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The man was standing, an old wooden rocking chair that looked to be on its last legs beside him. “So what do you think? The last 3 places I went to said it was impossible.”
“To speak candidly, most other places wouldn’t know the treasure they had if it bit them on the nose,” the omega said, a bright smile on his face, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “But it’s not gonna be easy, and I hate to say it but it’s not gonna be cheap either.”
“This chair has rocked to sleep all our families’ pups going back 8 generations, I’d love for it to see 8 more. My oldest daughter is expecting her first pup soon and I’d like to give this to her at her baby shower, no matter the cost.”
“Congratulations! When is she due?” Bucky asks.
“In 2 months!” The man says with a grin, before his face returns to seriousness. “Would that be enough time to get her good as new?”
“Mmm,” Bucky hums, looking over the chair; it’s broken spindles and cracked seatback, cushion frayed and moth eaten, the arms burnished and shiny still, it is obviously well loved despite its conditions. “It will be tight with my other projects, but I believe it’s doable.”
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes! My wife will be so excited!” The man exclaims, shaking Bucky’s hands.
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“You’ve got to see this rocking chair, Brock, it’s amazing. It’s totally busted up right now but I can just imagine it all finished. His daughter is going to be so excited when she sees it!” Bucky gushes.
“And did you up your prices enough? I’ve told you, if they want old dirty shit fixed up so much they should pay through the nose,” Brock replies, not looking up from the documents he was looking over, even while enjoying dinner at a nice restaurant.
Bucky rolls his eyes with a smile, used to the alpha’s complaints. He has no idea how he fell in love with an alpha who has no furniture older than 16 months, but here he was.
“I swear you’ll throw me away, when I get older,” Bucky jokes, stabbing another baby tomato in his salad.
There’s a beat when the waiter comes over to refill the waters, “I could never, James,” Brock says solemnly.
“Well, anyway, I did add a little on top of my normal price since it’s a rush order… but I did also knock a little off since it’s for his daughter who’s expecting her first pup,” Bucky continues.
Brock doesn’t say anything to that, face hidden behind his papers.
When they get up to leave, Bucky notices that Brock had forgotten to give their waiter a tip, that silly alpha, so Bucky drops $20 down for him.
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“The building was completed just 8 months ago, you’d be the first couple to move into this particular unit,” the leasing agent explains. “If you’re approved, that is.”
Bucky looks at the plain moulding with no embellishment, the ikea cabinets with no character to them, and sighs to himself quietly.
“that is just what we’re looking for; a place that we can really make smell like us. A place that has had other people live there before, no matter how much it’s cleaned, always smells like it’s past. Just like omegas, am I right?” Brock ribs the beta.
The agent smiles awkwardly, “what did you say you both do for a living?”
“I am a financial lawyer for Pierce corp.”
“And I’m a furniture restorer,” Bucky says proudly.
“As a hobby,” Brock cuts in. “Once he’s with pup, he’ll be a stay at home mother.”
Bucky makes eye contact with the agent, rolling his eyes. “So you keep saying, alpha,” he laughs.
Brock laughs as well. “We’d love to apply for this place, as soon as possible. Get the paperwork going, will you?”
The agent scurries off, leaving them in this gray and white apartment. “Please,” Bucky calls after him, knowing that his alpha meant to say it; Brock has a habit of implying his pleases and thank you’s, but never actually saying them.
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A few weeks later, Bucky was laying on the bed, watching his boyfriend running around last minute packing things in his suitcase.
He was trying not to be upset.
“Brock, we had plans this weekend with my friends and my dad. You keep putting off meeting them. We’ve been together for 3 years!”
“Look, James, I work in a fast paced environment. If I’m not at this meeting it could impact my promotion and then make it so we can’t get that apartment you’re obsessed with.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t care about getting the apartment, I just want to spend more time with you.”
“James, now is not the time,” Brock zips the case up aggressively.
“But it’s never the time. You keep saying when we’re married you’ll take a break… but you haven’t even proposed yet. You barely even talk about mating bites.”
“Well, maybe we’ll see what happens when I get back,” Brock wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
That makes Bucky sit up, “really?!”
“We’ll see,” Brock says cryptically, kissing Bucky so forcefully it makes him fall back onto the too hard mattress, scenting him completely.
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“It’s just, he always does this,” Bucky complains into his Guinness. “I have no idea why he keeps finding excuses not to meet you guys. And he always just keeps dangling the hook when I talk about even just spending time together.”
“I hate to say this, Buck, since I've never met the guy… but like that's a red flag. Sounds like you want different things in life,” Clint says with a shrug.
“But I just want him,” Bucky whines, swirling on his spinny stool. “This was supposed to be a celebration for me finishing my rocking chair commission.”
“Well, it is almost leap day,” his quiet alpha father, George, murmurs into his glass.
“Leap day? Why would it matter if it’s leap day?” Bucky questions, suddenly hyper focused on his dad.
Natasha shifts and makes a cutting motion at her throat at George, but he ignores her, continuing, “Well, in Ireland where your grandma and papa are from, an omega can propose to their partner instead of the other way around.”
“But leap day is in, like, 4 days!” Bucky exclaims.
“Guess you’ll have to wait 4 years then,” Natasha shrugs.
“Or… Or I could go to Ireland where Brock’s conference is… it’s perfect! He’s in Ireland where the tradition is from! I could do this!” He stands, grabbing his coat and rushing to the door, he calls back, “I have to go get a ring!”
