MCU (c) Marvel Studios

It had been an exhausting year, with James being born and learning how to readjust to life with a child. Bruce had stressed she and Steve were heading into uncharted territory as nobody had ever assumed Steve would have a child (or if it was possible for him to have a child) or if said child would inherit the super soldier serum.

James inherited the super soldier serum alright, at least as far as Bruce could deduce from his genes. She knew her son did because he ate like a horse (she had to supplement her breastmilk with formula and by God, James hated formula. It was a relief when Bruce said they could introduce solid foods to him around three or four months). He was also strong for an infant, and as he grew he got stronger. All the milestones for infant development James met early or exceeded for his age group. Bruce said not to worry, as long as James was happy and healthy, everything was good.

So, they didn't. It was difficult when Steve's paternity leave was up, and he went back to saving the world. It was worse, when they cut her maternity leave short, and Steve was home alone with James. The worse was when she and Steve both left, Laura or Pepper babysitting James until they got back. She hated being away from her son. On solo missions she could push aside her worry and focus, when she went on missions with Steve it seemed they fed off each other, until her gut was a knot of worry and it took her some time to get her head in the game and focus. Steve was better at it than she was; life had been different ever since they got married. Sometimes she still thinks Tony finds it hard to believe that two of his teammates are married.

But none of that mattered now. It was Christmas, her husband and son were both happy and healthy, the future looked bright for everyone. Natasha sighed as she inhaled the sharp fresh scent of coffee as she poured herself a cup. Bruce had said that it was okay to have a cup of coffee in the morning, and it was so nice after abstaining from coffee during her pregnancy. After adding milk and sugar she took a sip, sighing and enjoying the quiet morning. Steve hadn't gone on his morning run (he had switched to going in the afternoon when James napped; they even bought a treadmill, Tony had to modify it so Steve could actually use it effectively), so the kitchen was hers until he got up. The house was aglow with their Christmas decorations, the only thing missing was the tree, which they planned to get later (once Bucky came with his truck). She looked at her phone, frowning at her news feed and sipped her coffee. James would be up soon; her breasts started to tingle.

Finishing her coffee in a few scalding gulps, she went upstairs and into the nursey just as James began to whimper. She turned her phone on, hitting the camera button and then the record button, James looked around, sucking on his lip and letting out little whimpers. She smiled. "Good morning Jamie, welcome to your first Christmas. Dada and I have so much fun things planned for you," she cooed into the phone as she walked towards James, who was standing in his crib. "Are you ready for Christmas?" she asked. James squawked, and she looked at the door, Steve was still asleep. "You're hungry aren't you little guy?" she paused the video and turned her phone off. "Let's get you changed and fed and then we can wake up Dada? How does that sound."

James cooed as she picked him up out of his crib and went to the changing table for a fresh diaper. She smiled, babbling to him in Russian as she changed his diaper and tickled his tummy, imaging James being fascinated by the bright paper of the presents and the fun of ripping into them for the first time. Christmas felt different than it had in years past; warmer and brighter, full of love. James looked at her, his tiny hands holding onto his little toes as she wiggled the fresh diaper beneath him and secured it. He giggled when she lifted him up, stomping his tiny feet on the changing table. "Well you're all clean for Santa," she said, nuzzling his nose. There had never been a sweeter sound in her life than the giggle of her son. "Let's get you fed then we can wake up Dada." She scooped James up and settled herself in the rocking chair, tucking him close to her chest, she pushed her sleep top up and he latched on. She sighed in relief as he nursed.

As he nursed, she checked him; her fingers running over his small back and legs and arms. Feeling his joints and counting his fingers and toes, softly singing: "Баю-баюшки-баю, не ложися на краю. Придёт сереньки волчок и ухватит за бочок. Он ухватит за бочок и потащит во лесок, и потащит во лесок…" In the distant haze of her memories, she could remember her grandmother's reedy voice singing her this song. Steve said there was an eeriness to the song, reminding him of winter and snow. It was during these private moments with her son that she spoke to him in Russian, teaching him her mother tongue sound by sound and the stories she half-remembered from her life before the Red Room.

James pulled away, looking at her with bright blue eyes (the same shade as his father's). "All done?" she asked, placing her hand flat on his tummy. He grinned, showing off his little gums, Bruce said he'll be teething soon but so far she had seen no evidence of it. She nuzzled his cheek, drinking in the scent of milk and baby. She placed him on her shoulder and patted his back until he gave a little burp. He cooed, wiggling his arms and legs. "Let's go say good morning to Dada, hm?" she kissed his round cheek, stood up and grabbed his little plush elephant from his crib. "Here baby," she said, handing it to him. He blinked and took it, sticking the trunk in his mouth as she fished her phone out of her pocket. She brought back the phone, turning the video back on. She switched the camera to her face. "Now that we are all clean and fed, we're gonna wake up Dada, right Jamie?" she asked, kissing her son as she left the nursing and entered her bedroom. James gave the camera a shy smile, hiding behind the ear of his elephant. With another tap she turned the camera back around and paused for a moment, letting the camera capture good video of Steve asleep. Her husband was cuddling her pillow, a light dusting of scruff on his chin and cheeks, his hair mused from sleep. He looked so peaceful, as if he didn't have the world's burdens on his shoulders. James got squirmy when he saw his father. Grinning, she walked over to their bed, sat down and let James crawl over to Steve.

James gurgled, tucking himself close to his father. "Is that Dada?" she asked, smiling as this was all caught on video. James nodded, sticking a finger in his mouth to gum it. "Why don't you wake him up." She put her hand on Steve's side and gave him a light shake. "Say, wake up Dada."

Steve gave a soft groan, cuddling the pillow. James looked at his mother, a mischievous grin on his face. "Dada!" he shouted, slapping Steve's face with both hands, laughing as Steve jerked awake. "Dada!" James shouted again and tried to slap Steve's face, but he caught James' tiny little wrists.

"Good morning," he said around a yawn and rolled onto his back. He placed James on his chest and bounced him. "Good morning." He grinned. "Merry Christmas, James!" he pushed up James' little onesie and blew a raspberry on his tummy. James squealed, a big grin on his face.

"Merry Christmas, Steve," she said, leaning over and kissing him. She nuzzled his nose. "Happy anniversary."

"Merry anniversary," he mumbled against her lips, stealing another kiss. He turned back to James. "And you," he said, tickling James' tummy. "How are you? Are you ready for Christmas?" he cooed. "Ready for Santa?" He bounced James again. She laughed, recording everything on her phone. Steve was quick to devolve into nonsense baby babble, James giggling and trying to grab his lips and nose. There was a lightness to her husband that she never seen before, and something Bucky said he only saw rarely back before the ice. James was an endless source of joy for them.

"Are you sure you want to be acting like this Steve? James'll see this when he's older," she said, capturing the entire thing on video. "He's going to wonder why his dad is such a dork."

"I'm not a dork," he said. "Am I a dork, Jamie? Am I? I'm not a dork," he cooed, making fishy faces at James. James just giggled and clapped, enjoying the attention. "And why are you recording all this?"

