i am my mother‘s child

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Steve’s sparring with Sam in SHIELD‘s gym when Clint saunters in with a cup of coffee in his hand.

He wafts through the agents doing their strength or cardio training and stops in front of the mat where Steve and Sam are trying to stay on top of their combat skills.

Drinking his coffee in long sips, Clint does his best to look incredibly bored.

“What?” Steve pants as he flips Sam over onto his back.

Sam lands on the mat with a heavy thud. He gets up and barges at his sparring partner, but Steve simply ducks and uses Sam’s momentum against him.

Sam makes a frustrated noise when he lands on the mat again, face-down this time.

“Fury wants to see you,” Clint says and scratches his stubble.

“Why?” Steve asks as he extends a hand towards Sam and lifts him up.

“What do I know?” Clint grumbles. “You know what he’s like. I was just unfortunate enough to pass him in the hallway when he needed a messenger boy.”

“We’re kind of busy here,” Sam injects and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

Clint just gives him a pointed look.

“I’ll go shower,” Steve relents and claps Sam on the shoulder. “Good work.”

“I almost had you there,” Sam says as Steve’s walking off the mat and towards the locker rooms.

“You sure did,” Clint mumbles in that sarcastic drawl of his.

The last thing Steve hears before the locker room door closes behind him is a decidedly less sarcastic shriek from Clint that sounds suspiciously like he got his nipple twisted.

---

The shower’s hot water is a blessing on Steve’s skin. It doesn’t wash away the tension in his gut, though.

Fury wanting to see him can only mean one thing: a new mission.

Despite all his years at SHIELD, Steve never got rid of the nervous twitch that settles in his bones at the prospect of a new job.

He imagines it must feel similar to stage fright. It also feels eerily like the first day of school or basic training or college – not knowing any of the new routines or expectations or classmates yet.

It’s a wide stretch of possibility opening up in front of him.

Steve rinses the shampoo and body wash off him and exits the shower stall.

It’s the not knowing that makes him nervous. He’ll be fine as soon as he gets his briefing from Fury – once he knows what he’s up against.

Steve wouldn’t be this good at his job if his nerves didn’t stop tingling before he got out into the field. You don’t survive undercover missions in the pits of foreign cartels or homeland security threats if you’re still twitching like a sinner in church by the time shit gets real.

He tries to think of the possible projectile of the mission while he’s getting dressed. There are rumors about a new drug ring close to the Canadian border. Maybe Fury wants him to gather intelligence on that.

Steve exits the gym and makes his way down long nondescript hallways until he arrives at Fury’s office with his hair still damp. He knocks on the door and tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

“Yes,” Fury’s voice comes faintly from the other side of the door.

Steve enters the office – and almost hurries out again right away.

His stomach all but drops at the sight of Bucky Barnes lounging in one of the chairs in front of Fury’s desk.

No, no, no shrills through Steve’s mind like a siren.

Bucky turns around and looks Steve up and down. He’s dressed casually in a t-shirt and his trademark leather jacket. Steve at least tries to look put together whenever he spends time at HQ. He’s never seen Bucky give the same courtesy to the unofficial dress code.

Even his hair has a certain fuck it-attitude to it. It sticks up like he ran his hand through it all day or like he just rolled out of bed and – no.

Steve does his best to reel himself back from that particular dump fire of memories.

Bucky’s mouth twists into a smirk.

“Did you swim here?” he asks when his gaze settles on Steve’s hair.

Steve catches the mischievous glint in Bucky’s grey eyes and forces himself to look away.

He also forces himself to ignore the way his traitorous heart skips a beat when he feels Bucky’s gaze on him.

“Director Fury,” he says instead, nodding at his boss.

“Sit down, Rogers,” Fury says and points to the vacant chair.

Steve takes a seat next to Bucky and resolutely does not spare him a look.

(He also would very much like to stop breathing, because Bucky apparently still uses the same aftershave. He doesn’t need to be reminded of that smell.)

Steve tries to keep his eyes on anything that isn’t Bucky. He settles on the photograph of Fury with his cat that feels weirdly out of place next to all his medals and certificates lining the walls.

“We got intel on a political party from the south with alarming views and even worse gain in the last six months. Have you heard of Alexander Pierce?” Fury cuts straight to the chase.

“No, sir,” Steve says as Bucky shakes his head.

Fury drags a photograph from the files next to him and slides it in front of them. Steve estimates the man’s age in the early sixties. He’s clean shaven with fading red hair and a stern look in his eyes.

