The Beginning
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The chill of the January winter seemed to seep through the thick jacket James Buchanan Barnes was wearing. The dust-stained snow that coated the ground was kicked up by the sharp breeze and Bucky steeled himself as he continued to walk down the street. He had an agenda today, as Steve was going through yet another heat and was sitting at home alone. Sarah Rogers had long since passed away, and while Bucky tried to convince Steve to let him move in tot he ratty apartment, Steve wouldn’t budge.
‘You have a home, Buck. With a mom and a dad and three sisters who rely on you.’ Steve had said. He tried to yell, but whenever he raised his voice to anything louder than a theatre-volume, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
‘You’re my family too, Steve. Damn it! Stop being so stubborn and let me help you!’ Bucky hissed, frustrated, but unwilling to raise his voice any louder. He didn’t care who would hear him shout— he only cared about the way it would make Steve feel.
‘if you move in with me, we could—‘ Bucky tried.
‘No, I’m not moving in with you. I’m not gonna burden you and your family with a sick, frail little omega!’ Steve almost shrieked, throwing his hands in the air.
‘Jesus Christ, Steve. You don’t have to do this alone!’ At this point, Bucky thought he was starting to sound much like a broken record player.
So, Bucky would walk ten miles a day, to and from his house to Steve’s apartment with whatever food he could spare. Steve was reluctant at first— determined to try to live on his own, but once he realized that living with someone in his corner was actually really nice, he stopped fighting.
This was why James Barnes was walking through a bitter winter wind storm with a half-cold pot of soup under his arm. Steve had been in heat for a few days now, and as much as Bucky wanted to do anything to help, Steve wasn’t his omega. It wouldn’t do much anyways— Steve’s heats were nothing like the normal heats his biological gender dealt with. Instead of feeling the need to reproduce and take an Alpha’s knot, Steve got sick. His hearing would become sensitive to the point of it giving him migraines strong enough to trigger nausea. His skin would light on fire, and as much as Bucky wanted to calm him, the pain was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. Instead of an alpha’s touch being able to soothe him, it only caused Steve tremendous amounts of pain, and it only took a few months of trying until both Bucky and Steve agreed it would be best if Bucky only came by once or twice a heat.
It killed Bucky, not being able to take care of an Omega who needed him. No, not just an omega who needed him— it was Steve who needed him. Bucky was almost completely sure that Steve and he were soulmates— destined to be bonded, but so many roadblocks stopped Steve from fully accepting it.
First, Steve wasn’t able to produce much slick— a telltale sign of infertility, so Steve felt a pang of huge guilt that he would never be able to give Bucky what they both wanted. He had considered adoption many times, but it just wasn’t the same. He wanted to take Bucky’s knot, and he wanted to be able to grow round with pup. He wanted his scent to change just so that Bucky could realize that Steve was pregnant and then shower him with new nesting materials and heaps of affection. He wanted to give birth and watch as Bucky cried over their pup who would suckle on Steves swollen chest. He wanted Bucky to kiss him with tears and sweat on his face and see nothing but a perfect, healthy, pretty omega.
It wasn’t only infertility that stopped Steve from letting Bucky in— letting Bucky be his alpha. While their biological genders were compatible, and their scents made the others mouth water, their social genders were still completely taboo. A man or woman, no matter what the designation was not allowed to love other man or woman, and the last thing Steve wanted for Bucky was to destroy his reputation by making him his own.
Bucky couldn’t care less, but Steve did.
Soon, the apartment complex came in to view, and Bucky tried his very best to rearrange his face into something much more pleasant in case he should run into any of Steve’s neighbours— an angry alpha was not a welcome alpha.
Once he made it to Steve’s door, Bucky knocked three times and waited for as many minutes before grunting his annoyance and picking the spare key from the mailbox nailed to the wall. The key fit in the door easily, and Bucky let himself in, trying to not think about just how good the apartment smelled. The strong scent of rainy forest and a warm city filled his nose, and the underlying citrus smell was almost enough for Bucky to let the alpha within him win.
Shaking his head to beat back his instincts, Bucky walked through the house to put the soup on the stove. He flicked on the heat and allowed the pot to sit there, calling out to Steve as he shucked his jacket and toed off his heavy boots rationed to him by the military.
