Work Text:
It’s a quiet morning. Bucky’s oblivious to the world with his medical article in hand, content with his over-sugared cup of coffee. Nice and calm, just like Bucky likes it.
Until Natasha has to go and ruin it.
“You know he’s in town, right?” She says from the couch, probably laying upside down and scrolling through people’s failures on Facebook.
Bucky glances up from his article on growing organic muscle to look at Natasha- who is, in fact, upside down on the couch with her phone in hand, “Who?” He asks, playing dumb.
Natasha sets him with a look, “Steve. Who else?”
He looks back down to his article, “You could have been mentioning anyone else that might have left.”
Bucky can hear Natasha’s eye roll through her words, “Are you going to see him?”
“Nope.” Bucky closes the article, leaving it on the counter and picking up his cup of coffee instead, “Gotta’ go to work, bones to fix and all that.” He downs the dregs of coffee, wincing at the sugar grains that brush past his tongue.
“I thought you took the day off.” She says, almost accuses, “You’ve known about him coming home since last month.”
Bucky ignores her for a moment as he slips on his Nikes because he did take the day off, and he has known for months, but then things happened and well.. “Pietro asked if I could switch shifts with him, said he had something important to do, so I did.” He shrugs, “I don’t have anything important to do, myself.”
Natasha narrows her eyes at him, her phone now on her chest, still upside down, “What game are you playing, James?”
“No games.” Bucky sighs, picking up his keys from the counter.
“Then why aren’t you going to see Steve? He is your best friend.”
Bucky stops in front of the door, “I’m not sure he’ll want to be after he finds out about my Mark.” He tells her simply, unlocking the door, “See you later, lock the door when you leave.”
He can hear Natasha’s voice as he walks out but ignores it as he shuts the door behind himself. He lets out a deep sigh, leaning against the closed door for a moment to breathe, before making his way to work.
Two weeks ago Bucky got his Mark.
The Mark being: A thing that appears on one’s body and shows them via destiny who their future Mate is supposed to be. It’s a stupid system, in Bucky’s opinion.
He’s fifteen years too late, already declared an Unmarked Omega on his license, doomed to a life without a Mate but content with it, and he got his fucking Mark.
See, he’d been fine with living a life without a Mate. His job as an orthopedic surgeon throws odd hours and odder cases his way, he can only cook things with three steps and he hires someone to clean his apartment. If he has time he’ll have meaningless sex with an Alpha or Beta he meets at a bar or club, if he has time he’ll just do nothing because having time is something he doesn’t really have. His life is the way he wants it, the way he’s content having.
And then he got his fucking Mark. Uprooting whatever roots Bucky put down or thought to put down for the future because the universe decided he needed a Mark. His sister got her mark when she was sixteen, his mother and father the same, everyone figured he was just going to be one of those dusty, old Omegas. But no, the universe couldn’t have that.
With a yelp and a burning sensation during a consultation his Mark settled itself into his skin. Bucky sped his way through the rest of the consultation before running out with as much dignity he could muster and threw himself in the closest On Call room with a mirror. Sure enough, after taking off his coat and scrub top, there was his mark, right on his bicep. The damn thing was just waiting for his Mate to line up with him, lay claim to him, and connect them forever. The damn thing was about fifteen years too late to be normal, and fifteen years too late for its other half.
Of course, because the universe likes to screw with Bucky in more ways than one, he already knew who his mate was. The universe decided the only other person on the planet with a half circle and a half star inside it on their bicep should be his best friend: Steven Grant Rogers. Who shot up like a weed in high school and got his mark at the tender age of fifteen, who constantly dreamed about his future Mate. Steven fucking Grant Rogers, who, at the time, was on his last tour in the Sandbox. Miles and miles away from Bucky with no room for calls and no time to send a letter.
Miles away and coming home in two weeks, giving Bucky two weeks to panic and make a decision.
