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sarahowritesostucky · 19 days

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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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🎨Art in banner by the incredibly talented @hopelessartgeek, who makes a ton of amazing Stucky art. Check her out! (The piece in the banner, used with permission, was not made for this fic.)