#Caretaker! Steve

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic — 3/3

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

wc: 3k | rating: T | cw: head trauma, brain injury talk | a special thank you to @dame-zoom-a-lot for betaing! <3

The days following Steve’s Houdini act are fuckin’ tense, to say the least.

Eddie had messed up. Royally.

He could’ve sworn that when Steve took off, he’d ducked into the Recovery Center, y’know, the place he was supposed to go! If Eddie had known Steve took a detour and missed the building entirely, Eddie would’ve ran a lot fucking faster than he had. Especially after…

Well, no point in shying away from it anymore; after Steve confessed his love for him.

And how did Eddie return the favor? By being a total bone head and losing Steve for the entire goddamn day! Not to mention a good chunk of the night. Jesus… It’s no wonder Robin’s still sore.

Now, in Eddie’s flimsy defense, Steve had thrown him for one hell of a loop. One that Eddie was still seeing double from. He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around what he’d heard; Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High, being into Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson, the drug-dealing ne’er do well hailing from the Forest Hills trailer park. Forgive him for finding the threads a little difficult to tie together! He’s not exactly Steve’s usual fare.

But it had happened.

Things have fundamentally, metaphysically, allegorically and subatomically shifted between the two of them—there’s no getting away from that, no matter how long they try and dance around this.

Steve said he loved Eddie. Love.

That isn’t something you just move on from. At least, it isn’t something Eddie can move on from. Especially when he didn’t even get to say his piece!

The trouble is that Robin’s in all-out guard dog mode with Steve, keeping Eddie at arm's length even after a whole goddamn week goes by. Sure, she’d accepted his apology (albeit begrudgingly), but she isn’t exactly keen on letting Steve out of the house without her by his side—much less with Eddie. It would be kind of heartwarming if it weren’t so goddamn annoying.

Steve isn’t some damsel locked away in a tower, and Eddie wasn’t some knight in shining armor, planning to scale the side of a stone tower to avoid the sleeping, fire-breathing dragon…

But as Eddie stares up at the fire escape attached to the side of Steve and Robin’s brick apartment building… he'd be lying if he said he didn’t sort of feel a little shiny.

Part of Eddie can’t believe it’s really come to this, but… he just can’t stand the idea of wasting another goddamn night tossing and turning, going over and over Steve’s words in his mind. Thinking about the way Steve’s hand felt in his, the way his eyes went all soft when he told Eddie he—he loved him…

Jesus H. Christ, this is way beyond his skill set—he’s way out of fucking league here, but there’s nothing for it. Eddie needs to settle this, once and for all.

So, he takes his bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and presses the flat of it to his forehead while his hands make a tight knot in the back. He zips his leather jacket as high as it’ll go and gives his hands a shake to try and get the jitters out.

It’s not exactly a helmet and plates of armor, but it’ll have to do. Eddie takes a breath, steels himself, then climbs on top of a precariously stacked pile of milk crates that he’d crafted and leaps for the steel ladder. As soon as his feet leave the plastic tower, it collapses under him, clattering to the ground. Eddie knows he shouldn’t look back, but he sneaks a peak over his shoulder and… yep. He really shouldn’t’ve looked. He’s not that high up, but it’s enough that if he falls, he’d be feeling it tomorrow. Might even bust an ankle if he landed wrong.

He turns back to the task at hand; getting to Steve.

There’s a terrifying moment where he’s not sure if he can pull himself up, but somehow, he finds the strength to do just that. If only Coach D’Amour could see him now!

He grunts as he pulls himself up onto the platform, belly getting scratched against the grates as he goes. Eddie scrambles to get his legs underneath himself. Then, he stands, dusts himself off and takes the win, graceless as it was.

The fire escape is rickety and fucking loud as he takes the steps two at a time. It’s cold enough that even the quickest touch of the steel railings drains all the heat out of his fingers, so he just keeps them balled up, swinging at his sides. The wind is especially chilly up here too, something he hadn’t noticed on the ground, but now that he’s up a couple of floors there wasn’t anything for the wind to buff off except the side of the building and, well, Eddie.

By the time he reaches the third floor, his nose is running and no doubt red and irritated looking, and he’s woefully out of breath.

Kind of a pathetic knight, he thinks as he sniffs back the worst of it, wipes the underside of his nose on the sleeve of his jacket to get rid of what’s left.

The light in Steve’s room is on, reaching out to him through the lines of Steve’s shut blinds.

His hand is raised, wind-chapped knuckles knocking against the glass of his window before he can plan out what he’s going to say. He just wants to see Steve. Get eyes on him again. Work this out.

It’s a painful few seconds before Eddie can see movement from inside the window. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently waits for Steve to let him in. His breath fogs the window.

Then finally. Finally! The blinds are pulled up. He smiles and—

Oh Christ on a cross. That’s not Steve.

Eddie’s stomach damn near falls out of his ass as the woman on the other side of the glass screams, as shrill and high as if she were next to him.

And of course she’s in a fucking towel.

Eddie slaps one hand across his eyes and the other up in surrender, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Shit, Jesus, I—I’m not a pervert, I swear!”

Debatable, his brain supplies, entirely unhelpful in an emergency situation. But hey, what’s new?

“I was looking for my friend, not—Please stop screaming!” He screams.

“Eddie?” A familiar voice calls from below.

The hand on Eddie’s eyes lift and looks down through the metal grates under his boots. “Steve!”

Steve’s hanging half out his window, peering up at him with a bewildered expression on his face. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie holds his arms out like it should be obvious. “Seeing you!” He snaps.

Eddie’s attention is briefly yanked back to the scandalized looking woman in the window in front of him. “I’m—yeah, I’m gonna—” He backs away, and swings around the escape before thundering down the stairs, shouting another apology up in his shameful retreat.

Steve backs up in order to let Eddie in. He climbs in as gracelessly as ever, all knees and elbows, stiff from the cold. He slides the window shut behind him once he’s in, dropping the blinds for good measure.

He wonders if Hopper is getting a call about a long-haired, wild-eyed, deranged looking peeping Tom at this very moment.

“Smooth.” Steve says from behind him, an edge of playfulness.

When Eddie turns and finally gets a good look at Steve, who looks especially comfortable in his flannel sleep pants and worn sweater, hands on hips. “I was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve snorts softly, “third floor, remember?”

“I counted! Ground floor, first floor, second floor, third floor.” Eddie says, using his hand to indicate his pattern of thought, moving it up a tick with each floor.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. And even though Eddie knows Steve’s laughing at him, he can’t help that warm feeling that pours through him, filling him up. All his cracks and edges, sealed up with Steve’s effortless being.

“No.” Steve raises his own hand, mirroring Eddie’s. He begins notching as he explains, “ground floor, second floor, third floor. The ground is the first floor, dude.”

Eddie frowns. “What? Since when?”

Steve levels Eddie with a flat look. “Since like, the civil war, dude.”

Huh. Eddie frowns. Mulling over the new bit of information. That would’ve been nice to know.

“Why were you even doing out there in the first place? We have things called front doors. And, y’know, phones.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, losing a bit of steam as the words left him. Like he’s realized exactly what Eddie being here, in his rooms, meant.

“I had to see you.” Eddie says, like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world, “Face to face, just me and you.”

“Can’t we just—I don’t know, pretend all of… that never happened? Hell, it might drop out of my head one of these days anyway. Lots of shit does.” Steve’s says, sounding so fucking defeated that it sends a sharp pain through Eddie’s chest.

“Hey,” Eddie makes a face, gets in Steve’s space, “don’t be a jerk to yourself.”

He ducks his head in an attempt to meet Steve’s downturned gaze, which he reluctantly returns. He’s got these big, warm eyes, the color of dark honey—the kind that are hard to look away from, so Eddie rarely does. He’a got a staring problem, he knows, but… damn. Can you really blame a guy?

A nerve in Steve’s jaw jumps when he clenches his teeth together, and salt pools begin forming along the rim of those familiar eyes. When he speaks, it’s stiff. Barely above a whisper. “I’m embarrassed, alright?”

“You don’t gotta be embarrassed, man.” Without thought, Eddie’s hands go to Steve’s arms, fingers hovering around his elbows. Eddie tilts his head again to try and keep eye contact again but Steve seems determined to avoid it.

“Easy for you to say.” Steve huffs, and sits down on the edge of his bed, slipping out of Eddie’s hold, arms still crossed over his chest. “You didn’t totally humiliate yourself in front of your—friend.”

The word, one in which Eddie holds in a most sacred of views, sounds distinctly hollow when Steve says it.

“Steve, listen to me, just for a sec, alright?” Eddie gets down to the floor, one knee buried in the carpet while the others bent out in front of him. “This is my fault.” He confesses, voice full of remorse.

Finally, Steve looks at him. His brows twitch together as he makes a face. “Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true! I—I didn’t mean to, but I’m not exactly big on the whole impulse control thing, as you know, and, thinking back on things I probably… I probably let a few things slip.” Eddie explains, his rings clinking together lightly as he gestures with his hands.

Steve, however, doesn’t look any less confused. He blinks. “What?”

Eddie lets his head fall forward in a moment of defeat as he attempts to gather up his fleeting thoughts. It’s like chasing wet, feral cats up there!

Still, he picks himself back up. For Steve.

“What I’m trying to say is…” Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s knees. Feels the warmth under the soft, worn flannel. The hard muscle. Alive, whole. He tightens his grip. “Steve, I’ve been crazy about you since the first time I ever saw you. Don’t roll your eyes—I’m serious! You sat in front of me in math one year and you forgot your pencil. We were having a test that day, and you asked me if you could borrow one of mine, so I let you have the one I was using. You chewed up the end of it, squashed the eraser to all hell, but then when you gave it back to me, you smiled, thanked me and said, ‘I owe you one.’ It—okay, yeah, so it sounds, like, really small, and probably pretty pathetic, but… I was totally starstruck, man.”

At some point in his little spiel, Steve had uncrossed his arms. So Eddie takes the opportunity to clumsily take Steve’s hands, his insides feeling like a kicked hornets nest. Buzzing. He swallows. “I still am.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut, but there’s a knot in him that’s loosening, Eddie can tell. He’s just gotta keep tugging. He squeezes Steve’s fingers.

“The feeling was cranked up a few hundred clicks because of all the, y’know, near death experiences we went through together. But you get it now, right? You get how this is all my fault?”

“Eddie, you don’t have to—” Steve starts, hands stiffening in Eddie’s hold. Slipping away. But Eddie holds firm, decides to just fucking say it. If Steve could, Eddie could too.

“I’m in love with you too.” He blurts out, and now that he’s said it out loud, it’s like there’s a dam that gets busted inside of him; he can’t stop the rush of words that follows the confession. “That’s what you were seeing. That’s what you were noticing. I thought I was being slick, just keeping it friendly or whatever. Flirting, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d ever actually reciprocate. Because, honestly man, I’m not really used to people taking me all that seriously. ‘Zany, pot-head Eddie, can’t trust anything that comes out of his crooked mouth!’”

Eddie shakes his head, scoffing at his own blind spots, “But… you saw right through that shit—right through me. You didn’t make it up in your head, Steve—you felt it. You were right.”

Steve’s got a funny look on his face, but he nods. A lock of hair falls over his forehead, but he doesn’t remove his hands from Eddie’s to fix it. “You love me?”

That’s like asking if the sun would rise tomorrow morning. Of course. Of course.

Eddie pulls one of Steve’s hands and flattens it onto his chest, over the leather.

“Every time my heart beats, it's your name it calls out, man.” Eddie says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he sees the red creep up on the apples of Steve’s cheeks. “D’you feel it?”

Steve gives a breathless chuckle, hesitating for a split second before he nods, playing along.

Electricity hums under Eddie’s skin, the resulting static snaps in the air around them. Eddie presses Steve’s hand against the wall of his chest a little harder, so that he can feel the pounding a bit better. Then Eddie whispers in time with the rhythm of his lovesick heart, giving it a voice, “Ste-vie, Ste-vie, Ste-vie…”

He keeps chanting until Steve’s grinning, eyes glued to their joined hands. It’s a fleeting thing, though. Eddie watches as that hard-won smile drops and a pinched look takes its place. “Even now? Eddie, I’m not—I don’t think I’m the same person I was before.”

“Are you kidding me? Especially now. In sickness and in health, right?” Somewhere in his brain an alarm sounds, but he doesn’t pause long enough to acknowledge exactly why, lest he lose momentum, “look, Steve, even if you are a little different from the guy you were in high school, you’re still you.”

A beat passes. “What if I never get better?”

“Steve, you will, the doctors said—”

“But what if I don’t? Jesus, Eddie, what if I get worse?” Steve’s voice had gone progressively more hushed as he spoke, as if he were so afraid of its possibility that even voicing it felt risky. Made it real, even in that small way. It’s something Steve’s thought about, Eddie realizes. Agonized over, even.

“Then I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets to take care of you.” Eddie says, sure as shit. Truthfully, he can’t think of anything else he’d rather do, even if Steve hadn’t done a completely insane thing like falling in love with Eddie. His love isn’t conditional. “S’long as you’ll let me.” He tacks on.

It’s like a wall crumbling. Brick by brick, Eddie watches Steve’s resolve collapse. The rim of his eyes shine with unshed tears, his brow relaxes and his chin twitches. “You sure you want that?”

He scoffs, eyes wide. “It’s all I want.” He answers, quickly. A reflex. Who wouldn’t want to be with Steve Harrington? Eddie thought he was lucky just to be in the same fucking orbit as the guy, but now…

Now, as he watches a smile slowly spreads across Steve’s face—fucking Adonis incarnate—it feels like he won the goddamn lottery.

“Okay.” Steve utters, so softly that for a second Eddie thinks he’d imagined it.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, trying his damndest to keep from imploding. He’s fucking vibrating in his skin.

Instead of answering Eddie, Steve decides to clarify himself by leaning forward and pressing his mouth against Eddie’s.

Fireworks go off inside of Eddie, every inch of him. All lit up. Feels like he’s shining just as good as any knight.

One of Steve’s hands snake their way behind Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other remains held over Eddie’s jackrabbiting heart. Their lips part, and their kiss deepens. Eddie tries to keep up.

They eventually end up on Steve’s narrow twin bed laying side by side, legs entangled, kissing until their mouths go dry. Eddie swipes a calloused thumb over Steve’s cheek, savoring the feeling of the barely there stubble, the heat from the blush that never seems to subside.

They don’t speak for the rest of the night. Not even a ‘goodnight’ after Steve crawls over Eddie to flick off his bedside lamp, tugging the comforter up around their shoulders as he settles back into the safe harbor of Eddie’s arms. They don’t need words. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight, all they need to do is to rest.

Whatever comes after, they’ll deal with it together.

—

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[italiansteebie]

steve harrington has a bad habit.

he takes in the dogs and cats no one wants anymore.

he's had elderly dogs, disabled cats, puppies that have grown and lost their sparkle, kittens that had been left in the dumpster. he's taken dogs that families can't handle anymore, and he does it with love. he uses his parents huge house to home animals that deserve it, animals that fill the emptiness.

so what happens after vecna is all said and done, and eddie's dead and gone, and a mangy dog crawls out from under eddie's old trailer while steve's there helping max do some minor repairs? and what happens when steve takes the dog home, names him ozzy, curtsy of eddie taking up every inch of his brain, and nurses the skinny thing back to health, along with the other strays he's taken in.

but ozzy never really liked to be around the other animals, always choosing to curl up next to steve, and maybe it was because he knew how much bigger he was than all of them because, damn. ozzy was a big ass dog.

until one night, steve shoots out of bed, drenched in sweat, chest heaving as he's recovering from a nightmare, and he catches a glimpse of none other than eddie. eddie, who's supposed to be dead. eddie who's supposed to be dead in the upside down, nonetheless, peering at him through his doorway. "what the fuck," he breaths, watching as eddie flinches nervously, "surprise," the metal head cheers flatly.

