You must be more of Thor’s friends.”

You both tense and turn quickly at the voice. A beautiful woman exuding grace and maternity stands behind you both, smiling in amusement.

You and Steve share a look of embarrassment. “Yes,” Steve confirms. “I’m Steve Rogers, and this is my wife,” he introduces you. “You must be Frigga.”

Her nod is demure and concise. “I see that my son has rather exceptional taste in friends,” she indicates to the hammer being held in Steve’s hand.

He lifts Mjolnir, that unearthly twang coming off of it as the air shifts around the space it occupies. “It’s pretty amazing, but we don’t need it anymore.” He sets the hammer down at his feet, where it will remain until its original owner calls for it again.

Frigga eyes Steve with all the ancient wisdom of a goddess looking upon a mortal seeking judgment. “It’s a testament of your worth to be offered a taste of the power of the skies and be honest in your willingness to relinquish such power.”

Steve holds her gaze evenly. “I don’t need a hammer to tell me if I’m worthy. I just want to be worthy of being a good husband to my wife.”

His words make your heart skip a beat. He looks over at you, grinning in a way that tells you he felt it. Your cheeks turn to flame, and your gaze drops to the floor.

Frigga laughs delicately. “You’re a smart man, Steve Rogers. I foresee a bright future between the two of you.”

You lift your eyes back up to Steve’s and find that he’s still looking at you, eyes soft and tender. “I hope so,” he tells her while continuing to look at you like you’re the reason the sun shines.

You clear your throat in embarrassment and nudge your foot against his. “Aren’t you forgetting that there’s something else we need to be returning, too?”

“Am I not allowed to boast about how amazing my wife is?” Steve teases while setting the case down on the floor and kneeling in front of it to pull the lid open.

“There’s a time and place for that, Steve.” He pulls out the cylindrical container that carries the fluid-like Aether, which swirls and glows ominously inside the tube. You take it from him while he re-seals the case. “Um,” you hesitate, looking between the Aether and Frigga. “We need to get this back into Jane…”

She steps closer and holds out her hands. “I think it would be best for you to entrust that task to me. That strange talking creature that was here earlier with Thor has stirred up the guards. Getting to Jane now will be quite difficult.”

“Oh,” you blink in surprise and hand her the container. “That would be incredibly helpful. Thank you.”

She smiles, “It would appear that you both have quite the journey ahead of you.” She nods to the case, having recognized its remaining contents.

“Yes, this is our first stop,” you confirm.

“Then I wish you luck and good fortune on the remainder of your endeavors.” She steps back to give you both space.

“Thank you,” Steve nods respectfully, and you do the same.

You activate the time-watch on your wrist once again. “Battle of New York?” you confirm with Steve.

“Yes,” he agrees. Your helmets snap into place moments before you’re both shrinking back to the quantum realm.

You land in 2012 immediately after the time stamp of when Steve and the others had left previously. You’re in an empty alleyway not far from Avenger’s tower. There’s dust and debris all over the place, since the battle has literally just concluded.

Steve sets the carrying case down on the hood of a dust-covered car and unlocks it. He removes the miniaturized version of Loki’s scepter and returns it to its original size. “You sure you want to handle the scepter? Getting the time stone back is going to be simpler.”

You give him a determined nod and take the scepter from his outstretched hand. “Yeah, I’ve got this.”

“You know where to go?” He confirms, holding your gaze to make sure.

You hold the scepter with both hands, being mindful of the pointy end. “Yes, Steve. You explained it like a dozen times.”

His mouth spreads into a tilted grin. “Better to be overprepared than underprepared. Contact me if anything goes awry.”

“Will do. You be careful, too.” You know what he’s doing should be less risky than what you’re about to do, but you still feel like you need to say it.

He leans in and captures your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. “Love you,” he whispers against your mouth in a way that makes your knees weak. In the next moment, he’s gone, leaving you standing there, blinking into the space he had just vacated.

The corner of your mouth lifts into a bemused smile before you turn and start on your own task. He’s been extra touchy-feely recently, not to mention the things he said to Frigga. You’re not entirely sure what it’s all about, but you’re certainly not going to deny him.

You sneak into the tower through a back door using an override access code that Tony had given you before you both left the present. Luckily, most of the tower personnel appear to be preoccupied in the main lobby due to Loki’s escape, so the back halls are clear. You make your way up to the level where Steve told you he’d battled his counterpart.

"Good grief..." you mutter under your breath when you see what state your husband left his 2012 self in. He's been knocked unconscious, face down, with broken glass all around him. The specialized carrying case for the scepter has been kicked a few feet away. You crouch in front of it and lay the scepter on the cushioned interior of the case before pulling it shut and locking down the latches. You then move to kneel next to 2012 Steve, and with a grunt of effort, you managed to roll him onto his back.

You peel his helmet off of his face to check him over and make sure your husband didn't accidentally murder himself in this timeline. You're a little shocked by how young he looks, but then you remember that he is 11 years younger than your Steve. Your thumb brushes against a slight smudge on his cheek, either from the battle against the Chitauri earlier, or from his fight with Steve, you're not sure. He does appear to be breathing, and doesn't seem too worse for wear.

Feeling better about his situation, you pull your hand back and move to stand. You don't get far before there's a tug on your wrist. You look down to find his red leather glove holding you in place. Your eyes flicker back to his face to find him awake and staring at you with wide eyes.

"It's you..." he breathes out with shock.

You brush away your own surprise. "Hi, Steve." Your smile is gentle and warm.

He sits up slowly, refusing to even blink as he looks you over. "Are you real?"

You laugh, suddenly remembering yourself asking that very question the first time you saw your Steve standing in the doorway of the SHIELD safe house in 2012. "I am." You confirm. His hand releases your wrist before he reaches up to tentatively cup your cheek. You give yourself just a second to allow your eyes to fall shut, and you nuzzle into his leathery palm. When your eyes blink back open, you meet his gaze and give him an apprehensive smile. "But I'm not the version of me that belongs to you."

His brow furrows, and his head tilts into that confused puppy look that you think is so adorable. "What do you mean?"

You glance over at the sealed case. "I'm just here to bring back the scepter. We only needed to borrow it."

He looks at the case, that brilliant tactical mind of his beginning to connect the dots. "That other Steve... that wasn't Loki?"

"No," you tell him while shaking your head. "That was my Steve."

"You're from the future?"

You look away and bite your bottom lip. "I shouldn't say too much."

"Wait." He uses the hand on your cheek to tilt your face back to his, a sense of urgency in his tone. "He said that Bucky is still alive. Is that true?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You know you shouldn't say anything, but you can't lie to him. "Yes."

The air rushes out of his lungs in one big breath, his hand falling from your face. "What?"

"When he fell from the train, he didn't die. HYDRA got to him. They wiped his memory, turned him into the Winter Soldier, and now they keep him in cryo-freeze until they need him to perform high-level assassinations."

The horror on Steve's face grows with every word that comes out of your mouth. "But we destroyed HYDRA..."

You give him a sympathetic look. "SHIELD hired Zola after the war ended, and he revived HYDRA from within SHIELD. Don't trust the STRIKE team, Alexander Pierce, or Jasper Sitwell. They've infiltrated the government, too. You can trust Fury and Natasha, but they don't know about any of this just yet. Also, they all think that you're a part of HYDRA, too. That's how my Steve managed to get the scepter away from them." You release a soft sigh and move to stand. "That's probably a lot more than anything I should have told you. I need to go. Please be careful."

He scrambles to his feet. "Wait, please!" He grips you at your elbow, though his touch is gentle.

You turn back hesitantly.

"Where are you right now?" he asks desperately. "My version of you."

"I'm safe. SHIELD pulled me out of the city at the first sign of trouble. Fury will know where I am."

His gaze drops to the floor, and that furrow is back between his brow. "Do you hate me? For what I've done to us?"

Your shoulders drop, and you can't help reaching out for him. "No," you assure him. "I'll be confused and scared, but I could never hate you." You lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek. "It'll be okay, Steve."

Relief shines in his eyes as the corner of his mouth tilts up. "Thanks. Is it weird that I'm nervous to see you, even though I'm looking at you right now?"

You laugh lightly. "No, but it's very adorable."

His ears burn pink. "You look incredible, by the way," he mutters through his embarrassment, eyes raking over your uniform. "You wear that better than I do."

You look down at your tactical suit. It's a feminine counterpart to Steve's latest uniform. You made the matching set as an anniversary gift years ago, but didn't have the chance to wear it until now. "Thank you," you smile up at him. "Don't worry. When I'm the one making your uniform, I'll make sure you look good." You grin teasingly and wink.

He blushes even more and looks down at his own uniform. "Yeah, this one is definitely missing your personal touches."

You look at him tenderly. "Go get your girl, Steve. Then try to find Bucky. HYDRA's holding his soulmate hostage, too.”

He pushes a gloved hand through his golden locks and breathes heavily. “This is a lot to take in.”

“Trust your friends and it will be a lot easier.”

He nods resolutely. “Thank you for telling me.”

You smile in that way that always reminds him of sunshine, no matter what timeline he’s in. “Of course, Steve.” You share one last look with him. A Steve who wasn’t betrayed by the reveal of HYDRA when it was almost too late. A Steve who didn’t have to face losing his closest friends during the Accords. A Steve who never lost to Thanos. There’s an air of hopeful innocence around him, and you hope that what little information you’ve given him might ease some of the burdens he’ll have to face in this timeline.

