Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, Warner Bros. Entertainment, and/or their otherwise respective owners.
Author's Notes: So apparently I don't know what's good for me, because I said I was going to take a break from this series. But then I got writer's block (ish, more like procrastination) on my WIPs, and decided to see how much I could get through this. The next thing I know, the chapter is over. Oops?
Story title is from the song Master & a Hound by Gregory Alan Isakov. Chapter title is from the song Oh Daddy by Fleetwood Mac. Yes, this is a multi-chap story, (probably) 8 chapters in total. It's the first of several I have planned for this 'verse, although the one-shots will still abound too, don't worry!
Oh, and on my decision with a certain character: this was planned from the start. If you have a problem with it while somehow not having a problem with everything else I've thrown at you so far, you might want to click the back button, because things are going to get crazier from here. Flames/complaints about this decision will be removed on AO3, blocked on both sites. :)
Don't know when the next chapter will be. Regardless, hope you enjoy,
~TGWSI/Selene Borealis
~the black and gold 'verse~
~master & a hound~
~chapter 1: oh daddy~
The call woke them up in the middle of the night.
Tony groaned as he heard the shrill ringing, his form twisting against Bruce's. The other man's chest rumbled as he stirred, a strong and muscular arm reaching out to grab the phone. The cord snagged against the omega's skin as he pressed it to his ear, asking softly but firmly, "Who is it?"
He didn't hear what was said on the other end, but after a moment Tony heard Bruce say, "This is his husband, Bruce Wayne."
His eyes opened.
Hazily, he looked up at his alpha. In the darkness, it was hard to make out his features, especially without his glasses. But even so, he felt the muscles go tense underneath him, the stiffening of posture.
Suddenly wide awake, he sat up and grabbed his glasses off of the nightstand. Putting them on, he watched his mate's jaw clench as he looked at him, still listening to whatever the other person on the phone was saying. A myriad of emotions flickered in his light brown eyes. "What happened to them?" he asked, his voice fraught with something Tony couldn't quite place.
Dread rapidly pooled into his stomach.
"Bruce?" he whispered, wrapping his hand around the man's other arm. "Bruce, what is it?"
But Bruce did not immediately answer him. Instead, cradling the phone, he pushed himself up. "How bad is it?" As the person on the other end said something else, his expression lowered even further. "Is there anything you can do?" More dialogue. "Yes, I understand. We'll be right over."
Finally, he placed the phone back on its dock. He sighed, the weary noise escaping from his mouth.
"Bruce?" Tony tried again. "What's wrong? Where do we need to go?"
"...To the hospital," was the reluctant answer. Slowly, Bruce grabbed his wrists and clasped his hands together. Bringing them up to his face, he kissed them. For a second, Tony thought he saw tears shining in his eyes. "In New York City."
Abruptly, he felt like the world had been pulled out from underneath him.
No.
"Omega, it's your parents."
No, no, no...
By the time they got to the hospital, Ana had already died.
Tony, dressed only in his pajamas (a short-sleeved shirt and black plaid flannels) and a black robe, listened in muted horror to the combination of doctors and law enforcement as they tried to explain to him what had happened.
Someone had broken into his parents' mansion, somehow disabling all of the alarm systems Howard had made or acquired over the years. They had rummaged through his sire's study first, trashing and turning it upside down to look for God knew what. This, apparently, had woken Howard up. He had come downstairs to see what was going on, and had swiftly met his end. The intruder had punched him in the face to the point where he had become unrecognizable.
...Not that the doctors or law enforcement told him as much with the last part, but he could put the pieces together after they refused to let him or Bruce do an identification of the body.
After they had killed his sire, the intruder had moved onwards, upstairs. They had gone to his parents' bedroom first, where they had grabbed his mother by the throat and strangled her. Then, going back out into the hallway, they had walked down it to Ana's room, where she had moved to from her and Jarvis' house on the property after he'd died. She had been in the process of calling the police by then, begging for help. They had shot her in the stomach.
Ana had been whisked away to surgery as soon as she'd arrived by ambulance, still conscious. But there was only so much modern medicine could do for a gunshot wound to the abdomen, especially for an eighty-one-year-old woman. She had died not long after they had put her under from the blood loss.
Her last words had been, "A halál angyala! Ó Istenem, védd meg a fiamat!"
It was only by luck a nurse who knew the lanaguage had been around to hear them.
"I'm so sorry," one of the doctors told him, sounding genuinely remorseful.