"what the fuck."

[horsegirlsodapop]

i have so many thoughts always about "easy" kid sodapop curtis. he cries at anything but it's his horse getting sold and nature documentaries on TV and cute stray dogs and things that are manageable and small and easy for his brothers to brush off because they are facts and unfixable. he reassures pony that darry loves him. he tells darry he's doing a good job. he makes them both laugh. he placates and mediates. he plays dumb. he's good with understanding people but couldn't name half the things he feels. he is always happy and carefree and never hurt or angry and he doesn't want to worry his brothers.

[ghostlyfleur]

i have the cold rn and my throat hurts, why can’t i have my stevie here? 🥺

oh, he’d be the sweetest, most doting, caring partner ever!

stevie immediately jumps into a caregiving role whenever you feel upset, tired, sad, unmotivated… but when his sweet girl is sick? he’s spoiling the shit out of you— he buys your medicine, brings home the croissants you like from the bakery, makes you some hot cocoa with heart-shaped sprinkles on top, helps you shower because he knows it’ll make you feel even more comfy, and he doesn’t let you lift a finger! not one! changes the sheets and pillowcases on the bed that you were sweating through, gets you underneath the softest blankets you own (gives you your comfy blanket to hold if you have one), gets his baby all cozied up and maybe he ties your hair back so you’re even more comfy, maybe a braid. of course he also showers you with smooches and cuddles, but before he buries himself under the covers to hold his baby all day and night, he gives you your meds, makes sure to remember at what time you need another dose, checks your temperature, feeds you whatever you can keep down, keeps a huge water bottle next to the bed to keep his baby hydrated.

your stevie is so patient too! no matter how bratty, how pouty, how grumpy you get, he’s there with that fucking lovesick smile on his face, ready to provide for you. he’s definitely the kind of boyfriend that jokingly argues with your tummy if you have a tummy ache, “you better leave my baby alone!” and finally, stevie puts on something on the tv that you enjoy, a comfort movie or show, and holds you tight, “‘s okay, toots, i got you. i’ll be right here when you wake up, love you so much.”

[1heartfanfics]

Can I get some fluffy Steve/Bucky? Either one sick is fine (or both?). Maybe a post mission adrenaline drop masking an on coming stomach bug. Cuddles and belly rubs are definitely a plus, especially with the caretaker being overprotective. Have a happy and safe new year!

TW: depictions of vomit

Steve had come to learn that everyone handles the post-mission adrenaline differently. Peter for example, had been talking his ear off since they got on the jet, practically bouncing with excitement. Clint usually passed out immediately and slept the whole way back to the compound. Tony and Nat usually had a drink or two to unwind, sometimes chatting amongst themselves or quietly in their own worlds. His own response was usually to check in with everyone, play the role of the leader, the protector.

Bucky didn't always handle it so well. Steve had seen him breakdown multiple times after getting home, unfamiliar with the way his mind and body felt as the adrenaline faded. Ever since getting on the jet, Steve had been watching Bucky, unsure of how he'd react. This was his first mission as a whole group since joining the avengers. He'd only done solo missions or missions with just Steve and Nat until now.

Even as Peter rambled on excitedly beside him, Steve was analyzing Bucky's facial expression. Bucky was sitting across from him, staring blankly ahead with one hand gripping the armrest of his seat hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Steve would've preferred for Bucky to sit next to him, but the kid had taken the seat before he could, and Steve didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Steve tried to catch Bucky's eyes, but he seemed lost in his head, not really looking at anything. He was starting to get worried though, Bucky's face had gone a shade of ashen gray in the last few minutes. He was looking more and more unwell as the minutes passed.

A moment later though, Bucky did look at Steve, his eyes pleading. Something was wrong, he needed help. And Steve needed a distraction, for the kid. He turned in his seat, craning his neck to look for Tony. Tony was sitting with Nat, as he'd predicted, toward the back of the plane.

"Hey Parker, I think Stark's trying to get your attention. Why don't you go back there with him and Nat?" Steve said, cutting off Peter's rambling.

"Oh. Right, of course! Thank you Mr. Rogers!" Peter said, jumping up and heading toward Tony. Steve turned around, clearing his throat to get Tony's attention. He quickly took in Peter walking toward him and Steve's pointed look. Steve nodded his head in Bucky's direction, causing Tony to flick his eyes over to the other man, then back to Steve with a nod. Understood.

Steve turned his attention back to Bucky, who was now practically paper white.

"I don't feel good," Bucky blurted out, metal hand also gripping the armrest now.

"Hey, it's alright," Steve quickly moved to sit in the seat to Bucky's right, "What's going on Buck?" he asked.

"S'my stomach," Bucky mumbled, "feeling nauseous." That certainly explained his complexion.

"Okay, hey it's okay" Steve said calmly, "You're coming down off the adrenaline, which can definitely turn your stomach. Just try to take some deep breaths," he continued. Bucky's breathing was started to get erratic, coming in short gasps. He was panicking.

"Stevie-" Bucky gasped, releasing the arm rest with the hand closest to Steve to reach for him, fumbling for something to hold onto.

"I'm right here Buck, I've got you," Steve said, grabbing Bucky's hand in his own. "Just breathe," he instructed, taking some slow measured breaths himself to demonstrate.

"H-how long?" Bucky asked shakily.

"I don't know," Steve admitted, he hadn't been paying attention to how long they'd been in the air as he'd been so worried about Bucky.

"Don't think I can make it," Bucky shook his head, "M'gonna puke soon," he said, voice trembling. His other arm had moved to wrap around his middle, clutching at his stomach.

"That's okay. If you need to be sick then you need to be sick," Steve shrugged, rubbing his other hand up and down Bucky's arm. "You might feel better after," he added.

Bucky didn't say anything, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the seat's head rest. He was definitely going to be sick soon.

Steve realized that everyone else must have noticed the situation by now. He looked out to find everyone watching them, worry written on their faces, silently asking 'is he okay?'. Steve shook his head.

Tony nodded in response, ushering everyone toward the back of the plane with hushed whispers. Steve mouthed a silent 'thank you' then turned his attention back to Bucky, who was now looking a shade greener than a minute ago.

"Come on Buck, let's move," Steve said, standing up. Bucky's eyes opened to look at him, full of fear. Steve grabbed him by both elbows, pulling him to his feet and walking backwards to lead him into the planes bathroom.

He helped Bucky kneel down in front of the toilet, moving to sit behind him. Steve unbuckled the straps of Bucky's uniform, helping him pull it over his head to leave him in just a t-shirt and his uniform pants. He tossed the uniform onto the floor beside them, then pulled the black rubber band from Bucky's wrist and used it to tie up his hair so it would stay out of his face.

"Easy darling," Steve said softly. He brought a hand up to rest between Bucky's shoulder blades, then started to rub gently up and down his back. Bucky leaned over the toilet, bracing himself with his good arm, breathing hard.

"Fuck, my stomach," Bucky groaned, curling in on himself.

Steve scooted closer, moving to wrap an arm around Bucky's waist so he could rest a hand on his stomach. He waited for a moment to be sure Bucky wouldn't protest, before he slid his hand up under Bucky's shirt, rubbing gently.

Bucky groaned again, before lurching forward with a dry heave. He positioned himself over the toilet, belching wetly, before heaving again. This time bringing up a wave of vomit. Steve held him as he continued to cough and gag, but it was clear that he was empty, nothing left to bring up.

Steve gently pulled Bucky away from the toilet to lean back against him, feeling his stomach still contracting against his hand with empty gags.

"Breath Buck, you're all done," Steve said quietly, starting to rub careful circles over Bucky's stomach to help calm it.

After a few minutes, Bucky managed to get his stomach under control and calm his breathing. Now that he was pressed against Steve's chest, he could feel the warmth radiating off of Bucky's body, which was practically limp against him from exhaustion.

"Think you're sick Buck, you've got a fever," Steve said, reaching around to press a hand to Bucky's forehead, confirming what he already suspected. This was more than just an adrenaline crash.

Bucky just groaned in response. No wonder he'd felt so sluggish during the fight today. He'd been coming down with a stomach bug.

"Think you're up for moving?" Steve asked after a few moments.

Bucky was exhausted, but he also wanted to get up off the bathroom floor. As much as he didn't want to face the rest of the team that would no doubt be watching them when they came out, he also desperately wanted to lay down.

"Okay, let's get you up off the floor and laying down," Steve said, as if reading his mind. He looped his arms under Bucky's, hauling him to his feet. Bucky slumped against Steve, leaning into his shoulder at Steve led them back out to their seats. He kept his eyes closed, face flushing with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of the team on him.

"It's okay, they're just worried," Steve whispered, reading his thoughts again. Steve pushed the armrests up on the seats, then helped Bucky to lay down across them.

"You need anything?" Steve asked, crouching in front of Bucky to be at his eye level. Bucky shook his head slightly, eyes still closed.

"Alright. Try to get rest then okay? I'll wake you up when we land," Steve said.

Bucky didn't answer, focused on willing his body into sleep before he needed to throw up again. He hoped he could make it until they were back in the safety of his and Steve's suite at the tower.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 10

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas having all the bits (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

10. Bea

Bucky and Steve negotiate what kind of relationship they're going to have.

Over the course of the following week, Bucky makes good use of the purchases from Twig ‘n’ Tuft. He arranges his new things in an obviously good mood, humming happily as he works. A few things get set aside for later use in the closet, but most of his efforts go towards Steve’s bed, changing out the sheets (they’re silkier now) and blankets (puffier), fluffing the pillows (there are a lot more now), and arranging everything just how he likes.

He’s nesting.

Steve stands in the doorway and watches for a bit, heart bursting with emotions that he knows are directly related to the bond. No way could he feel this utterly content and pleased just from watching a simple act of nesting, otherwise. His omega is feeling safe and comfortable in his home. Steve is providing for him and taking care of him, and it’s making Bucky happy. That’s all Steve wants.

“Need any help?” he asks, not surprised when Bucky says no. Omegas like to nest on their own. Steve is sure he’d mess up whatever Bucky’s nonsensical system is and wind up getting his head bitten off. “Okay then,” he says. “I’m gonna get ready for bed, so …” He grabs some pajamas from the dresser and heads in the direction of the bathroom, intending to brush his teeth and change. “You’re sure you want me in here?” he double checks. “I’m more than happy to take the couch again.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at him. “No Steve. That was pathetic. Six-foot man on a five-foot couch. Stop asking or you’re gonna give me a complex. I want you in here with me.”

Steve smiles gently. “Okay, Buck. Okay.” He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind himself. When he comes back out and climbs into the now-nested bed, he has a moment of indecision, unsure how close he should be, if Bucky wants his space, or if maybe Steve should try to touch—

Bucky scoots back to spoon directly against him, his back to Steve’s chest and a large pillow hugged in front of himself. “Mmm.”

Cautiously, Steve lets his arm drape over Bucky’s waist. “This okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. He wiggles in place a little, settling. “Steve?”

“Mm?”

“... Thanks.” Bucky’s hand finds Steve’s where it rests just over his waist and gives a small squeeze. “For helping me. For everything. I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Steve’s heart melts into something useless and gooey, and he lets go of whatever awkwardness he’d still been holding onto. He pulls Bucky more securely against him and nuzzles into the back of his hair. “You’re welcome, Honey. I want you here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky hums and cuddles further back against him. Later, once he’s dozed off, he purrs.

The next morning, Steve is still half-asleep when he’s suffused by the scent of happy, pregnant omega. He hums, vaguely aware that he’s surrounded by soft, good things. With his eyes still closed, he pulls the softness closer, smiling and nosing into that inherently pleasant scent. He feels so good, turned on and warm and safe. Mate, he thinks dreamily, rolling his hips once, and then again because it feels so pleasurable. Soft and good omega, mmm …

“Steve?” Bucky’s sleep-slurred voice. “Mm, whuddryadoin’?”

Steve wakes and his eyes fly open. He freezes in place, mortified as he realizes that he’s been rubbing his morning erection against Bucky’s boxer-clad ass for God only knows how long. “Oh, shit.” He hears Bucky’s low chuckle, but is still horrified at himself. “Sorry!” he hurries, removing his hands. “Sorry, sorry.”

He’s pulling away, but Bucky turns over in the bed and follows after him. He looks barely awake himself, his hair a mess and his eyes opened to puffy slits. He burrows in against Steve’s chest, rubbing his face on his tee shirt. “S’okay,” he mumbles. “You smell good.” He’s silent after that, and a minute later, his quiet snoring lets Steve know that he’s fallen back to sleep.

Steve untenses and allows himself to hold Bucky again—at first hesitantly, and then with more confidence. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow, his nose near Bucky’s hair. He closes his eyes and falls asleep.

The next time he wakes, it’s to Bucky kissing him on the mouth. Steve inhales and pulls back. “Buck, what’re you doing?”

Bucky blinks. “Kissing you.”

Well yeah, Steve wants to say. He feels bad for his lack of reaction when he sees Bucky’s expression begin to shutter.

“Am I not allowed to?” he asks. “Do you … do you not want that with me?”

Steve exhales. “No, Buck. It’s not that. I just don’t want you to feel like—”

“Like I have to,” Bucky says. “I know.” He moves closer, until their chests are touching. “I know you don’t want me to feel forced or … or coerced or whatever. But I don’t.” Carefully, watching Steve’s reactions, he leans in to kiss him again. When their lips meet, Steve’s stomach flutters with nerves. Bucky kisses him gently, and it’s so sweet and tender that it almost aches. Steve forces himself not to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist again, not to press his leg in between Bucky’s legs and turn into him, push him down into the sheets like he wants to.

But he does kiss back.

They talk about it over breakfast. Steve is in the kitchen making eggs and sausage, and Bucky’s curled up in a corner of the couch with one of his nesting blankets. The tv is set to low volume on a local morning news program. Bucky’s the one who initiates the conversation.

“So, I’m your registered omega now.”

Steve tenses where he’s standing by the stove. “Oh. Yeah. Um …sorry.”

Bucky makes a face. “I’m the one who signed off on it. Why should you be sorry?”

“I dunno,” Steve mumbles. He looks down and focuses on shuffling the sausages around with the spatula he’s holding. Really, there’s a whole lot he’s sorry about. Bucky was a trauma survivor in need of help, and in very short order he’s been impregnated, bonded, and legally bound to an alpha he barely knows. Steve doesn’t know how to explain to Bucky what an injustice that is. “This all just happened so fast,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have choices.”

The tv clicks off, and the next thing Steve knows, Bucky is standing on the other side of the kitchen island, giving him a stern look. “Steve, stop.”

“Stop?” He glances down at the sausages. Stop…cooking?

“Stop feeling guilty about this," Bucky says, crossing his arms and leveling Steve with a look. “It makes me sad and I don’t like it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Look, I’ve been given choices out the wazoo, lately. Everybody back at the hospital made it perfectly clear to me that I didn’t have to go with you. But that’s what I wanted. I like you and I trust you, and you’re the father of my baby.”

Steve’s heart stutters in his chest at hearing it said aloud like that. Holy shit, he really is going to be a father, isn’t he? Holy shit, how the hell is he going to do that? He clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something, but Bucky says,

“And we’re bonded, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” Steve remembers the eggs and hurries to give them a swirl in their pan. “Ah, yeah. We are.”

