fairlightswiftly

You're still at the bakery. The newest Assistant, Carol, has taken to the job like a duck to water and has settled in nicely between you and Wanda. She's feisty and keeps Bucky's men on their toes too, which is a bonus.

Bucky surprised you by buying a large stake in the bakery and putting it in your name, meaning you now technically own it with Pepper. He was nonchalant despite your shock and gratitude, telling you that you practically run the place anyway so you should do so legally too. Pepper is delighted with the choice of new business partner and business is booming, although it's all still quite new to you – you've always been about the cake rather than the numbers. Still, you're learning all about running a business – with Bucky's help and experience.

Wanda and Vis are getting married and you're maid of honour, of course. You're busy looking at centrepieces and honeymoon Pinterest boards when you're together but still find time to sometimes grab a beer with Peter to laugh and catch up. He's back with his ex, Mora, and seems very happy. Neither of you can believe you were ever romantically involved now, even fleetingly, it just feels so wrong.

Bucky's business is doing well too. He's made a conscious effort to shift into more legitimate activities in your honour so he's doing his best to go by the book. You'd bet a large sum of money that he dabbles more under the table than he lets on, but you don't ask. He's started to share more about his past and you hold his hand and kiss his scars as he talks. Some of it is shocking, upsetting – but you don't judge him. He punishes himself enough. To you, a lot of it sounds like a lost young man groomed to be a pawn by older and stronger personalities. But Bucky never shies away from the wrongs he's committed, he believes in accountability.

HYDRA had been wiped out completely after that night, but Bucky keeps an eye on any former members or allegiances who may start up again. He managed to weed out the mole, Klaue, after some rigorous investigation. He was feeding Pierce location information and any titbits he could get his hands on for a pay-out.

One day Klaue was there and the next he wasn't. You hadn't really gotten to know him. You guessed it didn't end well for him but again, didn't ask. The newspapers simply reported that he was missing and you have a feeling he won't ever be found. But it's hard to feel sympathy as what he did nearly killed you, a fact Bucky was painfully aware of when he uncovered the double-crossing.

He doesn't have you followed anymore but he likes you to check in when you're apart, and he gets irritable if he hasn't heard from you in a while. Sometimes if you lose track of time and forget then he'll call you, anxious something has happened and scolding you. It's something of a bone of contention in your relationship but you try to remind yourself he's always on high alert after the night you got taken, and that this all comes from a place of fear. You can see he's doing his best.

The panic attacks from that night still catch you off guard occasionally. You know you won't ever be fully free, but it's gotten easier, it's gotten better. You know how to handle them. Same with the nightmares, they're uncommon now but never fully gone. Bucky holds you tight when you cry out in your sleep, his warm touch on your skin bringing you back to him as he reassures you that he's there. He's always there. He hates thinking about you waking up alone when you're staying at your place without him.

You still don't care for all aspects of his work. You still aren't fully comfortable taking money from him and prefer the cosy neighbourhood restaurants over the high end establishments in Manhattan. You're more at home with a burger than foie gras. Still, you accompany him when his business requires it – galas and meetings, fancy dinners and charity events. You never feel fully comfortable but you know he appreciates having you there. You have a few dresses to look the part now which helps with your insecurity. He teases that at least he knows you're not with him for his money.

You have no patience for the paparazzi or red carpets but funnily enough they have lots of time for you. The press seem to like the idea of the notorious Bucky Barnes falling for the 'baker next door', reforming his gangster ways and helping him settle down. It makes you roll your eyes when occasional articles pop up about you online, but Bucky finds it all very amusing.

Your insecurities rear their ugly head when occasionally women try and flirt with Bucky, not even particularly put off if you're there. Some of them seem to see it as a challenge, tempting the notorious mob boss away now he's settled and happy with a girlfriend. Bucky is quick to shut them down, he only has eyes for you after all – but part of him revels in your jealousy. You'll glue yourself to his side when it happens, scowling at the offending interloper and making it clear he's yours. You stake your claim with a firm kiss and protectively run your arm across his back. This is the role Bucky normally plays, and he'd never admit it to you but he likes when you turn the tables, reminding him that you can be just as territorial as he can.

You once both attended a black tie gala and somehow got separated as the evening went on. You were cornered by a society type trying to pitch you some sort of charitable cause...donkeys maybe? No, zebras. Maybe. Or was it a toy museum? He seemed to think you could convince Bucky to make a generous donation, that you were the wheel he needed to grease to get the cash. Despite the fact you knew the requestor could fund the charity for a year from his own bank balance and not even notice. You saw through it of course, you got this sort of impassioned spiel from one person or another at all of these events as they pretended to be interested in the bakery. You'd nod half-heartedly and tell them you would keep it in mind.

As the man continued to wax lyrical on the plight of the donkeys, or zebras, or toys, you caught a glimpse of Bucky across the grand hall. You felt a momentary pang of love as you watched him in his tux, he looked so handsome. You could scarcely believe you got to wake up to him every day.

But that affection quickly dissipated as you saw him in close conversation with a gorgeous woman, looking practically like a celebrity in a tight fitting red dress. Bucky was laughing and the woman kept touching his arm as she spoke. You seethed quietly as you glared at him over your conversation partner's shoulder.

Fine. Two can play that game.

You turned your attention back to the man in front of you. Mr. Drake you thought his name was, or was it Mr. Dickinson? Mr D would suffice. You began to smile warmly as Mr D continued his monologue, absent-mindedly running a finger across the top of your breast as you nodded along. You caught his breath hitch slightly and you took your cue to move closer to him. He cracked a terrible joke and you laughed uproariously as you angled your hips to accentuate your dress.

Your laughter caught Bucky's attention, in the corner of your eye you saw his head snap over in your direction, his companion suddenly forgotten. His gaze stayed on you as you began to press your hand onto Mr D's chest and told him how funny he was. Mr D began to stutter, clearly nervous to be in this position but not wholly against it either.

You caught Bucky's eye and stared back at him defiantly as you continued the show. He was stoic to everyone else but you knew he was raging, you recognised his poker face well enough by now. Your performance continued until Bucky finally broke away and stormed over to you, leaving his new lady friend gawking as he disappeared halfway through her sentence.

1-0 to you.

"Can I steal her for a moment?" Bucky asked Mr D, voice sweet as pie as a firm arm snaked around your waist.

Mr D nodded and stammered in agreement, clearly unnerved and nervous about what Bucky might think. Poor guy.

He marched you a suitable distance to the corner of the room and then he was hissing in your ear.

"What game are you playing here, Doll?" he warned, his face locked into a smile. To any observers you looked like a loving couple having a moment of quiet.

"Same one you're playing, apparently" you shot back through your own carefully painted grin. "Leaving me to be shaken down for money while you make new friends".

Bucky chuckled. "She's on the board of a company we're trying to make a deal with, Doll. I need to keep her sweet..."

"Mmm. Well she certainly thinks you're funny".

He glared at you, silently daring you to push him further. You merely smirked.

You had ended up in a broom closet, going at it against the door as Bucky covered your moans with his metal hand and rutted deep inside of you.

"My jealous Doll" he whispered into your ear between thrusts as you teetered over the edge. "Acting out at my work events...flirting with rich old men to piss me off...all because you want my attention...what am I going to do with you?"

You'd come hard, whimpering against his chest as he held you tightly. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his as a satisfied grin spread over your blissed out face.

"Worked though, didn't it?"

*

You both like retire to bed early and quickly became intimate with every inch of each other's bodies. The sex is like nothing you've ever experienced, a combination of raw lust and attentive lovemaking. You may not always be on the same page in conversation, but your bodies have always understood one other perfectly.

You can almost see Bucky's persona soften in real time once the bedroom door is closed. He'll strip off his suit and settle into bed with you, Bucky the mob boss and ruthless businessman disappearing before your very eyes as your Bucky emerges in his place. Your Bucky who whispers sweet nothings in your ear, who holds you tenderly and watches you with awe. He's still wracked with guilt about what happened with HYDRA, and generally how your relationship started, and so he apologises and tells you he loves you and holds you close – repeating the same gentle phrases to you like he's reciting a prayer. And no matter how much you tell him it was alright, that you love him and forgive him, you understand a small part of him will always carry it with him – much like you and your trauma from that night. So you allow him to confess his sins as he takes you in his arms and kisses your skin as he makes it up to you, his ministrations both vocal and physical.

*

It's a normal Wednesday evening and Bucky is due in any minute. You're in his ensuite bathroom staring blankly at the tiles in a bit of a daze when he storms into the bedroom.

"Doll...I'm home" he calls as he walks in, slipping his jacket off. "What do you want for dinner? Sushi could be good..."

His face creases in puzzlement when he can't see you. He notices the ajar bathroom door and heads over.

"Doll...?"

You're sitting on the closed lid of the toilet but don't answer him or meet his eye, you just sigh heavily.

"Baby...you alright?" he moves to you, suddenly anxious that you're having a panic attack or PTSD flashback.

"I'm fine..." you mumble quietly, moving your eyes to meet his. "Looks like I'll be moving in after all".

His face lights up. "Finally! Don't worry, I'll fix everything, the truck...movers...Wait, what changed your mind?"

You smile brightly at him then slowly reveal a positive pregnancy test.

"Hope you've got room for two of us?" you grin.

Bucky's jaw drops open as he looks between you and the test. He moves quickly, smattering your face in kisses as he glares at the two bold lines. He face spreads into a disbelieving smile.

"Oh my god..." he whispers.

"I know..."

"Oh...my god"

"I know..."

"So...maybe we need to rethink sushi for dinner".

You laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he picks you up and swings you around. He kisses you deeply before his eyes fly open and widen at a sudden realisation.

"Wait...does this mean you've got a bun-"

"I swear to God, don't say it" you warn.

"Please..." he pleads.

"Ugh, fine. But just once".

"You've got a bun in the oven" he grins.

"Happy?"

"Oh Doll, extremely".

The End

Aaand that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! It means so much to me and makes me so happy that people have enjoyed it. I am moving some of my other fics over from Wattpad/Ao3 after the holidays and am also cooking up some ideas for a Biker!Bucky fic for 2024 which I’m excited about.

Chapters:

Honey Bunny's Bakery

Bad For Business

A Sweet Deal

A Sour Taste

Sweet Treats

The Sweetest Sin

A Bitter Blow

Savoury Encounters

A Sticky Situation

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Please like, comment & Reblog, it helps so much!! <3

Her teardrop on his skin made his heart squeeze in his chest. The low sound of her crying in the quiet of the room. He tried in vain to open his eyes, to move his hand. To speak. None of his commands were answered so he could comfort her.

But he was here now. That was something, right? That he was awake? Aware?

Steve needed to get back to her and his life in the worst way.

“Steve,” you whispered, leaning closer to him. “I’m so tired… “

Steve knew she probably couldn’t sleep under the circumstances. He had no idea how long he’d been out of the loop. Now he was coming back to life, restless. All he really wanted to do was hold her, watch over her while she slept.

And while he held her safe and sound, he’d begin planning his takedown of fucking Barnes.

The press of her lips against his pulled him out of his thoughts. Another hot tear dotted his cheek. Her sadness had him trying in vain to move, to let her know he was there. He was with her.

She was so strong, his beautiful wife. She’d been wounded and without him, she was alone. Afraid. Did Barnes or the other families know what happened? Were they all in any danger from Barnes? Or Hansen?

She carefully climbed onto the bed to lie next to him. It made him happy to have her so close, warm at his side. All he could do was to be there with her.

“Steve, you have to come back to me,” she said with tears in her voice, a fear he’d never heard from her bleeding onto her tone. “So far, most of them haven’t figured it out… That you’re out of commission.”

No one knew? Had Dyson told her that?

Her fingers danced over his chest, his heart. She was careful to keep her weight off him, but he wanted it. He wanted the warm press of her body against his. It felt so good to have her there, so close.

And she wanted him back. She loved him. She told him she loved him before she left for Hansen’s that fateful day.

“He figured it out,” she said, sniffling. “He knew it wasn’t you who did…”

Who figured it out? Figured what out?

Steve’s sluggish heart sped up at that, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“We haven’t heard anything yet,” she whispered. “I don’t think he’s dead. If he were, I feel like we would have heard something by now.”

Who was dead? Dread pushed him to fight harder to get back to the surface.

A soft sob from her had fear battling heartache in his chest. Why did she sound so broken? What had happened? How long had he been out?

“I couldn’t even do it when the time came,” she whispered. “I’m so ashamed, Steve. I was right there, sitting next to him on the bench. He had no idea who I really was. He had no idea why he was really there.”

Who? Steve would have screamed it if he could have. What couldn’t she do? His fears escalated as he waited for her to continue.

“I really hope we killed him, Steve,” she said quietly. “I don’t think we did though. Yelena said the poison would do damage, could shut down his vital organs… But we would have fucking heard something by now, right? If Barnes really died?”

Steve was trapped in his body, in the darkness, with growing fear. She’d confronted Barnes? Tried to kill him with poison? Poison Belova gave her?

Belova was supposed to be cast out of his household.

Anger pushed against fear then. He’d thrown Belova out because she got in his wife’s head, encouraged her rebellious behavior. She was supposed to protect his wife, not lead her into danger.

“You’ve got to wake up,” she begged him. “Please... We struck back at Barnes. To protect this family. To protect your position… But if he wakes up… He suspects all the things we’ve done were me, not you. He called me an evil bitch…” Her laugh was bitter, choked out by tears. “If he’s still alive, he knows the truth. It’s only a matter of time, Steve, until he comes after us. After me. Please, for the love of God, you’ve got to wake up.”

What did they do? As much of a force as his wife was, particularly with Belova backing her, he couldn’t imagine that whatever danger they’d gotten was done without Dyson knowing about it.

As he understood it, they’d done something to Bucky. Poisoned him. They didn’t know the other man’s status. Was he dead? Alive? If he was still alive, it sounded like he’d be coming for them.

Coming for his wife.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Belova. The sound of a door closing.

His wife didn’t move. If nothing, she snuggled closer to him.

“Have you heard anything?” his wife asked.

“No, there’s no word,” Belova said. “And no news is good news.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” his wife said, her voice breaking. “Steve’s still out and every minute of every day I have to worry… We’re so vulnerable right now.”

“So is Barnes,” Belova told her.

“The other families have to be wondering what the hell is going on,” his wife said.

“There are questions,” Belova said. “There are rumors and stories. Very little of it is anywhere close to the truth.”

“Something’s got to give,” his wife said. “Barnes is either out of it like Steve or he’s biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to finish this.”

“You can’t dwell on this,” Belova’s voice was closer now. “Steve will come back to you.”

“Yes.” She sounded so small, unsure.

“And when he’s back, he’ll take it from there.”

“What do you mean?” his wife asked.

“We hit Barnes on a very personal level,” Belova explained. “That’s the way it’s done. Barnes may be just fine right now and carefully planning his next move. And he needs to think long and hard on whatever action he takes. The Starks are partial to the Rogers family. So are the Wilsons.”

“How many times is Dyson going to be able to hold them off when they call,” his wife wanted to know. “We don’t have much time left. If Steve would just wake up… He’s going to kill me.”

Steve wasn’t going to let it go. That was for damn sure.

Belova laughed softly as his wife fought back tears. “He may be proud of you. I am.”

Sniffling, his wife said, “If he’ll just wake up, I don’t care. He can keep me locked away for a year, whatever. I just need him to be okay. To come back to me.”

Steve couldn’t have heard that right. He was out of it. His wife could make any decision his men would allow. And for her, his men would allow quite a lot. And she was worried about him.

“He will,” Belova told her. “He loves you… But be ready. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out what’s been going on while he was out. Kicking me out again will probably be the first order he gives.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“No,” his wife said. “I won’t allow it. You are my personal protection. He agreed to that. And I can’t think of a time when I’ve needed protection more, right?”

A sigh. “Your husband may not see it that way.”

“I don’t care,” she said petulantly. “He can wake up and bitch at me about it. I’d love that. But you’re not going anywhere, Yelena. I need you.”

Steve again tried in vain to open his eyes, to speak. To move anything. Surely it was only a matter of time before he could, right? Now that he was aware, it wouldn’t be long. He had no idea how long he’d been like this, but it was past time he got back to his life. To his wife.

***

The next time Steve woke up, he was alone. He couldn’t hear anyone else in the room. Steve wished his wife was still there. He missed the warmth of her, the smell of her.

The chiming of his phone on his nightstand played again and he realized it woke him up. On the third chime, Steve reached for the phone and then his eyes flew open when he realized what he’d done. That he’d moved.

His eyes flew open. Tapping the screen, he answered the call, bringing his shaking hand with the device closer to his body so he didn’t drop it. Steve felt so weak.

“Yeah,” he muttered for an answer. His voice sounding as rough as a bad country road.

“There he is,” Tony Stark said with a smile in his voice. “I told Dyson if I didn’t talk to you today, I was coming over there. I asked him if you were too important to talk to me now.”

Steve snorted and it was an uglier sound than he expected from who knew how many days of disuse. “Too busy,” he managed.

“I guess, damn.” Tony laughed. “I have to admit, Barnes came in hot once the crown was on your head. I was getting worried about how you’d handle it all. How you’d handle Barnes.” Tony laughed again. “That was brutal.”

Oh, God. I don’t even know what they did…

“I know you were being… magnanimous before,” Tony went on. “I get that. But when you decide to deal with things, well…”

“Barnes had it coming,” Steve said, his voice a little stronger with each word. No matter what they’d been up to since he’d been out, Barnes deserved it. He had no doubt about that. “He left me no choice.”

“Hey, I’m not questioning you, big guy,” Tony told him. “Really, I’m not. Just curious when we were all going to collectively talk about how this is going to go. What’s going to happen to Barnes, stuff like that.”

Steve’s hand shook so badly, he passed the phone to his left hand. “Soon,” Steve told him. “We had some injuries.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, “about that. How are you? There are rumors flying around that you got shot or Dyson got shot. A couple even said your wife had been hit.”

His wife had been shot. And he’d been more terrified for her than himself in those moments after the shot fired. Steve had been fucking terrified, so terrified he hadn’t felt the bullet strike him at the time. But he was grateful. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about her injury or any effects from it. That was good. Maybe it meant she was on her way to fully healed.

“My wife was hit,” Steve said, fighting to speak as he normally did. “My top lieutenant was threatened. I can’t have that.”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, still sounding supportive. A tone designed to let Steve know where the Stark family stood in everything. Tony Stark had always been proactive. It was appreciated. “You needed to give the bastard something to think about.”

“I did,” Steve told him. “Do. I’ll be in touch very soon to call a meeting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony told him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Steve blew out an exhale, feeling tired from just the conversation. But damn it, he was awake now, and he needed to get back up to speed as quickly as possible. They were all likely still in some danger from Barnes, his family.

“I’ll let you know if I think of something,” Steve told him.

Ending the call, he dropped the phone onto the bed. The edges of his vision threatened him, fading to black. He broke out in a cold sweat, very much afraid if he blacked out now, he might get stuck again or worse.

Steve just had to face it. He needed to recover physically and there was nothing he could do to rush that.

And he needed to catch up. He needed to know what was done when. He’d have to accept responsibility for those actions to protect his family, his wife.

It was slow going and took a lot of effort but after several minutes, he was able to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed. His vision was dark around the edges, his breath came fast, and he broke out in a cold sweat from his efforts, but damn it, he did it.

***

You spun and moved through the Waltz of the Flowers, focusing on remembering the port de bras, the steps. You saw the ballet in New York during one of your secret trips and came home begging your instructor to help you learn anything from it. In that last year you lived in the home where you grew up, you’d worked hard to learn the small role from one of your favorite ballets. Oh, it wasn’t the Dewdrop Fairy, the leader fairy of the dance that no one seemed to even know existed. You were learning the dance of the supporting flowers from the classic story and that was good enough for you. That was plenty for you at the time.

