Chapter Text
Steve never had a problem with Banner.
“The Ace is on the bottom…”
Steve respected Banner, hell, he even liked the quiet mind. After the man’s breakup with Nat and subsequent fleeing from Earth after they defeated Ultron, he’d never condemned the man, only spoken about how he hoped Bruce found some peace. He’d never given the green giant any thought after that.
“It has to be on the bottom…”
Tony’s party that night was meant to not only kick off the week of wedding celebrations, but to welcome back Banner as only Tony could. Which was with food, booze, music and celebratory goodness.
Like Tony Stark needed any excuse to throw a party.
“I watched you put it there…let me see the middle card…”
Bruce hadn’t done anything that was even remotely edging towards inappropriate. He just stood by the bar, a drink in hand, watching over your shoulder as you hustled him with a card game. One that Bucky had taught you from God only knew where.
In fact, Bucky was sitting closer to you with his knee touching your calf.
Bucky was an Alpha too.
Bucky still had a way better track record with Omega’s than Steve did and yet, yet, Steve knew Bucky. Bucky was his brother. Bucky wouldn’t steal from him. Plus, he had watched Bucky and Sam flirt with some of the waitresses and get several numbers, steadily through the night.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Bruce rested a hand on the bar. “Show me the cards again.”
Sam smirked at Steve with little Morgan perched happily on his hip.
Content.
He felt a sense of contentment. After everything that had happened over the past three years, he was content. He finally had a home. All his friends were there with him. They all had formed a close little circle within the bigger Avenger Unit. And then, there was you. With small graceful hands you set the cards down, face down on the bar, one by one, as Bucky watched with pride. Sam just smirked and bounced Morgan.
Two Jokers and an Ace looked up at a growingly frustrated Banner.
“Nothing’s changed man,” Sam told him. “It’s the same game.”
Bruce’s brown eyes looked between Sam, yourself and Bucky before he motioned at you. “Hold out your hands. You must have more cards hidden.”
Steve watched Bucky’s smirk grow from where he sat on the stool beside you. He clearly was enjoying this far too much. Even Sam had that Cheshire smirk across his finely groomed face.
However, there was something about Banner’s familiarity with you, it just rubbed Steve the wrong way.
It was nothing, it really was.
And he’d been so good, on his best behavior all night, really. You’d hung close. Your little hand tucked into his elbow, when he made the rounds to greet everyone upon arriving, exactly on time. Since he knew everyone it hadn’t taken long to do his rounds in the rather spacious conference room. One that’d been converted into a ballroom. It was a bit much for Steve, truth be told. Too many waiters, too much décor, too much activity, the music was way too loud and as the night went on, he was getting way too many looks from Tony.
Dinner had been great. But Steve hadn’t expected anything less. Nor was he offended when he eventually found his table towards the corner of the room. It may have been a dig from Tony. A reminder to be on his best behavior. Secretly, Steve was glad. It had offered them a small sliver of privacy.
Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Clint and you had been placed at ‘Trouble Maker Central’ as Clint began to call it.
Steve was just glad dinner was done and it was time to socialize, before Tony climbed up on stage to chat. He could have killed Natasha, when after dinner the red head brought up a game of ‘Who remembers what happened on our Vegas Trip?’
You and Wanda had discussed waking up in jail, while Clint showed Bucky both of his tattoos. One of which was in a very special place.
Last he saw, the red headed Alpha had been dancing with her Omega, seemingly having decided to take mercy on him, when it was clear you had absolutely no memory of that weekend at all.
This though, this was somehow worse.
Watching Banner study you, like some sort of a plant, as you held out your hands and turned them over and over. Steve didn’t like it. It had nothing to do with Banner’s designation as a Beta, or that big green rage monster buried deep inside the scientist.
“Do it again. One more time.”
