Chapter Text
“Hold still, Cal," Bucky says.
The tiny puppy wriggles in Bucky’s arms, trying to break free from his grip, but he holds tight as he carries the naughty thing back inside. The little guy had danced through a massive pile of mud, and his feet were covered in the stuff. Bucky goes and grabs a towel to scrub at the muck. Calidore squirms harder at the motion- he hates having his paws touched after an awful experience with the nail clippers.
Sir Calidore, Knight of Courtesy, was a gift from Wanda. She’d found the abandoned puppy in an alley on her many trips to the city. She’d brought the little guy home, and Bucky’s omega fell in love instantly. No one is sure what breed Calidore is, but all Bucky knows is that the little guy is growing bigger and bigger every day. He is sure little Cal will be bigger than his mom when he is fully grown. As it is, he is growing quickly, and his teeth are something else. Calidore has ripped holes in many sweaters already.
Satisfied, Bucky sets the clean puppy down. Cal scampers to his water bowl and drinks thirstily, splashing all over the floor. Bucky sighs and mops that up too. After making sure there are no muddy footprints anywhere, Bucky makes his way up to his bedroom, Cal hot on his heels.
Bucky and his omega have been pretty quiet over the last twelve months. Their days have consisted mainly of group therapy, cuddling on the couch, spending time out in the woods, and reading together. Bucky has been on a few pack trips, but he finds it hard to leave her when he knows she’s upset. She’ll spend time with Wanda or Natasha, though the latter is adopting a pup of her (and Sharon’s, of course) own, and Bucky’s omega is struggling with it. In fact, it seems like almost everyone is either having a pup or planning to have pups. But tonight, Steve and his mate Peggy are throwing a Halloween party, as they do every year, no pups allowed. Bucky and his omega agreed that going to the party would be good for them.
Naturally, Steve was elated when he heard. Peggy was too, and it had been her idea to have couples’ costumes. A few days ago, she’d texted Bucky instructions that he was to be Shaggy and his omega was to be Velma. She wasn’t thrilled with this choice because she had no idea who Velma even was. After teasing her about how old she was, Bucky’d made her watch the old cartoons and his favorite Scooby-Doo movies until she was caught up.
“Sunshine?” Bucky says, opening the bedroom door, “Cal an’ I are back.”
“Just a second!” she calls. "I’m almost done!”
Flopping on the bed, Bucky inhales her scent, noting that she is content. His hindbrain settles down and relaxes at that knowledge. Bucky thinks of the support group they’d found and wants to hug everyone there. Without them, neither Bucky nor his omega would be able to get out of bed, let alone go to a party. They’d been told that healing from such a tremendous loss is hard work, but that the two of them have so many people willing to support them. Bucky is grateful.
Bucky scratches Cal’s head as he reaches for his Shaggy costume. It’s nothing to write home about, but Bucky is pleased that he managed to find the exact color of maroon bell-bottoms. Accuracy is essential, after all. He puts on the pants, tugs at the shirt, and messes up his hair.
“You ready yet?” he asks as he slips on a pair of black shoes.
“Yeah,” she answers, sounding upset.
Bucky jumps to attention, thinking that it’s some awful thing.
“What’s wrong?”
She emerges from the bathroom in a skirt shorter than he’s ever seen her wear, and Bucky’s jaw drops. She tugs on it self-consciously.
“The stupid skirt shrunk in the wash,” she says. “And I’ve realized I look terrible in orange.”
“No, you look incredible,” Bucky says. “I just- wow, you look hot as fuck.”
“I can barely walk in those heels.”
“Damn, where have you been hidin’ those legs?”
She sighs. “You’ve seen them before.”
“Right.”
Her skirt is so short that it should be fucking illegal. Bucky has to swallow back a growl the longer he looks at her. He likes looking at her all the fuckin’ time, likes watching her gain confidence when she realizes that Bucky thinks she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in his life.
She straightens up and grins. “Will you put the glasses on me, Buck?”
He takes the plastic frames from her hands and slips them over her ears. He swallows.
“You look so sexy. Holy shit,” Bucky groans, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in between her breasts.
“Gods bless tight turtlenecks?” she asks.
“Fuck yeah. We gotta roleplay more.”
“What, as Velma and Shaggy?”
“No! Like, as a schoolgirl-teacher thing or somethin’. I dunno; I can’t think right now. Gods damn.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“You fuckin’ should. You’re gonna make me hard.”
“Gross,” she says, but she’s grinning. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah -it ain’t gross, by the way- I’m gonna look stupid in comparison to you, though.”
“Shaggy’s my favorite Scooby-Doo character. Besides, T'Challa just decided to throw on a crown from Burger King as his costume. You have put in at least twenty percent more effort than that,” she says.
Bucky continues staring, not that she can tell anymore. She’s too busy bending down to grab her heels and letting Bucky see up her skirt. Not really purposely, but Bucky can’t help but take a peek. She’s wearing a pretty pair of underwear that he’d picked out for her. Bucky chews his bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to get his mouth between her legs.
“The correct answer is supposed to be ‘No, Buck, you make the sexiest Shaggy ever.’“
"Okay, but Shaggy isn’t necessarily sexy.”
“He is when I’m him,” Bucky says.
