Chapter Eight:
Tony awoke gradually to the sound of birdsong. A soft morning breeze ruffled the ends of his unkempt hair, as the warm touch of sunlight kissed the bare skin of his shoulder before moving gradually up to his face. Tony groaned, eyes shut tight, and turned on to his stomach and buried his face into the soft feather pillow. He breathed deeply, a contented smile flirting on the corner of his lips, as he inhaled the musky scent of Alpha. Tony could not remember the last time he had woken up so peacefully, or had felt so rested. It was as if for a brief interlude he did not have to worry about any of the things that were weighing him down, grinding him away until he felt like soon there would be nothing left. He could take all of his worries and all of his pain and hang it up at the door, like doffing a hat or a cloak.
Right now he was too sleepy to think or to worry. He pulled the down comforter over his shoulders, luxuriating in the warm cocoon he was making for himself. He paused, his brain firing awake finally, as he realized he was not in a room he had ever been in before. This was not the couch, his favored sleeping space, nor was it his room at the end of the hall. Opening sleep fogged eyes, Tony blinked away the cobwebs of sleep and lifted his head from the pillow he had buried it in.
The room was bright, the windows thrown open wide to let in the summer morning air. The breeze ruffled the long white curtains, making them dance across the hardwood floor. There was a well worn rug in the center of the room, a soft blue and gray, a dresser against the far wall next to a bookcase that was bursting with books. To the left by the windows was a small desk. Art paper and charcoal, water color paints and paintbrushes, were lined up neatly on its surface. Tony swallowed thickly, his gaze darting to the bed beside him. There was an indent in the pillow next to him, the covers on the bed rucked about. The bed itself was large, king sized, with a navy blue coverlet and white, soft, sheets. Perhaps the most important feature was that it smelt overwhelmingly like Steve. Tony bolted upright, his heart in his throat, the covers falling to his waist. He looked down and breathed a sigh of relief to find himself still clothed in his wifebeater and the pair of Steve's sweatpants that he had let him borrow when he hurt his ribs weeks ago. Tony didn't have a pair of sleep pants because, usually, he preferred to sleep in the buff. But that was at his home in New York or Malibu with a state of the art security system that would put the white house to shame. And did. Hands down. Rather than sleep in his boxers Tony had pilfered Steve's clothes shamelessly.
A small thump from the room next door drew his attention, as did the sound of muffled voices. Shaking off the embarrassment of falling asleep in Steve's arms last night after a mental breakdown and subsequent panic attack, Tony shucked the covers off of him and swung his legs determinedly over the side of the bed. He took one last look around the room he had never been in allowed in before. It was bright, simple, with clean lines. His gaze was drawn to the desk. Unable to help himself, Tony was nothing if not curious, he edged close to the desk until he found himself standing in front of it. He could still hear the gentle murmur of voices next door, the soft creak of the floor as things were moved around. He knew he didn't have much time and yet… his fingers found their way to the polished wood surface of the desk, ghosting over the utensils that Steve had touched and used and cared for. His fingertips dragged across the stack of paper, fanning through the pages, curiosity peaking as he found sketches and drawings in Steve's steady hand.
Tony remembered that Steve had been good at art in school. How could he forget? Shame heated his cheeks as he recalled the many times he had held up one of Steve's prized sketches and torn them into confetti right in front of him. There had been one painting in particular that had won an award of some kind. All the art kids had been geeked out over it. It hung on the wall outside of Mr. Wright's art class for nearly a month before Steve had been allowed to take it home. He remembered Steve's bright smile as he carried the canvas out of the school under his arm, the pride that had straightened the freshmen's spine and put an extra skip in his step. Most of all Tony recalled the ugly, dark, hatred that had curdled in his guts. He and a couple of friends had cornered Rogers outside and off of school grounds. He remembered the satisfaction that had filled him as he pushed a startled Rogers to the ground. The thump as the smaller boy's body slammed against the hard earth, those startled wide blue eyes staring up at him with shock and just a touch of fear, and then eventually resignation. Tony had snatched the canvas out of Steve's hands, ignoring Steve's pleas for him to stop, and had with a wild and mean smile sent his fist crashing through the painting before dropping it to the ground and stomping on it.
