Chapter Text
Year One - Tear Down
(Bucky 25, Tony 18)
Sometimes, Bucky doesn’t know how he gets himself into these situations… One Friday night in August he finds himself playing high stakes poker uptown with a bunch of alphas who represent the worst of society. Sure, their suits probably cost more than Bucky’s car, each, but within five minutes he can tell from their comments and the language they use that they’re self-absorbed alpha elitists that the world would probably be better off without.
So if he plays up the good ol’ boy charm, and the “young gun wanting more out of life” aspects a bit in his effort to clean them out, he doesn’t feel bad about it. He learned the finer points of a good poker bluff at his Dad’s knee, even though his Ma always scolded him for it afterward.
“I’ll see your fifty grand,” Bucky agrees, eyeing the chips he has left, “And I’ll raise you an auto repair shop in Brooklyn,” he says. He doesn’t want to lose the shop he inherited from his Dad per se, but he can admit to himself that his gambit might be fueled just the tiniest bit by the monotony of what his life has become since his parents died...
“What’s your revenue been like for the last few years?” the alpha in the pinstripe suit asks, slurring his words a bit.
“I pull in around seventy five to a hundred grand a year in profit,” Bucky admits, knowing that’s going to be peanuts to this group.
“How many employees?” a different alpha asks.
“It’s just me,” Bucky says, giving them a self-deprecating smile.
“Charming. What’s the tax assessed value of the land?” the alpha to the right of him asks.
Bucky gives him a “thank you” nod and says, “The county keeps telling me it’s worth a half a million…”
“Now that’s more like it. I’ll see your wager.”
“I’m out.”
“I’m out too. These cards aren’t worth that.”
The alpha across the table from him, the one who asked about revenue, eyes him up seriously. He’s the last one left to decide whether or not to fold. Bucky holds his gaze easily, not backing down. “Just for the record,” the alpha says, “I hope you’re not bluffing. I’ll see your bet...with the ownership of my omega son.”
There’s a bit of guffawing around the table, but not for the reason Bucky would protest.
“Regardless of the assumed value, or lack thereof, of the omega itself, his dowry is a half a million dollars,” the alpha says, which quells the grumbling.
Bucky feels a little sick to his stomach, but it’s not from the small amount of alcohol he’s consumed. If he breaks character now though, it would be disastrous, so he just nods in consensus with the group.
When his full house beats out the other’s three of a kind and flush, respectively, Bucky breathes both a sigh of relief and of trepidation… Well, he supposes he could pull the alpha aside privately and try to make a case for refusing the transfer of ownership… Maybe he’d buy a spiel about Bucky still being too young to get tied down… Although, at 25 years old, that excuse holds less weight than it used to.
“Well played, sonny,” the alpha to the right of him says, clapping him on the back. The others start making moves to break up the game now, since dawn is only a few hours away. The one who bet his son pulls out his wallet. He fumbles a bit for a card out of it, but finally presents it to Bucky with an almost smug grin.
“Here’s my card. Swing by tomorrow-” one of the other alphas points out that it’s already tomorrow, but the alpha in the pinstripe suit just waves him off,”-later today and pick him up. I’ll write you out a check once you’ve taken possession,” the man says, giving him a look like he assumes Bucky is going to try and get out of it, and won’t hear of it. Because he’s drunk though, it comes off more condescending than he probably intended. Or maybe not. Who knows with these rich types.
“Right… I’ll see you later, then,” Bucky grimaces internally. Well, there’s still hope that once the guy sobers up, he’ll regret the wager…
That afternoon, Bucky vacillates on what to do even as he’s driving through a ritzy New York suburb. He wouldn’t necessarily mind having a mate, it would certainly change things up in his life… He assumes the omega is probably around his own age, since the alpha he won him off of, Howard, was definitely old enough to be Bucky’s father.