“Pierce’s family got rich with oil. They’ve been wielding statewide political influence for decades now, but Alex here,” Fury taps onto the picture, “has decided to make a name for himself in a more personal manner.”

Fury leans back into his chair and his face clouds over.

“The Pierce’s have been members of the Traditional Designation Party for decades now.”

He looks in Steve’s blank face.

“It’s no surprise you haven’t heard of it. A small but extreme sub-party of the Conservatives, no more than three hundred members in the last ten years. But Alexander Pierce’s been on the boards of several Fortune 500, steadily recruiting new influential members. He became head of the party two years ago and took over the city council of his home base during his first run. The party’s got 30,000 members nationwide as of last week. And it keeps growing at an alarming rate.”

Fury gives them both a long look.

“How familiar are you two with the party’s views on an Alpha’s and Omega’s place in society? Barnes?”

“I know the basics. Took a course on gender studies in college, sir,” Bucky says.

Steve can’t help but throw Bucky an incredulous look.

“What?” Bucky asks when he catches him looking.

“What about you, Rogers?” Fury asks.

“Can’t say I have much expertise in that area.”

“You might want to read up on that. These fuckers are crazy.”

Fury hands them each a paper with a short report. Steve’s eyes skim over the text.

Words like obedience and duty stick out like sore thumbs.

“Basically, they believe in a set hierarchy of designations. Alphas at the top, Betas in the middle, Omegas at the bottom. It’s the Omega’s duty to submit to the Alpha, bear pubs and make as few problems as possible. The Alphas, given their ‘inherent strength and overall superiority’,” Fury paints quotes into the air with his fingers, “rule the world. Betas are really just there to deal with everything in between.”

In the perimeter of his eyes, Steve can see Bucky tensing up. A new tightness settles into his shoulders as he leans down further over his report.

“Pierce has managed to transform these views into political action points. No more abortion rights for Omegas, split education according to designation, hefty tax releases for bonded couples. We only need to look at the last hundred years to see that whenever people are disillusioned or feel left behind by society’s progression, they light up whenever someone offers them a simple solution. According to Pierce, economic decline and the rising unemployment rates can both be solved if we all just remind ourselves of the good old values.” Fury says the last words in a sarcastic sing-song. “People lap that shit up. Sadly, Pierce’s smart. He knows he can’t pull out the big guns until he has enough support. He’s already dangerously close to petitioning to make Omegas second-class citizens but it’s not enough to shut him down legally yet. Unfortunately, his inner circle is loyal to a fault. So, that’s where you come in.”

Steve feels himself sitting up a bit straighter.

“I want you to go in and gather as much intelligence on Pierce as possible. What are his plans, who are the people pulling the strings, information like that. Gain his trust and report back to me.”

“For how long?” Bucky asks.

“As long as it takes, Barnes. You got a pending dinner reservation?” Fury says.

“No, sir,” Bucky mumbles.

Fury gives him another look and then returns to his notes.

“You’ll be Alpha and Omega Miller and I got you a nice two-bedroom house in Pierce’s hometown, ready to move into in six weeks. It’s got underfloor heating. You can thank me now.”

Steve’s heart pauses for two beats.

Absolutely not.

Fury holds out two thick files for them. Very distantly, Steve notices Bucky rolling his eyes as he reaches for the papers.

“We’re supposed to be mates?” Steve asks Fury flabbergasted.

Even he can hear the panic in his voice.

“Nice to see you’re paying attention, Rogers,” Fury huffs.

Steve barely manages garbled sounds as a reply. Fury shakes the file he’s still holding out to him with an annoyed look. Steve leans forward and takes the papers on autopilot.

There’s no way he’s going to spend an indefinite amount of time on an undercover mission with Bucky Barnes. Hell, he’d rather do paperwork for a whole year. Pretending to be mates with Bucky means touching and sleeping in the same bed and kissing and – again, Steve stops himself right there.

He can feel heat pooling in his abdomen, and sporting a semi now isn’t going to convince Fury to pick someone else for the mission. Or maybe it will, Steve’s not sure.

He is very thankful for his scent blockers, though.

Fury starts talking again, but Steve struggles to pay attention.

He catches a few words on acclimation, personas and the timeline, but really he’s still hung up on the thought of spending a prolonged amount of time in Bucky’s immediate vicinity.

It’s not like anything important won’t be written in his file anyway.