There had been a sheen in Steve's eyes that day, he remembered, a slight wobble to his chin that had quickly firmed up. Steve had dared to meet his eyes boldly, a challenge written within them. As if to say...that all you got? And the mean and vicious and angry thing inside of his chest had strummed to life at the challenge.
Ashamed at the memory, Tony almost turned away before he noticed his own face staring back up at him. He paused, glancing around the room to affirm he was alone, before he wiggled the sketch out from its place in the pile. There was no mistaking it. It was him. Specifically him standing at the sink doing dishes. His back was turned to the viewer, his face turned to look over his shoulder. There was a smirk and half grin on his face, his lips parted as if he were talking to someone. The lift of his eyebrow, the cocky half grin, meant that it was probably a smart ass remark. Gently Tony trailed his fingers over the sketch taking in the clean and masterful lines. Gently he put the drawing back where he found it, resisting the urge to flip through the rest of them. Would he find more of himself there? What did it mean that Steve drew him? He knew he didn't have a right to snoop through Steve's belongings. Especially this part of him. His art. Not after everything Tony had done to him in the past.
Teeth gritted, and feeling small, Tony turned away from Steve's desk and made his way toward the door on silent feet. Quietly he eased the door open, coming to a jerking halt to find Bucky and Steve standing in the hallway. They looked as if they had just been in quiet conversation with each other.
For a moment they all stared at each other. Bucky was having a hard time meeting his eyes, but Steve's bright gaze ran over him asses singly. Tony reached up a self conscious hand to slap down his wild bed hair. There was a weight to their gazes that Tony was just not ready for. Expectations and explanations, and Tony was simply not good at either of those things. Instead he ducked his head and without a word scampered down the stairs toward the kitchen. It looked a lot like tucking his tail and running.
Tony found he didn't care.
Tony was nursing his first cup of coffee in his usual spot. One hip planted against the counter, his back to the wall and his gaze drifting to the wide window in front of the sink with the best view in the house. From here he could see the chicken coop in the distance. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble there, and fighting the sigh that was clawing its way out of his chest. He could feel the confrontation brewing. The questions. It was a matter of time before Steve came down here demanding answers. Maybe they would be delivered softly, and kindly, but they would be demands nonetheless. He closed his eyes against the memory of last night. Of waking up in terror so tangible that it had stopped his heart. Just thinking of his dreams was enough to put him into a cold sweat, make his jaw clench against the wave of fear that had filled his entire body. Everyone had nightmares, Tony knew. And usually he just avoided the whole sleeping thing all together, preferring to work his body and his mind into such a state of exhaustion that he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. Although that oblivion was usually aided by the helpful and blissful embrace of whiskey. It was just another thing he had been forced to give up in order to keep his company out of the hands of those pricks. He knew that his drinking had become some-what of a problem before Steve stepped into the picture. How many embarrassing mishaps had he stumbled into simply because he was bored and drunk? His misdeeds had been plastered across the magazines, talked about on the radio, and played endlessly on YouTube. It had cost the company quite a pretty penny to keep up with Tony as he had thrown himself headfirst into a continuous spiral of self destruction. Drinking had always been his fall back for the worst nights, his crutch, to carry him past the memories that wanted to reach up and drag their claws into his skin, pulling him down into the darkest of his memories. Afghanistan, his Dad's form of discipline, all of it had been enough to fuck him up in the head. And now here he was in a clean, safe, place surrounded by the worlds strongest heroes. It still wasn't enough to stop the fear. He was never safe, and especially not in his own head where his demons lived. He had seen the concern in Steve's eyes, had felt it in every gentle touch against his sweat soaked skin last night, and he knew it was a matter of time before Steve asked.
