Chapter Text
Steve
James Buchanan Barnes was not what he expected to see when he walked through the doors of S:t Michael’s Orphanage for Lost Children. It was not the first time Steve walked through them, and he was more than accustomed to the sisters in their long black robes herding flocks of kids to the chapel for prayer, as he was used to the ragged state of the kids themselves. Over the years, Steve had been a staunch patron of the Catholic orphanage and made sure to donate steadily so those poor little ones always had new shoes or books when needed. It might not be enough – it never was – but to the sisters he was a welcomed sight always. However, the child they showed him now was definitely not what he was preparing for in the car ride over.
First of all he was sixteen. Tall and smelling on the verge of maturity, the boy sat on the edge of his bed staring at his socked feet with the sullen expression of a teenager, and not at all like those pig-tailed nine- or ten-year olds Steve was used to having over for temporary fostering.
Second of all, James was an omega. Now Steve, being an alpha himself and quite a large one at that, had never been issued an omega before. Betas or alphas from the east wing, several times, but never once had the sisters of S:t Michael given him an omega pup to foster – for obvious (legal) reasons. So when Steve caught the smell of James, he almost did a double take in the door. It was close to unbearably sweet, like sugared plums but with a salty, sort of metal clang to it, and Steve had to swallow hard when he realized it had to be the raging hormones of his age.
Third, and not least; the kid was drop dead gorgeous.
Long legs dangling off the bed, lush brown hair kept in a short cut which only exposed his sharp jawline completely void of so much as a stubble, and hips that even from this angle looked too soft not to grab…aaand before Steve went on to think something much more inappropriate, he quickly turned and took a step outside the small bedroom. Somehow, they’d cramped four cots in there. It was a good thing omegas liked to nest together, because if they kept the alpha pups’ rooms like that they’d have a fist fight on their hands every night.
Sister Angela looked surprised when he shut the door.
“Mr Rogers?” she asked where she stood about two heads below him. Trying to breathe calmly, Steve focused on her neutral, boring scent. Normally, child care givers were omegas, but the Catholic church still hadn’t dropped their tradition of only allowing betas to become nuns. “Too sinful, those omega girls” sister Marianne had explained to Steve once a long while ago while tapping her abnormally small nose. Apparently omegas’ affinity for getting heats was enough for them to be considered unfit for a life of chastity.
“I’m sorry sister, but that’s an omega” Steve said in a hushed tone, composed as he could. As if it wasn’t obvious – they had just entered the west wing where the scent of sugar and cream was thick in the air since it was where they supposedly kept the omega pups separated from the rest of them. Couldn’t risk any teen pregnancies in an orphanage run by nuns. But considering the overall chaos of the place right now, Steve hadn’t realized until he saw James what he actually was.
Sister Angela raised a brow and crossed her hands in a meek gesture that didn’t come off as very meek to Steve. He knew her; she was tough as nails this one. Which was good, considering the state of these street kids when she got a hold of them.
“I know that Mr Rogers, and I would’ve warned you. I know this isn’t protocol…” she started.
Steve could’ve laughed.
“Not protocol? Sister, the fact that you issue a single alpha any pups at all to foster is out of protocol, but this? This is unheard of” he said exasperated. Was he really expected to take that one home with him? How much trouble was the orphanage in really?
To tell the truth of it, S:t Michael’s was in quite a lot of trouble. Steve had gathered as much when the sister has called him this morning. He had just been leaving for work when a worked up sister Angela had started ranting over the phone about some kind of decision from the city council. Apparently, the orphanage had been full to bursting for a while now – actually, they had been above and beyond bursting. The leaky old Victorian house now cramped between tall concrete buildings where they kept them all was in such bad shape and so overcrowded that some kind of supervisor had been sent and decided that at least half of the orphans had to go. And they had to go now.
So what else could the sisters do but to call up all those who usually took on a pup to foster until someone could adopt them, and beg them to take the most acute cases on? Steve was one of those temporary foster parents.
“I know that, Mr Rogers” sister Angela said in a low voice revealing that she was running low on patience. Steve instinctively dropped his tense shoulders a little. Despite the fact that she was a beta, Steve was barely a match for her when she started calling on the wrath of God. And besides, Steve had very grave respect for the sisters and their nurse. He was a Catholic after all. And once many years back, they’d helped him out. It was only fair that he repaid the kindness now that he had the means. “But this one is special. He came a few months ago, and he sure is a handful. I believe the Lord sent him especially to test my patience. He won’t listen to any of us sisters, and the only time he behaves is when Father Fury makes sure he does! So you see, we have a big problem placing the boy. He’s already run away once from the Coulson’s – such a nice couple too. He should know how lucky he was to get a foster place at theirs, now that they got their own pup on the way” sister Angela scoffed at the mere disrespectfulness of the teen.