Bucky nods decisively. “So, I want to be in a relationship with you. A real one, including sex.”

Steve stops, spatula held midair in surprise. “You … what?”

“You, me, living here,” Bucky gestures around the apartment. “I know you’re not going to make me be physical with you, but I want to be.”

Steve’s heart is beating fast inside his chest now. He licks his lips. “Buck, you … you’re a minor. You're eighteen.” That seems like the most obvious problem to him, but Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“Almost nineteen. My birthday’s soon.”

Steve doesn’t know how to break it to him that this doesn’t exactly erase the massive age difference between them. “I’m thirty-one, Honey.” He struggles for what to say next, and of course Bucky mistakes his awkwardness for rejection.

He visibly draws back into himself. “If you don’t like me like that,” he hedges, “or if you aren’t really attracted to me, I wish you’d just say so. I can handle it, but I just need to know what we—”

“No, no. I do. I like you, Buck.” Steve hurriedly covers the pans with their respective lids and flicks both burners off, stepping around the island to pull Bucky into his arms. “And you’re beautiful, Honey. You’ve got to know that.” He hugs him, and Bucky all but melts against him, resting his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. The closeness instantly feels right. Steve can feel the omega relaxing at his words, his scent lightening back to something pleasant. He sighs. All his overthinking things has just left Bucky feeling unwanted, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I guess you can tell that I have some hang-ups,” he mutters.

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah. You worry too much.”

Yeah, he does. But Steve shrugs. He can’t help the second guessing and caution that comes so naturally to him at this point. He’s been trained ad-nauseam to be a victim’s advocate, to never take advantage. “I just want to make you happy,” he admits, giving Bucky a gentle squeeze. “I guess I need to start trusting you to be able to tell me how to do that.”

Bucky hums happily. “Yeah. Good.” He pulls back just enough to meet Steve’s eyes, and he smiles. Then, pointedly, he leans in and kisses him. It’s only a brief kiss, more a brush of lips than anything else, but it makes Steve’s skin tingle with pleasure. Bucky pulls back check, “So now I can kiss you any time I want, right?”

Steve forces a smile. “Yeah Buck. You can kiss me.”

Bucky kisses him once more, then lets him go. “And do other stuff,” he says happily, just as Steve is reaching up to grab plates out of the cabinet.

He freezes. “Oh. Um ...”

“Oh come on, Steve. You’ve fucked me six ways to Sunday already!”

Steve busts out in a surprised laugh, but he can feel his face heating at the intense visual memory that hits him: Bucky, in the heat suite, naked and moaning and coming undone. Steve shakes his head and grabs the spatula back up. “Jesus Buck. Come on over here and get your food.”

Bucky obeys with a smirk, and they heap their plates high with scrambled eggs and sausage links and sit at opposite ends of the couch. Their feet tangle in the middle as they eat. Bucky chews thoughtfully for a while and then says, out of the blue and with determination, “I should learn to cook.”

Steve grimaces down at his plate. “That bad, huh?”

“What? Oh, no!” Bucky laughs and eats more sausage. “No, this is great. I was just thinking how I could make you breakfast. Pancakes and stuff. Omelets. I mean, since you probably don’t have time to do it yourself when you have to get to work in the mornings. Right?"

Steve blinks, taken aback. “Wow that’s … that’s really sweet, Buck.” Bucky smiles and looks back down at his plate, and Steve says, “I still have the next few days off from work. We could try to get your school situation figured out, if you want?”

Bucky looks wary of this idea. “I dunno, Steve. I was always homeschooled. I don't …” He shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m very smart.”

Steve tuts in disapproval. “Of course you’re smart. Just because you might not know certain facts doesn’t make you unintelligent. Remember what I told you?”

“Yeah I know. Bees pollinate flowers,” Bucky mumbles, his discomfort obvious. He’s still embarrassed about his past.

"Hey," Steve offers gently. He nudges Bucky’s socked foot with his own. “That’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll spend the last few days of my leave figuring out a schedule for you, okay? I’ll help you.” The past few days have gone quickly, eaten up by tv marathons, snuggle sessions, and walks around the neighborhood to familiarize Bucky with the immediate area where Steve lives. “We can map out where your sister’s new place is, where you’re going to go for therapy. I’ll even investigate how you might go about taking the GED, if you want. They have study materials. Shouldn’t be hard to figure out.” He keeps nudging Bucky’s foot with his until he gets a little smile from the kid. “You’ll get a transit pass for the train and the bus. You can be totally independent, scoot all over the city if you want.”

Bucky hums and tucks back into his food, but Steve can tell that he’s pleased by the prospect.

Steve still has the next few days off from work, the tail-end of what is officially titled as his “Registered New Mate Leave.”

Steve is forced to explain to—an understandably confused—Bucky, that even though “mates” really is just a social construct and not a true physical thing, the government in New York still uses the term in some of its policies and legislation. “I know it’s contradictory,” he apologizes, when Bucky first perks up at hearing him say the words ‘mate leave’. “It’s stupid, I know. But the important thing is that I have time off where I can help you get settled, yeah?”

Bucky agrees with a tiny nod (and later, a quietly-murmured: “It’s not stupid. I don’t mind being your mate,” which makes Steve fluster but which Bucky also says quietly enough and standing far away enough that Steve can pretend he didn’t hear him say it).

He buys Bucky a transit card and helps him learn how to use the app for the city bus system and the train on his phone, then they decide to take a practice trip together, riding the orange and then the purple line out to the address in Queens where Rebecca's new apartment complex is.

Steve sits next to Bucky on the train and watches as he spends the ride downloading various apps for things like GrubHub and Candy Crush onto his phone. It’s a little hard for Steve to remember that Bucky grew up in a restrictive and backwards cult, when he’s sitting there witnessing the kid take to the modern world like a fish takes to water.

Rebecca’s apartment is all the way out in Flushing. Steve makes a reference to The Nanny, which Bucky of course doesn’t get, because he didn’t grow up watching 90’s cable TV. So Steve promises to add it to their already massive streaming watchlist.

Rebecca has them stay for lunch, and Steve feels kind of bad when they leave her in her lonely apartment with stark walls and hardly any furniture or possessions. She’s still adjusting to the outside world, the same as Bucky is, and Steve is once again very, very glad that he’s been able to bring Bucky straight into a lived-in home with lots of warm things and Steve himself to help. He’d hate to think of Bucky struggling all on his own.

“We should have her over for dinner sometime,” he offers, when he and Bucky are back in Brooklyn and walking towards the OmCare social services building where Bucky’s scheduled for his afternoon intake and assessment. “Your sister, that is.”

“Ooh, yeah. We could do that?” Bucky looks hopeful. “I could make something.”

“Sure, why not?” They walk inside the building and Steve accompanies Bucky up to the check-in desk. He gives him a little side hug, which Bucky turns into a full-on hug, and then leans up and kisses him. It’s just a quick peck, but it makes Steve flush halfway down his neck.

Bucky smiles when he notices and holds Steve’s hand while they wait in line behind one other person. “You’re nice,” he mumbles.

“It’s your apartment, too. You’re allowed to have guests and go in and out and cook whenever you want. And I’m glad you’ve got your sister, and that she’s got you.” Steve squeezes his hand. “You’ve both overcome something huge. It’s not easy. I’m proud of you.”

Bucky beams and looks like he’ll say something else, but before he can, the receptionist calls him forward and he signs himself in. They take their seats in the waiting room, and before long Bucky is called back by a kind looking beta counselor, who introduces herself as Beatrice—"just Bea is fine"—Collins, and informs Steve that if he plans to stick around for the entire appointment, he’s got quite the wait ahead of him. Steve says he doesn’t mind. His phone has a full charge.

When Bucky comes out of the appointment—three hours later —Steve’s butt is numb from the waiting room chairs, and Bucky’s holding a folder stuffed full of papers. Steve can immediately tell that he’s in a very good mood. He looks ten times brighter than when he'd gone in. “How’d it go?” Steve asks.

“Great!"

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. My counselor's nice.” Bucky recounts all of the different assessments that Bea had him complete during their session together. “I think she was expecting me to be super screwed up or something,” he jokes. “I don’t know what the heck the hospital told her.”

That you’re a gang rape trauma victim with culture shock and gender dysphoria, Steve thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s been relieved and surprised so far, at how well Bucky’s taken to accepting himself and his body, this bond and the news of an unplanned pregnancy. Steve doesn’t know how that’ll change as the pregnancy progresses, but he’s hopeful that him being there and being accepting of Bucky can help make a positive difference. “Did you get a schedule for therapy?” he asks, when they’re on the bus ride home.

“Mondays and Wednesdays at four,” Bucky says. “There’s a queer youth group that meets after. Bea said she thinks I’ll like it. I told her I’d give it a try.”

Steve blinks in surprise. “Oh. Okay. So ... do you feel like you’re, um, queer?”

Bucky smirks and shakes his head. “No. But I dunno, I might make friends there.”

“Oh yeah. Right, of course.”

His hand migrates to his stomach and he looks down at it. “I still feel really weird about it all. Being pregnant.”

Steve’s heart sinks and he fights not to let it show on his face. “Do you feel like you’re changing your mind? About keeping it?”

Bucky shakes his head but he won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “No, it’s not that. I don’t mean the baby. It’s more about how I’m, like …” He chews his lip as he thinks about it. “How I'm being like this so openly.”

“‘Like this’?”

He nods. “I know people can smell it. And eventually I’ll get big and people’ll see.”

“Yeah.” Steve’s hand creeps over the seat between them, cautious. He personally can’t wait to see Bucky get bigger, but of course he’d never say that. “Is ... that a bad thing?” he asks cautiously.

“No. Not bad. It just makes it so obvious about how I’m, um, you know.” Bucky hesitates for so long that Steve half expects him to throw out an obscene word. “How I'm … omega." He plucks at the front of his sweater, which they bought in the men’s omega clothing section at Target just the other day.

It isn’t much different in style from a typical men’s A/B sweater. Perhaps a bit tighter in the fit—slightly different seams, a more graceful neckline that’s indicative of the gender it’s meant for. Steve thinks it looks good on him, but now he starts to get self conscious and wonders if Bucky truly liked any of the clothes they bought for him the other day. Steve had tried to make it clear that Bucky could pick out anything he wanted. He doesn’t think he’d been the one to steer them in the direction of the men’s O department, rather than men's A/B, but he’ll be damned if he can convince himself of it now.

He opens his mouth to ask, but Bucky’s already speaking, “It wasn’t like that back home. Guys like me were … Well, people knew, of course, but we didn’t talk about it. You hid it, you didn’t go around openly acting all—” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Anyways, it’s just weird to be out in public, knowing everybody can tell. Seeing people act like it’s normal.”

Steve frowns and takes his hand. “It is normal, Buck.”

“I know. I know that. It’s just gonna take some getting used to." Bucky twists his lips and grumbles, "Bea says I’ve got ‘dysphoria’.”

“You do,” Steve says solemnly, thinking about how the kid had refused to even consider the men’s O style underwear at Target. They’d purchased a pack of A/B style briefs instead, which Steve had been happy to do for him. “It’s gonna take time,” he agrees kindly. “And that’s okay. It'll get easier, you'll become more comfortable about a lot of stuff. And for the things that don't feel right, well you know you can express your gender any way you want, right? You don't have to force yourself into some box. Not anymore." He gives Bucky's hand a comforting squeeze. "I think the queer group’s a great idea, Buck. You should go.”

Bucky’s scent gradually lightens, and he leans in against Steve’s side, allowing him to wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him close for the remainder of the bus ride home.

“—and said she thinks I’ll do just fine on the GED,” Bucky tells Steve brightly the next night, when they’re fixing their dinners. “I can study for it online, and take it any time I want. She had this whole indicator test that said my scores were pretty good. Better than what she’s seen from uneducated people in the past.”

“You not uneducated, Buck,” Steve chides. “You were homeschooled.”

“Better than nothing,” Bucky mutters, but says nothing else, and they leave it at that.

They compromise and make little side salads to eat with the frozen dinners that Bucky picked out (the kid has atrocious taste in foods, and Steve has already purchased and paid for overnight shipping on the best prenatal vitamins that money can buy). They settle in to watch a few more episodes of The Nanny, which Bucky has decided that he loves. After that, he picks out a movie to watch, and they sit snuggled on the couch together, some of the new nesting blankets tucked around both of their shoulders.

It becomes apparent that Bucky has taken their previous discussion about physicality to heart. He’s very bold with how close he wants to be with Steve, sitting right up against him as soon as the movie starts and leaning more and more of his weight on him as time goes on. He purrs happily when Steve finally wraps an arm around his shoulders, gives him an affectionate tug against his body, and holds him close. They spend the rest of the movie that way.

By the time the credits roll, Bucky’s hand has been steadily creeping higher up Steve’s thigh for the better part of twenty minutes. They’ve snuggled the entire movie, but Bucky started touching with intent somewhere around the three-quarter mark, and Steve’s done nothing to stop him. He grunts softly when Bucky finally reaches the top of his thigh, and again when he boldly moves his hand and cups the front of his jeans. Steve’s been perked up for a while, and it feels good to finally be touched. “Buck,” he says softly.

Bucky turns into him, putting their faces close together. “Kiss me?” he murmurs, those two quiet words making his lips move in the barest, most enticing way. They look so soft.

Steve’s belly flutters with nerves in a way that it hasn’t done in a long time. Bucky’s so young and sweet, so innocent, and that really gets to Steve more than he wants to admit. He’s never had a virginity kink, but knowing that he’s the only one who’s ever made love to Bucky’s body, the only one who’s ever laid him down in soft spaces and shown him pleasure, God, it makes Steve weak to think about.

It makes him want so much, makes him want to show Bucky every single way there is in the world to feel good. Steve just wants to keep him and teach him and make him happy. And to feel all of that for someone he’s barely known is … It’s a lot. Steve knows they’re bonded, and that he should allow himself a little leeway, allow himself to indulge. Especially since Bucky’s all but in his lap now, having made his wishes crystal clear, lips hovering scant centimeters away from Steve’s own.

Steve closes the distance, pressing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Bucky is soft, just as devastatingly sweet and soft as he looks, and Steve feels his blood run hotter at the sheer lust that courses through him. Fuck, he thinks despairingly. How is he ever going to control himself with this boy?

Bucky makes a tiny noise of pleasure as soon as they’re kissing, a sound that goes straight to Steve’s cock. He’s so eager, pressing closer, his hand between Steve’s legs molding to the shape of his erection and rubbing. Steve grunts and kisses him harder, and Bucky looses the sweetest little whimper. He abandons all pretense of restraint, turning fully into Steve, climbing into his lap and straddling him. His hands come up to cradle Steve’s face as they make out.

Steve groans at the first, hot swipe of Bucky’s tongue. He opens up to it and follows, his hands curling in hard at Bucky’s waist as they get more and more heated, more urgent. Bucky’s hips start grinding down in tight little circles, and when they break away from the kiss momentarily, Steve's slightly out of breath. “Buck,” he pants, and Bucky nods shakily in response.

“Yeah. Oh God, Steve. You feel so … I just wanna … nngh.”

Jesus, Steve thinks. It doesn’t even take a complete sentence from the boy to make heat pulse harder through his veins. He knows that part of it’s from the bond. Logically, he knows. He can feel Bucky’s arousal like an echo of his own, amplifying everything. His cock is throbbing against the seam of his jeans. Bucky’s been rocking needily against it as they kiss, and Steve can smell the omega’s arousal now, honey-sweet and tempting underneath the layers of his clothes. He’s getting wet.

