Chapter Seven:

Tony wasted no time in making all the technological improvements he had been longing to make for weeks. He just couldn't help himself. Ideas had been percolating in his brain for ages , filled with potential, and his fingers had practically cramped in an effort to keep them away from that damn touch pad. The second the Alphas were out of the house? All bets were off.

He and Jarvis worked through the rest of the day updating the pack's security system, Tony reclined back in one of those fancy swivel chairs in the war room, legs propped indolently up on the table while he munched on an apple. It took a few hours but he let his decryption program do the work while he worked on security protocols for the cabin. They combed through SHIELD's database (the idiots had left a backdoor...but it still took a few hours) and added a few extra protocols to the cabin, beefed up the Avenger's security so to speak. Tony couldn't help but look up his file on the SHIELD server. Prior to his coming out as Omega, there had been no hint to indicate that they had suspected his second gender. There was, however, a whole file on the possible identity of Iron Man. The scientist Dr. Arty Noth, his education and work profile, all the projects he had or was suspected to have his fingers in, and his subsequent disappearance when Iron Man came on the scene was all there to be found. Tony had to give Natasha credit, it was impressive what information she had been able to ferret out of his company. He consoled himself that it had only happened because he had stepped down as acting CEO. It wasn't as if he had trusted her with any vital information. Tony's entire life had been built around a lie. Secrecy was the name of the game and so far he was undefeated. He spent a little time cruising through the team's profiles, then on to Pepper's and Rhodey's. There was nothing in here that he didn't already know. But it was always nice to keep tabs.

"Apparently I'm volatile, self obsessed, and I don't play well with others." Tony bit into his apple viciously. "What do you think, J?"

"I'm certain I couldn't say, sir."

It felt good to have Jarvis in the house, to hear the comforting droll tones of his favorite AI, even if he was a sarcastic little shit.

It was getting late, and Tony was starting to feel the weight of the day, hell the month, bearing heavy down on his shoulders. Stifling a yawn he slid his feet off the table, wincing slightly when he jarred his sprained ankle.

"Well, I think I'm going to call it a night, J."

"Goodnight, sir."

Tony walked out of the war room, the door hissing shut behind him. He limped his way over to the couch, bypassing the stairs that would lead up to his closet, cough, bedroom. He wasn't in the mood for stairs, he told himself stubbornly. It had absolutely nothing to do with Steve and the rest of the packs' scents being strongest in this room. The lights dimmed as he settled onto the couch. Pulling the throw blanket over himself, he curled up with his face pressed deep into the pillows, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Tony tilted his head back to stare up into the rafters of the old barn. Stale hay and a musty earthy scent filled his nostrils as dust motes drew lazy circles in the air. Sunlight splintered in through the gaps between the boards, striping the walls and floors with golden light. There was a fine layer of dust coating the entire place, as if it had been years that anyone had set foot inside the barn. The floors were made of packed dirt and covered with rushes that were in desperate need of a change. The barn had clearly housed horses at some point if the dilapidated stalls off to the left were anything to go by. There was a rickety looking ladder that led up to a loft that Tony wasn't sure he trusted. The wood was old, the planking ancient, and termites or wood rot was a real concern. An old tractor, eroded in some places and covered in a sheet of rust so encompassing that Tony couldn't tell what color it had been originally, was left abandoned in the middle of the barn.

This, Tony decided with a pleased smile, was his. Clearly the rest of the team didn't want it. It was isolated, large, with plenty of nooks and crannies. Yes, he thought with a decisive nod of his head, the barn would become his domain. It was the perfect place to hide his moonshine and whatever other project stirred his fancy. Already he was running numbers, thinking of ways he could fortify and remodel the barn to suit his needs. It would be a workshop. He could even start on that old tractor. Wouldn't that be a project and a half? He could make it solar powered and autonomous. He hobbled his way through the barn, leaning heavy on his crutch, and favoring his bandaged ankle.