Steve frowned, considering. The Coulson’s were nice, but as beta as they came. Father Fury was alpha however – a large and fearsome priest, but fair and well-respected. Sometimes, the worst of the litters who had been on the streets the longest refused to settle into their new home until Father Fury gave them a disciplinary sermon followed by a good spanking. Steve was beginning to see the issue.
“You’re saying he needs an alpha” he sighed. The sister nodded, wooden cross dangling around her neck. All around them, pups and sisters were running around trying to pack bags and move out before the state came in and forcibly removed those left. However un-ethical it was to put an omega foster kid in a home with an alpha guardian, Steve supposed it was better than the detention centres the state ran. There, James would be exposed to alphas all the time, and not nice ones.
“Worse still, he needs a male. It’s something with him and women – he actually bit poor Mrs Coulson in the arm! Can you imagine? Now, you know me, I don’t like to badmouth God’s little lambs – bless their souls”. Sister Angela made a quick cross sign. “But that one is a hell spawn, I’m sure. Don’t be fooled by his sweet smell. You’ll have you hands full with him, but I’m afraid I don’t know where else to send him. We don’t have any other single man, let alone alpha, to call” she sighed, shaking her head so that the veil moved about her covered head.
Steve bit the inside of his cheek and resisted the urge to comment on that.
But the thing was, he could still smell that scent of sugared plums through the door. It woke something deeply possessive in him that he wasn’t used to at all. Was this what paternal feelings felt like? Steve didn’t know. And he didn’t know how to leave here without that kid.
“Fine. Let me see him” the alpha resigned, broad shoulders dropping. Sister Angela gave a relieved smile.
“Bless you, Mr Rogers. You truly are a guardian angel” she told him.
When Steve felt his gut twist in response to the sweet scent, he bit his cheek again. Oh no, I’m no angel alright, he thought sourly.
Bucky
Bucky looked up when they entered the room again. His own steel blue eyes immediately met the piercing ones of the large alpha who had to duck to step inside, and he almost lost his breath.
That smell. Bucky choked and had to cover it up by biting together hard. The man must be wearing some kind of blockers, but it didn’t matter. Bucky had been cooped up in this hellhole so long that he even got wet during those blessed but boring as fuck 45 minutes in the chapel listening to Father Fury every Sunday. Whoever said puberty was fun obviously wasn’t an omega – Bucky was needy all the time which made him cranky all the time, and that pretty soon translated to being angry. It was just the easiest way to deal with all those hormones raging through his growing body. What was worse, the stupid sisters had put him in a room with three eight-year-olds. They were practically babies. All they wanted to do was snuggled up in his larger nest at night like kittens with their mama (which he accepted because it kept him warm) but there was nothing else he could use them for.
There was literally no place to let off steam – even the showers were monitored. A sister would stand outside and listen carefully when the omegas showered each morning, so the only way to scratch that eternal itch somehow was to rub very, very quietly on Quill who was about the same age and therefore in the same hell. They’d gotten away with it maybe five times until sister Lucille had found them and punished them. After that, Bucky had been confined to showering with the little ones. This place sucked.
So whatever Mr Alpha over there was wearing to block his musky scent, it was no match for the nose of a deprived teenage omega. Bucky was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was wearing a pair of tattered old sweatpants and no damn pad. Bucky didn’t like the pads here. They were huge and bulky and made him feel like he was wearing some kind of diaper. Of course, it was all in those sisters conspiracy to make him reject his sexuality. He was on to them.
That didn’t mean he was going to make this whole ordeal easy for them. He might want to get of here, but not in the back of car. Who knew anything about these foster parents? Especially an alpha. Oh no, Bucky was leaving here on his own two feet or not at all.
“James, this is Mr Rogers. Be a good boy and greet him” sister Angela implored while using that voice that both said he was being a child and she was being impatient. Naturally, Bucky didn’t get up. He glared at the stupid, handsome, dumb alpha standing in the doorway looking down at him expectantly.
“Greetings, Mr Rogers” Bucky said in a sarcastic tone. And maybe he imagined it, but he think he saw the corner of the alpha’s mouth curve upwards.
Whack.
