He’s getting her coffee started the morning she tells him she’s pregnant and he drops the entire can, the seal breaking on impact and spilling dark grinds across the floor.  

She stares at the mess a long moment, eyes wide and lips slightly parted before bringing her gaze back up to his.  

“I’m not cleanin’ that up,” she huffs, shifting her weight to one hip.  She brings her hands up to curl around the doorframe.

It’s a long time before Bucky finds his voice.  It’s low and rough and shredded at the edges.  Disbelieving.

 “...How?”

She pokes her bottom lip out, her thin brow furrowing.  “You see, when two people love each other very much ,” she says.  She’s joking but he can see her hands shaking, can see the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders as she tries to keep her breathing even.

P.S. I love you…

He’s moving before he’s even made the decision to do so, boots tracking through the mess of coffee and she squeals his name at the sight.  He doesn’t care.  He’s got her face cupped in his hands, tilting her head back to look at him.  He can feel his heart pounding in his chest,  blood rushing and making his neck and face feel overly warm.

“Are you sure,” he asks a bit more firmly than he intended.  There’s hope rising in him, swirling in the pit of his stomach, twisted up with a sliver of fear that he refuses to acknowledge at the moment.  

She smiles and it’s shaky.  Shrugs her shoulders.   “I mean, I’ll have to get a blood test to confirm, but the two tests I just took say ‘yes’.”

That's what she’d been doing.  She would have already been downstairs with him before now.  But she’d hung back… And it all makes sense now - her sudden lack of energy, the nausea, the aches and pains she’d been complaining about.

“Bucky, honey, you gotta say something. And, maybe, breathe while you’re at it? You’re freakin’ me out.”

P.S. I love you…

He pulls her in by her shoulders, wraps his arms around her.  Feels her own heart thundering against him through the thin material of her shirt.   He can’t believe it.  It all feels so surreal.  Children had never been a discussion between them, neither of them certain that it was even possible, yet terrified to find out otherwise.  

But, it’s real and true and he doesn't know what to say, what to do.  He knows he should worry, knows there are more things that need to be discussed.  But for now, at least, he’s happy to hold her in silence, inside the glow of early morning sunlight spilling in through the windows, with her fingers digging into his back and her tears wetting his shirt.

“I’m gonna be a dad…”

P.S. I love you…

The months seem to fly by.   For him, at least.  He watches in wonder and astonishment as her body changes, grows soft and round with the life growing inside her.  Can’t keep his hands off of her stomach, palms smoothing reverently over her dark flesh.  And she smiles at him.  Winks and kisses his face, her cheeks bulging with whatever junk food she’s been craving.

“All yours, Barnes,” she says as if to remind him. To ground him.

At night he pulls out his phone and replays the first sounds of his son’s heartbeat, amazed at the speed and strength of it.  Mesmerized by it.  Still disbelieving that his own bruised and broken body could have helped to create something so perfect and beautiful.

She talks him through his fears and worries.  Assures him.  Comforts him.

“You’re ready,” she whispers in his ear on the nights when he can’t sleep and fear winds through his brain.  “You're ready and you deserve it and you’re gonna be great.”

He sighs, twining his arms more tightly around her.  Feels her belly poking at him.  

P.S. I love you…

She goes into labor at five am on a Friday, two weeks early, and Bucky is surprised at how calm they both remain.  At least until they make it to the hospital.  Then, all hell breaks loose.

The labor pains escalate and she turns into a wild cat, hissing and cussing at everything that moves inside their little room.  

He laughs at one point, his own nerves getting the best of him, and she fires a pink bedpan at his head, swearing to all the Gods above that she’ll never let him touch her again.

“Fucking super soldier and your fucking super sperm,” she screeches, trembling hands clutching frantically at the sidebars of her hospital bed while she rocks from side to side. “Did I ask for this? Fuuuuuck ! No more, Barnes! No more babies for you! Who the fuck do I have to kill to get some pain meds around here?!?!?! ”

P.S. I love you…

There isn’t enough time for pain medication.  The contractions come fast and hard and before either of them is fully aware of what’s going on, her doctor is there and she’s telling her to push.  She’s got a grip on his metal hand and she’s squeezing so hard he thinks she’ll actually manage to break it.

But then it’s over.  There’s a pause while the nurses move to the side to clean off his kid, and then the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard fills the room - the first cries of his son, his boy, pitched high and frantic, almost angry, he thinks, and he laughs again, tears forming in his eyes and coasting down his cheeks.

He kisses his wife, kisses her damp forehead and trembling lips.  Thanks her over and over and over again.

A nurse brings his son to him and he freezes.  But then she’s settling him in his arms, smiling reassuringly at him, and he blinks in bewilderment at the tiny thing nestled against him.  He’s been swaddled in a soft blanket and all Bucky can see of him is his chubby tawny-colored face and a puff of black curls peeking out from beneath the little blue beanie they've put on him.  

He looks to his wife, a mess of words on his tongue, though none of which is he able to give voice.  She blinks tired eyes at him.  Smiles softly. Happily.

P.S. I love you…

His teammates filter in throughout the day to meet their newest addition and he stands by, every bit the proud Pop, smiling and shaking hands, accepting their gifts and flowers, and he thinks his wife has never been more beautiful than she is now.  Doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy.  Afraid still, of course, but more than that.  So much more.  

Complete. 

Whole.

Satisfied.

P.S. I Love You…