“How long have we been married?” he asks you, indicating toward the ring sparkling on your finger.

You glance down at it, smiling fondly. “8 years this past January.”

He looks both surprised and highly pleased by your answer. “How did I ask you?”

You don’t fight the laugh and hold a finger to your lips like you're about to shush him. “I’m not going to reveal that spoiler,” you tease.

He chuckles and drops his head, nodding. “That’s fair.”

You begin to step back. “Take care, Steve.”

“You too.” He watches you longingly as you turn to leave.

You glance back one last time before you slip into the stairwell. He’s holding the case to the scepter, but is still watching over you. The door shuts behind you, blocking him from your view. You press a finger to the communicator in your ear as you begin to walk down the stairs. “Scepter is secure.”

“Any problems?” The voice that comes through is slightly older and more mature than the one you’d just had a conversation with.

“All good. I’m heading to the rendezvous now.”

“I’ll see you there.”

You slip out of the tower undetected and make your way back to your Steve. He’s anxiously pacing the length of the abandoned alleyway, his head snapping up at your approach. His shoulders drop with relief as soon as he spots you. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You tilt your head. “Why do you assume something happened?”

“You took longer than I was expecting, and your heartbeat was irregular.” He steps in close and grips your hips.

Your hands find their place on his chest, just to either side of the silver star on his uniform. “The other you woke up, but nothing bad happened.”

His eyes flare. “Did he try to hurt you?” He looks just about ready to march back into the tower and fight himself all over again.

“Steve, it’s still you. Of course you didn’t try to hurt me. We just talked.” You press your hands even harder against his chest to prevent him from trying to get past you.

“What about?” A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You roll your eyes at your husband’s apparent jealousy. “About Bucky. And HYDRA. You kind of left him with a ticking time bomb and no explanation.”

Some of the tension eases from his shoulders. “Did he try to flirt with you?”

You tilt your head and give him a flat look. “Yeah, because you were such a wild Casanova in 2012,” you answer sarcastically.

“Did he?” Steve presses.

“Of course not! He’s a cute and adorable puppy right now, not some wife-stealing, philandering, bad boy.”

Even though he got the answer he wanted, Steve still looks rather put out. “I can be cute and adorable…” he mutters under his breath.

You don’t know whether to sigh in exasperation or laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.” You grab his face and pull him into a messy kiss. His arms immediately curl around you, tugging you in close against his body. One hand grips the nape of your neck while the other presses firmly into the small of your back. Before things get too heated, you pull back with a gasp. “Feel better?”

His eyes flash with desire. “Marginally.”

This goofball certainly knows how to keep things interesting. “We’re already halfway there, Rogers. Three down, three to go. Shall we move on to the next stone?”

“Not yet.” He leans forward and kisses you once more, nearly sweeping you off your feet. He kisses you like a man who’s starved for affection. Like it will never be enough. You’re left breathless and on shaky legs when he’s done with you. “Now we can go.” His smile is far too innocent for a man who kisses like that.

When you land in 1970, it's in an empty clearing a mile north of Camp Lehigh. Steve scans the area, then reaches to grab your hand, interlacing your fingers as he leads you through the trees. "We can do some reconnaissance, but I imagine they'll have tightened up security with the way Tony and I left things before."

The two of you observe the security gate from the tree line. Sure enough, there's an overabundance of security personnel thoroughly checking over everyone’s documentation before letting them in. Steve decides to call it and instead leads you deeper into the woods. You trek on foot to the town closest to the camp. Steve forces open the window to an empty motel room and helps lift you over the sill to climb inside.

The room is clean, smelling faintly of patchouli, but the shag carpeting and wallpaper are hideous. Steve jumps fluidly through the open window before turning to push it shut and closing the curtain. You flick on one of the bedside lamps, filling the room with a soft orangey glow. Steve moves to the foot of the bed and sets down the carrying case. He lifts the lid and pulls out two miniaturized duffel bags, then uses a particle disc to get them back to normal size.

He offers you your bag, which you take with a smile and a soft, "Thanks." You move over to the small loveseat on the other end of the room and pull the tab on the zipper to open the bag. Right on top is the '70s-inspired dress you made, packed specifically for this part of the trip. You also pull out a pair of Mary Jane flats and some other accessories to complete your outfit.

You pull out your toiletry bag next and unzip that too. You frown when you notice a specific item is missing. "Oh, shit..." you mutter under your breath. You pull out your tube of toothpaste and a hair brush, trying to see if it might have fallen deeper into the bag. When you fail to locate it, you set down the toiletry bag and start rifling through the duffel. "No, no, no..."

Feeling your elevated heart rate, Steve stops going through his own bag and looks over at you. "Everything okay?"

"Uh..." You stall your response while continuing to look through your bag. When the object you're looking for fails to magically appear before your eyes, your shoulders drop, and you release a long sigh. "I didn't pack my pills," you finally admit. You bite your bottom lip and look over at Steve.

He holds your gaze, "Your birth control pills?"

"Yes," your voice cracks on the word. You rub your hand over your face while taking a heavy breath. "Those were specially made by Dr. Cho after her analysis showed that generic contraceptives probably wouldn't work against the serum. They're not something we can just pick up from a pharmacy, and certainly not in 1970." Your mind starts to race to come up with a solution. The easiest answer would be to jump back to present day, but that would be a major waste of Pym particles. Could you and Steve have the self-control for abstinence for the remainder of this mission? Should you just risk it with condoms alone?

Before you can spiral down a mental rabbit hole, Steve's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. "I want to retire."

Your head whips back to him. "What?" You're not entirely sure you heard him correctly.

He smiles hesitantly and moves to sit on the corner of the bed. "I know I haven't been very... present over the last few years. After that first battle with Thanos, I was broken. All the guilt and regret made me feel like I was drowning."

Like a magnet being pulled North, you walk over to Steve and stand between his legs. You run your fingers through his hair, nails scratching soothingly at his scalp as he looks up at you. His hands reach for your hips, unable to resist touching you and keeping you close.

"I failed so spectacularly, and yet even after losing so much... after losing Bucky and Sam... somehow, by some enormous miracle, I still got to keep you." His hands squeeze your hips, and he leans forward to press his forehead to your stomach, his voice going hoarse. "And I know the bond is probably what kept us together, but even without it, I don't think I would have survived losing you, too. But you've been so good, and patient, and strong this whole time. In some ways, that was exactly what I needed, but in other ways, it made me feel even more unworthy of you than I felt even before taking the serum. I was lost at sea, and you were the beacon I felt like I didn't deserve."

"Steve," you keep your voice even and gentle, like a soothing balm on an open wound. "You don't need to win every fight to be worthy of me." You tilt his head up, cradling his face between your palms. "These last few years have been hard on everyone, but you always carry so much weight on your shoulders. It's okay to be a little selfish. It's okay to want things. It's okay to be happy."

He swallows thickly. "I know, I just couldn't. I'm sorry."

Your head tilts curiously, thumbs brushing over his cheeks in a soft caress. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I do," he refutes. "I remember after Morgan was born, when we went to see Tony and Pepper at the hospital. I'll never forget the look in your eyes when you held her for the first time. You were so beautiful, and you looked at her like she was so precious. And I was... terrified. I didn't know I could want something so badly and be just as equally afraid of it. I already felt wholly unworthy of you, that I couldn't even face the thought of holding our own child for the first time. Of something else I was entirely undeserving of." A single tear slips down his cheek. You catch it on your thumb and brush it away. "I know that I promised you a future, but after Thanos, I couldn't let go of the past. That's why I'm apologizing. I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you want. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger. I'm-" His voice breaks on a choked sob.

"Oh, Steve..." You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders, allowing him to bury his face in your neck. His own arms tighten around your waist, holding onto you like a lifeline. "You do not need to apologize for your grief. A loss like that is not something you get to just walk away from. The wounds that you can't see leave the deepest scars and tend to be the hardest to recover from." You hold his nape reverently with one hand and rub his back with the other. "I never expected you to move on after Thanos. I fully understood that you were going through something unimaginably horrific. I knew you needed time, and I was perfectly okay with giving it to you. I don't blame you for anything, and I don't have any regrets. You don't need to be sorry."

He breath shudders before he places a kiss to the side of your neck and raises his head. His eyes are rimmed with red, but he has a soft smile on his lips. "I swear, you have the patience of a saint."

You laugh softly, running your fingers from his hairline down his temple. "I have the patience of a woman who's insanely in love with her husband."

His eyes sparkle like sunshine reflecting on tropical waves. "You're amazing. I love you so much." He takes a steadying breath before his eyes flash with determination. "But what I've been trying to get at... is that this is my last mission. Once we finish returning the stones, I'm done. We beat Thanos. We brought everyone back. Now, I want out. I want to be with you. I want to start our family. I'm done putting our lives on hold. Let's buy a house. Somewhere with lots of space, and trees, with a swing on the porch and a raised garden in the back. Let's get a dog. Let's sleep in past noon. Let's have breakfast for dinner. Whatever you want, I want to do all of that with you. I'm done with just surviving from one battle to the next. I'm ready to start living."

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you're not sure if it's from you or him. You want to respond to his confession, but your throat is now tight with emotion, and you're not entirely sure what you want to say.

