The Avengers compound had never felt this much like home.
Six months pregnant, you had somehow turned the place upside down without even trying. Your favorite blankets were scattered across the couch, tiny baby clothes were beginning to appear in random rooms, and Bucky had become ridiculously protective.
Your husband had always been protective of you—but pregnancy had taken it to another level.
“Bucky, I can carry the bag.”
“No.”
You stared at him from the doorway. “It weighs like three pounds.”
“I said no.”
He took the bag from your hand before you could argue and carried it himself, muttering something under his breath.
You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah.” He glanced back at you, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But I’m your impossible.”
You couldn’t help smiling.
Six months.
You rested a hand over your growing belly.
“Come here,” Bucky said softly.
You walked over, and he immediately placed his metal hand against your stomach, his expression changing completely.
The tough, intimidating super-soldier disappeared.