"One part blackmail, one part to capture James' first Christmas in real time," she said, grinning a little. She scooted closer to Steve and James, flipping the camera around the get a good family shot. "Our first Christmas as a family," she said, kissing Steve's cheek. James cooed, reaching for the phone. "No, baby, you can't have this," she said, pulling away. James whimpered, upset that his mother denied him something.

"Oh, no," Steve said, scooping him up and getting out of bed. He tossed James into the air and caught him. Whenever he did that her heart went into her throat, but she knew Steve would never let anything happen to their son. James squealed, his vexation at being denied her phone completely forgotten as Steve tossed him into the air. "No. No crying on Christmas," he said, cuddling James close and smothering his tiny face in kisses. "Nope, not allowed in this house, and that's a fact, Mama got it on video." He gave her a wink. "I think it's time for some breakfast."

"Snowflake pancakes?" she asked.

"Snowflake pancakes," he agreed, putting James on his shoulders. James giggled, and she handed Steve the elephant, which he gave to James. "To the kitchen," he said and started humming the Army theme song. She laughed, following them downstairs, recording the entire thing.

"You know, I may have to show Tony this, he'll find it funny."

"You do, and I'll never speak to you again," he said. James squealed, smashing his toy elephant on Steve's head. Laughing, she followed her family into the kitchen, Steve keeping a running commentary on all the fun Christmas things they had planned for James, and James gurgling in delight about it all without understanding any of it. "Alright, Mama, time to switch, Dada needs to make the pancakes," he said, taking James off his shoulders. She smiled, looping her arm around James' little waist and settling him on her hip. James reached for her phone again.

"No, baby," she said, "this is Mama's. You have your elephant." She jostled him a little, but James wasn't deterred, reaching for her phone again. "James, no." She looked around for his high chair. "C'mon, let's see if you won't eat a little something," she said as she walked over to his high chair and set him in it. She turned her phone off and placed it on the table. James whined, reaching for it. "James, work with Mama here." James ignored his mother, wriggling in her grasp as he tried to get her phone, dropping his elephant in the process. "James Clinton—" she got his bottom in the seat and snapped the straps and the tray into place. James blinked, confused by his sudden lack of mobility. He tried to stand up and push himself forward and she heard the telltale sound of thread snapping. Steve did too.

"Everything okay?" he asked, holding the electric hand whisk. "Nat?"

"He just wants my phone," she said, rushing to grab the jar of baby food and the rubber capped spoon. "And he's upset he's not getting it." She looked at James, who had scrunched up his little face in concentration, little hand reaching for her phone. "James," she growled, sitting down and scooting his high chair closer to her. "Look what Mama has! It's yummies!" she pushed the spoon towards his mouth, but he turned away, an orange glob of peach puree on his cheek. He tried again, reaching for her phone and more thread snapped. "Jamie," she cooed, trying again. "Look it's Iron Man!" she said, weaving the spoon up and down to get him interested it. James cooed, little mouth open in wonder.

Her phone buzzed, and James turned his head to look at it. More baby food smeared on his cheek. James giggled and resumed his quest for her phone. "James, look at Mama," she said, trying again. This time, Steve starting up the electric hand whisk drew James attention and he got baby food on his other cheek. "Черт." Sighing, she looked at Steve. "Can you help me? He's not eating."

"Jamie," Steve said, setting the electric hand whisk down. "You need to eat for Mama." He opened the fridge and pulled out a can of whipped cream and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard. He spritzed some whipped cream in the bowl and then took the spoon she was using and plopped two globs of baby food into it and mixed it up. "Here Jamie, Dada made you an extra special yummy, since it's Christmas!" he set it before James, took his hand and dipped one finger in it and wrangled that little finger into their son's tiny mouth. "Mmmmm, yummy huh?"

Natasha laughed, catching half of it on her phone. "He's not eating it Steve," she said. He arched a brow, smirking. "Don't look so smug, he's not eat" — James dipped his finger back into the whipped cream and baby food mixture — "I hate you," she grumbled, as James realized that it tasted good and was dipping all his fingers into the mixture to suck off the baby food and whipped cream mixture. Steve laughed and kissed her.

"Love you too, honey," he said and went back to making pancakes. "I'll leave the whipped cream out, so you can make more when he finishes."

"Do you really think this is good? He's only seven months old?" she grabbed the can of whipped cream, reading the ingredients. She went to the specialty store to buy James' baby food, the ingredients were simple: peaches, potato starch and water. The whipped cream had cream, sugar, and a slew of things she couldn't pronounce.

"It's fine, Nat," Steve said, his voice raised to be heard over the electric hand whisk. "The serum will metabolize anything before it can do any real harm. And if you're that worried, I bought heavy cream, so I can make a batch of real whipped cream."

"I just don't want him to get sick," she said, watching James finish off the peaches and cream concoction. She thumbed through the google search on her phone until he was done. She took a napkin, blotting it on her tongue before wiping away the smears of peach puree from his face. James squirmed, unhappy that he was getting his face cleaned. "Baby, hold still. You don't want to be dirty for Santa." She knew reasoning with him was futile; James was too young to understand reasoning. Still, she said it and manhandled her squirming son until his face was clean. "There, all better." She smiled as she stood up, collecting his bowl and kissed his head. She set it in the sink and watched Steve ladle the batter into a squeeze bottle. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Sure do," he said, twisting the cap on and giving the bottle a good shake. "Saw how to do it on the internet." He grinned and went over to the hot griddle.

"Just don't burn down my house," she said as she opened the freezer and pulled out James' teething ring. The teething ring had the faces of the Avengers on the bubble parts and she wondered if they bought everything Avengers theme or if their friends did it as some crude joke. Pushing the freezer close with her foot she went back to James and handed him the teething ring which promptly went into his mouth. "Nice and cold huh?" she asked, smoothing James' fine red hair. James looked at her with big blue eyes, a cute little smile on his face as he sucked on the ring. He wasn't getting fussy yet, but she did feel the teeth nubs. Being preemptive never hurt anyone (unless you ask Steve about winning wars before they start).

The front door opened, and she stood up, trying to angle herself between the potential threat and James. Even though she knew she was being illogical, seeing as only their closets friends (Clint, Bucky and Tony) had a key to their house; still, her training as a spy and assassin was hard to shake and motherhood only served to increase her paranoia. "Steve? Nat?" Bucky called, as the door closed. She relaxed, sitting back down again, just as Steve came over with a plate of snowflake pancakes.

"In the kitchen, Buck," Steve called, and Bucky appeared a moment later, wearing black jeans and a horrid Christmas sweater: it had the red star of communist Russia atop a Christmas tree with little gun ornaments. "Oh… jeez." Steve gave his friend a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry Bucky."

"It sings," Bucky grumbled. He held up two lumpy packages. "Gifts from Stark. Mandatory wear tonight, otherwise and I quote 'you will be labeled a scrooge and no longer welcomed at his Christmas party'." He tossed them to her and she caught them. "Pancakes smell good, Steve." He took the plate Steve was holding. "Got any syrup?" Bucky asked as he spritzed whipped cream on his pancakes.

"I'll uh… go make some more." Steve went back to cooking as she unwrapped the two sweaters. She groaned at the sight. "Nat?"

