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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 days ago

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Thank you so much for the reblog 😍

Sunshine and Gunsmoke

Chapter 2 - Rain, rain, go away

AN: Thank you and welcome back to those of you who are still here. I hope you enjoyed chapter one and the world building. Just warn that this chapter is darker and more intense. I will put more detailed trigger warnings at the end, but there will be stalking, physical assault and attempted sexual assault. Once again, a bit hug and round of applause to my cheer-reader @kahey2804 who put up with me rambling in DMs at her, and to my lovely beta @zenaidamacrouras1 who fell for me batting my eyelids at them until they said yes.

Catch up on Chapter 1 here

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Summary: Bucky knows he should say no to Steve for his own sake, but he can’t seem to let the feisty Omega go. Eventually his secret will come out, so he wants to savour every moment he can get.

Steve is content. He’s in a better place financially, he has a good friend (?) in Bucky and is basking in his freedom. But why does he have the feeling he is being followed and watched. Could it just be because he works for a mob fronted business, or is there something more sinister happening?

Relationships: Platonic Alpha Bucky & Beta Clint, past Omega Steve x Alpha Stephen, FWB Omega Steve x Alpha Bucky

Chapter WC: 8k (eeek!)

Chapter CW: Omegaverse, Shrinkyclinks, Strip club AU, references to past abusive relationship, references to misogyny, inferred Mafia elements, Alternating POV, flirty Bucky, flirty Steve, Clint Barton is so done with this, non-graphic descriptions of sex, references to rut, Friends to FWB, pining, angst, identity porn, Stalking, anxiety, breaking and entering, vomiting (once), Dark Stephen Strange, deluded behaviour, misogyny, gaslighting, degradation, physical assault, medical assault (drugging), kidnapping, attempted sexual assault, identity reveal.

Bucky’s head hit the pillow as he gulped in deep breaths. Steve was splayed across his chest, breathing just as hard and, for the moment at least, connected to him. He’d been weak, falling sway to Steve’s sweet words and enticing touches and had ended up in his bed. Again. And still, he couldn’t find it within himself to tell Steve the truth as to who he was.

He knew it wasn’t healthy to one, have a relationship based on what was effectively a lie, and two, to have one where one half thought it was a casual ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement and the other knew they were in a lot deeper. Because he couldn’t deny it any longer. Bucky was deeply in love with Steve. He’d suspected it for a while, but three weeks ago, against his better judgement, he’d taken Steve up on his offer to help him through his rut.

Being a coward, he hadn’t invited Steve to his actual home - there was no way he could have kept up the facade of the humble barkeep in his swanky uptown apartment, so instead he’d given Steve the address of one of his family’s safehouses - a slightly dingy apartment across town from Steve’s. And although most of the three days they’d spent holed up together was a blur to Bucky, he did remember how hard he’d had to fight his inner self so he didn’t end up non-consensually claiming Steve during it. At least they’d had time beforehand to properly workout their boundaries and ensure that they had enough supplies in to keep the two of them going.

“Buck?” Steve’s lilting voice brought him back to the present and realising that his knot had gone down, he eased himself from the clutch of Steve’s body. He didn’t move Steve though. He wanted to revel in the feeling of the Omega’s weight on top of him for as long as he could.

“Yeah, Stevie?”

Steve lifted his head, a soft smile on his face, and started to trace invisible patterns across Bucky’s chest with his finger. “Why are you called ‘Bucky’. I can’t work it out.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s short for Buchanan.”

Steve pulled a face. “What sort of person names their child that?”

“It’s not my first name, dumbass.”

“Oh,” Steve replied, his brow furrowing. “What is it then? No…hang-on. Please don’t tell me…”

WIth a roll of his eyes, Bucky nodded the affirmative. “It is…” He was glad they were no longer attached, because not only did Steve start to cackle, he rolled off of Bucky and onto the bed beside him.

“James. Buchanan. Oh god. Did your parents hate you?”

Bucky turned his head to look into Steve’s smiling, happy face. “Now you know why I go by Bucky. Go on, laugh it up.”

“Never have I been happier to be plain, old Steven Grant Rogers.” Steve flipped onto his front and propped himself up on his elbows. “And now, James Buchanan, I’ve got a question for you. Would you do me the honour of assisting me for my next heat? It’s due in about a month by my calculation, and I really don’t think either of us want a repeat of last time.”

“Hey!” Bucky cried with mock outrage, “I remember the bits I was involved in not being so bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. Big, goddamn hero that saved the day. You know what I mean. Being prepared in advance will be better, though. And hopefully I won’t feel as awful this time around.”

Any mention of heat suppressants was obviously being left unspoken, but it was clear what Steve meant.

Bucky knew he should say no, the way he should have said no the last half dozen or so times Steve had taken him to bed, but he just couldn’t deny himself this. If this was all he got of Steve then he would hoard it like a miser hoarding pennies. Also, he told himself in mitigation, this would be different. This was Steve’s heat and his Sunshine needed him to help. He’d be a bad friend if he said no, wouldn’t he?

“No problem, Steve,” he heard himself say. “Send me a text with your estimated dates and I’ll make sure I’ve got bar cover available in advance.”

Steve flashed him another smile and then leant over to give him a brief kiss. “You’re the best, Buck. Now, I’m gonna have a shower before I head to my diner shift. I’ll see you later?”

There it was. The casual dismissal. Bucky schooled his features, not letting his smile slip an inch. It was the way Steve wanted it, so it was the way it was gonna stay. “Absolutely, pal. I’ll have a White Russian waiting with your name on it.”

Steve grinned as he pushed himself up and walked out of the bedroom and into his small bathroom. Bucky counted to twenty under his breath before getting up himself. He rooted around for his clothes and hastily pulled them on, checking for his phone, wallet and keys. Then, with a wistful glance back at the bed, he left the room and then the apartment. As he made his way down the stairs and out of the door, he kept thinking about how he could change the situation without losing his friendship with Steve, which is probably why he didn’t notice the person watching from across the street.

Steve walked home from his diner shift with an air of contentment about him. He couldn’t believe how far he’d come in just a few months. From being virtually penniless, he was now making enough that he could manage to save a bit. It wasn’t a lot, and it wasn’t every month, but something was better than nothing. Speaking of which, he knew that the biggest reason for his positive outlook was down to his friendship - or whatever it was - with Bucky.

It was true to say that Steve was really enjoying their stress-free ‘situationship’. Bucky was funny, and kind and affectionate, but Bucky wanted to keep it casual then Steve could live with it. At least it meant that Bucky wasn’t trying to control him, which Steve didn’t actually think he’d do, but it did mean he could breathe easier. Even if it would be nice to have Buc someone to come home to.

As he went through the main doors of the apartment he raised his hand in greeting to the elderly lady who lived on the first floor, before jogging up the stairs. He stepped through the door and threw his keys in the dish on the sideboard and as he made his way through to the living room, he tipped his head from side to side to work out a kink in his neck. He really ought to invest in better shoes for his diner shifts.

It was cooler than anticipated in the main room of his apartment, and Steve frowned as he noticed the window leading on the fire escape was slightly open. He was sure that he’d closed that before he left for work. He was normally very security conscious. However, he had been in a bit of a daydream after his shower, sniffing at the lingering scent of smoke and oil in the air and imagining what it would be like to wake up every day with that scent surrounding him. Maybe he’d just intended to close it, but then forgotten? Well, he consoled himself, there was no damage done.

He crossed the room and shoved the window down firmly, making sure the latch was securely in place, before heading to his bedroom. He wanted to double check that he had everything packed and ready for his dance this evening. He’d been working on something that he hoped would work well for the patrons, but also give Bucky a bit of a laugh too. He started to hum to himself and the window was soon forgotten.

It was another packed house. Steve peeked out from behind the backstage curtain, seeing for himself that it was a rowdy crowd tonight, just as some of the others had said. However, as the saying goes, the higher the risk, the higher the reward - these Alphas may be a bit more ‘handsy,’ but they’d also be freer with their dollar bills. It was a trade off Steve was willing to make, especially with the number of bouncers around and Bucky behind the bar. It hadn’t escaped him how Bucky always stopped serving to watch him dance, however he stopped his brain from thinking too much about that, lest he tie himself up in knots imagining something there that wasn’t.

With a signal from Clint in the sound booth, the intro to his song started.

Uh, dirrty (dirrty) Filthy (filthy...) Nasty Christina, you nasty (yeah) Too dirrty to clean my act up If you ain't dirrty You ain't here to party (woo!)

Steve couldn’t hold back his grin as stepped out in a pinstripe, mobster-esque outfit, complete with heels and fedora. His pole skills had improved over his time working here, so once his tear-away pants had come away, he was able to show off his physique to its best advantage. Under the vest that had matched the pants, he wore a pair of black, sequin nipple tassels, which matched the sequins on the front part of his thong. The crowd was going wild for his dance, and he’d even had a chance to throw a cheeky wink over their heads when he’d noticed Bucky staring across with his mouth open.

However, as the song got towards the end, and he was strutting his stuff from the left hand catwalk back toward the centre, something unexpected happened. The club was always ‘highly scented’. He and the other Omega’s wore scent enhancers, and randy Alpha’s always created a stink, so it was often very difficult to distinguish one person’s scent from another’s unless you were up close. Therefore, when the smell of lemon, antiseptic and rosemary got caught in his nose, he staggered, almost face planting onto the scratched wooden stage as he tottered in his heels. He just managed to save himself and went into his signature side split just as Christina announced ‘What?’ at the end of the track, but his head was reeling.

The smell had disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived, but a feeling of apprehension had already taken hold of him. Stephen couldn’t possibly know where he was working? Where he’d moved to after he’d left? It wasn’t as though he’d left a forwarding address for his mail, or told anyone where he was going. He must have been mistaken. Maybe he was just tired? That had to be it.

He exited the stage on auto-pilot, gathering up his tips and giving rehearsed flirty looks to the Alphas right at the front. Backstage, he quickly cleaned up, changed his lingerie and slipped on his silk robe before heading out onto the main floor. He needed his post-dance drink and wanted to drum up some private dances. He had high-hopes for the latter, given the type of crowd that was in. He just needed to get his head back in the game.

