Berlin

Tony comes home to the baffling sight of Bucky glaring at his underwear as if it had insulted his mother. Not that either of them knew what mothers were supposed to be like.

“Uh… Bucky? Are you mad because I didn’t clean after myself? Look, there was this awesome idea I had about a drone, and naturally, I had to write it down, but then - “

Bucky expertly cuts off his rambling with a peck on the lips. “I’m not mad, Tony. Check the bag in the bedroom. I got something for you.”

As the excitable inventor scampers off, Bucky discreetly chucks the garment in the bin. Tony’s happy yelp helps soothe away the agitation from the encounter with Stane.

As Anthony emerges, beaming in his new oversized band t shirt, Bucky is overcome with a feeling equal parts soft and intense. He doesn’t know how to name it, but it prompts him to gather the man in his arms and hoist him off the floor. Tony giggles and pecks him on the lips, and it feels like the first breath of air after breaking water surface. The euphoric feeling however, does not last as memories from the conversation with Stane creeps up.

“Tony, have you talked to any strangers today?”

What he receives is an unimpressed arch of brows and a cocked head. “Strangers? Really?”

When Bucky resumes his serious and concerned stare, Tony rolls his eyes. “Well, I gave some change to a homeless person with a cat. His name was Käse because he’s orange. The cat, not the homeless person. Her name was Sofia. I love that name, you know. I think we should name our daughter Sofia -“

Tony is in full rambling mode again. While Bucky usually would hang on to every warble and chirrup, there were pressing matters concerning his mate’s safety.

“Tony, have you talked to an athletically built blond man, about 5’9’’ in height?”

Tony blinks, his mind rapidly shuffling through the day. “Yeah, there was this American tourist. I helped him buy Bratwurst from that awesome vendor. He kept calling it German hotdog. And you know Rolf hates it when people call it hotdog. I mean, I can’t blame him. Why do they call it hotdog anyway? Where did that come from? It’s not even - Wait, why?“

Bucky sighs in relief, but tenses up again. Of Course Tony isn’t a traitor, but why did the shield agent speak to him? Did shield find out Tony’s relations to him, or even his role in Hydra? Or was this all just an improbable coincidence?

When he becomes dimly aware of a mild pressure on his face, he blinks to find Tony pinching his cheeks with both hands and pulling them upwards.

“Back on Earth, frowny face?”

Grasping Tony’s hands in his, he tells him of the events that occured. Hydra would greatly disapprove, but he’s never been one to withhold any information except for the explicitly classified ones when it came to Tony.

As always, Tony soothes him with logic and numbers. The probability of Shield having found out about his relationship with him is still uncomfortably high, but coupled with other factors, the probability of his coming to harm by their hands is lower than 20%.

“And!” he adds, “Even if Shield is indeed evil and insane enough to kidnap a pregnant omega off the streets, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. Well, at least, I will have one as soon as Hydra sends me the damn materials I requested two weeks ago. But look at this blueprint! I’ll literally have it up my sleeve. It’s nano tech and-”

His mate truly never stops talking. He does enjoy Tony’s chirping.

‘But I’d much rather listen to other sounds coming out of that mouth for the moment’, he thinks as he sneakily guides Tony to the bed.

“Ah,” Is the first of those sounds his omega makes as Bucky presses him flat against the bed, a hand curled securely at the back Tony’s neck to soften the fall. His omega’s hands tangle in his hair as Bucky hungrily swallows his moans with a kiss.

Tony’s new t shirt is quickly divested. It finds itself haphazardly thrown somewhere in the room to soak up their scent in a lurid baptism of sorts. Other garments follow, and soon, Bucky is kissing a trail down his pregnant mate’s naked form, lips and loose hair brushing against heated skin. He knows this path of pilgrimage well and makes stops at his favourite places of worship. His neck, the scent gland Tony so eagerly bares and the oily sweetness of it under his tongue. Lower, to his nipples that will bead with milk when the time comes. He enjoys the warm velvet touch and the way Tony arches for more. When he moves down to his navel, knelt between his omega’s legs and back bowed as if in prayer, he takes a moment to marvel at this miracle that they have made together. A life, of his and Tony’s blood. A culmination of their love, and an undeniable claim of their bonding. He can’t deny that things will be hard for the child, but he would give his life to protect their pup. Tony would no doubt do the same.

And by god, he’s lucky to have him.

Bucky swallows down on his length in one swoop, wringing a cry out of his mate. The hands are back in his hair, flexing and curling as Bucky puts his fingers to work. The scent and feel of Tony’s hot slick sends his throat vibrating with an appreciative moan, quickly echoed by his mate. He can never resist at this point. He pulls off and plunges his tongue into the sweet wet heat.

“Buck-!”

Tony chokes out as he always does. It might have been a ‘Fuck’, but Bucky’s too lost in the heat, slick, and scent to care. With a last growling bite to Tony’s ass cheek, he rears up, stifling his mate’s rapturous scream with a hard kiss as he plunges in.

