The Soldier's Spy

Chapter 6

Steve watched the road ahead, trees covering every spot that was untouched by gravel. It was a beautiful and calming scenery but it didn't compare to the sleeping beauty beside him. Red curls framed her pale face, cheeks tinged red. Pregnancy glow, at least that's what he heard.

"Stop staring and focus on the road," Natasha muttered in her sleep, Steve's eyes darting back towards the road, heat creeping up his cheeks. "Are we almost there?"

A nervous feeling swirled within him, "Yeah. 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 made a turn, the gravel disappearing, replaced by tire tracks in the green grass, leading up to a simple farm house. White paint peeled away from the wood that still seemed in pretty good condition.

"That's it?" Natasha said in a rather bored tone.

Steve parked the truck, rubbing the back of his neck, "It's not a mansion or anything but it was the closest thing I could get to what you wanted, way from public eye."

He watched her, searching for any reaction but he only saw the poker face she seemed to place ever since he got the call. For two days he watched Natasha pull away from the world, speaking very little and touching her lower stomach with a faraway look in her green eyes.

He hopped off from his seat and walked to Natasha's side, hoping to open her door but she had already stepped out, leaving Steve standing awkwardly by her side.

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

"Are you sure Nat? You're pregnant and you should be resting," Steve said, following close behind, worry filling him at the thought of any possible harm falling on her or the child.

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

***

Despite the outside appearance of the house, the interior was simply breathtaking.

Everything was in perfect shape, the windows were clean, wooden floors glowing with a protective layer.

"Wow," she whistled, her hands holding onto the rather heavy cardboard box.

"Do you like it?" a deep voice said beside her.

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

Blue eyes beamed at her, a thousand kilowatt smile lighting up the room and sending her heart racing,"Would you like a tour?"

Natasha gave a slight nod and placed the box onto the floor. When she turned, the soldier offered his arm, and with blush rising to her cheeks she took it.

The home was rather simple, much to her enjoyment. The walls were painted mostly white, dried from the recently applied paint. The kitchen had brand new appliances, apparently a courtesy from the billionaire, Tony Stark.

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

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, "No. I did it. Turned out I have more money than I should. Something about veteran pay and collected interest in the bank."

She raised a brow, that's something that she definitely didn't know. She always thought that SHIELD payed for everything that Steve Rogers touched.

"Come on," Steve said, excitement coating his deep voice while his hand gently tugged her towards the stairs.

Boots thumped against the steps, before the came to a simple hallway, painted in a golden-yellow hue, three white doors visible.

He tugged her towards the last one. She couldn't help but notice the excitement that he carried since the day he found out about the child, as if the baby had been the greatest news he ever got.

"This is where the baby is going to be," he murmured, into her ear. Her breath caught in her throat. The room was spacious, a large window providing enough sunlight and a perfect view of the large field.

"I'm speechless," she said softly.

A nervous chuckle rose from Steve, "I'm hoping that's a good thing."

Natasha felt tears prick her eyes. Steve had worked so hard in buying the house, using his own money to do so and assuming the responsibility of caring for the child that was on it's way.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pressing her slender body against his large one, his lips pressing against her temple. Their hands rested on her stomach, Steve's thumb gently caressing her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

In that moment, she felt safe, something she hadn't felt in a long time. No longer did she feel like the assassin she was bred to be, but a simple woman who's fate was about to get better.

She pulled away from Steve's embrace, avoiding his eyes, "Come on," she spoke, "Let's bring in the stuff."

****

Their bodies collapsed on the brown sofa, muscles sore from bringing in the furniture and mountains of boxes.

"I'm so tired I don't even want to move," Nat groaned beside him, her body splayed, legs on his lap and her arms stretched out.

"I'm not tired," Steve murmured, untying the laces of her boots. He expected for her to say something but she remained silent. Slowly he tugged off her boots, removing her socks in the process.

He remembered how he used to do the same for his mother when she came home from a long day of work, massaging them with his tiny hands.

Now, his calloused fingers gently massaged the arch of her foot, causing a soft moan to pass through Natasha's lips.

"Oh god Steve," she moaned softly, "You should be a massage therapist."

He let out a soft chuckle, not bothering to say a word as he continued to work on her other foot. They remained so until Steve heard her quiet and even snores, letting him know she had finally fallen asleep.

He watched her for a few moments, taking in the unguarded beauty before him. Steve wanted to know what was causing for her to act so withdrawn. Perhaps it was the idea of raising the child that was to come and she never really expected to have a child of her own. She wasn't the only one. He never expected to settle down either, he thought the that man with the picket fence had died long ago. But now, he wanted to have everything with Natasha. The fence, the house, the children, and to fall in love.

With a soft sigh he laid back, against the sofa. What was he talking about? He was already in love, but he wasn't sure about the beautiful Russian.

She remained in his thoughts until the sweet lull of dreams pulled him into a deep sleep.