"They're matching Steve." She held one up. The image was his shield, but the star was replaced with her red Widow hourglass, little LED lights outlined everything. Thankfully, there was a button to turn on just the lights, and her shoulders slumped when they flashed. James looked up and cooed, reaching for the sweater, fascinated by the flashing lights. "No, baby," she said, turning the lights off and rolling up the sweater. "Not for you. For Mama and Dada." She wiggled his teething ring which he held in his other hand. "This is for you." James blinked, cooing when he saw the ring and went back to sucking on it.

"Don't celebrate just yet Natalia," Bucky grumbled and pulled out another smaller lumpy package. "Here you go James." He set the small package on James' high chair tray. James, squealed, dropping his teething ring on the ground (Natasha grumbled as she picked it up) and tugged at the paper. He froze when it ripped and after a few seconds, decided he liked that ripping sound and pulled at it more, giggling all the while until he revealed his own horrid Christmas sweater.

"Steve." Natasha picked up the sweater as she handed James back his teething ring (which he promptly dropped on the floor again, more interested in his sweater) and held up the sweater. It didn't have flashy lights, but it was the same pattern on it and small enough for a seven-month-old. "Steve," she said again, and this time he turned and looked, shoulders slumping.

"Uh… I guess we can tell Tony thank you?" he turned back to the griddle to flip the pancakes.

"He's not wearing this," she said, bunching up the sweater and setting it on top of the adult sized ones, James whined in protest. She bent over and picked up his teething ring. "Here Jamie, this is for you." She set it on his tray. James screamed, throwing the teething ring across the kitchen and smacking his tray hard enough she was afraid he'd snap it in half. "James, stop it. It's not a toy," she said, bending over and scooping up his elephant. "Look, Jamie! It's Peanut, you love your Peanut." She handed the elephant over to her son, but James wanted the sweater and promptly threw his elephant across the room.

"Nat, what's wrong?" Steve asked, coming over with another plate of pancakes. He set it in front of Bucky as she scooped James out of his chair. "Is he teething?" He ran his thumb along James' gums.

"Rub some whiskey on his gums," Bucky said, "Steve, you got syrup?" Steve nodded, and grabbed the syrup, handing it over. "Thanks. That's what my ma did when I was a baby and with my sisters. Rub some whiskey on his gums, put 'im right to sleep." He drowned his pancakes in syrup before digging in. "These are good Steve."

"Thanks." He put a hand on his son's tiny head. "It won't hurt him Nat. My mam did the same with me."

"I think every mother did back then," Bucky said around a mouthful of pancake.

"I'm not rubbing whiskey on his gums," she said. "I don't think it's his teeth. I think he's just cranky he's not getting his way. I wouldn't let him have my phone, and now I won't let him have the stupid sweater."

"Do you want me to take him?" Steve asked. "I don't mind—"

"No, you need to finish making the pancakes, I'll walk him around," she said, kissing James' cheek as he screamed in her ear. She winced and started walking around, starting in the kitchen and heading to the living room. The Christmas decorations drew his attention. The stationary ones held it for a few moments, before he started to get fussy again. "No, James," she whispered and pinched the paw of a fluffy reindeer with bells on its antlers. Jingle Bell Rock began to play, the bouncing reindeer, the jingle of its bells and the song amused James, whatever was upsetting him forgotten. The chorus ended, and James squirmed. "Okay, okay," she said and pressed it again, James giggling in delight. She sat on the couch, near the decoration, pressing it whenever the song ended. James reached for the antlers, fascinated by the bells. "No, baby, don't put that in your mouth, you'll break it."

"Nat, pancakes," Steve called.

"Alright," she said, standing up. James protested, reaching for the reindeer. "No, sweetheart, it's time to be good now and sit while Mama eats her pancakes." James whimpered, not caring about his mother or her desires. Bucky came over.

"I can take him," he said, "also found this on the floor by the couch." He held up the elephant. James squealed, reaching for his elephant. "Gimme him, we'll play fun games, go eat."

"It's fine Bucky, I got it, really."

"Nah." He scooped James from her arms. "I got him." James giggled, attention on Bucky's metal arm, fascinated by his reflection though not comprehending it was him. Bucky smiled at that, ruffling James' hair as he sat down on the couch and turned on the tv. The news anchor was talking about the Christmas events (specifically Tony's Christmas party) and what the Avengers will be doing for the holidays.

"I don't care Maggie," the guest on the program said, "about what Tony Stark is doing for the holidays. What I care about is James Rogers being in the care of Black Widow." Natasha froze, staring at the tv and the jowly woman on the tv.

"Well, he is her son," the anchor said.

"A son she should never been allowed to have. I don't know if you read the Shield files about her — I did — but she's killed children Maggie. Children, yet we let this woman have her own? What's to say she won't smother him in his sleep and say its SIDS?" The guest leaned in closer; Natasha looked at her feet, clenching her trembling hands. "Mothers have done that short of shit all the time. This woman is a trained killer and yet people think it's perfectly fine for her to get married and have a kid?"

"Her husband is Captain America—"

"Exactly, we don't need a national symbol — a national hero, being caught up in that sort—"

"Hey, Buck, see if there's a Christmas movie on the Hallmark Channel," Steve said. She looked over her shoulder, giving him a wane smile as Bucky changed the channel and found a Christmas movie. "C'mon," he said, and she headed back to the table and staring at the snowflake pancakes. James giggled, slapping Bucky's metal arm; she smiled, glad Bucky found some measure of peace with that arm and it was all thanks to James. Of course, it seemed some members of the public only saw her as evil, unworthy of having a child of her own. You have no place in this world.

"Nat, eat," Steve said, coming over with the last of the pancakes. He sat down and drowned his pancakes in syrup and then covered them in whipped cream. He nudged her. "Nat."

"Oh?" she jerked herself out of her musings and poured some syrup over her pancakes and added some whipped cream. "These are good," she said, after taking a bite; she smiled.

"You're a good mom," he said, rubbing her back. "Don't beat yourself up over it. Sometimes babies need to see a new face for a while." He rubbed his hand down her back. "And don't let what that lady said get to you. They've been saying it since your pregnancy got leaked. You deserve this Natasha. You're worthy of being James' mother and my wife." He kissed her temple. "I love you."

"You know," Bucky called from the couch. "Stark's party is at seven and if you guys want to make it on time, and still do some fun Christmas things, like gingerbread houses and getting the tree, we better leave within the hour."

"He's right," she said, smiling. "We gotta get going."

"Eat up." Steve smiled and dug into his pancakes.

The drive to the tree farm didn't take long and she was able to keep James awake the entire way. It helped that Steve kept twisting around in the front passenger seat to tickle James' tummy whenever Bucky was at a stop light. James squealed, trying to grab his father's fingers and giving everyone a large gummy smile. Away from everything, she was able to forget about that woman and her anxiety of being a new mother.

Steve and Bucky got out first, while she stayed behind to manhandle James into tiny little gloves and boots, complete with a tiny little jacket and wool cap. He was having none of it, whining and squirming the entire time she tried to get everything on him. Sometimes she'd glance up to see Bucky and Steve talking, waiting for her to get out with James. She got the hat on his head, tying the string beneath his chin. A whimper escaped him, and he pawed at the string, giving her a pleading look. "No, Jamie, it's cold and this'll help keep your earsies warm," she said, kissing his nose. He sneezed, the action surprising him. The door opened.