No matter how many times they do it, it’s always a new feeling. They moan shakily into each other’s mouth. Bucky savours the feeling of teetering on the edge of the highest precipice where everything is too much and just right until he can’t hold it any longer. He clamps his teeth around Tony’s neck and snarls as he fucks him with abandon.

“Ah- ah! Faster! Alpha!”

Tony cries, clinging and bucking against him with equal enthusiasm. His omega marks him with scratches on his back as bucky marks him with bruises on his hips. He wants to tell him how divine he feels, the slick sliding heat around his cock, teasing his knot.. a vice grip pulling him into uncontrollable fall. But his mind is too focused on sensation to waste brain power at attempting verbalisation. All he can say is, “Mine.” as he takes and takes and claims.

The knot slips in and Tony cums with a gasping “Oh -”, clenching and pulsing all around him and triggering Bucky’s own orgasm. He pants against Tony’s purring form as every last drop is wrung out of him.

Later, on their side and waiting for the knot to subside, he nuzzles against the sweeping brown lashes of Tony’s sleepy eyes before pressing a kiss on his forehead.

“We’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Tony snuggles closer, burying a content sigh into his chest.

“I know.”

---------

Staking out the Winter Soldier often comes with some free time to spare, thanks to the sheer inability to do much of anything where he’s concerned. It does, however, allow them to sample some of the cultures of the places they’re staying at.

“Steve, Steve, You Have to try the German hotdog vendor near Stress burger street”

“Strasburg”

“Yeah, yeah. They’ve got the best hotdogs in the world!”

“Eh,” Steve sniffs. “The chilli hotdog we have back home is still the best”

“Patriot” Clint snorts. “Oh, speaking of home, I met a real pretty omega. He helped me buy the thing from that grumpy vendor owner. Says he’s from New York too. Taken, though.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just focus on the mission. We’re not tourists.”

“Hey, I say make the most of it and eat all the sausages you can” Clint grins lecherously and as always, Steve follows with a groan.

“But really, when’s the last time you had fun, Captain Serious? Aside from the epic rooftop chase yesterday.”

“That wasn’t fun.” Steve grumbles. “I got a faceful of weird gas and almost fell off a building.”

His coworker, not one to spare sympathy for poor insubordinate Steve, cackles at that.

“Focus, Barton. We’re here.”

The pair of them sober up as they near the rendezvous point; an unused branch of the subway system.

“Right. Ready to greet the Baron?”

---------

Where a normal person’s footsteps would have echoed sharply in the dark, dust scented tube, Bucky’s stay silent as he nears the maintenance exit by the side of the tunnel. His caution proves to be well advised when he rounds the corner and comes face to face with Barton, the Shield agent from his files. Their trainings kick in and both men act instantly with a staccato burst of movement, Bucky in offence and Barton in defence.

The man is fast and the defensive grip around his wrist which Bucky tears out of is almost bone cracking, but Bucky recognises in him the signs of a man more accustomed to long range supportive combat. He crowds against the agent with rapid attacks, not giving him the opportunity to strike or parry, and slams him hard against the wall.

It’s not a killing blow, though not for lack of trying. But the obstacle is down and it’s presence indicates there are more pressing matters to tend to.

When he gets to the traitor, a gunshot and a frankly embarrassing scream echoes and clashes in the reverberant tunnel, the bullet having been blocked by a Shield issued arm shield and the missed target, deciding to resort to more primitive ways of preserving his life than negotiation, bolting down the tracks.

This is bad. He wasn’t supposed to fail this shot. Now he has the annoyingly familiar agent between him and his target, who’s getting further and further away.

No. He doesn’t have to go through the agent. He’s learned these tracks and knows where his prey is headed.

Bucky ignores the man’s defensive stance and throws a smoke bomb at him before turning on his heels and taking flight. Old tricks. It will barely delay him. He reaches agent Barton just as he begins to regain consciousness.

But this will - He thinks, and a second gunshot rings. He barely hears two pained shouts - one of physical pain, the other of sympathy and shock, before he bolts over the wounded man without slowing down.

Strucker would have taken the next maintenance exit out. An exit that inconveniently leads to the crowded station.. But it’s not the first time he had to stalk a target and manoeuvre them to a quiet alley. Or if he’s fast enough..

Yes. He reaches the expected exit just as Strucker tries to slip out only to be pushed back in. The soldier slams the door behind them.

“No, wait, listen to me!”

“Hail Hydra”

“Hydra has abandoned you! Stane, he-“

The name is unexpected. It gives him pause. Strucker takes the chance to continue.

“Stane, that snake. He’s turning them against us. Using slander and blackmail to remove competition. They already think you’ve betrayed Hydra and gone to Shield.”

“We haven’t. That was you.” Trained habit makes him twitch to kill the traitor before he spews more lures to turn him against Hydra.. but he has also been trained to spot lies. He doesn’t see any.

