Chapter Text
Bucky knew his baby would be the death of him one day, but he figured it would be something more running-into-traffic related.
As it is, Bucky’s mouth is open and the only backdrop to his suffering is the maniacal giggling of his three-year-old, who is dangling from Bucky’s hands like a bushel of carrots.
“I-I have honestly never been more sorry in my li-life,” Bucky stutters uncomfortably, gathering Eli close to his chest in an effort to staunch his shivering.
Eli’s laughter continues unabated. He’s normally very attentive to his Mama’s pheromones but Eli only squirms around until his little back is to Bucky’s chest and reaches his hands out in the stranger’s direction.
The man’s tie is all black, or rather, was, now it’s covered in a decidedly orange goop that resembles the carrots Eli probably consumed for lunch.
The restaurant is dead silent.
“Eli,” Bucky whispers, “what do we say?”
Bucky pulls down the sleeve of his baggy sweater and drags it over the leftover mess on Eli’s angelic cheeks.
“Thorry, Daddy,” Eli squeals to the man, and he raises an eyebrow at the display.
Eli jerks his little head around to face Bucky.
“See, Mama?” Eli cajoles, and Bucky melts in the face of such supposed triumph. He nuzzles Eli’s soft skin and closes his eyes against the tears that come forth.
“Daddy, huh?”
The stranger’s voice is deeper than Bucky imagined and he finally looks up (and up) to meet the man’s eyes.
The man looked terribly angry when Eli splattered his dinner on what was surely a very expensive item of clothing, but now he looks more than amused as he shrugs his tie off entirely and hands it to one of several men waiting silently behind him.
Bucky catches his breath.
“H-he’s only three, alpha,” Bucky says, bouncing Eli on one hip. “He calls everything daddy,” Bucky adds helplessly.
He wants to tell the alpha that his baby started doing it after watching a children’s special a few weeks ago, but this alpha doesn’t look the type to be bothered with idle chit chat.
“Mama, Mama, Mama,” Eli interrupts, his light grey eyes stormy. “I comed along like a good boy so Aunt Darcy said we could get ice cream.”
Eli is very serious when he asks, and the alpha’s face sharpens as though he’s just made a decision.
“You like ice cream?” The alpha asks, and Bucky wishes the world would swallow him whole.
He just wants to get the subway home. He’s filthy from a day in the kitchens and he’s too small to reach certain shelves and so his knees always hurt from when he has to climb on the counters to access them.
Darcy and Bucky pass Eli off between shifts and Bucky wants to cry just thinking of what he will do when Darcy gets a better job and moves on.
There isn’t much work available to omegas in general, and even less to unbonded ones. Bucky has a job because people don’t want to see Eli starve and most sexes are susceptible to omega pheromones. Bucky can’t help it if he’s actually as helpless as he looks.
This is the nicest place he’s ever worked, so upscale he’d had to blow a whole check to afford the pricey uniform.
He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s fired.
“Please,” Bucky asks, setting Eli on his little conversed feet and dragging him against Bucky’s legs.
“We’ll get out of your h-hair,” Bucky says. “I’m sorry if we ruined your evening.”
The alpha’s brow furrows.
“The little one was promised ice cream, was he not?”
Bucky’s face pales.
“Yes, alpha.”
The alpha smiles and somehow it brightens his whole face. He has hair the color of burnt wheat and he’s so tall he seems to ooze virility. Bucky is 5’3 on a good day.
“Mama please!” Eli says, butchering his words as usual.
The alpha grins. “Yes, Mama, please let me order some ice cream.”
Bucky’s neck flushes red. He’s sure he’s emitting confusing scents and he bends down to pick Eli up again but the little boy runs forward and smashes his little body right against the alpha’s shins.
“Daddy!” Eli yells, and the alpha laughs this time, bending down to hoist Eli in his arms.
“Al-alright,” Bucky says, his eyes wide in disbelief.
The restaurant has remained almost deathly silent and Bucky glances around at the patrons in some confusion.
He knows that the clientele is often wealthy beyond belief but a child causing a ruckus cannot be this shocking.
“My name is Steve,” the alpha says, and Eli slaps a gummy hand against the alpha’s--Steve’s--face.
“Thank you, alpha, sir,” Bucky says stupidly, watching his son latch onto the alpha like a limpet.
Something in Bucky squeezes terribly at the sight. He knows that his baby needs an alpha and it’s no wonder that he attaches to them like he does.
He just didn’t think he was doing such a terrible job.
The alpha must be able to scent his distress and he glances down sharply at Bucky’s face.
