Dear Heart

They put Bucky in a cell.

it wasn't his precinct, though Captain Coulson did come down in person to sit with him, to see what happened, and Bucky didn't know he was going to break down until the Captain was right in front of him, hand on his knee. "You need to get me out, sir," Bucky pleaded in gasping breaths. "Steve...my omega..."

"I know, Sergeant. We're getting it all sorted."

"Sorted?" That sobered him up some. He swiped at his nose with the corner of a sleeve. "I killed someone, sir. Brings my grand total up to four. What sort of life am I living, that I have to kill four people to get through it?"

Captain Coulson was quiet for a long time. This is one of the things Bucky most admired about the man - the gift of his silences. "I suppose this is what they mean by protect and serve. Sergeant. Bucky. You were protecting your mate."

But Bucky was shaking his head. He'd thought through that part well enough, and didn't regret saving Steve, of course he didn't. But. But. "But I protected him like an alpha. I was following my instincts. I must have looked like a monster, just like the alpha who attacked him."

Another long silence. The Captain scrubbed a hand over his face. He was also an alpha. Almost everyone at the precinct was, though there had been a concerted push in recent years to try to recruit qualified omegas. It was hard when the pool was so damn small. Qualified omegas were pushed out of high school, or bullied until they dropped out of college, or harassed by law enforcement so much they would never pursue a career in blue.

Bucky waited out the silence, and finally the Captain spoke again. "Whatever is swirling through your head, Sergeant, I want you to push all that down until you see Steve again. Try to remind yourself that part of this, maybe even the largest part, is hormonal. Your mate was attacked. The alpha in you needs to be next to him. So don't go condemning yourself until you've had a good long chat with your mate."

Despite Captain Coulson's best efforts, though, and the fire power that was Tony Stark blazing, checkbook drawn, into the precinct, Bucky's processing took hours, most of the evening shift. When the door finally slid open, Captain Coulson was there on the other side. Tony Stark was there, along with Dr. Banner (who gave Bucky the gentlest of hugs). Bucky, though, had eyes only for Sam.

It's hard to explain police partnerships to those who have never been privvy to that special relationship. Other than Steve, Sam was the person Bucky trusted most on earth. He spent more hours sitting arm's length from Sam than he cared to tabulate, shared more hoagies and beers than he could ever count. He knew all about Sam's dating life (a bisexual beta in Brooklyn had a lot of options, and Sam liked to explore) and Sam knew all about Bucky and Steve, their joint childhoods, their joint tours of service. He waited in the hospital waiting room for eighteen hours after Sam was shot in the line a year ago. Sam invited Bucky and Steve, who rather lacked in the family department, to every holiday function. Sam was his partner, and his family.

"He's fine," Sam said as soon as Bucky's gaze locked with his. "Two bruised ribs and a fractured wrist. Poor guy's gonna have to go through this recovery without his drawing pad."

"He'll hate that," Bucky said, not really listening. He was within arm's length of Sam now. The precinct was quiet, the officers that were around for the graveyard shift hanging on the fringes, too star-struck or scared by Stark to interfere.

Finally Sam broke his gaze. Looked down. "There's something else."

"I know about the baby."

When Sam looked up his eyes were wet. "You do?"

Captain Coulson had thought he was breaking the news several hours ago, but Bucky had known ever since he pulled the alpha off his mate, since the ring flared hot on his hand, since the twisting knot formed in his stomach. He'd known since it happened, the same way he'd known they were pregnant when they were still in bed, wrapped up around each other.

Bucky nodded, and Sam gripped him tight, or maybe Bucky fell against him. "I'm sorry," Sam murmured, lips to his ear. He hadn't shaved. No one had shaved. They were stubble to stubble. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Bucky lowered his head to Sam's shoulders and stared, dry-eyed, at the neon-filled night.

.

TPeter and Steve and MJ had got to the tower first, Steve transferred from the VA hospital into Dr. Banner's medical care. There wasn't much for Bruce to do. Clean him up. Give him a stiff drink. Clint and Natasha showed up, too, and busied themselves in the kitchen. Clint made coffee, of course, and Natasha produced a plate of cheese and veg and sandwiches, little things to place in Steve's hand as he mechanically ate.

Steve himself? He had a thousand yard stare. He nodded or shook his head in response to all the doctor's questions. He didn't say a word.

