eisen

And it was all for good reason. Bucky knew since the day he met Theo when they were kids, that this man with the honey golden eyes littered with orange specks (an eye colour unique to Theo alone), with the smell just shy of the typical overbearing sweetness of an Omega, and a heart of gold behind a frankly transparent uncaring attitude- this boy needed to be his in any way that was possible. It didn’t matter that the both of the were men, but it was a difficult secret to hide from the rest of the world.

“Focus.” Theo reminds, snapping Bucky from his lovestruck expression and earning a nod, still adorning that charming smile on the sergeant’s face.

Coming to an abbrupt stop, Theo scrunches his nose a little, a sharp inhale following as a particular scent invaded Theo’s rather sensitive nose, he looked to his partner and gave Bucky a knowing look.

“Let me guess…Steve?” Bucky sighs, the smile finally leaving his face at the thought of the troublesome Alpha-dud. “That guy, I swear.” Bucky grumbles, “Lead the way.”

Theo rolled his eyes at Bucky’s change of attitude, but followed his sensitive Omega nose down a few streets and to the right- into a dark alleyway. Bucky instinctually moved in front of Theo in an attempt to protect him and make him feel secure and safe, but it didn’t have much of an affect when Theo himself was of the same muscle mass, though he appreciated the effort despite being the tallest between the two. Though in saying that, the hidden claiming mark between his shoulder blades throbbed at Bucky’s action in a lower purr.

He’d be able to fight just as well as Bucky, but a small smile still grew on his face at the funny Alpha’s move to protect him. It was a nice thought, Theo supposed.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” An unknown voice chimed, confidence radiating from his words alone. He was no doubt an arrogant drunk Alpha just by the man’s tone, yet alone the disgusting smell of his drunk scent.

“I can do this all day.” Steve mutters, taking another solid hit to the face as the stranger attacks him.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.” Bucky voices, standing tall and proud, the embodiment of an Alpha.

The stranger clicks his tongue in aggravation, forgetting Steve in seconds to instead swing his fist toward Bucky. Bucky however, twists the man around skilfully before kicking him to the ground and motioning for the now frightened drunk to leave.

He does so without a moment’s hesitation, earning a low chuckle from Theo.

Theo then quickly approaches Steve’s side in seconds, fingers delicately brushing against Steve’s wounded and bruised face, Theo frowns at the damage, a saddened sigh leaving his lips. Steve glanced away, ashamed of being the cause to the disappointed sigh, much less from his packmates (even if not technically true, Bucky and Theo made it abundantly clear that the dud was stuck with them).

“Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.” Bucky comments, swinging his arm over Steve’s shoulder.

“I had him on the ropes.” Steve states with confidence, holding his head high. Moving away from Steve, Bucky picks up a discarded parchment from the cold and wet concrete of the alley. It was an enlistment form.

“How many times is this?” Bucky questions, raising an eyebrow. He then reads over the paper in his hands, snorting at the information. “Oh, you’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form.” Bucky rambles with a sigh.

“And seriously, Jersey?” Theo adds, a frown on his face.

“You two get your orders?” Steve changes the subject, looking at both their uniforms.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes and Medical Officer Theo King. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Bucky chimed with a grin, pulling Theo back to his side, in-between Steve and himself. Steve gave them a tight smile, they looked so perfect and happy, ready to serve their country in war.

“I should be going.” Steve grumbles.

Bucky shakes his head, “Come on, man. It’s our last night! Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?” Steve asks, confusion on his face.

“The future.” Bucky answers, handing Steve a newspaper article, on it is the ad for the World Exposition Of Tomorrow.

“Come on, Stevie. Let’s get you cleaned up back at the nest.” Theo suggested, a rare but charming smile of his own on display for the dud.

..

The ‘nest’ as Theo called it was more like an assortment of blanket’s and pillows on the ground, two thin-cheap mattresses underneath. All Omega’s have a nest, it brings them comfort and security as it’s their most sacred place. It’s where they raise their pups. But for this rag-tag group, it works just fine as a regular bed to sleep in.

Although it smelt mostly of subtle Theo’s Vanilla bean scent, there was still the faint smell of Bucky’s cinnamon as well. Steve often found himself wondering what his own scent would of smelt like if he wasn’t an Alpha-dud. Strong and powerful? Seductive and safe like leather? Or warm and calm, like apple pie?

Dressing Steve up, Bucky didn’t waste time in grabbing the two and dragging them all the way to the Stark Expo. The child-like wonder Bucky had on his face had Theo show that small smile again, Steve however just looked uncomfortable. Most people weren’t as accepting of duds as Theo and Bucky were, to some they smelt rotten and to others it was a curse.

Theo gave the odd Alpha a reassuring smile, placing an arm around his shoulder and pulling the small man to his side. Bucky smiled at the two as he returned from the food vendor with a carton of popcorn.

“Shall we?” Bucky inquired with an excited glint in his eyes as he led the two toward the Expo’s stage.

Music began playing as the stage lights up, an Announcer introduces the show with an unnatural energy in his voice. He seemed a little fed up with introducing the same show over and over.

“Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow. A greater world. A better world.”

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Steve felt himself being pushed backwards as the crowd squeezed themselves closer to the stage with excitement and uncaring for those around them. However, without warning the sudden pressure was gone and Theo draped his arms over Steve’s shoulders, looking up at the stage with a similar excitement in his unique almost electric blue orbs.

Steve let out a small breath of relief as Theo shuffled him to stand at the front, sacrificing his own body to be on the receiving end of all the pushes and shoves.

Most would probably just assume Theo was an Alpha anyway, all the mixing of scents made it incredibly hard to identify anyone’s sub-gender- Theo’s unusual body build just made stranger’s have a harder time trying to categorise him. Besides, Theo’s scent was so subtle that it was only if your nose was against his skin, that you could detect that addicting smell identifying him as Omega. Though of course, Bucky was incredibly sensitive to Theo’s smell as his Alpha- a connection Steve would never understand as a dud.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!” A woman cheers, ushering the famous Stark onto the stage. Howard enters with a wide obnoxious smile, kissing the female announcer before pushing her away. Very old-school Alpha.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all.” Howard inquires, and a few female Beta’s wearing velvet blue, red and white American coloured dresses help take the wheels from a car on stage.

“Yes. Thanks, Ladies.” Howard tips his head at the lady helpers, “With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” He turns on the switch to his machine and the car starts to magically hover off the ground. Everyone is silent and wide-eyed at the display.

“Holy cow.” Bucky murmurs in amazement.

Without warning the mechanisms holding the car in the air start to malfunction and the car falls back onto the stage.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard chuckles, the crowd laughs.

“Hey, Steve, what do you say we…” Bucky pauses as he sees the empty space in front of Theo. Theo follows his gaze, a surprised expression on his face as he realises Steve managed to slip from Theo’s arms without him noticing.

Looking around, the two of them push against the flow of the crowd in order to reach the recruitment/ enlisting office, where no doubt Steve had wandered off to. Theo’s keen sense of smell only confirmed their suspicions as they escaped from the large crowd, making it easier to track that almost rotten scent of Steve’s.

With their uniforms still on, Bucky and Theo received a few head nods and smiles as they moved around the recruitment centre with ease. Bucky sighed as he saw Steve standing on the height measurement scale. Standing in front of a mirror but he’s far too short to fill out the body projected.

“Come on.” Bucky ushered, guiding Steve toward the exit of the centre. “You’re kind of missing the point of a pack activity. We were going to go dancing.”

Steve shakes his head, “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” Steve states, his eyes drifting back to the centre.

“You’re really gonna do this again?” Bucky sighed.

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.” Steve shrugs.

“As who?” Bucky lightly snaps, “Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” Bucky ends, his voice softening as Steve’s eyes drift to the ground.

“Look, I know you two don’t think I can do this.” Steve states, his quiet voice cracking slightly.

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve.” Theo adds, his eyes sympathetic.

“It war!” Bucky corrects.

“I know it’s a war. You don’t have to tell me.” Steve states.

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.” Bucky inquires, raising an accusing eyebrow.

“What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal…” Steve trails off.

“Yes!” Bucky exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. His frustration was beginning to effect the strangers around him as he unknowingly was emitting his scent in strong waves- trying to get Steve to submit to his ideals.

“…in my little red wagon.” Steve finishes his sentence.

“Why not?” Bucky asks, worry in his expression.

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve mumbles.

“I don’t…” Bucky trails off as Theo gives his shoulder a squeeze, Bucky looks around him, noticing the wary strangers walking around their small pack. He sighs, reaching up to squeeze Theo’s hand in reassurance. Calming him also in the process, his scent thinning out.

“Buck, come on!” Steve pleads, “There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.” Steve states with strong conviction. A sad smile makes its way onto Theo’s face.

“Right. Cause you got nothing to prove.” Bucky mumbles.

“Come on, Sarge. Aren’t we going dancing?” Theo voices, giving a nod to Steve. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise at Theo’s sudden change of thought, he returns the nod discretely while Bucky looks Theo’s way.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky rolls his eyes, “Don't do anything stupid until we get back.” Bucky orders Steve.

Steve grins, “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

“You’re a punk.” Bucky states shaking his head, leading himself and Theo away from the centre.

“Jerk.” Steve mutters, “Be careful. Don’t win the war till I get there!” He calls out to them. Theo looks back at Steve, waving him off, Steve rolls his eyes returning to the recruitment centre’s entrance.

“Sounds like they’re playing our song.” Bucky comments with a cheeky smile. Theo hits his shoulder lightly.

“You say that all the time.” Theo retorts, pressing his lips to Bucky’s before the Alpha could respond. Bucky smiled into the kiss, rocking them side-to-side as the music guided his steps. Lost in a little corner of the dancing hall, away from prying eyes.

“You know…” Bucky starts, “I’m beginning to think you’re not on my side anymore.”

Theo hums, allowing the Alpha to finally dig his nose against Theo’s neck and draw in as much of that vanilla scent as the sergeant wanted.