Today, with everything preying on your mind, you’d gone back and watched the dance on YouTube first to remember all the steps. Anything to keep busy, to occupy your mind.

Was Steve coming back to you? You didn’t care if he really did beat your ass if he did. You’d take it. You just needed him back.

There you were in the studio Dyson helped you set up. There was still pain in your shoulder, but it was better each day. You had on your black leotard and tights. A fresh bandage covered your wound. It was chilly so you pulled an old sweatshirt for warmth before fitting into your pointe shoes.

You started the music with your phone and fell into those simple steps. The slower graceful dance of the flowers. And after the first minute or so, it all came back to you. The gentle spins, releve, plie. You didn’t imagine the dewdrop fairy you were supposed to be dancing around at first, not the other dancers. This dance was for you. A solo flower from a magical Christmas land far away.

A lone black flower from a funeral arrangement?

No. Shaking your head, you fought back tears and started the dance.

It was really the only thing that gave you any peace the last few days. Lost to the dance, the music took your mind off looking out the windows every few seconds to see if Barnes had shown up to kill you all yet. To kill you. Because you knew by now, he must really want to.

It also kept you from sitting by Steve’s bedside and crying for hours.

As much as you could remember, you moved through the steps of the dance. It wasn’t that good at first. But as you visualized it, worked through the dance in your mind, your dance got better, your movements more graceful as you moved. As you swept back to make room for the Dewdrop Fairy in your mind to come dancing back, you saw something in the corner of your eye. But as you came to a stop with the next step, you froze.

It was Steve, awake, looking washed out and weak as he leaned against the wall, watching you. He’d wrapped his bathrobe around himself, his feet were bare. The intensity of that blue-eyed expression took your breath away. He smiled as relief took you to your knees. All you could do was stare to see your husband was awake, finally. And you knew he was going to be pissed at you. So pissed. But you scrambled to your feet and sprinted for him, skidding to a stop when you realized you needed to be careful with him because of the wound, the stitches.

Wrapping your arms around his neck carefully, you couldn’t help but kiss him with tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

Steve kissed you back with a ferocity that surprised you as weak as he must have been. You let him. You were just so happy he was awake. Alive. Sure, all hell could break loose any minute now within the prominent Boston crime families but Steve coming back to you was the most important thing. The only thing. Everything else, with his lips sliding against yours, seemed less important in that private moment.

Steve shook in your grasp as he kissed you. Concern had you breaking that. As much as you’d like to think it was from that passionate moment, you didn’t want him to pass out on you. Not when you just got him back.

He let you steer him towards one of the folding chairs you kept in the studio, mostly to set your items on. You swept it all out in the floor as you urged him to sit and carefully, he did. But his gaze never left you. The man was staring at you with something like… awe?

“You’re okay?” he asked carefully.

You nodded, pulling the loose neckline of the sweatshirt you wore to show him the bandage. “It doesn’t hurt much now. I’m just fine Steve. Thanks to you.”

“You’ll have a scar,” he warned.

“I don’t care,” you told him, swiping at the tears with your hands. “Steve, you took a bullet for me. Why did you do that? Why were you even there?”

His eyes were suspiciously glossy as he stared at you. “I decided about five minutes after you left that I couldn’t risk losing you. I needed to be there. To protect you. It’s even scarier to think if I hadn’t been there, I would have lost you.”

A chill ran up your spine to consider he was right.

“I think you’re really glad to see me,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. The half smile that formed on his lips had your heart racing in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you told him, not even trying to stop your tears. Your mind spun with what you needed to do. “How are you feeling? I should go get Dyson and have him call doc. Yeah, I—”

“In a minute,” he told you. His hand carefully capturing yours, stopping you before you could flee to do just that. “You told me you loved me before you left that day. Was that real? Or was that in case you didn’t see me again?”

Steve had to be able to hear your heart. It felt like it would pound out of your chest. “It was real.”

He kept looking at you like you were a ghost, an image in his mind. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen you dance before. You look beautiful.”

“You’re always busy,” you said with a smile, melting under that comment.

“Will you dance for me one day?” The softness of his voice when he asked that question had your heart squeezing in your chest. The sincerity threatened to break you.

All you could do was nod.

Tugging your hand, he urged you closer. His hands at your hips guided you to sit on his lap and you were careful.

 “We need to talk,” Steve said. “Just you and me for a moment.”

Oh, shit. Here we go.

You shook your head. “What’s more important than your health?”

“I need to know what’s happening,” Steve said slowly. That look he gave you. How long had he been up? Had he already talked to Dyson?

“Not a lot.” A huge lie. “We’ve all just been watching over you. Hoping you’d come back to us.”

“What’s happening?” he asked again. “What happened while I was out?”

You swallowed hard. Somehow Steve knew.

More tears. “Steve, what am I supposed to do? You just woke up and—”

“And?”

“When I tell you what happened, you’re not going to be happy.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’m sure.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you quietly started talking. You started with the aftermath of the shootout at Hansen’s house after the two of you had been shot. You told him Hansen was presumed dead but there was no proof.

Steve shook his head, telling you, “Hansen’s not dead.”

You told him Dyson had been roughed up but not badly harmed. Several of Barnes’ men had died. Clint had killed Banner and Hansen shot Neal in the face. You told him about the young woman who’d been taken from the donut shop on Steve’s turf and how she’d been found in Hansen’s house, kept as a sex slave. Steve had looked disgusted at that.

“What’s happened since that day?” Steve asked after a moment.

“Have you already talked to Dyson?” you asked nervously.

“No, but I heard you and Belova talk,” he admitted.

Shock would have had you jumping off his lap if he hadn’t kept you there. “What? You heard us?”

“I did,” Steve told you. “Not enough to know what’s going on. Enough to know you put yourself in danger with Barnes. Want to tell me about that?”

No.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Dyson exclaimed out of nowhere. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I needed to get up,” Steve told him with a smile.

Dyson was as careful as you had been in hugging him. The happiness in the older man’s eyes was unmistakable as his gaze moved over him, assessing him.

“We need to get doc here to look at you,” Dyson told them.

“I need to talk to my wife first,” Steve countered, his grip on your firm.

“Yes, you do,” Dyson told him. “But after doc has looked at you. Then we’ll all talk because I think that would be best. There’s a lot you need to know.”

Words couldn’t express how much you loved Dyson at that moment.

Taking your hand and helping you stand, Dyson smiled. “Go call doc,” he bid you.

Nodding, relieved to get the doctor here and to have help in telling Steve that story, you pressed a kiss to your husband’s cheek and scrambled off to do that.

***

Steve watched you flee like you’d escaped the gallows. He let the tears come then. Pure relief ran through his veins. His wife was alive and recovering, crying over him.

Maybe she really does love me.

He hadn’t gotten to watch you dance long before you spotted him, and he regretted that. He could have watched that all day. He recognized the music from The Nutcracker Suite, but he couldn’t say which scene it was from.

But there his wife had been, all in black aside from the light pink shoes she wore. You might have been a shadow dancing, but your movements didn’t echo loneliness or sadness. Your movements were graceful but confident. It had been a stark reminder of so many years you’d been alone. It occurred to him now what you must have done with all that time your father left you in the care of servants.

You had a lot of time to listen and learn.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Dyson told him, helping him up out of the chair.

To Steve’s dismay, he was weak as a kitten. He allowed Dyson to help him to his feet and walked with him towards his room. He had no intention of getting back in bed, however.

“No, I’m getting dressed,” Steve told him. “I want to have that talk and hear what had happened while I was… out. Soon as possible.”

Everything.

Once he was seated on the side of his bed, watching Dyson gathering a casual outfit for him, his mind took over.

“Why was she anywhere near Bucky Barnes?” Steve wanted to know.

Dyson paused for a beat but went about his tasks, not making eye contact.

“I didn’t like that part either, boss,” Dyson said. “But when we lay it out for you, maybe it will make more sense.”

“You were in on these plans?” Steve asked.

Dyson approached him now with his clothes, his gaze unwavering. “I was.”

“Where does our family stand right now?”

Dyson placed the clothes on the bed and regarded him calmly. “Your family is the head family, and you are its leader. None of that changed while you were out.”

Steve could only imagine what had to happen for Dyson to say that so confidently. “Why was my wife involved?”

Dyson still didn’t react. “Because like it or not, your wife is part of this family, son.”

Dyson hadn’t son’d him in many years.

“What did I say—”

“No, you’ll listen to me now,” Dyson cut him off. “After the situation Hansen put us in, we didn’t have a choice but to react as the lead family and you weren’t available to make decisions, so the task fell to us. Turns out the plan was Barnes’s. Taking me, taking your wife, all of it. Hansen just decided that he was going to take Mrs. Rogers for himself hence the betrayal.”

“I know,” Steve said. He remembered all that.

“And there were all these stories out on the street, see? Some of them were very close to the truth,” Dyson explained. “If you hadn’t fallen into a coma from blood loss, you’d have been calling those shots. Since you were unavailable…”

“You did it?” Steve accused. “And you involved my wife?”

Color darkened Dyson’s face in a rare display of frustration. “No, your wife stepped up. And you need to start paying attention because your marriage, your wife, has been the problem here ever since you took power.”

“You’re blaming my wife?” Steve couldn’t have heard that right.

“No, I’m blaming you.” Dyson was direct. “You married her, you took the crown. You should have flourished. You had everything you needed to rule. Everything you wanted. Her, her father’s backing, your family’s strength. Why do you think it didn’t work out, huh?”

“I wasn’t counting on Barnes to have such a problem with all of this. I knew—”

“No,” Dyson cut him off again. “Forget Barnes. This is all on you.”

“How do you figure?” Steve realized Dyson was pissed at him.

“If you hadn’t been so obsessed with your wife, you would have handled things,” Dyson explained. “You navigated her into this marriage – with her father’s blessing – and that should have been that. You get married to the old boss’s daughter to solidify your claim. She’s a beautiful young woman who will keep you on your toes. But no, that wasn’t good enough…”

“What the fuck are you getting at?” Steve asked. Was it brain fog keeping him from seeing what his mentor was getting at?

“Just what I said,” Dyson told him. “Your obsession with your wife is the fucking problem. It’s your blind spot and it always has been. If you hadn’t been so busy trying to control her, to mold her into what you thought she should be, you wouldn’t have been at odds with each other all these weeks.”

Maybe he had a point.

“If you hadn’t been at odds with your wife and fixated on that, you wouldn’t have come so close to losing that leadership position you wanted so badly. You wouldn’t have come so close to losing it all.”

Dyson got closer. Got in his face.

“You were also too blind or too stupid to realize that your wife has the instincts she does,” Dyson went on, meaning business. “She’s sharp. She reads people well. She’s a lot like her old man.”

Steve nodded. “I’m coming to realize that.”

“Good,” Dyson said. “Because we’re all going to talk about what happened while you were out. And she will be there. She earned her place at the table and you’re going to hear what she has to say.”

Steve nodded his acquiescence. Dyson wasn’t there when Steve brought his wife in to craft the plan to deal with Hansen. He’d been Hansen’s hostage.

No, Steve was very interested in what happened and what part she played in it. But as a husband, he was also slightly terrified of what he might hear. As a man in his position, he needed to figure out how to keep his wife and family out of harm’s way, to protect them.

Steve didn’t have the physical strength, at the moment, to fight any of them.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” Dyson told him, helping him off the bed.  

***

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” Yelena muttered as she walked with you to Steve’s study. “I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy I’m still here.”

You stopped, looking her in the eye. “No, you need to be here for this meeting. You’ve been at my side since I married into this situation and I’m not allowing him to send you away again.”

Slowly, she smiled. A flash of hope lit up her hazel eyes. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. Indeed, you were. While your husband had been comatose, you did what you thought was best for the family, guided by Steve’s own council. It was still a dangerous time and as far as you were concerned, all of you needed to be involved until Barnes was dealt with and Steve’s position was solidified once and for all.

“I need to know you have my back,” you told her.

“Always,” she said, meaning it.

“Then let’s get in here,” you told her. The two of you were the last to arrive.

You’d cleaned up, dressed in a simple black dress and cardigan set with silver piping. Maybe it was silly, but you’d always worn it when you were heading into the unknown. Your secret trips to New York City with your governess or those rare meetings with your father before you took care of him in his final days. With the stockings and glossy black heels, it felt like armor.

And as you met your husband’s gaze from where he sat behind his desk, you realized you needed armor. His gaze swept over you appreciatively as you sat in the chair directly in front of him and next to Dyson. He looked you over too. He smirked in what you thought was approval.

“I saved you a seat,” Scott smiled at Yelena, motioning to the chair next to him to your left.

Clint and Luca sat with them behind you. The room was unusually quiet. Steve nodded to Clint who got up to close the door to the office.

Steve’s gaze moved over everyone in the room, he took his time. He wore a crimson sweater with jeans. He looks so tired. Finally, his gaze stayed on Dyson.

“My wife told me most of what happened after we were shot,” Steve started. “I need to know what happened after that.”

Dyson looked to you, and you nodded. It was probably better that he start. Steve cocked a brow at the silent communication.

“It was pretty much Tuesday at the Okay fucking Corral,” Dyson told him. “It was all me and Yelena could do to get the two of you out. But Hansen didn’t wait for that. It was a hell of a shootout. Barnes lost several men, we lost some too. Not as many.”

“Your friends make it out?” Steve asked.

Dyson nodded. “And we were damn lucky they happened to be in town.”

You were indeed. You were especially grateful to Jensen.

“You got the two of us out,” Steve said. “Then?”

“Hansen and Clay faced off,” Dyson explained. “Hansen was hurt but he made it out. He ain’t dead. Barnes gets a hold of him, he might wish he were.”

You couldn’t imagine Hansen being afraid of anyone.

“We got everyone back,” Dyson went on. “Got doc over here… You lost a lot of blood and went to sleep on us. We had a lot to think about, boss. You have to realize that Barnes’ plan that night was meant to knock you off the throne. They set a trap for you. Neal and I were supposed to go confront Hansen and take him out. That was our plan. But Neal was working for Barnes.”

Dyson cut his gaze to you. “You never liked, Neal. You weren’t wrong.”

No, you weren’t. The bastard had been nothing but disrespectful to you and Yelena. He’d put you at odds with your own husband by telling him about the nurse’s visit. How happy he must have been when Steve locked you away as a punishment. Thinking about it now, maybe Neal did it on purpose. The fact that you were stuck there might have made it easier for Hansen or Barnes to get to you.

“Barnes plan was to use me to lure you out, boss,” Dyson said. “The plan was to take you off the board for good. Barnes was confident, all things considered, that Hansen could get it done with Neal’s help.”

You shivered thinking about it. Steve trusted Neal. He’d go to protect Dyson. It might have worked.

“Instead, Hansen decided to lure Mrs. Rogers out and he meant to take off with her,” Dyson explained.

“Where is Neal?” A muscle twitched at Steve’s jaw.

“He’s dead,” you said quietly. “Hansen shot him in the face.”

Steve met your gaze, shaking his head.

“And since then?” Steve asked. “What’s happened?”

Dyson glanced at you, at the others. “We had a situation. Barnes hit us hard, and you were in a coma. If anyone realized you were out of commission, we would be dead in the water. A response was expected. And a response was delivered.”

Steve nodded. “I guess you did. Tony called me and he sounded impressed… So, what happened?”

“We sent Barnes presents,” Dyson told him. “Paulina was the warning shot.”

“Paulina?” Steve asked.

That had your heart lurching and old jealousy rearing its ugly head. Paulina was Kat’s sister. Was Steve afraid Kat had been hurt?

“Yeah,” Dyson said. “She’s still around. We just put her in the hospital.”

Steve looked confused but didn’t say anything.

“Kat appreciated Barnes taking care of the bill,” Dyson said. “She brought him a thank you gift. We sent him a gift too in the same bag. He got a five-finger discount.”

That blue-eyed gaze cut to you and back.

“Neal was his eyes and ears in this house for too long,” Dyson went on. “We took those and made a special treat for him. A tiramisu from his favorite restaurant.”

Your stomach clenched just thinking about that. You couldn’t imagine finding human ears and eyes in your dessert.

“And the grand finale was all heart,” Dyson told Steve, turning to grin at Clint on that one.

Steve blew out an exhale and you just waited for the tirade to begin. You could tell his mind was going a mile a minute and you felt bad for him because his color was off, and he looked so tired.

“Belova was there at Hansen’s when I arrived,” Steve began. “I do remember telling her she’s out.” Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he shook his head. “And you all just let my wife be party to all this? Killing people? Eyes, ears, hearts? I don’t even understand why Paulina was involved in this.”

Had your beautiful bastard of a husband learned nothing from all this?

Dyson shot you a warning look, watching you shift in your seat. “We collectively—”

“Yelena,” you started, “is the only reason we’re all still here.”

A quick glance at her showed her staring at you in surprise.

“When you sent her away,” you went on, “which you had no right to do because if I remember correctly, her being my personal protection was your wedding present to me, Dyson knew the danger she’d be in on the street. His friends were in town, thank God they were, and she stayed with them while they were here. She’s the one who got us the intel on Banner. She called Clint and told him where to find him, hiding on Stark’s turf. I explained all of this to you that day. He didn’t say anything about killing Banner at the time because of Nat and how she’d take it. No one gave him the order to kill Banner, but he did. I’d like to think you’d do that if someone beat my ass the way he beat your sister.”

Steve looked alarmed. He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch.

“If that chain of events hadn’t happened, that day would have been far worse, Steve,” you went on. “If Dyson’s friends hadn’t been here, the day would have been worse. We can’t ever let this family’s safety depend solely on luck ever again. That was too close.”

Shifting on your chair so you could look around the room at your family and dearest friends, you shook your head.

“Paulina?” you asked. “Yeah, maybe that was stooping to their level. Banner beat Nat more than once and all the while he was spying on us. Betraying you. Beating Paulina was Nat’s call. A sound beating with bruises that wouldn’t show. It’s a good first step in taking back her power.”

Clint met your gaze, nodded his approval.

“Who did it?” Steve asked.

“Oh, I knew you’d ask that,” you told him. “Does it make you feel better that it was Yelena who did the deed?”

You could just tell from the subtle shift in his expression that it did.

“We found the girl who worked in the donut shop locked in a room in Hansen’s house. He was keeping her there because she looks like me. You can’t imagine what that poor thing has been through.”

Now Steve really did look startled.

“And the rest?” You said to your husband. “Dyson didn’t want me to be a party to it either, no. And I didn’t order any hits if that’s what you’re worried about. The fingers in Kat’s shopping bag? They belonged to Hansen’s man who kidnapped that girl. He died in the shooting at Hansen’s house. He didn’t need those fingers anymore.”

Steve just stared at you now.

“The eyes and ears?” you went on. “Neal was already dead. Hansen killed him.”

“Who’s idea was that?” Steve managed to ask. “The tiramisu?”

Luca’s hand shot up. “Mine. I made it.”

That had you grinning.

“The heart was Banner’s,” you explained. “He was already dead too.”

The slightest flush of color darkened Steve’s face. “And what about Barnes? You want to tell me why you were anywhere near him? What were you and Belova doing there?”

There was no going back now.

“The house is being watched,” you explained. “Stark and Wilson called every single day. We were worried that someone was going to figure out what was going on here, that you were potentially done for.”

Dyson’s gaze on you was intense, the hurt still flashing in his eyes from that plan because he’d disagreed with it so vehemently.

“We tried to take Barnes out,” you explained watching disbelief bleed into his expression. “After everything he’s done to all of us, he deserves it, Steve.”

You were speaking forcefully while your husband listened with an expression that you were struggling to read.

“Barnes gave us the idea himself,” you went on. “He called the girl from the donut shop. He wanted to meet with her, to see if she knew anything that would help him find Hansen. We arranged the meeting. I went in her place. I wore a mask because some people still wear them from the pandemic, and he didn’t realize I wasn’t her. Not until the end…”

Steve leaned forward in his chair, angry now. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We poisoned him,” you shot back. “The blade was dipped in poison. If I hadn’t chickened out, Yelena wouldn’t have had to step in. The way it went apparently didn’t kill him, but it did some damage. It bought us some time. And now you’re awake.”

