Chapter Text
"in the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel
livin' in the garden of evil
screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed."
New York is always loud.
That's what it's known for, The City That Never Sleeps, always noisy and bustling and fun. The lights are always bright and the streets always filled with night owls, partygoers, lonely souls.
New York is always loud, except when Steve is going home from work.
The club he dances at isn't in the nicest part of town, he will admit, but he'd appreciate it if the alleys weren't always so dark, quiet, and scary when he makes his way home in the early hours of the morning.
As soon as he steps out of The Red Room he feels a shiver run down his spine, the shorts and tanktop he's wearing not doing much to provide warmth. Not having much of a choice, he starts making his way down the road, passing by cars and houses that loom over him in judgmental silence. He shrugs it off. Steve knows the route by heart by now, having walked it a few hundred times already, and so he allows himself some moments to daydream to make time pass faster.
In an ideal world, he'd be an artist with his own studio, working on comissions and the occasional gallery exhibition, washing charocal off of his hands each night instead of the sweat and grime from other people's bodies as he does now. In an ideal world, Steve would be strong and healthy, healed of his heart problems instead of being stick skinny and the smallest man in any and every room he enters at any given time. In an ideal world, his parents would be here to see that version of him instead of being six feet deep pushing daisies.
But alas, this world is not ideal, so Steve keeps walking into the cold, dark night.
Steve focuses on his steps, the sound his feet make when they hit the pavement, and there's noises in the background: TVs blaring from open windows, a stray cat here or there, gunshots in the distance. He hopes they stay in the distance.
Gang life in New York is nothing new, but still something people are scared of- and they have every right to be. Stories about the different groups and members make the rounds fast and leave the public shaking, but Steve thinks it isn't so bad. At least the goons take care of the neighborhoods they own even if they have to spill blood sometimes to achieve that.
Left foot, right foot, Steve's getting to a street that's a little quieter- the run down stores closed of course, not avalaible for another six hours- left foot, right foot, crunch.
The crunch did not come from anything he stepped on, though, his shoes are worn down with thin soles, he would have felt it. Keeping his breathing even, he speeds up a tiny little bit, as much as his weak lungs allow. Now he can hear them, the other two pairs of steps, and it makes him swallow hard, that it's two. The Red Room is the best establishment in this fucked up part of town, and the clients are plentiful, many of them favoring Steve's shows over anyone else's, but he's never been followed before.
He can see a man and a woman standing at the street corner in the distance, thir laughter barely audible, and he thinks if he gets close enough to them, maybe he'll feel safer, so he picks up his pace again- left foot, right foot, leftfoot, rightfoot, leftfootrightfoot-
Before he can exhale properly there's a hand around his mouth and he's being hauled up, the surprised yell he lets out muffled by whoever's disgusting palm is pressed against his lips, and the kicking Steve is attempting is fruitless against the strong Alpha holding him. There's a man in front of him as well, same designation, his back turned to keep a look out for other people, while the man who's got his hands around Steve drags him into the corner of the alley.
When the man takes his hand away from Steve's mouth, Steve inhales deeply yet shakily, the oxygen burning in his lungs, but before he can scream for help, his face is being pushed against the brick wall and the material is scraping at his cheek, making tears spring to his eyes.
"Let go of me you piece of shit," he hisses, and his blood boils at the way the man behind him chuckles mockingly.
"The slut's a mouthy one, Armie," he drawls, voice deep and full of amusement, and Steve kicks his foot back in hopes of catching the guy's shin or better yet, his balls.
"Down, boy," the other one says, a lot closer now, and suddenly there's fabric at Steve's mouth, being shoved in.
"Hoolp," he screams through the material, or tries to, to no avail. He squirms and tries to kick, tries to free himself, but the guy behind him is pinning his limbs to the wall while the other one is tugging at his clothes and Steve feels a cold sensation wash over his body.
