Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New York City, 1938

The Onyx club was the place to be tonight.

Located on one of the streets of the Brooklyn neighborhood. From outside the red brick outerior, anyone passing by could see a whole bunch of people lounging around outside. Anyone could get in; no doubt about that, but tonight was a special occasion. Any single man, or, let’s face it, any man who was sure his wife wouldn’t find out where he was that night would be here.

Inside, bartenders were working; handing a variety of drinks to their customers. People sat at tables chatting, gambling, kissing some dame they had met or their girl. On a stage draped by red curtains, the sound of lively swing music could be heard and a few couples were dancing. However, tonight was a special occasion. Every saturday night, a special singer came into the club.

She stepped onto the stage, her mere presence dulling the noise of the club. Her long, form fitting golden halter dress caught the eye of every fella in the room. Her long, curly vibrant red hair was pulled up and held together with a golden pin; her lips stained a wine color and dark eyeshadow on to emphasize her alluring green eyes. Yes, if there was any woman who could stop a man in his tracks, it would be Natasha Romanoff.

The piano started up as did the bass. The whole room was silent, save for a few whispered that went unnoticed by the people near them. Her eyes gleamed mischievously, hips swaying to the beat.

“You had plenty of money  in 1922,”

“You let other women make a fool of you,”

“Why don’t you do right,”

“Like some other men do,”

While she sang, a man stood up from his poker game to get something to drink. As he waited for his drink, he noticed a lone girl sitting on one of the stools. Her dark hair seemed to go on forever in waves, her lips a delicate shade of red as she drank her scotch daintly. “Hey there, doll face,” he took the seat next to her. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all by yourself?”

“Waiting for my boyfriend,” she answered back sweetly.

“Mind if I keep you company?”

She glanced nervously at the door to one of the lavatories nearby. “You better not. Johnny doesn’t like it if other men are near me.”

The man just grinned wolfishly, placing a hand on her knee. As he spoke, he slid it up her dress and her face turned the same shade as her lipstick. “I’m sure your man won’t mind if I look after his girl. I promise I’ll take real good care of ya.”

“Thank you,” she finished her drink, standing up and grabbing her small pearl purse. “But no thank you. Good bye.”

She turned to leave when he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. “Now listen here, missy,” he ground out, pulling her flush against him. “You can’t just come here looking as pretty as you do and not expect a man to give you any attention. Now, be a sweet little thing and stop resisting.”

“Stop it! Let go of me!”

“Hey!”

The man paused briefly; tensing slightly in anticipation as a voice called out near him. When he turned around to address the stranger, he was taken aback. Instead of the girls boyfriend, or perhaps maybe some giant, muscled bouncer, it was a rather short, scrawny looking man. He was barely five feet, with blonde hair that parted over the left side of his forehead. He marched over, which was supposed to be in confident strides, but ended up looking childish. “Listen you asshole,” the small man spat. “The lady said to let her go. Why don’t you stop being an ass and let her go? Or do you want me to punch you into next Tuesday?”

The man just smirked, grip still tight on the young woman. “I don’t listen to little twelve year olds. Why don’t you go crying back home to your Mommy?”

“Alright, you asked for it!”

He didn’t expect to be headbutted in the chest, but the small man was surprisingly nimble. He staggered back, fists up and ready. He growled, chest now hurting a little and he let go of the girl’s wrist. She ran into the arms of her boyfriend, who quickly go them out of the establishment as people began to circle around the two men fighting.

“That man’s an idiot for picking a fight with Rogers,” one man commented, arm around a call girl’s waist.

“Roger’s will be fine,” another man replied, taking a long sip of his brandy. “It’s this guy who’ll need to watch his back.”

“Get out of here,”

“Get me some money too,”

“Why don’t you do right,”

“Like some other men…”

Natasha kept singing, completely aware of what was going down and her eyes followed the one man named Rogers like a Hawk. Her emerald eyes shone with amusement and she looked towards the bass player wearing dark shades; dark blonde hair slicked back. He smiled back at her; an unknown secret being passed between them. Slowly, she reached up into her hair to pull the golden pin out; cascades of vibrant hair falling past her shoulders.

The crowd was circling around the man Rogers and the man he was fighting. A good majority of them were not worried for Rogers. In fact, most of them were cheering him on despite the fact that the man punched him in the stomach hard enough for him to fall over. Most of the crowd, minus a few members, didn’t even look when another man, flanked by a man of Japanese descent and another man of African descent. The man in the center was handsome; with attractive blue eyes and dark brown hair. He had a decent amount of stubble, but other than that, he looked to be the type of man the dames would fawn over.

“Well, well, well,” the man began, the fight instantly stopping. Rogers wiped the blood off his lip and glared at his opponent. The man who broke of the fight smiled. “What’s going on over here?”

“Mind your own business,” the man snapped, glaring at Rogers. “This is our fight, not yours.”

“Well, this is my establishment, so that makes it my business,” the new man, clearly now known as the boss, answered. “And I don’t like fights in my establishments.”

The man didn’t say anything, but his face paled a bit. The owner of the club walked over to Rogers, tilting his chin up to get a good look at him. “You know I don’t like fights in the club,” he said calmly.

“He was asking for it,” Rogers snapped.

“Let me take the punk outside for ya,” the man sneered. “I can teach him a few lessons or two. You could lend me your negro and the slant eyes over there.”

The owner of the club then turned to face him, glaring at him with such fierceness. “I don’t like it when people use such words to describe my friends,” the man hadn’t realized that the owner had wrapped an arm around Rogers. “I also don’t like it when people touch my sweetheart.”

“Your...your sweetheart? You’re a fairy?”

“No, I’m James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky to my friends,” he squeezed Roger’s waist. “And you will address me as Sir, not fairy. Now, apologize to Steve.”

“Why don’t you go fuck your little boyfriend, ya damn queer!” the man snapped. “I’m not apologizing for hitting a queer!”

Bucky just sighed. “I tried to be nice. Really, I did,” he turned to Steve, checking his face for the injuries. “He didn’t hit you too bad, punk.”

“I was defending a girl!” Steve protested. “He was getting to aggressive.”

“Ah,” Bucky turned to the man again. “I also don’t like people disrespecting women.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit what you like!”

The man didn’t even notice the Japanese move forward till it was too late. He was thrown to the floor, arm pinned behind his back and one hand pulling on his hair. “Don’t disrespect Mr. Barnes,” the Japanese man growled. “You better learn some respect before you really piss him off.”

“Screw off, slant eyes!”

“Let me take him, Bucky!” Steve pleaded, glaring at the man on the floor. “He just insulted you and Jim!”

“Well…” Bucky trailed off, ignoring the man’s groans of pain as Jim put more pressure on his arm. “I don’t typically like fights.”

“Bucky!”

“Alright, fine.”

“Do…..”

All hell broke loose in the club.

Natasha lept off the stage and onto the back of the nearest man, using the gold pin to get a few good minor stabs in. The bass player took off his sunglasses, running off the stage to fight with another man. Some of the people scrambled to get out of the place, but most stayed to join the fight. The bartenders ducked as things were thrown their way, but continued their business as usual. After all, fights happened more often than naught.

They managed to beat the man in pretty good, both eyes bruised and his nose broken. Steve was pretty sure they cracked a few ribs and broke a few fingers. He was bleeding on the floor, groaning in pain and misery. Steve kicked him again just for good measure; Bucky purring in amusement.

“You did good, baby doll,” he pulled Steve into his embrace, motioning for the African man to pull the man up so they could get a good look at him. “Learn your lesson, yet?”

“Y...Yes,” the man could only whisper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir…”

Bucky nodded, feeling Jim and Natasha appear next to him. “Now, before we throw you out, there are a few things we want to make clear. One, don’t fuck with the Irish and Jews,” he looked towards his friends. “Two, I don’t want to hear you fucking around with the Asians and Blacks. Or Russians,” he added, hearing Natasha clear her throat as she adjusted the pin back into her hair. “And lastly, this is the most important lesson of all, don’t let me catch you touching my Steve again!”

He kicked the man in the face, two of his teeth falling out of his mouth as he spat out more blood. “Who...who are you people?” he groaned, blood falling down his chin messily.

“People you don’t ever want to mess with again,” Bucky grinned, giving a quick peck on Steve’s cheek. “I’m the head of the Barnes mafia. With my friends all together here tonight, we are the Avengers. Don’t let me catch you round here again, ya hear?”

The man could only nod and he scrambled to get up; stumbling and staggering his way out of the club and onto the streets. He never went into the Onyx club again.

Or really any establishment on the Brooklyn side of New York ever again.

Chapter Text

New York City, Brooklyn, 1938

Honestly, Steve didn’t understand how he got himself into these situations.

He was propped up against the wall, tied up so tightly he felt his arms were losing circulation. Six hours, five minutes, and forty eight seconds. That’s how long he’d been confined in this boring as hell room. The room was bare, minus a few chairs and a table with a telephone in the middle of it. Two men were watching him, both of them idiots and clearly the last people sent to do anything on a mission. Fucking Italians.

“What are we supposed to do with him?” one of the men asked, Italian accent heavy. “Didn’t the boss say that he is not to be touched?”

“‘Cares what the boss says?” the other man leaned forward closer to his face than he would have liked. He spat on him, the saliva dripping down Steve’s cheek. “It’s not a crime to beat up a queenie every now and then.”

Steve just rolled his eyes as the men continued to talk in rapid Italian. He didn’t speak Italian, but he knew lewd jokes when he heard them. “Just take your time, Bucky,” he grumbled, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s not like I’m getting any younger out here.”

***

To say Bucky was in a foul mood would be the biggest understatement of the year. He sat in his big office chair, fingers tapping the wood of his desk irritatingly. Blue eyes glared at the empty space in front him. The clock on the wall ticked away, signaling to him that it was half past six. The pendulum swung at the bottom, almost hypnotizing.

So he threw a paper weight at it.

It shattered to the ground, the sound echoing in his ears. The door to his office opened, revealing a not so impressed Natasha. “That clock cost good money,” she commented, taking one of the seats in front of his desk. “You’re in a mood.”

“Clearly,” he retorted, not caring if he sounded snide.

She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Steve not here yet? I figured you two were having dinner plans.”

“We do have plans,” he grumbled, arms crossed. “He just isn’t here yet. We were supposed to meet here thirty minutes ago.”

“Ah,” she examined her nails, not sounding too concerned. “Maybe you should find out where he is. Maybe he got in a fight.”

“Little punk better not have,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Dammit, where is he?”

“How should I know? I just got here.”

“Not helping,” he snapped and she only shrugged. He stood up from his desk, pacing around for a few seconds. “I’m going to go out and find him. If he missed our dinner plans because of a fight…”

“You’ll what?” she mused, moving a curtain of red hair from her shoulders. “You would never hurt him. Not intentionally, anyway. Unless you two are into that sort of kinky business, than I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t be crass,” he rolled his eyes as he grabbed his coat. “I’ll be back; stay out of my desk.”

He was just about to touch the doorknob when the phone rang. Natasha got up gracefully, not even making a sound as she picked up the phone. “Hello? she asked in a calm voice, raising an eyebrow as the voice on the other end spoke. She then removed the phone from her ear, extending it to Bucky. “It’s for you.”

“Obviously,” he grabbed the phone from her, bringing to his left ear. “Yeah, what do ya want?”

“We have Steve Rogers,” the voice on the other end replied, the Italian accent almost unbearable to listen to. “Bring us the ransom money of a thousand dollars if you want him alive.”

The other end hung up, leaving Bucky standing there with a phone in his hand. He set it down, turning to Natasha with a smile that would make the blood of other men run cold. “Natasha,” he began almost casually. “How would you like to go kill some Italian bastards?”

The smile on Natasha’s face grew. “It would be my pleasure. They have Steve, don’t they?”

Bucky didn’t respond, but he did grab two guns from his desk drawer, putting them in his coat pocket. “This shouldn't take long; I doubt they left capable people to watch him. My Steve can be quite the handful,” he said proudly, chest puffing up with pride. “Ready?”

“Да,” she replied in Russian, pulling a gun from the pocket of her coat. “I’m always ready. Clint!”

The door opened yet again and a man with dark blonde hair walked in. “Ready,” he had a rifle in one hand, tapping it against the other. “Let’s go save your wife, Barnes.”

Bucky just smirked. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

***

“You idiots aren’t going to get your money.”

Steve sighed, watching the two men play poker to pass the time. Cigar smoke was everywhere and he tried not to breathe it in. The last thing he needed was an asthma attack. He was bored, bored enough to start talking sass to a bunch of thugs. “Why don’t you scumbags let me go before Bucky gets here and knocks the lights out of you.”

One of the men snorted. “Pipe down ya little shit,” he inhaled the smoke from his cigar. “Your little boyfriend isn’t going to save you.”

“Who said I needed saving?” he huffed, fighting against his restraints. “Untie these ropes and fight me! Let’s go a few rounds! Bet y'all are a bunch of pansies who don't even know how to fight. Wouldn’t surprise me at all, you fucking gorillas.”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, boy?” the other man snapped. “Or I’ll shut it for ya!”

“With what?” he challenged.

“I’ll show you!” he stood up, taking the gun from off the table. He sauntered over to Steve, grabbing him by his dark blonde locks. He pressed the gun to his temple, but Steve wasn’t worried. The second the gun was placed to his temple…

Bucky stormed in.

Now, Bucky had guns and he used them, but he always had a strong liking towards knives. He shot the other man sitting at the table with ease, his body collapsing to the floor the second the bullet passed through his head. Natasha and Clint were behind him, the shots and cries of agony from the other men in the building being heard.

Bucky just grinned, though not out of friendliness. The man still had a gun pressed to Steve’s head, but he was clearly unnerved at the sight of Bucky. Bucky chuckled humorlessly. “You got yourself in quite a jam there, baby doll.”

“Took you long enough,” he rolled his eyes at the nicknames. “Now hurry up and get me out of here.”

“Take one step and I’ll shoot him!” the man shouted, eyes moving towards his friend. “You bastards killed Lorenzo!”

“Well Lorenzo had it coming,” Bucky didn’t look at all fazed. “Now, I promise your death will be painless if you release Steve.”

“Like hell I will!”

“You know I’m starting to lose circulation,” Steve cut in, fidgeting against his restraints. Bucky just winked at him, noticing as he started to adjust his foot. “Our dinner plans were ruined, sorry Buck.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” Bucky smiled. “We can rearrange it another time.”

“Stop talking!” the Italian thug snapped, pressing the gun harder to Steve’s head. “Shut up and hand over the money.”

“Oh, this money?” Clint’s voice sounded through as he walked in from the doorway, briefcase in hand. “All one thousand dollars?”

“Yes!”

“Well, you can’t have it.”

Steve then struck his leg out, knocking the man flat on his ass. He yelped, the gun flying from his hand as Steve rolled away from him. Bucky stepped on the gun, preventing the man from grabbing it to hurt Steve any further. The man was completely defenseless now, looking with fearful eyes at Bucky. “P...please, don’t kill me!” he whimpered cowardly. “I...I only did what the boss asked!”

“I should kill you,” Bucky mussed, tapping the muzzle of the gun thoughtfully on his chin. “You did kidnap my lover, threatened to kill him, and I assume you beat him up a little.”

“Genius observation,” Steve grumbled half heartedly.

“Just lookin’ after ya.”

“Прими решение,” Natasha called out from the hallway. “У меня есть дела поважнее, чем спасти свою жену.”

“Почти готово, Наташа,” he called back before returning his attention back to the man. “Now, I’m going to give you exactly sixty seconds to get the hell out of here before I kill you. You’re going to report to your boss that if he wants to fuck around with me, then he better watch his back. You got it, chap?”

The man nodded dumbly, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he scrambled to his feet. Clint kept his gun trained on him the whole time, following him as he hurried out the door. Bucky sighed, returning his attention back to Steve. “Steve, Steve, Steve,” he shook his head with a smirk. “You really gotta stop putting yourself in this situations.”

“Well it’s not like I asked to be kidnapped,” Steve snarked back, sitting there calmly as Bucky brought out his knife to cut the bindings. “I’ve been waiting for seven hours. Do you know how boring it was to sit there and the only thing to pass the time as to actually count the time?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he moved the strands of rope away, picking Steve up bridal style. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, don’t worry.”

Steve made a face. “You don’t have to carry me, Buck. I can walk by myself.”

“And deny your knight in shining armor a chance to hold his princess? I don't think so,” Bucky chuckled and Steve just turned red in the face as Natasha smirked at him. “Now be a good princess and let your royal knight carry you home.”

“Keep that up and this royal knight will be spending the night on the royal couch!”

Chapter Text

New York City, Brooklyn, June,1938

“You do remember the dinner party tonight, don't you?”

Bucky looked up to see Steve leaning in the doorframe, tying a red tie around his neck as he examined Bucky with expectant eyes. Well, to give Steve credit, it looked like he was trying to tie the material around his neck. He'd only been alive for twenty-one years and it impressed him that Steve still couldn’t tie a tie properly.

“Yeah, I remember,” he stood up away from his desk, removing his lover’s fingers and looping the tie the proper way. “Kind of don’t want to go, though.”

“Well you planned it, so you have to,” Steve said in that bossy way of his. “We’ve talked about it for weeks and everyone’s agreed to come. You can’t back out now and I won’t let you.”

“I know, baby,” Bucky sighed, wrapping his arms around Steve and burying his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck. He could smell the sharp scent of cologne; the strong smells of sandalwood and orange. “You smell good, Stevie. And you look so nice all dressed up like that. It almost makes me want to undress you. Right here, right now-”

Steve didn’t even let him finish his sentence. Soft, warm lips captured his own, tongue flicking over his bottom lip teasingly. Bucky smirked into the kiss, hands still wrapped around Steve’s waist as the shorter man pressed himself closer into his body. He opened his mouth to let Steve in, body very much aware of the warmth Steve’s body was projecting. Arousal peaked in him and he was more than willing to spare a few minutes with his lover, but then Steve pulled back.

“You’ll have to wait till a few more hours,” he didn’t pull back all the way; Bucky very much aware of the smaller body pressed against his own. “Our guests will be here soon and you’re still not ready.”

“Fuck them,” he growled, arousal now spiking in his trousers. “They can wait.”

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” Steve was enjoying this way too much; he could see that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes, lips dangerously close to him. “It’s rude to make our guests wait.”

“Dammit Steve,” he growled between clenched teeth.

“Language,” Steve teased, giving him a chaste kiss before pulling back. “You better be ready in fifteen minutes.”

He spun on his heel, waltzing out of the room with all confidence and leaving a very frustrated, and aroused, Bucky Barnes.

***

Steve was just the picture of innocence during dinner.

Bucky sat at the head of the table, the small blonde sitting to his right. He stabbed at his steak, bringing the meat to his mouth. Steve just sipped at his wine, listening to whatever Clint was telling him. The table was full tonight; over ten people sitting at it. Natasha and Bruce, with Natasha doing more of the talking. Clint and a pregnant Laura Barton with their two kids, Cooper and Lila. He was a bit surprised the Odinsons had decided to come. Thor was drinking and chatting in a jolly tone while his brother, Loki, just looked like he wanted the blonde to shut up. Loki’s wife, Anastasia, just smirked at her husband’s discomfort and continued her conversation with their not-officially adopted daughter, Neena. While it was a nice little party, he was completely miserable.

And horny.

Oh, Steve knew it too. If this was a form of revenge for making him wait so long when he was kidnapped last week, it was cruel. “Something wrong, Buck?” Steve asked quietly, hiding his smirk into his drink.

“You know damn well, sweetheart.”

“Language.”

He could feel Anastasia’s eyes on him and he met hers, daring her to say anything. She smirked knowingly, giving Loki a nudge. He didn’t say anything, but he could tell the two of them were aware of what was going on. Well, that was just fucking wonderful.

“You look tense, Bucky,” Laura commented casually. Almost a little too casually. “Anything the matter?”

“Just work,” he smiled politely at her. “Stark’s been trying to buy off some of the smaller businesses in Brooklyn from me. I’ve just been a bit stressed.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. He would have rather said that Steve as a being a goddamn tease, but with children in the room, he wouldn’t.

“Then drink, my friend!” Thor called out merrily. “Let this wonderful aile relax you!”

“It’s wine, brother,” Loki amended, not really sounding like he cared.

“It matters not,” Thor ignored his younger brother, continuing to smile like a drunken fool. “It’ll make you happy either way.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else about the matter. He met the eyes of Cooper Barton, glaring at him slightly as the boy was looking at Neena. Bucky found that to be a little amusing, but it didn't calm the aching hardness in his pants.

All hell broke loose when Steve licked a drop of wine from his lower lip.

He pushed back his seat, carefully placing his napkin back down on the table. “Steve, may I speak with you for a moment,” he asked, all sweetness in his voice, but Steve knew that tone very well. “In my office?”

“Excuse us,” Steve addressed their friends, pushing back his own chair. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

He ignored the smirks from a majority of people at the table, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Steve was following. The minute they reached his office, he shoved Steve inside and locked the door. Steve just shook his head, mouth opening to say something but he stopped it with his lips.

He pushed Steve up against the desk, hands reaching towards the blonde’s belt loop to unhook it. Steve had his hands wrapped around his neck and soft lips moving against his.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he said in between kisses, hips moving forward to grind his arousal against Steve. Steve moaned, body instantly reacting and his looked up at Bucky with lust filled eyes, hands moving themselves downwards to remove the buttons from Bucky’s shirt.

“How much do you want me?” Steve asked, finding himself now propped up on the desk and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. He rubbed against Bucky’s hard on, panting as Bucky peppered his neck with kisses; biting a few places that made him whine.

“B...Bucky!” he moaned, hand reaching down to cup Bucky’s hardened length. He could feel Bucky tense up, biting his shoulder a little harder as he stroked his shaft. Bucky pulled back, lips connecting with his once again as he removed Steve’s shirt. The calloused hands reached down to his trousers and removing the belt before removing the pants completely.

He was completely vulnerable in front of Bucky and that turned him on even more. Bucky admired him for a moment, smirking deviously before his hand reached down to stroke Steve. He gasped at Bucky’s touch; arching his back into the touch. Bucky was completely merciless, eyes never leaving his as he kneeled down to the front of the desk, taking Steve’s entire length into his mouth.

“Ah...Bucky!” he gasped, hands reaching down to pull on the dark brown locks. “Feels so good…”

Bucky gave a slight laugh, tongue rubbing slowly and mercilessly against the head. Bits of precum dribbled down, but his tongue continued to slowly massage the appendage in his mouth. This was agony for Steve and he knew it. An eye for an eye, as the young folk say now days.

“Bucky, please!” Steve thrust his hips forward into Bucky’s mouth, sweat now forming on his skin. Everything was warm, ranging from the early June heat and the feeling of Bucky’s hot breath on his penis. It was too much; all of it was too much.

Right when he was about to come, Bucky released him. He stood up, leaning past Steve to sweep his arm across the desk. Objects went flying off and landed with a loud clunk; papers flying haphazardly everywhere. The only two things that didn’t fly off were the two pictures of their mothers that lay on the edge of the desk.