“Barnes will know something is up,” Steve countered. “He knows I’d never send you into a dangerous situation like that.”

“He does know. But he can’t prove it,” you said.

“He’s going to come for you,” Steve said, his ire fading.

“I know,” you said. You’d lived in fear of that each day that Steve was still asleep.

“He can’t tell anyone.” Steve huffed a dry laugh. “A mob boss stabbed by a woman?”

Yelena was trying not to grin at that. You couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t want you to ever put yourself in a position like that ever again,” Steve said to you with uncharacteristic calm. “I want everyone else in this room to swear to me that you’ll never allow that to happen again. Break your word and you’ll pay for it.”

The other men in the room quickly murmured their agreement. Yelena remained silent, staring at her hands in her lap.

“Belova,” Steve said, drawing her attention. “You’re my wife’s chosen security. So that goes double for you. Where her security is concerned, my word is final. Not hers. You got it?”

Yelena cut her gaze to you before nodding and meeting his gaze. “Yes, boss.”

While you were happy Yelena was being allowed to stay, your concern rose. “Steve, you can’t just keep me locked away to keep me safe. Not now.”

Steve stared at you for a long moment and your heart raced while you waited. You could have heard a pin drop in the posh office.

“I won’t,” Steve told all of you. “You’ll be part of my council from this point on. You all worked together to make decisions to protect the family when I couldn’t. Do you all agree?”

The response to that question was much louder and positive. Dyson looked from Steve to you with so much pride.

“It’s done,” Steve said.

Steve had made you part of his council. Your mind was spinning.

“Thank you all,” Steve said, concluding the meeting. “Rest up today. Tomorrow, we start planning. Dyson, keep security elevated around the house for now.”

Dyson winked at you. “Yes, boss.”

Then Steve’s gaze met yours as you were about to stand. “Stay.”

You did. And it was so quiet when it was just the two of you left in his office.

“Like I told you earlier, I agreed to letting you go to Hansen’s that day, but I regretted it almost immediately. That’s why I came after you and all of it was a mistake. By now I’d like to think you realize that as head of the family, head of all the families, why I have to be careful where I go. I’m not a soldier anymore. Sometimes I forget that.”

When he put it that way, yes, you did understand. “But it was Dyson.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But if I’d had my head on straight, they wouldn’t have been able to get to him. That’s on me.”

Had everything that happened rattled Steve that much? Was this accountability?

“And I get why you felt like you should be able to go meet Barnes after that. I’d allowed you into my business, sent you to Hansen’s. That’s on me too.”

What?

“Steve, we’re married. Doesn’t that make it our business?” you asked carefully.

“Maybe so… It’s just…  I’ll never be able to get the memory of you jumping in front of Dyson out of my head,” Steve said, eyes shiny with tears. “I’m willing to try this, to make you part of my council. I’m not completely sold on the idea but Dyson and the rest of them respect you enough to follow your orders.”

“You doubted it before because I’m a woman?”

“No, I doubted it because I’m selfish,” Steve said. “And afraid. Dyson’s right, you have good instincts. You knew more about what was going on in my house in a few weeks than I ever have... My father was like that, gave me good advice.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes as you listened to your husband.

“Your father was a mentor to me too the last year of his life,” Steve went on. “He knew more than my old man. Dyson and Luca seem to think you’re a lot like him. Maybe they’re right.”

“Steve—”

“Let me get this out,” Steve told you. “I’m used to having enemies. I’m not used to having enemies that want my wife as much or more than ending my sorry ass. Twice now you’ve been seriously threatened. How am I going to lead the families when I can’t protect my own fucking wife?”

He was blinking back tears and you dashed around it to get to him, to wrap your arms around him. He again pulled you into his lap, holding onto you like you were a rant in the storm. When he finally got himself under control, that blue-eyed gaze was back on you.

“If you want in on this business, I agree,” Steve told you. “Under the condition that you stay out of the action. Is that in any way unclear?”

At least he wasn’t asking you to swear to him. Because that wasn’t something you would swear never to do again. If someone you loved was in danger, of course you’d be in the action. Still, you nodded.

But then you thought of something. “You’re not going to agree to this and take it away from me the moment I get pregnant, are you?”

That pulled the corners of his mouth up. “I will want to. But I doubt I’d have any luck in trying that.”

“You wouldn’t,” you assured him.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Steve said, his arms tightening around you. “We probably shouldn’t be in a hurry to start a family… With all this going on? We’ve got time. If and when we both agree we want to start a family, we’ll revisit it then.”

You’d been braced for a fight. You couldn’t have been more astonished by what you were hearing.

“Are you feeling okay?” you finally had to ask.

That had Steve chuckling. “Yes, I’m fine. Just hoping I recover quickly because those heels make your legs look so fucking sexy.”

Okay, that was something he’d say.

His fingers tracing your leg from ankle to thigh made you shiver. Slowly, his touch skimmed up your body, over one breast and up to your jaw. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss your mouth. A slow seeking kiss that promised so much.

“You will make me a better leader,” he whispered against your lips.

“You already are a good leader, Steve,” you told him. “Maybe it was because all we did was fight all the time. Maybe it’s just that your attention was divided.”

You could have laughed at the sliver of hope creeping into his expression. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him before kissing him breathless.

Neither of them was legal residents of the US either. Bucky sighed.

“I’ll send someone down there,” he told her, ready to get back to his fight. Before his hand reached the lever on his chair, she started sobbing in earnest.

“Please,” Kat begged him. “Will you come down here?”

Kat wasn’t usually so needy. Usually, she stuck to their agreement. Something had her shaken up.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Shaking his head, he shot a text to his men telling them he needed the car ASAP.

Erik Killmonger was there in less than five minutes. He’d been a soldier for the Barnes family for the last five years. The entire time, he’d handled the tasks that he was given. He never failed, followed orders to a fault, and was always quiet and respectful, Bucky’s three favorite qualities in a soldier.

Erik’s ambition had been obvious from the beginning. It was in the confident way he walked, the efficient way he took care of business. It was there when he asked Bucky if he could serve him personally. Since then, he had Erik reporting directly to Hansen, and he showed the same respect to him.

The two men were comparable in their abilities, evenly matched when it came to killing a man. But where Hansen liked to put on a show and preen around, psychologically breaking down his prey, Erik was silently lethal. Bucky had to wonder if half of the men he’d sent him to kill even saw him coming.

Now that Hansen was wherever the fuck Hansen was, Bucky didn’t believe for a fucking minute the bastard was dead, Erik was his top lieutenant. Maybe he should have been all along.

He’d put the man in charge of finding Hansen. Erik knew him better than he did. Bucky’s only request was that Hansen be brought in alive. Bucky wanted to kill the fucker himself. The betrayal signed his death warrant. The fact that Hansen thought he was going to just make off with the woman Bucky coveted, the bright jewel in the crown he'd soon wear... Bucky was just sorry he could only kill him once.

“Where we off to?” Erik asked, ready to go.

“The hospital,” Bucky said, following him out to the garage. “Kat’s sister is there. I don’t know what happened yet.”

Erik held the door open for Bucky to climb in the back of the huge SUV. Walking around, Erik took a seat in the front next to the driver.

Bucky caught Zemo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to the hospital. St. Agnes," he told him.

When they reached the hospital, pulling up to the door at the ER, Zemo again met his gaze in the mirror. “Should you be going in there, boss?” he asked respectfully.

“He can go wherever he wants,” Erik said, opening his door. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

Damn right. Very soon, Bucky would be the goddamn king of Boston.

He waited while Erik inquired about Paulina, speaking to the older woman at the emergency room desk. His man led him past the desk, swiftly through a maze of corridors until they found Paulina’s room. Kat looked grateful when they arrived, her dark eyes still shiny with tears when she opened the door.

Paulina lay in the hospital bed, curled in on her side. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her face was streaked with makeup and tears.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, moving to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. Erik closed the door, staying close to it.

“We went shopping,” Kat explained in her tear-filled voice. “Our car dropped her off first at her apartment building. And then… I w-went home.”

“So she was attacked in her apartment?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t see it happen,” Kat went on. “But she didn’t make it into her apartment. Someone found her in the hallway… One of her neighbors called an a-ambulance.”

Great. More people in his business.

“My number was the emergency contact on her phone,” Kat went on. “They called me.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Kat,” Bucky said, his patience slipping. “But you didn’t need me to come down here to pay the bill.”

“What if this wasn’t random?” Kat asked.

“What else would it be?” he countered.

“Steve,” she said. “I think Steve is behind this.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why would you think Steve had anything to do with this?”’

“Why?” Kat threw her hands up. “Isn’t it obvious? With everything you’ve done to him? With you taking me away from him? He’s hitting back.”

That had Bucky chuckling. Yeah, he’d put Rogers through some things. And it wouldn’t be long until he finished Rogers, put him and his fucking family down and took the lead that should have been his when the old boss died.

“Yeah, he’ll try.” Bucky stared her down. “But what does that have to do with you and your sister? I didn’t take you away from him. You were all over me when he threw you off to get married if I remember correctly.”

Kat looked affronted. “You took me away from him. Paulina? She was seeing his consigliere.”

“Still not seeing a connection,” Bucky told her, ready to end the conversation.

Ready to end things with her period. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t need Kat.

“Banner betrayed him,” she said. “Maybe that’s why they went after Paulina.”

It was plausible. But why hit his family there? As Kat pointed out, Paulina had been Banner’s side piece. Banner was out of the Rogers’ family and no longer any use to the Barnes family. Honestly, Banner was lucky Rogers let him live. But messing with Banner’s mistress after the fact? It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t Rogers’ style.

That reminded him. Banner had been laying low on Stark’s turf after Rogers ousted him. Then he’d disappeared. Bucky made a mental note to follow up on that.

“Did anyone see who did it?” Erik asked. “Did the neighbor see anything?”

“No,” Kat told them. “They just found her. Beaten… Don’t you understand? She wasn’t robbed or violated or anything else. Just beaten. To hurt her was the point. What else could it be? Am I next?”

Bucky moved closer to Kat, taking her chin in his fingers. She trembled in his grasp, and he knew she was scared. He wanted her to be.

“Pain and death are always the point,” Bucky whispered, gazing into her eyes. “But Steve’s not after you, Katerina. He’s not after you sister.”

Releasing her, he watched indignation and hurt bleed into her expression.

“When Rogers strikes at me,” he explained, “he’ll make it hurt. He’ll make it personal.”

“This is personal,” her voice was rising. “This does hurt.”

“You and your sister maybe,” Bucky told her. “It’s not personal for me. It doesn’t hurt. I’d have to care about you and your sister for this to hurt me and I don’t.”

Tears slid from her eyes now. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky moved closer to the woman on the bed. Her makeup was a mess but on closer inspection, there were no cuts on her face. There could be bruises under the makeup, he supposed. Pulling back a tangled section of her hair revealed her throat. No bruises there or any injuries at all.

Kat said she was beaten. Were they fucking with him?

Grabbing the edge of the blanket covering the woman, he pulled it back to reveal her unconscious form covered by a thin hospital gown with shorter sleeves. He half-expected her arms and the rest of her to be unmarked as well. He was all ready to flip shit on Kat and her sister for wasting his time.

Paulina’s arm? That was a different story. The bruises were red and angry, lacing up from her forearm like macabre artwork. The gown opened at the back, and she lay on her side facing him. Throwing the blanket back, he leaned over to look at the woman’s back. A wild patch of pink and red marks covered most of it. The one contusion right where her kidney was? That had him wincing.

Tomorrow, her skin would be purple, black, and blue and she’d be feeling it. Shaking his head, he pulled the blanket away from the rest of her. More evidence of the beating she’d taken over thighs and upper shins. Nothing close to the ankle…

Kat, still lost in her indignation, glared at him as she grabbed the blanket to cover her sister up again.

“Still think this is random?” she asked, still swiping away tears.

Bucky shrugged as he headed for the door. “I’ll handle the billing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.

The entire situation should have left his mind never to return the minute he was back in his car and headed home. Bucky just couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just so off. Why was it done? What did it mean?

Was it a message for him?

***

After finishing his run, Bucky headed for his study to check messages before getting a shower.

“Bucky?”

He jumped at how off-guard she’d caught him. There Kat stood in the door of his study, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her big dark eyes were on him, a shiny red shopping bag dangling from her manicured fingers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked irritably. He didn’t like her coming by his house uninvited. She knew that.

“I’m sorry.” She looked it.

As he stood watching her, a sweaty mess behind his desk, she meekly approached him. Stopping on the other side of his desk, she carefully placed the bag on the top of his desk between them.

“It’s for you,” she said forlornly. “Thank you for helping Paulina.”

Blowing out an exhale, he looked at the bag. “She out of the hospital yet?”

Kat nodded. “She’s home. Resting. I’m staying with her since we don’t know who did this… or why.”

Bucky hated wasting the manpower but in the off-chance Kat was right… “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her place for the next couple of days, okay?”

“And mine?” she asked, flashing him a smile.

“You said you were staying with her,” he pointed out. “You stay with her, someone’s looking after you too.”

The smile faded and he couldn’t even feel badly about it. Kat was one of many. He’d had women who were more beautiful, better in bed. She wasn’t unique. She wouldn’t even be memorable.

And she’d served her purpose a long time ago. He took up with her to piss off Steve, to hurt his wife. While Rogers had been pissed and insulted that Bucky brought his former mistress to his wedding, he hadn’t succeeded in his second objective. The new Mrs. Rogers hadn’t been hurt.

No, the daughter of the old boss and the new bride of his enemy had turned out to be a lioness.

Think of that. The girl had been hidden away like Quasimodo in his bell tower, mutilated and not fit for society. That was what he’d always been told about the old boss’s surviving child. His bitch wife, who’d ripped Bucky’s family apart by having an affair with his father, died trying to get out and killed the man’s son. The daughter was never supposed to be anything for Bucky Barnes to be concerned with.

Even so, Bucky hated her. He’d been glad she was disfigured, glad she’d never be out in the world. He’d even toyed around with the idea of paying her a visit once her father died. Taking care of the disfigured little lamb once and for all.

Rogers had executed his plan well. That he was kissing ass to claim the crown, Bucky got that. He had no idea, however, that Rogers planned to marry the boss's daughter who was supposed to be horribly disfigured. Within a week of her father dying, Bucky gets word that she’s engaged to Rogers and the wedding Is being rushed.

When he went to confront Rogers about it, he was surprised to find her alone and barely dressed in the kitchen. She was uncovered enough for him to see there wasn’t likely a scar or blemish on her. She was amazingly beautiful wearing her whore mother’s face with innocent eyes. That first impression of her had him both hard as a rock and ready to commit murder, right there in Rogers’ kitchen.

Rogers knew what he was doing. He didn’t care who she was, that her mother destroyed the Barnes family. Rogers didn’t care about anything but the throne and it was then Bucky decided he’d do whatever it took to take Rogers’ crown, to take him and his bitch wife out.

But he couldn't get her out of his head. Not once he saw her.

Bucky had assumed for most of his life that Mrs. Rogers was his half-sister. The daughter of his father. After meeting her, he looked into it, knowing her father would have had a paternity test done under the circumstances. With a little patience and a lot of money, Bucky had an answer.

Mrs. Rogers was not related to him by blood. The old boss was her father after all.

By the time he figured this out, Bucky had found his attitude toward Mrs. Rogers shifting. Yeah, he could kill her when he destroyed her husband. No one would be surprised or even blame him.

But he’d never met a woman like her. There was a fire, an iron will, buried beneath the persona. Mrs. Rogers was stunning, beautiful. But according to Loguidice, Rogers’ bride wasn’t just a pretty face. There was a beast in her heart. The lioness could handle her husband, win his men’s loyalty, and even fucking shoot Lloyd Hansen which had been hilarious when his lieutenant had to explain it to him.

And she would be Bucky’s at the end of this. It was going to happen.

Glancing at his current mistress, he knew it was past time to end things. But he’d wait until Paulina had mended. Make sure nothing else was heard about that little incident. Then he’d drop the hammer.

“Do you really care so little about me?” Kat asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.

It wasn’t a bad acting job. Bucky smiled.

“Do we really care about each other?” he wanted to know. “Relationships aren’t based solely on love. That’s the movies. Relationships are based on mutual need. You need someone to give you money to maintain your lifestyle and I need sex and occasionally some arm candy. Don’t make this something more than it really is.”

Hooking a finger in the bag, he peeked into it to see a wad of tissue paper.

Kat watched him expectantly.

Grabbing the bag, he pulled out whatever she had wrapped in that tissue paper. It felt odd in his hand, more than one thing. The first thing he encountered was a small jewel box. Setting the rest down, he opened that to see a set of ruby cufflinks winking up at him from the black velvet.

He had to give her credit. She knew his tastes.

“These are nice,” he told her with a grin. “Thank you… What else do we have here?”

Kat’s brow creased as she watched him pick up the wad of tissue still in front of him.

“There was nothing else,” she said, looking confused.

But there was something else. Peeling away the tissue paper, Bucky stared at the fucking fingers – five human fingers – he held in his hands. In disgust, he dropped them onto the desk as Kat covered her mouth with her hand, backing away in horror.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, staring at those digits.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t… I feel sick.”

Kat dashed from his study like the devil was chasing her as Bucky muscled his way past the revulsion to study those digits. The fingers of a white man, toughened from work. There was no blood. No rings. No scars or other identifying marks.

Grabbing the bag, Bucky looked to see if there was something else. There was. A business card for a donut shop on Rogers’ turf. He recognized the name of the shop.

Fuck.

Bucky hadn’t ordered a hit on that shop or the girl. No, that was all Hansen who took the girl that worked there. Bucky hadn’t known a thing about it until after Rogers’ faceoff against Hansen who had since disappeared.

Bucky studied the fingers again. Were they Hansen’s? He didn’t think so. Hansen had big hands, he didn’t remember the fingers being slender.

Well, they’d find out.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he shot a text to Erik to come right away.

Now he wondered if the attack on Paulina was related. Was it tied to this? Was there more to come?

It would make sense if it was Rogers. But Rogers wasn’t usually so theatrical. He’d hit hard, head on. Anyone who was at odds with him always saw him coming. In his defense, he always hit really fucking hard.

This? It was puzzling. And not Rogers’ style at all.

What game was he unwittingly playing? And with whom?

***

The tap at the door pulled Bucky away from trying to catch up on his investment portfolio, sheets scattered all over his normally immaculate desk. His mind wasn’t on it. He’d been pretending to look at the numbers for damn near an hour.

Erik looked as tired as Bucky felt. He was hoping his lieutenant had some news for him. The episode earlier with Kat and the dead man’s fingers still had him rattled.

“Found out who those fingers belonged to,” Erik got right into it. “Belonged to one of Hansen’s men. One of our guys found the rest of him in a dumpster on your turf. The prints matched.”

Bucky nodded. Hansen likely had the guy pick up the donut shop girl for him. And the ax fell on him because they didn’t get Hansen. Bucky nodded. It was something he’d do.

The donut shop girl. What did she know, if anything, about everything going on? Maybe he should chat with her.

“Hansen’s still alive,” Buck said flatly.

Erik nodded. “There’s no proof he’s not.”

“Anything else?”

His man’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “I sent men looking for Banner, but it looks like he skipped town.”

A wise move on the man’s part.

“You don’t think he targeted Paulina, do you?” Erik asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Not with that temper of his. If Banner decided to do that, she would know it was him. He’d make sure she knew it was him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leaned back in his office chair, tried to relax. To think. “Any word on Rogers?”

“You knew Hansen and Frankenstein grabbed Dyson to draw Rogers out,” Erik said.

“Frankenstein?” Bucky asked.