When his parents died and he had to move into one of the roughest parts of Brooklyn, when he had to take up dancing in order to put food on the table, that is when the day came where Steve looked himself in the mirror and said, "Look, you are young, you are little, and you are an unbonded omega. It's gonna happen to you some day. It's not a question of if, it's a question of when. Fight until you can't fight anymore and when your body fails you, live with the fact that you did all you could."
Still, the fear is ripping through him like a tsunami and filling his veins with ice, rendering him motionless. He feels the cold air hit his behind, the men laughing darkly and disgustingly, but he doesn't know what they're saying, not a single word is registering in his mind. His mind is screaming at him to move, do something, anything, but his body is completely frozen in place.
He closes his eyes as he feels the tears run down his cheeks, hoping that they'll be quick, at least. Hoping they won't kill him afterwards, although, what exactly is he living for, anyway?
Suddenly he hears some scuffling behind him, the gravel under heavy feet, and the muffled noises of men fighting, the ringing in his ears is still preventing him from hearing a word they're saying. Steve finds himself on the floor, knees roughened up by the harsh ground, and he turns around slightly to see that another man has joined them in the alley, and he's swinging his fists at the other two, holding his own pretty well.
Steve tries to snap out of his hazy state, he grabs onto the wall and tries to stand up on shaky knees, his lungs still burning and his stomach turning like he could throw up. He swallows the feeling back down and turns around properly to face the scene before him, eyes darting around to find a heavy object- anything to help him help this stranger who's seemingly slowly losing the fight against those two bastards.
Before he can do anything, though, he sees the shorter one out of the two- likely the one who was holding him down mere minutes ago- reach into his pocket and retrieve a-
"Watch out, a gun!" he screams at the top of his lungs, and the stranger meets his gaze before his eyes widen as a shot rings through the air, forcing silence upon the current situation.
The stranger crumples to his knees with his hand pressed to his side while the other two move away slowly.
"Shit," the taller one- Armie, Steve remembers- curses. "Fucking shit! What the fuck, man? Seven's gonna have our heads for this!"
Steve stares at them in shock as they look around in panic, before they remember that he's still there and wordlessly decide to run off. And run they do, faster than anyone Steve's ever seen run before.
He stumbles to the stranger on the floor, and he's still crying- crying for himself but most of all, for the man.
"Wha- what can I do?" Steve rushes out, taking off his tanktop and putting it where the man's hand is pressing down on the wound, the material is soaked in seconds.
The man is wheezing when he replies. "Nothing. They ain't gonna be fast enough, 's too late."
"No," Steve sobs, "no, please, I'm sorry. 'm so sorry, you saved me, 'm sorry."
There's a weak smile on the man's white face. "Just say thank you and move on, Stevie."
He doesn't question why this stranger knows his name.
"What's your name?" he rasps, getting close to look the man in the face.
He brushes some of his hair aside as he waits for an answer, the man is gasping now, drops of blood escaping his mouth.
"D-Dominic," he gets out.
"Thank you, Dominic," Steve whispers, and holds Dominic's hand where they're both pressing the shirt to his body, not that it's helping now. As Dominic said, it's too late.
Steve cries as Dominic breathes his last few puffs of air before that stops too and his body sags where it's on its side on the floor, and then Steve cries some more.
It's freezing out but his body can't register that, he's rooted to where he's laying in front of this stranger's dead body, the man who saved him, gave his life to save his. He doesn't know what to do now.
Turns out he doesn't have to find out, because somebody tells him what to do next.
Steve doesn't know how long he's been laying here when he hears two men approach, Alphas, and for one fleeting moment he's scared that the two from before are back, but the yell of "Get the fuck up!" kicks his body into action and he throws his hands up as he moves away from Dominic.
"What the..." one of them mumbles, but Steve is afarid to look, his eyes are trained on the ground and his shoulders are still shaking from the sobs that ocassionally wrack through his body. He's also shivering.
"Look at me," the Alpha snaps and Steve does as he's told, looking into the hardened face of a dude that's pointing a gun at him. Jesus Christ. "The fuck happened here?"
