AN: TW: referenced rape/non-con, basically for the rest of the story.

Steve doesn't respond. Bucky stares open mouthed, his hand hovering by the lamp, frozen stiff with shock.

Steve is in his room, crouched on the floor with his head buried in his knees. The image is incomprehensible to Bucky's sleep-addled mind until he remembers he had given Steve his extra room key in case he lost his.

The sound of Steve's ragged breathing snaps him out of his stupor.

"Steve?" he croaks, ripping back the blankets and stumbling out of bed. His heart leaps in his mouth as he fumbles to get upright, the wood floors cold on his bare feet.

Steve flinches back the moment he comes closer, his head snapping up, a wild look in his eyes. Bucky lurches to a halt, his mouth dry as he stares at Steve. The strange alpha scent is still in the air, a woody, greasy varnish that makes his skin crawl.

He breathes through his mouth to avoid setting off his own alpha pheromones—not that that will do much, his initial reaction upon waking up had filled the air with clouds of sharp, bitter pine.

It mixes unpleasantly with the other alpha's scent and he can see Steve's nose twitch, his pupils small pinpricks as he pants in sharp bursts. Ordinarily Steve's distressed omega scent would cut through the mess and pull Bucky's alpha instincts in another direction, but those helpful cues are absent. Instead Bucky has to mentally force himself to calm down.

Control! he snaps at himself. Something is wrong with Steve and snarling and clogging up the air is not going to help.

He takes in a slow breath, his heart still pounding rapidly as he crouches down by the foot of the bed. His knees crack and Steve's head vaguely follows his movements, showing he is at least somewhat aware.

"Steve," Bucky tries again, his voice softer as he tries to project safe alpha in both scent and tone.

He's never actually seen Steve go feral, but this is looking a lot like it. Omega-feral events aren't covered as much in school as alpha ones but he knows the basics. An omega in distress will fall back onto their base instincts to protect themselves. It's generally accepted that an omega will go feral to protect its pups, but they are just as vulnerable to it when faced with personal threats.

This tendency in omegas is a common argument against them joining the army or other high-stress jobs (even though alphas can go feral too, as Steve would complain.) Considering how Steve had managed to infiltrate a Hydra base by himself and then lead 400 prisoners back to base through enemy territory, Bucky doesn't think some ordinary thing had managed to set him off.

Something hurt Steve, his instincts hiss, buzzing through him and howling to be let loose. Something hurt Steve and another alpha was THERE.

He forces himself to breathe, trying to keep his budding anger from manifesting in his scent. He needs to help Steve get back in his head. Getting riled up will do just the opposite.

He kneels, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. His palms prickle and he bites his lip, looking Steve over. He's shaking. Steve's skin is shiny with sweat, his hair damp and his clothes dishevelled.

Bucky clears his throat and rolls his shoulders to relax, allowing his scent to sweeten to old pine and moss, the combination bringing to mind the huge trees in Brooklyn park.

"You're safe," he tells Steve while his scent reminds them of childhood adventures climbing trees and digging for worms. "You're with me, in my room. It's safe Stevie."

He once again wishes that Steve's scent could give him some clue as to whether he is getting through to him. Instead, he has to rely on Steve's expressions. His words are met with a blank, slow blink. Steve's breath stutters for a moment before restarting, his shoulders moving with each inhale and exhale.

Bucky is reminded of asthma scares while growing up and he smiles with a calmness he doesn't feel. "See? You're okay," he says as convincingly as possible. "You just keep breathing steady like that, Steve. You're okay."

Steve shifts for the first time since his flinch, his arms pulling into his chest while he sits hunched over his knees. He blinks again and he shivers, his eyes darting around the room.

"Buck," he slurs as if just seeing him. His breath hitches. He shudders violently and curls in on himself, his voice small. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—" He gives his head an abrupt shake. "I shouldn't've— I should go."

Bucky gives a start at the unexpected response. The last thing he wants is for Steve to leave in the state he's in. He opens his mouth, tensing as Steve makes as if to get up.

Before he can protest Steve winces and stops, dropping back down. His face pales, his whole body stiffening as his hands clench on his thighs. Bucky remembers the whimper he had woken up to and goosebumps break out over his arms.

"Are you hurt?" he asks before Steve can try to leave again.

Steve clearly isn't fully back yet and Bucky knows that he cannot in good conscience let him leave this room. His mind races as he tries to figure out how to get Steve to stay. "It's okay. I can help you Stevie. What's wrong? What do you need?"

