When Steve was little, he hadn't understood why he couldn't stay with his mom.
"B-But, why? Ma, p-please. I'll be g-good, I p-p-promise. Please d-d-don't let them t-t-t-take m-me away." He stammers, fighting back the hiccups and tears that stream down his face, clutching at his Ma's dress as insistent hands grip his shoulders, trying to pull him away.
"Oh sweetie, please don't cry." His mom hushes, cupping his cheeks. Steve breaks free from the hands and he buries his face in his Ma's blouse.
"Please, p-please, please. I-I-I'll be really r-r-really good. I-I won't get s-s-sick a-any-m-more, I p-pr-romise." He wails.
His Ma justs holds him tighter. "Can we please have a minute?" She tells the men. "Just a minute, we won't take too long." They look at each other and nod in understanding.
"We'll give you a minute, Mrs. Rogers." Says one of the men, and they close the door behind him.
Steve gasps for breath, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as he sniffles and tries to draw in breath from his mouth, his nose too stuffed with snot.
"That's right, honey, just calm down and breath. In and out, in and out, just like the nurse taught us to." His Ma coaxes gently, breathing with him until Steve doesn't feel so dizzy.
She smiles at him, straightens out his hair and wipes away his tears. "Steven, we've talked about this, baby. You said you wouldn't make a fuss."
"I-I changed my m-mind." He whispers. "I wanna stay with you, Mama. W-Why can't I-I sta-a-a-y with you? I w-w-wanna stay." He feels the tell-tale pinpricks in his eyes.
"Oh honey. It's all very complicated. Things that only adults should be worrying about, okay? I'll explain when you're older, but right now you need to go with those men, like we talked about last night, remember? While I was packing all your things?"
"I-Is it why D-Dad left? D-Does he not want m-me? D-Don't y-y-y-ou w-want m-m-m-me any-m-more, M-Mama?"
His mom scrambles him back in her arms, hugging him until his ribs hurt. "Don't ever say that, Steven. Of course, I want you. I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire world, baby." His mom sounds like she's about to cry too. She sniffles, holds his shoulders and stares him in the eye.
Steve takes a shuddering breath. He knows that look. It's the look his Ma gets when she's made up her mind and there's no arguing with her.
"I'll come visit you, every Sunday, just like I promised." She hesitates. "I love you so much, baby boy, and you might not understand it right now but I'm doing this for your own good. Can you be a sweetie for Mama and go with the men? Until she can explain everything?"
He swallows and his gaze fall to the floor, trying so hard not to cry that it make his body shiver.
His Ma places a finger under his chin, and slowly brings them up, her usual bright blue eyes watered down with tears.
"Steven?"
"E-Every S-S-Sunday?"
She smiles, strong.
"Yes. Every Sunday. We'll go to church like we always do and visit Father Louis."
He nods, because if he talks now he knows that he will burst into tears.
"That's my sweet boy, that's my little baby boy. Always so good." She whispers as she takes him into another embrace. He latches on, feels the warmth radiate from her body, wishes that this moment could last forever.
"I love you, baby boy."
##########
Sister Catherine is a nice beta who gives him a hug when the men drop him off at the orphanage. She smiles and asks him his name, to which he replies shyly with 'Steven'.
"There now Steven, you're going to fit fine here, the other boys will be happy to have a new friend." She says, taking his hand as she leads him to the third floor. He drags his bag of things along with him.
It's noisy, kids running around the corridor, laughing and yelling, Steve's never been around this many other children before. A few of the boys stop and stare, nudging one another and pointing at him. Nervous tension creeps up and he holds Sister Catherine's a little tighter as they walk past.
"George?" Sister Catherine peeks her head into one of the rooms before entering, Steve in tow.
The boy, George, is a good amount taller than Steve, has black hair and a pudgy face, and quickly shoves whatever he had in his hand under his pillow.
He looks at them expectantly, glancing curiously at Steve.
"This is Steven, he will be your new roommate from now on. I'm sure the both of you will get along well." She nudges Steve forward. "Go on, dear, no need to be shy."
"Hello." Steve says in a small voice, staring at the piece of blanket on George's bed.
"Hi."
"I'll leave you two to get to know each other. Be nice to Steven, please George? Show him around tomorrow after breakfast, and introduce him to the other boys."
"Yes, Sister Catherine."
Steve pushes his bag under the bed, and clambers onto the sheets. It's different, a little stiffer than he's used to.
He supposes he has to get used to different now.
##########
It's a week before he can really sleep. Everything is new and scary in the orphanage. His Ma tells him that he's not really an orphan. She loves him very much and she isn't going to let him be taken away. He just has to stay there for a while because she needs to take care of some adult things first.
It doesn't explain why he just can't come home with her, no matter how many times he promises that he won't be any trouble.
(He doesn't know it's because his Ma had to sell their house to pay for the debt that his Dad owed.)
##########
Words become hard for him. He isn't really good at speaking to begin with, but it worsens in the orphanage.
"You talk funny, Rogers." One of the older kids tell him.
(There's another kid in the orphanage who's also named Steve, so the others call him by his last name instead.)
Steve fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "I-I don't talk f-funny." He mumbles back.
"Yeah, you do." Another boy pipes up. "Y-y-ya t-talk l-like th-this a lot." Close to a snigger.
He's the new kid, most of the others just ignore him for now. He would prefer that over this though. It's already hard enough making friends without them picking on him.
"I-I don't." He sniffles, feels the pinpricks in his eyes, the gasp in his breath.
"Aww, baby Rogers gonna c-c-cry too?" The first kid mocks, quivers a lip right in front of him. They laugh and goad him, making faces as they surround him.