And just what was Tony supposed to tell him? Did he even deserve an explanation? Tony's lips firmed and tilted downward into a frown. Steve had lied to him. Had broken the only promise he had ever made. Logically Tony knew that Steve hadn't had a choice. A routine training mission had turned into much more and they had ended up running across Europe, chasing after Hydra. Tony turned, shifting to face the window fully as if the answers in his racing heart could be found somewhere out there...where life seemed more simple.
Arms crossed over his chest now, and deep in troubled thoughts and memories, Tony missed the sound of the front door opening and closing. It said something for the state of his mind that he didn't hear the soft tred of footsteps approaching until it was too late.
"You are such a little shit ," a deep voice snorted behind him before he found himself surrounded by strong arms that did not belong to Steve. Tony yelped at the press of a hot, male, body against his back. His coffee mug crashed to the ground, the hot liquid splashing upwards to douse both him and his attacker in the scalding liquid. The burning pain re-awoke the demons he had been struggling to put the lid back on. From one moment to the next Tony was lost in vicious memory. He heard a muffled curse as the arms wrapped around him loosened fractionally.
Logic escaped him. Perhaps if it had happened after he had coffee. Perhaps if he hadn't been thinking so deeply on what had transpired yesterday. On his actions, the dream, what everything meant. The uncertainty of it. As it was his body went tense as pure, unadulterated, fear rocked him to his core. A fear that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the fact that an unidentified Alpha had come up behind him. Touched him. It was going to hurt him. Make him bleed. Make him beg. Beg, you filthy Omega spawn. Tony was sucked back into the past, back into the damn cave in Afghanistan, back to the crack of his father's belt- burying his face into his arm and biting down on the skin there to hide the tears and keep his screams at bay. His father had never liked it when he cried. The fear became choking. All consuming. Tony couldn't breathe past it. Couldn't think. Could only act on instinct.
He grabbed the wrist wrapped around his shoulders, shifted his hips and twisted while he pulled at the same time. He sent his attacker careening over his shoulder and onto his stomach. With hard, practiced, hands he twisted at the arm that had been wrapped around his throat only moments ago, intent on breaking it. Hard to beat someone with a broken arm or two. A leg sweep knocked him on his back and onto the floor before he got the chance to follow through. The wind knocked out of him as his head bounced on the floor, Tony snarled, his fear and rage making him half blind as he exchanged a series of blows with the man on the ground. Growling they wrestled on the floor, Tony deaf to anything except for the loud pounding of his heart in his ears.
"Tony! Tony! Stop it- ouch! Jesus, Tony! Snap out of it!" The voice was snarling in his ear as the strong arms of his attacker wrapped around him again, taking them back to the floor. Tony found himself pinned beneath the hard weight of an Alpha, his arms wrenched behind his back.
Terror consumed him then. He couldn't get free no matter how he kicked and jerked.. Couldn't escape the heavy and unfamiliar weight pressing him down into the ground, demanding his submission. A high pitched whine emerged from his spasming throat, and Tony couldn't stop the instinctive arch of his neck as his Omega instincts took over. His eyes slammed shut in pure abject misery and humiliation, jaw locking, as he made himself as still and soft as possible. Just an omega. Don't hurt the omega. I can be good. The instincts were shit, Tony knew. In his experience they never worked on any Alpha he had employed them on. If an Alpha wanted to beat the shit out of you that was what they were going to do, whether you were submissive or not.
"Ah, Christ, no Tony… I'm not…" The hands pinning him to the floor loosened. The weight lifting slightly. Tony almost breathed a sigh of relief...until the most terrifying sound he had ever heard ripped through the cabin. The roar shook the walls, rattling the silverware and glasses on the counter, making the paintings shake on the wall, and had both him and his attacker freezing before a muffled "Oh, shit." reached his ears.
