TORI

I let out one last breath as the doctors and nurses in the room give me approving nods. My forehead is dripping with sweat, and I think I see Steve and Tony almost faint again. The doctor is holding something, something small. Maybe it's someone. That's James. Everything around me just spins, and the ringing in my ears won't go away. Every last thought in my mind, every last memory of the past few hours have just vanished, leaving me with utter confusion and joy and relief as a small cry echoes through the room.

We have a son.

I feel my lips form something like a yes to when the doctor asks if I want her to have him put on my chest before they take him away to clean him up. I don't know what to do or even say, so I just awkwardly bring James up to me, absentmindedly ignoring the fluids covering him as the nurses try to wipe them away with a cloth. He's so small. I just laugh and stare down at him in awe. I glance up at Steve, searching for confirmation. He nods, adorning a smile that I've never seen before. I've never seen him so happy, not at our wedding, not when I told him that we were having a baby, but now.

"He's so little," Steve sniffles, laughing as he wipes away tears that stream down his cheeks. I can barely hear my husband over the loud cries that come from our son and Tony. My poor brother is sobbing into Bucky, no matter how much he tries to hide it. Steve's hand brushes my hair away as James is quickly cleaned off more and they check his breathing, and then it just rests on my shoulder. We both stare down at him, trying to coo to him that it's all right and for him to stop crying. James just continues to sob into my chest, his eyes squinted shut.

A few minutes later, Steve confusedly takes a pair of special scissors, not having a single idea of what to do with them.

"You get to cut his cord, Dad," a nurse smiles at him.

He doesn't seem to realize that she's speaking to him, mainly because of what she called him. He eventually whips his head down to face me. "Wait, what?" he asks me, obviously very concerned.

The poor thing thinks she means like the metaphor of killing someone.

"Not like that!" I laugh. "The umbilical cord."

"Hold on, I have to do something?" he asks. "I thought my job was to sit here quietly while you broke my hand."

I shake my head. "You don't have to do it, but it's—"

"Where is it?" he asks seriously.

The doctor shows him where to cut, which he slowly and carefully does despite his sudden excitement. I contain giggles as Tony and Bucky peer over his bulky shoulders, all three of the men having red and puffy eyes from crying. They all stare down at James as I am given a towel to hold him in and cradle him close to me. I press my lips to the top of his head, still smiling.

Steve questionably moves his hand closer to James, debating on whether or not to move closer. I give him a nod, and he shifts his hand towards him. James's little fist seizes Steve's index finger, causing him to gasp. I laugh, looking up at my husband.

"I think he likes you," I smile. Tears well up in my eyes. After months of him having anxiety about our child liking him or not, him almost bursting into tears at some points, here he is with him quite literally wrapped around his finger.

"H-He stopped crying," Steve mumbles. His face falls. "He stopped crying. I-I-Isn't that not good?"

"He's still whimpering, I think he's okay."

Steve leans down to peck my lips sweetly. "You did so well," he whispers, still gazing down at our son. "Wait, he has hair!"

I roll my eyes at my golden retriever-like husband, who analyzes our child.

"He has your dark hair," he grins. He peers down to look at his face that is buried into my chest. "And your nose."

"He reminds me of you, Steve," Bucky says from behind him.

Steve turns around to face him as his longtime friend gives him the same gaze as Tony gives me.

"What?" I ask my brother.

"You were small too," he says, "but I would ask Natasha if he actually is small when she comes over soon. She's dealt with the Barton's, so she'd know."

"Yeah," I nod. "Yeah, I'll do that."

A few moments later, they take James away and set him into a tray-like thing with short clear walls. I hate seeing him in there. I just want my son to be with me, but they have to run some tests and make sure that he truly is all right. But based on how he fully stops crying and wiggles around comfortably, I think he's okay. It's mother's intuition.

I'm really a mom. And that means Steve is a dad, and Tony and Bucky are uncles. Technically, the only blood relation that child has with anyone are his own parents, but all of the Avengers are his relatives. He has approximately eight uncles and three aunts because of that. That's going to be a fun story to tell when he gets older.

Steve stands next to James, smiling down at him. James's hands grasp at the blankets underneath him, like he's still trying to figure out what's going on without sight. That changes when Steve's smile falls.

The worst thoughts come into my mind, and I just freeze up. I don't know what to do until words finally come out of Steve's mouth.

"He has my eyes," my husband mumbles.

My smile reappears. "H-He does?"

I lean over as far as my exhausted body will allow me, and sure enough there are two small blue orbs trying to open. I have to wipe away my tears. That's the one thing that I wanted above all. As long as our baby was in good health, I was okay, but it would be perfect if they had their father's eyes. That's what I've told myself since Steve and I even discussed the mere thought of having children. I wanted for them to have blue eyes, and James does. They meet mine for a few moments, and they are exactly like Steve's. There are flecks of lighter and darker blue in the same spots and the same glint that I saw when I first met Steve. James has inherited all of that.

They are torn away from me though when a nurse gently takes him out and weighs him.

"Six point seven pounds," the nurse says.

I repeat the number inside my head. That number does seem fairly small.

"Very, very healthy," the nurse continues to say as they do more to James. I know that they just want to make sure that he's breathing properly and that he is all right, but I just want to hold him in my arms. That's all I want. Hell, I deserve to hold him after what I went through.

Tony and Bucky sprint over next to Steve after they put James back in his little box.

"He's yawning," Steve laughs, smirking at my brother. "He's already tired of you, Stark."

"Just like his father already," Tony sighs.

"I'm never tired of you, Tony," he says seriously. "It's just that I really want to punch you in the face sometimes."

"I can confirm that," Bucky pipes up.

The nurses take measurements as the grown boys tease each other, making me giggle even more. Steve finally just rolls his eyes at them and comes to me. He cups my face in his hands and presses his lips on mine. I kiss him back, running my hands through his hair.

"I love you so much," he mumbles.

"I love you too, Steven," I smile. "But I would use you as a human shield to protect that kid."

"Hey, it would be karma for having a shield as my choice of weapon for all these years."

"It's not even a weapon, Steve. It's used like armor."

"Like you haven't seen me kill people with that old thing though."

"That old vibranium thing needs to be kept away as soon as the little guy gets bigger though," I remind him.

"I know, I know," he sighs. He kisses me one more time, this time making it long and passionate. "We have a son."