A/N: This is the first thing I've written in a long time and my first Avengers fic as well. Honesty, I'm still a little hesitant to post it because it ignores basic canon rules such as Tony feels and Steve gets drunk, pregnant and also gives birth. It's my first Avengers thing ever written. Feedback/comments are welcomed and appreciated. The whole thing is based loosely around my own personal experience with the same issue.

November 19

He caresses the steering wheel with his thumbs as the steady November rain rattles against the car windows. They've been silent since they left the hospital. Tony isn't used to this dreadful, awful tension between them. Steve is usually chattering about something that doesn't even matter to Tony; something that doesn't even interest him. But Steve talks and Tony listens, always. But Steve hasn't spoken a word and now it's Tony's turn to talk.

Tony has always been a good speaker; he's arguably the best bullshitter anyone could ever imagine. When it comes to Steve the things Tony has to say seem to roll off his tongue. Because everything with Steve has always been so easy in the past, save a few instances where the team bet on who would kill who first. But not this time.

"Steve," Tony finally whispers, glancing across the car. His voice breaks when he sees the few tears sliding down those beautiful cheekbones that he loves so much. He can't even think, can't even fathom the idea of Steve, his Steve, his Captain America, his entire life, being reduced to the point of tears.

His hands are flat against his swollen belly, still round and warm, cradling it protectively, and it hurts so much. Steve doesn't respond, he can't even look at Tony. He's never cried in his adult life and he certainly isn't comfortable doing so in front of Tony Stark-Rogers.

"Steve?" Tony tries again, a little more confident this time, "Baby? Steve? It's-" and now Tony's voice breaks and a single tear slips down his cheek "- it's okay to cry." Since when the hell does Tony Stark-Rogers cry?

And Steve loses it; the tone of Tony's voice reduces him to a whimpering, blubbering, snotty mess of a person. He doubles over, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, heaving with sobs. He feels Tony's soothing fingers at the back of his head, stroking and petting and comforting.

Thank god they're almost home because the cries are becoming less and less controlled. When they pull into the garage of the tower Steve doesn't wait for his husband; he climbs out of the car and makes his way hastily up to their floor. Tony doesn't know whether to run after Steve or let him go, so he remains sitting alone in the dark garage, the only light coming from the arc reactor nestled in his chest. Steve's presence seems to have stayed behind long after he left the car because Tony can still hear his cries echoing as Jarvis remains eerily silent.

Today wasn't supposed to turn out this way. The weather was predicted to be beautiful; cold but bright and sunny so Jarvis' morning weather report threw them for a loop. It's 39 degrees and raining three days before Thanksgiving. It was just supposed to be a routine appointment. Everything was supposed to be fine but it's just not.

They already had a name picked out for their son. First name Peter, middle name Parker. Peter Parker Stark-Rogers. Steve was due on Valentine's Day. They had already started on the nursery. They already had a baby shower planned. How Tony was convinced to help plan a fucking baby shower with butter mints and finger sandwiches and blue and red invitations and lace fucking doilies he still doesn't even know. Yes he does; his well-mannered, beautiful, wonderful Steve asked him to and Tony grudgingly complied

Sitting in the garage isn't going to make things better or easier but it seems to be the only solution at the moment. Eventually Tony wills himself to get out and take the elevator up to their floor. His phone continues to vibrate in his pocket periodically as it has done all day. Tony doesn't have to look; it's probably Pepper or Bruce wanting to know how the appointment went. As soon as he hits their floor Tony takes his coat off and tosses it onto the sofa before speaking softly, "Jarvis, silence all incoming calls."

Jarvis's tone reflects Tony's mood as he asks, "Is everything alright, sir?"

"No." He walks down the hallway, toeing off his shoes in the bedroom and calling out, "Steve?" But Tony hears soft whimpering sounds coming from the would-be nursery and of course Steve would be in there. When Tony finds him he's changed out of his clothes and back into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He sighs when he notices the blue porcelain piggy bank that Clint had given them smashed to pieces on the floor. Tony hates seeing Steve like this: sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall and slumped over like a dead body.

Tony walks quietly through the nursery, sitting down next to Steve with a grunt.

Finally Steve acknowledges his husband, voice fading almost immediately after speaking, "Tony..."

Tony wraps his arms around Steve and hushes his noises, fingers playing with his blond hair.

Steve leans against him and murmurs, "Tony, it hurts."

"I know," Tony whispers. "I know it hurts."

"He was fine. He was healthy! The goddamn serum-"

This is bad. Really bad because Steve rarely swears. and Tony doesn't know what the fuck he's doing because he's never had to be the strong one before. He comes up with, "We don't know for sure if it's the serum. But we'll get through this. One day, one hour, one minute at a time. We'll get through it and we'll eventually be okay."