Steve shudders again, chewing on his lips as his shoulders pull inward. Even with his bulky size he manages to look small, everything about him screaming to be left alone and overlooked. Bucky swallows as Steve glances around the room again, his hands beginning to shake.

"I need—" Steve breathes in laboured, audible pants, his eyes dropping to the floor. His jaw clenches and his chin jerks, his nose wrinkling. "I need— I need ta take'a bath."

Bucky sits up, not knowing what to make of the request. His confusion probably sneaks into his scent but he glances over to the small bathroom in the corner of the room. Having a private bathroom is a luxury he and Steve hadn't had back home, and though this one is probably cramped compared to some standards, it still has a full sink and bath.

"I guess…" he glances at the clock on the desk behind him and shoves his confusion behind him. "Okay, sure," he says, looking back at Steve. "The bathroom's all yours."

Steve's stares at him unmoving and they sit like that for a moment before Bucky realises Steve might not be able to get started by himself right now. His heart aches at the state he's in. What had happened?

"Tell you what," he says, his voice turning soft. "I'll get a bath running. Then you can have it."

Steve nods jerkily and Bucky eases himself up. His legs are a little sore as he makes his way to the bathroom, conscious of Steve's eyes following him warily.

The bathroom is small and covered in white tile, his toothbrush by the sink. The toilet sits in one corner with the tub in the other. He leaves the door open so Steve can see as he begins running the water. It warms up quickly when he tests it and he's glad they don't have to wait long.

He doesn't have much besides the standard issue scent-neutralising soap, but he sets that out, hoping the chemicals won't be too harsh for Steve. Once the tub is full he lays out a towel, hoping Steve will see his actions as safe caring alpha, rather than overbearing knothead.

Steve hasn't moved when he steps out, his gaze blank as he stares at the floor. Bucky can see his fingers fisted in the collar of his shirt, his knuckles bone-white.

"It's ready, Steve," he calls, careful to keep his voice low. Steve's enhanced hearing is probably even more acute than usual right now.

Steve's eyes jump to him with a jerk, his steady, wide-eyed stare unnerving.

Bucky swallows and moves away from the bathroom, sitting back down on the bed. His hands rest on his knees, his posture open and non-threatening. Steve's gaze follows him again and he watches him for several seconds before he finally starts to uncurl.

He remains hunched and defensive, like a kicked dog, his eyes skittering away as he stands up. There is a brief flash of pain on his face as he straightens but it's wiped away in an instant, his body vibrating with tension as he darts for the bathroom.

The door slams shut the moment he gets inside and the lock turns, barring Steve into the room.

Bucky lets out a breath, his shoulders dropping several inches. Now that Steve isn't immediately in front of him, he can feel his anxiety creeping up. His hands shake as he brings one up to scrub at his eyes.

The ticking clock drags his gaze up and he notes with bleary exhaustion that it is a quarter past three. He'd started this with only a few hours of sleep and he has a feeling he isn't going to get much more tonight.

He takes in a slow breath and his nose wrinkles as he catches a whiff of the other alpha again. He leaps up and strides to the window, easing open the glass. The curtain has to stay drawn, but that might help clear the air.

Water splashes from the direction of the bathroom and he wipes his hands on his pants, his thoughts beginning to race now that he has nothing to do but wait for Steve.

What had happened to him? The look on Steve's face and the scent of a strange alpha threatens to drag his thoughts in dark directions. His throat constricts and his jaw clenches. He doesn't want to think about that. Steve should be safe from that. Nobody even knows he's an omega, and even if someone were to try something, Steve could fight them off easily now, right?

And he'd been at the hotel, hadn't he? He should be safe in the hotel. It's not like any of the American soldiers are going to give Captain America a hard time.

But none of that logic explains what had pushed Steve to go feral.

His hand creeps up to his mouth and he bites his thumb nail, a bad habit since childhood. Someone had hurt Steve. That much is clear. What remains to be seen is how they hurt Steve, and how badly.

I didn't smell any blood, he reminds himself as he begins pacing the small room. He didn't look like he'd been in a fight. There weren't any bruises and his knuckles weren't scraped.

That doesn't explain the flash of pain.

Maybe someone had tried something and Steve had gotten spooked. He'd been on edge these last few days. If some cocky jerk somewhere managed to push the right buttons Steve might have been pushed over the edge and fled here before anything else could happen.

