Chapter 1
Steve wasn't sure what made him leave the comfortable warmth of his small cottage and waddle through the thick November snow and into the biting wind. Maybe he was restless from being stuck indoors in fear of catching another cold or maybe he was entranced by the thick blanket of snow covering everything he could see.
He didn't think too hard about it and before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of a field- his field, the property he owned was large and only seemed more so now that all of the plants have withered away.
Above, the sky was clear and bright. There wasn't as much pollution this far north and each clear night the scattered stars and littered satellites glittered down at him. He absolutely loved the sight, even now when his fingers were numb and his nose was pinked from the cold.
Stars reminded him of how he found his home and a small smile graced his lips at the memory.
With a sigh, he turned to start the short walk back when a streak of light suddenly raced across the sky before disappearing below the tree line. Seconds later, there was a loud- ear grating crash of metal digging into hard earth and Steve have abandoned any and all thoughts of going back home now.
Thankfully, he had taken enough strolls around the wooded area to guess where the crash had been. His legs were heavy with layered clothing and snow but he ran as fast as his small frame would allow, pushing past branches and almost falling in his haste.
A glint of metal caught Steve's eye from between two large trees and he heard the person before he saw them- stilling his next step.
"Where the fuck-"
It was a low voice, like gravel and revving motor parts and Steve almost convinced himself that the shiver dancing down his spine had been from the cold.
Slowly, he peeked around the trunk of a tree, catching sight of the metallic craft. More like a pod than anything else and when he looked up to observe the person he barely managed to bite back a gasp.
Because he was like no human that Steve's ever seen.
Beautiful, yeah that was obvious, but the tensed weight of his shoulders screamed alarm and the sharp angles of his face were so utterly lost that Steve ached to smooth them into something softer.
Also, he was entirely nude and Steve couldn't will away the blush crawling across his face and down his neck.
"Can I...help you...?" Even to his own ears, his voice sounded small but he wasn't sure how to approach the other man without startling him. Steve's eyes kept flickering between the man's metal arm and the numbers running down his sternum.
Storm filled eyes shot up to meet his own and like a switch, the man fell unconscious into the snow.
Technically, Steve wasn't born with a name. They were given on his planet but he had been labeled an outcast from birth. They tested him; prodding and poking, scanning and dissecting down to his most basic form yet they couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
He was a little too caring, too difficult to mold into their idea of the perfect soldier and that was 'simply unacceptable'.
So instead, he was given a long series of numbers neatly tattooed down his chest. The numbers were enough to identify his body if he ended up dead somewhere on their dark planet but he was clearly not welcome to stay.
Not that it mattered much. Steve couldn't fight the curious pull that space had on him and thinking back on it, he was grateful that they were practically pushing him into a space craft to leave.
Because space was stunning.
He traveled through the vast, beautiful galaxies and spacious nothings in between until he finally stumbled upon it.
A small star, not the smallest he's ever seen but far from the largest they could become, and the planets orbiting it seemed to call to him. Steve would've usually zoomed past but there was the cutest little blue planet that he just had to see.
Steve wasn't exactly planning on crashing but the space craft had entered the atmosphere of the little blue planet at an odd angle. All the command boards began to shut down and in seconds, he lost all control.
And consciousness.
When he woke, it was to the soft humming of a tune he didn't recognize and the kind, wise eyes of Sarah Rogers. She had pulled him out of the wreckage and nursed him to health.
For months, he stayed in her care; learning about human culture, about art, and who the caring soul of Sarah Rogers was. Eventually, he changed his form to her likeliness, which was the highest honor his race could give.
But the process had been unbelievably painful. His new body was extremely fragile to Earth's conditions and wouldn't function properly.
The first few weeks after the change, his new body fell sick often as it was exposed to new strains of bacteria and harsh elements. His body was tiny and thin, with straw blonde hair and big blue eyes like Sarah's.
Steve couldn't find it in him to be too upset about his odd heartbeat, severe asthma, or anything else on the long list of his accumulating health problems. Not when it meant Sarah would pet his hair and sing him songs.
Not when he could see her face in his own.
"Steve," she called to him one night when she was stirring some sort of soup she swore would make him feel better. "I think Steve is a lovely name don't you?"
He had been sketching, stretched out on the sofa under layers of blankets due to another run in with tuberculosis at the time and could only smile back tiredly.
"I think Steve would be a great name for you," still- she didn't look up from the steaming pot as she spoke and he could feel his throat close up with emotion.
"I- I thought," he cleared his sore throat awkwardly. "I thought you wanted to name your son Steve- when you had a child, I mean..."
His thin, pale fingers twisted in his lap now, abandoning his pencil to try and ease his bubbling excitement.
"Well, yes but," she stopped stirring and turned to look at his face flushed pink from sickness and big blue eyes staring up at her with unspoken wonder. "I consider you my son, you know."
"You do...?"
"If that's okay," she trailed off uncertainly until he nodded hard enough to hurt his neck. "Of course you're my son, Steve. Don't let anyone tell you different."