He spent the afternoon and late into the evening in the barn, exploring every nook and cranny, and beginning the long and arduous process of cleaning the place out. He didn't let his still tender ribs or sprained ankle stop him. Tony was well versed with working through the pain, and had always possessed a single mindedness that would put a bullmastiff with a beef rib bone to shame. Tony was delighted to find a tack room full of tools. The barn was full of potential, nothing a little elbow grease wouldn't fix.

He could probably get the majority of the work in this place finished before Steve and the rest of the team got back. Shit. The Barton family was supposed to come over and check up on him. Tony's lips flattened in irritation. He didn't need a babysitter (well, most of the time), he wasn't a child damnit. Ripping off a piece of an old cardboard box, Tony found a sharpie in the tack room and with the cap clenched between his teeth he scratched out a hasty note. He limped over to the barn door with a hammer and nail, and pounded it into the old wood.

There. That should give him some peace for a little bit, at least while he was in here. Tony worked for the rest of the day cleaning up the barn. His only company while he worked was the heath-hens, his avian alliance, as he had not yet been able to set Jarvis up here. It would require some wiring on his part, which shouldn't be a problem, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. The heath-hens muddled around underfoot, fluttering their wings and ruffling their feathers as they explored the old barn with him. He didn't mind them so much. They were persistent little bastards, following him around wherever he went, squawking and pecking at each other in his wake. It was his own fault really. He had taken to feeding them in the morning. Scraps of lettuce and whatever fruit he had on hand. He had made them a promise that day in the woods. Tony tried his hardest to keep his promises.

If it looked ridiculous for a fully grown man to have an avian escort, literally traveling around in the center of a flock of chickens, there wasn't much he could do about it. He had tried. The chickens seemed to have accepted him as one of their own. What being adopted into a crazy flock of feral chickens said about him as a person, he wasn't sure nor did he want to explore. He could almost imagine the needling he was going to get from the Avengers about this, and bit back a mortified groan.

When it grew too dark to see, and his muscles were protesting, Tony shuffled his way back to the house, narrowly escaping the chickens who kept trying to follow him inside. He wondered where they slept at night...and if it was safe from predators. Though, honestly, those chickens could give anyone a run for their money. They were probably the biggest predators around here. Still...maybe Tony could make space for them in the barn. Or a coop. Didn't chickens sleep in coops? Tony kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the couch. He had been avoiding what he jokingly referred to as his "closet under the stairs" and had been opting to just pass out on the couch, curled up beneath the warm fleece throw that was usually folded in the corner. Well, he slept there when he could sleep. Something about being alone in the house was stirring up old fears that he had thought were long forgotten. Memories, both painful and sad,came to life whenever he closed his eyes. His sleep was riddled with nightmares. When he woke up, gasping for breath, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes, and fighting off enemies who weren't there, Tony decided that sleep was overrated. So he went without.

He threw himself into his barn project, had repurposed the pressure cooker and some other odds and ends to make his homemade moonshine, and most of his free time was spent laying on his back underneath that old tractor. Tony finally had something to fill his days other than cleaning and cooking and pandering to Steve and the Avengers. He should be elated. He should at least feel relieved. But there were bags under his eyes, dark like day old bruises, and he couldn't help but feel a cagey sort of wariness as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been days. The team should have been back by now. Where were they? His jaw tightened with unease. He only had so much time before he needed to go to the city. And Steve had promised.

Hours later Tony was elbow deep in rusted old machine parts. It had been five days since the pack had left for their training mission in a "top secret" location - which was somewhere in Germany. Yeah, the war room and it's SHIELD basic security system had not taken him any real, meaningful, amount of time to hack. Garbage tech was what it was, Tony thought with a disgusted shake of his head. That was still two days past when Steve said the team would return. Tony threw himself into projects to distract from worry. How long could this training mission possibly take? Should he check in to it?