Steve startles to attention when Bucky gets up next to him and leaves the office. The meeting seems to be done with. He can feel a pair of eyes on him, but he resolutely doesn’t turn around. Once the door falls shut, Steve takes a deep breath.

“You’re still here,” Fury comments and looks up from his papers.

“Um,” Steve starts and hates how small he suddenly feels again. “I was wondering if Thor might not be better suitable for this mission. As the Alpha, I mean.”

Fury stares at him with his good eye.

“Thor’s due to go on a different mission next month. Is there a particular reason you’re questioning my operational planning?”

Fury’s tone is even more clipped than it usually is.

“Or maybe Scott could take over Barnes’ part,” Steve tries now, increasingly desperate.

“What are you asking me here, Rogers?” Fury grunts, leaning back into his chair.

Steve considers his next words very carefully.

“Why Barnes? And why me?”

“Because Barnes is our best Omega undercover agent. And you’re our best Alpha one. I was very impressed with the work you did on your last mission if you must know. And there’s a lot riding on this one.”

Steve can feel his resolve crumbling at Fury’s words. He may be trying to wiggle his way out of an assignment right now, but he’s still a soldier that wants to do right.

“I need you two to do the best you can so we can stop Pierce’s bullshit before it gets too far. If he gains too much support before he introduces his plans to send Omegas back to the fucking Middle Ages, it’ll be hard to stop him. And Omegas make up a good chunk of the constituents we as a democratic institution are here to protect.”

Steve winces internally. Fury knows exactly what he’s doing with this little reminder of constitutional rights.

His boss is quiet for a moment.

“Is there any personal business here I should know about that threatens this mission?” he asks eventually.

Steve does his best to withstand the piercing look in Fury’s eye.

“No, sir,” Steve hears himself saying.

“Good. You got all the relevant information in your file. See you on Monday.”

With that, Fury reaches for his phone and barks, “Hill!” into the receiver.

Steve can acknowledge a dismissal if it slaps him in the face like this. Fury doesn’t pay any attention to him when he gets up and leaves the office.

What did he get himself into? This day started out just fine and now he’s going to play house with the one person he’d swore he wasn’t ever going to think about again. It’s just like –

Steve turns a corner and collides straight head on with another body.

“Whoa, whoa. People usually buy me dinner before they get their hands all over me,” Tony goddamn Stark all but purrs when they both regain their balance.

Like this day couldn’t get any worse.

“Sorry, didn’t see you,” Steve grits out and tries to walk away.

He should’ve known better. Stark’s nothing if not annoyingly insisting when he wants to be.

“Oh, what got your panties in a twist?” Stark asks and cocks a grin.

With his designer suit and colorful handkerchief, he looks ridiculously out of place in a government agency like SHIELD.

“Trouble with the ladies? Or the gentlemen?” Stark pries.

“It’s classified,” Steve says to get Stark to back off as quickly as possible.

He doesn’t even know why Stark strolls through SHIELD’s hallways like he owns the place. He may be a billionaire, but apart from a long-abandoned weapons deal with the government, Stark’s not actually military.

Steve tries to remind himself that he doesn’t care about Stark, with his inappropriate jokes and cocky demeanor. He riles Steve up to unknown degrees, even when he doesn’t say anything at all. It might be the sheer amount of privilege and entitlement that oozes out of him. It definitely is, come to think about it.

“Classified, huh? Those are the best kind of romantic endeavors.”

Stark actually winks at him.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Steve says to no avail.

“I wouldn’t mind being kept by you,” the other Alpha says and lets his eyes very pointedly travel over Steve’s chest.

Steve, rolling his eyes, turns on his heels and huffs a very belated “Goodbye”.

He heads straight back to the gym to get his things from the locker room. Sam already left, to no one’s surprise. Steve contemplates going for another round at the sandbags to punch out all thoughts about the upcoming mission, but he knows that won’t help much. Besides, he doesn’t really want to get back into his already sweaty workout gear.

Instead, he grabs his duffel bags, stuffs Fury’s file inside and makes for the HQ’s exit. He’ll just get some groceries on the way home, make himself some sad excuse of dinner and then drown his sorrows in whatever movie shows up first on his “recommended” list.

Steve’s barely walked through the big glass doors of the lobby onto the parking lot, when a smooth voice reels him back in.

“See you on Monday.”

Steve stops in his tracks and turns around to see Bucky smoking near the entrance. He’s got the cigarette wedged between his fingers, bringing it up to his lips for another drag. His gaze I s hard to read. Mocking, maybe? Teasing?