It calls out to Steve’s instincts, makes him want to grab Bucky and tackle him to the floor, make him feel so good that he cries and comes apart for him within minutes. It’s not like it would be hard to do. Steve knows how an omega's body works, knows that he could have Bucky creaming on his fingers before the movie’s end credits are finished rolling. But he forces himself to hold back, because that’s not what he wants, not really. Not for Bucky’s first time in their home. Their home. Christ.

“Sweetheart,” he gasps, when Bucky switches to sucking on his neck and rubbing forwards instead of down, his clothed little cock grinding against Steve’s abs, giving off these needy little whines as he moves. Fuck, it’s sexy. And he’s got his mouth right over Steve’s glands, bringing blood to the surface of skin that’s still tender and sensitive from the recent bondmark. It’s healed by now, but the skin is still pink and thin, delicate from injury. It wouldn’t take much to get it to break all over again, and Steve feels saliva pool in his mouth as he imagines that the same must be true of Bucky’s mark. He grits his teeth and digs his fingers in hard at Bucky’s waist, trying to control himself. “Oh, Honey … okay wait. Wait wait wait.” He pulls back, panting, and after a moment Bucky does, too. His eyes open and flick over Steve’s face. He’s got such fantastic eyes. Irises that flare into a stormy cobalt, and then gray; his pupils blown huge with desire. Steve is fucking helpless under those eyes.

“Alpha,” Bucky breathes, saying it like it might as well be Steve’s name. “Can we? Please? I want it, I do. Please Steve, please take me back to our room.”

It’s such pretty begging. Steve’s hit hard in that instant by how utterly beautiful Bucky is. His dark lashes and plush lips, the wanting pinch between his brows, and the sweet, aroused, pregnant smell of him. Steve wonders how he ever thought he was going to be able to remain respectable, here. “Yeah?” he asks, pushing his hands under Bucky’s sweater to feel his skin. He digs his fingers into the soft give of his waist and feels him shudder. “You sure?”

Bucky grabs his face to kiss him forcefully, his hips jolting down again as he does. “Yes!” he laughs, kissing Steve hard, shoving his tongue inside his mouth with almost no skill. “Fuck, Steve. Come on. Pleease. You’re my Alpha, aren’t you?” He’s only asking lightheartedly, but Steve’s balls still clench and throb as if he’s been issued a challenge, and his growl still intensifies to something rich and possessive, rolling deep in his chest. Bucky makes a delighted sound at hearing it, and his scent spikes. He clings to Steve and tucks his face in his neck, humping him harder and moaning, “C’mon Alpha. Take me back there and hold me down. Make it feel better. Aren’t I your omega? Don’t you want to breed me up in our nest?”

“Fuck,” Steve says tightly. This kid’s too clever. He figures things out. “Bucky,” he growls.

“Yeah." Bucky drags his teeth over Steve’s bondmark and sucks, hard, on the glands. He releases with a 'pop' and a harshly whispered, “So make me feel good like you’re supposed to,” against the shell of Steve’s ear. And Steve breaks. He shoves up to standing with Bucky hoisted in his arms. The coffee table scrapes loudly across the floor when his shins hit it. Bucky squeaks at the sudden movement and grabs onto him, laughing delightedly. "Steve!"

Steve carries him back to the bedroom. He dumps him on the bed and Bucky scoots back and starts yanking off his clothes with haste. Steve stays standing and undresses, growling at him. “You’re a manipulative little shit, you know that?”

Bucky laughs. “If it gets me what I want," he preens, voice muffled by his tee shirt and sweater twisted halfway over his face.

Steve is naked first, and he helps Bucky by pulling off the briefs that he's trying to kick off his foot, tossing them away with a grin as he crawls over him on the bed. “And what is that, huh?” he asks, settling in the cradle of his hips, pleased when Bucky's legs part instinctively to make a place for him. Finally, their bodies finally pressed fully together, nothing between them anymore. It feels right. Bucky’s eyes are bright and joyful, his cheeks beautifully flushed as Steve settles on his forearms above him. Bucky whines and draws his knees up, humping against Steve's stomach, smearing his slick there. Steve traces the edge of one dark brow with his thumb. “Pretty boy. What do you want so bad, hm?”

“Thought that’d be obvious by now,” Bucky jokes, though some of the bravado has leached from his voice, replaced by a breathiness that betrays his nerves.

Steve glances down between them and sees Bucky’s cocklet, half hard and fattened up against his belly. And lower down, all that slick. It’s mind-bendingly hot, and Steve shoves a hand down between them, smearing through the mess and getting it all over his fingers. “So wet, Sweetheart,” he praises.

Bucky chokes out the prettiest little noise when Steve's fingers graze his soaked lips, and then wrap around his cocklet and start giving it light, coaxing strokes. “S-shit,” he whimpers, shoving up against Steve’s hand. “Ohn, sh-shit, Steve …”

“Mmhm.” Steve kisses him as he strokes, stopping frequently to pull back and watch the pleasure play out over his face. Bucky's little cock is almost fully hard in his hand. Steve looks down between their bodies to watch as he thumbs over the head again and again. He takes gentle hold of his foreskin and uses it to jerk him off right at the tip. The sight of it is enough to make him want to pop a knot. And lower down? Jesus wept, it’s pretty. Bucky’s slick is everywhere and his cunt is pink and swollen, the lips puffy and darkened from arousal. Jesus fucking Christ. Steve's overcome with the need to seal his mouth right over it.

He gets back on his knees, intending to do just that, pulling Bucky where he wants him in the sheets. He pushes Bucky’s knees apart and looks his fill. Bucky starts to whine and squirm at the close attention, but Steve hushes him and plays with his cock some more to distract him. “Shh, Honey. You’re so pretty down here.” He’s staring, can’t help but stare at the gorgeous spread of Bucky’s sex. He trails his fingers over it in the barest ghost of a touch, near reverent in how he plays with this delicate part of him. “Oh, Sweetheart. Look at you, so perfect.”

Bucky’s scent gets even more aroused, but with a growing hint of embarrassment to it that Steve doesn’t like. His nose wrinkles as he scents a twinge of humiliation, and realizes how bothered Bucky is. This isn’t going to be like at the hospital. Bucky no longer has the mental fog or the fevered drive of his heat to guide him through any of this.

Steve looks up and tries to convey what he feels for Bucky through his expression, through the bond that they share. He reaches out and cups his cheek. “What are you thinking, Sweet boy?” he asks sadly, knowingly. Because he can already see it: the self-deprecating thoughts that Bucky's having about his body, about what he’s been told all his life is wrong with it. Steve makes a miserable noise of contention, and Bucky’s lips quiver and his eyes slip closed. He’s shaking his head just the barest bit. Steve whines sadly. “Honey,”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, squirming unhappily and pressing his cheek into Steve’s palm. His sad little smile is heart wrenching. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

For the first time, Steve wishes that he’d gone in to speak privately with Bucky’s OmCare counselor the other day, so that he could’ve asked questions. Steve’s never been with someone with issues like Bucky has, at least not any longer than a few hectic days spent fucking in a heat suite. His job involves acute care, the during. He’s never been there to deal with the after. Bucky’s so beautiful laid out before him now, but Steve is keenly aware of how fragile he is, too. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

Slowly, he moves his hand from Bucky’s face and fits it around the front of his throat instead. He presses up and in under his jaw, and watches as Bucky’s eyes shoot open again. Steve levels him with a tender look. “Buck,” he tells him gently. “I want to lay down on my stomach, here.” He nods at the bed. “Right here, between your pretty legs.” Bucky swallows thickly beneath his palm, a hurt little pinch forming between his brows. One of his hands has come up to grip onto Steve’s wrist at his throat, but he isn’t pushing him away, and Steve keeps his hand there. “I think you’re so beautiful, Sweetheart. And I want to show you. I want to make you feel good.” Carefully, he leans down over him, so close that their lips brush together. But he keeps his eyes open, and so does Bucky, and he doesn’t kiss him. He stays like that, sharing breath with him and looking right into his eyes as he holds his neck with gentle dominance. … And with his other hand, he reaches down between his legs.

Bucky’s breath catches and trips at the first touch of Steve’s fingers, his face slipping between desire and shame and a whole host of other, vulnerable emotions. “S-steve,” he breathes.

“Mmhm.” He lets the pads of his fingers stroke softly along the lips of Bucky’s cunt, again and again, up and down, just barely touching. He’s soaked. “I want you to tell me,” Steve murmurs, and then he finally does kiss him—just once, just a tiny peck on the lips. Bucky tries to kiss back, but he denies him, maintaining that scant distance between their faces and waiting until Bucky opens his eyes again. Steve smiles. “Tell me, Bucky. Tell me to put my face down between your legs. Tell me to kiss you, to lick you.”

The whine Bucky makes is as bothered as the blush that stains his cheeks. He writhes underneath Steve, and Steve tightens his hand on his neck. He fits his thumb over his bonding glands and presses firmly. “I love every part of your body Buck, and I want you to see that. I want you to see what I see.” He gives him another kiss, and this time speaks directly against Bucky’s mouth. “Now give me permission to eat you out.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whimpers, but the shame in his scent has already peaked and is dissipating. It’s still there, but Steve can feel through the bond how his words have helped. Bucky squirms under him, a new gush of slick pooling around Steve’s fingers right after. “... E-eat me out, Steve.”

“Good boy. Oh, Bucky, Sweetheart,”

“Please … your mouth, your … please.”

Steve growls, more than satisfied. He mashes his mouth down hard on Bucky’s, kissing him fiercely to let him know he’s been so, so good for him. Then he shoves himself down the bed, dragging his cock against the sheets as he goes to get some relief. Bucky’s legs spread apart and Steve coaxes him with gentle murmurs to rest them over his shoulders. “There you go. Just like that, Beautiful.” He kisses the back of one calf as it moves and Bucky settles. He flicks his eyes up to Bucky, who’s staring down at him with parted lips and heavy-lidded eyes.

“Oh, Steve. Are you gonna?”

He moves instead of answering, shoulders pushing under Bucky’s thighs and arms wrapping around, tugging him closer. Bucky squeaks and Steve rumbles in satisfaction. “Goddamn,” he curses, rolling his hips down against the mattress some more. It’s barely a relief. “Baby,” he breathes, staring at Bucky’s pink folds, so wet and delicate, his little hole clenching on nothing. “Baby, you got no idea how good this pussy looks. Fuck.”

Bucky groans at the words, but he doesn’t get much chance to protest further because in the next second Steve is diving in. He seals his mouth over most of Bucky’s entire sex, just because he can, giving a big, indulgent suck and making absolutely filthy noises in the process. He laves the flat of his tongue, wide and firm and focused, up the pink cleft of his cunt, again and again, before setting in to a few moments of truly tongue fucking him—first with tiny little jabs that barely breach him and make him whine high and needy, then a series of longer, deeper pushes, going as far into Bucky’s body as he possibly can. Bucky downright wails after a moment of that, and Steve can hear the frustration in it, can hear how he wants more but doesn’t have the words to ask. That’s alright, though. Steve has given plenty of head in his life, and he knows what male omegas respond to best. He gets himself in gear and does what he knows will have Bucky coming in minutes.

“Jesus Chr-uh—” Bucky grunts, his hips shoving up hard against Steve’s face.

Steve hums around the cocklet in his mouth and tongues the underside, flicking over and over it like he would do to a woman’s clit. He’s got one hand holding Bucky’s hip down, and he uses the other to tease at the wet entrance of his slit, pressing with the tips of two fingers. It’s so tight that, for a long second, it doesn’t feel as if he’ll be able to get in. He hums his mouth on Buck’s cock and pushes harder … and slips in.

Bucky cries out sharply and both of his hands are suddenly in Steve’s hair, pulling him closer. His legs hook over his back, heels digging in. “Fuck, oh fuck, Steve yeah… yeahyeah … that … oh, ohplease, jus’likethat.”

Steve hums happily and curls his fingers, rubbing the right spots, letting his knuckles bump Bucky’s mound while he suckles with purpose at the head of his dick. He’s determined to get at least this first orgasm out of the way before he fucks him.

Bucky’s hands pull his head and his hips shove against Steve’s face as he arches and comes, the sweet, desperate sounds he makes as he reaches his climax music to Steve’s ears. His body contracts rhythmically as he releases, a hot gush of slick between his legs and Steve’s palm. Steve groans with his cocklet still held in his mouth. He pulls off, lifting his head to gaze up Bucky’s body but leaving his fingers buried inside his cunt. Bucky’s head is tossed back in the pillows, panting, his face lax from the trailing bliss of his orgasm.

Steve smiles and strokes his fingers inside a few more times, prolonging it for him as much as he can. When Bucky inhales hugely then sighs, his entire body going boneless, Steve pulls out. He dips down for one more, indulgent taste, then kisses his way back up Bucky’s stomach, up across his chest and neck. Bucky’s waiting for him with half-lidded eyes and a sated smile when he arrives to lie over top of him again. Steve hums, settling between his legs and kissing him lightly. He rocks his hips minutely, moving his cock through all that slick. “Feel good?” he asks, bending down to nose at his neck.

Bucky shivers in his arms and nods. “Mmm. Mmhm.”

Steve’s lips find Bucky’s bondmark and kiss it. “Good,” he murmurs. He flicks his tongue out against the delicate skin of the mark, imagining how good it would feel to bite him now, to sink his teeth in all over again, feel the skin break so tenderly and the blood welling out rich with pheromones, how much the sound of Bucky’s cries would turn him on. I want to claim you again, he thinks. I want you. His chest aches with how badly he wants to say those things, but he forces himself not to.

It’s not his place to scar Bucky up any worse than he already has, not when they aren’t mates. Bucky’s with him until the baby comes, maybe not long after. Steve has to let him have that choice, he can't be selfish and box him in, no matter how badly his instincts might make him want to. He rubs his lips over the bondmark instead, then just his nose, when the urge to bite won’t go away.

Beneath him, Bucky’s hips cant up further, receptive. His knees notch up higher about Steve’s waist. But after a moment of lazy writhing and making little seeking, wanting mewls, he freezes. “Oh. Um … Steve?”

“Mm?” Steve is rubbing his cock through the wet cleft of his sex, ready to be inside his omega, ready to feel that heaven again. He wedges a hand down to line himself up. “You ready, Honey?”

“Wait, no.” Steve pulls back, and Bucky winces in apology. “Ah, maybe I have to pee. Sorry.”

Steve laughs, relieved, and kisses him quickly. He rolls off of him and onto his back. “Don’t apologize. It happens.” He pats him on the hip affectionately and tells him to go. Bucky does, and Steve watches his naked backside as it disappears into the ensuite. He sighs heavily once he’s alone, scrubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes and resisting the urge to touch himself in Bucky’s absence. God, he’d really wanted to bite him again. That’s going to be a problem. He hears the toilet flush, then water running at the sink, then Bucky’s footsteps as he returns. Steve uncovers his face and smiles as Bucky climbs back on the bed. “Better?”

“Mmhm.”

Bucky's a typical omega, in that he responds very well to his orgasms. He’s loose and happy after his first, all the tension and insecurities from before gone for the moment. Steve knows his brain has just dumped a shit-ton of chemicals to tell him that he’s loved and safe and beautiful and cared for. He moves to pull him in close again, intending to get right back between his spread legs like he’d been before, but Bucky stops him with another hesitant,

“Wait.”

