#sebastian stan eras | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

petitemistletoe · 1 year

Text

James

Pairing: James Potter x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst!!!

Word Count: 2K

“Good morning!” Wanda sung as she threw open your bedroom curtains. You and Bucky groaned and buried your heads your pillows.

“Wanda get out!” Bucky growled.

“Did you forget what today is?” Wanda asked, pulling the covers off of you.

“Wanda please!” You curled your body in a ball under your sweatshirt.

“I’m gonna hit her.” Bucky started to sit up.

“Might want to put pants on first, Sergeant.” Steve chuckled. You sat up finally and opened your eyes.

“How many people are in here?” You said, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room. Wanda and Steve were fully dressed and grinning at the both of you.

“Seriously guys. Why are you up?” Bucky asked, moving you so you were sitting in front of him and hiding his unclothed body.

“Wanda’s brother is coming to visit today! It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks.” Steve smiled.

“Oh yes! The infamous Pietro is finally going to grace our sweet little tower.” You nodded. You and Bucky had never met Pietro before but the rest of the team raved about him. Even Natasha had hinted that if you ever broke up with Bucky, she thought you and Pietro would make a beautiful couple- “you just look like you would be together,” Natasha would say, much to Bucky’s chagrin.

“His jet lands in a few minutes, please get dressed and meet us for lunch!”

“Where are we going for lunch?” You asked, standing up and rifling through your closet for something to wear.

“Tony catered with a bunch of traditional sovokian dishes!” Wanda grinned before bounding out of the room.

“There are also sliders.” Steve smiled before leaving you and Bucky in the room.

“How dressy do you think this needs to be?” Bucky asked, rubbing his forehead and looking at the closet with you.

“Sweater and jeans?” You said, looking at your sweaters. One stood out from the others.

“Gonna wear your old school sweater?” Bucky asked. It was a gray sweater with your school crest in the right corner and it was lined with red and gold, your house colors.

“No,” you said, thumbing the fabric, “I think I’ll wear this green sweater instead.”

You and Bucky were the last to arrive to lunch, besides the guest of honor of course. Everyone was excitedly chattering about Pietro and how they could not wait to see him.

“Your future lover is coming up the stairs,” Natasha said in a sing-song voice. Bucky rolled his eyes and threw a slider at Natasha’s head.

“Everyone!” Wanda was standing near the door with her arms around someone you couldn’t make out yet. “This is my brother, Pietro!”

“Guess we should introduce ourselves to your new husband.” Bucky chuckled, grabbing your hand.

“Shut up,” you playfully hit his shoulder. You waited politely for everyone to greet Pietro before you and Bucky went up to him and Wanda.

“Nice to meet y…” Pietro trailed off as he locked eyes with you.

“James?” You whispered.

“Yes?” Bucky looked at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” Pietro shook his head and placed his hands on your elbows.

“Oh no, what’ve they done now?” James chuckled as you and him watched Remus, Peter, and Sirius sprint across the grass from your place in front of the lake.

“I guess you’ll get to ask them in a second.” You smiled as the boys came running towards you and flopping down on the blanket.

“Oh! Hot butterbeer!” Sirius grabbed the large bottle by the neck and took a long sip.

“Why were you all running?” You asked.

“Sirius just convinced Snape to jump into the black lake because Lily Evans was waiting at the bottom for him and then Peter set his robes on fire. Sirius was going to drain the lake but McGonagall started heading over and we had to run.” Remus grinned, accepting the bottle from Sirius and taking a swig as well.

“Yeah, be a mate and pretend we’ve been with you the whole time.” Sirius pointed at the both of you.

“What are you doing anyway?” Peter asked, rummaging through the picnic basket and taking a large bite from a steaming piece of Yorkshire pudding.

“It’s mine and James’s two year anniversary. We’re having a romantic picnic.” You responded.

“We were having a romantic picnic.” James looked very cross with the other marauders.

“Has it been two years already?” Remus said, drumming his long fingers on his chin. Sirius and Peter were tucking into the rest of the food you all had packed. You weren’t going to say anything until Sirius pulled out the entire steaming Shepard’s pie.