"Nat, you done?" Steve asked, grabbing the bulky diaper bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Hey, buddy, ready to get your first tree?" Steve asked, placing his hand on James' torso. It amazed her how small her son was compared to her husband, that her husband's entire hand could cover her son's tiny body. James shrieked in excitement, his discomfort with the winter gear forgotten. "Yeah, betcha are." Steve released the buckle and wiggled it over James' head. She scooped James up and opened the other door. Bucky's hand grasped her elbow as she got down from the truck; grumbling about how they made trucks so fucking high and how this was discrimination against short people. Bucky chuckled, closing the door and locking the truck. "Everyone ready?" Steve asked, zipping up his jacket. It was the leather one she got him for Christmas years ago, that said Howling Commandos on the back with his shield and the names of those he served with. He even wore a hat commemorating his service as a WWII veteran, Sam got it for him. She cheekily bought one for Bucky, and it surprised her that he even wore it (or that both were wearing the hats today).

"You remember where the tree is?" Bucky asked as they started walking towards the farm. A few other families were also there, getting a tree last minute. Steve and Bucky had already selected their tree, they were just here to cut it down.

"Yup." Steve took the lead, his strong legs, plowing through the deep snow drifts and making a path for them until they reached the plowed pathway. She fished out her phone and started recording.

"This is your first Christmas tree, Jamie," she said, setting the camera to selfie mode. "And it's even snowing, how exciting!" she watched as James tried to grab the snowflakes, his tiny face scrunched up in concentration. He opened his hand, making a surprised sound when there was no snowflake within. "You can't catch them with your hand James. Catch them with your tongue" — she stopped and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out. A few snowflakes landed on her tongue. — "like that baby." She giggled, fond memories of her childhood in Russia coming back. James didn't really get it, trying to bite the snowflakes out of the air, but she laughed, and he grinned.

"You two seem to be having fun," Steve said when she finally caught up to him and Bucky. They stood beneath the overhang, waiting for the tractor with the hay ride. Steve chuckled, watching James trying to eat the snowflakes.

"Care to say something for the camera, Dad?" she asked, turning the camera back into picture mode and zooming in on his face. His ears turned pink (and it wasn't from the cold).

"Nat are you going to record everything?"

"Today and tomorrow, yep. To celebrate James' first Christmas." She nudged him. "Go on say something for him to remember."

Steve sighed. "Alright," he grumbled. "James, your mother used to never be one for collecting memories. Ever since you were born — no, ever since she found she was pregnant with you — I never seen a woman take faster to scrap-booking than your mother. I'm sorry for this buddy, for all the pictures of every embarrassing moment in your life being shown to you future girlfriend."

"Steve, say something nice. This is James' first Christmas."

"Mommy and I love you James," he said. "There, that's nice." She groaned, rolling her eyes. "What it is!"

"Maybe I should be the camera guy, while you two do cutesy new parents stuff with James?" Bucky asked, as the tractor came rumbling down the path. James cooed, eyes growing wide at the sight of the tractor. She handed her phone over to Bucky.

"Just for the hay ride, I want it back when we reach the top," she said, following Steve onto the hay filled trailer. Bucky gave a nod, filming as he walked. She snuggled up against Steve, and positioned James at the railing, placing his tiny feet between the planks. Steve put his hand on James' back, next to hers.

"You got snow in your hair," he said; she smiled, shaking her head to dislodge the snow. The sound of his laughter warmed her heart. "Don't get it all over me!" It was a wintry day, perfect for Christmas tree hunting, with snow falling from the grey sky. The other families crowded in too, though it wasn't that many, and the tractor was soon rumbling up the hill, the smoke stack coughing out thick black plumes of exhaust. She covered James' nose and mouth whenever the wind pushed the noxious fumes towards them.

"You know," Bucky said, from Steve's side, "I got a story for James. It's a good one and a Christmas story."

"Buck, no," Steve said. "He has plenty of Christmas stories."

"What is it Bucky?" she asked, curious now — especially since Steve didn't want Bucky to share it. "I wanna hear it." James gurgled, still trying to bite the snow.

"Okay, so it was Christmas of '23, so Steve was five and I was six. Our church was putting on a meeting with Santa event and Steve here was super excited because —"

"Bucky, please!" Steve whined.

"— he wholeheartedly believed in Santa. Even though he knew the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy weren't real. Santa was. So, our mas bundle us up and schlep us off to the church. We wait in line to get a chance on Santa's lap. Steve's vibrating with excitement because his ma never took him to department stores during the holidays since it was expensive she couldn't afford it. I went before him, told Santa what I wanted and then went to my ma. Steve here is so excited he's about ready to piss himself—"

"Bucky!" Steve's ears turned pink an she giggled, nuzzling James' little head as he continued — unsuccessfully — to eat the snowflakes.

"— so he gets on Santa's lap and starts rambling off what he wants for Christmas: Tinker Construction kit, crayons, Morse code telegraph learning set, his ma to be happy and for his da to come home." Bucky sighed at the last one, and she looked at Steve, who's gaze was fixed firmly on the scenery. "Well, my da said he'll see what he could do about getting the list to the elves. And as soon as Steve heard my da's voice he flipped. Started crying and making a fuss and yanked the fake beard off. The priest came running with Steve's ma and he flat out refused to go to her, called her a liar. She took him aside anyway and explained to him that my da was one of Santa's helpers and that Santa was still real. I don't think Steve believed her though."

"Thanks for that Buck," Steve grumbled. "Didn't need to remember how that ruined my Christmas that year."

"It's not so bad Steve," she said. "It's kinda cute."

"Whatever," he grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. She picked up James, settling him on her hip. He was calm, looking around, the snowflakes no longer amusing. The tractor reached the top of the hill and they got off, Bucky grabbed a saw and Steve lead the way to the tree. She took her phone back.

"This is your first tree, James," she said, once they reached it. "Isn't it beautiful?" she kissed his cheek and he grinned. "It's a nice tree guys."

"Of course, it is, Steve picked it out," Bucky said as he got down on his side to start cutting it. She set James between her feet, smiling as he cooed at the snow. "He has a thing about Christmas trees. Always did."

"No more stories," Steve groused, as Bucky started sawing. "Think we had enough outta you for today."

"Hey, go parent your own kid," Bucky said. She laughed, filming everything. Every now and then she wiped away the snowflakes from the screen and licked her lips to keep them moist (she regretted not putting on chapstick). James was quiet at her feet. "I'm almost done," Bucky said.

"Nat," Steve said. "Nat, he's eating snow."

"Huh?" she looked down at James, who had a small mound of snow in his hand. "Don't eat that baby." She stooped, brushing it out of his tiny hand. She went back to filming. "Is it hard work?"

"Uh-huh. Can't move my arm enough," Bucky grumbled. "Almost got it. Steve don't let go."

"I wo— James don't eat that!" Steve let go the tree, and in one great big stride, closed the gap between him and James, scooping him up and knocking the snow out of his hand. "Don't eat snow, buddy. Nat, I told you he was trying to eat snow."

