"So, you're telling me that you just let him take her?"

"What choice did I have, M'Baku?" T'Challa grumbled through clenched teeth as he spoke. He was trying to maintain his manners and dignity, and felt a subtle slip in each as the conversation continued. "She is her own person, and I have no right to determine her choices."

"Did you listen to me at all? Why do you seek my counsel if you ignore it? It may have slipped through your notice, T'Challa, but I do have a tribe to lead with more pressing matters than your baby drama."

It was difficult for T'Challa to hold back a smile, watching M'Baku staring back at him with the expectation of a reply; even in the image coming to life from the beads on his wrist, it was clear in the man's expression that he had better things to do than to hold the King's hand through problems that were his own to manage. "I decided that it was easier to step back and to allow her to choose. She will choose me."

"This conceit is a family trait, then?" M'Baku laughed, relaxing back into his throne.

"(Y/N) will choose me, that is not conceit. She will choose Wakanda, and we will raise our family here, as it should be. I am confident in this. I've allowed her to go with Captain Rogers as a last experience before she moves on from his life. Once she is here, he will step aside."

"Hmm...and if he doesn't? It sounds to me as if they are very close friends."

"They are, but if he doesn't step aside, he can be pushed."

The next answer from his hesitant friend left T'Challa in a state of pure panic, unlike any he had felt since he had last encountered it with you. His hands became so sweaty in his fear, moving up into his core so quickly that the beads around his wrist began to slip and the image of M'Baku wavered. He felt immediately like a child about to face his mother's wrath for a transgression that he had no excuse for.

"Tell me, was does the Queen Mother say in this?"

T'Challa had forgotten to tell her.

~~~

You and Steve had settled into Tony's Malibu home fairly quickly; it helped that you had both been there as visitors in the past, so finding your way around the massive building wasn't too bad. FRIDAY was ever-present as your unwanted babysitter, at the insistence of Tony now that you were carrying a tiny royal package everywhere you went. He agreed that once word got out, you would become a target for anyone who wanted to cross T'Challa or Wakanda, so he was doing everything he could to keep you safe; even if that meant taking away your freedom to use the bathroom alone.

Steve was just as worried, but he felt better now that T'Challa had backed off some and was agreeable to letting him be here with you. He felt a little remorseful that he couldn't tell the King where you were, but it was for the best, and truly what the doctor had ordered; you were to be away from stress, and T'Challa was definitely a part of it. He liked the guy enough, he supposed, but if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate to stand between the two of you to keep you safe. Steve knew how T'Challa must be feeling, having two of you now to worry about, because he was feeling it too. Likely not to the same extent, but it was there, nonetheless.

For your first evening in the new environment, the two of you chose to spend it relaxing and leaving the unpacking for the next day. Neither of you were sure of how long you would be staying there; you were at the mercy of your doctor and Iron Man. Steve took it upon himself to order dinner for you both, while you searched through Tony's movie database to find something that each of you would enjoy. It didn't take long for the living room to feel like it housed a slumber party, with a pretentious number of decorative pillows tossed to the floor, snacks lying across tables, and two lazy Avengers sprawled out on couches with Steve's head heavily in your lap.

"I'm sorry that I can be so pushy," he said softly, "it's just that I worry."

"I know."

"Okay, I know you know, but I can be a bit much to take sometimes."

"Again, I know," you chuckled under your breath, your hand mindlessly playing with his hair as you spoke, "you act like that's brand-new information."

"Hey, you're no picnic, either."

"I am a delight."

Steve laughed, introspective and reminiscent as he replayed your years as friends out in his mind. It didn't take long after your first day on the team, right from your disaster of a first mission, for him to know that the two of you would be close. He loved you, immensely and unapologetically, but not in the way T'Challa did. Steve had come to see you as his family; you were the one who brought out the best in him, and you allowed him to fully be himself. He could be a huge dork around you, telling stupid jokes that no one else would get, and even more importantly than all of that, he could be afraid around you without feeling judged. He was Captain America, and the image of stoicism had to hold; unless he was with you, when he could be vulnerable and welcomed for it.

"(Y/N)," he began again, "no matter what happens from here on out, I just want you to know how much your friendship has meant to me."

"Cap, why are you talking like this is the end? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing."

"Mmm hmm."

"Seriously, nothing, I promise," he chided with hands up in deference. "I guess I'm just feeling sentimental. You're always there for me, and I just want to be sure that you feel the same in return. I haven't been the best at it, I admit-"

"Steve, stop," you sat up, lifting his head from its rest to force him to sit with you, "you're terrible at this. Just tell me what's going on." It was one of the few times that you had seen Steve so reserved around you, and it felt completely foreign and awkward. He turned away, looking at the movie without really watching it, clasping his hands on his lap almost nervously. "Steve...come on."

"I still...I mean...this whole thing started because of me."

"Steven Grant Rogers, did you sabotage my birth control?"

"W-what?!" he gasped, turning to you so sharply that he nearly tipped himself off the side of the couch. He had to drop a hand to the floor to keep himself in place. "N-no! Oh my god, (Y/N), are you serious?!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the poor guy, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he stared back at you. His heart had to have been racing too fast to count, and you dared to think of what his blood pressure must have shot up to just in the shock alone. "How do you think this started because of you?" you asked innocently enough, but it only took another second or two for your own realization to strike. This wasn't the first time this had come up, and it took you too long to see it. "Oh, Steve, please don't tell me that this is about the shield again? I thought we were past this."

"We are...we...were," he conceded, "but I can't help how I feel. If I hadn't hit you with my shield, you never would have been injured, and T'Challa wouldn't have taken you to Wakanda in the first place-"

"Steve, you have to let this go. T'Challa and I might have always come to this, no matter what happened that day."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want to tell you then, because...well, because of stuff like this and how protective you are of me," you paused, clearing your throat nervously. "But he had been trying to get me to agree to seeing him before the accident. I hadn't said yes because I couldn't believe that he actually meant it, but I was definitely interested. I know that you were cautious with him because we didn't know him all that well, so I never said anything."

"Of course, I'm protective," he scoffed with a smirk, "look at what you've gotten yourself into."

"You just said it was your fault!"

"And you just said it wasn't!"

"Alright, you know what," you groaned, pushing back onto the couch in defeat, "I think we're both off the hook here." You waved your hand for him to return to where he started, lying himself down to rest his head on your lap once more. His big, blue eyes looked up at you with question, waiting for you to drop the punchline to bring it all together, and as per usual, you didn't let him down.

"There's a common denominator that we're forgetting. This is clearly T'Challa's fault."

