One year ago, Italy
"Sam, you okay?" Steve asked as Sam exited the bathroom unsteadily.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I think the fish went bad."
"Good thing I didn't eat it, then. I told you!" Steve and Natasha laughed at his predicament, but America's expression turned murderous. She glared daggers at Sam, who actually scooted his chair back a few inches.
"I swear, Sam, if you get me sick-"
"Calm down, it's fine," he reassured, patting her on the head like a child. America rolled her eyes and took a seat at the table.
"What should we play?" Steve asked, shuffling the deck. America grinned and, reaching across the table, stole the cards from her husband's idle hands.
"Blackjack. Here, I'll deal." With lightning speed, she quickly dispersed the cards between the four players and the game began.
After fourteen straight wins for Natasha, Sam groaned as he bet his last chips. "How do you do that?" He whined.
"Practice," she said simply. A smirk spread across her face. Steve glanced over at America, who had been strangely silent at a time where she could have made fun of Sam. Her face drained of color.
"Mer, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'll... I'll be right back." In a flash, she was gone, leaving her friends confused. Steve followed her to the bathroom, where he could clearly hear her throwing up.
"Mer?" He asked, knocking on the door. "Doll?"
"Tell Sam that I hate him!"
"He already knows that. Are you okay?"
"Steven Grant Rogers, do I sound okay?"
"That's a good point," he mumbled, cringing. "Come out when you're feeling better."
"If Sam steals my chips, he's going to wish he'd never been born."
Steve shook his head and returned to the kitchen table, where the others looked up expectantly. He only chuckled. "Wilson, you're a dead man."
"I'd run, but she can catch me."
Natasha frowned. "We're supposed to go undercover tomorrow in that warehouse. If you two aren't in top shape-"
"We'll be fine," America said, clearing her throat as rejoined the group and sat.
That was not the case. By the morning, both Sam and America felt worse than before. Steve and Nat decided to leave the two of them behind and go undercover by themselves.
*
"Wait, hold on," I say, putting a hand up. "I don't see how this has anything to do with what's going on now. We played cards, went to bed, and both of you were too sick to go on the mission. So what?"
"No interruptions! I said no interruptions!" Sam replies angrily. I shrug. "You thought the story ended there. But it didn't."
"Fine. Keep going."
"Okay, back to the explanation. You guys had just left for the warehouse, said you'd be gone about two weeks."
*
Sam and America spent two days on the couch watching musicals. The genre wasn't to Sam's taste, but she was sicker than him and he felt bad, so he pretended to enjoy the movies.
After three days, Sam recovered fully from the food poisoning. America, on the other hand, just couldn't seem to shake it.
Sam woke up early on a sunny Tuesday and went for a run, opting to leave America in the motel room, considering she was sick and she'd pass him anyway. When he returned, he knocked gently on her bedroom door. "America? You up?" There was no response, so he pushed open the door. "America?" He found nothing but an empty bed. Somewhere, he heard soft crying, but he couldn't figure out where it was coming from. "America!"
A loud crash sounded from the bathroom, and Sam rushed over, rattling the locked door.
"America?"
"Sam?" Sam almost collapsed with relief at the sound of her voice. "I'll be out in a minute, hold on."
America emerged moments later, her brown eyes swollen and red from crying. Sam immediately took her by the shoulders.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, wiping tears from her splotchy cheeks. "I just really didn't feel well. I tripped in there because you startled me. I'm sorry if I scared you."
"Hey, it's fine." He held his arms out for a hug, one she immediately went into and held much longer than usual. "I'm sorry I got you sick."
"I know. It's not your fault. I think I'll be fine." She sighed. "I need some air."
Sidestepping Sam, she quickly ran from the room, leaving Sam to keep up with her as best as he could. It took a few minutes to track her down. He finally caught up with her in an alley near the motel. She sat on the ground, head in her knees, shoulders shaking through sobs. Sam looked at her with pity. She seemed so small in that moment, so vulnerable. This was a side of her he hardly ever saw, the girl hiding behind the broken mask.
"America," he said softly, crouching down next to her. She startled at his voice, but quickly hid her face again. "You've got to tell me what's going on."
"He's going to flip out."
"Who?"
"Steve," she whimpered, finally looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.
Now Sam was really confused. "Steve? Why would he be mad at you? He loves you."
Her lip trembled as she took a deep breath. "Sam, I- I think I'm pregnant."
"What?" Sam actually had to sit down. Never, not in a million years, would he have expected that to be what was wrong. "Are you serious?"
"W-why would I joke about this?"
"True. Come here." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she laid her head on his. Her shaking slowly subsided. "Are you sure?"
"I think so. I mean, I started to suspect something a few days ago, and I just I took a test to be sure. It said positive." A single tear slipped down her cheek. "How do I tell Steve? We're on the run from the UN, Sam! This is dangerous!"
"You go up to him and say, 'Hey Steve, what you want more than anything is finally happening.' And he'll say something dumb because he doesn't get it, and then you'll actually tell him."
"You... you don't think he'll be angry?"
