Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Steve! Wanda! Breakfast! Don't let Agatha come here and get you!"

A few loud bangs from Pietro behind their door nearly pulled Wanda's focus as she hastily rolled her hips to get one more out before they headed downstairs.

Prying at Steve's phone when it rang as he cleaned up in the bathroom, and learning that his screen saver was a photo of her glowering at a lettuce, activated her Fuck Steve, Now button. She should have felt anxious when he caught her red-handed as he wiped his face with a towel, but instead, she ran towards him and threw her arms around him for an open-mouthed kiss.

If Steve found the invasion of his privacy reprehensible, he didn't show when he lifted her and enfolded her legs around his waist, perching them on the sofa to defile one another for who knows how many times at that point over the course of eight hours.

"I'm close, doll," Steve mumbled with his teeth sunk on her jaw as she continued to rock on his length, arms snugged tight on his neck. She plowed her tongue on his, gasping as the invigorating throes took over her body.

It was an inebriating kind of high, climaxing together. How was it even possible? She didn't care to find out, a deduction she had reached as she beamed at his dazed blue eyes.

"I hope you're not angry. Your phone rang, and I was concerned it might be an emergency, so I took a quick peek." She said, offering him the most contrived timid smile she could manage.

"No. You wanted to see if it was Sharon," he chuckled, nuzzling her cheek. At least she confirmed that he didn't care about her twitchy palms.

"She lives in my head rent-free. It's pathetic."

"A part of me is glad that you're jealous. But at this point, you should really move on. Before I met you, yeah, there was some sort of connection between us. I considered dating her, especially when I thought everything was over between us. But I just couldn't."

"Too weird?"

"Because she's not you."

"That's a great answer, Steve," she giggled. It's like winning the lottery with him; he knew all the right things to say. And she knew that he meant every single word.

"You're not going to start asking me, ' If I would still love you if you were a worm,' would you?" he asked, making her squint her eyes.

"How did you know? Don't ruin the fun; just move along with the agenda." She had every intention of asking him, just to be bothersome. She pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before getting off him to tidy up and look decent for breakfast.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, rather than looking horrified by the bruises surrounding her pale complexion, she found herself smiling with fulfillment. Steve stood behind her, grinning smugly as he took her in.

"Sorry," he said, not even bothering to pretend that he meant it.

"No, you're not. You look proud."

"Yeah, I am proud. Is that bad? You don't look like you hate it either."

She turned to face him with a smirk, leaning against the countertop. "Are we weird? I remember watching this family-oriented film called Fifty Shades of Grey; the female lead, Ana, was furious about the hickeys. But I'm not."

"We've always been weird."

"Was what you said about getting me pregnant true or just dirty talk?" she asked, abruptly reminded of the implications of his confession last night.

"Yes."

"To what?" The bastard just gave her a shrug in response; she shook her head as she laughed. She didn't care what the answer was. She tiptoed and snaked her arms around his neck, his arms encircling her waist right away. "Steve, tell me you love me."

"I love you," he briskly obliged.

She waited for a beat, for him to demand that she say it back. But he didn't. He stood there gazing at her all lovingly, making her heart thump like a drum. "Say it again," she urged.

"I love you, Wanda," he uttered, pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"I love hearing you say that to me." She thought about how he really felt at that moment. She envisioned that expressing those words without hearing them in return couldn’t be a cheery affair. Yet, as he closed his eyes and unwittingly hummed while teetering with her, it made her think that he no longer cared.

She felt guilty. She didn't want him to keep offering himself to her without foreseeing any reciprocation; that wasn't fair. Yet, she couldn't help but revel in the feeling of being loved unconditionally despite all her imperfections.

To be loved by someone so kind, to be abode out of pure affection, was a gift she had never dared to wish for from the universe throughout her life.

Agatha taught her a valuable lesson: never expect or demand love if you have nothing else to offer. That was neither right nor just. Yet she craved Steve's affections, leading her to continuously chase him, even after she realized the disrespect she had shown him. She doubted she would ever find someone like him again.

