Chapter 2
“Buck! Come on, we have to go!” Sam shouts from down the hall, a hint of agitation in his voice.
Bucky ignores him, well, he doesn’t mean to. It’s hard to reply when he’s spewing his breakfast.
He finally catches a break and he pulls away from the toilet, his hands still gripping the porcelain tight. He’s pretty sure he’s made a dent but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he has other things to worry about. Like the horrible nausea and how late he is for his prenatal appointment.
“Give me a minute,” he murmurs, eyes falling shut as he tries to regain himself. His head pounds and his stomach continues to churn. He doesn’t think there’s anything left to expel; he barely eats anymore.
The sound of Sam walking down the hall appears louder than usual. Bucky groans softly and rests his head against the toilet seat, too ill to care how unsanitary it is. Sam pokes his head in the bathroom, but Bucky doesn’t have the strength to look at him. Who knew all it took was a developing fetus to bring him down.
Sam steps into the bathroom, frowning. “Did you puke again?”
“Don’t I always?” Bucky mumbles. Just talking makes him want to spew.
“True. What triggered it this time?”
“The bacon wasn’t crispy enough.”
“What! My bacon is always crispy. I make sure there is no fat or too much grease.”
Bucky’s stomach churns and he grips the toilet a little harder when he feels another round coming up. “Stop talking about bacon!” He snaps, then he gags and ducks his head into the bowl.
Sam grimaces. “I’ll get you some water.”
He returns a few minutes later with a glass of water. He sets it down onto the vanity, then he gently rubs Bucky’s back. Bucky pulls away and Sam hands him a wad of toilet paper for his mouth.
“Thanks,” Bucky murmurs, then he gestures for the water. He takes small, slow sips to ensure he doesn’t make himself sick.
“Better?” Sam asks.
“I think so.” Bucky nods. “God this kid is killing me.”
“All this over bacon. What’s wrong with him!”
“Stop.” Bucky pleads, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Sorry, sorry. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Hit me with the car?”
“I don’t think that would take you out. How about after the appointment I make you comfortable on the couch and we watch a movie. I know how much you love my couch.”
“It’s a dumb couch.”
A knowing smile breaks across Sam’s face. He always looks like he knows something and it makes Bucky want to punch it off his face.
“I know for a fact that’s a lie. Now come on. We have an appointment to get to.”
The waiting room is quiet. Only a handful of patients are waiting for their names to be called. Bucky tries not to pay them much mind, but he has caught a few of them staring. He’s starting to wonder if coming out in public was a good idea. It’s been a couple of years since he’s been cleared of Hydra’s brainwashing and started attending therapy, but still people stared whenever he was out. To some he would always be the dangerous assassin.
Bucky shifts uncomfortably and places a hand over his stomach, a protective instinct that still surprises him. He never thought that he would give life when he spent decades taking it. Did he deserve this? In his mind it didn’t seem fair.
Sam sits beside him, mindlessly flipping through a magazine. He doesn’t seem affected at all; there’s no sense of anxiety or fear in him.
“Ooh this looks pretty good.” Sam shows Bucky the page of a recipe for a pasta dish. “It has like four different kinds of cheese! I might add some lobster just to give it some pizazz.”
Bucky grimaces at the picture that’s meant to make the dish appealing. All it does it make him want to do is vomit. “Please don’t show me that. I still feel sick.”
“Right, my bad.” Sam quickly turns the page. “Hey, check this out. Did you know your heart will grow to pump more blood to the baby? You’ll be just like the Grinch!”
Bucky looks at him and shoots him an annoyed look.
“See! You’re already him!”
“And who are you supposed to be? Cindy Lou?”
Sam scoffs. “I’m Max. He’s a cool dog.”
Bucky rolls his eyes and glances down at himself, finding a loose thread from his jeans more entertaining. Finally, his name is called and they follow the nurse to the back where they’re set up in a private room to await the doctor.
“Have you heard from Steve?” Sam asks.
Bucky shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve been too busy puking my guts to call him.”
“I’m sure he’s dealing with the same thing. It’s so crazy that you both are pregnant at the same time. Talk about close friends.” Sam shakes his head with a chuckle.
“Yeah.” Bucky smiles faintly.
Sam frowns when he notices. “You okay? You’ve been acting weird since you made the announcement last week.”
“Fine. Just tired I guess,” Bucky replies and he turns away, his gaze landing on a poster of various stages of pregnancy. He assumes he’s somewhere around the eighth week mark. The stage of the baby around that time is extremely tiny. It’s difficult to comprehend that something that small and defenseless is currently growing inside of him.
A knock on the door rips him from the thoughts. The doctor walks in; a middle aged woman with gray shoulder length hair and glasses. She seems friendly enough, but Bucky begins to have second thoughts. He can’t stand the thought of having to leave the compound every month for appointments and risk being seen and possibly judged.
After a few minutes of asking personal questions, they’re led to another room to get started on the ultrasound. Bucky tries to keep his breathing calm and his heart rate steady, but he finds it difficult to do those things. Sam is sitting beside him, holding his hand and telling him not to worry. If only it was that easy.
Bucky jolts in surprise when a cold gel is applied to his belly. The doctor presses the transducer to his midsection and moves it around until an image of the baby appears on the screen. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of the little blob on the screen. When the room fills with the fast thumpthumpthump from the baby’s heartbeat, his eyes grow misty.
“Look, Buck,” Sam says quietly, and when Bucky looks at him, he notices the tears in his eyes. “That’s our baby.”
Bucky turns back to the screen, a smile spreading over his face. “Yeah, it is.”
Maybe he could do this.