Bucky flipped him around so that his face was lying against the table. His eyes caught the picture of his mother and he made a face. “Bucky, we’re are not having sex with my mother’s photo looking at us.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky just turned the photo of Sarah Rogers around. “Better?” he asked, mouth near Steve’s ear.

“What about your mother’s photo?”

“I don’t fucking care,” Bucky whispered and before Steve could say anything about that, the brunette stuck two fingers inside him. He gasped, bracing himself as Bucky’s fingers stretched him. He moaned, fingers turning white as he clutched the table tighter. “More,” he pleaded as Bucky added a third finger. “Please Bucky, faster!”

“Well look who’s all hot and bothered now,” Bucky chuckled, kissing the back of his neck and marking the juncture where his shoulder blades met with his neck. “Do you like this, baby?”

“Yes!”

“I don't know if you’re ready…”

“Fuck me!” Steve snapped. “Remove your damn fingers and just fuck me already!”

“Language, baby,” he tisked, kissing his neck once again. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll make you feel even better.”

“Please,” Steve was practically begging by this point. “Please, Bucky! I want you inside me, please!”

Bucky removed his fingers slowly, Steve giving a soft little whine at the loss of feeling inside him, but it was soon replaced by Bucky giving one solid thrust inside his ass. He gasped, feeling Bucky now balls deep in his ass. The pace was slow at first; Bucky trying to find a rhythm that would satisfy both of them. “Dammit Steve,” Bucky started in between thrusts. “Damn baby, you feel so good. All nice and tight for me…”

“Bucky!” Steve panted, chest heaving as Bucky pressed into him farther. “Bucky!”

“Not so loud, babydoll,” Bucky kissed the outer shell of his ear. “You don't want our guests downstairs to hear us, do you? I’m not so sure they would like that.”

He thrust into him harder, pace now picking up. Steve gasped as he hit his prostate, eyes seeing stars as white hot pleasure filled his entire being. Bucky’s breathing was picking up, sounds of his labored breathing ringing in Steve’s ears as he reached down to stroke his length. “Come for me, baby,” he whispered hotly into Steve’s ear. “That’s it, come for me. You’re so good, baby, so good.”

Steve came, streaks of white hitting the walls of the table and trickling down his legs. Bucky knew he wouldn’t last long and not even thirty seconds later, he came into Steve’s tight little ass. He let out a moan, collapsing against the blonde’s back and breathed tightly. They stayed like that for a few minutes, their breathing labored and the room hot with the smell of sex.

When Bucky pulled out, Steve straightened back up, reaching for the shirt that was carelessly thrown to the floor. “You could have at least put it on the chair,” he slipped it on over his head, buttoning the buttons back up. “And you could have waited till everyone left.”

Bucky just smirked, unbuckling his belt. “Can’t help it if you’re a goddamn tease,” he teased, kissing Steve one last time. “Now, we probably shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.”

Steve smiled back. “No, we probably shouldn’t. That would be rude.”

They made their way back down the stairs, Steve glancing up at the grandfather clock near the wall. He winced slightly, realizing they’d been gone for almost thirty minutes. The guests were mostly done with their meal, the children looking like they wanted to go play and the adults casually sipping their wine. They returned to their seats, acting like they’d been there the whole time. For a moment, Steve thought no one would bring up the topic of their absence until Clint smirked at them.

“What?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes slightly as Clint chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

“Go on, kids, go play” he shooed his kids away; Neena looking towards Ana and Loki for permission as well. The minute they were gone, he wrapped his arm around his wife. “How was the sex?” he asked bluntly.

Steve flushed. “What would make you assume that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the smirk on Clint’s face kept growing. “It could be that your tie is missing.”

Steve glanced down, cursing himself for forgetting the object. He could feel everyone’s eyes on them and his face heated up. Bucky, however, had no shame. “It was great,” the brunette answered, giving Steve a pat on the back. “A real good stress reliever.”

Steve just wanted to hide under the table at the several pairs of eyes that were now staring at him in amusement.

Chapter Text

New York City, Queens, June 15, 1938, Odinson household

The daily planner of Loki:

8:00 am: Wake up, get ready for the day, shower sex, get dressed

9:00 am: Have breakfast with the family

10:00 am: Paperwork, looking over statements, bank records, expired deadlines

11:00 am: Read in library

12:00 pm: Have lunch with family

1:00 pm: More work, meetings till four in office

4:00 pm: Spend time with Neena

5:00 pm:  Make Neena read; spend time with wife

6:00 pm: Socialize with parents

7:00 pm: Dinner with family

8:00 pm: “Run errands”

9:00 pm: Put Neena to bed

10:00 pm: Go to bed with wife

8:00 am

“Good morning, brother! The sun shining, the birds are out and singing, there is not a cloud in the sky! It is a beautiful morning! Get out of bed you lazy bum of a brother!”

Cracking an eye open, his face somewhat smooshed into the pillow, he glared at his brother. “Leave” he commanded groggily.

“But brother, it is beautiful outside!”

“Leave. Now.”

Thor looked absolutely crestfallen, but left without saying a word. Loki sat up, running a hand through long raven hair. He hated mornings with a passion, but he would admit that they weren’t always so bad. He shifted around, looking for his wife, but was slightly disappointed with the realization that she was gone. Probably to the gym located on the third floor.

He trudged out of bed, desperately yearning for some coffee. He stripped out of his pajamas and turned the shower on. He stayed under the hot water and thumped his head against the wall repeatedly. He really detested mornings and the fact that his brother had come into his room without permission made everything worse.

When he was finally dressed and cleaned, he opened the door to find his wife in the doorway. Drenched in sweat and smelling like a gym. She smirked. “Good morning, darling.”

“Good morning, my dear,” he leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him.

“Not after you neglected to see your daughter last night,” she shook her head. “She was very upset that you didn’t tuck her in.”

“That’s the woman’s job,” he sighed, knowing he was going to get slapped for that.

She struck him across the face, his jaw aching in pain now. It did wake him up though and she glared at him. “Go tell the maids what you want for breakfast.”

She stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. He rolled his eyes at his melodramatic wife. He made his way to the kitchen, bumping into one of the kitchen maids. “Good morning, sir!” she greeted cheerfully. It almost made him want to kill her. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Spinach frittata,” he nodded for her to write that down. “And start the coffee.”

“Right away, sir!”

He headed down the corridor to the right and stopped at a door covered in crayon colored pictures. He opened the door finding his un-officially adopted daughter, Neena, putting on her socks. She glared up at him and huffed. “You didn’t show up to tuck me in,” she began in an somewhat angry tone. “Ana’s stories suck. They all end in death. Yours end up with ruling the world.”

“I was working last night, dear.” He said bluntly.

“Ana always comes home even if she’s in the middle of torturing somebody,” she stated this matter of factly.

“I am not Ana,” he snapped lightly. “Get over it and put your shoes on so we can have breakfast.”

She glared at him, but followed him out the door to the dining room. She sulked, drinking her orange juice while shooting nasty glares at him from the corner of her eye. A cup of coffee was put in front of him and he drank it with a sigh of relief.

9:00 am

Breakfast with the Odinsons was always an interesting event.

Thor was always so happy in the morning, chatting with everyone with a smile brighter than the sun. Ana was still a little upset with him, so she didn’t say much to him. His parents, Frigga and Odin, both retired from the mob scene years ago. Odin didn’t want to retire, but when his health started getting in the way, he had no choice. He still kept in touch with what the other crime families were doing, but he had no say in what he, Thor, or Ana did.

It did make Frigga happy to have more time with her husband, so that was a plus. And she got to see her adopted granddaughter on a daily basis since they moved in with the family a few years ago. Right now, his mother was speaking quietly with Neena, who was still glaring at him through the corner of her eye.

“Did you speak with her?” Ana asked quietly, between bites of her frittata. “To Neena. Did you speak with her?”

“I told her that I’m not you and that I get busy,” he finished his coffee, the maid coming around the table to fill his cup again. “If she can’t understand that, then that’s her issue.”

He received a swift kick to the shin. He masked his pain by hiding his grimace into his coffee. Odin made a face towards Ana, not even masking his distaste for her. Meeting his brother’s eyes, Thor smiled up at him. “So what is the plan today, brother?”

“Work,” he answered plainly. “We have a meeting with some of Stark’s men.”

“Aw, but brother!” Thor voiced, setting his now empty plate down. “Why not have some fun?”

“I have better things to do,” he narrowed his eyes. “Like run your business.”

“But since it is my business, I insist we have a day of fun. I have a list of activities right here,” he pulled the list out of nowhere, watching as the list of paper drop to the floor.

“While those look fun,” Ana began little smirk. “We actually do have to attend that meeting.”

Lok nodded, almost a little happy with Thor’s disappointed face. He looked to Neena, who was staring at one of the things on the list quite intensely. When she caught his gaze, she immediately went back to her breakfast.

Loki rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t his family just grow up for once?

11:00 am

Reading was always a favorite pastime of his. It was his stress reliever for the day, ever since he was a small child. He would lock himself in the library to avoid his brother and nagging father, reading for hours on end. Today, he was reading a book that Ana suggested. Gone with the wind, by Margaret Mitchell. It was interesting, he liked the character Rhett Butler, and found that Scarlett O’hara, despite all her faults, was a very strong woman.

Still, come noon, he had to put the book down and go to lunch. Taking Ana by the arm as they met foyer. “Are you still upset with me, darling?”

“Quite.”

“Will you still be upset with me later this evening?” he asked suggestively.

“Possibly,” she replied vaguely. “Will you ignore her tonight?”

“Possibly,” he smirked and she playfully punched his chest.

“As much as she loves Thor, you’re her father figure,” Ana said seriously, all playfulness gone. “You know her parents were not the kindest to her.”

“I know,” he assured her, nodding his head slowly. “After the meeting I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.”

1:00 pm

“Remind me again why we have to deal with Stark?” Loki grumbled, drumming his fingers on his desk in the office. “Can’t he go bother James?”

“No,” Ana shook her head. “It’s in the best interest of the company. He has a business proposition.”

“Shall I get the scotch?” Thor asked innocently.

“No,” Loki answered, sighing. “Get our worst alcohol. Our finest brandy is not reserved for the likes of Stark.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

The door opened with two finely dressed Italian thugs stepping in, taking a seat before Loki even offered for them to sit down. He scoffed. “You’re late,” he stated plainly. “If Stark believed this deal was so serious, you would have shown up on time.”

The thug sitting on the right spoke first. “Our boss gotta deal for you if you willing’ to listen,” he leaned forward.

“Go on,” Ana encouraged.

“We gotta club up in Manhattan on Broadway we looking to sell. Thought you might be interested in it,” the second thug continued.

“What’s the catch?” Loki asked, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in question.

“Ain’t no catches among friends. We offerin’ you a chance to open up your own club in Manhattan in exchange for us openin’ a club up here in Queens.”

“Why are you so interested?” Ana asked, arms crossed.

“Consider it a department of relations,” the first thug started.

“We lookin’ to take down that couple of fairies down in Brooklyn,” the second thug finished.

“How much money would this earn us?” Thor inquired, chiming in.

“However much money you desire,” the second thug smiled, looking at Ana and giving her a wink.

Bad decision.

She hooked him right upside the head, knocking him out of his chair. Loki just looked on in amusement. “If I catch you looking at my wife again,” he smiled. “Then you might have to swim home in the river.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” the second thug shouted. “We brought a down payment for ya on the club! Split the profits fifty fifty. Twenty five seventy five up in Manhattan!”

“What does Tony have against James?” Loki asked calmly.

“Ain’t none of our concern; we do what our boss tells us, no questions asked,” the first thug crossed his arms over his chest. “We gotta deal or nah?”

“What do you think, darling?” he asked her sweetly, Ana looking thoughtful.

“I think we should accept,” she nodded to herself, the thoughtful look still on her face. “It sounds like a decent proposal. But, allow a six month trial period. Deal or no deal?”

“You gotta a deal, doll face,” the first thug nodded with a large grin.

Ana reached forward, grabbing him by his hair and slamming his face down on the end of Loki’s desk. The man howled with pain, but didn’t call her any other names. Loki smiled. “That will be all, you may show yourselves out.”

They both left, muttering the word “crazy bitch,” as they left. Loki banged his head on his desk, scaring Thor in the process. “Brother, what seems to be the matter?” he asked in genuine concern. “Do you require an ambulance?”

Loki sighed. “I need a vacation.”

“Well I have a fun list of activities here,” Thor held up the list. “We could go bowling!”

“I’ll pass,” he sighed once more. “How many more meetings do we have?”

“At least five more,” Ana looked at his planner, not at all impressed with the list.

“Damn, Thor, retrieve the scotch. We’re going to need it.”

4:00 pm

“Did you kill anyone today?”

He made a face, stopping her from running out into the street by tightening his grip on her hand. “No, quit asking me that everyday.”

“One day you’ll tell me yes,” she gave him the biggest smile. “And you’ll give me details, right?”

“Wrong,” he frowned disapprovingly. “Young ladies don’t need to know about murder.”

“But Ana does!”

“She doesn’t count.”

They strode into Central Park, the summer sun beating down on them through the trees sporting green leaves. He observed the small girl, her tiny hand pressed lightly into his own. She was going on eleven years old come September. He wouldn’t have believed that it was almost six years since she’d been living with them. At a first glance, many people thought she was his and Ana’s child. The black hair coming from him and the bright blue eyes from her. However, her Mescalero Apache features stood out and  definitely told people a different story. Her skin was pale, yes, but she tanned very easily and would end up looking like her biological father.

“Loki?”

He looked down to her, his eyes meeting hers. “Yes?” he inquired patiently.

“I had a bad dream last night.”

“I’m not the best one for these situations, dear.”

“But...but you were in it!” she continued, completely ignoring his previous statement. “I dreamed that Mommy and Daddy came back to take me away and they killed you and Ana, and Uncle Thor, and Grandma and Grandpa! And there was blood everywhere and-”

“They could never kill Ana,” he shook his head, wishing his brother was here to cheer the child up. “And they can’t come get you; they’re dead.”

“I know,” she squeezed his hand, the wind blowing her long black hair out from her pigtails. “But what if something happens to you? I thought you had disappeared last night for good.”

“Well I didn’t, I came back as I always do and will,” he sat down on a bench, setting her on his knee. “I won’t let anything happen to you, alright? So stop this nonsense about me leaving you.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

It tugged his heartstrings, though he would never say that outloud. She wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace. While he didn’t typically hug people, she was his little girl and wouldn’t always be so small. One day she’ll be a woman and as Ana pointed, he was her father figure. He hugged her back gently, some of her hair tickling his face. “You need a haircut,” he grumbled.

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I don’t like short hair.”

He set her off his lap, taking her hand again to continue their walk. An ice cream vendor stood a few feet away and he pulled some money from his wallet. “Go get us some ice cream, okay?” he nodded for her to go, watching as her smile lit up.

“Okay! Thank you, Daddy!”

9:00 pm

“You going to tuck her in tonight?” Ana asked seriously, though he could hear the sarcastic undertone. “It’s not the weekend; she wasn’t suppose to have ice cream,” she didn’t look mad, if anything, she had a large smile on her face.

“Yes,” he smirked. “You going to torture that man down in the basement?”

“As a matter of fact, I was going to do that,” she smirked. “Unless you have something more interesting planned.”

“I had a little something planned,” he alluded to her seductively.

“Well it will have to wait till morning,” she kissed him before walking down the corridor to the elevator. He made his way to Neena’s room; the girl already in her nightgown.

“What story do you want to hear tonight?” he asked, sitting down on the chair next to her bed.

“Tell me about the god of thunder, Loki!”

“I thought I was Daddy?”

She blushed red. “I never said that.”

“I’m quite sure you did.”

“Did not!”

He chuckled, very much amused by her embarrassment. Within a few minutes, she was asleep and sleeping soundly. He placed a kiss to her forehead and shut the door quietly as he left.

Yes, his family was strange, but then, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter Text

New York City, Brooklyn, June 21, 1938

As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, he had it pretty good.

Sure he was only five feet and had little to no muscle mass, but that was alright with him. Okay, he still was a little bit sore about that fact, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. His mother had tried to fatten him up as a child, but it was no use. He would always be skinny and there was no changing that. However, Bucky still loved him and that was all he cared about. He had a home, a bed to sleep in, and the most wonderful person in the world to share that bed with.

The cool, warm breeze tickled his skin as he walked down a street in Brooklyn. A few of the people who owned apartments and stores waved to him, smiling friendly as he greeted them. He walked past one of the bakeries, inhaling the smell of fresh bread and pastries that had been cooking all day. The store was new; the couple had just immigrated from Germany and were Jewish. They didn’t say much about why they left, but they alluded to the fact that it was getting bad and they knew they had to get out while they still could. Steve had first met them when he walked their twin daughters home from their jobs at the grocery store seven blocks down. He told them who he was, and held back a smile as realization hit their eyes.

“I’m not here to harass you,” he told them politely. “As long as you live here and follow Bucky’s rules, you will be protected. Bucky can’t stand intolerance, so you’ll be safe in this neighborhood. If you have problems, you know who to go to. We look out for each other here.”

So as he walked down the street, the twin girls smiled at him and giggled when he smiled back. The sun beat down on him and he could almost hear Bucky nagging in his ear about putting a hat on to protect his fair skin. But Bucky wasn’t his mother and couldn’t make him do anything, so he did as he pleased. If he got a sunburn, that would be his problem.

However, thoughts of sunburns aside, it was a beautiful day out. He nearly bumped into two Hispanic kids running along the street, their mother giving him an apologetic look as she chased after them and yelling in rapid Spanish. He smiled, remembering how he and Bucky used to be as kids; running around and picking fights with the other kids. Well, he mostly picked the fights; Bucky finished them and then lectured him about getting into trouble.

The back of his neck suddenly prickled. Call it paranoia, but he knew when he was being watched. He turned his head slightly, glancing out of the corner of his eye. A man in a tan summer coat was far behind him, but his steps were quickening. Steve picked up the pass; knowing full well he was being followed. Another man in a light gray coat was behind the other man, so this couldn’t have been a coincidence.

He ducked into an alleyway, hoping to loose them, but luck wasn’t on his side today. The two men had him cornered, their dark eyes matching the cruel smirks on their lips. “Well, well, well, Mikey,” the thug in the gray coat laughed. “Looks like we caught ourselves a queenie.”

“What do you want?” Steve demanded, fists clenching and body stance ready to fight. The two men were too relaxed, clearly not here looking for a fight. Or perhaps they were stalling. Either way, Steve wasn’t going to let them bully him around. “State your business and leave.”

He could hear Bucky’s voice in his head, yelling at him not to get into a fight. He let his thoughts drift for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the men. He knew them. He couldn’t recall when, or even where, but they sounded like he’d heard them from somewhere. The man in the tan coat laughed, nudging his friend and started to speak in Italian. “Sono sorpreso che non ci si ricorda, Alonzo.”

“Che peccato. Certamente lo ricordiamo.”

He really didn’t like the way they were talking, looking at him as if they knew something he didn’t. It bothered him and now he really wanted to punch someone. Preferably the two assholes standing right in his way. “I’ll ask you two once more,” he started, fists tightening. “Get out of my way or I’ll beat you both till you’re black and blue!”

“Steve, is that anyway to greet an old friend?”

He froze at the sound of a new voice. This was definitely a voice he knew and his stomach twisted in grim anticipation. The two men stepped back, parting to leave enough room for another man to walk in. Tony smirked at him. “I’ve got a club up in Queens. I’m finalizing the contract and shit.”

“What do you want, Tony?”

“Well, I want your money, I want your business,” Tony listed airily. “I want, well, more of your money. Oh, and you would be a nice addition to everything else.”

“You get the fuck the away from me,” he paused, feeling a bit frazzled. “You old man!”

“Old man? I’m offended by that. I’ve always considered myself more of a well, you know,” Tony winked, speaking in vague way of his.

Steve sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Isn’t this scene familiar?” Tony smirked. “Only with you on your knees begging.”

“Fuck off,” he growled, giving Tony a shove. “I’m not going back there; I’m done being used by people. Especially people like you.”

Tony smoothed down his shirt, obviously not liking the fact he’d been pushed. “That’s cashmere silk. Do you know how expensive that is? Oh, wait, you probably don’t. After all, you had basically NOTHING when I found you.”

“I’m not going with you,” Steve stood his ground, jaw clenched tightly in defiance. “If that’s what you’re wanting; then I’m saying no. I won’t go back to that lifestyle.”

For a second, Tony almost looked jealous. “Aren’t you still living that way? With that Bucky guy? I don’t see the difference.”

“Bucky loves me,” Steve shot back, a warmth spreading through his chest as he thought of his lover. “And he treats me like a person.”

“Well, I originally came down here to offer but you’re still as stubborn as ever,” Tony rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not accepting anything you offer me,” Steve crossed his arms. “Sorry, but no thanks.”

Tony shook his head, giving a sigh that resembled mild irritation. “Well my offer still stands. If you changed your mind, well, you know where to go. So, enjoy  the peace. While it lasts, I mean.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning, Tony?”

“You’ll see,” Tony responded vaguely, stepping back and turned away to leave. Before he entered the fancy car that pulled up to the sidewalk, he stopped and turned his head to look at him. “Does Bucky even know? You should probably tell him, Steve. It’s been three years; you can’t run away from your past forever.”

The two thugs got into the vehicle after him and it sped down the highway. Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart. What the hell was that? After three years of no contact, why did that asshole suddenly appear now? He was more than willing to put that part of his past behind him. The last thing he ever wanted was for Bucky to find out.

A couple blocks down was their penthouse. A building of four stories, he climbed the stairs to where Bucky’s office was tucked away. Currently, the brunette man was pacing the floor angrily, knives sticking into the wall. “Damnit all to hell,” he grumbled, obviously not hearing Steve come in. “Damn that Stark! Damn him and his fucking Italian thugs!”

“Bucky?” he asked, closing the door softly behind him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, hi there baby,” Bucky offered him a tight smile, instantly stepping towards him. He kissed him in greeting, the scent of his cologne sharp and strong. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” he teased, Bucky’s arms finding themselves around his waist. He looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Stark,” Bucky grumbled, not seeing Steve freeze up at the mention of the name. He rested his chin on Steve’s head for a moment, looking at the now closed door. “Gabe just informed me about fifteen minutes about that Stark’s opened up a club in Queens. The Odinsons bought one up in Manhattan near Stark’s head quarters. Apparently they have a business deal,” Bucky grumbled sourly, burying his nose in the blonde locks. “I say we don’t invite them to our fourth of July event.”

“Now, now, you know how the Odinsons are,” Steve lectured, giving him a stern look. “They’re in for the business. They’re a neutral party; looking to see how they can get a profit. If they don’t like it, they’ll back out.”

“So we still have to invite them?”

“Yes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll be polite, but that’s it. Got it?”

Steve shook his head, but didn’t stop the smile from growing on his lips. “Wouldn't expect anything less from you, Buck.”

Bucky kissed the top of his head gently before pulling him further into his embrace. “It’s gonna get bad out there, Steve,” he said seriously, staring out the window that surveyed the neighborhood. “Stark’s lookin’ for a fight, I can feel it.”