But why would that even happen at all?

None of his theories quite fit, and he also doesn't have an answer for who might have been the one to attack Steve.

He breathes in the lingering traces of foreign alpha. He could swear he'd smelled it somewhere before. It is mixed and tainted with his own scent now, his woody pine notes overpowering most of the brighter, more processed wood scent from the other alpha. There is an undertone of grease, or some kind of tanning agent, as if he were smelling a library filled with leatherbound books right next to a fry place.

He shakes his head and huffs, trying to clear his nose of the smell. He can't place it and he'll have to accept that he has no way of knowing what had happened without finding out from Steve himself. He chews at his nail and glances at the clock again. He can't hear much from the bathroom but Steve had been in there for a while now. He forces himself to wait a few more minutes before worry eats through the rest of his patience.

He knocks at the door. "Steve?" he calls, feeling antsy and trying to convince himself that Steve definitely hasn't drowned in there. He'd been in such rough shape. Should he have left him alone so soon?. "Not tryna to rush you but that water's got ta be cooling down by now."

He receives no immediate answer and he stands in an awkward silence before clearing his throat, running a hand through his hair. "D'you need anything, pal?"

He can hear movement from behind the door and then Steve's voice comes, quiet and tired.

"I need… some different clothes."

Bucky knows why immediately and he tries not to let himself think about it, his nose wrinkling.

"Sure thing," he replies roughly. "I'll get'cha some of mine."

He darts back to his bed and pulls out his duffle bag. He has an extra pair of civvies and he pulls them out, shaking out the stale pine wood smell. His scent is ingrained into his clothes by now, but that is better than the other alpha.

He knocks softly on the bathroom door and after a few seconds it opens just wide enough for Steve's hand to poke through and accept the clothes. Bucky steps back as the door closes again and he forces himself to sit on the bed instead of continuing to pace.

It takes a few more minutes for the bathroom to open again and Bucky scans Steve worriedly.

His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the bath and his chin is ducked, his eyes on the ground. Bucky realises he'd been subconsciously expecting his clothes to hang loosely on Steve, but Steve is bigger than him now and the clothes are almost too small. His feet are bare and he shifts his stance apprehensively, his hand clenching restlessly on the doorknob.

Bucky tries to meet his eyes but he can't tell if he's still in danger of going feral. An awkward silence hangs between them, a flurry of questions clogging Bucky's throat. He has so much to ask but he has no idea how to say any of it, and he has the distinct impression that if he says the wrong thing that Steve will bolt without telling him anything.

Steve breaks the silence first, his eyes pinned to the floor. "I should go."

Bucky swallows. He glances at Steve's bare feet and hazards a guess. "Do you want to leave?"

Steve's throat bobs and Bucky hears him suck in a breath. His jaw clenches and his shoulders hunch as he shakes his head. He looks so small standing there and Bucky feels his heart squeeze, his eyes burning.

"You can stay, Steve," he says slowly, keeping his gaze steady.

He waves for him to sit next to him, but to his surprise Steve wavers before finally deciding on the wooden chair by the desk. His feet pad softly across the floor and Bucky can see him trembling as he sits down. His wince is better hidden this time, but his hands clench on his pant legs. Bucky's mouth is dry as sand, his heart pounding as he stares at Steve.

Steve looks shaken and embarrassed. He still refuses to meet Bucky's eyes and tension pulls across his shoulders.

Bucky licks his lips and leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "Steve," his voice comes out rough. "You okay?"

Steve's eyes dart up before flitting away. His breath stutters and he rubs his hands on his pants. Bucky knows that if he could, he would be filling the room with anxious, stressed pheromones, but he gets nothing.

Bucky is certain he can guess the answer to his question so he doesn't wait for a reply.

"What happened?"

Steve's breath catches. He goes completely still, his fingers digging into his legs. Bucky's heart flutters with anxiety and his fingers grind together. His worry leaks into his scent and clings to him like sticky sap.

Steve's nose twitches and he pulls back in the chair, his breath going in and out in quiet pants. He worries at his lower lip and chews on the inside of his cheeks, swallowing painfully.

"I can't— I— I dunno how to talk about it."

The last few words are nothing more than a choked whisper. Bucky's lips part and he notes with alarm that Steve isn't even trying to deny that something had happened. Most of the time when Bucky confronts him after a back alley scuffle or growing illness Steve will shrug him off or try to wave away the issue.

