Chapter Text
4th of July 2000
Joseph stood beside his wife’s hospital bed with bated breath. All his dreams were finally coming true. All those years of waiting, trying and trying again and they were finally having their son. After years patience, of prayers and hopes, they were finally going to have a son, he had made sure of it, a son for him to take care of, teach, and nurture into a soldier just like him. He'd always dreamt of a soldier son, a tall and proud alpha like his father and he couldn’t wait for it all to come true. Couldn’t wait to see his son follow his footsteps into the army and later raise a family of his own.
He'd always dreamt only of a son. No daughters, no girls. He wanted a strong alpha son, one who would make him and carry on the Rogers’ name. Omegas and betas were a disgrace, the weaker sections of the society and he didn’t want to raise them. they couldn’t join the army, couldn’t follow their family tradition and neither could they carry the name forward.
He was a man of traditional and orthodox thinking, not one of those who believed in equal statuses of the two genders and three secondary genders. Women were inferior to men and the other two secondary genders were inferior to the alphas. That was just how the world was and there were no exceptions to that rule. Not even for his wife.
Sarah was a beautiful woman, skin pale and spotless and eyes the perfect shade of blue. The pink of her lips and the pink of her cheeks were perfectly matched and the way her eyelashes framed her face was divine. Not only was she the most beautiful woman Joseph had ever seen, she was the most enticing omega he had ever met.
Her scent, the subtle scent of rose water, had drawn him in so fast and hard, that he had hardly had anytime to know what was happening. Then it had all happened equally fast. They'd been married in the next year.
But that didn’t mean he loved her.
She was an omega, somebody who could bear him a child. A woman, with a functional reproductive system and beautiful features, who would bear him his handsome son. That was all she was to him, had always been.
Something she realised soon after marriage.
They started trying for a baby immediately after marriage and were successful three times prior to it. But every time the child turned out to a girl and Joseph got it terminated. The more abortions, the weaker Sarah got. Joseph was sure she wouldn’t be able to give birth after this, but he was okay with that, he would finally have his son.
His own son.
His wife lay struggling on the bed, tears streaming down her pale face and her screams reverberating in the loud room. But he paid no attention to that, focussed on the many plans he had for his son’s future. He knew he wouldn’t be of any help to her at this moment and he did not want to be the wuss who holds their wife’s hand and talks shit with her. She’s going to do what her gender is supposed to do and he is going to do what his does.
It’s after a long while that the room comes alive with the sound of a baby’s cry. Joseph rushes forward and snatches the baby from the doctor’s hand, examines him carefully and finally breathes a sigh of relief.
A boy, at last.
A boy with bright blue eyes and golden hair. A boy with the world’s strongest fist and world’s loudest cries. His own son, beautiful and strong.
He'd never been happier in his life. Finally, a boy was born to him, finally he could have some respect in his circle. He couldn’t wait till his son’s 18th birthday when he will be presented an alpha and he could parade him down the streets. Let everyone see the alphas of Brooklyn city.
**
4th of July 2018
“An omega? My son’s a filthy omega?” Joseph bellowed at his wife’s fear-stricken face. She moved backwards in fear and his eyes widened in return. He liked to see her afraid, afraid of him and his temper, afraid to be struck, afraid of her alpha. It soothed some sadistic, lizard part of his brain and he was drunk on that power.
He advanced on her and grabbed a fist of her hair, pulling her up by it and snarling in her face.
“Did you not hear me? I asked if my son is a fucking omega.” She moved her head back to avoid the spit spray but he tightened his hand and bought her closer, pulling her hair till she sobbed.
She nodded fearfully, more tears springing to her face at the rough handling and he turned his face away in disgust. He threw her onto the floor and started pacing the length of it.
He was goddamn furious. He was upset, embarrassed and above all very fucking angry. His son, the one whom he'd believed would be his pride, had turned out to be his worst nightmare ever. The boy was his greatest regret, the loser crown he wore on his head.
First it had been his poor health, the boy couldn’t last a second outside without catching a cold, and had missed most of his school that way. Then it had been his non-existent growth spree. Teenage boys he went to school with developed muscles and chest hair and grew taller than their fathers, but his son remained the skinny, bony guy he'd always been. With every passing moment, throughout his son’s growth, he faced shame and embarrassment. He'd always hoped it would change with this, the presenting of secondary genders, and maybe he'd be able to wash off the shame when his son joined the army.
