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: How the heck did this chapter get this long? I have no idea. It's 6.2k lmao. Oh, well, you guys will enjoy it anyways, right?

There's one more chapter for this story! I'll reveal what's planned after this in the next chapter, don't worry. Again, I'm planning on getting this story finished before New Year's. Probably sooner, but we'll see. I finished this chapter while having writer's block on my WIPs, but I'm gonna be caught up with them soon. Excited to be going back to a somewhat coherent schedule of mayhem again. :)

Oh yeah, and chapter title: Yellow by Coldplay. I listened to their Viva la Vida, or Death and All of His Friends album all the way through for the first time recently, and it' g. Highly recommend.

Anyways, see you next chapter,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~the black and gold 'verse~

~master & a hound~

~chapter 7: yellow~

On the last Saturday of March, Bruce and Alfred took the older three kids to the America Museum of Natural History in New York City.

It was in celebration of Dick's birthday, since his heat had kind of derailed the original birthday plans. They were going to spend the entire afternoon there, paying special attention to the Captain America exhibit that was on temporary loan from the Smithsonian.

(If Tony had anything to do with that, he wouldn't admit to it.)

"Please, Tony," Dick begged before they were set to go, pulling on his coat and fingerless gloves. "Please come with us?"

"Somebody has to bake your cake," Tony responded with a boop to his ose, causing his face to scrunch up. "And watch Harley and Petey-Pie."

"Bucky could do it!" said Jason.

Tony and Bruce glanced at each other over the kids' heads.

"It wouldn't be fair to ask her to do that," the omega decided to say, not willing to divulge he was uncomfortable with going to the museum because of the Captain America exhibit, and that he did not trust the woman that much yet. "Besides, you'll have plenty of fun! Remember to take some pictures for me?"

"We will," promised Bruce.

When they were gone, he went over to the playpen with arms outstretched and positively beaming. "Hey, Petey-Pie," he cooed, picking the seventh-month-old up. "It's just gonna be Harley, me, and you this afternoon." And Barnes, but I don't know where she is. "That sound good to you?"

Peter giggled. "Mi! Ma mi mi!"

He wasn't quite at words yet, but Tony pretended he was. He was catching up fast these days in terms of milestones. "Yep, just you, Harley, and me. What about you, Harley boy? You want to help me bake a cake?"

Harley turned away from the window, where he had been looking out with a pout. At thirty-three months, he thought he was older than he was, and should be able to do things like go to the museum because of it. He didn't understand it would massively infringe on his nap schedule and make him a pain in the ass to put to bed later that night. "Help?"

"Yep. Big boys get to help their omi bake in the kitchen while the others are gone. You wanna do that?"

Harley toddled over to him. "I help!"

"Great! I knew I could count on you!"

Tony loved all of his kids equally, but there was something to be said for it being just him and his youngest two (and Barnes) in the house. He was able to put Peter in his highchair, giving him baby puffs to eat. Meanwhile, with much supervision, he and Harley worked on making the cake. When the two pans were in the oven, he set the timer and took the two children back into the living room, laying down with Peter on his chest on the floor and Harley on the couch after he'd popped in Disney's Tarzan for the toddler.

"Who's my Petey-pie?" he whispered. "Are you my Petey-pie?"

Peter gurgled in agreement.

"Omi," Harley whined.

"Alright, alright, Harley boy, I'll stop. You can watch your movie."

They spent the time for the cake to bake relaxing like that. As the timer went off, he put Peter back in the playpen and checked on the cake. Seeing that each layer was done with a toothpick, he let them cool enough to keep form, flipped them out of the pans, and wrapped each layer up to briefly put in the freezer.

Harley and Peter had fallen asleep by then, as was little ones' wont, the baby a tad comically in his pen but not in a way so as to be dangerous. Allowing them to nap and the movie to continue playing, he set about making the icing. "Butter, cream cheese, vanilla extract, salt, powdered sugar," he muttered.

He remembered Ana teaching him this recipe. It was a simple one, really only a matter of ratios and beating the ingredients with a mixer. She'd thought it important to teach him dozens of recipes, especially in the first six months after he'd presented. He thought it was her way of teaching him survival: if you knew a recipe like the back of your hand, you would know how to cover up the tastes of certain poisons.

The icing finished, he got the cake layers out and a spreader to cover them in icing with. He hummed a tune under his breath until he was done, surveying his work. He didn't think it was too bad; it certainly wasn't the work of a professional baker, but not bad.