He was in the process of dismantling the engine piece by piece so that he could clean it, upgrade it, and put it back together again. It gave him something to do during the oppressively quiet days that seemed to start to blend together. At first it had been a relief to be alone. There were no prying eyes, no probing questions, no looks shot from the corner of discerning eyes. But as the days began to pass Tony began to grow bored, restless. Sure he could find plenty of things to do to occupy his time. There was the barn, after all, and the wiring. He needed to replace some of the beams and eventually it would need a new roof. There were also some security protocols that wouldn't hurt from a little tinkering here and there.

And yet Tony found himself looking around the house at the end of the day, ears straining for the heavy tread of familiar footsteps, the gentle bickering and easy banter of the team as they ribbed one another.

His body was hot, flushed, his thoughts becoming disjointed and shaky. Rather than dwell upon what that might mean, Tony threw himself into his work with a single minded determination. Steve had to come back. He just had to. He had promised. Tony had been so freaking good. He had bit his tongue till it bled, he had ducked his head and been respectful when all he wanted to do was lash out. Frustration filled him, he lost his rhythm with the tractor and his thoughts. Things that usually came natural to him were foggy and disjointed.

Tony cursed, hand groping blindly toward where he had left his tools...just out of reach. He was on his back, laying on the hard pack ground of the barn, looking up at the monstrosity that was this dilapidated old engine and cursing himself for ever taking on this project.

"Need...the 3/8ths...socket…" Tony grunted, then froze when the wrench in question was pressed gently into his palm. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when he was in the middle of a work project, Tony took the proffered wrench and got back to work.

"5/8ths…" The next wrench was pressed again into his upturned palm. Heh. He could get used to this.

More time passed quietly as Tony worked, completely absorbed. Sweat beaded across his brow, his chest glistening, wife beater sticking to him like a second skin. Randomly he called out tools and, without fail, said tool would be placed into his outstretched palm. Tony finally came to a point in his work where he could pause. He wriggled out from under the tractor, knowing he looked a fright with his sweat flushed and grease streaked face, and met the wide eyes of his assistant.

A young boy, maybe 12 or 13 years old sat next to the tool box. Worn jeans with a hole in the knee, black converse sneakers that were streaked with dirt, and a gray striped t-shirt. He had shaggy brown hair that had been allowed to grow too long, and his father's bright blue eyes.

"Ah, smaller agent. So we finally meet." Tony grunted, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He got to his feet slowly, grunting at the slight pull on his bruised ribs. Amusement twisted his lips as the younger Barton scrambled to his feet handing him his crutch.

"Thanks, kid. Did you see the sign? On the barn door? The door you had to walk through to get here?"

Barton's kid nodded. "Yes Mr. Stark Rogers, I did. Sorry to intrude and all, but Mom was getting worried about you being cooped up in the barn all day. Besides. The sign says omega's only zone...and, well, I'm an omega."

The sign actually read "Omega's Only Zone, all others Keep Out!" He had even done his R backwards and drew on a skull and crossbones for good measure.

Tony turned to regard the young Barton fully, an eyebrow arched. The boy sighed, running a hand up and down the back of his neck. "Yeah I know. Dad's an Alpha, Mom's a Beta. No I'm not adopted, it can happen, you know?"

Tony nodded slowly. It was true that although unlikely, an Alpha and Beta could theoretically produce Omega offspring. Generally speaking, Omegas were rare and usually produced only through Alpha and Omega couplings. Poor kid had hit the genetic lottery, huh?

"Well, welcome to the club house kid."

"Cooper. My name is Cooper Mr. Stark-Rogers. Are you, uh, feeling okay? You look...flushed."

Tony nodded as he limped over to the tool bench.

"I'll be right-as-rain when Rogers gets back. Gotta go to the city to get…" he paused, glancing over at those wide blue eyes and open face. "Medicine."

Cooper nodded. "You mean like suppressants? I have some at home if you need them. Mom and Dad got them for me last year to have on hand… you know, just in case. It's, uh, gonna be a bit until they get back you know. There was some sort of situation and… now Dad's not sure when he's coming home."