“It’s not what they think. Listen to me, Barnes! They’re already watching you. Especially your hen.”

“He has Nothing to do with-“

“Pregnant omegas are known to have clouded judgements when it comes to their pup’s future. And most of us know he’s your emotional liability. Just, please, you know I’m telling the truth. Let's help each other!”

The soldier is silent for a few seconds, his expression as unreadable as always.

“I know you’re telling the truth.”

The baron’s relieved sigh ends abruptly in a rasp as Bucky draws a knife across his throat.

“But I have to finish this mission.”

---------

He should’ve used poison. Or strangulation. A leaking body is so much harder to clean up.

When Bucky arrives home late due to a moment of theatrics that he must be picking up from Tony, his mate is at the computer as usual. But the furrow of his brows has him instantly alert and tense. And the words following are more than worrying.

“Bucky, why are we locked out of the Hydra database?”

He tries for a casual “What do you mean?” as he starts to silently comb the flat. He waits for Tony’s distracted answer before tapping a short morse code on to Tony’s shoulder.

‘bug’

One, behind a potted plant. Another, behind a framed picture. And of course, in the bin, between the linings of Tony’s underwear. There may be more, but it doesn’t matter at this point. He’ll kill Stane for this.

Tony’s staring at him with wide questioning eyes and he quietly helps him out of his seat. They need to leave.

They don’t make it to the door before a controlled blast knocks it off its hinges. Almost instinctively, Bucky pushes Tony into the bathroom and up against a wall, shutting the door behind them. Wood splinters prick at his back as bullets assault the bathroom door, and he presses Tony against the wall, covering him from them while his mate rapidly taps on his phone.

There’s a confused shout and then screams as a Roomba barrels through the agents and detonates.

They take the chance to rush into the living room, Bucky shooting a few agents down in the confusion.

“Tony, get to the fire escape!”

There are more agents than he had expected. Already spreading out in the small living room. Tony throws another gadget over the couch they’ve taken cover behind and sprints toward the window. The gadget whizzes around throwing off sparks. Bucky recognises it as a prank toy Tony made with scraps, but it provides enough distraction for him to cover for Tony as he makes his escape.

The fight in the living room doesn’t last too long after that, but the gun shots continue outside, and Bucky runs to the window with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Tony’s huddles behind the metal staircase a few floors below, fighting a losing battle against at least a dozen Hydra agents, and not all of them are grunts. But there’s another man defending him. Surprisingly, Bucky recognises the man as the Shield agent he thought he’d eluded at the station. There’s no time to ask why or how, so he fiercely throws himself into battle.

He doesn’t get to use his gun before it’s knocked out of his hand with a hard kick. Bucky struggles to make some distance with the new threat on the restricted space, and is disheartened to see another semi familiar face. Josef.

He had sparred with him before. No, spar is not the word. Hydra set them against each other like fighting dogs. A blood sport thinly disguised as training and observation. It was fortunate they didn’t use cyanide filled molars anymore. It wasn’t until Bucky was choking on his own tooth that their superiors dragged Josef off him. There was additional punishment for losing. They didn’t let him see Tony for a month.

He remembers their taunts. About how he failed as an alpha. That they should let Josef mount the bitch instead.

He knew they wouldn’t dare risk compromising their golden goose, but their words were effective in driving Bucky mad in his confines.

Bucky breathes deeply to solidify the anger into determination. He will not fail this time.

He has one advantage. Josef had always been the arrogant sort. Even now, he silently challenges Bucky to a hand to hand combat instead of following protocol and shooting him.

Hundreds of calculations and scenarios go through Bucky’s mind, and like a deadly game of chess, the fight starts with a deflected jab to the neck. Unlike chess, the double clock is pressed with each split second, with barely any time to think between one move and another. Dodges, parries, and lashes blur together. He catches a knee to his ribs but manages to use that moment to throw Josef off balance. With no luxury to waste any given opportunity, Bucky strikes with the palm of his heel and thrusts a knife through Josef’s bared neck. Josef slumps backward in the railing in an awkward position, dripping blood down the lower levels.

The rest of the world comes back in a slightly dizzying swirl and Bucky whips around to locate Tony.

Time seems to slow impossibly as the air rushes out of his lungs.

There’s a van. They’re dragging Tony towards the van as he screams and struggles. They make eye contact and Bucky barely registers his motions as he leaps from the fourth floor balcony, rolls, and jumps to a mad dash. Bullets graze his shoulders and mar the asphalt around his feet, but all calculations are thrown out the window, replaced with one instinctual objective. Get to Tony.

But he doesn’t need calculations to know he’s too late. Tony’s desperate gaze cuts out behind black doors as the van skids away.

He keeps running, distantly aware of screaming Tony’s name. The world is graying out and when all he sees is the black dot disappear into the haze, his legs give out and he tumbles to a halt, with one last hoarse whisper of Tony’s name grazing his lips.