Steve pauses, and when Bucky pushes against his shoulder he takes the hint and returns to lying on his back, probably with a quizzical expression on his face. Bucky’s kneeling on the bedcovers beside him, looking shy but eager. Steve’s knot throbs at that look. “Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes rove over his body with interest plain on his face. At his sides, his hands make an aborted gesture towards Steve. “Um. I wanted to try …” He bites his lip, eyes trailing down to Steve’s erection where it lies wet and heavy against his belly, the shine of Bucky’s slick on it catching the room’s light. Bucky visibly trembles and reaches out with his hand again. This time, his fingers brush over the skin of Steve’s hip. He shifts in place on his knees. “Can I …”

“Yes,” Steve breathes, instantly harder just at the thought of Bucky touching him in that way—with his hands, his mouth, it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is that Bucky wants, Steve wants him to have it. The idea of his omega wanting him like this, wanting to explore his body, makes Steve hotter than anything he can imagine. “Anything you want,” he manages to croak out, forcing himself to remain still and let Bucky set the pace. “Go ahead.”

Bucky’s timid for another moment, leaning forward. His hands land lightly on Steve’s chest at first, then drag down, feeling his body. He takes a deep breath and seems to decide on something, his expression growing resolute. He straddles Steve’s thighs and leans forward to touch his chest again, taking more time to explore his pecs, ghost fingers over his nipples. It’s endearing how fascinated he still is. Steve supposes that they didn’t do much of this in the heat suite. Bucky had been too far into his cycle then, too needy and traumatized to even contemplate exploring Steve’s body when what he really needed was an alpha taking care of him. Now though, now he can explore. And the heat in his eyes as they rove Steve’s body shows that he very much wants to.

Steve swallows thickly and watches as his omega becomes familiar with him in this new way. His hands flow over Steve’s abs, fingertips tracing the lines of muscle, and then the hair that starts on his belly. He smooths his hands down over those flat planes, out to his hips, to the tops of his thighs and back up. But his eyes remain glued to Steve’s cock the entire time. It’s fully hard now, darkened in color from his arousal and the knot plumped at the base. Bucky’s eyes flick up once, just to check, and Steve gives him a shaky smile. “Go ahead, Sweetheart.”

Bucky touches his cock, wrapping his hand around the shaft like he’s afraid he’ll hurt Steve. “What should I do?” he whispers, fingers tightening the barest fraction and giving a cautious stroke. “I’ve never …”

Steve’s hips jerk up and he fights to keep himself still. “It’s okay,” he says. “You touch yourself, right? Just do that. It’s the same.”

Bucky’s eyes flick up, and Steve’s surprised to see humor there. Bucky twists his lips wryly. “It’s not the same,” he teases, looking back down pointedly at Steve’s humongous cock, and then his.

Steve chuckles. “Well, general idea.” He reaches down and puts his hand over Bucky’s hand where it’s holding his cock. Bucky inhales sharply and looks at him. Steve nods. “Anything you do is gonna feel so good for me, Buck,” he tells him honestly. “Go ahead. I just want to watch you have fun.” Bucky looks shocked at that for the barest of seconds, but then that look slips away, replaced by eagerness. He looks back down, licks his lips, and starts jerking Steve off in slow, exploring strokes. Steve groans and lets his head flop back into the pillow, closing his eyes after a moment. Bucky’s other hand appears at the top of his thigh. It slides inwards, squeezing the muscle, and Steve groans and spreads his legs a little for him, flexing his pelvis up. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bucky.” Bucky’s touches grow bolder. He squeezes Steve’s cock harder and starts twisting his hand experimentally on the upstroke. His other hand migrates from Steve’s thigh to his balls, eliciting a grunt from Steve. “Oh,” he breathes, wanting Bucky to hear it in his voice, how good it is. “Honey, yeah. That’s just right.”

Bucky rolls his balls in his palm lightly, and when Steve tells him that he can tug on them a little, he obeys. “Touch my knot,” Steve whispers, when he can feel it swelling further. He moans unexpectedly loudly when Bucky’s hand closes around it though, and he’s opening his eyes and reaching down to grab Bucky’s wrists in alarm. “Nope, nope nope. No more of that,” he pants, wide-eyed.

Bucky laughs, looking proud. “Why not?”

Steve growls and tugs on Bucky's waist, making him fall down on top of him. “You know why not,” he rumbles, then kisses him firmly on the mouth.

It’s possessive, and Bucky moans into it, his hands curling over Steve’s shoulders and hips grinding down against his abs. They part from the kiss and Bucky sits up, his eyes sparkling. “I liked it though,” he says. He rocks down at a different angle, rubbing his cunt on Steve's belly and smearing his slick all over the place. He giggles when Steve groans and grabs his hips to stop him. “What if that’s what I wanted?” he asks. “What if I want to make you cum with my hands? Or my mouth?”

“Fuck.”

“I want to see it,” he says, eyes hot on Steve and his hips rocking lewdly against him. “One day. I wanna see it happen. In my hands. I want to hold it and see it get big.”

Steve really, really has to close his eyes for a second with that one. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to hurt. Because he simply cannot with Bucky and his virginal little attempts at dirty talk right now. “You better watch your mouth,” he warns, his voice sounding like he’s swallowed rocks. “Or you will see it.” Bucky’s grin is magnificent, but Steve raises an eyebrow and reminds him, “Alphas only cum once, Sweetheart. Up to you to decide where my knot is, when that happens.”

It’s adorable, how fast Bucky’s eyes widen at that, and then how he frowns and pouts about not getting to have his cake and eat it, too. Steve waits him out patiently, grateful to have a few seconds’ reprieve (and also fairly certain that he knows which way Bucky’s going to steer things).

“Fine,” Bucky eventually says, sighing dramatically as if he’s making the world’s most difficult choice. Steve grins and digs his fingers firmly into the fleshiness of his hips, preparing to flip them back over. But Bucky grunts in protest, and then he puts his hands on Steve's chest and shoves him back down to the bed with an adorable little omega growl. Steve feels his surge of confidence and playful dominance through the bond, and he grins up at him, understanding what he wants. “Yeah?”

Bucky pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and bites it, a little bit of self-consciousness slipping back in, even as he nods. “Uh huh. Can I?”

Steve groans. He sits up and yanks Bucky against him, one hand threaded into his hair just so he can kiss him, hard, one single time. He falls back down to the bed. “Of course you can,” he tells him, grabbing his hips again and kneading his fingers in. “Go on.”

His enthusiastic response seems to wipe away any remaining traces of Bucky’s doubt. The boy's scent is pure again, unpolluted by shame or uncertainty, and he licks his lips and focuses intently on kneeling up, reaching around behind himself for Steve’s cock, and lining it up with his entrance.

Steve helps him along, holding his dick steady at the base so that Bucky can focus on relaxing and taking him inside his body. “Hey,” he whispers, getting Bucky’s attention back on him. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” Bucky flushes and exhales shakily at the command. He nods, eyes fixed on Steve’s face even as he lowers himself down and they touch. Steve’s cockhead presses, breaches Bucky’s body, and he sees Bucky’s lips part and his brow pinch.

"Oh."

“Just like that,” Steve soothes, petting his flank with one hand, guiding his hip down with the other. Bucky groans quietly as he sinks down and bottoms out, and Steve rewards him with a deep rumble of approval. “Thaat’s it, Honey. Oh, good boy.”

Bucky mewls and falls forward, bracing both hands on Steve’s chest. His eyes are clamped shut tightly and he starts moving, rocking forwards and back, hard and fast. But Steve only lets him have a moment of that frantic grinding before he’s shushing him and coaxing him to sit back, slow down, and open his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, stroking up to his waist and back down in praise. He tugs and pulls his hips, guiding him into the right motions. “Slow and easy. That’s right. Keep those pretty eyes open so Alpha can see, yeah?” Bucky nods, his pleasure-pained face and desperation for Steve's guidance just about the sweetest, most erotic thing Steve’s ever seen. He nods along encouragingly with Bucky. “Good boy. That's it. Look right at me while you make us feel so good.”

Bucky does, sitting back the way that Steve’s positioned him and learning to roll his hips in that slow, luxurious grind that feels absolutely exquisite. He’s able to keep at it that way for a long while, too, before his breathing eventually starts to pick up, getting heavier and faster, his face and chest gorgeously flushed. The wet sounds of all his slick are more intense, and Steve can tell from the scent of him, from the feeling of his cunt tightening and rippling around his dick, that he’s close to his second orgasm. Steve clenches his jaw and digs his heels into the sheets so he can fuck up against Bucky's grinding. He can feel his knot pulsing, about to swell. “Baby,” he grits out. “M’close.”

“Steve.”

“I’m gonna knot you,” he gasps. “Buck, oh, I’m gonna.”

It’s the first time he’s ever not asked it as a question, but he doesn’t have to worry about consent, because Bucky makes it immediately clear that Steve’s knot is exactly what he wants. “Fuck yeah,” he whines, face crumpling and both of his hands shooting forward to brace on Steve’s chest again. He grinds harder, faster, more desperately like he’d done in the beginning, and this time Steve lets him. He curses and wraps his arms around Bucky’s back when the boy collapses onto him. His knot pops, and Bucky wails and comes.

Steve shouts as he starts to come, too, his balls pulling up tight and his focus narrowing down to nothing but the point where their bodies are joined. God, it feels so good, so good, sofuckinggood. His hips rut mindlessly against their tie and he clutches onto Bucky, muffling his moans in the omega’s neck. He gasps and has to force his mouth away from Bucky’s bonding glands at the last second, when he realizes what he’s aiming for. He pants into the top of his shoulder instead as he comes. He loses track of space and time for that first, excruciating minute of his orgasm, and then flows back into himself for the heavenly three or four minutes of languorous pleasure that follow.

Meanwhile, Bucky pants and grinds himself out to at least one more climax, then collapses on Steve’s chest in sweaty exhaustion. "Oh. Oh, god."

Steve moans and wraps his arms fully around Bucky's waist, hugging their bodies tightly together while his balls keep emptying. "Hmmm," he sighs blissfully, eyes closed and nose buried in Bucky's hair. "'Mega."

Bucky whimpers a little and squirms on his knot, repeating his name in a tired, whispered slur, again and again, right against Steve’s left pec: “Steve, Ssteve … mmm, Ssteeve.”

Steve kisses the top of Bucky’s head and hums some more. He thinks he mumbles something in the general vicinity of, “Luv you,” before he drifts off to sleep, his cock still buried deep and his omega’s adoring, sated whispers still ringing in his ears.

Art: @hopelessartgeek

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Clean Sheets/ Fresh Pajamas

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson

Sicktember 2024: Clean Sheets/ Fresh Pajamas

Words: 1543 | Rating: T | @sicktember

Summary: Eddie's sick, but Steve finds a perfect time to clean up and change the sheets.

-----------

Steve was pulled from the depths of sleep by a distant ringing. He groaned, becoming aware of how feverishly warm he was, and the way something heavy hung onto him. He blinked, slowly becoming aware of the cloud of curls that covered his vision. He realized then that Eddie was curled against him, comfortably asleep on his chest. Eddie’s cheeks were still colored with fever and Steve felt as if he was laying under a heated blanket. Sweat gathered at the place where Eddie slept against him, and Steve could smell the scent of sour sickness still emanating from Eddie’s snoring mouth. 

The ringing came again, earning a groan from Eddie. 

“I’ll geddit,” Steve mumbled, sleep stealing most of his syllables. He forced his leg to shift out from under the tangle of sheets, earning another groan from Eddie. Unlike the low moan of warning before a choked, sicker hiccup, this moan was higher and almost a whine. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from being woken up or from him trying to leave the bed, but then Eddie’s leg pressed against Steve’s in protest, as if to say don’t leave. 

“S’the phone,” Steve whispered, planting a kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “M’comin’ back. Three minutes.”

Steve stroked Eddie’s cheek as his boyfriend’s face scrunched in tired frustration.

Eddie’s leg off Steve’s, taking Steve’s soft forehead kiss as acceptable payment for leaving the bed. 

The warmth from the bed only lasted a few seconds as Steve wished for a shirt as he stumbled across the room and to the hallway. He reached the phone seconds before it went to voicemail. 

“Hello?” His voice was raspier than he expected and he swallowed. “This is Steve.”

“Oh I was hoping to not wake you,” Joyce’s voice tutted from the other end of the line. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He blinked rapidly as the bright light in the kitchen seemed to stab at his half-asleep eyes. He didn’t have his watch on, but the digital clock on the microwave read 8:34. He paused, wondering how Joyce knew about Eddie, but then remembered the call he’d made to her place at some time closer to 2am, when Eddie could barely keep down water.

“Hey, yeah, we’re okay. It was rough for a bit last night, but it’s cooler downstairs and I think moving him to the guest room helped.”

“Okay, good. Jonathan’s got the same thing and is still feeling pretty rough. You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Joyce.”

She reminded him to check Eddie’s temperature and Steve assured her he would before they hung up.

Steve set the phone back on the cradle, still squinting in the bright light of the morning. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand; it was later than he realized, which meant Eddie was on his fourth hour of uninterrupted sleep. 

Maybe this was the corner he’d been hoping to turn all along. 

Steve absently filled a glass and it was only when the water touched his dry tongue that he realized how thirsty he was. He gulped the rest of the glass, quickly refilling it to down it just as fast. He’d been so focused on getting water in Eddie, that he’d forgotten to hydrate himself. The water refreshed him, removing the last of the sticky sleepiness between his bones. Joyce’s call reminded Steve of how sick Eddie had been last night, and winced at the memory of Eddie’s choking gags and heaves as he struggled to bring up everything he’d eaten in the last week. Steve lost count of how many times Eddie had pushed himself over the toilet bowl before Steve had to assist and the hours blurred as they moved between the bedroom and the bathroom.

Steve fought a yawn as he refilled the glass to bring back to the guest room. It was late but if Eddie was awake, maybe he’d be up to try some water and medicine.

The guest room door was ajar and as Steve approached, he caught the sight of Eddie’s arm sleepily hanging off the bed first. As he entered the doorway, Steve saw that the rest of Eddie was curled comfortably in the pillow dent left by Steve’s body. The sheets tangled around Eddie’s ankles, stubbornly kicked off sometime in the night. Sweat gathered at Eddie’s temple and dampened the pillowcase, making Eddie’s baby hairs stick to his temple and neck and dampening the pillowcase into a darker blue. 

Despite being sick, Steve was astonished at how beautiful Eddie was like this. The ponytail Steve tied last night had fallen loose, and Eddie’s hair was now spread across the pillows like a curly black storm cloud. His boyfriend’s back was a sight to take in; Steve had each divot and dimple memorized. Eddie’s outstretched arm was inked in tattoos, each a few inches apart. His fingers were long and slender, and Steve could make out the faded reminders written in Sharpie on the back of Eddie’s hand. Whatever bug Eddie was fighting stole most of his color, but his cheeks were still rosy, but nothing like the raging red they were last night.

For the first time in days, Eddie looked comfortable.

Relief came in a warm glow that seemed to expand through Steve’s chest, and Steve leaned heavier against the doorway. It’d been a long few days, and his own body wanted nothing more than the return to bed with Eddie. But the thought of waking Eddie or worse, the movement of the bed making Eddie’s nausea return, was a risk he didn’t want to take.

He'd crash in his bed, but their bedroom upstairs was still a mess from the last few days.

But, a clean bed was what they both needed.

The thought of curling up with Eddie in clean sheets gave him the momentum he needed and he headed upstairs to begin.