Tony froze. Every muscle in his body clenched painfully. No! No! That couldnt be right, Steve had fucking promised he could have this trip. He needed his meds. He had people to see, people that were counting on him, people that wouldnt understand when he didn't show up.

Tony clenched his fist and sent it slamming down onto the work bench. "Shit!"

He was on the verge of going into his first heat in 15 years. He would have already had his heat suppression shot and pheromone blockers by now. The shots were...special. Made and manufactured just for him and he'd been on them since he was little more than a child. Who knew the medical ramifications of discontinuing them? "Fuck." Tony spun, rubbed his hand across his mouth, his expression worried.

He glanced down to see Cooper on the ground, one of the heath-hens cradled in his lap as he idly stroked a small, gentle, hand down it's feathered back.

"Traitor." Tony scoffed. "No more kitchen scraps for you."

Cooper smiled shyly, ducking his head. "They never bother me. But they go after Dad and the rest of the pack like crazy. Dad's always threatening to make chicken soup out of them, but I don't think he really would. I like them too much."

"Well, at least they have taste." Tony said idly. This was a clean, obviously well loved kid. The chickens were still around simply because the boy enjoyed them - even though they were clearly a nuisance to everyone else. What would it have been like to grow up like that? To have a father that cared about you, protected you, wanted you to be happy?

"Are you keeping them in the barn?"

"Here? Them?" Tony blew out a breath. "Absolutely not. No this is a chicken free zone. A haven, a workplace, a-" a quick glance around showed that all six of the chickens had made their way into the barn and were putzing around. Making him look bad. Like some sort of pansy. Tony sighed.

"Maybe you should build them a house then." Cooper offered quietly. "A coop?"

"Do I look like a carpenter to you, kid?" Tony groused, leaning back against the workbench and crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, but you don't look like a no good, pretty boy, social- social-"

"Socialite?"

"Yeah, that. You look like a mechanic." The boy's piercing blue eyes bored into him, his head cocking to the side much like a golden retriever's would.

"You look like you could figure it out. You know, smart."

Tony pursed his lips. "Did the chickens send you? Are you the chicken emissary? Sent here to distract me into taking care of the chicken overlords? Butter me up with all those sweet nothings?"

Cooper smiled. "I could help you, you know. We could go back to the house - mom is making lasagna and a garden salad - get the suppressants and," he shrugged sheepishly. "Build them a chicken coop."

Tony let out a long suffering sigh. "Fine. But you keep that smart thing to yourself. And what happens in the barn stays in the barn, got it? It's an Omega thing, we've got to stick together."

Cooper gave him a big grin and gently shooed the chicken off his lap as he got up and gave Tony's hand a firm shake.

"Definitely."

"So what are their names?" At the blank look Tony shot him, Cooper clarified, "of the chickens?"

Tony shook his head. "Well, over there is One, and that green one with the grudge is Two,"

Cooper chuckled before shooting Tony a very-serious look. "Mr. Stark Rogers, they need names. You can't call them by numbers."

"Tell you what kid, why don't you name them?"

Cooper shook his head, long hair flopping over his eyes. "They are your chickens, you should name them."

Tony eyed the flock of chickens that were pecking around the yard. It felt good to have completed a project, even if that project was something as small and simple as a chicken coop. Of course, no project of Tony's could ever be considered simple by any layman's stretch of the imagination. He had managed to make solar panels on the roof of the coop that powered lights to scare predators away at night, and also powered the automated door. Cooper and Tony had built the chicken coop so that it closely resembled the packhouse. It looked like a smaller scale version, complete with the wrap around porch. The idea had been Coopers, and the delight that shone in his eyes as the project came together had filled Tony's chest with warmth and another emotion he couldn't name.

"I can't wait for Dad to see this," Cooper said with a chuckle. "This looks so cool!"