Plastering his smile back in place, he headed towards ‘his’ stool at the bar where Bucky had done as promised and had his drink ready and waiting.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky started, with a grin. “You pulled out the stops that time. But I know that ‘mob’ stunt was aimed at me. You’re a little shit, you know that?”

Steve didn’t need to fake his smile now. Seeing Bucky so giddy was like a balm to his soul. “I knew you’d get it. I thought it would be funny and a bit meta, even if only you and I understood.”

“Oh, I think Clint and the girls got it too. I could see Clint trying to hide his giggles in the sound booth and a couple of the girls were hollering and rooting for you as well.”

Steve took a sip of his drink, enjoying the tingle of the alcohol. “You think the Barnes’ would see the funny side?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky assured him. “Some of them have a good sense of humour. Or so I hear.”

Bucky scrubbed at the back of neck as he spoke, looking a bit bashful, but all Steve could think was how cute the Alpha looked when he did that. Like a school-boy with an inappropriate crush - if only, Steve thought, it was a crush on him. Friends with benefits was good, but…

Cutting off that thought by finishing off his drink, Steve placed the glass back on the bar and hopped down from his stool. “Well, that’s good to know. Now, I’m gonna head off and shake this money maker. Baby needs more to eat than Ramen noodles this week.” He wiggled his satin clad hips in Bucky’s direction with a chuckle and headed off into the crowd, his earlier apprehension had dissipated almost as quickly as the offending scent had, and speaking with Bucky had put him back in full spirits.

Three hours later, he was sleepily letting himself back into his apartment, still humming ‘Dirrty’ under his breath and working out what he was going to spend his tips and private dance payments on, when he stopped dead.

Something was off.

Carefully he opened the hall closet and pulled out his mop. It wouldn’t be an effective weapon if there was an intruder in here, but it would be better than nothing. He knew he should just leave and call the police, but the part of him that railed against being seen as weak wanted to find whoever was here and rip their throat out. He crept through to the living room and flipped the light switch.

There was no-one there.

Steve didn’t allow himself to relax. If there was an intruder in either his bathroom or bedroom, they’d be alerted to his presence now, so he needed to be extra careful. He picked up the TV remote, selected a random channel - turning the volume up to mask any of his movements - and crept along to his bathroom. That was empty as well, which only left his bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped through the door, switching on the light and brandishing his mop.

There was no intruder there to greet him. However it was clear to him that someone had definitely been here. His bed, and its nest of blankets and pillows that had been left in disarray this morning after his overnight visit from Bucky, was now meticulously neat. The bedding had been changed and the coverlet smoothed out with the pillows lined up along the headboard. Using the end of the broom, just in case the intruder was very small and very sneaky, Steve lifted up the lid of his laundry basket. Heaped on top were the blankets and bedding that had been on his bed this morning, and floating in the air was the smell of lemons.

Steve snatched a couple of the blankets out of the hamper and backed out of the room, feeling his hackles rise. He dumped them on the sofa, before going back to the front door and double checking it was fully locked. He did the same with each of the windows. Twice. When he was as satisfied as he was going to get that he was alone and secure, Steve retreated to the sofa, not even bothering to undress as he wrapped himself up in the fabric that smelt of him and Bucky combined. With the lights still on and the TV still blaring, he fell into a fitful sleep, the mop handle still gripped in his hands.

It was with a strong feeling of anxiety that Steve left his apartment the next evening to go to work, and on his return in the early hours, his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. However, this time there was nothing amiss. His bed looked the same as it had this morning when he’d stripped off all the new bedding and left it sitting in a ball on his floor. He felt as if he was going mad. Sunday was the same, and by the time he left for the diner on Monday morning, he’d almost convinced himself that he’d imagined the whole thing.

However, when he got home from his shift, his window was open again, the thin, gauzy curtains blowing around in the breeze. A few times, when out and about, he thought he caught the smell of lemon or antiseptic in unexpected places, or had the feeling that someone was following him, but whenever he turned around, there was no-one there.

His sleep was fractured, and he knew he was getting tetchy with people, something he couldn’t afford to do at either of his jobs when he relied on tips, which in turn relied on him having a congenial manner.

Two weeks after the first hint of lemon creeped back into his life, a new incident almost tipped him over the edge. He arrived home, full of trepidation, but the window was closed and there was no strange smell. Steve let out a breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding and went through to his bedroom.

There, sitting on the bed was a teddy bear. A teddy bear wearing a doctor’s outfit - a white coat and toy stethoscope. A stuffed toy he definitely didn’t own. He ran into his bathroom, falling to his knees, and emptied his stomach into the toilet.

A few minutes later, feeling rung out and sweaty, Steve returned to his room. He picked up the stuffed toy between finger and thumb and walked through to his kitchen. He placed the poor thing in his trash can, added a load of paper, took the can out onto the fire escape and dumped in a load of matches. Numbly he watched it burn.

He dumped the ashen remains down the apartment garbage shoot, then picked up his phone. It rang once. Then twice, and was picked up. In his sultriest voice said “Hey, Bucky. I’m feeling some kinda way if you are?”

He should have just told the truth, instead of using the pretext of sex to get some company, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want to tell Bucky what had happened. He just wanted him here for the comfort his presence would bring and he wasn’t brave enough to ask for it outright. And as for all of these weird goings on, maybe if he didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t be real?

This all had to be Stephen. There wasn’t really any other reasonable explanation - the scent, the toy, the precision bed making. He supposed that it could be the Barnes family, letting him know that they always had eyes on their employees, no matter how far down the food chain, but that didn’t seem likely. No, it had to be Stephen trying to get in his head and trying to have power over him again. Well Steve wasn’t going to let him. No matter how hard Stephen pushed, he was going to stand his ground.

There was a knock on the door, and Steve tried to banish his thoughts, determined to lose himself in the joy of being with Bucky. He plastered a smile to his face and went to welcome his friend inside.

[Image description: A moodboard. The background is a grey cityscape and there are two rows of pictures, all with made to look as though they are torn paper. On the first row there is a hand reaching towards a window, a text box which states "But the terror in his eyes? That gets me high." and a streetlight overlooking a building in the dark of the night. On the second row there is a text box which says "You belong to me!", the image of a teddy bear in a doctor's uniform, the image of a pristenly made bed and a text box that states "I will find you!".]

Clint was sitting at the bar, reading down the papers attached to his clipboard when he realised that Bucky was talking to him.

“What? Sorry, man. I was in the zone.”

Bucky huffed, blowing up the hair curling over his brow. “I said, have you noticed anything strange about Steve? He’d been acting kinda… off… and at first I thought it might be because of his heat, but that’s not due for about another two weeks.”

Clint cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know why you know when Steve’s heat is due?” A flush ran up Bucky’s neck and Clint sniggered. “You’ve got it bad, my man.”

“Shut up,” the Alpha grumbled.

“Bucky and Steve, sitting in a tree,” Clint started to sing-song, but stopped when a wet, beer soaked rag smacked him in the face. “Eww.” He wrinkled his nose before lobbing the cloth into the sink next to Bucky. “It’s not a bad thing. I think you could be good for each other. You’ve been a lot happier these last months.”

Bucky turned away to empty the glass wash machine. Clint knew it was so Bucky wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “Steve’s only looking for something casual. And, you know, so am I. No strings. No pressure.”

“Sure…” Clint drawled. “You keep telling yourself that in order to save that Alpha ego of yours. I tell you, it’s much easier being a Beta. None of this extra hormone shit to deal with.”

At that moment the door flew open, banging back on its hinges and Steve scurried in. Clint got up to head to his sound booth, knowing that Steve and Bucky liked to ‘shoot the breeze’ - or whatever they were calling it to kid themselves into thinking that they weren’t actually in a relationship - when he realised that Steve was calling his name and following him across the floor.

Clint turned, confused, as Steve followed him into the sound booth. He looked down at the petite Omega and saw that, maybe, Bucky had a point. Steve was not looking himself. He seemed both tired and wired at the same time. “What is it, Steve? Something bite your ass?”

Steve twisted his hands together in the cuffs of his oversized sweater - a sweater that Clint was certain he’d seen Bucky wearing a few weeks ago, but he wasn’t about to point that out.

“I just wanna check - cos I know what kinda business the owners of this place are in… But there’s no way they would have anyone following me, would they? You know, just to make sure their employees aren’t going to rat them out to the cops or anything?”

Clint’s brow furrowed further. “You sure you shouldn’t be talking to Bucky about this, you know with him being-”

“I don’t want him involved,” Steve interrupted with a hiss. “And you’re my boss, not Bucky. So I’m asking you.”

“Okay…” Clint was still baffled, but as he didn’t really understand what was going on between the Alpha and Omega anyway - besides the obvious - he decided he’d just go with it. “I’ll double check, but I wouldn’t think so. It’s not their style. If they’ve got a problem with you they tell you straight. I am 99% certain that the Barnes’ don’t have any problem with you. I mean you’d know before me, surely?”

He’d expected Steve to look a bit more relieved at that, but for some reason he wasn’t. If anything he looked even more keyed up.

“O-Okay. Thanks, Clint. That’s what I thought. I’d best go get ready, so I’ll see you in a bit. Umm, say hello to Bucky from me, okay?”

Steve hurried out of the booth with the same energy he’d arrived with. Clint shook his head to himself. He’d never fully understand Alphas and Omegas.

“What was that about?”

Clint jumped and whirled around, realising that Bucky had come up beside him on silent feet.

“Oh. Umm, Steve was just worried that someone’s been watching him. He wondered if it was a member of the family, but I told him it probably wasn’t. Cos like the pair of you would know if it was, yeah?”

Bucky opened his mouth, as though he was about to ask Clint a follow up curtain, but at that moment, one of the dancers, a sweet, but dim girl who called herself Kandy - but who’s parents had called her Maureen - appeared in a flurry of satin and shrieks.