As he rushes out, the three remaining look at each other. Nat smacks herself in the forehead, not having the option of smacking her friend’s father. Clint’s just shaking his head.
“What?” George questions.
“I think there’s probably a good reason Brock keeps putting off meeting us and proposing, despite what he’s promising James. He must know we will disapprove of him,” Natasha explains.
George blushes, “you’re probably right.” He sighs deeply, “But now Buck is determined, he won’t be swayed. We all know how he is.”
Clint nods along, drinking the rest of Bucky’s forgotten beer.
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“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Bucky hyperventilates with his oxygen mask on as the plane he’s on makes all these sounds that he’s only heard in movies and tv shows.
“Maybe this is a sign that you shouldn’t propose to that alpha of yours,” the priest next to him laughs, as calm as ever.
“Why does this have to be a sign for me?” Bucky squawks, regretting talking to the priest about his plan. “She’s going for a marathon! Maybe it’s a sign that she’ll break her leg or something!” He points at their other seat mate who has her head between her legs, braced for the turbulence.
The priest shrugs, tapping his nose, “just a feeling I have.”
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Bucky is dragging his suitcases along behind him on a rough cobblestone sidewalk, deftly avoiding rain puddles and mud, all while getting soaked.
“Emergency landing,” he grumbles. “No flights to Dublin. ‘Oh I’m sorry luv, we won’t be able to get you to Dublin by leap day, I know you think you have an emergency but the weather, oh the weather,’” he mimics a high voice with a rough, not entirely irish accent.
He keeps grumbling as he walks along, less green now that he’s off the plane that took him to a small airstrip somewhere in Ireland. “Ah! Finally,” he exclaims as he spots the pub that they pointed him off to when he asked for a hotel.
Bucky struggles with the door, his bag getting stuck with how big it is.
If there was a record playing, it would’ve scratched as Bucky entered the inn.
“Oh, uh, hello,” he kinda waves at everyone in the pub looking at him dripping a large puddle onto the floor.
A blonde woman his fathers age swoops over to him quickly, “right this way, love. C’mon, c’mon.”
“Oh! Uh, okay thank you.”
“Where ye from, lad?” A old man at the bar asks, “we’re takin’ bets.”
“Oh I’m from Brooklyn— er, New York City,” Bucky says, being bustled around whichever way the omega woman wants him.
“Ha! Pay up!” One exclaims while the other throws some dollars at him with a good natured scowl.
“And what're ya doin’ here?” The one that paid-up questioned.
“Oh um my dad told me that it’s an Irish tradition that on leap day an omega can propose to their alpha, so I’m trying to go to Dublin to do just that,” chuckling as he watches the few dollar exchange back, the opposite old man now with the scowl. Bucky has no idea how they would’ve guessed that reason but he’s not gonna question it.
He did see the woman deflate a little at the mention that he has an alpha, but he writes it off as a coincidence.
“And why do ya think ya get to use our Irish traditions as a means to your ends?” A new voice asks from behind the bar.
“Oh, well I’m Irish, too,” Bucky says, turning to the voice, seeing a very handsome and large alpha.
“No yer not. You’re American,” he drawls, smugly wiping out a glass.
Bucky blushes in embarrassment, looking away from him. “Well, then, I guess by your rules I’m honoring my Irish grandparents—“
“Nope,” the man interrupts. “You're using our great country to secure yourself a good match.”
Bucky sputters, standing from his stool, trying to make himself look bigger, “you don’t even know me!”
“Ach, Steven!” The woman scolds coming back with a plate of steaming food. “Show some Irish hospitality.”
“Yeah, Steven,” Bucky choruses like a brat.
Steve glares at him, “I guess you’ll be wantin’ a room?”
“No, actually. A hot meal, a Guinness, and somewhere to charge my phone would be great,” Bucky says.
“Grand,” Steve and the local men correct.
“You mean grand, things are grand in Ireland,” Steve says, pouring him a Guinness.
“Well that’s just grand,” Bucky cheeks at him, the locals chuckling along. “Thank you so much, ma’am,” Bucky thanks the omega who is still moving around, working to make Bucky comfortable.
“Call me Sarah. This is my rotten son Steven, who apparently has no manners,” she scolds.
“Oh well, he certainly knows how to pour a grand Guinness,” he winks at her. “Sarah, do mind telling me if I can order an Uber from wherever we are all the way to Dublin, or at least to a train or a bus?”
“Sorry, love, no Uber out here. Or bus or train. This storm has got us pretty locked down at the moment. Could change, though,” she shrugs.
“Could change?” Bucky questions.
“Irish weather,” she shrugs by way of explanation and the men around her nod in agreement.
Bucky puffs out a breath, deciding to leave it be, for the moment, to eat his food and drink his beer.
He moans with his final bite, “Sarah, that was too good, thank you so much.”
Sarah smiles, “My Steven made the special tonight, he’s a very good cook.”
“If only he were a better conversationalist,” Bucky chuckles with her.
Steve’s frown deepens from behind the bar, but he doesn’t comment.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I should probably call my family to let them know I’ve arrived somewhere safely,” Bucky steps over to a quieter part of the pub.
It’s only a 5 hour time difference from Ireland to New York so it’s still early afternoon there.
“Bucky? Are you okay? We saw the weather reports and that some planes had to take emergency weather precautions.”
“Hi, dad, yeah I’m okay. My plane did have to make an emergency landing and I’m stuck in a small village pub for the night it seems, but uh, the proprietress is very kind, even if her alpha son is a bit of a prick.”