Steve was losing his ever-loving mind over a card hustle. He couldn’t believe it himself. Not even when he was speaking from beside Sam, while Morgan contented herself with the Falcon’s tie and pocket square. How he’d come into possession of the Pott’s child was a bit of a mystery. She seemed to make the rounds between the team. Getting stolen by someone new every time Steve turned around. Twice Tony had come by looking for his daughter, but had been unable to track her down since before dinner it seemed.
“Ok, that’s enough of that, I want to dance. Bucky’ll show you. Who do you think taught it to my Girl?”
Which was one thing Steve could not have been more grateful for. How easily you seemed to fall into place with Sam, with Bucky and into his life, as things continued to change and churn. The past few years had not been easy. Sleeping in the ice was easy compared to finding out that Bucky had murdered the Stark’s. And then having to sit with Tony, explain what happened and watch his good friend just shatter.
Nat was right though. It had to be done. They had to do it right, or the team stood a chance of splitting.
Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so destroyed.
But you were there, by his side, every step of the way.
You cocked your head and informed your Bondmate in no uncertain terms, “You know I’m not good at dancing. Can’t you dance with Pepper?”
Banner didn’t seem to hear any of that, he glanced over at the former Winter Soldier. “You know this game?”
Sam laughed.
A slow smile curled over the former assassin’s face. Steve wrapped an arm around your waist and slid you off the stool himself. Normally he didn’t move you around to his liking in public, but desperate times and all. He had you off that stool and your pumps on the floor before you knew it. In a gentlemanly act, he shook out your floor length skirt that matched the dark blue of his suit.
“Yeah…I know Three Card Monte. You got any cash on you?”
Something of a conspiratorial look flashed between Sam and Bucky. Sam put a friendly hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Don’t worry man. You’re in good hands. Grandma Wilson taught me this game when I was just barely older than Morgan here. We’ll get you situated.”
It was a hustle if Steve’d ever heard one.
“Fine! But if I step on your feet again, you can’t blame me.”
Weren’t you just too cute?
He took the cards from you. Handing them over, right around the time Bruce was demanding to see the deck.
‘See,’ Steve told himself, ‘Bruce was more interested in the cards.’ Though that didn’t make him feel much better. It made him feel unreasonable. So maybe he gave you a little push with his hand politely on the small of your back. He’d just been away a long time. That had to be it. He assured you that you would be fine as he smiled at passing friends, coworkers, other people in other ways affiliated with the Avengers.
Doing his best to maintain that public image of goodness, wholesomeness, Alpha-hood strength and dignity.
A few eyes stared, strayed or even glanced away at the sight of your neck.
You’d worn a floor length dress with sleeves that would hide your scars. Its high neckline was just beyond modest. You could have appeared to be every bit as buttoned up as your Mate. Had the side of your neck, down into that dress not been covered in purple and red marks. Several bites were obviously visible. You’d done little to hide them, even though you wore your hair down in big wavy curls.
Steve loved seeing it. It was deeply satisfying for him.
Nat had merely cocked an eyebrow. Tony gave him a look that would have melted iron. He’d gotten knowing looks from Bucky and Sam. Clint had asked if you’d been in a fight with an alligator before looking a little forlorn, then went off to use his cell phone.
It wasn’t that you didn’t like to dance with Steve.
You weren’t the best dancer. You really weren’t. You could do the bunny hop, or other themed dances at social gatherings which had their own songs. Dances that no one took serious, fun goofy kinds of dances. But you just knew Steve wasn’t planning of Conga-Lining around the dancefloor.
Dancing slowly around in private was one thing.
Steve didn’t just dance. He didn’t tango or bump and grind, he took you in his arms and somehow managed to look down into your very soul.
You never totally understood why dancing was so popular back in the day. It was in all the old movies. You’d seen your share of USO and Military Dances on movies and WW2 documentaries. But now, now you understood, you understood how truly indecent dancing was and somehow, it felt too intimate to do in public.
It was laughable. Especially considering how sore you were from earlier, and considering how you’d greeted him home.