“I’m sorry…” Theo trailed off, “I know it’s a bad idea- it’s just…”

Bucky pulls away, a concerned expression littering his face, “What? What is it?”

Theo shakes his head, “I know it sounds crazy, but- I swore I saw Sarah right besides him.”

Bucky blinks at the unexpected answer before chuckling, “You are crazy.”

Theo scowls playfully, “Careful choosing your next words, Barnes, I’m not above giving you a concussion.”

Bucky hums, hugging the tall Omega even closer to his person, “That must make me even crazier for loving you.”

~

Blinking his eyes sluggishly open, Theo groaned at the throbbing of his skull, trying to rub his forehead which seemed to be the source of his irritation. However, his arms did nothing of the sort- instead it sent Theo into panic as he took in his surroundings. Arm and legs strapped to a metal table, Theo’s memory snapped into place as he remembered the mission his squadron was sent on.

“Awake, I see?” A voice chimed. “You know, I’ve never come across someone an Omega as extraordinary as you. You’re quite the anomaly.”

Theo’s head snapped toward the direction the voice emitted from and he glared at the short Beta speaking to him. “Let me out of here!” Theo hissed, pulling at the restrains tying him down.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re far too intriguing for me to simply throw away.” The Dr. stated, “For whatever reason, you were born bigger and stronger than the average Omega. Thankfully for me- it means you are far more resistant than all the others. Your body has already accepted the serum-“

“Where’s Bucky?!” Theo interrupted.

The Dr. hummed, “Sergeant Barnes. Your Alpha?” Zola inquired. Theo snarled at the short man.

“If you hurt a hair on his head-“

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Zola stated, adding to the notebook in his hands.

“Sedate him. Let’s move him to the main lab, there seems to be something else inside him which-“ An explosion goes off, shaking the building and Zola cuts himself short before pressing his lips together. “Get him out of here. Evacuate him now. I need him.”

..

“Did it hurt?” Bucky voices randomly, stumbling behind Steve on his own. Slowly regaining his consciousness, but his focus was mainly on the fact Steve was so damn tall all of a sudden, and smelling like apple pie.

“A little.” Steve shrugged, looking down the hallway and checking the coast.

“Is it permanent?” Bucky asks.

“So far.” Steve answers, motioning for Bucky to follow.

At the sight of Zola, Bucky growls, unable to stop himself as rage filled his person. “Where is he?” He yells.

Zola gives him a crooked smirk, “Alive.” Was all he said.

“Captain America! How Exciting! I’m a great fan of your films. So Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still impressive.” Johann rants, head of Hydra.

Steve punches him in the face without hesitation. “You’ve got no idea”

“Haven’t I?” Johann leaps forward, aiming a punch at Steve but the Captain protects himself with his shield. As they fight, Zola pulls a leaver and the catwalk they are standing on retracts to either side, separating them both.

“No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see I was his greatest success!” Johann exclaims, peeling off the skin on his face to reveal that he is the Red Skull.

“You don’t have one of those, do you?” Bucky asks quietly.

“You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!” The Red Skull states, stepping into an elevator with Zola at his side.

Despite Johann’s words, one major difference between them was Steve’s Apple Pie scent. The Red Skull smelt like nothing. He was no longer an Alpha. He indeed, like he said, had left his humanity behind.

“Then how come you’re running?” Steve argues as the elevator door closes. Sighing, the Captain directs Bucky to the stairs, “Come on, let’s go. Up.”

Steve and Bucky find a beam that’d get them to the other side of the Hydra base, toward the way out. If they want to escape, they had no other option but to cross.

“Let’s go. One at a time.” Steve advises, letting Bucky go first. Bucky reaches the other side but the metal beam collapses afterward, leaving Steve stranded.

“Gotta be a rope or something!” Bucky yells to Steve over the sound of the roaring fire of explosions beneath them.

“Just go! Get out of here!” Steve shouts back.

“No! Not without you!” Bucky states, and Steve sprints to the edge, jumping over the chasm of flames.

~

Returning to camp, cheers surrounded the survivors of the one-o-seven. It should be a time to celebrate, and for Steve’s sake it definitely was, but Bucky could only hope he’d be able to return Steve’s smile when he faced him next, despite how fake it would be.

But when Steve did, when Steve turned his head to his side, looking down at the now shorter Alpha- his smile vanished in seconds. Bucky had lost Theo, obviously there was still hope for the Omega. He was alive, Zola had said so himself. But what did that mean? What did that mean for Theo?

Bucky’s expression was dull, he looked like he barely had a will to continue. Bucky’s bright blue eyes, Theo often described them as diamonds- had shattered, they were now a shadowed grey, lifeless.

Steve felt conflicted. As a Alpha-dud, his pack was with Bucky and Theo. Normally he’s consider Theo his Omega as well, but with his sudden development into an Alpha- Steve felt that Peggy was now his Omega, his pack.

Although he never claimed Theo, the Omega’s neck still had Bucky’s bite. They had a connection Steve never understood. They could read each other and speak without words. Even feel each other’s pain to an extent.

Steve didn’t know what to do, Bucky would never return to his previous self unless they found Theo alive and returned to the camp, Steve had heard of stories about Alpha who’d lost their counterpart- none of them ended well.

..

Steve joins Bucky at the bar counter, the background was filled with everyone’s singing of joy. Bucky however looked like death himself, skin pale and with more than his usual stack of alcoholic beverages in front of him.

“See?” Bucky slurred, a smile on his face as he looked at Steve. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “I told you. They’re all idiots.”

“How about you?” Steve asked softly, still not used to acting or behaving like an Alpha. “You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

Bucky snorts as he chugs another glass empty. “Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight. I’m following him.” Bucky stated, leaning heavily against the table top. “But you’re keeping the outfit, right?”

“You know what? It’s kind of growing on me.” Steve replies.

The singing in the bar stops as Peggy rounds the bar in a tight fitting, deep-red dress heading straight toward Steve. Both Steve and Bucky stand up in acknowledgement.

“Captain.” Peggy greets, Bucky sniffles his nose at her scent. After bonding with Theo, all the other Omega’s smelt too sweet or not sweet enough.

“Agent Carter.” Steve responds with a small smile.

“Ma’am.” Bucky nods.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” Peggy suggests.

“Sounds good.” Steve agrees.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.” Peggy comments, looking over briefly at the drunk group of men singing to their hearts content. She frowns a little.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky voices.

“I do, actually. I might even when this is all over, go dancing.” She shrugs.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bucky snorts turning back to face the bar.

“The right partner.” Carter answers without hesitation. “0800, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” Steve nods, waving goodbye as the agent walked off. Bucky grumbled under his breath as the agent left.

“We’re not going to give up, Buck. We’ll find him.” Steve promised

~

“You are failing!” The Red Skull screamed in Zola’s face, his expression was of nothing but pure rage. Practically roaring at the scientist with unhinged emotion.

Captain America and the Howling Commando’s had destroyed many of Hydra’s bases. Fuelled by winning the war and finding their lost Omega friend.

“We are close to an offensive network that will shake the plant. And yet we are continually delayed, because you cannot outwit a simpleton with a shield!” Red Skull growls. And Zola’s short stature shrunk even further at the intimidating and threatening stance the Red skull was loaming over him with.

“This is hardly my area of expertise. I… I merely develop the weapons. I… I cannot fire them.” Zola explains quickly, looking for any excuse to save his life and the continuation of his beloved work/ experimentations.

“And your experiment, Doctor? What of the Omega?” Johann asks.

“It will take more time. But I believe he’ll be a great asset.” Zola assures. “I haven’t an answer yet, but his blood has fused with some sort of power source, something that he looks to have been born with. I believe I can harness that power, given more time. Something is obstructing its full release and capabilities-”

Johann interrupts with a sigh, “Finish your mission, Doctor. Before the American finishes his. And make sure your little experiment is safe from his hands. Move the Omega to our more… secluded bases of operation.”

“Yes, sir.” Zola bows, glee in his eyes at the thought of his most upcoming experiment.

~

1953.

“Wake him.” The head doctor and scientist of Hydra orders, “The soldier’s having another fit.”

A low hissing noise fills the room as the ice-cold chamber melts in seconds, releasing a wave of steam into the room which blinded the group of anxious scientists for mere moments before exposing the resting form waiting within.

“Asset?” The doctor calls, standing a clear distance from the cylinder.

Not a second later and a black combat boot slams onto the ground, hands at the edge of the cyro-freezing chamber for support.

“Ready to comply.” The monotone voice of Theo whisks into the air, sending shivers down the doctor’s spines, Alpha or not- He was intimidating, that was a fact. The Alpha’s in the room stared at him wide-eyed, he was not the typical Omega at all. There was no doubt in their minds why he was paired with the Winter Soldier.

He was tall for an Omega; taller than most Beta’s and even Alpha’s- his height grew more as the serum began it’s work. Moving him from barely 5’10, to 6 foot. His body was fit, muscles spread across his entire body from years of training and discipline.

A quite apparent/obvious change in the Omega however was his hair, what was once midnight black strands of hair are now as white as freshly fallen snow. His electric honey golden eyes now a unnaturally glowing orange.

A blood red tattoo was branded onto the side of his neck, the symbol Hydra had also printed onto the Soldier’s metal arm. On the Asset’s neck was the recognisable red star of their cause, large and covering the majority of skin like a virus.

The head scientist nodded to the few soldiers’ in the room, and they wordlessly pulled Theo’s arms in front him and placed reinforced cuffs around his wrists. Without warning the shoved him forward, he stumbled just very slightly, easily able to catch himself and shift to walking in any direction they wished for him to go.

The walk was mostly a silent one, but everyone was rigid and tense with anticipation. While the Omega was restrained, he could, if he so wished, overpower many of the soldiers escorting him- even with the inhibitors restricting that uncontrolled power of his. Something which years ago, the Red Skull was becoming obsessed in finding the true source of.