“Neal Logiudice,” Erik explained. “Pop some bolts on his neck and he looks like Frankenstein.”

Bucky snorted. He could see that.

“Then he was supposed to off Dyson and Logiudice,” Erik continued. “Grab Rogers if he could. Hansen changed the plan. He drew Mrs. Rogers out instead of her husband.”

Bucky was still furious about what happened. Dyson would never betray Rogers and Logiudice was collateral damage. The move was meant to break Rogers down. Dyson’s loss on top of Logiudice’s betrayal would demoralize him. Bucky thought it might just finally finish his rival off.

Instead, Mrs. Rogers showed up, playing right into Hansen’s hand. Then her husband showed up and he brought friends. A shootout ensued. Rogers, his wife, and Dyson made it out. So did Hansen and Logiudice, apparently. And Bucky was out several men. Several good men.

“Does anyone know?” Bucky pressed. “Was Rogers shot?”

“Most likely,” Erik told him. “There’s different versions of the story. Some say he got shot. Some say Dyson got shot. Other say Mrs. Rogers was shot to protect Dyson and Rogers got shot trying to shield her.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky blew out an exhale. Needless to say, whoever did or didn’t get shot in Hansen’s grand fuckup was a moot point. Rogers was fine. He’d apparently had enough of Bucky fucking him and now he was firing back at the Barnes’ family.

There was nothing altruistic about their chosen business. You were either a ruthless bastard or dead. Back when they were both younger and coming up under their fathers’ wings, Steve Rogers had been a cocky, dangerous bastard and Bucky always hated all the attention he got. How Rogers always got away with everything.

Bucky always knew that the minute his father was gone, the minute it was just him calling the shots, that Rogers would fail. Then he’d found another mentor in the former leader of the five families but that didn’t last, and he died too. Bucky just knew that without the mentorship of better men, Rogers wouldn’t make it on his own. He was one hell of a soldier, terrifying if he came after you. But a leader?

Still, something was different. So far Rogers had pulled himself out of the trap Bucky set for him with Hansen, sent him the fingers of one of Hansen’s men in Kat’s little gift bag, and maybe had someone beat the shit out of Paulina, Kat’s sister.

While Kat swore to him she had nothing to do with the fingers, Bucky wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He had her taken to her sister’s place and there she would stay under close watch. He didn’t think either woman had anything to do with whatever the fuck was going on. But he’d keep them under glass for now to make sure.

Rogers?

There was an underlying menace to sending Bucky the dead man’s fingers. It wasn’t just the barbarism of the act. It was multifaceted. It was Rogers letting Bucky know that he knew about the donut shop girl and exactly who abducted her. It was knowledge that she’d been taken under Bucky’s command even if it wasn’t his personal decision. It was accusatory and direct.

It left him feeling unsettled. Bucky had been so close to shutting Rogers down, to finally taking everything he wanted.

And now? Well, he sure as fuck couldn’t slow down now. He couldn’t let Rogers even the score.

“My Vinny’s gotten here yet?” Bucky asked. He’d sent out for food from his favorite restaurant. Vinny’s was the best Italian restaurant in all of Boston and the owner's brother was one of Bucky’s best soldiers.

“I’ll go check,” Erik said, heading off to do that.

It was only a few minutes later that Bucky had his takeout, enjoying it in his recliner while he took in an action movie he’d been wanting to watch. His meal didn’t disappoint. The veal was perfect, just what he’d wanted.

After he’d digested a few minutes, he took his dishes to the kitchen, ready for dessert. The tiramisu was in the fridge and Bucky grinned as he pulled it from its foam box to carefully place it on a plate. With a fresh glass of wine, he returned to his recliner and resumed the movie.

Bucky was two bites in when his fork hit something that felt unexpectedly solid in the layered dessert. Frowning, he worked at using his fork to grab the next bite. But something was wrong. Something was in there…

Taking a closer look, he found something solid in there. Plucking it at with his fingers, he found… meat?

He almost lost his meal to realize that something was the tip of a human ear.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said to himself, his heart starting to race in his chest.

Sitting up in the recliner, he kept digging through the dessert to find an earlobe, just as bloodless as the tip.

It was the dark eye staring up at him that from the bottom that had him screaming, fighting nausea as he slung it all away and sent it flying across the room.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” he was shouting as Erik and Zemo both raced into the room to see who was killing their boss.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Bucky fled to the bathroom…

***

“I am so sorry,” Erik said for the hundredth time. “I looked in there, but I should have looked a lot closer.”

Soldiers were crawling his house, crawling the grounds. Zemo was at Vinny’s, no doubt tearing the restaurant apart. And he’d specifically requested that Zemo take Vinny’s brother with him. If there was a rat in his ranks or at the restaurant, heads would roll.

Bucky shook his head, sitting in his recliner with his elbows on his knees. He felt like shit. More body parts sent to him set his nerves on edge.

Was it Rogers? If so, he didn’t like the fact that his enemy was running up the score. That really pissed him off. His mind was spinning with the theories forming in his head.

“We’ll try to figure out who those…” Erik shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Bucky asked, rising from the recliner to glare at Erik. “That’s all I’ve been fucking doing the last three days. You know?”

Erik didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t back down. Bucky admired his quiet accountability.

But it wasn’t exclusively Erik’s fault. It was on all of them. Even him. No one had ever been able to get him directly. People around him, yes. But never him. Taking another drink of his Scotch, his mind spun webs with his instincts. He was starting to form a few ideas on his current situation.

“Boss,” Zemo called, walking into his living room.

Bucky spotted his man, standing a few feet away with a white takeout carton in his hands. He wasn’t going to like whatever was in the box, he knew from the way Zemo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, trying to be ready for anything.

“We went through Vinny’s, and we found this in Vinny’s office,” Zemo explained carefully. “It’s for you. Vinny swears he didn’t see who left it and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“You believe him?” It was an honest question.

Zemo nodded.

Bucky motioned him forward, not looking forward to his latest surprise with the dark red stains at its bottom corners. He plucked the card off the top. It simply read, “Hint: It’s not Snow White’s.”

Bucky really shouldn’t have been surprised to find what appeared to be a human heart in that box. He really shouldn’t have. Once he started laughing, it was hard to quit. His laughter was manic, a stress response. Something he hadn’t done in years.

It’s not Snow White’s.

Erik looked concerned. “I’ll get on figuring out who that is,” he offered.

Laughing, Bucky sank back onto his recliner, still laughing as he set the carton on his end table like it didn’t have a human heart in it.

“I think… I might know who this is,” Bucky said when he caught his breath. “It’s not Snow White’s. What did the magic mirror tell the evil queen about the heart the huntsman delivered to her? The mirror said it was the heart of a pig.” Laughter threatened to halt his conversation as pieces of the puzzle started to slide together in his mind. “This is the heart of a pig.”

His men didn’t speak, looked like they had no idea what to say to that.

“This is making a little sense now,” Bucky told them. “Erik, you and Zemo stay. Everyone else, fuck off.”

The soldiers cleaning and checking everything cleared out fast while Erik and Zemo moved closer.

“Who do you think that is?” Erik asked.

“That?” Bucky pointed to the carton. “That’s the heart of a pig. I’ll be really fucking surprised if it’s not Bruce Banner.”

Zemo’s brows shot up. Neither man spoke.

“Kat was right,” Bucky said. “This is Rogers hitting back. But… it isn’t.”

Rising from the chair, Bucky started pacing. Both men watched him in silence.

“Think about each incident,” Bucky told them as he paced. “Paulina was attacked. Then the fingers, eyes and ears, now the heart. All of it’s personal. It’s very, very personal.”

“Personal?” Zemo asked.

That stopped Bucky. “Don’t you see? Paulina was Banner’s side piece. Someone did a number on her.”

“In a way that could be covered up,” Erik muttered.

“Yes!” Bucky pointed to him. “Exactly. Hold that thought… And now, here’s the cheating, deceitful pig’s heart.” He continued pacing. “The tiramisu? I think that must be Logiudice. He was my eyes and ears in the Rogers household.”

Understanding lit up Erik’s face. “What about the fingers? That guy?”

Bucky shook his head. “The guy Hansen sent to kidnap the donut shop girl isn’t the point.”

“What is the point, boss?” Zemo asked.

“Each of these messages were sent on Rogers’ behalf,” Bucky explained. “But I don’t think they are from the man himself. No, this is someone else… All three messages have one thing in common… A woman scorned.”

Erik nodded, listening. He was always quick on the take. Zemo still looked confused.

“Bruce Banner was married to Rogers’ sister, but she didn’t love him,” Bucky told them. “She loved her high school sweetheart, Clint Barton. Banner knew this. That's why he’d beat his wife where it didn’t show. It's why he shot Barton.”

“Then,” Bucky stopped in front of Zemo. “Hansen got away but I was sent the fingers of the man who took the girl from the donut shop by Hansen’s order. Hansen was my right-hand man. A reminder of the wrong done to that woman.”  

“Explain Logiudice,” Erik said.

Bucky smirked at him. “Oh, I can. He betrayed Mrs. Rogers herself right before we grabbed Dyson. Her husband had restricted her to their bedroom he was so pissed..” An idea with merit.

“You think a woman gave these orders?” Zemo looked puzzled.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, as something occurred to him. “I need to talk to one of these women first.”

“Who?” Erik asked.

“I need you to find the girl from the donut shop,” Bucky told them. “I need to see if she knows anything we don’t before I make any decisions.”

***

Bucky was both surprised and pleased to see the girl waiting for him. The park this time of day was quiet with only one man walking his dog, and she was sitting on the bench by the giant sandbox, just as he instructed her.

When he walked around, she didn’t look up. Hell, she probably had no idea who he even was. He didn’t mind keeping it that way. There was no reason she needed to know anything else about their world. All she had to do was be nice, be cooperative, and he’d help her find her way out of his world.

Carefully, like he was trying not to frighten a doe, he sat a couple of feet away from her on the bench, setting the bookbag he brought with him between his feet.

She didn’t look up until he called her name and then, her eyes were wide in alarm. The lower half of her face was covered by a medical mask, maybe because of the flu going around. She’d made herself small, slouching on the bench with her hands folded on her knees.

He introduced himself just as Bucky, that was all she needed to know. Her cold hand was trembling when she shook his. He knew she was scared, and he didn’t intend to keep her long.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened,” he said without preamble. “The man who… While he was a soldier of mine, taking you wasn’t an order I gave. I know that doesn’t change a lot for you. But you should know that.”

Again, she just nodded.

“And I do want to help you,” Bucky said slowly, leaning a little closer to her. “I’ve brought you a substantial gift. Enough to help you get back on your feet and back to school somewhere else.”

“What do you want?” she asked quietly.

Bucky grinned. It was a smart question.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “There is something I want. I want to ask you a few questions about your time with him. Will you answer?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the mention and guilt pricked at him. Hansen was a fucking weirdo, and he could only imagine what he might have done to her. It had him wishing he’d framed the question in a different way. But it was out now so…

“Do you know his name?” Bucky asked her.

“Lloyd,” she said. “Sir.”

Oh, he did not want to know about any of Lloyd’s kinks or hangups.

“He didn’t give you any other names?”

“No,” she said.

“Another man brought you to Lloyd’s house,” Bucky said quietly. “Did you see anyone else. Besides him and Lloyd, in your time there?”

The young woman shook her head.

“Tell me about the day you got out,” Bucky said.

She shrugged nervously. “A man broke down the door and helped me out,” she said. “That’s all.”

Bucky frowned. That didn’t sound right. “You didn’t hear a fight elsewhere in the house? The sound of bullets?”

After a moment, she nodded, still staring hard at the ground before them on the bench. “It was the day before. There was shouting and a fight. Guns…”

So no one found her until the next day. Bucky wasn’t happy about that. None of his men swept the house?

“Where did the other man take you once he got you out?” Bucky asked.

The young woman blew out a long sigh. “To a friend’s,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “I don’t need specifics. I just need to know if you ran into anyone else since you were taken. Did you ever leave his house until the guy got you out?”

She shook her head.

He hated to ask. “Did he let anyone else…”

“No,” she said quickly.

“All right,” Bucky said in a kinder tone. “What can you tell me about the guy who got you out?”

She was still for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much. I wasn’t… trying to look at him.”

“Did you see any women?” Bucky asked. “Any other younger women like yourself, about your size?“ Did she see Mrs. Rogers there?

“No,” she said after a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?” Bucky asked, giving her one last chance to tell him something useful before he handed her the bag of money and told her to get lost.

“Ask about other women?” she asked.

“I was just wondering if you'd seen someone I’m interested in,” Bucky said simply.

“Why are you interested in her?” the young woman asked.

“For many reasons,” Bucky told her as he rose from the bench. “For our purposes here, I’m curious about the part she played in the last few days.”

She sighed again but didn’t move as he stood above her.

Hauling the bookbag off the ground, he held it up for her. It was filled with money, a lot of it, hers for the taking.

“Take this and make a fresh start,” he told her. “But this talk didn't take place. You understand?”

Slowly, she stood, her head ducked making her smaller than him. With a hand, she reached to take the bag from him. She froze. Her hand gripped one of the straps, but she’d stopped moving.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t…”

She couldn't take the money?

“I’ve got it,” another female voice came from behind him, with a Russian accent. Before he could turn to see who it was, he felt the blade pierce his clothing, pierce his skin before sliding into his flesh at his side. The fuck?

The pain didn’t subside when the blade was pulled free as he expected. The pain grew in intensity, spreading out from the wound.

Was the blade coated in poison?

The woman in front of him now held the backpack in one hand, pulling the mask from her face with the other. Bucky's pain was breathtaking and had him gasping as he dropped to his knees, gripping his side with his hand and listening to shouts from his men drawing closer.

Bucky stared up in pain and rage at the woman he now recognized as Mrs. Steve Rogers.

“You!” he managed. “You fucking bitch! You’re… You did this?!”

Her eyes were fierce on him. “I did,” she said.

"Evil bitch," he hissed.

"When all of you commit violence, you're protecting your family," she explained angrily. "When I commit violence, I'm an evil bitch."

His gaze darted to the backpack and back.

“And you’re taking the fucking money… too?”

Yelena Belova was there, trying to pull her away.

“I’m giving it to her,” she said as Belova pulled her away. “Just like you wanted.”

Bucky's mind was a mad whirl of thoughts as pain strengthened its grip on him. It was her. Not her husband. Did that mean...?

"Is Steve even alive?" he managed.

She held his gaze. "He is."

"He's not in good shape," Bucky shot back, hating how the pain rendered him unable to wring her neck. "He wouldn't let you... He's bad off if you..."

"We have to go," Belova urged her, grabbing Mrs. Rogers' arm and pulling her behind her in earnest.

“I’m… I'll get you!” Bucky promised, his vision fading to black at the edges. "I'll survive this... and I'll get you!"

"If you survive this," she called back, "Steve will get you."

Then she was gone and his men were there, crowding around him, their shouts fading as he let the darkness claim him.

That had Yelena smiling. “That’s your exit wound. It could have been a lot worse. It was a .45 caliber bullet. If it had just hit you, it would have done a lot of damage.”

That just meant it did a lot of damage to Steve.

“Did Hansen survive?” You were really hoping he didn’t.

Yelena sighed. “I’m not sure. When he shot you and Steve, it sent everyone into a panic. Hansen’s men faced off against Clay and Jensen so he could slip out, but he was hit. Word on the street is that Hansen’s dead, but I don’t believe it.”

“Where’s Dyson?” you asked.

“Waiting for the doctor to finish with Steve,” she told you. “He’s fretting over both of you like a mother hen.”

You blew out an exhale. “Is Steve really going to be okay?”

Her smile faded. “I think so. We’ll know soon enough. You were very lucky. The bullet barely missed your lung. You’ll have a scar, but you will recover.”

“Will Steve recover?” Guilt clouded your mind, blocking out everything else. “It was my fault he got shot.”

What if Steve died? What if it impacted the rest of his life? Would he forgive you?

“Try not to worry,” she told you. “The doctor is very good. He took very good care of you.”

“Me?” Again, you tried to sit up, but Yelena urged you to be still. The stabbing pain in your shoulder was breathtaking. “Why did he take care of me first? He should have taken care of Steve. He should have—”

“Steve wouldn’t have it,” Yelena explained. “He was only worried about you.”

And it was your fault you both got shot. Tears came on then.

“Were your friends okay?” You had to ask. “Jensen?”

“They’re okay,” she assured you.

“What about Clint?” you asked, panicking as you remembered more. “Have we heard from him?”

“Clint’s okay,” a familiar voice said from the doorway of your bedroom. Clint looked beat up, but he made it. “Nat! She’s awake.”

Nat scrambled into the bedroom, dashing to your bed. She might have hugged you if Yelena hadn’t caught her.

“She has to be careful with the stitches,” Yelena said gently.

Nat’s green eyes were glassy with tears. “I can’t believe you got shot.”

She hugged you so carefully.

“I can’t either,” you told her. “Where’s Scott?”

“Scott went to pick up Yelena’s things,” Clint said from where he stood at the foot of your bed. “He’s good.”

That meant Yelena was moving back into your home. Good.

“He’s not alone, is he?” You had to know.

Clint shook his head. "He’s got a few of our guys watching his back.”

With Nat’s help, Yelena used pillows to prop you up in the bed. The movements hurt but you could handle it. Your gaze took in all their worried faces. All you could think about was Steve.

“Clint!” Someone, you thought it was Dyson, called from down the hall.

Clint hurried off and intuition had your stomach dropping.

“When will we know about Steve?” you asked, hoping maybe Nat knew something.

You saw your own worry reflected in her green eyes. She smiled but it didn’t reach those eyes.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Nat said. “You need to rest.”

No, you needed to know how your husband was.

They stayed with you, talking quietly. Clint had been lucky in that a couple of Dyson’s friends showed up to help him when he was surrounded by Barnes’ men. There had been a massive shootout before the cops showed up, giving Clint the chance he needed to get out of there.

Nat chatted on excitedly, retelling Clint’s tale. Groggy as your mind was from being put under, it took you a minute to realize Nat hadn’t said a thing about Bruce Banner. You had been about to ask about Banner, but you caught yourself, thinking better of it. Nat was still in a fragile place. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe something did. It wasn’t in her best interest to even think about Banner right now.

Clint returned a few minutes later, his expression changed. You thought you could read Clint somewhat but right now? It looked like one hell of a poker face.

Dyson followed him in, his gaze on you. So much emotion swirled in his eyes as he approached your bedside and Nat let him have her seat at your side. Dyson leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his eyes were glassy, red.

Something was wrong. It sent a spike of panic through your heart.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Dyson said with such emotion in his voice. “You shaved a few years off this old man’s life.”

You tried to smile.

Dyson took your hand carefully in his. “I love you too, but don’t you ever do something like that again. I’m supposed to take a bullet for you, not the other way around.”

You’d expected him to say something like that. If you’d been the only one shot, you’d have been fine. It would have been worth it. Aside from the bruises on his face from his none-too-gentle handling from Hansen and Neal, Dyson looked beaten up but mostly unharmed. Not shot.

The problem was your efforts had prompted Steve to protect you.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint said carefully. “Why don’t you get in bed? It’s late and you’ve had a rough day. Come on.”

Oh no. Your heart began to ache as you nodded at Nat, told her you’d be alright. Clint led her out of your bedroom. In the doorway, he paused. The poignant look he cut you before walking away had fear rioting in your chest.

Fear had even crept into Yelena’s expression.

“Dyson,” you whispered. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Dyson blew out an exhale, seemed to be working up the courage to say what he came to say.

“Tell me.” Desperation bled on your tone. “How is Steve?”

Dyson sighed. “The surgery went well,” he said slowly. “Doc was able to deal with most of the damage. But Steve… bled a lot. He lost a lot of blood.”

Oh my God. Panic had you trying to get out of bed. You needed to see him. Now.