Now came the hard part:

Decorating.

"How can I help?"

Nearly jolting out of his skin, he spun around. "Barnes," he hissed. "Shit, you scared me."

"Sorry." She didn't seem entirely apologetic. He let it slide. "Would you like help?"

"Decorating the cake?"

"Yes."

He flinched back before she came too close, giving her pause. Now he felt like it was his turn to apologize. He didn't, instead choosing to tilt his head towards the cake. "You think you could do a better job than me?"

"Maybe not better," she said. "But Stevie always was an artist. Watching him work taught me a few tricks. What did you originally have in mind?"

He told her his plans.

"What about cookie crumble sides?" she suggested thoughtfully. "Do you still have Oreos?"

"Let me check." He opened up the cupboards. "Yes, we do. What about the top?"

She had further suggestions. They were not completely unlike his ideas, he noticed, but rather ones which took his a step further. He liked that.

They worked together in silence, taking apart the Oreos and scraping the cream off of them. That didn't take long, so after breaking the Oreo cookies into crumbles with parchment paper and a rolling pin they began on the cake properly: she putting the crumbles onto the cake sides and he making red and blue icing with the excess and food coloring.

Eventually, the silence became too much for him. It was awkward, and stilted, and he never wanted to willingly be either of those things. He cleared his throat. "So...Rogers."

...Oh God, why did he say that? He didn't like Captain America or Steve Rogers. It was why he was here instead of with Bruce and the rest of their family at the museum. He didn't have any interest in knowing anything about the omega man who had fought in WW2, the one who his sire had idolized above all others.

But maybe...maybe he was interested to know about the guy Barnes called Stevie. She talked about him with such fondness, sue him: he was a little curious. The only alpha-omega relationships he could base his knowledge off of were his and Bruce's, Howard and his mother's, and Jarvis and Ana's. Two for three being good did not a comforting statistic make.

Barnes made a sound that was half like a laugh. "What do you want to know?"

"He was really an artist?"

"A drawer and a painter. He spent a lot of time on bedrest when we were kids, he had to do something to prevent him from going insane. He read, too. His favorite book was The Hobbit."

"The book by J. R. R. Tolkien?"

"Yes. Is there another?"

"No. Huh," he temporarily ceased stirring the icing. "I wonder what he would've thought of Frodo."

Her eyebrows knitted together. "Who?"

"One of the main characters in the sequel he wrote, The Lord of the Rings. He's Bilbo's nephew," he explained, "and an omega."

She seemed utterly fascinated, her lips parting slightly. "He wrote a sequel?"

"Uh...yeah. It's considered to be more popular than The Hobbit these days. Peter Jackson directed a movie based on the first volume of it, The Fellowship of the Ring. It came out in December. We were supposed to watch it, but obviously that didn't happen. I'm pretty sure our copy of the book is in the library, unless Bruce is rereading it again." He put down the spoon to the blue icing, each color now to the shade he wanted. Captain America colors. Ugh. "Did he like The Great Gatsby?"

And now, she did laugh. It was a musical sound, like wind chimes, which shook him to the very core. Never had he thought her laugh would sound like that. "It was his favorite book until The Hobbit came out."

"Really?" he asked. "His favorite character?"

"Daisy. He always thought he was more of a Nick Carraway, though, because of his illnesses. Always on the outside, looking in."

Tony opened his mouth to say he understood that, but then closed it. He honestly didn't.

"Do you have any pipings for the icing?" He checked. Finding some, they began to put the icing into two Ziploc bags, then he let Barnes take over to do the top. True to her word, it did appear she'd learned a thing or two from her late husband. "I never liked talking about myself. I was always the more charismatic of the two of us, but I never liked interacting with people. Stevie did. Nobody ever gave him the time of day, but when they did he could talk with them for hours. Not like me."

Her eyes were shining. Tony had a feeling the HYDRA scientists had taken away her ability to cry with whatever they had done, and he was proven right in how she failed to wipe at her eyes.

"He had a heart of gold," she continued. "Always saw the best in everyone, even Howard. By God, I hated that man. His compliments to Steve were always backhanded. 'For an omega...this,' or 'Not like other omegas...that.' And the way he looked at him...I almost punched him the day we came back from the liberation. Stevie told me he'd saved my life, and I almost punched him. Great mind, poor piss of a man." She shook her head. "Despite that, I never wanted to kill him. I looked him in the eyes before I – I did it, but I couldn't get myself to – "

She stopped.