“You should quit that,” Steve says automatically and nods to the cigarette.

He almost winces when he remembers that he’s said the same exact words to Bucky once before. It had been a dark outside, with music wafting through the humid summer air. They were both a few years younger. Steve had still thought of Bucky as a possibility back then.

(The empty bed and the cruel laughter in the locker room the next morning had all but

stumped that hope, though.)

Steve searches for clues that Bucky remembers their exchange as well, but he doesn’t find any. Bucky simply looks down at his cigarette as he taps off the ash. When he finds Steve’s eyes again, his expression is still the same.

“I’ll have to,” Bucky says, his gaze never wavering. “It’s not what good Omegas do.”

Steve can hear the slightest tilt of sarcasm in his voice. Steve can also feel his face heating up and his heart beating faster.

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

In lieu of a smart reply, Steve simply turns around and walks off to his car. He throws his duffel bag onto the passenger seat and decidedly does not look at Bucky when he passes the entrance on his way out of the parking lot.

It’s only when he’s about to turn left into traffic that he allows himself a quick look into the rearview mirror.

Bucky’s still staring in his direction.

---

SHIELD’s HQ is nestled deep into the countryside somewhere outside New York. It’s a bit too far to commute, so most of the staff and agents live in one of the few quiet, nondescript towns close by.

Steve, having grown up in Brooklyn, used to miss the hustle and bustle of the city, but he’s come to appreciate the silence and slow way of living.

On missions, every decision can risk his life, the success of the job or both. In the town where he lives now, a lot of decisions are made for him. There are only two bars. Three supermarkets. If he wants to catch a movie with Sam, he has to go to the cinema on Third Street.

Steve stops by the supermarket that’s closest to his apartment and stocks up for the days ahead. He mostly grabs things on autopilot. It’s a routine shop, anyway. Frozen pizza, canned beans, a few protein bars – he buys the same staples almost every weekend.

Steve likes this routine. It feels secure and reliable. It’s everything his life on missions isn’t.

The older Beta at the cashier tries to engage him in the good-natured small talk they dabble in every Friday, but Steve’s mind is elsewhere.

Back at his apartment, he puts on a wash with his sweaty workout clothes, stores away his groceries and sits on the couch while his pizza bakes. He tries selecting a movie from his watchlist, but he’s still zapping by the time the oven beeps.

To make matters worse, he burns his hand when he gets the pizza out. Steve winces when he runs his hand underneath lukewarm water.

He should just go to bed. He really doesn’t want to know what other unpleasant surprises this day has in store for him.

Steve selects a movie at random when he sits back down with his meal on a plate and an angry looking red patch on the back of his hand. He’s munching on his last piece of pizza when he officially gives up.

He still has no idea what this movie is about, but every time the main character’s love interest smirks, it takes him straight back to Bucky smoking outside SHIELD’s entrance.

Damn Fury and damn his own stupid moral compass.

All it took for his mind to slip back into its old routine of thinking about Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, was one meeting and a few lingering glances.

Steve’d been doing so good. He went out with other Omegas. Even had one or two flings. He buried this sappy infatuation with Bucky Barnes in the deepest pits of his consciousness.

Even Sam doesn’t know about that one regretful night a few years back.

He’s thirty-one goddamn years old and he sits here thinking about his unrequited crush like he’s still a teenager with bad acne and even worse asthma.

Steve stops the movie and fetches Fury’s file. If he can’t stop thinking about today, he might as well be productive.

The file contains a rough estimated timeline of the mission. They have another meeting to go over the mission’s details on Monday. From there on, they get six weeks to develop believable characters, to familiarize themselves with their new roles and prepare a plan for gathering intel on Pierce.

The official start date is on June 20th. The file doesn’t state an estimated end date.

Normally, this wouldn’t bother Steve. He’s been on a mission that went on for more than two years. He doesn’t have any family he needs to be available to. All his friends work for SHIELD in some capacity.

But Steve’s never been on a mission with another person before. It’s always been just him.

And he liked it that way. He trusts his instincts and competence. He knows he’s stress-resistant and endurable.

But spending an undisclosed amount of time so closely with another person – relationships are bound to be muddled. Steve tries not to think too much about how this is supposed to work out if the relationship is muddled to begin with.

He’s also never had to attune his own working style to someone else’s. Steve doesn’t know a lot about Bucky’s way of doing things. He made a very conscious effort to avoid all things Bucky Barnes in the last few years.