One second he had been pinned to the floor, helpless, and in the next the weight on his back was ripped free. Tony rolled, eyes wide, scuttling backwards on the floor through a pool of coffee until his back was pressed against a counter. His gaze was drawn to the broad shoulders of an enraged Steven Rogers. A Steven Rogers who currently had a strong hand wrapped tightly around the throat of one wide eyed and red faced Clint Barton. Clint's feet kicked out ineffectually, heels drumming the wall as he wrapped his hands around Steve's, trying to block those strong fingers from crushing his windpipe.
Tony stared wide eyed, his body vibrating with fear and shock. Without the pheromone blockers and his regular suppressants he was a bit of a hot mess. All sloppy emotions and instinct. He tried to rise to his feet, to help Clint from getting his neck snapped clean off his shoulders, but there were so many Alpha pheromones permeating the air that he was choking on them. He stumbled, crashing back down hard on his knees on the coffee slick floor. He raised a hand to cover his nose, trying to breathe through the aggression that filled that room, and choked. Fuck.
A heartbeat later Bucky exploded onto the scene, shooting Tony a concerned look as if to verify that the pack omega was, in fact, okay before he dove at Steve from the side, taking all three Alphas to the ground.
"Steve! You need to calm down!" Bucky barked into Steve's ear. He was hanging on to the other man's back, metal arm clamped around his neck as he pulled him off of a kicking and gasping Clint.
"It wasn't what it looked like!" Clint's voice came out husky and choked, probably because Steve was literally trying to choke the life out of him. Steve didn't listen. He attacked both of his packmates like a man possessed. Tony flinched as Bucky was sent careening over Steve's shoulder and into the opposite wall. Clint leapt away, or tried to, but Steve was quicker and tackled the agent to the ground, taking out the bar stools by the island with them. Tony scuttled backward, away from the unrestrained violence. The three Alphas were throwing punches and blows, rolling and crashing through the kitchen like bulls through a china shop. Tony wanted to help, but he found himself pressing his back hard into the cabinet, his fear leaving a heavy copper taste on the back of his tongue.
Tony heard the sound of the sliding door open and close followed by the confident tred of heeled boots. Natasha stood for a moment in the entryway to the kitchen while the three men crashed across the island, groaning as they were slammed into walls and floors, bodies moving in a blur. Her narrowed eyed stare fell to Tony who was now pressed against the cabinet, knees pulled up to his chest and eyes wide. She dropped to her haunches next to him, finger tips tracing over his neck and shoulders as if searching for injury.
"Are you okay?" She asked softly, ignoring the vicious fight taking place behind her as if there were no cause for concern and this were simply an everyday event.
Tony tried to answer but couldn't force the words past the tightness of his throat. So he nodded tightly, receiving an answering smile from the spy that reached her jade eyes. She smiled gently before heading to the sink. Expression turning hard, she grabbed the pull down faucet, flipped the switch to spray and turned the water on. Then she wasted no time in dousing all three of the Alphas in icy cold water.
Sputtering and cursing they broke apart. Natasha flipped the water off and planted her hands on her hips, disapproval furrowing her brow as she surveyed the three men in front of her.
"Why does it feel like I'm always picking up after you boys?" She intoned dryly. Steve, Clint, and Bucky all looked over at her sheepishly. All three of them were bruised and bloody. Clothing torn and hair in disarray. And soaked. Tony startled when she held out a hand to him. Cautiously he placed his hand in hers, surprised when she helped him to his feet with a surprising strength, before pulling him to her side with an affectionate arm wrapped around his waist. Did he feel safer now, tucked against Natasha like a baby chick taking shelter under their mother's wing? Yes. Did he absolutely hate that it did? Also a resounding yes.
"Bruce is headed over now. Anyone care to explain what happened and why it looks like a glitter bomb went off in here?
Tony blinked at those words, bringing his shocked eyes back into focus. It was then that he noticed his own shoulders were streaked with bright red, sparkly, glitter. Clint was doused in it, from the top of his head to his knees the bright, fluorescent, sheen covered him. He sparkled in the light like a red diamond. A horrified understanding dawned on him then and he met Clint's narrowed gaze.
