Chapter Text
Steve Three Months Ago
”Darcy, I cannot be taking that call right now,” Steve says, picking up the phone to his receptionist, and really, he can’t. It’s parents evening, and as the principal of the prestigious James Blake Academy in New York City, he needs to be there, be on his game and look his best because really, the parents are animals and he says this having come from a school in one of the roughest districts of The Bronx.
”It’s apparently a family matter of great urgency,” she replies, and Steve feels his forehead crinkle into a frown.
The thing is, he doesn’t have any close family left, but he does have a rather large and overly-involved-in-his-life extended ‘family’, (though he isn’t sure he’s actually blood related to any of them and rather just thinks they’re his late Mom’s old school friends who have adopted him somehow) so this can only be one of them… But what could possibly be urgent enough that they would be calling him when he’s at work?
it’s just weird enough that he figures he should answer just in case, though.
“Alright, put them through,” he replies into the receiver and waits for the call to connect properly.
”Steve! Sorry to bother you darling, but how are you?” Comes a familiar voice down the phone and Steve sighs and closes his eyes in mild frustration.
“Aunt Jean, how are you?” He asks back. “Um, it’s fine, but I don’t have a lot of time to chat, I’m afraid, it’s parents' evening so I really need to go and be available for the meet and greet…”
”Of course, of course, especially now you work at that fancy school of yours. How’s it going, by the way?” she queries, and the chatty, conversational tone of the conversation they’re having so far doesn’t exactly instill in Steve any sort of belief that this call is really about any matter with any sort of urgency attached to it at all. He’s also not sure that he should even be surprised.
“It’s fine, really - as I said before, it’s very different to where I was for my last post,” he replies. “Sorry, but I heard this was some sort of family emergency?”
”Right, darling, yes!” she replies cheerily. ”Your cousin Amelia is getting married - it’ll be happening in August so you should be on your summer vacation by then - and we’d love to have you there.”
”Oh wow, Richard proposed?” Steve finds himself asking, despite his earlier reservations about getting sucked into this. “Congratulations to them both - that’s amazing news. Of course I’d love to be there - it feels like it’s been far too long since I got out to see you all.”
Of course, that’s mainly because he is restricted to the school vacation periods, after all, and because whilst his Ma - Sarah Rogers - had settled with him on the East coast in New York, both of his ‘aunts’ had ended up on the West Coast, near Los Angeles. It’s also because every time they try to invite him, another little problem (which even Steve has to admit is of his own making) rears its head, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to wriggle out of dealing with.
”We had rather hoped you’d think so,” she replies breezily as Steve writes a post-it to himself to message Amelia and Richard directly later to congratulate them. ”And your visit is a reason we’re giving you so much notice. We know as it’s in the summer it shouldn’t be an issue for you, but we’d love to meet this mystery man of yours!”
Ah, Steve thinks, and then there it is.
”So actually, you’re the first person we’ve told. I mean, it’s an awfully long journey for a single Omega to make by themselves, and we thought the two of you might like to use it as a holiday. The wedding is going to be at this gorgeous hotel, and we could just arrange to extend to extend your stay so you can use it as a romantic getaway of sorts. Perhaps a few days after the wedding and a few days after? We would love the chance to catch up with you… And to get to know him after all this time, of course!” she continues as Steve’s stomach clenches uncomfortably and he winces, especially when he sees Natasha now leaning on the doorframe to his office, tapping at her wristwatch to hurry him along.
He looks at the clock on the wall opposite his desk and winces again because shit, he is about to be late and that won't go down well.
”I uh…” he starts before trailing off.
Nat raises an eyebrow at him and glances pointedly out into the corridor, mouthing what Steve knows is the name ‘Dickenson-Owens’ and he shivers again. She’ll be onto him about whether he knows how many food miles go into the broccoli the cafeteria has been serving or busting his balls again about whether her daughter Clarissa should get a ‘bonus’ to her GPA because unlike her peers her attendance record is perfect (it isn’t), and he knows he really needs to head her off at the pass before he’s dragged into a single conversation that takes the whole night.