At this point, Steve grits his teeth, fights the imperative to cry, but his eyes are already blurry and his face heating up.
He hates it here, and he hates bullies.
##########
Steve learns that there are a lot of kids here who don't even know their parents. Some of them say they've been here for as long they can remember, and they're just waiting to be adopted like the rest of the kids who get to leave.
He thinks they're brave to want to go with strangers, whereas he gets out of the way when a couple come by to adopt. He doesn't like the idea of people staring at him.
"You wanna get adopted?" George asks him one day. They're kinda friends now, George lets him borrow his toy wooden car so he thinks they are.
Steve shakes his head. "M-My mo-om'll a-adopt me b-back." He's not sure how it works, but his mom is much smarter than him, so he's not worried. "Y-You?"
George shrugs. "My Nana said that this was better for me. Maybe she meant I should get adopted so that I can have a new mommy and daddy who will take care of me."
Alpha-Omega couples are the best, or at least that's what George says. They smell the best, like sweet, gooey and some place safe.
Steve hasn't got the heart to tell him that his Ma and Dad were an Alpha-Omega couple and his life didn't work out so well. He just hopes that nice people adopt George so that he can have more toy cars.
##########
"Q-Quit it, J-James. Leave m-me alone."
"Or what, Rogers?"
It's been a year now. Children come and go, but Steve's still here, his Ma still comes every Sunday and some kids take notice. He won't get adopted, that's for sure, but he still lives in the orphanage like everyone else. Steve doesn't think it's a problem.
James thinks it is.
James is an older kid, with dark hair and mean eyes. Eleven years old, already starting to show what orientation he falls under. The nuns say he'll be an Alpha, on the count that he's already five-two and still growing. James thinks it means that he gets to boss the other kids around. Steve thinks he's just a big jerk.
There's another prod to his side, and it's all Steve can do to not just flinch away. James thinks it's a laugh to pick on the smaller kids, thinks it's especially funny when he picks on Steve.
"I s-said s-stop it." He says, tries to swat away James's hand but ends up waving through air.
A nasty grin on his face, James shoves him particularly hard, enough to make him stumble. "Yer mama ain't here to help you, baby Rogers." He sneers, looming over Steve as he corals him to a corner.
Steve doesn't know why James hates him so much, just that he does and he likes to make Steve's life hell. Any attempt to try to talk to the older boy is met with a blatant remark of how he must be a dumb kid, along with a bunch of insults to get him mad. He'd tried to apologize, if he insulted James somehow, or did something wrong to him, but he still gets shoved around.
"P-Please j-j-just leave m-me a-alone." Steve tries again, curling up around himself.
"Hey, the kid said to leave him alone."
Steve looks up to see a dark-haired boy, just a little taller than him, staring at them. Must be new. Steve thinks, because he's certainly never seen him, and nobody picks a fight with James.
"And what? Mind your own business, pipsqueak. You his babysitter or something?"
"Nah. Thought you were deaf, maybe had to hear it from the other ear for the words to make sense."
James snarls at some attempt at intimidation, but quiets down when Sister Margaret passes by. "Looks like it's your lucky day, Rogers." He gives Steve and the other kid the stinkeye before moving away.
"Hey, kid, you okay?"
Steve blinks. Because yeah, a lot of people thinks he's younger than he is since he's on the short side. He hopes that he gets taller someday. "M'not a kid. I-I just turned e-eight last July." Steve mumbles. He's not used to someone helping him, even George just stays away when James decides to make his day a bad one.
"If you say so." The dark-haired boy replies with a shrug. "You got a name or what?" He suddenly demands, eyeing him.
"S-Steve. 'Cept th-there's already a-another Steve s-so e-everyone justs-s calls me Ro-Rogers."
"Well, my name is James." Comes the introduction, Steve doesn't even hide the frown.
"The o-older boy from earlier is James."
"Oh." Goes Other James. "So what should I be called?" Other James looks at him expectantly.
"I d-don't know." The older kids probably decide that somehow, maybe the big kids get together and talk about it. Steve wouldn't know.
There's a moment of silence between them where Other James keeps glancing at Steve, waiting for him to suddenly have all the answers. Which is weird. Nobody really looked to Steve for answers before.
"Y-You gots a-another name?"
"Oh. You means like Buchanan or Barnes? Huh. My mom calls me Bucky, would that work?"
"I g-guess?"
"Okay, you get to call me Bucky. And I get to call you Stevie." Bucky announces, very official like with his hands over his chest. Steve has to wonder at his confidence, if anything.
So that was that.
##########
He still gets sick a lot, enough that the Sisters decide to let him have a room all to himself, in case that his sickness spreads to the others. George visits him in his room sometimes to play.
Sometimes he feels too hot and dizzy to leave his bed, and sometimes he feels too cold to do anything else but shiver under his blanket. Most of the time, he has a hard time breathing. His breath getting caught somewhere between his throat and lungs. His Ma says it's called Asthma, and it means he can't really run around too much like everyone else, so he has to be careful.
He grows jealous of the other kids, who scamper up and down the stairs, through the halls, screaming and yelling without a care in the world, while he lays in his bed, his body aching from fever, wondering why life is unfair.
##########
Bucky is very adamant about sitting with Steve while he's sick. Sometimes, he spends the night with Steve, sneaking out of his own room to take the spare bed in Steve's room instead.
He claims that his roommates are boring, and Steve is so much more entertaining. Bucky is also insistent that Steve reads to him from their story books whenever he does sleep over, claiming that he's not a good reader himself, and that Steve does the voices from the stories really well.
Steve knows they'll both get in trouble if the nuns catch them, but it makes him feel better when Bucky's around so he just keeps quiet about it.