That decision being: Ignore it until he couldn't because while Bucky’s loved and lusted after Steve for years, Steve hasn’t done the same, and while Bucky would keep it from Steve forever, he couldn’t do that to his best friend.
Bucky tries to throw his momentum and turn into a random hallway when he sees Peggy walking towards him, but he’s too late.
“James Buchanan Barnes!” She yells at him, grabbing him by the sleeve of his coat, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Bucky grins, “Your hair looks real good today, Pegs, get it done? And have I told you how smoking you look in those scrubs?” He tries to wiggle out of her grasp but it doesn’t work.
She glares at him, her makeup pristine even though she’s probably going edging over ten hours on the clock, “Your charms don’t work on me and you know that.”
He rolls his eyes, “Mated Alpha and all that, yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Now, why are you here when Steven’s at home with his mother probably waiting on you?” She lets go of him, sure he’s going to stay, and puts her hands on her hips instead.
“You know why.” Bucky mumbles, because nothing stays a secret in this hospital. Not with Natasha as his best friend who likes to gossip while she’s cutting into someone’s brain.
Peggy crosses her arms over her chest, “Is it because you don’t love him or are afraid he’s not going to love you?”
“The latter.” Bucky sighs, wishing there was a spare bed in the hallway so he could become one with it and never have to see Steve and his beautiful face again.
“You’re a damn idiot.” She huffs, stepping to the side when someone runs past them in the hallway.
Bucky frowns, “Hey, just because it seems like I might not have emotions doesn’t mean--”
Peggy raises her hand, cutting him off with the motion, “I wasn’t making fun, I know your stoic face is but a facade. I’m calling you an idiot because you’re oblivious.”
Bucky mirrors her in crossing his arms, “How the hell am I oblivious?”
“Oh, honey.” She leans forward and pats his cheek, “Time will tell.” and turns to walk away.
“Hey!” Bucky yells as she leaves, “What am I oblivious to?”
Peggy just throws her head back and laughs, ignoring him.
Bucky frowns to himself for a moment, gaining odds looks from people walking down the hallway, until he turns on his heel and makes his way to the ER.
Maybe there’ll be a dislocated shoulder for him to pop back in.
“Explain to me one more time why it’s been three days and you still haven’t gone to see Steve?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised.
Bucky rolls his eyes, “You too?” He’s dealt with enough of this shit from coworkers and Natasha, now he has to deal with it from Sam? It’s ridiculous all he wanted was a good cup of coffee and to catch up with Sam. That’s it, besides, if Steve really wanted to see him he’d show up at the hospital or Bucky’s apartment.
“Look,” Sam tells him, “I dunno’ what fight you got into with Steve but he’s moping. Moping so hard Sarah had to call and ask what happened between the two of you.”
Now Bucky feels guilty. He didn’t mean to drag Sarah into his own personal shit, not when he just needs time to work things out with himself, brace himself for excited or resigned acceptance from Steve. “Nothing happened.” Bucky tells Sam, flicking his eyes up to the clock, he has time before he needs to get back to work.
“Then why all the avoidance, man?” Sam asks, his eyebrows dipped with concern.
Bucky looks down at his cup, “Couple weeks ago I got my Mark.”
“And..”
“And it’s an exact match with Steve’s.” He says, looking up at Sam, “Steve’s my Mate.”
Sam’s mouth drops open before he collects himself and clears his throat, “Isn’t that a good thing?”
Bucky sighs, leaning back in his chair, “It’s not a good thing if Steve rejects me--”
“He wouldn’t--”
“--or accepts me out of obligation to destiny, or whatever.” Because Steve so would, not wanting either of them to die alone. Steve’s a martyr, Steve would try to love whomever he got as a Mate even if he hurt himself in the process. This wouldn’t be any different.
Sam sets him with a look that should be the trademarked You’re an Idiot look, “Steve wouldn’t accept you out of obligation, he’d do it because he wants to and because he wants you.”