~~~

"Mother, I am so very sorry, this is my fault. I wanted to be the one to tell you."

"Yet here we are, after your sister was the one to tell me that I would be a grandmother, only after I received a gift of congratulations from M'Baku," Ramonda said, shaking her head in sorrow. "My son, why did you not come to me first? I could have helped you with the struggles you're having with all of this."

"I have no explanation," T'Challa answered his mother apologetically, his gaze cast down, "and I have no struggle. (Y/N) is with Captain Rogers for now, resting and enjoying time with her friend before she returns to make Wakanda her home. She will choose to return, and once she's here, all will be as it should be."

"T'Challa, you cannot remove her friends from her life. Pushing them away will only push her along with them, don't you see that? She needs to have her choice in this, even if that means that my grandchild belongs to two worlds."

"But Mother," he argued, suddenly finding his own strength and standing much taller, "she carries our future king or queen. They need to be raised here, in Wakanda, and learn the ways of the people they will lead."

"No, son. They need to be raised by two parents who have love for each other, and who have respect for the lives that they have chosen to live. A child cannot be raised in a home where resentment lies, which is exactly what will happen if you force (Y/N) to give up her freedom to appease your needs. If she chooses Wakanda...if she chooses you, my beloved boy, then you will be blessed to have her."

T'Challa nodded along with her wisdom, which he knew that she would bring, no matter if it would be what he wanted to hear or not. Ramonda always had a skill for calming his nerves and soothing his mind, but strangely, when it came to matters of you, her methods came up a little short of their goal. In the moment, he wanted nothing more than to ask his father for advice, for guidance in what to do not as his son, but as a King. He had a duty to his people, and they would expect and explanation; T'Challa would very soon have to answer to them, maybe even before you would come to answer him.

"And if she doesn't?"