Opening the door, random to the many lining the hallway, there inside was an empty confined room, the Asset was directed to a chair. Which he obediently took a seat upon, and as instructed- he simply waited. The mixture of doctor’s, scientist’s and soldiers hurriedly left the room, and Theo was left with his arms still stuck together in front of him by those specialised cuffs as the room delved into a darkness at the slamming of the cell door.

But he didn’t have to wait very long before loud shouts, orders and shuffled movement filled the end of the hall before approaching closer and closer with the sound of a struggle, then a body was thrown into the room, tossed harshly to the concrete before Theo’s feet as the door slamming after this stranger.

The man looked wild, his eyes flickering all over the place and his hair matted due to lack of grooming. His eyes pierced Theo’s causing his body to freeze in alert, but at the simple smell of Theo’s scent, the Soldier approached the cuffed Omega more confidently- more needy.

The soldier buried his nose to the Omega’s neck, finding the vanilla scent addictive, familiar and safe, despite missing all the memories associated with this person. The Asset’s eyes remained staring ahead, unfocused and dull like a robot. His posture was slumped and mouldable as the Soldier roughly pushed his head to the side, trying to gain as much access as possible to the gland before biting down on it.

Orange orbs narrowed at the pain and flickered over to meet the Alpha’s, earning a low growl from him. The soldier was animalistic, practically drooling as he sucked desperately at the taste of vanilla, it acted as a sort of medicine and calming agent.

The serum had increased the Soldier’s height as well, from 5’10 to 6 foot 2. His build overall was a lot bigger and more combat ready than the Asset’s muscular but lean one. Even with the enhancement of his body, Theo’s Omega genes still made his bones more brittle, light and fragile- physically stronger than an average Alpha but weaker than someone like the Soldier, especially when the Alpha had the aid of a vibranium man.

The Soldier’s metal fingers tightened their hold on Theo’s head of white hair, warning the Omega to back down; Theo reluctantly shifted his gaze back to the wall behind the Alpha.

Pulling at the Asset’s like a rag doll, the Soldier knocked over the wooden chair and dragged the Omega onto the concrete floor before shifting his body over Theo’s, trapping him to the ground.

The Asset couldn’t do anything to move, his hands were restrained and his legs were stuck on either side of the Alpha’s waist, he couldn’t kick the Soldier even if he wanted to. A low purring-like sound left the Alpha’s lips as he rested his ear against Theo’s chest, listening to the relaxing sound of the Omega’s steady and slow heartbeat.

He was stuck there for an hour before the Hydra soldiers waiting outside deemed it safe enough to quickly shoot a sedative at the Winter Soldier and remove the Alpha from the cell and back to his cyro-chamber.

Men rushed into the room upon noting the Soldier had been lured into deep and rare rest, most likely he’d be dragged first to the brainwashing chair the Asset knew all too well.

Theo was then hauled to his feet and ushered back into the Doctors lab. He was told to lie against the metal table, and without hesitation, Theo did as told. Robotically slipping onto the table and allowing his cuffs to be removed cautiously, before immediately being replaced with the inbuilt restraints into the table itself.

All precautionary, as Theo would guess he’d lashed out in the past, though he couldn’t recall ever doing so thanks to that memory-wiping chair.

The Doctor shuffled through his notebook and lab report before addressing the additional staff, they carefully cut away at the replaceable Hydra uniform Theo was wearing. Pulling the thin shirt from his body, the staff examined the long cut running down the lower half of Theo’s stomach.

“Good. No issues with healing the incision.” The head doctor commented. “Asset. We have a mission for you.”

~

2014.

The white-haired assassin fiddled with the familiar cuffs around his wrists, flexing his hands open and closed mindlessly. The Hydra agents seated around in in the van watched him warily as he become more impatient. Theo’s orange orbs flickering lowly around the van as it drove at high speeds, dodging and weaving traffic at the command for reinforcement, Theo was careful not to meet anyone’s eyes, that’d only result in punishment for displaying rebellious tendencies.

Skidding to a very fast stop, one of the many Hydra agents wearing a fake SWAT uniform comes to stand in front of the Asset, he fumbles hurriedly with a small electronic key before unlocking the assassin’s cuffs with a quick scan. The inhibitors were deactivated.

The Asset stands without hesitation and follows the agents out of the back of the van as it’s doors are kicked open, his mask was locked tightly into place and couldn’t be taken off without a similar mechanism to the electronic key that had previously been used by that Hydra agent earlier. It kept the Asset’s identity hidden from people that could identify him as Theo King. But it’s true use was as a muzzle, keeping the Asset from lashing out when they tested on him. Keeping his mouth shut until they wanted otherwise.

Marching up to the black government issued SUV, reinforced no doubt as it was littered with unsuccessful shots at the windows. Nick Fury glanced out the window in fright as the Asset’s form marched closer to his window, quickly he slid over to the passenger’s seat. He was expecting a battering ram. Not some juiced up mercenary with hauntingly orange glowing eyes.

The Assassin pulled his fist back-

“Warning! Window integrity compromised.” Fury’s car system warned, red lights flashing all over the place.

Theo’s forearm erupted into black flame and smoke, which soon died to reveal blackened skin and claw-like nails- it was something demonic looking for sure.

The window shatters as a fist meets it, but it doesn’t brake. Fury looks at the white-haired male with surprise and horror. He had no idea of what he was. But he needed to know who he was. No normal human could smash a reinforced SHEILD SUV with just their fists.

“You think?” Fury panic’s, “How long to propulsion?” He inquires the AI.

“Calculating-“ Another hit to the window, “Window integrity thirty-one percent. Deploying countermeasures-“

“Hold that order!” Fury quickly interrupts. Another hit to the window.

“Window integrity nineteen percent. Offensive measures advised-“

“Wait!” Fury growls. Another hit.

“Window integrity one percent.”

“Now!” Fury orders and without delay a small mini-gun pulls up from the inside of the car and Fury wastes no time using it to return fire on the mercenaries.

The Asset shields his face with his arms. Bullets ripped through the skin on his arms, but never got past the bulletproof armour he had covering his chest. The force of the attack sent him to the ground and by the time the bullets were pushed from his arms as his skin healed- the target was racing away in his car.

“Target on the move.” One of the surviving agents said, speaking into the device on his wrist. “Moving Asset to the Soldier’s location.”

The agent waved over a passing Hydra van, and the Asset took himself a seat. Skin regaining it’s naturally pale tone, it revealed Theo’s arms coated in blood, but incredibly the wounds were already halfway through its healing process.

When the van came to its stop, the doors were opened and Theo jumped from the vehicle, landing effortlessly on the road just as the Soldier detonated the remote explosive he’d shot underneath the target’s SUV.

Fury’s vision was blurry as he recomposed himself, he glanced at his attackers, eyes wide at the new masked threat. And he was shocked to see the white-haired male still alive at all and without indicating pain or injury.

Unclipping his pistol from his belt, the Asset stayed back while the Soldier approached the vehicle, ready for any surprise escape attempts on foot.

Trapped inside his upside down car, Fury watches as the mysterious new threat walked slowly toward him, reloading his gun as he did so. Fury however manages to escape just in time by using a pencil-sized laser to burn open a sewage entrance.

The Soldier rips the damaged door off its hinges with his metal arm, there is however no one inside, prompting him to clip his weapon back into place and return to the Asset’s side as they waited for a pick up.

Not a second later and the same van Theo was on previously pulled up to a stop and the back doors swung open for both of them.

The Asset was promptly ushered back into the van, the Soldier pushing him forward with a hand at the back of his neck. The Asset glared back at the Soldier and his small display of dominance. Entering the van and taking a seat, Theo’s hands were quickly cuffed once more (inhibitors activated) before returning to base.

Mission was a failure.

~

At his home Alexander Pierce goes to his kitchen, and opens his fridge to pull out a carton of milk. He pauses as he sees the Winter Soldier seated at his table, just barely visible within the shadows, a gun however was very visible as the light shined and reflected off of it, the Soldier pulls it out as Pierce’s Housekeeper calls out to him from the other side of the wall.

“I’m going to go, Mr. Pierce. You need anything before I leave?” She calls out.

“No. Uh…” Pierce pauses as from behind the Solder, and Theo comes into view. “…it’s fine, Renata, you can go home.” He replies.

“Okay, night-night.” She calls in farewell.

“Good night.” Pierce responds, his eyes never leaving the two in front of him. “Want some milk?” He offers as Renata closes the door behind her. The Soldier doesn’t reply, and Pierce certainly doesn’t expect the Asset to either. His mask-like muzzle restricted him physically from saying a word.

“The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Two targets, Level Six” Piece picks up his glass of milk and joins the Soldier at the table. He stills slightly as he sniffs the air, “Seems like your suppressants are fading, Omega.” Pierce hums, a smile on his face as he shifts his gaze to the Asset. Pierce could feel his inner Alpha groan at the smell and he'll admit that he had a struggle to remain composed in front of the two assassin’s. Theo’s sweet scent of vanilla bean, typically you’d never think to use suppressants on an Omega. It can become incredibly damaging to the body. But it didn’t take long for Doctor’s and Hydra agents alike to realise the serum had altered the smell of his scent.

Zola theorised that because Theo’s body had been changed further, more masculine and Alpha, overall less Omega- his hormones were trying to counteract the imbalance by making his scent more potent. It got to the point where Hydra had no choice but to place the Omega on suppressants in order to stop other Alpha’s from trying to breed with him.

Technically his scent shouldn’t even be as strong as a normal Omega, because he bonded with Bucky. He has an Alpha, so his body no longer has the need to try ‘seduce’ other Alpha’s.

Yet something in the serum made his inner Omega feel un-bonded, the scent was a problem even for mated/ bonded Alpha’s whom should be repulsed by the smell of another Omega- yet this again was not the case.

While on suppressants, only the Soldier was able to still smell Theo’s scent. And that again, was just because they were bonded. Hydra used it to their advantage of course, when either the Asset or Soldier became unstable- it was a simple as putting the two together in the same space.