Steve led you to the edge of the bustling dance floor and you couldn’t help but notice Nat and Wanda dancing. If one could call it that, it seemed to be some sort of mating ritual in your opinion. You noticed Tony and Pepper bickering over by the head table. You even caught a glimpse of Hill dancing in a sea of bodies belonging to a mix of Alpha’s Omegas and Betas.
Steve’s voice caught your attention. “I have a surprise for you.”
You let him curl a hand high around your waist that came to rest on your back. He pulled you flush to his body, settling his hand palm down on your back.
“Here? On the dance floor?”
What could you say? You couldn’t help yourself.
Steve’s other hand came up to curl around yours. Whatever song was playing seemed to drown out. You hardly noticed the people around as he led you in totally innocent movement. There was no gyrating, rubbing or humping about. Both of Captain America’s hands were well above the belt-line.
Your other hand rested gently on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Perfectly innocent.
“That mouth of yours Omega…” he hummed, enjoying the feel of your body against his, even if you weren’t as tall. You fit almost perfectly tucked in against him. He could have lost himself in that moment. He could have easily just tucked his face against the top of your head. Ok, so sure, he risked a tongue lashing if the beard he had yet to shave messed up the soft curls of your hair, again. Which while he thought you looked beautiful, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around how protective you were of those waves. You’d put enough product in them to last for days. Surely, they wouldn’t fall apart if he rubbed his face against them, just once? “Can you take time off next week?”
You cocked an eyebrow at him.
Slowly he led. His hand so gently folded around yours and when you held his gaze, your eyes searching his, you found it hard to breathe. That was even before he brushed his nose against yours. “We can go into the city for the week. Relax, you and me…and Morgan apparently…”
Ah, so he’d heard the news.
Had you not had on your favorite red matte shade of lipstick, you would have bit your bottom lip.
His face was so collected, so calm.
You could not help yourself. “And stay at that place you bought, like, forever ago?”
He tensed. It wasn’t forever ago, it was before Thanksgiving.
You were right.
“You know about that?”
Your fingers toyed with the soft fabric of his jacket. Your voice soft, light and playful. “It closed when you were in Spain and your broker came by. He assumed we were married. Since we have the same last name. So I signed your name on a bunch of paperwork.”
Steve’s hand on your back grew hotter, if that were even possible.
You could feel your Mating Gland warm, no, burn.
“Yeah…I want to take you there. It’s in Brooklyn.”
Which you already knew. You may have Google Earthed it with Pepper. You hadn’t gone so far as to visit. You wanted to be surprised, you wanted to see it with him. It felt wrong to ruin whatever he had planned. Pepper had no such reservations and went, snooped, then came back to report it was lovely, just lovely.
You were about to tell him yes, that it wasn’t a problem, that Janet and your assistant could cover for you for a week. You had plenty of vacation days saved.
Steve could see you were going to say yes.
He planned to propose in the brownstone. You’d have all week. He could make everything right. By then, he planned to have scoured the new Apartment from top to bottom. Till he found the damn marriage certificate. Everything would be fine. It’d be you two. Just the two of you, he knew exactly what to say, do and had everything planned for you, him and now Morgan it seemed.
Maybe he could get Nat to take Morgan for a few days?
Beautiful red lips parted that he could not take his eyes from and…
…a hand fell on his shoulder, making him flinch as if he’d been pinched.
Both of you glanced over to see an annoyed Pepper.
Pepper had that look on her face.
You grinned at your friend. You knew that look. You stroked Steve’s bicep to calm him after that full body jerk. “Looking to cause problems Pep?”
Confusion filled your Alpha’s face, most certainly when your friend of over a decade looked him over like a farmer examining cattle to buy.
Steve knew trouble when he saw it.
Trouble was wearing Armani, was eye level with him in a pain of pumps that you referred to once as a work of art, hair pulled back chicly and diamonds the size of small planets in her ears.
“Let me dance with Steve?”
