TORI

I sit in the nursery at home, holding James in my arms. He feeds quietly and without fighting, which makes it so much easier for me.  The past few days have been so surreal. After coming home from the hospital the night after I gave birth, it has just been pure bliss for us all. Steve and I are just so happy, keeping all of our love for this spoiled rotten kid. If I'm not taking care of him, Steve is holding him or rocking him. He is such an amazing dad. I knew he would be, but he had so much doubt in himself and didn't believe that he could do it. Now he has the kid wrapped around his finger, both figuratively and literally.

James has small fits when he is forced to leave Steve, crying and sniffling. It hurts both Steve and me to see him do it, but he can't grow so attached all the time. He has another parent that he has to love. Then again, he whines whenever I have to rip him off me to give him to Steve. At this point, I just think he doesn't like being moved when he's comfortable.

I clean James Anthony's mouth off and lean back in the comfy chair. I hold him up close to me, gently resting my cheek so that it grazes his dark hair. To say that I love my son would be an understatement. I don't know where I would be or who I would be without him here, and I don't want to know. Having him and Steve are the best things that have ever happened to me, and that won't ever change.

There is a soft knock at the door, and Steve quietly steps inside. He gives me a quick smile, his cheeks rosy from standing over a stove. He plants a kiss on my cheek as I glance up at him with a grin.

"I can take him for a while," Steve offers.

I smile up at my husband. "It's probably time for him to go to bed anyways," I say. "You get him tonight." Small snores come from James. Steve chuckles, gazing down at him. I carefully rise from the chair, taking James to the crib across the room. I set him down gently, and he automatically sprawls across the blankets. Steve's arms snake around my waist, and he nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck.

"Actually, can dinner wait?" Steve asks me, his lips forming the words smoothly against my skin, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. His voice is haunted by lust, and the soft kisses he leaves on my skin show his desperation.

"Dinner cannot," I grin. "I'm starving."

Steve whines, letting me go and dragging me out of the room. We both glance back at James, double checking that he is asleep before dimming the overhead light on our way out. We make our way downstairs and into the kitchen. Steve turns on the monitor, positioning it so that we can both easily see it from our seats. I wolf down the food quickly, barely tasting the amazing meal my husband prepared. I've barely been able to eat recently because of stress and juggling James, even when I hand him off with Steve. Our son has just been taking a toll on us from getting barely any sleep to rarely seeing each other, hence Steve's desires.

Steve's hand rests on my thigh, drawing circles on my jeans with his thumb.

"Steven," I scold. "Not now."

"Why not?" he complains. "James is asleep. I see no problem."

"He's going to wake up soon, and you know it," I reply.

Steve groans, removing his hand and petulantly sitting back in his chair.

I sigh, guilt taking over me. I interwind my fingers with his, and that forces him to glance up at me. "Hey, I promise that tonight it's just you and me. Okay?"

My husband nods, his patience levels rising. "Okay."

•••

I lay in bed next to Steve, my skin pressed against his as we sleep. He has his cheek resting on my messy hair, and I have my arms wrapped around him. I can hear the crickets outside. They chirp in the silent spring night, sometimes disrupted by the howling of the wind. I sleep soundly next to Steve, listening to his steady heartbeat as I rest my head on his bare chest. His arms protectively hold me close to him as we sleep, and we stay that way until we are woken up by a soft sniffle coming from the baby monitor on my nightstand.

I barely feel Steve get out of bed, but I fully wake up once James's small cries turn into wails. As Steve's silhouette throws on sweatpants and a t-shirt on his way out of the room, I roll out of bed and find one of his other t-shirts to pull on. I slowly ascend the staircase, rubbing my eyes and fumbling my way through the darkness. Once I stop at the doorway of James's nursery I see Steve gently holding our son in his strong arms, rocking him comfortingly.

"It's okay, buddy," Steve coos in a husky voice, smoothing his hand up and down James's back. "It's gonna be okay."

James's cries are stifled by Steve's shirt, but they soon turn into short gasps.

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms as I gaze at my two Rogers boys. Our little life couldn't be any more perfect than it already is. Just watching Steve comfort him after a restless sleep proves that. I don't know how I managed to get all of this, but I did and I have it here with me. I have an adorable son who is my whole world, and I have my husband. Words cannot reach my love for Steve. He is the best person I've ever had the benefit of knowing, let alone having a family with. He's been with me through so much, and he's never left me. I've been through so much with him, and I would never even think about leaving his side through any of it. He is the only reason I'm still standing.

Maybe I'm just lucky, I think as I meet Steve's blue orbs in the darkness of the room. I can't help but think of our son as I gaze into them. They are crinkled at the edges from a smile, reminding me of all the thrilling times we've had together. I remember everything when I stare into those eyes. If I am ever lost, they are there searching for what's left of me. Those two orbs convey so much emotion that it shows with every fleck of blue in his eyes. Those eyes give me hope and a home, but most of all they give us both homes.

Maybe home doesn't have to be a place, like I've always thought. It doesn't have to be a time period or an object. Possibly it is a thing, and that thing can be the vessel for all of your fear, your thoughts, the entire capacity of your mind. They hold it all so they can't be lost.

But maybe a home can be a person. My home is a person, possibly even two people now. The people I love, the people that I would jump in front of a bullet for without a second thought, those are the people at I find myself found in. I don't feel like the lost shell of a girl that I once was, cowering in fear at everything I saw as dangerous. I am a grown woman with a family to take care of, the family I call my home.

James, my son, is my family. He is a part of my entire point of living now. I gave him life, and he relies on me to keep it for him.

Another person is my family too. He helps me take care of and watch over James. He makes sure that I take care of and watch over myself in the process, even if it injures him while doing so. He would do anything for anyone, and he is the reason I find hope in this lost and desperate world.

Steve is my home, and I owe him my life for that.