“Figures,” Steve snorted. “When he wants something bad enough, he’ll push for it.”

“Almost like someone I know,” Bucky smirked, giving him a quick peck before the smirk faded into a more serious face. “But seriously, Steve, things are going to be changing. I don’t want to see you get hurt-”

“I’m with you till the end, remember? That’s what we promised each other,” Steve smiled softly. “I’ll remain by your side like I should. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Bucky grinned. “Good to hear.”

Even when Bucky kissed him again, he couldn't stop the nervous feeling that fluttered in chest. His stomach felt nauseous and he couldn’t deny the sense of foreboding that was forming in his mind. Tony was definitely up to something, but for now, it could wait. After all, Bucky didn’t need to know about the things that happened to him in the past. Bucky didn’t need any more worry. He would be fine; he’d hadn’t heard from Tony in over three years.

So the question was, why now?

(Abraham Lincoln high school, Sunday, May 26, 1935)

“You look nice.”

Steve leaned back on the park bench, giving a tiny smile at his friend. Bucky shrugged, the black cap on his head shaking as he did. “I don’t know, it’s alright I guess,” he adjusted the gown, face a little bit pink from the heat. “Can’t believe I did it.”

“I knew you would.”

“Well you helped,” Bucky grinned. “I couldn’t have graduated if it hadn’t been for you.”

Steve shook his head. “All I did was help you out in English; that’s all. You passed all your other classes with flying colors.”

Bucky removed the cap from his head, dark brown hair still perfectly in place. “It’ll be your turn next year, Stevie. Sure you don’t want me to stay around next year? We can go to Chicago together after you graduate.”

“I’m sure,” Steve shook his head, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. The late afternoon sunlight made his blue eyes shine like water on a lake; cool and mystifying. He looked away quickly, not meaning to stare too long. “Besides, you already have your plane ticket and your father expects you to go.”

“But Chicago is all the way in Illinois, Steve,” Bucky pressed on, setting the cap down in his lap. “And if someone hurts you, I won’t be able to stop them.”

“I can take care of them,” Steve shot a glare towards his best friend, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest at the reminder of the fact that Bucky was leaving tomorrow. “And anyways, Ma needs help. She’s sick, Bucky, really sick. I don’t,” he wet his lips, trying to ignore the stare the brunette was giving him. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it out okay or not.”

“All the more reason I should stay!”

“No!” he protested, not liking how Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “You need to live your own life, Bucky. Look at you! You’re rich, you're going to inherit the family business, all the dames want you; you’ve got everything! The last thing you need is for me to hold you down; I don’t want to be a burden to you or a charity case.”

Bucky draped an arm across his shoulder, pulling him in close. Steve flushed at the contact, but didn’t make any attempt to push his friend away. “Don’t ever call yourself that, ya hear?” Bucky lectured, all playfulness gone from his face. “You’ve never been a charity case or a burden to me, Steve. So what if I have money? So what if I have admirers? There’s one thing they don’t have.”

“What?”

“You,” Bucky grinned, tapping him on the nose. “And you're not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Bucky…”

“So no more talking like that,” the brunette wagged a finger in front of his face. “Or I’ll have to be creative in finding a way to make you stop.”

“Like what?” Steve challenged boldly.

“Like this.”

Bucky broke the small space between them, capturing Steve’s lips with his own. Steve felt his entire face go pink, Bucky’s firms lips moving against his own. He didn’t push the taller man away, rather he melted into the kiss, but this didn’t make any sense. When Bucky let go, he sputtered. “Wha...what was that?”

“Me answering your question.”

“We could have been caught!” he looked around, fearing that some authority figure would find them and then throw them in prison. Or worse. “Bucky, why did you do that, you jerk!”

“Because I love you, punk,” Bucky gave his back a pat. “I’ve always loved ya.”

“Really?”

“Ever since I was seven years old and saw you cussing out a kid bigger than you. All those dames are nice, Steve, but you’re the one I want,” Bucky tilted his chin up, eyes full of warmth and love. “I’ve always wanted you, Steve. Words can’t even describe how much I love you.”

He felt his cheeks grow warm and he stood up, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Bucky stood up quickly, now a bit alarmed. He turned to face his friend, trying to subdue his pink face. “This...this doesn’t make sense,” he began. “Why me?”

“So you don’t want me?” Dare he say it, but Bucky almost looked hurt. “You don’t love me, Steve? I mean nothing to you?”

“No!” Steve shot back, surprised by how fierce he sounded. “I’ve always loved you, Bucky! Always! I just can’t believe you love me the same way I love you.”

“Well I do you punk,” Bucky pulled him back into his arms. “And I don’t care if I’m thousands of miles away. If you need me, call and I’ll jump on that next plane to get you.”

He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, standing on tiptoes so he could kiss him. By tomorrow evening, the one he loved would be in another city and it would just be him. But for now, he would cherish this moment.

When Bucky left for his plane that afternoon, Steve walked up the steps to the home he and his mother shared. She was asleep in her bed, to weak to do anything else. He lay on his bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. He could make it through the year. He had to. He wouldn't let Bucky think he was needy and worthless. He could do it!

After all, what could go wrong?

Chapter Text

New York City, Central Park, July 4, 1938

Steve’s birthday was the fourth of July and being the quiet, simple man he was, he didn’t want a huge celebration.

So Bucky, being the loving boyfriend he was, arranged a small little picnic at the park with a few of their closest friends. Oh, and the Odinsons, but Bucky didn’t really consider them friends at this point. So he tried to put on a show of politeness, though he was pretty sure Steve could see right through it. Little guy seemed to notice. He just turned twenty years old; they’d been together for two years and already had an empire that rivaled Stark’s.

Still, even though it was his birthday, something wasn’t right. Ever since Stark’s Italian thugs had established their club in Queens, Steve had been acting different. More nervous, frigged. Like something was bothering him. He wouldn’t say why; Steve didn’t like burdening people with his issues, but it bothered Bucky that something was wrong with his boyfriend.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he kissed his cheek, earning a few ewws from the children sitting with them.

“Kissing is gross,” he could hear Neena mutter to Ana, who held back a smirk.

“Just wait till you’re older,” was all Ana had to say about the matter as she looked to Loki. “Then boys won’t be so bad.”

“Let’s discuss that at a later time,” Loki cleared his throat, grabbing a cup of water eloquently. “She’s too young for boys.”

Bucky simply ignored them, but he had a sense they knew he was upset with them. Not that they cared; they weren’t the sentimental type, but at least they didn’t bother to hide the fact they had been talking with Stark. For now, he would just enjoy the wonderfully warm day and keep his arm wrapped around Steve. From the corner of his eye, he could see Clint talking sweetly with Laura, who was due any day now. Natasha kept looking at Bruce from the corner of her eye, but the doctor didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he was pretending not to.

“You ready for tonight, baby?” he whispered quietly into Steve’s ear. “You’re getting the best birthday sex of your life.”

“Bucky, not in public!” Steve hissed, but he could tell the mention of birthday sex excited him.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re in public for one, and two, there are children nearby!”

“Aw, who cares,” he didn’t mean that, but it was fun to get a rile out of Steve. Said boyfriend made a face, but he could see the corners of his lips turning up. It was ironic, Steve being born on the fourth. Steve didn’t find it very funny, but Bucky sure as hell did.

The day started off slow, with him taking Steve to a little French Bistro run by Dernier and Jones. True, it was one of their bases for operation, but the food there was great and since it was Steve’s birthday, they got a free meal. The picnic was all Steve’s idea, but it was creative. Minus all the people here today, which normally Steve didn’t like. If they were on the streets of Brooklyn, Bucky could hold his hand whenever he wanted. While they were out of their territory, Steve was less than adamant about public displays of affection

“Whatcha thinkin about?” he asked, making the small blonde man jump.

“Nothing,” Steve blushed, obviously lying. “It’s nothing; just a little warm out, that’s all.”

He immediately reacted. “Hey, Clint, pass me that parasol! Steve’s getting a little too warm out here!”

Clint tossed the parasol over, much to Steve’s dismay. Normally Bucky didn’t coddle Steve, but the blonde’s frail health was where he drew the line. He propped the parasol up, shielding Steve from the sun’s rays. “There you go,” he gave his hand a light squeeze. “All safe and snug.”

“Bucky…” Steve blushed, looking around to the smirking faces of his friends. “You’re too much of a mother hen!”

“Good; one of us has to be.”

Steve didn’t respond to that, he just took another bite out of his sandwich. He did look up, however, and give a little wave when Laura and Natasha came back. The very pregnant woman smiled back, arm linked in Natasha’s. Clint scooted a little to make room for his wife, their kids and a few of the other children from their small party playing on the playground nearby. She tousled her son’s hair as he ran past her, smiling widely as he gave her an embarrassed look.

She was just about to sit down when a bullet whizzed past her head.

The sound of the gunshot sent most people in the park into a panic. Laura didn’t react at first; her face paled as blood trickled down her ear. Clint was immediately at her side; arms protectively around her waist as he checked her head. Lila and Cooper crowded around her, both looking like they were going to start crying. Loki had grabbed Neena, calling to Ana about getting out of the park.

“Fan out!” Bucky ordered, pulling his gun out from the basket near him. “Patrol the perimeter! Find that gunman!”

Natasha had already left before he called out the order, body moving faster than he had ever seen before. Morita and a few of the other lower ranking members had stayed behind to guard the party in case the shooter came back. He ordered Gabe and Jacques to take a few of the French speaking members to fan out and be ready to attack anyone who had a gun or looked threatening. He went off alone, scoping out the territory carefully for signs of a gunman.

He scooped out near the latrines, the possibility of the shooter hiding in there. The latrines however were unusually quiet, the sounds of ducks and other birds in the distance near the pond and the sound of the wind blowing coolly against his face.

“Oh, Barnes, fancy seeing you here.”

He whirled around, gun ready to shoot the intruder. Tony Stark leaned against the railing in a suit that looked way too hot to be comfortable in. Tony took a long sip from the cocktail in his hand, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose to hide his eyes. “We haven’t met before. Not officially,” he didn’t extend a hand out, much too busy looking haughty. “I’m Antony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist.”

“I know who you are,” Bucky responded dryly. “And I don’t particularly care. What do you want?”

“Oh, not much,” Tony replied vaguely, swirling the drink in his right hand. “Just your money and Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” he scoffed, gun still pointed on the forty something year old man. “You can kiss that idea goodbye because I’ll never willingly sell to you.”

“Maybe not willingly, but you will eventually,” Tony shrugged, not particularly caring for the fact that Bucky glared at him hostile. “Enjoying your day? It’s nice out, isn’t it?”

“I was till you showed up,” he snarked back, fingers really wanting to pull the trigger. “Why did you shoot Laura Barton?”

“Oh, I didn’t. No one was supposed to get hurt or killed, actually,” Tony sighed. “Incompetent morons. I’ll have to fire them now.”

He didn’t really want to know what Tony’s idea of firing was, but he had bigger issues to deal with. “That bullet could have gone through her head! Are you low enough to kill a pregnant woman, Stark?”

Stark gulped down the rest of his drink, tossing the glass aside where it landed with a loud crash. “Like I said, no one was supposed to get hurt. I told them to shoot a bullet at a certain time and they did. I can’t help it if she decided to stand there at that exact moment,” Tony shook his head, putting the sunglasses to the top of his head. “Truthfully, I hope she is alright. From what it sounds like, it only grazed her ear.”

“You have five seconds to get out of here before I shoot you in your goddamn face,” Bucky held the gun up even higher. “And trust me, seeing you gone will make me very happy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. I have snipers all over the park. Could be a gun pointed on you right now. Or on Steve or any one of your friends,” Tony’s smirk grew, watching as Bucky lowered his gun defeatedly. “There we go, much better. Have you been to the club I opened up down in Queens? Been open now for about three weeks; you should go sometime.”

Bucky just crossed his arms over his chest. “No, because I have better things to do than party in one of your establishments. I have an empire in Brooklyn to run. Don’t you think you should be in Manhattan running yours?”

“You see, that’s where we are different. All this ‘empire’ nonsense is ridiculous. It’s going to start turf wars eventually. Why not give that up and let me control everything? I’m older than you and have far more experience at business than you do. You’re impressive, Barnes, I’ll give you that, but you’ll fall eventually,” Tony nodded his head, as if assuring himself. “If you just side with me, I can make sure that doesn’t happen. You and your friends will be financially safe and they can have protection if they want. All you have to do is abide by my rules, pay me every month and we won’t have problems. You and Steve won’t have to worry about anything.”

He smirked at Tony. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not going to sell myself. I’m carrying on my father’s work; improving it better than he could. My father was a good man, but he was not able to control his empire till I came along. Now things are better than ever, so I’ll have to say no to your offer. I will run things by my rules. Got it?”

Tony sighed in a dramatic way. “Alright then, but just so you know, this won’t end pretty for you. There’s no way you’ll come out of this on top. I will win Brooklyn and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he walked off, giving a little wave as he did. “Tell Steve I said happy birthday.”

It crossed his mind as to how Stark knew Steve’s birthday, but it wasn’t the most important thing on his mind. His stomach churned a little at the thought of a war, but if it had to be done, then so be it.

***

“Are you sure we should be celebrating right now? I mean, Laura’s head could have been blown off.”

“Relax, doll,” Bucky kissed Steve’s lips gently as he carried him bridal style up the stairs towards their bedroom. They’d just watched the fireworks from times square, and watching Steve’s face light up with patriotic joy made the uneasy day a bit better. “Clint said that she’s just a little shocked. The baby’s fine and she’s resting at home now.”

“Okay,” Steve wrapped his arms a little tighter around his neck. “Did you guys find the shooter? I forgot to ask.”

“Natasha did. She took care of him pretty quick.”

“Of course.”

He kicked the door to their bedroom open, tossing Steve down on the mattress. The blonde didn’t look like he enjoyed being tossed, but that annoyed look soon disappeared as Bucky crawled towards him, laying him down to kiss him gently. “Happy birthday, Stevie,” he kissed him down his neck, suckling on the little bruise he’d left there from the night before. “Enjoy the fireworks?”

“I…” Steve moaned a little, feeling Bucky’s hands run down his body. “Bucky…”

Bucky just smirked, kissing him again before flipping them over. Steve blinked, staring down at him. Bucky just gave his ass a little pat before resting his hands on the small hips. “You get to be on top,” his smirk grew as a wide smile stretched across Steve’s lips. “Happy birthday, Steve.”

(New York City, Brooklyn, September-October, 1935)

Two weeks before Senior year started, Good Widow Sarah died.

Steve didn't cry, not at first, anyway. He stood in front of her coffin during the funeral, staring numbly at the polished black wood. She passed away during the night, while Steve was sleeping in his own bed. While he was relieved she was no longer suffering, a part of him felt empty. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

When James and Winifred Barnes offered condolences, he was then reminded of the fact that Bucky was gone. When Becca, Bucky’s first younger sister, hugged him, he felt like he was going to break. When James and Winifred said that if he needed anything he could go to them, he almost broke. There was only one thing he needed and that was Bucky. He just wanted Bucky by his side.

He had so many casseroles from his mother’s friends and from a few teachers at school that the fridge was jammed so tight, he had to give a few of them away. He gave two to a family even poorer than he was and several to a soup kitchen. By the end of the month, all the food was gone. He’d only needed to shop for a few things like milk and bread, but now the fridge was entirely empty.

He sat at the kitchen table, numbly eating the last bit of casserole from his neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. When the thing was gone, he held his head in his hands. “What am I going to do, Ma?” he looked at her photo on the wall, throat tightening. “I don’t know what to do,” tears were now pouring down his cheeks and he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. “I miss you so much, Ma!”

For the first time since she died, he cried. He went into her room and lay in her bed, sobbing into her pillow. It still smelled like her, but that did little to comfort him. Everything was crumbling around him. Bucky wasn’t here. Bucky wouldn't be back until after he graduated. He was on his own.

He was half tempted to call his friend, but he didn’t. Everyday, he stared at the phone line, hand resting on the dial, but he couldn’t do it. He wrote letters, saying that he was alright; that he tried not to get into fights, but he didn’t tell Bucky about his mother. He knew Bucky would leave Chicago and be near him and he didn’t want that. Bucky had his own life now. Bucky was gaining experiences so he could learn how to run his family business. Steve would be fine onw his own.

Then in September, he caught a horrible bout of pneumonia that left him bedridden for a month. He fell behind in school. His once perfect grades slipped into Fs, but he was too sick to care. He couldn’t talk, could barely move. School was the least bit of his concerns. He survived, of course, but when he went to school that Monday, he was so far behind his other classmates. It was a nightmare and he just couldn’t catch up.

To top things off, he was fired from his job at the grocery store.

That was the biggest blow. He was failing school, failing his mother, he was broke and bills needed to be paid. The landlord had never been a nice man; he hated Steve for some reason and when he knocked on Steve’s door one morning, his face was all too pleased. “You have one week to pay the month’s rent or you're out. Think you can find a job, son?”

He was determined to find a job. For a whole week, he skipped school in order to look for work. The grocery store refused to hire him again; saying something about his health being an issue. It’s not like he asked to be sick all the time. The depression had hit hard for everyone and finding a job was easier said than done. No place would hire him, and when he thought he’d found a job, they took one look at his medical records and asked him to leave.

So that Monday when the landlord returned, he already had his bags packed. He didn’t own much, so his little suitcase held clothes, a few valuables and whatever things of cash he could find. A photo album was tucked in the bottom of the case along with a few records that he needed. As he walked out of the building and handed the smirking landlord his key, he gave the man a kick in the balls.

He dropped out of school. What was the point? He was behind, he had no place to live, no money, and no job. School was the least of his problems and to get it off his back was for the best. As he returned his books, a few of his teachers shook their heads in disappointment at him. His face went hot with shame, but it was for the best.

He knew he could have gone to the Barnes family for help. They’d tried to keep in touch, but with Steve being evicted and spending cold October nights on the streets, it was difficult. Becca, who was a freshman that year, had told her parents he’d dropped out, but they still couldn’t find him. He just didn’t have the heart to tell them he’d left Brooklyn.

New York City was huge. He walked for days, trying to find work and would swipe whatever food he could find.  A few people took pity on him and handed him food, which he took gratefully. He wasn’t even begging. They just saw him leaning against a wall, probably looking thin and sickly, and took pity on him. He didn’t need their pity, but when his stomach growled painfully, he knew he needed to eat. The last thing he needed was an ulcer to erupt.

He’d never really ventured to Manhattan as a child. Sure he and Bucky had gone to Coney Island in the summer, but other than that, he’d grown up in Brooklyn. There were a few differences, like more clubs and lounges, but other than that things looked about the same.

No one would hire him, not much to his surprise. He shivered, wrapping his coat tighter around his body. It was dark out and his suitcase had been stashed somewhere safe. He was going to turn in for the night when an arm grabbed him. He had just been leaning against the wall of a club, trying to catch his breath when some man grabbed him.

“How much you payin?” the man asked gruffly.

Steve blinked like an owl. “What?”

“I asked how much you payin? I’ve never seen you around this bar before, so how much you payin?”

Holy mother of God, this man thought he was a prostitute! “Look, sir,” he began, trying to stop his face from heating up. “I’m not-”

“Right,” the man rolled his eyes. “A cute little thing like you out here and not selling? I don’t believe it. Look, I’ll give you this twenty here for a blow job. Sound alright?”

He wanted to say no; to tell this dirty looking man to leave, but he paused. After scavenging for scraps of money, this twenty looked like a million dollars. All he had to do was...suck this man off and he would get the money. In a sense, it was doing a job and he was getting paid. The pains of hunger were creeping back and all he wanted right now was food and a warm place to sleep. “O...Okay,” he nodded, but then narrowed his eyes. “Pay me the money first.”

“Smart kid,” the man laughed, handing him the money before undoing his pants. “But no teeth; I aint into that.

He lowered himself to his knees, eyes widening at the harden penis in front of him. He could feel the heat radiating off it and he closed his eyes. Slowly, he took the head in and suckled. The man gasped, leaning against the wall of the alley and making sounds of approval. Occasionally he’d smack Steve’s head when he did something wrong, but Steve had always been a quick learner. He gagged when the base hit his throat, tears smarting out of his eyes. The man pulled on his hair, lewd sounds erupting from his mouth. Steve choked when he came, spitting out the bitter substance as the man released his penis from his mouth.

“That wasn’t so bad,” the man shrugged. “You’re young; you’ll learn.”

He left, ruffling Steve’s hair and telling him good luck. Steve stayed slumped on the ground, the taste of semen still in his mouth. He wiped the tears away, refusing to cry. “What’s done is done,” he told himself softly, looking at the money now clenched tightly in his hands. “There’s no going back.”

That night he gave three hand jobs and four more blow jobs. By the end of the night, he had eighty dollars in his pocket. When he turned in for the night, he rented a motel room and crashed on the comfy mattress. He wasn’t proud of what he did, but he wasn’t exactly ashamed either. His stomach was full for once in a long time and he had a bed and a place to shower. If this was how he was going to take care of himself for awhile, then so be it.

For the next three weeks, he returned to the bar. He knew a few of the other prostitutes there, all of them women. They were nice to him, gave him tips on how to please men, and listened to him when he spoke. He was glad they didn’t pity him; he didn’t need pity. They looked out for each other, and he defended them when a few clients got a little rough. Of course he got beat up in the process and was called names like twink and  queer, but it was for the greater good.

His mother would be ashamed, he knew that very well.

For a while, he was floating. Not living, but not dead either. By the middle of November, he was freezing and sick again. The other women had given him a few things to keep warm, but that did little to help. He stood in the back alley one night, freezing cold, when a man he’d never seen before came into his line of vision.

“How old are you?” the man asked, dark brown eyes a bit skeptical.

“Eighteen,” he answered between numb lips.

“Don't look eighteen.”

“Well I am!” he snapped, shivering. “Now what do you want? It’s ten for a hand job, twenty for a blow job, and thirty for…” he trailed off, never having done the third option. “And thirty for intercourse.”

“Huh,” the man ran a hand through his dark brown hair. He didn’t really get a good view of the man because of the dim lighting, but he was just a customer. His face didn’t matter. “Give me a blow job, would ya?”

The man tossed him a twenty, which fell to the ground. He stuffed it in his pocket and knelt down, undoing the man’s zipper and took the soft flaccid flesh in his hands. Once it was hardened enough, he brought it into his mouth, eyes occasionally glancing up to meet the man’s. The man’s face was unreadable, studying him as if he were a thing that needed to be taken apart and examined. Maybe he was a doctor or engineer? Who knows, who cares.

The man’s face would occasionally change into pleasure, eyed now heavy with desire and when he came into Steve’s mouth, he had a thoughtful look on his face. “Thanks,” he said before tossing a ten down to Steve’s lap.

This wasn’t the last time he saw the man.

Two nights later after giving two men hand jobs, the man came back. He had a limousine, sleek and black in the lamp light. At first, Steve had no idea who this man was until he stepped out of the car and realized it was the same man from two nights ago. His facial hair was neatly trimmed and it didn’t make him look like an old man at all. Just a bit of a moustache and a goatee. He was attractive, but in a rich smug way.

