He keeps busy with his pre-determined schedule. He works harder with his studies, determined to catch up with this current century before it inevitably came crashing down on him. He wasn't optimistic, not when he knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was determinedly sanitizing every piece of information he got, not when he knew that the psychiatrists and medical team treated him with kid gloves.
They'd frozen when he mentioned wanting a cellphone, incredulous when everyone seemed to have one except him, but they eventually relented and given him one that he could use to call or text anyone he wanted. Which in all reality was just Clint and Natasha, on occasion Commander Fury and Agent Coulson, that was about the extent of his contact list.
It still felt like a victory, some tiny invisible step into reclaiming some semblance of control over his life.
So he lets the week pass by, trying to bat away at the nervousness he feels growing everyday.
##########
"Files loaded and ready to go, Steve."
Natasha settled back onto his bed, helping herself to some popcorn Clint brought along.
Natasha's contribution is vodka. While Steve isn't sure he can get drunk on it, and even though Steve tells Natasha as much, she gets a gleam in her eyes that he isn't sure how to read.
"Still can't believe you're invited to this roast. Still can't believe I have to sit through this roast. Feels like I'm in highschool all over again." Clint glares (pouts) at Natasha as she takes a fistful of popcorn from his bowl.
"Roast?" Steve inquires, settling into the nest of pillows they'd decided to set up. Pillow fort, Clint had argued.
"A gathering wherein we insult a group or single individual for our entertainment." Natasha provides, as she throws an unpopped kernel at Clint. "Also, I've read your file. You've never been anywhere remotely close to a high school."
"An Omega can dream."
Steve knows that Clint's joking, at this point he hopes that half the things that Clint says are jokes, but it still gets him upset from time to time. Steve admires him, truthfully, that he can turn his situation into a joke for other people, at the expense of himself. That's what gets to Steve though. Clint didn't have to do that, not for him anyway.
"Oh, it's alright. We're used to your brand of dumb."
"Hey!"
Steve chuckles at the two as they commence some kind of secret message in glares. They remind him of himself and Bucky when they were kids, telling each other how it was, having each other's backs, except deadlier.
Natasha wins the glaring contest by default, Clint eating huffily into his bowl. "We can start as soon as you're ready, Steve."
"I don't think I'll ever really be ready, but roll it anyway."
##########
As it turns out, the 'short list' of Alphas expand to be twenty five Alphas, with varying degrees of groans from Clint and Natasha. They aren't listed in any particular order, as the first Alpha was quickly yelled at.
"Why is he on the list, didn't I personally end his report with 'never again in a million years'?" Clint said, disgruntled that a former Alpha of his made it to the list.
"Does he have a huge knot?"
Steve chokes on his drink.
Natasha looks extremely serious about her question.
"It was okay I guess, but he was shit at aftercare plus it was almost like he was praising himself for my orgasms. As if nature didn't do a helluva job already."
"But look, it says 'patient and malleable'." Natasha points out.
"Just means he'll listen to your kinks and do them if he likes them."
The information is stripped down as is. Name, age, gender, height (as if that mattered to Steve), weight, occupation, and then bullet points of either personality traits or other information. Steve wasn't sure how he was suppose to have scrutinized any of them alone, but then remembered that Phil Coulson was suppose to go over them with him.
He has to admire a man who would willingly sit himself down to this tedious and no doubt boring task for him. Steve has to remember to thank him for the slides when he meets him next.
It turns out to be difficult, choosing an Alpha under these circumstances. Natasha assures him that all the Alphas have been background checked and cleared to meet him if he so chooses but it still feels like choosing his own firing squad. No different from going to the mating blocks and hoping to hell that the Alpha who chooses him would know his limit.
Even with the pictures and insightful commentary from Clint and Natasha, they all stare at him with unseeing eyes. Steve would have preferred to meet any candidates face-to-face. He could appreciate that, a very human gesture, he liked to think that he was a good judge of character and could tell if he liked someone within the first five minutes or so, like he used to do.
But then he was also Captain America. He'd picked up early on that he was a secret (used to it, at this point), and not even everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. knew of his actual identity. He didn't think S.H.I.E.L.D. would suddenly have a change of heart because of his heat.
He was picking out an Alpha from a list instead of meeting them because of who he was. Because S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to reveal him as he was now.
Clint is right next to him, touches him on his arm, shoulder, skin, tiny moments of inquiry, a language Omegas know by instinct. And Natasha too, a solid presence in the room, not as close as Clint was but just enough to make Steve feel safe, none at all commandeering, as if saying thank you for your trust.
