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“You look like shit.”
“Gee,” Bucky says. “Good to see you, too, Becs.”
“Whatever. How are you feeling?”
Bucky bites his tongue for a moment, then relents. “Better,” he says, resigned. It is what it is.
“Okay,” she says, looking over her menu.
They try to meet for brunch at least every other weekend, but that gets unpredictable with heats and ruts, and Bucky’s schedule as an EMT. He’d thought about finding an excuse to put today’s brunch off, but he figured he’d be better off getting it over with. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since his heat, when he’d been caught by surprise to realize he’d pre-bonded, and with Steve away, he’d had to break down and call Becca for help.
Bucky imagines this brunch will rival that for unmitigated embarrassment.
Unbonded Alphas and Omegas who are in long-term relationships run the risk of pre-bonding, where their bodies become convinced that they’ve bonded, even when they haven’t been bitten. It’s not common, but it’s not rare either. Still, it knocked Bucky for a loop when he started feeling the sweats and nausea, the cramping, and the feeling that his skin was both on fire and crawling with ants.
When his heat started early, he tried getting in touch with Steve, but got the canned “Commander Rogers is currently unavailable” which Bucky knew was code for “Steve is out on a mission.”
So he tried to gut it out.
By the time he’d realized what was happening, he’d called Steve again in a panic, even left a couple of voicemails, but he didn’t get a response.
His options were calling an Alpha service, something that his pre-bonded brain rejected thoroughly, or calling Becca, something that made his pride and dignity do a full-body shudder. In the end, though, pride and dignity were easier to swallow than the alternative, so Becca it was.
She brought him the hormone diffuser and cartridges that would hopefully convince his brain that his Alpha was there and taking care of him. By the time she’d let herself into Bucky’s apartment, he was sweating and shivering on his bed, sheets drenched, half delirious. She set up the diffuser, gave him a sedative, and waited in the living room to see if it would work.
Two hours later, Bucky emerged on wobbly legs, face red, and told Becca that she could go.
It wasn’t a pleasant heat.
What made it worse though, was that every moment when he was able to think clearly without hormones dominating his thought process, the truth asserted itself over and over: He was absolutely, whole-heartedly, head-over-heels in love with a man who could not make Bucky a priority.
He was going through the worst heat of his life alone.
Bucky’s tried to be fair about it. He’s tried being objective. Steve is amazing. His baseline is kindness, fairness, and justice. He does what he believes is right, and he’s really thought about those things, thought about what makes it right. He’s also the most beautiful human being Bucky has ever seen up close, and in his line of work, he’s seen a lot of people.
So it wasn’t a shock at all that he found himself falling for the surprisingly tender Alpha. Just like it was no shock when Steve had to cancel the occasional date due to global emergencies. Bucky understands: sometimes he gets called in on his days off, or has to work extra hours. It happens.
What’s not understandable, though, is feeling like he does, feeling just so goddamned stupid over someone’s smile, and not being able to reach that person in an emergency.
It’s not the life he wants for himself, and he’s tried so hard to reconcile what he wants with what he has, and he can’t. It would be one thing if he’d reached Steve and Steve couldn’t come. That would be something Bucky could at least understand. Hell, that would be something that they could plan for, as a couple. At least then Bucky would have had some of Steve’s own pheromones on hand to stave off the worst of the heat.
But having no way of contacting his...( mate , his mind unhelpfully supplies) partner in a crisis, that’s not something Bucky can get okay with. It’s clear to him that no matter how he sees Steve, Steve doesn’t see Bucky the same way.
It is what it is, he mentally shrugs at himself. Doesn’t make what’s coming next come any easier though.
Bucky and Becca order and make small talk for a while. It’s not until the waiter refills their champagne glasses a third time that she gives him the look.
God, she could be their mother when she looks at him like that.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
Bucky shrugs. He’s had a week to think about it. A week to watch images of Steve saving lives in another part of the world. A week to be angry, to be sad. And no matter how he turns it over in his mind, he comes up with the same conclusion.
“I think I gotta break up with him,” he says.
He sees the sympathy in Becca’s eyes, but not pity, and he’s thankful.
“This is shit,” she says, reaching across the table to take his hand.
“Total shit,” he agrees, squeezing her hand in return.
It is what it is.
It’s Monday morning when Steve walks in. He’s still in his uniform and he smells like asphalt and blood and burning steel: metallic and painful. It draws a whimper to the back of Bucky’s throat but he pushes it down. Not now.