”Great! It’s August the thirteenth, I’ll email you all the details shortly, but both of you save the date now!” Aunt Jean is saying now, sounding delighted once again.
”I uh… Sure. Sure,” He says, managing to sound more certain the second time he repeats the word than he had on his first utterance.
”Great! Tell James we can’t wait to meet him!” She says cheerily, before thankfully putting the phone down.
Steve also hangs up, pressing his hands into his eyes hard enough that he sees bright lights. “I’d like to meet him, too,” he replies, before pulling them away. It’s fine. It will have to be. And right now, his Aunt giving him adequate notice so he can bring his non-existent Alpha to a big family function isn’t his most pressing problem. He’s wriggled out of having to introduce ‘James’ to his family before, and he could again, he just needed time to think, but that time was not now.
”I told you not to lie to your family about having a boyfriend who doesn’t exist,” Nat says, watching him carefully and Steve sighs.
“I know, I know. It was a shitty idea, and once again it’s biting me on the ass. But it’s fine, I’ll handle it,” he says, with a confidence he doesn’t really feel.
“Great. I hope you can handle Mrs Dickenson-Owens just as well - today’s topic, if my intel is correct, is whether we’re right in allowing Clarissa to take on two arts subjects this semester even if they fit into her schedule and credits requirements. Apparently Mr Dickinson-Owens is up in arms about it,” she tells him, looking a bit like the cat who got the cream.
”Great,” Steve groans, thinking that he’d almost rather have had to deal with his Aunt Jean and her questions about the boyfriend he’d made up to get her off his back for another forty minutes or so, even if the lie had technically long outgrown most usefulness and had become a liability in his own right… Especially as it had been literal years and he had yet to produce anything of this boyfriend beyond a slight Alpha scent to his clothes that had been provided courtesy of Natasha, his best friend and the reason he’d been given the excessively well-paying position here at all.
“That’s the spirit!” Nat grins at him, stepping away and clearly waiting for him to follow.
He groans.
Fake boyfriend and Meddling Aunt can wait until tomorrow, or even later. Right now, it’s time to be as much of a consummate professional that he can muster.
*****
Present Day
Steve swirls the ice around in his glass and likes balefully at Natasha. “So, do you remember the parents' evening back in February? I had my Aunt on the phone?” He asks her and she nods.
”I do,” she replies mildly.
”Well, she was calling to invite me to my cousin's wedding. Well, me and James,” he groans. “And I sort of agreed, mainly to get her off the phone, added the thing to the calendar and figured I’d work towards getting James out of it later when I had concocted a good enough excuse. But guess what?”
”You forgot?” Nat asks him, and Steve groans dramatically and nods.
“You know how busy things have been at work - it’s all just been one thing after another, and I figured I had six months to either find a guy who fitted what I’ve said about James already or just… Get rid of him somehow. But today I got the menu and I have to make food choices by the end of next week, and Jean has forwarded me a goddamn hotel reservation - which is my birthday and Christmas present combined, by the way - and basically a full itinerary,” he complains.
“Well, what did you expect? I say this with all the love, Steve, but you’ve been lying to your family about this guy for years. They’ve told you multiple times that they want to meet him - and who can blame them given the description you’ve given them?” She asks, and Steve sighs, groaning again as he sips at his margarita, but only because he knows she’s very much right.
”I know,” He agrees. “But what do I do now? I’ve got… Less than six months to find someone who matches the description, or I could admit I’ve been bullshitting all this time or…”
He trails off then, because he’s not sure what the third ‘or’ should even be, or if there even is a third option, quite honestly.
”Steve, you don’t have ‘less than six months’, you have three months. You have three months because for whatever reason you’ve chosen to shove your head into the sand and try and ignore this as best you can and now that inaction is biting you firmly on the ass,” She says.