It was going to be okay, Steve tells himself.
##########
Six bottles of vodka later.
"Not him! He's like fifty!" Clint yells at fifteenth Alpha to show up on the screen.
"Well, he is half my age." Steve provides, bemused. The nervousness had dwindled down somewhat, replaced instead by dread of what was to come next. Clint and Natasha do an awful good job of keeping his spirits high, clearly taking this roast very seriously. He was almost enjoying it.
To be fair, he's had four of the six bottles of vodka all by himself (This does not make him alcoholic, Natasha insists).
"Hmm."
"Next, NEXT!"
Steve groans when he reads the occupation list.
"Please not military."
Clint stares at him, almost looking affronted.
"Had enough of them during service." He mumbles, letting his words slur together.
He wasn't really all that drunk, he could remember what that felt like when he was tiny, and he was nowhere near his limit. He did feel warmer than usual, a little sluggish, but that was it.
"Coulson probably thought you'd be comfortable with someone of some shared experience." Natasha provides insightfully.
"Military. It's-" Steve shakes his head, wanting some excuse to not talk about it. "I know the type, military Alphas establish the pecking order, set things straight in a unit. I'm not saying they're awful at their job or anything but sometimes they just-" He rubs his eyes wearily.
"Hey man, you don't have to explain, you don't like him, you don't pick him."
Steve nods, going quiet.
He remembers reports, during his short rests in the SSR base when he could have them. It wasn't the Alphas faults, not entirely. A fresh squadron handed off to a rookie Alpha officer, all the pressure piled up one way or another, placed into a life threatening situation.
Fight or flight, that was what it came down to, and most of the Alphas stood their ground and fought, 'til their pride became the death of them, along with their squad.
Steve just couldn't condone that, thousands of lives lost, just because an Alpha couldn't admit that retreat was an option.
He sighs as Natasha continues with the slides, quickly skipping past the rest of the military Alphas without so much as a word.
##########
"Isn't he an agent?" Steve says, looking at the current Alpha on the screen.
'BROCK RUMLOW. Occupation, S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent.' He reads, finally putting a name to the face. He'd seen him around the base a few times, though the man had never really talked to him. In the picture, he looked younger (or was it the lack of facial hair?), a little less haggard.
"Yes, Agent Rumlow. Very formidable on the field, commander of STRIKE." Natasha adds, giving file a quick lookover as if she could find some discrepancies just by that.
"He's also kind of a douche."
"STRIKE?"
"A small elite group for international incidents."
He's not sure if Natasha is giving him just scraps because he didn't have the clearance to know (there was an agent level system he still couldn't grasp the exact details of, except that Clint and Natasha had exceptionally high clearance, or else they wouldn't have even been allowed near him), or if she she was generally not interested in that sub-group of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Steve files that away for future reference.
##########
"Last one."
That was good news, wasn't it? It was going to be over soon, he could go back to barely existing within S.H.I.E.L.D. barracks and no one could say that he didn't try. It also meant that he would have to suffer through a heat alone but that was a price he was willing to pay.
"Wow, I didn't think he'd be on this list."
In bold letters he's met with the name 'TONY STARK'
"Stark. As in?"
"Of Stark Industries. Founded by Howard Stark, now owned by Anthony Stark, his son. They started as a weapons and defense company. For a long time, they were the leading manufacturer of guns, bombs, ammunition and weapons of mass destruction."
That sounded just like Howard. To build something from ground up and make it huge. He'd already went through the records (internet), and found that the man had died in a car crash.
"And then?" He could sense there was more to the story.
"But then Stark was kidnapped. He came out of it with a suit of armor and a new collection of sensibilities. Later, he announced to the world that he was Iron Man."
"Iron Man?"
"A full body armor that can fly, with an onboard weapon system that would put a tank to shame." Clint says, almost dreamily. "Wish I had one, but then Stark's not good with sharing."
"So it's a weapon."
"Tony Stark is very adamant about not calling it a weapon, especially after Stark Industries stopped production on all of their weapons. This was after Tony Stark was kidnapped."
Steve mulls that over. Tony Stark, possibly the last connection to the past he had. It almost felt like a trap. After a two months of sitting around, why had no one told him that Tony Stark existed? And then seeing him on this list? It all sounded too suspicious.
"I'd like to meet him."
"So you're choosing him as your Alpha?"