But Tony could only vaguely hear him.
His parents were dead.
Howard...it wasn't hard not to grieve for him. Although a sadness settled in his mind, right behind the shock of it all, over the death of his sire, he did not miss Howard himself. Rather, Tony missed the person who he could have been. The loving alpha father like Bruce was with their children, the staunch omega rights enthusiast like his brother Edward Stark had been. Howard could have been so much more than what he was...had been, and a part of him would always hate the bastard for not striving to become such.
But his mother and Ana...oh God. His mother might not have been the best mother up until he'd gotten pregnant with Lili, and maybe she still wasn't – hadn't been, but she was still his mamma. And Ana, poor Ana, she'd raised him. She'd been the one to have the talk with him about being an omega after he'd presented, the one who he'd always wanted to make proud besides Jarvis, the one who had kissed him on the forehead before he fell asleep each night.
And he'd been pulling away from her. Ever since he'd gotten married, he'd been doing it, although it hadn't been intentional. When you had four kids and were in college, it was just something that...happened. And now she was dead.
His parents were dead.
Tony keened. Right there in the hospital, he bawled like a fucking baby, the sobs being wrenched from his mouth as tears streamed down his face, thick and hot and ugly. The doctors and law enforcement watched on in uncomfortable sympathy, unable to do anything except offer empty platitudes and vague promises they would catch the one responsible.
Bruce, his alpha, pulled him into an embrace. He whispered sweet nothings into his ear as Tony nuzzled his shoulder, clenching the front of his coat tightly in his hands. The omega couldn't possibly begin to decipher what he was saying, but his tone was meaning enough. It was the tone of someone who had been through this once before, losing his own parents at a young age. It was the tone of someone who knew the hole it dug in your heart, the loss it gave you which left you shaking and trembling in your place.
It was the tone of knowing that, despite trying to give comfort, there would be none to be had.
Because Tony's parents were dead, and he was never going to see them again. Not in this life.
Maybe not even ever.
The hardest part was breaking the news to their kids when they got home.
They'd told Alfred before they'd left what was going on, waking up the beta from his sleep. He'd understood immediately what was going on, probably even better than Tony had, and had told them he would have everything covered at home. "I'm sorry, Master Stark," he'd also said. "Whatever happens next, I know this is going to be hard."
And it was Alfred they found as they walked into the living room, sitting on the couch. Despite it being only a quarter past five in the morning, Dick, Lili, and Harley curled up against him. The kids were all sleeping, with Alfred's hand carding through Dick's hair. He looked up at the sound of their footsteps, smiling tiredly. "They realized you were gone not long after you left, and were quite adamant to stay awake until you came back. They weren't exactly successful."
Slowly, Tony walked over and sat on the other side of Dick, Bruce mirroring him with Lili and Harley. "Did you tell them anything?" he whispered.
Alfred shook his head. "No, it wasn't my place to." Not like before was the silent continuation of that statement. His expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Are your parents...?"
"They're dead," he said numbly. "Killed. Murdered."
The beta closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."
Tony had already heard those two words so many times in the past several hours, they no longer had meaning to him.
Beneath him, as he trailed his fingers up along Dick's spine, the kid began to stir. His eyes blearily cracking open, he looked at him. "'ony?" he mumbled. "You and Bruce are home?"
"Yeah, bambino," he agreed weepingly. "We're home."
The tenor of his voice made the kid struggle to pull himself up into a sitting position. "What's wrong?" he questioned. "Tony, what's wrong?"
Tony didn't want to tell him. He didn't want to tell any of his kids what had happened, didn't want to admit that his parents were dead, but he especially didn't want to tell Dick. The kid had already been through so much. He'd watched his own, biological parents be killed right in front of him, and God knew what else during the week Red Hood had kept him captive, most of which he refused to tell anyone about, even a therapist. He didn't need this added dose of trauma.
But he didn't have a choice. The intruder who had taken his parents from him had taken that, too.
"Omi?" Harley whimpered, breaking his reverie. The toddler was making grabbing motions with his hands towards him, his blue eyes watery, no doubt sensing and seeing his parents' grief.
His omither pulled him into his arms, thinking about his youngest, who was undoubtedly asleep upstairs if Alfred hadn't pulled him down here with the rest. Neither Lili or Harley would probably remember their grandmothers, but Peter most certainly wouldn't. And that wasn't fair.
God, none of this was fair.