He was indecisive. He had no idea what to do. He knew how to calm crying children, how to soothe Dick when he was in heat. Comforting a super soldier was an entirely different story.

"He was my friend," she said, her eyes squeezing shut. "He was my friend, and I couldn't – "

"Bucky," he ordered. "Bucky, put down the icing tube."

The name felt strange in his mouth, however he knew it was the right thing to do. Barnes was getting the blue icing all over her hands from how tightly she was holding the bag. Yet now she opened her eyes and did as he said, placing the bag on the counter, gasping.

"Come on," he encouraged. "Wash off your hands."

He switched on the faucet. The sound of running water made her approach the sink, as if in a trance. Tony inched off to the side, letting her do as he'd told her to do. The icing, he noticed, came off faster from her metal hand than her flesh one. He thought it might've been a metaphor for something, albeit he didn't know what.

The cold seemed to calm her. He watched her shoulders slowly relax.

She exhaled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He waved her off. "Panic attacks. Pesky little things, aren't they?"

She snorted. "You're really nothing like Howard, are you?"

He grinned. "I try not to be. You really didn't like him, did you?"

"Stevie always had to encourage me to be nicer to him." She soaped up her hands, rinsed them off, and grabbed some paper towels. "Peggy, too. Although, she was stubborn. Liked to keep Howard in his place."

"Hm," Tony said.

He didn't have much of an opinion on Peggy Carter. She was his godmother, sure, but she'd never been around often enough to be a presence in his life. She was always too busy with her own family and her job. When she had been around, she'd never talked with him for long. She hadn't talked to him at his parents' funeral.

The awkward silence grated on him. "Well," he spoke, slapping his palms together in a performative gesture. "We're going to have to make more icing. That was all of the blue we had."

She winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he replied. "It won't take long to make more."

Barnes didn't say anything, not until he'd gotten all the ingredients for the icing back out, thankful for Ana's tip of always buying more than you really need for just in case. "You know that's not what I meant."

"I know." He didn't look up from the bowl of old icing, which he brought over to the sink to wash out. "I can't say I forgive you, but...I'm not sure if it's because I know there's nothing to forgive, or because I don't yet. You know what I mean?"

"I think so." As he dried off the bowl, he saw her expression soften. "You can call me Rebecca, you know, if you want."

"And you can call me Tony," he offered. "Now, let's finish getting this cake decorated."

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Dick, happy birthday to you!"

Dick giggled as he blew out the candles, all twelve of them. Everybody cheered, Jason, Felix, and Lili clapping excitedly. "So, bambino," Tony said, opening up the paper plates to serve the cake and ice cream on. "How was this birthday?"

"The best!" Dick crowed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Tony, for the cake and for getting the Captain America exhibit to come to the museum!"

"Oh, I didn't have anything to do with the museum, bambino," he replied.

The kid wasn't convinced. "Uh, huh."

"Really, I didn't." He looked around the table for the cake slicer. He could've sworn that he'd taken it out of its drawer in the kitchen, but...he guessed not. "Rebecca, could you get the cake slicer for me?"

"Да," she said, the Russian slipping past her tongue.

Too late, he was aware of the hushed silence which had fallen over the room.

Tony glanced up. Everyone – and he really did mean everyone, although he doubted Harley fully understood what was going on and Peter certainly didn't, the two of them basing their reactions off of everybody else's – was staring at him in shock. Peter. Harley. Lili. Felix. Jason. Dick. Pepper. Happy. Selina. Bruce. Even Alfred. They were looking at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Rebecca was his saving grace. She came back into the room, all lithe and graceful, and handed him the cake slicer. He focused on cutting the cake. "Alright, Dick, how big of a slice do you want?"

Nobody said anything about it for the rest of the party, and for that he was thankful. He would've been adamant otherwise, that this was Dick's birthday regardless of it being over a week late, and the attention should've been devoted entirely to him. They ate cake and ice cream, and watched Dick open his presents in the living rom. He was excited beyond belief to discover that one of his gifts was a portable MP3 player, complete with songs by some of his favorite bands already downloaded. He tested it out with the accompanying headphones, grinning widely at the music and singing along to one of the songs.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you, and everything you do..."