"What are you thinking about?" Steve whispered, looking at her with his enchanting eyes that she hoped their child would inherit.

"You."

"Me? Care to share?"

"Just wondering how long it will take until you hit your head and realize that you don't love me anymore."

"Hmm, I don't like that. It's like you're prophesying something catastrophic." His resonant tone, accompanied by his look of disdain, didn't chafe her layers of self-doubt.

Expecting the worst had been her shield. Delusion about her miseries was her sword. If she allowed herself to start dreaming again, it would only pierce her tainted heart.

If one day Steve woke up and found he could no longer endure her egocentricity, there would be no turning back for her. She knew it as well as she knew herself. The love that her family freely offered would no longer be enough to nurture her. She would become nothing but a hollow vessel, just as her destiny had foretold.

And her child? That was the question she couldn't bring herself to confront just yet. She didn't have the makings of a good mother. She was too dumb, too angry, and too hapless. Her spawn was set up for an endless array of misfortune if she fell in love with it.

"Love is a choice, doll. I chose to cultivate the love I feel for you regardless of the rational. No amount of magic can bend my heart's will."

***

"You all look tired," Wanda said as she completed her survey of everyone at the table. She had a strong hunch about the reason for the bags under their eyes, but she couldn't help framing the obvious. Who would she be if she didn't?

"Tired is an understatement," Stephen said through gritted teeth as he jabbed his fork into the meat. Ever since the Sokovia Clan—Wanda, Agatha, and Pietro, as Wong liked to call them—moved into the Sanctum, breakfast had turned into a full-course meal. Agatha insisted it made sense; breaking your fast after a long night of sleep meant you needed all the nutrition you could get to recuperate.

"These stray cats were ululating in the dead of night, completely spurning the innocent people around them," he continued, the screech of his knife against the plate hammering his words. Wanda let out a cackle of amusement at his resentment. The man was being a hypocrite, overlooking the fact that he, too, had engaged in impetuous lovemaking many a night.

"That's alright, darling, that's nature taking its course." Agatha encouraged Stephen with a light squeeze on his arm, immediately softening Strange. "I do hope those cats learn to be at least a little quieter, instead of yelping as if they were announcing their arrivals. This is not an airport."

"I quite liked it. It was a lovely night." Pietro jeered. He was the only one who seemed pleased with the interruption.

"New York has too much stray litter." Wanda deadpanned. When she caught a glimpse of Steve, he didn't behave as she anticipated. He kept smiling to himself as if he was relishing every second of the complaints about their ardent coupling.

"I hate treacherous felines. Betraying an innocent wolf is uncalled for." Wong chimed in, even sounding like he was stifling a sob.

"Well, you just need to find a way to accept that," Steve retorted, compelling Wanda to turn and stare at him in astonishment once more. It was the first time Steve had fired back at Wong, and she loved the conviction he exuded. She must have fucked him so good that he became unapologetic and unabashed.

"I don't like you," Wong grunted, glaring at Steve.

Wanda realized that Wong's feistiness was getting on her nerves. She felt somewhat protective of Steve and his lovely fingers that he constantly showed off for her. "Wong, stop that."

"Aren't you feeling hot, sis? I thought you didn't like the dresses I made because they felt out of trend and too large on you," Pietro suddenly asked, cutting in on the looming debate.

She abhorred what she was wearing. Bedecked from neck to toe like a Victorian widow, as Stephen decided when he conjured a hat to put on her head, she felt swamped in fabric. Yet, sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the sweet reward of Os that were accompanied by lovely, dark welts. Besides, Steve liked it, and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

"Because she's covering the traces of her treachery." Wong's words were nothing but a harmless riposte, yet those were the same words that Anakin used against her that night when he tortured her.

"Wong, you're beginning to sound like Satan. Please, stop," she implored, her tone tumbling to a faint murmur. Everyone evidently noticed, and the room went serene.