Steve's knuckles brush tentatively against the edge of your jaw. "I know you've got a lot going on with Heart Skip Apparel, so I'll understand if you need a little more time before we do any of this. I just wanted you to know where I'm at right now. If I need to be the one with patience, I can do that." His hand leaves your face and reaches to grab something out of his duffel bag. You hear the clatter of small objects shifting against plastic before he reveals your missing bottle of pills. He grins a little sheepishly. "I saw them out on the bathroom counter, while you were packing up the car, and realized you forgot to grab them. A part of me kind of wanted to leave them behind entirely, but I didn't want to take the choice away from you."

Your eyes flicker from the clear orange bottle, then back to Steve. "Are you sure?" you ask.

"Absolutely." There's zero hesitation in his response.

You take the pill bottle and chuck it across the room, not caring as the cap pops off and the pills scatter across the shag carpet, because you're already devouring Steve's mouth. He kisses back fervently and pulls you even closer, like the space between your bodies personally offends him. Your hands are all over his face, holding his cheeks, running through his hair, cupping his jaw. His glide across your back, one pressing to the curve of your spine while the other dips down and grabs a handful of your ass.

You giggle breathlessly against his lips. "You're crazy, you know that."

You feel his smile spread against your own. "Why?"

You pull back enough to rub your nose teasingly against his and look deep into his eyes. "Because you want to start our family while we're literally in the middle of this mission and 50 years away from home."

His laugh blows across your skin like dandelion seeds on the wind. "Would you expect any less from me?"

You give him a wry smile. "From the former wanted fugitive who used to sneak into my hotel room after midnight? No, of course not."

He smirks crookedly. "Remember Copenhagen?"

You hum thoughtfully at the memory. "You didn't let me leave that bed for 56 hours."

His fingers tighten on your ass, pushing your core against the hard seam of his tactical pants. "Think we could beat that record?" he challenges.

You shake your head bemusedly. "You were relentless. I had to sneak off to the bathroom while you were sleeping."

His eyes shine with humor. "I wasn't really sleeping, I only pretended to so you could have a break."

"Steven Grant Rogers!" you admonish with a teasing smile.

He's completely without shame. "I didn't know when we were going to see each other again. Had to make sure you didn't forget about me."

You lean in and kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other side. "Well, from the sounds of it… Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on."

"Now I need to make up for lost time." He pulls you back in, fully sealing his mouth over yours.

You moan against him, lips parting to allow his tongue entrance to your mouth. He slips in with all the familiarity of someone entering their second home. His tongue greets yours in a lover’s caress, the two dancing to a rhythm all their own. They tango to the pace of your shared heartbeat, the tempo fast, but steady.

He pulls away with a parting flick of his tongue against yours, giving you a chance to catch your breath while his lips glide down your cheek. "Have I told you how great you look in this uniform?" He asks, lips now brushing the edge of your jaw.

You release a small laugh. "Your 2012 doppelganger did."

He halts for a second, then straightens and pins you with an unimpressed look. "You said he didn't flirt with you."

The love of your life is, without a doubt, the most absurd man on this planet. Hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, kiss-swollen lips, and still, he manages to be jealous of his younger self. "You can give a compliment to someone without it being flirting, you know."

"Not when it's me complimenting you."

He is utterly impossible.

"I'm literally sitting in your lap, about to have raw sex with you. Remind me what you're getting mad over?" You feel his dick twitch under you.

"Right. Shutting up now." He nods resolutely. "The uniform will look just as great on the floor, I'll bet."

You grin in amusement. "Nice save."

He maintains his serious façade. “We should test this theory.” He makes quick work of your uniform top and tosses it aside, soon followed by his own. Your skin is still separated by the tank top you wear and his tight Under Armor shirt, but the thinner materials allow your body heat to exchange much more easily. Steve’s lips glide down your neck, licking the hollow of your throat and nipping at your collarbone. You moan and grind against his growing erection, hands scrambling for purchase against his broad shoulders.

In a rush, Steve has you back on your feet moments before he’s unlatching your utility belt and shoving your tac pants down your legs. He kneels before you, helping you pull off your boots, then removes the pants entirely. He glances at the pile of discarded clothing before giving you a shit-eating grin. “I was right. It does look better on the floor.”

You shake your head and laugh, “You’re such a jerk.” Your voice is filled with affection as you look down at your soulmate.

His hand holds the back of your calf as he guides your foot onto his raised knee. He leans forward and kisses the top of your shin, then the inside of your knee, then he drags his lips up your inner thigh. Your breath stutters, pussy clenching eagerly as he draws closer, but then he jumps from the top of your thighs to your lower abdomen. You’re about to berate him for being a tease when he looks up at you through his thick, sultry lashes, with eyes so hot, you feel yourself melting. “I’m going to put a baby in here,” he vows, and you’re done for.

The next few seconds are a rush of frenzied movement as you both shuffle out of the rest of your clothes, and then you’re falling back against the mattress with a highly aroused, half-feral super soldier settling between your spread thighs. His hips press against yours, his cock caught between your bodies, heavy and hot and leaking against that spot on your abdomen that he was just kissing. He rocks against you, dragging the underside of his cock through your slick folds. Your body is ready for him. Has been from the moment you tossed the pill bottle across the room.

Your thighs are already shaking, hips grinding up in desperate search of even the tiniest amount of friction. You’re wet, and aching, and so goddamn eager for him. You needed him inside you five minutes ago. Need to feel the stretch of your body making room for his thickness. Feel the weight of him filling you to completion. Living a full decade with this man has done nothing to quell the insatiable need you have for him. If anything, it’s only made it worse. It’s only made you want him more.

“Please, Steve,” you beg against his open-mouthed kisses. “I need you.”

“I know,” he breathes directly into your lungs. His hand grips the back of your knee and hooks your leg around his hip. He shifts his own leg forward, bracketing his inner thigh against the side of yours. As soon as he’s in position, the head of his cock notched against your entrance, he pushes forward and sinks into you. He grunts deep and low in his chest at the way your body surrounds him in his entirety. Not just physically, but also emotionally, spiritually. He feels you everywhere. The brush of skin against skin, your scent in his lungs, your heart beating in his chest. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. “I love you,” he declares against your parted lips.

You try to respond, but all you can manage is a stuttered gasp while your nails rake down his back. He’s so big, both in you and above you. Battle-hardened muscles, sculpted to perfection, press down against your supple body, making the mattress springs squeak in protest. Every snap of his hips causes the bedframe to crack against the wall. Your cunt pulses and flutters around his thick, veiny cock, encouraging him to drive even deeper, push even harder.

He looks down at you, eyes wild, a few strands of his disheveled hair falling against his forehead. “You’re gonna look so pretty, Sweetheart.” He moans when a particular twinge of your walls hits him just right. “So full of me. So full of us.” You whimper under him, back arching in pleasure. “’M gonna kiss your growing belly every day. Give you foot rubs when your feet hurt. Get you whatever food you’re craving, no matter what time it is.”

“Steve!” His name is the only word in any known language that you can even remember right now.

“I’ll be so good to you. Won’t let you lift a finger. You focus on growing our baby, and I’ll handle everything else.”

You can’t take it. His words, combined with his unrelenting thrusts, send you into a tailspin. You cry out his name over and over, your body vibrating from the force of your orgasm crashing into you. Steve fucks you through it, hips losing their careful coordination as his control snaps. He pounds into your drooling cunt with all the feral instinct of a wild animal. This isn’t just sex for enjoyment and pleasure; this is sex with purpose. It’s a mating ritual. It’s for procreation. It’s the beginning of a new life. Not just the new life that might soon be growing inside of you, but also the new life he plans to share with you. One without Captain America. Because that chapter is reaching its final page, and he’s more than ready to start the next one.

With one final thrust, Steve’s hips still against yours while his cock empties into the deepest part of you. His whole body convulses with every spurt of thick, hot cum as he paints your walls white. You shudder underneath him, pussy eagerly pulsing around his cock and sucking his seed deeper into your womb. You don’t know if it’s even possible for his seed to take so soon after stopping your birth control, but your body seems overly eager for it all the same.

Steve is completely wrecked above you. Hair in disarray, kiss swollen lips, flushed cheeks, body still shuddering from oversensitivity. You imagine you’re probably not faring much better. You’re both panting for desperately needed air, hearts pounding erratically in tandem. He rolls you both onto your sides and collapses against the pillows, still buried between your legs. You flop unceremoniously against his chest, your muscles completely liquified.

“Wow…” The word falls from your mouth a little deliriously while you still try to catch your breath. “You haven’t been that feral in a long time. Whew…”

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, concern immediately bleeding into his features, despite the post-coital flush to his cheeks.

“No,” you assure him quickly, smiling in utter satisfaction. “You were amazing.”

He releases a long breath, half in relief, half still coming down from his high. His arms tighten around you, tucking your body more securely against his while he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re the amazing one.”

You laugh tiredly and settle more comfortably against him. With your head on his chest, you can hear his heart settling back into a normal rhythm while yours does the same. You close your eyes and relax even further while listening to the beat you know is a perfect match to yours. The silence that follows is soft and devoted, filled with understanding and love. The kind of silence that speaks its own language and can only be heard in moments of stillness. Moments like this one. You bask in it, like a cat lying in a patch of sun. Then you feel the brush of Steve’s fingers against the base of your spine.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You know he has something on his mind when his fingers draw patterns against your lower back. Like he’s using the movement to piece out the answer to a difficult puzzle or some strategic endeavor.

His fingers stop their aimless tracing as he presses his full palm against your skin. “What if we stayed here?” He finally asks after a contemplative pause.

Your brow lifts in amused curiosity. “What, like in bed? I thought that was already the plan.”