“Is he alive?” you asked tearfully, your breath coming fast.

Dyson nodded, his gaze fixed on you. “He’s alive… But he’s in a coma right now.”

It took both Dyson and Yelena to keep you in bed, the pain be damned. The pain felt distant, not nearly as bad as the ache in your heart. The guilt…

“He’s strong,” Dyson leaned closer as he held you there. “He’s young. Doc says he might snap out of it any time.”

Might wasn’t good enough. Might wasn’t nearly good enough.

Again, you scrambled on the bed and again, they got a grip on you. That’s when the tears came on.

“Please,” you begged. “I have to see him. I have to talk to him. If I—”

“You will,” Yelena assured you. “But not right now.”

“Yes, right now!” you yelled.

Your gaze moved to Dyson just in time to see the syringe in his other hand. Regret stained his expression as he slid the needle into your upper arm, administering its contents into your bloodstream. The sedative had the world slipping away from you by the second as you fought…

***

It was so quiet in Luca’s kitchen. Yelena sat at that small wooden table next to Dyson, so tired it was hard to keep her eyes open. Dyson hadn’t really touched the cup of black coffee Luca put in front of him. Well, Scott hadn’t touched his either. Clint, like her, had waved it away. He’d been the last to join them in the quiet of the kitchen.

It wasn’t lost on her that usually, they were all in good spirits here. Usually, they told tall tales about life in the Rogers’ family, or they had a poker game going. And now?

Now it felt like their entire world had been upended.

Only Luca was still standing, leaning against the counter with his beefy arms folded across his chest and his gaze on the floor.

“How is Nat?” Yelena had to ask, catching Clint’s gaze.

Clint shook his head. “No damn good. She’s still having nightmares about Banner and then all this shit happened.”

“Does she know Banner is dead?” Yelena asked.

“No,” Clint said. “Not a good time. She’s already terrified from what happened tonight.”

Yelena respected his decision.

“She asleep?” Dyson asked.

Clint nodded. “I got her to take a Valium. At least she’ll sleep for a little while.”

Yelena blew out an exhale. You were a different story. And she wasn’t looking forward to when the sedative wore off. She knew you were scared and blaming yourself for what happened.

“I’m just going to go ahead and say it,” Luca said. “Barnes has been handing us our asses since the boss got married and we’re damned lucky that today didn’t go a hell of a lot worse. Hansen got his hands on Dyson. Mrs. Rogers got shot and the boss…”

Dyson nodded silently where he sat.

“Barnes has been one step ahead of us the entire fucking time and Steve?” Luca scrubbed a hand over his face. “Steve was a force to be reckoned with before he got married.”

Wait. What?

“Please tell me you’re not blaming Mrs. Rogers for all this,” Yelena pleaded, more than ready to defend you.

“Not her fault… directly,” Luca explained. “She got in his head. But he has to have better control than that when it comes to the business. He can’t allow anything to get him so turned around that he starts making bad decisions. And he’s made nothing but bad decisions since he got married.”

“It was more than that,” Dyson finally spoke up. “He didn’t marry her until after her father died. And while her father was alive, he was Steve’s mentor. He guided him, helped him think things through when it came to leading the families.”

Dyson rose from his chair and walked around the table to get to the fridge, pulling out a beer.

“Barnes saw through it,” Dyson went on. “Barnes is a sharp one, always was. He didn’t let the old boss get cold in his grave before he started pushing buttons.”

“Where does that leave us?” Luca asked. “There’s blood in the water. Barnes ain’t backing off now.”

“No, he’s not,” Dyson replied.

“And Steve’s father-in-law is gone,” Luca went on. “If having a mentor is the only way he was going to pull this off, we’re fucked.”

Dyson paused, putting his beer on the table, unopened. Yelena knew that look on his face. He’d thought of something.

“Maybe we’re not,” he said as thoughts ran through his head. She could almost see them.

“What?” Luca threw his hands up. “The old man is dead.”

“But he’s not entirely gone,” Dyson said, meeting Yelena’s gaze. And it was at that moment that she knew where this was going.

Luca looked lost. “What are you saying?”

“We have his kid,” Dyson said it out loud. “We have his daughter. She’s as sharp as her father ever was.”

Scott’s eyes lit up, catching on. He nodded.

“Hey,” Luca drew their attention to him. “Maybe you’re right. She might even be sharper than her old man. But she can’t take over. No family is going to accept her lead. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Dyson said.

“Steve would never accept that either,” Luca went on.

“Right now Steve can’t give us his opinion,” Dyson pointed out. “He’s in a comma. God willing, he’ll come out of it. But no one outside the family can know about his condition. Barnes will finish us if he finds out.”

That had everyone pausing.

“What are you saying?” Clint asked, looking very invested in the discussion now.

“Everyone outside this room, and Nat, have to believe that Steve is still holding the reins,” Dyson told them gravely. “And until he’s awake, someone has to call the shots.”

“No.” Luca shook his head. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders but leading a mob family? Leading five mob families?”

“She was right about Neal, wasn’t she?” Dyson stressed. “She’s got her old man’s instincts. You’ve said it yourself. We can give her the circumstances. She doesn’t have to know the business. We do. We lay it all out for her and she makes the calls.”

“If we’re doing all that,” Luca said, “why don’t me and you make the calls?”

“If you or me were qualified to lead a family, we wouldn’t be here,” Dyson said. “But you’re a cook and I’m an enforcer. But her?” Dyson pointed upstairs. “She’s our best shot at this. She’s how we pull this off.”

“How do we know she’ll want to do it?” Clint threw in. “That’s a huge responsibility.”

“She hasn’t backed down from anything yet, has she?” Scott asked.

Yelena smiled at him. Scott was right.

“She’ll do it.” Yelena knew she would. “She feels responsible for Steve’s injury. She’ll do anything she can to help for that reason.”

“She will,” Dyson told them. ”If Steve doesn’t wake up, the Rogers family is done for. If and when he does wake up, we’ll reassess then.”

“Word will get out that Steve was shot,” Luca pointed out. “That she was shot. Hansen and his men might have survived.”

Dyson shook his head. “If Hansen’s alive, and I doubt it, him and his men are long gone. They’ve got bigger problems. Barnes will be hunting them for betraying his family.”

Yelena knew that was true.

“You said it yourself,” Luca said. “Barnes is sharp. He’s going to figure it out.”

“We’ll see,” Dyson said.

“You really think she can do this?” Luca asked. “If she really does have her father’s instincts, it could be bad news for Barnes. Her father was a ruthless bastard.”

Dyson chuckled. “She has them instincts. And no offense,” he waved to Yelena, “but she’s a woman. Those instincts and a woman’s intuition? Barnes might be the one fucked.”

Clint shook his head with a laugh. “Holy shit.”

Dyson’s gaze met Yelena’s. “Exactly right.”

***

The low din of voice was the first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning. Turning on the TV, you didn’t immediately know where your phone was, you saw it was just after 11 AM.

Fuck. I’ve been out that long?

As quietly as you could manage, you sat up, wincing at the pain. It hurt ten times worse today and pulling back your nightgown to see the dressing, you saw that you’d bled through it.

You’d live.

You had to get to Steve.

It was slow going in making yourself at least presentable. You took a sink bath because you knew you probably should get the dressing over your wound wet. You pulled on jeans and one of Steve’s big sweaters because a bra was out of the question at the moment. Sliding on flats, you decided you were as good as you were going to get today.

The voices continued and you slid out of your room and made your way in that direction. Was it Nat?

Was it Steve?

Dyson had told you Steve was in a coma. Was he awake now? Could you see him?

Was he dead?

Nat’s bedroom was quiet, so you passed it. The talking was coming from a few doors down, one of the guest rooms. The door was slightly open, and you peeked in. You saw Yelena, Clint, and Jensen off to one side of the room. You moved to see the bed, your heart leaping in hope that it was Steve, and he was awake.

It wasn’t Steve. No, in the center of that bed was a young woman, asleep and curled up on her side. She looked so small with the covers pulled up over her shoulder. She looked so familiar.

Then you remembered that small purple purse in Hansen’s house, randomly lying on his sofa. It occurred to you why she looked familiar.

“She’s going to have to understand,” Clint said in a low voice. “We can’t go to the police.”

“I understand that,” Yelena said. “But we also can’t just throw her back out into the world. Not with what he did to her. She needs help and protection.”

Jensen stood listening, his hands on his slim waist. Clint’s hair was spiked over his head and the shadows behind his eyes led her to believe that he’d probably been up all night.

Yelena stood next to the bed, a protective stance. It confirmed your suspicions about what you were seeing. It was the girl from the donut shop. She’d been Hansen’s prisoner and you had some idea of what had happened to her. You also couldn’t help but feel that if anything had happened to Steve, they wouldn’t be dealing with this.

You chose that moment to walk in, to make your presence known. Yelena looked alarmed when she spotted you.

“What are you doing up?” she asked, dashing to your side. “You should be resting right now.”

You shook your head, shrugged off her careful hands. She was probably right but you couldn’t truly rest if you tried. There was way too much going on.

“It’s the girl from the donut shop.” It wasn’t a question. “When did you find her?”

“Dyson sent me back to Hansen’s this morning to do a sweep of the house,” Jensen explained. “To make sure there’s nothing there to implicate your family.”

“Thank you,” you told him. “Our doctor needs to see her.”

Yelena nodded. “He’ll be back in a little while. He—”

“He didn’t stay with my husband?” you asked, trying to keep calm.

“He went back to get his things,” Clint said with his hands held up in front of him. “He’ll be staying with us for a while. Until Steve wakes up.”

You took a deep breath, trying not to let panic take over. Steve was still in a comma then.

You nodded. “Once he’s seen Steve, I want him to take care of her. Yelena’s right. Unless something changed we don’t know if Hansen’s dead or alive. We need to keep her safe.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint nodded.

“She probably shouldn’t stay here,” Clint said carefully. “For her own well-being.”

“Once we know she’s physically okay, we’ll come up with a solution,” you told them. “I also want a psychologist brought in to see her.”

“We'll make it happen,” Yelena told you, exchanging a glass with Clint.

Yelena knew more than you what that poor woman had been through. The woman would need that type of support and understanding.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Dyson muttered from behind you as he marched in. “Why are you out of bed?”

He came to a stop right in front of you, his gaze assessing.

“Because it beats just laying there worried about my husband and thinking ‘oh, shit, my shoulder hurts,’” you told him. “Can I see my husband now?”

After a moment, Dyson nodded. “Come on.”

Dyson led you to another guestroom in another hallway. It was quiet in the room and your husband lay in the middle of the bed. He was too still, too pale. He almost never slept on his back, so it was odd to see him like that. Clusters of medical monitors were positioned all around the bed, pushing your anxiety up higher than it already was.

You moved to his bedside, sitting carefully at his side. You barely noticed the pain in your shoulder in that moment as you took his hand in yours. It was warm, but it was too still. Your heart ached in your chest to look at him lying there.

Your fault. This was all your fault.

You knew Dyson was quietly waiting behind you. You didn’t care. You let the tears come, sobbing over your husband as a hundred nightmare scenarios flashed in your mind. What if you lost him? What if he awoke but he was broken, not the same. He’d hate you and that hate would flash in his blue eyes every time he looked at you.

You didn’t realize Dyson had walked over to the bed at first. He stood on the other side, looking as brokenhearted as you felt. Steve was like a son to him.

“I need you to know that if anything happens to Steve,” Dyson said slowly, “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let Barnes or Hansen get to you. I swear.”

You shook your head. Dyson was a blur on the other side of your tears. “If anything happens to Steve, I won’t care what happens to me, Dyson. It won’t matter.”

A single tear slid down one cheek as he thought about what you said. “Somewhere in all of this, you really fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

Swiping at your eyes with your fingers you nodded. It was a raw truth, and you couldn’t deny it.

“You can talk to him,” Dyson said gently. “Doc said that often when patients are in… a state like this… they can hear you. Might not be able to answer but…”

Your tears dotted the back of Steve’s hand, held in your own. They just kept coming and the crack in your heart got longer and longer until it felt like the world would come apart.

“What do you want him to know?” Dyson’s tone was encouraging.

“I love you,” you said to your husband through your tears. “I’d give anything to take this back. Anything. It’s my fault you got hurt. I’m so… sorry…”

This time as you sobbed, Dyson sat behind you, wrapping his arms around you like he could hold you together.

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he held you. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” you told him miserably. “I should have done something different. I should have…”

“You were so brave,” Dyson said quietly. “I’ve worked with soldiers who didn't have half of your bravery. Do you know that?”

You shook your head, holding on to Steve’s hand.

“Dyson,” you said as you were trying to get the tears to stop, “he’s in danger. Not just the injuries… What will Barnes do when he finds out? What if Hansen is still alive and he finds out? We have to put a guard around the house. It’s bad enough that he’s like this. But someone… could try to come and finish him off.”

“We were talking about last night,” Dyson said slowly. “And you’re right. We have to safeguard Steve and this family.”

“What are we going to do?” you asked.

“We’re going to convince the outside world that Steve is fine,” Dyson explained. “That’s he’s still holding the reins in this family. That he’s still the head of all the families.”

It sounded like a good idea on the surface, but you hit a dead end in your thoughts pretty quickly. “Even if we could convince everyone that Steve’s fine and still leading the families, he’s in a comma. He’s not even conscious. He can’t make decisions like this. What’s your plan for that?”

“That’s where I need your help,” he said.

You couldn’t have heard that correctly. Shifting on the bed so you could meet his gaze over your shoulder, you stared Dyson down.

“How can I help?”

“I need your instincts,” Dyson said, looking you in the eye. “You were right about Neal. You were right about everything. Hansen pulled the stunt he did, and you just ran right out to challenge him over my sorry ass.”

He thought you could help run the Rogers family? All the families?

“You have strong instincts, your father's instincts, and you're brave,” he went on.

“Maybe I’m just fucking crazy,” you muttered.

“All I’m asking you to do is try,” he said patiently. “After all this, Steve is going to be expected to strike back. He’s going to be expected to hit Barnes hard, to end this rebellion once and for fucking all.”

Dyson was right.

“Everyone expects Steve to be looking for some payback,” Dyson went on. “Don’t you want a little payback for all this?”

That little offer caught your attention. Did you want to make Barnes and Hansen pay? Yes, you did. With the help of Neal and Banner, Barnes had hit Steve’s family hard in so many ways. Consequences you'd faced. Yelena had faced. And Nat? She’d suffered the most.

And what Hansen likely did to that poor girl?

Payback? Oh yes. You wanted a lot of fucking payback.

You glanced at your husband, your heart echoing his words to you from yesterday. Come back to me.

Steve would come back to you. You wouldn’t accept anything less. You wouldn’t let his family fall.

Returning your gaze to Dyson, you lifted your chin. “Let’s do this. I want Barnes to fucking suffer. I want to hit him so fucking hard no one else will ever dare challenge my husband, my family, again.”

Dyson smiled.

That had Yelena smiling. “That’s your exit wound. It could have been a lot worse. It was a .45 caliber bullet. If it had just hit you, it would have done a lot of damage.”

That just meant it did a lot of damage to Steve.

“Did Hansen survive?” You were really hoping he didn’t.

Yelena sighed. “I’m not sure. When he shot you and Steve, it sent everyone into a panic. Hansen’s men faced off against Clay and Jensen so he could slip out, but he was hit. Word on the street is that Hansen’s dead, but I don’t believe it.”

“Where’s Dyson?” you asked.

“Waiting for the doctor to finish with Steve,” she told you. “He’s fretting over both of you like a mother hen.”

You blew out an exhale. “Is Steve really going to be okay?”

Her smile faded. “I think so. We’ll know soon enough. You were very lucky. The bullet barely missed your lung. You’ll have a scar, but you will recover.”

“Will Steve recover?” Guilt clouded your mind, blocking out everything else. “It was my fault he got shot.”

What if Steve died? What if it impacted the rest of his life? Would he forgive you?

“Try not to worry,” she told you. “The doctor is very good. He took very good care of you.”

“Me?” Again, you tried to sit up, but Yelena urged you to be still. The stabbing pain in your shoulder was breathtaking. “Why did he take care of me first? He should have taken care of Steve. He should have—”

“Steve wouldn’t have it,” Yelena explained. “He was only worried about you.”

And it was your fault you both got shot. Tears came on then.

“Were your friends okay?” You had to ask. “Jensen?”

“They’re okay,” she assured you.

“What about Clint?” you asked, panicking as you remembered more. “Have we heard from him?”

“Clint’s okay,” a familiar voice said from the doorway of your bedroom. Clint looked beat up, but he made it. “Nat! She’s awake.”

Nat scrambled into the bedroom, dashing to your bed. She might have hugged you if Yelena hadn’t caught her.

“She has to be careful with the stitches,” Yelena said gently.

Nat’s green eyes were glassy with tears. “I can’t believe you got shot.”

She hugged you so carefully.

“I can’t either,” you told her. “Where’s Scott?”

“Scott went to pick up Yelena’s things,” Clint said from where he stood at the foot of your bed. “He’s good.”

That meant Yelena was moving back into your home. Good.

“He’s not alone, is he?” You had to know.

Clint shook his head. "He’s got a few of our guys watching his back.”

With Nat’s help, Yelena used pillows to prop you up in the bed. The movements hurt but you could handle it. Your gaze took in all their worried faces. All you could think about was Steve.

“Clint!” Someone, you thought it was Dyson, called from down the hall.

Clint hurried off and intuition had your stomach dropping.

“When will we know about Steve?” you asked, hoping maybe Nat knew something.

You saw your own worry reflected in her green eyes. She smiled but it didn’t reach those eyes.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Nat said. “You need to rest.”

No, you needed to know how your husband was.

They stayed with you, talking quietly. Clint had been lucky in that a couple of Dyson’s friends showed up to help him when he was surrounded by Barnes’ men. There had been a massive shootout before the cops showed up, giving Clint the chance he needed to get out of there.

Nat chatted on excitedly, retelling Clint’s tale. Groggy as your mind was from being put under, it took you a minute to realize Nat hadn’t said a thing about Bruce Banner. You had been about to ask about Banner, but you caught yourself, thinking better of it. Nat was still in a fragile place. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe something did. It wasn’t in her best interest to even think about Banner right now.

Clint returned a few minutes later, his expression changed. You thought you could read Clint somewhat but right now? It looked like one hell of a poker face.

Dyson followed him in, his gaze on you. So much emotion swirled in his eyes as he approached your bedside and Nat let him have her seat at your side. Dyson leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his eyes were glassy, red.

Something was wrong. It sent a spike of panic through your heart.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Dyson said with such emotion in his voice. “You shaved a few years off this old man’s life.”

You tried to smile.

Dyson took your hand carefully in his. “I love you too, but don’t you ever do something like that again. I’m supposed to take a bullet for you, not the other way around.”

You’d expected him to say something like that. If you’d been the only one shot, you’d have been fine. It would have been worth it. Aside from the bruises on his face from his none-too-gentle handling from Hansen and Neal, Dyson looked beaten up but mostly unharmed. Not shot.

The problem was your efforts had prompted Steve to protect you.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint said carefully. “Why don’t you get in bed? It’s late and you’ve had a rough day. Come on.”

Oh no. Your heart began to ache as you nodded at Nat, told her you’d be alright. Clint led her out of your bedroom. In the doorway, he paused. The poignant look he cut you before walking away had fear rioting in your chest.

Fear had even crept into Yelena’s expression.

“Dyson,” you whispered. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Dyson blew out an exhale, seemed to be working up the courage to say what he came to say.

“Tell me.” Desperation bled on your tone. “How is Steve?”

Dyson sighed. “The surgery went well,” he said slowly. “Doc was able to deal with most of the damage. But Steve… bled a lot. He lost a lot of blood.”

Oh my God. Panic had you trying to get out of bed. You needed to see him. Now.

“Is he alive?” you asked tearfully, your breath coming fast.