Wong's eyes widened at the instantaneous recognition of her request. He was the only person she had told about the encounter when she desperately needed to get it out of her chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know. Just give Steve a chance. I know you like Bucky for me--"

"I love him for you!" Wong interjected, moving past his guilt like lightning. "He's wholesome, charming, and he adores you."

"Yeah, but that's not what my sister likes. She gets bored with softness. You should know that by now," Pietro spoke with his mouth full.

"I’m wholesome and charming, and I adore Wanda too," Steve suddenly objected, earning him more brownie points from her. She really loved how he was rowing for her.

"Yes, you do, brother. Never change; that's a good balance!" Pietro motivated him, making Steve beam with delight.

"Enough, children," Agatha broke up the spirited discussion. Wanda, knowing better than to contradict her, fell silent. "We are disrespecting the food on the table with this constant talk about who gets to win Wanda's heart. While it's nice to see two handsome men vying for my dear girl, it's becoming tiresome. The baby is coming soon, and we don't want to confuse the child about why Mama and Papa are acting strangely."

"Yes, Agatha," they all chorused. Even Steve was learning who the boss of their group was, and Wanda loved that he was acclimating to their odd dynamics. Agatha was like their cult leader in a twisted but innocent way.

As they fell silent and resumed their meals, an idea struck Wanda. "Wong, Steve is taking me shopping for baby clothes. Why don't you go with him? I’m feeling weary anyway."

"I want to go too!" Pietro yelled, raising his arm excitedly.

"No! You need to stay here and bond with me." She shot him a look to stress her refusal.

"Bond? You'll just order me around. I'm on vacation too. When Steve goes back to work, you'll restart treating me like a slave."

"I don't believe Wong would appreciate that," Steve said, taking her hand to make her look at him. When she met his gaze, he was trying for doe eyes, as if that ever worked on her.

"No, I don't like that at all!" Wong chided. Wanda sighed and turned her concentration to him.

"Stop acting like a baby; you’re even moping," she charged. "You look incredibly cute, and I love staring at you so much that I sometimes imagine my baby will look like you. But enough sulking—give the father of my child a chance. I hate that you keep being mean to him." Steve's grip on her tightened, and she could feel his gratitude for her words, but she wasn't done piping her inner Agatha. "And you, Steve, I am fond of Wong, so he will never be out of my life. Do your best to befriend him." Steve nodded in resignation, also pouting like an endearing baby.

Stephen hemmed to get their attention. Resting his chin on his clasped fingers on the table, he said, "Not that I care, but I feel like you're excluding me. I’m also a big part of your life, too."

Wanda smirked at him. "Hating one another is our bond, Stephen. Let's circle back in a few years." With a snap of Stephen's fingers, her hat now hung a decorative lace that covered her face. Lime green lace, how tacky!

Stephen sighed and shrugged, attempting to ascertain how little he cared. He was precious in his own way, but knocking him down a peg gladdened Wanda far too much.

"I'll do that, but promise me you'll come back with me to my apartment tomorrow. I have a surprise for you." Steve mumbled, speaking softly so only Wanda could hear.

She loured at him, already disliking the notion. "A surprise? I don't like that."

"It's nothing gaudy, I promise."

Her lips formed a thin line as she scrutinized his face, which was filled with zing. He seemed too elated for her to continue arguing, so she relented. "Fine. But you'll owe me."

***

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she looked at Steve, gripping the blanket's hem up to his neck, looking like a sulking pup. "Why are you looking at me as if I just maltreated you?" she asked. She slipped into her sundress, stretching her arms after the exhilarating exercise they had just engaged in his apartment, for old time's sake.

"When you said I’d owe you, I didn't realize you meant my body." He stammered, sounding like she really walked all over him.

"Oh? Redundant? Because you would have given away the cherry?" she quipped, her lips stretching into a lip-splitting grin. She couldn’t help it; everything he did turned her on.

"Yes," he blubbered, looking away.

She sat beside him nervously, wondering if she had been too self-indulgent and overlooked the fact that he might have wanted to rest as well. She stared at the wall, reflecting on how he had seemed just moments ago.