“What the fuck now,” Clint let out under his breath, then louder, “Kandy, angel-face! How can I help?” He pushed his way past a pensive looking Bucky and got back to the task at hand - wrangling a flock of diva Omegas.

For the rest of the evening Bucky watched Steve like a hawk. Not that he didn’t normally, but this time it was even more so. He told himself he was just being a good friend and truthfully, his concern was genuine.

When Clint had told him what Steve was worried about, it had taken all of Bucky’s control not to rush backstage and force Steve to tell him everything himself. However, it was just another sign that Steve didn’t see their relationship as serious as Bucky would like it to be, and therefore It was none of Bucky’s business.

It was difficult though, to see Steve so drawn and on edge. All Bucky could do was provide Steve with the opportunity to open up. With that in mind, he lined up two White Russians for when Steve came over after his dance.

Steve clambered up onto his stool with a wan smile. He looked so tired.

“You alright, pal?” Bucky hoped his inquiry came off nonchalant enough.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip and stirred his first cocktail with the little paper umbrella that Bucky had popped in it. “Just something niggling me, Buck. Nothing for you to worry over, though. I’ll get it sorted.”

Bucky wanted to call bullshit, but instead went for levity. “Want me to come over tonight? Work out some of your frustration again?”

Steve’s lips twitched up and Bucky felt a spark of triumph. “Why, are you trying to get into my thong, James?”

“Ppht,” Bucky snorted. “Like it’s hard?”

“Yes you are,” retorted Steve, “but what am I?”

They burst into laughter and for a moment Bucky thought his Sunshine was back. However, when their fit of the giggles faded, Steve just looked balefully up at him, the bags under his eyes showing clearly through his stage make-up.

“It’s okay, Buck. I think I just need a quiet night tonight and a long sleep. But first I ought to go earn those tips. If I don’t see you before I go, I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

He slid down from his perch and made his way through the throng. His second White Russian sat gathering condensation on the bar, untouched.

Bucky picked it up, knocked it back and then pulled out his phone. Time to call in a favour and see if his father knew what was going on.

Steve hated the way that he was jumping at every shadow on his way home. He hadn’t slept properly in days and was scared to leave his apartment. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had to leave it in order to keep it, he would probably have become a hermit. A hermit armed with a mop handle and a new, shiny baseball bat.

As he approached his building, he fished his keys from his pocket, wanting to be ready to open the main door. He hated the moments where he was just standing there, turning the lock. He just felt so exposed.

Above him, the streetlight flickered. Steve hitched his bag higher up onto his shoulder and then lifted his keys. He hadn’t even placed the correct one in the lock when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A shadow detached from the wall and with every step closer it got more recognisable. Steve tried to push his fear down - his personal demon thrived on it.

“Stephen. How unpleasant to see you.” Steve felt adrenaline surge through him, but he’d been expecting this moment.

Stephen stopped in front of him, invading his personal space and sighed dramatically. “If you’ve quite finished having your tedious Omega tantrum, Steve, I’ve come to take you home.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “How about you go to hell instead. I’m sure they have a reservation for you - although I hear it’s not as exclusive as you would like. Shame.” He’d been taught to stay calm and non-confrontational in situations like this, but he wouldn’t be Steven Grant Rogers if he held his tongue.

Another sigh left Stephen’s lips. “You haven’t been taking your medication and it’s made you completely hormonal. You must have had a heat by now.” The tall Alpha leaned down and Steve tried not to flinch as Stephen took a good sniff of his neck. “And if I’m not mistaken you’re due one soon. Which is good, because then we can sort this all out. You’ll be better when you quit that embarrassing job as well. Being surrounded by the stink of so many other Alphas must be doing a number on your system. I’m surprised that you haven’t taken more than one of them into your nest.”

Steve ground his teeth together. “It’s none of your business, Stephen. You and I aren’t together any more and Bucky is just a friend.”

A sharp bark of laughter split the night air. “A friend? Oh you naive Omega. He’s not your friend. He’s a horny Alpha and you are just an easy little slut who’s weak nature means you’ll invite anyone into your nest if they offer you affection. And Bucky? Ha! What sort of a name is that anyway? Are you sure he’s not a Beta taking fake pheromones?”

Stephen’s words stung, and it was a struggle not to wince, but there was no way he was letting them go by without comment. “Not if the size of his knot is anything to go by. Never had one so big. Or satisfying.”

Stephen growled at Steve’s taunt, his arm snapping out and he grabbed Steve’s wrist in a painful grip. “You whore,” he spat. “I should have claimed you during that first disgusting heat of yours. Then you wouldn’t have had this silly mental aberration. You’d have known exactly where, and to whom, you belonged.”

Twisting and pulling his arm, Steve broke the hold the angry Alpha had on him, and shoved him hard in the chest. Stephen fell down the step between the sidewalk and the street, landing on his back with a curse, and Steve took the opportunity to unlock the front door and race inside. He continued to run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, until he reached his apartment door. Once inside he engaged the safety chain, grabbed one of his rickety dining chairs from his living room, and wedged the back of it under his door handle.

His heart was thudding in his chest and he felt sick. He should really call someone. His heart was telling him that someone was Bucky, but his head, twisted in knots by Stephen’s words, couldn’t shake the thought that there was some truth to the notion that Bucky was just sleeping with him because he was easy.

He picked up his baseball bat from where it currently rested against his coffee table and perched, full of nerves, on the edge of the couch, facing the door. Waiting.

He waited.

And waited.

The hours ticked by, and the sun started to come up outside. Saturday morning. Which meant no diner shift. He could stay in and rest. He’d speak to Clint later tonight. See if there was any ‘protection’ he could invoke. There had to be an upside to working for a mob controlled business?

He’d just rest his eyes first, though. Just for a moment. That couldn’t hurt, could it?

He blinked slowly…………….

……… and in the next moment, his eyes snapped open. Disorientated, he looked around. How was he in his bedroom? Hadn’t he just been on the sofa? Why did his arm hurt? Why was-

“Stephen! What the fuck?” He pushed himself upright, also realising he was naked. “Get out, you lunatic!”

Stephen grinned sickly at him.

“Come now. No need to be so dramatic.”

“How did you even get in here?” Steve bit out.

Stephen’s grin got even wider. “You know me, Steve. Magic hands and all that.”

He shook them, drawing Steve’s attention. In one he held a used alcohol wipe and in the other was a syringe. Steve scowled. “What the fuck have you just done to me?”

“Just speeding things up, sweetheart. I decided we shouldn’t wait any longer to be bonded and we all know that it’s likely to take better if you’re having your heat. He wrinkled his nose up as he spoke the last word. “Modern medicine is such a marvel,” he said, looking at the syringe in his hand. “One little prick can change so many things.”

“Evidently,” said Steve dryly, watching as his ex threw the syringe and the used wipe into the trash can.

“Acid-tongued as always, Steve. Don’t worry. That will disappear soon enough. When we’re bonded you’ll finally understand your place and appreciate everything I do for you.”

Steve looked at him, incredulous. “You’re totally deluded, you know that? Now you’ve added physical assault to the list. Let me make this clear. I. Don’t. Love. You. If I ever did, you destroyed that feeling quickly and effectively when you showed your true colours. I am not your possession and I want you to get out of my home!”

As his anger rose, Steve started to feel tell-tale prickles make their way down his spine. Stephen just grinned at his outburst, apparently amused by Steve’s resistance.

Eyes flicking around the room, Steve decided it was time for a different tack. He launched himself from the bed, aiming for his bedroom door that was still ajar and offered a chance of freedom. Unfortunately, he only made it a few steps before a wave of dizziness washed over him and he crashed to the floor. With a dark chuckle, Stephen picked him up and re-deposited him on the bed. He was so unconcerned by Steve’s escape effort that he even turned his back and opened Steve’s closet, carelessly rummaging through his neatly organised belongings to find some of the heat blankets.

He dumped an armful on the bed, a look of scorn in his eyes. “Here. I suppose you’ll want to make your silly little nest. Whatever soothes your hormone-addled brain.”

Steve growled at him, bearing his teeth. “I wouldn’t waste the effort on you.”

Apparently nonplussed, Stephen looked down at his watch. “Your fire should make things interesting. Maybe I’ll even change my mind about how disgusting heats are if the bonding doesn’t rid you of it. I’ll come and check-in on you in a bit, see how you’re getting along. You’d best rest, sweetheart. It’s going to get a bit rough I think.”

The sick grin returned as Stephen exited the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Steve scrambled up and pulled on the knob, but it was clear that Stephen had worked out a way to jam it. He ran to the window, but here in his bedroom there was no fire escape outside. Just a drop three stories down. Then, even though he guessed it would be in vain, he searched around for his phone. Given that the clothes he’d had on when he fell asleep weren’t here, he guessed his only form of communication was still in the living room along with them.

Returning to the bed, he glared at the clock. One pm. He must have fallen asleep at some time around six this morning. Bucky and Clint would expect him at work sometime between eight and nine, ready for opening at ten. They’d know something was wrong when he failed to turn up. He just had to hold out until then. He could do that, surely?

The hours passed slowly. Cramps began to wrack Steve’s body, and the prickly sensation intensified. He went through periods of intense fever, followed by chills. In his lucid moments he realised that this was worse than the after-effects of the heat suppressants. True to his word, Stephen came and looked in a few times, even going so far as to place a plastic tumbler of water and a few granola bars on the floor, just inside the door, supplies that Steve took greedily.

Eventually though, the drugs that Stephen had administered did their work. Steve’s body started to produce slick and his sexual urges started to peak. As much as he willed it all away, his chemically enhanced hormones were now running the show. The next time Stephen looked in, it was to find Steve whimpering and humping at one of his pillows, a pathetic attempt at a nest surrounding him.

With a dark smile, Stephen stepped forward.

Bucky looked down at his watch. Nine pm. One hour until opening, and Steve hadn’t yet arrived. Even if he’d overslept after last night, he’d still have been up early enough to get here on time.

“Hey, Clint!” He called out as the beleaguered manager walked past, muttering to himself as he started down at his bent and battered clipboard. “You’ve not heard from Stevie, have you? He’s not here yet.”

