Nesting Troubles
This is – This is just sad. This looks terrible. I am terrible at this.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Aren’t I supposed to be, like, a natural at this? This is an omega thing. Omegas nest. I have a blanket and pillows. What am I missing here?
“Oh... Building a fort?”
I rolled my eyes. Turned away the pathetic thing on the floor to address Buck who, for the millionth time, hadn’t knocked on my bedroom door before entering.
“I'm trying to… do what I’m supposed to?” I said with a shrug.
“Supposed to?” He rose one brow in that irritating way of his. “If it’s doing the laundry, you don’t gotta add your pillows to the pile.”
“No, that's not –”
A tired groan clawed its way out of my throat. I pressed my thumbs into my temples, trying to settle the ache before it got worse.
“Hey?”
He tilted his head to catch my eye. All the smug amusement was gone and replaced with soft concern.
“I didn’t realize, okay? It took a second for me to put two and two together,” he admitted softly.
His hand was warm against my cheek. Comforting. I leaned into it gratefully.
“I suck at this.”
The corner of his lips quirked into a little half smile. “You’ve never done it before. That’s all.”
Easy for you to say. You’re not the omega here. You don’t come preset with the instincts for this. I’m supposed to be good at this.
“You’re thinking too hard.” That smile ticked up a little further. “You always get this adorable little frown when you do.”
I stepped out of reach at the tease. Batted his reaching hands away. He held them up in surrender.
Good. He better back off.
“What is it sweetheart? Is it your nest? It’s not so bad.”
I scoffed. He frowned. Had the gall to try and pull me into a hug.
“Don’t! Alright? I’m supposed to be good at this!”
His expression twisted. I looked away to avoid seeing whatever emotion he’d settle on, pity or sympathy, and ended up staring at the half crumpled blanket with its two pillows again. It looked the same as a couple minutes ago. Wasn’t magically better, inviting and cozy looking like it should have been. I was really hoping it might be…
“What do you need me to do?” Bucky asked. Like he could help. Like he wanted to.
What have I got to lose? I’m gonna go into heat soon and this setup sucks. Anything has gotta be better than this.
“Got any idea how to build a nest that isn’t total garbage?” I asked, resigned to hear the inevitable no.
Typical alpha. As if he’d –
No. That’s not right… I shouldn’t trash talk him. He’s just trying to help. He’s putting up with my mood swings. Just take it with a smile and go back to Utube when he leaves.
“Well… actually, yeah. But I didn’t wanna say anything in case you wanna fly solo on this. I’d understand if you did.”
What?
My gaze snapped back to his in disbelief.
He looked sheepish. A little smaller than before as the nerves got to him.
“It wasn’t common back then, but my family wasn’t about being conventional when it came to me and Becca’s upbringing. Said being an alpha didn’t excuse me from learning all the important stuff my sister was learning.”
That’s… pretty great actually.
“Wish there were more alphas being taught like that. Hell, even teaching the betas would help change the stereotypes I bet.”
He cracked a grin. “Yeah, it certainly helped back during my dancing days. Never met an omega who didn’t love it. Made me kind of a bad boy for knowing all the best nesting brands,” he laughed.
“Damn. The bad boy? Just cause you knew where to get a soft blanket?”
Well then. Who would have thought?
“Hey, you’re laughing, but I was popular for that. Kept one in the family car whenever I borrowed it just in case.”
It took a minute to get my laughter under control. The sting of tears was for a better reason this time. My cheeks ached a little from smiling so hard. It felt so good.
“I needed that.”
Whatever he needed to see he found. He nodded in satisfaction.
“Glad to help.”
I got in another couple snickers at the mental image of bad boy Bucky Barnes with his fancy blankets. Couldn’t help myself.
“Alright Barnes,” I said when I could breathe. “How do I fix this?”
He looked to my right, accessing the garbage nest like it was a mission.
“Do you want it on the floor?”
I shrugged.
“Then why is it there?”
…
“Internet?” I answered carefully, trying for an innocent smile.
His exasperated sigh was loud. Like, super loud.
He muttered, “Stupid internet,” and strode forward, hauling my stuff up into his arms. “Where do you actually want this?”
That is a good question.
“Is it not supposed to be on the floor?”
He looked insulted by the fact that I’d asked.
“I don’t know what the hell you’ve been reading, Clint, but no. It’s not supposed to go on the floor unless you want it there.”
Oh.
Yeah, that… That makes more sense. The floor is uncomfortable after all. I wasn’t looking forward to the backache…
“Clint?”
His tone pulled my attention back to the moment. It took a second for my eyes to refocus.
“Where do you want to set up sweetheart?”
The question pulled uncomfortably at something in my chest. Sat there like a cold, lead weight as I glanced around my cluttered room. The bed seemed like the obvious choice. It was my bed. That didn’t feel right though and the more I looked around, the more fidgety and anxious I felt.
All of a sudden my throat was closing, claustrophobia gripping me like a vice. The space was all wrong. Too small. Too… I don’t fucking know! It just felt wrong, and I couldn’t breathe!
Hazelnut and coffee invaded the overwhelming sense of panic squeezing me for all I was worth. Soothed right over it like a balm to my fraying nerves. Then I felt the hands keeping me steady, the metal fingers carding through my messy hair.
Breathing came a little easier as the static in my brain cleared. I could hear Bucky talking me down from the edge. Started to comprehend the words more clearly. That’s when the sensation of trembling registered. The hot traces of tears on my face. The way my hands were fisted in his hoodie.
“There we go, baby. Just breathe.”
Just breathe… I can… I can do that.
“What the hell just happened?” I asked, hating the shakiness in my voice the moment the words left my lips.
He pet my head some more. Tightened his grip around my waist momentarily before letting me go.
“It happens sometimes.” He looked me over thoroughly before continuing with, “I don’t think this room is what you need right now.”
I glanced at my bow in the corner. My pile of comics. The pajama bottoms I’d left on my bed. That sense of wrong,wrong,wrong started up again, clawing at me until I locked my gaze back onto Bucky.
Yeah. Fuck this.