That was another thing, that had brought Bucky to Steve’s house. He had just been drafted in the War and had also just told his mother and father of the news. His omega father had fallen into his alpha mothers arms as Winnie sobbed, praying to any god that was listening to let Bucky stay home. He couldn’t bear their grief for more than a few minutes, the smells of distress making him horrendously woozy, and the cries annoying him more than anything. They were acting as if they were being shipped off to war, and sure he understood he was their pup, but they made no move to comfort him. They made no move to soothe their distressed pup— they seemed to barely acknowledge that he was wound tighter than a million springs or see that his scent had completely changed over the course of three days. Once one of fresh cut grass and lumber, Bucky’s scent smelled like something that more resembled something burnt. Something that’d the ability to smell good, but had gone sour, and bitter.
So, Bucky had to get away.
“Stevie? 'M home! I got soup for you!” Bucky yelled into the house, rolling his shoulders and willing himself to be calm enough for Steve. He huffed when there was nothing here that greeted him but a cushion of silence. He leaned against the counter, resting his face in his hands and letting out a heavy breath. He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes so hard that white patterns appeared, and he watched them dance, entrance by the way they seemed to make everything around him disappear.
“You okay?” A small, hoarse voice broke Bucky from his moment of self-pity and stress. He turned quickly, seeing spots which lingered from his previous actions. His eyes scanned over Steve— no bruises from any recent fights, but the veins which appeared purple through Steve’s pale, translucent skin seemed almost worse. The violet seemed most concentrated under his eyes, contrasted uglily against by their red, tired color. His cheeks appeared more sunken than usual— giving Bucky the impression that Steve hadn’t actually been taking care of himself like he promised he would.
“I’m fine. You look like you’ve been better though.” Bucky tried to sound chipper and smooth with a joke, but both men knew that the statement sounded more forced and choked than effortless. Steve only winced out an empty laugh and shuffled over to the stove where the soup had just started to steam. There was a nesting blanket around Steve’s slim shoulders that drug behind him, and Bucky tried his best to not think of Steve naked in his bed, whining and keening for some alpha somewhere to just touch him. Bucky knew it was an unreasonable image— so he muffled a cough with his fist and watched Steve as he carefully lifted the metal lid.
“Smells good, Buck. Did Winnie make this?” Steve asked, mimicking Bucky and trying his best to appear better than he felt. Bucky rolled his eyes and tugged on the soft blanket to pull Steve closer. Steves head almost effortlessly fell into the crook of Bucky’s neck, and he took a lungful of the fresh-cut-wood smell of the alpha which had somehow wedged himself into his life. No matter how hard he pushed Bucky away, he would always end up here— face in the neck of the man he loved but couldn’t (wouldn’t) have.
Bucky only hummed in response to Steves words, running a hand through his greasy hair and trying his best not to preen at the way a rattling purr burst from Steve’s chest— the small details would be able to keep Bucky sane, right?
“You smell different,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s neck. “Everything alright?”
Instead of divulging himself, Bucky only pulled away and placed his hand on the back of Steve’s neck.
“‘M Gonna get us some soup, Alright? You head to the couch and I’ll be there in a second.” Bucky hummed, showing Steve the barest hint of a smile to reassure him that he was just fine, thank you. Steve only let his eyes soak Bucky in for a few seconds, nodding once in resignation and then turning and heading to the living room, his fluffy, sweet smelling blanket trailing behind him.
Once Steve was out of sight, Bucky turned towards the counter and placed his hands on the edge of it. He took a few deep breaths to calm his anxiety and nausea because right now, he couldn’t be caught up in his own thing. Steve was sick, and even though Bucky was going to war, he needed to take care of the (his) sweet omega.
He walked into the living room after gathering himself and ladling soup into two mismatched bowls. One was grey and plain (his) and Steve’s was his favourite— a white bowl which Sarah had painted yellow sunflowers haphazardly on. She had done it when Steve was nothing more than a pup, and she had told Bucky that once Steve had gotten a hand on the paints, it took a week for all the yellow and green to wash from Steve’s white-blonde hair.
Kneeling in-between Steve’s legs, he placed his own bowl on the coffee table behind him, instead choosing to spoon-feed Steve. He had given up some fight for dignity’s sake, but eventually, he had just rolled his eyes and allowed Bucky to care for him and dote on him like the helicopter Alpha he was. There was something wrong with his best friend, he knew, so Steve just allowed himself to become pliant and submissive— it was something they both needed, honestly.