“Oh, Bucky, always making friends wherever you go.”
“Hey! I’m charming!“ he exclaims maybe a bit too loudly to the guffaws of the old men and the inelegant snort from Steve. “I should go figure out where I’m sleeping tonight, I just wanted to let you know I’m safe.”
“Have you told Brock that you're on your way to Dublin and that you’re safe?”
“No, Brock doesn’t know yet, and he was in meetings all day so I bet he’s barely noticed how quiet I was today, barely texting him at all.”
“Hmm,” George hums.
“What?”
“I just think that an alpha should notice when their omega has a sudden change in behavior, that’s all. Well son I’ll let you go. Be safe! Love you!”
George had already hung up the phone before Bucky could reply, still caught on the fact that Brock really hadn't noticed that he’d been quiet today.
Bucky returns to the bar, looking around for Sarah but not finding her. “Uh, hey Steve, about that room?”
Steve sighs, “right this way, Brooklyn.”
Bucky grunts, hoisting his bag up the rickety stairs and Steve doesn’t offer to help.
Steve opens the door to reveal a tiny room stuffed to the gills in wooden furniture.
“Oh!” Bucky gasped.
“It’s no castle, but at least it’s dry,” Steve defends, taking Bucky’s gasp as an insult.
Bucky doesn’t correct him, “thank you, Steve, that’ll be all I need for the night.” And he promptly closes the door in his handsome face.
Bucky examines the art on the wall; some pastoral scenes, some landscapes, but many charcoal portraits. Bucky can’t help but stare at one, the woman lovingly rendered, she looks strong and mischievous. It looks like she had the faintest trace of a mating bite drawn in but hastily erased. It had been crumpled at one point but now is encased by the glass of the frame. He shrugs before turning away to inspect the armoire.
It’s gorgeous; the pine wood a lovely soft caramel color, the carvings delicate and gives the whole large piece a lightness. The outside has been kept in a lovely shape and he’s too curious not to open the doors to inspect the inside and its joints.
The doors get stuck, and Bucky works to muscle it open. It pops open after he uses all of his strength, but it also begins to tip towards him.
Bucky jumps out of the way just before it crushes him. “Fuck!” He cries.
Steve bursts into his room without knocking. “Fucking hell!” He exclaims.
He pushes past Bucky, tipping the cabinet back into place and slamming the doors shut. “Stop snooping.”
“I wasn’t snooping! I’m a—“
And Steve holds up his hand to stop him, “just don’t touch anything. This stuff is old and fragile, and if you break it you’ll have to pay to get it fixed.”
“Well, actually I’m a—“
“Goodnight, Brooklyn. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”
Bucky feels like he’s either going to scream or pull out all of his hair in frustration. He slams the door after Steve as he leaves, flipping the lock for good measure.
He grumbles as he gets changed into his silk robe and matching panties. Still mumbling under his breath he flops onto the bed, tossing and turning every which way in the squeaky bed before noticing the fine woodworking on the headboard and studying that until he falls asleep.
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A knock on the door wakes him, “time to get up love,” Sarah sings for him. “The weather has cleared up and I’ve arranged for someone to take you to Dublin.”
“Sarah! You’re an angel, a saint, if I weren’t headed to propose to my alpha, I’d get down on one knee right now!” He exclaims, kissing her cheeks.
“You say that now but you don’t know who’s drivin’ ya,” she laughs. “Breakfast will be ready in 10.”
“Thank you!” Bucky says, already running, getting everything all situated again.
10 minutes later Bucky is banging his heavy suitcase down the stairs, wincing with every step.
“Good morning!” He greets the locals and Steve, already behind the bar. Bucky has always been a morning person.
Steve squints at him but doesn’t have a quip to send back. He must not be a morning person, Bucky snorts.
He sits in the same seat as last night, Sarah scurrying over and depositing a plate in front of him.
“A full Irish!” She titters.
Bucky’s eyes round; it’s a lot of food. He doesn’t know where he’s going to put it all but he’s going to give it his best shot.
“Steve, could I get a coffee pretty please?”
Steve fills his coffee and hands over the mug.
Bucky frowns at how full it is, blowing on it carefully and sipping off the top without picking it up so it doesn’t spill. “Is there cream and sugar?”
He adds 2 creams and 5 sugars to his mug, Steve watching his display the entire time.
“What? I like my coffee to be sweet, like me.”
Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s coffee anymore.”
Bucky pulls a face before taking a sip of his coffee sugar concoction, eyes closed with a small smile, “Mmmm.”
He doesn’t notice Steve watching him, but Sarah does.
“Steven, you’ll take this one to Dublin today,” Sarah tells him.
Bucky does a spit take with his coffee, getting it all over Steve’s shirt.
Steve pauses looking down, taking in the sight of his stained white tshirt, “y’know, it woulda been bad enough if it was just a coffee stain, but there’s so much sugar in there, i think I’ll crystallize and some ants will carry me away.”
Bucky snorts, “we should all be so lucky.”
Steve peels off his shirt, using a rag to wipe down his sticky abs and arms, before heading upstairs to change.
He doesn’t notice Bucky staring after him, but Sarah does.
“My Steven is a good boy,” Sarah says sitting on the stool next to Bucky. “He’s been having a rough go at it recently, though. He’d fallen in love with a beta woman… it was fine but she… she was English… and some things just can’t be compromised on. Americans tho, that’s fine.”
Bucky just smiles confusedly.