“No,” he counters, a weight to his tone. “Here. As in this place. This time.”

It takes a moment for his meaning to sink in. When it does, you lift your head off his chest and shift onto your side, propped up on your elbow. “Here?” you repeat. “Like 1970?”

He looks back at you, eyes serious. There’s no sign of humor or teasing. “Yes.”

You stare back, your brow now furrowing. “For how long?” You already knew that you needed to kill some time while waiting for an opening to return the Tesseract, but this doesn’t sound like Steve is referring to the mission. It’s something beyond the mission.

“However long we want,” he tells you. “Like an extended vacation. Or a second honeymoon. We can stay off the grid a lot easier. There are no cell phones, no satellites, no facial recognition. We can just be us.”

“You’re serious…” It’s not really phrased as a question, but you are still seeking confirmation.

His thumb swipes back on forth across your skin where his hand is still planted on your back. “We could find a house. Somewhere out of the city, but still close enough that we could visit for the day if we wanted to.”

“And do what?” you enquire with a hint of incredulity. You can hardly believe that your husband, Mr. Always-Has-A-Plan, wants to vacation in 1970 and just wing it.

His grin is relaxed, almost lazy, in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on him. “Whatever we want. We can go on dates like we used to back when we first moved into the tower. Try new restaurants, see some shows on Broadway, shop on 5th Avenue. We can go hiking upstate, and I’ll carry you on my back when you get tired. Or we can just stay home and have an obscene amount of sex. On the kitchen floor, next to the fireplace, inside the linen closet…”

You tilt your head and pinch your lips together in an attempt to hold back your amused smile. “Why would we sneak off to the linen closet in our own home?”

“Small spaces makes it more intimate,” he states like it’s a well-known fact.

“Does it now?” You don’t sound entirely convinced.

“It does,” he confirms with a nod. He then goes quiet, eyes turning soft as he gives you a look that reminds you of the way he looked at you inside that small chapel in Brooklyn, 8 years ago. “What do you say? Wanna stay here with me?”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, pondering over the options. You can hardly believe that he’s actually proposing this. He’s supposed to be the responsible one. The mission is supposed to take priority. What if something happens and the watches don’t work because you’ve been here too long? Do Pym particles have an expiration date? What if something happens to the remaining stones before you get the chance to return them? While your mind is spinning over all the what-if scenarios, you realize that Steve looks completely relaxed and unbothered. He’s not worried about the stones. He’s not gearing up for the next fight. He’s completely at ease to be in this present moment with you. No worries, no alien attacks, no battle plans. For the first time in a long time, he can finally be Steve Rogers. Just Steve Rogers.

“Okay,” you agree, voice soft but sure. “We can stay here for a little bit, but if I end up pregnant, I’m not having our child here. If I have to give birth to a tiny super soldier, I want modern medicine, and at the very least, the option of an epidural.”

Steve chuckles softly. “That’s fair.” He cups the back of your neck and pulls your face close enough to kiss your forehead.

You close your eyes at the contact of his lips against your skin. “Can we go to a Loft party?” you ask tentatively.

Steve pauses for a moment, then shifts his face back to look at you curiously. “Didn’t realize you were that into disco…”

You giggle at the look on his face. “I’m not, I’m just not sure what other things there are to do in 1970.”

His smile is full of mischief and affection. “I’m sure we’ll find enough to do, so we won’t be bored.”

By the next morning, Steve has somehow managed to secure a vehicle, and within a few hours, you’re crossing the state border out of New Jersey and back into New York. You stop for food at a roadside diner in a small town just outside of the city. Steve uses the yellow pages and a payphone to contact a nearby real estate agency. Before you know it, you’re both walking up the steps to your new home, contracts signed and keys in hand. It’s a two bedroom—two bath, Victorian-style cottage on an acre of forested land. It has a wraparound porch and wooden shutters. There’s an octagonal-shaped reading nook in one corner of the house that faces the morning sun. There are hiking trails running through the backyard that can either take you down to a small lake or up the mountain to a waterfall. It’s beautiful and perfect, and you can hardly believe it’s yours. At least, for however long you’ll be there.

The first night, you sleep on a nest of pillows and blankets near the fireplace and make plans to buy furniture and a bed the next day. Steve makes love to you right there on the floor, just like he promised. The semi-dubious apprehension that fills you at the prospect of staying in 1970 begins to melt away the more you both start building your home together. There’s a blurred line that you don’t even realize you’ve crossed, where the feeling of playing pretend becomes reality. The house is filled with laughter and kisses and warmth and life. It doesn’t feel temporary. It feels like the beginning of forever.

Steve gets into woodworking after cutting down some of the trees that were growing a little too close to the house. He makes a sturdy, gorgeously carved frame for the bed in the master bedroom. Then he makes a coffee table for the living room and a brand-new kitchen table after that. Everything that he builds with his own two hands, he promptly tests the structural integrity of by fucking you ruthlessly against the freshly polished wood. Everything has held up, so far, but sometimes you tell him you might need to test something again, just to be extra sure. He’s always more than happy to oblige.

Two months pass before you start to notice the changes in your body. It starts with fatigue. No matter how much sleep you get, it never feels like enough. This is then followed by breast tenderness, and you also feel like your bladder must have shrunk because you need to pee, like all the time. And then the smell of scrambled eggs, which used to help get you out of bed in the morning, instead has you rushing to the bathroom and dropping to your knees in front of the toilet.

Steve is in a near panic, thinking you’ve managed to contract some sort of 1970s disease that you’re not inoculated against until you stop dry heaving enough to ask him to pick up a pregnancy test from the pharmacy in town. That sends him spiraling into a new sense of panic for an entirely different reason. “So soon?” he questions, like you couldn’t possibly be pregnant already.

“I’m late, Steve.” You tell him like he should be well aware, considering how often he’s been between your legs recently. “I haven’t had it the entire time we’ve been here.”

“Oh…” his face falls at the realization. He’s then struck with a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t noticed. He’s your husband; he should be paying more attention to that sort of thing.

“…Are you having regrets?” you hesitate to ask, especially since this isn’t exactly a conversation you want to have while sitting on the bathroom floor, but you need to know his answer. Sooner rather than later.

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head adamantly. His hand rubs soothing circles against your back. “I just thought we’d have more time… as just us.”

You smile at your sweet, adorable husband. “We’ve had over a decade as just us.” Feeling a little more stable, you flush the toilet and move to the sink to rinse out your mouth. Steve hovers close behind with hands outstretched like you’re going to fall at any moment.

“Several of those years don’t really count,” he argues after he’s certain you’re not about to keel over in front of him.

You meet his gaze through the mirror and smile in amusement. “Sex doesn’t stop after the baby is born, Steve.” You dry your hands, then turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “If that were true, then no one would have any siblings.”

His hands cradle your hips, but his touch is tentative and more careful than usual. His gaze flickers all over your face like the truth he’s seeking might be hidden in the curve of your cheek or the tilt of your brow. “Are you sure?” he finally asks, his voice raw and emotional.

Your smile is soft and sweet, like the cotton candy at Coney Island. “I’m pretty sure, but I think it would still be beneficial to take a few tests.”

He nods his head, but does it too long, like he’s still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Right. Okay. Tests. Yeah.” He sounds dazed, but then he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. When they reopen, they’re clearer, focused. “Pharmacy. Pregnancy tests. Got it. Anything else?”

You think about it for a second. “Oh, can you get me a jelly-filled donut from Red’s? The strawberry jam one, not the custard. Actually, make it two.”

He smiles fondly and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Sure thing, Sweetheart.”

You follow him to the front door, where he shrugs on his signature leather jacket and grabs his car keys. He turns to you one last time and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Be back in a jiffy. Love you.”

You hum against his mouth and grip the lapels of his jacket. “Love you, too.”

You watch from the window as Steve pulls the car out of the dirt driveway and heads into town. You’re full of too much nervous energy, so you end up pacing behind the couch while waiting for his return. The tests are mainly a formality. You already know what they’re going to say, but a tiny part of you is still a little nervous. Your hand rubs circles over your abdomen as you picture the tiny being that is most definitely growing in there.

Steve returns within twenty minutes, holding a paper bag from the pharmacy with a small box of donuts tucked under his arm. “Which one do you want first?” he asks, offering both the bag and the box.

You have a small moment of crisis trying to decide which one you want more, but eventually settle on the bag first, so that you can enjoy the donuts while waiting for the test to run. “Don’t start eating without me,” you call to Steve as you head for the bathroom. You read the instructions on the box and follow them step by step, then leave the stick on the counter and wash your hands before joining Steve on the couch in the living room.

He dutifully has a donut already out on a plate for you, which you take with a gracious thank you. After the first bite, you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh God,” Steve panics. “Is it the wrong one? What’s happened?”

You shake your head and devour another bite despite your open sobbing. “It’s just so good!”

“Sweetheart…” Steve looks like he can’t decide if he wants to burst into laughter or cry with you.

“Steve, I’m pretty sure this is actually happening.” You’re still crying and shoving more of the donut into your mouth while you talk. It’s not graceful or elegant. At all. “Like, who actually cries over donuts other than pregnant people?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a tilted smile. “It’s not just a donut. It’s a jelly donut.”

You sniff your nose and lick sticky glaze off of your fingers. “Thank you for validating my insanity.”

He looks at you with all the tenderness and longing of a flower reaching for the sun. “It’s not insanity, it’s hormones.”

The timer on your watch goes off, indicating that the test is ready. Neither of you moves; you just continue looking at each other. “Should we go check?” you eventually ask.