The thin wooden stick whistled through the air faster than he could react and hit him in the upper arm with a stinging pain that had him burying his teeth in his bottom lip to hide his reaction. Where had she even hid that one?
“You will stand and bow to your elders, James, or I swear Father Fury will have a word with you when he gets here!” sister Angela threatened, face looking a little red.
“There’s no need for that” Mr Rogers cut in, raising a hand. She looked at him, not pleased.
“Oh no. He is still my ward, and he will do as I say” she held fast. Bucky still didn’t want to.
But…when Mr Rogers looked at him with an almost amused expression, raising one eyebrow as a small challenge, the omega felt something soften in his gut. It was an unusual reaction in him, and he wasn’t sure how to feel when he rose on unsteady legs. All he could hope for was that the wetness on his behind didn’t show.
Or smell.
“Nice to meet you, Mr Rogers” Bucky all but mumbled out. The bow was tiny and stiff, but it was a bow all the same. The omega had never mastered the art of being naturally submissive and sweet for alphas – perhaps it came from having lived a rather un-sweet life.
To his big surprise, Mr Rogers reciprocated the bow with a courteous one himself. It was unusual for an alpha to do that, especially to an omega. Especially to an omega who wasn’t even matured yet.
“Nice to meet you too, James. You can call me Steve” he said. He had a deep, calm voice; Bucky hated how much he liked it.
“There we are. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” sister Angela smiled, pleased. Her hand reached out to gesture at the bag Bucky had been asked to pack. Well, it was more of a rucksack really. He only owned a few things, if you counted the sweatpants and t-shirt the orphanage had given him when he came here. They smelled of soup and slick by now and no washing had been able to fix it. “As you can see, James is all ready to leave. There’s just some paper work for you to sign, and then he’s all yours. We will contact you as soon as we have made adoptive arrangements with a family – you know the procedure” sister Angela told Steve.
And that’s when it clicked. Bucky stared at them with a stupid look on his face as the word sank in. He was leaving? With him? How could he not have figured it out when he showed up at the door? Fuck, oh no, this was not happening. Not to him. Bucky had heard what happened to omega pups who got picked up by alphas. That was why he’d avoided these orphanages like the plague – most of them wasn’t even orphanages at all, just trafficking rings for kidnapped omegas to be sold for the highest bidder! Somehow, Bucky had gotten the impression that this place would be different. Maybe it was because they were nuns, or that they kept saying they’d find a nice beta or omega family for him, promising that they were law abiding and wouldn’t give him away to ‘improper people’. That meant alphas.
And now here one was, ready to take him back to his sex dungeon or whatever alphas had in their homes.
Naturally, Bucky threw a fit.
“What? No! Are you crazy? I’m not going with one of them” Bucky exclaimed in panic, throwing his arms out. He was infuriatingly aware of how small he was compared to Mr Rogers – Steve – now that he was standing at his full height, but it didn’t matter. His blood was boiling and even an omega’s anger could be fearsome. Or so he hoped.
“Now wait just a minute –“ sister Angela hutted.
“No! I won’t, I just won’t, you hear me? I-I’ll just run away again. You can’t make me!” Bucky interrupted, stomping his foot. He wasn’t wearing shoes so it didn’t make any impact, but he tried. He’d try tooth and nail if he had to.
He didn’t have to. He didn’t have the time.
Steve took two steps forward into the tiny room and put his hand on Bucky’s neck and squeezed. All of the fight left Bucky and he blinked confused up at the alpha. Suddenly everything felt slow, like moving through molasses, and the scent now overpowering him was like a nice, thick blanket of musky earth and apple pie. On instinct, Bucky went lax and hiccupped.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” Steve told him, voice deep and rumbling in a calming manner in his broad chest. Bucky couldn’t do anything but blink. It was all he could do not to purr; the grip on his neck was so dominant and possessive his body kind of did the reacting for him. At the same time he hated it – it was humiliating, being settled like this. Steve kept talking, ignoring that part though. “Now, if you’re gonna calm down for me, then we have some paperwork to sign, and then I think we should get going. It’s lunchtime soon and a growing boy like you needs regular feedings, don’t you?” Steve cooed in his manly, alpha-like manner. Bucky felt his cheeks heat up; he didn’t want to be treated as a child.
He didn’t want to be treated as an omega.
But…on the other hand food sounded nice. He could be calm for the promise of some good food.