Steve comes back down the stairs, interrupting what Sarah was going to say next. “C’Mon, Brooklyn. If ma says I’m taking ya to Dublin we want to get going soon. I want to see the football match tonight and tomorrow’s leap day. Gotta get you to that alpha ‘a yours.”
“My name is not Brooklyn, by the way. It’s James Buchanon Barnes, but I go by Bucky.”
“Buchanan! That’s a strong Celtic name!” Sarah grins, “oh, this’ll be grand!”
“Okay, Brooklyn, good to know. Now ya owe us €75 for the room, €30 for the food and beer, and €15 for the shirt.”
Bucky blushes, handing over the cash, “yeah, that’s fair.”
“And, I’m takin’ ya all the way to Dublin, so it’ll be €500 for the trip and €500 for my time. And you’re paying for whatever meals and snacks we get.”
“I don’t suppose I have a better offer?” Bucky asks the bar at wide, only to be mostly ignored. “Yeah, okay, grand.”
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When Steve pulls up in a very old VW beetle, and unfolds himself as he gets out, Bucky is stunned. Sure he likes old furniture, but this is uh… maybe not safe. Does it even have seatbelts, Bucky wondered.
“Uh, are you sure this thing’ll make it to Dublin?”
“A’course I’m sure! C’mon, Brooklyn,” Steve lifts Bucky’s suitcase easily into the small trunk.
With some trepidation Bucky starts to the right side of the car before a loud whistle stops him.
“Other side.”
Bucky blushes and scurries to the other side.
He looks in the mirror, seeing Steve lifting Sarah up and smacking a kiss on her cheek, they speak a moment before they both come over to the car, Sarah on Bucky’s side.
He rolls down the window, “ok, Bucky, Steve is gonna getcha to your alpha. Have a good trip and be safe. And don’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you, Sarah, it was wonderful to meet you,” he accepts a kiss to his forehead and cheeks.
“Don’t burn the place down, ma.”
“May the road rise to meet you,” Sarah blesses them.
Bucky releases a breath as they pull away from the inn. He’s really doing this. Less than 24 hours, he’ll be engaged to Brock.
“The drive should take around 4 hours,” Steve rumbles.
Bucky nods, watching the countryside move around him, a true patchwork of green with sheep dotting the landscape.
They’re moving along smoothly, hardly bickering at all, and suddenly Steve throws his beefy arm out, stopping Bucky from slamming into the front of the car, because there are no seatbelts, and breaking quickly.
“Cows!” Bucky yells excitedly, jumping out of the car.
Steve also unfolds himself from the small bug, standing nearby with his hands on his hips, “watch your step.”
“Wha—“ and Bucky’s shoe squelches in a big pile of cow dung. And then he gags from the scent, moving to the side of the road to dry heave.
Steve is laughing at him but comes over to rub Bucky’s back. “Give me your shoe,” he says.
“But then I’ll be standing in mud! And what if I step in another pile without my shoes on!”
Steve is still smiling when he lifts Bucky up and deposits him on the hood of the car, removing Bucky’s buttery leather shoe from his foot.
Steve dumps his water bottle on Bucky’s shoe and wipes it off with a handkerchief, getting it cleaned up.
He walks back over to Bucky who’s enjoying the light sunshine from the parted clouds and watching the cows before them. Steve gets down on one knee in front of Bucky and Bucky feels the breath get caught in his lungs and his heart skips maybe a few beats.
Steve slips the shoe back onto Bucky’s foot, feeling the delicate bones beneath his skin; he looks up to find Bucky staring at him with a weird blush.
“Oh!! They’re moving! Bye, ladies!” Bucky looks all around him for more poop before jumping down from the car, Steve standing by, ready to catch him if he falls.
Bucky moves to get back into the car, “let’s go, Steve!”
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They’re on their way, another hour down when the sky turns black and rain is coming down in buckets.
“Turn on the wipers! Oh god, we’re gonna crash. Maybe that priest was right,” Bucky gasps.
“Shh,” Steve hushes, spying a building in the distance, pulling Bucky close to him on the seat bench so if they do crash Steve would be able to hold onto Bucky.
“Alpha! We’re gonna die!”
“Alpha, huh?”
Bucky pushed at him, “this is a delicate situation! Don’t make fun of me!” He cuddles back into Steve’s body, practically plastered to him.
“I’ve got you, Omega, we’re fine,” Steve rumbles, pulling into the drive of a pub.
They run into the pub holding hands, both ducking from the rain.
“Hiya!” A plump woman calls.
“Some weather, aye?” Steve settles on a stool at the bar, ordering a beer and turning toward the single tv.
“Should you be drinking? You’re going to be driving again soon,” Bucky claims the stool next to him.
“I’ll be fine, Brooklyn, who knows when this’ll let up, anyway.”
“Oh… well ok, one for me too then, please.” Bucky opens his phone, seeing no texts or calls from Brock. He sighs, clicking over to his weather app, looking at the radar. The storm is back and isn’t going to let up for hours yet.
“Would we be able to get some rooms, by chance?”
“We only have the one room available. You two are married, right? Mating soon?”
“Oh, uh,” Bucky trails off.
“Yes, we’re married,” Steve interrupts, wrapping his large hand around Bucky’s waist, pulling him in close, shoving his nose into Bucky’s scent gland.
Bucky puts his hands in Steve’s blond hair, holding him close. Feeling guilty that he likes the easy way they fit together. Brock is not as touchy-feely as maybe Bucky wishes he would be.