“Okay! That’s more than enough.” You said, snatching the pie back.

“Can you leave us alone!” James said, turning impossibly red.

“Why’re you both freaking out!” Sirius said, crossing his arms and pouting.

“Yeah I-oh.” Something seemed to have clicked in Remus’s brain and he immediately stood up, “Let’s go.” He grabbed Peter elbow with one hand and Sirius’s with another.

“Moony! Let me go! Why are you defending these tossers!” Sirius was protesting.

“I think McGonagall is heading this way!” You shouted.

“Stop lying,” Sirius said with an eye roll.

“Ah fuck,” Peter shot up, “she isn’t lying,” He pointed to the ball of fury in green robes that was coming up the hill. The boys sprinted away at the sound of McGonagall shrill:

“Come back here right now!”

“I’m sorry about all that.” James sighed, reclining back and letting you place your head in his lap.

“It’s alright. I feel like these past two years I’ve been dating all of you.” You grinned.

“Hilarious.” James rolled his eyes. You turned your head in his lap and then gasped.

“Mr. Potter! Is that a wand in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

“Sit up for a second.” James was suddenly very serious.

“Okay,” you gave James a weird look but sat up so you were facing him. James dug around in his pocket for a moment and brought out a small velvet box.

“Don’t freak out, but I’ve been thinking about us a lot. It’s just…the world is uncertain, especially with Voldemort and I don’t want to waste another minute. I love you. I want to get married after we graduate.”

You were at a loss for words as James opened the velvet box to show a small, delicate ring. Your finger brushed over the ridges of the ring before James slid it onto your finger.

“Is that a yes?” James asked, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Yes.”

“What is going on between you two?” Wanda asked, looking back and forth between you and her brother very quickly.

“I know James…I mean Pietro. I don’t really understand how any of this is happening.” You shook your head.

“I don’t get it. How could you know each other? You came off the ice just two years ago and Pietro has been in Sokovia since Ultron, helping repair the town.” Wanda looked like her brain was going to explode.

“You all know I went to a boarding school in the UK and was put on the ice after being hurt in the war against Voldemort. I know Pietro from school. I just don’t understand how?” You turned back to you were facing Pietro.

“I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. I feel like seeing you unlocked an entire set of memories I didn’t know I had,” Pietro shakily sat in his chair, feeling his stomach turn over and over.

“You knew Pietro back at your boarding school? And why is your accent British now and not Sokovian?” Scott asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I was James then,” Pietro said, “James Potter.”

“Pietro?” Wanda was looking at Pietro like he’d grown another head.

“Wait a second,” you felt your blood run cold for a moment, “Harry? Is he alive too? Is he out there somewhere?”

You and James felt like a truck had backed over you. Sirius was sitting in your kitchen, not able to make eye contact with you, after just telling you that he wasn’t able to be your secret keeper anymore.

“I…I just don’t get it. What are we supposed to do?” James asked, getting up and pacing. You looked across the room and made eye contact with Remus, who was bouncing your one year old son, Harry, on his knee and Peter, who was shaking Harry’s rattle. Remus sent you a small smile.

“It’s not a good idea. My family are tied too intimately with the death eaters. If anything happened to you because of that I’d never forgive myself,” Sirius shook his head and wrung his hands. James looked like he was getting ready to start yelling again but you stopped him,

“James. Sirius makes a good point. He’s just trying to do what’s best for us. And for Harry.”

“I know that! So, who’s our secret keeper now? Did you think of that, Sirius?” James was trying hard not to seethe but you could see his eyes were cloudy the way they got when he was enraged.

“What about Moony?” Sirius gestured to Remus hopefully.

“Not with his time of the month,” James shook his head.

“Hey!” Remus protested, “But he’s right. Too risky.”

“What about me?” Peter asked.

“That’s a good idea. Peter’s loyal, kind. And, no offense Wormtail, I don’t even think the death eaters know who he is.” James took a deep breath and stuck his hand out to Peter,

“Ready if you are.”

Pietro’s eyes went wide.

“Who’s Harry?” Steve asked.

“Our son,” you could barely whisper.