Swallowing his mouthful of milk, Pierce continued, “They already cost me Zola. I want a confirmed death in ten hours-“ Renata (the housekeeper) walks back into the room, cutting Pierce off.

“Sorry, Mr. Pierce, I… I forgot my phone.” She stammers noticing the two figures in the dark.

Pierce clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Oh, Renata. I wish you would have knocked.” He grumbles, picking up the gun the Winter Soldier had placed on the table and shooting at her without hesitation, killing her in seconds with an experience shot centre of her head.

“Get him some suppressants immediately and be on your way.” Pierce orders the Soldier, Winter nods his head, standing up and disappearing without a trace, Theo following his example.

Reaching HQ, the Hydra agents had a hard time separating the Soldier from the Asset, Winter was snarling, growling and snapping at those that got too close. Theo kept his gaze to the ground, letting the agents drag the Soldier away, much to Theo’s regret as every instinct in his body is screaming at him to stay by the Soldier’s side.

The Asset returned to the Lab, his usual destination within Hydra as the Doctor injects a large dose of suppressants, distributing the shots around Theo’s body. Before examining his body once over before the mission early tomorrow morning.

~

Inside a bank vault, many Hydra agents move around the chair the Soldier is confined to, fixing his broken arm. The Soldier looks in front of him, eyes blank, mind empty.

“Sir, he’s… he’s unstable. Erratic.” A Hydra scientist warns Pierce as he storms into the bank vault. Rumlow is by his side as they make their way in front of the dazed Winter Soldier.

“Mission report.” Pierce demands. “Mission report, now.” He repeats, a frustrated sigh leaves mouth as the Soldier remains stubbornly silent. Something was obviously plaguing the weapon.

“Where’s the Omega?” Pierce growls, eyes looking around him and daring someone to speak.

“The Asset is still under- it takes time for his body to adjust to the suppressants.” One of the scientists answer.

Pierce growls at the answer, it meant harder control over the Soldier when he became like this.

“The man on the bridge… Who was he?” The Soldier voices, catching Pierce’s attention.

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.” Pierce answers quickly.

“I knew him.” Winter mumbles.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we’re gonna give it a push. But, if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine, and Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.” Pierce states, like reading a script said a thousand times previously.

“But I knew him.” The soldier pushed.

“Prep him.” Pierce orders.

“He’s been out of cryo-freeze too long.” A scientist voices.

“Then wipe him and start over.” Pierce hisses, “And while you’re at it, keep the Omega under and send him to Siberia. The Soldier will follow after the mission.” Pierce states.

~

2016.

Bucky groaned as his eyes open and he regained consciousness, blinking sluggishly for his vision to focus before realising his metal arm was trapped in a huge vice. He tugged at the restraint but his arm didn’t move an inch. Eyes flickering about the place, he concluded quickly that he’d been brought to a warehouse of some kind- Bucky flinched as a helicopter flew overhead, and worry filled him at the thought of being caught yet again.

But then his attention was brought elsewhere when he heard shuffling steps, and in his line of vision was Sam Wilson, leaning against a pillar.

“Hey, Cap!” Sam called out, the raise in volume had Bucky subtly duck down instinctually to hide, were they trying to be caught?

Steve no sooner rounded the corner past Sam and eyed Bucky cautiously as he approached.

“Steve.” Bucky recalled in an exhausted drawl.

Steve clenched his jaw, “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

Bucky paused, face displaying a blank expression as he realised he did remember, or he remembered more than he did before, in fact he remembered that-

“Your mom’s name is Sarah.” Bucky blurted, before chuckling at another memory, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes…”

Steve almost smiled, “You can’t read that in a museum.”

“And just like that we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam huffed, narrowing his eyes at Bucky but directing the question to Steve.

Bucky frowned, “What did I do?”

“Enough.” Steve stated.

Bucky sighed, lowing his gaze further, “I knew this would happen... Everything Hydra put inside of me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?” Steve inquired.

“I don’t know.” Bucky admitted.

Steve shook his head, “People are dead- the bombing, the set-up- the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know’.”

Bucky frowned, looking at his feet as he racked through his muddled memory for an answer that would be of actual help, and like a switch he begun remembering.

“He wanted to know about Siberia… Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where…” Bucky trailed off, just as confused as the Steve and Sam were.

“Why would he need to know that?” Steve pushed.

Bucky instantly slumped at the answer which came into his head, “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier.”

Steve and Sam followed Bucky’s action and slumped their shoulders in mild defeat at such an undesirable response, containing Bucky had been difficult on its own- for there to be more…

“Who were they?” Steve eventually asked, taking Sam’s approach to lean against one of the warehouse pillars.

“The most elite death squad, more kills than anyone in Hydra history, and that was before the serum.” Bucky spilled robotically, the information drilled into the depth of his brain.

“They all turn out like you?” Sam voiced.

“Worse.” Bucky whispered, but was still heard.

“The doctor, could he control them?” Steve questioned.

“Enough.”

“(The doctor) Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Steve quoted.

“With these guys he could do it. They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise- they can take a whole country down in one night and you’d never see them coming.” Bucky spoke in a monotone, cringing at the information popping up into his head as he spoke.

Sam ushered Steve closer to him for a private conversation, Bucky wasn’t bothered to listen to them, more so his head was flashing quickly with random memories that didn’t seem to be in any order, it wasn’t until one in particular enter his head that Bucky jolted at his instincts flaring to life, he still had an Omega to find.

~

Theo awoke with a sharp gasp of air, as pain radiated from his chest, he reached quickly to place pressure upon the wound, a gunshot through-

“You know, you should be dead.” Someone drawled in an exhausted tone. “That went right through your heart.”

Theo’s eyes flashed to the source, seeing an familiar face looking right back at him, someone he’d seen and read about in Hydra files, but had yet to ever meet in person (in a likely assassination). Eyes drifting to the environment around them, Theo concluded that the Hydra base was no longer in function, a sigh of relief almost left his lips as he spotted the dead bodies still within their cryo-chambers, that elite death squad scared him- the stories of their strength even against someone like his Alpha, the Winter Soldier.

“Hey-“ Theo’s eyes darted back to the wounded man, “What’s your name?”

“I’m the Asset.” Theo responded cautiously in a low robotic tone as he pushed himself out of his own cryo-chamber, landing with stumbling unsteady feet thanks to that blood-loss.

“You’re Hydra.” The stranger realised, “You look so young…”

Theo said nothing to the man, deciding instead to stumble in the direction of the other cryo-chambers around the corner, needing to confirm they were permanently gone to the world.

“They’re dead.”

“I know.” Theo responds, eyes lingering over the bodies without glowing orange souls.

“Hydra’s gone, kid.” The man shares, “They’ve been gone a while.”

“Did the Soldier survive?” Theo asks.

Tony Stark goes rigid at the question, rage fuels him quickly before leaving just as fast- “I’m not sure.”

Theo nods with a sigh that caught Tony off guard, “Why?” He blurted, curiosity getting the better of him.

Theo frowns, crossing his arms tightly to his chest, “That’s my Alpha.”

Tony was shocked, “You’re Omega?”

“Yes.” Theo confirmed.

Tony clears his throat, pushing away the many questions swarming in his head, “What’re you going to do now?”

Theo thought about the question, knowing that the Stark was only asking to make sure Theo didn’t intend on continuing Hydra’s legacy, Theo didn’t have much to say, he didn’t even know where to start- his only memories were of Hydra and nothing but.

“I don’t know.” Theo admitted, the Winter Soldier needed him more than Theo needed to see the Soldier, Alpha’s relied on Omega once bonded- whereas Theo could last a lifetime without his Alpha- especially considering he didn’t have any feelings for the brute, or at least, none that he remembered.

Tony bit his lip in thought, “Do you know where they kept their research files? I might be able to find more on you that way…”

Theo hesitated before nodding and guiding the limping billionaire through the facility.

“You are a lot less hostile than, Barnes.” Tony commented, spotting Theo’s confused expression he corrected himself, “Sorry, the Soldier I mean.”

Theo eyed the man before continuing down a narrow hallway.

“Just as quiet though.” Tony sighed.

Tony frowned, “Why haven’t you killed me?”

“I haven’t been assigned a mission or given orders.” Theo stated, “And you do not pose any threat to me.”

Tony scrunched his face up in offense, but silently agreed with the Hydra weapon whom he just now noticed, was no longer clutching at the bullet wound- that would certainly give the Omega an advantage. Added with the fact that Tony had discarded his broken suit back in the control room. Theo also had a good height and muscle advantage as well.

Entering the filing room, Tony darted to the old computer running on fumes. Fingers dancing across the keys, Tony seemed to find the code for the file he wanted- or two, considering he first went to the cabinets to the left before collecting another file to the right.

Dragging a stool over to a desk, which Tony cleared with the sweep of his arm, he opened the first file.

“Theodore King, a medical officer in one-o-seven squadron. Class: Omega. 18 years old upon capture- seems like someone lied about their enlistment age…” Tony mumbled. “… You’re enhanced.”

Tony turned to face the assassin, “Mind telling me what you can do?”

Theo frowned but released the sensitive information after reminding himself that Hydra was compromised if not completely destroyed, “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Try for me, kid.” Tony insisted.

Theo sighed, leaning against the edge of the desk Tony was occupying, “Imagine there are two… worlds on top of each other- both existing at the same time.”

“Like alternate dimensions?”

“No. Most people can either be in one world or the other-“

“Most?”

“Well that’s my enhancement. I walk on both.”

“Okay, tell me more about this other world, is it dangerous?”

“It can be, if I let it.” Theo frowned.

“Ok, and can you take anyone there?” Tony asked.

“Well yes, sort of.” Theo mumbled, “I’d have to kill you.”

Tony froze at such words, but relaxed at Theo’s lack of movement, he then put together all the pieces Theo had given him, “Wait- you’re telling me, you can interact the with dead?”