Clint laughs, apparently unable to hold it in anymore.
Steve stares at him until he gives.
"He's sort of a celebrity. Nat did his evaluation." As if that was answer enough.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Natasha butts in, elbowing Clint hard on the side. "that I was sent in to see if he's of any use for S.H.I.E.L.D.. I reported what I saw, someone else does an evaluation alongside mine, and a decision is made." She casts a furtive look at the screen.
Steve guesses that Tony Stark was seen as useful, at least, enough of a use to be included on his list. It might just be the curiosity of it, but he wants to meet the man that was raised by Howard, maybe get some insight on how he'd lived.
"Okay, sure, I'll do a Scenting with him."
"WHAT?! Really?"
Steve shrugs. "Sure, I mean, I want to meet him. I know the circumstances aren't the most pleasant. If we're not compatible, then I don't have to do anything with him, right?" The details were vague at best, someone still had to explain what Scenting was.
Clint looks like he's about to protest (say something nasty) but then Natasha hit him on the shoulder and that gets him quiet.
"I'll get the paperwork done, Steve."
##########
Scenting was a small ceremony, performed by the Alpha and Omega if a contract constitutes it. Optional at best, as there were no definite findings that a successful Scenting meant that the Alpha or Omega got along, though research has shown that it had a high percentile of success if done properly.
Simply put, an Alpha and Omega react to each other in a very specific way, because their bodies emit hormones that trigger one another in close proximity. A common way for these hormones to travel was by scent. Each scent was unique to the individual and triggers different reaction to the body, but inherently they all had similar properties. The mere presence of an Omega would be enough to call up a reaction of some kind. It was why, even though Alpha and Beta pairs could consummate, a knot would not form without the specific hormone from the Omega.
Scenting was not an exact science. Even if an Alpha and Omega smelled good to one another, it did mean that they would get along, but at least their instincts knew that they were compatible in some way.
So the day that Steve is to meet Tony Stark, it weighs heavily on his mind. He wasn't sure if Scenting was done back in his day, though they probably didn't call it that even if it did. It was as easy as getting close to an Alpha and feeling a little something, chat them up, get to know them, and really that was all it took. Today, it's all about equation and chemical stimuli.
Commander Fury took him aside and explained that Tony Stark was already on base, but he needed to have a conversation with him first, before the Scenting. Steve nodded. He probably couldn't have stopped it even if he wanted to.
Eventually Commander Fury steps out of the room. Steve stands to greet him, stopping the knee-jerk reaction to salute. Instead he nods.
"Sir." He says as respectfully as he can, meeting Fury in the eyes.
"Just needed a small word with Stark, nothing to be concerned about." Fury says, as if he read Steve's mind. "He's expecting you inside." With that, Fury claps him on the shoulder and takes his leave.
It takes Steve a second to wrestle down the squirm in his chest, before he takes a breath and enters the room.
The man isn't immaculate as he was in the picture, which bring some comfort to Steve. A hair out of place, clothes slightly crumpled, it somehow humanizes the man he'd seen on Time Magazine (He did a google search).
The Alpha lounges on the chair like he owns the place (does he?), eyes quickly flickering up to meet his when he entered. Steve keeps his face neutral, or as neutral as can be. For all the research and insight that Natasha may have given him, he still couldn't get an exact foothold on the Alpha in front of him. There were too many insults from the internet, and it seemed even Natasha had some mixed reviews on him. (Iron Man, yes. Tony Stark, no.)
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark."
Tony raises a brow but adjusts in his seat and holds up his hand regardless. They quickly shake hands and Steve takes the chair directly in front of Tony, with a table separating them. He tries to smile at him once he's found his seat but Tony doesn't even bother smiling back.
"So. Captain America, I presume?"
"Steve Rogers."
"You're a convincing looking imposter, if I do say so myself. And I've met a lot of imposters."
That takes Steve unawares. No one had ever called him an imposter before, they'd all believed his story of going down with the plane, and then waking up to this place. No one had bothered to ask about authenticity. He opens his mouth to protest but Tony cuts him off.
"Fine specimen, don't get me wrong. You probably have the closest bone structure I've seen yet. Dunno where Fury could have dug you up either, but if he's privy to that secret then maybe we would have something to talk about." Tony levels him with a gaze, reading the confusion on his face. "You can't seriously be Captain America, he died over seventy years ago."
"But I am." Seventy years. A constant reminder. A constant ache.
"I'd say prove it, but then you probably know everything there is to know about Captain America."