Moving away, Bucky asks, “Could you show me where I can freshen up?”
“Right this way, honey,” the woman gestures. “There’s towels up there, too.”
“Oh Steve, darling, could you please grab my suitcase? We forgot it in the car.”
Steve’s shoulders tighten at the word darling, but rolls his eyes and heads out into the pouring rain, a foraged umbrella over his head.
Bucky heads into the shower, then once finished scurries back into the room with a towel covering his goods.
Turning to the bed, he flops down without really looking, only to hear a yelp.
Bucky screams, throwing himself off the moving bed.
He lands with a thud, towel flapping open.
“Wha-what happened?” Steve exclaims sitting up, hair a mess.
“I thought you’d be downstairs!!” Bucky scrambles to cover up.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Brooklyn. Calm down.”
“Uh yeah, I uh guess that’s true,” Bucky goes over to his case and drops his towel to the floor like he has something to prove.
“Oh, yeah, got a bruise already showing up from the tumble,” Steve jokes.
“Shut up! Don’t look!!” Bucky looks over his shoulder and finds that Steve isn’t even peeking, looking out the window on the other side of the room. “You asshole,” Bucky laughs.
Now dressed in his silky pajamas, Bucky turns around looking at their situation. One bed, what a cliché. “Okay, this is fine. We’re adults and we can share a bed. And we’re “married” so there’s nothing to complain about. Please tell me you don’t snore.”
“No can do, Brooklyn,” Steve taps his own nose, “one too many fights and breaks on this one. It’ll be a long night for you.”
Bucky sighs, “that’s fine. Brock snores, too. And he hogs the blankets.”
Steve raises an eyebrow; it’s not normal for an alpha to hog blankets from their omega. “‘M not a blanket hog.”
“Good, then we won’t have any issues,” Bucky grins.
They’re just getting tucked in and situated when Bucky’s phone rings. “Oh! Maybe it’s Brock!” And Bucky scrambles over Steve, a big smile on his face.
And Steve watches as Bucky’s face falls, answering the phone. “Hi, dad. No, I haven't made it to Dublin yet. Uh the drive that should’ve taken 4 hours has us waylaid halfway there since someone’s windshield wipers don’t work. Yeah, the weather again. The priest next to me on the plane said it was divine intervention or something, making it so I can’t make it to Dublin to propose to Brock…. Uh no he hasn’t called or messaged yet but I’m sure he’s just busy with his conference or meeting or something. Bye, dad, yeah I’ll call you once I get to Dublin. Love you too.”
Steve has his eyes closed and pretends to not have listened in.
As soon as Bucky has hung up, his phone trills again, and Steve gets to see the whole vision repeat. The hopeful smile, then the crash.
“Hello? Oh uh, yeah. Oh, we got the apartment. Brock will be so happy. Well thank you for letting me know… oh? You couldn’t get a hold of him? We are both out of the country right now, but I’ll let him know as soon as possible. Thanks again for calling.”
Bucky sits on the edge of the bed by Steve’s legs, holding his phone in his hands.
Steve sets a big hand on Bucky’s silk covered shoulder, “call him, Brooklyn . Stop bein’ scared; that’s your alpha.”
Bucky bites his lip, choosing Brock’s contact. It rings twice before the call is sent to voicemail. Frowning, Bucky dials again. This time it goes to voicemail right away.
Bucky looks at the clock on the wall. 9pm. Brock wouldn’t be in meetings or doing anything important.
Bucky tries one last time. It rings once and is sent to voicemail again. Bucky lets out a shaky breath, and puts a smile in his voice, “hi, alpha! Just wanted to let you know we got approved for the apartment! Wish I could have talked to you, but you must be busy. Call me when you get a chance. Love you, bye.”
“It’s ok, Buck,” Steve wipes a tear falling from Bucky’s eye. “C’mon; T’ bed with ya.” And he manhandles Bucky into bed, tucking him in securely.
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“Steve,” Bucky whispers, well after Steve had turned out the light.
“Yeah, ‘mega?”
“I-I think Brock isn’t good for me. We’re too different and he doesn’t appreciate me. I’ve been radio silent for 3 days and he didn’t even answer my calls.”
Steve turns over onto his side facing Bucky, one arm extending to reach for him.
Bucky scoots closer, Steve smells so good, and rests his head on Steve’s outstretched arm. “He wasn’t always like this. He used to like me a lot.”
Steve is quiet for a while, Bucky thinks he might’ve gone to sleep. “Buck, don’t propose to him.”
“Yeah, I know… but I can’t go home and tell my friends and family that I didn’t even try.”
“You have tried, omega. You’ve come a long way, even with God's own intervention.”
“Well, let’s just see what he says. Thanks, alpha.”
“Sleep,” Steve hushed, not turning over and not pushing him away.
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They wake up intertwined, Bucky’s head on Steve’s broad chest, cradled in his arms. Steve’s hand is holding Bucky’s, laid near his heart.
It’s the type of content morning Bucky yearns for.
Steve snores once, loudly, waking himself up. He looks down at Bucky who is still sleep warm, not extracted from his arms. They’re quiet for a moment before cracking into laughter.
Bucky’s eyes widen as he’s still laughing, twisting himself over Steve, straddling his lap for less than a second, stealing Steve’s laughs away, and rushing to the washroom.
Steve, having sobered up, is focusing very hard on not imaging the brunet hovering over his lap again. He looks at the mouldings on the ceiling, arms folded behind his head, trying to force his predicament away.