After all of the gifts were opened, Happy and Pepper took their leave. Selina looked like she wanted to as well, but before she could get to her son Dick and Jason cornered her. "Auntie Selina, you're gonna play with us before you go, right?" asked the former coyly, using his puppy eyes on her.

Selina was taken aback. It wasn't often that Dick called her the name, and nobody liked to be on the receiving end of those eyes like that. "What do you want to play?"

"Snowball fight!" cheered Jason.

Tony took a glance outside. Despite it being March 30th, there was snow on the ground – it was probably the last of the season. He'd told Bruce as much that morning.

Way to give the kids ideas, you goof.

Selina chuckled. "I hardly think two against one seems fair."

"We know," said Dick. "That's why Bruce, Tony, and Bucky are gonna play with us, too."

Bruce almost choked on his coffee. "And you were going to tell us this, when?"

The kid smiled at him, dimples and all. "It's my birthday, Bruce. Won't you give me one more birthday wish?"

Tony, who was leaning over near Bruce to pick up the paper plates, nearly dropped them. "Those are two devious kids we're raising," he whispered.

"You're telling me," Bruce returned in the same pitch.

"Imagine what the rest of them are going to be like."

"I'd rather not." Bruce cleared his throat to speak louder. "Alright, Dick. If Rebecca is fine with it, we'll play in the snow."

Before the two kids could pounce on her too, the super soldier raised her hands. "I'll play," she agreed.

"Yeah!"

"Sweet!"

They got into their winter clothes, coats and warmer pants and hats and scarves and mittens/gloves (not the fingerless kind – Lord knew the constant contact with ice would freeze their fingers right off). Tony put Peter in his playpen and the movie Matilda into the VCR player for Felix, Lili, ad Harley, before he stuffed one baby monitor into his coat pocket while setting the other on the coffee table. Alfred settled into his usual armchair in the living room with a book, under the explicit instructions to not work on the mess from the party because Tony would do that later. Then the six of them went outside.

The boys had clearly been devising this scheme for a while, as they already had teams set up: Jason had Bruce and Selina, while Dick had him and Rebecca. "What, you don't trust me and Bruce together?" he attempted to joke.

Jason and Dick were solemn. "No."

Selina cackled at his resulting expression. "Maybe don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, Tony."

"I'm going to get you for that, Kyle!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

The rules were simple, in that it was basically a free-for-all against each team. They settled on opposite sides of the land off to the left side of the house, and spent five minutes making snowballs. Tony was kind of ashamed in that, for all his hands could do, they weren't the best at forming spherical shapes out of snow. He'd never had much experience with snowball fighting, or doing anything regular kids should do.

Rebecca did not have the same problem. "Jesus," he said, staring at the pile she was amassing. "How are you that fast?"

She flashed him a toothy grin. "We didn't have TVs during the '20s and '30s in Brooklyn," she said. "We had to have fun somehow."

There was no real set start to the game. Dick and Jason seemed to decide at the same time that the other side had had enough time to make snowballs, and they led the cavalry. They mostly attacked each other at first, but then moved their foci: Jason went after Rebecca, skirting around him, and Dick went after Bruce.

Tony had fun. He didn't really know why they'd spent time making snowballs on either side when it seemed everyone else was making them as they ran around, but that was alright. He and Selina darted around each other; he was able to hit her a few times, but she by far had the advantage. With no difficulty, she dodged the vast majority of his throws, and pelted him with several snowballs.

"Oof!" he groaned after one in particular hit his midsection with enough force to cause him to fall to the ground on his back.

He heard Selina laugh in disbelief. "Tony! Oh my God – Tony, I'm sorry!"

"I'm fine!" he called out, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I'm fine. No harm, no foul."

He saw a flash of a dark grey coat out of the corner of his eye. For some reason, he thought it was Rebecca; she'd borrowed one of Bruce's coats before they'd come outside. Without even thinking about it, he took the proffered hand, letting it help pull him to his feet.

He realized his mistake as a pair of lips brushed up against his cheek. "Sorry, love," Bruce whispered in his ear.

Then he felt a small ball of snow, a tad slushy like the rest of it due to the late time of the season, be shoved under his coat and fall down his back.

"Ah!" he shrieked. "Bruce, what the fuck?"

Bruce was already running away, laughing.