“Is this some sort of multiverse thing?” Tony was already typing away on his phone, probably trying to get in contact with Dr. Strange.

“I have no idea about Harry. I thought…well you were with him last.” Pietro shook his head.

“I don’t understand what’s going on at all.” Bucky looked like he was going to blow a fuse.

“He’s here, you have to get Harry and run.” James said, grabbing his wand and staring at the figure that was stalking his way towards your door.

“How did he find us?” You sobbed. “Can’t we run?”

“Listen to me. We don’t have time for this. I’ll hold him off. Get out of here.” James pushed you towards the stairs. You bound up the stairs with Harry in your arms. You ran into the nursery and shut the door, placing Harry in his crib. You reached in your back pocket for your wand and cursed lowly under your breath. It wasn’t there. You had no idea where it could be. You started scouring the room when you heard a scream and a slithery voice hiss a death curse. You put your hand over your mouth to stop your own scream. You pushed the crib to the furthest corner in the room from the door and stood in front of it, shielding it with your body. The door was burst open and you saw him in the face for the first time.

“I’ll spare you. Just give me the boy. He asked me to spare you.” He hissed.

“Who?”

“James.”

“James? James would not have asked you spare me over his own son.”

“Not that James. Get out of way. I will not ask you again” Voldemort lifted his wand.

“You have a son? You never mentioned that.” Bucky said, turning to face you.

“I didn’t remember it myself…not until…just now.” You were looking back and forth between Pietro and Bucky. James and Bucky. James and…James.

“Voldemort…he said something to me before…” your mind was racing a million miles a minute.

“What is your name?” Pietro turned and looked at Bucky. You could tell that he was thinking exactly what you were.

“Bucky.”

“It’s James. His real name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

Part 2

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #James potter #aaron Taylor johnson #james potter x reader #pietro maximoff #maurauders era #maurauders #mauraders x reader #harry potter #marvel

291 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

Text

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3449

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap (18/29), domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, got to the story's masterlist

10. A School Reunion

This Chapter: The scars are atrocious, and Bucky is sure that Steve was not made aware of the extent of them, before the marriage. His husband is a good man, he thinks, to not have visibly reacted on their wedding night.

The ship docks the following day, and most of that morning is consumed with getting off the ship, gathering their luggage, and making their way to the train station. They travel by train to London.

By the time they arrive at Steve’s residence (their residence now, Bucky has to remind himself), it’s evening already, and they’re both tired. They eat a small supper and go to bed early.

Bucky gets one of the best night’s sleep of his life.

He wakes up late the next morning to the sun on his face, and raises a hand to shield his eyes. “Nnnh, what time s’it?” He hears Steve’s chuckle.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. It’s almost noon.”

“What?!” He sits up in the bed, squinting. “Why the heck didn’t you wake me?”

Steve shoots him an easy smile from where he’s standing over by the chifforobe. “I didn’t want to wake you. You needed your rest.”

Bucky grunts and rubs his eyes. “Yeah I got a rest, alrigh,” he mutters. They’d gone to bed before ten o’clock, last evening. That's over twelve hours he's been out. Sleeping Beauty indeed.

“How are you feeling?”

Bucky throws his legs over the side of the bed and stretches. “Fine. I’m hungry. Hey, d’you think Sharon will make pancakes for lunch if I ask nicely?"

Steve winces. “Oh. Shoot.”

“Shoot, what?”

“I already dismissed the servants for the day.” He sends Bucky an apologetic look. “They've never been abroad, so I thought they might want to see the sights, explore the city. I told them they could have the rest of the day, if they wanted."

"Oh."

"Yes. And I'm afraid I’m not very knowledgeable in a kitchen. I wouldn’t know where to start, to make something like pancakes.”

Bucky hums in a silent ‘me neither’. Men of their stature hardly ever set foot in the kitchens at their homes, let alone use them. “Is Sharon a good cook?”

“Oh! Yes, she’s wonderful. I all but begged my fathers to let me bring her on with me." He chuckles. "That's the sacrificial love of parents, for you; letting their grown children scoop up all the best servants. I swear my Opa complains about it every time I visit."