"Oops." he whispered, as he fought back the surge of wild laughter that wanted to erupt from his chest, suppressing it down until the barest of chuckles escaped his lips. Quite suddenly he had the attention of every Alpha in the room on him. He felt like shrinking, could feel the muscles in his legs protesting as they turned to jelly. He lifted his gaze skyward and rocked back onto his heels biting at his lips to stop them from turning upward into a smile. It wasn't funny. It really wasn't. The kitchen was in ruins. Everyone was bloodied and bruised (including himself). And sparkly. They were all now covered in glitter from wrestling with Clint.
"This, uh, this is my fault. All of it." Tony choked out past the horrified lump in his throat.
"I didn't… I might have booby trapped Hawkeye's arrows." Tony cleared his throat, still not looking at the rest of the team but feeling their quiet regard. One long moment of complete, heavy, quiet stretched into the next.
"To be fair, he started it. With the clothes prank." Tony murmured, lamely, a helpless shrug lifting his shoulders.
Clint snorted, a begrudging smile working it's way over his bruised and split lips.
"He must've used them this morning. The kids and I well...we rigged the arrow" It was more than one arrow, and Tony wasn't about to let a good prank go to waste because he had been caught off guard, "to explode in a cloud of glitter. Totally harmless... but it should have covered everyone within a five foot radius in a cloud of... ah, candy apple red glitter." He paused, the moment of levity leaving him as a full body shudder worked its way through him at the memory of the complete terror that had filled him when Clint had come up behind him. "I thought...he came at me from behind and I… I'm not good with people behind me. I…" Tony trailed off, swallowing thickly. "I thought he was attacking me. So I…"
"He nearly broke my arm," Clint supplied steadily, a touch of respect coloring his words. "I wasn't trying to hurt him. He was in a panic. I was trying to calm him down. Got quite the right hook there." He shot Tony a lopsided smirk. "Who would've thought you had it in you, pretty boy."
Steve's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed together tightly.
"You shouldn't have touched him in the first place." The growl was low and rumbly as it ripped through the room and it took a minute for Steve's words to penetrate Tony's whirling thoughts. When it did his brows winged upward in surprise. He had been positive that Steve was going to be mad about this. Of course he was. The kitchen was a mess and in ruins. And it was all because of a prank that Tony had started, and an altercation that had gotten out of hand that Tony had also started. But he had assumed that the infamous Rogers' ire was going to be directed at him. Not Clint. His head cocked to the side, confusion rounding his eyes. Had Steve just taken his side? It was Tony's fault. All of it.
"It was a hug , I was just giving him back some of the glitter he gave to me. My apologies Alpha," Clint paused, turning toward Tony "and Tony, I truly meant no harm."
"It's, uh, okay-"
"No it's not-" Steve growled.
"I'm sorry I reacted like that." Tony continued, spitting the words out quickly while rubbing the back of his neck and ignoring the dark looks Steve was shooting at Clint. And definitely ignoring the odd mix of emotions jumbling in his chest at those looks.
"I'm not… I'm not used to these suppressants. It's making me…" An embarrassed flush stole across his cheeks. Natasha pulled him tighter to her, offering a small hug as a show of support.
"How about everyone goes and gets cleaned up, huh? Take a shower - cool off - and we'll come back to this conversation later." Natasha said, turning with Tony and leading him out of the room. She had posed it as a question, but it was a demand and everyone knew it.
Everyone broke apart, going their separate ways. Except for Steve, his bright blue eyed gaze was laser focused on Tony and Natasha.
"Natasha," the low rumble came from behind them. Natasha paused, throwing a look that Tony couldn't decipher over her shoulder.
"I think he's had enough of Alpha posturing for the day, Steve. He'll be fine. He's not hurt. It's okay. Go cool off." And with that Natasha led him to the downstairs bathroom, turned the water on to warm for him, and set out a clean towel and some clothes.