"Kids," he spoke quietly, cutting off Bruce before he could do anything more than open his mouth. This was his news to tell, not his husband's. His parents deserved at least that much. "Daddy and I had to go the hospital tonight for – "
"Is it Nagymama?" Dick asked, referring to the name all of his kids had taken to calling Ana. "Or Nonna?" When there wasn't an immediate response, his face twisted. "It's not Mr. Stark...is it? You wouldn't be crying for him."
Hurriedly, he wiped at his eyes. He couldn't be crying, not now in front of the kids. He had to be strong for them.
"Starks are made of iron."
"No, bambino. It's all of them," he said as gently as he could. "S – somebody broke into their house, somebody bad. They – "
He had to stop as Dick stumbled back as if struck, his face turning the color of bone. "No," he breathed. "No, Nagymama and Nonna aren't – "
"They're dead. Howard, too," he replied. It was harsh, like ripping off a bandaid, but it had to be done. "Dick, I'm – "
"No!"
Dick ran away, there was no other description for it. Bolting off of the couch, he headed towards the stairs, taking them two at a time. A few seconds later, no matter how far his room was from the stairs, they heard the slamming of a door.
Then, Peter started crying.
Tony tensed, readying himself to get up and go soothe his youngest child, but Alfred beat him to it. "I'll see to him, and Master Dick," he said kindly. "You and Master Wayne are needed here."
In the aftermath, Lili blinked her grey eyes up at Bruce. "Daddy, what's 'dead?'"
Not to Tony's surprise, he stiffened slightly, even as he opened up his hands so she could play with them while sitting in his lap. "It means they're gone. They're not coming back," he explained.
"Ever?"
"Ever," he confirmed.
"Oh," she said. "I'll miss them."
"I know, princess," Tony sniffled. "I'll miss them, too."
The funeral was a week later.
The entire Stark-Wayne family showed up, even baby Peter. Bruce wore a black suit, as he basically always did for anything formal, and Tony a black turtleneck and pants. Their kids were similarly dressed, with Dick and Harley having their own tailored suits and Lili a dress.
The press took pictures of them the entire time. How could they not? he thought bitterly at one point. Howard Stark had been a certified war hero of WW2. He had worked on the Manhattan Project, Project Rebirth. He had sold weapons after that to the government for years, making his company worth millions, then billions by the end of the millennium. He was a household name, a celebrity, and as the inheritor of his company, Tony would be as well.
Plus, he and Bruce never let the paparazzi take pictures of their kids. It was the one thing the press usually knew better than to do, unless they wanted a lawsuit the size of the population of one of the five boroughs of New York on their hands.
But, them bringing their kids to the funeral like this, that was making a statement. If Tony Stark was going to be a household name, he wanted to make sure the world knew loud and clear that he was an omither, that he had a family. All bets were off.
He was expected to make a speech. When the time came, he stood up, handing Peter to Bruce since he'd spent the entirety of the proceedings up until then rocking the infant. He walked up from the first row of seats to the podium, rapped his fingers against its surface.
There were so many people in attendance. Since Howard Stark had been so famous, so many people had come to pay their respects. So many people had already spoken before him. They watched with rapt eyes, waiting for the first words out of the mouth of the first omega CEO in history, the one who would make or break the fate of all others.
(This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? He'd decided years ago, back before he'd gotten pregnant with Lili, that he wanted to show his kids that an omega parent could be just as successful in their career as any other. He'd decided he wanted to show them omegas could be strong, instead of the weak little things society wanted them to be.
But when he'd made that decision, he hadn't wanted it to end up like this.
Never like this.)
Tony cleared his throat.
"My father was a great man," he began, looking down at the cards he and Pepper had made in the days leading up to the funeral. Not because he didn't know what to say, not because he needed to remember what he would say, but it had been cathartic. Going through the motions, putting to paper what he really wanted to say without it coming across in the wrong (but still true) way, had felt...good. "I don't think anybody here will deny that. He was a war hero. Without him, I don't want to say we wouldn't've won WW2, but it sure as hell wouldn't have been as easy."
He thought he might've heard a few chuckles at that.
"My father also had his sayings," he continued. "Several of them. He liked to say, 'The way to peace is by having the bigger stick.' He also liked to say, the better quote in my opinion, 'Starks are made of iron.' But I think the quote that my father would appreciate the most for me to speak of is not one coined by him at all, but rather Shakespeare. It's from As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII: 'All the world's a stage, / And all the men and women merely players; / They have their exits and entrances.'
