#tw:sick baby

[sunriserose1023]

Unexpected--Timestamp

SUMMARY: You’re working through your depression, trying your best to get back to “normal” when an unwanted first occurs with the baby. WORD COUNT: 3321 WARNINGS: Slight angst, illness, emotional crap, therapy, sick baby

The One With A Fever

You met with Sam three times a week, talking to him about everything you were afraid of, including your many shortcomings in your short time as a mother. The two of you were working on silencing that inner voice that kept telling you no matter what you did, you’d never be good enough. And his homework for you consisted of making sure you called your daughter by name, instead of just referring to her as “the baby.” Calling her by name hurt more, because it somehow made her more real, more yours, instead of some abstract object. 

Steve spoke with his boss, and his boss’ boss, and they decided a sabbatical was the best course of action for him. You and Brooklyn needed him more than he needed to work, and his coworkers understood that. So, he was at home with his girls, taking care of the both of you, trying to navigate an unfamiliar territory. 

Thank God for your friends. 

Tony took care of any expenses, while being a sounding board for both you and Steve. Christine took care of the food, mainly ordering whatever she felt you wanted that day, and you were actually eating a bit more. Christine was a very good guesser. Pepper and Bucky took care of the baby—Brooklyn—whenever Steve needed a break. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for that, for not being the primary caregiver to your child, but Sam assured you that you were doing the right thing. 

All in all, your life was starting to feel like your own again. Maybe that was the low dose antidepressant Sam had prescribed you, or maybe everything was finally working for you. 

“Baby?”

You glanced up from the crossword puzzle you were doing to see Steve bouncing the baby—no, Brooklyn— as he held her to his chest. You shook your head to clear it and he smiled at you. 

“Can you take her for a second? I’ve tried to lay her down but she starts screaming, and I’ve got to—“ “Steve.”

He blinked and you gave him a smile. 

“I can hold her.” “You sure?”

You rolled your eyes as you stood up, sending a surge of happiness through Steve’s heart. You were finally acting more like yourself, a tiny bit playful with him, finally smiling at the baby—Brooklyn—whenever you looked at her, instead of giving in to the dread that used to fill your heart. 

You walked to him and he passed Brooklyn into your arms. You settled her against your chest, patting her back and nodding to him. Steve smiled at you and rushed into the bathroom, and you shook your head as you slowly walked around the living room. When you passed the couch, you went still, swallowing before you rested your head atop Brooklyn’s. 

“Sweet girl.”

You took in a quiet breath when she shifted, moving to put her forehead against your neck. You closed your eyes as a smile spread over your face, that smile fading as the bathroom door opened. 

“Sorry about that.”

Steve laughed softly as he walked into the living room, coming to a stop when he saw the look on your face. 

“What?”

You lifted your eyes to him, walking closer. 

“Does she feel warm to you?” “What?”

Steve shook his head, closing the distance and putting the back of his hand against Brooklyn’s forehead. 

“I don’t know. I mean, I run hot anyway, but—“ “There's a thermometer … somewhere in her room.”

Steve swallowed and stepped around you, running to the nursery and digging until he found the thermometer, which didn’t look anything like what he was expecting. 

“This has to be it. I just have no idea—“ “Just hold it against her forehead.” “Seriously?”

You nodded, and he turned it on, doing what you said, pulling back when he heard the beep. His eyes widened when he saw the number on the screen. 

“102.5.” “Steve.”

He stared at the screen, looking to you and shaking his head. 

“I … I don’t …”

He blew out a breath, lifting a hand to push through his hair. 

“What do we do?”

You looked down at the baby—Brooklyn—and gave a shaky exhale. You shook your head, then looked back to Steve. 

“Call Christine.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and you nodded. 

“She’s at work. She’ll know what to do.”

Steve nodded, going to the kitchen counter and grabbing his phone. He walked back over to you, pushing a hand through his hair as he held the phone to his ear. His eyes widened before he spoke. 

“Chris! I … I …”

He stammered a few more times and you shook your head. 

“Put her on speakerphone.”

He nodded, laying the phone down, shaky finger pressing the button a second before Christine’s voice came through the line. 