He doesn't do that though. He doesn't deny anything. Something is wrong, and it is so bad that Steve can't even talk about it.

Bucky doesn't know what to do. He feels like he did when Sarah died. He could see Steve mourning, clear as a washed out painting, but the damage was so broad his efforts felt like a drop of water in the ocean of what was needed.

He had still tried. And they had gotten through it. They can do the same now, no matter what had happened. He has to believe that. He breathes in and sweeps his eyes over Steve, deciding to state something similar as he had back then.

"You don't hafta do this alone Stevie. Whatever happened…" he manages to catch Steve's eye trying to pour his sincerity into his scent. "I'm here. 'Til the end of the line, remember?"

Steve's voice catches on something distressingly close to a sob and he looks away, focusing on the window. A light breeze brushes the curtain and Steve stares at it as if it holds the answers to all his problems.

At last he looks back at Bucky, a desperate light in his eyes. "You hafta promise not to tell anyone," he blurts. He pulls in a panicked breath, his toes digging into the floor. "You can't tell anyone, Buck. And— and you can't be mad." His voice lowers and he drops his chin. "You hafta promise not to be mad."

Bucky stares, his thoughts spinning. There is real fear in Steve's voice, his face drained of blood and his eyes wide.

It's the fear that pushes him to answer immediately. "Of course," he rushes to reassure, even though his hindbrain rings alarm bells about Steve's insistence he keep this a secret. "I promise."

Steve's shoulders visibly tremble as he stares at him, his top teeth worrying at his lip. Bucky can see him debating internally and the seconds of silence stretch out between them, measured by Bucky's pounding heart and the ticking clock.

At last, Steve drops his eyes. His hands twist together, his gaze fixating on his fingers as he rubs his knuckles. "I—" he clears his throat, his shoulders pulling in even further. His voice falls to a whisper. "I dunno how to start."

Bucky licks his lips and chews on his tongue. He doesn't know how to start either, so it's hardly a surprise Steve is speechless. He scans Steve for probably the hundredth time, trying to get a clue to what had happened.

He comes up short and instead resorts to a hushed question. "Can you tell me… who hurt you?"

Steve flinches and nausea twinges in Bucky's stomach. He keeps his eyes on Steve, his own hands feeling far away as he watches him fidget, his fingers never staying still.

Steve doesn't raise his eyes, his jaw flexing as he works his tongue around in his mouth. He breathes in sharply through his nose and pulls his knee up onto the chair with him. It at once gives him something to hide behind and something to hold onto, his chin ducking behind his knee as he grips his ankle and hugs his leg to himself.

"It—" his fingers whiten on his ankle and Bucky has to lean forward to hear the next words. "It was Howard."

His blood runs cold and his joints lock solid. He sits stunned, his brain stalling like a broken record as he tries to take in what Steve had said. He'd known an alpha had been involved. He'd known, but he— He didn't know what he was expecting.

He barely knew Howard, but at the same time he did. He'd really only seen him once in New York, but he'd heard of him. He's well known. He hadn't been anticipating that name to fall from Steve's lips. It almost feels like a betrayal. How could he—?

He breathes in abruptly, trying to catch any remnants of the other alpha's scent. He can't smell anything, but that doesn't matter because he'd smelled that scent before. It had been strangely familiar, but he hadn't been able to place it.

He knows it now. He'd picked up something similar on Steve right after his meeting in Howard's workshop. His mind flashes back to Steve's dishevelled and shaken appearance and fury claws at his throat.

"What did he do?"

The words come out harsher than he intended and he winces when Steve cringes. He tries to soften his scent, forcing his shoulders to relax. Steve stares solidly at his kneecap, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the hem of his pants. He takes in a shaky breath and doesn't look up as he speaks.

"It…started when I went to get my suit done," he begins.

He shifts uncomfortably and shakes his head, biting his lip. "Well, I guess it kinda started after the serum. I— I didn't really notice anything before. But he said the serum made me more—" He breathes in, cutting himself off, tugging sharply on his pants. "Anyway, he kinda… he was kinda…chatty. In the plane, uhm."

He looks up, seeming to realise how scattered his story is. His cheeks suck inwards and he gnaws on them.

"He flew the plane," he clarifies. "When I went to Austria. He and Peggy were there, and uh," he takes in a shuttery breath. "And they both know I'm an omega, right? Cuz they were there for the serum. And Howard makes my suppressants."