"If you need me, I'll be right outside." She said soothingly, closing the door behind her. As if he were in need of protection; made of glass and already chipped. Like he was fragile.
Tony turned to stare at the pale face gazing back at him in the bathroom mirror. Messy, too long, brown locks were in disarray and in danger of falling into his eyes, there were streaks of red glitter catching in the bathroom's fluorescent lights and making his shoulders and cheek sparkle like a 90s girl out for a night of clubbing. His eyes were wide, red rimmed, and still had a trace of fear lurking in their whiskey depths. His lips were pulled tight and down, and the hand he raised to smooth back his hair in an attempt to tame it was trembling. Tony blew out a harsh breath, teeth gritted as his hands dropped heavily to either side of the sink, his shoulders drooping as he bowed his head and tried to calm his racing heart. He looked pathetic. Like a kicked puppy.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
What had happened back there? The team hadn't been back for all of 24 hours before Tony had managed to throw a wrench into the mix and attack not one but two alphas. God, if this had been Howard Stark's house… But it wasn't. For some strange, unfathomable, reason Steve had taken his side. And the night before the infamous Captain America himself had held him, comforted him, and Tony knew he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Steve's kindness, his goodness. In a way it was easier when Steve looked at him with cold blue eyes and a scowl. Disdain and scorn he knew. It was comfortable and some may argue, deserved. But that is not the Alpha he had been dealing with recently. Somewhere along the way, and Tony wasn't sure when, those frowns had thawed and melted off the classically handsome lines of Steve's face. His eyes, always so cold and biting, had warmed with his smiles and laughter. And Tony didn't deserve it. Not after everything he had put Steve through as a kid. The secrets he was keeping from the Captain now. No, he didn't deserve Steve's kindness or protection and he didn't know how to deal with it because, okay, yeah, it felt... really fucking good. Better than it should feel. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, as he tried to wrangle his thoughts into a semblance of order.
Everything was so much more without his meds. The right and perfect cocktail that had been mixed ages ago by his Dad and his Doctors. They tamed his Omega impulses for the most part, became a buffer between him and the rest of the world by just dampening everything. Tony had always been a particularly sensitive child, something that his father simply couldn't stand when he was growing up.
Stark men are made of Iron, Tony.
Tony knew that what his father had been trying to say was that Alphas were made of Iron. But Tony wasn't an Alpha and he never would be despite his father's meddling and failed science experiments. After his first heat (which had been awful with a capital A) his father and his doctor had stumbled upon a combination of drugs that were able to mask his Omega tendencies and suppress his heats. As he got older Tony had an active hand in playing with the formula, especially after his return trip from Afghanistan. The Doctor hadn't liked the dosage that Tony had put into his bloodstream, but it was either that or a shallow grave. His work in the world had been far from over. There had been too much that he still had to do, so many lives to atone for. And it wasn't as if Tony could go and see a psychiatrist to try and talk through his problems. Secrets upon secrets upon secrets. No one could know.
So maybe he had been overdosing a little on the suppressants. To the point now that he was about 90% certain he was going through withdrawals. And the side effects were terrifying. Literally he was scared all the time, paranoid, prone to fits of depression and terror. For a normal person it would be overwhelming. For someone who had a terrible childhood and was literally tortured in a cave...well. Every single emotional nerve he had was scraped raw. He hated it. If this was what it was like to be like everyone else, to feel, then Tony wanted to opt-the-fuck-out. No thanks.
And yet here he was, muddling through anyway because he didn't have a choice. Turning away from the mirror and the literal self-reflection, Tony dragged his shirt over his head and shook off what glitter he could as steam curled lazily across the ceiling from the shower. He shucked his pilfered sweatpants to the floor and stepped out of them as he took a deep breath of the steam, letting the moist heat enter his struggling lungs.