Tony smiled, but it was a little brittle around the edges. The days were beginning to bleed together in an endless stretch. His skin felt hot and stretched tight, need clawing at his belly with razor talons. Although the heat suppressants that Cooper had given him had helped, they did not eradicate all the symptoms. How could they? Tony had been on a much higher quality suppressant for over a decade. He felt raw, inside and out. He also didn't have any pheromone blockers. Tony was not used to having his every emotion broadcasted to the entire world to scent. He hated it. Hated how vulnerable it made him feel. Like an open wound that refused to scab over.

Laura had been very sweet and understanding, even offering to go to the city and get his suppressants for him. But sending out the heavily pregnant Beta to go into a rather dangerous part of New York to fetch him his medication had rubbed Tony the wrong way. He simply couldn't ask it of her. If anything ever happened to her… Tony would never forgive himself. So he gritted his teeth and doubled the dose on the medication - hoping that would help. Hoping his heart did not give out on him.

Feeling hot, Tony wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, eyeing the finished project with pride. The chickens lived in a house that looked the same as the one the Avengers lived in.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Oh yes. He had just thought of names for the chickens. The smirk morphed into a pained grimace as a sharp, cutting, cramp tore across his abdomen. This was going to be a long week.

"What do you mean there's an issue?" Steve questioned dangerously. Had Tony hurt himself? Hurt someone else?

"Your mission went two weeks past when you said you'd be back," Laura intoned dryly. "Tony missed his monthly trip into the city."

Covered in dirt, face and arms streaked with blood, Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. So Tony didn't get to go to the city and it was the end of the world out on the farm? That wasn't fair, Steve knew, admonishing his knee jerk reaction with a sigh. He reached a hand up to cover his eyes as he massaged his temples. A promise was a promise, and he had broken his.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It was… out of my control. Just tell Tony I will take him as soon as I get back, we can go to whatever store he needs to -."

"Doctors" Laura interrupted. "He needed to go to his Doctor. He's an Omega, and he's on a monthly injectable heat and pheromone suppressants."

Steve stilled, "Are you telling me that Tony is in heat?" To go into heat without an Alpha around… and the first heat in what Steve could only assume would have been years… it would be very difficult, very trying, on an Omega. Tony could be suffering right now because of his shortsightedness. God he was such a shit Alpha sometimes that-

"No, no. He's not in heat. I had some old suppressants that I gave him. Nothing he's used to, I'm sure, but it seemed to do the trick."

Steve blew out a hard breath. "So what's the problem, Laura? Sounds like you've got everything under control?"

There was a weighty pause from the other end of the line. A silent admonishment perhaps?

"He's been on pheromone blockers since he was thirteen years old, Steve. I don't have those here, obviously. Most people don't use them because most people have nothing to hide. The ones he's on mask his scent and his emotions. He's so used to hiding who he is and what he's feeling and now he's...exposed. He's been… hmm, not well is an understatement. Or maybe he's always been like that and now we can sense it? I don't know. I'm just worried and I wanted to give you the heads up, just in case."

"I appreciate that Laura, thank you for letting me know."

"Better luck next time," Steve laughed as he shouldered his way into the packhouse, Bucky on his heels. He felt the smile slide from his face as the scent of the quiet, dark, house reached his nose. Beneath the pine and lysol scent of cleanliness was…

Omega

Was that Tony? It was everywhere in the house. Steve breathed deep, taking the scent deep into his lungs, his hindbrain dissecting it into bite sized pieces for his olfactory senses to chew on. The smell of coffee, machine oil, with a darker scent, somewhat smokey burning...like the fire at a forge, underlying it. It was… it smelt good. Surprisingly good.

His eyes scanned the dimly lit house, taking in the disarray. There were children's toys, belonging to Clints kids his brain supplied, scattered across the living room floor. A stack of magazines on the coffee table in disarray. The dining room table was littered with newspaper and… glitter? It looked like Tony and the kids had made an art project of some sort.