Once the bowl had been emptied of broth and veggies and fatty meat, Bucky placed the bowl beside his own and turned back to Steve. His hand reached out and picked at Steve’s hair, placing it back into the half-hearted style it had been put into at some point this week. When his fingertips made contact with Steve’s feverish forehead, a soft, half-moan half-purr echoed in the room. It was a weak sound, quiet, but the sound of pleasure echoed in Bucky’s ears. The sound was something he would hold on to, he knew— when the going got tough overseas, he would play this soft, quiet moment over in his head until the gunfire and racing heartbeats seemed far away.
Once he was sure Steve was in some sort of sleep, he stood and piled the soup bowls together. His own bowl had remained untouched due to nausea and memorizing the details of Steve’s sharp face which was softened with exhaustion and sleep.
Before he could take a step, Steve’s large, knobby hand reached out and clutched at Bucky’s sleeve, freezing him in place. He looked down at the omega to see that he had cracked one eye open, evaluating and watching Bucky too closely.
“Stay, Buck. The bowls can wait, I jus’ need you right now.” He whispered, voice hoarse and raspy. It sent a chill down Bucky’s spin and it seemed to sit in his tailbone. His inner alpha jumped and howled and pranced at the request, and he swore he could feel his cheeks and ears flushing with pride and want. Steve rolled his eyes and let go, pulling the blanket tighter around him before nodding for Bucky to sit back down.
“Don’t smell so satisfied, Punk.” He mumbled, and his thin lips curled into a hint of a smile. Bucky rolled his eyes and sat on the floor anyways, his back to the couch with his head only a few inches from Steves own. The soft light from the setting sun was warm and gentle on their skin, making them appear to be healthier than either of them felt.
Bucky listened to Steve breathe, not willing himself to even shut his eyes until the rasp and uneven patterns had disappeared. He remembered the moment where Stebe’s body seemed to melt into the couch and relax enough for the omega to rest. A good moment. An important one.
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When Steve woke up, moonlight and cool air greeted him. The white light cast ominous, but gentle shadows over the entire room. The cool air was pleasant on his still-hot skin, and Steve submitted to the relaxing feeling until he took one breath in. The smell filling the room was enough to make him gag, and it only took a few waking minutes for him to realize that Bucky was having a nightmare.
Bucky was resting his cheek on the soft couch cushion, his mouth slightly open and his brows furrowed with fear. Soft, small whimpers echoed in his chest and throat, and his shirt ad hair was damp with sweat which stunk. His distress seemed to permeate the whole room. Bucky’s shoulders were rising and falling rapidly with every panicked breath.
“Bucky. Buck, wake up.” Steve’s gentle hand gripped his shoulder firmly and shook, making Bucky’s head shoot up. His head whipped around the room, seeming to scout for and form of danger and when he found none, he was able to feel Steve’s firm grip on his shoulder.
“I— what? Are you okay, Stevie? What d’you need?” He mumbled, wiping the drool off his cheek and turning around to rest on his knees. He rested his elbows on the couch and rested his cheek in one hand while his other combed through Steve’s blonde hair. There were a few minutes of silence which Steve felt as if Bucky was just soaking him in, memorizing and scanning every plane of his face. Bucky traced the back of his knuckle down the side of Steve’s face which elicited a happy purr from somewhere in Steve. Soon, after repeating the motions and trying his best, Bucky was able to catch his breath and calm his racing heart.
“I need you to tell me what’s going on. I’ve never smelt you like that before.” Steve asked as he sat up with Bucky’s help. Bucky rubbed the center of his back and down his spine as violent, rattling cough wracked his body. When Steve had settled, Bucky rushed around the couch and into the kitchen, spooning the now perfectly done soup into a china bowl and bringing it out to Steve.
“I— I should wait until you’re better. You need to get better.” He rushed, not making eye contact. When Steve had settled, Bucky rushed around the couch and into the kitchen, spooning another bowl of (now perfectly done) soup into the same bowl he was using before. Bucky’s stomach rumbled when he caught its scent, but the sound fell on deaf ears— the ringing was too loud.
He sat next to Steve, and despite the omega’s protests began to spoon feed him once more. Steve went pliant, knowing again that this was something Bucky needed at this moment. What had been bothering Bucky the second he walked through that door was just beginning to settle, and Steve knew that allowing Bucky to dote on him would calm him just enough to the point of settling down.