Bucky returns, all sweet smiles, glancing only momentarily at the alpha in their shared bed, turning to his suitcase to prepare for the day. “okay, Steve! Let’s get a coffee in you and get on our way! Today’s the day!”
“Have ya thought more on what we spoke about last night, omega?” Steve has his eyes closed again, listening to Bucky dressing.
“Nope. No time for thinking today,” Bucky rushes about the room, repacking his things and tidying up.
“Bucky, c’mere,” Steve pats the bed beside him.
Quickly Bucky comes and lays beside Steve again, a mirror of the way they laid the previous night but now with the morning light it seems even more intimate.
Steve speaks in a hush, Bucky scoots closer to hear, “I was in love once. She was a beautiful beta; elegant, smart, driven. She was British, but ah, what can ya do? We were together, in Dublin, for 3 years, always planning to go back to the inn and make it ours.”
“What happened?” Bucky asked softly.
“She had apparently fallen for my business partner, John, a man who I thought was like a brother to me. She explained that it was because he was more ambitious than me, that he wanted more than just a pub in the middle of nowhere.”
“Turns out,” Steve husks, “he was more ambitious in that he was embezzling tens of thousands of euros from my family. We never had proof that Peggy was involved but I think she knew what he was doing…”
They were quiet together for a moment, breathing the same air.
“I still loved her through it all though. She had my heart, she still does in a way. She has my claddagh ring that was my nan’s.”
Bucky bolts up, “That’s awful! She didn’t give it back?”
“She said she’d give it back once I’d forgiven her.”
“What a piece of work!”
Steve smiles, nostalgic in a way, “I think, I might be ready to forgive her.”
He tucks a loose strand of Bucky’s brown hair behind his ear, leaning in close, the swell of Bucky’s pink lips calling to him.
Their lips connect, soft and slow, like a morning full of laughter deserves.
But with a small frown, Bucky pulls away, “I’m still with Brock…”
“Okay Brooklyn,” Steve says quietly, getting up and going about his routine, pulling himself from the temptation.
As Steve leaves the room quiet, Bucky lays back onto the bed, still warm with Steve and takes a deep breath of the scent he finds so comforting. Feeling his lungs inflate with it, hoping a little of it always remains within him. Bucky holds his breath for a long moment until he hears movement down the hall, releases the breath, and stands to zip his case and resumes his facade.
.
.
.
Bucky pays for the room and the light breakfast they shared and they head on their way.
20 minutes down the way, Bucky turns to Steve gasping, “my suitcase!”
Steve plays at a deep sigh but he can’t hide his small amused smile, turning the blue bug around. “Oh, Brooklyn. You’re impossible.”
Bucky looks at him with wide eyes, thinking the alpha was going to be upset with him, but a small pleased smile plays upon his lips when Steve returns to the bnb without complaint.
When they arrive, Bucky moves to get out to retrieve the case, Steve grabs his hand to stay his movement and goes to get it himself.
Bucky glances at his phone, still seeing no response from Brock.
Steve returns with the case, putting it in the trunk. Bucky turns his whole body to supervise, but in doing so he accidentally pushes the gearshift into neutral and the bug starts rolling down the hill.
Steve jumps away so he isn’t hit, but he watches Bucky and his car slide down the hill, rapidly gaining speed, headed towards a rock fence or the lough at the bottom. Bucky stares at him in shock from the front seat, eyes wide and face pale.
Steve races after them, “Bucky! Hit the brakes! The brakes!!!”
Steve is able to grab onto the front bumper but can’t gain any traction from all the mud, and the car is too heavy anyway.
He looks up into the driver's seat and sees Bucky finally in place, foot on the brake and pulling the emergency brake for good measure. And finally, slower than Steve thinks should be possible, the car loses momentum and stops just before it collides with the sturdy rock wall.
Steve lets go of the bumper, now dented, and quickly rushes to open the driver's door. He sees Bucky throw himself to the other side of the bench seat, pressing against the passenger door, and making himself small.
“I’m sorry Steve!” He wails, tears pouring down. “I didn’t mean for that to happen!”
Steve crawls into the small car, and pulls Bucky into his arms, pushing his nose into his scent glands, hoping that he’ll calm shortly. He can feel Bucky shaking in his arms, so small and vulnerable.
“Steve!”
“I know, sweet one. It’s okay. You did a good job getting to the brakes.”
“Alpha!”
“I know,” Steve murmurs, keeping Bucky protected in his strong arms.
They stay like that for a while, Bucky’s breath evening out and his tears drying.
“I really am sorry, Steve.”
“I’m pretty sure this car is older than you, Buck. Things are loose and other things stick, what’s important is that you’re ok and the car is still in one piece so we can get you to your alpha.”
Still curled in Steve’s big arms, Bucky sags, “yeah. My alpha.”
.
.
.
Steve and Bucky arrive in the lobby around 4pm on Leap Day.
Bucky strides right over to the shiny desk, cast in gold to speak with the agent, Steve hanging behind, leaning against a marble column. “Hi, I’m here to meet my boyfriend, Brock Rumlow. Would you be able to tell me what room he’s in?”
The blonde woman taps onto her keyboard, but with a frown she says, “I’m sorry sir there’s no one of that name staying here.”
“Oh uh maybe it would be under his company name? Pierce Corp?”
The keys clatter again, and she shakes her head.
“Oh, uh, thank you. He must’ve given me the wrong hotel, do you know of any other one with a similar name or maybe owned by the same company?”