She stands and turns to catch him looking at her. Bucky raises his eyebrows.
“What are you staring at?” she asks.
In response, he reaches out for her, and she throws herself in his arms. He grins, his eyes darkening as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“You can’t go out like this," Bucky says.
"May I remind you who shrunk the skirt in the first place?” she says.
“Touche. But everyone’s gonna be lookin’ at you tonight.”
“Yours are the only eyes I’ll notice, Buck.”
“Why’s it you always know what cheesy thing to say?”
“Ah. I can read your mind.”
“I’d believe that even without the bond.”
She kisses Bucky’s chin, but he pulls back with a frown as he realizes something.
“Crap, I shaved. Shaggy has a beard, damn it. How’re we gonna win the contest now?”
“Does it matter?”
“For accuracy sake, yeah,” Bucky groans, flopping his head on her shoulder in defeat. “Damn it. I’m an idiot.”
“I always forget how competitive alphas are,” she mumbles to herself before poking Bucky on the cheek. “Hey. Will it count against us if I draw one on with eyeliner?”
“Mm, probably not.”
“Good.”
She takes Bucky’s hand and leads him into the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the bathtub at her urging as she draws on his chin. Bucky closes his eyes, enjoying the touch of her hands on his face. He’d been worried he’d never feel it again.
The first few months after they lost their pups was difficult. It had felt like Bucky and his omega were going in two separate directions. One would cry while the other sat stoically. Bucky thought she had dealt with it all long before he did, which made him feel like a failure of an alpha. Little did he know, she hadn’t dealt with it at all (as she was wont to do) but thought he had. Things got so bad at one point that they didn’t talk to each other about anything. Bucky felt their relationship crumbling under his feet, and he didn’t know how to stop it. But one day, he caught her in her favorite reading chair, sobbing into her book. And when she saw him watching her with her tears reflected in his eyes, she’d thrown herself in Bucky’s arms and they finally cried together. That was the first step on the arduous journey of healing- at least according to their support group leader.
“You’re all done,” she says, patting his cheek. “You look like Shaggy.”
“Think we’ll win?” Bucky asks.
“We better. I’m never wearing this garish shade of orange ever again.”
“But you’ll wear the skirt again, right?”
“Maybe,” Her lips quirk, “Just for you, though.”
Bucky wraps his hands around her legs, sliding them up until the tips of his fingers hit the hem of the skirt.
“You look so good. Please wear this skirt around the house. Just this an’ nothin’ else, okay?” He nuzzles her clothed stomach. “My pretty omega. Got half a mind to skip the party you look that good.”
Of course, Bucky’s phone starts ringing. He scowls at his pants pocket.
“Buzzkill,” he complains to it.
“I’m going to go get Sir Calidore’s costume ready,” she says, kissing him, being careful of his eyeliner goatee. “See you downstairs.”
Bucky pulls his phone out. It’s a text from Steve asking where the hell they are. He responds that they are on their way, grumbling under his breath as he does so. Steve’s always been a fuckin’ cockblock, the bastard. Bucky stuffs his phone out of sight and follows the sound of barking. She’s in the kitchen trying to put on her shoes as Sir Calidore sits at her feet with a Scooby Doo collar clasped around his neck.
“What even are these shoes?” she complains, stumbling then catching herself. “Jeez!”
“C'mere an’ hop up,” says Bucky, patting the counter.
She does, and Bucky goes about helping her with her heels.
“Should Sir Calidore wear a t-shirt?” she asks. “I mean, I don’t know what else to do. He isn’t colored like Scooby.”
“Scooby doesn’t wear clothes,” Bucky points out.
“Gods, I knew we should have gotten the full Scooby costume we found online.”
“He wouldn’t wear it. He nipped me when we tried to make ‘im wear those swim goggles, remember? Put your head up, I wanna scent you.”
“Why?” she asks but does it anyway.
“You know why,” Bucky says as he sucks a mark into her neck.
“You’ll be a good boy tonight, won’t you Sir Calidore?“ she says to the puppy as Bucky goes about doing whatever alpha thing he feels like he has to do. "Your dad needs this party. He hasn’t seen his packmates in a while. I told you about the babies I lost, right? Well, your dad is still very sad about that, though he pretends not to be.”
She catches Bucky’s gaze: “I love him so much; you know that, Sir Calidore? I want him to be happy again.”
“Daddy wants your ma to be happy again too, Cal. Because I love her so damn much.”
“I love you too, but not the ‘Daddy’ part.”
“Still a no, huh?”
“Still a hard no.”
“I’ll get you one of these days, omega-mine. An’ there, hey, just like that, your shoes are on.”
She hops off the counter. “Thanks. If I twist my ankle-”
“-I’ll carry you around.”
“All right, deal. Ready to go?”
Bucky nods but reaches back and smacks her on the ass. She doesn’t respond in any way, but he can see the corners of her mouth lifting when he smacks her a second time.
“This fuckin’ skirt’s too short,” he says for probably the thirtieth time.
“Gods’ sake, you shrunk it!”
“Yeah, I know, I know. An’ I guess I like showin’ you off, so’s long as you come home with me.“
"Always, you dummy. We’re married, remember?” she teases. “You good?”
“All good,” says Bucky. “Let’s go, Cal.”