Instead, he drags Steve to bed, peeling away the uniform, trying not to notice the places where it’s torn, or the places where Steve’s skin is pink and shiny, small wounds already healing. He can’t bear to catalog Steve’s wounds, not again. Not like this.
Steve seems to be running on autopilot, pausing only once to cling to Bucky, pushing his head into the crook of Bucky’s neck and scenting him, long and deep. Then he lays down in fresh sheets and it seems like he’s asleep even before his head hits the pillow.
It’s okay, Bucky thinks, closing the door on the sleeping man in his bed. He needs a little more time to work up to this.
Setting a pot of soup to simmer, Bucky doesn’t know anymore who he’s madder at: himself for still letting Steve in, or Steve for letting him down. Still, the omega drive is pushing him to care for his alpha, even if the alpha in question isn’t really his.
Bonding mark or not, Bucky belongs to Steve. His heart knows it, his body knows it. His stupid Omega brain knows it.
While Bucky knows the next few months will be hell, in a way, he’s also glad that Steve’s never bonded him. He’s bitten Bucky, sure. About six months in, Bucky’d told him he didn’t have to use the bite guard if he didn’t want to. He thought they were taking the next step, and after that rut, Bucky was left with Steve’s bite marks all over his body. Bite marks everywhere but the one place it counts: over his scent glands.
It was a wake-up call when, just a couple of months later, Steve started using the guard again.
“Was that okay?” Steve asked later, as they caught their breath.
Bucky just shrugged, because what was he supposed to say?
Sighing, Bucky feels the anger drain out of him. He can’t rationally be mad at Steve for not wanting to bond him. It hurts; he won’t even pretend that it doesn’t. But feelings are feelings, and the heart wants what the heart wants. It’s not Steve’s fault that his heart doesn’t want Bucky. But Bucky can’t keep laying himself out for someone who doesn’t love him back.
He and Steve have been dating for over a year now, and gods know they’re compatible. They’ve spent heats and ruts together, shared lazy Sunday mornings full of nothing but a pot of coffee and the crossword puzzle, mundane weeknight dinners when they’re both exhausted from routine. Bucky would breathe deep and smell Steve’s contentment, and he could feel his own contentment, his own happiness hum in response.
But all of that doesn’t seem to be enough for Steve, and even though Bucky loves him, he loves himself more. He’s not going to put himself through years of pining after a man who only wants to give him his leftover time. Bucky deserves to be a priority.
He wants a family, some day. He wants vacations to theme parks, and school plays, and traditions passed on. He wants to build a home and he wants a partner who wants that too.
It’s not like he doesn’t get it. He does. He does.
Steve is Captain America, and Cap has the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t understand. Hell, there was a while there when he thought that Steve’s job was something that could be a benefit to their relationship. After all, Bucky’s job as an EMT is demanding, both physically and mentally. He thought that the commonalities in their jobs might help them understand one another better. He thought it would bring them closer.
That doesn’t seem to have worked though, and he’s not going to both have a partner and spend his heats alone. His last one was brutal, and it was the wake-up call he needed, because heat sickness is no joke. Even though this last case of heat sickness was mild (he got through it on pheromones and a knotting toy), he knows that it could have been a lot worse. He knows it can sometimes be lethal, and he’s not willing to die for love.
Not like this.
Steve sleeps a solid twelve hours. Bucky meal preps and gets ready for the week. He’s got a full week of twelve-hour shifts coming up, and he owes it to the guys who covered while he was on heat leave to be on top of his game. He’s just put the last of the containers in the fridge when he hears Steve stirring. Well, thudding is more like it.
Bucky looks up from the fridge when Steve peeks his head into the kitchen. Bucky’s already pulling out the ingredients for a big meal. Steve is usually ravenous post-mission.
“Gonna shower,” Steve says, scratching his belly, and he looks-- Christ he looks adorable. His hair is sticking up everywhere, and he has an imprint of the pillowcase running across his left cheek, and what looks like crusted drool at the corner of his mouth.
Bucky should not find that so appealing, and yet.
Here he is.
“Go on,” Bucky says with a nod, and Steve shambles off.
By the time Bucky’s finished making the food (a six egg omelet, a pound of bacon, some fruit, and a stack of toast), Steve’s still not out of the shower, so Bucky goes to finish up the laundry. He’s putting the last of it in: various jeans and sweats, and a t-shirt of Steve’s that he’d cuddled with during his last heat, when Steve comes down the hall. He’s making to pass Bucky when he stops, grabs the shirt out of Bucky’s hand and sniffs. Bucky winces. It’s his own stink and if he thinks it reeks, he can’t imagine what Steve must smell.