“Sorry, love, we’re the only one in Dublin with a name like this.”
Steve notices Bucky’s body language, the omega collapsing into himself. He moves to press close behind the omega, offering support. “Give ‘im a call, Buck, maybe he’ll answer this time.”
Bucky nods, pulling out his phone and dialing the familiar number.
By some miracle the line clicks on, “hey, baby, I was just thinking about you.”
“Hi, Brock, where are you?”
Brock rattles of the name of the hotel Steve and Bucky are currently in.
“Oh? And what’s your room number?”
“632,” Brock says confidently, Bucky scans the elevator numbers, this hotel only has 5 floors.
“Are you in your room now, or?”
“No I’m in the lobby headed up. why you wanna have phone sex?”
Bucky looks around the lobby, not moving away from Steve’s solid form, not seeing his boyfriend’s bulk.
“Brock, I know you’re not in the lobby. Because I’m in the lobby and I don’t see you.”
“What do you mean you’re in the lobby? In Dublin?”
“Yes, Brock, I'm in Dublin. I came to surprise you but I guess you beat me to it. Where are you really?”
Brock is quiet, probably trying to figure out what his best excuse might be. Instead he says, “James, let’s talk about this when I get home.”
“Where are you, Brock?”
“Steve?” A feminine voice calls across the lobby.
Bucky feels Steve tense from the voice. “Peggy,” he breathes.
“I gotta go,” Bucky says into the phone before Brock can reply.
Bucky doesn’t move from his spot in front of Steve, putting himself in the way of this interloper with a British accent.
“Steve, it’s so good to see you,” she smiles, her lips rimmed perfectly in red, ignoring Bucky completely.
“Peggy,” Steve repeats, his voice so quiet.
“We should go catch up, let’s split a bottle of wine,” she offers her small hand to him.
Bucky reaches out and takes her hand, shaking it with a tight squeeze. “Hello, I’m Bucky.”
Peggy quirks a perfectly arched brow, “pleased to meet you. Steve, are you finally hosting guests at your quaint little inn?”
Steve opens his mouth but snaps it shut again, no sound escaping.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business,” Bucky snaps, reaching to hold Steve’s large hand in his smaller one.
“So you haven’t forgiven me then? Shame, really.”
“I’ve forgiven you,” Steve croaks, taking his hand from Bucky’s hold.
“Wonderful! Come, let’s have dinner, we can talk. This is my last day in Dublin before I head back to London.”
Steve looks down at Bucky, still standing between him and the woman who had once held his heart, but now facing him. “Buck, I’m sorry,” and Steve gets to watch first hand as Bucky’s eyes shutter.
And Bucky feels his own heart break, more than the discovery that Brock wasn’t where he said he was.
“He’ll give you the answers you need. You’ll go back to him. You’re comfortable, Brooklyn,” Steve whispers and it feels tender, like poking a bruise.
Bucky takes a deep breath, quiet, and retrieves his wallet, taking €1000 and handing it over to Steve.
“May the road rise to meet you,” Bucky husks, kissing Steve’s cheek, moving away from the duo.
Steve watches him returning to the desk and asking for a room. Before Steve can watch him get much further, Peggy enters his line of sight, eclipsing Bucky, she speaks, “Ready, darling?”
Steve takes a deep breath, missing Bucky’s soft scent already, and turns to follow her out the door.
.
.
.
Bucky is trying to compartmentalize, but tears are still welling in his eyes. He’s only known Steve for 3 days. They didn’t even get along at first. Why does his heart hurt so much?
On autopilot he picks up his phone, “Hi, Dad.”
“Hiya, Buck. You don’t sound so good.”
“Yeah… uh… Brock isn’t actually in Dublin. He’s been lying to me for who knows how long. But you know the guy from the Inn the other night?”
“The prick?”
Bucky gives a watery chuckle, “yeah, the prick. But he’s not. He’s… something special. And he was so wonderful getting us here. We were… so good together.”
“Oh? Are you coming back with a different fiance than expected?”
“I don’t think so, dad. Instead of finding Brock at the hotel, we found Steve’s ex and she swooped him away. She still has his ring…”
“I’m sorry, son.”
“Yeah,” Bucky runs his hands through his long hair, tears dripping slowly from his eyes, laying in the big, strange bed, phone still pressed to his ear.
.
.
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The pub is nice; almost loud with the trad band downstairs, but not so much that he can’t hear Peggy.
She orders a bottle of wine and Steve orders a Guinness, which she wrinkles her nose at.
“So, that wasn’t your omega, I presume?”
“Oh, no… I was just helping him get to Dublin so he could propose to his alpha.”
“Propose to his alpha?” She laughs. “So desperate.”
Steve shrugs, casting his eyes to the bar. “It’s an old Irish tradition.” He looks up just in time to see Peggy roll her eyes.
“It’s so nice to see you. I kept hoping I’d run into you,” she reaches across the table to touch Steve’s muscled forearm.
“You know where my pub is,” he shrugs her off.
She scowls at him, “stop being childish, Steve.”
They’re quiet for a moment. “You knew what he was doing, didn’t you, Peg?”
“I thought we were past all that. You said you’d forgiven me,” she swallows her glass of wine in a single gulp, practically glaring at him, she removes her scarf to touch her necklace, which held Steve’s claddagh ring.
“Maybe forgive was the wrong word. I think I’ve just… grown past it. Maybe just now. I’d like my grandmother's ring back.”
She huffs and removes it from the chain, dropping it in his beer as she gets up to leave.