A few minutes passed, of Bucky feeding Steve and mumbling absent praises. His eyes, while trained on the bowl and spoon and Steve’s mouth, were not looking at them— they were a thousand miles away. The bowl was only half full, so it took no time for Bucky to place it on the coffee table in front of them and allow his head to fall into his hands.
“Buck. Honey. What’s wrong?” Steve whispered, his hand falling to Bucky’s waist and drawing circles on his ribs. Bucky’s chest was heaving, and Steve didn’t need the lights to be on to know that Bucky was, in fact, crying. No longer feeling weak, Steve pushed himself from his slouching position and turned fully to Bucky. When Bucky wouldn’t pull his hands away from his face, Steve took the initiative and crawled into his lap, bony knees resting on either side of his hips and guiding his hands to rest on his thighs.
Bucky, still refusing to look up, whimpered.
“Alpha. Buck. What’s going on?” Steve worried, his own scent of distress beginning to fill the room. He had never seen Bucky like this, and Jesus, it frightened him.
“I— the war. I’m gonna get drafted.” Bucky replied hoarsely. Steve felt the wind rush from his lungs, and he started shaking his head rapidly.
“No, no you’re not. You’re not— you can’t.” Steve tried to laugh.
“I can. I’m a healthy, able-bodied alpha. I’m single, and my parents are still alive to take care of my sisters— so I have no dependents. I’m a prime subject for war.” Bucky sniffled, finally looking at Steve. His eyes seemed to shine in the darkened room, the red contrasting violently with the grey. “There’s no way I’m not going to war.”
Steve shuffled on his lap, pressing closer to Bucky and cradling his face in his hands. Bucky still refused to meet his gaze and keep it, always looking and then lowering his eyes or closing them so Steve placed one hand on his chin and smiled encouragingly when their gazes met.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Steve cooed, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. It had gotten long, and as much as Steve liked it short, there was something about this long look he had going for him.
“Hi.” Bucky’s voice was far away.
“You need to stay with me,” Steve mumbled, glancing at his lips and flicking his eyes away shamefully. Sure, Steve was an omega, and Bucky was an alpha, but they were still two men. While they were compatible biologically, they would never be able to find love within each other— not in this society.
“I can’t.” Bucky’s chin wobbled and his eyes shone.
“You can.” Steve hummed, pressing himself closer, and burying his face in his neck. “I’ll get accepted into the Army and I’ll meet you there, but until then, you need to hang on to me. Sure, you might be across the world, but you need to keep me with you. I need you to live for me. I can’t have you taking stupid risks because the Army tell you that you have no reason to stay—“ Steve’s lips ghosted along Bucky’s scent gland as he spoke fervently.
“I have a reason to stay, Stevie.” Bucky mimicked Steve’s actions and brushed his nose against Steve’s jawline. “And it’s right on my lap, but I can’t— The Army’s not— it won’t—“
“I know, Buck,” Steve whispered, pulling away from Bucky’s sensitive neck and pressing his forehead to his.
“I don’t wanna go. I’m scared.” Bucky simpered, clutching Steve’s narrow hips in a bruising grip. Had Steve’s eyes always been this blue?
“You don’t have to. Not tonight. Tonight you stay here, with me.” Steve’s lips were barely a centimeter from Bucky’s, and it took all of Bucky’s willpower to not let the Alpha win and press Steve into the couch until they both disappeared. The Alpha in him was fighting— there was a gorgeous, sweet smelling, pliant omega pressed up against him, but more importantly, it was Steve who was that omega. Steve who didn’t know when to say no and turn away from a fight— from doing the right thing. Steve, who loved Bucky more than a best friend, more than a heat mate.
So, Bucky pressed his lips gently to Steves. He rumbled in pleasure when Steve squeaked and melted, tucking his arms to his chest and letting Bucky’s strong arms warm around him, pulling him as close as possible. The first kiss was simple and awkward and their noses bumped against each other and if Bucky was kissing anyone else he would have called it a bad kiss.
