Chapter Text
The first time he met his mission he managed to escape after their altercation. The second, his mask had been knocked off during their fight. That was when things became confusing for the asset.
The Winter Soldier was overwhelmed with thousands of scents all at once. One thing his handlers had done was inject him with a super serum long ago. A serum to make him faster and stronger than anyone else. A serum to heighten his senses and make him unlike the rest. A super soldier for Hydra.
The Asset wore his mask during missions to protect his identity and for the comfort of blocking all scents. When the Mission removed his mask he'd stumbled for a fraction of a moment, took as little time to center himself and adjust to the onslaught of scents, and when he had, he'd stared at the Mission who called him by a name.
Bucky.
Who the hell was Bucky? The Winter Soldier thought this and had said as much.
The Mission confused him. He looked like an alpha, but he didn't smell like an alpha. It caused him to take another long look at him. He was built, larger than himself, with more muscle mass. His hips were lean and narrow, far from that of an omega's wide set hips, but... The Mission wasn't an alpha, he was an omega. An omega who smelled of rosewood and something else. Something light and warm, something that soothed the alpha within, and because of that the Winter Soldier jerked back and growled threateningly. This was some type of pheromone play meant to disorientate and take him by surprise. The soldier would not fall for it and instead of fighting the alpha- No. Strangely, omega- he fled when the omega was distracted for a moment.
But the confusion hadn't stopped there. Images came to the forefront of his mind. Of a male omega that smelled just like the mission, but this one was small of frame, with delicate hips that held the softest curves and he looked at him with a soft smile and a ripening of his scent.
His handler's wouldn't answer his questions and wiped his memory. But they came back, came back as he battled the omega and was just about to end him. Mission near complete, but something stopped him. His alpha snarled with outrage, whined when he'd fired his gun, whimpered as he wrapped his hand around the Mission's neck and prepared to end him.
He'd failed his mission and ran with a confusion of images, of things that some place in his mind wanted to supply as memories, but that made less sense than everything already did.
Over time he accepted the images for memories. He remembered nearly everything, there were still blank spots deeper into his childhood, but he remembered meeting a small runt of an omega, Steve Rogers. He remembered spending so much of their youth together. Remembered going into his first rut alone and crying out for the omega. His omega mother was there to check on him, making sure he kept himself hydrated and fed for those painfully lonely days. He remembered confessing to Steve that he'd wanted to spend his rut with the omega and Steve blushing furiously. He remembered wooing Steve, and in their later teen years asking to mate him. They even married a few months before the war began. Steve smelled like no other omega he'd ever scented and he'd realized that the reason for that was because Steve was his true mate.
He remembered his mate coming to his rescue in the war. Remembered being surprised by Steve’s physical change, but comforted by his soft warm scent of rosewood. It always made the alpha within hum with contentment. Steve had been worried that he wouldn't be able to accept the omega’s drastic change. Most might not because they had it in their minds what an omega should look like and a part of him had missed his old Steve. However, this change was acceptable because Steve was healthy, no longer sickly and weak. Steve was happy, so he was too.
The Winter Soldier who felt less like the soldier and more like James Buchanan Barnes, but still not close to Bucky, understood almost everything. He knew who he was now. He knew what happened to him. He knew who the Mission was.
A part of him wanted to go back to New York. He wanted to find his bond mate. He wanted to be Bucky for Steve, but too much had happened. It was too dangerous. Regardless of his wants, he stayed away. Tried to stay under the radar, but of course knowing how stubborn his mate could be, he should have known Steve would come for him.
He was taken by the government no matter how much Steve tried to protect him. Then Steve took him away and Bucky had told him everything he remembered Hydra doing and Steve had listened in silence, no judgement. Steve would protect him from the government, protect him from his allies and friends if he had too, but Bucky realized along the way that they could not have what they once had.