"Howard Stark had several roles throughout his life. He was first a poor Jew from Richford, New York. Then he was a genius. Then he was an inventor, a businessman, an entrepreneur. Then a war hero, a husband, a father," a misogynist, a cheater, an abuser all the while, he silently added with the click of his jaw. "And now, as he leaves this stage for the final time, I think that it is fitting he will earn a new role in death: an article in the history books, a legacy.
"But two people who will not be mentioned in the history books are my mother and Ana Jarvis. Maria Stark, like her husband, came from humble beginnings. She was the daughter of Christmas tree farmers. But when my father saw her, he knew she was the one." The one to be his trophy wife, anyways. "After marrying my father, my mother devoted her time to charities, raising money for each and every cause that she thought needed it. When my husband and I had our first two children, she also devoted her time to being a grandmother. She was their nonna, and not a day has passed by in our family since her death that we don't miss her.
"As for Ana Jarvis, well," his lips twitched at this, "she was never one for funerals, hence why we are not here for her today as well. But, with her dying at the same time as my parents, I feel I must tell you what a wonderful woman she was. She taught me how to cook. She liked to sneak chocolate biscuits into my pockets when she thought nobody noticed. Some might have called her 'the help,' but she was like a grandmother to me, my father's parents having passed long before I was born." A second mother, actually. "She was my best friend.
"So now it pains me, to have to say goodbye to the three family members I had left of my family before my marriage, most of all in this way. But in doing this, I know they are in a better place." He turned towards their caskets at this, both closed, as much of a show as it was genuine. Then, nodding, he stepped away from the podium with a final, "Thank you."
People approached him, after the speeches had finished and the caskets had been lowered into the ground outside the Catholic church (he had no idea how his father had set it up since he'd been an atheist religiously and Jewish ethnically, and he didn't really want to ask, it reeked of corruption) the funeral was held in. Some of them were genuinely nice, and if they were part of Stark Industries, he made sure to make a mental note of them. Others were insincere, wearing false smiles which showed how much they didn't want an omega like him leading SI. He kept track of these ones too as he bounced Harley on his hip, the toddler chewing on a half-frozen washcloth to help with his teething.
Obadiah Stane was of the latter category. Tony watched him walk forwards with narrowed eyes, adjusting his hold on his son. "Tony!" he said boisterously. "Tony, I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thanks, Obie," he replied.
"I tried to get a hold of you a few days after it happened, but your PA redirected me. She's a spitfire, isn't she, Ms. Potts?" Obadiah pressed on, as if he hadn't spoken. "Do you intend to keep her during the transition?"
"I do."
"Good, good," the alpha commented. "Listen, Tony, we should talk about that. I worked at your father's side for twenty-five years; I can help you – "
Maybe, if Obadiah hadn't stopped caring about him when he'd become an omega just like Howard, he would've considered his offer. Maybe he would've considered the false paternal affection as genuine. Maybe he would've viewed the alpha as trustworthy instead of dangerous, because the only reason why he would remain COO of the company was because Tony couldn't fire him. Not with the amount of leverage the older man had.
Regardless, gritting his teeth, he said, "That sounds wonderful, Obie, but right now I need to get my kids home. They've been here for hours, I'm sure you understand."
No, he didn't. The only "understanding" Obadiah had ever had of children was their worth to him. Tony could remember his playdates with the man's son, Zeke, as a kid, up until the other boy had presented as an omega two years before him. Zeke had promptly been sold off and married to an alpha like him, regardless of the fact he'd been fourteen, except his had been much fatter and older than Bruce, more insistent on him getting pregnant instead of getting an education.
Zeke had died four years back during childbirth. Both him and his son.
Still, Obadiah gave him a plastered smile. "Of course. Take all the time that you need, Tony."
He made his way back to Bruce as quickly as he could. His alpha was holding Peter as he talked with a woman he recognized as one of his mother's friends, Dick and Lili not too far away. She smiled as he walked up, seeing him first. "Tony, it's so good to see you again. Well, not under present circumstances, but," she winked, "you know what I mean."
"Mrs. Buonarroti," he greeted her. He'd always liked her as a kid, but still he nodded at his husband. "Bruce."
His mate understood at once. They said their goodbyes to the woman, then made their way outside. As they headed towards the car, cameras flashed again. Harley hid his face in his omither's sweater and Dick sandwiched Lili in between them, but the kid himself wasn't nearly so lucky. Yet, he stood tall, proud, stone-faced, not letting the incessant flickering lights bother him.
