19 May 2016
There was a baby in Steve’s living room.
There definitely wasn’t a baby in his living room last night, he was sure of it. Sure, he hadn’t been in his apartment for a few weeks, busy with his fruitless search for Bucky, but he checked the place three times last night for any breaches. He would’ve noticed a baby. And nothing had woken him up, and he hadn’t been a heavy sleeper since the war. The baby—judging by the pink onesie and haphazard pigtails, he was assuming it was a she—stared at him, silently chewing on a slobbery fist.
Bookmarked by shepangel
02 May 2018