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nasafic-deactivated20200122:

(angst, established relationship, mpreg, miscarriage - and talk about them that could be offensive from tony’s grieving POV)

They have to do a dilation and curettage to get the baby out of him.

The fetus, Tony reminds himself firmly. The fetal tissue. It wasn’t a baby yet, not really; it had a heartbeat, sure, but lots of things have heart beats. Beetles have heart beats. A heart beat doesn’t make something a person, and this wasn’t a person. It was - a thing. Losing it is no more tragic than the loss of Steve’s sperm when he jacks off in the toilet. Really.

Tony wonders how many times he needs to tell himself that before it becomes true.

“We’re going to start now, okay, Mr. Stark?” the nurse says, glancing up at him from between his legs. Beside her, the doctor’s head is bowed, focused entirely on his task. The nurse has kind eyes, Tony thinks - kinder eyes than anyone else who’s been between his legs, save maybe Steve. Steve, whose grip on Tony’s hand is so tight that Tony thinks he might wake up tomorrow with bruises. He doesn’t particularly care.

“Ready,” he says. His voice comes out flat and lifeless, but he doesn’t particularly care about that either.

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