Tony took off after him. They ran across the land, moving past the others. He saw Dick and Jason gawping at them, and waved his arms. "Bruce cheated!" he told them, purposefully ignoring how there were no rules against it.

Thankfully, the kids didn't seem to care. They followed him. In quick order, their trio caught up to Bruce, converging on him in a pile. They all fell to the ground, giggling, Rebecca and Selina trailing after them at a more sedate pace.

"Does the Batman yield?"

"I do not!"

"Are you sure? Dick, Jason, help me!"

. . .

. . .

"I yield! I yield!"

The cold and wet soon became too much to bear, not to mention how it was quickly becoming too dark. They went back inside, grinning and shaking the snow from their hair, to which Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Who won?"

"I...don't think there was an actual winner," Selina said.

"Bruce lost, though," added Rebecca.

Dick beamed mischievously. "Bruce definitely lost!"

Since his back was freezing from the melting snow – thank you so much for that, Bruce – he went upstairs to take a shower. When he came back down, dressed in his flannel pajamas, he saw that Selina and her son were gone and Dick and Jason were snuggled around Lili on the couch, all of them holding mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. Peter and Harley were nowhere in sight; he presumed Bruce had already put the former to bed and was in the process of doing the same with their latter. "Selina left?"

"She said to tell you she said 'bye,'" Dick told him.

"That was nice of her." He watched the movie and saw that it was almost over. "What about you, Little Miss? Are you about ready for bed?"

Lili was. All of the excitement of the day had worn her out, and there were little circles under her eyes. But she held onto her mug of hot chocolate stubbornly, her face scrunching up. "Not yet, Omi. Let me finish the movie, please."

"Of course, princess."

Bruce came down the stairs after he'd already picked up their daughter, she burrowing her head into his neck. "I can take her," he offered.

"I've got her," Tony said. He peered up at his husband, noticing the edge in his eyes. "Are you going out on patrol tonight?"

"If it's alright with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Bruce gave a little shrug, as if that explained anything. "I don't usually go out on the kids' birthday nights."

"Oh. Well, as long as you're safe." Tony reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Is Selina patrolling with you tonight?"

"No, she's busy tomorrow."

"Just be safe," he repeated. Then blinked. "Actually, before you go, I have something I need to talk about with you. Rebecca, too."

"What about Bucky?"

Jason was leaning over the back of the couch, regarding him with wide eyes, curious but cautious. Dick also seemed interested in what he was going to say.

Tony didn't really want to speak about it in front of them. "Aren't you two supposed to be coming up with Lili to bed?"

"My bedtime is nine-thirty. It's only eight," pointed out Dick.

Jason ignored the diversion entirely. "Are you going to make Bucky leave?"

The very prospect terrified him, it was obvious. "No, it's nothing like that," he rushed to assure. "I promise."

"Then why are you calling her Rebecca now, not Barnes? You've been getting along with her better, you can't make her leave, please!"

Bruce was interested to know the answer to that question, too.

Tony didn't budge. "I'm not going to make her leave, or do anything bad, okay? Now, come on, Jason. Time for bed."

They met in the "downstairs," as it was the most sure fire way of preventing Dick and Jason from listening in (he loved them, but he also knew them well enough not to trust them to try and overhear their conversation). It was Rebecca's first time in the cave, and she stared at it, vaguely impressed. "You built this all by yourself, Bruce?"

"I had people in my company sign NDAs before they built it, but I designed it. This was built after my first summer in college, when I was...abroad. I'd decided that I would need it," he said, sounding noncommittal. He focused on Tony. "What did you want to talk about?"

Since he knew he and Rebecca had come to an...understanding, of sorts, he was not worried about her taking his question the wrong way. "Has your friend come up with any resolution in removing her trigger words yet?" he queried.

Bruce frowned. "No, not yet. He said it will probably take a while. Why – ?"

His husband knew him well. As soon as he'd started his question, understanding rippled across his expression. Still, Tony cut him off anyways. "I want to take a go at it. No offense to your friend – ish – but I could probably make up a solution a lot faster than he can," he said. He eyed Rebecca. "That is, if it's alright with you."

Rebecca did not seem surprised. "Of course."

"That's not the only thing I want to do," he continued. Bruce looked ready to interrupt him, but he wouldn't let him. He had to get through this. His heart was beating loudly inside his chest, his blood roaring in his ears. If he didn't get through this now, he was never going to. He took in a deep breath to steady himself. "Even after your trigger words are removed, Rebecca, you'll be welcome to stay here. As long as you want."