Sam shook his head. "Not Cap. I don't know your thoughts on the subject, but he wants kids. A lot. I mean, this changes things, but not in a bad way. This is good," he said firmly. "It's good. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks, Sam," she whispered. "This is so insane. I didn't even think it was possible."
"Well, you two deserve it. It's going to be okay. It is okay. More than okay. Amazing."
"It's just... there are so many emotions running through my head right now."
Sam smiled. "You wanna tell me about them?" He knew that America tended to be guarded with her emotions, but he wanted to be there for her in any way possible.
"I don't know. I'm super freaked out, but also excited. You know? I don't know how this is going to work, especially because we don't have a home. And I can't imagine doing this without my siblings, but I haven't even seen Pietro in a year. But I'm excited, too. Really. It's so much to take in."
"I know." He rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "We're all here for you and Steve, you know that?"
She gave him a watery smile. "Thank you so much, Sam."
He stood and offered her a hand. "Want to go get lunch?"
Lunch turned out to be ice cream, but both of them were having too much fun to care. America's spirits lifted significantly through the afternoon as she started getting used to the idea of being a mom. She wasn't even sure she'd be good at it. Steve, on the other hand, would be an amazing father. The whole thing was scary, but not as scary.
"So I guess this explains why you weren't getting better," Sam commented as he tossed his cup in a garbage can.
"I guess I won't be better for a while now," she joked, shoving him. Honestly, it made Sam happy that she was making fun of him again. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it. Her brown eyes narrowed. "Don't look back. Keep walking. We've got people on our tail."
"How many?" Sam didn't dare turn around, trusting that America already knew.
"Four. We're outnumbered."
"Of course we are. Let's turn here, make sure they're actually following us."
They turned down a street, quickening their pace. Sam snuck a glance back and groaned.
"They're still following us."
"Did you think I was kidding?"
"Now is not the time," he mumbled, thinking quickly. "Okay, I'll handle this, I want you to run."
America shook her head. "Four of them against you without your wings? Not on your life."
"Will you listen for once?"
"No," she said cooly.
"This is going to be dangerous!"
"Yep."
Sam sighed, knowing there was no way to convince her otherwise. "Fine, but if it gets bad, you need to run. Okay?"
"Okay."
In America's peripheral, she saw the men charge. The glint of a knife caught her eye. "Sam, do you have any weapons?" She asked, voice shaking with fear.
"No. I ran out to find you."
She groaned inwardly. Neither of them had anyway to defend themselves. She slipped the glove off of her metal hand just in time to punch the first one in the face, instantly knocking him out.
America ducked under a second man's punch, narrowly avoiding a fist to the face. She dropped to sweep out his legs, but he jumped and kicked her in the side multiple times. Tears stung at her eyes, but she knew she had to keep moving. As she got back up, he grabbed one of her arms and twisted, causing her to cry out. He tightened his hold around her throat and slowly began to cut off her air supply. The man flicked his knife out from his pocket as she struggled. Only one thought formed in her mind as black ate at the edges of her vision.
Run.
She kicked the man between the legs. He grunted and loosened his hold, and America immediately took the opportunity to run as far as she could. She didn't stop until she was in the middle of a pretty plaza with a water fountain and a lot of people.
America gasped for breath, trying to alleviate the pounding in her head. Everything seemed too loud, too close, and she was far more winded than she usually was by running. The only thing she'd eaten that day was the ice cream. She gripped the stone wall to remain standing and closed her eyes, fighting unconsciousness.
"Miss, are you all right?" A man standing next to her asked in a thick Italian accent.
"I- I can't breathe!" She gasped, trying desperately to breathe normally and failing. It was all too much. "Help me, please!"
"Miss, you look like you should sit down."
She missed the bench and collapsed onto the ground, causing a massive crowd to form around her.
"Hey, out of the way!" Sam yelled, pushing his way through the masses. He had a deep cut on his cheek but looked fine otherwise. His eyes widened as he saw America crumpled in a heap on the ground. "Mer, can you hear me?"
"Sam," she whispered, coughing. "Help me, I can't breathe!"
"It's okay, it's okay. I've got you." He gathered her in his arms, avoiding the stares around him, and started off. His plan was to return to the motel to figure out what happened, but America's head suddenly fell limply to the side. "Mer. America!"
There was a moment of complete and utter fear when he thought one of his best friends was gone.
America woke up hours later in a hospital bed, Sam at her side. She felt normal, just achey, and hesitantly sat up.
"What happened?" She whispered.
"You passed out. I took you here. Doctors said you overexerted yourself and have some bruising on your abdomen. We can leave whenever you're ready."
"My..." A terrifying thought entered her head. Only one thing mattered. "Sam, the baby. Please tell me that..." She couldn't even finish the sentence. The look in his eyes was enough of a response. "No," she whispered as tears began to slide down her cheeks. "Sam, no, no, please no."
He shook his head, empathy filling his face. "I'm so, so sorry."
She cried in his arms for hours, wishing it was Steve there to comfort her instead.