"I- I'm-"
"Speak the fuck up, Omega," the Alpha growls and Steve's body seizes up at the command, the words are hard to get out but the discomfort of not talking and disobeying the man is too great to ignore.
"T-two men attacked me here, Do-minic saved me, got shot, got killed saving me, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobs, and the man in front of him doesn't lower his gun but his eyes soften for a moment.
"Vlado, what's the situation?" he yells over his shoulder, eyes never leaving Steve's.
"He's been dead for a few hours now, gunshot to the abdomen."
"Why the fuck would he risk his life and get himself killed for you, huh?" the first man yells at Steve, making him shake even more.
"I don't know," he yells, insisting, "no idea, I'm just a dancer at the Red Room, but he knew my name and-"
"What's your name, then?"
"Steve. Steve Rogers."
The man's eyes widen for a moment and he immediately puts his gun down, backing away from Steve a few steps. This confuses the younger boy greatly.
"Yo, Vlado, you hear that?"
"Yep. Looks like that's something the Boss needs to handle."
Steve's mouth drops open. "What are you talking about?"
They ignore him and keep talking.
"You think he could take a look at this right now?"
Steve startles for a second. "I know damn well you ain't talking about me when saying this."
Both men look at him.
"We're taking the Omega to him, Nebo, there's no way I'm listening to his yapping anymore."
Before Steve can express his outrage he's being grabbed by the more aggresive Alpha of the two- Nebo, he thinks- and he's taking him to a car with blacked out windows. Steve's squirming and protesting doesn't help and he's swiftly silenced as the doors shut behind him. His heart is racing and his palms are sweaty from nervousness, but for some reason he's not as scared as he was when those first two goons caught him.
Maybe it's because he just feels numb now after everything he's witnessed today. Shock is one hell of a thing. Or maybe, a small part of his brain says, it's because Domnic was nice and these are his friends so maybe they'll be nice too.
Steve audibly scoffs. As fucking if.
"Something funny, Omega?" Nebo's voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he realizes that they started driving. Without the other guy.
"You know my name now, fuckin' use it," Steve mumbles as he watches the buildings they're passing by, no heat behind his words. The sun is almost up. "Where's your friend? Vlado?"
Nebo's eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. "He's taking care of our friend."
"Dominic."
"You remember a lot for someone who got assaulted and witnessed a murder all within minutes of each other," Nebo muses, his eyes back on the road again.
"I'll never forget his name," Steve says, tears building up in his eyes, "I'll never forget him. What he did... I'll never forget him."
"Well, it wasn't all out of the goodness of his own heart, kid."
Steve gives him the side-eye. "What do you mean?"
The car rolls to a stop in yet another alley, and Steve has no clue where he is.
"You'll see. Now, there's a blanket in the back, you see it? Wrap it around yourself and hop out, we're here." With that, Nebo exits the vehicle and Steve scrambles to do as he was told and follow.
"What now?" he asks, his voice a little shaky, but Nebo just grabs him by the elbow and pushes him to the back entrance of the building, squeezing Steve painfully hard when the younger boy protests.
Best to keep his mouth shut, then.
The hallway is long and dark and there's a door at the very end of it. People can be heard from inside the room, and Steve feels his heart starting to beat faster the closer they get.
"Would you calm down, nothing's gonna happen to you," Nebo hisses in his ear, making uncomfortable shivers run down Steve's spine. "You smell like a litter in distress."
"I'm fucking eighteen," Steve snaps, not sure why.
"Whatever," the other man gruffs before throwing the door open, causing every pair of eyes in the room to be on them within seconds.
There's four Alpha men and two Beta women in this room. The men are older, the women around Steve's age. They're playing... poker? Steve doesn't know the game so he can't tell.
"I need to speak to George," Nebo says when the silence becomes too suffocating.