The kitchen was mostly clean but there were a few dishes in the sink, pans left to soak overnight. Eyeing the toaster and the microwave, Steve sighed. Victims of Tony's culinary prowess, they lay in pieces on the counter. What was he trying to do? Fix them? Amusement warmed Steve's chest as he pictured the slight omega bent over the counter, screwdriver in one hand and that worried frown puckering his brow.

He headed up the stairs, towards the bedrooms, where Tony's scent was strongest. He followed his nose to the bedroom he had assigned Tony and gave the closed door a brisk knock. It was later in the evening but not late enough that Tony should be sleeping.

The door didn't open. Silence greeted him.

Steve could hear the rapid beating of Tony's heart. The soft rustle of clothing shifting. Was he being ignored? The Alpha in him didn't like the thought of his Omega ignoring him, but he understood why Tony was upset.

"Tony? It's, uh, me. Hey, look I'm sorry I couldn't be there to bring you to the city. Laura told me… that she helped you out a bit with what you needed. We can go tomorrow if you still need something. I didn't mean to break my promise to you. If I had known...well, I could have arranged for someone to take you."

Dead silence met his apology. Steve sighed, shoulders slumping, and rested his hand against the flat of the door.

"Good night Tony."

He walked down the hallway, foot step faltering at the soft "Goodnight Steve." that had not been meant for his ears. Smiling, he shook his head and made his way down the stairs.

Tony waited until both Alphas had gone to bed before sneaking out of his hidey hole. He couldn't sleep in the small, cramped, room that Steve had assigned him. He much prefered to sleep on the couch downstairs, where the faint smells of pack surrounded him. There he could curl up into a ball on the couch, face pressed into the soft pillows, and just… pretend. Pretend he belonged. Pretend that he was safe. The nightmares were always worse when he was alone. The scent of pack was usually enough to keep them at bay. The scent of safety. Even if it was an illusion, it was one that Tony was going to grab on to with both hands and never let go of. He was so exhausted. He had not slept for days. The nightmares had driven him away from even attempting to catch some rest. Instead he usually just headed out to the barn to work on the tractor or whatever else had tickled his fancy. He could no longer do that with Steve in residence. Well, he didn't think he could anyway. Something in his gut told him that Steve would frown upon that. Just the thought of Steve's displeasure was enough to make him cringe and hunch his shoulders.

He tiptoed down the stairs, covered in a cold sweat that stuck uncomfortably to his skin. His heart was racing in his chest as he made his way to the couch and buried himself in his usual spot beneath the covers. With two Alphas in residence he should be able to sleep better...right? With that thought Tony drifted off into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares.

Someone was grabbing him, shaking him, a large menacing shape covered in shadow. Terror had his throat spasming even as his body reacted instinctively to the threat. Years of training had Tony doing a sweeping block followed by a series of front snap punches to what he hoped were target areas. Tony was attacking blind, his terror riding him, as he knocked his assailants hand off of his shoulder. Groping blindly, Tony rolled to his feet and grabbed the half glass of water on the coffee table. Without thought he sent it smashing into his attacker's face. Satisfaction curling inside of him like a lazy cat at the sound of a pained grunt.

"Tony! Stand down!" The Alpha growl ripped through the room.

Tony froze, heart in his chest as a number of things became clear to him. The first and foremost being that there was no attacker. Standing before him, cradling the side of his sopping wet face that was littered with glass shards, was one clearly stunned James Barnes. The second thing that became apparent was that Steve, already making his way down the stairs from the loft, had witnessed the altercation. There had been no attacker. Only a bad dream.

