His face drops and goes paler than the off white walls surrounding us. It feels like they could crush us at any moment. Steve shifts his body from the chair to the edge of my bed keeping his hand on mine and moving his gaze to the wall on the opposite side of the room. His eyes look cold and his face full with the emotions we now share. His eyes slowly move towards mine giving me a a better look at the devastation on his face. He used to tell me about how much he loved kids and how if were still together when everything with thanos was over that we should buy a house together out in the middle of nowhere like Clint and Laura did and adopt a baby and maybe a dog. He wanted it all, a house, a wife, some kids and a dog. He tells me how he'd want to name a son James after his best friend Bucky. Wouldn't that be perfect? James and Lily Rogers-Romanoff. When ever he talked about the future he wanted it reminded me when he was raised. Being raised in the 1920s-40s he wants the traditional American family. Knowing about my past, my growing up in the red room, and having my tubes tied, he knew if he wanted a baby with me we would have to use other means. That didn't bother him but there was a moment when he realized what I had said that he forgot the "was". I saw it on his face and I see it now. I wish that this could all just go away for him. I wish this had never happened just so I could fix how he's feeling.
A lone tear rolls down his cheek, almost in slow motion. It's followed quickly by a second then a third. He wears the same look of defeat he did two days ago on the battle field in wakanda. It scares me just the same now as it had then. He quickly tries to fix his face, only partly succeeding. He looks at me sad and genuine, placing his hand on my face, whipping a tear off my cheek with his thumb.
"I am so, sorry" his brow tightens, I assume holding back more tears as he leans down to hug me. I'm not as strong as he is and fail to keep the sobs contained. Hearing and feeling me cry pushed his emotions over the edge. He pushes his body in to mine shivering and shaking with tears. We sit there a moment crying together. It feels so much better to cry with someone than it does to cry alone. If it were someone else who could only sympathize it would be different, embarrassing, but Steve feels it. The same as I do. Crying with him, someone I love with all I have, feels different, feels like the tears help instead of making it worse.
After a moment he collects him self enough to sit up. He gives me a light smirk, probably slightly ashamed for breaking brown but clearly glad he did. He lays down beside me and I rest my head on his chest. The sound of his heart beat and breathing is instantly soothing. It makes me realize how little sleep I have gotten the last 3 nights. I can't tell he's thinking of saying something and I look up at him.
"..do you think...was ...boy ...or girl...?" He whispered with complete caution keeping eye contact to see if he should stop or not.
"Girl" I tell him he looks at the ceiling to keep his emotions under control, although a single tear escapes gliding silently down his face.
I lay my head back down properly on his chest and let my self drift to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

I wake up the next morning, still laying on Steve's chest. My arm around him and his arm around me, the sound of his heart beat mixed with the sound of the birds outside, the warmth and feeling of his body against mine. The sunlight peaking in through the blinds, it feels so calm and damn near perfect. Until I'm broken out of my peace my a soft knock on the door. I pull my body off of Steve's slightly to see who's at my door.
"Come in" I whisper as loud as I can as reality floods into my system numbing me. It's Clint, he opens the door slowly not wanting to move to quickly. I can feel Steve waking up under me.
"Morning" Clint whispers, a little timid.
"Good morning, Clint." Steve replys "morning, Nat" he smiles at me. Reality probably hasn't hit him yet.
"I made breakfast down stairs if you want some" he looks so desperate. Desperate to help me, console me, pull me out of the darkness like everyone else has started to do for them selfs. But he dose t know the whole story. "I made your favorite Nat, blueberry pancakes" he finished with way to much fake enthusiasm. I have denied his many attempts at feeding me the last 3 days but I am genuinely hungry this morning, and while I don't particularly want the company downstairs, I do want the pancakes so I oblige.
"Ok I'll be down in a minuet, Clint, thank you" Clint nods and leaves clearly happy in his success. I look at Steve who looks just as happy in clints success and just as numb of anything else, as I do. He kisses my forehead before rolling out of my bed.
"I'll see you downstairs" and he leaves. I rethink my decision to go down to eat but I can now smell the pancakes and my stomach make the choice for me. I get up and change into one of clints old hoodies and a pair of Steve's sweat pants I stole from him. I meet Steve in the hallway and we walk down together. As I turn the corner to the stairs and get a look that the dinging table I freeze. I didn't expect everyone to be up. A table big enough for twelve filled up all but two seats. I feel Steve's hand on my back trying to reassure me but it fails. The panic rises in me and I turn back up the stairs.