Now, even that dream had been crushed. His son was a fucking omega.
His agitated pacing is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. He listens carefully to the soft footsteps in the living room and grits his teeth at the vanilla scent of his son.
He walked into his son’s room to greet him and sees the second his son gets fear in his eyes. The boy bows his head, arms behind his back and waits for Joseph to approach. The alpha does, even though he takes his own sweet time to do it and comes and stands too close to his son.
The vanilla scent is infuriating in itself but coupled with the fear that mixes in with it, it’s nauseating.
“Is my son an alpha?” he questions in a deceptively calm voice but icy tone.
The teenager’s eyes snapped up to his face, panic and anxiety written as clear as daylight in them, and then lowered immediately. The boy took a deep breath and let it out in a pained sigh.
“No, sir.” This voice barely carried across the minimal space between them, but the words still reverberated in the silence around them.
Joseph’s mouth curled up in a smile, slowly, deliberately. The smile was cold, malicious and cruel. A smile that could bring so much pain, so many tears.
“Then he is not my son.” He replied. Casually, calmly, softly. Like he hadn’t just disowned his own blood. Hadn’t cut ties with his own son, his flesh, his first love.
The boy took a step back, his eyes brimming with tears and his mouth hanging open in shock. He shook his head violently, as if he could will away the past through it and valiantly tried to keep the tears off his cheeks.
“No, dad, please. I'm still your son, please.” The young man, who once used to be his son, cried.
But Joseph didn’t relent, hardly looked at the messed-up picture of the teenager. A broken image of the boy, who used to be his son.
The vanilla scent had gone stale now. Putrid, it had become. Rotten like their very relationship.
“No, Steve, you're not.” Because he's not Joseph’s son anymore, he's Steve, just Steve and Joseph will never be calling him as his son again.
**
25th of May 2019
When the sun sets in the battlefield of Afghanistan, Joseph likes to think of the article he once read in his youth. The worst place on earth, is your nightmare. In his innocent childhood he believed that lie, but in his wise mid-forties, he knows that’s not true. The war, the battlefield he's currently in the middle of right now, that’s the worst place on earth.
Danger looms over their heads, death is more certain than uncertain and everyone sleeps curled around the hopes and dreams of home. His nightmares are a paradise compared to the reality out there, rationed rations, beds with no bedding and a fight with no victors.
He stifles a yawn and reaches for the lukewarm cup of coffee beside him. He's on night duty today, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t already been worked down to his bones. Tiredness seeped into every nook and crevice of his body and he could hardly blink without exhaustion threatening to shut his eyes in sleep. It’s with heavy despair and a long sigh that he realises its empty. He resigns himself to his plight and turns back to watching the horizon. The sun is way past the horizon and the world was already bathed in shades of beautiful indigo and blue.
“Night duty, huh? That’s rough.” A deep voice spoke up from behind him. He turned around to the scent of dark chocolate with a smile, the voice familiar and very dear to him, and beckoned the other, man to sit beside him.
James Barnes. The son Joseph never had.
Sergeant James Barnes was a strong, handsome, alpha, the kind every man aspired to be. Promoted to sergeant at a very young age in recognition for the extinguished services provided to his nation, James had been the recipient of countless medals and honours. He was a fearless soldier, a great leader and above all compassionate and kind to his comrades. Joseph adored him, was immensely fond of him and to say he wished he had been James’ father would be the understatement of the century.
James smiled back at him, grey eyes twinkling under the blanket of stars the night provided, and took a seat beside the elder man. He folded his legs and placed a flask of coffee between them.
“Couldn’t sleep, sir?” Joseph questioned softly, an encouragement to talk of need be. And it surprised him, every interaction of his with the tall brunette surprised him. He was not the kind to talk feelings, ask other to confide in him or go to confide in them. He'd been brought up with the notion that that behaviour was for women, not men, definitely not for tough alphas.
But when it came to James, he wanted to know what troubled the lad, what nightmares he had, why he couldn’t sleep. Though the war that rages in front of them is answer enough, Joseph wants to hear it from the brunette himself.