“Steve? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” “Chris, hey.” “Y/N? What’s going on?” “Chris, Brook’s got a fever.” “A fever?”

You nodded, brushing a hand over her soft hair, feeling the heat from her little body.

“How high is it?” “102.5” “Oh, goodness. Is she acting sick?”

You shook your head. 

“No, she just wants to be held. She’s a little fussy, won’t let us put her down.” “I’ve got a friend who works up on the pediatric floor. Let me talk to her and I’ll call you back, okay?” “Thank you.”

The call ended and Steve shook his head, stepping closer to you and laying a hand against Brooklyn’s back. 

“She’s okay.”

You smiled, nodding your head as you stepped closer to him. 

“She’s okay, Steve. Babies get fevers.” “I just … She’s barely let me put her down all day. How long has she had that fever? And I didn’t even—“ “Hey, don’t do that.”

He shook his head and you moved a hand to rest it against his chest. 

“She’s okay, honey.” “But I didn’t notice.” “This isn’t your fault.”

Steve hung his head, blowing out a breath. You moved your hand to his face and he leaned into your touch, eyes drifting closed.

It hadn’t happened on purpose, but the two of you had grown apart. Between dealing with a newborn and the depression you fell into, you both unwittingly pulled away. You never stopped sleeping in the same bed, and it always gave you a sense of relief when you found your way into his arms in the night, waking up with his arms around you. But the little touches and kisses you’d grown used to had all but stopped. 

You let your hand fall as the phone rang, and Steve scrambled to answer it, putting the speakerphone on again. 

“Chris?” “Hey, so I talked to my friend Clare. Is Brook eating regularly?” “Yes.” “And has she had her normal amount of wet diapers?”

Steve nodded, closing his eyes as he answered her out loud. 

“There’s really nothing else to do except watch her. She’s too little for Tylenol or anything like that.” “So we … I mean, what if her fever rises?” “If it gets any higher than 104, I’d bring her to the ER. But babies get random fevers sometimes. Just watch her, make sure she keeps having wet diapers, try and keep her taking her bottles like usual. If she starts acting lethargic or her fever climbs, bring her in.”

Steve pushed his hands through his hair and you nodded. 

“Thank you, Christine. I appreciate this.” “No problem, honey. I’ll be up all night, so call me anytime.” “We will. Thanks.”

You ended the call and Steve shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I feel worthless.” “You’re not worthless.” “How am I supposed to just sit here and watch her while she’s sick? And she can’t even tell me what’s wrong. I just have to guess, but what if I guess wrong?”

He shook his head, dropping his arms and walking over to stand behind a chair. He gripped the back and let out a breath. He looked over to you, watching you smooth the dark hair on your daughter’s head, seeing her little eyes blink heavily as she found him. Steve swallowed, looking down as his watch beeped. 

“Time for a bottle.” “Maybe we should wait a bit.” “Chris said to keep feeding her.”

“Yeah, but look at her, Steve. She’s exhausted, and she seems fine right now. I’ll just hold her for a while and if she gets fussy, we can fix a bottle.”

Steve swallowed again, but nodded. 

“We’ll just … wait.”

You bounced Brooklyn on your shoulder, one hand patting her bottom as she whimpered and squirmed in your arms. Steve was heating a bottle in the kitchen while you tried to calm the baby. Brooklyn. 

She’d slept for a little bit, while you and Steve tried— and failed—to watch a show on Netflix. Neither of you could focus. Now, she was awake and fussing. 

“Here we go.”

You shifted Brooklyn from your shoulder and handed her to Steve, but she immediately began to wail. Steve shushed her, big hands holding her safe and secure, but she wouldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t get the bottle into her mouth, and she wouldn’t hold still. You shook your head, taking the bottle from his hand and setting it on the kitchen counter, taking the—Brooklyn from his arms and holding her to your chest. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Shh. You’re okay.”

Brooklyn almost immediately quieted, pitiful whimpers leaving her lips as she snuggled closer to you. Steve picked up the thermometer and held it to her temple, cursing under his breath. 

“103.” “Text Christine and see if there’s anything we can do. Give her a cool bath or something.”