Bucky nods, wondering what it must be like to have grown up with parents who had a complete marriage.

"She makes the most excellent roasts. Maybe I can get her to make one for an evening meal while we’re in town.”

Bucky snorts. “What? No Haggis or black pudding? Bangers and mash?”

“Are you kidding? Sharon takes her cooking very seriously. I don’t think she’d lower herself to make something like that.” Steve shoots him a sly grin. “Oh, and one thing to note for life in our Household? If she serves you a plate and it’s cold, or it’s over-salted or overcooked or anything like that; it means she’s mad at you and she’s getting back at you.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “Wait, are you kidding?”

“Nope.” Steve looks almost amused about it, which baffles Bucky. He uses the dressing mirror to check his tie and straighten his vest, advising, “And don’t complain when it happens, either. Just eat whatever she gave you. That’s your penance for whatever you did to tick her off in the first place. She’ll only do it with one meal—if you don’t complain. You complain, you get a second subpar meal.”

Bucky scoffs. “That’s crazy.” Who ever heard of such a thing? A servant having the gall to retaliate against their employers in such a manner. Why it’s outrageous! Hell, Bucky had been such a troublemaker growing up, that if his Cookie had operated under such a system, he would’ve rarely received a decent meal at all! “And you just … tolerate that?” he asks.

Steve shrugs helplessly. “I mean I could hire another cook, but trust me: nobody comes close to Sharon. She’s a good person, a reliable servant, and being that her social class keeps her subservient to the likes of us in all matters, I really can’t begrudge her that one outlet.”

Bucky frowns. He’s never thought about it that way before. Servants are just there, existing and functioning as is expected. He's never considered what they might want, or thought about their lives outside of where they intersect with his own. He bites his lip, intrigued by the ways in which Steve seems to interact with common people. Bucky's noticed it several times, now. He certainly wouldn’t have expected it from someone as wealthy and as important as Steve. “So … are you friendly with all your servants?” he asks.

“Sharon, Jarvis, and Pietro, yes. They worked for my parents, before. But when we return home to New York you’ll see that everyone else is rather new, still.” He looks down sheepishly. “I ah, I hadn’t hired a true Household staff, until recently.”

“Recently?” Bucky arches a brow. “You mean since our marriage?”

Steve averts his eyes and turns back to the dressing mirror to fuss some more at his clothes. “Since shortly before our engagement, yes.”

Bucky purses his lips. He wonders if Steve considers their “engagement” to be the time period he’d spent writing to Bucky’s mother, rather than the mere week-and-a-half that Bucky and he had known each other before tying the knot. “How long were you and my mother in correspondence?” he asks. “Before I found out about it?”

Steve freezes in front of the mirror, hands on his tie. “Oh, well …”

"Oh god, that long?" Bucky cringes and looks away. It’s already bad enough, knowing that his mother actually set pen to paper and composed multiple letters to anyone who might have her ruined son, but knowing that she and Steve wrote back and forth at length makes it even more embarrassing. He groans and rubs his temple. “So you were pen pals with my mother. How mortifying.”

Steve still avoids looking at him, but he does defend himself with a quiet little, “I wanted to learn all I could about you. … Or at least all that she would tell me. There were a lot of things she deigned best for you to tell me.”

Bucky finds that hard to believe, as he knows his mother would've felt the need to pull out all the stops in order to promote him to prospective suiters. He wonders just how much she'd had to butter Steve up to get him to consider the idea, how much she had to exaggerate Bucky’s positive qualities to make up for his marked shortcomings.

“Did she send you my photograph?” he asks morosely, figuring that she must have. In her efforts to secure a match for Bucky, she most certainly would’ve had to spin him as a highly attractive young boy of great wit and charm. Something to better her chances at enticing an alpha as prominent as Steve to contract with the soon-to-be-ruined House Barnes.

“Just … just one,” Steve hedges.

Bucky holds back another groan as he miserably thinks of Steve, being mailed pictures to better-consider the value of his purchase. Mortifying is the only word for it.