Dyson nodded, his gaze fixed on you. “He’s alive… But he’s in a coma right now.”

It took both Dyson and Yelena to keep you in bed, the pain be damned. The pain felt distant, not nearly as bad as the ache in your heart. The guilt…

“He’s strong,” Dyson leaned closer as he held you there. “He’s young. Doc says he might snap out of it any time.”

Might wasn’t good enough. Might wasn’t nearly good enough.

Again, you scrambled on the bed and again, they got a grip on you. That’s when the tears came on.

“Please,” you begged. “I have to see him. I have to talk to him. If I—”

“You will,” Yelena assured you. “But not right now.”

“Yes, right now!” you yelled.

Your gaze moved to Dyson just in time to see the syringe in his other hand. Regret stained his expression as he slid the needle into your upper arm, administering its contents into your bloodstream. The sedative had the world slipping away from you by the second as you fought…

***

It was so quiet in Luca’s kitchen. Yelena sat at that small wooden table next to Dyson, so tired it was hard to keep her eyes open. Dyson hadn’t really touched the cup of black coffee Luca put in front of him. Well, Scott hadn’t touched his either. Clint, like her, had waved it away. He’d been the last to join them in the quiet of the kitchen.

It wasn’t lost on her that usually, they were all in good spirits here. Usually, they told tall tales about life in the Rogers’ family, or they had a poker game going. And now?

Now it felt like their entire world had been upended.

Only Luca was still standing, leaning against the counter with his beefy arms folded across his chest and his gaze on the floor.

“How is Nat?” Yelena had to ask, catching Clint’s gaze.

Clint shook his head. “No damn good. She’s still having nightmares about Banner and then all this shit happened.”

“Does she know Banner is dead?” Yelena asked.

“No,” Clint said. “Not a good time. She’s already terrified from what happened tonight.”

Yelena respected his decision.

“She asleep?” Dyson asked.

Clint nodded. “I got her to take a Valium. At least she’ll sleep for a little while.”

Yelena blew out an exhale. You were a different story. And she wasn’t looking forward to when the sedative wore off. She knew you were scared and blaming yourself for what happened.

“I’m just going to go ahead and say it,” Luca said. “Barnes has been handing us our asses since the boss got married and we’re damned lucky that today didn’t go a hell of a lot worse. Hansen got his hands on Dyson. Mrs. Rogers got shot and the boss…”

Dyson nodded silently where he sat.

“Barnes has been one step ahead of us the entire fucking time and Steve?” Luca scrubbed a hand over his face. “Steve was a force to be reckoned with before he got married.”

Wait. What?

“Please tell me you’re not blaming Mrs. Rogers for all this,” Yelena pleaded, more than ready to defend you.

“Not her fault… directly,” Luca explained. “She got in his head. But he has to have better control than that when it comes to the business. He can’t allow anything to get him so turned around that he starts making bad decisions. And he’s made nothing but bad decisions since he got married.”

“It was more than that,” Dyson finally spoke up. “He didn’t marry her until after her father died. And while her father was alive, he was Steve’s mentor. He guided him, helped him think things through when it came to leading the families.”

Dyson rose from his chair and walked around the table to get to the fridge, pulling out a beer.

“Barnes saw through it,” Dyson went on. “Barnes is a sharp one, always was. He didn’t let the old boss get cold in his grave before he started pushing buttons.”

“Where does that leave us?” Luca asked. “There’s blood in the water. Barnes ain’t backing off now.”

“No, he’s not,” Dyson replied.

“And Steve’s father-in-law is gone,” Luca went on. “If having a mentor is the only way he was going to pull this off, we’re fucked.”

Dyson paused, putting his beer on the table, unopened. Yelena knew that look on his face. He’d thought of something.

“Maybe we’re not,” he said as thoughts ran through his head. She could almost see them.

“What?” Luca threw his hands up. “The old man is dead.”

“But he’s not entirely gone,” Dyson said, meeting Yelena’s gaze. And it was at that moment that she knew where this was going.

Luca looked lost. “What are you saying?”

“We have his kid,” Dyson said it out loud. “We have his daughter. She’s as sharp as her father ever was.”

Scott’s eyes lit up, catching on. He nodded.

“Hey,” Luca drew their attention to him. “Maybe you’re right. She might even be sharper than her old man. But she can’t take over. No family is going to accept her lead. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Dyson said.

“Steve would never accept that either,” Luca went on.

“Right now Steve can’t give us his opinion,” Dyson pointed out. “He’s in a comma. God willing, he’ll come out of it. But no one outside the family can know about his condition. Barnes will finish us if he finds out.”

That had everyone pausing.

“What are you saying?” Clint asked, looking very invested in the discussion now.

“Everyone outside this room, and Nat, have to believe that Steve is still holding the reins,” Dyson told them gravely. “And until he’s awake, someone has to call the shots.”

“No.” Luca shook his head. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders but leading a mob family? Leading five mob families?”

“She was right about Neal, wasn’t she?” Dyson stressed. “She’s got her old man’s instincts. You’ve said it yourself. We can give her the circumstances. She doesn’t have to know the business. We do. We lay it all out for her and she makes the calls.”

“If we’re doing all that,” Luca said, “why don’t me and you make the calls?”

“If you or me were qualified to lead a family, we wouldn’t be here,” Dyson said. “But you’re a cook and I’m an enforcer. But her?” Dyson pointed upstairs. “She’s our best shot at this. She’s how we pull this off.”

“How do we know she’ll want to do it?” Clint threw in. “That’s a huge responsibility.”

“She hasn’t backed down from anything yet, has she?” Scott asked.

Yelena smiled at him. Scott was right.

“She’ll do it.” Yelena knew she would. “She feels responsible for Steve’s injury. She’ll do anything she can to help for that reason.”

“She will,” Dyson told them. ”If Steve doesn’t wake up, the Rogers family is done for. If and when he does wake up, we’ll reassess then.”

“Word will get out that Steve was shot,” Luca pointed out. “That she was shot. Hansen and his men might have survived.”

Dyson shook his head. “If Hansen’s alive, and I doubt it, him and his men are long gone. They’ve got bigger problems. Barnes will be hunting them for betraying his family.”

Yelena knew that was true.

“You said it yourself,” Luca said. “Barnes is sharp. He’s going to figure it out.”

“We’ll see,” Dyson said.

“You really think she can do this?” Luca asked. “If she really does have her father’s instincts, it could be bad news for Barnes. Her father was a ruthless bastard.”

Dyson chuckled. “She has them instincts. And no offense,” he waved to Yelena, “but she’s a woman. Those instincts and a woman’s intuition? Barnes might be the one fucked.”

Clint shook his head with a laugh. “Holy shit.”

Dyson’s gaze met Yelena’s. “Exactly right.”

***

The low din of voice was the first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning. Turning on the TV, you didn’t immediately know where your phone was, you saw it was just after 11 AM.

Fuck. I’ve been out that long?

As quietly as you could manage, you sat up, wincing at the pain. It hurt ten times worse today and pulling back your nightgown to see the dressing, you saw that you’d bled through it.

You’d live.

You had to get to Steve.

It was slow going in making yourself at least presentable. You took a sink bath because you knew you probably should get the dressing over your wound wet. You pulled on jeans and one of Steve’s big sweaters because a bra was out of the question at the moment. Sliding on flats, you decided you were as good as you were going to get today.

The voices continued and you slid out of your room and made your way in that direction. Was it Nat?

Was it Steve?

Dyson had told you Steve was in a coma. Was he awake now? Could you see him?

Was he dead?

Nat’s bedroom was quiet, so you passed it. The talking was coming from a few doors down, one of the guest rooms. The door was slightly open, and you peeked in. You saw Yelena, Clint, and Jensen off to one side of the room. You moved to see the bed, your heart leaping in hope that it was Steve, and he was awake.

It wasn’t Steve. No, in the center of that bed was a young woman, asleep and curled up on her side. She looked so small with the covers pulled up over her shoulder. She looked so familiar.

Then you remembered that small purple purse in Hansen’s house, randomly lying on his sofa. It occurred to you why she looked familiar.

“She’s going to have to understand,” Clint said in a low voice. “We can’t go to the police.”

“I understand that,” Yelena said. “But we also can’t just throw her back out into the world. Not with what he did to her. She needs help and protection.”

Jensen stood listening, his hands on his slim waist. Clint’s hair was spiked over his head and the shadows behind his eyes led her to believe that he’d probably been up all night.

Yelena stood next to the bed, a protective stance. It confirmed your suspicions about what you were seeing. It was the girl from the donut shop. She’d been Hansen’s prisoner and you had some idea of what had happened to her. You also couldn’t help but feel that if anything had happened to Steve, they wouldn’t be dealing with this.

You chose that moment to walk in, to make your presence known. Yelena looked alarmed when she spotted you.

“What are you doing up?” she asked, dashing to your side. “You should be resting right now.”

You shook your head, shrugged off her careful hands. She was probably right but you couldn’t truly rest if you tried. There was way too much going on.

“It’s the girl from the donut shop.” It wasn’t a question. “When did you find her?”

“Dyson sent me back to Hansen’s this morning to do a sweep of the house,” Jensen explained. “To make sure there’s nothing there to implicate your family.”

“Thank you,” you told him. “Our doctor needs to see her.”

Yelena nodded. “He’ll be back in a little while. He—”

“He didn’t stay with my husband?” you asked, trying to keep calm.

“He went back to get his things,” Clint said with his hands held up in front of him. “He’ll be staying with us for a while. Until Steve wakes up.”

You took a deep breath, trying not to let panic take over. Steve was still in a comma then.

You nodded. “Once he’s seen Steve, I want him to take care of her. Yelena’s right. Unless something changed we don’t know if Hansen’s dead or alive. We need to keep her safe.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint nodded.

“She probably shouldn’t stay here,” Clint said carefully. “For her own well-being.”

“Once we know she’s physically okay, we’ll come up with a solution,” you told them. “I also want a psychologist brought in to see her.”

“We'll make it happen,” Yelena told you, exchanging a glass with Clint.

Yelena knew more than you what that poor woman had been through. The woman would need that type of support and understanding.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Dyson muttered from behind you as he marched in. “Why are you out of bed?”

He came to a stop right in front of you, his gaze assessing.

“Because it beats just laying there worried about my husband and thinking ‘oh, shit, my shoulder hurts,’” you told him. “Can I see my husband now?”

After a moment, Dyson nodded. “Come on.”

Dyson led you to another guestroom in another hallway. It was quiet in the room and your husband lay in the middle of the bed. He was too still, too pale. He almost never slept on his back, so it was odd to see him like that. Clusters of medical monitors were positioned all around the bed, pushing your anxiety up higher than it already was.

You moved to his bedside, sitting carefully at his side. You barely noticed the pain in your shoulder in that moment as you took his hand in yours. It was warm, but it was too still. Your heart ached in your chest to look at him lying there.

Your fault. This was all your fault.

You knew Dyson was quietly waiting behind you. You didn’t care. You let the tears come, sobbing over your husband as a hundred nightmare scenarios flashed in your mind. What if you lost him? What if he awoke but he was broken, not the same. He’d hate you and that hate would flash in his blue eyes every time he looked at you.

You didn’t realize Dyson had walked over to the bed at first. He stood on the other side, looking as brokenhearted as you felt. Steve was like a son to him.

“I need you to know that if anything happens to Steve,” Dyson said slowly, “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let Barnes or Hansen get to you. I swear.”

You shook your head. Dyson was a blur on the other side of your tears. “If anything happens to Steve, I won’t care what happens to me, Dyson. It won’t matter.”

A single tear slid down one cheek as he thought about what you said. “Somewhere in all of this, you really fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

Swiping at your eyes with your fingers you nodded. It was a raw truth, and you couldn’t deny it.

“You can talk to him,” Dyson said gently. “Doc said that often when patients are in… a state like this… they can hear you. Might not be able to answer but…”

Your tears dotted the back of Steve’s hand, held in your own. They just kept coming and the crack in your heart got longer and longer until it felt like the world would come apart.

“What do you want him to know?” Dyson’s tone was encouraging.

“I love you,” you said to your husband through your tears. “I’d give anything to take this back. Anything. It’s my fault you got hurt. I’m so… sorry…”

This time as you sobbed, Dyson sat behind you, wrapping his arms around you like he could hold you together.

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he held you. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” you told him miserably. “I should have done something different. I should have…”

“You were so brave,” Dyson said quietly. “I’ve worked with soldiers who didn't have half of your bravery. Do you know that?”

You shook your head, holding on to Steve’s hand.

“Dyson,” you said as you were trying to get the tears to stop, “he’s in danger. Not just the injuries… What will Barnes do when he finds out? What if Hansen is still alive and he finds out? We have to put a guard around the house. It’s bad enough that he’s like this. But someone… could try to come and finish him off.”

“We were talking about last night,” Dyson said slowly. “And you’re right. We have to safeguard Steve and this family.”

“What are we going to do?” you asked.

“We’re going to convince the outside world that Steve is fine,” Dyson explained. “That’s he’s still holding the reins in this family. That he’s still the head of all the families.”

It sounded like a good idea on the surface, but you hit a dead end in your thoughts pretty quickly. “Even if we could convince everyone that Steve’s fine and still leading the families, he’s in a comma. He’s not even conscious. He can’t make decisions like this. What’s your plan for that?”

“That’s where I need your help,” he said.

You couldn’t have heard that correctly. Shifting on the bed so you could meet his gaze over your shoulder, you stared Dyson down.

“How can I help?”

“I need your instincts,” Dyson said, looking you in the eye. “You were right about Neal. You were right about everything. Hansen pulled the stunt he did, and you just ran right out to challenge him over my sorry ass.”

He thought you could help run the Rogers family? All the families?

“You have strong instincts, your father's instincts, and you're brave,” he went on.

“Maybe I’m just fucking crazy,” you muttered.

“All I’m asking you to do is try,” he said patiently. “After all this, Steve is going to be expected to strike back. He’s going to be expected to hit Barnes hard, to end this rebellion once and for fucking all.”

Dyson was right.

“Everyone expects Steve to be looking for some payback,” Dyson went on. “Don’t you want a little payback for all this?”

That little offer caught your attention. Did you want to make Barnes and Hansen pay? Yes, you did. With the help of Neal and Banner, Barnes had hit Steve’s family hard in so many ways. Consequences you'd faced. Yelena had faced. And Nat? She’d suffered the most.

And what Hansen likely did to that poor girl?

Payback? Oh yes. You wanted a lot of fucking payback.

You glanced at your husband, your heart echoing his words to you from yesterday. Come back to me.

Steve would come back to you. You wouldn’t accept anything less. You wouldn’t let his family fall.

Returning your gaze to Dyson, you lifted your chin. “Let’s do this. I want Barnes to fucking suffer. I want to hit him so fucking hard no one else will ever dare challenge my husband, my family, again.”

Dyson smiled.

You know those scenes in movies? The ones that come at the end of a heroic showdown, or battle. There’s silence, and then the rain starts, or the clouds clear. And the heroes stand there, bloodied and bruised, wiping the filth off their faces whilst some cheesy, melancholy yet rousing overture plays in the background.

Well, the reality is somewhat different.

There was no music, no heroes in fact. Just those who remained from both Shield and Hydra, stood in a silent cease fire. All around you, the wounded were being tended to by Medics, Natasha included.

Hydra factions were approaching Shield ones, their hands were up in surrender in most cases. But some held out a single hand, extended in front of them in displays of amicable concession, ready to shake.

It was surreal, you really couldn’t grasp how two factions that had been so bloody and violently opposed to one another could now be working together the way they were, but then, you guessed such was the nature of war.

It made all the bloodshed even more pointless in your eyes, but it was exactly as Steve had said; whilst Shield and Hydra existed, so would the divide.

Simply telling someone their opinions were wrong would never work, a person has to be given the opportunity to explain, to understand, to debate. A chance to see reason and logic, and not just stubbornly believe that they were the only ones with a valid point to make.

And that was what had been lacking from the whole Shield/Hydra set up from the start. The Civil War hadn’t solved anything, it had simply pushed Hydra and Shield even further apart, which had come at a heavy cost to people like you.

Now, you hoped, that would change.

“Y/N…” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts loud and clear. You turned your face to look at your Alpha, and his eyes locked on to yours. “It’s okay…it’s over.” Then you realised his lips weren’t moving. His hand was pressed to the mark on his neck. “Are you hurt?”

As you watched, you raised your own, shaking fingers pressing to the intricate gold infinity loops. “I’m fine Alpha…”

With a nod, he dropped his hand and held it out for you to take. As Steve pulled you to him, you felt something cold and wet drip onto your head.

It was starting to rain.

You turned your face to the sky and closed your eyes.

*****

In the hours following the battle, Steve was bustled off to an emergency WSC meeting with Tony and Fury. As you waited for them to return, you’d taken up seat with the rest of the team in Natasha’s hospital room as she led there having been patched up. The doctors hadn’t been too pleased about the blatant flaunting of the 2 visitors at a time rule, not to mention the fact that you’d refused to leave Commando outside…but one look at Bruce’s angry face had made them back off.

“Are you ever not eating?” Sam looked at Peter, who was sprawled in one of the chairs, his arm in a cast whilst the other was stuffing his face with potato chips from a bag which sat on his lap.

“He’s a growing boy.” Bucky teased, his bruised face breaking into a teasing grin, “aint that right?”

“Hey, I saved your ass out there.” Peter pointed at him, “if I hadn’t tangled that dude up in my ropes and slingers, he’d have shot you straight in the back of your head. You got sloppy, stopped watching your 6.”

The room fell silent, before Cling roared with laughter. “He has you there, Buckaroo!”

“Piss off.”

“Now now, no need to resort to that kind of language…” Natasha snorted.

“You know, if you weren’t already in a hospital bed…” Bucky glared at her.

“You’d do what?” She scoffed.

You smiled to yourself, simply listening and watching as your friends exchanged well natured insults and teasing. You felt a large hand softly rest on your shoulder and you turned with a smile to look up at Thor.

“Are you okay, little bird?”

“I...yeah. As okay as I can be, I mean, I shot my brother…”

“Oh, I’ve lost count of the amount of times my brother has shot or stabbed me.” Thor waved his hand. “Your brother only has himself to blame. He was offered a way out, but he couldn’t let go of his pride or beliefs.”

“He’s always been a stubborn asshole.” You gave a wry little smile, “just like my father.”

“Yes, and just as my father predicted, it was that same stubborn line of thinking which brought Hydra to their knees. You were ready to sacrifice yourself for your mate, and still Hydra didn’t see that as an act of bravery on your part, but a sign of weakness on the part of your Alpha.” Thor took a deep breath, his hand running through his dirty hair. “Maybe now they can start to understand that tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.”

“You sound like Al Capone…” You shook your head.

“Who?

“’Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness’, seriously? You don’t…” you snorted and then shook your head. “it doesn’t…not important.”

“Well, indeed.” Thor merely raised his eyebrow as he nodded. “That was your brother and Rumlow’s biggest mistake. The underestimated you, when I’m fact, you are stronger than many Alpha’s I know. Stronger than me, stronger than Steve…and their inability to understand this, is what led us here.”

You looked at Thor, blinking as you swallowed. “I don’t…I doubt that…”

“You doubt it? Do you think that Steve would have the strength to kill Bucky, should he have needed to?”

“I…”

“And I can tell you know, for all the times me and Loki have fought, I’ve never tried to kill him.”

You swallowed. “I…I didn’t set off wanting to kill him, I just…it would never have ended. And I was so angry…I hated him…I still do. I don’t care he’s dead.”

Thor smiled, and shrugged, “and no one will or can blame you for having those feelings, but I leave you with this thought. If you were so weak, Omega, do you think you’d be able to sit here as you are now, admitting to those feelings? Admitting that you don’t harbour any guilt at all over your own brother’s death? Omega’s can be as strong as Alpha’s, if not stronger when it comes to the protection of their so called pack.”

