Chapter Text
Steve is an omega who inherited an inn from his parents - the Irish Rose. It’s a simple little place, but he loves it and works hard to keep it clean and neat. It reminds him of his ma, and her stories about moving out West with his pa and building the Rose. It’s small - a common room, kitchen, and his room on the ground floor with a few inn rooms above and a stable out back - but it’s his. His family’s, for all that he’s the only one left.
New Brooklyn - the town where the Rose is - is also pretty small, really just a stopping point between (slightly) larger towns around them, or a way to fill in large empty patches on a map.
Mr. Fury runs the general store, which doubles as the post office and sometimes the sheriff’s office, if someone needs him or his friend Coulson to keep the peace. They’re both confirmed bachelors, and sometimes one or the other will ride off for a week or to “for business”, though Steve doesn’t know what type of business that is. It’s odd to have two alphas sharing a business, but they seem to get along fine. They keep to themselves, although Mr. Coulson is always friendly when Steve stops in for supplies.
The other main business in town, though - Brock Rumlow owns The Second Head, and he’s a bastard of a bartender and an alpha if Steve’s ever seen one. He comes on all charming, but he turns nasty if he doesn’t get what he wants. And he’s wanted the Irish Rose for years.
It’s too big for one little omega to manage all by himself, he says, especially with how sick little Stevie gets. And the Head and the Rose are right next door, it just makes sense to merge them together. Besides, wouldn’t Steve feel better with a nice strong alpha to watch over him, keep him safe?
That last is usually accompanied with a pat to Steve’s ass, which Steve returns by punching Rumlow, and then someone needs to pull them apart. Steve despises Rumlow, and his useless, mangy friends who hang around. He dislikes alphas in general, from their arrogance to their condescending assumptions to their invasive manners. He’s turned away more than one customer for asking to see “the alpha of the house,” as if he can’t manage on his own.
Despite this, he has fairly steady business. New Brooklyn is half a day’s ride south of Stark Town, the nearest city, and sometimes travelers who didn’t stop in the larger city will stop here. Hell, some people just want the quiet. There’s been a rivalry between the Starks - Howard Stark and then his son Tony - and Alexander Pierce for as long as Steve remembers. Pierce wants to own the whole west, and Stark wants a railroad, but not through Pierce’s land, and it’s all a headache.
Anyway, Steve doesn’t worry about it. He has an inn to run, and that’s enough for him. He’s not expecting anything new when a woman comes in, requesting two rooms and three stalls in the stables, so he just shows her upstairs. She’s small, with bright red hair and a beautiful face, though her eyes are hard. A sandy-haired man follows her, stopping to throw a bag in the second room, and Steve doesn’t pay them much mind before he goes to start dinner.
He doesn’t see the third lodger until the morning, when he’s trying - and mostly failing - to get the stove to cooperate long enough to cook breakfast. A handsome alpha with shoulder length, dark hair drags his way into the kitchen, looking mostly asleep and barely dressed.
“God, s’that coffee?” His voice is low and sleep-slurred. “Fuckin’ Barton always burns it.”
Handsome the man may be, but Steve still glares at his intrusion into his kitchen. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. You can wait in the common room.”
The man, for a wonder, takes the hint and ambles off to sit where he can watch the kitchen door and the stairs. He actually keeps the other man from barging in too, which earns him a little respect.
And the first mug of coffee, when Steve calls the trio to fill their plates. The woman has to drag the other man away from the coffee pot and back to the table, an exasperated look on her face. “Barnes, keep him here while I get food.”
“Yes’m.”
Steve’s surprised to hear an alpha man obey a beta woman, but perhaps she’s his sister? “Are you Barton?”
“No, that’s the useless lump.” She nods at the sandy-haired man, now whining into his empty mug. “Romanova. Free rider and hired gun.” She offers a hand, and Steve takes it.
“Steve Rogers, innkeep.” He takes the coffee pot over to their table and refills everyone’s cup. Barton is too asleep to do more than gulp it down immediately - and how he doesn’t burn himself, Steve doesn’t know - but Barnes smiles and thanks him.
They don’t stay long after breakfast - Barton drinks an entire pot of coffee by himself while the other two work steadily through their food. Barnes overpays for their stay, and when Barton grumbles, says that he owes it for drinking all of Steve’s coffee and he can win it back at the next bar.