“But I can’t admit it to them - I mean, what do I do? Do I kill him off? Have some cheating scandal? A big dramatic breakup?” He asks, listing off the options on his fingers as he comes up with them.
”You can’t,” Nat agrees, and some part of Steve is a bit glad that she agrees that it actually isn’t an option. He’d lose so much face, and possibly any respect of these people, and even if they weren’t blood related, they were still the closest thing he had to a family, he didn’t want that. ”So, either you find a guy who matches, or you go down the route of hiring an actor or an escort or something.”
Unfortunately, as she says those words, Steve has just taken a large mouthful of drink and as a result he ends up half-choking to swallow instead of spitting it across the small table at her.
”What?!” He asks, scandalized. “I’m not hiring an escort!”
”Actor, then. Didn’t you just get that nice big bonus? Surely that would cover it financially. You get through the wedding, then break up sometime after when the dust has settled - a move away for work or something after you’ve started to drift apart. The thing is, to do that convincingly, you’d need time to lay the groundwork, so doing it now before the wedding - while preferable on some levels - isn’t really possible,” she says with a shrug.
”Nat!” He exclaims. “You’re missing the point.”
”I don’t think I am. I mean, where are you going to find a guy who.. what? Works for a not-for-profit, has a cat, lives in Brooklyn, is tall, dark and handsome, puts up with your ridiculous work schedule and is willing to go along with this childish charade that you’ve been dating for years?” She asks, fixing him with a pointed look that makes Steve squirm in his seat - mostly because he knows she’s right.
“When you put it like that…” he says knowing he sounds like a scolded child - which ironically is exactly how he feels right now. Then again, he’s played a stupid game here, he shouldn’t be surprised that he has won a stupid prize as a result.
”Exactly. So, unless you want to hand me your phone so I can download Tinder and Bumble and Hinge and whatever else whilst you go and get our next round - because I deserve a drink for dealing with this and backing you up when they’ve asked me whether James really exists - the least you can do buy the drinks,” she finishes and Steve pulls a face because ugh he’s done dating sites before and they really aren’t for him.
”But where would we even find an actor? And what sort of actor is going to want to take on this?” He asks and Natasha hums.
”I have an idea, but you’ll have to leave it with me for a few days,” She says, and Steve gives her a hard look as he begins standing up, ready to go and get the requested second round.
“Are you serious right now?” He asks.
”No, but I am Natasha. I have my methods,” She says with a shrug of her narrow shoulders. “Though really Rogers, why you didn’t just tell your family that I was your Alpha is beyond me. It’s been my scent we’ve been rubbing onto your clothes for months, and I don’t think they’d have been that surprised.”
He sighs again. “You know why. I panicked.”
”For a top class educator and a very capable and sensible man when you want to be, you’re a complete dumbass sometimes,” She tells him and Steve sighs again, pulling his wallet from his pocket ready.
”Yeah, and don’t I know it,” he grouses as he makes his way to the bar.
*****
Bucky
A couple of weeks ago, he’d been Dr Ramsay McArthur, chief veterinarian and saver of animals everywhere (or at least he had been on Country Escapes, a highly popular daytime TV soap), and now, here he was considering temp job ads. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Sure, he has another job lined up. he’s had the official offer to play ‘Wes Hartley’ - a dirty mechanic with a cheeky heartbreaker smile and hopefully the new panty dropper character for Young and Hopeful - for over a week now… but filming doesn’t start for another four months and until that happens, he doesn’t exactly have money coming in. And of course, he still has rent and bills to pay and food to buy at the very minimum.
It’s a bit of a conundrum, especially when even real base level jobs like working as a waiter or a barman want a bit more commitment than that - and he can understand why, he really can.
Just as he’s about to ball up the entire free-ad newspaper he’d picked up to try this apparently fruitless job hunt, his phone buzzes and he pulls that out instead. Of course, he’d been smart enough to ask just about anybody he considered a friend or just a decent acquaintance if they knew of anything (if it was cash in hand all the better frankly) to tide him over, and just perhaps the universe was on his side with this.