He drops his head. “I missed your heat.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says, voice tight, and goes to take the shirt from him.
“You were--” Steve sniffs it again, and makes a soft noise. “Heat sick?” he asks, and gods, he looks wounded. “How did--did you--?”
Bucky hears the unasked question: did you call a service? And Bucky thought about it. He did. As an unmated, unbonded omega, he would have been well within his rights if he had.
“I got by,” Bucky says, and this time he does take the shirt and throws it into the wash, bubbles already foaming with the water running.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and reaches out to touch Bucky, but then stays himself. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to--I should go.”
And right on cue, there’s Steve’s guilt complex, roaring to the fore. A lesser man would use that against him, but while Bucky knows he’s charming, he can’t stand to be manipulative. Rolling his eyes, Bucky wants to laugh. “Steve, go sit your dramatic ass down and eat,” Bucky says, motioning toward the living area. “I’ll be out in a minute. We’ll...we can talk.”
Steve turns, head hanging low, and Bucky wants to ease his worry. Every instinct is telling him to help his alpha, and he has to keep reminding himself that Steve isn’t his.
Bucky takes a moment to compose himself, breathing in deep, trying to calm his nerves. He’s had the last twelve hours and eight days to prepare himself for this. Still, it doesn’t help that he can smell Steve’s distress. It’s taking everything he has not to reach out to him, hold him close and soothe him.
If they’re not on the same page, better to know that now than to wait. He knows that when he tells Steve that it’s over, that Steve won’t drag it out. It’ll be a clean break.
By the time he makes his way to the dining table just off the kitchen, Steve’s distress smells a little brighter. It’s layered under his exhaustion, and that scent he gets that Bucky’s taken to mean his body is mending: something smokey and raw.
“Saved you some bacon,” Steve says, pushing over about half of the bacon that Bucky's prepared.
Gods, why can’t he just be an asshole?
He knows it’s Steve’s instinct to try to provide, but he’s also known plenty of alphas who had no trouble overriding that instinct. It’s one of the things that first drew Bucky to Steve: his utter lack of alpha bravado.
It was just after the Battle of New York. Bucky and his team were downtown, helping everywhere that they could, when Steve showed up with a couple of cases of water for the doctors, nurses, and EMTs who were on the scene, even though he was dead on his feet. It didn’t take long for him to pull a second wind from out of nowhere and start helping out, digging people out of the rubble, ordering fresh supplies from Stark Tower, doing anything anyone asked.
Over the next couple of days, Steve became a fixture at the med tent that Bucky manned downtown. He would bring in the wounded with a sheepish, apologetic look, and he wore that same look a few days later when, after he’d helped raze the tent and get Bucky’s personal items into his car, he’d asked for Bucky’s number.
Pushing the half-eaten plate of eggs away, Steve reaches out for Bucky’s hand.
“You’re unhappy,” he says. “I can smell it on you.”
Thanks, Captain Obvious. Although this moment right here? This is where Bucky is tempted. He wants one more night of this, of Steve’s hand in his, sitting at his table and eating his food, he wants to take him to bed and have one more night of being drenched in Steve’s scent, drenched in their scents mixed together, in sweat and come and promise. One more night of pretending that it can somehow be like this forever.
Bucky nods.
“This is more than just missing your heat,” Steve says.
Bucky hates the resignation in his voice, like he’s heard this before.
Pulling his hand away, Bucky sits back in his chair. “Avenging is your life,” Bucky says. “And I get it. I mean, if some alpha came along and said I couldn’t be an EMT, that would be it for me and him.
“But, I thought you might have room for something more. And I guess I thought if I made you a home that you’d...you’d want to stay.” He hates the hurt in his voice over that, hates that his scent is telling Steve the depth of his hurt, even as he’s proud of himself for holding his ground. “But you don’t seem to want that with me, and I can’t be happy with less, Steve. Not even for you.”
It takes everything he has to look Steve in the eye after that.
Steve’s hair is still damp from the shower. That’s the first thing Bucky notices. He’s wearing one of Bucky’s plain white T-shirts and a pair of Bucky’s gray sweats, pulled up to his calves. Bucky is weak for it, the soft domesticity of it. Like Steve lives there, like there’s an us.
“Buck,” Steve says, and he reaches for Bucky again.