Steve did not like this one bit.
“Sure,” was your response.
He protested, “What?” His grip on your back grew firmer. Thus making you look back to your mate. You rose up on your toes to place a kiss on his chin. Even if it was covered with that dark honey colored beard. “Don’t worry darling, Pepper’s just tormenting Tony to teach him a lesson. Your virtue will remain intact.”
Those words had only just left your mouth, when Pepper held her hands up for the blonde Avenger. “Did she tell you what Tony is doing to me?”
The blonde Avenger had a suspicion that he knew what this was about.
“Tony’s been switching out Pepper’s birth control with black market placebo pills,” you chimed in.
It wasn’t hard for Steve to act outraged.
An annoyed sound was followed by Pepper’s eyeroll. “Like I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference? That man should be happy that I’m ready to have another child. And you know what the worst part is Steve?”
This was just going downhill at a high rate of speed. Speed that just seemed to keep picking up. And as you tugged his hand from your back, so you could hand the other part of your soul over to Pepper, you were amused when Steve asked, “Tony being dishonest?”
“Oh please…Tony’s dishonest before he wakes up,” Pepper spat, beyond annoyed with her betrothed. “Not only is he refusing to confess to what he’s been doing, and I’ve been giving him opportunity after opportunity…but whoever he’s buying these pills from is ripping him off. They’re not even real placebo pills!”
You completed the tradeoff as Steve looked between the both of you in a state of shock, bewilderment, confusion. Much like a child unsure about sitting on Santa’s lap. “What…what are they?”
“Mints!” Came from the seething Pepper.
“Someone filed down TicTacs,” you clarified.
“TicTacs,” parroted Steve.
Pepper was so done. She grabbed a hand that easily dwarfed her own. All while moving the hand you placed high on her back, down considerably lower, which Steve yanked back up. He looked once more to you as you waved, laughing and heading into the sea of people.
“Eyes on me Rogers. We’re gonna talk and make Tony jealous. Plus I found something we need to discuss in your room.”
What? No. This was even worse.
His expression of terror was ignored by Pepper, who snaked her hand between them to pull him closer to her, she could feel Tony’s eyes on her back. She could feel his anger rise through the mark on her neck. Oh how she would enjoy this, and considering she’d made up a whole big story about how she was feeling weird, odd, as if her pharmacy had given her the wrong dosage of birth control to no reaction other than wide eyes…oh this would be so satisfying.
Steve nearly jumped out of his shoes when he felt Pepper’s hand in his pants pocket. “Pepper!”
People were beginning to notice around them.
Not only was Captain America dancing with Pepper Potts, soon to be, Pepper Potts Stark, but he was jumping around like a barefoot kid on a hot sidewalk.
“Calm down Rogers. I was just giving you back your rings.”
Those words stopped the jerking and twitching. Yet Steve wasn’t exactly calm or happy, not with how close Pepper was, so close her floral sweet crisp scent that had just a hint of citrus overpowered your scent. Pepper didn’t smell right. Pepper didn’t feel right. His body didn’t want Pepper. It was like he pulled on a piece of clothing that was far too small.
“My rings?”
“Those three little rings you had hidden in your sock drawer. I am assuming they’re not for Sam?”
Oh, right, those rings. Steve had found his socks, but hadn’t dug through that clothing box yet. He breathed out a sigh of relief and ignored the daggers Stark was glaring at him, then he spun Pepper. He didn’t particularly like spinning you. He preferred holding you against him.
“No…they’re not for Sam.”
All smiles, Pepper wound her way back into Steve’s arms. Her own arm curled around his broad shoulders so she could pull him close. More, so she could privately ask her next question, than to make Tony red with rage and green with envy.
If that happened, well, that was a big bonus.
“When are you going to pop the question?”
Pep watched his blue eyes scan the crowd. Watch you head back towards the bar where Bucky was alone with Sam and Morgan. Sam helped her feed Bucky what looked like cherries on the end of a plastic sword.