Clint gave him a look. “Like Steve would contact me before you,” he said, before continuing on his way.

Bucky picked up another glass, cleaning at an invisible mark. Anything to sooth his nerves. Since that first day, Steve had been nothing but punctual - always here at least ninety minutes before the doors opened so he could negotiate his dance slot and make sure what he had planned didn’t clash with any of the others. And it couldn’t be his heat either. He hadn’t smelt of pre-heat last night and Steve had already confirmed to him that it wasn’t going to appear for another week. They’d both cleared their calendars in preparation.

Throwing down his cleaning cloth in frustration, Bucky dug his phone out from his back pocket, and dialled Steve’s number. It rang and rang, before going to voicemail, Steve’s voice telling him to leave a message if he was a boomer. With a sigh, he shoved his phone away and started to do his opening checks. An hour later and the doors opened, inviting in the Saturday night flood of Alphas. There was still no Steve.

For the next thirty minutes, Bucky checked his phone between each drink service. He sent texts. He tried to phone again. Nothing. A sense of foreboding started to form in the pit of his stomach. His call to his father yesterday had confirmed that there was no Barnes sanctioned surveillance on Steve, and nothing to suggest it was one of their competitors. His father hadn’t known who Steve was, so it was unlikely that the Maximoffs or Starks did.

But Steve had been worried about someone following him. He’d said as much to Clint, and his behaviour over the last few weeks suggested that it was either true or Steve was totally losing the plot.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Kate!” The new Beta bartender paused mid-cocktail to look at him. “I’m sorry, I gotta go. Let Clint know, okay?” She nodded and then returned to what she was doing.

Bucky ducked out from behind the bar and made his way to the back office. Opening the safe that was in there, he retrieved his gun, plus an extra clip just in case, and made his way out the back exit towards his car. As his feet crunched over the gravel of the parking lot he called his father again. Twice in two days - it was some kind of record.

Twenty minutes and several traffic violations later, Bucky pulled up outside Steve’s apartment, carelessly abandoning his car at the curb. At the same time a blacked out SUV came to a stop - one of his father’s fleet. Two burley enforcers alighted and gave Bucky a curt nod each.

Bucky walked up to the apartment door and pressed the buzzer for Steve’s apartment. There was no answer, but a quick check around the side of the building showed that his living room lights were on. Returning to the door, Bucky ran his hands down all the buzzers, counting on someone being pissed off enough at this time of night, to just press the door release. He was right, and with ear-screeching noise, the front door unlocked. Bucky yanked it open and then turned to his father’s men. He pointed at the first. “You, go up the fire escape. Third floor. Threadbare red couch. Wait for the two of us to come through the front door, unless you see a small blonde Omega in distress.”

Another curt nod, and then Bucky was racing through the door, the other one of the enforcers following him up the stairs. When he reached Steve’s door he hammered on it loudly and shouted. “Stevie!” Pressing his ear to the wood composite he couldn’t hear anything. If Steve was there, he must be in the back half of the apartment.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep inhale. Sand and sun met his nose. Steve was definitely in there, but something wasn’t right. Steve’s scent was sickly sweet like in his heat, but at the same time not, and that wasn’t all. There was another scent mingled in, an Alpha one that Bucky didn’t recognise. His own Alpha bristled, but he was torn. He and Steve weren’t a couple. Steve was allowed to be with someone else. What if, for some reason his heat had just come early and he’d found another Alpha friend to help him through it?

However, on the flip side of that, Steve had been worried. Anxious even. And he couldn’t believe that Steve wouldn’t at least let Clint know if he wasn’t coming in.

That thought sealed it for Bucky, and raising his foot, he kicked at the door. The lock sprung open under the assault, but the door was then halted by the security chain and then something blocking it. Bucky swore under his breath, preparing to kick again, but then the door swung open. The man he’d sent up the fire escape stood there.

“Looked like you needed a hand, boss. And seems like the window has been tampered with.”

Before Bucky could say anything in reply a cry broke the air, accompanied by a spike of distressed Omega scent.

“Shit!” Bucky ran off toward the bedroom, safe in the knowledge that his backup would follow him. He skidded to a halt outside the open door and took in the scene before him.

Steve was face down, on all fours on his bed, a mess of blankets around him. He was naked, flushed and obviously heavily aroused, at least in body. Behind him, a tall, dark and skeevy looking, half dressed Alpha was holding him down by the back of his neck.

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice, partially muffled, wobbled as he called out.

At the same time the other Alpha opened his own mouth. “Who the fuck are you? Fuck off out of here.”

Trying to remain calm, Bucky addressed his friend, not even looking at the man behind him. “Are you okay here, Stevie? Do you want me to go?”

“Of course he wants you to go!” the other Alpha shouted. “You’re the ones invading an intimate and private moment here. My boyfriend and I were just sorting out a little relationship hiccup.”

“Steve?” Bucky wanted to be certain. If this was Stephen, there was no way in hell Steve wanted to be back with him. Ocean blue eyes full of tears and despair looked up at him.

“Alpha,” he sighed. “Help. Alpha.”

Bucky straightened his spine and directed his attention to Stephen.

“I think,” he growled out, “that it’s you who needs to leave. I know who you are, Stephen. I know what you did to Steve, and it’s taking all my resolve not to beat you into a pulp.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Bucky? It is Bucky, isn’t it? Steve isn’t your mate. You might have been getting your knot wet in him, but he’s mine and he’ll agree with me soon enough.” Stephen’s arrogant whine was getting on Bucky’s nerves.

“You’re right,” he said, and for a moment, there was a flash of victory in Stephen’s eyes. “Steve’s not mine. But he’s not yours either. He’s not anyone’s. He’s his own person, free to make his own choices about who to fuck, who to love, who to trust. I know I tick two of those boxes and you tick none of them.” He took a careful step forward, wanting to get within arms reach of either of them. “And it is Bucky, but only to Steve. Not to you. You can call me James. Buchanan. Barnes.”

He pulled his gun out from behind his back and shot the external wall an inch to the side of Stephen’s head. Then, in less than a heartbeat he adjusted his aim to point directly between Stephen’s eyes, a curl of gunsmoke escaping the barrel. “And I never miss.”

Stephen’s eyes went wide and he immediately released his hold on Steve to raise his hands. Bucky motioned with the gun, and Stephen clambered off the bed. Bucky’s enforcers grabbed hold of him roughly.

“M-Mr Barnes,” Stephen stammered. “I didn’t know, I-”

Bucky backhanded Stephen across the face, splitting his lip. “I don’t give a shit about what you have to say.” He said with a snarl and then turned to his men. “Take him to the shop,” he ordered. “You don’t have to be gentle, but I want him conscious and able to talk and listen when I get there. And call the doc - have her come over straight away. I need her to take a look at Stevie.”

As soon as the room was cleared, Bucky placed his gun on top of Steve’s set of drawers and inched back toward the bed, crouching down so he was at eye level with Steve. Gently, he reached out and swept back some of his sweat-soaked hair.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he crooned. “It’s alright. It’s safe now. He’s gone.”

“Bucky,” came the croaked, plaintive reply.

“Ssh-ssh. I’m here. Do you want me to come into your nest?”

Steve sobbed and nodded into the blankets, his hips twitching as he sought out friction. Bucky toe-d off his shoes and settled himself in the middle of the bed. Almost immediately he was wrapped up in Steve, who settled on his lap, arms and legs around his waist and his nose pressed right into Bucky’s neck. Bucky returned the embrace, carefully. Steve felt so small in his arms - like he’d break if Bucky wasn’t gentle enough.

“Alpha. Please.” Steve’s hips bucked and slick started to soak through Bucky’s jeans. Bucky tried to concentrate on putting out a soothing and calming scent and hoped the doc would be here soon. “He drugged me,” Steve continued. “I didn’t want this. But it hurts. Please!”

Bucky was thankful that his men had taken Stephen away. He’d rip the bastards knot off for this. The guy was sick. Steve was humping away in his lap, and it would have been so easy to help ease his discomfort, but he couldn’t. He had to be strong. Hopefully the doc could reverse this or something. Steve wasn’t in any position to give informed consent, so unless there was no other way, his dick was staying firmly inside his pants.

He started to rock side to side, letting out soothing noises as Steve whimpered.

“I know, Sunshine. I know.”

Chapter 3

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#stucky #stucky fanfiction #shrinkyclinks #omegaverse #alpha bucky barnes #omega steve rogers

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late-to-the-party-81 · 8 months ago

Text

Sunshine and Gunsmoke

Chapter 3 - A new dawn, a new day

AN: Here we are, the third chapter. Thank you for joining me so far on this wild ride and thank you for all your comments - they mean a lot. Also, the chapter count has gone up. I just could resist adding an extra chapter/epilogue for these two. I wouldn’t have got here without my cheer-reader @kahey2804, and my ever wonderful beta @zenaidamacrouras1 .

Catch up on Chapter 2 here

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Summary: WIth the imminent threat removed, Bucky needs to make a decision about Steve’s welfare, knowing neither option is ideal. How will Steve feel when he comes back to himself? Will he understand the choice Bucky made? Will he forgive Bucky for lying about who he was? Will either of them be able to recover from this trauma and move forwards?

Relationships: Platonic Alpha Bucky & Beta Clint, past Omega Steve x Alpha Stephen, FWB Omega Steve x Alpha Bucky

Chapter WC: 9k

Chapter CW: Omegaverse, Shrinkyclinks, Strip club AU, references to past abusive relationship, references to misogyny, inferred Mafia elements, Alternating POV, Panic attack,Trauma response, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, angst, vomiting, therapy, healthy communication, feelings reveal, forgiveness.

Steve’s head was spinning. His body was ready, pleading for relief, but there wasn’t any. It hurt so much. He needed an Alpha’s knot - Bucky’s knot! Why wasn’t Bucky giving him what he needed? Had he done something wrong? He must be a bad Omega. Bad.

Steve let out a tortured wail, and felt himself being pulled even firmer against Bucky’s body. His fingers tugged at Bucky’s clothes and he rubbed his face all over the scent gland in Bucky’s neck. For a moment he felt some relief, but it was like throwing an ice-cube into a raging inferno.