Theo grimaced at the description but nodded, “Yes.”

Tony pursed his lips before looking to Theo with a rather serious expression.

Finally, Sam glanced over, breaking the silence. “You ever think about dating again?” he asked as he saw a couple set up a picnic across the park. The question was so casual, but his curiosity was so… genuine.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, letting out humourless snort that barely counted as a laugh. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Really?” Sam’s eyebrows lifted, almost in disbelief. “You’re not even gonna try? Come on, man. There’s gotta be someone out there for you.”

A longing smile tugged at Bucky’s lips. He stared out at the park, his eyes distant. He watched the couple taking out some sandwiches to eat, sharing a milkshake from a nearby fast-food restaurant. They reminded him of a time before this one, before the war, when happiness seemed effortless, when it was… reachable.

“There was,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, “Met the love of my life back in the 40s. Never really looked for anyone else after that. No point.”

Sam tilted his head in sympathy. Bucky barely talked about anything in the 40s that was this personal. “You’ve never told me about her,” he said. “Wanna say more?”

Bucky hesitated, but only a little. His thumb idly traced the edge of his metal hand as he scoured his brain for the right words. “It’s a long story,” he said finally.

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Bucky wasn’t this open everyday. He had to try.  “I’ve got time,” he said with a grin that felt like an open door.

—

Brooklyn, 1940s

The bell above the door rang through the room as Bucky walked in with an effortless confidence that turned heads. Behind him, a short, skinny Steve Rogers hurried to keep up, his words tumbling out in a stream of frustration as he complained about a bully who’d picked on him earlier.

But Steve’s voice faded into nothing but white noise the second Bucky saw you behind the counter. 

You were a portrait of grace under pressure. 

You had plates with burgers and fries on both hand, balancing them expertly as you navigated the crowded diner floor. A flustered busboy darted in your path, but managed to sidestep him in one fluid, precise motion.

A gleam of sweat settled on the crease of your brows, a few stray strands of hair framing your face like a halo. 

But even as your cheeks flushed with a hint of stress, you still smiled at every customer. You were genuine and utterly polite, lighting up the room despite chaos unfolding around you.

Steve finally noticed that he no longer had his best friend’s attention anymore— but he couldn’t be mad when he followed his line of sight and saw you, too. “Whoa, Bucky,” he said, nudging him with an elbow. He knew exactly that you were Bucky’s type. “What a dame, huh?”

Bucky chuckled, though his usual cocky smirk softened was wiped from his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself “She’s something else.”

He knew you— but not personally. 

Last night, in a small boxing arena tucked away in a corner of Brooklyn, he’d watched you fight. 

He remembered you clearly; you were the main event, after all. 

You were in the center of the ring, gloves up in a defensive position. You weren’t the biggest fighter—not the strongest, either— but your technique was flawless. You were agile and quick on your feet, precise with your punches.

Last night, you took down Cathy Miller— Brooklyn’s pride and joy—in three rounds. 

Bucky was in the roaring crowd as Miller hit the mat, taken out in a clean technical knockout. 

And you’d barely broken a sweat, smiling casually at the victory as if the fight had been just another sparring session.

Bucky had been mesmerised. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, here you were. Not celebrating, but waiting tables as if last night hadn’t happened.  

It didn’t add up.

Why weren’t you taking a rest day? Why weren’t you celebrating your victory? 

Bucky sat on a stool and leaned against the counter with Steve beside him.

As you wiped your hands on a dishtowel, your eyes caught his, and for a split second, your mouth went agape.

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Of course, you recognized him. 

Everyone in the city who knows anything about boxing probably would.  The three-time YMCA welterweight boxing champ with a face taken straight from a movie reel. His name carried a reputation, not just of his titles, but of his charm.  

And you had to admit you were judging this book by his cover. You thought he was trouble, all right. You were familiar with the male boxing champion type— The cocky smirk, the arrogance, and the nerve to flirt with anyone in a skirt. 

You’d heard the stories: women fawned and men envied. Still, seeing him in the flesh was… disarming. The sharp jawline, the piercing blue eyes that… were staring right at you. 

You steadied yourself, reminding yourself to behave.

You approached the two of them— menus in hand. You set them down, offering a professional smile.  

“What’ll it be, boys?”  

Steve was the first to respond—sort of. His eyes widened as he finally saw you up close and recognised you.  

That’s why Bucky had been so distracted! You’re the boxer he had dragged Steve out to see last night!

Steve’s gaze darted between you and his best friend, and before he could say anything, Bucky leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the counter, tilting his head just with the most lovely smile.

“You’re the East Coast women’s champ, aren’t you?” he asked. You’d think it was condescending until you noted the admiration in his tone.

The question did make you pause. 

Most men didn’t know anything about women’s boxing, let alone the names and faces of its fighters. 

Your brow arched slightly as you tried to gauge if this was some kind of setup or just a well-aimed flirtation. “Yeah,” you said slowly. “That’s me.”  

Bucky’s smile only widened. “You were incredible,” he said, the words tumbling out with surprising enthusiasm. “I saw you fight last night. That third round against Miller? I’ve never seen footwork like that!”  

For a moment, you blinked at him. His praise felt… sincere. Men like him— champions— didn’t usually talk to women like this, at least not about their skill. 

Especially not about their victories.  

“Uh, thanks,” you managed, “Didn’t think someone like you would… know.”  

Bucky feigned offense so convincingly you almost stuttered. “Someone like me?” he repeated.

You shrugged, leaning on the counter. “Most boxers of your caliber think women don’t even belong in the ring.”  

That earned a genuine laugh as he leaned back slightly. “Well, most boxers are knuckleheads,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

From beside him, Steve snorted, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hide his amusement.

“Fair point,” you chuckled, “But maybe you’re less awful than most.”  

Steve, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to the best show in town, decided to step in. “You know, Bucky’s got a hell of a jab himself,” he said, “Maybe you two should spar sometime.”  

Your eyes flicked to Steve, then back to Bucky, whose grin had grown downright wicked. “Oh, I don’t know,” you said, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t want to bruise his pretty face.”  

—

Over the next few weeks, Bucky became a regular at the diner— he became your favorite part of the day.

It wasn’t a coincidence; he timed his visits, always showing up in the late afternoons or evenings, when the diner was quieter. And a part of you knew that he intentionally visited you in your downtime so he could have you all to himself.

He always asked about your boxing career— your training, your wins, your losses, and even the fights you couldn’t get. It wasn’t just polite small talk; he listened with genuine interest.

His eyes glimmered when you talked about your victories, his teeth clenched when you told him of the setbacks. He occasionally brushed his fingers against yours when you handed him a coffee, he always gave whatever stupid excuses came to mind to stay a bit longer.

It didn’t stop there. 

You’d started showing up at each other’s matches, too. 

At yours, he was impossible to miss: front row, shouting your name with Steve there, cheering for you, too. 

You’d never felt so supported— not even your parents liked this part of you. Women should be graceful, your family said. 

But with the boys cheering, that criticism faded to the background.

When you landed a solid hook, you heard Bucky shout, “That’s my girl!” and your heartbeat sped up in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline.  

In turn, you found yourself slipping into the back rows at his matches— the front row was always filled with rich folk betting on Bucky to win, and it was not the kind of crowd that took kindly to a woman’s presence.

But Bucky always saw you. You’d catch his eyes mid-fight. It was infuriating how good he was, the way he seemed to dominate the ring— It made you admire him more. 

You didn’t miss the way his smile grew when he saw you watching. He would wave at you before the bell rang, as if your presence was all the motivation he needed to win.

—

One evening, as the rush died down, you stood behind the counter and wiped it down.

Bucky leaned against it, his eyes firmly fixed on you. 

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was quieter than usual.

You glanced up, lifting an eyebrow. “Sure.”

He hesitated, running his tongue over his bottom lip in a way that made your breath hitch. “If you’re as good as I know you are,” he began, “why are you working here? Why aren’t you making a living off boxing?”

You let out a long, tired sigh, putting the rag away. “Because women don’t get a fair share, Barnes,” you said, “Promoters take a bigger cut of my wins than they do for men. Half the time, I have to beg just to get a fight. And when I do win, the prize money barely covers rent.” You shrugged, bitterness bubbling up in your words. “I love boxing, but it doesn’t pay the bills. This diner does.”

His hands curled into fists on the counter. “That’s bullshit,” he said, the words crackling with anger. After all this time… he should’ve known. He stayed so blissfully unaware, living in his own perfect little reality.

“Tell that to the world, Barnes.” You snorted, “Hell, I can’t even walk into a gym without getting harassed. Half the time, I have to fight just to get in the practice ring. And the guys…” You trailed off, hesitating before meeting his eyes. “Some of them try to scare me off. A few…” You paused, looking away. “A few try to get handsy. They think if they push hard enough, I’ll quit.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, a muscle flexing in his arm. He straightened, his fists pressing into the counter. “They what?” The fire in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You’d seen him fight; you knew what he was capable of. He considered asking you to point him in the right direction and deal with those boys, but then thought better of it. If you’d wanted them roughed up, you’d have done it yourself. You had a reputation to maintain, and getting your hands dirty like that wouldn’t do you any favours.

It doesn’t mean it was less wrong.

You forced a casual shrug, “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Bucky leaned closer, “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he said fiercely. “You shouldn’t have to handle that at all.”

For a moment, you couldn’t look away, caught in the vicinity of his anger—not at you, but for you. You saw it in the way his hands trembled, the way his eyes gently traced the lines of your face. 

“Look,” you reassured, your voice smaller now, “it’s just the way it is.”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” Bucky said again, his voice quieter this time but no less convinced.

“Thanks, Barnes,” you murmured, turning back to your work. But Bucky didn’t move. His eyes stayed on you, watching, thinking.

Planning.

Finally, Bucky leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You deserve better than this.”  