Bucky snorts, glancing at the clock before getting up, “Sure, Sam, keep telling yourself that and maybe I’ll believe it.” He pushes his chair into the table, “Gotta’ head back to work. It was good seeing you, man.”
“You’ll remember my words when it turns out I’m right.” Sam grins, throwing him a salute, “Have fun breaking bones or whatever.”
Bucky grins back, “Will do.”
“Buck, you got a patient in bed nine.”
Bucky looks up at Wanda as she hands him the chart and groans. He’s been here for ten hours, consulting, popping bones back in, he even had a surgery. All he wants to do is go home and lay on his California King, “You can’t page someone else from ortho’?”
She shakes her head, auburn hair following the movement, “You’re the only attending here and an intern can’t deal with this.”
“What exactly is this?” He could look down at the chart, he knows that, but he’d rather have her spell it out for him. It’s been a long day.
“Broken femur.” She says simply, picking up the phone when it starts ringing, effectively dismissing him and his argument that an intern could totally handle this.
Bucky sighs, looking up at the ceiling to collect himself, before turning around to head to bed nine.
The curtain’s pulled around the bed, giving the patient privacy. He glances down at the chart and frowns at the lack of name printed, “I’m Doctor Barnes,” Bucky says as he pulls back the curtain, “and I’ll be helping you today with--” He shuts his mouth when he sets eyes on the patient, looking down to his thighs, “You don’t have a broken femur.”
Steve smiles at him sheepishly, “No, I don’t.”
Bucky forces himself not to lean into the scent of his Alpha and instead crosses his arms, clutching the chart tighter in his hand. He didn’t really mean for Steve to come and visit him at work, not when Bucky wasn’t ready for whatever may or may not happen between them, “You’re taking up a bed that could go to someone who actually needs help.” He tells Steve instead, hating how cold his voice sounds.
Steve gets up from the bed, “Now I’m not.” He steps away from the bed, closer to Bucky, “Hey, Buck, wanna’ tell me why you’re avoiding me?”
Bucky doesn’t, not really, but he can’t hide something like this from Steve. He’s Steve’s Mate just as much as Steve is his. Steve deserves to know, even if Bucky isn’t ready to say it, and he’s definitely not ready to say it when there’s prying ears around, “Come with me.” Bucky tells Steve, walking away from him quickly to put some distance between them. He glares at Wanda as he leaves the chart on her desk and continues walking until he finds an empty public office.
Bucky waits for Steve to walk completely into the room before shutting the door behind them. He stays by the door, watching Steve as he stands in the middle of the room, fidgeting. He clears his throat, “Okay, you know how I never had my Mark?” Better to get to the point than dance around it.
Steve nods, deciding to lean against one of the desks, “Yeah.”
Bucky licks his lips, “Well, two weeks ago I got my Mark.”
Steve’s face absolutely lights up, like a fucking dog seeing a frisbee, “That’s great, Buck!”
“You don’t understand.” Bucky sighs roughly, bringing his hands up to scrub at his face. He’s glad that Steve’s happy for him, he is, but he can’t deal with the happiness if it’s just going to go away in a few moments. If Steve’s going to be disappointed that it’s Bucky as his Mate and Omega, not some random person actually willing to follow through the wants and needs of an Alpha- willing to give up their job and livelihood. Not that Steve would ask that of him or anyone but...
“What don’t I understand?” Steve’s voice is quiet.
Instead of using his words, Bucky throws his lab coat off and pulls up the left sleeve of his scrub top, “It’s you, Steve, you’re my Mate. I know you don’t want me like that, and I’m sorry this isn’t your dream idea of a Mate but it’s me. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you, because it’s me and I want you but you probably don’t want me and--”
“Buck.” He says it softly, cutting Bucky off with the care in his tone, like it’s a name that shouldn’t be spoken any other way. The surprised look on his face slowly morphs into a small, shy smile, “May I?” He asks, motioning to Bucky’s bicep.