If the son is too young though, that’s a whole different scenario...but Howard probably wouldn’t have called it a “dowry” if he was underage… Bucky sighs as he spots the right address, the numbers shining gold against the thick columns of the gated property. There’s a huge golden “S” done up with intricate scroll work on the gate.
“Uh, hello? Yeah, I’m Bucky Barnes. Howard told me to come by this afternoon…” Bucky says into the speaker outside, wondering if he might just get turned away entirely and have that be the end of it. He has no such luck though, and the gate swings open, admitting him.
Bucky counts the steps as he walks up the stairs of the mansion. There are twenty four of them.
The front doors have another golden “S” emblazoned on each side of them. The alpha who opens the door is an older British fellow who looks completely unimpressed by Bucky’s Sunday best.
“Mr. Stark will see you now,” he says after taking a moment to eye Bucky up and down. When Bucky gets inside, he can hear shouting going on upstairs. The butler stands stoically at Bucky’s side though, as if it’s an everyday occurrence.
Howard comes into view at the top of the stairwell, dragging a young omega by his upper arm along with him. A blonde omega that is obviously Howard’s wife, judging from her jewelry, follows behind them. Howard continues to move down the stairs at a rapid clip, with his son having a hard time keeping up. The son stumbles a little on the second to last step, but Howard must have an iron grip on him, because he continues to be dragged along until he gets his footing again at the bottom.
“Mr. Barnes, so good of you to come. Here he is. I have the paperwork ready to go,” Howard says with a fake pleasantness and a sneer in his son’s direction.
Bucky could take one look at the son and see how thin he is, how his skin is obviously dry and rashy in places, how his hair is thinner in spots, and know that he’s being abused, even without having seen Howard’s current display. He’s probably been in distress for a long time, for it to get this bad. He’s not as scarily thin as his mother is, but her state is a damn good indicator of what’s in store for him in the future if he stays here.
Christ…
“Where do I sign?” Bucky asks as he’s handed a stack of papers. He’s never taken possession of an omega before, though he knows all transfer contracts are pretty much the same. As he’s skimming through things, he takes a surreptitious glance at the attached birth certificate. Bucky knows that male omegas have a tendency to look younger than they are, but it never hurts to check… Apparently he turned 18 a few months ago though, so at least there’s that…
They both sign two sets of forms, one for Howard to keep and one for Bucky. Then Howard pulls his checkbook out of a pocket inside his suit jacket and writes Bucky out a check for five hundred thousand dollars. Bucky puts it in his wallet like he’s handed percentages of a million dollars all the time.
He almost feels like he should say, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” but he holds himself back. He didn’t just get paid for a brake job. The fact that omegas are traded like cattle in their “modern” society rankles him, he doesn’t want to add insult to injury by making it seem like he views omegas as property like Howard does.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Howard says, grinning like he just pulled one over on Bucky.
Maybe Bucky should have read that contract more thoroughly before he signed, but he gets the feeling Howard’s glee is over the fact that his son is no longer his “problem”, not that Bucky just agreed to something he didn’t realize.
Bucky gives him a nod and a smile that moves his mouth only, while the rest of his face stays somber. Then he turns to Howard’s son, to his new omega.
“I’m Bucky Barnes. What’s your name?”
“Tony,” he says, not offering anything else. He looks resigned to his fate, like he was about to cry a moment ago but has lost the will power.
“Well, you should get going, I’m a busy man,” Howard says, waving them off, “Jarvis will see you out.” He snaps his fingers and motions for his wife to follow him as he heads back up the stairs. She quickly steps over and hugs Tony, telling him goodbye, then falls in line behind Howard. She doesn’t look back.
Tony looks after her though, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see her. Whether he expects that Bucky will keep him from his family, or that Howard will be the end of her in one way or another, Bucky can’t tell. Maybe it’s both.
Jarvis, the butler, makes a motion to show them to the door, even though they never left the foyer. Before it closes behind them though, he steps out with them, pulling Tony into a quick yet fierce hug.