When he couldn’t access Bucky’s cock, Steve grabbed at the Alpha’s hand, hoping he might get some kind of relief from being fingered, but Bucky wouldn’t let him. Steve could hear the words, “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I really am,” but they made no sense and he let out another cry.

Beneath him, Bucky shifted, and a rumble in his chest alerted Steve to the fact that his Alpha was talking to someone.

There was someone in the room.

Near his nest.

Steve’s head shot up, his top lip curled and he let out a warning growl.

“It’s alright, Stevie. It’s just the doc.” Bucky’s voice sounded as though it was coming from underwater. “She’s here to help, I promise. And she’s a Beta. She’s not gonna hurt you.”

Steve turned his head and peered out from under hooded eyelids. The doctor was a woman with glasses, a kind looking face and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Hi, Steve,” she said in a low, melodious voice. “I’m Dr. Cho, and I’m going to help you feel better. Can I put this blood pressure cuff on you?” She held up the grey piece of equipment in front of her so he could see it. Steve cocked his head, confused. He didn’t understand how this would help him get Bucky’s knot.

A set of strong fingers gently took hold of his chin and steered his head so that he was looking up into Bucky’s misty blue eyes. “Please, sweetheart. Let Dr. Cho check you out. I promise I’ll give you everything you need soon.”

With that guarantee, Steve gave a small nod and extended his arm. The doctor wrapped the inflation cuff around him and pressed the button on the unit. It whirred into life, pumping up to an almost painful point, before it suddenly deflated. With a pencil in hand, the Beta woman copied out whatever it was that had been recorded.

“Thank you, Steve. You just relax for a moment, while I talk to Bucky, yes?”

Steve nodded again, and buried his head back in Bucky’s neck and continued to rock his hips back and forth.

It had felt as though he’d been waiting for the doc for hours, but in reality it had turned out to be about thirty minutes. But for Bucky, each whimper, each cry that had broken from Steve’s throat shattered his heart.

However, she was here now and Bucky watched, almost with a sense of pride, as Steve allowed his vitals to be recorded, before curling back up against him and starting to hump against him once more. Dr Cho, ever the professional, averted her gaze.

“You said he’d been drugged,” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed. “Check the trash can.” He jerked his head in its direction.

While waiting for her to investigate, he rested one of his hands against the small of Steve’s back, trying to slow down his movements, not because he was embarrassed or wanted him to stop, but mainly because he didn’t want Steve to rub himself raw. His jeans were soaked to the skin with Steve’s slick, the scent of aroused Omega making the air thick, but strangely, Bucky’s own initial reaction to the smell had worn off. At least for the most part. His cock was no longer straining against his zipper, so he guessed that his concern had overridden his natural instincts to mate.

“You’re right, Mr Barnes.” Bucky turned his head at the doctor’s statement, to find her holding a spent hypodermic in her gloved fingers. “He’s been injected with synthetic hormones to induce heat.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “So now there are two options. Either we let his heat run its course and you - an Alpha - provide whatever is necessary, or I can administer heat suppressants to counteract it, but he would need to be carefully weaned off them over the course of a month or so.” There was an apologetic expression on her face. She knew that she’d given him two less than ideal options. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think it over, but we need to decide soon. He can’t carry on in this limbo state for much longer.”

She was right. Steve was visibly tiring, and who knows what long term damage would be caused if he delayed making a decision much longer. Bucky screwed his eyes up, as if blocking out the light would mean that making a choice between effectively raping Steve or drugging him further would be easier.

“Drugs,” he croaked out. “Give him the suppressants. I can’t…” He tailed off, knowing that he didn’t need to explain further. His eyes blurred with tears as he held Steve still in his arms while Dr. Cho gave him the initial injection, the frightened Omega just crying out for him, over and over.

“He should drop off to sleep soon. When he wakes, he’ll need to take one of these tablets,” she held up a pill bottle. “And one every day for the foreseeable future. Give him my number so he can call me and we can sort out a regime for weaning him off them.” She gave him a wan smile. “He should be okay, Mr Barnes. At least physically. You’ve done the best you could.” With that, she packed up her equipment and supplies and Bucky and Steve were left in peace.

“Alpha,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky dropped a kiss to the top of his sweaty head. Steve’s rutting had already started to slow, but he supposed that could be from exhaustion as much as from the suppressants.

“Yeah, Sunshine? How can I help?”

“Feel strange, Alpha. Do I get your knot soon?”

“I know, sweetheart, but you’ll start to feel better shortly. Then, I promise, you can have anything you want.”

He watched as Steve smiled sleepily and snuggled impossibly further into his chest. Then, as his hips finally - finally - stilled, Steve started to purr. His eyelids drooped and his body relaxed, and Bucky felt a wave of relief wash over himself. He eased them both into a lying down position and covered Steve’s naked body with a loose corner of blanket.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Sunshine. I hope you can forgive me.”

His whole body ached, and his tongue felt thick in his mouth.

Steve blinked his eyes open, noting the bright sun shining through his bedroom window. Shifting slightly he became aware of an arm around his waist.

Stephen!

He sat up, panicked, twisting around to see Bucky sleepily blinking his eyes at him. A Bucky who was fully clothed, while he was entirely naked. What was going on? He searched his memory and it came back in horrifying Technicolor. His hand flew up to his neck expecting to feel a fresh wound as he gulped in lungfuls of air. And why wasn’t he still in heat? His head felt light, and the room was tilting sideways and…

“Stevie! Breathe!” Bucky’s hands had curled around Steve’s upper arms, stopping him from falling over and off of the bed. Bucky’s eyes bored into his, preventing him from looking away. “You’re safe. Just breathe in with me now, two-three… and out, two-three.” Steve followed Bucky’s directions, breathing in and out with him, and slowly the world stopped spinning.

Bucky’s hands fell away and he gave Steve a soft smile. “I’m just gonna go and get you a drink and a snack, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Still not feeling capable of speech, Steve just nodded and watched Bucky walk out of his bedroom. He looked around his private space, feeling terribly exposed. Stephen’s scent still lingered in the air, along with those of a few other people Steve didn’t know, and he launched himself up, crossing to the window and throwing it open with all his strength. He pulled some boxers, sweats and an oversized hoodie from his dresser, fighting his way into them, feeling as though he needed the protective layer they provided. Then, on wobbly legs, he returned to the bed, pulling all of the blankets and sheets from it.

As each piece of fabric was thrown to the floor, Steve could feel the anger and humiliation building in his gut. Stripping his bed wasn’t enough. He picked up his favourite nesting blanket, one of the first things he’d bought after moving here after escaping Stephen the first time, and ripped it down the middle. He did the same with the next, his vision blurring with tears, and when Bucky returned a few minutes later, he was kneeling on the floor in a pile of remnants, sobbing his heart out.

In a heartbeat, Bucky was beside him, his arms wrapped around him, and Steve cried into his chest. “It’s gonna be alright, Stevie. It’ll be okay. I promise. He can’t hurt you again.”

Bucky’s words flowed over him and eventually his sobs subsided, turning to small hiccups, until he self-consciously extricated himself from Bucky’s embrace. He swiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“What happened,” he asked. “I mean, I remember bits of it, but a lot of it’s still a blur. I remember-” His head shot up with a gasp and he turned his head towards the back wall, where the bullet hole, surrounded by chipped plaster, taunted him. “You shot at him! You shot at Stephen with a gun!” He stared back at Bucky. “And you - you’re… you’re.” He shuffled backwards, putting some distance between them. Bucky returned his wide-eyed gaze with a sad smile and a small open armed shrug.

“I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really know.” Bucky said. “Maybe it’s because I’m selfish? Maybe because I didn’t want to frighten you away. Why didn’t you tell me?” He gestured at the bed and the ruined blankets.

Steve wrapped his arms around his own waist, but raised his chin. “I thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to have to have somebody - an Alpha - help me out. I never thought he’d take it this far.” He stopped for a moment, nibbling on his lower lip as a thought came to him. “Where is he?” Steve asked guardedly. “Is he - you know - dead?”

“Not yet.” There was a chilly rumble to Bucky’s voice that sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. He wasn’t sure if he was scared by it, or aroused. “My men have him. They’re waiting for me, but I had to make sure you were okay first. You were my priority, Stevie.” Bucky’s tone softened and for a moment Steve’s heart fluttered, but Bucky’s words reminded him of his other query.

“And how am I okay, Bucky? How has the heat gone already?” There was a soreness between his thighs, but it wasn’t what he normally felt after having sex. And it didn’t escape him how Bucky turned his head away at the question and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You gotta understand… you were outta your head from the drugs he’d given you. You weren’t in your right mind to agree to anything, so I had to make a choice. I coulda knotted you, but… I just couldn’t… it wouldn’t’ve been right. So I took the other option… and I’m sorry.”

Steve felt a sense of foreboding grow inside his gut. “What other option? Bucky, what did you do?”

With an apology in his eyes, Bucky pulled a small plastic bottle from his back pocket, along with a business card. “Call my doc, Dr Cho. She was here. She’ll go through everything with you. It’s all paid for.” He held them out tentatively, and Steve plucked them from his fingers, knowing what he was going to see, but hoping against hope he was going to be wrong.

He wasn’t.

He let out a sigh. “Suppressants. Of course.” Tears prickled behind his eyes, and all of his emotions - fear, anger, frustration, disappointment - tangled around each other within him. “You knew how I felt about these! About how he’d made me go on them. And here you are…”

Bucky reached out a hand towards him. “Stevie, I-”

Steve knew deep down that he was being unreasonable, but his logical mind was not in control right now. “Don’t touch me!” he bit out as he jumped backwards, throwing his hands up in the air.

Bucky huffed. “I just did what I thought was best.”

“Best for who?” Steve shrieked. “For you, definitely. You don’t have a bunch of chemicals rampaging around your system, suppressing what you are. Who you are! God, I don’t even want to look at you right now.” He turned his back, emphasising his point, but he heard Bucky shuffling behind him. His inner Omega was telling him to turn back around and go to Bucky - get lost in the security of his embrace, but Steve was mad - mad with the world - and Bucky was the only person available to take it out on.