“The names Stark,” the man began, extending a hand. “Tony Stark. And I have a proposition for you.”

Chapter Text

(Brooklyn, New York City, August 4, 1938)

Things were quiet. Almost a little too quiet.

The weeks that passed were mainly uneventful, minus the birth of the newest Barton member; a baby boy named Nathaniel. Bucky had a feeling that the baby was named in Natasha’s namesake, but he didn’t care enough to ask. Besides, there were other things on his mind right now.

Steve was lying in their bed, nauseous and in pain from stomach ulcers. He hadn’t had one since they were teenagers, but with how stressful things had been, it was no surprise that they had occurred. He couldn’t do much for him except give him meds and foods that wouldn’t hurt his stomach. Just watching the one he loved suffer made his heart ache. Of course Steve didn’t like to be hovered over when he was sick; he got grumpy if people did. So Bucky knew it was best just to give him some alone time.

“Hey, Bucky!” Dum Dum poked his head into the office. “There’s some guy on the other line.”

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s Stark.”

Making a face, he stood up to go to the phone that Dum Dum was holding in his hand. He grabbed the phone, bringing it to his ear. “What do you want, Stark?”

“Oh, not much. Just wanted to tell Steve to get better soon.”

He tensed, eyes narrowing. “How do you know that Steve’s sick?” he paused, wetting his dry lips. “And how did you know it was his birthday a few weeks ago?”

“Oh, Steve and I have met on occasion.”

“When did this happen?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Quit playing games, Tony,” he snapped, half tempted to slam the phone down. “Or I’ll hang up on you. State your business; what do you want?”

“I think you know by now what I want,” Tony’s voice sounded on the other end. “I’m offering you one more chance to give up your empire. I’m feeling generous-”

“No!” he tightened his grip on the phone. “I will never sell to you Stark. I’ll rot in hell first before I do that.”

“Fine; your choice,” Tony sighed dramatically. “Tell Steve to get better, Barnes.”

“Goodbye, Stark.”

He slammed  the phone down, knuckles now white from holding the line to tight. He stormed out of the penthouse, quickly motioning for Morita. “Drive me to Queens,” he ordered as the Japanese man pulled up to the sidewalk. “I need to speak with the Odinsons.”

“You got it.”

Morita didn’t question him any further, but drove the car quietly down the street. It was around three in the afternoon; he didn’t know just what exactly Loki was doing at this moment, but he didn’t care. Even if he was drinking tea like the goddamn queen of England. So as Morita dropped him off in front of the Odinsons’ building, he stormed in. Ignoring the secretaries giving him odd looks as he walked past them; ignoring their nervous and anxious faces.

He marched right up to Loki’s office, kicking open the door. Currently the raven haired man was helping Neena with her spelling, only looking up when he noticed Bucky glaring hostilely at him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?” he asked politely.

Bucky just looked at Neena pointedly. Loki sighed, handing the girl her spelling list back. “Go ask your Grandmother to help you,” he ordered gently.

“Fine,” she took the list from him, giving Bucky a glare as she walked out the door.

Loki folded his hands on the desk, posture perfect as always. “Now, what can I help you with, Mr. Barnes?”

“Why did you make a deal with Stark?”

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business,” Loki stated coolly, still using his perfect manners. “What I do with my empire is none of your concern?”

“Like hell it isn’t!” he stepped forward boldly, ignoring the calculating look Loki was giving him. “Did Ana put you up to this? She’s a rather sneaky dame, isn’t she?”

“Do be aware that is my wife you are talking about,” Loki said shortly, eyes flashing dangerously. “You are treading on dangerous water, Mr. Barnes.”

“Answer my question,” he demanded, not even apologizing for insulting  the man’s wife. “Since when did you and Stark become buddies?”

“We’re not buddies,” Loki sighed calmly. “He had a business proposition and I took it. In return, we opened something up in Manhattan. It’s all about business, you see. I have no time to partake in your petty rivalry with Stark.”

He felt his anger flare, but he kept it under control. He relaxed his face, putting a fake smile on. He wasn’t full of rage like Steve; he was a gentleman. “I don’t consider it a rivalry when it could have been  your daughter or wife shot on that picnic. I don’t think you’d like the image of Ana or Neena’s blood being spilt because of this so called ‘petty rivalry.’”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening my family, Barnes?”

“Not at all,” he continued to smirk at him. “I would never hurt a woman or child intentionally. I’m just stating that Stark is dangerous. He did shoot a pregnant woman.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to intimidate me? Because it’s not working.”

“Oh, I’m not intimidating you at all,” he was pushing it; he knew he was. “I’m just trying to say that you might want to think twice about working with him. He’ll stop at nothing to attain what he wants. If he were to obtain my empire, what makes you think he won’t go after yours?”

Loki paused, face unreadable. He could see his mind moving and he felt triumphant. He may not  understand why they would want to deal with Stark, but at least he was able to put a little flame of doubt in the Norwegian man’s mind. “Will that be all, Mr. Barnes?” Loki asked, clearing his throat. “I’m a very busy man and your visit was...unscheduled.”

“Well I personally don’t give a damn,” he was pushing it, he could practically hear Steve yelling at him to stop being so rude. “If you want to be friends with Stark, fine. But when he comes after your family and your empire, don’t come crying to me.”

“I do not believe I would be crying,” Loki replied briskly. “And it certainly wouldn’t be to you, James.”

“Well, then I’ll see you at their funerals,” he smirked, Loki’s face twitched for a second and he knew he had crossed the line. “Good day, Mr. Odinson.”

“You can see yourself out, Mr. Barnes.”

He opened the door, practically bumping into Neena. He made a face at her, watching as she glared back up at him. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?”

“No,” she answered simply.

“Well someone should,” he grumbled, trying to avoid looking at her. Over the past few years, her glare was beginning to match Loki’s. “Do you want something or are you going to move?”

“I don’t like Stark either,” she commented, glancing around as if to make sure no one was looking at her. “He came over yesterday.”

That peaked his interest. “Did he now?”

“Yeah. I don’t think Ana likes him either,” her face scrunched up in disgust. “He drinks a lot and was rude to Loki.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Stark,” he shook his head, not hiding the smirk. “How did your dad handle that?”

She made another face. “He was polite,” she answered, nodding her head. “But he looked like he wanted to throw Stark out. Uncle Thor liked him, but I know Ana and Loki don’t.”

“Did you guys invite him over?”

She nodded. “Loki invited him. He said something to Ana that sounded like business plans, but they never tell me what business plans mean. Stark did ask say something about Steve.”

The mention of Steve’s name caught his attention and now that Neena knew that she had his full attention, her smile grew. “What did he say?” he asked through his teeth. “Did he threaten him?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But I think they were friends or something at one point. Ana made me leave after that. Saying something about bedtime.”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes. “Well, it was nice talking to you.”

“Here,” she handed him a card covered with crayon doodles. “This is for Steve. I hear he’s sick.”

How she would know this is beyond him, but he accepted the card anyway. “Thank you,” he took it from her, trying not to wrinkle the paper. “I’m sure Steve will like it.”

She beamed, skipping off down the hallway and leaving him all alone. He looked at the card, reading the words get better soon with smiley faces and hearts doodled around the edges. He had to admit that the kid was talented. Even though they were just doodles, they looked pretty good. No wonder Steve got along with the ten year old so well.

The thought of Steve darkened his mood. Since when were Steve and Tony friends? What brought this on? Steve never spoke about Tony highly and always seemed eager to end any discussion about him. What happened the year he was away? He’d come back at the end of May because of his father’s early death and for Steve’s graduation, but neither of them had known where Steve was until he practically ran into him one day. Just what exactly was Steve not telling him?

(New York City, Manhattan, November, 1935)

“So, uh, Mr. Stark? What exactly is this proposition?”

The limousine ride had been quiet. Almost unbearably quiet. Stark just drank something that smelled of scotch or brandy, eyes never leaving his face. It had started to snow outside and Steve was very grateful to be inside the warm vehicle than the freezing outdoors.

Stark’s penthouse was huge; even more grand than Bucky’s home in Brooklyn. It was obvious that Stark had more money than the Barnes family, but Bucky’s home felt more like...well, home. Stark threw the doors to the main floor of his home, heading behind the bar. “Want anything to drink? Scotch, brandy, tequila? Nothing?”

“I don’t drink,” he answered, feeling nervous for some reason. He’d never seen a customer twice and knowing he had sucked this man off before made him uncomfortable. “So about this proposition-”

“Relax kid, make yourself at home. Call me Tony. Mr. Stark makes me feel old,” Tony gave a little laugh, but Steve just stared blankly at him. Tony sat down on one of the couches, motioning for Steve to sit down next to him. He sat down stiffly, hands still red from the cold.

“So I was thinking,” Tony started, downing another glass of whiskey. “That I’ve always considered myself a playboy. I’ve slept with a lot of the upstanding and well, lower standing, women in this society. But I’ve always wondered what it would be like to...experiment a little.”

He flushed pink, knowing full well what Tony was implying. “I don’t know,” he answered softly. “Why bring me all the way here if you just want to have sex with a man?”

Apparently Tony didn’t expect him to be frank about it, but he quickly hid his shocked face. “Well I wanted to be sure I found the right one. You look young, fresh. You’re experienced, aren’t you? Well, experienced enough.”

“But why didn’t you just experiment all the way back at the bar?”

“I have standards,” Tony scoffed, clearly insulted. “Would you really want me to bend you over in the back of a bar? Didn’t think so.”

Steve gulped. “Then what’s your proposition?”

“I’ll pay you and keep you fed and clothed, whatever you want really in exchange for your services,” Tony nodded his head as if to agree with himself. “Or we can negotiate something else.”

Now Steve’s entire face was red with embarrassment and shame. This...whatever this man was, was offering for him to be his own playtoy. “You want me to live with you here in exchange for sex? That’s what you want?”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve never gone all the way with another man before. I’m not going to be young forever,” he looked distant, almost looking into another world. “I don’t give a damn about what society says and trust me, if someone found out, I know how to keep them quiet.”

That didn’t sound good, but did he really want to do this? No, he thought to himself, lips pursed in thought. Yet, how much worse could it get? He had no home, barely any money, and being out in the cold weather was too dangerous for his frail health. The last thing he needed was to get pneumonia or bronchitis.

Gingerly, he brought his right hand up to trace the bruising around his eye. He had got into a fight last night. He’d just given a guy a blowjob when the man socked him in the face. He’d said something about how queers were going to hell before taking off. He tried to attack the man before he left, but one of the other prostitutes held him back; saying something about how it wasn’t worth it. It wounded his pride, but how much lower could he go? He was selling himself for money; his pride was out of control. Bucky...he didn’t even want to think about what Bucky would think right now.

“He’d hate you,” the voice in his head said. “He’d be so disgusted with you right now that he wouldn't even want to look at you.”

“How much would you pay?” he asked, still full of disbelief on how serious he sounded.

“However much you want,” Tony set his empty class on the black wood table. “I have plenty of money that’s not going anywhere soon.”

A spark of annoyance flared in him. If he had so much money, why was he keeping it to himself? Here he was practically dying on the streets and this man had so much money he didn’t even know what to do with it. “You’d use a rubber, wouldn’t you?” he asked, very seriously. “I’ve never done…”

“Yeah, you’re a blushing virgin, I know,” Tony gave a short laugh. “I know you’ve never done intercourse; I could tell that when we first met.”

Was he really that transparent? “So, would I live on the streets still or-”

“Yeah, you can stay here. Don’t want you freezing out there and dying before the end of winter,” Tony said this so casually it almost made him sick. “You can have your own room or share mine. Whatever works.”

He could practically sense his mother’s shame. Possibly his father’s disgust as well. He knew this was wrong, but what other choice was there? When Bucky came back, maybe he could leave and find his friend. Actually, was friend the right word? He wasn’t really sure what they were now, but he could deal with that later. “Alright,” he started, after a few more minutes of deep thinking. His stomach turned uneasily at the thought of what he was doing, but there was no backing out now. “I accept your proposal.”

Tony smiled widely. “Great.”

When some people think of their first time, they smile fondly and talk about how fascinating it was. Steve remembers only regret that the first person inside him wasn’t Bucky. He didn’t hate Tony, but he wished that it wasn’t him.

He didn’t remember how exactly they’d gotten to Tony’s bedroom. He remembered making out on Tony’s couch; trying to ignore the sense of guilt flagging in his mind. He felt completely vulnerable and ashamed, though Tony didn’t seem to notice this. It didn’t feel right the way the other man touched him. Not that he was too rough; rather that it wasn’t Bucky. He tried to imagine Bucky, but it was hard to when Tony’s eyes were dark and mysterious.

When Tony had prepped him with his fingers, it felt strange. Not bad, just strange and foreign. It hurt a little at first, but eventually he got used to the feeling and his once flaccid penis seemed to agree that whatever Tony was brushing up inside of him felt pleasant. Of course, all the nice feelings Tony was giving him soon faded when he pulled his fingers out.

Having Tony inside of him was something he wasn’t expecting at all. Good Lord in Heaven it hurt! Tony was above him, panting and breathing hard into his neck while adorning his shoulder with bite sized bruises. He was stretched beyond imagination, but Tony was at least considerate for their first time. He didn’t move inside of him till he was absolutely sure that Steve was ready. After a while, when Tony’s thrusts became deeper and harder, the pain resided little by little. Tony was brushing up on that spot again that made him see stars.

The whole world went white. Tony, despite never having been with a man before, knew what he was doing. Heat pooled in his belly that felt oddly pleasant and when Tony’s hand stroked him, the pleasure only increased. He ejaculated in Tony’s hand, chest heaving from the pleasure and seconds later, he knew Tony came too by the way he groaned very loudly and stopped thrusting after a while.

The heat was dying down and he felt a trickle of sweat run down his body. His mind came back to reality as Tony pulled out, rolling up the rubber and then throwing it at the trash can near his bed.

While the older man drifted off to sleep, the guilt came crashing back in. He regretted doing this, but there was no turning back. “What’s done is done,” as his mother used to say when he made a mistake or got in a fight. He’d stooped so low in life that he didn’t even know what to think of himself. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision entirely. He was taking care of himself without having to rely on anyone. The only thing that he regretted now was that his first time wasn’t with the one he really, truly loved.

When he saw Bucky again, he could never find out about what he had been doing for the past year. The last thing he wanted was for Bucky to hate him.

Chapter Text

New York City, Brooklyn, September 13, 1938

For a month, he tried to get Steve to talk about Stark.

Now to be fair, he didn’t pressure the blonde into telling him right away; he wasn’t that pushy. Steve however was the epitome of stubborn. For the three weeks that he was in bed with a horrible flu after his ulcers, he left the topic alone. At first, he told him that they had gotten into a scuffle one day, but Bucky didn’t believe that for a minute. So now here they were. He with his arms crossed over his chest and Steve glaring at the window.

“You gonna tell me? Or will I have to resort to more drastic measures?”

Steve snorted. “Please, like you’d ever hit me.”

That was true; he’d never deny that. “No,” he sighed, feeling more irritated then he probably should. “But I could just go and ask Stark. Would you rather have me find out through him or do you want to be honest with me?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “You would seriously go to Tony? You do realize he’d never tell you. Tony doesn’t tell people anything. He’ll just leave you guessing till you go crazy.”

“Well, then I’ll have to go crazy,” he wasn’t serious; he was just trying to gode Steve into telling him. “Would you like that?”

“No!”

“All you have to do is tell me what I want, and then things will be fine,” he leaned forward, fingers gripping the smaller man’s jaw gently. “I promise you, Steve. As long as I’m alive and able, I won’t let anyone hurt you. If I could marry you, I would in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Steve responded, but he could swear the smaller man looked doubtful.

“And I’d do anything for you. You don’t have to keep anything hidden from me, Stevie,” he smiled, taking Steve’s hands into his. “I’ll love you no matter what. Till the end of the line.”

“Bucky…” Steve trailed off. “I-”

He never got to finish his sentence. The door was thrown open and a bullet embedded itself in Bucky’s desk. Anastasia barged in, a 22 revolver clenched in her hand and pointing dangerously at both of them. Rage was written all over her face, her eyes flashed like wild fire and if Bucky looked close enough, he could have sworn she was shaking. “Where is she?” her voice was dangerously low, fingers touching the revolver lightly. “Where is she?”

“You could have knocked,” he rolled his eyes, not at all surprised by her behavior. “And where is who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Barnes!” she snapped, aiming the gun to his face. “Now tell me where she is!”

For the first time since the blonde woman barged in, Steve spoke up. “What are you going on about, Ana?” he asked, trying to be more polite.

“You know damn well,” she trained the gun on Steve, glaring at Bucky. “You tell me where she is right now or I’ll blow his brains out.”

Bucky removed his own gun from his desk drawer, training it on her. “You hurt him and don’t think for a minute I won’t kill you,” the timbre of his voice changed and he knew his eyes turned ice blue. “It’s your choice, Odinson.”

“Darling, I think you should do as he says,” Loki stepped gingerly into the room, face void of any emotion. “Shooting him will accomplish nothing.”

“Tell me where my daughter is,” she snarled at Bucky.

He jumped in surprise, sharing a look at Steve. “Neena’s gone?”

“Bastard, don’t pretend you don’t know,” she growled, looking at him furiously.

“Bucky, do remember there is a gun pointed at me,” Steve commented, not at all happy. “Please don’t try to get me killed.”

Bucky lowered the gun slightly, giving Ana an irritated look. “What are you going on about? You think I have Neena?”

“Threatening my family is one thing, Barnes. You crossed the line,” she glared, pulling the hammer back as she aimed her gun at Steve.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t have your kid; why the hell would I have your daughter?” He snapped, raising the  gun to Loki. “Now, I’ll lower my weapon if you lower yours so we can talk about this like civil adults.”

“Lower the gun, darling,” Loki told her calmly.

Ana bit her lip, anger flashing across her face as she fired a shot right above Steve’s head before throw the gun to the floor. “I can kill you with my hands anyways. Now where is Neena?” she demanded.

“How would we know?” Steve asked, genuinely concerned. “We’ve been here all day.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if our people searched the building?” Loki questioned, Ana’s deadly gaze falling on Bucky.

“Go ahead; you won’t find anything,” Bucky shrugged. “She’s not here. Why would you even assume we have her? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Loki nodded to their people in the hall to begin the search. Ana leaned forward over Bucky’s desk, “Who else is brainless enough? You threatened my family, remember?”

“I threatened no one,” Bucky protested, crossing his arms. “I’m not low enough to hurt a kid. I was just warning you about Stark. Besides, how do you know she’s missing? Are you sure she just didn’t go somewhere after school?”

“People always notify us whenever she goes somewhere after school. She hasn’t come home, and we haven’t heard from anyone. And there’s no eyes on the street that have seen her. You are suspect number one,” Loki said calmly, though his words were harsh.

“Well we don’t have her,” Bucky insisted, Steve nodding in agreement. “I would never hurt her. I don’t go after children. You know that, Loki.”

“Amuse me then,” Ana snapped. “Who do you think took my daughter?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, sitting down in his chair. “Someone else who has it out for you? When did she go missing? Do the teachers at her school know?”

“Everyone in Queens knows and no one has seen her today. She never made it to school,” Loki sat down across from Bucky.

“So you assume we have her?” Steve frowned. “Nice to know our friends trust us.”

Ana shot him a look before her fist contacted his temple in a perfect hook, “Don’t fuck with me, Rogers. Don’t think for a moment I’ll hesitate before I kill you.” She turned to Bucky, “If you are lying, I will gut you.”

Bucky had stood up the second her fist connected to Steve’s head. His palm connected with her cheek, sending her crashing towards Loki’s chair. A red mark was across her cheek and she gave him a murderous glare. “Don’t you ever touch Steve!” he snapped, voice dangerously low. “Or I’ll make sure you never see your daughter.”

Ana’s eyes widened with rage, “You motherfucker!” She moved forward, grabbing a letter opener off of his desk and prepared to throw it before Loki grabbed her arm, taking the weapon from her. She only glowered at Bucky.

“Darling, if you want to find our daughter, we have to do this peacefully,” Loki told her, giving Bucky what could only be an apologetic nod.

Ana took a deep breath and glanced at Steve, “Sorry for the whole…” she gestured to her temple, “that thing.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said through gritted teeth, the imprint of her wedding ring on his face. “Please don’t do it again.”

“No promises,” Ana mumbled before backing away, leaning against the far wall.

The door opened and a few of the men returned. “The place is clear, boss,” one man said, looking a bit nervous as he addressed Loki. “Should we check all of Brooklyn?”

“No,” Loki sighed. “You are dismissed,” he waved them off as he sat in the chair again.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Since we don’t have her, who do you think does? Have you done anything to anger anybody recently?”

“Not enough to merit Neena being kidnapped,” Loki answered. He thought for a moment, “We did end our contract with Stark last week.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “You did what? Are you serious?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. The deal wasn’t worth it,” he admitted. “Do you think Stark did this?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, sounding absolutely sure of himself. “Tony doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way.”

“What is he talking about?” Bucky thought, glancing suspiciously at Steve. “Why does he know so much?”

“Well let’s get going,” Ana spoke up, ready to barge into Stark’s neighborhood.

“Darling, we need a plan. Stark has more security than James and Steve. You cannot just show up, you’ll be killed,” Loki tried talking her down.

“I have a plan,” Steve spoke up. “But this is Tony we’re talking about, so he’s not going to have her in the most obvious place. He’s probably out of the city and wants to set us up for failure. More than likely he has her in one of his warehouses. And I know which one.”

“We are getting her back tonight,” Ana said defiantly. “Tell us what we need to do,” she commanded Steve.

“Take your best men and women,” he started, ignoring Bucky’s stare. “We’ll bring the Commandos. When we get there, we’ll form a perimeter, but the four of us will go in alone.”

“The four of us?” Bucky interrupted. “Shouldn’t we just try and kill them.”

“Tony never gets to the point,” Steve continued. “He’s not going to attack us until he speaks with us. More than likely, he wants something. If he wanted you dead, he would have tried to kill you already.”

“Alright,” Ana nodded. “Let’s get this rolling,” she stood up. “I have just the thing to take off Stark’s head.”

“Then let’s go,” Bucky grabbed his coat, handing Steve his. “I’ll gather the boys.”

Twenty minutes later after a whole lot of running around, they were ready. Natasha and Bruce showed up, Clint tagging along with his bow and arrow. The Howling Commandos were armed with weapons, faces grave and serious. Thor, for once in his life, was not jolly, a thunderous look in his eye as he held his gun dangerously in his hand.

“Ready?” Steve asked, calm and at ease among his friends. “Let’s go take down Stark!”

The five of them, Steve, Bucky, Thor, Ana, and Loki piled into one car. Bucky took one look at Ana, fiddling a knife in her fingers. “Hey,” he offered slowly. “Sorry about slappin’ you. My mama taught me better than to hit women.”

She looked up at him, “If you’re gonna hit me you better put some effort into it next time.”

He smirked briefly before pausing. “You never did tell me,” he glanced at Steve, who was lost in thought. “How did you get Neena? I mean, I know you adopted her, but why?”