A dream of a small dark cave, in Afghanistan, the hard biting heat. Having his chest fucking carved out and being attached to a car battery that could be taken away and ripped out of his arms, at any second. Being so fucking vulnerable. Being plunged face first into filthy water with his arms held behind his back, his legs kicking for purchase and finding none... the hard hand at his neck holding him there until his lungs were crying for air, until he was choking on water, until he wished he could just die and get the whole ordeal over with. But they never let him. The series of concussive blows that rained down on his legs and ribs and stomach. Hearing his ribs break, snap apart like twigs. Begging for mercy, begging for it to stop. He would do whatever they wanted. Rough hands pulling him up by his hair, forcing him to his knees. When they discovered he was an Omega… And then, as was the way of dreams, his attacker had changed, and it was Howards familiar face that had loomed over him, ripping at his chest. Howard's fists that had fallen in heavy blows on his face and stomach. The belt. Being told to kneel, handed the belt that he was going to be beaten with, expected to press his lips to the leather and to thank his Alpha for the much needed discipline. Tony hated to be handed things...

Tony felt nauseous. Sick to his stomach.

"I wasn't trying to - I was just - he was having a bad dream!" Bucky muttered from behind him. "I didn't realize...damn, Stark."

And then his knees were giving out, taking him into a shaking puddle on the floor. Where he belonged, the memory of his dead father seemed to sneer at him from the dream that still lingered so real and heavily in his mind. As if he were to close his eyes and it could overtake him again, it was so close that he could reach out and touch it. His fingers curled into the plush area rug beneath him, his body trembling in remembered pain, and a new fear.

He had dared to attack an Alpha. It simply wasnt done. Not ever. Not from an Omega. Not in the Stark household anyway. Tony wanted to cry out, plead his case, but he knew it was indefensible. He had heard how angry Steve was, had heard the Alpha growl from up the stairs. His whole body shuddered in memory at the sound that had ripped through the room and stopped him in his tracks. He remembered how Howard had disciplined him. How strong he had thought his father's arm was at it sent the belt crashing against his vulnerable skin. How much more would Steve's beating hurt? He wrapped his arms around his middle, pressed his forehead to the floor and turned his head, baring his neck. A full body tremble worked down his spine, making his teeth chatter and clack together painfully. A soft keening noise, like a wounded animal, was echoing in his ears. It took him a minute to realize it was coming from him. He wanted to beg for mercy but couldn't force the words out of his mouth.

"Tony? Oh no, hey, no get up it's okay." Steve's voice came from close by, and Tony couldn't help his instinctive flinch. He scuttled backward frantically, until his back was pressed against a wall. Terror had made his tongue taste like copper, choking him, as he hugged his arms to his chest and bared his neck. He was drowning in fear, he realized, as surely as he had once drowned in that filthy water in the cave in Afghanistan.

"I'm sorry. It was a dream. The dreams are, they're bad and getting worse and I just…" Tony choked on the words running in a rush out of his mouth, too wound up from the dream and the fight to be able to think straight, to try and calm his racing heart.

"Shh, Tony, hey, it's okay. I'm not mad. You're okay, no one is mad." Steve's warm hand landed gently on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Tony flinched under the hot heat of Steve's palm.

"S-sorrysorrysorrydidntmean-"the senseless litany was falling from his numb lips on a sob that he was trying his damndest to keep from escaping. He squeezed his eyes shut at the tell tale prick and burning rush in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, ducked his head, and pressed the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably with fear and emotion. He was an emotional fucking dumpster fire right now. His suppressants had helped him keep these feelings at bay. They had made him fucking Elsa, conceal don't feel. Shame warred with terror as scaldingly hot tears escaped the corners of his tightly shut eyes.

"I'm sorry just… I need…" he had been about to say a minute. Give me just a minute to throw the lid on these feelings, to cram them back down and seal them up. He felt so vulnerable, like an exposed nerve, pulsating and raw and he just needed a second to…

Tony startled, a high pitched yelp escaping him, as Steve lifted him up off the floor and into his arms. Tony froze at the biting warmth of being pressed tight into Steve's chest. He could hear the steady thumping of his Alpha's heart, became wrapped in the comforting scent that was Steve. He closed his eyes, as Steve's hand cradled the back of his head and neck, pressing Tony's ear over Steve's heart, the other one stroking soothing circles up and down his back.