An older man with grey hair and thick black eyebrows looks them up and down. "He's in the back with his pup," he says, and everyone at the table snorts at that.
Steve doesn't know who George is or why they have to see him, but the men are eyeing him hungrily and disgustingly, so he figures his best bet is to stay with Nebo.
They go through the afforementioned door and Nebo closes it behind him gently, before standing in front of Steve. The younger man takes a step to the side so he can at least see who he's been dragged to. The room is fairly empty except for a desk in the corner, some chairs, and a pool table smack in the middle, and leaning against it is an older gentleman- at least he looks like one with his hair neatly slicked back and the expensive suit he's wearing- and a younger man is standing next to him with his profile visible to Steve. They both smell like pricey cologne and arrogant Alpha pheromones.
He squints at the men before him and thinks back to what Nebo said and- his eyes widen. This is George Barnes. He'd be an idiot not to know hiim.
"George, I have an incident to report to you," Nebo says, and it's a stark contrast to how he talked to Steve earlier. He sounds almost timid.
"Can it wait?" George's deep, calm voice can be heard asking, "I'm in the middle of a conversation with my son."
His son decidedly isn't looking at them.
Nebo shuffles his feet. "It's important."
George closes his eyes and exhales, before looking at them again. "Go ahead, then."
Clearing his throat, Nebo starts talking. "We were just doing our regular sweeps in Harlem- Dominic, Vlado, and I- when Dominic said he had to take a detour to tend to his, um, usual responsibilities." Steve is dead silent as he listens and prays the retelling of the story won't get him into trouble with these obviously dangerous men. "So we let him go and continued, and some time later we heard men yelling, and we ran in the direction Dom went in. What we found was Dominic's dead body and next to it," he steps aside fully, "Steve Rogers."
George's eyes widen, his son's head snaps to him so fast Steve thinks he might've heard his neck crack.
Steve is panicking under the scrutiny of their gazes, and he does the only thing he can think of.
He lifts his hand in a small wave and croaks, "Hello."
After George has asked Nebo to leave the room and told his son they'd postpone this conversation, he sat Steve down across from him at the desk, while his son- James, as Steve has learned- went to fetch him a shirt.
"Do you want to drink something?" the older man asks after he's been eyeing Steve for what felt like ages. Probably just a good five minutes, though.
Steve shakes his head mutely.
"Alright, suit yourself," George muses, his hands clasped together in front of his big belly, and Steve would laugh at the cliche of the whole situation if he weren't so scared. He's doing his best not to show it, though, keeping his scent as unsuspecting as possible.
That's when James enters the room and in three steps he's next to Steve, tossing the shirt into his lap. "There you go, Omega," he grunts, and Steve does his best not to rolls his eyes.
Alphas, seriously.
"Thanks," he mumbles and gets up, turns his back to the men in the room and then drops the blanket that he securely held around his shoulders, hastily pulling on the shirt. It's way too big on him and it smells like a young Alpha, like a forest with something warm and reassuring in the undertones, but at least it covers Steve from his narrow shoulders to his bony knees.
He sits back down.
"So, Stevie, what have you been up to?" George asks in a cheerful voice but it's obviously fake and it makes Steve uncomfortable. James is standing behind his father and fiddling with a knife.
Steve glares at the Alpha before him. "Trying not to starve, avoiding getting raped in alleyways, the usual. Now, will you guys tell me why the fuck everyone here seems to know my name? Didn't know the Russians had a fanclub."
"Serbians," James mumbles distractedly, and Steve looks to him.
"What?"
James looks up. "We're Serbians," James clarifies and Steve scoffs.
"Whatever."
George still has an amused smirk on his face, but his eyes seem fond.
"How have you been holding up without your parents?" he asks next, making the blood in Steve's veins turn cold.
"Why the fuck do you wanna know?" he spits, his cheeks heating up with anger, and he's this close to getting up and storming out. The mafia be damned, he already loked death in the eye today.
"Watch your fuckin' tone," James snaps, irritated and smelling angry, but his father just raises a hand to silence him.