“Barton,” Steve says, and a shorter man with brown hair comes forward.
Steve speaks too lowly for Bucky to understand and Eli makes a whining noise. Bucky’s astonished he’s been this quiet for this long anyway.
“Ice cream!” Eli says, banging his little fist against Steve’s sternum.
Steve smiles down at the boy, his eyes crinkled in delight.
“What kind do you like best?” Steve asks, freeing one hand from Eli’s diapered behind to place at the small of Bucky’s back.
No alpha has touched Bucky since Eli’s sire. Not that it’s stopped them from trying, Bucky thinks blithely.
Bucky shivers with the contact, his cheeks flushed pink.
Steve’s jaw tics at Bucky’s hormones but he nudges them forward all the same, all the while chattering to Eli like he’s the member of a very small board room.
When they turn the corner away from the prying eyes of the rest of the restaurant, Bucky can see they have opened the Palm Room, something that’s decidedly more decadent-sounding when said in the native French.
“I c-can’t afford this!” Bucky hisses. “I only work here. My friend watches my baby when I work and then I take him home with me afterwards,” Bucky explains, twisting his hands together the way he always does when he’s nervous.
“M’not a baby, Mama,” Eli says indignantly, pushing brown curls out of his eyes. He has the face of an angel. Why was he such a little hellion?
Steve laughs then, loudly enough that it seems to startle the men who have been quietly tailing them. One even makes an aborted gasp.
Steve bounces Eli once and the boy giggles himself into hiccups.
“What is your name, omega?” Steve says, as the man named Barton gently closes the french doors behind them.
The Palm Room is awash in hues of peach and cream this evening. The decor changes once every three months, each time more opulent and expensive than the last. The silverware itself is made of gold.
Bucky feels as though he’s going to be sick.
“B-Bucky, Alpha, sir,” Bucky says, looking up at where Eli is playing with Steve’s lapel.
“Please, sit.” Steve says, pulling out a chair with his free hand.
Bucky had changed back into his street clothes before Darcy passed Eli off in the small corridor between the employee entrance and the kitchens.
He looks homely, because he is. He and Eli have been sharing the same small room in the same apartment for the boy’s entire life.
This maroon sweater belongs to his alpha brother, who still sends him money when he can, even though he is overseas in the alpha corps.
Bucky’s wearing leggings-- leggings to a two-star Michelin restaurant. He could cry.
Eli finally notices that his mother looks to be on the verge of tears and he starts making whining noises until Steve gets the hint and sets him gently on the ground.
Eli runs the small distance and reaches up his arms to be picked up.
Bucky cuddles him close and presses three kisses to his thick hair.
“I’m not going to make you pay for anything, Bucky,” Steve says, shrugging out of his suit jacket.
“I wouldn’t allow it, even if you were to try.”
Bucky flushes again and tugs the ends of his sleeves past his fingers so that Eli can gnaw on them.
“I don’t understand,” Bucky says. “My b-son threw up on your tie! He was a little M-O-N-S-T-E-R,” Bucky spells, and Eli looks up at him in reproach.
“Aunt Darcy says not to--to spell because I dunno how yet and you leaving me out! ”
Eli’s disgruntled and working himself up to a tantrum.
“Mama’s sorry, sweetheart,” Bucky says, releasing the soothing scent that only an omega can to their offspring.
Eli settles instantly, nuzzling his head underneath Bucky’s chin.
“Daddy, can we have ice cream now?”
Eli’s voice is small and his thumb finds its way to his mouth. Bucky blushes and reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair back into the small bun on top of his head.
“Of course, little man,” Steve says, and he must press something discreetly because a waiter immediately arrives with an embossed menu, only one of course, for the alpha.
“What kind of ice cream would you like,” Steve addresses Eli kindly, his cream-colored dress shirt open at the neck.
Bucky can’t help but greedily inhale Steve’s scent and he’s almost kneed in the pelvis as Eli turns around in his arms to pat at his face.
“Daddy askeded you a question, Mama,” Eli says sternly.
Bucky takes both his little fists and kisses them, shushing him simultaneously. Bucky must have become too enamored with his pheromones.
Steve is smiling again, which makes him look utterly disarming underneath his beard.
“I said you’ll have the lemon sorbet with me, won’t you?” Steve repeats, with a long enough pause that Bucky knows he could opt out.
Bucky feels the stress leach out of his body as the strange alpha makes the decision for him.
That’s how the most valuable omegas are courted. He knows that a very minor subset of omegas want to be treated as alphas and he supports the movement. He’s even attended marches on their behalf.
