Chapter Text
Steve
“Did you learn his name?“
Steve shakes himself, turning to look at Bucky in surprise, “What do you mean, Buck?”
He motions at Steve’s arm, “You haven’t left it alone since we were at the airport. I assume it’s botherin’ you?“
“No, I mean,” Steve pauses, scratching at the place where he knows his soulmate’s word is etched into his skin— red and irritated. He sighs, “I can’t go back to ‘im, and I know he’s… god, Bucky, we used to talk all the time about our words. You’d fuckin’ razz me for havin’ a soulmate from Queens. I just didn’t know it’d be like this.”
Bucky tries to smile, obviously at loss for words, at loss for his own memories. He claps Steve on the shoulder with his good hand, giving him a lopsided smile, “What’re the words, punk?“
Steve’s heart lurches at their old nickname, but he just chuckles. It takes a moment to unzip his jacket and pull up his sleeve. He remembers the moment his foot made contact, threw the kid— no, his soulmate— under the jetway. He remembers the searing pain in his arm, the way the eyes of the spider mask had widened in understanding. And then he had to know, asking the kid where he was from.
“Queens. That’s all it says? Dammit, Stevie— what didja do, go around the whole borough asking people where they were from?”
Steve flushes bright. Damn Bucky. “No,” Steve insists, rubbing the single word where it glows bright and angry, “you wouldn’t let me.“
Finally, a long and genuine laugh out of his friend. Steve rolls his eyes and joins in.
And later, when he’s alone in his room, planning the next move and remembering Tony’s face, Bucky’s face— Steve wishes he just knew his soulmate’s name. His mate’s name. Damn, he doesn’t even know if the kid is an Omega or not.
His instincts say yes, though. Clawing at his gut, pulling him towards the spider kid halfway across the world.
“I’ll come back to you, Queens,” he whispers, doing something he’d only ever done once— closing his eyes and kissing the word, wishing he could hold his mate close instead.
---
Peter
May catches him scratching at his arm, pretending to readjust his sweatshirt as he reclines on his bed and nurses a black eye. Her eyes flick down, and he knows that she knows.
“Was it that… Steve guy?” she sits on the edge of the bed, automatically reaching for Peter’s arm.
He just nods, pulling up his sleeve to show her the glowing red and stinging words. Of all the Alphas who could be his soulmate, Peter never even considered it would be Captain America. If he were being honest, with the deliberate use of “kid” and off-handed compliment, he assumed it would be Mr. Stark. He’s still not sure if this is better.
“So I assume his arm says our address, right Pete?” she smiles, giving the red mark a gentle swipe with her thumb before pulling his sleeve back down.
“No, it…” Peter ducks his head, remembering the strain of the jetway, the shock of his soul-mark lighting up in recognition. From an impressive kick, too. “It probably just says Queens, if anything. He ran away pretty fast.”
The thought brings stinging tears to his eyes, and he blinks them away. It doesn’t matter, it can’t matter. When he’d asked, Mr. Stark had been very clear that Captain America is a wanted fugitive and banned from US soil. A wave of nausea has him gagging, fighting a sudden feeling of hopelessness and guilt.
He leans into May’s side, letting her hold him close as he rides the waves of emotion and longing and aching pain. “Hey, Pete?” she murmurs into his hair, “is your soulmate an Alpha?“
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m just concerned it’s gonna throw you into presenting early, is all.”
He hadn’t really thought about that. Most kids don’t present until their Junior or Senior year, so Peter wasn’t even thinking about possibly presenting early after finding his soulmate.
And later that night, after he comes stumbling in from patrol achy and sweaty, crying out for Steve as he curls up tight on his bed, he knows that May was right to be concerned. He’s empty, so empty, and devastatingly alone.
May rubs his back, brings him water, and he cries for his Alpha. He knows those strong arms would hold him close, keep him safe. He can feel a gentle kiss, placed in the center of his words, and know— half a world away— his Alpha is fighting to get back to him.