Steve nodded, picking up his phone and shooting off a text. He waited a few moments, eyes lighting when he received a return text. 

“She said try a lukewarm bath. Not hot or cold. And dress her like we usually do, don’t try to make her sweat or let her go naked.”

You nodded, cupping Brooklyn’s head in your hand. Steve stared at the two of you, then nodded, walking into the bathroom and running water in the sink. You followed him in there, the two of you working together to get the baby undressed and into the water. She fussed for a moment, your voice soothing her as you spoke softly. Steve cupped water in his hands and let it flow over her belly and back, speaking softly. 

“She usually loves a bath. She kicks and splashes.”

You looked at her feet and gave a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“I don’t like this. I don’t like that she’s sick and we can’t do anything about it.”

Steve leaned over, kissing your temple before resting his forehead there. You closed your eyes, leaning into him. Brooklyn whimpered and you turned to look at her, letting out a sigh. 

“I think the water may be getting cold.” “Let me grab some pajamas for her.” “Just hand me a towel and we can go together.”

Steve nodded, grabbing a towel from the little basket on the rack above the toilet, helping you dry the baby off and wrap her in it. 

“Don’t you pee on Mommy before we get a diaper on you.”

You laughed at Steve’s words, shaking your head and patting Brooklyn’s back. You followed him into her room, laying her on the changing table and quickly getting a diaper on her. Steve found a pair of pajamas that were white with purple butterflies on them, and the two of you quickly got her dressed. Steve tried to take her from you, but Brooklyn fussed and started to cry. He shook his head and you gently rubbed a hand over his thick shoulders. 

“It’s okay. I can take her.” “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Steve closed his eyes when you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You took Brooklyn from him, settling her on your shoulder, gently patting her bottom. 

“There’s just something about having your mom there when you’re sick.”

Steve nodded, watching you walk back into the living room, sitting in one of the chairs and gently rocking. Brooklyn whimpered, snuggling closer to you, and Steve nodded.

“Should we try the bottle again?” “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Steve went to fix the bottle, back in a few minutes. You shifted Brooklyn into the cradle of your arm, and she immediately started to fuss, squirming, refusing to take the bottle. You shook your head, moving her back to your shoulder, but she started to cry. You looked to Steve, who was crouched beside the chair, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes. 

“Me either.”

You moved Brooklyn to your lap, where the two of you could look at her, and a thought came to your mind. 

“What … what if I …” “What, baby?”

You swallowed. 

“What if I tried to nurse her?”

Steve kept his face passive, slowly nodding. You had stopped nursing Brooklyn shortly before you started seeing your therapist. Instead, you pumped your breast milk, so that the bab--Brooklyn could still get the nutrients she needed.

You met Steve’s eyes, staring at him for a moment before he stood up, taking the baby from you, patting her back and shushing her as best he could while she cried. You took the T-shirt you’d been wearing off, shivering once in the cool air of the apartment, feeling your cheeks burn. Steve handed Brooklyn back to you, helping you maneuver her a bit until you slipped a nipple in her mouth. After a silent moment, you gasped. Steve met your eyes and you blinked multiple times before finding his eyes. 

“It’s working.”

Steve smiled as he looked down, seeing Brooklyn’s cheeks move as she nursed. 

“Guess she just needed to be closer to you.”

Steve looked back to your eyes, the smile slipping from his face as he noticed the tears trailing down your cheeks. 

“Y/N?”

You shook your head, holding out a hand, squeezing his hand when he linked it with yours. You gave a quiet sob, shaking your head again, clutching tightly to him. Steve moved closer, his other hand moving to cup your cheek as you closed your eyes, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. You leaned into the touch, your tears slowing, shaky breaths leaving your lips. 

The two of you didn’t say anything else, only letting go of each other to move Brooklyn to your other breast. Steve draped a blanket over your shoulders, watching as you stared at your daughter, one finger slowly stroking her chubby cheeks. 

Brooklyn fell asleep while nursing, and you moved her to your shoulder to burp her. Once she did, she gave a sweet little sigh, full and content in her mother’s arms. Steve grabbed the thermometer, checking her temperature again. 

“Hey, it’s down to 101.”

