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Words: 1016
Pairing: Dad!Steve Rogers x Mom!Reader
Summary: Reader and Steve are thrilled when their daughter is born. She's a perfect angel, but as she grows older Steve notices that he misses more and more milestones with his family. One the morning of his daughter's first birthday, she hardly recognizes him. Steve knows things have to change.
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You didn't really know what a baby's coo sounded like. You'd read about it in romantic novels as a teenager and it seemed to be something your mother, aunts and other older women in your life kept asking you about.
"Oh, has the baby started to coo yet? No? That's alright, she's not quite eight weeks yet. There's still time."
Your reaction to these questions was always the same. You would shake your head and admit that you had no idea what they were talking about. You were sure cooing was that strange hoot-hoot that pigeons did, certainly not a noise your precious baby girl should be making.
The day that it finally happened you knew. You were about to feed [Baby Name] and when you reached down to pick her up there was the tiniest, quietest string of sounds that really could only be described as a coo. You were ecstatic. You little bundle was growing up so quickly, you couldn't wait to share the news with Steve. You called for him before remembering that he wasn't home. He was in Antarctica with Sam following a lead on a possible sighting of Bucky.
At nine months, old your baby learned to walk. You'd set her down on the floor in her room, where the two of you had been playing with blocks most of the afternoon. You turned towards the door, on your way to the kitchen, so that you could get yourself a drink when you heard practically inaudible pitter-pattering. She started to fall on her bum by the time you turned around, but still she had taken her first steps. And again Steve had missed it. You didn't even remember where he'd said he was going as he ran out the door with his shield on his back. All you remembered was that he would once again be unreachable for an indeterminate amount of time.
It was the morning of your daughter's first birthday. You woke up with Steve lying in bed next to you for what felt like the first time in forever. You hated to ruin the near perfect moment of peace, but there was so much work to still to be done before the party that afternoon, so you carefully slithered out of bed, doing your best not to wake him. Your daughter was standing in her crib waiting for you excitedly. You turned on the light and smiled at her.
"Good morning, my princess." You couldn't help but use the cliché nickname. It was true, that girl lived like a princess. She was going to have everything she could ever need from you, and definitely more.
"Who that?" She asked pointing at you, or at least you thought she was pointing at you.
"I'm Mommy silly." You laugh as you walk towards her, but [Baby's name] shook her head. She moved her hand ever so slightly so it was pointing directly at you.
"That Mommy." She smiled. "Who that?" She moved her had back to where it had been pointing previously and frowned. You pivoted on your heels, terrified for a brief second that you're home had been compromised by one of your husband's countless enemies. But to your relief it was only Steve, leaning against the door with his arms folded over his chest.
"You know who that is." You laughed. "That's Daddy." You bent down and scooped your daughter into your arms. "Say Hi, Daddy." You told her, carrying her over to where Steve was standing.
"Hi Daddy." She repeated as emotionlessly as a baby could. She then looked up at you with wide, shining eyes, "Where Tony?" She asked. You watched as Steve's heart shattered into a million pieces. Your daughter didn't remember him. At all. But she remembered Tony Stark, a man who dropped by every few days just to see if the family needed anything while Steve was out of town. Steve left the room without another word.
"Sweetie, I'm gonna let you play for a little bit, okay?" You told your daughter as you set her down on the floor. You followed Steve out into the hall, but left the door open so you could still see inside the bedroom. Steve was leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.
"She doesn't remember me." He whispered, crestfallen. "At all."
"You've been busy." You assured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Chasing ghosts, skeletons and rumors." He sighed. "And it's gotten me nowhere. Sam and I are no closer to finding Bucky now then we were a year and a half ago." He shook his head.
"Steve, this kind of thing happens." You told him. "Even to non-superhero parents. If one of them works more than the other or one is home more. Babies don't have great memories. They're tiny. They're not really good at anything just yet. But I know you're there for her when I need you to be, and you have the whole world to take care of."
"But it shouldn't be like this. Why does she remember Tony and not me? Because he's here every other day. He is raising her. That's not how this is supposed to be." He disagreed quietly. "You shouldn't have to be the mother and the father. You work so hard as it is without having to fill in for me too. Besides, I missed out on so much while I was in the ice. The last thing I want to do is throw away my second chance at a family."
"Steve, you can't stop being Captain America." You insisted. "The world needs..."
"The world was getting on just fine for billions of years without me." He pointed out.
"But things were different then, and I would never be able to live with myself if I were the reason the world lost Captain America."
"You wouldn't be." He promised. "But, if you really think it's a bad idea I won't stop altogether. I'll just...trim back a little. So, that I can be here and spend more time with my Gals."