“Maybe I should go then?” Bucky mumbled from behind him.

Now it was Steve’s turn to huff. He shrugged his shoulders for good measure as well, feigning nonchalance. “Whatever you think is best, Buck. You’re good at making decisions for both of us. Do me a favour though. Don’t kill Stephen. He’ll be missed if he disappears without a trace.”

He heard a resigned sigh. “I promise not to kill him if you promise me you’ll call Dr Cho. Be safe Stevie and I’ll tell Clint that you won’t be in for a while” A heartbeat’s silence, then “‘bye, Sunshine.” Bucky’s feet padded across Steve’s threadbare carpet getting quieter as he walked away, until Steve couldn’t hear them any longer.

Steve sank back to his knees and the tears flowed again.

Bucky slumped into the office chair, holding the open bottle of whisky.

“Fuck!”

He took a swig and slammed the bottle on the table. Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, he steepled his fingers against his face. Never had he envisaged that things with Steve would play out like this. He almost regretted his promise not to kill Steve’s piece of shit ex.

After leaving Steve’s apartment, Bucky had headed straight to where his men had taken the deluded Alpha. It had been cathartic to take out his frustrations on the sick fuck, but he’d stopped short of finishing him off. He had broken - no, shattered - the guy’s hands though. He wouldn’t be doing any surgery for a long time, if ever again. His men had then dragged the good doctor out, having instructions to make it look as though the Alpha had had a drink fueled car crash. That should explain away his injuries and he’d definitely think twice before harassing Steve again.

However, as satisfying as it had been, it didn’t solve the issue of the chasm between the pair of them. Bucky had known that Steve was going to be upset about the heat suppressants, but he hadn’t imagined such an extreme reaction. He’d wanted so badly to take Steve in his arms and tell him that he’d do anything for him - that he loved him. But Steve had been disgusted by him - by what he’d done and by who he was.

Bucky slumped further in the chair, his feet up on the desk and picked up the whisky bottle again, taking another large gulp. The burn was his just deserts for hurting the man he loved, but that pain would soon be dulled by the alcohol. It was a vicious circle and no less than he deserved.

A knock at the door had him lifting his head. “Yes?” he bit out with more force than was strictly necessary. Clint opened the door and walked through, warily.

“Hey, boss. I was wondering, are you gonna work tonight?”

Bucky took another drink. “Yes, but not behind the bar.”

“Okay,” Clint replied with a nod. “Cool. Cool. And Steve? He’s okay, isn’t he?”

“Physically? Better than he could have been - nothing debilitating. Mentally? A wreck. I wish I still had that knot-head fuck in front of me.” As he took another mouthful he thought that maybe he heard Clint mutter ‘that would make two of you’, under his breath, but chose to ignore it. “Make sure Steve’s pay and an average tip amount is deposited in his account until he comes back.”

Clint gave him ‘a look’ before shuffling out, but Bucky just pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Hi Dad. Yeah - I got my problem sorted. I was just wondering, cos I’m at a loose end, whether you had any jobs you needed me to do.”

Numb.

That’s all Steve could describe his current state as. It had been that way from the moment that Bucky had walked away from him. He’d held the bottle of heat suppressants in his hand, and had seriously considered flushing them down the toilet, but deep down he’d known that he’d end up in a worse way if he did that. Bucky had said that it was all paid for, and he couldn’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he ended up in hospital there’s no way he’d be able to afford it, even with his co-pay.

It had been four weeks now since Stephen’s assault, and Steve had taken the tablets religiously. He had an appointment in two weeks to discuss the withdrawal regime. Dr Cho was kind and understanding, and Steve almost couldn’t believe that she was mob affiliated.

He also hoped that he’d get some of his mojo back as he came off the drugs, although that might be a false hope. While they were almost definitely affecting his mood, he hadn’t been like this last time, with Stephen, so he knew that his emotional state was being impacted by the trauma. Maybe he should take Dr. Cho up on the offer of connecting him with a therapist. She’d hinted that Bucky would cover that as well.

He continued to muse upon it as he walked home from his diner shift. He’d been lucky that they’d held the job open for him for the week he’d taken off to get his head in some kind of order. As he reached his front door, he couldn’t help but place his hand flat against the wood of it. To anyone else, it looked exactly the same as every other front door in this block, but he knew it was different, and on some level reminded him of how he himself felt. Identical on the outside, but still changed.

The afternoon of that day, a few hours after Bucky had left, there had been a tentative knock against the damaged door. Upon careful - and baseball bat protected - investigation, it had turned out to be a crew of workers, again, all paid for. They’d replaced his door and installed more secure locks on both it and all of the windows in the apartment - even the window in his bedroom that only someone who could climb like a spider would be able to get through.

He knew it should make him feel better, knowing that it was almost impossible for anyone to break in now, but his confidence was still shot, and he jumped at every strange noise. On top of that every so often he caught a whiff of gunsmoke in the air, despite how long it had been. Steve couldn’t decide if it was residue from the actual gun Bucky had used to scare Stephen, or whether it was Bucky’s own Alpha scent still lingering in the remaining fabrics of his nest, no matter how much he’d washed them. Every time it wafted through the air, he felt his heart lurch.

He hated how he was caught in this limbo, missing Bucky like crazy, but also feeling sick at the thought of actually seeing him. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t been back to The Alpha Barne - he didn’t know if he was going to go running into Bucky’s arms or start shouting at him, letting out all the hurt and pain he knew was bubbling just under his skin. Because Bucky had lied. Hidden who and what he was, and it made Steve sick, just to think about it, although he wasn’t sure whether he felt that way because he didn’t like what Bucky did, or because he felt so foolish for not working it out. Whichever way it was though, everything, Bucky, the Barne, dancing, the lies, were all intrinsically linked to the assault and he couldn’t separate them as hard as he tried.

Steve had been listening to the radio only last week, when one of the songs he’d danced to came on. It had all been fine when he’d been dancing along subconsciously, but as soon as he realised what he was doing, all his emotions had come crashing in. In his mind’s eye he saw Stephen leering at him from the audience, saw Bucky flirting and kissing other Omega’s. He’d felt himself pinned down and begging for something he didn’t want. He’d dropped to the floor of his kitchen, his arms around himself as he’d sobbed.

Frustratingly, it wasn’t as though Bucky didn’t care. He obviously did if the flurry of texts and voicemails Steve had received was any indication, but Steve couldn’t find it within himself to answer with more than a bland ‘Busy, speak soon’. He just didn’t know what to say - how to articulate how he felt. Hell, he didn’t even know how he felt, other than it was too soon to even think about going back to his other job, no matter how much he’d grown to love and enjoy it. For the time being he’d just have to be frugal and take every single diner shift he could. He’d plaster on his best customer service mask, despite how he felt inside, and hope for tips.

Ditching his work gear and toe-ing off his shoes, Steve shuffled to his kitchen cabinet, pulling out another pack of 50 cent ramen noodles. Hopefully when he went to see Dr. Cho she’d have that fruit bowl on her desk again. He was certain that the oranges he pilfered from her were the only reason he hadn’t developed scurvy.

He slumped onto the sofa, bowl of noodles in hand and idly turned on the TV for background noise. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening on the British cookery programme he was watching, but it was entertaining nonetheless. The one bright spot in the past few weeks is that he hadn’t heard anything from Stephen. Not a peep, not a sniff. No more break-ins. No more feeling of being followed. Bucky had promised him that Stephen was still alive, so whatever Bucky had threatened his ex with seemed to have worked in making him stay away. If only he could relax though. Logically he knew he was safe, but he’d let down his guard before and look what had happened.

Steve whiled away the next few hours with mindless TV shows and an action movie, before dragging himself to have a shower and then collapsing into bed. The morning came all too soon, and Steve felt as though he hadn’t slept, despite not feeling as though he’d woken up during the night. He poured coffee down his throat to support the matchsticks holding his eyes open, and headed off for another day at the diner. He felt as though he was trapped in Groundhog Day.

A few hours in though, and something different happened. Or rather someone different walked through the door. Steve was having a chat during a lull with Stan, the line cook, when the bell over the door rang and Steve picked up the muted Beta scent of Clint.

He turned and flashed his old manager and -almost?- friend a sad smile.

“Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, Steve. Thought I’d come and see how you were doing. And from the looks of it, you’re not so great.” Clint slid into an empty booth and Steve took a seat opposite him. “So, tell me. What’s eating you, kid?”

Steve let out a sigh. “What’s not eating me? It’s all fucked up, Clint. I’m fucked up.”

Clint let out a snort. “I hate to tell you this, but life, in general is fucked up. I don’t think I know anyone who isn’t off kilter at least a little bit. And we miss you. Me, the girls. Bucky. Heck, I think even the patrons miss you.”

Steve’s lips twitched up at that. “I can’t dance, Clint. Not yet at least. It’s all too raw. I don’t know how much you know, but I have nightmares. And when I do sleep I don’t wake up rested. I want to reach out, I really do, but I just can’t.” He sighed again. “I thought I had something good. With Bucky. I was starting to think that maybe… But he was lying to me the whole time. I thought I knew who he was, but it turned out he was this whole other person after all.”

It was Clint’s turn to smile wanly.

“I know you’re hurt by it all, and I take some of the blame - I didn’t know you didn’t know - but tell me this; how was one different from the other?”

Steve’s eyebrows drew together as he tried to understand Clint’s question. “What do you mean?”

“When Bucky came to your apartment that night, when he ‘became’ this other person, as you put it, what did he do that was so different? Did he treat you any differently to how he had before?”

Steve sat, looking at Clint wide-eyed as realisation washed over him. Through all the hurt and all the pain, he’d never really broken down what Bucky had done that night, what lengths he’d gone to. He felt a lump form in his throat and tears form in his eyes as he answered.

“No. He didn’t treat me any different. In fact, he saved me.”

Maybe it was time to meet that therapist.