Their bond hadn't broken, no matter the life threatening situations they'd been in, nor the frozen states they'd spent in slumber. The more time they'd spent in each others presence, the longer they spent reacquainting themselves with their mate's scent, the bond sparked. Until in Wakanda the bond had shifted back into place. Bucky had made the decision to go back into cryo because he wasn't safe to anyone, especially to Steve. If someone said those words in formation he'd be powerless to stop himself and he couldn't chance hurting anyone again. Steve smelled of distress as he'd told him this, but there was no changing Bucky's mind. He could be just as stubborn as Steve, even worse sometimes.
Steve leaned against the hospital bed, his leg brushing along Bucky’s own. It was the first sign of intentional physical contact that he'd seen in his mate so far and Bucky pulled back from it. Steve was his mate. He could scent it, yes. But beyond that Bucky scented far more. The serum had made his senses too perceptive at times and one thing that Bucky could scent on a person was just how many partners they'd had. Most people of today scent bothered him, some even disgusted him. Their smells were so strong and off-putting that the mask helped clear the senses enough to not cause him agitation. Although Steve didn't smell terrible like most of the people he'd come into contact with, Bucky could smell that Steve was no longer just his.
Steve had been the only person he'd ever been intimate with and even after so many decades he hadn't slept with anyone else. Steve smelled of another alpha. Just one, the scent of pine filled his nostrils if Bucky sniffed deep enough and that made something unsettle in the pit of his stomach. It might not be terribly strong, so the occurrence might have been less than a handful of times, but... It happened and...
Bucky wasn't a stuffy narrow minded ass, but this... They'd been raised in a time where mating was sacred. Only a dead-beat alpha or a hussy of an omega would step out on their bond, and if they did, that was sure enough grounds for breaking a bond. The thought of breaking their bond... Bucky didn't like it, but this... It hurt. Every time he found himself inhaling deeply of Steve's scent he couldn't fully enjoy it because that scent was now tinged with another alpha and it made Bucky feel sick, near vomiting every time he smelled it.
Steve thought he'd died when he fell from the train. Yes. Bucky understood that. He could understand that Steve was trying to find his place in this new time. In a New York not their own, but in their time alphas and omegas hardly ever stepped out on their marriages. To do so was as good as signing a divorce agreement. When an alpha or omega lost their mate they didn't just... sleep around. That was it. It didn't matter if they were still young when their mate died, they didn't trample on their mate’s memory.
With time the world evolved in technology and maybe their upbringing was different. There was also a change to the alpha and omega physiology, but for Steve and Bucky it should have remained the same. So... having Steve lean in seeking some type of affection back made Bucky revolt from it in confusion and pain.
"Steve..." Bucky began awkwardly glancing down to the floor. Steve didn't understand, because the serum they'd given Steve differed from his own, so of course Steve’s senses were not as sensitive or keen.
"What is it?"
"I'm not the same as I once was."
"I know that, Buck. Nor am I, but we're mates." Steve defended himself.
The pride of that statement in Steve's eyes broke something within Bucky, because he couldn't accept it for that. Maybe he was just like those stuffy narrow minded people of their time after all?
"I... My senses are different from your own, Steve. I..." God Bucky didn't want to talk about this. He knew it would hurt them both, but his alpha was not pleased. He could feel his inner wolf pull back and hide deep within the darkness of his mind wanting away from the scent of their mate that smelled like another's. "It's been a long time, and I... I understand you moved on. Just because we are bonded, it doesn't mean you need to make this work."
Steve's scent was quickly souring all as his brows furrowed with perplexity. Steve wasn't following.
"I smell that alpha on you..." The iron suited alpha that they'd battled against... He'd put Steve in an terrible position, going against his current alpha for his bonded alpha. Steve's commitments were ever strong and he never took back his promises, but this...
"Anthony Stark. He was your alpha before you found out that I was alive." Bucky stopped talking because he didn't want to say anymore and because the smell of his mate was growing all the more distressed as he did.