“Steve?”
His gaze went back down to Pepper, who, bless her, seemed amused.
“What’s the significance of the three little stackable rings? Are they supposed to be an engagement ring? Or is it for her birthday? Three rings for the three years you’ve been together?”
God he didn’t want to be having this conversation with Pepper, not now, maybe not ever.
“Yes,” was what came from his mouth.
Never in Steve’s entire life had he ever been so glad to see an Alpha approach him, with what one would call murderous intent in their eyes. Or so thrilled to see Stark head his way, with something dark on his mind. Steve could have kissed Stark right on the mouth, then dropped to his knees to thank every deity above.
***
You never thought it would happen again.
You’d worked very hard to put that traumatic part of your life firmly in your past. You’d put it in a little box, locked that box shut and then closed the door on it. When you’d met Steve, you’d been getting back on your feet after what could only be described, as a significant event in your life. Your bond to your previous Alpha had been broken, when you’d been kidnapped by fugitive Hydra terrorists. For a week you’d been at the mercy of Crossbones, and while you’d come such a long way since that time, some things just never went away. No matter how hard you tried.
You never thought it’d pop back up and not surrounded by all your friends, everyone you worked with, not in such a public place.
Yet, there you were, taking a sip of something from Bucky’s flask, along with Sam, that smelled like it could take paint off a car.
Deep down you knew it was a bad idea. Especially when Bucky told the both of you that he’d made it in his room. However, that had seemed to pique Sam’s curiosity, which totally sold you down the path of unfortunate events.
The great unfortunateness began when Aaron from down in the garage got into with Neil, also from the garage, over a lovely young nubile Omega named Tabitha.
Words had been exchanged.
Shoves had been dealt.
Aaron and Neil were locked in what was known as a ‘state of intoxicated disharmony.’ In this state, they did not notice Bucky pour a golden liquid into two shot glasses from a flash. Nor did they see little Morgan on Sam’s hip. Nor did they notice how amazing your hair looked that night. If you had to say it, it looked pretty on pointe.
Who would have thought that between you and Steve, he’d have the more questionable friends?
You’d lifted up your shot-glass to smell the fumes coming off the substance, when it happened. When the brawl kicked off like the start of a sporting event. No sooner had the pondering of whether this liquid would remove the enamel from your teeth hit, did shouting catch yours and Sam’s and Bucky’s attention.
Morgan on the other hand could have cared less, being happy and content in the arms of one of her many uncles and aunties.
All three of your heads popped up towards the commotion.
All three of you looked up, just in time, to see a wall of bodies shift. In the center seemed to be two young men in quite the disagreement, while friends, associates, well-wishers and coworkers either joined in to express their own opinions on the matter, or in an ill-fated attempt to break up the growing melee.
Sam was able to quickly hop back. Every protective Alpha urge in his body screamed at him to protect the dark-haired pup in his arms. Stepping backwards, he put a hand up on the back of her head and watched the scene with poorly contained annoyance, tinged with disapproval.
On the other side of you, Bucky was not so lucky. In getting hit with the eye of the storm and taken clean off his chair by the storm of bodies. The Super Soldier found it more difficult to not act of his Alphaly instincts. To not fight back among the sea of bodies that had knocked him to the floor, were trampling over him, making his best friends Omega shriek out in surprise. Totally the ruining his night, making him internally remind himself why homicide was bad.
You were hit with an outer band of the violent ruckus.
You wound up getting shoved up into the bar hard enough to hurt, and when you attempted to get away from the press of bodies, you caught someone’s elbow right to the face.
Wham, bam and you too wound up on the floor, in a heap of midnight blue fabric.
Your face felt like it’d been split open. Bright new colors exploded from your vision and you only distantly, kinda heard, Bucky shout for you. If the ringing in your ears could be believed. A second later you tasted blood and another second later the pain really kicked in, blooming in your cheek and radiating out as the initial surprise wore off.