A horrible sense of foreboding sinks into Bucky's gut. He listens, his eyes wide, his mind racing as Steve speaks.

"Howard was kinda, um…" Steve squirms in his chair, picking anxiously at the seam of his pants. "On the plane he was a bit…forward."

Steve doesn't look at him. "But— but I didn't really think anything of it," he rushes, his eyes darting up. "He wasn't really saying anything and I just thought—" His shoulders slump. "I just thought he was being an alpha."

Bucky swallows. He forgets sometimes how normal it is for Steve to have to deal with random advances, just because he's an omega. Of course he wouldn't think too deeply into it. Not when he was busy planning a mission and dealing with much more important things.

"I'm guessin' he kept up his behaviour afterwards," he whispers, his knuckles whitening as he thinks of how tense and agitated Steve had been these last few days. "Did he try something tonight?"

Steve's gaze skitters away and he hugs his knee to his body. "Not…" he licks his lips. "Not exactly."

Bucky blinks, unsure what to expect. His hands are sweaty and he untangles them, wiping them on his pants. His chest feels tight, his pulse rapid and fluttery, making him light headed. Steve watches his hands move, his eyes dull and his voice falling flat as he continues.

"It started a few days ago," he murmurs. "When I went for the suit. Howard was still…" he falls silent, sitting completely immobile as he stares blankly at Bucky's hands.

"Howard was still, you know, tryin' manoeuvres on me. But he— there was almost no one there, and he led me to the upper floors, where his office was. He said it was so we could work on my suit without being disturbed, but—"

Steve twitches, pulling in a sharp breath, his hands getting agitated again.

"He uh— He kept saying things. Making it pretty clear what he wanted. An' I tried to kinda steer away from that, but he just ignored everything. And then he had to measure me for my suit—"

Steve grimaces, hunching in on himself, twisting his fingers in the hem of his pants so hard Bucky is surprised it doesn't tear. Steve's breath rattles in his chest, sounding dangerously close to the asthma attacks he used to get. He lets out a shaky gasp and blinks rapidly, his eyes shiny.

"He kept…touching me."

Bucky's stomach drops, a ringing in his ears. His mouth falls open and Steve shivers, his breath catching. "An'— an' he was acting like it was just for measuring, but he wouldn't stop, even when I tried to move away an'—"

Steve's chin jerks to the side, as if pulling away from a bad memory. He sucks in a breath, his tongue working around in his mouth as he tries to settle.

He sniffs, and Bucky knows his pine and moss scent has probably shifted into a bitter concoction, like biting into raw pine needles. He wipes his mouth, his throat swollen, making it hard to swallow. He knows he should try to keep his scent from crowding Steve, but he can't. The things he's been saying—

Steve jerks on his pant leg, clenching his teeth. "I sorta pushed him away." He drags in a breath, his shoulders heaving. "I couldn't believe he was being so forward when he knew I had to keep my status secret, and he must'a noticed that I wasn't interested but—"

Steve scowls, his eyes squeezing shut as he breathes. He opens them again, his fingers shaking as he flexes them, letting blood flow to his white knuckles. "But he just laughed."

Bucky forces down a growl, his eyes pinned on Steve as he continues. "He acted like it was some big joke." His mouth twists. "Like he thought it was funny and not that bad, and he—" Steve's eyes flick up to his and away again, his lips pulling straight. "He asked me right out if I'd…" His chin jerks and his shoulders roll. "You know, if I'd 'tumble in the sheets' with him."

Bucky bites his tongue. Steve stares fixedly at his foot, his toes flexing.

"I said no," he states bluntly, his gaze fatigued. "I thought we were still at the stage where he would still listen. I thought if I rejected him completely he'd lay off…"

He trails off and Bucky's voice rasps in his throat. "He didn't though, did he?"

Steve's toes curl under and his jaw tightens, his hands beginning to tremble again. "No."

The word is almost a whine, Steve's throat flexing as he fights against tears. "No. I— I think he had this whole plan already in his head, cuz his whole, his whole demeanour changed the instant I refused. He looked— he looked like a hunter."

Bucky's mind flashes with the only time he'd seen Howard in person. Up on a stage, showing off a car, a wide smile on his face and a line of omega and beta girls by his side. At the time he had been enraptured by the sci-fi nature of the car, but now it is so easy to imagine a darkness creeping into that same showman's smile.

"What did he do?" he whispers.

