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

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THE BABY was crying. Crying for Steve. Crying out in pain. Crying to be saved. Steve had no choice but to go to them. It was his baby, after all. Wasn't it? His and Hodge's? The most perfect baby that ever was. That could ever be. A perfect little cherub, that's what they were.

Climbing out of bed, Steve headed for the nursery. Then, there was a CREAK! Instantly, Steve turned around to look behind himself. He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't see who they belonged to. He didn't see anyone at all.

CREAK!

The sound – the footsteps – was retreating. Steve's brows furrowed. Just as he was about to turn around and head for the nursery, another door opened. The closet door.

Steve paused where he was. Standing there in wonderment and horror, Steve watched as the closet door opened by itself! Taking a step closer, the familiar CREAK came from his own footsteps on the wooden floors.

Curiosity killed the cat, his mind chastised him.

But, Steve remembered the rest of the saying, satisfaction brought it back.

And really, what was the worst that could happen? It was just a closet. His closet. The one that held their spare sheets and comforters from their single days. The very closet that stored the vacuum from company, and where their towels were neatly stacked and color coded. Steve was nesting, so sue him.

Then, the wall that separated their linen closet from the Sousas' collapsed. No, not collapsed. Opened. Like a door. A secret –

RIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG! RIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!

Groggily, Steve blinked the sleep away and reached for his charging phone. Voice hoarse from his slumber, he answered, "'Lo?"

"Steven?"

At the distressed tone on the other end of the line, Steve sat up, "What's wrong?"

"Who is it?" Hodge grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

Covering the mouthpiece, Steve told his husband, "Abraham."

Checking the time, Hodge rolled over, "Tell the old kook to go back to bed."

Rolling his eyes, Steve unplugged his phone and left the bedroom. Closing the door behind him so he wouldn't disturb the beta, Steve repeated, "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you."

"I'm listening," Steve assured, moving towards the kitchen. Suddenly, feeling a headache as though he just jabbed an ice pick through his temple.

There was some hesitation and Steve looked to see if the call had dropped. Then, Abraham said, "I can't say it over the phone."

"Abe, are you okay?"

"I'm... fine. I just need to talk to you. Tomorrow?"

"Sure," Steve agreed. "I can make us lunch."

"Let's go out, alright? I'm not sure your apartment is safe." A breath later, he added, "From prying ears."

Steve's brows pinched together as he downed a couple of Tylenol Extra Strength caplets and a full glass of water. Once done, he confirmed, "Yeah, we can go out."

"Good," Abraham sighed in relief. "Say eleven? Shawarma Palace?"

"That sounds fine," Steve yawned.

"Good," Abraham repeated. Then, he must've realized what time it was because he bid the sleepy omega a goodnight. "Sleep well."

"You too."

Hanging up, Steve made a stop by the bathroom to relieve his ever-shrinking bladder. Washing his hands, his gaze trained on the tiny, barely there bump. Turning to his side so he could see it better, Steve placed his hand protectively over it.

CREAK!

Whipping his head in the direction of the noise, Steve hesitantly exited the ensuite. On tiptoes and light feet, he headed for the primary bedroom's doorway. His heart was speeding up with each step closer to the hallway. He was reminded of his dream. Of the clo–

Hodge re-entering the bedroom, caused Steve to nearly wet himself. Swatting at the larger man, Steve asked, "What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Yawning, the muscular blond said, "I got thirsty." While Steve still held his abdomen, Hodge asked, "Are you okay? Is something wrong with the baby?"

"No, I'm okay," Steve assured, turning back to their bed. "Just a habit."

"Y'sure?"

"Positive," Steve yawned, getting comfy in the bed again.

Hodge joined him, "What did Abraham want?"

"To talk."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm."

"About what?"

Steve shrugged, "He wouldn't say. He said it wasn't safe to say over the phone."

"That's weird."

"Mhmm."

"Sounds like the old man is letting his imagination get the better of him. Poor Greta."

Steve yawned again in weak agreement. After a moment, Hodge climbed out of bed. Steve's brows furrowed, "Where're ya goin'?"

"You're not the only one with cravings," Hodge good-humoredly scoffed. "A strawberry milkshake sounds good right about now. What about you? Want me to pick up something for you?"

Rolling back onto his side, Steve shook his head, "No, thanks. Just wanna sleep now."

"I'll be back."

Steve waved him off, already being pulled back into sleep. The warmth of the comforter lulling him peacefully into a serene dreamworld. Not like the nightmare he had been in before with secret doors and cries of agony. Oh no, not this time. Now he held his baby in his arms. His healthy, happy baby who was sound asleep. Little eyelids fluttered as they dreamed.

Tenderly, Steve stroked the baby's feather soft hair. Was there anything better than a baby? Smooth, supple skin. Cute little noses. Lips like rose petals. Round cheeks that were so pinchable and kissable.

"Who would you like them to look like?"

Glancing away from the baby, his gaze landed on the handsome brunet. Steve hadn't seen Bucky in a few weeks. But he figured that his friend was busy with work. Just like how Hodge was busy. Guess that's show biz.

"What d'ya mean?" Steve asked, gently swaying the baby.

A soft smile stayed on Bucky's lips and he repeated, "Who would you like them to look like? They could look like whoever your heart desires."

Looking down at them, Steve could see their little features changing. First, their hair curled and turned golden. Just like Hodge's. Their nose, like a button. Their eyes, sky blue. Then, their eyes turned stormy and a dimple took shape in their tiny chin while their hair darkened.

"I don't care who they look like," Steve admitted, stroking his fingers through the baby's hair once more. "I'm just glad they're mine." Redirecting his attention to Bucky, he asked the brunet, "Who would you want your baby to look like?"

Bucky's eyes crinkled with the growing of his smile, "There's only one person."

In Steve's arms, the baby's features changed once more. The hair lightening to a cornsilk blond. Slope nose, rose petal lips. The features were familiar. Being passed down from his parents to him and now to them.

"There," Bucky said. "They're perfect."