The rear door of the club banged on its hinges as Bucky shouldered his way through it. It was not in the mood for, well, anything. He stomped down the hall and into the office. His office. It was no longer just a place to do the odd deal, it was now the centre of the operations that his father had handed over to him.

Stalking across to the desk he yanked open the bottom drawer and pulled out the first aid kit and a part full bottle of whisky. He took a healthy swig of the latter before opening up the former. Ripping open an alcohol wipe, Bucky let out a restrained hiss as he swiped it across the bloody knuckles of his right hand.

It was strange how so much had changed in the past few weeks. While he had never shied away from the physical aspects of the business - knowing that sometimes it was the only way to deliver a message - he’d never actively sought out participation, quite happy for his father’s enforcers to do the majority of the dirty work. However, it now seemed that his mind was only ever quiet when he was beating seven shades of hell out of some snitch or rival punk. Or when he was deep in the bottle. Sometimes both.

George Barnes had been thrilled when Bucky had requested more involvement and responsibility, clapping his son on the shoulder and immediately drawing him into his traditional study and getting out his books. His mother, Winnifred, has known something was wrong though. Bucky could see it in her expression when she looked at him. He knew she was worried about what had prompted this change of heart regarding the business, but every time she looked as though she was about to start probing, he’d brush her off. Part of him wanted to pour his heart out to her, just as he had when he’d been a child, but another part of him told him that it was just life and he had to suck it up. Things got damaged and broken in their world, so he might as well get used to it.

Dropping the wipe, Bucky picked the bottle up again, tipping it up and just letting it burn down his throat. He didn’t even move when the office door opened and Clint walked through. Bucky did his best to ignore his friend, because if it wasn’t his mother trying to get him to talk, it was the stubborn Beta. Of course, Clint immediately noticed Bucky’s wounds.

“Sit down, Boss,” Clint said with a resigned note. “Who better to fix you up than the man who’s been there and had the blood splattered over his t-shirt?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but did as asked, although he didn’t relinquish the grip he had his bottle. Clint pulled out another alcohol wipe and got to work cleaning Bucky up. However, with Bucky now captive to him, it gave him a chance to start up on his new favourite topic of conversation.

“You haven’t gone to speak to him yet.” A statement, not a question. “You need to get a grip, man. Tell him how you feel.”

“He knows where I am,” Bucky snapped back. “I’ve texted him, but he’s barely responded. I’ve said all I need to say.”

“Have you?” Clint scoffed. “Have you really? Because if you had then I doubt you would be sitting here bloody and drunk, and Steve wouldn’t be sleep-walking through life as though he’s an emotionless automaton.”

Bucky tipped back the bottle again. “Butt out, Clint. It’s not your life. It’s mine. I’m just doing what I gotta do.”

“Yeah, and what you’re doing is ruining it.” He grabbed the gauze and started to wrap a bandage around Bucky’s knuckles. “Come on, Bucky. You were so happy before. You and Steve. But now you’re on the path to self-destruction. There’s a big difference between getting more involved with the family business and using it to block out your pain. Steve cares for you, I know he does, but he’s confused and traumatised. I’m thinking that maybe you are as well.”

Bucky let out a derisive laugh. “Me? I wasn’t the one who was attacked.”

“Yeah, but the Omega - the person - that you love was,” Clint countered. “You only just got there in time to stop it and then you had to deal with the aftermath. Had to watch him distraught and in pain. However, you only helped him through part of it. As soon as feelings on both sides got involved you ran away.”

“He asked me to leave, Barton.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Did he say ‘I want you to leave’?”

Bucky’s brain whirred, sorting through his memories of the last time he’d seen Steve. Had he asked Bucky to go, or had Bucky said that he was going to and Steve just went along with it? His head started to pound with it.

“You know what, Clint? Fuck off. I don’t need you trying to analyse me. I’ve got a shrink if I need to do that.” Bucky pushed himself up from the chair, knowing he shouldn’t be talking to his friend like this, but feeling just so full of frustration he couldn’t stop it from spilling over. He took a last drink and threw the now empty bottle into the trash. “Call Kate. She’s working tonight to cover my shift. In fact, she can cover them all until further notice.”

Without even looking at Clint, unable to meet his eyes, Bucky strode out of the office and onto the main floor of the club. He kept his gaze fixed forwards, not wanting to see the pity-filled expressions of the people he knew. When he reached the bar he stopped at it long enough to grab another bottle, tequila this time, before heading out of the main doors.

He wasn’t really thinking about where he was going, just knowing he needed a walk to clear his head. A little voice inside commented that it was difficult to do that if he was going to continue to drink while he crossed town, but he told it to shut up. He was aware that he was receiving concerned and cautious glances from other pedestrians, and even noticed a few folk going out of their way to avoid him, but he didn’t care.

His world had gone to shit. He loved Steve. His Stevie. His Sunshine. But he’d been stupid and selfish. Through his own actions and ineptitude he’d broken Steve’s trust in him and allowed him to get hurt. How different would the present be if he’d been straight with Steve from the beginning? Would Steve have still wanted to know him - have a relationship with him? Would Bucky have been brave enough to declare his feelings? Could they have avoided the whole Stephen thing altogether?

Finding himself in familiar surroundings, Bucky wasn’t even surprised to realise that he’d walked all the way to Steve’s apartment. He was even less surprised to note that it had started raining, and from the state of his clothes, had been for sometime. On top of that, dusk was falling and the street lights were turning on. Time always seemed to pass quickly these days, stuck in his own head as he so often was, and both his parents and Clint had called him out on a few occasions for blanking them when they were talking to him.

He crossed the street and made his way down the alley at the side of the building. Although he couldn’t see in from here, he could see Steve’s living room lit up at the top of the fire escape, and could make out shadows flitting around inside. Cautiously, tucking the tequila bottle into his pants, he began to climb up. As drunk as he was, he somehow managed to scale the metal rungs quietly, and he crouched on the platform outside Steve’s window, looking in through a crack in the curtains.

Bucky could hear music playing from Steve’s speakers and he shifted slightly so he could see where Steve was jigging along in his little kitchenette, cooking something up on the stove. God, Steve was so fucking beautiful it hurt. What he wouldn’t give to be inside with him right now. Dancing and singing along, cooking together. He imagined how after a simple meal for two, he’d pull Steve close, whisper sweet nothings in his ear and then take him to the bedroom and take him apart in the most beautiful way. His eyes burned with unshed tears and he pulled the bottle from his pants and took a drink. It was only as he righted it that he realised that he’d gotten down to the bottom.

He stared at it for a moment, his heart beating wildly in his chest, thoughts swirling and realisation starting to crystallise in his mind. He looked up at Steve again, seemingly happy or at least on his way to being so, and then back down at himself. His clothes were rumpled and smeared with dirt, blood and alcohol.

What the actual fuck was he doing?

He was acting just like Stephen - mooning over Steve and making it all about how he felt. God, he was even creeping like the deranged Alpha, watching Steve from the shadows. He felt bile rise in his throat and retched, his stomach emptying the alcohol over the side of the fire escape and onto the concrete below. When no more came up, he scrambled down the ladder as fast his legs could safely take him and leant against the wall.

This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. And if he stood any chance of rebuilding his relationship with Steve he had to fix whatever the hell was wrong with him. He caught sight of a dumpster a few feet away, and threw the empty bottle overhand into it, listening to the tinkle of glass as it smashed upon impact.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialled a number he hadn’t called in months. As it rang he took one more look up at the windows of Steve’s apartment, before turning on his heel and heading towards the nearest taxi rank. When the phone connected, he had no time for pleasantries.

“Banner? Yeah, it’s Barnes. I need my head shrunk and I need your soonest appointment. Tomorrow at 10am? Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Steve let out a sigh and stretched his arms over his head. He’d been lucky enough to score a lucrative night shift for once. Unluckily, it came as part of a double shift because one of the other servers had called in sick. Still, it would help to bolster his bank account and he could live with that, even if it came at the expense of feet ache, back ache and sleep deprivation.

There had been a rush on around midnight, when all the local clubs had kicked out, and Steve had kept his head down as much as he was able when he recognised some patrons from the Alpha Barne, but since then it had been fairly quiet. The only patrons they’d really had were a few of the local homeless who used their meagre scraped together coins to buy bottomless coffee and use the diner as a place to stay warm and safe overnight. Steve couldn’t begrudge them that, especially as he considered how close he’d been to being their shoes. However, it was now nearing 5am, and the night shift cook had told him to start expecting the early risers. They often got a lot of construction workers looking for a cheap and filling meal on their way to their job sites.

It was now two months since the attack, and he’d been seeing the psychiatrist, Dr Banner, who Dr Cho had put him in touch with. With a kindly face, and a soft spoken voice, the older Alpha had listened patiently to Steve’s story, his fears and feelings of betrayal, and while he knew he still had a long way to go, Steve knew that he was on the right path. He was looking forward to coming off the suppressants in the next few weeks, hoping it would make him feel even more like himself.

At Dr Banner’s insistence, he’d tried to dance at home again. “You shouldn’t let these incidents rob you of what brings you joy, Steve,” he’d said, and Steve had vowed to try again. Without a proper pole in his house, he’d tried to replicate his dance from that first night, and while he’d struggled to get through it, had finished in a puddle of tears, he had done it. Maybe some of the tears had been down to relief? But still, it gave him hope. If he could regain his confidence with dancing he might be able to find the confidence and strength to go back to the Alpha Barne - work there again and face Bucky. As he considered it all, Steve stretched out his legs, rotating his ankles to ease the ache, unconsciously going into a dancer’s pose.

The bell above the door rang and he grabbed his notepad. He turned to face his new customer with a smile which froze on his face. There, with the door closing behind him was Bucky. But this wasn’t the Bucky that Steve remembered.

His Bucky had worn jeans and either plain black t-shirts or maroon or navy Henleys, his long hair casually tied up in a bun. This Bucky was an altogether different beast. He wore a suit; black with a subtle pinstripe check. His hair was still tied up, but it had been slicked back and tamed - something which caused a pang of disappointment to dart through him. This Bucky also had hollow looking eyes and bandaged hands.

