Love Grows: Love Series 1 (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)

6

STEVE WAS FLOATING above his bed. Light, like a feather. In wonder, he looked down to see Hodge still sleeping, peacefully. All the while, Steve was floating. Floating high enough to almost touch the twelve foot tall ceiling.

To his left, the window opened by itself, beckoning Steve. So, he moved in that direction. Reaching out, he grasped the frame, trying to ground himself. His feet settled on the window seat and for a brief moment, he wondered if Peter Pan would take him away to be the Lost Boys' papa.

Sliding his hand down the window frame, something crinkled beneath his skin. Glancing away from the stars, he looked at the piece of pale notebook paper. There was writing on it, but he couldn't make it out. Not because it was written messily or because it was in a different language. Oh no, nothing like that. Instead, it was blurry, out of focus.

Reaching for the note, the Band-Aid dropped, letting the paper fly away. Fly right out of the open window. Still, Steve reached for it.

Losing his grip on the window frame, Steve began falling. Falling down, down, down. Faster and faster as the wind slashed at him. Nearly losing his ability to breathe as he continued to fall. He could feel panic starting to set in, but couldn't do anything about it.

Moving his arms about, he desperately tried to grab onto something or to magically learn to fly. But nothing was helping. The ground was quickly approaching. What could he do? How could he stop –

Jerking at the impact, Steve woke with a start and the image of Sharon's pulped face and her one eye that had been watching the sky. His heart raced and his hands were clammy. Yet, Hodge slept on. He was so peaceful with the comforter around his naked hips and a dark eye mask covering the top half of his face and those blond curls messily mussed in different directions.

Carefully to not disturb his sleeping spouse, Steve leaned over to breathe in that relaxing scent. Just a few lungfuls until he felt himself relax. Already he was feeling his muscles ease and his bones turned jelly. Shifting even closer, he melted into the bed and into his husband's –

Creeeeeaak.

Eyes snapping open, Steve lifted his head and directed his attention to the open door. There, in the doorway, was a man. Wasn't there? There was certainly a person. Right? A dark mass blocking out the little moonlight streaming in through the window. Something – someone – obstructing the doorway.

No, Steve shook his head. He was just seeing stuff. It was all in his head.

Rubbing at his eyes, Steve quickly blinked and looked back at the doorway. Only, nothing – no one – was there.

Laying back down, Steve started scenting Hodge again. Desperately wishing to just fall asleep and not think of anything. He didn't want to think about how Hodge was struggling with his career. He didn't want to think about what happened with Sharon. He didn't want to think about everything that Dr. Erskine had said about Stark Tower. He just wanted to –

***

The Lost Boys wanted a story, and who was Steve, their new papa, to turn down their request? They deserved love and deserved to have good things. They were all such sweet little things. Well, when they wanted to be.

So, Steve let the boys crowd around him as he looked down at the book in his lap. He had expected a typical nursery rhyme, not this. Instead of Mother Goose, it was a dark, devious book with pictures of gore and carnage.

"This is the one we want," a little boy hugging Steve's legs assured.

"It is?" The boys nodded, so he read from the book on his lap, "And then the feral pups were found in the basement... eating a poor, helpless... little –"

Baby, Steve internally finished. He didn't want to read them this story. He didn't want to burden them with that fear.

The little boy on his left looked up at him with such innocent eyes as he accused, "Sometimes I wonder how come you're the leader of anything! And please don't tell me what Angie said because I'm not interested!"

Brows furrowing, Steve studied the boy, but was soon drawn away to the little boy on his right. In a posh accent, he argued, "If you'd listened to me, we wouldn't have had to do it! We'd be all set to go now instead of starting all over from scratch! We'd have been all set to go now instead of starting over from scratch!"

Steve's brows furrowed. The boy on the right side continued, "I told you not to tell her anything in advance! I told you she wouldn't be open-minded. There would've been time later to tell her. To let her in on it!"

"So this is my fault?" The boy on the left questioned. "It could've been anybody! All they had to be was young, healthy, and not a virgin!"

Although he didn't know why, Steve's heart was pounding aggressively against his ribcage. Why were they saying this? What did it all mean?

"You're scaring him."

Head whipping up to the doorway, Peter Pan approached from out of the shadows. Only... it wasn't Peter Pan. At least, not the one from all of the books and movies Steve had grown up with. This Peter Pan was a man with high cheekbones, a prominent jaw, and dark tousled hair that shaded eyes the same color as the sky before a storm. He was beautiful.

Soon, the man was crossing the room to him. It took Steve a little too long to realize that the Lost Boys were gone, and that it was just him and this man. Steve's frame was frozen in his spot, but he wasn't sure if he'd try to leave even if he wanted to.

Cautiously, the man outstretched his hand to Steve. His gaze burned into Steve's, searching for something. Seemingly, he must have found what he was looking for because he brought his hands further, cradling Steve's face in his large hands.

"You're a good man," he told Steve. "You're going to make a good father."

Then, the man was leaning forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to Steve's forehead.