Steve's whole body is shaking now, visible tremors working down from his shoulders into his hands. Bucky can see a damp patch of sweat under his arm, his breath uneven and halting.

He feels sick. He wants to cross the few feet between them and pull Steve into a hug, maybe wrap around him somehow and block everything out, but he remembers Steve's flinch when he'd first seen him. His stomach curdles. He worries Steve will bolt if he moves, so he forces himself to stay frozen on the bed.

Steve breathes in. His shaking makes his leg slip off the chair and he lets it drop, his hands beginning to knead anxiously at his thighs.

"He— uh," his eyes flit around, never staying still. "I'm not s'posed to tell. I'm not supposed to tell anyone but—"

He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, his hands clenching on his legs before climbing up to tug at the loose ends of his shirt. "He threatened to— to out me as an omega to the press."

Bucky's eyes go wide and Steve doesn't look up as he begins to ramble.

"He said even if he couldn't get it passed the censors he'd tell people higher up in Command. And there's no way they'd stand for it. And if anyone found out—especially the public, or Germany—the army would hafta pull me back from the front lines.

"It'd be bedlam if anyone found out. You know no other units would accept me in command, and I'd have a— a giant target on my back. Howard wouldn't be the only one tryna—" He shudders, pressing his hands into his stomach.

Bile rises in Bucky's throat, but Steve continues, making it worse.

"Howard said tellin' on him would do no good. And if he couldn't, uh— If he couldn't get the press or Command to pay attention then all he'd hafta do would be to… to um, to mess with my suppressants. If he wanted. He could make me go into heat in the middle of a mission, or— or in the middle of camp."

Bucky's scent flares in anger, the first tongues of fire licking at a pine branch.

If Steve's scent were present, he's sure it would smell rotten, like an apple eaten away by mold and left to fester. He imagines the scent, trying to use it to help tame his own.

This isn't about him. This is about Steve.

Steve chews at his lip, the skin red and chapped as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves. He pauses for breath, each inhale short and tense. He isn't finished yet, and Bucky feels sick that there is somehow more. Something worse than what he'd already said.

"Uh," Steve's gaze is completely focused on the button of his cuff, his thumb running over it again and again. "Um. The problem is, I, uh, I wouldn't just be discharged if people found out I'm an omega."

Bucky's brow furls, and Steve continues, his words falling like stone cold weights onto his chest.

"The serum's too valuable for that," he rasps, rounding in on himself. His trembling grows, his breaths shortening. "They wanted a whole army of super soldiers at first. If they can't have me on the field, then they'd put me back in a lab. Make me useful that way."

Bucky's hands go cold. That exact same fear had been the reason he hadn't told anybody about Zola's experiments, and with Steve being an omega—

Steve's eyes meet his, looking pained and utterly exhausted. "And with Erskine dead… the next closest expert on the serum would be Howard. I'd be trapped in a lab with him all day until the war ended."

A rushing like howling wind fills Bucky's ears. His body feels numb and far away, only his heart keeping him attached, pounding hard and fast in his chest. He's going to throw up. His tongue is a dry brick in his mouth, unable to move or say anything as Steve sucks in a tight breath and looks down.

"Howard made that all very clear." His voice is small, his body sagging in on itself. "I could do that or…" He licks his lips and swallows. "Or," his voice catches and he clears his throat, his next words rushing out. "Or I could let'im knot me. Once every time we came to London."

Bucky's growl gets caught in his throat and it comes out in a strangled burst. Steve flinches, his hands clasping his elbows as he hunches into himself.

"I—" his voice wavers, the threat of tears on the horizon. "I had until our mission to make my decision. If I didn't show up in Howard's room by then, then—"

He chokes off and Bucky's brain connects the dots faster than a bullet. He sees red, his heart surging in his chest and threatening to spill out of his mouth as he snarls, "I'll kill him."

Steve's head whips up, his eyes round with fear. "No!" The explosive word is enough to shock Bucky out of his fevered haze, and he is stunned to see Steve shaking worse than before.

"No," Steve's voice is laden with unshed tears. "No, you promised, Buck. You can't. He can't know you know. I'm not s'posed to tell anyone. I can't—"

He gasps, his shoulders heaving, his fingers digging into his elbows. "Please don't— don't do anything to him, Buck," he begs. "If I tell, he'll go to the press an' I'll get sent to the lab with him. Then—" he drags in a breath, shaking his head jerkily. "Then who knows what he'll do to me. I can't— I can't do that. I'd rather die."