A gloved hand grabbed you by your shoulder and pulled you away, across the floor, over a few feet as you fought hard to regain your wits.
If this kept up, you were going to sign up for a boxing class down in the gym. You really needed to learn how to take a punch to the face.
The voice attached to the hand pulling you along the floor spoke to you. Asking if you were ok, inquiring if anything was broken, asking if you could sit up. For a moment, you thought it sounded familiar. You thought you felt a roll of your stomach. You thought that your body had a visceral reaction to that voice.
But then you remembered, you just got nailed in the cheek with someone’s elbow and your eye was watering, likely ruining your makeup. And worse yet, you were going to have a black eye. At this rate, you were going to need all the concealer in the greater New York area.
“I’m ok…I’m fine…” you somehow managed to get out. Very carefully your hand went up to touch the throbbing side of your face. Checking for signs of permanent damage, or a big gaping hole, because God did it hurt.
The voice belonging to the hand on your arm helped push you up, into a sitting position. More people came to either help with the growing fight, or try to break it up and that voice kindly laughed at your assurances. “Ok Omega. Just try and avoid more elbows. You don’t want to spend the night in the ER, you know what I mean?”
And it clicked.
Something seemed to fall into place.
That voice was familiar. Those words were familiar. Those last five words you heard numerous times over the worst week of your life, over the week when Crossbones used you as his personal cutting board. Those words had been spoken to your tormentor, reminding him that if he killed you, they couldn’t get any information, ‘you know what I mean,’ was always tagged on.
Your body turned to look, to see if it was the same guy. If you were right, which you couldn’t be, he couldn’t be there, now, with you at the Avenger’s Compound.
But sure enough, there he was, dressed as a waiter.
Recognition flickered across his face too. The man looked horrified. And it was indeed the same man.
Never in your life did you ever think you’d set eyes on him again, or any of them.
Even from eight feet away, pushing his way through a mass of bodies, Bucky heard the Alpha speak to his Best Friend’s Girl.
Even from eight feet away, he heard those five words, those five fucking words.
He couldn’t see the face of the man through the bodies. Bucky could see your face though, he could see your shock blend into disbelief and then horror, as you realized the same thing he had, Hydra was in the Compound dressed as a waiter.
Bucky couldn’t remember a lot about his time in the hands of Hydra between missions, after the machine, but those five fucking words.
He’d remember those words until the day he died.
Those words made him shove people perhaps a bit too roughly, too forcefully, away from him. It didn’t take long till he no longer cared about hurting someone to get to your side.
Bucky had totally lost Sam in the crowd.
Bucky fought every desire to go after that waiter and rip him limb from limb, wherever that Alpha had gotten to, and the only thing that kept him from tearing through the crowd was you. You wiping your arm like there was something wrong with it.
All Bucky could think was the Alpha had somehow hurt you, given you something, did something to you.
Before he realized he’d given up his pursuit before it began, he was kneeling next to you. He said your name several times, which you didn’t seem to hear. It was only after he grabbed your chin in his hands and made you look at him, he realized what it was you were saying, what exactly was wrong.
“He touched me!” You shrieked at Bucky. “He touched me! He touched me!” The man had touched you and it felt like a worse violation than the elbow directly to your face. You would have eagerly taken three more elbows to the face. You were disgusted. You were outraged. You felt dirty and helpless, and in some way contaminated. As Bucky pulled you up to your feet, you again told him, “He touched me! He was here and he touched me Bucky!”
Bucky understood.
Bucky of all people understood.
Bucky leaned forward to smell your arm, just below your shoulder. Thinking that maybe, just perhaps, he could possibly get a scent, smell something? And sure enough, even through a glove, he caught a whiff of something vaguely familiar. Something that sparked a nostalgic part of his brain.
Horror came over you.