Fatherhood, he tells himself. This is what fatherhood is.
“Not tired enough, I guess.” James replies with a tired sigh, his head hung between his shoulders.
“The camp’s too quiet, isn’t it? Even I can’t sleep without gunfire as a lullaby.” Joseph gives him a wry smile and reaches for the flask, pouring a cup and offering it to the brunette, who watches him with a strange look in his eyes.
Afraid, vulnerable, terrified.
“What does that tell about us? What does that make us?” as he speaks the fear becomes more palpable, more profound and Joseph’s heart aches for the young man. A young man with all his life in front of him, a whole future in front of him. A future which looks bleaker every second, every moment.
“It makes us soldiers, heroes, martyrs.” He places a hand on James’ shoulder and gives him a small smile. But the sarge doesn’t smile back, just clutches his wrist with his hand and looks into his eyes with the same haunted look he had before.
“What if we never stop being soldiers? What if we can’t go back to being just people? I don’t want to be just a soldier, I want so much more. I want a family of my own, a partner, kids, grandkids even. What if being a soldier makes me ineligible for everything else? What if I am always a soldier first and a human later?”
“Then you’ll still live. I did. I've got a wife. A s-” he can’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have a son back home, hasn’t for almost a year now. Hasn’t thought about Steve for almost a year now, and is definitely not going to think about him now. Not when he's actually talking to his son, his son – not by blood but by deed.
“I've got a wife back home and a son right here.” He squeezes James’ shoulder with a tight smile and lets it go. James drops the hand holding the elder man’s wrist and smiles at him, the smile still not reaching his eye, but not as strained as before.
“My-”
His sentence gets cut off as a gunshot rings in the distance. They are both up on their feet in an instant, Joseph’s hand flying towards his rifle and James reaching for his own. They nod at each other and take off towards the direction of the noise, glad that adrenaline leads the way. The sound arouses the rest of their camp and soldiers pile into the centre within minutes, armed and ready to fight.
There are no orders being given, it’s a do or die situation and amidst the lingering stench of death is the underlying current of fear and hesitation. Taking lives, human lives, irrespective of the fact that they may be the enemy. Was hard, inexplicably so. But they did.
Under the cover of darkness, it was impossible to see anything much. But they recognised each other and trusted each other even more. Bullets flew through the air and the ringing hung in their ears. Mud and dirt flew around them and their comrades fell. Joseph hardly spared them all a glance, too focused on keeping himself alive and breathing, making it out of there in one piece.
It happens so fast he hardly notices it. He shoots and an enemy soldier falls. He rushes towards the edge of the camp at the same time that James does. But he notices the sniper that James doesn’t. It’s a split-second decision really, James is a young man, with a full life ahead of him, a future ahead of him. He can’t die, Joseph can’t let his son die.
He jumps at the brunette, throws his body in front of his. Takes the bullet meant for him, meant for his son. Falls to the ground beside his son. Hears him call out to him, hears him tell him not to close his eyes, feels himself smile.
Fatherhood, he tells himself. This is what fatherhood is.
**
4th of March 2020
Joseph stares at his so-, no at Steve indignantly. The blonde had walked his house the day he got discharged from the hospital and came back home and he had promptly asked him to get out. His wife had cried and begged not to do it, had fallen at his feet and cried her heart out over it, but he had refused to reconsider.
He knew his wife kept meeting with him and he had put his foot down about that. Lot of crying had ensued and lot of screaming had followed but eventually his wife agreed.
And that was why Steve was here today. Staring down his father with enough venom to kill. But Joseph didn’t budge either, returning the glare with his own.
“I may not be your son, but she is my mother. You cannot forbid me to see her and neither can you forbid her from seeing me. She gave birth to me, endured enough pains due to your madness and you will not keep her from me. You will not cause her any more pain.” The tiny blonde bellowed, his hands fisted at his sides, his face an angry shade of red.
“She suffered pain because of you. She’s ashamed of you, of her pansy little omega son. You brought shame and disgrace to our family and you have the audacity to come back here and make demands from me. You should be thankful I let you live this long, boy. Should’ve killed you the day I realised you weren’t going to grow anymore.” His voice grew agitated so did his scent. The angry pheromones from both of them clogged the air around them, suffocating, trapping.