"I knocked it out of his hand and—" she broke off when the tree fell on top of Bucky. "Better go get your friend." She took their son from him. "Don't worry Bucky, I got it all on video." Bucky wiggled his hand from out beneath the branches and flipped her off. She laughed. "Steve, Bucky made a bad hand sign!"

"Jesus Christ," he grumbled as he lifted the tree off Bucky. "Well, it's not damaged."

"I am," Bucky grumbled rolling out from under the tree's shadow and standing up. "Think I got pine needles in my ear." He sat up, his metal arm making whirling sounds as it supported most of his weight and used his right hand to brush the pine needles off him. Steve stood there, holding the tree like a stick and offered his hand to Bucky. "You owe me," Bucky said with a grunt as Steve hauled him to his feet.

"I know, and I'm sorry" — he glanced at her with a glare — "if someone had been watching James, like they're supposed to, this wouldn't have happened."

"Oh so you're blaming me?" Natasha asked, turning the phone off and slipping it into her pocket.

"Yes! I told you he was trying to eat snow, yet you still continued to record everything and—"

"I knocked it out of his hand, Steve! And told him no!"

"He's a baby Nat, he doesn't understand no. You need to pay better attention to him when we're out doing things like this because it's dangerous!"

"I'm a good mother," she hissed, ignoring the cold prickle of fear that edged its way into her heart. "I'm a good mother," she repeated.

"Hey" — Bucky stepped in before things could get ugly, something she was thankful for — "Nat, Steve isn't saying you're a bad mother. Steve, relax. I'm fine, the tree's fine, and James is fine. Everything is fine. No fighting. Especially on Christmas." He smiled. "Want to set a good example for James, right?"

They looked at their son, who was sucking his lip as he watched the entire thing unfold. The wind buffeted them, and she pulled James closer to her in an attempt to shield him from the worst of it. Steve stepped closer too, instinct driving him to protect his family; she leaned into his broad chest, sighing when she felt his hand stroke her hair and him press a kiss to the crown of her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I just… I just want this to be special for him. For him to be able to see this one day."

"I know," he said, "but do you need to be recording everything? Why can't you just record the cute moments and not all the mundane stuff and disasters in between?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder. "He doesn't need to see that when he's older."

"I don't know… I just… I want to capture everything about today and tomorrow… so he can remember." She pressed her head to his chest, smiling at the sound of his heartbeat. Steve wrapped her in a one-armed hug, placing another kiss on her forehead. James squirmed, unhappy about being squished between his parents. She smiled down at her son, shifting a little so he wasn't so squished, and then she looked up at Steve. "You didn't shave this morning," she said, reaching up and running her fingers along his jaw.

"Forgot." He pecked her lips. "I forget things sometimes." She arched a brow. "I do. I'm not perfect."

"I'd hate to break up the romance," Bucky said, "but Steve's holding the tree by himself and people are giving us weird looks." He picked at a rusty spot on the handle of the saw. "Unless you two care to explain that you're Black Widow and Captain America, we should get going."

"Oh, right." Steve stepped away from her, and let Bucky grabbed the base of the tree. "C'mon." He started to lead the way and she fell in behind Bucky.

"Dada forgets he's really strong," she told James, "and it's cute how he tries to act normal around civilians." James cooed, blowing spit bubbles. She smiled, kissing his nose and tugging the little cap further down his head.

One of Steve's Bing Crosby records played in the background, there was something soothing and familiar about Crosby's voice and the pop and crackle of vinyl. He had put it on shortly after they got home, while she had gone upstairs to nurse James and set him down for a nap. Steve and Bucky had gotten the Christmas tree stand and ornaments from the attic while she had done that, setting up the tree and stringing the lights. By the time she came down, Steve and Bucky were rummaging through boxes as they swapped stories of decorating Christmas trees from their youth. Everything felt warm and homely, and she smiled at Steve, who walked over and gave her a little kiss. "He's asleep," she said, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Good." He grabbed the baby monitor on the table and turned it on. "C'mon, I found your angels."

"I can't believe you've gotten me one every year," she said, accepting the box with eight smaller boxes inside; the Hallmark logo and the words keepsake stamped on the front of the boxes. Smiling, she picked up the one that said 2012 and opened it. Steve had been so awkward around her during Tony's Christmas party, drunk as well and she giggled remembering how he kissed her. and she teased him which resulted in him running off to the bathroom to be sick. She had gone with him to Midnight Mass that year. "Bruce was right," she said, hanging up the angel on the top branch.

"Hm?" Steve looked up, hands rummaging for another ornament. "About what?"

"Remember, how we got caught beneath some mistletoe at Tony's party — your first Christmas outta the ice — and Bruce said that couples that kiss beneath the mistletoe have prophesized to have everlasting love or get married."

"Toldja you'll get a kiss beneath some mistletoe eventually, Stevie," Bucky said. Steve laughed.

"You know, I've forgotten about that." He chuckled. "I was plastered. Thor kept shoving Asgardian mead down my throat. I don't remember much of that night honestly." He hung up the ornament and took her hand, lifting it up as the music swelled and twirled her into his chest. "But I didn't forget that kiss," he purred, eyes darkening. "You said you could make me go ho ho ho, if I remember right."

A blush colored her cheeks and a girlish smile spread across her face. "Yeah." The easy smile on his face made her heart flutter and the spark of desire that she hadn't felt since before she got pregnant blossomed. Steve was handsome in a way she could only describe as scruffy elegance. "I remember," she said, "you looked torn between arousal and being sick."

He tossed his head back with a laugh. "That's because I was!" He pulled her into a hug. "James is asleep, Bucky can finish up the tree" — his fingers slipped beneath her shirt — "why don't you and I go upstairs and see if you can make go ho ho ho after all?"

"Steve…" she felt her cheeks grow hotter. Bucky coughed, and she tried to take a step back from her husband, but he had linked his fingers together, caging her in his strong arms. "We have a guest."

A devilish glint sparked in his eyes and he leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear and he whispered, "I'll be quiet if you promised to be quiet."

"Steven!" she squealed — what had gotten into him all of the sudden — smacking his chest and trying to break free. He had other plans, she soon discovered, as he pulled her flushed to his chest and lifted her up as she kicked her legs and held onto his hands to keep herself from slipping.

"Get a room you two," Bucky said, as he hung up the little collection of ornaments he gathered on his fingers, "don't need to see you making baby number two."

"Not a bad idea," Steve said, nipping her ear. "Mam always said if you want more kids have them close together."

"Steve, James is only six months!" And I'm not ready to think about having another baby, I don't think I can handle more miscarriages. "It's too early to think about having more kids. I don't think I can get pregnant while breastfeeding anyway."

"Always can put it to the test," he said, sucking on her neck. She arched into his chest, a soft shuddering moan escaped her throat, which he kissed until she was sighing in contentment in his arms.

"Seriously, though" — Bucky gave them a look — "get a room."

"Didn't you say something about gingerbread?" she asked, trying to pry his fingers open so she could get free. He let her go, giving her ass a little smack. She shot him a glare but he waggled his brows and smirked at her.

"And yeah," he said, stretching. "I did. I should make that now, so James can see it."