Steve felt a smile grow across his face as she hugged him to her chest, petting his hair as tears blurred in his eyes. He had never had anything like a mother. He had been a nobody. An outcast. A loose string. An orphan until he crash landed on her property.
"Oh, my dear boy, don't you cry," soft thumbs wiped all his tears away and she pressed a light kiss to his hair. "Don't cry."
But how could he not? He finally had a name and more importantly- a home.
Sarah Rogers' cottage sat on a wide, private owned forest in what might as well have been the middle of nowhere. The closest property to it was a farm a few miles away and a mostly deserted gas station another mile or so from that.
Steve absolutely loved the isolation, it meant no one would come poking around at the new, sickly addition to the Rogers household and, despite her many talents, even she couldn't explain the teenager that had appeared overnight.
Or the fact that he was spitting image of her when she had no children or immediate family to speak of.
Luckily, no one visited but that led Steve to wonder how lonely Sarah had been before he came along. And maybe, his presence gave her a fraction of the comfort she gave him.
He could only hope.
When she passed away years later, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He forgot that his new body had to eat and (after becoming so sick (stupid human illnesses and foreign bacteria) he almost died himself) after that he slowly adjusted to life without his mom.
It was a painfully lonely transition.
He inherited the property and everything she owned. Groceries and the money for his medications were pulled monthly from her (crazy large) account and delivered to the front porch like clockwork.
Sarah had made sure Steve wanted for nothing and left a plastic square (credit card, he reminded himself) to order anything else he needed.
Gods, he still missed her...
Tonight though, he was pacing the floors while the strange man from the forest slept soundly in Steve's bed.
"Hello...?" A hesitant, sleepy slow voice filtered through Steve's phone as he clutched it like a lifeline.
"Hey, Sam, I-"
"Did you really just call me at- at 3 in the fucking morning, Steve?" He could hear the long, suffering sigh that followed but Steve really didn't have time for another rant about Sam's strict sleeping schedule.
So before he could launch himself into the very long, very familiar speech, Steve continued.
"You know, you're the one that said to call if there was an emergency," there was a squawk of protest. "And emergencies don't wait for you to sleep soundly through the night."
Sam's chuckle was low and fleeting, "Yeah, but I meant alien-related emergencies. Like the kind I'd be required to take care of because of my job."
Steve nodded before remembering that Sam couldn't see him, "Yes."
"Is this alien-related because if you're asking me why humans put fruit on pizza, I'll say it again; I don't know- "
"I found a human that crash landed in my yard...," Steve trailed off, impatient and unsure of what to do now that he's dragged the heavy body of a stranger into his home.
"They crash landed? Like from a ship?"
"No, no," Steve assured him. "More of a pod. I think he was being returned. I think... Um, I think he might be an abduction victim and I need someone to come dispose of the pod."
Sam hummed thoughtfully, already sounding more awake, " I can send some clean up guys but you do realize I'll have to drive down and question the abductee, right?"
"Sam...," he whined, letting his forehead fall onto the cool table top in defeat.
"You can't keep him, Steve. He's a person," Sam chided. "He'll need therapy. Health check-ups. Possibly all sorts of scans to make sure his organs have adjusted to Earth again. It's a long, long laundry list and if he has PTSD from the incident he won't react well to living with... Well, you, Steve."
Sometimes Steve forgot that Sam was the director of the Men in Black and even though Steve was now a registered extra terrestrial with clearance to live in isolation, he had very few friends because of it.
So what if he wanted to keep the handsome human he found? Could you really blame him?
"I don't technically have to tell him... And I wouldn't force him to stay here, Sam," Steve bit his lip nervously. " But he can if he wants to, right? I mean, where would he go? We don't even know how long he may have been gone for..."
There was a long silence and Steve could feel Sam weighing a few things in his head before sighing.
"Look, I won't make you tell him. That's your right to disclose but if he wants to leave, you let him- okay? The last thing I need is another court case because of you."
Steve groaned, "That guy was asking for it!"
"No, Steve. Pretty sure he wasn't asking for a bloody lip. You still aren't welcome in that bar anymore," Sam reminded him as Steve muttered under his breath. "I'll be down by the end of the week, we can talk about other options when I get his statement."
"Thank you, Sam. Really," Steve said softly, a little bashful now that he had calmed down. He did feel a little bad about waking Sam up so late.
"Yeah, yeah. Say hi to my husband so he knows I'm not sneaking off to talk to some mistress," there was a weird shuffling noise. "You're on speaker."
"I'm sorry for waking your husband, Riley," Steve sing-songed into his phone and laughed when he heard an annoyed yawn. "I heard he gets cranky without 9.5 hours of beauty sleep."
Sam said something that sounded suspiciously vulgar as Riley laughed loudly.
"Fuck you, Steve."
"We love you, Steve," Riley said at the same time and they exchanged good nights before hanging up.
He didn't plan on keeping a human hostage but if he could make him comfortable enough to stay... Well, that'd be okay, right?