“I brought shame and disgrace? What did I ever do, father? That I was born weak? That I am not an alpha? That I'm short and thin and not manly looking enough for you?” Tears sprung to Steve's eyes and his voice broke more after every question. Joseph would’ve felt sorry for him, but he didn’t. couldn’t. not when Steve had disgraced him so much. Disgraced him in all the ways he had just mentioned.
“Yes. Yes, to all of that. You're an omega and not even a healthy one. This is the end of my family, Steve. This is the end of the Rogers’ name. Who will marry you? Who will ever want you? I've always wanted grandkids and because of you I’ll never have that.” He spat at the man whom he once loved. Whom he once cradled close to his heart and vowed to love till the end of his days. He looked into those same baby blue eyes and saw shame and disrespect when once he had seen pride and glory.
“I can have kids, father. I-”
“You will and then what? Give them the name Rogers? Which alpha would allow that, Steve? The omegas don’t name their children after them. They never have. Just get out. You can’t see your mother, we cannot be associated with you anymore.” There was a finality to the words, a tone that felt no room for arguing. However, Steve was stubborn, adamant to a fault and he would not give up.
“You can’t make her decisions for her. Let her choose, you or me.” He looked towards his mother but she shook her head at him, shame and guilt written clear in her eyes. A lone tear fell from the blonde’s eyes and he shook his head in surprise. His mouth fell open but no sound came out and he turned towards Joseph in shock.
The vanilla in the air, turned acidic, as did the rose water.
“Get out boy and never return.” Joseph smiled at him, slow and malicious and Steve turned away immediately.
The doorbell rings then and all three of them freeze. Joseph shoots them both a murderous glare and silences them with his look alone.
“Make yourselves presentable in case they come inside.” He orders in a low volume and goes to open the door.
Once he reaches the door, he takes a deep breath, forces a smile onto his face and throws the door open.
James. James Barnes is at his door.
**
“So, James, what brings you here?” He questions with a smile, the sight of his son removing all the negativity from the earlier interaction. James seems to take a moment to sniff the air around them and that’s when Joseph notices the sourness of it.
Sarah’s rose water scent and Steve's vanilla one is both doused in anguish and despair and it tangs the air around them with something putrid and horrible. Joseph’s own scent, pine trees and dew, is laden with anger and irritation and it does not help the atmosphere around them. James seems to catch onto all this and he eyes them all with growing discomfiture.
“I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life, sir. Thank you so much. Without you… I’d never be here, not alive, not in the least. I don’t know how I can repay you, sir, nothing I do could be good enough, but if there’s anything I can do please let me know.” His tone drips with sincerity and Joseph’s heart swells with pride. This kid makes him so happy, so proud and Joseph is glad he saved his life. He did the world a huge favour.
“Trust me when I say, that you don’t need to thank me for saving our life, James. You are a real hero and the army needs you. Please don’t thank me for it and disrespect me like that.” He leans forward and squeezes his left shoulder gently and James immediately tenses. Joseph furrows his eyebrows at the movement but doesn’t question it, waits for the brunette to speak.
“I got discharged from the army, sir. Lost my left arm oversees, so, they sent me home with a metal one and an honourable discharge.” He says it in one breath, not stopping for a second to second guess himself and stop.
But Joseph’s heart does stop at the news. Constricts and hurt inside his chest. After everything he did to save the kid, he missed out on one. Staying back. He was not there to watch his son’s back and he got injured. Because of him, because Joseph came back home and left James there amidst gunfire and bombs.
“James if you need-” Joseph starts but James interrupts him.
“Sir, please don’t pity me. You of all people… please don’t.” he puts his right hand up as a stop signal and Joseph nods and hangs his head. He takes a deep breath and looks away from James, his gaze instead falling on Steve who stands away in a corner, his eyes trained on the floor but mind elsewhere. And an idea strikes him. If he couldn’t take care of James then, maybe somebody could now.
“You asked me if there was anything you could do for me. Does the offer still stand?” he asks the brunette, who immediately raise his head and nods, his scent growing stronger with confusion.
“Of course, sir.”
“Then marry my son.”
**