Bucky can smell his hurt and surprise, and he’s sorry for it, but he’s not budging. He might not be the best man, he might not be Captain America worthy, but Bucky knows he’s a good man. And he knows that he deserves at least a chance at being happy.
“I want a family one day, Steve. I want a mate. I want a bond.”
“And I don’t?” Steve asks.
“Apparently not with me,” Bucky says under his breath, getting up to pace.
“Is this because I missed your heat?” Steve asks. “Bucky, I didn’t know, I swear--” Steve gets up and starts toward Bucky.
“Don’t,” Bucky says, stopping and holding a hand out in front of him. “I called and left three messages. Do you know what Iron Man was doing while you were gone? He and Pepper took the baby out in a stroller twice. And Black Widow and the Falcon? They had brunch together. It was all over the papers. The rest of the Avengers don’t seem to have a problem putting their partners first, which means this is a me and you problem, not a Captain America problem.”
“I--” Steve sits back down and stares into the middle distance for a minute. “We changed the rota when Pepper got pregnant and again when Nat got shot. I guess we never changed it back.” He finally says. “I didn’t think about it, because…”
“Because you don’t have a family,” Bucky says, his voice soft, but firm. “Because you’re the strongest, and because you love your job.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Avenging is your priority, Steve. It’s okay to own that.”
And it is. Bucky’s made his peace with the situation. It hurts, and he knew it would. He cares about Steve. He--gods, he loves Steve. It’s a knife up under his ribs, how much he loves this man.
“I just need...more. From a partner, and from a mate.”
“How do you know I don’t want those same things?” Steve asks. He gets up again from the table and comes around to where Bucky is standing, taking one of Bucky’s hands in his. “How do you know I don’t want them with you?”
“Steve,” Bucky says, taking his hand back and stepping away. He’s almost offended at having to spell it out.
“Because you started wearing your bite guard again. Because that fancy AI in your phone didn’t tell you I was in heat. Because I have no way of reaching you in an emergency. Because you never--.” Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He really didn’t think Steve would give this kind of pushback, and it’s starting to piss him off. “There are so many reasons, Steve. I know you like me a lot. But that’s not enough for me. I really wish it was.” He takes two steps toward the living room and leans against the back of the couch, giving himself a little more space in his tiny apartment.
“You seem like you’ve made up your mind,” Steve says, and there’s something percolating there, anger maybe? Like Steve has anything to be angry about.
“I think the heatsick did it for me,” Bucky says, letting his ire show.
“Did it ever occur to you that--” Steve stops himself.
Standing, Steve walks into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water, gods, like he lives there, and then sits back down at the table. “I started using the bite guard again because I was afraid of biting you.”
“Yeeaahhh,” Bucky says, drawing out the word. Like he really needs Steve to spell out the fact that he doesn’t want to bond with Bucky. “That’s kind of what they’re for.”
“That’s not--” Steve runs his hands through his hair and there--Bucky catches a whiff of Steve’s own ire.
Honestly, Bucky doesn’t understand why Steve is drawing this out. It’s not like there’s a shortage of people who wouldn’t like to be Steve’s weekend hookup.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve says, taking a deep breath. “I meant. I meant I was afraid of losing control and--and I never wanted to do that to you.”
Bucky’s not exactly sure what point Steve thinks he’s making here, but what Bucky hears, loud and clear, is “I don’t want to bond with you.” It feels about as bad as he thought it would.
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you say something?”
“I asked you if it was okay!” Steve says, his voice rising.
Bucky stares at him, mouth open. “What the fuck was I supposed to say?” he says, voice rising to match Steve’s. “The sweat hadn’t even dried and I’m supposed to have the ‘where is this going’ conversation?”
Glaring at Steve, Bucky waits for an answer that doesn’t come, watching as Steve looks down at his hands, folding his fingers together, then unfolding them again.
With a sigh, Bucky feels the anger drain out of him. “It doesn’t matter, Steve. The end result is the same. I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry.”
He is sorry. He’s hurt that things didn’t work out, and he’s mad that Steve is pushing back so hard, and he’s fucking tired and has a twelve hour shift starting at noon tomorrow. He just wants some peace and quiet. He needs to come down from the anger, the hurt.
He thinks about just going to his bed and laying down, and then he realizes that his sheets are covered in Steve’s scent.
Goddammit.
With a huff, Bucky stalks to his bedroom to strip his sheets. The comforter is going to take all damn night to dry, and he wonders if he has enough spare blankets to put off washing it until tomorrow.
