Steve watched the road ahead, the trees stretching out endlessly, covering every spot untouched by gravel. It was a beautiful and calming scenery, but it paled in comparison to the sleeping beauty beside him. Red curls framed her pale face, cheeks tinged with the faintest red. Pregnancy glow, he supposed, though he'd never seen anything like it before.

"Stop staring and focus on the road," Natasha muttered in her sleep, her words slurred. Steve's eyes darted back to the road, heat creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

"Are we almost there?" she murmured, not quite awake.

A nervous feeling swirled within him. "Yes, ma'am," he said softly. "It's a safe place. Clint helped me find it. Close enough to a local hospital, just in case the baby decides to come early."

He turned onto a narrow path, the gravel giving way to tire tracks carved into green grass. The tracks led up to a simple farmhouse. The white paint was peeling, revealing the aged wood beneath, though the structure still seemed sturdy and inviting.

"That's it?" Natasha said in a bored tone, arching a brow.

Steve parked the truck and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not a mansion, but it's private and far from prying eyes. I thought it might be what you wanted."

He watched her closely, searching for any reaction. Since he'd received her call two days ago, Natasha had pulled away from the world, speaking very little and often touching her stomach with a faraway look in her eyes. Her poker face had been impenetrable, and it left Steve uneasy.

He hopped out of the truck and hurried to her side, intending to open her door, but she had already stepped out, leaving him standing awkwardly beside her.

"Well, let's start moving the stuff in then," she said, striding toward the hauler.

"Are you sure, Nat? You're pregnant, and you should be resting," Steve said, following close behind. Worry filled his voice, his brows knitting together as he imagined the potential dangers to her or the baby.

Natasha huffed, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. "Steve, I'm one month pregnant, not in my third trimester. Besides, who's going to help you move the stuff?"

***

Despite the weathered exterior, the inside of the house was simply breathtaking.

Everything was pristine. The windows gleamed, letting sunlight stream in, and the wooden floors glowed, polished to perfection. The space felt warm, inviting, and filled with potential.

"Wow," Natasha whistled, holding a rather heavy cardboard box in her hands.

"Do you like it?" Steve asked, his deep voice tinged with hope as he appeared at her side.

She gave him a small smile. "I love it."

Blue eyes lit up, his smile so bright it made her heart race. "Would you like a tour?"

Natasha nodded and set the box on the floor. When she turned, Steve offered her his arm. Blush rose to her cheeks as she slipped her hand through, allowing him to lead her.

The house was simple, which suited her perfectly. Most of the walls were freshly painted white, with hints of dried paint still lingering in the air. The kitchen gleamed with brand-new appliances, apparently courtesy of Tony Stark.

"Please tell me he didn't pay for the house," Natasha muttered under her breath.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. "No, ma'am. I did. Turns out I have more money than I ever knew. Something about veteran pay and years of interest collecting in the bank."

Natasha raised a brow, intrigued. That was something she hadn't expected. She'd always assumed SHIELD covered all of Steve's expenses.

"Come on," he said, his excitement evident as he gently tugged her toward the stairs.

Their boots thudded softly against the steps as they ascended to a simple hallway, painted a warm golden-yellow. Three white doors lined the corridor, and Steve led her to the last one.

"This is where the baby's room will be," he murmured into her ear, his voice filled with pride and wonder.

Her breath caught in her throat. The room was spacious, its centerpiece a large window that let in abundant sunlight and offered a picturesque view of the surrounding fields.

"I'm speechless," she said softly, her fingers brushing against the windowsill.

Steve's nervous chuckle broke the silence. "I'm hoping that's a good thing."

Natasha felt tears prick at her eyes. Steve had worked tirelessly to make this happen, pouring his own resources into the house and wholeheartedly embracing the responsibility of their unborn child. She'd never expected this—from him or anyone.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her gently against his broad chest. His lips pressed softly against her temple, their hands naturally settling over her stomach. His thumb traced gentle circles, sending shivers down her spine.

In that moment, she felt safe. Truly safe. It was a feeling she hadn't known in years. No longer did she feel like the assassin she was trained to be. Here, she was simply a woman whose life was about to change forever.

She pulled away, avoiding his eyes. "Come on," she said, her voice steady. "Let's finish bringing in the rest of the stuff."

***

Hours later, their bodies collapsed onto the worn brown sofa, muscles aching from hauling furniture and boxes.

"I'm so tired, I don't even want to move," Natasha groaned, sprawled across the couch with her legs draped over Steve's lap.

"I'm not tired," Steve said, though his actions betrayed him as he began untying the laces of her boots. She didn't protest, letting him tug them off along with her socks.

The gesture reminded him of his childhood, of taking care of his mother after her long days of work. Now, his calloused fingers gently massaged the arch of Natasha's foot, earning a soft moan from her lips.

"Oh God, Steve," she murmured, her voice heavy with relaxation. "You missed your calling as a massage therapist."

He chuckled softly but said nothing, continuing his ministrations. Soon, her breathing evened out, and he realized she'd fallen asleep.

Steve watched her for a moment, taking in her unguarded beauty. He wondered what had caused her to withdraw so much recently. Was it fear? Uncertainty? Or perhaps the overwhelming reality of becoming a mother when she'd never expected it?

He wasn't the only one grappling with unexpected emotions. Steve had never imagined settling down, much less starting a family. He'd thought that part of him had been left behind decades ago. Yet here he was, wanting it all—the house, the baby, the life—and he wanted it with her.

With a soft sigh, he leaned back against the sofa, letting his thoughts drift. *I'm already in love with her,* he admitted to himself, though he wasn't sure she felt the same. Sleep pulled him under, but his last thought was of Natasha and the family they could become.