rodrikstark's headcanons (part 2)

b. barnes + helping you deliver your baby

you squeeze bucky's hand as tight as you can. the cold, hardened metal pressing into your palm is a welcome distraction from everything else currently ripping apart in your body. "do you think teddy roosevelt will have a full head of hair? or be bald?"

bucky's forehead furrows at you in disbelief. "seriously?"

you had kept this bit up for months, poking fun at bucky's name, insisting that you maintain the tradition by naming your child after a US president. all in good fun, but it astounds him that not even the pain of childbirth could distract you from cracking jokes.

"theo could be a cute nickname."

he rolls his eyes. "we are not naming our kid teddy roosevelt."

"if we have a second one, he could be franklin."

bucky sighs. "focus, doll."

you frown deeply at him, a pained whine at the back of your throat. "i am!"

after another twenty minutes of your gritted teeth, drawn-out exhales, and terrible jokes—what kind of name is woodrow, anyway?—bucky hears the piercing cry of a newborn baby. he rushes to the nurses, though he realizes he has not the faintest idea what he's supposed to do as the father.

a father. of that beautiful, squirmy little thing.

you heave rapidly, staring at the ceiling. "what's the hair situation?"

as the nurse places your impossibly tiny baby against your bare chest, bucky sighs, breathlessly happy. "it's a girl."

"oh." you touch her soft, tiny arm. "hi." tears spring to your eyes. "bucky?"

"you okay?"

"she's so beautiful."

"yeah." bucky grins, alternating between kissing your forehead and hers. "yeah, she is."