"You know he'll probably try and eat it," Bucky said, he stepped back and surveyed his handy work. "I left you a spot for your angels, Nat."

"Thanks," she said and picked up another angel as Bucky went to sit on the couch and Steve drifted off into the kitchen to make the gingerbread (she could hear him whistling along to the record). She remembered the Christmases as she hung up the angels: the Christmas she went tree hunting with Steve and he stood between her and Rumlow. It was then that she realized that she was falling in love with him. The following Christmas Steve told her he loved her, and they started dating (that angel was one of her favorites as it held a star over its head). The next Christmas they got married and Bucky came back to them. Peggy died the next Christmas season; she stood by his side, supporting him through this difficult moment and he later came to her and broached the subject of starting a family. The last three angels in her hand were beautiful and sad, remembering the childless Christmases and the pain of trying to just carry a baby to term; still she hung them up with care. The final angel from last year was holding a baby. James hadn't been born yet, but the sentiment was still there, and she hung it up on the awaiting branch. "All that's left is the star."

"You gonna have James put it on?" Bucky asked. She looked over and noticed he was still wearing his coat from tree hunting; she arched a brow.

"Aren't you warm?"

"Do you want your eyes accosted by that horrid sweater Stark shoved me in?" he arched a brow. Steve started to sing along to the record.

"Its not that bad," she said, sitting down next to him. "At least not as bad as Steve's singing." She giggled as Steve failed to hit a high note.

"I heard that!" Steve shouted.

"You aren't winning any Grammys this year, honey!" she teased. "And yeah, we're going to let James put the star on… or rather Steve is going to hold him and guide his hand." She pulled her phone out and grinned. "And I'm gonna capture it on video."

"Why don't you let me do it and you help Steve hold James?"

"Not a bad idea," she said. "Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Just did." She frowned, and he laughed. "Go ahead, Natalia."

"Back… back before the ice… did Steve want a large family?" she looked over at Steve, who was swaying his hips to the music as he sang and baked. She tried to image what he was like before the ice, how much was the Steve of the past different from the Steve of the present. He didn't like talking about what he hoped for before the ice and she never pressed him. Still, she wondered.

"I don't know," Bucky said. "To be honest, I never asked. Steve just never seemed… really interested in the ladies. Not that he was a bugger but… he just seemed caught up in his own life. I guess he didn't think it was important, with the war going on in Europe and then Pearl Harbour happening… he had more pressing things to worry about."

"So, he didn't want a family?" she asked. "Makes sense, he seemed reluctant and a bit shocked that I wanted a child."

"I… I think before the serum he felt he could never have it, nor did he want to subject his future children to his health problems but then everything changed when he met Peggy. I think it was then he realized that he wanted a family, a home, a sense of stability." Bucky frowned. "Why?"

"Я не думаю, что я могу иметь больше детей." The carpet needed to be vacuumed she realized as she stared down at it, counting the pine needles and the flecks of dirt. "И если Стив действительно хочет больше детей ... Я не знаю, как скажу ему, что больше не могу иметь."

"Natalia," Bucky whispered and pulled her into a hug. "You need to talk to him about this, maybe not now, but definitely soon. Maybe after Christmas."

"Okay." She wiped at her eyes, refusing to cry over this. The smells of ginger and cinnamon, clovers and nutmeg, sugar and molasses filled the house mingling with the alpine scent of the pine tree. It smelled like Christmas and sounded like Christmas with Christmas songs from the 30s and 40s weaving they way around everything, Steve's tenor adding to the sense this was right. "I just want him to be happy, Bucky. He deserves to be happy, to have what he always wanted."

"Nat" — Bucky leaned closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder — "Steve is happy. He has you, he has me, he has James. This" — he waved his hand around at their home — "this is what he wanted. This bliss. Don't sell yourself short. He looks at you and sees the universe within you." Bucky smiled. "I don't think I seen him look at Peggy like she was his everything. He looks at you like that. He loves you and he's happy."

Sighing, she stood up, going into the kitchen. She ran her hand along Steve's back until he looked at her.

"Hey." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "What's up? What were you and Bucky talking about?"

You. Children. My own sense that I'm inadequate. "Nothing," she said, kissing his cheek. "I love you."

He blinked, an easy smile appearing on his face. "I love you too, Nat." He watched her as she took his hand and licked the gingerbread dough off his finger. "Well?" he asked, his voice taking on a husky note.

"Spicy." She smirked, watching the muscles in his through tighten with a swallow. "Steve, I'm—" she gasped when he kissed her, and her opened mouth gave his tongue the chance to delve into her mouth. She groaned, legs going weak as he kissed her until it was the only thing she could think about. Chest rising and falling with the need for breath, she stared at him into his lust darken eyes when he finally let her come up for air. "Steve?" she asked. He grabbed a kitchen towel an wiped his hands before scooping her up.

"Buck, check the gingerbread in about twenty minutes," he said, as he carried her out of the kitchen. "And check on James."

"Steve…" she whispered as he walked passed the couch, her cheeks pink and hot.

"Have fun you two, don't be too loud," Bucky said.

She muttered something in Russian, hiding her face in the crook of Steve's neck. "Wouldn't dream of it," Steve said. "Right, Nat?"

"Боже мой!" She smacked his chest. "Just take me to bed."

"As you wish."

Steve had worshipped her body and it was difficult keeping her vocalizations to a minimum (her cheeks hurt from biting them so hard). Afterwards, they napped until James woke up. She got up to take care of him — changing and nursing him — before meeting Steve downstairs to put the star on top. James cooed, fascinated with the decorated tree and how high Steve lifted him. She smiled, one hand on Steve's shoulder an the other on James' little hip as Steve helped him put the star on. Bucky recorded the entire thing. Steve set James in his playpen and went to finish baking the gingerbread house parts and start making the icing. She went upstairs and wrapped presents.

When she came back down Frank Sinatra was crooning through the house (it was after Steve's time, but he liked it all the same). "Where's my baby?" she asked, walking around the living room with her phone. "Where is he?" she asked, her voice high and cutesy. James was sitting in front of the tree, his stuffed elephant in one hand, a branch in another. He kept trying to pull himself up right, but the shaking of the tree kept spooking him. Still, her son was nothing but determined and she watched as the tree wobbled dangerously, the ornaments shaking with each tug. "What are you doing baby?" she cooed, as she sat down on the floor. James abandoned the tree to crawl over to her with a gurgle. "Little stinker" — she kissed the top of his head, reveling in the smell of his baby newness — "are you trying to wreck the tree?" she asked, as James crawled into her lap. She smiled, wrapping her arm around James' tummy. The baby cooed, sticking his elephant's ear into his mouth. "I thought your daddy was supposed to be watching you, while I wrapped presents, hmm? That was his anniversary gift to me this year. Do you know where he is?" she asked. "And what about your Uncle Bucky?" James looked at her with bright blue eyes, a little smile appear and drool oozing down the elephant's ear. "Where's Dada?" she asked, smoothing his fine red hair and placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

"He's in the kitchen, Nat," Bucky said as he walked out of the kitchen with a glass of milk. "Hey."

"Who was supposed to be watching James?" She gave Bucky a dangerous smile. He swallowed.