The two alphas were shocked. "What?" Rebecca asked.

"I trust you," he told her. "Maybe not with everything, but with most things, I do. I never thought I would say that. You killed my parents. Brutally." She flinched at the reminder, but he pressed on. "But I get that wasn't really you, it was HYDRA. You've done everything that I've asked while you've been staying here. Even when you were training the kids and I didn't want you to, you stopped after I told you to. You tried to protect them, too, over yourself."

"You've only known me a month," she stated, voice small. She hunched in on herself, as if she was a little girl and not a grown woman who was technically over half a century older than both him and Bruce.

"Almost two," he amended. "And yeah. But in these past almost two months, you've proven yourself to be not what I thought you were. You're not just the Winter Soldier. You're Rebecca Permelia Barnes. You're...Bucky, the wife of Steve Rogers. You actually give a damn about omegas, like Bruce and Happy, unlike most alphas that I know. And Jason...I don't want to say he needs you, but there are things I think Bruce and I will never be able to understand about him due to his time with HYDRA. But you can. You know better than anyone else what that's like.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," he added. He could see Rebecca's uncertainty, her disbelief. "If staying here will be too much for you, I understand. But once we get your trigger words removed, if you want to remain with us...I won't say no to that."

Neither Bruce nor Rebecca said anything for several moments. She backed up instinctively, looking away from him and around at the contents of the Batcave again. He had no idea what she was thinking.

"Are you sure?" she finally questioned.

Was he? At first glance, this was a fast decision. Almost two months she'd been living here, and he'd hated her for half of that time. They'd only really talked this morning, and she'd had a panic attack while they'd been talking. He'd had to calm her down from it.

He didn't really know that much about her. He didn't know if he could forgive her. He wasn't exactly a kind person – not like Ana had been.

But the decision felt right, like something that had been coming on for a while and not spur of the moment or only occurring in the past several hours, and he'd just been too oblivious to his own mind to see it. Ana would've wanted him to do this. His mother, maybe (probably) not, but she hadn't been a very active part of his life until these last several years. She wasn't the person he wanted to look up to or become, truthfully. He didn't want to be like her towards his own children.

And like a snow globe all shaken up, he was willing to let the snowflakes from this decision fall where they may. Nothing bad would come from this. He wasn't sure how he knew as much, but he did.

"I trust you," he repeated. "So yeah, I'm sure. Granted, I'm not the only one who has to make this decision."

"I'm fine with it," Bruce said quickly. "If you're fine with it, Tony, so am I."

Rebecca's eyes were glistening again. "Thank you," she whispered. "I, um – "

She didn't finish her train of thought. Running off, actually running, she headed back "upstairs." The door to the Batcave swung shut behind her, creating an echoing boom.

...Okay, maybe he'd said too much too soon. He meant everything he'd spoken, but Rebecca understandably had issues after her time in HYDRA and killing his parents, including Howard, who had once been her friend. Maybe he should've waited to say all of this for a couple of days, after the aftereffects of her earlier panic attack had mostly worn off.

Shit, I'm a fucking impulsve idiot. I really should have waited to tell her.

Bruce shifted his weight. "What was that about, Tony?" he asked gently.

He wasn't angry. He did appear genuinely confused, or at least surprised or flabbergasted, however it was clear anger was the last thing on his mind.

Tony tried to play it off casually. "What, I can't decide to do something out of the goodness of my heart?"

Bruce didn't take the bait. "You've kept grudges against people for far less than what she did. What did you two talk about this morning to make you want her to stay?"

He swallowed. "I know." There was a pause as Tony wrung his hands, not nervously, just a way to diffuse the tension that was going on inside of him. "We talked about...Rogers, among other things. Howard."

"Talking about your sire and the omega he idolized and whose memory he used against you made you like her?"

Tony didn't necessarily like his tone. "I can change my mind about certain things, can't I?" he huffed. "I mean, it's as I said, right? She's the Winter Soldier, but she's a lot more than that. She deserves to be treated as more than just that. Talking with her made me realize as much, and that I've actually been coming to like and not just tolerate her for a while."

Bruce winced. "Sorry, you're right," he apologized. They embraced, his alpha pressing their foreheads together. "It's just we've been married for almost five years, Omega, and somehow you still manage to surprise me when I least expect it. Even with you acting kinder to her lately, allowing her to train Dick, I was still expecting you to want her gone after her trigger words are removed. I wasn't expecting you to want her to stay."