"It's okay Tony, I've got you. No one is mad. You're okay. You're having a panic attack. We are going to breathe together okay? I want you to do what I do, take a deep breath." He felt Steve's chest rise "and then breathe out…" Tony tried to take choking breaths, guided by Steve. Later he would feel ridiculous being cradled on the floor, Steve sitting criss cross applesauce with Tony curled up in his lap like a lost little kitten.

"There you go, just like that."

Tony closed his eyes, felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders and chest as Steve stroked firm but gentle circles up and down his back, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Tony didn't know how much time he spent sitting in Steve's lap, the steady beat of Steve's heart an anchor, his hands an unexpected comfort. Tony couldn't remember the last time he had been held like this, comforted, certainly not since he was a child. Perhaps his mother or Jarvis?

He felt hollowed out, wrung dry, a fine tremor started in his hands and arms. What was he doing, crying on Steve's shoulder like this? What must he think? Gritting his teeth he started to pull away, to try and put distance between himself and his Alpha. His eyes snapped open when Steve's grip tightened around him marginally.

"Tony, I… I need to hold you for a little bit. I'm sorry." Steve's voice was tight. Startled, Tony tilted his head back to look at his mate. Steve looked… haggard was one word for it. There were lines of tension around his eyes, bracketing his mouth. "If you need me to let you go… I can.. I can probably manage that in a second. But if you wouldn't mind, maybe you can just stay here for a minute."

Confused, Tony relaxed back into Rogers' hold, acquiescing to his request. They sat in silence, listening to the other's ragged breathing, bodies pressed together. After a time Tony's eyes fluttered shut, lulled into a feeling of safety and security by the heat of his Alpha's strong arms wrapped around him, by the hand that ran up and down his back in soothing circles before carding gently through his hair. Tony fell asleep to the feel of soft lips pressing against his forehead, cocooned in Steve's arms. There, for one of the first times in his life, Tony felt...safe.

Steve looked down at the sleeping Omega in his arms, blue eyes bloodshot and pinched with worry. Tony's hand was fisted in his shirt as if refusing to let Steve go even in sleep, the lines of strain and stress had melted away from the omega's face, smoothing out and making him look years younger. Steve could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the hollowed cheekbones. Tony had lost weight since they had last seen each other and it had only been a couple of weeks. Had he forgotten to eat? What was going on with his omega?

Guilt ate at him then. Steve should have known, should have suspected, should have asked Laura to stay in the pack house with his Omega instead of just checking in on him. She had told him that Tony had withdrawn, even from Cooper, in the last week. Shutting himself away in the barn or the small room at the end of the hall. The small room Steve had given him over a month ago certain that Tony would have thrown a Diva fit. Not once had the Omega complained or asked for better accommodations. What an ass he had been, Steve mused, pulling Tony tighter to his chest. First thing tomorrow he would move Tony into the room next to his.

Steve frowned, his forefinger smoothing over Tony's eyebrows, his cheeks, the straight and stubborn tilt of his jaw. Steve had no idea what had happened to Tony since high school. He realized for as much as he once thought he knew this man… he really didn't know anything about him. Everything he thought he knew needed to be called into question. How much of Tony's personality had been fabricated? A mask to hide behind? What was real and what wasn't? There was so much about Tony that he didn't know. What were those nightmares about? Just like Bucky he had been awoken to the sounds of Tony's soft, guttural, fear moans so had Steve. He had been on his way down the stairs when Bucky, whose room was closer, had tried to wake Tony up. Watching a sleep fogged Tony attack with a viciousness and ease that belied training, had shocked Steve as much as it had Bucky. His omega could fight and he knew how to do it on an instinctive level.

And now here they were, two grown men, mated and strangers to each other in every sense of the word. They were slowly learning each other but there was a gulf between them, full of things unsaid and secrets kept. Steve had to find a way to cross that gulf. For both of their sakes.