His bedroom was at the end of the hall, and he was hit with a heavy stuffiness and the same sour smell. Sickness seemed to hang in the air like an invisible fog. The sunlight shone in from the open curtains, casting the window panes in rumpled shadows over the unmade bed. He crossed the room to unlatch the lock on the window and cracked it open. The whoosh of air that came in carried the chilly bite of the oncoming winter, but it instantly cut through the stuffiness, making the room feel less suffocating.

Steve surveyed his room, taking in each part of the mess. Various painkillers and medicine for fevers were scattered across the surfaces of his room. His nightstand looked like a mini city of medicinal skyscrapers, the bottles of cough syrup to Pepto-Bismol and half-full glasses of flat Sprite, all clustered together. The thermometer lay nearby untouched crackers on a napkin, and a used washcloth hung off the side of the nightstand. The backup thermometer sat near the lamp, skewed to the side from Steve's rush to grab the trashcan when Eddie had first felt sick. Steve adjusted it and then picked up the TV remote next to it, trying to remember why he’d brought up the TV from the kitchen. The screen was off, but he remembered when he caught sight the open VHS case of Lord of the Rings. The cassette was still in the player, and although Steve lived by the be kind, rewind rule, but knew Eddie would want to eventually finish the movie.  

Maybe later this afternoon, if Eddie feels better.

The thought was a comfort as Steve started clearing the nightstand. He moved easily, taking a thing and finding the proper place for it, finding a rhythm with cleaning. The cough syrup, now capped, sat closed in the medicine cabinet. He tossed the used tissues in the trash, and the crumpled washcloth was replaced with a clean one. He set out a new pair of shorts and a shirt for Eddie on the dresser to wear later.

The bed was last. 

The quilt came off first and with a few tugs, the top sheet followed. The sheets were next, and Steve leaned on one knee to pull each corner free. The fibers of the sheets seemed to shake sickness off into the air, sticky and sweaty, and Steve was thankful for the open window. The pillowcases were stained and crusty, and he pulled those off, piling them with the sheets gathered at the end of the bed. He added Eddie’s abandoned shirt he stripped off days ago, along with the one Steve tossed to the side sometime yesterday. 

Steve wasted no time getting the pile to the laundry room to wash.

On his return upstairs, Steve paused in the doorway of the guest room again to check on Eddie and smiled at the sight. Eddie had turned over into a full stretch across the bed, still sound asleep. His back glistened and Steve could see the stain of sweat against the pillow from where he slept. Hopefully, Eddie would sleep even better in clean sheets and fresh pajamas.

As Steve leaned against the doorframe, the same warmth glowed in his chest, this time tasting of sweet relief and a little something like love. 

[strangerxperv]

Would you do a story about Steve with a fem curvy ready and they have a daddy/little relationship and she is super cuddly with him when they are in a group cause she's shy? I don't see a lot who write for little space so happy I came across your blog

You didn't specify if you wanted this to be smutty so I'll just default to fluff! It's been a bit since I wrote nonsexual little space so it's subpar in my opinion. Also Nancy is ooc.

It wasn't your first time meeting Steve's friends but it never gets any easier. He assures you it will as you get to know them better and find they're genuinely kind people. They even seem to like you!

Steve is a natural caretaker for the group and has been for some time now. But that's something everyone knows. However, few know of the truly special relationship you and Steve have. Robin and Eddie being the only two that know how you sweetly call him, "daddy."

It's one of those moments that have been building all day. Steve was paying the most attention to you knowing how shy you are. Doting and fussing over you was a normal occurrence. And so was the gentle way he would call you for all to hear, "Princess."

There was almost no chance that you wouldn't have slipped into little space with his coddling. But he, even with all his attention on you, was oblivious to your slip into it. Cuddled up on his lap trapped by his arms while a scary movie played.

Slowly you spoke less and less until you could no longer speak. Your small hand was fisted into his shirt and your face was smashed in his neck, the movie was scary. Too scary for someone so small.

Nancy spoke first and with irritation tainting her usually understanding voice, "Can you guys, please, stop making out? Maybe sit next to each other?"

And that's all it took for your plush body to begin shaking as fat tears pooled in Steve's neck. Your sniffles and soft sobs filled the already tense air. The movie's scream is cut off when someone pauses it.

Eddie is the next to speak, "Shit! Nice going, Nancy. You know Princess is sensitive so why the fuck are you starting shit?"

"I didn't mean to make her cry! I just didn't- I thought they were- and the movie-"

This shouldn't have made you cry and Steve knows this. He thinks back to how you've acted all day and it finally makes sense. He needs to take care of you and wipe your tears.

"Baby, hey- come on. Look at me." A pause and once he sees you disobeying his gentle guidance, "Don't make daddy repeat himself." Steve's voice is still gentle but there's a notable sternness that requires your obedience. Your pretty teary eyes gaze up at him as your lips pout.

"Daddy?" Johnathan whispers to no one.

"It's a thing, don't judge." Robin speaks up for the two of you and Eddie gives an affirming nod.

"Good girl, keep looking at me with those pretty doll eyes. Can you use your big girl words and tell daddy what's wrong?" His larger warm hand rubs soothing strokes down your back. And when you shake your head no he holds you tighter, "You need to breathe, princess. And when you're all calm I'll take you home for proper cuddles and we'll watch your favorite movie."

With Steve's reassuring attention and Robin giving you some fruit snacks you calm. Still in little space Steve packs your stuff up as Eddie distracts you with a story. At the door, you in Steve's strong arms his friends bid good bye.

"I don't really know what happened but I'm sorry for my part in it." Nancy promises herself to ask follow up questions later.

"We don't judge, man. Or at least I don't." Argyle takes a hit from the couch and coughs out, "Night!"

It's later, in bed with you wearing a cute little pink nighty and frilly white socks. Steve reads you a bed time story as he gently pets your head. Softly slipping into sleep under Steve's care.

[catharusustulatus]

Steve starts bleeding through his shirt in the chaos of the cafeteria and Vickie notices. He and Robin try to cover it up but he’s noticeably dripping and Vickie is not an idiot, so she grabs Robin’s hand, grabs a handful of medical supplies from the nearby table and moves the three of them to a hallway closet. And very, very quickly Steve takes a liking to her because she’s quick with the gauze AND funny, and as she patches him up, well, he and Robin have a whole unspoken conversation about it.

[the-lark-ascending69]

Whumpee Robin with caretaker!Steve vs caretaker!Nancy

Steve would visit every day, bringing storebought food and whatever book he found at the library he thought she would like. He tries reading to her because he knows she loved reading, even if it seems she lost her interest in books or languages after being rescued.

Nancy often spends the night at Robin's house. Robin's parents are happy to see their babygirl has a girl-friend and, knowing how poorly Robin is doing, they'll let Nancy stay over whenever they ask. Nancy learns how to cook half-decently for Robin and helps her get around the house when she feels too weak to walk.

Steve isn't allowed to stay then night because he's a boy, but he'll sometimes manage to crawl through her window and be with her.

Steve ends up taking the more traditionally "femenine" role, as in, taking care of her the way a man who's not her partner rarely would: he helps her get dressed, helps her bathe, changes her bandages, shares a bed with her whenever possible. One of Robin's main love languages is physical contact, so this is a way for him to make her feel grounded and safe. They're only comfortable doing this because they're so confident in the platonic nature of their relationship, and it never really feels weird.

Robin doesn't allow Nancy do any of that. She hates the idea of being in any state of undress in front of another girl, especially Nancy, so she won't let her dress her or bathe her and will rarely let her hug her. Nancy thinks she's just shy and in a weird will-they-won't-they with Steve, which would explain why she's so physically affectionate with him. In a perfect world, she'd be like this with all of her friends, but as things are now, she feels like a predator taking advantage of Nancy if she lets her cuddle her to sleep without knowing "the truth".

Robin will hide it from Nancy when a bad movement results in open stitches because she doesn't want to accept her help, calling Steve instead.

She never calls Nancy when she needs help, only Steve, though Nancy seems to have a kind of sixth sense for when Robin needs her.

Robin gets very irritable when she's having a bad day, often snapping at her friends. Steve doesn't take it personally, but Nancy would be lying if it didn't make her tear up a little to hear Robin tell her that, if she wants to help so bad, she can start by leaving her alone.

Robin always feels guilty regarding Nancy. She hates hurting her feelings, and she hates that Nancy cares so much about her. She's convinced Nancy wouldn't even want to be near her if she knew how she truly felt.

Whenever she goes out in town with Steve, she likes to link their arms. She loves holding hands with her friends, but she stopped holding Steve's hand in public when she realized everyone kept assuming they were a couple. Still, the contact is comforting and it helps her keep her focus on better things.

Nancy tries linking arms with her and Robin only accepts to not seem weird, but she just feels tense and uncomfortable and drops Nancy as soon as she gets the chance to do so discreetly. Nancy is a little bit heartbroken by that.

Nancy worried Robin avoids her this much because she smelled her own secret: that she's in love with her.

Robin tries to cook something for Nancy as both a thank-you and an i'm-sorry, but she ends up collapsing in the kitchen and panicking when she accidentally gets burned, the pain reminding her of what happened to her. Nancy finds her on the floor, breathing rigidly and staring at a point in the distance.

Robin doesn't let Nancy sleep in her bed with her, but to this day, she still hasn't told Nancy not to sit by her side while she drifts off to sleep, humming a lullaby and gently stroking her hair. She hasn't told her to stop that yet. She's not strong enough.

[thingsasbarcodes]

Marvel's Midnight Suns - All Cutscenes

[letthewhumpbegin]

A Beautiful Boy

[darthbloodorange]

Thor likes taking care of Steve after missions. Soothing and tending his hurts until he feels better.

For the: ✦ @thundershieldbingo 2024 Mini Bingo - Service Top [Card #4 "Kink"]

Word count: N/a - Moodboard Title: After Mission Care Rating: Mature Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: Steve Rogers/Thor Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor Warnings: Implied Sexual Content, Partial Nudity Major Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Bathroom Sex, Post-Mission, Caretaking, Candles, Hurt Steve Rogers, Service Top Thor ~ Summery: Thor likes taking care of Steve after missions. Soothing and tending his hurts until he feels better.

[museumgiftshoperaser]

"You ever play with dolls as a kid?"

Steddie | Rated E | Now on AO3 (please mind the tags!!) After the end of the world, Steve takes care of Eddie.

There are rules for his safekeeping. The curtains stay shut. If Eddie needs Steve he’s not allowed to yell for him. They need to keep their volume down. Inside voices, Steve says.

They do not leave the house. Steve’s parents left for Chicago in the aftermath, so the place is supposed to be empty. The rules are to make sure it looks empty too. The town is still looking for him. They’d kill him if they knew. The big light stays off. It's all to keep him safe.

It's the end of the world and Steve takes care of Eddie.

Eddie wakes up wrapped in leather and freezing cold. Something warm bubbles in his stomach right in the place where nausea usually sits and it’s strong enough to pull him up to the surface. His lips stick together and he swallows hard, not quite ready to open his eyes. He was dreaming of perfect darkness. A deep, endless black where nothing hurt and nothing could stick to him. A body that felt weightless and eyes that didn’t sting. He wants to go back. Here in the real world, his stomach is being stretched in every direction. With every passing second the pain folds in on itself and multiplies. He wants to go back. A warm breath of air ghosts over his face and Eddie’s eyes snap open. A dark silhouette hovers above him and drops its shoulders with another deep breath. “Oh, thank God.” It’s relief and a sharp exhale, whispered in a voice Eddie can’t quite place. Two clammy hands wrap around his shoulders and blunt fingernails dig into his bare skin. Steve. He’s on his knees next to the couch, hunched like a prayer. Eddie’s on a couch. Okay. He tries to make sense of his surroundings, but Steve’s blocking his view. A couch. A living room. A friendly face. He’s safe.

Steve drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder, landing face first in the gap between his neck and the couch. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with all the closeness. It’s new and strange, but Steve sighs against his skin with a warm familiarity. He smells like lavender and sweat. A soft and familiar shampoo mixed with layers upon layers of fear. “You’ve gotta stop scaring me like that,” he mumbles softly. Small like a child. Pleading. Eddie wasn’t trying to scare him. He wasn’t trying to do anything. He doesn’t even know where he is. “Where am I?” His voice doesn’t even sound like his own. Too scratchy, too high pitched. It’s like he hasn’t spoken in weeks. Steve lifts his head and looks him in the eye for just a moment before his gaze loses focus. He scans Eddie’s body like he’s searching a crowd. It seems he can’t quite find what he’s looking for. His face is pale and there’s a deep cut running from his ear to the corner of his mouth. Most of it is scabbed over, but the part right next to his lip shines with a crust of fresh blood. “You’re safe,” he says finally and the cut stretches awkwardly as he talks. “You’re safe here.” It’s not exactly an answer. “Steve...” he tries again. “Where are we?” Eddie turns his head and scans the living room. The curtains are drawn shut which, combined with his exhaustion, make it hard to see things clearly. Everything looks pixelated and the ceiling light leaves a bright blue after image right in the middle of his vision. A fluorescent phantom. He blinks a few times, but it only makes him aware of his headache. “Is this your house?” Eddie asks. Steve nods quickly, almost erratic. “Yeah. It’s… We’re...” He swallows, takes a deep breath and starts over. “My parents are staying in Chicago. No one’s gonna find you here.” There’s the slightest tremble to his voice, plucked like a guitar string. “But why am I here, Steve?” Steve looks him right in the eye, soft brown eclipsed almost entirely by his dark pupils. “This is the last place anyone would look for you.” Oh. That means it didn’t work. Their plan. Or maybe it did. Or maybe the world has ended and none of this is real. But people are still looking for him. “I can’t even think straight,” Eddie mumbles. “That’s probably the painkillers.” Steve reaches for a white strip of pills on the coffee table. He keeps one hand on Eddie’s shoulder, though. Not letting go completely. “It’s about time you take another dose.” Steve pops out a large, white pill for him without asking. His fingers tremble against the silver underbelly of the packaging. The palm of his hand is stained with dried, brown blood. Maybe Eddie’s, maybe his own. He doesn’t remember taking any painkillers. He doesn’t remember anything. Steve brings the pill to his mouth, resting his fingers against the dip in Eddie’s chin. “Open up.” Steve doesn’t look him in the eye and instead stares right at his mouth. It should be weird, itis weird, but a bit of extra pain killing does sound good right about now. He parts his lips and the pill sticks against his tongue. Dry like bone. Steve cups the back of his head carefully. Against his gentle fingertips, Eddie can feel the knots in his hair and the grease against his scalp. He wants to squirm. It’s too much, too close. But Steve raises a glass of water against his lips. He sips. Swallows. The pill catches in his throat, but he forces it down. Steve’s hand slides down and settles against the back of his neck. He doesn’t let go. Not just yet. Eddie closes his eyes and focuses on the pads of Steve’s fingertips, the soft callouses against the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck. Away from his own body. He swallows around nothing.

First chapter now on AO3! (please mind the tags)

[1heartfanfics]

If you're still taking requests, I love how you write Steve and Bucky. Could I get Steve with an upset stomach that wakes him up with soft protective Bucky? You are amazing!

The clock reads 4:02 when Steve wakes up. He's still half asleep and isn't really sure why he's woken up. So he closes his eyes to hopefully get a few more hours before he needs to be up.

He rolls over onto his stomach to try and get comfortable, but quickly realizes what woke him up in the first place. His stomach groans in protest to the pressure being put on it, feeling full and tight. Steve rolls back onto his side, bringing a hand up to rest on his stomach. It's bloated out against the waistband of his boxers. He presses a hand into his abdomen, feeling full of air and hoping to relieve some pressure, but instead it only makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

Stifling a groan to avoid waking Bucky up, he pushes himself up to sit, leaning back against the wall with a protective hand resting over his upset stomach. He rubs his hand gently back and forth, hoping to sooth the churning.