Steve’s eyes flicker between yours. “I don’t need to.”

You choke on another sob. “We’re having a baby.”

Steve tries to smile, but his lips are trembling. “Yeah, we are.” His voice cracks with emotion. He leans his forehead against yours and places a gentle hand against your abdomen. "Can I say hi?" he asks quietly, eyes glimmering with reverence.

You brace yourself for the next onslaught of tears and nod your head.

Steve slides off the couch and falls to his knees between your spread legs, his hands hold your waist so gently, there's barely any pressure from his fingertips. His eyes flicker up to you, and he smiles so serenely before leaning forward to kiss your stomach. "Hi, baby. It's your dad. Your mom and I are so excited you're here and we can't wait to meet you. We love you so much. You'll never want for anything, and all your crazy aunts and uncles will spoil you rotten. Focus on getting big and strong, and I'll focus on keeping you and your mommy safe. Oh, but not too strong, I don't want you hurting your mom with any super baby kicking."

You release a wet laugh at your ridiculous husband.

Later that evening, you're in bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows, reading through a maternity book while Steve has his ear pressed to your stomach. Every once in a while, he'll shift the placement of his head just a touch, then will settle in that spot for the next few minutes. You've stopped paying him any mind and just left him to whatever he was doing while you read your book.

He grabs your attention once more by releasing a soft, surprised gasp. “I can hear it. I hear our baby’s heartbeat!”

“What?” You drop the book to your chest and observe the excited look on his face.

“Yeah,” he confirms, grinning widely. “It’s so fast and tiny, but it’s there.”

You feel your throat clench moments before your vision turns hazy and your eyes sting. “I wanna hear,” you mumble quietly.

Steve’s look turns sympathetic. “Oh, they're probably not going to have an ultrasound machine at the doctor's office all the way out here. There might be one or two in the city, but checking in to any of those bigger hospitals will be a risk.”

You promptly burst into tears, startling Steve. “That’s not fair! Why do you get to hear them when I’m the one carrying them!”

Steve sits up and moves to cradle your face between his palms. “Oh, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He wipes your tears away, but they’re unrelenting.

“I’m not upset!” You wail, which isn’t helping you prove your point. Steve reaches for the box of tissues that he’s already stashed all around the house for this exact scenario. You grab one and blow your nose loudly. You take a shaky breath and pin Steve with a harsh look. “What are you doing? Put your ear back on my stomach and tell me what our baby sounds like.”

He looks torn, considering that he just did that and it turned you into a sobbing mess. But he’s pretty sure the consequences will be worse if he doesn’t do what you say, so he releases your face and hesitantly leans back down over your abdomen. He's quiet for a moment, concentrating on finding the sound again. You know the moment he does, because his eyes go all soft and mushy as he practically melts against you. “It sounds like hummingbird wings,” he finally tells you.

Your lips tremble, and then you’re crying all over again. “Awww! We’re having a baby hummingbird!”

You and Steve decide to wait another two months before putting plans in motion to leave from 1970. By this point, you're out of the first trimester and a majority of your early pregnancy symptoms have eased up. Steve does most of the work to tie up any loose ends. He re-infiltrates the SHIELD office inside Camp Lehigh and puts the Tesseract back into the container Tony pulled it out of. He also makes arrangements for the house, though he doesn't go into too much detail regarding what exactly that entails, because he doesn't want you to feel any stress that might affect the baby.

You make some modifications to your tactical suit, due to the situation of your growing figure. Your abdomen has extended enough to start showing, and the thick, tactical material doesn't really allow for much give. You rip out the seams in a few strategic spots and add in some stretchy material. Doing this will technically compromise the integrity of the suit, but you're not planning to enter any open war zones any time soon. Especially not the last two stops on this journey.

As soon as everything is ready to go, you and Steve are, once again, suited up in your matching tac suits. You give the house one last look from where you stand in the living room. "I'm going to miss this place." Your smile is fond, if a little sad. The whole time, you knew that your stay here was only going to be temporary, but at some point in the last few months, this house truly felt like a home. It's not the first time you and Steve have moved out of a place that held special significance, but for some reason, it feels a little different this time. Like the roots of this house run a little deeper than any of the other places.

Steve reaches for your hand and places a soft kiss to your knuckles. "After we return the last two stones... I promise to take you home."

You smile at the love of your life. "I'm counting on it."

You both set your time watches and jump forward to 2014.

"He's not dead, is he?" you ask, staring down at the prone figure in front of you.

Steve nudges the body with the toe of his boot, and Peter Quill groans quietly. "Nope. Not yet, at least."

"Should we really just leave it here?" You eye the strange metal sphere that contains the power stone. Steve has already removed it from the case.

"I mean... technically, it doesn't matter where we leave it. It's more important that we brought it back the moment after it was taken." Steve tosses the orb into the dirt next to Quill's body. "This whole timeline is about to get a major shift anyway, since this Thanos is the one who crosses through the quantum realm and then loses to us."

"Good god. A timeline where Thanos no longer exists... Where he never gets to collect all the stones. It's difficult to even imagine."

Steve reaches for your hand and pulls you away from Peter Quill and the power stone. "It's not our job to worry about it. We've given this universe a new chance. One they'll never know they even have. All we have to worry about is returning the last stone, then we get to go home."

You squeeze his fingers and nod. "Right. Let's go."

Vormir gives you the creeps. The quiet is unsettling. The forever-solar-eclipse in the sky is beautiful at first glance, but very quickly starts to contribute to the wrongness of the entire planet. This is a place not meant for mortal beings.

Steve keeps a steady hand either against your back or entwined with your own fingers as you both climb the mountain. You've just about reached the summit when a ghostly figure descends from the shadows.

"Steven, son of Sara..."

"What the hell?" Steve's shoulders stiffen as he moves to take a defensive stance in front of you. He pulls the shield off his back and throws it at the figure. It passes right through them and ricochets off the rocks before coming back. "What are you doing here, you bastard?" Steve glares with hostility.

"It has been a long time, Captain Rogers."

A soft gasp escapes your lips when the face of the being is pulled out of the shadows. It's one you never thought you'd see with your own two eyes, and it's just as terrifying as you could have imagined. Red Skull.

"I am not going to hurt either of you. Nor could I, even if I wanted to. I am merely the guardian of this place. The keeper of the Soul Stone. I was wondering why I was still being held to this place after the stone had been taken possession by someone, but now I realize that you have come to bring the stone back to me."

He drifts further up the path, expecting you both to follow. Steve hesitates a moment and keeps a protective arm out against you before cautiously stepping forward. You clutch the back of his uniform and match his steps. The path has you walking between two massive stone obelisks before it opens up to the heavens just a short distance away from the edge of the cliff.

You feel dread pooling in your gut as you stare at the edge. You can't bring yourself to step any closer. There's a part of you that feels like if you manage to look over the edge, you'll still see Natasha at the bottom. Just the thought alone is enough to turn your stomach.

Steve keeps a wary eye on Red Skull when he sets down the case and pulls out the final stone. "We've come to return this. But in exchange... we want you to return that which was lost."

Your heart skips a beat as you give Steve a startled look. This was definitely not something you had discussed previously. Clint had been perfectly clear that there would be no reversing what was already done. Apparently, your stubborn husband hadn't gotten the memo.

"I see your arrogance has not wavered, despite the passage of time." The Red Skull's face remains impassive, but there's an echo of amusement in his voice.

"A soul for a soul. That's the deal." Steve stands his ground, shoulders square. "If I give this back, I expect a soul in return. The right soul."

There's a ghost of a smile on the wraith's face as he observes Steve with unblinking eyes. "As I have already stated. I am a guardian. I guide those who seek the stone. I can not obtain it for them, nor can I interfere in their decision to commit the sacrifice. If you wish to make an exchange, you will need to test your fate," he waves his hand toward the edge of the cliff.

You reach out and grip Steve by the back of his shoulder, turning him to face you. "What are you doing?" you ask in a near panic. You know he can feel your elevated heart rate.

His eyes are calm, resolute; there's not even a hint of apprehension. "I'm getting her back, Sweetheart."

"No! Are you crazy?" Your eyes flicker to the edge of the cliff before looking back at him, fear lining your features. "Believe me, I miss Nat, too. She was my best friend! But she's gone, Steve. She did this so we could win, and now she's gone."

Steve's hand gently cups your cheek. His hand is warm, fingers steady. "I don't think that's true."

Your eyes sting, and your image of Steve blurs. "Please tell me you're not going to jump. Please."

His thumb swipes away a falling tear. "It'll work, Sweetheart."

Your bottom lip trembles. "How can you possibly know that?" You search for the answer to your question within his eyes.

Steve holds up the stone with his other hand. "It needs to be an even exchange. A soul for a soul. And I only carry half a soul in my body. If I jump, whatever rules that govern this place will have to accept the stone as tribute. I'll be okay."

You choke on a sob while shaking your head. "That's still a gigantic fucking risk, Steve! What if it doesn't work? What if, instead, it takes our bond? We're soulmates, and that's the soul stone! What if it separates us, and then I have to go on without you? I can't do that, Steve! I can't!"

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is everything you're not able to feel right now. It's dependable, constant, devoted, sure. It’s not a goodbye kiss. It’s not even an appeasing one. It’s just a man kissing his wife because she’s distressed and he wants her to be okay.

When he pulls back, he rubs his nose against yours. “There’s not a damn thing in this world or any other that has the ability to break this bond between us. You are mine forever. No matter what.”