But what is he supposed to do? Fury’s not going to budge on the agents assigned to this case, that much is clear. And there’s no way in hell Steve’ll go up to his boss and tell him he can’t complete a mission because he’s still hurt over an one night stand from several years ago and is afraid that that neither his dick nor his heart will survive sleeping in the same bed as Bucky Barnes.

Fury made it clear that a lot rides on this mission and Steve’s never been one to shy away from responsibility.

With a deep sigh, Steve turns the page.

There are several pages with detailed intel on Pierce, as much as is available to the public.

Steve makes a mental note to look him up online and find videos of the guy. It’ll help to hear him speak, see him move, witness his aura.

A slender pamphlet slips out as Steve turns another page. It reads The Traditional Designation Party – A guide to a fruitful bond on the front.

The crease between Steve’s eyebrows grows deeper and deeper the longer he reads. It seems like this pamphlet is distributed to newly bonded mates but also serves as a guideline on how Pierce’s party views designation roles in general.

Omegas are natural caregivers, it says in the first chapter. They thrive in the safe environment of the home but are quickly overwhelmed by the fast and ever-changing modern world outside their known perimeters. Therefore, it’s an Alpha’s duty to protect their mates from making unnecessary decisions and, at the same time, provide them with enough mental stimulation to stay content.

Steve reaches the section on Behavior and has to fight a shiver.

He remembers the history lessons in high school on how the Omega Rights Movement brought along a significant wave of changes that made Omegas legally equal to Alphas.

The reality looks different of course. There’s still a clear discrepancy in pay and the leading figures in organizations are still mostly Alphas. But Omegas now reach legal independence with their 18th birthday and can hold down a job without an Alpha’s approval.

Steve remembers how incredulous he’d felt when his history teacher had told them that Omegas hadn’t been allowed to have their own bank account once upon a time.

Omegas are subservient to Alphas. They are built to rely on the Alpha’s guidance and protection. This logically expands to all financial, legal and social decisions.

Fury was right about how Pierce wants to take Omegas rights right back into the Middle Ages.

Omegas relish in feeling secure. This is best achieved by reminding the Omega of their natural place. Certain behaviors help to implement their inherent status. For example, an Alpha may have their Omega kneeling beside them during meals and feeding them by hand. It centers the Omega and accentuates the Alpha’s role as the provider.

Steve reads this paragraph multiple times until he’s sure he understood correctly. The thought of anyone, let alone any of the strong, independent and resilient Omegas he knows, kneeling at someone’s feet because of their designation, makes him grit his teeth in anger.

He tosses the pamphlet on the far side of his coffee table, not even bothering to look into the chapters on Correction and Starting a Pack. Steve really doesn’t want to know what those entail.

It’s frightening how the party manages to twist everything that’s imbedded in an Omega’s and Alpha’s genetic code into something that fits their narrative. Into something extreme and gross and patronizing.

An Omega’s wish for safety means they’re not capable of taking care of themselves. An Alpha’s longing to protect justifies clipping their mate’s freedom and right to make decisions on their own.

There is no question that Steve’ll stay on the mission. He needs to do everything in his power to stop these ideas from gaining any more momentum. If it means pretending to be mates with Bucky, so be it. He’s been standing up to bullies ever since he understood the concept.

Steve’s not going to stop now.

With new determination in his bones, he gets up, grabs a beer from his fridge and opens his laptop. He spends the next two hours looking at videos of Pierce.

Luckily, there is more than enough video material online to form a good impression on the guy. He seems to hover close to a lot of powerful Alphas. Sadly, Pierce is really fucking charismatic. Steve can see how he reels his audience in, how he manages to grab and command everyone’s attention.

Steve only stops clicking on the next video when he feels his eyelids drooping. He turns off his laptop and lets his head fall back against the headrest of his couch.

He already feels exhausted and it’s only the first day. The mission hasn’t even properly started.

With a deep groan, he forces himself to get up and get ready for bed. He’s out like a light the second his head touches his pillow.

But his dreams don’t grant him the reprieve he desperately needs. Grey eyes and plush lips waft before his eyes, snippets of their night together, memories of how Bucky’s skin had felt underneath his fingertips …

Steve still hears Bucky moaning by the time he jolts awake in the early morning. Even a cold shower can’t stop the way his body reacts to the images his unconsciousness conjured. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head a couple of times against the tiles of his shower.

He survived the army and five undercover missions in seven years. But this, this is it.

Steve can feel it.

He’ll do anything for this case to be a success. But it might actually be the death of him.

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