"Listen to me, Steve, and listen well. I ain't the type to repeat myself and you're gonna wanna know this because this," he gestures around him, "is going to be your life now, kid."
Steve blanches at that. Stories after stories run through his mind, about kidnapping and human trafficking, sex trafficking even, and he feels himself start to shake.
"Fuck's sake, would you hear us out before pissing your little panties, Jesus," James snaps, getting angrier by the minute.
"James," his father snaps, "ćuti!" James snaps his mouth shut but continues to glare daggers at Steve. "Now, you really don't need to worry, seeing as this isn't anything new for you. It just wasn't as obvious before."
Steve's mind is reeling and he can feel a headache pounding at his temples, and he just wants to go home so he can curl up and cry. Then then he wants to sleep for ten years.
"I don't understand," he rasps, hands coming up to tiredly rub at his eyes.
"See, I knew your parents," George says, and Steve's head snaps up to look at the man in shock, "more specifically, I knew your father. When Joe died, he made me promise to keep an eye on you and Sarah. When she left as well, I had to make sure to keep you safe without dragging you into this world, our world. You father never wanted that for you."
Steve has never felt this confused in his life. "B-but why was he..."
"He was one of ours, Steve," George clarifies and theres something like pity in his eyes.
Joseph Rogers was a smart man, an honest man, or so Steve thought. They never lived in luxury, not even close to it, but there was always good food on the table and his parents could afford all the medication Steve needed to take care of his broken body, he'd had a good life with his family. When his father died in a car accident and his mother's illness took her shortly after, that's when Steve realized just how good he'd had it. He's never been sicker, or weaker, or hungrier than he is these days.
Knowing that his father paid for their necessities in other people's blood, however, is a punch to the gut.
"Did he... Did he ever kill anyone?" Steve swallows down the wave of nausea that hits him at the thought.
"No, he never did, it wasn't like that," the Alpha says, "he was more of a diplomat, a strategist. Joe always did the talking, and saved our asses many times that way. A true, neutral Beta."
Steve nods. He can live with that.
"And Dominic... his job was to look after me?"
George nods. "As much as he could without getting involved. Tonight he had to, I guess."
"I'm really sorry about him," Steve says again, tears welling up in his eyes as the image of the kind stranger laying dead on the ground flashes before his eyes.
George leans forward, a solemn expression on his face. "Steven, do you have any idea who your attackers were? Why they'd target you?"
Steve laughs humorlessly. "Because I'm a pretty little unbonded Omega and I weigh ten pounds soaking wet, one would be a dumbass to think there's easier targets than me."
Geroge doesn't say anything but Steve thinks he heard James wince in the background.
"Two Alphas. One of them was short and chubby, the other one was tall, he called 'im "Armie", but that's all I know."
"Wait, Armie, you said?" Steve nods. "Tall, muscular, light brown hair?" At Steve's second nod, James steps closer. "Tata, pretty sure he's talking about Armie and Rob. Rumlow's men."
George's eyebrow raise in intrigue.
"They did say something like 'The Seven's are gonna kill us for this', so..."
"Well, now we know. You think they got Stevie on purpose, Buck?"
James shrugs. "Unlikely. They ain't smart enough to figure out who he is."
George hums. "In that case, we ain't gone make their deaths as painful. But still pretty painful." Steve scrunches his face up. "Go find Odinson, James, tell 'im I expect it to be done by tomorrow."
With a nod James leaves the room, Steve's eyes following him. He turns back to George.
"So what happens with me now?"
George leans back and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You need a new protector, properly this time, though. You're one of ours now, Steven, we gotta keep a close eye on you."
"So what, I have to give up my job, move out of my place?" Steve asks incredulously.
The Alpha nods slowly. "Yes. I made a promise to your father, and the only way that promise will be broken is if I am dead. So get used to this, boy, and fast. Lay low and do as you're told, so we can stay out of trouble."