She couldn't find any signs that he wanted her to stop, but perhaps he was simply trying to give her what she desired and was waiting for it to be over. How could she have missed that? She was good at waiting around herself. "Did you really feel bad? You sounded like you were liking it," she questioned him timidly.

Sensing the dip in her energy, Steve straightened up and cradled her face in his hands, a look of concern on his face. "Hey, I was just kidding," he reassured her, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I have a gun in the safe. If I ever refuse to have sex with you one day, shoot me. That means someone has kidnapped me and is pretending to be me," he said when she still wouldn't meet his gaze.

His words worked, and she found herself laughing just seconds later.

"Steve, that is so dark and hot. I wanna take advantage of you again. But I'm so tired." She sighed, disenchanted about her sore body. "Maybe you can do all the work. I'll just lie here, you love missionary anyway, you freak, how can you not like doing dog..." she shook her head, reminding herself that sex was over and that Steve was back to being too callow. "Pardon me, doing it from the rear? You're the only man I know whose favorite sex position is in God's name."

Steve chortled gaily, stroking her hair. "I love looking at your face as I cum. What's not to love? We've done it from behind many times; I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Yes, they have, but it still required significant alterations. "Yeah, but you contort my body so you can see my face."

"Didn't you pride yourself on being flexible?"

If he weren't strong, she would have fallen face-first. Wanda rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I hate when you use my own words against me."

"Come on, it's time for the surprise. That's why we're here," Steve said as he stood up and put his clothes back on. She wanted to quibble and tell him to strip, since she intended to have him again later anyway, but opted to zip it.

"Right, that." She inclined against the headboard, pivoting her legs onto the soft mattress.

"Are you really tired?"

"Yes, your baby is well-behaved now, but it drains my energy," she griped. It's not a big deal, though; just three more months to go, and she'll have her freedom back. And then another set of shackles will be attached to her—the wailing kind.

"Alright then, just stay here. I'll grab the surprise."

"You're a peach. Come here so I can kiss you." And he quickly did, hunching over her for a soft peck on the lips.

As she waited for him, she couldn't help but chuckle at the box of condoms still sitting untouched on his dresser. She wondered how many packets they would have gone through if they had ended up sleeping together on the first night they met. She assumed that if that had happened, she might have gotten pregnant sooner than expected.

Steve strode back to his room, a huge grin on his face as he bore a little cake with white frosting and a small wineglass. She crumpled her brows, muddled. He went through all that just for a cake? She didn’t want a surprise, but still, was it really just a dessert?

"Your surprise is a cake?" she murmured slowly, still completely baffled and a bit let down. Steve looked even more thrilled as he placed it on the bed, a few inches from her knees.

"Don't be mad. But I figured you didn't like Pietro's idea of throwing a party because you're uncomfortable with the attention. I completely relate to that. So, I reached out to our doctor and asked her to send the results to a baker friend of mine."

Oh. "So... This is one of those videos that if we take a slice of the cake, we'll know what the gender is?"

"Yes, blue for Malen'kiy and pink for Sarah." He stared at her curiously, trying to gauge her reaction. When she smiled at him, he let out a breath he had been holding.

She was genuinely appreciative of the idea. He knew her well. "It's Malen'kiy Steve," she ribbingly corrected him. "So you agree with me then? We'll name him Little Steve?"

"As I said, you'll do all the work anyway, so you get to decide on the name. You're smiling, so you're not mad at me?"

"I like it." To be more precise, she loved it. He eagerly held her face and gave her a fervent smooch before letting her go to fetch something from his dresser. She frowned when she saw him holding a video recorder against his chest.

"Let's record it, so that we can commemorate this special moment," he said giddily, setting the camera atop the stack of books he prepared at the foot of the bed.

Steve was such a liar, she realized. "When I asked you to make a sex tape with me, you said you didn’t have a camera and that recording it on our phones would basically mean we were sharing the video with the world ourselves." She grumbled, and she was candid, too.