You blink up at him through wet lashes. “I’m scared,” you whisper, voice shaking.

His thumb swipes over your cheek. “Do you trust me?”

You release an incredulous huff. “Of course I do.”

His smile is entirely too sweet for this situation. “Then close your eyes.”

You tighten your grip on his uniform, as if you can claw apart the fabric with your bare nails. Your breath falls in scattered gasps, and your heart pounds in your chest. “If you die, I swear I’ll kill you.”

His lip twitches into a half smile. “I won’t.” His hand shifts against your cheek and moves to block your vision. “Close your eyes, Sweetheart.”

You release a pitiful whimper but do as he says. You feel his lips against yours for one more fleeting moment, and then he’s gone. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to not hear the sound of his running steps before those disappear, too. There’s a terrible moment of utter silence before a blinding flash cuts through your shut eyelids.

When your eyes open again, you’re no longer standing at the top of the cliff. You’re lying in a pool of water and staring up at that strange solar eclipse. You sit up, blinking in confusion.

You hear Steve groan to your left. “Okay, I will admit that hurt more than I was expecting.”

“Steve, what the fuck?!” His hand is somehow already tucked against yours, and you squeeze your fingers around his palm in frustration. You know your husband; there's no way he came up with this hair-brained scheme on a whim. He'd definitely planned it from the beginning.

He sits up next to you with a grimace. “Told you I’d be okay,” he tries to smile through the pain.

Your glare could probably pierce through vibranium. “You are the biggest asshole I ever married.”

He has the decency to look chagrined. “Technically, I’m the only asshole you ever married.”

“Good god, when are you two going to couples therapy?”

Your head whips around to your other side, only now noticing the slender palm clutched in your other hand. “Natasha!” You let go of Steve’s hand and practically throw yourself at your best friend. "Oh my god! I could kiss you!" You do just that, cupping the side of her face and placing a messy kiss to her opposite cheek.

“Whoa, easy there,” she winces, like she’s also in pain. “Feels a little like I got hit with a semi-truck. Also, what are you two doing here? And where’s Clint?”

You ease back, but continue to stare at her, afraid to blink. Like if you do, she might disappear again. “Clint’s fine,” you assure her. “He’s back home with his family.”

Her mouth parts in shock as she searches your eyes for the truth in your words. “What?”

You feel Steve shift closer behind you. “We did it, Nat. We brought everyone back,” he tells her.

“We did?” The hope in her voice brings tears to your eyes.

“Yeah,” you laugh wetly. “I mean, we also had to fight Thanos again; he blew up the Avengers compound, Steve started swinging around Mjolnir, and Tony almost died. Honestly, there’s kind of a lot we need to catch you up on. But maybe not while we’re all sitting in this weird puddle.”

“Right,” Steve grunts while pushing up to standing. He reaches out to help you onto your feet next, then pulls Natasha up.

“Aww, look at you two in your matching onesies—Holy Shit! Are you pregnant?!”

You grin sheepishly and rub your stomach. “Yes, we are.”

She blinks slowly, “How long was I gone?”

You share a look with Steve, the blood rushing to your face while he grins smugly. “We took a slight detour while returning the stones.”

“Damn, Rogers,” she teases. “Does this mean you’re packing up the shield?”

His nod is resolute, eyes firm. “More like passing it along,” he admits. “You want it?”

Nat quickly raises her hands in a surrendering motion and shakes her head. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Steve chuckles, “Yeah, I figured.” He turns back to you, eyes going soft, “Ready to go home?”

“More than ready.”

“Nat, you’re coming with us. Since we exchanged you with the soul stone, you can’t go back to our original timestamp, or it’ll throw everything off.” Steve helps her set the new time coordinates.

“Hey, if I don’t have to fight Thanos twice, that’s an extra win in my book.”

The three of you activate your nano suits, visors snapping into place. You nod in sync, then activate your watches, and finally make the journey back home. The three of you land back on the time platform, exactly ten seconds after you and Steve originally left.

"What the hell?!" you hear someone exclaim. Maybe, Bucky.

"Two go in and three come out? What's happening, Banner?" Sam asks, shifting on his feet, uncertain if this is some new threat.

"I'm not sure! There's an extra signature, but it doesn't make any sense! It's impossible! It's—"

"Natasha..." Bucky's voice is full of shock as her time suit dissolves and reveals her face.

"Hey." She grins while waving casually. "Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes?"

Sam laughs incredulously while shaking his head. "Look who's talking."

"Steve, you crazy son of a bitch," Bucky pins his best friend with a look, half exasperated, half relieved.

You roll your eyes. "Of course, he fucking told you, Barnes."

Bucky grins. "He didn't want to worry you, and I couldn't talk him out of it." His eyes flicker down toward your stomach, and his grin turns knowing. "Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers."

"Wait!" Sam steps forward, also catching the change in your figure. "Are you—? No, I can't say it. But you—" He struggles with wanting to ask, but knowing how impolite it is to assume anything about a woman's body.

You laugh and unconsciously rub your stomach. Before you get the chance to tell Sam that he can ask, Natasha throws her arm over your shoulder and knocks the side of her hip against yours. "I got her pregnant," she announces with a teasing grin.

"As if..." Steve grumbles, prying her off of you and tucking you protectively under his arm.

You laugh at your best friend's and husband's antics while the two of them stick their tongues out at each other like children.

"So, I guess we're gonna have to put a daycare center into the designs for the new compound?" Sam asks, while grinning at the three of you.

"That's not going to be necessary," Steve tells him. He jumps down off the platform and helps you down as well. When he's certain that you're steady on your feet, he turns back to Sam. He reaches to pull the shield off his back and holds it out. "Consider this my official resignation."

Sam's grin slides right off his face. He looks at the shield, then back to Steve, confusion furrowing his brow. "Your what?"

"I'm retiring, Sam." Steve tells him and gives an encouraging nudge to the shield. "And this now belongs to you."

You leave Steve to have his talk with Sam while you and Natasha head over to Bruce. He wraps her up in a hulking, green bear hug, to which she lets out a low "Oof" and a laugh.

"You're going to have your hands full," Bucky's voice pulls your attention when he steps up to you, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"With this one or with that one?" You ask, pointing to your stomach first and then over your shoulder at your husband.

"Both," Bucky grins.

"Oh, I'm aware," you smile back. "I'm expecting you guys to visit. Often. The door's always open."

He nods, "Will do. I just hope the baby-making fever isn't contagious. Pretty sure Mrs. Barnes will take one look at yours before turning her big doe eyes to me."

You place your hand on his shoulder and give him an affectionate squeeze. "You'll both know when you're ready. If that's even something either of you really wants. My advice? Honest communication is the best way to make the bond stronger. She might know your heart, but she can't read your mind. If you're not ready, tell her, and I promise she'll understand."

"What are you both whispering about over here?" You feel Steve's warmth against your back moments before his arms wrap around you and settle over your stomach.

"Your wife is already begging me to drag you out of the house so she can have some peace and quiet."

You snort in amusement, leaning back into Steve's chest.

"Nah, she loves having me around," Steve kisses the top of your head. "How are your feet, Sweetheart?"

You hesitate for half a second. "Fine." The word has barely left your mouth before Steve is lifting your body into his arms. You yelp in surprise, arms hooking around his neck. "I said they're fine!" you insist.

"You only said that because you think it's too dramatic if I carry you."

"It is too dramatic. I'm perfectly capable of walking. They don't hurt that much."

"Even a little pain is too much, in my humble opinion."

You scoff and shake your head. "Your opinion is noted and appreciated. Now put me down."

"Nope."

You groan and bury your face in his neck so you don't have to bear witness to all the amused smirks of your friends.

Steve takes you back home to the apartment you share in Brooklyn. Even though it's the place you've both lived for the past five years, the apartment feels strange. Like you're stepping into your childhood home after spending years abroad. Everything feels smaller, distant, replaced with memories of some place warmer and more vibrant. After those four months spent in 1970, this apartment no longer feels like home. Maybe it never did.

You spend the next few weeks working from your bed or the couch, on conference calls, or taking short trips to the office. There's a lot that needs to get done with your business, now that half the population has so suddenly returned. You need to scale up production, get the employees that returned back on payroll and insurance, and reroute the resources from your charities into helping the refugees that are cropping up in alarming amounts from people that are getting displaced by those that have returned. It's a lot of work, and more than what a woman at your stage should probably be handling, but Steve is overly supportive and is handling every other aspect of your life.

He's been on house hunting duty and is constantly on the phone with the realtor and running off on his motorcycle to go to viewings. If he's away for the whole day, he'll call at lunch time to make sure you're not skipping meals, and then he's always home in time to make dinner. In the evenings, he'll give you foot rubs, ask you about your day, and then spend some time talking to the baby with his head against your stomach while you run your fingers through his hair.

It's on a Friday afternoon that he leans casually against the side of your desk, waiting patiently for you to finish writing an email before asking if you want to take a drive with him. His eyes are practically glowing with excitement, like a puppy with perked ears and a wagging tail. You raise a curious brow and let him guide you out of the apartment and down to the car. He drives with one hand protectively held over your baby bump, while you nap in the passenger seat.

You wake up when the car pulls off the main road and onto a gravel driveway. You blink sleepily and look out the window, the evening sun filtering golden fingers of light through the trees. You shift your seat back up, your brows furrowing at the familiarity of the road. "Steve?" you question.