You blinked, but before you could reply the door opened and Steve’s huge frame filled the doorway. Behind him, you could hear Tony arguing with a nurse.

“Yeah, and my money is paying for all this, so if I want to hold a disco in this room I will…” He pushed past Steve into the room, and looked round. “Well, this looks like fun. Can anyone join?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “if I pretend to be dead will you go home, Shell Head?”

As Tony bit back with some smart ass quip, your eyes flicked to Steve. His face was bruised, nose a little misshapen. His lip was split, as was his left eyebrow, all evidence from the battle and the blows he’d taken from Rumlow.

He was also favouring his right side, his left leg having been stabbed by the knife Rumlow had been fighting with.

Your feet moved slowly toward him without thought. Your head tilted just a bit as your eyes looked over the battered features of his face. Ever so gently, your hand lifted to his bearded cheek. He sighed, his eyes closed as he leaned into your palm, with the air of a dog seeking out touch and comfort. “I will, Mega, once we get home.”

“Home? As in…”

“The ranch, yeah.”

The ranch, it sounded so pleasant coming off his lips. You’d missed it. The feel of it, the way it enveloped you like a den, your little nest by the window. You were desperate to feel that warmth, the feeling of 'home'.

“So, Steve….” Bucky spoke and Steve looked over, “what’s happening now? What did the WSC say?”

“Just what we all agreed on. Shield and Hydra, both go. Well, go in the sense that they can’t be segregated in the way they are.” Steve took a deep breath, “so the WSC agreed to a joint Congress. Reps from both factions to be elected, democratically. And there will be a number of Constitutional laws past, which make Omega rights basic human rights across every state in the country. That means that even states which end up with a ‘red’ representative will have to abide by them.”

The details made a breath in your chest hitch quietly, but Steve sensed it. His eyes flicked to yours and he noted that little quiver in your lip.

“It’s…it’s what should have happened last time,” Sam shook his head, “instead of carving up our country and leaving red and blue to police their own states, the WSC should have been braver and we should have listened to each other. Maybe if we’d done that instead of feeling a desperate need to contain the threat as opposed to listen and reason, Rumlow would never have gained the support he did.”

There was silence as everyone took the news in, before chatter turned to what was going to need to happen next. But, after fifteen or so minutes, you saw Steve shift uncomfortably, and that was when you gently touched your mark.

“Home…”

He turned to you and nodded.

****

“Man, I need a shower.” Steve groaned as you headed inside, the smell of home overwhelming you.

“Plastic wrap.” You smiled softly.

“Huh?”

“To stop the sutures in your leg getting wet. Trust me, it works…”

By the time you’d located it, he was upstairs; a trail of gear and tactical uniform pieces showed you the way.

The shower was running and you watched as Steve stood, his upper body bruised and battered, just like his face. Your eyes scanned down, following that strip of hair which trailed all the way from his chest right down over his Adonis belt, to the thick, wirey patch between his legs.

You kept going, over his toned upper thighs, your eyes stopping at the left one, a clean white bandage wrapped securely around it.

"You gonna let me wrap that up?"

“Do I have a choice?” His voice carried an air of amusement

"Nope." You tore off a piece of plastic wrap and squatted down to secure it over the bandage and around this thigh. Steve simply watched you as you wrapped his leg and then stood. "Time to get the grime off."

“Would now also be the time to suddenly give into the pain I’m in and ask you to come help?” Steve whispered. He swallowed, and as you looked into his eyes you could see he wasn’t joking. His mask was slipping. “I’m too old for this shit."

“Oh, Alpha.” You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, fingers sliding into his beard. The steam from the shower filled the farmhouse bathroom. The mirrors were fogged up and the air grew thick. “lemme take care of you.”

He nodded, and then merely watched as you stripped from your own filthy clothes and held out your hand.

It was a complete role reversal, you moving Steve into position with a wordless command. And he simply happy to acquiesce as you guided him under the warm spray.

But was it really? Was it a true role reversal? Or was it just that being with Steve allowed you to be a full Omega. Your caring nature, the desire to nurture and love were not only needed here, but wanted and appreciated. They weren’t just traits that were taken for granted, to be used and abused.

You started with the soap and sponge, building a lather that was thick and sudsy. Your delicate touch held his hand in your free one while you held him still to wash his arm. The lather began to turn from white to gray as you scrubbed away the dirt and grime from his wrist and up toward his shoulder. You gently turned and twisted his arm, by way of your locked hands, to clean his skin. Then you moved up and across his shoulders to the other arm, paying careful mind of the cuts and stitchless wounds that littered his skin.

The colors of war washed down your body with the pooling water at your feet. Down the drain went blood and mud, sweat and tears. Your hands roamed softly over Steve's back before you brought the sponge and your own body around to his front.

Gently, the sponge in your hand cleaned away his face, those striking blue eyes of his entranced by your movements. You slid it down the side of his neck, over the curl of his shoulder.

"I love you," you whispered.

Steve smiled, his eyes blinking slowly. “I love you too, Mega…”

"Kiss me, Alpha."

With a soft sigh, he leaned down, his lips pressing to yours gently.

Your hands gently cupped his bearded cheeks and held him there. As your tongue slipped over his lips, you heard him whimper a little. It was a sound you’d never heard from an Alpha before.

You tipped your self forward on your toes and deepened the kiss. Your fingers slid through his beard and into his hair as you steadied yourself.

His hands softly slid from your hips to your back, splaying across your skin.

You forearm pressed against his neck, just at your bonding mark without intending to. You felt him shiver, a spark flowing through the pair of you. You could hear his thoughts, a jumble of arousal, relief but also fear…and guilt.

You pulled back just a little, "tell me, Steve."

“You…I almost lost you. I let him get the better of me and you had to…had to step in.”

You bumped your nose with his, "I'm right here....safe. Because of you." You spoke softly, assuringly, your eyes closed.

He shook his head, “no…you saved me. You’re the reason we’re here. You…your courage and your brains. Not me. You came up with the plan. You…” he swallowed and dropped his chin , “I failed you.”

"Steve Rogers, you look at me right now," you pulled back. "I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Ever!" you weren't shouting or raising your voice. In fact, your voice was filled with emotion, sad emotions because he felt that way. Your eyes were misty as you bore into his.

“I’m your Alpha. I should be able to keep you safe…that’s twice now I didn’t…”

"I don't fault you for it, and I never will. I, we came out on the other side of it." You kissed his lips, "and we came out of it together."

Steve took a deep, shaky breath as you looked up at him. “I love you, Steve. My alpha…”

"Omega....my omega."

You purred a little and moved back, your nose nudging at the mark on his neck, inhaling the scent over his mating gland.

"I wanna love on you, Alpha," you speak against his neck.

Steve swallowed, the tendons and muscles in his neck tensing as he gave a slow nod, and then he bowed his head in submission.

“I’m yours, Omega…”

You were gentle with your hands, dragging your fingers down his neck and over his shoulders. You did this while you kissed him, your tongue slowly, softly exploring his mouth.

Your hands moved down over his chest and his abs. One rest agaisnt the lower indent of his Adonis while your other gently took his cock.

He gave a grunt, his arm moving from your back and he planted his palm against the cool tiles just to the side of your head.

You stroked him, giving him a twist as you slowly dragged your hand up and down his shaft. His jaw was slack, forehead pressed to yours, eyes still open.

You glanced up at him and bit your lip. You could see him releasing control but there was something in that stare that showed you his Alpha side was pacing.

"You're holding back," you smirked. But your wrist picked up the pace and your palm grew a little tighter.

“Yeah…because you…” he grunted a little, “wanted control.”

"And I've got it," you turned your neck presses your lips into his wrist before dropping to your knees.

“Yeah…” the hand that wasn’t resting against the wall slipped into your hair, “you do…”

Your lips wrapped around his tip and your throat opened around his length as you swallowed him. Slowly, you drew back and forth against him.

His head dropped forward, eyes flickering shut as his soft noises of satisfaction filled your ears.

Your hands settled on his thighs, careful to avoid the bandage as you slowly increased your speed and hollowed your cheeks.

Not only could you hear him, you could feel him. The tension and his raft of emotions were clearing, you could sense it.

You kept up, taking care of his needs, his desires.

You knew he’d given in completely, when his hips started to slowly move in time with your actions.

You hummed around him. It was instinct and lust that took over.

His hand tightened slightly in your hair, but his hips didn’t pick up any more pace. He was letting you control, as much as he could.

You pulled off and switched to your hand, the pressure and rhythm not ceasing from your mouth.

Steve’s breathing was fast and shallow, you could feel him twitching in your palm,

"It's okay, Alpha. Let go."

With a low growl, his hips began to rut forward as he fucked your hand.

"Thassit, Steve..."

“Fuck, Y/N…”

"Let go, Alpha, you want to. Nice and easy, baby..."

His ruts became a little quicker, and you tightened your grip. Your eyes flicked up as Steve’s looked down and you could see the wanton heat he was feelin inside reflected in his expression.

His hips stuttered, and with a choke and a little whimper you felt him pulse in your palm, his warm seed mixing with the water as it trickled down your arm.

The Alpha in him growled but the Steve in him dropped his forehead to the tile as his knees gave way. But he managed to keep himself upright as you slowly got to your feet.

Your lips tenderly kissed his, still providing the soft care you sensed he needed.

“Sweetheart…”

"Yeah?"

“As much as I’d love to, I don’t think my leg could take me railing you against the wall.”

Your clean hand ran through his wet hair, tucking a bit back behind his ear. "It's okay, I'm okay. This isn't about me, Steve."

You cleaned him up and cleaned yourself up, standing by to help him out of the shower incase that stabbed leg faltered.

“Do you need to eat?” You asked as you both made your way to the bedroom wrapped in towels

"I could. It's been...been a long few days," he sighed as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm fucking exhausted."

You grabbed a clean set of clothes for him and checked his bandage after the saran wrap and it was fairly dry. "Can you manage getting dressed?"

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse. Trust me.” He smiled, his hand reaching to scratch commando’s head as the large dog laid it on his knee.

You bent at your waist and pressed your lips to his damp forehead. Then, with a smile you left him and headed for the kitchen.

Whilst you and Steve hadn’t been back to the ranch for a fortnight or so now, the other guys had. More so to make sure the livestock were okay and that no one had been in the house. But right now, you were simply grateful that meant your kitchen and fridge were stocked with the basics you needed. Milk, eggs, butter, yoghurts and some cheese sat in the refrigerator and your pantry was still stocked.

It wasn’t long before Steve smelled the delicious aromas and slowly brought himself downstairs, his trusty pup at his heel in support. A warm feeling spread through his chest as he saw you at the stove, stirring something in a pan.

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of this, seeing you happy, safe, in your shared home.

You’d made tomato soup, grilled cheese, and a bag of frozen fries which you’d tossed in a little rosemary and sea salt to give them a little bite.

Neither of you talked much as you wolfed your food down, and when through, neither of you took much convincing to head up to bed.

The weight of the past few weeks hadn't settled within you. You knew it was over, the battle, the war.

Your brother.

But it felt as if you were still in it. As you pulled back the bedding, you scoffed a bit. This was too normal, too routine. It was just odd. Your heart and your instinct pulled you to care for Steve and his needs. You blocked the rest out.

With a groan, Steve sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"Are you alright?" You asked with a soft worry.

“Yeah…” he assured you, as he gently shuffled between the covers.

"Okay," you whispered and did the same.

Steve rolled to his side and looked at you. “I love you.”

You turned your head and gazed back, "I love you, too."

His fingers trailed down your neck. You moved over to him, your own hand reaching out to thread your fingers through his beard.

His eyes fluttered closed and a sigh escaped his nose. "You're worried," he spoke softly. "I can feel it."

“About you.”

He sighed, "'Mega...."

“I know. I can’t help it.”

"It's over, sweetheart. It's all over."

The implications of what he said suddenly started to sink in. “I guess…yeah…”

And then the tears came.

You sobbed until there was nothing left in you. A shuddering to your chest.

Steve kissed your head and pulled back to look down at you. Your face was wet from your salty tears, your eyes swollen.

His hands moved to swipe the tears from under your eyes.

“I could've lost you. I...everything, I..."

“But you didn’t. And we’re here. Yes, there’s a bit of a way to go but, well, I have this feeling. This time it’s done.”

You could only nod as Steve took a deep breath. “we move on. No more fighting. And…” he moved and slowly rolled you into your back, “we…build our life, our home, our future.”

"I think I like that idea.”

"Well, I'm glad you do." Steve chuckled "because you feature quite heavily in all of it."

You smirked, "how so?"

"Well, "Steve kissed down your neck to your collarbone "I mean we are bonded. For life. It's a soul bond. You couldn't leave now even if you wanted to."

You stretched your neck, "a rarity at best. But I don't want to leave."

“Good.” He kissed across the dip of your throat. “Then you’ll have no objections to marrying me.”

You stilled, "Steve...."

“Yeah….”

"Did... Marry you?"

“Mmmhmmm. I mean…” he moved and propped himself up to look at you, “technically we don’t need to. We’re bonded. That’s the main thing, but…I’d like you to, if you want.”

"I...yes," you gasped as you read the look on his face.

“Yeah?” His mouth curled into a smile.

"Yes," you nodded with a smile of your own.

You whimpered as he kissed you, your hands carding through his beard and to the back of his neck, cradling his head.

“There’s…something else I wanna do.” You whispered against his mouth.

"What's that, baby?"

“I…I wanna go back to Texas. Once the dust has settled and, well, the WSC have done whatever they’re gonna…”

Steve blinked. “Okay, that’s…”

“Just to visit.” You swallowed, “my mamas grave is there and…” you looked down a little, avoiding his eyes, “Colin’s will be somewhere. I left so fast, I never got to say goodbye, and thank him for what he did. I know it’s stupid, they ain’t really gonna be there…but…”

"Hey," he sat up a little more, his weight on his good knee and elbows, "we can do whatever you want. Whatever it is."

“Thank you.”

"There's no need to thank me," he blinked. "I'll spend the last of our days giving you everything you deserve."

Your eyes filled and Steve softly kissed the tip of your nose. “Now…I said I didn’t think I could love on you in the shower…but I think I could manage it just fine here, doll…”

"Okay," you whispered with a small sniffle. "I'm yours."

“I know…” his nose nudged at your bonding mark, scenting your gland.

You inhaled and you preened, elongating your neck as the tip of his nose moved along your tendon. His tongue then traced the line of the golden infinity loops, making you whimper as it sent jolts through your body.

Your hands curled back around his neck as he did it again and a third time.

“Steve…”

"Sweetheart...."

“Need you…”

“I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

And he did.

It felt like no time at all before he had you both out of your sleep wear, when in fact Steve took his time, undressing you slowly and gently. It was like you’d been in a trance, simply allowing him to caress and love on you.

It felt good, damn good. A sensual relief that had been building in you for some time.

He made you cum twice with his mouth, and when he finally crawled back over you, slotting his hips between yours, you were more than ready to feel him.

You gasped and sighed as he stretched you. Steve made you feel full and satiated just from the simple action alone. His hands slid up to find yours, fingers laced together as he gently pressed them to the pillow at either side of your head.

It was breathy, your connecting bodies were punctured with sighs, whimpers and quiet moans. Your words were soft and whispered. His eyes never truly left yours. This was an Alpha loving on his Omega in every pure form.

His thrusts were slow, deep. Your hips rolling together, your body sliding up the bed as he moved in and over hou.

You were holding out, enjoying the feel of him consuming every part of you. His scent, it settled you, his warmth comforted you. His phsycial being weighed you down like a secure blanket. The taste of his tongue on yours was encompassing and delightful.

Both of you could sense the other was holding out, you could feel Steve’s self control almost thrumming around his chest and limbs.

You nuzzled his bonding mark, "together, Alpha."

He groaned and managed a breathy nod, his head moving so he could see your eyes again.

“Let go, Steve..."

He gave a low, rumbling growl and then you saw it, that flash of gold round his beautiful blue irises.

You reacted instantly, your body tightening arou d him, curling into him, your own eyes streaking that reflective gold. The connection, the bond, ignited between you and your souls connected in one universe. A galaxy surrounded your vision and it was just you, and just Steve. United.

His forehead pressed to yours as you trembled beneath him, your hands tightening in his.

You whimpered in his ear. The exhale through your nose fanning his skin. The aura grew bright and then it faded as the warmth of your release blended with his.

For a while you both lay there. Whilst he wasn’t knotted, neither of you wanted to move.

He never pulled out, never pulled away. Rather, when his senses came too and his vision returned, his arms released yours. Then those built and strong arms wrapped around you. With a nudge to his left, he rolled so you were on his chest as he lay in his back.

You sighed happily, and snuggled into him, your head tucked under his chin.

And as you lay there in his arms, the darkness of the room was comforting.

“We can go for a ride tomorrow.” Steve’s deep voice spoke, breaking the silence. “Take the horses up to the hill. Just you and me.”

“And Commando,” you moved and pressed a kiss to Steve’s chest, just above his tattoo.

“And Commando,” he chuckled, kissing your head.

You closed your eyes, a contented smile on your lips. And then, for the first time in weeks you heard the barn owl that lived in the rafters, high about the stacked haybales screeching outside.

His arms tightened just a little as you both lay there, sated, safe and satisfied..

Alpha and Omega.

It’d been a month since the ASP Fundraiser, and the need to be touching each other constantly hadn’t let up. If you guys were in the same room together, his hands were on you or your lips were on him. 

It was horrible.

And by horrible you meant completely and utterly wonderful.

“Why would you do that to me?” He whined, toying with the waistband of your jeans. 

“Because! I have a to-do list that’s like a mile long and your mom is coming for lunch today.” The more layers of clothes you wore, the harder they were to yank off. Leggings were usually a problem. They showed too much and required too little effort to remove. 

So, it wasn’t the two of you. 

It was obviously the leggings. 

Before you could stop him, his large hands gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted. You yelped as he yanked you on top of him, straddling his thick thighs. 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the leggings. It was Chris. 

You could feel him harden through the thick fabric of your jeans, shivering at the thought of having him inside you. 

Despite the fact that he was literally buried to the hilt this morning when you woke up. Because you stayed the night. For a week. Mowgli was never going to want to leave. 

“Chris,” You groaned, grinding your hips, unable to resist the temptation. “Your mom–” 

“Shh.” Chris’s finger met your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as his other hand slid under your t-shirt and cupped your breast. Annoyed with the thin material, he grabbed the hem and yanked it over your head, the wet heat of his mouth sealing over your nipple immediately after. 

You moaned, shamelessly grinding against his throbbing cock. 

Okay. It wasn’t the leggings. It wasn’t just Chris. It was you, too. 

You couldn’t get enough. 

The deadbolt unlatched and you flung yourself off of Chris, snagging your t-shirt from the floor and hugging it to your chest as you stared up at Chris in a panic. “It’s your mom! She’s early!” You whispered. 

Thank god, Dodger was outside right now and not climbing all over you. 

Chris’s eyes widened, flickering from your panicked state on the ground to his very noticeable hard-on beneath his sweats. “What do I do?” 

The handle twisted and you shot off of the ground, sprinting with your shirt clutched against your naked chest toward the bathroom. “You’re on your own!” 

He cursed under his breath as you disappeared into the bathroom, silently shutting the door behind you and letting out a controlled breath. This wasn’t the first time that Lisa had dropped by early or unannounced, and you were starting to think that she was on to you guys. 

While you were okay with your families knowing about the two of you, you hadn’t really gotten the chance to tell them yet. You’d been too wrapped up in each other to even think about anything outside of work and the way Chris’s hands and mouth felt against your skin. But Lisa was early… She normally knocked… There was no way she didn’t know. 

You took a second to compose yourself and throw your shirt on, regretting the fact that you decided to wait until now to worry about not wearing a bra. Chris obviously didn’t seem to mind, but would Lisa? Would she notice? Would that lead to her figuring it out? 