You did the same, you lifted your arm and got the whiff of someone that wasn’t Bucky. Someone that wasn’t your mate. You caught hints of something sickeningly sweet and rich, like toffee and popcorn at a state fair, that after a while would give you a stomach ache.
The man’s scent was on you.
A fresh wave of revulsion came over you, that made your voice pitch higher. “He’s on me! He is on me! Get him off! Get him off!”
Bucky didn’t know what to do.
Bucky had no freaking clue what to do and he didn’t see Sam, he sure as hell didn’t see Steve. And as the room grew louder, more crowded, more packed with pressing bodies, he knew that you were not going to get calmer. The whole change in the rooms atmosphere seemed to be fueling your increasing agitation, something glass shattered, wood cracked, shouting grew louder and you started to scratch at your arm.
Inspiration hit.
Bucky shrugged out of his jacket before you could rip your dress, or hurt yourself with those nails.
“Calm down Omega. He’s gone. He’s not going to hurt you or me anymore. Just stay here and…” thank God Sam was there. Bucky could have dropped to his knees and started going to mass again every day. His black jacket was off and he was draping it around your shoulders, to cover up that scent which he’d never forget.
Your eyes widened.
And then Sam was at your side as the salty fresh oceany smell of Bucky’s jacket seeped into your consciousness, mixed with something else, sandalwood maybe?
“Dude we gotta do something…” Sam informed the two of you, around the time he handed you Morgan, who did not seem to have a care in the world. If anything, she seemed somewhat amused at the sight of everyone fighting. Like it was a big show just for her.
You clung to Morgan. You held her tight.
You barely noticed Sam and Bucky go into the throng of bodies.
All you could focus on was holding the little pup. It seemed to distract the mess of Omega feelings going through you. All your focus was on keeping Little Pepper and Tony safe. Your clung to her as if you needed her more than she needed you, which the little girl seemed fine with, unconditionally loved by everyone around her. She raised a small chubby hand to point out the unfolding sight.
Of course you backed away. Pushing through all the bodies while your face throbbed relentlessly, smelling Bucky and knowing that an unfamiliar scent was on your skin beneath his jacket.
You were upset. You were angry. Mad that one touch, five little words, could bring you back to a time that was so horrific for you without your say so.
You couldn’t have said how much time passed.
You weren’t sure who all was in the fight.
All you really knew was that you clung to little Morgan like she was a lifeline, breathing in her clean scent and watching everything that unfolded before your eyes, like on the nightly news.
“Oh my God! There you are!”
You only barely noticed Pepper till she was there, at your side, wrapping her arms around both you and Morgan. Relief rolling off her in waves until all you could smell was flowers, way too many flowers, so many flowers and oranges and lemons.
You were getting a headache from all the smells.
When you handed Morgan over to her mother’s arms, you touched the bridge of your nose and quietly told Pepper, “I need to go to my room.” You weren’t even sure if your friend heard you to be honest. But your head was just pounding by then and you couldn’t have cared less.
You just wandered.
You weren’t afraid of running back into that waiter. You would have been glad to at that point. You were no longer stunned by the sight of him, you were ready to see him. You were more than prepared to let him know just how much his actions had forever changed your life. You were more than prepared to stab him with your shoe, if need be. You could have taken on the Hulk himself at that point. Headache be damned.
You were so far beyond done.
Ok, so, you were still a little out of it. You were halfway up to your old apartment before realizing you now lived downstairs. Small detour taking you out of your way and taking longer to get down to your new space.
Upon getting in your new home, you smelled fresh paint, new construction and weren’t at all comforted by a lack of familiar smells of your mate, your stuff. Your nest wasn’t even ready.
Frustrated too now, you shut the door and shrugged out of Bucky’s jacket.
You kicked off your shoes.
You tried to take off your dress to get further away from the waiters scent, but you couldn’t reach up behind you to get it unhooked to unzip.
Steve had helped you into your dress.