You looked up, your breath stolen away from your lungs as you found yourself inches away from him. The world outside the diner seemed to fall away.  

“And if the world won’t give it to you,” he said, “then I will.” 

Your heart stumbled at his words, at the promise. For a moment, you forgot how to form words. Before you could say anything, he smiled—charming, crooked, and devastatingly handsome—and pushed off the counter.

“See you soon,” he said, a flicker of that playful smirk returning as he headed for the door. 

—

The next day, Bucky surprised you in a way you never could have anticipated.

As your shift ended, you expected the usual silence of your walk to the gym. Instead, there he was— leaning casually against a lamppost, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, a familiar sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted as you approached. “C’mon.” He jerked his head, his grin widening.

“Where are we going?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him but following him anyway.

“You’ll see,” he said, his tone playful.

Following strange men are we? You could hear your mother’s voice in your head if she ever found out. But Bucky wasn’t a stranger, not anymore. 

He led you down a quieter side street, away from the busy buzzing of the main road. The walk was comfortable, and when you stopped in front of a modest gym tucked between two old buildings, you blinked in surprise. 

The lights inside were on, but the place was… quiet. No shouting, no clanging weights, there didn’t seem to be any people at all.

Bucky reached into his pocket, pulling out a key. He unlocked the door and pushed it open with a dramatic flare, turning to you with a shy, boyish smile. “Welcome to your new training spot.”

You stepped inside, taking in the pristine space. A well-worn boxing ring sat in the center, surrounded by punching bags and neatly stacked weights. It was perfect. 

You turned to him, incredulous.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice catching. “What… did you do?”

He shrugged, leaning against the wall. “I rented it,” he said simply. “Every Thursday night, this place is ours. No idiots heckling you, no trainers acting like they know better. Just you, me, and a safe space to train.”

Your heart twisted, mouth falling open. “I don’t even know how to thank you,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he replied, his lips twitching into a gentle grin. “But you can start by going easy on me when you teach me a few tricks.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” you chuckled playfully. “You want me to coach you?”

“You’re the most technically sound fighter I’ve ever seen,” he shot back, stepping closer, the teasing in his voice unmistakable. “Thought I could pick up a thing or two.” His grin widened. “And don’t worry, I’ll show you a few things too.”

“Fine,” you laughed, stepping past him toward the ring. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’ve got a pretty face.”

As the session began, the tension between you grew. What started as light sparring quickly became more… intense. Bucky’s punches were driven by instinct and strength, while you countered with precision, slipping past his defences.

“You’ve got to stop telegraphing that left hook,” you teased, stepping just out of his reach. “It’s like you’re announcing it with a drumroll.”

“And you’ve got to stop dropping your guard when you dodge,” he shot back, shaking out his arms. “You’re lucky I’m nice— I could’ve floored you three times by now.”

“Oh?” you quipped, your smirk widening. “Let’s see just how nice you really are.”

The back-and-forth only stoked the fire, your movements becoming faster, more fluid, as if the world outside the gym didn’t exist. The air grew thicker, charged with more than just adrenaline. His eyes lingered on you in fleeting pauses, making your breath hitch.

As the session went on, the boundary between sparring and something far more intimate blurred. His hand brushed yours as he passed you a water bottle, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. When you adjusted his stance, your hands on his shoulders, you swore you felt him shiver under your touch. 

And then it happened.

In the middle of a particularly heated round, Bucky feinted left, a move you didn’t expect. You countered on instinct, twisting with a speed and precision that sent him crashing to the mat. Before he could react, you were on top of him, pinning him down with a grin that was equal parts triumph and mischief.

“Well, well,” you teased, your voice breathless. “Looks like the great James Barnes isn’t as untouchable as he thinks he is.”

He laughed, the sound resonant and rough, his chest rising and falling beneath you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, the air seemed to shift again. His laughter quieted, his stare turning intense and borderline hungry.

“Guess not,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t know who moved first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you—but suddenly, your lips were on his, and the world fell silent. 

The kiss was everything: hot, urgent, and all-consuming. His hands came up to your waist, pulling you closer, while his other hand tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

Your fingers slid along the strong planes of his chest, your touch exploring the warmth of his skin through the damp fabric of his shirt. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own, the tension that had been building for weeks finally breaking free.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

“You’ve got some moves, I’ll give you that,” he murmured, his voice rough and laced with amusement.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Barnes.” You laughed, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you next time.”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his eyes burned into yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, pulling you back down for another kiss, this time slower but no less passionate.

That night, as you left the gym hand in hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Whatever this was—messy, unexpected, intense—it was yours. And you were ready to see where it would take you.

—

Six months later, you sat across from Bucky at a nice private table he reserved.

It was late in the evening, the glow of the New York city lights painting golden streaks across your faces as you sat together on the balcony of a rooftop restaurant. You and Bucky had both won the night before— and he had insisted on celebrating the wins with style, brushing off your protests about the cost with a grin and a wave of his hand. He declared had more than enough in his winnings for both of you. 

“Gotta spend it on the only person who deserves it,” he had declared.

The night had been perfect. You’d laughed and talked for hours, your victories were a shared triumph that brought you closer together. 

As the evening wound down, he reached across the table, taking your hand in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Bucky loved you more than words could ever express. It was why he’d convinced you to take the day off today, refusing to let you work yourself to death after the grueling fight you’d gone through last night. 

He hated seeing you exhaust yourself— boxing by night and waiting by day.

Suddenly, an idea came into mind, one that hadn’t even fully formed. But it was there, and he knew he had to say it, because he wanted it more than anything in the world.

“Marry me,” he murmured quietly as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

You blinked. “What?”

Bucky shifted his chair closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Marry me, Quit your job.” he repeated, the words tumbling out with quiet urgency. “I’ll take care of you. You’ll never have to step foot in that diner again. You can finally focus on boxing.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes searched yours, almost pleading as if he could will you to say yes.

For a moment, you let yourself imagine it: a life where you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail just to be taken seriously, where you could spend your days in his arms and in the gym. 

Your heart ached as you shook your head gently, placing your free hand over his. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said quickly, his words rushing out like he was afraid you’d dismiss him entirely. “I don’t want you to have to struggle anymore. I want you to have the life you deserve.”

“I know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. You cannot believe what’s about to come out of your mouth. “I can’t—not yet.”

He pulled back slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “Why not?”

You took a deep breath, straightening your posture and blinking away tears, trying to find the right words. “Because… I want to make it on my own, Bucky. I have to,” You cupped Bucky’s cheek, tracing your bruised fingertips over his jawline. He leaned into the touch. “All the other girls in the ring with me… they don’t have husbands bankrolling their dreams. If I let you take care of me now, I’ll feel like I cheated them— and myself. I want to keep a level playing field.”

Bucky sighed, “But–”

“No buts, Buck,” you interjected softly before he could spiral, “It doesn’t mean that I don't love you,” you whispered desperately, “Because I do. More than anything in the world. But when I’m out in the ring? I might be tired after a long shift, but I love it because it’s mine.”

Bucky’s jaw set, but it wasn’t out of frustration. It was pride, the kind of pride that settled in his chest every time he thought about how fiercely you fought for what you believed in.

“I get it,” he said after a long pause. “I don’t like that you’re always so exhausted, but I get it.” He leaned back in, his lips brushing your forehead, “Just promise me one thing.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching for his. “What?”

“That when the time comes—when you’re ready—you’ll say yes.”

“One day, Bucky,” Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you nodded, cupping his cheek. “I promise.”

His grin returned, slow and dazzling, as though that promise was all he needed. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close under the stars.

—

But then the war came, and everything changed.  

Bucky got shipped out. You’d known it was coming—the draft notices were piling up, and the news on the radio grew darker by the day—but no amount of news consumed could prepare you for the moment he was actually leaving. The night before he got shipped out for the first time, the two of you laid on his bed, the world outside slipping away into nothingness.

You lay tangled together, skin to skin. His arms circled tightly around you, his grip as firm as iron, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d both lose yourself entirely. His lips brushed your temple, your shoulder, every place he could reach, leaving behind a trail of lingering love, imprinting a part himself on you before he had to go.  

"Don’t go soft while I’m gone," he murmured against your hair. His hand stroked the curve of your back, and it felt both tender and possessive.

"Not a chance, Barnes," you shot back, giving him a sad smile. You ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face, trying to remember every detail of him. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his eyes seem to glitter in the dark.  

That night was a blur of passion and desperation. You kissed him like a woman out of time, hoping each touch of your lips on his could delay the dawn. His hands roamed every inch, committing every curve, every inch of you to memory. 

He whispered promises against your skin— that he would come back and build a life with you, to love you until his dying breath. His skin lit yours on fire, like a star on the verge of collapse.  

When morning came, he kissed you goodbye.

— 

It was clear that Bucky was a good soldier when he kept coming home when others didn’t.

And those days when he did have time to stay home for a couple of days, it felt like someone had flipped a switch in a dark room. 

And you took full advantage of it.

You went on dates to hole-in-the-wall diners where he always insisted on ordering for you, grinning smugly when he got it right. You’d catch late-night movies, his arm slung around your shoulder as he whispered sarcastic comments about the cheesy lines from the main characters. Afterwards, you’d get milkshakes together and he’d crack jokes until you were both laughing so hard tears streamed down your cheeks. 

But you knew, deep down, that a part of him was broken— he’d seen unspeakable horrors on the battlefield— yet he never wanted to share it with you, no matter how much you encouraged him to.

You were his best girl, and he had to shield you from everything wrong with the world.

Sometimes you’d drag Steve along, refusing to let him spend all his free time picking fights or sketching. You even tried setting him up with a few of your friends, determined to keep him from being the eternal third wheel, but it never quite worked out. 

Steve, bless his stubborn heart, seemed too wrapped up in his sense of duty to notice anyone else.  

But before you knew it, Bucky was shipped out again.

So you threw yourself into your routine, determined to keep moving forward with your days. You spent working long shifts at the diner, perfecting the art of polite smiles and dodging the unwanted advances of customers who mistook your kindness as an invitation for something more. 