Bucky nods his head, still unsure of Steve’s intentions or wants because Steve hasn’t done anything but smile and say his name softly. Bucky doesn’t flinch when Steve’s fingers press gently to his bicep, but his bicep feels like it’s on fire. Like the warmth from a good whiskey, or a warm towel after getting caught in the rain. It’s warm like home and like things he can’t describe, even just from the touch of Steve’s fingertips. He feels calmer than he has in the past two weeks since he found out. He feels complete.
“I’ve dreamed of this, you know?” Steve says quietly, still tracing the Mark, “That you’d be my Mate.”
Bucky frowns, his eyes fluttering shut when Steve presses his whole hand to the Mark, “You never said.”
Steve pulls away from his Mark and Bucky has to force himself not to whimper, “You didn’t, either.”
“How could I? You had a Mark and I didn’t, you already belonged to someone and I wasn’t going to ruin that for you or them.” Bucky wasn’t about to ruin Steve’s or anyone else’s future. He cared too much about him to do that- not like it matters anymore, seeing as Bucky’s his mate. If Bucky had spoken up all those years ago then they’d have transitioned into where they are now much easier. With less worried-surprise on Bucky’s part and more affection, but everything does happen for a reason. Even if those reasons included pining and broken hearts for years.
Steve shrugs, “We’re here now, though, and that’s all that matters.”
Bucky gives Steve his best smile, the one he’s been holding in for two weeks because he didn’t want to be optimistic about this situation but can give now because this is really happening, “Yeah, that’s all that matters.”
It wasn’t hard for them to fall into a romantic relationship since they acted less like friends and more like partners ever since they were young and dumb (“I need to get to work, Stevie.” Bucky’s trying to push Steve’s heavy body off of his own, but that doesn’t seem to be happening.
“Five more minutes.” Steve mumbles into his shoulder, pressing kisses to the bare skin where Bucky decided to sleep topless last night.
Bucky rolls his eyes, trying not to get turned on when Steve adds tongue and sucking to his kisses, “Fine, but only that. Fury wasn’t happy last time I was late.”) Steve ended up moving into Bucky’s apartment since he lived closer to the hospital (“We could get something bigger.” Bucky says, setting one of Steve’s boxes down, “Something without Natasha living across from it, something closer to your Ma’.”
Steve shakes his head, “I remember you going on and on about this place, we’ll move when you feel up to it, and mom’s probably relieved I’m not living with her anymore.” Steve snorts.
Bucky grins, shaking his head before frowning slightly, “This is your space and life too, you know.” Bucky leans a shoulder against the wall, “We make these decisions together.”
“I know.” Steve looks around the apartment, shrugging, “But I like where you live and besides- it already smells like you.”
Bucky blushes at Steve’s raw and unabashed honesty, “Sap.”
“But I’m your sap.” Steve grins.
“That you are.”) and decided to go back to school since he had the G.I. Bill behind his name (“I feel like I’d be a good teacher.”
Bucky looks up from his article, “In what field?” He watches as Steve scrolls through a university's list of majors. Steve’s good at most academics, he could teach anything.
“Art.” Steve says simply, “I like it and the kids would like it, so why not?”
Bucky grins at Steve, imagining him teaching little kids their primary colors and shapes, “I can see it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Bucky nods, “You in a dirty smock with ankle biters all around your feet, I don’t even need to picture it all to much.”
Steve’s grin mirror’s Bucky’s own, “Great, because..”)
It’s not the life Bucky imagined for himself, seeing as he thought he’d wilt and die alone in his bed, but it’s one Bucky’s dreamed of. Steve at his side as more than a friend, their matching Marks exposed loud and proud whenever they have the chance. Sharing Steve’s space, dreams, wants, and love- that was the dream, and Bucky’s living it.
There’s nothing more that he could want than this life, right now.
-Fin