It wasn’t, though. Because Bucky was kissing Steve, and Steve was purring like no tomorrow and suddenly, the war seems far away. Nothing other than this moment existed outside of the moonlight streaming through the moth-eaten curtains and the couch that had more coffee and paint stains than actual untouched fabric. Nothing but the feeling of all of Steve’s ninety-pound body on top of him, melted into a submissive pile of goo. Bucky was sure that Steve’s skin was on fire with pain, and his lungs would need a break very soon, but somehow, Bucky knew that Steve was feeling very similar to what he was feeling right now.
Steve’s lips were dry and chapped, but they tasted the same way he smelled. He tasted like wood, and oranges and maybe a little bit sour due to his constant state of sick, but it was perfect because it was Steve. His Steve. His omega.
Steve ran his tongue across the bottom of Bucky’s top lip, then and Bucky could have honest to God popped a knot right then and there. Before Bucky could submit to his very eager omega (it would do wonders for Steve’s pride), Steve pulled away, and panting, dropped his head to Bucky’s neck and began dotting his jaw and collarbone with little kitten licks and nips.
“Stevie.” Bucky breathed, head falling back to rest on the back of the couch. “Stevie, please— hold on a second.”
Steve only hummed absently, almost fully bewitched by his very pleased inner-wolf. Bucky grunted when Steve nipped just below his bonding mark and wiggled on his lap when Bucky nearly growled with pleasure. Before Steve could further his ministrations, he was pushed back by the shoulders.
He was hurt at first until he opened his eyes to see one very wrecked Bucky Barnes underneath him. His hair was wild, and there were small but dark bruises littering the right side of his neck. Steve purred with contentment at the sight of this alpha of a man who was now totally marked by him. Bucky was his, now.
Bucky smiled, watching the way Steve seemed transfixed on his neck— his eyes almost completely swallowed by the black of his pupil. Cute.
“Stevie, come back to me, Sweetheart.” Bucky murmured, brushing his wrist over his neck and scenting Steve gently. If he was gonna be marked, Steve would be too. A few seconds passed before Steve blinked and tore his eyes away from Bucky’s throat and met his eyes.
“Hi, Doll.” Bucky cooed a smile splitting his face in two. Steve seemed to come to his senses, then and began to regard the bruises and marks on Bucky’s neck to something akin to horror.
“Jesus Christ, Buck. I’m sorry I didn’t mean— I don’t know what I—“ Steve began to rush. He could feel the blood draining from his face and settling in the very bottom of his stomach. Before he could even think of the idea that Bucky may be mad at him for marking him, Bucky placed a very gentle kiss to his very swollen lips.
“Never apologize for that, Steve. Never.” Bucky whispered. In any other situation, the whisper would have been too quiet to hear, but now it sounded as loud as a scream. Steve leaned closer to Bucky, cautiously, and pressed his lips to Bucky’s own— keeping his eyes open to gauge Bucky’s reaction.
Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed without hesitation, and a rumbling purr echoed through the room. Okay then, good reaction.
“Stay. For the night, I mean. We can talk in the morning.’ Steve whispered when he pulled away. Bucky only nodded and tried to not let the pressure of the world crush his chest. Instead, He stopped Steve up into his arms (ninety pounds was nothing to carry, anymore) and carried him through the house, turning off the stove and lights as he made his way towards Steves nest.
When Bucky walked into Steve’s room (he had been there a few handfuls of times, less since Steve had presented) and his jaw dropped slightly in shock. The room was basic, and the nest was rather standard, but it wasn’t the intimacy of seeing his Omega’s nest for the first time that shocked him. No, it was the abundance of Bucky’s clothing that had been piled up around Steve’s pillows. Bucky’s (very faint) scent had a place in Steve’s nest, and if he thought he was gonna pop a knot when Steve was kissing him, he was for sure going to now.
“I— what?” Bucky sounded as if there was no air in the room for him to breathe.
“Your scent. It uh— it helps with the sick and the heats. I’m sorry if I— Oh!” Steve’s unwarranted apology was cut off by Bucky half throwing him into the nest. Steve wasn’t wearing much, only a tank top, heavy wool socks, and some boxers, so Bucky made himself comfortable, shucking his own pants, shoes and shirt before climbing in and pulling Steve to rest his head on his chest. Steve sighed, only slightly shocked att he feeling of so much skin on skin contact, and melted into Bucky’s embrace. He pressed his good ear to the left side of Bucky’s chest, and within seconds, the loud, steady heartbeat lulled him into a long, dreamless sleep.