Into the War || A Captain America Love Story

57

STEVE

"Steven Grant Rogers!"

I perk up from sleeping on the couch at my full name echoing through the house. This woman is going to be the death of me. First I can't get any sleep, but that's mostly because of nerves. Then there's the constant mood swings. And just—

Ugh.

"Yes, honey?" I ask my wife sweetly, rubbing my eyes as I try to get myself awake.

"You wouldn't answer until I screamed," Tori states, buzzing about the kitchen. "If you want to sleep, go to bed."

"No, no, I'm good," I insist, sitting up from the couch.

"Go to bed, Steve," she says, setting a dish down on the counter and staring at me sadly. "You barely slept to begin with, and now it's getting even worse. Go to bed and catch up on sleep."

"I swear I'm fine," I tell her. I stand up from the sofa to show her, setting my arms to my sides. "I'm just anxious."

"Aren't we all," she mutters.

I clench my jaw. "Look, I can't sleep. You know how hard I try—"

"Steven." Tori steps towards me, taking my shoulders in her hands to force me to look at her. She seems so sad, tearing my heart apart even more. "You know I do. I just got scared for a second. Because you never do sleep, I'm left with only a few options when you don't answer me."

I raise an eyebrow at her, trying to take that in. What options? If I'm not sleeping, what else could I be doing? Did she think I died? What the hell does "I'm only left with a few options" mean?

"I know," I mumble. "I'm trying."

"And I know you are," Tori smiles. "But we gotta keep going on."

"You act like I don't tell you the same thing everyday," I chuckle, continuing to rub my eyes.

"Go to bed, Steve," Tori orders.

I groan, hesitantly following her orders. As much as I do want to sleep, the thought of us only having fifteen weeks absolute maximum left until James is here terrifies me. We've gotten through twenty six weeks, so we're definitely pushing it close. Things have been getting a lot more difficult, especially mentally, so I'm scared to see what the next couple of weeks are going to be like.

I flop face first on to the bed, pressing my nose into the pillow. I feel Tori's soft hand gently sliding to my shoulder, releasing some of the anxiety that I was feeling just moments ago.

"Honey, you okay?" she asks me in a hushed voice.

I moan into the pillow as a response, causing her to laugh softly. She sits on the edge of the bed and ruffles my hair. I sneer and turn around to wrap my arms around her, pulling her on to the bed. She giggles as I plant quick kisses on to her cheeks and neck.

"Steve!" she laughs, turning her head around to meet her lips with mine. I kiss her softly, brushing back her short hair as her hands travel up my chest to my jaw.

"And I thought you were tired," Tori scoffs, crossing her arms.

I shrug. "I am, but I'm brushing it off."

She rolls her eyes, pushing me back on to the bed. "Then sleep."

•••

I wake back up to Tori's soft fingertips stroking my hair out of my face. I almost shoot awake until I realize it's her, the light coming from her cellphone's small screen creating a glint in her eyes. Her brown orbs break away from the screen, and she glances down at me with a smile.

"Rise and shine," she greets.

I shift my gaze to the window. It's almost dusk. I must have slept for hours. Last time I remember, it was barely noon and Tori was making lunch.

She sets her phone down on the nightstand next to her, laying next to me. I kiss her cheek as she does, and it makes a blush crawl across it. Her hand interlaces with my own, causing me to smile. She slowly brings it to her stomach, where I feel a few light pushes against my palm.

"That's why I can't sleep either," she says, forcing a smile. I sit up, looking down at her. She does seem quite tired too. It didn't really show until now, but she's definitely getting sleepy.

I lean down, laying back down and resting my chin on her stomach. She stares down at me, a smile spreading across her pink lips.

"Stop being a pain for your mother," I mumble against her t-shirt.

Tori cocks her head to the side, eyeing her stomach. "He's moving a little bit," she informs me, shifting so that I can possibly feel James kick some more.

"Where?" I ask her, glancing up to meet her eyes with my hand hovering over her stomach.

She takes it and gently sets it near the side of her belly. I catch a few more kicks, but they aren't as prominent as the others. I smile, planting a kiss on her stomach, and resting my chin back on her.

"So what do you want to do?" I ask her.

"With what's left of the day," Tori laughs. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I dunno. Maybe we could actually touch that paint in the bedroom upstairs?"

"Maybe," I say, gazing up at her. Her gleaming brown orbs twinkle with joy as we just stare at each other in the silence. She's just perfect in every single way. She doesn't treat me like I'm any different than her, and I love that. God, I love her.

A sharp push hits my jaw. I glare down at her stomach as Tori gasps in surprise, moving a hand down to her belly.

"Really, buddy?" I ask our son, rolling my eyes.

Tori lets out a chuckle and looks down at her stomach. "Don't bully your father, James. You have Uncle Tony for that."

"Damn right," I scoff.

"Steve!" Tori scolds. "I mean, you're not wrong, but really?"

"Yes, now let's go and get this kid's room ready," I exclaim. I hop out of bed, dragging Tori up with me. She groans, but doesn't stop me. We sprint up the stairs and into the empty bedroom. Everything is here — paint, the walls are taped, we have mats down to catch drips, everything. I whip out a brush, open, and stir the light gray paint. As soon as I'm done and have poured some out into a pan for a roller, Tori takes some to do the area above the taped off trim. I start off on the center of the wall on the opposite side of the brightly lit room.

"You scared of me?" Tori asks playfully, glancing over her shoulder to see me.

"Well after last time, I think I have the right to be," I reply.

Tori laughs, remembering the old times. "When we were painting our bedroom in our first apartment," she recalls. "Yeah, how could I forget? We got paint all over each other."

"And we could do it again," I grin.

"Not unless you plan on losing the paint war."

"Fair enough," I reply, rolling the light gray paint on to the wall. I glance at Tori, smiling. We've come so far since then, and we're getting even further. We've been married for quite a while now with a kid on the way, so I think we definitely have gotten somewhere.

I hear her take a step towards me. I can barely hear her because of how quite she is being.

"Don't you even think about painting—" I'm stopped by the stroke of a brush swiping down my shirt. "My back," I conclude. I whip around to face my wife, who adorns a mischievous grin.

"Come on, Steve," she persuades. "I know you want to."

I pull my roller away from the wall, seizing it tightly like a weapon. "It's on."