"You... Oh God." Steve whined in his distress, hand raised and reaching out for him, and Bucky couldn't stop from flinching away. He didn't want that alpha's scent marking his skin.
The strangled noise that burst from Steve made Bucky curl in on himself. He was Steve's alpha, he should protect him and care for him, but that... He couldn't do that because of his senses.
"It’s not like that. I... God, I love you, Bucky. So much. We were made for each other. It... It was just... I was having terrible heats and-"
"Heats?" Bucky's voice broke off in a strained octave.
Heats were far more sacred than anything else. An alpha or omega might, might be able to forgive one time of cheating, but a heat? A actually heat spent with another alpha? Three days of... When a omega was most vulnerable... Fertile...
Steve said heats, as in plural, more than one, meaning...
No. That was never forgivable. In their time that was cause for a divorce and bond breaking.
Palming his face and dipping low where he sat, Bucky wanted to disappear. He rather he were dead than having to deal with this right now. God this conversation wasn't the one he wanted to be having right now. Certainly not in a room full of people waiting to put him in cryo and- Glancing over to his side, Bucky could see T'Challa standing further off to the side trying to give them privacy, but clearly being in hearing distance.
Bucky could feel the bond pressing against the wall dividing his mind from his mate’s. Bucky had been steadily building the wall as their bond had reformed for protection against this very thing. Steve wanted inside of his head. He wanted to feel what Bucky was feeling. He wanted to give Bucky the chance to feel what he was, but Bucky slammed a force of anger against the barrier keeping their bond silent. He raised his head to stare up at Steve when the omega let out a sharp gasp from the rejection of the bond.
No. Never. Bucky couldn't risk opening the bond up. God forbid he dug too deep, went the wrong path and found Steve's memories of that heat... No, that wasn’t right. Heats. Steve had admitted it.
"Don’t. Steve, please." Bucky rasped. "It's fine. I understand you thought I was dead. He... He might take you back if you ask for forgiveness."
Why the hell was Bucky trying to console Steve right now? Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. All Steve wanted was a little affection before he went into cryo. The least he could have done was give Steve a firm grasp of his sleeved shoulder or something that didn't cause him to touch his skin.
"That isn't it."
"T'Challa, I'm ready." Bucky called out over Steve's words and rose from the bed making his way to the cryogenic chamber.
"Bucky, please." Steve pleaded, desperate, reaching out a hand and grabbing a hold of his wrist.
Bucky wrenched his wrist free and spun so that he faced Steve head on. His alpha revolted enraged when the scent of the other alpha had marked his skin along with his omega's scent.
Steve looked as if he were going to be ill, much like Bucky felt. Gritting his teeth, Bucky reassured himself that it wasn't a strong scent, that his own could mask it if he didn't focus too much on it. He'd be in cryo and wouldn't even scent it in that state. It was okay.
"Steve... Really, it is fine, okay. I... Things are different now. We're in a different time and I can't even be an acceptable alpha for you. You found someone and... It is what it is."
"No." Steve stubbornly interjected, eyes hardening with purpose.
"Enough." Bucky snarled with authority. His alpha wished to be heard, and, as soon as Bucky used his alpha voice, he regretted it. Steve flinched back as if Bucky had struck him and shakily wrapped his arms around himself, shrinking inward. Features completely torn by Bucky’s utter rejection of him.
It hurt to see it, because Steve wasn’t a weak omega. Never had been. Even before Steve took the super serum, he’d always been just, courageous, and willing to help others. It was why Bucky fell so hard for him. Now, because Bucky was hurting, refused to listen, and used his alpha voice against Steve, the omega felt helpless.
Bucky fought back the need to comfort Steve, because right now, more than comforting Steve, Bucky needed time to adjust. Somberly, not looking back at the pitiful image of the great Captain America, Bucky gave a nod to T’Challa and entered the cryogenic capsule. Shutting his eyes, Bucky heard the soft whimper of his name spill out from Steve’s lips before darkness took him into a deep sleep.