"I just uh… went to get some milk…" he muttered. "I was gone for a few seconds, I swear!" He swallowed. "Steve and I both have enhanced hearing! We were listening for him."

"Where's Steve?" she asked, smoothing James' soft red hair.

"In the kitchen."

"Thanks." She gave Bucky a serene smile. "Well" — she scooped James up onto her hip as she stood in one fluid motion — "shall we go say hi to Dada?"

"Hi," James chirped, giggling at his own little word. She smiled, kissing James cheek as she tapped the phone screen to get it the camera to go to selfie mode.

"This is your punishment, Steve. You said I could have the afternoon to wrap presents, but what do I fine? Your son trying to pull down the tree." She kissed James' cheek again and tapped the screen to get the camera to face the other direction. The kitchen smelled of gingerbread, and baked apples. The smells remaindered her of home.

Steve was sitting the table, hunched over a half constructed gingerbread house. James squirmed in her arms, squealing in delight at the sight of his father. Steve looked up. His hair had gotten a bit longer, more like how he had it when they first met on the deck of the helicarrier all those years ago. He had rolled the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt to the elbows and white icing caked his fingertips (he even managed to get some on his nose). Around him were bags of candy: gum drops, gummy bears, candy canes and peppermint circles, chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles. He looked up, a flummoxed expression on his face, a pastry bag bulging with icing in his hands. "Uh… hi honey."

"What happened to watching James?" she asked, walking over to him and setting their son in his lap. He made a face, setting the bag of icing to the side. James giggled as Steve bounced him on his knee.

"Uh… I was?" he looked at her.

"Then you can explain to me why your son was trying to pull down the tree," she said. Steve's mouth worked, but no sound came out and James looked up at him with that mischievous baby grin as he gummed his elephant's ear. "Well?"

"I uh… I was busy." He hung his head. "Making the gingerbread house for James."

"Uh-huh." She folded her arms, smirking. This was too fun sometimes, drawing it out of him. She arched both brows. James dropped his elephant, gurgling in surprised.

Steve let out a great big sigh, kissing James' head. "I was making it more for myself."

"Ah." She watched as James reached for the gingerbread house his father was working on. His little hand landed in some half-set icing and he kicked his legs in delight after he stuck his messy hand into his mouth.

"Oh, c'mon Nat!" his head jerked up. "I never got to make a gingerbread house when I was a kid! So… I thought well… it may be fun to" — James kept reaching for the icing — "to make a gingerbread house."

She nodded, understanding. "Okay, but you said you'd watch James." James made a soft whine, pulling against his father's grip in his effort to get onto the table.

"I was listening to him, and Bucky was in the living room."

"I was just getting some milk!" Bucky shouted from the aforementioned room.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Steve, I know you wanted to build a gingerbread house for James, but you said you'd watch him while I wrapped presents." James wriggled his way out of Steve's grip and onto the table. He grabbed the side and yanked part of it off and sucked on the icing.

"I'm sorry, Nat," he said. James gurgled, and Steve swore softly. The house was ruined, the half-finished roof had falling into the house and a huge chunk was missing from where James had torn off his chunk. The baby was sitting by it, icing on his knees and hands, happy as a clam as he sucked on the corner of his piece. "James."

"You need to clean up your mess, Steve," she said, as she scooped up James and gave his chubby little cheek a kiss. "We have to get going to Tony's party" — she turned to James, who grinned, sucking on the corner of the part of the house he had broken off — "and you, young man, need to get cleaned up for this as well. Wanna look nice for your Uncle Tony and Auntie Pepper, right?" James cooed. Steve sighed, poking his ruined gingerbread house. Taking pity on him, she gave him a kiss. "You can make one tomorrow, and I'll watch James while you do so."

"Okay."

Smiling, she wiped the icing off his nose. "You had icing on your nose." She walked off, but not before she saw him give her a tiny smile.

James looked around, captivated by the flashing lights of New York City that zipped by far below them. The elevator climbed the floors with a soft hum, and she found herself put her weight on right leg. "Do you want me to hold him?" Steve asked, and she shook her head. He nodded, leaning against the railing of the elevator.

"Surprised JARVIS isn't playing music," Bucky said, he had his back to them and was content watching the city.

"I can if you would like Mr. Barnes," the AI said, its smooth robotic voice breaking the silence. James looked up, little face scrunched up in bewilderment as he tried to locate the source of the voice. Natasha smiled, amused by James' confusion. She kissed his cheek and he looked at her, sucking on his lip.

"Nah, that's fine JARVIS. Did… uh… that thing I asked about—"

"I've taken care of it," JARVIS said, and the AI fell silent allowing the elevator's hum to fill the space again. James made another sound, reaching for the ceiling. She giggled, and Steve smiled, reaching a large hand over to cover James' tiny head. The baby looked at his father and grinned.

"You know, he doesn't look that bad in the sweater," he said. "Neither do you." He nudged her with his hip.

"At least they don't sing like last time," she said, returning the hip bump. They laughed softly, and he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"No, they just blink," he said. "You okay Buck?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Bucky nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "Just hate the sweater."

She frowned, wondering if Bucky was hiding anything, but Steve seemed to accept the reason and didn't press any further. James cooed again, reaching for the ceiling. "No, baby, JARVIS isn't going to come back unless we need him," she explained, smiling as James gurgled in frustration. She reached into the baby bag that Steve had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a teething toy and gave it to James. He stuck it in his mouth, gumming it.

The elevator chimed when the reached the top floor. The doors sighed open and Christmas music drifted through the space. James looked up as the flashing Christmas lights caught his attention. "Let me see him!" Pepper said, pushing her way through the crowd. She wore jeans and a red and white sweater with big fluffy pom-poms. "Oh, Nat he's adorable!"

Natasha laughed, handing James over to Pepper. James blinked, grabbing one of the pom-poms and turning it about in his small hand. "Thanks. The sweater isn't too bad," she said. "Merry Christmas," she added.

"Merry Christmas." Pepper settled James on her hip and gave him a little bounce. "Tony set the play pen up over there in the corner, it should be quieter. He put DUM-E in charge of it."

She and Steve glanced over and there was the faithful if absentminded robot. It perked up and made a whistling sound, opening and closing its claw. She jerked her head and Steve set the baby bag in DUM-E's awaiting claw. She took Steve's hand and lead him towards the rest of the Avengers. Pepper passed James around to everyone. Everyone cooed and oohed over him and gave her and Steve compliments about how beautiful James was. For his part, James didn't seem to be bothered by the attention. He did like Thor though, who tossed him into the air (her heart leapt into her throat at that) and declared James to be as stalwart as his father. James giggled and squirmed until Thor tossed him a few more times. She intervened and took her baby back, clutching him close and smoothing his soft hair. He cooed, leaning against her. "Where's Tony?" Steve asked.

She frowned, realizing she hadn't seen Tony yet, which was odd considering he was always one to be the center of attention. "Umm…." Pepper looked around, trying to find her husband (they had gotten married that August). Steve went over to the table and grabbed a beer and a glass of ginger ale. "I'm not sure." She smiled at them. "He'll be back soon."

