Hoping for a Hero - part II of II [COMPLETE]

Chapter 17: Home Sweet Home

"How's my girl?" Steve came in from work and bent down beside the play mat where Natalia was staring up at her hanging toys. She looked up at him with a stunned expression when his face appeared above her. "Huh? How are you?" he asked again while raising the pitch of his voice and making a goofy face. This gained a big smile and a loud laugh from the 5-month-old.

He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her into the kitchen while imitating the sound of an airplane engine. "Do you wanna give Mommy her flowers?"

I turned around from the stove to see Steve place a bouquet on the counter. "Aw, thank you," I smiled before returning to the pot of cooking pasta. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"Starved," he said and then repeated it in a higher voice to Natalia to get another laugh. "That's right, Daddy's hungry! So hungry."

I rolled my eyes with a chuckle and set the table. As usual, he got a laugh from both of us with his antics. "Well, sit down and we'll solve that problem."

Dinner held the same entertainment every night. There was never a dull moment between our conversation and Natalia keeping us occupied. She kicked in her highchair and threw toys on the floor while entering the conversation with squeals and coos. "Is that so?" Steve and I would occasionally ask her when she squealed. Similar replies like "I totally agree" and "absolutely" were also common.

That night, we fed Natalia and put her to bed as usual. Normally, we'd go to bed soon afterward to get as much sleep as possible before she would wake up crying at 3 am, but that time we stayed up on the couch instead.

Most people would hire a babysitter on the night of their anniversary and go out for a fancy dinner. We could have asked "Uncle" Bucky (who defied all of my expectations and actually was really good with kids) to come over. Even if we had called Pepper Stark for a favor, she would have been there in a heartbeat.

We didn't talk about spending the night at home. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement that we weren't going to be separated from anyone we loved for a long time. There was no way we'd let Natalia leave our sight. So, we exchanged our gifts in the living room. Nothing fancy. It didn't have to be.

Steve handed me a large box that was neatly wrapped in blue paper. Inside, were a series of picture frames that held photos from our past and pictures of our present. I went through each one and reminisced with him about our time with the Avengers. "These are great," I smiled. "I think I'll hang them on the wall with our suits and your shield. Thank you."

When he unwrapped his gift, he exclaimed, "A record player!" Like an excited teenager, he quickly set it up and put on the record of Harry James I had bought. As the sound of 1940's soft jazz filled the room, he pulled me up from the couch to dance.

We swayed from one side to another, pulled back to the time that had once been his home. Instead of forgetting or longing for the past, Steve was content to connect it to his present. He closed his eyes as we danced, fulfilled by finally achieving what he had always dreamed of having: a family.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and selfishly hoped that the world wouldn't need a hero. Mine belonged at home.