He's already grinning when he glances over at you. "We're almost there."

The road bends around a grouping of trees, but as soon as you've turned the corner, the road opens up to an extremely familiar house. The air expels from your lungs in a stuttered gasp, your heart skipping a beat. You feel Steve's heart return the skip in kind. "How?" you ask, looking from the house to your husband as the car comes to a rolling stop.

"Before we left 1970, I put the house in a trust and had a management company take care of it and handle any necessary repairs and restorations until now. It has always been ours. Every time I said I was going to an open house, I was actually coming here to get it ready."

"What? But..." you sputter, looking back at the house, then back to your husband. "But that was an entirely different timeline. We didn't even know this house existed until we went back."

Steve chuckles quietly and kisses your forehead. "Don't think about it too hard. It's a gift from the universe for returning all of the stones."

The longer you stare up at him, the more your eyes start to sting. You don't know what to say. You don't know how to feel.

"Do you want to go inside?" Steve asks cautiously.

"Mhm," you nod slowly, tentatively, like you're still not sure if this is real.

Steve steps out of the car first and comes around your side to help you out of the seat and walk up the front steps. He already has the house key attached to his key ring, which he pulls from his pocket to open the front door. He flicks on the light to the entryway and guides you inside. Everything is exactly how you left it. It doesn't feel like 50 years have passed. It feels like...

"Welcome home, Sweetheart," Steve whispers in your ear, and you immediately start sobbing.

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over the carved, wooden wall shelf with coat hooks underneath that Steve made. Then over the entry table with a bowl of dried lavender and rose petals, which must have been recently swapped with a fresher batch, because their gentle scent is filling the air, even now. Further in the house, you see Steve's coffee table. There's a scratch in the wood on one corner, where your wedding ring cut into it while Steve had you screaming his name as he fucked you within an inch of your life. The kitchen table, where one of the legs has a splint after Steve cracked it clean off because he was pounding into you so hard that the wood snapped.

Everything that you had in that little moment of bliss. Every memory you shared and believed you had to leave behind. All of it was here. Waiting for you. Not gone. Not left in a place you'd never get to see again. Right here. Under your fingertips. Filling your lungs. Surrounding your heart.

You sniff and try to wipe your eyes, but it's difficult to stop crying. "Steve..." your voice breaks as you look back at him. He's already looking at you like you're his entire world. Like everything he could ever need from now until the end of time is standing right in front of him. "You brought me home."

A single tear slides down his cheek, but his smile is so brilliant, it's blinding. "Yeah, Sweetheart. We're home." He pulls you into his arms, holding you tight while you both cry. He smells like fresh wood shavings, and safety, and golden sunrises. You bury your face into his chest, breathing in his strong, sturdy scent. After your tears have stopped, you feel his fingers brush your cheek, guiding your face back up to look at him again. "Can I show you something else?" he asks, voice soft and affectionate.

"Will it make me cry again?" you ask, still not quite emotionally stable.

He huffs out a short laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe." He thinks about it a little more and amends his answer. "Probably."

You use the sleeve of your cardigan to wipe your eyes. "Okay," you agree, voice a little wobbly.

Steve takes your hand and pulls you down the hall toward the guest bedroom. It had mainly been used as storage for Steve's half-finished projects, back in 1970, since neither of you were able to invite over any guests. But when he pushes open the door and leads you inside, it looks nothing like what you were expecting.

"Oh..." your hands come up to cover your mouth, and your eyes are somehow still hydrated enough to well with tears, yet again.

There's a brand-new baby crib centered over a large, circular rug in the middle of the room. You recognize Steve's handiwork, and the tiny hummingbirds that have been hand-carved into the corner posts of the crib are a dead giveaway that this isn't some generic crib he bought online. There's a cushioned rocking chair in one corner of the room with a flannel blanket folded over one arm. He's also built a changing station with plenty of drawers and cubbies for all the supplies you're going to need once the baby arrives. He's even repainted the room to a calm, but vibrant, pale green.

You barely even feel the floor under your feet as you step further into the room. Your hands run over the top beam of the crib, then trace over the little hummingbirds. The whole time, you're openly sobbing and cooing over everything.

Steve comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding your baby bump. "I hope this means you like it?" he questions, interpreting your tears as tears of joy, but wanting to make sure.

You nod against him. "Yes. It's perfect. I love it. And I love you. And I love our house. And I love our baby." You're a rambling mess and barely even coherent, but Steve understands you just fine.

The two of you spend the whole weekend at the house and start making plans for moving your present-day belongings out here. You and Steve decide to offer the apartment in Brooklyn to Bucky and his soulmate, who are more than happy to take it. Your trips into the office become fewer and farther between, especially the closer you get to your due date.

You and Steve have fully reintegrated into the house by the time you're bringing little Sara Natalia Rogers home from the hospital. She's perfect, and adorable, with Steve's nose, mouth, and ridiculously long eyelashes. You love kissing her tiny feet, and Steve cries the first time she holds one of his fingers.

There's basically a revolving door of superheroes who come by the house to meet the 'newest' Avenger. Tony complains about the lack of Wi-Fi and cell reception. Sam tries to convince you to let him use the baby to pick up chicks. Bucky looks horrified the first time you ask if he wants to hold her, but the moment she's actually in his arms, his features soften, and he can't help but smile. Thor tries to get her to hold Stormbreaker, and nearly sends a bolt of lightning through the kitchen window. Nat shows up so often, it’s almost like you have a live-in nanny. Sometimes you’ll hear soft Russian lullabies coming out of the baby’s room before you even know she’s there.

The constant stream of house guests has the additional effect of keeping your libido in check, because good God does watching Steve take care of the baby make you want to jump him and start working on Number 2. When you wake up in the mornings, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes, only to find Steve standing in the morning glow of sunrise, shirtless with pajama pants slung low on his hips, clutching your sleeping infant to his chest while he whispers into her hair, it makes you absolutely feral. Your OBGYN had mentioned once how beneficial skin-to-skin contact could be, and Steve took that advice to the next level. It’s like one of those parody sketches where the sexy fireman rips off his shirt before running into the building to save the victim, because as soon as Sara lets out even the slightest sound of distress, Steve is immediately stripping down before moving to pick her up. Some days, he doesn’t even bother with clothes at all. You’re in a constant state of "exhausted and horny", and it’s rapidly driving you insane.

But you wouldn’t trade it for the world. In fact, you earned all of this by saving the world. And now, you get to spend every day with the love of your life in a home filled with laughter and life and a future. A home full of happy, meaningful memories, and the optimistic excitement for the memories that have yet to be made. You and Steve survived war, survived the ice, survived an entirely new century fraught with challenges you couldn’t have even imagined, just to get to this point. Now that it was here, you were never going to let go. You saved the world. You saved your friends. You’d challenged the very face of death and came out the other side. And you were rewarded for all your efforts with a love forged in molten vibranium. A love so strong, it survived the test of time at every stage. A love that then culminated into the sweetest little girl with the most adorable laugh and bright, intelligent eyes. If this family is your reward for everything you’ve been through? Then it was all worth it.

The End

[djag2007]

Close Up of My Visible Heartbeat

After talking with a mutual about meeting up, my heart started pounding hard. There’s a skip somewhere in the middle.

[procrastinating-angels]

I couldn’t sleep so I made this aesthetic collage for a fanfic I can’t get out of my head by @after-avenging-hours called Heart Skip. It’s about Soulmate!Steve, and it just so happens your heartbeat is in sync with his.  Both of your hearts speed up together, and slow down together, they share every big emotion, and sense of calm. The problem being both hearts stop together as well.... check it out. 

[wilsons-wings]

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)

[djag2007]

Visit Original Link

A quick file of my heart palpitating.

[djag2007]

Skipping Heart + Growling Stomach

[after-avenging-hours]

OH MY GOD YOU'RE BACK!!! YOUR SOULMATE STORY WAS LIKE ONE OF THE FIRST I READ AFTER JOINING TUMBLR BACK IN 2017!!!

Hi! Hello! Yes, I am back and after a five year hiatus, I have just posted the next part to that very soulmate story 😅 My deepest apologies for stopping it at literally the worst part of the story, but I can promise you that Steve and the reader are no longer arguing and are, in fact, achieving their happily ever after 💞

Post by @after-avenging-hours · 3 images

💬 0  🔁 4  ❤️ 6 · Heart Skip · Heart Skip [17]: Steve x Female!Reader Series Summary:  A soulmate AU where from the moment you are born, two

[after-avenging-hours]

Heart Skip [16]: Steve x Reader

Series Summary:  A soulmate AU where from the moment you are born, two partners share a heartbeat.  They race in times of joy, slow in times of sadness, and they skip at the same moment.

Word Count: 2236

Warnings: ANGST, couple quarrel, yelling, light swearing, heart ache

Heart Skip / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /  Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 /  Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15

Steve’s eyes blink open and it takes a second for his vision to clear up. His lips pull into a frown as he tries to figure out where he is, but the movement of his lips makes his face hurt. Just about everything hurts. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out that he’s in the hospital. He looks around, catching sight of Sam sitting next to him.

“On your left,” he speaks, his voice sounding gruff in his ears.

Sam glances up from his book, meeting his gaze and smirks. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Steve makes another sweep of his eyes around the room. “Where is she?” he asks. He doesn’t need to clarify who he means.

The question sobers Sam a little. “She’s on the first floor. Getting treated for shock.” He sees the concern growing in Steve’s eyes. “Nat’s with her. She’ll be okay, but you nearly dying put some strain on her heart.”