He’s balled up the top sheet and is pulling up the bottom sheet when Steve comes in and grabs his hand.
“Hey,” Steve says, his tone gentle. “Can we please talk about this? Bucky, I--I love you.”
“Maybe love isn’t the problem,” Bucky starts, but Steve cuts him off.
“I started using the bite guard again because I didn’t trust myself not to accidentally bond you. And I haven’t--fuck.” Steve flaps his arms and then looks down at his feet. “I’m doing this wrong,” he says.
His scent is like bitter oranges, sharp and bright, and Bucky feels his resolve weakening. He wants to tell Steve that it’s okay, wants to hold him until his scent mellows back into the fresh laundry scent that means a happy Steve.
Bucky is suddenly overwhelmed with it. He’s been gearing up for this moment for days now, and the longer that Steve drags this out, the weaker Bucky feels, the more prone to giving in. He’s been so hurt and so angry, living in that space, and now that he’s worked up the nerve to end things, Steve is fighting back. Bucky knows that the pre-bond will fade the longer that he goes without contact with Steve, the longer he goes without Steve’s scent. He needs to just get it over with.
“Please don’t drag this out,” Bucky says, his voice a whisper. He feels his eyes sting with tears. His heart is too sore to take much more.
“I know,” Steve starts, and then pauses. “I know that my job is a lot. I take risks because no one else can.”
“You take risks because you like it.”
“That too,” Steve says, with a wry smile. “It’s my responsibility, but...it also feels really good to know that I’m the one keeping people safe. Stopping the bad guys. Doing what’s right.”
“I would never ask you to give that up.”
“I know. That’s one of the things that I--.” Steve takes a deep breath. “That I love about you, Bucky. I love you. I kept planning in my head how to do this right, how to ask you. I kept drafting emails to Pepper about it, how to announce it to the public, but that meant, it meant...it meant being brave, and I’m--when it comes to you, I’m such a coward.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Bucky says, feeling the hope that’s taking root in his chest and hating it with everything he’s got. Just the idea of hope fills him with dread. He’s spent the last week coming to terms with saying goodbye to Steve. How much harder will this be in six months, a year?
“Buck,” Steve says, and tips Bucky’s chin up, so that he can look him in the eye. “I want to court you. But--.” He throws his arms up then lets them flop back down, hanging his head. “I was afraid to ask, Buck,” he says, and then in a small voice. “I was afraid you’d say no and I figured...” Steve shrugs. “I figured it was better to at least have this than to lose you.”
Bucky feels his eyes start to tear. “You thought that?” he asks, and Steve nods.
“I didn’t want to say anything about the bite guard because I...I wasn’t ready to have this conversation,” he says. “I wasn’t ready to lose you.”
“Steve,” Bucky says, the hope warring in his heart with his fear that they’re still not on the same page. An old fashioned courting isn’t rare, but it’s not the norm, either. Bucky thinks about what that would look like: Steve introducing Bucky to his team, Bucky introducing Steve to his family. The chaste dates, the public vows, Steve putting an ad in the paper declaring his intentions to woo and bond Bucky. There’s a part of Bucky that loves the idea of it, the romance of it.
Still, he’s spent the last week feeling heartbroken. He’s not sure if he can trust himself, trust what Steve is saying.
“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “I--”
“I never told you what you smell like to me,” Steve says, and that is not a turn Bucky expected this conversation to take. People smell like different things to different people, and most people only share that with their mate once they’ve bonded. It’s intimate and in no way casual.
Steve smells like caramel lattes, late spring mornings when the damp is burning off in the sunlight, and fresh laundry, clean and sharp: all of Bucky’s favorite smells.
“Steve,” Bucky starts, but Steve shakes his head.
“You had your say,” he says, and Bucky can see that stubborn streak rearing its head. “I’m not going to lose you without a fight. You smell like green apples and sweet yeast, the kind Mrs. Carlsson would make into danish. The dry heat from a radiator on a cold winter day. And when you’re mad at me you smell like Mr. Z’s tomato sauce that he let simmer all day on Sunday, and every once in a while, usually when I’m hurt, you smell like charcoals and newsprint and antiseptic, and a little bit of rosewater underneath that. You smell like a run-down tenement house from 1936. Jesus Christ, Bucky, you smell like home to me. The only home I’ve ever known, that’s what you smell like to me.”
It hits Bucky hard, in his gut, and in his heart. He thinks about the last week, and then about the last year, and all the ways that Steve has shown his love, even if he’s never said it.