That was, after all, how stories went, right? When the lead character thought all was hopeless and was about to give up, a bit of good news came in and…
And it’s just a text from Natasha.
Right.
He’d clearly been on soaps too long and was living in soap-land, wherever that was.
[Hey James, how are things? How goes your job hunt?]
Bucky scratches his chin and pouts before typing back.
[To save face I’m going to say ‘absolutely great’… But if you’re about to offer me Janitor’s assistant to Clint at that fancy ass school of yours out of pure pity I’d have to say I’d take it.]
Well, it is best to be honest, he supposes.
[Unfortunately, for you to work at the school we’d have to do all sorts of checks that would probably take us longer to do than you would be employed. Even if I vouch for you it wouldn’t help with that. But I do have a potential job for you.]
Bucky groans. Nat being cryptic is par for the course and yet it really doesn’t always mean good things. But still… beggars can’t be choosers, and whilst Bucky is one step above being a beggar for now, he won’t be that way for long if he doesn’t find something.
[Against my better judgment, I’m listening.]
He can practically see her cat-like grin in his mind’s eye as he sends that and hopes again that he hasn’t made a huge mistake.
[I’m glad to hear it. Anyway, what about a private acting gig? It’ll technically only be one week of work, but I’m willing to bet the client would pay you from now until then which should see you through. The week of working would be in about 3 months time and involves a travel commitment to LA.]
Bucky reads it and scrunches his nose. A ‘private acting gig’? What even was one of those?
[More details please?]
Thankfully, Nat answers almost immediately.
[A friend of mine - who has been through several dozen safeguarding checks so you know this is legit - messed up and told his family he had this fantastic tall, dark and handsome boyfriend who has now been invited to a family wedding with him and he’s too chicken shit to admit to his family he’s been faking.]
Bucky reads the message, and then reads it again. Twice more. And then… then he barks out a laugh because this sounds like a terrible romcom film plot, honestly.
[You want me to play a fake boyfriend for a guy so he can go to a family wedding and save face?]
The response really is immediate this time.
[Yes.]
And then:
[He’s attractive if work obsessed, is an Omega and really can pay. Let me send you the prospective figure.]
He waits a couple of seconds, wondering what in the hell and then his phone pings again r his eyes nearly bug out of his head.
Honestly, he’d been about to tell Natasha to shove it up her ass (politely though, he doesn’t actually have a death wish) but that… that’s a lot of money. And again, that’s something he doesn’t have right now.
He hates himself a little for being so shallow, but this changes things.
He blinks and checks one more time.
[Is this actually serious?]
He asks, actually checking the date to make sure it isn’t April Fools Day - it isn’t - and shakes his head, wondering if he should be googling what prostitution or escort laws even are in NYC to ascertain whether he’s breaking any of them. Just as he’s about to, Nat answers.
[Very serious. Would you like to at least meet him before you make a decision? I can be there to facilitate.]
He groans again, wondering when his life got to this point and why he hadn’t listened to his Ma and saved a chunk of his income every month to tide him through tough times like these, before responding.
[I guess it doesn’t hurt to meet. I’m not saying I’ll do it, though. Not for definite.]
He lies back then, flopping onto his couch and groans out. He needs a new job, he needs new friends and he really, really needs to look into having a secondary savings account so he never finds himself in this position again and… And that’s his phone.
[That’s the spirit. I’ll organize and come back to you.]
Bucky isn’t sure if that message is more of a promise or a threat.
He groans again. This is the stupidest thing ever, though it could be easy money. Play boyfriend to some sad sack for a week, enjoy the spoils of being in California and getting some sunshine - he makes a note to check his contract and ensure it doesn’t matter if Wes Hartley is a little tan - and be able to pay his rent and bills and eat.
He picks up the newspaper again before putting it down. Hopefully Nat isn’t screwing with him or screwing him over.
*****