Tony smiled. "I want her to have choices. If she wants to," he corrected. "'Cause I know what it's like to not have any, and how freeing it is once you do."

His mate's breath caught. "Omega..."

He checked the time, pulling away slightly and looking at the large digital clock over the area where the computer and conference table were. "You need to go out on patrol," he reminded his mate. "And Jason's gonna need put to bed soon."

"Almost don't want to now," Bruce groaned softly, nuzzling his neck.

Tony patted his cheek with faux sympathy. "You just drank a bunch of coffee a couple hours ago. You'll be restless in bed if you don't because of that, and I'm not putting up with it. I love you, but I'm not against kicking you out to the couch when I need my beauty sleep," he deadpanned. Bruce rolled his eyes, but smirked all the same. "We'll be here when you get back, don't worry."

His husband lightly pecked his cheek. "I know. I love you, too, and I am sorry about the snow."

"...Uh, huh, sure you are."

"So, Bucky's actually staying?"

As soon as the door to Jason's room was shut, Dick spoke. Tony put a finger to his lips, before he led the boy back downstairs, not wanting to deal with the younger one's excitement again in the event he'd overhead.

He'd told the two older kids the news as soon as he'd come up from the "downstairs," as they'd demanded to know what had happened after seeing and hearing Rebecca not...crying, but definitely doing something akin to it in her room. Jason had been furious, all red in the face, thinking he hadn't meant his promise. It had taken much talking otherwise to convince him, and when he had...

"She's staying?" Jason had shrieked, bouncing up and down on the couch. "She's really staying?"

"If she wants to," Tony had repeated.

That hadn't mattered to Jason, not at first. "Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Tony!" he'd shouted, bouncing two more times on the couch. Then he'd stopped, becoming perplexed. "Wait, then why's she crying?"

"I don't know," he'd admitted. He did have his ideas, but he hadn't and wasn't willing to tell the boys something he didn't know about Rebecca for sure. Besides, it wasn't his thing to tell, anyways.

He repeated that first line of dialogue to Dick a second time over as they settled in the living room. "She'll want to stay," he replied, sounding confident. "Do you think she'll want to help Bruce?"

Tony, who was in the process of turning off the TV since it was nine and Dick himself would have his bedtime in half an hour, faltered. "Help him with what?"

Dick, sitting crisscross-applesauce on the couch, pulled his ankles further towards himself. He was insanely flexible; Tony made it a note to ask him what he thought about gymnastics sometime in the future. "Batman, duh. Is she gonna go with him on patrols and stuff?"

"I don't think so." It didn't seem likely that Rebecca, after having been used as a human weapon for decades, would be willing to go back to fighting people so soon...if ever. "Bruce has Selina for that stuff, bambino. You know that."

The kid scowled. "But not always. I heard him tell you she's not patrolling tonight. What's gonna happen if gets hurt again? He's died before."

"He has," Tony acknowledged. A part of him wished Dick didn't know that. Of course he would, between already knowing Bruce was Batman, having seen their bond break, and Jason having seen Bruce die himself, but he worried they were placing too much stress on the kid. Most of all now, after he'd presented as an omega and everything else. "But Bruce can take care of himself. He's not going to be running off to Siberia again."

"You say that like you're so convinced," accused Dick, crossing his arms.

"About him not going to Siberia again? Yeah, I'm pretty sure about that," he remarked. He sat down on the couch next to Dick. "Hey, what's going on in that big brain of yours? I thought you had fun today. Your birthday was great, right?"

Dick nodded. "It was. I think – " He rubbed at his eyes, having to cut off as he yawned. For a moment, he looked like the little seven-year-old that Bruce had brought home with him the same day Tony had found out he was pregnant with Lili, not the twelve-year-old who had presented as an omega. He felt his heart ache a little. Almost five years. Where had the time gone? "I think I'm just tired. I need to go to bed."

"Well, you're not going to get an argument from me about that."

The younger omega scooted over to wrap his arms around him. "Thanks again for the birthday party, and the Captain America exhibit even though I know you didn't have anything to do with that," he whispered. "And for letting Bucky stay. Night, Tony."

Tony petted his hair before he left. "'Night."

Word Count: 6,307

Next Chapter Title: open your eyes