Bucky stepped forward. “Hi, Stevie.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. “Hi, Buck- I mean, James.”

Bucky’s lips turned up, but there was no joyful smile in his eyes. “I’m still Bucky. Buck. That hasn’t changed. I was wondering if we could talk?”

Steve pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he looked around. There were two homeless guys sitting in a booth on the far side, doing yesterday’s crossword puzzle between them. They’d already been here two hours and were unlikely to order anything, but he didn’t know who was going to work through the doors before then.

“The next shift comes in at 6am, so I am sort of working until then. Do you want to wait?”

“Of course I’ll wait,” Bucky replied and this time his eyes did reflect his smile, albeit shyly. “But could I trouble you for a cup of coffee? I’m not used to seeing the day from this end.”

Steve couldn’t help but flash his own smile. “Take a seat. I’ll bring it over. And it’s bottomless.”

“Even better.”

Steve made his way behind the counter, finding the cleanest and most un-chipped mug he could, and filled it up with steaming coffee from the jug. Automatically he added a small spoon of sugar and dollop of cream, his hands remembering how Bucky liked to drink his joe.

When he turned back around, he found Bucky sitting in the opposite corner to the other two customers, and he was looking at something on his phone. Steve’s heart jumped in his chest as he took this opportunity to quietly study the Alpha who produced such conflicting feelings within him. He was so glad to see him, and his inner Omega longed to curl up in Bucky’s lap and trade lazy kisses until he was purring with contentment. However, he knew that to do so without clearing the air and saying what he needed to say would lead to disaster in the long term. The pair of them needed to be on the same page.

Squaring his shoulders, Steve walked over to Bucky’s table and placed the cup in front of him. Bucky tilted his head up, his eyes shining with emotion, and Steve opened his mouth to start to say his piece when the bell rang again. Looking over his shoulder, Steve saw a group of labourers, hats in hand and hi-vis vests tucked into their pants, crowd through the door.

“Go do your job, Stevie. I said I’d wait, and I mean it.”

Over the next hour Steve served the customers who came in for early breakfasts, a mixture of labourers, early-rising office workers and first responders coming off shift. In between orders, he’d glance over a Bucky, who asked for a refill twice, but was more often than not still reading and typing on his phone. Eventually though Carol, who was scheduled to do the early shift, came through the door. After handing over to her, Steve returned to Bucky’s booth.

“So I’m done. You said you wanted to talk?”

“I do. I think we have a lot to say to each other, but if you’re anything like me, you’re famished. Would you mind getting me some pancakes? Maybe a double stack and you can eat too?”

Steve felt a blush make its way up his neck. Bucky remembered how much he liked pancakes. He’d eat them at every meal if he could.

“Sure, Buck. I’ll be right back.”

[Image description: A moodboard. The background is a cityscape at dawn, the background different shades of orange. There are five picture frames. The first is the interior of a diner. The second is an external view of a diner in the morning. The large sign is turned off. The third is of a lit up, bent arrow sign at night, declaring a Diner, with the word “eat” underneath. The fourth is a quote - “Create the life you can’t wait to wake up to.” The fifth picture is of a stack of pancakes with a jug of syrup and a cup of coffee on a diner table.]

He returned a little over five minutes later, carrying a massive plate, groaning with buttered pancakes, and with a jug of syrup in his other hand. Placing it down, he slid onto the bench seat opposite Bucky.

They looked at each other and as Steve opened his mouth to speak, Bucky did the same.

“How’ve you been?” Steve asked as Bucky said “I hope you’ve been doing okay.”

They both stopped and Steve was pleased to note he wasn’t the only one blushing. Bucky gestured with his hand and Steve answered first.

“Not badly, all things considered. I mean, it was rough at the beginning, but Dr Cho has been great - explaining to me why I need to stay on the suppressants for so long before coming off them. I actually start the process of weaning off them next week, which I’m looking forward to. And I’ve started therapy. It’s probably something I should have done when I got away from Stephen that first time, but better late than never, I suppose. My psychiatrist is really good at helping me deal with all the anger I’ve been feeling. What about you?”

Bucky laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table in front of him. His thumbs fidgeted against each other and his gaze was cast down.

“I’ve - umm - been working. With my father. Not behind the bar.”

It seemed to Steve that Bucky was worried how he’d react to the news. To be honest, Steve wasn’t actually sure how he felt. He didn’t want to make a spur of the minute judgement. “And do you enjoy that more than bar-tending?” he probed gently.

Bucky did look up at that, cocking his head with a snort. “I don’t know if enjoying it is the right word. I mean, it’s good to get more involved in the running of everything. Working on logistics and planning. Although I can’t say that I don’t enjoy some aspects of ‘taking out the trash’.” He glanced briefly at his knuckles and Steve couldn’t help but follow his gaze. “But I do miss the club. Clint. The girls. It felt like a big family, you know?”

“Are you going to continue with it?” Steve asked

“Will my answer make a difference to what happens next?”

Steve gave a little shrug. “Possibly. I don’t know. I think I need to get my head around it.”

“That’s fair,” Bucky agreed with a nod. “But I think this change was inevitable. I couldn’t keep myself out of it forever. It is a family business after all.”

Silence fell between them and in order to stop feeling awkward, Steve grabbed his cutlery and cut off a wedge of pancake, dunking it in the jug of syrup.

“Heathen,” Bucky hissed in amusement, and Steve felt himself grin, unbidden, around his mouthful. For a few minutes they both ate, but the silence grew heavy again and when he finished a mouthful, Steve blurted out, “I never thanked you. So ‘thank you’. For saving me.”

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky sighed out. “You don’t have to do that. Not at all. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t get there sooner. I’m sorry he even had the chance to hurt you again.”

Without thinking, Steve reached out across the table and took Bucky’s hand loosely in his own. “It’s not your fault, Buck. None of it. I should have told you. I trusted you more than anyone, but I still didn’t say anything.”

Bucky smiled back at him, gently squeezing his hand back.

“I remember,” Steve continued, “when you came in, and you were facing off against Stephen, talking about how I got to choose who to fuck and love and trust. I remember you saying that you hit two out of the three.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose up towards his hair. “You remember that? You were pretty out of it. I’m sorry that I don’t check any of your boxes now. I doubt you trust me any more, but I wouldn’t blame you. I lied about who I was.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “You did. I made assumptions and you didn’t correct them. Numerous times. And I am cross about it, but I still trust you. And when it comes down to it, you only lied about who you are, not what you are.”

“What do you mean ‘what I am’?” Bucky asked, obviously puzzled.

“You, James Buchanan Barnes, are a good man. You’re a good Alpha and a good friend. You are my lover and my hero. And you’re the man that I love. You don’t tick only two of my boxes, Bucky. You tick all of them. All three of them.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. “Y-you love me? You never said anything, Steve, other than wanting to be friends.”

“How could I not love you? From the moment you took me home before my heat I was a goner. You looked after me. Cared for me. You weren’t disgusted…” unbidden memories of Stephen’s treatment of him came flooding into his mind and Steve stuttered to a halt, pulling his hand back from Bucky’s. He didn’t dare look at Bucky, and instead stared at the drips of syrup that were domed atop the melamine table top. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think I was worthy of love, especially yours. So I kept telling myself that you wouldn’t want more than friends with benefits. Every time I said it out loud I think I was trying to convince myself more than anything. Anyway, I wanted you to know. It seemed only right. I don’t want to have any secrets from you anymore.”

In the following silence, Steve was sure he heard crickets chirping, and despite how awkward and embarrassed he felt, eventually he peered up from under his eyelashes. Bucky looked like he’d stopped working. His mouth was still open like a fish and he was blinking like he was trying desperately to process what Steve had just said. Worried about what he might say when he did get his wits about him, Steve pressed on.

“The therapy is really working though. I’m feeling a lot more myself. Better than in a long time, even though I know there’s still a long way to–”

“I love you too.” The words tumbled from Bucky’s lips, stopping Steve mid-flow as surely as the way that Bucky reclaimed his hand did. “And, fuck. Of course you’re worthy of love, Stevie. You’re worthy of everything. If anything, it’s me that isn’t.” He pulled Steve’s hand up to his face and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I lied to you, over and over again. I knew I should tell you, but I was so scared that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. You seemed so against this whole ‘family business’ thing, and while I desperately wanted something more, I wanted to respect the fact that you only wanted friendship.”

Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “What a pair we are, Buck. And as for how I spoke about what you did, what your family does, I don’t know anything about that world outside of newspaper clippings and over the top films. For the most part I was just being silly - winding you up to watch you smile.” He shifted his hand within Bucky’s grasp so that their fingers were entwined. “I love watching you smile. Watching you blush. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes, but as I said earlier, no more secrets, yeah?”

“Yeah, no more secrets, Sunshine.” Bucky reached up his hand and swiped his thumb over Steve’s cheek. “I promise that whatever I do will have as little impact upon you as possible. You can know whatever you want to know.”

Steve nuzzled into Bucky’s hand, feeling a purr build in his chest at the closeness. “I don’t think I’m gonna be feeling some kinda way for a while, but I wondered, after we’ve finished here, if you wanted to come and doze in my nest with me. Maybe watch a movie or two?”

Bucky smiled at him adoringly. “Sunshine, I'm happy to do whatever you want.”

It was difficult for the pair of them to finish off the pancake stack with only one hand each, but Steve wasn’t willing to let Bucky go, and it seemed as though Bucky felt the same.

He knew they both had a way to go yet, but it was a new day and they were going to face it together.

Chapter 4

Bingo and Challenge fills:

For the whole fic: @Buckybarnesevents Into and alternate June-iverse - Strip Club | April Babb - Pet names

For the Chapter: @Stuckybingo -Pancakes | @steverogersbingo - Worthy Steve | @Stuckygeekevents - “How could I not love you?” | Alpha Bucky April - Purring

#shrinkyclinks #steve x bucky #stucky au #omegaverse #connect 4 #stuckybingo #steve rogers bingo #stucky geek events #Alpha Bucky April #alpha bucky barnes #omega steve rogers

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