"But why can't I go back to normal and you get someone to follow me like Dominic did?"
George's lips morph into a thin, unimpressed line. "Because those two now know what you look like and that you're important enough to have had a Seven member risk his life for you. They'll wanna find out why. Also, I'm not letting another good man die just because sticking with us is too inconvenient for you."
Just as Steve is about to open his mouth and express his distaste for the situation, the door opens and James steps in.
"Odinson's on it, tata."
"Very good. James, take Steve to the Brooklyn house, show him around. You're on bodyguard duty until I know what else to do with you."
"What?" James yells, stalking over to the table so he's closer to his father, "You want me to babysit the Omega?"
"Excuse me?" Steve snaps.
"Shut the fuck up," James grits before looking back at George. "I ain't nobody's babysitter, tata!"
"You are, until you learn how to take responsibility for your actions and stop wilding out. This will teach you well."
"I'm sorry, if you want him to learn how to be responsible you could get him a dog, or a pet rat- even easier- and not trust him to protect another human," Steve quips, making
George's lips turn up at the corners.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but the Omega is right."
"Alright now, what the fuck is your problem, dude?" Steve snaps, rising from his seat so he can get all up in James' face, whose eyes narrow. "My name is Steve, you know that, fucking use it you sexist piece of shit."
James' jaw drops for a second before he turns his eyes to his father. "Tata!" he whines, and the older man suddenly slaps his hand down on the table, making the younger men flinch.
"That's enough, now. James, you do as you're told and make sure Steve is comfortable. This will be your job until I've found someone else. And Steve, try not to make anyone's life more difficult than it needs to be. Mouthy Omegas never do well in these circles, y'understand?"
They both nod silently, the anger wafting off of them in waves.
God, now Steve is stuck with James fucking Barnes for the foreseeable future. What an asshole.
"Now, off you go, boys. Good night, I'll see you soon," George says, and before Steve knows it, he's being grabbed by the neck and dragged out of the room, past the people from earlier, and out to a big black car. The guy standing next to it immediately gets into the driver's seat upon seeing them.
"Are you serious?" he screeches when James lets go of him, "Did you just scruff me? What the fuck?"
"Lower your damn voice," James growls as he towers over Steve, but he isn't having any of it.
"Listen to me you arrogant Alpha piece of garbage, you do not treat me this way, understand? I'll fuckin'... kill you in your sleep, ya hear? Ya hear?"
James just rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Yes, sure, now get in the car or I'll grab you again."
Steve does as he's told but he's stomping on his way to the door, slamming it shut extra hard just to annoy James. This is just his luck. Fucking hell, what is he gonna do now?
James gets in next to him and taps on the partition, a second later, it starts lowering.
"To the Brooklyn house."
"You got it," the guy says and rolls the partition up again.
"Cool, now I'm being kidnapped. Love that," Steve mumbles, and James huffs next to him.
"Listen, Steven," he spits his name like it leaves a disgusting taste in his mouth, "my father now assigned me this dumbass task to look after you, and you better not make this difficult, you hear me? Stay where I put you, shut up when I tell you, and you won't get hurt."
"Oh great, now you're threatening to hit me."
"Not by me, you fucking idiot, you have a target on your back now that those two escaped and know what you look like! There's a reason why we're protecting you and they'll do their best to find out! You either stay with us or you die, Omega!"
The silence after James' outburst is deafening. Steve wants to probe further but he's way too exhausted. He'll deal with it tomorrow.
The rest of the car ride is uneventful, and when they get to the house Steve barely pays attention to his surroundings as James leads him to a room with an en suite.
"You can use anything you find in here, stay in this room until I come and get you."
Steve only nods silently and makes his way to the bed, taking off his shoes and socks and moving to shed the rest of his clothing, uncaring that the Alpha is standing behind him. When his fingers find the hem of the shirt so he can lift it over his head, he hears the door click shut behind him.
It's the most fitful sleep Steve has since the day his mother died.