“Shit,” Steve grimaces, hating that once again he’s causing you to have heart problems.

“Let me text Nat to let her know you’re awake. I’m sure they’ll be able to bring her up here.” Sam closes his book and walks around Steve’s bed to grab his phone off the docking station.

A few minutes later, the door swings open and Nat walks in, wheeling you in a hospital wheelchair. Sam shifts his chair back to make room, so Nat can wheel you to the bedside. “Steve…” you breathe his name with relief, seeing that he’s truly awake. Nat locks the wheels of your chair before she and Sam step out to give you both some privacy.

“You okay?” Steve asks in concern, reaching for your hand.

You quickly burst into tears. “I should be asking you that,” you speak through your sobs. “I was so scared you were-” you choke on another sob, unable to continue.

Steve squeezes your hand, feeling a pang in his chest from your pain. “Oh, no… Please don’t cry. I’m okay.” he swipes his thumb over the back of your hand, wishing he had the strength to pull you into his arms.

You sniff your nose and wipe your free hand over your eyes. “I’m crying because you ruined my uniform and now it can’t be returned back to the museum.”

Steve huffs out a short laugh, before groaning in pain. “Sweetheart, please don’t make me laugh,” he winces, holding his other hand against his stomach, where his gunshot wound is just beginning to heal.

You bite your bottom lip and give him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

He gives you a half-smile of reassurance with the undamaged side of his mouth. “S’okay. I do already feel a lot better having you here with me.” His eyelids begin to grow heavy and his blinks are slower. “I’m still pretty tired though…” he sighs quietly.

You move your second hand to where he holds your first and gently run your fingers up and down his forearm. “You should sleep some more. Your body needs time to heal.” The words have no sooner left your mouth before he’s fallen back asleep.

Sam and Natasha come back in a little later. You thank them both heavily for being there for both you and Steve. After a few hours, Steve wakes back up and feels better enough to insist that you should be discharged and taken somewhere to get some rest for yourself. The apartment complex you both were living in is still considered a crime scene and isn’t safe for you to return to by yourself. Nat was able to sneak into the building to get you a change of clothes and your toiletries, so you could at least change and get some rest at a hotel near the hospital.

You’re sitting at Steve’s bedside the next day when someone new enters the hospital room. The man wears a three-piece suit and a pair of sunglasses, even though he’s indoors. Steve raises a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting as much as the stitches in his cheek will allow. “Tony?”

“Cap,” the man greets with a nod.

“Did you bring me flowers?” Steve asks dubiously, noting the colorful bouquet in the man’s arms.

“These are actually for Miss America,” Tony smiles charmingly, handing the bouquet to you. “We haven’t met yet. Tony Stark.”

You release a small laugh and stand up to take the flowers from him. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

Tony gives you a once over as you cradle the flowers to your chest, before sending a smirk to Steve. “She’s entirely too cute for you.”

“Believe me, I know,” Steve agrees, sending you a look that makes your face hot.

Tony moves to stand at the foot of Steve’s bed and looks him over. “Wow, you didn’t even look this bad after New York.”

Steve shoots him a dry look. “Thanks,” he responds flatly, making you giggle. Steve’s eyes move to you and they immediately turn soft.

“I hear the both of you are in the market for some decent housing,” Tony speaks up, gripping the rail at the foot of Steve’s bed. The two of you share a curious look before turning back to Tony. “Avengers Tower is now fully operational. I wanted to extend a formal invitation to you both. There’s plenty of room, you can even have a whole floor to yourselves if you so desire. Banner’s already been staying with us. Thor pops in every once in awhile when he’s not off with his scientist lady. I would have reached out earlier, but you seemed rather content in your little bubble. At least until that bubble popped into an inter-agency conspiracy… Sorry about that, by the way.”

“…Are you asking us to move to New York?” Steve questions.

Tony shrugs casually, trying to downplay it. “I’m just saying, the offer is there.”

You and Steve share another look. Steve looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed and start packing now. You’re much more hesitant. It feels like you were just beginning to get used to some semblance of a normal life, but now everything’s been turned upside down. Again. The only thing that seems to be consistent in your life is its inconsistency. Steve’s brows furrow when he reads the hesitation in your eyes. “Can we think about it?” he finally asks Tony.

“Sure thing. No pressure. You know how to find me,” he taps his hands against the bed rail before taking his leave.

“You okay?” Steve asks, the concerned crease appears between his brows.

“Yeah,” you force a smile. “It’s just been a strange couple of days.”

With Steve’s accelerated healing, he recovers enough to get released from the hospital a few days later. The chaos around your apartment building has eased up and you’re allowed to stay there once again. Steve’s apartment is still technically considered a crime scene, so he just grabs a few essentials and stays with you. He’s currently making dinner, while you work on a school reading assignment at the table.

“I think we should move to New York,” Steve speaks, breaking the otherwise comfortable silence of the room.

You immediately pause in the middle of the notes you’d been writing. You absorb his words before releasing a long sigh and set your pen down. You’ve been dreading this conversation ever since it was brought up as an option. “You’re really ready to just jump back into it, aren’t you?” your question comes out in a strange mix of disbelief and resignation.

Steve gives you a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

You pin him with a look that says it should be obvious to him. “You almost died, Steve. Shouldn’t that warrant at least some consideration into your life choices before you jump into the next thing?”

He looks back at you incredulously, like he can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “I’m needed as Captain America. That’s not a choice. That’s who I am.”

“No,” you deny fervently. “Captain America is a job. Who you are is Steve Rogers.”

He narrows his eyes into a pointed look. “I can’t stop, not when I know that Hydra is still out there. The world needs Captain America. Now more than ever.”

You huff in frustration. “The world is always going to need Captain America. But I need Steve Rogers.”

“Please don’t make me do this,” he shakes his head slowly, pain filtering into his eyes. “Don’t make me choose between one life and the rest of the world.”

“It’s not just one life, Steve. It’s two! This is your life, too! Our life!” You urge, begging him to see it. “And you’re letting it slip through your fingers,” the pain in your own chest makes your voice waiver.

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? The only decision we’re making is whether or not to move to New York.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” You give him a blatant stare. “Maria told me what really happened up there.” Steve’s face blanches at your words. “Did you even think about me when you gave her the order to bring down the airship while you were still on it?”

He releases a long sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping his gaze. “Of course, I did. But I didn’t have a choice.”

You scoff dryly, looking off into the distance, unable to stand looking back at him. “There’s always a choice, but I guess it will never be me.”

“That’s not fair.”

Irritation creases your brow when you finally turn back to meet his gaze. “Don’t you want a future together? To settle down? To get married. Have children. Don’t you want any of that?”

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and shrugs a shoulder. “I thought I did. But that was before…” His voice trails off.

You look at him incredulously. “Before what?” you question. “Before you woke up in the future?” you guess. But then you come to the realization, “Or before you took the serum and became Captain America?”

He releases a soft sigh. 

“I don’t know.”

Your lungs make every breath feel like the vice around them is growing tighter. “When you stepped into that pod, did you even once consider the things you would be losing?”

“You wouldn’t have been happy,” he tries to give an excuse but you’re not having it.

“No, Steve. You wouldn’t have been happy. You’re always telling me that you think I needed you to be strong, to be a hero… But I didn’t. I never cared about how tall you were, or how much weight you could lift. I would have been happy with you before the serum. Because I love you, Steve Rogers. Not Captain America. You are enough for me. You’re all I want. But I guess I’m not enough for you.”

“Don’t say that. You are enough.”

“Am I? Then why are you so willing to run out that door, every day?”

“Because the world needs me! If I don’t fight for what’s right, then who will?”

Your eyes turn sad as you look back at him. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting; you don’t know how to stop picking them. Do you?”

His jaw clenches and there’s a tick in his cheek, but he doesn’t grace that with a response.

“If Steve Rogers is worthless to Captain America? What does that make me?” You let the question hang in the air for a moment, but the sadness within you only grows as he continues to remain silent. “I guess I’ll only ever be a liability.” You don’t give him much of a chance to respond to that. It’s becoming too much; you have to get out of this room. Pushing your chair back, you stand from your spot at the table and head for the doorway out of the kitchen.

“Hey,” Steve calls. “We’re not done talking about this. Come back,” he speaks sternly. When you don’t even pause, Steve releases a harsh huff. “That’s an order.”

As soon as the words are out in the air, Steve immediately regrets them. Your entire body stiffens, back straightening, shoulders tensing. 

When you slowly turn back around to face him, there’s a fire in your eyes. “Excuse me?” you ask dangerously. Tears of frustration and pain line the rim of your eyes, threatening to spill over. “You do not get to give me orders,” your tone is sharper than a blade. You shake your head at him in disbelief. “You are my soulmate. NOT my captain!”

The look of disgust that crosses your features pierces Steve’s gut. He can’t even find the words to try to stop you when you walk away from him again. There’s a resounding slam of the bedroom door coming from deep within the apartment.

“Damn it,” he huffs, mostly annoyed with himself now. He runs both hands through his hair, gripping tightly at the short strands. There’s a hollow sort of ache deep within his chest that he’s never felt before. It’s horrible.

What happens next is so much worse.

Through the walls of the apartment, Steve’s sensitive hearing picks up on the sound of your utterly broken sobbing. It’s enough to bring him to his knees. His back slides against the kitchen cupboards as he sinks to the floor. If there’s a hell on earth, this is it.

Part 17