"I knew your father."
"Well. I've never really liked anyone who opened with that statement, but go ahead, get this train wreck moving." He can see the curiosity in Tony's eyes, scents the carefully controlled dissatisfaction. "A lot of people knew my father, I'm not particularly impressed when people mention it."
Steve wonders how quickly this went downhill.
"I don't know how to prove who I am."
Tony's narrows a glare at him, studying him for something. "Most people would try to tell me something that my father would have told me about Captain America."
"I couldn't possibly know that. The Howard I knew wouldn't have been the same as your father. He would have been a horrible father."
"That, we can agree on."
Steve squirms in his seat, looking pointedly uncomfortable. Tony wasn't fitting into any earlier presumptions he had made, and he was proving to be difficult to read. He must look as dejected as he feels because Tony eventually sighs.
"Look, Fury called me up to help an Omega through their heat. And then he tells me, minutes before meeting said Omega, that it's Captain America. Please understand why I feel wholly unprepared because of that tidbit." Tony motions with his hands, just coming off short from slamming his hand on the table.
"I understand entirely Mr. Stark." Steve smiles sadly. That was what everyone been doing to him. Throwing him into a situation and expecting him to be alright with it, meet it head on.
"Then let's get this Scenting over with."
Steve swallows, stays rooted to his chair as Tony approaches him. He keeps still as the Alpha rearranges their seats so that they are face to face.
"Hey Cap, eyes up."
Jaw set tight as Tony gets into his space, he inclines his head just the slightest to meet the Alpha's gaze. There's mockery in those eyes, as well as attentive stare that makes Steve wonder if Tony still thinks he's an imposter.
There's an awkward pause between them, a moment where they just stare at one another. Then Tony rolls his eyes and leans closer.
"May I?" He motions with his head, indicating towards his scent glands, located on either sides of his neck.
Steve nods, closing his eyes as he leans towards Tony's scent glands too.
He already had a whiff of him, difficult when his own senses were stronger than others thanks to the serum but this is different. He's suddenly overwhelmed by Tony's scent.
He smells of warmth and sunshine, some earthy smell that he can't name, only that he knew it meant safety and care. It feels strangely intimate, despite barely knowing the man, to know this much about him without saying a word. His body sags where he sits, and it feels very much like, if he were not sitting in the first place, he'd be on leaning on Tony for support.
Wow.
"Yeah. Wow."
He must have said it aloud, feels his cheeks heat up at Tony's comment. There's something with Tony's voice too, softer, less barbed with distrust (or was it because of the scent in his head?)
"Is it suppose to be this way?" Steve breathes, taking in as much of the scent as he can. Now that the initial rush is over, he can detect other smells too. The slight tang of metal, the heady odor of gasoline, perfume (cologne?) that Tony must use. He feels lighter somehow, his brain has given up on any other thought other than 'Alpha smells good. More. More. More.' that he can't be bothered to wonder why he didn't want to do a Scenting in the first place.
"Not sure, I haven't really been with an Omega since that time with the thing." Tony remains purposefully vague. Somehow Steve can't find as annoying as he normally would. It at least sounded like Tony wasn't as affected by the scent as Steve was. So far Tony could still give out full sentences while Steve's thoughts remained muddled. "No complaints from my end. I like your scent, I can admit that."
"I like your scent too."
Eventually, after who knows how long, they pull apart.
A whine escapes Steve throat, Tony smirks at him for it and then chuckles.
"Oh, you're blushing. Didn't think I'd find it so cute."
He then proceeds to frown, like he didn't expect himself to say that.
Which only makes Steve blush more. "S-So. That's that?" He's torn between the thought of retreating (hiding) back to his room, and pulling Tony close again.
Tony nods, frown still in place, but he didn't look unhappy. "I'll talk to Fury about the contract. He is your negotiator, right?"
"Uhm, yes?"
Tony's frown deepens, and Steve ducks his head for it.
"It's fine, it's fine. Fury is the spy of all spies." Tony says, like that's the explanation for it.
"Okay, Tony."
"This doesn't mean I believe you're Captain America."
"Then I guess I'm just plain 'ol Steve Rogers."
"Nothing wrong with that sugarplum. Now excuse me, I have a pirate to talk to."
##########
Later, when Steve returns to his room, he scrounges around for whatever other scraps he might find of Tony Stark. The enigma of the man, the distrust and closed eyes that no regular civilian should know.
He wants that scent again, and he wants to learn about the man behind it.