“When you get done with a mission,” Bucky says, wonder filling his voice. “The first thing you do…”
“The first thing I do is come home,” Steve says, and he cups Bucky’s cheek with one hand, a rough thumb wiping at the wetness under Bucky’s eyes.
Bucky sighs, and looks down. “Steve, I--”
“Shhh,” Steve says, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, before tipping Bucky’s chin up again. “James Buchanan Barnes, will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? And if I prove--if I prove to be a suitable mate, will you do me the honor of giving me your bond?”
“Steve,” Bucky says again, his voice soft and choked. There are so many things he wants to say, so many questions he has, but he thinks that maybe now, there’s time enough for both of them.
“Yes,” Bucky answers, and Steve kisses him hard, holds him close and then closer, like he’s trying to climb inside of Bucky, own him from the inside out.
“I love you,” Steve says, pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I love you so much, Bucky.”
Bucky smiles and then laughs as Steve attacks his mouth again.
“I gotta call Pepper,” Steve says when he pulls away again. He’s dropping kisses all over Bucky’s face and neck, and Bucky can feel Steve smiling against his skin. A moment later though, he pauses, sticking his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck and breathing deep, then growling.
“Mine” he says, then licks hard over Bucky’s scent glands, tasting his skin, a growl rumbling in Steve’s chest.
“Yeah?” Bucky asks, teasing.
“Yeah,” Steve rumbles, then leans down and picks Bucky up by the backs of his thighs.
“We’re literally standing next to the bed,” Bucky says, not mentioning the way his knees went weak at Steve’s growl.
“And?” Steve asks, before turning and laying Bucky down on the bed, before rucking up Bucky’s shirt to lay kisses all over his chest.
Bucky grins. “And show me,” Bucky says, trying to tear off Steve’s shirt. “Get up here and show me I’m yours.
Later, when Steve has shown Bucky with his words and his hands and his mouth, Bucky lays with his head on Steve’s chest as Steve calls Pepper to give her the good news.
“Courting? Oh, Steve,” Pepper says, and Bucky can hear the smile in her voice.
Then he listens as Steve directs Jarvis to update Bucky’s protocols to mate status. “And can you schedule a team meeting?” Steve asks. “I want them to know my mate.”
“Of course, Commander,” the AI says, and then Steve puts his phone on Do Not Disturb.
“We’re not mated yet,” Bucky says.
“I know,” Steve says, licking over that spot on Bucky’s neck again. “Believe me, Bucky, I can’t wait to finally bite you. From the first time I met you, you smelled like mine. It was all I could do not to just carry you off from that med tent.”
Bucky laughs at the mental image. “Seriously?”
“You have no idea,” Steve says. “I almost dropped the guy I was bringing in, I was in such a rush to talk to you. And then you smiled at me and...I was a goner.”
“I remember wondering where the hell we were going to put one more body, and then you put that bottle of water into my hand and our fingers touched. You smelled so bright. It was like getting a second wind.”
Steve smiles and the room is filled with his clean, fresh laundry scent, and Bucky smiles too.
“I always want to be that for you,” Steve says. “I will always try to be that for you.”
Bucky smiles and leans up to kiss him, before chuckling a little.
“What’s funny?” Steve asks.
“I don’t know how you’re going to stand it,” Bucky replies.
“Stand what?”
“The courtship. You realize as soon as the notice goes out, we aren’t supposed to be alone together until my next heat.”
“Worth it,” Steve says, leaning down to kiss Bucky again. “Totally worth it.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh huh. But since this is our last night together,” he says, then rolls them so that Bucky’s on his back. “I plan on taking advantage.”
“Why Captain,” Bucky says, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist. “I do believe you plan to sully my good honor.”
“I plan to do a lot more than that,” Steve says with a feral grin.
“I hope so,” Bucky sighs and then closes his eyes.
Tomorrow he’ll worry about the rest of it: introducing Steve to his family, his friends, and meeting Steve’s friends. Figuring out if they’ll stay in Bucky’s little apartment or if they want someplace bigger. Bucky hasn’t even told Steve about his surrogacy fund, and how he’s been saving since his first job, in the hopes of someday starting a family. He knows that they still have a lot to talk through.
Right now, he has his partner, his mate, in his arms. Right now, he wants to revel in it. Bucky groans and gives up thinking as Steve nips a teasing bite at Bucky’s thigh. After all, they still have a lot of making up to do.