Without blinking Ana responded, “Her parents attempted to rob one of our clubs, so we paid them a visit and we happened to kill them, not knowing about Neena hiding in the closet. She came out with a gun and accidently shot Loki in the foot after he tried to convince her to put it down. And we just kinda kept her.”

“Why the hell did she have a gun?”

“Because apparently her parents had been planning to kill her, so she took it when she sensed danger in order to protect herself,” Ana shrugged. “Plus, she’s biracial, so no one else would have taken her in.”

“Damn,” Bucky shook his head. “Some people. She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” Ana smiled just slightly.

“There is one thing that bothers me,” he admitted, voice dropping. “Why does Steve know so much about Stark? Neena said something to me a few weeks ago that Stark said something about him. Do you know anything?”

Ana shook her head, “No. All I know is that he and Stark have some sort of past. But whatever it was ends today. I’ll have his head on a spike by midnight.”

“You’ll let me have a go at him too, right?”

“I get to kill him,” she snapped.

“Alright, fine.”

They arrived at the warehouse, which looked surprisingly vacant. Exactly as Steve ordered, a perimeter was formed, Thor and Natasha taking charge of it while Bruce set up a medical kit. The four of them pushed the doors to the warehouse open, but something didn’t feel right. Bucky looked at the members of Stark’s mafia that were in the building, growling the second he saw Stark with a bottle of champagne. Ana charged forward, Loki flanking her with an equally dangerous face. She pointed her gun at him, voice sending a slight chill down his spine.

“Where is my daughter?” she said furiously, her voice low and deadly.

Stark just took a long sip of his champagne, motioning to four other glasses. “You want something to drink?” he offered her a glass.

She snarled, shooting the glass right out of his hand, the drink spattering on his suit. “The next one goes through your skull.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Stark began vaguely, not at all pleased that his shirt was now ruined. “Or else I’ll never tell you where your daughter is. An eye for an eye, you see?”

Loki frowned. “We know she’s here; what are you playing at?”

“Why would she be here? A warehouse is no place for a child her age.”

“Where is she?” Ana growled slowly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Loki turned to glare at Steve. “You said she would be here, Rogers.”

“Why Steve, I’m so glad you could join us here,” Stark smiled. “And hello Barnes.”

Bucky instinctively pushed Steve behind him, ignoring the protest the smaller man gave. “Enough with the games, Stark!” he aimed his gun at Stark, muzzle pointed right at his heart. “Kidnapping a kid? That’s a new low, even for you.”

Stark didn’t look like he cared very much, but that didn’t make Bucky relax any further. Loki studied the older man carefully, eyes cold and calculating. Ana looked like she was about ready to tear out Stark’s throat. “She’s not here, is she?” his voice was so low, lower than Bucky had ever heard in his life. “I’ll ask nicely only once, Stark. Where is my daughter?”

“Who knows?” Stark looked up towards the sky mysteriously. “She could be anywhere; I don’t really know.”

“Bastard!” Ana hissed, twisting the knife in her hand.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve spoke out from over Bucky’s arm. “Why, Tony?”

“Oh, I think you know, Stevie,” Stark ignored the death glare Bucky was sending him. “Quit playing around, Steve. It’s been two years. You can’t run from your past forever and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Bucky wet his lips, jaw clenching tightly. His eyes bore into Stark’s lazy form, anger boiling in him. “Steve,” he began in a hard voice. “What is he talking about?”

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” Stark laughed. “It’s been two, almost three years and you’re still clueless, Barnes. How does it feel to be tossed around in the dark like this?”

“Steve!” Bucky turned his face to Steve, watching as the blonde paled and started breathing harder. “Steve, for the love of God you better tell me right now! Did he hurt you? Did he harass you the year I was away?”

Before Steve could respond, Stark gave a dry laugh. “Oh please, I hardly laid a finger on him. As much as I like the suspense, I’m growing bored of watching you two dance around the subject. Barnes, Stevie and I were lovers.”

It was as if time seemed to stop. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him and he snarled. “Don’t joke like that, Stark. Steve was waiting for me a whole year. Yeah, things did go bad for him, but look at where we are now. He would never betray our love!”

“Oh, this is good,” Stark continued to laugh. “This is almost sad to watch. And to think, you still believe that you were Steve’s first.”

“Shut up, Stark!”

“It’s time you learn the truth, Barnes,” all traces of humor vanished from Stark’s face. “The year you were away, Steve and I were together. We lived together, and, well, fucked together. Pretty sure you get the idea.”

“You’re a liar!” Bucky snapped, an ill feeling churning in his stomach. This couldn’t be true, could it?

“It’s all true,” Stark poured more champagne into a glass. “You think precious Steve is a saint? When I found him, he was busy whoring himself out to every man in sight.”

He could hear Steve take a sharp inhale and finally, he turned to him. Steve refused to meet his eyes, ears turning red. “Steve,” he started off slowly, heart hammering in his chest. “Steven Grant Rogers you tell me the truth right now. Were you and Tony lovers?”

Steve didn’t look at him, but he could feel the shame radiate off the smaller man. “Yes,” he answered softly, in almost an inaudible tone.

“What?”

“Yes,” he spoke up a bit more, a wheezing sound coming from his lungs. “It’s true; it’s all true. My God Bucky, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”

Stark only snorted, a few of his men laughing in response. One of the men, a foolish looking man had the nerve to speak out loud. “We were going to bring the brat,” he laughed, nudging his friends. “We were gonna use a potato peeler to break her hymen.”

The man didn’t even have a chance to laugh again or smoke from his cigar. Ana shot him straight in the heart, the sound of more gunfire coming from outside. Bucky shoved Steve to the ground, ignoring the shout from his lover. Bullets were flying, and a man quickly grabbed Stark to get him out of the way. He disappeared behind the barn doors, the sound of a car engine starting. Several times he shot at the remainder of Stark’s men, but doing that and keeping Steve put was rather hard.

Stark’s men scrambled, shooting bullets everywhere, but they were severely outnumbered. Within minutes, their bodies littered the floor. The stench of blood filled his nose, but he was immune to it. Loki wiped the blood off his hands with a handkerchief; Ana practically trembling with rage. Bucky ignored them for the most part, moving out of the way as Thor went to check on his brother and sister-in-law.

For a while, he just stared at Steve, feeling as if he were some sort of foreigner. Stark’s words swirled around in his head. He wanted to block out the images of Steve and Stark entwined together, the image of Steve being with another man, but it was useless. He just looked at Steve, still too shocked to know how to feel.

The only thing he did know right now, was that he felt like he didn’t even know who Steve was anymore.

***

She didn’t know where she was, or why she was here for that matter.

The morning had started out fine. It had been almost a week since school started and she was excited to back. Summer was fine, but almost everyone in the school knew who she was, so that was nice. Loki didn’t join them for breakfast; something about being up too late last night, but that was okay. So when Ana handed her bag on her way out the door, she had no reason to think that anything would be different today.

She was about three blocks from school when she noticed a car following slowly behind her. She picked up her pace, trying to avoid the car as much as she could. However, when she almost reached the end of the block, an arm reached out and pulled her in before speeding off down the road.

She didn’t remember much after that, other than being terrified out of her mind. She could recall Stark, though she wasn’t entirely sure why he was kidnapping her. She remembered being blindfolded before some strong chemical knocked her out. So now here she was; alone and very frightened.

The room she was in looked a lot like a room in a hotel. She was so high up that there would be no way of escape. The door was locked too, so there was no way she could get out either. She was stuck until Ana and Loki decided to free her.

“What if they’re mad at me,” she found herself murmuring. “What if I made them mad and they don’t want me anymore? Did I do something?”

The door then opened and she jumped, grabbing whatever she could to attack her assailant. Stepping into the room, she was surprised to find it wasn’t a man at all, but rather a boy about her age, possibly a year older. With strawberry blonde hair and dark brown eyes. “Hi,” he greeted, throwing a little package of cookies at her. “Mom says you might be hungry, so she’s making me share my snack with you.”

She observed the cookies carefully. “These aren’t poisoned, are they?”

“I don’t think so. Should they be?”

He seemed alright, but she still didn’t trust him yet. “My name is Neena,” she offered after biting the cookie. “Who are you?”

He grinned, the smile reaching his eyes in a friendly way. “My name is Luke.”

Chapter Text

(Excerpt 1: The world the girl saw)

Neena knew the minute she entered the world, she shouldn’t have been born.

The slums of the Queens were filled with all sorts of immigrants. The neighbors next to her were from India, with the colorful clothing they wore and the spicey smells radiating from the thin walls that connected their tenants. The neighbors across from her were Irish and Jewish, and they would argue from time to time about things she didn’t understand, nor care to understand. Greek restaurants were in the next neighborhood and if she stood at the crossroads adjoining the neighborhood, she could smell the rich oils and lambs’ meat used for cooking Her neighborhood was full of color and clashes of culture that the upper class White society wanted to keep out.

Her Indian neighbors had been the ones to name her after she was born. A mother of five children who had been living in the United States for eight years had been the one to take care of her. She had been the one to find to her, crying on her parents doorstep on cold early October night. Taken in without a second thought, the woman had fed her and gave her a warm place to sleep out the night before bringing her to her father’s door. Her father, of course, had been less than pleased. Now there could be no more secrecy between him and her step-mother. The lies had been laid out for all to see when she read the note that was left in the basket she had been found sleeping in. The cheating her father had done was revealed into their home. Nothing could go back to the way it was.

The woman did more of her upbringing than her step-mother. The first few days of her life in her father’s home, her parents refused to have anything to do with her. The Indian woman, Mohana, brought her into her home for a little while. She and her husband gave her the name Neena.

“Your eyes are pretty; piercing like ice and blue like the sky in winter,” the now older woman tilted her chin up, allowing her to get a good look at them. “The very name Neena means pretty eyes.”

“Maa,” she dropped her head the second the older woman let go of her chin. She sat perched on top of a trunk, small legs dangling off the side precariously kicking against the metal. “Do you have to go? Why do you have to leave?”

The woman smiled sadly, left hand tracing down her cheek before patting her left shoulder. “This country is no good to immigrants like us anymore,” she gave a sad sigh, dark brown eyes heavy with the weight of a long life. “We are not welcomed here anymore. It is best we go somewhere else.”

“Take me with you!”

“I wish I could,” she rested both hands on her small, slim shoulders. “But your father would not like that. He would be furious if you were to leave him.”

“Daddy doesn’t care about me,” she glared down at the dirty wooden floor, lower lip trembling slightly. “He doesn’t even speak to me; he hates me. Nascha hates me too.”

The woman whom she really called mother just sighed. “They’re not good people, I won’t lie to you and say that they are,” she patted her cheek with a weathered hand. “Before I send you home, I want to give you this.”

She reached behind her neck, moving back the curtain of dark hair from her shoulders. She steadily unclasped the golden necklace she wore around her neck. She unwound it, reaching over Neena’s head to clasp the necklace around her neck. The chain was long, meaning she wasn't big enough to properly fit the necklace. “But Maa!” she protested, small hands looking at the fancy pendant cupped into her palms. Made out of gold, the flat metal had a woman with four arms carved into it elaborately. “This is yours! I shouldn't have it!”

The woman just hugged her tightly, allowing a few tears to slip from her face. “I have considered you one of my children for years, मेरी सुंदर लड़की,” she kissed the top of her head. “I have always viewed you as one of my daughters, just like my Pavarti and Sonali. You will always be part of our family, Nenna. Never forget that. The Goddess Lakshmi means good luck and as a mother goddess, she will look over you.”

She sniffed, trying very hard not to cry. She wiped her eyes furiously, bangs now askew across her face. “It’s the same sun we live under, right?”

“Yes,” the woman nodded sadly. “Even though we’re far away, we still live under the same sky. Just think of that; think of us and you will be okay.”

She hugged her again, the spicey smells of the oils she used forever embedded into her mind. She didn’t know then that this was the last time they would ever see each other. For how could a girl barely past five years old understand that? “You should get going,” the older woman dabbed at her eyes with the back of her palm. “Nascha doesn’t like it when you’re over here.”

The older woman walked her out the door, watching tearfully as she crossed over to her own flat. Neena paused by the door, staring at her adopted mother for what would soon be the last time. With a trembling hand, she grasped the doorknob, opening it fearfully and stepped inside.

She was instantly met with a harsh slap to the face.

“Where have you been, you wretched child?” her step-mother, Nascha, screamed at her. “How many times have I told you to stop running off!”

“But you told me to get out of the house!” she protested, the sting of the slap still resignating on her cheek. It wasn’t the first time she’d been slapped and it wouldn’t be the last.

The woman’s dark; almost black eyes, looked down, now noticing the necklace. “Where did you get that?” she asked in a steely voice. When she didn’t answer right away, she struck her again. A fist grabbed her black hair, pulling her behind her as she dragged her into the kitchen. “I said, where did you get that?” Nascha snarled, yanking her hair even harder. “Answer me!”

“Mo...Mohana gave it to me!” she replied, eyes shut tightly from pain and she flinched. “She gave it to me! I swear!”

“You stole it, I bet!” Nascha hissed, shoving the small girl away from her. “You’re a filthy, evil child who shouldn’t have been born! You’re a no good thief!”

“No I’m not!”

The woman grabbed her by the left wrist, pulling her towards the stove. She let go briefly to move the pot and instantly grabbed her again before she could get away. She held the small appendage dangerously close to the burner and Neena’s eyes widened in fear, the heat a horrible reminder of what could happen. “You will tell the truth!” Nascha snarled. “Now.”

“I didn’t steal it! I am telling you the truth! Why won’t you believe me?”

She had crossed the line. Nascha slammed her left hand down onto the burner. If anyone heard the ear piercing scream, they ignored it and pretended they didn’t hear it. She struggled against the older woman, tears cascading down her face. “Stop it! Stop it!” she screamed, attempting to hit the woman wit the other hand, but Nascha held it in place, fingers bruising over the bone. “I am telling you the truth!” she sobbed, the tears hitting the burner with a steaming hiss. “I didn’t steal it!”

“Liar!” Nascha pressed her hand down harder. “Stop lying to me, you little bitch!”

“Alright,” she gulped down a breath, the pain now beyond unbearable. “I stole it! I stole it! I’m a thief!”

She felt her step-mother slap her again before releasing her hand. She instantly backed away from the woman, cradling her hand to her chest. If the woman wanted to hit her again, she didn’t get the chance. Neena ducked under the woman's arm, hair flying loose from her braid as she threw open the door. “Don’t you dare come back!” Nascha shrieked behind her. “If you know what’s good for you!”

The pain in her left hand was throbbing and she felt more tears slide down her cheeks. After several blocks of running past busy people and vehicles, she ran into Astoria park, not stopping until she came to the pool. She collapsed onto the ground, ignoring the dust and dirt that had flown up onto her dress. Her feet ached and her lungs burned from the running, but the pain in her palm didn’t go away. She examined it, feeling a bit faint at the sight of the blood. It had burned badly and she feared it would scar. She wiped the tears from her eyes and the tear marks from her cheeks. Much good crying would do her now.

There was no future. No hopes; nothing remained. The only loving people she had ever known in her life were leaving that evening. The world she knew was slipping away from her; bleeding away like ink on paper until it all bled together.

“Why are you crying?”

She didn’t even look up at the sound of the voice, continuing to slump over and stare at her reflection. The voice behind her sighed in what was possibly irritation or exasperation. “You are aware it is rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you.”

She looked up for the first time at the person addressing her, immediately taken aback by how sharp his cheekbones were. His hair was as black as hers and his eyes a sharp, piercing green. He was dressed fancily, so he had to be upperclass. She instantly distrusted him, eyeing him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He clearly wasn’t comfortable, that much was obvious. The way he sat stiffly and kept his eyes from hers made that apparent. “I will ask again: why are you crying? Did you fall down, or something of that sort?”

She moved her face back down to the pool, letting her long bangs conceal her expression. “My family hates me,” she said quietly, to the point it almost came out as a whisper. “So I ran away.”

“Why do they hate you?”

“Because I’m bad. Everything I do is bad. I am a cursed child,” she narrowed her eyes at the reflection, chucking a rock into it. “I shouldn’t have been born.”

“Well that’s cheerful,” he muttered dryly. “What could a child like you have done to be so bad?”

“Ask my step-mother.”

“Ah, that explains it then,” the man shook his head, glancing down at the wrist she was craddling. “What happened?”

She looked down, eyeing the burned palm. “I...fell,” she lied, hoping he didn’t know what a burn looked like.

He raised an eyebrow. “That was some fall,” he shook his head. “You better get some water on that to make it stop burning.”

Damnit, of course he knew. Maybe he was a doctor or something. “It hurts,” she found herself saying. “It hurts a lot.”

“I would assume so,” he stood up, motioning for her to follow him.

She did automatically, every part of her screaming not to. She couldn't trust him; she couldn’t trust anyone! Especially a strange man! What if he was one of those men who liked to do nasty stuff to children? She believed there were a few of those living in her neighborhood, but she wasn't entirely sure. Still, she followed him across the grass, walking over to a water fountain. He pressed it, motioning for her to run her hand under it. She let out a little whimper as the water stung her hand, trying very hard not to cry in front of this man.

She kept her hand under the water for several minutes, trying hard to ignore the looks people gave her. The man didn’t say anything else, but he did take his handkerchief out. He removed her hand from the water, wrapping the material around it. “Go home and get proper bandages on that,” he ordered, leaving no room for arguments. “And for whatever reason you ran away, leaving your home is not a way to handle it.”

He put his hat on, tipping it to her in a form of goodbye and left. She looked at the green handkerchief, watching him with wide blue eyes. This man, while he seemed to be a bit cold, he had shown her kindness. He had gone out of his way to help her even though he did not know her. With a smile on her face and newly found hope, she raced back to her home. The pain in her hand still was there, but she didn’t notice it as much now.

She opened the door to her home quietly, hearing t he hushed voices in the kitchen. “Those people we attempted to steal from, are they after us?” she heard her step-mother’s voice in the kitchen. “Do they know where we live?”

“It doesn’t matter; we’ll be out of here soon,” she heard her father’s voice, low and almost calm. “As soon as those traders get here, we’ll have enough money to flee the city and move somewhere else.”

“And where will they take her? Out of the States?”

“Probably,” she could smell the smoke from her father’s cigarette, covering her mouth with her uninjured hand. “I think they’ll ship her out to Cuba or somewhere in South America. White skinned girls sell at a good price there; and they’re more than happy to give us a good amount of money.”

“And what will happen to the brat?”

“She’ll get sold to some sick pervert,” she flinched at the indifference in her father’s voice. “It matters little to me; little to us. She was a mistake that should have never happened.”

Her step-mother barked a laugh, moving the soup pot from the stove. “You should have gotten rid of her years ago. It would have been better for her if her mother had kept her.”

Neena backed away from the door, quietly stepping up the stairs. What were her parents planning? Sell her? What did they mean by that? She didn’t want to go overseas! Unless moving meant moving with Mohana and her family, then she didn’t want to go anywhere. She tiptoed up the stairs, little feet barely making any noise and stepped into her parents room. He kept a gun in his nightstand and she pulled it open. Whatever was going to happen, she would not go down fighting.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She jumped at the sound of her father’s tone, whirling around only to be met with a slap to the face. She hit the floor, the gun immediately dropping from her hand and skittered across the room. Her father picked up, putting it in his jacket pocket and glared at her. “You’re going to regret that, you stupid child.”

He lifted her up by the collar of her dress, his hand coming towards her again and after that, there was nothing.

********

When she awoke, she found herself on a cold, damp floor. She could smell water and the scent of rusting metal and quickly deduced she was in a warehouse. Which warehouse, she wasn’t sure but figured it was at a port. Why was she at a port?

Then it came back to her. She struggled, attempting to sit up but found her hands bound behind her back. The sounds of her moving alerted the attention of whoever took her. The footsteps stalked closer to her, a muddy shoe gave a slight kick to the hip; her voice crying out in pain as she was then flipped over onto her back.

“A half-breed,” a man with a thick Spanish accent spoke. “Mescalero Apache Indian girl with her father’s Indian facial features, black hair, but with white skin and bright blue eyes.”

“No way,” another Spanish voice spoke up. “She can’t possibly have blue eyes.”

“See for yourself.”

She was hoisted up to her feet, chin firmly gripped that it made her eyes go wide with pain. A low whistle made her stomach turn in fear. “Wow, those are some eyes,” the second man who spoke laughed. “Never seen a pair of eyes like that on Injun before; she’ll go for a good price.”

The man released her chin, shoving her back onto the floor. She lay on her back; eyes blank and emotionless. Her hair had come loose from her braid, the long locks now damp with polluted water. Long ago she had stopped lying to herself about people loving her. Besides Mohana and her family, no one else loved her. She couldn't see her parents anywhere, but she had a feeling they were nearby. If they were, they didn’t care.

She was going to die. Maybe not here in this place, but wherever she was going, she would die there. Tossed aside; like the bones of dead animals found or eaten. No one was going to save her. No one cared enough to help her and the only people who truly cared for her had disappeared.

“Yeah, some old pervert will have her,” the man who had grabbed her pulled out a lighter, cigarette in his mouth. He clicked open, the sound echoing in the abandoned building. He lit it, closing it and inhaling slowly. “It’s a shame though; she’s pretty. If she were older I’d have some fun with her. You know, show her a good time.”

“Eh, she’s pretty, but not my type,” the second man shrugged. “There’s prettier out there. I’m not into white girls.”

“Well, she’s only have white,” the first man sneered, nudging her face with his shoe. She didn’t even react, she just stared at the wall; watching water drip down the wall. “The rest of her is Indian. And with her young features, she’ll sell for a good amount. I’ve heard a businessman in Cuba is looking for a little mixed American girl. We’ll show her to him first.”

“Alright, whatever you think will work. Don’t forget we have a cargo in Mexico to sell too.”

“Ah, thanks for reminding me. So, Stark didn’t want any of the girls we offered?”

The second man lit his own cigarette, the stench of smoke now in the building. She then heard the door open and the sound of high heeled shoes clicking against the floor. She turned her head slowly, the figure of two people coming across to meet the men who had her. Her eyes widened at the sight of her parents, wanting to call out to them, but the words didn’t reach her throat. They didn’t even look at her, their attention solely on the two men before her.

“We let you two settle on a price,” her father spoke, extending his right hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” the first man replied, a casual smirk on his face as he dropped his cigarette on the ground, smearing it with his foot. “We will give you five thousand dollars. Is that enough?”

Her step-mother smiled, a greedy light shining in her eyes. “More than enough,” she sounded giddy, like she had been drinking. “Now hand us the money. We already delivered the brat to you.”

The first man shook her father’s hand, the second man handing her father a small briefcase with what she assumed was money inside. She wanted to call out to them, beg for them to take her back, but they ignored her. They just did what the usually did: pretended she didn’t exist.

They looked at the money inside, both having huge grins on their faces. The second man grabbed her, pulling her up by her hair. She cried out, wanting to get her parents attention but they didn’t notice. They turned around towards the way they came, her father gripping the briefcase tightly as if to make sure no one snatched it. She felt anger, an emotion she didn’t often feel. How could they do this to her? Why was this happening?