It turned out they could make him go with Mr Rogers, because by the time Bucky had woken up from the dazed, fussy headspace the alpha had put him in, he was in the back of a shiny BMW. Pouting, he hugged his backpack to his chest and looked out at the city passing by. It was noon, so the sun was shining on the newly blossoming trees and it would’ve been kind of beautiful, if everything didn’t suck.
He hadn’t even had the time to put a pad in his underwear. Not that he was very wet right now – being kidnapped didn’t do it for him – but he still felt sticky. Just to be an asshole, he rubbed his butt hard into the fancy black leather seat of the car, hoping he ruined it. Suspiciously, he looked to the front seat at Mr Rogers who sat behind the wheel. From this angle, he could see golden hair kept longer than his own and how it flowed effortlessly (but probably with a lot of expensive product) down to graze his ears. His beard was a darker shade but well-kept and it suited his professional look. Even his white shirt looked pristine, despite the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing thick forearms dusted with blond hair. Bucky wondered how old he was; what he was working with.
That’s not the question that came out of his mouth, however.
“So, are you going to sell me or keep me for yourself?” Bucky asked sourly, just to be a brat. Steve was probably (hopefully) not an omega trafficker, but Bucky wanted to make sure he knew that he considered him as bad as one. No one ever asked Bucky if he wanted to be adopted. Or fostered or whatever this was.
“What, just because I’m a single alpha?” Steve asked, looking at him in the rear-view mirror with a raised eyebrow.
“Exactly because that. You’re all pervs. Just look at what you did back there with the weird neck-grabbing thing” Bucky muttered and sank lower into the seat. He didn’t want to look at the trees anymore.
The sigh sounded heavy when it came from the front seat. When Bucky looked back, Steve looked at out the road with an uncomfortable expression.
“Yeah…about that. It wasn’t the best way to handle the situation. I shouldn’t have started with that” he said, sounding a little pained. Bucky’s own eyebrows shot up.
“Is that an apology?” he asked, knowing full well he was toeing the line here. The sterner look he got back confirmed that.
“That was me admitting I was overdoing it. You on the other hand was still being a brat. And in my house, that isn’t going to fly” Steve told him.
“Yeah? I’m used to the sisters” Bucky answered crankily. He wondered if Steve had a stick at home as well, or if he preferred the belt.
Steve scoffed as he turned right onto a quieter street. They were on the nice side of town now.
“You think the sisters can be tough, you should try crossing me for real. I’m fair, but I believe in a firm hand” he told the omega.
And you should try living on the streets.
Bucky bit his lip in silent anger and refrain from saying this. He had a feeling it wouldn’t go down well. Besides, he didn’t want Steve to know he was a street rat. Street rats never got adopted – not that he wanted to be adopted, but still. It was bad to be one, even a teenager like him could figure that out. If he’d just had his parents die in a car crash or something, he wouldn’t be…damaged goods like now. Whatever. Bucky’s body might be screaming for a knot, but his brain didn’t want an alpha. They were all stupid.
When the car stopped, it was in front of a massive old brownstone. It looked like something out of Harry Potter – stone stairs up to carved wooden doors and yellow flowers lining the sidewalk like no homeless people ever slept there. Bucky was impressed, even though he tried not to be. Even if it was only a temporary home, it would be damn nice home.
The alpha closed his own door and opened Bucky’s for him. Still, the teenager pouted and refused to move for a moment, simply to make a point. At that, Steve sighed and leaned down. Up close, his enticing scent was much stronger and Bucky felt a small fresh wave of slick mess up his finally dry pants. That was definitely going to ruin the leather. Looking into those piercing blue eyes and that bearded, masculine face, Bucky could only swallow whatever wisecrack he’d been about to say.
“Listen here kid. This isn’t gonna be easy. And I know it isn’t the best idea to work out a fostering situation like this, but facts are facts; you need a stable, disciplined home and I can provide that. I promise I will never hurt you, and I’ll care for you as best I can for the time we have. Now, if you can trust me on that, then I’ll trust you to behave in my home. Okay?” Steve said in a low, serious voice. Then he reached out his hand for Bucky to take.
Bucky considered his options. He really did. He could demand to be taken back to the sisters, or try to cut and run like now and find his way back to the rough blocks where he used to live. Or he could…at least pretend to trust this alpha, and maybe fall asleep in a warm, clean bed with a full belly.
He ended up taking Steve’s hand. Guess he had a dad now. Kind of.
Visuals!
Here's a little bearded nomad inspired Steve Rogers :)
And here's young baby Bucky <3