“She didn’t tell you about my …” he hesitates, sure that Steve won’t appreciate hearing his usual phrasing for it. He settles on the generous, “About my scars?” Most of them can be covered up with the right neckline, but Bucky would hate to think of Steve not being fairly warned of something so atrocious. Steve is kind and will never say so, but Bucky is sure that the man was not made aware of the … extensiveness of it. There’s no way on Earth he would’ve agreed to this marriage, if he had been.

Back by the chifforobe, Steve still has his back to Bucky and his head tucked down. He fishes his wedding band out of the dish and slides it on. “She told me about your accident and your convalescence,” he says, uneasy. “In generalities only, though that was partly because I made it clear there were certain things I’d prefer to learn directly from you.”

Bucky gulps and looks back down at his lap. “Oh.” Steve is a good man, he thinks, to not have visibly reacted on their wedding night; when his new young husband had ripped his nightshirt off and fully revealed just what Steve had gotten himself into. Even through Bucky's slightly drunken recollections of that night, he can remember seeing the look on Steve’s face, when he’d seen him naked. The alpha had done an admirable job of schooling his features quickly, only a bit of pity bleeding out to betray him.

“I am sorry I couldn’t have gotten to know you, before your mother and I settled the contract,” Steve admits. “I’m new in the Senate, still. Proving myself. ”

Bucky nods at his lap. “Yes I know.”

“If my work during that time hadn’t kept me in D.C. so much, I would have liked to have courted you for longer.”

Bucky looks over and catches Steve’s gaze in the mirror. There’s a vulnerable little pinch lodged between his brows. “I’dve liked to have spent time together, gotten to know you in person. I’d intended to, but then—”

“The date of my father’s indictment was moved up.”

Steve nods sadly. “Yes. It was.”

Bucky twists his lips and looks away. “Oh well. No matter. Not like it would’ve changed anything, if we’d forced ourselves through a few balls and operas together beforehand. We’re stuck together now, so there’s plenty of time to get to know all that sort of stuff one learns during courting.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Does it even really count as courting, if you know you’re ultimately going to have to go through with it anyway?”

Steve’s abrupt silence is marked. When Bucky looks over, he catches the look of hurt that glances across the alpha's features before he’s able to school it away. He feels a small pang of regret for having phrased it that way. Steve had given him an out, after all. Just because Bucky couldn’t take it doesn’t mean that it’s Steve who’s forced this situation upon him. Bucky clears his throat and stands from the bed. “I’m gonna … go to the bathroom.” It's not a complete lie. He does have to take a piss.

Steve suggests they spend the day exploring London. Bucky, who hadn't gotten to see much of the city during the brief trip he'd made with his father, is excited at the prospect of seeing Big Ben and the Tower of London and the wax museum, though he tries to keep his enthusiasm to himself. He doesn’t want to seem unworldly to Steve—an alpha who’s already traveled loads of places outside of the U.S.

There are far fewer cars in London than there are back in New York, so for the novelty of it they hire a hackney to take them around the city. They tour several popular sites, all of which Steve is familiar with and happily shows him around. Steve likes art and history and wants to see the British Museum, so they go there next. Bucky tags along, not as enthused at the prospect of touring a stuffy old museum, but at least willing to give it a look. When Steve goes in to see the medieval Madonnas exhibit, Bucky say he’ll stay behind and see the crown jewels instead. They agree to meet back up in the central atrium.

Left on his own, Bucky trails along the glass cases that hold all of the bejeweled scepters, orbs and tiaras. He’s just stopped in front of the case that holds the Hope diamond, when a group of young men approaches. “James? Is that you?”

Bucky turns, eyes widening marginally as he suddenly finds himself only feet away from three familiar faces. “Oh,” he says, perking up at this unexpected surprise. Carrick, Francis and John graduated with him from secondary school, just that year previous. Bucky’s never been overly close to John or Francis, but he’s always liked Carrick well enough. “Hey fellas,” he greets, smiling a little. “What are you all doing in London?”

Francis—the only alpha in the group—answers for them. “We’re taking a year abroad before university, traveling through Europe and North Africa.”