Tony was so proud of him for it.
The car ride was spent mostly in silence. When they got back to the Glass House, Dick left the vehicle immediately, heading inside. He'd been avoiding them for the past week, although Tony couldn't blame him for it. Frankly, had he been two or three years younger and without any kids, he'd probably be doing the same thing. He missed his mother, dammit. He missed Ana.
After a few moments, he too got out of the car with a weary sigh. He moved to head to the other passenger door, ready to open it and either unbuckle Lili and Harley from their carseats or unlatch Peter's to bring him inside.
But then...
The crackling of gravel. The sound of a car.
He looked up. There was another vehicle pulling up their driveway. Sleek, black. Government issue.
"Alpha," he said.
Bruce, having also stepped out of the car, followed his line of sight. Instinctively, he moved around it, so he was in front of him and their children. Usually, Tony would've snorted at how protective it was, but he didn't this time. They had already lost too much.
The car parked, then turned off. From the driver's seat, a man with brown hair stepped out. "Mr. Wayne, Mr. Stark," he said.
"Who are you?" retorted Bruce, practically growling. "I don't know who you are, and if you're paparazzi, I must inform you this is – "
The man took out his wallet, showing some form of ID. Also government. Tony couldn't make out which alphabet soup division from his distance.
"My name is Phil Coulson, I'm an agent for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I also have some information for you regarding the deaths of your parents, Mr. Stark. Is it okay if we can talk inside?"
"First, let me offer my condolences. I never met Mrs. Jarvis, but I did have the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Stark a couple of times. She was wonderful woman," Coulson said, prior to taking a sip of his darjeeling. Alfred had made them all tea before taking the kids upstairs, out of sight of the government agent, if not mind.
Tony pursed his lips as he tossed two sugar cubes into his own earl grey, then added a dash of milk and gave it a stir with his spoon. "Thank you, Mr. Coulson, but I think I've heard enough of that today. Get to the point. What are you really here about?"
The man inclined his head. "What did the police tell you about the invasion of your parents' home?"
They relayed to him what they'd been told the night it had happened, along with a bit more. "The police said they haven't found any prints, or any leads on the perpetrator," Tony recited from memory. "No witnesses, no motives. They told us they weren't going to close the case yet, but unless anybody comes forward, it's unlikely they're going to find whoever did this."
("You've got to be fucking shitting me!" he screamed, getting to his feet to glare down at the captain of the station over his desk. "My father was one of the most famous people in the world, and you're telling me his murder is going to go unsolved?"
Bruce grabbed at his coat. "Tony – "
"I understand where you're coming from," the captain winced. "But, Mr. Stark – "
"Oh no, I'm not Mr. Stark," he hissed. "Mr. Stark was my father, and he's dead! And you're telling me that you're not going to be able to find his killer, the same killer who murdered my mothers! I thought you were the fucking police! I thought that was your job!"
Standing up, his alpha grabbed him around the waist. "Come on, Tony, let's – "
"Sputo sulla tua tomba," he spat, only just resisting the urge to give a demonstration of his words. "Inutile, incompetente – "
"Tony!")
"I think I can give you a bit more information than that," Coulson replied with another nod. He subtly leaned forwards. "Mr. Stark, what can you tell me about your father's business with the government?"
"Besides the obvious?" At the agent's agreement, he put down his teacup on its saucer. "Howard, along with my so-called godmother Peggy Carter, helped found the division you work for. SHIELD."
Coulson didn't look particularly surprised that he knew this information. "Did you know of any projects he'd been working on with us?"
"No. The only reason why I found out he was part of SHIELD was because I snooped in his files once. Dear old Dadnever thought my mom or I were worthy of spilling government secrets to. Why? What do you know?"
"In the years before his death, your father was trying to replicate the serum from Project Rebirth, which was used to create Captain America. Within the past couple of months he was successful, and was storing the serum in his study at your parents' house." As he spoke, he pulled out a file from his coat, putting it on the coffee table and opening it up. "We believe, because of this, he was killed by this assassin."
Tony glanced down. There were a lot of papers in the file, but only two or three pictures. Even so, the assassin glared up at him in one. She had long, brown hair done in a braid, dead-looking grey eyes. The lower half of her face was obscured by a mask.
But what really caught his attention about her was her left arm. It was made of metal, with a Soviet red star on the shoulder. Frowning, he pulled the file closer to himself and Bruce, his husband looking at it with eyebrows knit together.
"Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe she exists. But those of us who do...those of us who are willing to accept that our world isn't as normal as we like to pretend it to be, call her the Winter Soldier," Coulson explained. "She's credited with over two dozen assassinations over the last fifty years. We believe the reason why she hasn't aged is because she is put into cryosleep during the time between her kills, then revived by handlers when need be."
"...Why are you telling us this?" questioned Bruce, lifting his gaze from the file.
Coulson gave them the bureaucratic version of a smile. "SHIELD has been documenting you for a while, Mr. Wayne. We know of your escapades as Batman. Don't worry," he rushed to add the last part as Bruce's expression closed off, "your secret is safe with us, we have no interests in divulging it. However, we also know that out of anyone on-world, you are the most equipped person to deal with the Winter Soldier."
On-world? What the hell does that mean? Tony thought.
"If I do deal with her, I won't kill her," Bruce warned. "Killing isn't something that I do."
"We know. We are prepared to deal with that eventuality," said Coulson. "But the Winter Soldier needs to be stopped. Most of the assassinations she's made have been of politicians, businessmen, military contracts. Many have tried to stop her since she entered the scene. Many have failed."
Many have been killed was the implication of that last sentence.
Tony reached out for Bruce's arm, his hand wrapping around his wrist.
Seeing this, the government agent pulled something else out from his coat: a business card. "Please, do not feel the need to be hasty with this decision. Where the Winter Soldier is concerned, we have plenty of time. But if you do decide to pursue her, Mr. Wayne, please give me a call. And tell Mr. Pennyworth thank you for the tea."
After he'd left, both Tony and Bruce stared down at the file still resting on their coffee table. The omega felt his mouth go dry. "Bruce – "
"I have to do this, Tony," he said, voice soft.
Tony whirled at him, scowling. "No, you don't. You don't have to do this at all."
"She killed your parents, Tony," his alpha returned. "I can't just let her get – "
"Yes, you can." Tony moved to sit on his lap, so that he was straddling him. Their brown eyes locked, dark meeting light. "I don't need you out there getting justice for them, for me. I need you here. The kids need you here."
Bruce lifted an eyebrow. "Could you live with yourself if she wasn't caught, Omega?"
His chest tightened. "Don't."
"Could you live with knowing she killed again when she could've been stopped?"
"Please," he whispered, tears obscuring his vision. "Please don't do this, Alpha. Don't make me choose."
"I'm not," informed him his husband, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Tony, I need to do this. It's not right that she can just get away with this. You, your mother, and Ana all deserve better than that. Our kids deserve better than that."
Tony sniffed. If there was a sure-fire way to get his husband to not do this, he would do it. But as much as he didn't want him to, he knew he would anyways. He was Batman, he had this sense of justice he had to fulfill. It was his way of coping. When Thomas and Martha Wayne had been killed, Bruce had decided to become a vigilante to go after those the corrupt cops of Gotham did not. Now that his in-laws had been murdered as well, it was probably the only release he could think of. Because he didn't – couldn't – cry, not like Tony. Not like their kids.
"If you do this," he reminded him anyways, "it won't be like going out on patrol. You won't have any idea how long you'll be gone for. It could be weeks, it could be months." You could not come back at all.
"I know."
"And you won't have Selina to help you. She won't be able to come with you, she has her own kid to care for."
"I know," Bruce repeated. "Please, Tony, let me do this."
He let out a wet, broken laugh. "You just said you 'needed' to do this, didn't you? Why do you need my permission?"
Then, he pressed his lips to his. Their kiss was messy, born out of love, yes, but also grief and tears and misery. Bruce held him, not breaking from their kiss once as he carried him upstairs, depositing him on their bed. Their clothes were shed, being thrown onto the floor surrounding their bed as they made love. This passion was just as messy, hurried, frenzied, although Bruce made sure to wear a condom due to the strict warning that Tony couldn't become pregnant yet due to his recovery from Peter's traumatic birth.
In the morning, the omega woke up to the other side of the bed being cold, Bruce's wardrobe being rummaged through and containing a significant lack of clothes. He cried at the sight, pulling his knees up to his chest, wondering if the previous night would be the last time he ever saw his husband.
He didn't stop until his daughter opened the door to the bedroom and toddled in. Her grey eyes roamed the room, then focused on him, confused. She spoke only two words:
"Where's Daddy?"
Word Count: 5,501
Next Chapter Title: i miss you