“What’s this?” the first man gripped the gold chain around her neck, revealing the pendant that had fallen inside the collar of her dress. “Wow, Juan, this real gold! We can get even more money!”

“No!” she pulled away from him, hands struggling against the binds that were not very secure. Her nimble fingers pulled and prodded at the knot, her eyes still focused on the men in front of her. “Don’t touch me! Stay..stay away!”

“Don’t be a brat,” the second man snarled, hand raising up to strike her. “We don’t want to ruin that pretty little face. We need a good looking girl to sell!”

“No!”

The binds came loose and she attempted to strike the first man. However, him being much bigger and stronger, he easily overpowered her. He backhanded her, sending her spiraling to the floor. She winced, cheek now tender due to the force. He reached for her again, ready to hit her, but the blow never came.

A shot ran through the warehouse, the sound riveting and piercing against her ears. Her parents stopped walking, immediately frozen in place. The man who attempted to hit her blinked several times before realizing that blood was soaking the front of his shirt. Blood dribbled down his jaw and he let out a choked noise before falling over. The second man let out a scream. “Ernesto? Ernesto! Who did this? Who shot him?”

He never did get a response. Her parents were frozen with fear; their legs refusing to move. A second shot rang out, hitting the second man square in the head. He fell over next to the first man, twitching a few times before lying completely still. The gun he’d been holding slipped from his hands and before even thinking, she picked it up.

Her father now had his gun out, glancing around furiously while trying to shield Nascha. They paid no attention to her and she quickly scurried away, slipping once on the blood and trying to ignore the metallic smell. Blood smeared her now dirty dress and legs; her arms and bits of her hair too. She winced, but moved to hide behind a small box, peeking out over the edge to see what would happen.

A man and woman walked towards them from the exit she and the men who attempted to kidnap her would have walked out through. A woman, tall with curly blonde hair in a stunning green dress and heels strode towards them, a gun in her hand. A man with black hair and striking green eyes was in step with her, gaze solely on her parents. Her eyes widened, glancing down at her left hand where the burn wound was wrapped securely with the green handkerchief. This was the same man who had helped her! What was he doing here?

“Nantan and Nascha Brooks,” the man announced, almost in a bored; disinterested fashion. “I do recall you attempted to steal from one of our clubs.”

“But the idiots we hired were too stupid enough to stop you,” the woman grumbled, clearly annoyed by the way her blue eyes scanned her parents. “We do not take kindly to people stealing from us.”

“We don’t care!” Nascha snapped, lip curling up in distaste. “You white folk, you have everything while you leave the rest of us to rot in the dirty streets! So what if we tried to get a little more?”

“It’s no excuse,” the man shook his head in a bored manner. “My family and I are not the ones who put you in poverty. There’s no one to blame but the government.”

“The government cares little for us,” her father snarled, training his gun on the man. “Now leave, or I’ll blow your brains out! Don't think I won’t!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You won’t kill him,” she reached into her pearl purse, pulling out a shiny black gun that was bigger than the gun Neena had in her hands as she hid. “I bet you don’t even know how to shoot.”

“I’ll shoot your husband!” Nascha grabbed the gun from her father, the man letting out a noise of protest. “I’ll blow his brains out!” Nascha trained her gun on the green eyed man, hands ghosting over the trigger.

But she never did get a chance to shoot. The blonde woman fired her gun before Nascha had the chance to even pull the trigger. The bullet went off before the woman even realized it; dark eyes wide before rolling back into her head and falling to the ground, blood now speaking from her neck. Her father screamed. “NASCHA!” he shot at the woman, but missed and only ended hitting one of the crates. “YOU BITCH! YOU KILLED MY WIFE!”

“And you attempted to kill mine,” the green eyed man shook his head. “And for that, I am afraid I must kill you.”

“What?”

The raven haired man lifted his weapon with ease. The bullet went straight through her father’s temple, the sound of the skull shattering and brains flying everywhere. The blonde woman wiped some of the blood off her face with her handkerchief, looking a bit annoyed. “Messy,” she mused. “Don’t you think?”

“Quite, darling.”

Neena felt her hands shake, but not out of rage. Her parents were dead; gone from this world. The men attempting to kidnap her were dead to. Would these people kill her to? Were they after her now? She gripped the gun a big tighter, attempting to calm herself. Her breathing came out hitched and she felt absolute fear run through her. She couldn’t move; she couldn’t stop trembling. Her feet scuffled against the floor, and she knew it was over. She had drawn attention to herself.

The two adults looked at each other, the man motioning for the woman to follow him. She quivered like a leaf, heart pounding so loudly she could hear the blood roaring in her ears. They neared the crate she was hiding behind, walking as quietly as they could. She didn’t know if they knew her age or not, but if they could kill four adults without blinking, who’s to say they couldn’t do the same to her? With the gun held tightly in her hand, she jumped out in front of them, pointing the weapon at them.

They stopped walking towards her, looking equally surprised and shocked as she stood before them. “Loki,” the woman spoke, looking towards the man. “You did not tell me there was a child here.”

“I am as perplexed by this as you are,” the man, Loki, replied to her calmly, looking back to the bodies of her father and step-mother. “She must be their child, those men over there, I believe, are traffickers.”

“So they were going to sell their daughter for all that money,” the woman wrinkled her nose at the thought. “She’s hardly looks five years old.”

“Some people like that, darling,” Loki sighed and turned his expression to her and narrowed his eyes. “I believe we’ve met before. You were that little girl I found in the park today.”

She kept the gun trained on him, taking a step back. Her hands were still shaking with fear and adrenaline. “S...stay back!” she tried to keep her voice steady, but it ended up coming out like a squeak. “Get away from me!”

“Put the gun down,” Loki reasoned with her calmly, taking a step forward. “I am not going to hurt you. Nor will Ana, for that matter.”

To prove his point, Ana put away her gun and stepped back, not taking her wide blue eyes away from her. Neena kept her focus on Loki, his gun lowered slightly as he kept a relatively calm look on his face. “I can’t trust you!” she reasoned, a bit of blood dribbling down her chin from the cut at the corner of her lip. “You’re just going to hurt me like everyone else!”

“Why would I hurt you?” Loki questioned her evenly, now setting the gun inside his coat pocket. “What would I accomplish by doing that?”

It was a good question, she would admit that to herself many years later when she was a young woman. The gun continued to shake in her hands, and her heart continued to beat rapidly. “I…” her voice was shaky and the smell of blood was so strong, it made her stomach churn. “I...I’m scared…”

“Then put the gun down,” he sighed, though she could have sworn he sounded a bit impatient. He stepped forward, extending his right hand out. “We’re not going to hurt you. I promise.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, though Ana explained years later that her finger slipped and pulled the trigger. The force sent her to the ground; her body too small and weak to handle a gun. She’d never fired one before and for a moment, she thought she killed him. He dropped to the ground in pain, holding his right foot in pain.

She didn’t remember anything after that.

When she awoke, she was in an unfamiliar room; in an unfamiliar bed. With light yellow painted walls and large windows that probably looked over the neighborhood or wherever she was. Slowly, blue eyes opened to the circular motion of the ceiling fan above her head, the blades moving in a hypnotizing fashion.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a man holding gauze gave her a calm smile, his curly brown hair looking a bit mussed like someone had ruffled it. “How are you feeling?”

Everything seemed to hit her at once. She was now aware of the pain in her head and she gingerly poked her cheeks, wincing at how the slightest touch hurt. However, the most pain came from her left hand and she noticed how it had been bandaged lightly. “Where am I?” she found herself asking, staring at him with wide eyes.

“The Odinson house,” the man replied. “They brought you here last night. You were out cold after whatever happened.”

He seemed rather shy, from what she could tell, but that didn’t make anything better. She looked down, realizing she had been cleaned up and placed in warm cotton pajamas. The necklace was still on her neck and she gripped it tightly, biting at her lip. “Who are you?”

“Dr. Banner,” the man didn’t look at her when he spoke, too busy looking over some document. “Now, you shouldn’t bite at your lip; I just gave you stitches.”

She curled up against the blankets, a sudden chill filling the air around her. Her parents were...dead. Gone. Somewhere in the afterlife where she couldn’t find them and they couldn’t hurt her. She thought it would feel liberating, considering that she was free from them, but all she felt was the cold. No hope, no sweet taste of freedom and sense of peace. There was nothing.

Dr. Banner, clearly, was uncomfortable. “I’ll go get Loki and Ana,” he cleared his throat, quickly exiting the room.

He was gone, but not for very long. She just continued to sit in the nest of blankets, remembering all of what happened last night. What if they were angry? She didn’t mean to shoot Loki; she didn’t know how it happened. Though if they wanted to kill her, couldn’t they have done it already?

The door opened and a woman in a short light green dress with puffy short sleeves walked in. She immediately recognized her as Ana and they stared at each other for a good few seconds until Loki arrived behind her, leaning on crutches. When she saw him; the guilt crashed in but she didn’t say anything. Ana walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed, giving a tentative smile. “Feeling any better?” she asked, in a much nicer tone than she expected.

Loki didn’t say anything, but his eyes were very observant; very calculating. She gave Ana a nod, not entirely sure what she could say. Ana only sighed, looking to Loki and gave a shrug. Glancing back up to the woman, she finally said the first question that came to her mind. “So, um, sorry but can you tell me how to get home? There’s...nowhere else for me to go.”

It was a weird feeling that left a sour taste in her mouth. She had nowhere to go, she didn’t have a home anymore. She was homeless, like some of the men and women she’d seen living in boxes on the street. She pushed back the blankets, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry for your foot,” she indicated towards his foot, eyes still downcast. “I’ll leave now.”

“I don’t think that would be in your best interest,” Loki blocked the door, though she figured she could easily crawl out, the look in his eyes stopped her. “The streets isn’t the safest place for a child.”

“What?”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ana amended, raising an eyebrow at him. “Is why don’t you stay here? You’ve gone through a lot and you need rest.”

“But,” she looked over to Loki nervously. “I shot him.”

“He’ll live,” Loki snorted at the woman’s words and rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. “So, why don’t you make your home with us?”

Her eyes widened and she jumped slightly when Loki put a hand on her shoulder. “It would be best if you did,” he spoke, sighing a little. “Wherelse are you going to go?”

He let out a strangled noise when she threw her arms around him, carefully avoiding his injured foot. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, the sweet comfort of relief washing over her like rain. She had a home. A place she could go to.

***

Dinner with Stark was one thing she was not looking forward to, but she was too shocked to say anything.

Luke sat next to her, and across from him was his mother, Pepper Potts. The boy looked a lot like his mother, but he had his father’s eyes. Though if she were to be honest, she didn’t really care who he looked like, she just didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be back home and already, the unfamiliar was beginning to make her sick.

Tony Stark was just too pleased with himself and the table of five was tense. With Pepper trying to ignore Stark and Luke keeping quiet. She looked over at the fifth member of the dinner table and silently wished she could as why Steve was here and not back with Bucky.

Chapter Text

New York City, Brooklyn, September 13, 1938

Never before in his life had Steve been this angry and humiliated.

Bucky didn’t say anything for the longest time on the way home. He just sat there in the car, clenching and twisting his jaw tightly and stared straight ahead and his blue eyes unreadable. His hands kept wringing together in anticipation, as if he were nervous or agitated. Which he was, of course, and Steve knew exactly why.

“Bucky, I-”

“Don’t say a word,” Bucky’s voice cut through like ice, and his eyes didn’t meet his. “Just...shut up.”

Steve felt his face go pink and he swallowed the knot in his throat, turning his head to look out the window. Rain pelted the window and outside the taxis and other vehicles drove by without a care in the world. He pressed his face against the cold window in order to calm his flushing face, but it didn’t help. He didn’t know how to fix this or even where to begin.

Morita kept silent as well, glancing at the two of them awkwardly and muttering to himself in Japanese. He felt bad for the man, having to be in this awkward situation as well. Now everyone knew about the past he so desperately wanted to bury and never look at again. So much for that. When had things gone so terribly wrong?

“Thanks, Morita,” Bucky said tightly as the Asian man parked the car. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Bucky. Night Steve.”

Morita hurried away, and Steve could only stare intently at the sidewalk. After the whole fiasco with Stark, the Odinsons had fled the scene without so much as a goodbye. Never before had he seen Loki and Ana look so defeated. The woman had been so angry, shaking with rage and what he believed to be sorrow. Loki didn’t look any better than his wife; his eyes hollow and so lifeless. He could only imagine that Neena was probably terrified and he didn’t blame her. Who knew what was happening to her.

He followed Bucky into their home quietly, Bucky still not saying a word to him. They went into the office, the brunette closing the door with a slam. He brushed past Steve, opting to lean against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Looking at the wall, he didn't’ meet his eyes.

“Explain,” he ordered in a deadly soft voice. “Everything. Now.”

It took a while to explain everything and during the whole time, Bucky didn’t say a word. He just stood there with an unreadable expression on his face, body tensing every now and then while his face changed from its normal tone to ashy pale. When he was done explaining, he kept quiet for a few more seconds before turning his burning gaze to Steve. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I?” he exclaimed hotly, arms crossed over as if to protect himself. “Where does someone even begin to casually bring up that they were a prostitute almost three years ago!”

“Don’t you get sassy with me,” Bucky shot back angrily, stepping away from the desk to pace across the room. “I just can’t believe you lied to me. Of all people Steven, I never once thought you would lie to me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he admitted, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “I just...didn’t want you to ever find out.”

“Well I did. What possessed you to make you think that hiding this from me was a good idea?” Bucky snapped, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

He couldn’t answer him right away, he could only pace across the room nervously as Bucky stared at him with hurt and angry eyes. “Tell me, Steven, did you love Tony?”

“What? No! Why would you even ask that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, since you slept with him for a year?”

“Don’t you dare,” he stormed over to Bucky, poking him in the chest and glaring up at him. “You don’t know what it was like! You don’t know how hard it was to do those things!”

“You could have called me!” Bucky pushed him back and glared at him even harder. “You could have written to me! You could have gone to my parents; they loved you like you were their own! You could done something other than be a god damn hooker! You’re just too damn proud, Steve! Too proud for your own good!”

“I’m not your charity case, James! I didn’t want your damn money! I could get by on my own!”

“Yeah, and you became a prostitute. You were doing real fine Steven.”

Bucky pushed away from him again and headed over to the desk, running a hand down his face. Steve just stayed put, clenching his fists angrily. What would Bucky know about living on the streets? What would he know? Never in his life did he have to worry about money, or when he was going to get his next meal. “I did what I thought I had to do,” he ground out, keeping his eyes on Bucky’s rigid form. “What would you have done?”

“I wouldn’t have sold my body!” Bucky’s ice blue orbs clashed violently against his and the brunette sauntered over to him. “I wouldn’t have stooped so low because of my pride! God damnit it Steven, why? Why?”

Steve could only stare at him, his heart slamming against his chest. “Why what? Why did I do those things? Because there was nothing I could do to stop it! Things just...flew out of control! With Ma’s death, and then you being away, and getting sick, it was just too much!”

Bucky just pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing something about Tony and then faced him again. “Then why didn’t you call me?” He asked softly, his voice almost inaudible. From outside, thunder crashed and a flash of lightning could be seen. Rain pelted hard against the windows, setting the somber and dismal mood of the entire establishment. Bucky’s eyes met his again and guilt crashed over him. He didn’t mean for this to happen; he hadn’t wanted it at all. Bucky sighed. “You could have called me. I would have gotten on the nearest plane and headed right back to Brooklyn. I just don’t understand you, Steven. I feel,” he ran a hand through his messy hair with his face scrunched up in frustration. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

He felt the blood in his veins freeze, the color from his face fading. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m done with all the secrets!” Bucky slammed his fist on the desk violently, the objects on the desk shaking and the photo of Sarah Rogers fell, shattering with an explosion of glass. Both men were silent, staring at the broken picture frame. “Why did you do this Steven? Who else did you fuck? Did you screw Loki while you were at it?”

“Don’t be crass!” He snapped at Bucky, walking over the crushed glass without a second thought. “I didn’t like being a prostitute! I only did it to survive! You think I enjoyed having the other men’s cocks in my mouth? You think I enjoyed being hit?”

“They hit you?” Bucky’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls and his hands shook from his sides. “They hit you, and you never thought calling me? I would have saved you and-”

“I DON’T NEED FUCKING SAVING! ESPECIALLY BY THE LIKES OF YOU!” He jabbed Bucky in the chest with his right index finger. His body was shaking like a leaf caught in the wind and the blood roared in his ears. The next thing he said just slipped out before he realized it, eyes widening the second he did. “ALL THIS SHIT HAPPENED BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE!”

Bucky’s right hand smacked him across the face, the sound resonating throughout the office, knocking him to the floor. He sat up, blinking in surprise and placed a hand to his hot stinging cheek. Bucky...hit him.

Bucky stood there horrified, looking at his hand with disbelief. “Steven…” he stuttered, his words not coming out clearly. His face paled drastically and he looked so disgusted with himself. “Steven, I…”

Steve brought himself to his feet slowly, hand caressing the cheek where Bucky had hit him. He stared at Bucky in betrayal. “Bucky, why?”

“Steven, I didn’t…”

“Save it,” he stormed over to the coat rack near the door and grabbed the closest hat he could reach. Bucky just stood there in shame, unable to say a thing; the simplest of apologies. “I’m leaving.”

Bucky kept quiet and stared out the window in bewilderment, as if he couldn’t process what had just occurred.

He threw open the door and walked dramatically out, pausing in the middle of the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, waiting for the footsteps to sound down the hall and the familiar voice to call out for him. He waited for those familiar arms to wrap around him and that nose to bury itself in his hair. He waited for words, “Babydoll, don’t go. I love you. I need you. I can’t live without you, Steve.”

But there was nothing. No sound uttered through the doorway. He continued his way down the stairs and out the front door. The rain pelted down on his face despite wearing the hat that was probably too big for him. It was probably  Bucky’s and he threw it on the ground, stomping his way down the street to who knows where. He flagged down a taxi, throwing his watch that Bucky bought for him towards the driver. “Keep it,” he ordered grumpily and the driver shrugged, muttering something Italian.

“Where to, sir?” The man asked carefully, avoiding his gaze.

“Stark Manor.”

The driver just nodded and started to drive, weaving his way through the lanes and passing other vehicles as they left the familiar landscape of Brooklyn.  He slumped in the seat, resting his head against the cold glass. This was a mess, a huge mess that he didn't know how to fix. His cheek throbbed, a harsh reminder of what happened only a few minutes ago. Bucky had never hit him before; never even laid a finger on him in that context.

In the distance, Stark manor glowed almost brighter than the rest of the city. His jaw tensed in anger, fingers curling into fists. None of this would have happened if Tony kept his damn mouth shut. Neena wouldn't be missing, the Odinsons wouldn't be angry with him, and Bucky wouldn’t hate him. Things would be fine if Tony hadn’t opened his damn mouth.

He slammed the taxi door shut, the driver speeding away into the rainy night. It was only half past nine; so lots of people were out on the streets. He threw open the doors to Tony’s offices, ignoring the threats and glares from the other men and women that worked in Tony’s circle. They knew him; they knew him very well and at the top of the stairs, stood Pepper Potts.

“Pepper,” he nodded his head curtly, her face grim as she moved a strand of hair back. “You’re looking well.”

“I would say the same to you,” she replied back and sighed sadly. “But, I know why you’re here. Follow me.”

She opened another door, motioning for him to follow her. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor made her sound intimidating to the other men lingering nearby and they immediately scattered from the hallway. For as long as he knew Pepper, he knew she was not someone to mess around with. Especially when it came to the well being of the Stark mafia and Luke. Steve kept silent on the way up to Tony’s office, or wherever it was that Pepper was leading him to. He had almost forgotten how vast and spacious Tony’s apartments were. He did not, however, forget how trapped he felt when staying in the place.

Pepper opened the door to a sitting room, set with a large radio and several leather couches. A bar sat in the background and he could instantly feel the warmth coming from the fire place. Near the counter, a boy of average height was wrapping ice in a cloth, his eyes glancing over to the sound of the door opening to the figure of a small girl with black hair sitting on the floor, holding her cheek in a daze.

“Neena!” He called out, forgetting his anger momentarily as he rushed past Pepper to the girl. He knelt down in front of her, her eyes widening at the sight of her. “What happened to you?”

The boy came over and kneeled down, pressing the compress lightly against her cheek. Steve felt the anger rush back in, the thought of some jerk hitting a kid adding on to the anger he felt towards Tony at that moment. Did Tony allow someone to hit Neena? Or did Tony hit her?

“Steve, so happy you could make it.”

With a bourbon  glass in his hand, Tony Stark stood near the exit door of the room, with a knowing smirk on his face. The boy holding the compress to Neena’s face looked up, concern rapidly changing to fear as he looked up towards the older man. Pepper walked over to stand beside the boy, bringing Neena up so she could usher the two of them away.

He stormed over to Tony and stabbed him in the chest with his finger. “You bastard!” He snarled in righteous anger, pushing an unsuspecting Tony in the process. “You goddamned bastard! Why did you do this! Why? Give me one good reason!”

“One reason?”

“Yes!”

Walking around the bar casually, Tony set his drink down on the counter, leaning against the back counter. “Want anything?” He offered, extending his hand to the amount of liquid he had stored away. “No? Suit yourself.”

“Answer the question!”

Tony held up his hands, that stupid smirk still on his face. “I really didn’t do anything. This is all your fault, Steve. Maybe if you hadn’t, oh, I don’t know, lied to Bucky all these years then he wouldn’t have thrown you out. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Bucky didn’t throw me out,” he replied quickly, the smirk on Tony’s face growing wider. “He didn’t do anything.”

“Right,” Tony didn’t sound convinced as he stared directly into his face. “So did you get that bruise by running into a door or falling down?”

“It’s none of your business!” He snapped at the older man, who merely shrugged again and continued to look smug. “You didn’t have to tell Bucky. I thought I made it pretty clear that I don’t want you to be apart of my life anymore!”

“And you expect me to care?” Tony answered back frankly, scoffing at the mere idea. “Are you just going to stand there and blame me about your problems? It’s your own fault you’re in this mess.”

“I never wanted Bucky to find out; there was no need for him to. Everything was fine and then you just had to come in and ruin things!” He glared at Tony fiercely, a bit surprised by how annoyed Tony appeared now. “I just want to know why you would do this. What on earth did you have to gain?”

“You, of course,” Tony stared into his eyes, crossing his arms over his not very broad chest.

“Me?”

“Well who else is standing in the room right now?” Tony snorted, stepping towards him. Even though he wasn’t that tall, he still managed to tower over him. “I’ve been wanting you back for some time now.”

In just like that, Tony’s lips were over his; dominating and full of force. He could taste the alcohol in his mouth and smell it on him as he inhaled sharply. He brought his right hand up, slapping the older man with as much force as he could muster. “What the hell was that?” He asked, stepping back from Tony, who just wiped his lips. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Well, you wanted me to,” Tony shrugged nonchalantly, still looking rather smug with himself. “Why else would you be here?”