Breathing out a puff of air that he didn’t realize he was holding, Steve deflates on his stool, drinking the rest of his beer then tucking the ring into his pocket.
Steve stands and walks slowly back to the hotel.
“I’m looking for Bucky?” Steve asks the same front desk woman from earlier.
She clacks on the keyboard, “sorry no one of that name is staying here.”
“He checked in an hour ago. He was looking for that Brock guy?”
“Oh, yes, actually he checked out early. Said he booked an earlier flight and had to rush off to the airport. Poor dear was frazzled, nearly left his luggage.”
“Fuck,” Steve sighs. “Thank you.”
He slowly goes back to his beat up car.
He thought about racing to the airport to catch Bucky… but what was he going to do? Ask him to be his Omega? To stay in Ireland at Steve’s inn? Bucky has a fiance in all but name back in Brooklyn… They'll work whatever this is out and Steve will be here, an ocean away, just a memory of a misadventure and a stolen kiss.
Better for Steve to work his way home and turn Bucky into his own bittersweet memory.
He rubs the ring in his pocket, thinking about that slim finger that it could’ve sat upon if things had gone differently.
.
.
.
Getting back to his and Brock’s apartment, Bucky stalls before the door. He doesn’t want to return to his old life… but maybe it’s inevitable.
Maybe Steve was right.
Maybe he is comfortable with Brock. Maybe Brock will have a good excuse. Maybe Bucky will stay.
Bucky turns the lock in the too modern apartment, getting a strong scent of Brock that used to be comforting, steady, but now it’s acidic and cloying. And suddenly he knows; he’s changed too much to stay in this relationship.
As he moves through the entryway, Brock is suddenly in front of him, down on one knee, ring in hand.
Bucky looks from Brock who is smiling crookedly at him, to the people crowded in their apartment.
“James Barnes, will you marry me?”
All the people looking on are from Brock’s life. All his friends, his parents, coworkers, Bucky thinks he spies one of Brock’s managers in the crowd.
But he doesn’t see any of his friends, or his parents.
“James?” Brock questions.
“No,” Bucky whispers.
“James, don’t embarrass me,” Brock hisses.
“No!” He says louder. “You don’t get to do this, Brock! You lied to me! I don’t know why you would do this.”
“You were begging me to propose before! Not even a week ago!” Brock yells, standing up, using his alpha bulk to crowd Bucky.
“Yeah, and you didn’t! I went to Dublin to propose to you on leap day and you weren’t there! Because you lied to me!” Bucky replies, pushing Brock back.
He hears the people in the background weighing in, giggling about Bucky, an omega, proposing to an alpha.
“We’re breaking up. I can’t do this with you any more,” Bucky removes himself from the scene.
In the stairwell, Bucky picks up his phone, “Dad… talk me out of going back to Ireland for Steve.”
“I’ve known Bucky Barnes to wait around for something to happen. Maybe it’s time you make it happen yourself. Go get him.”
“Are you sure?” Bucky’s voice wobbles.
“Are you?” George asks.
“Yes,” Bucky says, and it feels like coming up for air after being held under water; it almost hurts in its clarity.
Bucky prepares himself for another 7 hour plane ride, but he’s grinning the whole way through.
He lands safe and easy in Dublin, boards a train, and gets to the town that Steve’s pub is at. The sun is shining the whole way through, not a cloud in the sky.
He enters empty handed, practically throwing the door open.
And again it seems like a record should scratch as he moves through the pub.
He sees the 2 old men grin and hand Sarah some crumpled dollars, as she looks at Bucky with a grin.
And Steve is behind the bar, looking at him as if he’s a mirage.
Bucky sits down on the stool that he had occupied just a handful of days ago; he goes to open his mouth, hopefully with a witty quip or something, he hasn’t planned that far ahead— when Steve jumps over the bar.
And he heads up the stairs away from Bucky without saying a word.
Bucky snaps his mouth shut and squeezes his eyes closed.
He remains on his stool, turned away from where Steve disappeared.
If Steve doesn’t want him here, he’ll have to tell him. He had no issue with that the last time he was here.
“I think a whiskey this time, Sarah, if you please,” Bucky forces, voice strained.
“Just wait, lad,” she encourages. “My Steven will surprise ya.”
And Steve returns but a second later, still a deep frown on his face.
Bucky stands at his approach, opening his mouth to speak again, “Steve—“
And Steve kisses him, deep and full of passion, big arms wrap around Bucky and cradle him close.
Bucky practically whimpers and lays his hands on Steve’s wide shoulders.
“Welcome back, Brooklyn. I’ve missed ya, so so so much,” Steve whispers, still holding him close, swaying together gently now.
“I had to see you, alpha,” Bucky blushes.
“I went back to the hotel as soon as I got your ring back,” Steve rumbles.
“My ring?” Bucky questions, pulling back to look into Steve’s eyes.
“Yeah, omega,” Steve slips the claddagh ring onto Bucky’s ring finger, heart facing outward towards Steve. “Will you marry me, Bucky?”
“Yes!” Bucky cries, leaping at Steve, lips connecting and they both tumble to the wood floor, the patrons of the pub clapping around them, but they barely hear it.
They lay kissing on the floor, Bucky atop Steve. They pull away and stare deeply into the other's face, just taking in the mutual joy at being reunited, even when it’s only been 36 hours since they last saw each other
“It’s not going to be easy,” Steve says, still with a smile.
“What’re you talking about? It’ll be grand!” Bucky kisses him again.