“How adventurous.” Bucky tries to smile, but inside he feels a pang of jealousy mixed with sadness. If it weren’t for his marriage to Steve, he’d probably be doing the exact same thing as his schoolmates, right now. “What um, what universities are you attending?”

Francis beams. “I got into Yale.”

“Wow.”

“We’re both going to Columbia,” Carrick says, tipping his head over at John. “It’s a good school, plus it’ll keep us close to home.”

Bucky nods. “That’s nice. What about Johanna?” The beta girl has always been a solid member of the boys’ social group, as far as Bucky can tell. But at his question, John rolls his eyes and Francis and Carrick snicker. “What?” Bucky says, confused.

“She just married an A-o pair from Georgia. Needless to say, she couldn’t come along.”

There’s scorn in John’s voice, and Bucky flushes. “Oh,” he says. “I see.” He glances down self-consciously to make sure that his wristbands are covered by the sleeves of his jacket.

“Such a shame,” Francis is saying. “I mean, getting married so soon? It’s so old-fashioned.”

“She should’ve waited,” John agrees. “Now she’s just somebody’s housewife.”

“Sad.”

“I know, right?”

Bucky stands there, feeling frozen in place, nodding along falsely with the conversation, and withdrawing into himself as his schoolmates gossip about what an awful fate early marriage is:

“How boring. Almost embarrassing, really. I would’ve pegged her as having at least a little more ambition.”

“Yeah, I she seemed more interesting than that, didn’t she?”

“Well, I don’t think she ever got very good marks in school. And that’s putting it kindly.”

“Not everyone’s cut out for university I guess. But even then, there are better things to do than tie yourself down at eighteen. What a joke! Only omegas start looking right after school.”

“They don’t exactly have anything else to do.”

The boys all snicker together, and it physically pains Bucky to have to stand there and quirk his mouth up at the edges like he’s agreeing with them. “What about you, James?” Francis asks. “What are your plans?”

Bucky freezes, mortified. “Oh, me?”

“Yeah. Where are you attending?”

His heart speeds up. “O-oh, well … I had looked at, um … I’d considered applying to MIT.”

"Ooh an engineering major, huh? That was always your thing.” Carrick grins approvingly. “That’s impressive! I presume you got in."

“With marks like his?” John waves his hand as though it’s a given. “What I want to know is how a Senatorial heir talks his way into an engineering degree. What’s your secret? My father won’t allow anything but political science or international relations.”

Bucky feels like he’s panicking, trying to think of what to say. But before he can open his mouth to tell another half-truth or lie, Steve’s voice calls out from over by the entrance to the exhibit. “Bucky! Ha, there you are.”

He blanches. Steve comes over to stand by his side, wrapping his arm familiarly around Bucky’s waist when he sees the other young men. “I thought we said we’d meet up in the atrium?” He presses a cheerful kiss to Bucky’s head and smiles politely at the group. “Who are you talking to?”

Bucky wants to sink straight through the floor. His schoolmates are staring, wide-eyed at how Steve is holding him. No one of proper breeding touches like that unless they're engaged or else married, so Bucky knows they know, especially when he sees their eyes flick to Steve’s wedding band. “Um, these are some of my schoolmates from back home. Francis, John, and Carrick. Fellas, this is Steve. Uh … Senator Rogers of New York.” Bucky can’t meet the other boys’ eyes as he adds, “... My husband.”

All three of them tense up. Steve, oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation, nods his head at them and smiles. “Nice to meet you. Wow, I suppose it really is a small world after all, huh?” Carrick, John and Francis all chuckle nervously and agree. Steve looks down at Bucky. “You ready to go get some lunch?”

Bucky’s ready to die, is what he’s ready to do. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Okay.”

Steve bids goodbye to Bucky’s schoolmates, saying, “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Francis says.

Steve and Bucky head out of the exhibit. Bucky does glance back one time, only to catch them already whispering animatedly. He can imagine what they’re saying: Poor James. He had to sell himself off. No university for him. Guess he’s just like Johanna. Guess he wasn’t such an interesting guy after all. Guess a cripple has to compromise and take the first good offer they get.”