Finally tears began to burn. In your growing frustration, you considered cutting your dress off. However, that was nowhere near quick enough. Which was how you found yourself going into the bathroom. Trembling hands fisting until your nails dug so painfully in your palms, you knew there would be blood.
You turned the shower on.
Bottles of body wash, shampoo and conditioner were where you left them, still a bit wet from both of your showers earlier in the day. Still in your dress, you climbed in and grabbed Steve’s wash cloth. Your shaking hands grabbed his body-wash, which you uncapped and squirted all over you.
Underneath the hot water, your dress became soaked and got wrapped up around your legs, legs that were folded beneath you. Which you hardly noticed. You were so focused on your task of getting that smell off you, before you became physically sick.
Desperately you scrubbed at your arm with the washcloth. Suds foamed up in the black fabric of your sleeve. You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and couldn’t seem to scrub hard enough.
Twice you squirted more body-wash onto your arm to ensure that the other scent was wiped away.
Eventually you squirted the entire bottle.
***
It looked like a massacre.
Steve looked over the bar area that was streaked and smeared with blood, footprints, broken glass and chairs, buttons, a shoe or two, a few earrings and even a tooth. Security had eventually broken up the fight, but not before Steve had tried to help.
He still couldn’t believe someone had bit him.
Tony and Pepper were fighting, again.
Steve had yet to find his Omega in the considerable amount of people that remained.
There were so many smells and pheromones that it was hard to distinguish one person from another until he finally, finally spotted Bucky.
And then Sam.
Before Steve even made it all the way over, Sam informed him in no uncertain terms, “We got problems Cap.”
Eyes wide, he looked between the two men as Sam worked on unknotting his shredded tie and Bucky wiped at his bloody hands with a cloth napkin.
Sam looked to Bucky.
Bucky, minus his jacket and tie, and missing one suspender, finally glanced up at his longtime friend. “Hydra is here.”
“What?”
“I heard him…I don’t know his name, but he was a waiter. He always said those five words…it’s him Steve, he was one of Rumlow’s guys.”
Just when Steve didn’t think his night get worse, or his eyes could get any bigger, Sam gave him more news.
“Your Girl knew him too. She saw him, freaked and bounced.”
To which Bucky nodded in confirmation.
“If you wanna go be with her, we’re good here. We checked all the waiters and exits. Whoever it was left. Next we’re gonna go check cameras.”
Bucky frowned, “They’re here for a reason Steve. You need to find out everything you can from her about that guy.” When his friend from a whole other time made a face, he went on with, “I can’t remember his name or his face. All I got is his voice seared up in my head. I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup unless he was speaking. You have to ask her.”
***
And that was how Steve wound up with a four-point plan to discuss that evening, what you had seen and would eventually round out to the man in question, who’d been impersonating a waiter.
It was a good plan.
It was a sound plan.
It was a plan that he put a considerable amount of thought into, when he made his way back to your apartment.
Seeing Bucky’s jacket threw him for a moment upon making entry, however, he was not deterred. Not even when he saw all the steam from what had to have been the longest shower in the history of recorded time. Steam just kept drifting out of the bathroom.
Steve called your name.
The plan was flexible.
He could start his plan while you were in the shower. Overcoming and adapting to any situation was something he excelled at, both before and after the serum.
When he repeated your name and peered in the shower, he was greeted to the sight of you. Wet, under the hot water, rubbing yourself down with a bar of soap whilst still in your dress. You still had your tights on. Your jewelry was still on. It took you a second to realize that he was even there and when you did, you looked up at him with a look on your face that he hadn’t seen in a long time, years even.
“What are you doing Omega?”
This wasn’t right.
You weren’t acting right.
You weren’t yelling, or throwing a fit.
Your voice was soft. Your voice was quiet. You sounded almost numb.
Steve would have much rather you screamed, or shouted at him.
“He touched me. He touched me and I can’t get rid of his smell. I can’t stop smelling him…can you go get my scissors? They’re in the kitchen.”
The plan was subsequently abandoned.