"Stevie?" Bucky's voice rings out a moment later, voice deep with sleep.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Steve sighs.

"You didn't. What's wrong?" Bucky asks, forcing himself awake. He moves to sit up next to Steve.

"I'm fine Buck, go back to sleep," Steve shakes his head, waving him off.

"No, you're not. Just talk to me," Bucky presses. Steve doesn't have to answer though, because as Bucky wakes up more he notices Steve's hand resting on his stomach and the way his lips are pressed tightly together. "Stomach bothering you?" he asks, although he already knows the answer.

Steve sighs, shrugs. No use lying about it now, he supposes. "Yeah, woke me up," he shrugs again.

"You feeling queasy?" Bucky asks, even though he knows the answer to that too.

"Kinda," Steve admits, noticeably keeping his answers short.

"Well c'mere then doll," Bucky says, patting the space between his legs.

Steve stiffly scoots himself over to rest in between Bucky's legs, leaned back against his chest. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve's waist to rest a hand on his stomach, wincing as he feels how bloated he is.

"Buck-" Steve starts to protest.

"Shh, let me," Bucky cuts him off, starting to rub gentle circles over Steve's belly with his warm hand.

Steve goes quiet, sinking further into Bucky's embrace. Buck had always had magic hands. His stomach was starting to calm slightly already.

"Feeling any better?" Bucky asks a few minutes later.

"Hmm, yeah some," Steve hums, slowly being lulled back to sleep.

"Go back to sleep darling, I got ya," Bucky says softly, pressing a kiss into Steve's hair. So Steve lets himself drift back to sleep in Bucky's arms, feeling warm and loved.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 9

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas having all the bits (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

9. Rebecca

After a battery of tests to ensure he isn't being coerced, Bucky is finally released into Steve's care.

The next morning, Steve shows up to work with a brand new tablet,  StarkPhone, box of steaming hot French toast, and a spring in his step. But when he gets to Bucky’s room, he’s surprised to find him dressed in regular clothes and speaking with a visitor.

The woman from the cult is there, sitting in Steve’s usual spot at the bedside. Steve tenses up in preparation for a confrontation.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been sitting in a conference room with her hair tied back modestly, that same modesty echoed in her meek demeanor and homemade dress. Today she’s wearing a pantsuit with jewelry and makeup, but the difference doesn’t register to Steve right away. He can only think of the man named Russel who’d been so hateful when he spoke about male omegas, who’d threatened to rip Bucky away and take him back to his insane little cult. How the woman introduced as Bucky’s mother had just sat there and not said a word against any of it.

Steve takes another step into the room, fingers digging into the takeout container and making the styrofoam squeak. “You.”

“Steve!” Bucky greets happily, eyeing the food and electronics that Steve is balancing his own coffee cup atop of. “Morning.”

“Hey, Buck.” Steve’s eyes flick between the woman and Bucky. She resembles him, though she sure as shit doesn’t look old enough to be his mother. He frowns at her and wonders how long she’s been there, how she even got up to the ward in the first place. “Is everything okay in here?”

“Yeah. Steve, this is Becca. She’s from the Children.”

“We’ve met,” the woman says before Steve has a chance to open his mouth. She gives him a wary look and holds out her hand. “Rebecca. I’m—”

“I remember you,” Steve says flatly, ignoring the gesture. “You were here with that man. Russel.”

Her expression falls and she retracts her hand. “Sorry. Yeah.”

“Is he here?” Steve asks tightly. He’s on edge just thinking of another alpha coming in to try and stake a claim on Bucky.

“No. No, I came alone.”

“Good.”

“I brought him some clothes from home,” she offers, aware of Steve’s opinion of her. “I called ahead to get permission. The social workers know I’m here visiting. They approved it.”

Steve blinks, surprised. “Oh.” He relaxes a fraction at that, moving over to set his armload of things down on the bed near Bucky’s legs.

“Oh my God that smells good. Give it.” Bucky is stretching down the bed to get at the take out container, and he moans when he lifts the lid and the smell of butter and maple syrup escapes. “Oh, fuuck me.”

“Bucky,” Steve scoffs, embarrassed.

It’s then that Bucky seems to finally catalog the other items. “What’re those?”

Steve scratches behind his head, wishing that the woman Rebecca wasn’t there. He’d wanted to surprise Bucky with the gifts. “Well you said you were bored,” he defends. “And everybody needs a cellphone.”

“Shit, they’re for me?!”

Steve takes great pride in the blinding smile that Bucky gives him, but his enjoyment of the moment is stilted due to their guest’s presence. “If you two were having a visit, I can step out for a minute.”

“No, no that’s okay,” Bucky says, already spearing up a bunch of the French toast and shoving it into his mouth. He chews, talking around the food and pointing at the woman with his fork. “She’s my sister.”

“Your ‘sister’?” Steve narrows his eyes at Rebecca, who really does look to be in her thirties. “I thought you were his ‘mother’?”

Bucky snorts and Rebecca winces. “No. I’m sorry that Russel told you that. He lied.”

Steve crosses his arms. “I’m still curious how you made the jump from mother to sister. Is this a lie, too?”

“Russel married her,” Bucky says, still mowing through the food and rolling his eyes. “Gross, by the way.”

“I was only one of many, and didn’t exactly have a choice, Bucky,” she scolds. She looks back to Steve. “I came here because I want to do what he’s doing. I want out.”

“‘Out’?”

“She’s leaving the Children, too,” Bucky supplies. “We both shoulda done it a long time ago, but,” he shrugs. “S’hard.”

“Yeah,” Steve says slowly, taking all of this new information in. “Yeah I’m sure it is.” Now that he knows that the woman in the chair isn’t there to try and convince Bucky to come back into the fold, now that he knows she’s Bucky’s sister and that she supports him, he’s feeling far less standoffish. He uncrosses his arms and tries to act at least marginally more friendly. “So … you two are actually related? I thought nobody in your group knew who their biological parents were?”

Bucky laughs with his mouth full. “Yeah but we figured it out years ago. I mean look at us.” He gestures between the two of them with his fork and Steve has to concede the point. They have the same wavy dark hair and the same face shape, near-identical eyes and noses. “Becs found some old documents once, digging around in the church office. We know the woman who’s our actual mother.”

“Well, know of her,” Rebecca corrects, and Bucky nods.

“We don’t talk. She doesn’t know that we know. Nobody does.” He shrugs and takes another massive bite of food, which he talks through. “Waaahya gunnuh do, righ?”

“I see.” Steve shifts uncomfortably and takes a sip of his coffee. He can only imagine how weird the whole thing must be. Or at least, it seems weird to him. But Bucky’s talking about it as if it doesn’t bother him a bit, or at least not enough to stop demolishing his breakfast. “Well um, it’s good to hear that you’ve got some support,” Steve says. “Somebody you know. On the outside.”

Rebecca looks up from her chair. “I came to tell him that I’d officially moved out. I found a charity that helps people like us, people who’ve got nowhere else to go. They’ve helped me find an apartment, and I’ve got a job interview today.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve tries to smile encouragingly, even though his heart rate picks up at the possibility that she’s about to say that she wants Bucky to come live with her. “That’s great.” He takes another big gulp of his coffee.

“Steve’s the one who knocked me up.”

Steve almost spits out his mouthful, swallowing painfully and coughing. “Bucky!”

Rebecca laughs, the sound slightly similar to what Bucky’s own laugh sounds like. “It’s okay. He told me how it happened. I know you’re not some predator trying to take advantage of him.”

Steve flushes and shifts uncomfortably. He sure does feel like one, having to face Bucky’s much older sibling about it now. “Yeah, well …”

“I didn’t know you could test for it so soon, though,” Rebecca says. “The commercials always say, what? A few days after your missed period?”

“That’s for beta women,” Steve says, knowing the statistics by rote. “Omegas’ menstrual cycles are timed differently. Their bodies implant the egg and start producing hCG much faster, so blood tests’ll pick up on it after only a few days.” He glances at Bucky. “Sometimes sooner.”

“Oh.”

“We’re bonded,” Bucky tells Rebecca. “It was just supposed to be temporary, but, well …” He glances down at his stomach and Steve feels guilt flare up in him. “So now Steve’s taking me home to live with him.” Bucky doesn’t seem at all concerned about how his sister will react to this news. “So that the baby can be around his pheromones and stuff. Which is apparently important.”

Steve is abruptly reminded that Bucky has had zero sex education in his life, and he resolves to download a bunch of material onto the omega’s new tablet as soon as it gets a full charge. “It’s all about what he wants,” Steve feels compelled to say, to ensure that Rebecca fully knows that he is not a predator. Christ, he hates that she even thought to use the word. That’s going to stick in his mind, now. “Bucky didn’t want to consider termination, so we’re doing what’s best for the development of the fetus.”

“Could you not call it that?” Bucky complains. “S’weird.”

Steve flushes. “Sorry. Medical jargon. Habit.”

“Right.”

There’s a beat of silence between the three of them, and Steve is just about to open his mouth to offer again to give the siblings some privacy for their visit, but Rebecca beats him to the chase by standing. She picks up her purse from the floor and shoulders it. “I’d better get going. The interview’s at ten forty-five and it’s half past nine now. I’m still kind of slow at the whole public transportation thing and, well. Don’t want to be late.”

“Hey, you can text me now!” Bucky says excitedly, reaching for the StarkPhone that Steve had hurriedly charged and added onto his plan that morning. “Oh, but I don’t know my number …”

“Here.” Steve helps by taking his own phone out and unlocking the screen. “What’s your number? I should have it too.” Rebecca relays the information and the both of them save her in their contacts. She says goodbye and promises to be in touch, giving Bucky a hug and Steve a handshake that feels more than a little stilted. “It’ll be okay,” Steve promises her out in the hall, when Bucky has found a moment of distraction with his new phone. “I’m going to take care of him.”

“You’d better,” she says. “He just got out of that life, he doesn’t need to be trapped all over again.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Good. You’ve got no idea what life with The Children is like. Boys like James …” she trails off and shakes her head sadly. “You don’t know what it was like for him there. What it would’ve been like, if he’d stayed.”

“I think I can imagine,” Steve grits, but tries to temper his tone when Rebecca raises a questioning brow. He doesn’t know how much, if anything, Bucky’s told his sister about the rape, and it isn’t Steve’s place to bring it up now. “I’ll be good to him,” he tells her. “I promise you. You don’t have to worry.”

“You seem like a good person. I’m trusting that.” She softens and pats his hand in thanks before turning to leave. “I’ll be in touch.”

Steve watches her go, the elevator doors down the ward hall opening with a ‘ding’ just as she’s passing by them. Clint and Sam step out and head in Steve’s direction. Two tiny, stern-faced women are with them: OmCare advocates who look like they mean business. “Steve,” Sam greets as the group approaches. “We’ve gotta take him now.”

Sam’s tone tells Steve everything he needs to know. “Discharge after?” he asks hopefully.

Clint and the two women all but ignore him and continue on to Bucky’s room without entertaining his comment, but Sam and Steve are close enough that Sam nods and lingers behind to whisper sideways at him, “Hospital admin wants you as far away as possible right now.”

“Jesus,” Steve grumbles, mildly offended despite the fact that he knows it’s only a protective measure for Bucky. “I do have advocate training, ya know.”

“Yeah, and you’re involved. This is the eighteen-year-old you knocked up and bonded. Doesn’t exactly speak to your impartiality.” Steve would be more offended, but he can see how Sam’s lips turn up slightly at the corners, belying his serious attitude. “Go check on your patients. Work. Don’t just sit around up here moping and twiddling your thumbs or whatever. You’ll go nuts if you do. We’ve got this.”

Steve doesn’t like it a bit, but he knows it’s what has to be done. Any documentation of him loitering on the periphery of Bucky’s evaluation, education, or his discharge interviews will be noted harshly by the social services team. And despite all of his raging instincts, the last thing Steve wants is to pressure Bucky into a decision or situation he’s not comfortable with. This is how it has to be. “Yeah,” he grunts in agreement, and hurries to get himself out of sight. He heads for the staff locker room, where he takes an extra long and scalding hot pre-shift shower to at least make an attempt at a fresh and productive start to his day.

Steve’s head of department pulls him aside and informs him that she’ll only be requiring him to stay on the ward until Bucky is discharged and handed over to his custody. Steve doesn’t know how long that will be, but he’s certain it won’t be the entirety of his scheduled twelve hour shift.

It’s a relief at first, but after he does his first rounds with his patients and finds himself twiddling his thumbs and drinking too much espresso out of boredom, he knows it’s going to be a problem. Sometime around eleven, Steve gets caught trying to sneak downstairs to get an update on Bucky. “Stay out of it,” Banner bosses, pulling him right back off the elevator. “You bored? I can find something for you to do.”

That’s how he winds up on seeding machine duty for the next few hours.

Hospital treatment options for cycling omegas aren’t just confined to the heat suites and Support alphas. In fact, most patients who come through for heat services never get assigned a Support at all. Most aren’t even admitted, not being that high-needs. An omega’s cycle, gone off whack for whatever reason or variety of reasons, can usually be realigned with a short course of seeding therapy. But if there’s anything Steve’s ever felt most bad for omegas about, it’s the indignity of the machines used to do it. Because they’re … well …

“Oh. Wow, ha. It really is just a dick on a stick.”

Steve does a slow blink to avoid reacting to that. Not that the patient—a college-aged guy who smells like he’s recently been enjoying reefer—is wrong. “Um,” Steve says, readjusting his hold on his tablet. “It says here that you spoke with the nurse. Did you have any more questions?”

“This can’t get me pregnant, can it? I’m not on the pill or anything.”

Steve’s jaw ticks. “Hospital grade semen is manufactured. It’s sterile. So, no, it won’t get you pregnant.” If only the same could’ve been said for yours, he thinks at himself. “We do this all the time, Sir. It’s very safe, very reliable. I promise.” Just like you promised Bucky.

“Cool. No little swimmers, check.” The guy gives Steve a double thumbs up. “Think I’m ready to tango with this bad boy, then.” He smacks the top of the seeding machine happily.

Another slow blink. “... Right. Um, please try not to touch the equipment, okay? It’s very expensive.” Steve turns for the door, wondering just how long he’s going to be stuck doing this before he gets to see Bucky again. “If you’ll change into the gown. There are socks there too, if you want. Try and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back with your dosage and then we can get started.”

“Awesome. Hey, are there any snacks?”

Steve heads down to pharmacy to get the guy’s treatment dose. There’s a young female tech manning the counter and she’s visibly flustered as she retrieves the order, blushing as if it’s actual jizz she’s handing over to Steve. He winks at her, amused, and tells her to relax.

Upstairs, the receptionist is MIA so Steve hands out clipboards of check-in paperwork to the other patients who’ve shown up in the waiting area. There’s a young Korean woman and her very involved mother who are up next. The patient herself is a legal adult and seems unconcerned at being there, but the mother keeps trying to pull Steve aside where her daughter can’t hear so that she can ask thinly-veiled questions about virginity and whether they have “small sizes” for the machines.

“Ma’am, just fill out the paperwork. If you have specific concerns I’ll be happy to discuss them in the privacy of the procedure room.” He shoots the pushy woman’s daughter another look and the two of them lock eyes. She rolls hers as if to say, ‘I know’.