Everyone was waiting with bated breath regardless. After the fundraiser, any time you saw a member of Chris’s family, their subtle stares and raised eyebrows told you they were just waiting for the two of you to come clean. Even without knowing… They all knew what happened after Chris ran after you. They all knew Chris ended up in your bed and now, they were all just waiting for you to tell everyone that you were together now. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to know, you just wanted to be able to tell everyone on your own terms and Lisa finding you shirtless while straddling her son’s hard erection wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. 

You listened quietly to Chris and Lisa’s conversation as it filtered through the closed door, and laughed when he fed her some bullshit story about looking for the remote batteries on the floor under the couch. 

This was a mess. 

But one that you secretly loved. While hiding your relationship from people was stressful, it was also fun being sneaky. And after everything that had happened between you and Chris, you were even thankful to have this mess to deal with in the first place. 

Worrying about not being caught was certainly better than having nothing to hide. 

You guys were head over heels in love and this weekend, everyone would know. And you couldn’t wait.

Lisa said something from the kitchen that for the most part was muffled by the distance and the door separating you, but you heard your name and knew that it was time to make your appearance. 

You’d have to keep your arms positioned in a certain way until you had time to run up to Chris’s room and throw your bra on… But it was fine. You could make it work. 

You flushed the toilet and pretended to wash your hands before pushing the bathroom door open. 

Lisa grinned as you rounded the corner, dropping a plastic grocery bag on the counter. “Y/N! Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well,” You walked over, plopping down on one of the barstools at the island. “I am paid to be here, so… As long as the money is rolling in, I’m here.” Sparing a quick look in Chris’s direction, you held back a laugh as he rolled his eyes and started to unpack the grocery bags from Lisa. 

He knew you were a liar. You’d been here every night for a week and were only being paid eight hours a day. The other sixteen hours were paid for with takeout and mind-bending orgasms. 

And you certainly weren’t complaining. 

Lisa’s eyes bounced between you and Chris, narrowing with suspicion. “So you guys… You guys have made up. Or so it seems.” 

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she was onto you. 

It felt like you had a giant neon sign on your forehead flashing “I’M CURRENTLY BONING YOUR SON!” 

Chris sniffed, shrugging as he pulled a loaf of bread out of one of the bags. Nervous eyes shifted between Lisa and you. He was going to give it all away. “We– We’re fine. Everything is back to normal. We’re f-friends.”

His stutter on the word friends had you holding back an eye-roll. Since when did he become such a terrible liar?! 

“That’s right. Friends. Nothing more. Nothing less,” You added, keeping your head down to conceal this nostril issue everyone and their mother seemed to be aware of. You picked a piece of dog hair off of your jeans before looking back up at Lisa with a smile. 

Her eyes narrowed some more. “Funny you would feel the need to defend the nature of your relationship.” 

Chris’s gaze flickered over to you for just a second. “Did you come here for lunch or for a police investigation?”

“Is it a crime to want to know what’s going on in the lives of my children?” 

“Technically, I’m not your child.” You noted, raising an eyebrow. 

Lisa waved a hand at you. “Semantics. You know what I’m saying!” 

Chris blew out a breath, shaking his head. “So what’s for lunch, Ma?” 

You laughed, scrubbing your hand over your face. “I have some work to do, so I’ll leave you guys to it.” Hopping off of the barstool, you walked to the backdoor to let Dodger in. 

“But you could stay in here! Bring your laptop in. It’s fine!” 

You really wanted to. You loved hanging out with Lisa. But you just had so much shit to do. And this was the perfect distraction. With his mom here, Chris wouldn’t come searching for you and you’d be able to actually work without his hands roving your clothed or naked body. 

“I can’t, Lisa. I’m sorry. I have to make a few calls and book a bunch of flights and hotel rooms and I don’t wanna interrupt your lunch date.” You walked back over and kissed her cheek. “But I love you and save me something good.” 

She grinned. “Always.” 

Lisa popped her head into Chris’s study a couple of hours later, waving goodbye before silently shutting the door behind her. You had every intention of rejoining her and Chris after an hour or so, but this phone call with his publicist was now thirty minutes over its scheduled time and Lisa was on her way back to Sudbury. 

Megan was lovely and honestly, navigating Chris’s life without her would be an actual nightmare, but man… The girl could talk. 

Forty-five minutes later, you’d finally said your goodbyes right as Chris poked his head around the door. “You free?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, finishing up your email and pressing send. “Free for a chat? Sure. Free for… Other distractions? Absolutely not.” 

He chuckled, pushing the door open and stepping into the room. “No distractions. Just company.”  

You watched as he sauntered across the room, clearing the space between you in a few easy steps. He lowered himself into the chair across from the desk. He looked so perfectly disheveled in his low-hung sweatpants and wrinkled white t-shirt, a lazy grin teasing at his lips. 

He looked… Relaxed. And comfortable. 

This was honestly the most stress-free you’d seen him in a long time. 

Your stomach fluttered, hopeful that the reason behind his relaxed state was his relationship with you. 

You had definitely noticed a difference in yourself. 

The muscles in your shoulders weren’t so tense and despite the never-ending to-do list, your mind was clear and you were happy. 

It felt good to see that you had the same effect on Chris that he had on you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Your eyes wandered up from his chest and locked on his, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I’m just happy.” 

Chris stood, leaning over his desk until the tip of his nose was gently touching yours. “Me, too, honey.” 

You tilted your head back just enough to close the gap, pressing your lips against his. You would never get enough of this. You would never get enough of the way his lips fit so perfectly against yours or the way his palm fit like a missing piece against the small of your back. 

He was the chaos to your calm and the high to your low. 

“I love you,” You mumbled against his lips. 

“I love you, too.” You could feel his smile before he kissed you one more time, pulling away, and then taking his seat again. “I promised no distractions.” 

Your leg bounced under the desk as you battled with the conflict in your mind. You could work… Or you could let Chris bend you over this desk… 

He watched the conflict play out over your features, chuckling softly. “I didn’t mean to distract you.” 

“Maybe I like distractions…” 

Something wicked flashed through his eyes before he cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. No distractions.” 

You leaned back in the chair, groaning at the ceiling. “No fair.” 

“You know what’s not fair?” 

You hummed, rolling your head to the side to look at Chris. 

“Having to keep this from our parents. That–” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the kitchen area, “was torture.” 

You laughed, pushing out of your chair and walking around the desk. The two of you were constantly being pulled together, unable to maintain any sort of distance without a constant distraction. If you weren’t working and he wasn’t preoccupied, his hands were on you or your legs were straddling his… Kind of like they were right now. 

You settled onto Chris’s lap, threading your fingers through his hair. “Only a few more days and everyone will know.” 

He smiled, sliding his hands around to the small of your back. “And I can’t fucking wait.” 

You took a deep breath, clutching your stomach as it twisted. Another wave of nausea rolled through you and you groaned. 

Chris leaned against the doorway, masking his concern with humor. “You got food poisoning because you ate four spring rolls in less than three minutes. You’re supposed to savor takeout. Clearly, you’ve pissed off the takeout gods by inhaling your food instead of chewing it.” 

You glared at Chris weakly. “I’m gonna kill you. Make one more joke and I swear to god, I will suffocate you with this pillow.” 

He smiled softly and pushed away from the wall, walking over to the side of his bed you were currently overtaking with a puke bowl, saltines, and Gatorade. He brushed his fingers against your forehead. “Still no fever. So that’s good.” 

“Good?! I feel like I’m dying.” 

He sighed, sitting gently on the side of the bed and keeping his hand on your cheek. “I know, honey. I’m sorry.  Do you need anything?” Chris glanced at the date on his phone. “It’s been three days since you’ve been able to keep anything down, Y/N.” 

You knew that. You could feel it. 

Your mouth was dry, your whole body was shaky. You needed to eat something, but you couldn’t go more than twenty minutes without throwing up and nothing sounded appetizing. 

Another wave of nausea crashed through your stomach and you clamped your mouth shut and closed your eyes, trying to focus on letting it pass. You’d already thrown up several times in front of Chris and you knew he loved you, but you weren’t planning on testing his love for you so quickly. 

You guys were supposed to share the news about your relationship with Chris’s family over the weekend, but you started throwing up on Saturday and hadn’t stopped since. It’d been three days of nonstop puking in between naps and your loving boyfriend trying to force Gatorade and saltine crackers into your mouth. 

“I think it’s time to go to the doctor. What if it’s something else?” 

You groaned, draping your arm over your eyes. “What else could it be? We had takeout on Friday and clearly, it’s trying to kill me. I ate the spring rolls, you didn’t. I’ve never felt more betrayed in my life. What did I ever do to spring rolls? I’ve done nothing but love them.” 

Chris chuckled, tracing your cheekbone with his fingertips. “I’m sorry, baby. Is there anything I can get you?” 

Sighing, you peeked at him from underneath your arm. “A coma until it’s passed would be great.”

He hummed, smiling down at you. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

This was the worst bout of food poisoning that you’d had in a long time. In the past, it had passed within twenty-four hours. 

Maybe Chris was right. 

You were going on three days and by the feel of it, tomorrow wouldn’t be any different. It was probably time to go to the doctor. If anything, they could give you something to calm the nausea and maybe some fluids to help bring you back to life. 

He smiled at the resignation in your eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll go to the doctor.” 

Chris leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple before standing. “Good girl.” 

A couple of hours later, Chris walked into the room, keychain swinging around his index finger. His head tilted to the side with a sigh. “I thought you were going to the doctor.” 

You took a deep breath, swallowing against the waves of nausea rolling through your stomach. “I’m. Trying,” You bit out, knowing he wouldn’t take offense to the harshness of your words. 

Chris had always known you were cranky when you were sick and now that you were together, he was taking every harsh word in stride and following it up with a kiss or a glass of ginger ale. He loved you so much. 

You could see it in every look and feel it in every simple gesture or small favor. The second this stomach bug started churning, he dropped everything to be at your side and be at your beck and call until you could stand on your own two feet. 

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you’d do the same for him, in love or not, but something about his attentive nature and gentle approach had you blinking back tears. 

His face fell as he rushed over, kneeling at the bedside. “Hey, baby. I’m sorry, I know you are. I’m sorry.” Chris’s voice was so gentle, his hand smoothing over the top of your head. Everything that he’d done over the past couple of days had been so soothing and sweet. And now he was worried that he made you cry. 

You shook your head, blinking against the pressure building behind your eyes. “No, Chris. It’s not– I don’t know. I’m just tired and I keep–” You paused to take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the nausea. “I keep thinking about how much I love you and how you’ve been taking care of me and– I’m tired and it’s making me emotional!” 

He smiled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your kind of sweaty forehead. 

Again… This man is a saint. 

“I love you,” He whispered against your skin. “I will always take care of you, honey. Puking, fever, weird rashes, explosive diarrhea-”

You snorted out a laugh, shoving his shoulder with your hand. “Shush, don’t talk about gross things right now!” 

Chris chuckled, swiping his fingers against your jawline. “Do you need anything before I go?” 

A few weeks ago, Chris had offered to watch Carly’s kids for a few hours today while she spent her afternoon with Shanna and Lisa. Normally, this was an afternoon you would have been included in. A late brunch with a spa day? Hell yes.  But given your current situation, they were understanding of your need to stay home. 

Your loving and doting boyfriend however couldn’t back out of babysitting his niece and nephews. He tried. And that ended with the world's most pathetic scold while you hurled into his toilet, but he took the hint and promised he’d be there.

He didn’t love the idea of leaving you alone, but you would be okay for a few hours. Honestly, your plan was to order some kind of soup and pass out. But now that he’s insisting you go to the doctor, you’d have to do that first. 

You shook your head. “No, I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” He said softly, easing himself back up. “Just a few hours and I’ll be back to cater to your every need.” 

Chuckling lightly,  you smiled appreciatively. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

It took a few minutes for you to gather the courage to stand after the front door shut and Chris left for Carly’s, but after a quick shower and a pit stop at the toilet to dry heave for a second, you were somewhat ready to go. 

Or at least put together enough to go to the doctor. 

It was hard enough to keep it together in the waiting room and if this doctor wasn’t here in about five minutes, you and that biohazard trash can were about to become best friends. 

Whatever this stomach bug was, it was taking its time running its course. 

Normally, you hated the cold temperature in this office, but today, it was a welcome distraction. The goosebumps and slight shiver were just enough to take your mind off the nausea and probably bought you an extra minute or so when it came to expelling the small amount of water you attempted to drink before you made the drive over. 

Two light knocks sounded through the wooden door and your doctor poked her head through as she cracked it open. “Y/N, hey! Mind if I come in?” 

You smiled, waving your hand at her. “Dr. Nelson. Please, come on in.” 

She returned your smile and grabbed the swivel chair from the small desk in the corner, taking a seat across from you. “Okay,” She let out a breath, fingering through the appointment notes before looking back up at you. “So you’ve been sick. Tell me a little bit more before I start my twenty questions.” 

“It’s just a bug,” You insisted. “I’ve been throwing up for the past few days, unable to hold literally anything down. And my boyfriend is worrier… So here I am.”

“Well,” She chuckled, “You’re lucky to have him. All that puking means you’re probably a little dehydrated on top of everything else going on. Before we start all the crazy tests and bloodwork, I’m gonna start with an easy one: when was your last period?”  

You shrugged. “I don’t have one. I’m on the birth control shot.” 

“Ah,” She jotted something down and tapped her pen against the clipboard. “I’m gonna start there.” Dr. Nelson stood, reaching into the cabinet above her head and snagging a sealed, sterile cup. 

Your brows furrowed. “Is it necessary? I mean, I’m on the shot. It’s like, what? Ninety-four percent effective? I shouldn’t– That shouldn’t be an issue.” 

Your mouth was dry and your stomach dropped, the nerves and adrenaline instantly washing away any sign of the nausea that brought you in. “There’s— There’s no way.” 

Dr. Nelson sighed, offering the best supportive smile that she could. It was weak, but you still appreciated the effort. “Listen, you’re right about the percentage. The shot is normally very effective. But… I have to ask… Are you sexually active?” 

You gulped. “Yes.” 

“And do you use protection?” 

“No,” You squeaked, your hand flying to your stomach. 

Oh my god.

There was no way. You couldn’t be. 

She gave you a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, I’m gonna start there.” She stood, patting your knee, “There’s a bathroom around the corner, put the sample cup behind the silver door. Come back when you’re finished. We should have the results in about 20 minutes.” 

You nodded, the nausea seemed like the least of your problems now. 

You sat in the car in front of Chris’s house, your hands shaking with the test results sitting on your lap. 

Chris was due home any minute, but you couldn’t get yourself to move. You read the words over and over, but they weren’t sinking in. Not yet. 

Pregnant. 

You were pregnant.

Seven weeks and some change to be exact. Your thumb smoothed over the soft film of the ultrasound, a tiny little bean smack dab in the middle with a little note from the ultrasound tech that said “Hi, mom!”

This was all so surreal. 

Despite the prescription that your doctor called in for you, another wave of nausea fought against the medicine. How the hell were you going to tell Chris? How the hell was he going to react?

You guys had been so wrapped up in the honeymoon phase of your relationship that neither of you had even begun talking about marriage or kids. Not that you even had to be married at all… But what if Chris didn’t want that? What if he did want a marriage, but not the kid part of it? 

You’d been so lost in speculation about Chris’s reaction that you hadn’t really given yourself a second to let yourself react. How did you feel about it? Did you want this? 

There were so many things you needed to process. Normally, the emotions that you were currently feeling were things you processed alone. But the only thing you could think of was the safety of Chris’s arms and even if he wasn’t completely on board, you knew with every fiber of your being that he wouldn’t leave you to figure it out on your own. 

He would be with you every step of the way. 

You wiped at the tears slipping down your cheeks and tucked the ultrasound behind the test results just as Chris pulled into the driveway behind your car. He was grinning, probably happy you were alive and out of bed for the first time since the weekend. 

The news that you were holding onto would either make or break the good mood he was in.

Chris rushed out of his car, yanking on the handle to pull it open before you had even unbuckled. “Look at you! Dressed and out of the hou–” He paused, noting the tears on your cheeks and the bloodshot state of your eyes. In an instant, you were pulled out of your car, his large hands framing your face. “Honey, what’s wrong?” 

Your mouth opened, the words lost on your tongue. So instead of trying to speak, you pulled out of Chris’s grasp and held up the paper with shaky hands. 

He looked down, his brows furrowed. “I swear to god, you better not be putting in your two wee–” Those blue eyes widened, his head jerking up to meet your gaze. “Pregnant?” 

You nodded, swiping at a stray tear. The words to say still fell flat, so you lifted the ultrasound up and he inhaled a sharp breath. One that wavered around the edges and was thick with emotion. 

A couple of days ago, you would’ve prided yourself on the ability to read his every facial expression. But whatever was happening right now teetered between happiness and utter hopelessness. 

He needed to say something. Soon. Or your thoughts would spiral down until there was nothing left but turmoil and tears. 

A tear slid down his cheek and your heart stopped. 

“Chris,” You croaked, “I’m so sorry. I– I’m on birth control, I mean… I wanna say I don’t know how this happened, but when you have sex as much as we do–”

He cut you off with a teary laugh. “Don’t apologize! Y/N, why are you– What? Why are you apologizing?” 

Chris set the paper and the ultrasound on the top of your car and once again, his hands were cupping your face. His thumbs swiped at the tears, and a wide grin spread across his lips. 

Now, it was your turn to be confused. “Because– Because this a huge deal! We’ve only been together for like one whole month and I basically got pregnant the first time we had sex and your career, your fans… We haven’t even told our families, Chris! Of course, I’m apologizing!” 

You studied his face for a second. “Why are you so happy?” 

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. “Am I not supposed to be?” He asked, mumbling against your hair. 

“I just– I didn’t think– We never talked about it. I didn’t think you would be.” 

You could feel him sigh, tension lifting from his muscles. He chuckled again, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head. “I mean– It’s definitely not… Ideal.” Chris pulled away, raising his hands to rest on your shoulders. “But… It’s a baby, Y/N. A little human that is the perfect mixture of me and the woman I love? There’s nothing more I want in life.”

You could feel your bottom lip quivering and Chris’s expression shifted as he shook his head. “Unless that’s not what you want! If that’s not what you want, I will support you every step of the way, Y/N. We are in this together. Whether we decide to keep the baby or not. I love you. Baby or not. That will never change.” His hands framed your face and he tilted your head back to lift your gaze. “Whatever you want, baby. This is your decision. I’m all in regardless.” 

“So you wanna keep it?” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” His voice was so tender and sweet and his hands offered a comfort that you never thought you’d be able to find in a person. Or in this lifetime. 

You were nervous. 

Honestly, terrified would probably be a better word for what you were feeling, but knowing that Chris wouldn’t run settled every wild emotion and your mind felt clear. 

You wanted this. This baby, this life. You wanted it all with Chris. 

“You’re not going anywhere?” 

“Never, Y/N.” He lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’m with you. Forever. The good, the bad. The puke, this baby. I’m so in love with you, honey. As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.” 

You flung your arms around Chris, crashing your lips against his as you held back a sob. 

Terrified? Absolutely. 

But Chris’s support and the way he loved you would always overpower every worried or insecurity. Just like it was now. 

It was like the fog was lifted. The thick smoke of your insecurity was gone and all you could feel was happy. 

You were having a baby with the love of your life. 

You pulled away, sniffling a little. “I love you so much.” 

Chris grinned, wiping his cheeks again. “I love you so much.” His hand rested kind of awkwardly on your belly, but neither of you minded. “Both of you.” 

He reached behind you and snagged the ultrasound, holding it between the two of you. “We’re having a baby.” 

You smiled at the fuzzy picture, tracing a finger over the little bean in the middle. “A whole ass baby.” 

Chris chuckled, pressing his lips to your temple. “And I can’t fucking wait.”