The words sucker punch Bucky in the stomach. He forces himself to breathe out, distantly aware of his nails cutting into his legs. Steve's fear throws cold water on his raw instincts, but it also riles him up more. Howard—that bastard—had twisted and cornered Steve to the point where even talking about this makes him terrified.

What kind of manipulative, good-for-nothing, piece of filth alpha—

It's only a sob from Steve that snaps him out of his spiral of furious thought.

His head jerks up and he realises he'd been releasing a storm of enraged alpha pheromones, the raging forest fire of his scent almost visible with how thick and heavy it is.

Steve is all but curled up in his chair, his face ashen and his eyes wet. Bucky opens his mouth but Steve's forlorn voice cuts him off. "You promised you wouldn't be mad," he whimpers. "You promised you wouldn't—"

Bucky's brain screeches to a halt and nearly derails in a frantic u-turn as he mentally finishes the rest of Steve's sentence. 'You promised you wouldn't be mad at me.'

He's not sure what sound he makes as he jerks and gives in to his instincts, tumbling to the floor at Steve's feet and reaching for his hands. He hadn't been thinking how vulnerable Steve must be right now.

He'd just barely gotten out of a feral episode. Of course he's shaken up and confused, especially since Bucky can't work off his omega scent to try to tailor his own responses to what he needs. Of course he'd been falling into his head, landing back into age-old instincts when faced with an alpha's anger.

Steve cringes, making Bucky's soul cry out, but he lets him take his hands. Steve's hands are cold and limp, his skin wrinkled from the bath. Tears slip down his cheeks, his breaths hitching and shuddering as he tries to control them.

Bucky stares up at him, kneeling by his feet and trying to force every ounce of sincerity into his voice as he can while gripping his hands.

"I'm not mad at you, Stevie," he croaks. "Never. Never, do you understand? This isn't your fault. Nothing you did could make me mad at you. Nothing."

Tears run more freely down Steve's face and he shakes his head. His throat works around a sob and his hands tremble as he hangs onto Bucky like a lifeline.

"But I—" his breath sucks in with a mournful, wet noise, and Bucky can sense his scent shifting from a rageful forest fire to a misty mountainside, like the forests they had walked through in Austria.

Calm. Sheltered. Safe.

Steve's voice breaks out in a harsh whisper, his eyes lowered in shame. "But I went to him. I— I didn't even fight it. I'm big enough now, I could've— But I just— I did everything he said."

Bucky's heart aches for him, a corner of his mind wanting to just sit and cry and scream because this should never have happened to Steve. He should never have been put in this situation. He should never have had to make that choice.

Now Steve's bouts of brooding silences make far too much sense. This whole time he'd been quietly suffering, trying to decide between two impossible options.

Bucky's hands tighten around Steve's, his words choked with tears.

"This isn't your fault," he manages. "It doesn't matter if you didn't fight. Howard made it impossible. He— he blackmailed you and rigged the game before you could even throw a punch. He knew he couldn't win any other way, so he made it so you couldn't fight."

His voice hitches and tears pool in his eyes. "You shouldn't have had to fight." His throat threatens to close up, his nose growing stuffy. "You shouldn't have had to fight to make him stop, Stevie. I'm so sorry."

That does it. The dam cracks and Steve breaks down into full on weeping. He folds forward and Bucky catches him in a hug. He can feel Steve shaking against him and his own body trembles. His hands are probably digging into Steve's back, but he can't move, silent tears dripping down his face as Steve continues to sob into his shoulder.

He can feel his knees start to protest against the hard floor, but he ignores them. He will stay here as long as Steve needs.

His hand comes up to clasp the back of Steve's neck as he rocks them side to side. Steve ball his fists up into the front of his shirt, his cries muffled in his shoulder.

"We— we'll get through this," Bucky mumbles, half to himself and half to Steve. Steve shudders and Bucky clutches him closer. His eyes close. His scent turns plaintive, drowning him in rain-wet pine needles.

We'll get through this.

Please.

AN: Oof. This was a rough chapter.

It took me some time to get their conversation right. It would be so hard talking about something like this, and I think Steve especially wouldn't know how to say it. I also think he would have some misplaced guilt and self-blame because with his new body he probably thought he'd be able to protect himself now from unwanted advances.

I can't imagine being Bucky and hearing this and realising what Steve has been going through these last few days.
Hope you enjoyed reading!