"Wanda," he rasped, his ears glowing scarlet.

"What? I just wanted you to have something to look at whenever we're not together. You know, something to remind you of my flexibility." Not only that, but he could also remind himself of his sexy doll, which was her. He would know to hurry his ass back home to her.

"You keep making me fall harder for you with your Shakespearean tongue."

"Allow us compose a coitus film," she muttered with a dramatic bow.

"I humbly decline, my love."

She pretended to cough, feeling a rush of warmth in her cheeks at being called "my love." They were just having fun, but if he wanted to call her that from then on, she wouldn’t mind. Still, she needed to uphold her reputation, so she decided to suppress the flutter in her heart with a mischievous remark. "Loser! If I sold that footage, we could fund your child's education at an expensive university and live in luxury."

"We should really reevaluate your business prospects," he said, bobbing his head in pretend exasperation. "Okay, behave now, I'm gonna press record."

Steve hurriedly settled next to her after setting up the recorder. As soon as they both faced the camera, they appeared like wet canines caught in a surprise bath. There was something about being in front of a camera that summoned a sense of civility, even from Wanda.

"Should we say something?" she whispered with a forced smile, apparently worried about not coming off as a friendly face. But, so was Steve. They probably looked ridiculous at that moment. When their child sees the video one day, they will probably want to zap the footage out of existence.

"I think we should," Steve whispered back. "Uh... Hi, baby, I'm your father." He said with the most maladroit wave of his hand, as if he had never been on camera before. But perhaps it was different because it was for their child.

Wanda dusted her face with her hands in chagrin for him. "Steve, that's so lame!" she blurted, finally overcoming her brief moment of coyness. She cleared her throat and looked directly at the camera with a guileless grin. "Hi, Little Rogers. We're your parents. We're the reason you look so gorgeous. I'm hot, your dad is hot, so that makes you hot too."

"Wanda!" Steve gasped, bursting into uproarious laughter that shook the bed.

"Your dad is a joy killer, but we love that about him." That was a slip of the tongue. She meant to say "admire" or "like," right? She shook the thoughts out of her head as even Steve began to stare at her with incredulity, most probably awe. "Anyway, today we will find out what you are." Her throat suddenly felt arid; she could even say she was skittish. However, she knew it wasn't the camera's fault. "Look, I'm going to be a progressive mother, so this gender reveal is only temporary. You can be whatever you want, and we won't judge you."

Steve nodded firmly, his eyes focused on the camera. "Yes, just be healthy and kind. Nothing else truly matters."

"Your dad is a dinosaur, but he looks good for his age."

"And your mom likes to joke a lot," Steve countered.

"But you are old," she insisted.

"I love you too, doll," he said, making her blink uncontrollably, like she was short-circuiting. Breaking the discomfiting stillness, Steve asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Steve handed her the wineglass, and as they held hands, they cut into the cake to reveal its insides. Wanda's heart raced, feeling as if it might leap from her chest with every passing crusade. She didn't even realize that her eyes had been sealed the entire time.

"Pink!" Steve roared, his voice teeming with excitement. It was the most enthusiastic she had ever heard him.

Yet, her entire body trembled with dread. Steve pulled her into a bear hug, which felt somewhat calming. But she couldn't muster the intrepidity to open her eyes and see for herself.

"We're having a girl! We have a Sarah!" he continued. "I hope she looks like you; she'll be the prettiest baby. I'm so happy!" With that, Steve celebrated, showering her with kisses on the top of her head.

"Turn off the camera," she whispered, turning her head away in fear of the camera capturing her blow.

"Huh? O-okay." He let her go and crept toward the camera. As he did, she finally opened her eyes and saw the chunk of cake with pink layers on the glass. "See you soon, Sarah." Steve waved at the camera again before shutting it off. Even with his back turned to her, she could tell he was beaming with happiness.

The moon didn't grant her wish. It was her only wish. Why? Why did her baby have to be a girl? She broke down in tears, no longer caring if Steve would see.

My dear Sarah, I'm sorry.