The idea was so absurd that Steve just stood there dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He didn’t want Tony to…do that. He hadn’t wanted that at all! “I didn’t want you to kiss me!” He growled, attempting to sound intimidating but Tony wasn’t easily intimidated.

“Then what do you want, Steve?” Tony asked again, this time with a little sigh. “If you didn’t want me to do that, then why are you here?”

He still didn’t have an answer to that. As he stood there in Tony’s living room, the thought dawned on him. Why was he here? Out of all the places he could have gone to, why was Tony’s the first place he went to? Where was the reason? He came to Tony’s to...to...to do what? He still couldn’t think of a reason.

“Face it, Steve,” Tony was so close to him now, his breath warm against his ear. “You missed me. You miss what we had. Sure you love Bucky, but if you didn’t want me at all then why did you come back? I can answer that for you, actually. I brought you adventure, and you can deny it all you want, but I know you want the rush; the adrenaline I gave you.”

He shoved Tony back, the words stabbing him in the chest. He wanted to deny it; say that Tony was wrong but deep down he knew he wasn’t. He had learned all he knew about pleasing men from Tony long before he started sleeping with Bucky. There was a part of him that ached; that yearned for Tony and the feelings he brought afterwards. It was sickening; an insult to Bucky and he knew it.

He just didn’t know what was right anymore.

“You shouldn’t have left,” Tony breathed into his ear. “You know, none of this would have happened if you had just stayed with me.”

He glared at him, wishing that his heart would stop pounding so hard against his chest. “You know I can’t,” he replied back, keeping his voice calm for once. “I love Bucky; I’ll always go back to him. Even if he’s mad at me.”

“What if he hated you?”

“Bucky would never hate me!”

Tony had never been very aggressive before, but Steve would admit that he was surprised when he was suddenly pressed up against the nearest wall, now being forced to stare deep into Tony’s eyes. “What if he left you?” Tony asked again, in that mocking tone of his. “Now that Barnes’ knows where you’ve been, what makes you think he’ll want you?”

The more he thought about it, the more the seed of doubt grew. When he left, Bucky didn’t say anything. He just stood there, as if he was okay with him leaving. As if he didn’t want him anymore. If Bucky didn’t want him or love him anymore, then what else was there? What else was there left in life? A world without Bucky...he couldn’t even imagine it.

Tony tried to kiss him again, but Steve wasn’t having any of that. He pushed Tony away again, though his hands were still grasping the edge of his shirt, as if to pull him back somehow. He didn’t want Tony; he shouldn’t want Tony, but…

He pulled the slightly taller man back to him, their lips crashing over each other in a bruising kiss. It reminded him of so many of their nights together back when he still lived with Tony. There was no love behind it, not like Bucky’s kisses. The kiss was full of pent up frustration and lust with Tony pressing his whole body into his, just so he could feel every lean muscle in Tony’s body.

The rest was a bit blurry after that. He could remember making it to Tony’s room, clothes discarded and scattered across the room. He scraped his nails across Tony’s back as the older man drove him into the mattress and achieved his goal of making Steve forget about everything at the moment. All he could focus on right now was the pain and pleasure coursing throughout his body as he moved against Tony’s now sweaty body, panting just as hard as the older man.

When Tony eventually released, he collapsed on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling. It was then that everything hit him again. He wanted to go back to Bucky, forget this night had ever happened. Forget those awful months of being on his own and pretend that Bucky had been there by his side. However, he couldn’t deny that the bad things in his life had occurred and that Bucky was somewhere in New York City furious with him.

He didn’t know what hurt more.

Chapter Text

New York City, Queens, September 15, 1938

“Now, if you were smart man, I would advise you to tell me what Stark is planning. It’s in your best interest, after all.”

Sitting in a black leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, Loki stared coldly at the man who was currently strung up in front of him. Blood covered the man’s face and body, slowly dripping onto the cold stone floor like rain. Several of his bones had been broken in the process that had been going down for several hours now and he was swaying in and out of consciousness. The man went by the name of Marco, and he was one of the lesser members of Stark’s mob, definitely not someone who would be missed right away. Or at all, considering it was Stark.

“I’ll ask again,” he nodded for Thor, who picked up the rather large hammer and held it close to the man’s face. “What is Stark planning?”

“I...I don’t know!” Marco pleaded desperately, spitting out a tooth that landed on the ground with a faint plink. “You must believe me, Mr. Odinson! I don’t know what he’s up to! Mr. Stark is very secretive!”

The door to the basement opened and the sound of heels echoed onto the floor. Ana appeared by his side, a gun placed steadily in her hand. “If you don’t want your brains splattered on the ground,” she stared at him dead in the eye, no trace of hesitancy on her face. “Then I advise you to answer the question.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!” Marco pleaded, shaking in his restraints while tears poured down his cheeks. “Have mercy, signore! Please! Mr. Stark doesn’t tell us anything! The only person he tells his plans to is Ms. Potts!”

“Pepper,” Thor drawled out in a slow tone and turned to his brother. “She is a good woman. I cannot begin to imagine what she would be doing with Stark.”

“They...they have a son!” Marco whimpered, pulling on the handcuffs linking him to a hook chained to the ceiling. “Oh no, I’ve said too much! Mr. Stark will definitely kill me now!”

“Why would he do that?” Ana asked, though she sounded a bit uninterested.

“N...no one...is supposed to know!” Marco shook violently. “Please! Please kill me now! Mr. Stark will if you don’t!”

“You still have not told us what we want to know,” Loki leaned forward, lips pressed in a thin, irritated line. Marco still trembled, looking at him with absolute fear. “Thor, I believe now is the time to do your worst.”

“With pleasure!” Thor announced in a hearty voice and brought the hammer down onto Marco’s chest once more. The Italian let out a blood curdling scream, the sounds of two or more ribs breaking again. Blood dribbled down his chest and several times he choked on his own fluids. He coughed, spitting out another tooth and wailed even harder.

“Please stop! Please!” He continued to scream as Thor struck him in the knee cap, the sound of the kneecap shattering ringing in Loki’s ears. It didn’t bother him; human misery certainly didn’t. He just folded his hands neatly, watching with a passive face as the blood went flying in different directions. He certainly didn’t feel any pity for this man, even if he hadn’t been directly responsible for Neena’s kidnapping.

She was probably alone and very frightened, more than likely thinking they abandoned her. The thought of someone hurting her made him clench his jaw more tightly. He never even thought of Stark doing something like this. She was so small; so nonthreatening to anyone. Yes, so she had shot him in the foot years ago, but that was unintentional. He just never considered Stark pulling a move like this. He hadn’t even seen it coming and the fact that Stark had gotten the better of him made him even angrier. Stark would pay for this. No matter how long it took, he would have Stark kneeling before him begging for mercy. He would be sure of it.

The more he thought about it, the more furious he felt. He had made a promise to her that nothing would ever hurt her. In hindsight, not the most realistic promise to make but she’d been so distressed she needed to hear it.

“I will never let anything bad happen to you.”

“He didn’t know! He didn’t know she was a kid!”

“Wait Thor,” Ana lowered her gun, shooting Marco a confused look. “Stark knows Neena; knows she’s a kid. Explain yourself.”

After heaving brokenly for a few minutes, Marco coughed, blood splattering on the blonde woman’s dress. “No...no…” he coughed again, blood oozing from his nose. “She was...with three men. I believe she was around five and they were traffickers,” a bubble of blood burst through his lips and a ragged breath broke out before he spoke again. “They wanted...to give her to Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark was furious; said he was not into children and had one man killed.”

The three of them went silent, shocked by what was just revealed. Marco hung brokenly from the chains, breathing heavy and blood still dripping to the floor. Ana turned her wide blue eyes to him, and she had paled severely. “Did you know that?” She asked quietly, hand tightening around her gun. “Did she tell you that?”

“I had no idea,” he responded back, feeling unusually nauseous now. The fact that she had never brought it up; told him multiple times she said couldn’t remember much of when she was in their hands. Why hadn’t she said anything? Eleven year old girls weren’t supposed to have secrets and they were especially not supposed to hide serious secrets from their fathers.

“Thor,” he spoke in a voice not to be heard; glaring darkly at the man strung up in front of them. “Show our guest the way out.”

“WAIT! NO!”

New York City, Brooklyn, September 15, 1938

“It’s been two days, James. How long are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself?”

From the seat of his office chair, Bucky took a long sip of vodka straight from the bottle, the clear liquid trickling down his throat. Natasha, from her position against the wall, stared at him in an unimpressed way. “Call him,” she ordered softly, sighing in exasperation as he ignored her. “It’s been two days; it’s obvious you miss him.”

“Nope.”

She muttered something in Russian, and he gave her a face. She shook her curly red hair, the ringlets sweeping against her face. “Why not?” She asked, hands on her hips. “James, you’re being an idiot.”

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes at her, setting the bottle down on the table. “Any other names you’d like to call me?”

“Oh no, I believe Ana called you a majority of them last night.”

He cringed, glancing quickly at the phone on his desk. He wasn’t sure how late it was last night when she called, only that he had been drinking some whiskey and then the phone rang. When he picked it up, all he got was a mouthful of her yelling, some curses thrown in his direction amongst other things. Loki ended up taking the phone away from her, speaking to him in a deathly cold manner and denouncing their friendship. By the time the phone call ended, he just grabbed another bottle and drank himself to sleep.

“We’re no longer friends with the Odinsons’,” he sighed, not feeling as bad as he probably should. He couldn’t feel much of anything right now. “I’ve never seen them this angry.”

“Their daughter’s with Stark; can you blame them?” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just watching you right now is pathetic.”

He smiled at her. “You always say the nicest things, Nat.”

“Just call Steve!” She snapped lightly, stepping forward to give him a look that rivaled his mother’s when she was upset with him. “Kiss and makeup or whatever is you two do! This is getting ridiculous.”

She strode out of the room, walking with purpose and almost slamming the door shut on the way behind her. He eyed the phone hesitantly, rethinking her words. He knew she was right; this fight was ridiculous but how could Steve do this? How could he not tell him?

He looked down at his right hand, the tingling sensation of it hitting Steve’s cheek still there. He hit Steve. He hit Steve. How could he do something like that? Steve...Steve was everything to him; his whole world. Without Steve, he would be lost. Oh wait, like right now.

He slammed the bottle down on the table, a hand running down his face. It was strange not having Steve around. What would he be doing at this time in the morning? Oh yes, he’d be getting ready for the day or he’d just stay in bed and they’d cuddle or do other things. As he walked around their home yesterday, it felt empty. He popped his head into their parlor, expecting to see him sketching and watercoloring.

He could remember one time he found Steve in there, doing some sketch and when he saw him standing in the entryway, a large smile growing on his face. His blue eyes, lite up like the sun and his beautiful voice spoke out. “Hey Bucky,” he had greeted him, setting the book down. “Welcome home.”

Now there was nothing. It didn’t feel the same around their home anymore. He closed his palm, regretting piercing him like a knife. He shouldn’t have hit Steve; he was supposed to protect him not hurt him. Everything was so wrong now; so messed up and he wasn’t sure where to fix it. He couldn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t sleep without knowing Steve was beside him and the soft noise of his breathing was no longer there to lull him to sleep.

Damnit, why did Natasha have to be right all the time?

He picked up the phone, spinning the dial around for the right numbers and held it firmly pressed to his ear. It rang three times before someone picked it up. He was about ready to chew Stark out when he heard a small voice answer it. “Hello? Who’s this?”

When did Stark have a kid? Oh well, that wasn’t too important right now. “Get Mr. Stark on the phone,” he ordered, trying his best to be polite. His ma did raise him with manners, after all. “This is James Barnes.”

“Dad’s in his room right now; I’m not supposed to bother him.”

“Tell him it’s important, okay?” He sighed, trying to be patient. It was a lot harder than it looked and considering he was on an important mission right now.

“Alright,” the kid responded hesitantly, probably fearing that Stark would beat him or something. He doubted Stark would do that, but one never knew. The line was set down, the sound of the kid running through the penthouse echoing through the line. He waited ten, thirty seconds, a whole minute before the person he wanted answered the phone.

“Bucky,” Stark sounded way too happy to be calling. “Whatever can I do for you?”

“Steve,” he replied shortly, practically glaring into the phone at Stark’s smug voice. “Get Steve on the line right now.”

“‘M afraid I can’t do that.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Well you see,” Stark trailed off absently, probably examining his nails or looking over some new electronic blueprint. “Steve told me about what you did two nights ago; practically in tears I might add. Did I mention he came running to me? Never thought you had it in you, Barnes, to hit poor defenseless Stevie.”

He curled his teeth at the condescending tone of the Italian’s voice. “Don’t call him Stevie; you have no right!”

“And you do?” Stark mocked, and he could see the smirk on the older man’s face. “After what you did to him, I don’t think you deserve to call him that.”

“Just put Steve on the phone!”

“Ah ah, ‘fraid I can’t do that,” Stark just sounded so damn pleased with himself. If it could get any bigger, his ego would be even bigger than the empire state building. “Steve said he never wants to see you again. Says he can’t be around people who’ll hurt him. Reminds him of his old days as a hooker, you know?”

He felt his heart drop all the way down to his stomach. Steve...didn’t want him anymore? No, no, that couldn’t be right! Steve would never leave him; even if he was angry with him. “You’re lying!” He growled into the end piece. “Steve would never leave me!”

“Are you so sure about that? I was the was the one who was there for him when he needed protection. I was the one who had to hold him when he feared the bad men who hurt him were coming after him. And what did you do, Barnes? Slap him around, throw a punch or two? I think Steve deserves better than you. And I for one, will happily provide him the love and care he needs.”

This was sick, so sick he could feel bile rising in his throat. Steve wanted Stark. Wanted Stark this whole time and he never saw it. This...this didn’t make any sense. This had to be a lie! “Tell Steve,” he wet his lips, the nausea making the world sway around him. “Tell Steve that I’m sorry, that I want to make it up to him. I didn't mean to do what I did.”

Stark just barked a laugh before speaking again. “Steve’s not an idiot, Barnes. Like he’s going to go back to the one who hurt him. He said he’s done with you. He said he never wants to see you again and that you’re useless to him. You couldn’t protect him or support him; all you could do was hurt him.”

He couldn’t say anything for the longest time; all he could do was stand there and stare at the picture of Steve on his desk. He remembered their fight, the words that he had said. Dammit, if he had just listened to Steve! If he had just heard him out before judging; calling him out on his stubborn pride! This was all his fault. He should have never gone to Chicago; should have never left Steve to suffer on his own. Now Steve hated him and quite frankly, he hated himself too.

“So, he never wants to see me again?”

“That’s what he said.”

“I see…” he trailed off, swallowing the hurt down to sound at least somewhat professional. “Will he truly be happy if he never sees me again?”

“He was so angry, Barnes. The angriest and saddest I’ve ever seen out of him,” Stark just sighed dramatically. “It would make him beyond happy to never see you again.”

“...Alright,” he cleared his throat once, twice. The bottle of vodka on his desk now looking so inviting. “Then tell him...tell him...that if it makes him happy, I won’t call again. Could you tell him that?”

“Will do, Barnes.”

He didn’t even bother to say goodbye; he just set the phone back on the dial and slumped down into his chair. Never once had he thought of this happening. Not ever in his wildest dreams had he ever pictured this. He reached into the drawer of his desk, fishing out a red velvet box. Opening it revealed a golden band; the same band his father wore when he married his mother. “I’m sorry Steve,” he murmured. “I never meant for it to go this far.”

***

“Who was that on the phone?”

As he set the phone back on the dial, Tony turned around to see Steve standing there in the center of the room, hair still wet from his shower. He smiled, stepping towards the smaller male and wrapped an arm around him. “Just someone who we don’t like,” he commented airily, waving a hand dismissively. “What do you care?”

Steve made a bitch face, and he would never admit to anyone that it looked cute. “Seriously Tony, who was that?” He asked again, all seriousness now.

“Fine, you got me. It was Barnes.”

The way Steve’s face lit up made him bite his tongue to stop the snide comment that was just wanting to be said aloud. “He called? Why didn’t you tell me? Call him again; let me talk to him this time! We can...we can work things out!”

He stopped the blonde, placing both hands on his shoulders to stop him from moving. “I don’t think that would be a good idea; he sounded pretty angry.”

“Just call him back; I can get him to calm down!”

“He said he never wants to see you again.”

All of a sudden, Steve stopped struggling against him. He was frozen like a statue and his round blue eyes grew to the size of golf balls. “What?” He sounded so bewildered, as if those words could never exist. “Tony, that’s not funny! He wouldn’t say that!”

He sighed, feigning a disappointed and sad look. “I don’t know how you put up with that bastard,” he looked to Steve, who just stared at him in shock. “He said he couldn’t stand being with someone who whored himself out to other people. He called you a whore, Steve! And you still want to talk to him?”

The look on Steve’s face, well, it could probably kill a thousand puppies. “A whore…” he whispered, the shock evident in his tone. “Bucky called me a whore…”

“He said that if he ever sees you again in his territory, he’ll pimp you out to all the other men in the city. ‘Said that if you like sleeping with other people so much, you might as well get him some profit out of it,” Tony shook his head, rolling his eyes in mock disgust. “He told me to tell you he no longer wants you around; that he can't trust you for not telling him sooner.”

He almost wanted to laugh right then and there. He didn’t expect Steve to buy into this so soon; or at all if he were being real honest. However, there were a few advantages he had on his side. One, was that the two of them were young; twenty-one and hardly what one could call men. Barnes may have had Brooklyn passed down to him and quickly shaped things up for the better, but he was still young and ran by his emotions. Second, they both were still just children who believed that love was truly a real thing. Sure they ran Brooklyn together, but what did they know of the world? He had at least forty something years of life compared to theirs; he knew more than they did.

Steve just looked so crestfallen, standing there frozen as if he couldn’t move anymore. All this drama for that Barnes boy; an Irish rat who somehow got control of Brooklyn. Himself though, well, he couldn’t have been happier. The seed of doubt and heartbreak was growing. He had everything he wanted and a few things he could do without. He had Pepper, their son, Luke, and now Steve. Everything was perfect!

Except he’d have to do something about the Odinson girl. He wouldn’t kill her, (even Tony Stark had some morals) or sell her to some pervert, but he certainly wasn’t going to give her back to Loki. There was too much history; stuff she probably hadn’t ever told her adopted parents.

But all this could be handled later. Right now, he had what he wanted and he sure as hell would not let Steve go back to Bucky.

Chapter Text

New York City, Manhattan, October 1, 1938

“Oh God...Steve…”

He cringed slightly as Tony pulled out of him, the dark haired man landing with a loud sigh on his half of the bed. The afternoon rays of the sun poured through creating a blanket of warmth that added to the afterglow of sex that had just happened. His inhaler lay on the nightstand next to him and he glanced at it as his chest heaved up and down. He didn’t think he would need it, but it was there just in case. Bucky always made sure he had it with him no matter where they were.

Bucky…

He furrowed his eyebrows, closing his eyes to erase the name from his mind. It didn’t matter where he was or who he was with, he could see Bucky everywhere. He kept trying to push him from his mind, but he just kept coming back. He and Bucky were over; done with. The brunette didn’t want anything to do with him anymore because of his past and if he couldn’t get over that, well then, his loss.

Yet, he just couldn’t quite convince himself to believe that. He and Bucky grew up together in the comforting and familiar streets of Brooklyn. They were just six years old and Bucky had been sick, so his mother had hired his to check him out and see if they needed to get a doctor. After that, the two of them had been inseparable ever since. Now it had been two weeks since he’d seen the man and he wouldn’t deny that he missed him.

He wrapped the blankets around him, draping them around his shoulders like Neena often did. Now he understood what she meant when she went around saying she was cold. She had described it to him as being so unbearably lost and lonely that she would feel as if she were frozen. He felt as if someone had stuck him in ice for forty years and he just couldn’t escape from that feeling.

He snapped out of his musings by Tony getting up from the bed, not even looking back at him as he picked up his clothes. The sex had been a complete surprise to him. He had been sitting in the main sitting room while Tony and Pepper were discussing business with some strange man. Luke was away at some boy scout event and Neena off hiding until he came back. So it had just been him drawing a sketch when Tony came in, knocking the sketch pad out of his lap and kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Obviously it had ended in sex, but normally Tony laid around for a few minutes to catch his breath before deciding if he wanted to go another round or go fix himself a drink

“Where are you going?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as Tony turned around to face him. “I’m not some cheap whore you can shag whenever you like.”

“That’s ironic, coming from you,” Tony smirked as he buttoned the collar of his dark blue shirt. “I have a, meeting, with someone.”

“Who?”

He looked over at the clock on the wall across the room. “It’s a little late to be having a meeting, isn’t it?” He wasn’t quite sure if four o’clock was too late to have a meeting, but considering this was Tony, it probably was a normal thing. “It wouldn’t happen to be with someone I know, would it?”

“Oh, no,” Tony shook his head absently, not looking too concerned to bother telling him more details. “You wouldn’t know this person. She’s new in town; just came from Germany or was it Austria?”

He frowned suspiciously and swung his legs over the side of the bed, the lower half of his body protesting. He picked up his own clothes, determined to find out who Tony was going to meet. “Well if they’re a friend of yours, I’m sure you don’t mind me meeting them?” he asked, not even pausing for a response. “Right?”

“There’s no need for you to meet them, Steve,” Tony brushed him off coolly, not even batting an eyelash as he fastened his belt around his waist. “They’re not a friend or anything like that.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Look,” Tony sighed, one hand placed on his hip and his dark brown eyes betraying no emotion. He knew that wasn’t entirely true; he could tell when Tony was getting irritated. He would give out a little sigh and the timbre of his voice would change slightly. Like it just did right now. “You don’t need to meet them; there’s no need for you to. So why don’t you stay here and look pretty or whatever it is you do.”

“I’m not your whore,” he snapped, adjusting the collar of his shirt. The words stung even worse than a bee sting, worse than one of the stomach ulcers he would get. “I’m not your personal whore, Tony!”

Tony stepped over to the door, twisting the handle to the right and pulled it open. Before stepping

through he paused, turning his head back and gave a little shrug. “You used to be, Steve,” he said without any trace of humor in his tone. “I don’t see why it’s so different now.”

The door clicked shut, leaving him standing in the room looking like he’d just been punched in the gut. Was he surprised Tony would say something like that? No, he wasn’t. It would be easy to pretend that it was surprising but then he wasn’t one who could deny his emotions for very long. He LIVED off his own emotions and he knew exactly what he was feeling right now. Anger was one; oh it was definitely there. The way his hands curled into fists and how he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. It was there in the way his stomach coiled and the blood boiled within him. Yet lying beneath the anger was the hurt; the rejection. The sounds of the words ringing in his ear like a repeated slap to the face. Bucky would introduce him to the friends he made in Chicago, even if they weren’t exactly the nicest or open-minded.  They never said anything that would make Bucky cross nor say anything hurtful towards him for fear that Bucky would be angry and renounce their friendship.