Bucky’s face burns thinking about it as he and Steve make their way back through the museum. He stalls in the hallway before they reach the café, tugging back on Steve’s arm. “I’m not hungry,” he says. “Can we just go back to the apartment now?” Steve stops walking and turns to look at him. He doesn’t let go of his hand. “Please?” Bucky says.

Steve looks concerned, but after studying him for a long moment, he nods. “Sure.” He flags down another hackie for them, and they ride back to the apartment in silence.

Steve doesn’t ask him any questions about what happened at the museum until later that evening, when they’re dressing in tails for a fancy dinner. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge have extended an invitation, and given their status in Society, Steve hasn’t been able to say no. “They won’t be there themselves, I’m sure,” he reassures Bucky as he stands behind him and helps him to shrug on his jacket. “It’ll just be minor nobility, like us.” When Bucky hums noncommittally, Steve adds, “British Society is different. They’re …”

“Stuffy as fuck?” Bucky supplies.

“I was going to say ‘traditional’, but yes.” Steve sounds lightly amused, but then he sobers. “… Bucky, what happened at the museum today?”

He’s asked gently, but Bucky still tenses. “What? Nothing.” He steps away from Steve and goes over to the dressing mirror, distracting himself by checking the lines of his tux. “I just wanted to come back home. I was tired.”

Steve is quiet, and for a moment Bucky thinks he’s going to let it go, but then he appears in the mirror behind him. His expression is knowing where it reflects in the glass. “Don’t lie. What happened with your friends?”

Bucky tenses up, afraid. He doesn’t want Steve to know, doesn’t want to have to relive the embarrassment. “Leave it alone, Steve,” he mumbles.

“Bucky,”

He whirls around at the warning tone in Steve’s voice, scowling at his unfairly handsome face and the fact that he's pressing the issue. “What? Are you gonna Voice now? For something as trivial as this?”

Steve frowns heavily. “No, I wasn’t. I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m allowed to have things to myself!” Bucky snaps, irrationally angry at Steve for trying to coax the truth out of him. “You said you’d let me have independence.”

“I know what I said.”

“Well was it a lie?”

Steve looks hurt at Bucky’s tone, but he doesn’t scold him for it. He hardens, stepping back to give him his space. “No, it wasn’t a lie,” he says. Now his tone is clipped, too.

Regret flashes through Bucky, but he quashes it down and juts his chin out. “Good,” he sniffs.

“Put your wristbands on,” Steve says, though it’s not said bossily. If anything, he sounds detached. He’s not even facing Bucky as he says it, has already moved to open the bedroom door. “Come on. There’s a carriage waiting for us.”

Bucky bites his lip, feeling bad for how he spoke to Steve but unwilling to apologize. He goes and grabs his wristbands off the highboy and puts them on, unwilling to be a brat about that, too. They’re hidden from sight by the sleeves of his jacket, anyhow.

He follows Steve downstairs and outside, getting up into the carriage when Steve offers his hand. The ride across the city takes a while, and Bucky’s discomfort grows. It’s when Steve has just started trying to make conversation about how silly it is that Europeans still have such an affinity for horse-drawn carriages, that Bucky blurts out, “They embarrassed me.”

Steve looks over, confused. “What?”

Bucky keeps his gaze out the carriage window as he admits, “My friends. At the museum. You were right. They um, they were saying some stuff about a classmate of ours. A beta who married just after graduation.”

“… Oh?”

Bucky nods, feeling his cheeks heating despite the cool night air. “They were making fun of her, I guess. And then you came in and, well …” he shrugs. “I looked back. When we left. I could tell they were saying the same things about me.”

“Oh, Bucky.” Steve’s hand finds his on the seat’s cushion and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“They didn’t have a right to make fun of you,” Steve tells him. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. They’re no better than you are.”

Bucky makes a noise of tepid agreement, though he doesn’t agree at all. He pulls his hand out from under Steve’s and leans against the carriage wall and stares out the window. “Thanks, Steve,” he says, not able to bring himself to explain to his husband how he really feels.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Extra funds? Consider🍵 tipping your local starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

14 notes · View notes