At night, you boxed when you could, though the matches were few and far between now. Wartime tightened everyone’s wallets— no one had spare cash to wager on two women boxing in the ring. 

And yet, every Thursday, you still went to the gym. Bucky had paid the rent indefinitely before he left, insisting it would be his gift to you, a piece of him to keep close while he was away. 

At first, the silence of the gym was jarring— the punching bag was not as charming as your boyfriend. 

But as the weeks passed, you realized there was someone else who could benefit from the time there: Steve.  

Steve had always been scrawny, but you knew better than anyone that his heart was bigger than most. He was stubborn, determined to prove himself even if his lungs often betrayed his heart. 

One Thursday, you decided to invite him to your training session.  

At first, Steve was hesitant, standing awkwardly by the weights as you invited him in the ring, bouncing lightly on your toes.  

"You gonna stand there all day, Rogers?" you chuckled, hoping humour would ease his nerves.  

He smiled, stepping into the ring. The first few sessions were rough—his punches were weak, his stance wobbly, and he tripped over his own feet more often than not. Still, his determination shone through, and you couldn’t help but admire his grit. For a kid who always seemed to find trouble, you knew you had to arm him with a few tricks up his sleeve.  

"You’re thinking too much," you said one day, adjusting the way he held up his fists. "Just trust your instincts."  

Over time, Steve began to improve. He wasn’t going to be a heavyweight, but he was quick on his feet, and he fought with a courage that reminded you of yourself. You taught him how to read his opponent’s movements, how to slip punches, and most importantly, how to hold his ground even when the odds were stacked against him.  

"Let them underestimate you," you said one day. "Make ‘em regret it every time."  

The more time you spent together, the better friends you became. What began as training sessions turned into long talks about life. Inevitably, the conversation always circled back to Bucky.  

“Bucky always believed in me,” Steve said one evening as the two of you sat on the gym steps, cooling off after a tough session. “Even when no one else did.”  

You smiled, leaning back against the wall. “I believe in you, too, kid.”  

Steve confided in you about his frustrations, about the rejection from the enlistment offices. He felt like he wasn’t doing enough, like the world was moving forward while he was unable to keep up.  

When Steve asked you to help him enlist—again—you didn’t hesitate, much to Bucky’s dismay.

You drove him to recruitment offices, waiting in the car or sitting beside him as he poured his heart out to indifferent officers who barely looked up from their paperwork. Each rejection stung worse than the last, but he never gave up.  

"You really think I’ve got a shot?" he asked quietly one evening as the two of you sat on the hood of your car, watching the sun sink below the Brooklyn skyline, imagining Bucky coming back to shore. 

“You’ve got heart, Steve.” You turned to him, “And that’s worth more than any height or weight requirement.”  

You became his confidant when Bucky wasn’t around, the person he leaned on when the odds felt stacked against him.  

“I always wondered what it’s like to have a sibling,” Steve admitted one day after a particularly grueling training session. He shot you a crooked smile. “Now I think I know. You’re like the big sister I never had.”  

You laughed, patting his back. 

You were there for him through every setback and every small victory. You cheered him on when everyone else doubted him, and when Dr. Erskine’s program finally gave him the chance he’d been fighting for, you stood by his side, watching with pride as the scrawny kid from Brooklyn became the man he was always meant to be.  

—

It took some time, but eventually Steve became Captain America, Bucky joined the Howling Commandos, and Peggy Carter entered the picture, all while you still worked in the diner.

When Steve got the serum, it was clear that he had strength, but power wasn’t enough to make a fighter— he needed control, precision, and strategy. That’s where you came in.

You, the one who had taught him how to throw a proper punch back in the day, now started teaching him how to wield his new strength. It wasn’t easy—he was clumsy with his punches, and the weight of his new body sometimes threw him off balance. 

“Steve, if you keep flailing like that, you’re gonna end up punching yourself,” you said with a laugh, sidestepping one of his overzealous swings. “Relax. Don’t just throw your weight around.”

He listened, and he was a fast learner. Still, there was one thing he struggled with: pulling his punches. He was always so afraid of hurting you, even after you told him countless times that you’d been knocked out by opponents twice his size.

“Rogers, if you don’t stop holding back, I swear…,” you joked, dodging one of his half-hearted jabs with a grin. “C’mon, pal. I’m tougher than I look.”

When he finally let loose, landing a punch that sent you stumbling, you got back up with a wide grin and slapped him on the back. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Then, it wasn’t long before you crossed paths with Peggy Carter. 

It had been a long day, and Steve suggested winding down at a little bar nearby. When he mentioned Peggy would be joining you, you weren’t sure what to expect.

Steve grinned as he led you to a booth to introduce you to his best girl. 

“Peggy, this is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a big sister,” he introduced. “Bucky and her have been beating sense into me since before the serum.”

Peggy tilted her head with a curious smile. “So you’re the reason Captain America knows how to throw a punch.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll take partial credit.”

Peggy laughed, and you knew you liked her immediately. By the end of the night, the two of you were swapping stories about training mishaps and stubborn soldiers. Peggy told you how she had to convince command to let her lead plan her first mission, and you shared how you’d had to prove yourself, over and over again, just to get a place in the ring.

One day, on a girl’s night out, Peggy gave you a small smile. "You and I," she said, raising her glass, "we’re proof that they can’t keep us out forever."

You clinked your glass against hers, a grin tugging at your lips. "Damn right."

Meanwhile, Bucky and Steve watched from across the room. "Well, at least they’re not plotting our demise," Steve joked.

Bucky smirked. "Not yet, anyway."

The two of them couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and relief that their best girls had found kindred spirits on each other. 

But Bucky, even after everything, was still the most important thing in your world. 

Whenever he was on leave, it didn’t matter if you were behind the counter at the diner or preparing for a fight, he’d stride in, his grin lighting up the room, “Miss me, doll?”  

You’d always laugh, wiping your hands before letting him scoop you up, spinning you around like he hadn’t just been through hell on the front lines. “Of course I do,” you’d say.

Soon enough, the diner became a second home for his friends, too. Steve and Peggy were regulars now, often stopping by to “check in” and conveniently sticking around long enough to tease you both.  

“You do realize this is a diner, not Lover’s Lane?” Steve muttered one afternoon, as Bucky leaned over the counter to steal a kiss from you.  

“Relax, punk,” Bucky shot back, “Diners are meant for romance.”  

Peggy snorted into her coffee. 

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile on your face. “You two are lucky I like you. Otherwise, I’d be banning you from my workplace.”  

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Peggy smirked, “We’re just here to make sure you’re both behaving yourselves. Someone has to.”  

Bucky chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. 

Outside the diner, life felt a little closer to normal when you were with him. After a long shift, Bucky would walk you home, his hand laced with yours, talking about anything and everything. And on Thursdays, the routine you’d started long ago—sparring and training together—picked up like you’d never stopped.  

“Come on, doll, you’re getting slow on me,” Bucky teased as he dodged your punch with ease.  

“Oh, don’t start,” you said, shaking the sweat from your face. “I’ve been working all day while you’ve been out being a national hero.”  

“National hero, huh?” He lunged, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you to the mat in one swift motion. You squealed, laughing as he pinned you down, his face inches from yours.  

“Unfair,” you breathed, chest rising and falling beneath him.  

“Whatever,” he replied, his voice low as his lips hovered over yours.  

The adrenaline from sparring always seemed to spill over into something more. His kisses were hungry, desperate, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. You clung to him just as tightly, afraid to let him go.

As the war raged on, every moment you spent with him became more precious. You knew the world was unpredictable, but the love you shared with Bucky was always going to be there. 

“You know you’re my whole world, right?” he murmured one night, pulling you close as you lay tangled together in his bed.  

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, your hand tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “I do. And you’re mine.”  

—

Eventually, with Bucky’s encouragement and the promise of a better-paying job, you finally made the decision to quit the diner. It wasn’t an easy choice—it had been a second home to you, even if it wasn't always great. But deep down, you knew the leaving it behind meant more than just moving on; it meant you were contributing to the war effort 

Your last day at the diner was filled with bittersweet goodbyes. The regulars stopped by one last time to wish you well. Your coworkers hugged you tighter than they ever had before.

As you wiped down the counter for the last time, the bell above the door jingled, and there he was—Bucky, waiting for you with that charming grin you loved so much. He held the door open for you, and you can’t help but glance back at the diner one last time.  

“It’s hard saying goodbye to this diner,” you admitted, “It’s where we first met, after all.”  

Bucky couldn’t help but smile, his mind replaying the memory. “I guess we’ll always owe this place,” he said as you bumped your shoulder against his.  

Bucky’s hand found yours. He held it them next morning, too, as you walked into your new job.

When the Howling Commandos needed someone to lead their hand-to-hand combat training, Steve, Peggy, and Bucky had all recommended you for the job

You weren’t being sent to the front lines, but that didn’t mean your role wasn’t important. You were training the very soldiers who would be out there, fighting for freedom—and survival.  

The first day you stepped into that training room, it felt right. Like this was where you were always meant to be.  

The soldiers were skeptical at first—some underestimated you, others simply didn’t know what to expect. But it didn’t take long to prove yourself. By the end of the first session, one of the Howling Commandos, rubbed his jaw after taking one of your punches. He muttered with a mix of admiration and disbelief, “Damn, you’ve got a hell of a right hook.”  

The work was challenging, physically and emotionally, but it was more fulfilling than anything you’d ever done before. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were part of something bigger than yourself. You weren’t just teaching soldiers how to fight—you were teaching them how to survive, how to protect each other, how to come home.  

—

Still, no matter how exhausting your days became, no matter how tough the training sessions with Bucky and Steve, you always found your way back to boxing. 

One particular night, after months spent shaping soldiers into fighters, you found yourself standing in the center of the ring once more. The lights above were blinding, the roar of the crowd thunderous, but you blocked it all out. Your focus was razor-sharp on your opponent.