Steve can’t say he’s having the time of his life, but he can see why Banner thought seeding machine duty would be a good enough distraction. It isn’t exactly rocket science, is infact a very routine outpatient procedure. But dealing with the daily slew of patients coming into the hospital’s oobgyn ward to be therapeutically inseminated by machines is still a lot to handle, interpersonally at least. There’s a lot of comforting Steve has to do, a lot of reassuring and laying out the facts for the ones who have never gone through it before. Some omegas are scared or embarrassed, some are just grumpy and indignant, but some have real trauma regarding penetration. It’s Steve’s job to try and get them as comfortable as possible for their procedures. It’s always a mixed bag with how people react to the more … mechanical aspects of it.

Because the truth of the matter is that seeding machines are basically just super high tech, super unsexy versions of fucking machines. Nobody says that (except for the stoner back in procedure room B), and some effort is clearly put forth by the companies who build the things to try and make them look as bland and as non-sexual as possible. Most models that Steve’s ever seen have plastic casing over all the gears and pistons, and the dildos aren’t exactly designed to be perfectly anatomical. But at the end of the day it’s still a phallic piece of rubber, with an inflating base, fixed onto a thrusting apparatus that administers semen intravaginally.

It’s a fucking machine.

And on another note: Everybody thinks that Bruce-fucking-Banner is such a nice, mild mannered, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly type of guy. Steve used to think that too, given that the man is very quiet and unassuming. It’s the first impression he gives off: Mr. Nice Guy. But Banner has another side of him that’s kind of horrible, Steve’s found. He gets his shits and giggles in sneaky ways, by surreptitiously ribbing his friends and forcing his subordinate coworkers into shit like this.

“This” being things like a sexually frustrated housewife who’s made an appointment just for the heck of it and turns out to have no medical need for the procedure. Steve has it out with her in procedure room A, trying with all his might not to offend the lady when he explains that insurance isn’t going to cover her coming in just to get her jollies. “I’m sure there are cheaper ways, ma’am,” he says, face flaming at how unashamed she is about the whole debacle. “Your husband?”

“Psh. You haven’t seen my Roddie’s thing. It ain’t up to par, Doc.”

“Online shopping then. And it’s Nurse, not Doctor.”

It’s the first time he’s basically instructed a patient to just go home and buy a sex toy.

Then there’s the crowning glory of the day: an A/o couple whom Steve walks in on who’ve decided to engage in oral sex of the face-sitting variety up on the procedure bed … whilst the seeding machine is still locked into its knotting phase.

“Ma’am!”

“... It’s not what it looks like!”

Steve escapes that one with some choice images scarred onto his retinas, the tablet held up in front of his face to prevent further trauma, and a gruff parting rebuke of, “Get off of him and put your pants back on. You’ll have to go out to the waiting area until your husband is finished.”

“... Just five more minutes?”

Lying freak had claimed her omega was nervous and needed his hand held. Bull. shit.

Back in procedure room B, Steve finds the stoner arranged comfortably on the table, socked feet already up in the stirrups and a mini bag of cool ranch Doritos in his hands, ostensibly procured from the vending machines out in the hall. Hopefully he grabbed them before he changed into the backless paper gown.

“Comfortable?” Steve asks.

“Oh yeah. The nurse gave me lube so I’m raring to go.”

“... Great.” Steve watches him crunch a handful of chips. He’d rather a comfortable patient than an uncomfortable one, but this is a whole ‘nother level. “Erm, do you have any questions before we get started?”

“Do the dicks come in other sizes?” he asks, and Steve tries not to choke on his own spit. “Cause if you’ve got a little bigger I wouldn’t mind. Or ya know, if you’ve got ones that are ribbed or bumpy or sumthin’.” He starts to giggle.

Steve fights to keep a straight face. This guy is so high. “Sorry,” he says, focusing on injecting the machine’s cartridge with the prescribed dose of semen. “S’kind of a one-size fits all deal.” He walks around to check the phallus for proper positioning. They do all they can to keep the process clinical, but the attending technician still has to guide the rubber attachment up close to the patient’s entrance. “Selection’s kind of limited.”

“That’s okay. Mm.” The guy’s got his eyes closed and he smiles dopily up at the ceiling as he feels the attachment touch him. “Ooh.”

“Okay?” Steve checks.

“Yeah,” he sighs, then snickers, “S’bigger than my girlfriend anyway.”

Steve shakes silently and turns away just in case the guy opens his eyes and sees him laughing at him. “Okay then.” He presses the button on the machine for initial penetration, watching the guy’s face for any hint of discomfort, unlikely as it may be. “Still okay?”

“Mm.” He wiggles his hips. “So far so good.”

Steve steps away to the little partition wall that’s built into the room. Behind, there’s a control panel where he can sit and operate the machine remotely, unseen by the person he’s treating but still able to communicate throughout the course of the procedure if needed. Some omegas prefer the privacy, but in this case Steve just wants to avoid busting out laughing in front of his patient. He’s supposed to be a professional.

“Come on, Doctor Steve! Let’s get this rodeo started!”

Some patients make it damn hard, though.

Steve has supervised no less than a dozen procedures by the time Clint shows up. “Hey,” Clint says when they run into each other out in the hall. “Banner said you were free to come with me?”

Steve’s heart starts beating faster as he immediately remembers what it is he’s been trying to distract himself from these past few hours. He checks the patient schedule on his tablet. “Got somebody coming off the knot in … two minutes, then I can turn it over to my charge nurse.”

Clint nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He taps his foot.

“So?” Steve presses. “How’d it go?” The anxiety that he’s somehow managed to tamp down since that morning rises all over again as he waits for Clint to give him an update on Bucky. “Is he okay?”

“Of course he’s okay. What do you think we’re doing down there, waterboarding him?”

Steve purses his lips. “No. I just can’t imagine what you’ve been doing with him for the past three—” he checks the time on his tablet. “Four hours. Christ, it’s almost two o’clock.” He really hopes that somebody fed Bucky a suitable lunch.

“Education, mainly. Since he’s just a kid and doesn’t have a clue what he’s getting himself into,” Clint says, a little more aloof with Steve than he normally would be. He’s been that way all day, and Steve knows it’s because he disapproves of the course of action they’re taking. Steve tries not to take it personally, knows that Clint just feels like he has to stand up for the rights of his own designation. It’s kind of his actual job, after all. If Steve weren’t there, he’d hope that Bucky would always have somebody like Clint in his corner. “The rest has been a mix of waiting for people to show up, paperwork, counseling,” Clint lists. “Legal brought a team down to make sure all the right stuff got signed to cover the hospital’s ass. And the courts sent over a clerk and one of those advocate lawyers. That’s the closest anything got to an interrogation, I promise.”

“I thought the courts approved it already?” Steve says, and Clint narrows his eyes at him.

“This was to make sure he understands everything, Steve. It’s kind of important. He’ll be legally bound to you.”

“For the next few months,” Steve agrees, idly wondering when Bucky’s exact birthday is. He thinks it was something like March or April but can’t quite remem—

“Nnno,” Clint says slowly, dragging the word out like he thinks Steve’s an idiot. “Indefinitely. You two are bonded, remember?”

Steve blinks. “He’s about to turn nineteen. This was just a stopgap until he—” Clint sighs and makes a long suffering face. “Clint, what?”

“You’re bonded. That automatically takes it from a custody order, to his registration as your omega. Nothing goes away until you two march yourselves back into a courthouse and undo it, buddy,” he says. “You didn’t know that?” When Steve just stands there like a dummy, Clint softens and steps forward to pat him on the shoulder. “It’s indefinite until then, and if the alpha party doesn’t sign for the dissolution, it doesn’t get dissolved. Ever.”

“Oh.” Steve licks his lips. No wonder everybody has been making such a big deal out of this. “Right. I guess I just didn’t think of—”

“He’d be trapped,” Clint grunts, not happy about it. “They say things are changing. In a few years, maybe. But until then, we’ve got to live with the laws that are on the books. And they favor you, not us. But what else is new?”

Steve tucks his head down, feeling bad for his privilege. “So he knows all this now?” He thinks of Bucky: downstairs, alone, tucked behind some conference table with all these people telling him all these intimidating things, shoving papers at him to sign, overwhelming him. Probably feeding him crap from the vending machines for lunch. “And he signed off on it?”

“Kid trusts you,” Clint says, shaking his head. “Yeah he signed. He said he knew you’d let him go, when and if he wanted it.”

“‘If’?”

“He’s finishing up with the shrinks now. I think they were assessing for dynamic dysphoria, last I popped my head in. Figured I’d come up here and make sure you’re free, since he’s almost done. Bruce said he’d be sending you home early whenever we discharge Barnes.”

“Barnes,” Steve repeats dully, thoughts whirling.

“His last name?” Clint snaps his fingers in Steve’s face with a scowl. “Jesus, Rogers.”

“Right, right. I knew that.” 

The sister: Rebecca. Her last name was Barnes. It hadn’t yet occurred to Steve that they might share it. His mind is still stuck on the fact that he’s going to have legal custody of Bucky for a lot longer than he’d realized. A registered omega. Steve’s mother had been a registered omega. To his father. It’s what married couples did, not … 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Lemme just, uh, grab a shower. Then I can head down.”

“Um … didn’t you have a patient?” Clint checks his phone. “It’s been way more than two minutes.”

“Oh! Shit.” Steve shakes himself and turns to hurry back in the direction of procedure room A, where Ms. Jeong is probably wondering what the hell’s happened to him and why she’s still stuck on a knot.

It’s nearing four o’clock by the time they leave the hospital. Steve immediately gets them to a drive through, since he’s highly displeased to learn that Bucky’s “lunch” that afternoon consisted of cheez-its and a bag of peanut m&ms. He tells Bucky to order whatever he wants, no limits, and so when they pull out of the drive through to head home, it’s with a bag full of greasy burgers.

“Sometimes I jus’ luff shitty food,” Bucky moans through his third cheeseburger, then swallows and beams at Steve. “Like, genuinely enjoy the shitty things that make it shitty, ya know? Processed cheese, squishy fries, compressed meat product, all of it.”

“Yeah. We really don’t need to talk about the fact that you put fries on your burgers, though.” 

Steve parks at the curb and they sit in the car to finish mowing through their food before they head inside. He has a bad feeling that he’s going to make Bucky fat very fast, because so far nothing has made him feel more satisfied and content than watching his omega be well-fed. “We’ll have to stock up on good stuff to keep in the apartment,” he says. “Healthy stuff.”

“Mm.” Bucky is licking the salt off his fingers and shoving all their wrappers into the bag as they get out of the car and start down the sidewalk. “Can you cook?”

“Eh, middlin’,” Steve says. “Can you?”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky snorts. “The Children think cooking is ‘women’s work’. You think they let me anywhere near a stove?”

“Oh.”

"I wouldn't mind learning, though. I always liked watching those competition shows on the Food Network, ya know?"

Steve fishes out his keys and gestures at the building. “This is me. Or … us, I guess.” He clears his throat and watches Bucky looking around as they step inside the building.

“Wow,” he says, standing there in the middle of the foyer with his small bag of possessions, head craned back as he looks up the winding stairwell.

Steve’s been nervous about this. He likes where he lives, but he’s never brought someone home before. It’s a nice place but nothing fancy, an older building with less than twenty units and more historical charm than amenities. There’s no elevator, and the basement laundry situation isn’t pretty, but the super’s nice and he only seems to rent to at least halfway decent people (which means nice neighbors, which means less drama). That’s all Steve really cares about at the end of the day. That, and that Bucky likes it, too. “Um, prepare yourself. We’re all the way up top, so ...” They start up the stairs, Steve moving slower than he normally would to make sure that Bucky's okay. He feels better about it when they get up there and Bucky jokes lightheartedly that he'll never be out of shape as long as he lives with Steve.

Inside the apartment, Steve gives him the tour, short as it is. “Kitchen, couch, bathroom—oh that’s just the utility closet. Erm … and then the, ah, the bedroom.” He stands back in the doorway and watches as Bucky takes it all in.

Bucky sets his bag down on the bed, then turns back around to face Steve with a shy smile. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks. Sorry it’s so small.” Steve scratches behind his ear. “S’only ever been me.”

“It smells like you.” Bucky’s eyes are still flicking around to different points in the room. “It’s got character, texture.”

“Texture?”

“Mmhm. I like it.”

Steve feels a little bit of his insecurity slip away at Bucky’s honest appraisal. “Um, over here’s the closet.” He pulls on the chain that lights up the old bulb in the room’s lone walk-in closet. It’s currently full of Steve’s clothes, but he figures that adds to his scent being built up thick, which will be a good thing if Bucky ever decides to nest in there. “We’ll have to get some bedding,” he says, eyeing up the bare hardwood floor. “Nesting materials and stuff.”

Bucky does a turn inside the closet, fingering the pants leg of a pair of Steve’s scrubs that are hanging up in there. “You’re changing your whole life just to help me,” he murmurs. “All of this, everything you’ve done …” he smiles shyly up at Steve. “You’re too nice to me, you know that?”

Well. Steve feels his face heat and he shoves his hands into his pockets to avoid touching Bucky. “‘Bout time someone was.”

Bucky steps closer, and closer, until Steve feels like he has to take his hands out of his pockets and place them on Bucky’s waist because he’s just so close. Bucky leans in and kisses him, and Steve can see it coming from a mile away, but he’s too stupefied for a second to do anything about it. It’s really just a peck on the lips, but when Bucky pulls back Steve feels the need to say, “Buck … you don’t have to do that.” Bucky blinks at him, and he elaborates, “You don’t have to be physical with me. Or at least, not in a sexual way.” He curls his fingers in at Bucky’s waist, feeling the soft fabric of his tee shirt. “We’ll be close, but I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re expected to kiss me or touch me like that.”

A little wrinkle of displeasure appears between the omega’s eyebrows. “But, I thought …”

Steve waits, but when Bucky doesn’t say anything else, he pulls the boy into a hug. He rubs his back soothingly and scents at his glands. The bite mark there is scabbed over by now. “Just want you to be safe and comfortable, okay Honey?”

Bucky is still in his arms for a minute, but eventually he hugs back, scenting calm. “Okay, Alpha.”

Steve’s eyes slip closed. He’s not going to get tired of hearing that anytime soon.

They decide to celebrate Bucky’s newfound freedom by going out for a fancy dinner. Steve doesn’t eat out much, is usually too consumed by his work or else too tired after just having gotten off from a shift, but it’s really nice to be able to enjoy a whole meal in a fancy setting for a change, chatting with Bucky and getting to know each other a little more. 

They eat early, so that after dinner there’s still time to go shopping for anything Bucky might need, now that he’s living with Steve. Rebecca had brought Bucky a backpack of clothes from home, but it’s not much, so they start at Target, buying a few more things for Bucky to wear. 

“Guess I’ll have to get used to elastic waistbands, pretty soon,” Bucky grumbles when they do a curious turn about the maternity department. “Ugh.”

Steve laughs and consoles him that at least it won’t be for a while yet. Then they wind up walking the aisles of Twig ‘n’ Tuft, Steve pushing a cart while Bucky obeys the order he’s been given to throw in anything his heart desires. There are a lot of soft things for nesting in the store, and Bucky seems drawn to them all. Steve feels something warm and pleased settle in his chest as he watches his omega trailing fingers over all the chenille blankets and fluffy pillows on the shelves. Bucky is happy, Steve is making Bucky happy. It feels so satisfying, and for the first time, Steve really starts to think that this whole thing between them might turn out to be alright.

Art: @hopelessartgeek

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