Ned walked into the main part of SI, wandering around until JARVIS took pity on him and directed him to the correct elevator. "It's on the news," Ned declared when he walked in, thrusting his phone under Peter's nose. "The VA. Cool Beans. I heard the coffee shop and I thought it was you again."

The young alpha was shaking, scared, and Clint pushed a coffee into his hand and Peter kissed him on the cheek and MJ bluntly filled him in.

No one seemed able to leave, even though it was obvious there was nothing more to be done. The baby was gone. Steve, it seemed, was gone, too. Dr. Banner walked into the living room, looking a little green, and said that he was going to see what was happening at the police station.

"Too many cooks..." Clint warned.

Bruce was already pulling on a different shirt, a button down without blood stains. "I hear you, but I can't be here."

Clint and Natasha busied themselves with making a huge dinner, murmuring in the kitchen while glancing at the teenagers in the living room. They weren't exactly subtle, they were definitely sticking around to make sure the teens didn't, like combust from PTSD or something.

Ned ignored their hovering, though he did eat a piece of everything the cooks put in front of him. "So, like, they had an omega doctor at the hospital and everything?"

"I mean, mostly it's because the VA treats a lot of omegas who've been hurt by alphas before. They keep them out of certain wings to give the patients a sense of safety." The words are out of Peter's mouth before he really registers what he's saying. A lot of omegas hurt by alphas. Like Steve. Like Peter. Like every omega he knows.

He shook the thought away, trying to think of something, anything to talk about that wasn't that terrible hour next to Steve. Steve, whose face was still dirty and scraped from where it was pushed into the ground, hysterical as the doctors worked to find a heartbeat, any heartbeat. And then...when they couldn't find anything, when they knew the baby was dead, how Steve had completely shut down. The doctors said they wanted to remove the fetus before it could cause any damage. Steve nodded, maybe not even noticing, as Peter did, how the doctor's had stopped calling it a baby and started calling it a collection of cells.

Peter stayed through the procedure.

The smell of sauce simmering almost made him forget the smell of that room. Almost.

MJ reached for her cup of coffee (getting weaker as the night goes on. Clint brews coffee the way a sommelier pairs wine. A different flavor and strength for every occasion) and her hand shook. Spilled the liquid onto her lap.

"Oh, MJ..." Peter began.

MJ swiped listlessly at the wet spots. "I never minded being a beta until today." She said it the way someone might comment on the weather.

"I wouldn't have been able to fight those guys," Ned declared. "And Steve wouldn't have wanted you to get hurt."

"I couldn't even try! I was outmatched before I could even try!"

Natasha stuck her head in the living room. Her face was unreadable as she stared at MJ. Then she walked over and knelt next to the girl. "Here. It will make you feel better."

She produced three shiny spoons, each heaped with chocolate-studded cookie dough.

The teenagers ate. They ate, and they waited, and they watched as Steve watched the world out the window.

It didn't make them feel better.

.

The tower was full. Everyone was spending the night. Dr. Banner was sharing a bed with Clint and Natasha, who had made enough food to feed every intern in SI and promised breakfast, too. Ned and MJ were on the couch, heads pointed towards each other, having fallen asleep mid-conversation. Sam was upright in a chair, cleaning his gun as he murmured to Captain Coulson and JARVIS. Steve and Bucky...Steve and Bucky...

As the night had worn on and Steve still didn't say a word, the teenagers had all begun to get nervous. MJ brought him slices of pepper and carrot, brought him coffee that got cold on the table. Peter covered him with a blanket. Ned, a young alpha distressed to see an omega in such distress, tried to coax him into a nap, nearly in tears because he wanted to comfort the omega so badly, and because he knew that a touch from an unfamiliar alpha was the last thing the man needed. Clint and Natasha tried to reassure them but the teens had all been sure that something had snapped inside of Steve. That something had broken.

And then the door opened, and Bucky had Steve in his arms.

There were no words between them. Steve keened, a high half-screen, half-whine, and he rested his head against Bucky's chest as the alpha bundled him onto the nearest couch, patting him, nuzzling him. Hands everywhere. Mouths everywhere. It wasn't sex, not anything like it - all the clothes stayed on, and Peter was pretty sure that both parties weren't supposed to be in tears while fucking -but it was the purest form of connection that Peter had ever seen.