The fight had been brutal—punch after punch, your muscles screamed in protest, and your lungs burned as you pushed yourself harder than ever before. But you weren’t about to give up. With every blow you landed, you felt the fight shift in your favour. And then, with one final, decisive punch, your opponent hit the mat.

The referee’s hand shot into the air, signaling your victory, raising your gloved hand. The crowd erupted into cheers, the noise almost deafening, but all you could do was stand there, chest heaving, a triumphant smile on your face. 

You’d done it. 

And there they were—your people. Steve, Peggy, and Bucky were on their feet in the front row, clapping and cheering. Steve was grinning proudly, Peggy let out a whistle of approval, and the Howling Commandos were, predictably, the rowdiest of the bunch. Dum Dum Dugan was practically hopping up and down, waving a wad of cash in the air as he shouted something about always betting on you.

But none of that mattered—not the crowd, not the title, not even the announcer declaring you the new champion. Because your eyes found Bucky.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. His eyes were locked on you, his grin wide and proud. And then, loud enough for half the arena to hear, he shouted, “That’s my girl!”

Your heart did a little flip. You couldn’t help but laugh, your smile widening as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted it again, as if the first time wasn’t enough. “That’s my girl!”

—

But good things rarely ever lasted long.

The week after, Bucky and the Howling Commandos were due to be shipped out again.

You had known the mission Bucky was going on tomorrow was dangerous—Bucky didn’t have to say it outright for you to understand. Still, he told you about the train, about the perilous mountain pass they’d be navigating, the rumours of Hydra transporting a shipment of experimental weapons. 

He tried to brush it off like he always did, throwing in a smirk and a casual wave of his hand, but you weren’t fooled. You’d seen the way his muscles tightened when he thought you weren’t paying attention. 

The night before he left, he was different. There was no playful teasing, no jokes. Instead, he held you like he was afraid to let go, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it almost hurt, that it almost crushed your lungs. His fingers traced your skin in gentle patterns, trying to memorize every inch of you. His kisses lingered, his lips ghosting over yours like he was trying to make the moment last forever. 

“I’ll come back,” he murmured, his breath warm against your collarbone as the two of you lay tangled together in bed. “You know me—I can’t stay away from you for too long.”

You swallowed hard, nodding against his chest, but the ache in your heart wasn’t so easily soothed. You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But that insidious voice in your head whispered otherwise. Every time he walked out that door, there was a chance he might not return. And he knew it, too.

“You better,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or I’ll come and drag you back myself.”

That got a reaction. His laughter was unguarded, almost inaudible, but it was there— a reminder of the boyish charm you fell in love with. “I know you would,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed the crown of your head, his hand tangling in your hair.

You tried to smile, but it faltered when he pulled back slightly. For a moment, he just looked at you, his blue eyes just studied you, the way your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, the curve of your lips, the little furrow in your brow you got when you were trying not to cry.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved from your cheek to reach into the drawer of the bedside table. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but… I don’t want to wait anymore.”

When he turned back to you, his hand held a small gold ring. It was simple, unassuming, but the way he held it made it feel like the most precious thing in the world.

“This belonged to my family,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “It was my grandma’s. My pa gave it to my ma when he proposed to her. And I’ve been carrying it around, waiting for the right moment, but… ” He paused, his thumb rubbing over the worn surface of the band, “I-I don’t want to wait anymore.”

You felt your breath catch as he shifted closer, his hands trembling just slightly as he held the ring between you. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking on the words. “I love you more than anything in the world.  And I want you to know that, no matter where I am, no matter what happens, you’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as he continued, his own eyes bright with unshed emotion. “If—no, when—I come back, I want to marry you, to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to make you laugh when you’re mad, and I want to hold your hand when we’re old and gray, and I want to wake up every morning knowing you’re mine.” He smiled faintly, caught on his own when if nerves, “If you’ll have me.”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, the lump in your throat too thick to get past. You had refused once, but only because the time wasn’t right. It was now.

You nodded, your hands covering your face as a sob escaped you. “Yes,” you finally choked out, your voice breaking. “Yes, Bucky. Of course.”

Relief flooded his features, and his smile grew wider, brighter, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. He slipped the ring onto your finger, and when he looked back at you, there was hope in his eyes.

When morning came, the goodbye was almost unbearable. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, that you’d be strong for him. You wanted to send him off with a smile, but as you watched him adjust his uniform, something in you began to break. 

Your throat burned as you swallowed back the sob, your vision blurring as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. It was all too much, knowledge that this might be the last time you ever saw him— was too much to bear.  

“Be careful,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fidgeted with the golden ring now snug on your finger. His family’s ring, now your ring. It felt strange and perfect all at once, a tangible reminder of his promise. “Promise me.”  

He paused after slinging his pack over his shoulder. Stepping closer, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had spilled over despite your best efforts.  

“I promise,” he said, his voice firm, as if willing his words to bend the universe to his will. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but tried to anyway. “I promise, future Mrs. Barnes.”  

Before you could say anything—before you could beg him to promise again, to swear it—he kissed you. It wasn’t like the soft, lingering kisses of the night before. This kiss was desperate. It was the kind of kiss that left no words unsaid, the kind that told you, I love you and I’m scared, too. 

It felt like it lasted a lifetime and a heartbeat all at once. And when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, 

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his voice cracking.

You nodded, biting down hard on your trembling lip. 

And then he was gone.  

You didn’t know then that the promise he made, the kiss he gave, would be the last. That somewhere out there, on that icy train, he’d fall.  

One moment he was there—your Bucky, your future, the love of your life.  And the next, he was gone.  

Just like that, the world you’d built together collapsed.

—

Present day. 

As he finished the story, Bucky stared out across the park, his hands clasped so firmly in his lap that his knuckles were white. His voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper. “I haven’t looked for her.”

Sam turned toward him, “Why not?” he asked, curiosity laced with a thread of concern.

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, on a couple walking hand-in-hand down the gravel path. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Because…” He faltered, his voice breaking. “Because… what if she’s moved on? What if she’s happy? What if she found someone who could give her everything I never could?”

“I want that for her,” he continued, “I really do. But if I saw it—if I saw her happy with someone else—it would…” His breath hitched, and he gritted his teeth against the emotion threatening to spill over. “It’d break me. It would break my goddamn heart.” 

He closed his eyes briefly, the confession leaving him feeling vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Saying it out loud made it real, too real. It was selfish, he knew it. The idea that her happiness without him could cut deeper than anything Hydra had ever done— it was shameful. 

But it was true.

Sam didn’t interrupt, didn’t make a joke to break the tension like he usually did. Instead, he leaned forward. “You ever think it might be worth it?” he asked. “That you owe it to yourself—to her—to find out?”

Bucky shook his head, barely moving at all. His voice was so quiet it was almost lost beneath the rustling leaves. “What if she’s still alive?” he whispered, trembling. “What if she knows of the winter soldier? She doesn’t need that. I want her to remember the guy who used to rent out whole gyms just so she could train in peace. The guy who made her laugh when she was too hard on herself.” His hands unclenched for a moment before balling into fists. “She doesn’t need to know… whatever I’ve become.”

Sam rested his elbows on his knees. “You’re not that guy anymore, Buck,” he insisted. “And maybe she knows that. Maybe she doesn’t. But there’s only one way to find out.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “I know,” he murmured, barely audible. He paused, his eyes dropping to his lap. “But some things are better left in the past.”

Sam sat back, crossing his arms. “Well,” he said finally, “If you ever change your mind, I’ll help you track her or her family down. You know I will. I did the same for Steve when he was looking for you.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, though it was weighted with sadness, a shadow of what it might have been. “I’ll think about it,” he said, promising more to himself than to Sam.

—

Sakaar, the present day.

The Grandmaster lounged lazily in his towering throne, a smug grin curling on his lips as he raised his hand to summon his favorite gladiator. The crowd roared, their cheers echoing off the walls of the arena. He leaned forward, his voice dripping with playful menace as he announced, “Let’s give them a show!”

You stepped out into the fighting ring, the scorching sunlight blazing down on the cracked red clay beneath your feet. 

The crowd’s noise erupted to a fever pitch as you emerged, spear gripped tightly in your calloused hands. Your armor, scuffed and battered, bore the marks of countless battles—a testament to your years in this godforsaken planet as a fucking gladiator.

And there it was. 

Another monster. 

This one was massive, its frame shrouded in shadow until it trudgesfully into view. 

It has razor-sharp claws, slavering jaws, glowing eyes filled with animalistic rage. It snarled, its roar shaking the very ground beneath you. Just another in a long line of beasts you’d been sent to kill.

You squared your shoulders and adjusted your grip on the spear. Four years. Four fucking years of endless combat, of living for Sakaar’s entertainment, of surviving by sheer willpower and instinct. 

God, you were tired. So tired. 

It was the kind of exhaustion that no amount of rest could cure. Each swing of your weapon, each step into the ring, felt harder than the last. The adrenaline that once surged through you in the boxing ring was now a dull hum. It was replaced by the weariness built by fighting too many battles with no end in sight.

But you had no choice. This was your life now. 

Fight, survive, repeat. 

You chuckled bitterly to yourself. The irony wasn’t lost on you—once, you would’ve given anything for the chance to fight every day. You wanted to. But now, that choice was stripped away, you had no option but to fight—and win—if you wanted to live to see another day.

The monster roared again, snapping you back to the present. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

You planted your feet firmly on the ground, a stance you mastered during your time in the ring. The crowd was deafening, their bloodlust clearly. They wanted a fight, and the Grandmaster would not tolerate anything less.

“Oh, how I wish you were here,” you muttered to yourself, fiddling with the ring Bucky gave you, now hanging off a silver chain around your neck. The words weren’t a prayer; they were longing for a lost love that now felt like a distant dream.

So you raised your spear, and you fought, because you knew Bucky would want you to.

-end(?)

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