But Bucky isn’t built for that life. His last alpha never bonded with him, and nor did he give two shits about his omega and his child.
Bucky used to be a prize. He looks exactly the way most alphas want their omegas to look, especially now that he smells like milk and pup.
Bucky is dripping tears onto Eli’s hair before he can speak.
“Sweetheart,” Steve says softly, and Bucky nods before Eli can sense his distress.
“Yes, alpha,” he tries shyly, and Steve cuts off a sub-vocal growl that might have frightened a child.
The waiter darts back in and then out, and the dessert is brought to them with such haste that Bucky wonders exactly who Steve is.
It’s far past Eli’s bedtime and so he eats tiredly, more due to a sense of righteousness than anything else. He can’t even finish the small bowl of homemade cookies and cream, and Bucky pushes it away as Eli digs his little shoes into his mama’s thigh.
Bucky swirls his spoon in his own sorbet before he can meet Steve’s gaze.
“Why are you doing all of this?”
Steve sets his spoon down and steeples his chin on his fingers.
“Your son reminds me of someone I once knew,” Steve says, so carefully it must be intentional.
“And you,” Steve says, and Bucky’s heart feels as though it could burst right out of his chest.
“You smell delightful. You’re also beautiful. And a little thing like you shouldn’t be passing your son back and forth. Someone should be looking after you.”
Bucky wants to gasp.
“I don’t--I don’t know,” he tries, and Steve laughs once more.
“I’m going to court you, Bucky,” Steve says, with that same collected alpha aura that he’s been exhibiting since the start.
“Will you do me the honor?”
Bucky can barely remember the words. His one and only former alpha had never said them. Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever been courted at all.
“Can I think on it?” Bucky has always been fairly shy but Steve makes him want to sink into the floor.
Steve gives him a lopsided smile.
“Of course.”
-
Steve’s car is driven by a faceless man who Bucky doesn’t once catch a glimpse of.
Bucky’s never been good with cars but he always liked them as a child. He once saw the Stark omega drive by his house as a child. The car was obviously wealthy, with rich, butter-brown seats.
Bucky had wanted his future alpha to buy him something that nice for years afterward.
Then he had Eli and realized that he was going to be hungry and poor for the rest of his life.
Steve’s car is all black but the interior has small touches of burgundy to contrast.
Bucky is embarrassed to be sitting on the seats with his overlarge sweater and slender legs.
Bucky hates that Eli doesn’t have a car seat but Bucky holds his sleeping body tightly and presses soft kisses to his forehead.
Steve is sitting next to him, an appropriate distance away, but he hasn’t looked away from Bucky’s face since he opened the door for him.
“What does your hair look like?” Steve asks suddenly, and Bucky glances away from the winking lights of the city at night.
Bucky’s glad that Steve can’t see his blush.
“A mess, right now,” Bucky says softly, smiling as Eli’s small fist hooks into his shirt, just below his right breast.
“When you accept my offer,” Steve says complacently, “I’d like to see it down. I think you’ll be lovely.”
Bucky can’t help to be attracted to Steve’s casual air of confidence.
“I’ll be clean, at least,” Bucky whispers, and Steve laughs, reaching a giant hand over to pass through Eli’s curls.
The car comes to a rolling halt in front of Bucky’s building.
Steve looks out of the window and his mouth pinches.
“This is where you’re staying?”
Bucky feels abruptly ashamed.
“I’m doing the best I can. There’s not much work for an omega and I can’t leave my baby with anyone.”
Bucky knows that the area is difficult to live in. Darcy and Bucky share an apartment but she stays with her beta boyfriend more often than not.
“It’s not your fault,” Steve says tightly, and Bucky gets the sense that he’s angry at someone other than Bucky.
“I don’t mean to insult you,” he says carefully. “I just don’t...think this the place is safe enough.”
Bucky hums under his breath. “Probably not, alpha,” he says carefully, noting the way that the title seems to lessen Steve’s ire, “but I don’t have much of a choice.”
Eli squirms a bit and shoves his little nose into Bucky’s scent gland.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Steve says, and he’s out of the door and opening Bucky’s so quickly it’s as though he teleported there.
Bucky cups one hand around Eli’s head and Steve steadies him with a hand to the elbow.
Steve stops right at the front door and pushes back his suit jacket just enough to rest a hand on a concealed firearm.
Bucky blinks down and then looks back up, struggling to meet Steve’s gaze while holding his son.
“I don’t like you living here,” Steve says, reaching out two fingers to tip Bucky’s chin up.
Steve grins like a shark, and under the moonlight, Bucky has the fleeting thought that maybe this alpha is a man to be feared.