Ned was wiping tears from his face, and had wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders. They used to be something to each other, used to help each other out when their hormones got too out of whack. They were best friends, and an alpha and omega to boot. Of course they'd help each other out.

But as Peter looked at the couple he knew that it wasn't Ned's arm that he needed.

Peter slipped into Tony's room sometime before dawn.

"Hey, kiddo, I know we were in the middle of an awfully big discussion before everything happened, but I'm hoping we could table that until tomorrow." Tony was just stripping out of his suit, suppressing a yawn with the back of his hand.

Peter's heart thudded. He closed the door behind him.

Tony had stopped with his undershirt half pulled over his head, but when Peter sat on the bed he slowly peeled the rest of it off.

Peter didn't move. He stared at the hard angles of Tony's stomach. At the harsh lines of scars from an open heart surgery. There were actually a lot of scars, more than Peter would have expected from a moneyed alpha.

There was so much he didn't know about Tony.

About his mate.

Peter scooted up to the top of the bed, suddenly self-conscious about how he was dressed - an old middle school t-shirt that Peter was pretty sure used to be Ned's and boxers. Nothing...appropriate. Nothing sexy.

He hesitated, then reached for the hem of his own shirt.

"Not tonight, kiddo." Tony's voice harsh as a door slam.

Peter's hands stilled.

"Now, I don't mean not ever. Remember that conversation? We really do need to have one of those. Several, probably, and in the presence of, you know, your aunt. Maybe Bruce. A licensed therapist. A psychic to tell us how this whole thing is going to end up. I don't want to diminish your - what was Bruce saying? - I don't want to diminish your agency, kiddo, but you are fifteen, and this needs to be a conversation."

"The age of consent for omegas..."

"Nuh uh, I don't care what the law says. We are doing this right, and the night after your friends get attacked by an alpha? Not right."

Peter wilted. "I just thought...what happened to Steve was horrible. Is so..." he squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't even imagine it. Losing a baby. But then Bucky came in and, Mr. Stark - Tony - you didn't see Steve before. I thought he was gone. His head, I mean, his mind. He was just staring out the window, but then Bucky came in and it was like he made Steve whole. Because he did. That's what a bond does, right? It makes you whole."

"You're already a whole person, Peter. You don't need a smelly old alpha to be whole."

Tony wasn't getting on the bed. Wasn't even taking off his pants. For all that he said that he wasn't going to treat Peter like a kid he sure seemed to have his kid gloves on.

"What if I want one?" Peter demanded. "Not because having an alpha means more protection, or easier heats, or having a place or whatever. Not because I'm an omega and I'm supposed to be mated. What if I want this bond because I want you?"

Tony looked so sincerely baffled that Peter felt a surge of rather grown-up fondness. "But...why?"

"You're smart. You make mistakes but then you try your best to apologize and make things better. You care about me and my friends and my life. You want to make the world easier, and fairer." Peter shrugged. "That's all I know so far. But I bet there's a whole lot of other reasons to want you. Tony."

Shaking his head a little, Tony finally pulled down his suit pants. Just regular boxers beneath. He crawled up on the bed next to Peter but didn't even touch him. "Speech like that gets you a night in the bed, kiddo. But nothing's happening here, okay? I'm tired as hell, you're still a child, and there's at least three trained assassins on the other side of that door."

"You're forgetting Natasha."

"I most certainly am not forgetting Natasha, she was the first assassin I thought of."

"Then you're forgetting Captain Coulson."

"Mr. Agent Agent? Definitely a desk jockey."

"You should ask him about Budapest sometime."

"Okay, you name the top three assassins in the tower right now. Go."

Peter shrugged. He scooted a little bit so that his head was sort of kind of on Tony's shoulder. "Natasha, for sure. Then probably Bucky because he already killed someone today."

"Ouch, we don't joke about that, kid."

"Sorry. Um. And MJ."

"MJ?"

"I don't know. She has that whole scary girl thing."

Tony sighed, his hand somehow in Peter's hair. Not that he minded, like, at all. "And that's reason number two thousand why I'm way, way too old for you, kiddo."

But Peter didn't hear him. He had already fallen asleep on his bondmate's shoulder.