Again, that itching feeling that something was wrong came up and Steve would have to be an idiot to ignore it. While he still felt the sting of Bucky’s rejection, something still didn’t sit right. His former boyfriend’s words didn’t sound at all like something Bucky would say; those words didn’t sound like they’d come from him. For a moment, he briefly pondered the idea that Tony lied to him. It wouldn’t be the first time that’d happened but he couldn’t prove it right now. If he directly confronted Tony, which in any normal circumstance he would, but Tony knew how to lie. He knew which strings to pull and when to pull them. He wasn’t called a genius for nothing, after all.

He stepped out of Tony’s room, past the hallway and into the living room. A very spacious room with high windows and pristine white carpet. The fireplace was lit, allowing the whole room to be wrapped in a comfortable blanket of heat. He stood next to the bar, fingers drumming irritably against the black tile countertop. The double door stood right across from him and a thought crossed his mind just by looking at it. Tony wasn’t here at the moment and the last time he’d been here, Pepper helped him escape when Tony was in Europe. He could leave anytime he wanted and there wasn’t anyone around to stop him.

He crept towards the door, hands twisting the brass knobs to the right and he pulled only to be met with resistance. He frowned, trying once more and pulling even harder yet the doors did not budge. “Damnit, Tony,” he growled, continuing to attempt to pull open the door through sheer willpower alone. “Goddamn you!”

“It’s not going to open; believe me, I’ve tried.”

He turned around to see Neena standing next to one of the leather couches, sketchbook tucked under small right arm. She didn’t look to be entirely surprised by him trying to open the door, but she did shake her head. “That jerk always locks the door,” she griped, and he didn’t blame her for being upset by this. “I don’t know either,” he rolled his eyes and stepped away from the door. He sat down on one of the couches, never breaking eye contact from her. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded but from the way she bit her lip and how she clenched her hands, he knew better. Her left hand released and she brought it up to her hair, which had recently been cut. It now lay above her shoulders; not nearly as long as it once had been. “I...I just want to go home.”

He didn’t ignore the stab of guilt that hit him, nor the anger that boiled in his veins. Tony had him; he got what he wanted so why was she still here? He didn’t think Tony cared if she was Loki’s daughter; he doubted the man had anything Tony wanted. Of course, Tony might be keeping her here just to be a jerk but that didn’t make any sense either.

“He’s down in his office if you want to go eavesdrop,” she started again and fished around in her pocket to reveal a key. She grinned at this, clearly amused by his surprise. “Luke gave this to me in case I get bored.”

Ah, of course she would have something like that. Though it made sense Luke would have keys to the place considering he lived here. The last time he was here, Luke wasn’t around; he hadn’t even known the kid existed. He had pondered the idea of why Tony wanted him to be a secret, but quickly shook that thought away. “Let’s go,” he nodded towards the girl, whose grin only widened.

He took the key from her, unlocking the doors and poking his head out quickly to make sure no one was in the hallway. She followed him down the hall, silent and looking rather excited to be breaking the rules. Well, Tony’s rules, anyway.

Tony’s office was about as big as the living room if not just a bit bigger. It had the same carpeting and wall theme, but it looked less used. Nothing looked as if it was out of place minus the mess of papers on Tony’s mahogany desk. There were four cream colored leather couches in the form of a circle, with a coffee table from Italy in the middle. He knew Tony’s real office was in his laboratory where he worked on inventions and what not, but this place was for more formal meetings. A nice sitting area where he could talk to more prestigious looking people. Or when Pepper decided he needed to actually do work and made him go in here to do it. Notably away from his new fangled technology.

“I thought he had a meeting,” Neena voiced as she stepped carefully into the office, which was currently vacant. He followed her in, looking around the brightly lit room for any sign of the Italian man. Yet there was no sign of him at all; just an empty room that had a lingering feeling of loneliness. Neena looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Steve,” she practically whispered, taking ahold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. “What if Tony gets mad we’re in here?”

She gingerly touched her cheek, the same part of her that Tony had struck. Not that Tony did it on purpose; according to Pepper he’d never hit Luke before and didn’t really know how to act around kids so he hadn’t realized that he hit Neena too hard. He hadn’t seen the man go near her since, probably out of guilt since the bruise was pretty big. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, if Tony gets mad I’ll take care of it,” he promised her with a firm voice. “He won’t hit you again, I promise.”

“You sure?” she asked warily, letting go of his hand and looked up at him once more with a surprisingly suspicious look. “Loki promised me I wouldn’t get hurt and now I’m here.”

“Well I’m not Loki,” he knelt down to her eye level, a hand on her small shoulder and a reassuring smile on his face. “You can count on me to make sure you’re alright.”

“Okay,” she nodded, a faint blush on her cheek. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Schmidt. Really, I must tell you it’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Please, call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father.”

His eyes met Neena’s, her eyes going as wide as his. He grabbed her by the arm, despite her small cry of protest and pulled her to the couch with its back facing the window. It was the farthest couch from the door, yet it was the closest one he could reach and hide the two of them behind. The footsteps echoing in the hall became louder until the door opened once more and two figures stepped in. He couldn’t see them, but he could tell one of them was Tony by the faint scent of his cologne. The other person, Mrs. Schmidt, was a mystery. Since when did Tony have German friends? It seemed unlikely that he would but who knows what the man’d been up to in the past two years.

He didn’t dare turn around to sneak a peek at the woman, for fear that one of them would catch him and then they’d probably be in real trouble. He cast a warning look to the small girl beside him, shaking his head slightly to warn her against looking around the edge of the couch. She’d gone drastically pale and despite his partial deafness, he could almost hear the frantic beats of her heart.

“You look well, Tony,” Mrs. Schmidt began, a pleasant tone in her light German accent. “My husband sends his regards; he’s a very busy man, you know.”

“Tell him I said hello,” he knew Tony was by the bar, pouring something into a glass with a slightly loud plinking sound. Then the footsteps lightly treaded across the carpet as he handed a drink towards his foreign visitor. “Ah, but before you ask, I’ve got the papers all ready to go.”

“Good. Is she here?”

“Oh, she’s been here for awhile. She’s been kind of pain, but other than that she’s been quiet. My boy’s fond of her,” Tony gave a slight laugh, setting his drink down on the coaster with a dull noise. “But in all seriousness, you can take her whenever you want.”

“That is very good,” she sounded happy, evident from the pleased timbre of her voice. “Once I return home with her, your order will be on its way. My husband is sure you will be very pleased with the results of your deal.”

He could practically sense the grin on Tony’s face. “And I look forward to seeing those results. Your daughter is around the place somewhere. I don’t really keep track of where she is. Woman’s job, you know?”

“I understand completely.”

He glanced at Neena, whose eyes were widening to the largest size he’d ever seen. He felt his stomach twist like a pretzel, finally realizing who this woman was. Why on earth was Neena’s biological mother here? As far as he knew, she had abandoned her as a baby and no one had ever seen her. How did she know she was even here? With the way Neena was looking at him, the same questions were running around in her mind as well.

“It is disgusting to see that my child has been raised with the Odinsons,” the woman spat that name out as if it were a word so disgusting that it physically repulsed her. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it had to be one of absolute loathing and distaste. “I didn’t care so much when she’d been living with her boorish father, but when one of my resources told me she’d been adopted by the Odinson family, I knew I had to act. My husband agreed completely with me, you know.”

“Yes,” Tony cleared his throat. “I believe I’ve heard this story before.”

“Well,” the woman just sighed dramatically, probably with an eyeroll as well. “It is what it is. The least I can do is get her away from those Norwegian barbarians and back with my family. It is good for her to be around members of the pure race. Even if she is half a red skin.”

“Anyway,” Tony continued, and Steve had the vague sense that the man was uncomfortable with this sort of talk. Not that it was uncommon; a lot of people had a similar sort of thinking. Now that he thought about it, some Americans were moving to Germany for some reason, but he quickly cast those thoughts aside. He nudged Neena, whose lower lip was starting to tremble out of fear. Anger was beginning to rise in him once again. He couldn’t just let this woman take her away! If she were really her mother and if she truly cared about the girl, she wouldn’t have abandoned her in the first place. This was absolute bull shit! “So, when are the shipments due to come in?”

“About a week or so,” the woman, Mrs. Schmidt, spoke once more. “In the meantime, you said it would be alright for me to return home with my daughter?”

“Yes, by all means take her away.”

He couldn’t stand to listen to this anymore. He stood up, the woman shrieking for a moment at his appearance. Neena jumped up beside him, eyes never leaving the woman’s. Tony just stared at him, surprise evident by the way he froze in his seat. He finally got a good look at the woman, who in all honesty, was rather average in appearance. Fashionably dressed for a rich woman, she was dressed in a dark blue floral print dress with pearls around her neck. Her blonde hair, which he assumed had been beautiful at one point, was beginning to dull with the signs of middle age. Now he wasn’t one to judge on appearances too much, but she was probably a lot prettier when she was younger. Her eyes were the same as Neena’s; their skin the same color except this woman more than likely burned. Her lips were painted a blood red, which only made her blue eyes look colder than they already were. He could see the resemblance between the two females; the two of them also sharing the same small pointed chin. Except where Neena was lively and a bit stubborn, this woman just screamed pure evil.

Her eyes never left her daughter’s, who just stared back at her like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m not letting you take her anywhere!” he snapped at the woman, tightening his grip on the girl. “She already has a family and you’re not a part of it!”

“Steve,” Tony had snapped out of his surprised stupor, standing up at him with an unimpressed frown. “What are you doing in here? I believe I told you to, oh, I don’t know, not follow me?”

“Whatever is going on here,” he ignored the warning in the older man’s voice, continuing to glare at the German woman who glared coldly back at him. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

“She’s my daughter,” the woman snapped at him, frosty glare not nearly intimidating as Loki’s. “I have every right to take her. What claim do the Odinson family have on her? She’s not even legally adopted!”

Neena just pulled him by the hand, a silent signal for him to do something besides talking. He wasn’t strong enough to pick her up and run, but sure as hell could drag her out the door with him. She let out a surprised cry, but didn’t even object to him pulling her by the hand. He could feel his lungs burning for him to stop running; his heart rapidly slamming against his ribs. He couldn’t think about that for too long; all he needed to do was get her out of the building. He could deal with Tony and his shit, but she was just a kid. She never asked to be dragged into this mess and while some things were clearing up, other questions were on the horizon.

“Steve!” she called out to him, that one strand of hair of hers falling in her face once more. “Steve, where are we going?”

He didn’t answer her, rather he pushed a set of doors opened that revealed a staircase. Pepper showed him these stairs once, telling him that it led to a fire escape right outside on the back of the first story section of the building. These were the same stairs that only two years ago, he escaped from. Only there was no one after him the first time he escaped. Except for Tony and his personal vendetta at ruining his former relationship.

He pushed a door to the outside open, the two of them clambering down the stairs as quickly as their bodies would allow. It was chilly out, and it had been raining earlier that day so the metal railing felt extremely cold. He could feel her stepping on his heels, but paid no mind to her. Even when he almost slipped, he kept his grip extra tight so he wouldn’t fall and gave her an assuring look that he was alright. His was almost relieved when his feet touched the concrete ground, and he felt slightly better when she took his hand once more. The back of the building was abandoned minus the trash cans near the wooden fence that blocked prying eyes away from the penthouse.

“I...I…” the girl was kneeling over, trying to catch her breath from all the running. “I don’t think...anyone’s after us.”

“We need to move,” the sooner he could get her out of this place, the better. Again, he pulled her towards the exit way, pure determination keeping him from falling over and having an asthma attack. “You need to go home and tell Loki what’s going on.”

“But what about you?”

He gave her a humorless smile. “I’ll be fine; I can handle Tony,” he wasn’t  sure how angry Tony was with him, but he couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up his spine. “I’ll flag down a cab and send you to Queens. You know your address, right?”

She nodded her head, eyes lighting up at the prospect of going home. A smile grew on the corners of her mouth, a true smile he hadn’t seen for a while. He looked back at her, expecting her to say something veering on the lines of a thank you but all he got was a scream.

Just as he turned his head, a fist came flying to his face. The impact send him down onto the pavement, Neena falling as well and landing on her back. A man, burly and over six feet, loomed over him with a cruel smirk. “Mr. Stark is not happy with you, little fag,” the man sneered, stepping over his dazed body. With no effort, he grabbed Neena by her short hair, yanking her up despite her screams of protest. “I’m taking the girl back and once she’s gone, Mr. Stark will deal with you personally.”

“LET ME GO” Neena shrieked, small fists hitting the man in his stomach. It didn’t hurt the man, but he definitely looked mildly irritated by it as he kept glaring at her. “LET ME GO! STEVE, HELP!”

“You better knock that off, girlie!”

“NO! LET ME GO!”

She stopped fighting against him when his right fist contacted with her face. Even with his head spinning, he could see the blood dripping down her nose and onto her clothes. A few drops got on the pavement beneath her and she was still for a moment due to the shock. He jumped up, white hot rage taking control as he jumped the man.

It was one thing to hit someone small and defenseless, but hitting a little girl was a completely different story. The man let go of her, and she fell to the ground with a disgruntled noise. He managed to get two good swipes in, the man’s nose breaking as he hit him in the face. He kicked, did everything Bucky taught him how to do. Strength was not in his favor but he had adrenaline and the power of righteous fury on his side. The man was clearly new, not ever having seen Steve fight and obviously had never seen a smaller man refuse to back down.

He kicked the man hard enough that his hand gun slipped from his baggy pants. It clattered onto the ground, skittering over to where Neena was sitting, her gaze watching the fight go down. How accustomed she was to violence was not something he took into account, but also not his top priority. He had to keep her safe, get her out and back to where she belonged. Loki and Ana and the rest of their family should have never been dragged into this mess. It was the least he could do to repay them.

“You’re an annoying piece of shit!” the man punched him in the gut hard enough for him to lose his grip on the giant man. Before he hit the ground, hands wrapped around his throat, cutting off airflow to his windpipe. His own small hands tugged on the man’s wrists, pulling at them to let him go. “I’m going to kill you! Both of you! To hell with what Stark wants!”

With teary eyes, he looked towards Neena. “Get....get out! Run!” he choked, the grip on his throat tightening. “Run!”

“But-”

“Run!”

He heard movement, even as his vision was going in and out of focus. The burning pain of his oxygen being cut off hurt his entire body, but gradually, things were fading out. The noise around him was slowly receding as well as his vision. Pure whiteness was starting to overtake his vision, though not in the sense some might think. It wasn’t a bright, inviting light as some said, but rather a blinding white light that held no feelings of peace or hope. It felt neither cold nor inviting; just a sense that he was losing his control on the world around him.

He was going to die. Here at the hands of this brute. No matter how hard he struggled and resisted, he knew he was slipping away. For a moment, and he partially blamed his oxygen deprived brain, he thought that perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to die. He...he’d lived a good life. A short life, with a mixture of misery and happiness, but as far as some people’s, his was pretty good. He thought of his friends; his mother and her kind voice. He could see her again. If God even allowed him into Heaven, though he figured he could possibly barter some negotiation. He almost imagined it, his tiny form negotiating with God. What a funny sight that would be. Bucky would find it amusing…

Bucky! Perhaps if he were not dying right now, it would be even sadder. How could he have been so stupid? He was an idiot; a prideful idiot. If he hadn’t hidden his relationship with Tony from Bucky, none of this would have happened. It was too late to do anything now, but if he could, he would go back to Bucky. He would return, apologize for being so prideful and tell the brunette how much he loved him. Just the thought of Bucky filled his chest with warmth. It was his only regret now, but if there was anyway Bucky could know…

“I think this is it, Bucky,” his thoughts ran around in his muddled mind, which was becoming murkier and murkier like the ocean nearby. “I’m sorry, Buck. For everything. You deserve a lot better than me. I love you. I love you Bucky, please, please, please, know that.”

Then the pressure on his neck was gone. He fell to the ground, hand clutching his throat as the oxygen came rushing back in. He fumbled around for the inhaler in his pocket, taking several deep breaths with it as pain coursed through his small body. The man lay on the ground, blood oozing from his neck. Blood was all over the walls, blood spraying everywhere like a faucet that would not stop leaking. It was all over his clothes, some of it on his face and hair. He could only watch as the man twitched around for a few seconds before going completely still, eyes becoming glassy and dull.

He looked to the man’s neck, finding the bullet hole on the side of his neck. It was not an a clean shot; poorly made by the hands of someone who had never fired a gun before. He stood up weakly, head still reeling from being deprived of oxygen. The shooter had hit the carotid artery completely by chance. If they’d been a few inches off it would have either been a flesh wound or hit his spinal chord. It was clear this person had never used a gun and if they’d missed, it might have very well been him who would be on the ground covered in blood.

Neena was standing not too far away, gun shaking in her small hands. Like him, she was covered in the man’s blood as well as her own. Sickly pale, she couldn’t stop staring at the man in horror, probably now only just realizing she’d made her first kill. “Steve,” her voice was small, shaking with fear and realization of what she’d done. “I...I didn’t….I didn’t know what to do! He was going...going to kill you!”

“Oh my God,” he stepped closer to her, taking the gun from her hands. He threw it behind her, a dull thud sounding from when it hit the trash cans. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching as tears were beginning to fall from her face. “I told you to run! You could have been killed!”

A sob broke past her lips, more tears smearing the blood on her face. “I’m sorry!” she cried, shaking underneath his grip on her. “Please...please don’t be mad! I didn’t want you to die! Please, please don’t be angry! I’m sorry, Steve!”

He wasn’t angry, more relieved with the fact that the bullet hadn’t ricochet off the wall or something like that. She shouldn’t have picked up the gun; should have never fired the bullet but he couldn’t entirely blame her. People did what they felt they had to when their life was in danger. If she had done what he told her, how far would she have gotten before someone found her? If he’d died, the man would have killed her too and then their attempt to escape would have been for nothing. “It’s okay,” he did his best to reassure her, but it was a bitter lie. Things weren’t okay. He wasn’t okay with a kid killing someone, much less a little girl. “I’m glad you’re safe. I’m sorry you had to do that, Neena. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, this got messy pretty quickly.”

He looked over Neena’s shoulder, finding Tony standing a few feet away. The man didn’t look at all bothered by the mess, rather he sipped from the alcohol in his glass in a relaxed fashion. He pushed Neena behind him, giving her a little shove. “Get out of here! Go!” she looked confused, her gaze shifting from him to Tony. “Go! Run! I’ll be fine, just get out!”

“Steve!”

“Tell Bucky,” he swallowed hard at the name, guilt stabbing him like a knife. “Tell Bucky I love him and that I’m sorry.”

She nodded numbly before taking off, disappearing out of his sight and into the busy Manhattan sidewalks. He put his fists up, ready to fight when Tony just sighed. “Really Steve, now why did you have to do that?”

“What are you up to?” he wasn’t in the mood for this; not wanting to play the man’s games. “I swear to God Tony if you go after her…”

“Please,” Tony snorted, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically. “If she gets back to Queens and tells her precious father what happened, getting rid of them will be so much easier. If both Barnes and Odinson come after me, it’ll just make everything so much easier.”

“No!”

“And it’s all thanks to you, Steve,” Tony set down his drink on one of the crates propped up against the wall, giving a slow dramatic clap. “None of this would have been possible if hadn’t reacted like you did.”

New York City, Queens, October 1, 1938)

“Sitting there trying to get drunk isn’t going to bring her back.”

He rolled his eyes at Ana’s exasperated, but firm tone. The brandy wasn’t even half empty yet, but he could already start to feel its affects. He started to pour another cup, only to have it taken away by a pair of nimble hands. “I was drinking that,” he grumbled, but put up no resistance as she took it away.

“And you’ve had enough,” she put the lid on the bottle, holding it defensively in her arms. She looked just as bad as he did. Bags were prominent under her eyes from sleep deprivation. He couldn’t remember the last time either of them had a good night’s sleep; the most he was getting some nights was four to three hours. Some nights he didn’t sleep at all and it was beginning to take its toll on his body.

He now understood why it was every parent’s nightmare. Even though he knew Stark had her, he couldn’t figure out where he was keeping her. Stark’s network was vast; mapping it all out could take months and by then, the man could have taken her anywhere. Why her, he didn’t understand. She’d never done anything to him; not even big enough to hurt someone. Stark had absolutely nothing to gain by kidnapping her.

“You need rest,” Ana stated bluntly, very forward in her approach. “You’re not going to get much done in this state. Go, I’ll do the rest of the work.”

“Work is the man’s job,” he stated dryly, humorlessly. “Give me back my drink.”

“If it were any other day, I’d smack you,” she didn’t even smile as she said this, staring at the bottle with tired blue eyes.

He stood up, pushing back his chair with enough force that it scratched the floor boards underneath his feet. He marched right past her, not saying anything and opened the door with enough force it could have fallen off its hinges. She followed silently, more than likely curious as to what he was doing. He could feel her narrowing her eyes in disapproval, pace quickening as she quickly figured out what was going on in his mind. “If you’re going to the wine cellar, I’m going to lock it before you get there,” she didn’t sound pleased, if anything, she was becoming a little more angry. “I swear Loki, this is becoming ridiculous.”

“This whole situation is ridiculous,” he countered back, almost feeling a bit smug when she didn’t give a snappy retort. “While I’m down there, would you like anything?”

“Loki!”

The first floor was busy, people running around in multiple directions. It was mostly office space, really, with a little lobby area to the side in case a large meeting needed to be held. His one on one meetings were normally done in his office, but right now, the sitting area was empty. Sometimes Neena would sit there and do her homework, where there were lots of people around to pause and help her with something she didn’t understand. It still felt odd not seeing her there, pensively looking down at her assignment as she tapped her pencil in mild concentration.

He was close to the door that reached the wine cellar, Ana lecturing him in the most patient tone possible on how this was a bad idea when the front door burst open. People paused from what they were doing, From one of the office spaces, Thor looked up, hand reaching towards the holster hidden underneath his jacket.

He wasn’t quite sure if it was the alcohol in his system or if he was just seeing things, but a tiny figure stood in the doorway. He felt Ana stiffen, eyes going wide with shock and disbelief. “Neena?” her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. He didn’t think it was possible, yet there was no denying it.

She looked different, though that was quite an understatement. She was an absolute mess, hair disheveled and his stomach lurched when he noticed blood all over her. Two bruises were under her eyes, giving him the vague image of a racoon. A bruise was on her cheek, and he felt anger flare up at the realization that she’d been assaulted. Two figures stood behind her awkwardly, a man and a boy, possibly related with Asian features.

“Daddy!”

She flew towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. He hugged her back, something he did very rarely, She was crying, getting the blood on her face on his shirt. He wasn’t entirely sure if all this blood was hers, but he would question her later. When she let go of him, she immediately wrapped her arms around Ana, who just knelt down and fussed over her. Motherly instincts apparently had kicked in, and she just held the girl tightly to her, not even caring if she got blood on her dress.

“Mom, Daddy,” the small girl pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes and giving a slight wince at the pain. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

“Bucky can wait,” Ana pulled out a handkerchief, calling for someone to get her water and started to wipe the blood from Neena’s very pale face. “Oh God Neena, what did that bastard do to you.”

Despite the grip on her shoulder, Neena just struggled. “I need to see  Bucky!”

“Neena-”

“Steve’s in danger!” the girl interrupted, more tears falling out of her red-rimmed and bruised eyes. “I have to tell Bucky! I have to tell him!”