Artemis: The Final Battle ➳ Steve Rogers [2]

B O N U S C H A P T E R (Epilogue)

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C A M I L L E
six years later

"Alright, sweetheart." I smiled as I propped Jamie against my hip, "Daddy and Brooklyn are going to be home soon. Do you want to help Mommy get started on dinner?"

"Yes, yes!" My two-year-old bounces excitedly in my arms, making me laugh.

"I knew I could count on you!" I tickled her sides, making her giggle, "What should we have for dinner?"

"Pancakes!" She replies without missing a beat.

I grin down at her, "Breakfast for dinner? Sounds delicious. Let's do it."

Setting her down on a tall stool so that she could reach the counter, I started measuring out the ingredients for the pancake batter and letting Jamie messily whisk them into a large bowl when I hear the front door opening.

"We're home!" Steve's voice reverberates through the house.

I hear the pattering of little footsteps moments before Brooklyn collides into me from behind.

"Mommy!" She exclaims, hugging me around my knees.

"Brooklyn, be careful with Mommy." Steve's stern voice follows.

Brooklyn peers up at me sheepishly with those big blue eyes of hers, jutting out her bottom lip in an adorable pout. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

I leaned down to kiss the crown of her head- which was no easy feat with a large protruding pregnant belly. "It's alright, angel."

Satisfied by my reply, Brooklyn bounds off to join her sister.

I could feel the warmth coming off of Steve's body against my back before he wrapped his arms around me and rests his hand on my belly.

"How are you and our baby feeling?" He asks as he presses a kiss to my neck.

"We're fine, Steve," I tell him, "Brooklyn's tiny, how much damage could she possibly do?"

"Better be safe than sorry," He says before pressing another kiss to my neck and proceeding to pry the measuring cup out of my hands. "You should be resting. Let us take care of dinner." Steve took in the haphazardly mixed pancake batter that Jamie had abandoned in favour of playtime with her sister and frowned, "What are we making."

I chuckle at the confusion on his face and raised up on my toes to kiss the corner of his lip, "Pancakes."

Amusement dances across his eyes as he looks down at me with a raised brow, "For dinner."

I gave him a firm nod in reply, "Jamie suggested it." I run a hand over my swollen belly, "I thought it'd be fun, so I agreed. I can prepare something else for you if you want."

A loving smile stretches across Steve's face as he gazes down at me, "I'll have whatever you're having, baby. Pancakes sound good."

Despite my insistence that I can help cook, Steve basically kicks me out of the kitchen and whips up everything himself, having lost his usual sous chefs to the huge dollhouses- that's right, plural, as if one wasn't enough- that Tony had bought them for Christmas last year.

Soon enough, he calls us all to our little breakfast/dinner affair.

Steve had gone the extra mile and prepared smiley face sunny-side-ups with yolks for eyes and bacon for a smile, which were adorable and had the girls shrieking in happiness.

With filled bellies, Steve and I helped the girls wash up before tucking them into bed, and made our way back to the kitchen to clean up.

Once again, Steve tries to bully me out of the kitchen and tells me to sit down while he does the dishes. This time, however, I stand my ground and he eventually relents.

We were both chatting away while we did the dishes- Steve washed while I dried. He was elbow-deep in sud when I felt a trickle running down my leg.

At first, embarrassment filled me, thinking that I'd lost control of my bladder, but then an intense pain hits me.

I clutched the edge of the counter to steady myself and breathed through the pain.

"Steve," I pant, "I think it's time."

Dropping the half-washed plates in the sink with a loud crash, Steve rinses his hands off in a hurry, spraying water everywhere as he reaches into his pocket for his phone in a flurry of panic.

Even though this isn't our first rodeo, Steve still seems flustered as he calls up Loki, the only person who seems to be always available to watch the kids (I suspect it's because he enjoys doing it and makes time for them, even though he refuses to admit it), and I wondered if bringing a child to the world would ever be less hectic than this.

Steve hangs up the phone and pulls a chair up for me to sit. "Loki will be here in a couple of minutes," He informs, "I'll just run up to grab your emergency bag. Call out if you need me, okay?" He leans down to kiss me before he disappears up the stairs just as another contraction hits.

Just like he promised, Steve wasn't gone for long and returned in just a couple of seconds with the large duffle he'd helped me pack with all of my essentials slung over his shoulder.

He lowers himself in front of me until we're eye to eye and reaches up to brush my hair away from my face, "Loki should be here soon. Are you feeling okay? Should I call an ambulance?"

I shook my head, "Steve, I'll be fine to wait a couple of seconds."

As if we'd conjured him up, a knock sounds at the door and Steve rushes to answer the door.

Loki doesn't greet either of us as he steps through the door, but his eyes immediately trek me as if to make sure everything was okay.

"Thanks for doing this," Steve claps him on the shoulder, "The girls are already asleep, so everything should be fine. But just in case-"

"I've got it, go," Loki cuts him off and points a finger at me, "This one looks like she's about to pass out."

His words clearly alarmed Steve, who looked up at me with worry shining in his eyes.

"I'm fine," I gritted out.

Still, Steve wastes no time ushering me out into the car.

Once he'd made sure that I was secure in my seat, Steve shuts the passenger side door and rounds the hood.

As he settled behind the wheel, Steve clutches the wheel and lets out a heavy breath. A smile stretches across his face as he looks over at me, adoration shining in his eyes as he reaches over to place a hand on my belly.

"We're going to be parents again," He whispers in wonderment.

I couldn't help but smile at the awe in his expression as I covered his hand with mine.

Just like that he drives us to the hospital, with a hand on my belly as if to remind himself that this was real.

The following morning, Apollo Rogers was born with all ten fingers and toes.

News had spread fast about the new addition to our family and soon enough, our room was crowded with people waiting to meet our new baby boy.