You smiled at him, and he set the thermometer on the table beside the chair you were sitting in. 

“Do you want me to take her?”

You shook your head, and he smiled, nodding. You met his eyes, mouth moving like you wanted to say something, but you didn’t. Steve licked his lips, voice pitched low. 

“What if you moved to the couch, and I … I could sit by you? Maybe … maybe I can hold you?”

Fresh tears came to your eyes, because that was exactly what you wanted. You nodded, and Steve helped you stand, sitting on the couch and resting an arm along the back of it. You moved to sit and stretch out beside him, resting back against his chest. You hadn’t put your shirt back on, and Brooklyn was nestled between your breasts, right over your heart. Steve draped a blanket over the two of you, hand moving to rest against Brooklyn’s back. 

You leaned your head back, catching Steve’s eye, seeing the soft smile on his lips. You blinked, watching his eyes drift from your own to your lips, and you nodded. His eyes widened, but he leaned in, gently pressing his lips to yours. You gave a soft whimper, wrapping one arm around the baby, pushing your other hand into Steve’s hair, holding him against you. He gave a soft laugh, murmuring against your lips.

“Easy, baby.”

You kept your eyes closed, cheeks burning as Steve kissed your forehead, then your cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you. Do you know that?” “Steve.” “I’m so serious. Look at you right now.”

You glanced to your chest, where Brooklyn was sleeping peacefully. You shook your head, moving to rest your cheek against Steve’s chest, voice barely a whisper. 

“I couldn’t do this without you.” “I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed the top of your head, fixing the blankets around you and Brooklyn. 

“Rest, Y/N. I’ll be right here.” “You need to rest, too.” “I will. Just let me worry about my girls for a while.”

You smiled, shifting the slightest bit, snuggling closer to him. His hand moved to cover yours on Brooklyn's back, and you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

You woke when you felt yourself be lifted, and Steve spoke softly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you. You’re alright.” “The baby. Where’s—“ “Her fever broke an hour ago. I just put her in the crib and she’s out.”

You nodded, looping your arms around his neck. Steve carried you into your bedroom, laying you on the bed. He pulled your pajama pants down your legs and you shivered. 

“Do you want one of my shirts?” “No.” “I don’t want you to get cold.” “Come hold me.”

He stopped where he was facing the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to see you pulling the covers closer to you. You looked at him and shivered again, sleepy eyes blinking as they met his, quiet voice thick with exhaustion. 

“Is that okay?”

Steve swallowed, nodding. He tugged his shirt over his head, climbing into bed in his underwear, watching you roll onto your side. He pulled you closer, until you were his little spoon, and you sighed. 

“You’re so warm.”

He just blinked, closing his eyes as he breathed you in. Your voice was soft when you spoke, seeing the early morning hour on the clock beside the bed. 

“I feel like we need to talk, but I’m so tired.” “Rest, sweetheart. I’m right here. We can talk tomorrow.”

You nodded, settling your hand on top of his as he wrapped his arms around you. Surrounded in warmth by the man who loves you, you fell into a peaceful slumber. 

“So, anything new you want to talk about?”

You were sitting on the couch in Sam’s office, staring out the window at the clouds rolling by. You had a soft smile on your face, and your voice was quiet when you spoke. 

“Brooklyn had a fever a couple nights ago.” “She okay?”

You nodded. 

“We took her to the pediatrician, but she didn’t find anything wrong. Just a random bout of fever, I guess.”

You looked to your therapist then, a smile coming to your lips. 

“Steve said she’d been fussy all day, but I was the one who noticed something was wrong. I held her and she wouldn’t let me let her go. And she … she wouldn’t take a bottle, so I …”

Sam nodded, and you exhaled as you spoke. 

“I nursed her.”

His eyes widened and you gave a quiet laugh. 

“She was sick and she only wanted me and I took care of her and now she … she’s fine.”

Tears came to your eyes as another laugh left your lips. 

“I took care of my sick baby like a real mom does.” “Y/N, you are a real mom.” “I know, I just … I haven’t felt like one in a long time.” “But you do now?”

You smiled, nodding at him. 

“I do.”

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