Steve can't even breathe through his nose anymore. He wipes his cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the cries finally diminishing for the moment. "He was kicking yesterday, Tony. We felt him last night."

Tony closes his eyes and when he does, two stray tears slip down his cheeks. "I know." Two more tears follow and the pattern repeats itself until Tony is crying silently. He emits a shaky sigh. "What do you want to tell the team?"

"I can't. I can't tell them. I'll- Tony, I can't."

"I'll call them later. Or have Jarvis do it." Tony presses his lips into Steve's hair. "What do you wanna do? Do you want to wait a few days and think about it or-?"

"I thought he said I could go into labor naturally."

"Steve," Tony begins gently, "that could take days. If we wait that long he may not-"

Tony doesn't have to finish his sentence. But Steve feels like 26 weeks is not long enough for him to carry and know their baby boy. And it isn't. "I don't want to be pregnant with our dead baby on Thanksgiving."

"Alright." He smooths Steve's hair back from his forehead and presses a sweet kiss there. "I'll start making calls." Gently, Tony twists his way out of Steve's arms and back into the kitchen. He sits down at the bar with a glass of whiskey, his cell phone and arguably one of the worst headaches he's ever experienced. He lets Doctor McGrath know they're on their way back for the induction and then he starts returning calls. Or call, rather, because Bruce is the only one he can talk to about this, the only who could maybe, possibly understand what they're going through.

Bruce picks up on the third ring. "Hey, Tony, how'd the appointment go?"

Tony doesn't respond right away. He throws back the rest of his whiskey and sighs. "Not well."

"Is everything-"

"Peter's dead," Tony admits. It sounds so surreal. "He died, Bruce. He was fine last night. He was kicking and- there was no heartbeat this morning. They did an ultrasound and, well..."

Bruce is caught totally off guard because Tony doesn't even sound like himself. "Oh, Tony, I- how's Steve?"

"He's taking it really hard. Completely lost it on the way home. I've never seen him cry and he was totally hysterical. We're going back to the hospital to have him induced. He doesn't want to still be carrying the baby-" Tony pauses to correct himself "-Peter on Thursday and I don't blame him."

"Do the plans for cooking at your place still stand?"

"I don't know. It depends on how things go. I think it'd be good for us to have a distraction. I'll talk to Steve and let you know."

"Did they give you any reason why it may have happened?"

"Not yet. They'll do tests and everything after he delivers."

"I'm so sorry, Tony. Is there anything I can do for you? For Steve?"

"Let the team know. Tell Fury I'll be out of commission for a while. Call Pepper too. Look, I've gotta get him back to the hospital but I just wanted to let you know what's going on."

"Alright. I'll be thinking of you both."

Tony sighs sadly, "Yeah." He ends the call, tossing his phone somewhere he surely won't remember later and goes into the bedroom. "Steve?"

A wavering reply comes from the closet. "I'm almost ready."

Tony changes into a t-shirt and flings his dress shirt and tie on the floor. Steve emerges from the closet with a small duffel bag and more tears in his eyes. On the way down to the garage it continues to hit Tony hard. Their baby is dead. Baby Stark-Rogers will never know his aunts and uncles or celebrate a birthday or coo or walk or win an award in school.

Tony just breaks.

Steve is admitted and assigned to a room half past six o'clock. They were supposed to be able to check into a room right away but somehow things got screwed up. It would have been much later but Tony decided it would be best to march up to the admission desk and throw his name around a little and play the 'we-just-lost-a-baby' card so they could have privacy.

Presently Steve is digging through his duffel bag, seemingly frustrated. He frowns. "Darn."

"Hm?"

"I forgot my iPod," he admits in frustration. Steve Stark-Rogers has an iPod?

Tony digs in his coat pocket, not looking up from is cell phone as he hands it to his husband. "I picked it up off the table on my way out."

"Thanks." Steve heaves himself onto the hospital bed, sticking one ear bud in his left ear with a sigh.

"You should rest," Tony suggests. "Do you need anything?"

Steve smiles sadly. "I'm usually the one taking care of you."

Tony looks up from his phone, soft brown eyes connecting with bright blue ones. He doesn't want to admit how hard it is to be strong and sensible. Tony can't imagine having to do this all the time like Steve does. He'll have to work on that.

"You can't always take care of everything. I'm more than capable, I just never do because you're always here to do things for me. So now it's my turn to take care of you."

"In that case, I could use a hot cup of tea."

Tony smiles weakly. "Sure, Cap."