“Bye, Jarvis,” Tony says shakily, his face buried against the other alpha.
“Take care, Master Anthony,” Jarvis says, his voice wavering as well.
There’s the sound of a window opening on the ground level, and a feminine voice, also British accented, loudly whispers, “Edwin?”
“If you would allow us a moment to retrieve some of Master Anthony’s things?” Jarvis asks Bucky expectantly.
“...Uh, sure thing,” Bucky says, following them down the stairs and around to the first floor. There’s a maid waiting at the window, and as soon as she sees them she hefts up a suitcase to the sill.
“I packed you a bag, Master Anthony. One bag is tradition, for a mating, he can’t get too mad at that. At least, not with us,” she says, leaning out to hug Tony after Jarvis has taken the suitcase. Tony does start crying a little while she hugs him. She must hear something from inside the mansion that they can’t though, because she releases him suddenly and says, “I have to go. Take care, Tony.” Then she ducks back in and hastily closes the window, drawing the curtains shut as well.
Tony quickly dries his eyes before turning back to face them.
“Why are you all actin’ like you’ll never see each other again?” Bucky asks, trying not to be insulted that they would just assume he’s every bit as bad as Howard.
“Master Anthony will never be allowed on the grounds again once he leaves with you,” Jarvis explains, “Master Howard has made that abundantly clear.”
“Is there somethin’ that prevents you from coming to see him?” Bucky asks, wondering just how tight a control Howard has over these people.
Jarvis looks hesitantly hopeful at the offer. “No, not as such…”
“Here, take one of my cards then. You and anybody who wants to can come see him,” Bucky says, fishing out his wallet. “Maybe next weekend after he’s had a chance to settle in, that’s traditional too, right?”
“Yes, it is,” Jarvis says, accepting the business card. “A+ Mechanics?” he reads, somewhat incredulously.
“Yeah, my Dad named it that so it’d be right at the top of the list in the phone book… Back when people used to use phone books,” Bucky says, trying to lighten the mood a little.
“You own a car repair place? I’ve never heard of it,” Tony says, which is the most he’s spoken so far. Bucky’s relieved to hear it, because some omegas go mute after being abused for too long. Usually that happens at younger ages, but you never know.
“Well, it’s in Brooklyn, so, it’s kind of out of your area,” Bucky explains, looking around the grounds of the mansion as if to highlight the disparity between the two boroughs.
“If I may ask, sir,” Jarvis speaks up, “How exactly is it that you know Master Howard?...”
“Oh. I don’t know him,” Bucky says, shaking his head a bit.
Both Jarvis and Tony share a look, like they’re checking with the other to see if they have any more information on the situation. Obviously neither of them do, though. “Then how did he negotiate the transfer of Master Anthony to you?” Jarvis asks, frowning slightly yet not looking unapproving.
Honestly, not being in Howard’s circle or “knowing” him is probably a huge point in Bucky’s favor, he’s starting to realize.
“I, uh, won a VIP package on the radio, to this event at the Rose Bar… One thing lead to another and I wound up playin’ high stakes poker with a bunch of these rich assholes, uh, guys,” Bucky says, though no one bats an eye at his description of Howard and his associates, “I knew I had a good hand, so I bet my shop on the raise, and, uh, well, Howard used you and your dowry to call…”
Tony looks stricken, and Bucky knows it’s got to be horrible for him, to know Howard thought that little of him, but he isn’t going to lie.
“Perhaps, Master Anthony,” Jarvis says, glancing at Bucky and then back to Tony, “This might end up being for the best… Time will tell, I suppose.”
“Yeah. I guess it will,” Tony replies, not looking convinced.
“Well, here, let me put that in the car,” Bucky says, meaning to take the suitcase from Jarvis. The man insists on loading it himself though. Jarvis and Tony say one more goodbye before Tony gets in the passenger seat of Bucky’s car and they drive away.
Bucky sees Tony looking back in the side mirror.
Jarvis stands in the driveway, watching them go.