"Okay." She gave a nod, accepted the ginger ale Steve handed her. "I'm going to go over there," she said, "I think James is getting a bit over whelmed." She took a sip and walked over to the window. It was quieter, the Christmas music washing over them, mixing with the cheerful chatter and laughter of their friends. Removed from the excitement James settled down, attention drawn to the city's lights again. She sipped at the fizzy ginger ale, enjoying the spicy sweet of the drink. Steve came over a bit later, his hand going to the small of her back once he was close.

"How is he?" he asked. James looked up at his father, a

"Doing fine," she said, smiling at James. The baby's head whipped around suddenly, and they followed his gaze. There, a few feet away, was Bucky with a woman. They spoke in a hushed tone, but she and Steve's hearing were enhanced beyond that of a normal human's. Still, with the city's noises coming from the window, the vent at her feet, the music and laughter she couldn't make out everything Bucky was saying. Whatever was going on, it seemed to cause Bucky great pain. Steve went over, and she followed.

"What are you doing lurking in the shadows for, Buck? Go grab a beer and mingle," Steve said, clapping his friend on the back. She was surprised Bucky jerked in shock. "Hi." Steve thrust his hand out to the woman. "Don't believe we've met. Haven't been around the Tower in a while. I'm Steve Rogers."

"She knows who you are, Steve," Bucky grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Still the woman was polite and accepted Steve's offered hand, smiling as she shook it.

"I'm Wanda," she said. Natasha frowned, recognized the Slavic lilt to her English. "Wanda Maximoff."

"Oh, so you're the twins they found at that castle," Natasha said. "I'm Natasha."

"Yes," Wanda said, "Bucky has told me much about you and Steve. It's good to finally put a face to the name."

"Well, it's… been a while since I've been to the Tower. Still technically on maternity leave, but sometimes I'm needed." She bounced James.

"Is he yours?" Wanda asked, holding out her arms. Natasha smiled, giving James a little kiss on the cheek before handing him over to Wanda. She hummed, holding the baby close. "His thoughts are so simple."

"You're a telepath?" Natasha asked. The young woman nodded and shifted James to her hip and held out her hand and conjured a little red ball of glowing… stuff. James cooed, fascinated by the magic and reached for it.

"No little one," she said, closing her hand around the magic and dispelling it. James grumped, squirming and getting fussy over being denied something he wanted. Steve stepped in then and scooped James out of Wanda's arms, bouncing him and cooing to distract him. James tried to reach for his beer bottle, but she took that from Steve which made James whine until Steve bounced him again. "I've been helping Bucky with his sister, helping to draw out her memories."

"Your sister?" Natasha frowned. Bucky looked away, turning around to stare out the window. His shoulders were tense, and he rubbed his left arm, a nervous habit she noticed he developed whenever anything coming close to his past or the life he used to have before the fall was broached.

"Is it Yvonne? Emma?" Steve asked.

"No, they died while I was… Hydra's weapon," Bucky said, not bothering to turn around. "It's Becca."

"Oh." Steve hung his head and she looked over at him, confused. "Jeez, I'm sorry Buck… I… I should've looked her up. I should've told her and—"

"Steve, it's fine. You had your own issues to deal with after the ice, you didn't need to worry about my family."

"I promised you I'd look after your sisters if anything bad happened to you." Steve nuzzled James' little head. "I should've at least looked her up." James squirmed as he gave an unhappy whimper; a tantrum was brewing. Steve gave his son a tiny smile and kissed his cheek. James wiped the kiss off. "What's wrong?"

"Becca's dying from Alzheimer's, she doesn't really remember me. Wanda helps draw the memories out. I asked Wanda to visit her today. I'm going to tomorrow to wish her a merry Christmas." Bucky sighed, looking at the city. She took a step closer to him and rubbed his arm; he gave her a sad smile.

"If you need anything Bucky —"

"Hey, what are you guys doing over here in the corner?" Tony asked, as he strutted over dressed as Santa. James cried, hiding his face against Steve's neck. "Oh hey, Jimbo, don't cry, it's just me" — Tony yanked down the fake bread and pushed the hat off his head — "just Uncle Tony." He looked over at her and grimaced. "I didn't mean to make him cry."

"I just think it's a bit too much for him and he wanted to catch Wanda's magic," she said, watching as Steve bounced James. "Steve, let me put him down for a nap." She went over and took James from him. "There, there baby." She rubbed James' back as she left the party, stopping only to scoop the baby bag up from the pen.

Inside the elevator, the noise was lessened, and James began to settle down. "Yeah, that's it baby," she said as she paced around the elevator, making shushing sounds. "You're tired and we're gonna get you down for a nap."

James hiccupped, crying wearing him out. She smiled as the elevator stopped at their floor. The doors sighed opened and she headed to the Rogers' Family suite. Inside was dark and quiet, the soft glow of the city lights the only source of illumination. She sat in the rocking chair by the window and let James nurse. "That's it little one," she whispered, pushing against the ground with the balls of her feet. James made a soft sound, putting his little hand between her breasts. She smiled, singing softly and took his hand. Her smile widened when he wrapped his fingers around her index finger. "…Баю-баюшки-баю, не ложися на краю. Придёт сереньки волчок и ухватит за бочок. Он ухватит за бочок и потащит во лесок, а там бабушка живёт и калачики печёт, и детишкам продаёт, а Ванюше так даёт," she sang as the door opened. "Steve."

"He asleep?" he whispered coming over to her. She nodded, gently pulling him away from her breast. James jerked his arm in his sleep. Steve smiled. "Here, I'll put him to bed. Tony says there's going to be dancing" — he flushed — "still don't know how to dance."

"I can show you," she said, standing up, walking with him to James' crib. Steve settled their son down and she tucked his blue elephant near him. She smiled as Steve wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I got you something," he said, pulling away from her and going to their bedroom. She frowned, following him. He met her halfway, a little box in his hand. "Merry Christmas, Natalia." He rolled his eyes, a little smile on his face. "And Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary."

"A lot of happies in two days, huh?" she took the box with a little giggle, a smile on her face. "Thank you." She kissed him. "For everything, Steve. For being my friend, my love… my husband… my son's father."

"I should be thanking you," he said, "you… you gave me a home when I lost mine. I've been on my own since I was eighteen. I never fit in anywhere, not in the Army, not in this new time… but… but you made me feel like I belonged. You gave me a family… we built a family together and" — he sniffed, rubbing at his eyes — "that means so much to me." He grinned, eyes wet with unshed tears. "Go on open it."

She smiled, opening the box. It was an ornament, a baby's first Christmas ornament. Though this one allowed you to put a picture inside. "Oh Steve," she whispered. It was their first family photo, James was five months old and adorable. She forgot who took it — probably Bucky — James was covered in finger paint and so was Steve. She had tried to clean James up, but he had squirmed and gotten paint all over her. Somehow Bucky managed to take a photo of the three of them together, smiling and laughing while covered in finger paint. "This is perfect."

"Thought you may like it." He kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas Nat."

"Merry Christmas, Steve."

groan

This story took way to long. This chapter too way to long. This was supposed to be done in December. Since it's a Christmas story. But whatever. Enjoy.

I'll now resume working on And We Run.

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