A shower would set him right. Help him relax, maybe calm his racing heart and scattered thoughts. His eyes narrowed in determination as he stepped into the shower, letting the hot heat bear down on the back of his shoulders and neck, chasing the phantom tension there away. Tony washed his hair, soaped his body, and let his mind go blissfully blank. He didn't know how long he spent under that hot spray but it was long enough for the water to go cold. By the chill on his skin and the shivers working their way over his body… he had been standing under the cold water for a while.
Teeth chattering, Tony turned the shower off, and dripped his way across the bathroom floor. Drying off with the towel Natasha had left for him he made quick work of sliding into another pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. From the way that Tony had to roll up the bottoms of the grey sweats, he assumed they belonged to Steve. At this rate Steve was going to end up naked from lack of clothing. Tony's eyebrows arched upward at the way his heart stuttered at the thought of a naked Steve Rogers.
Brushing the thought and his reaction to it aside, Tony threw the damp towel over his shoulder and gathered the dirty clothes in his arms. He paused for a moment at the threshold of the bathroom, listening, but the cabin was quiet. Gingerly he made his way out of the bathroom and through the empty house, cutting a quick path toward the laundry room next to the kitchen. He had been planning to toss the clothes and towel into the laundry and beat a quick retreat upstairs, but was brought to a jerking halt at the sight of Steven Rogers sitting at the kitchen island, elbows planted on the counter and chin propped on folded hands.
Steve was still covered in glitter, and had clearly not even tried to rinse up. Around them the kitchen was mostly picked up, chairs righted and paintings returned to their respective places. The broken glass had been swept up and thrown away and the spilled coffee mopped up. Tony felt the bottom drop out of his stomach at the solemn look in Steve's blue eyes and the tense line of his shoulders.
Tony's lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Tony, we need to talk."
He felt his stomach tighten, twist, at those infamous words. Logically he knew that Steve wasn't his father. And yet he couldn't help but shift to put the island counter between them, as if that would stop the super soldier from bursting across it to take him out if he so desired.
He licked suddenly dry lips, feeling a bead of water drip from a strand of hair and trail its way down the side of his face.
"Talk. Right, ah-"
Steve closed his eyes, jaw tightening so hard that Tony could swear he could hear Steve's teeth grinding together.
"Is this about the barn?" Tony stammered, mind whirling.
"No it's not about the- wait, what about the barn?"
Tony propped his hands on his hips, chewing distractedly on his lower lip, clearly not hearing Steve. "I mean I just thought, you know, no one is using it. It's a waste of a perfectly good space. So I thought I could spruce it up a little, make it a project, and just have a space to...you know." his hands flopped in the air wildly, without much control on his part. He looked like a lunatic. He felt unmoored. Steve was looking at him with his head cocked to the side as if a different perspective would help figure out a clearly floundering Tony.
"It's not anything crazy, I mean I know the sign is off putting with the skull and crossbones, but if you guys wanted to go in there, you can. It is yours. Of course it is. I know. No one was using it though and it was absolutely covered in dust and debris. I cleaned it out but-"
"Tony. Hey, Tony, no this isn't… I don't care about the barn, okay? If you want to do… whatever it is you're doing you are more than welcome to it."
It was clear that Steve wanted to say more. Tony beat him to it, scrambling. What could he have done to earn...whatever it was that Steve was planning on doling out?
"So it's the chickens then? I didn't think you would mind the coop. I can move it. Totally portable. Might, ah, might need some tinkering and you know, electrical systems can be...with the wires…"
Steve narrowed his eyes. "Tony what are you… did you build a chicken coop?"
Tony rubbed the back of his neck and pivoted, his feet taking him out of the kitchen and toward the back sliding door. "Yeah, it's… listen if you don't like it I can move it. I know they can be...vicious little things but they're actually quite vulnerable to predators and I thought they needed a space of their own. They're not so bad once you get to know them, just a little misunderstood."
He stepped out of the door and into the bright light of a beautiful summer afternoon. If it felt like escaping… then that was most assuredly what it was. Tony was trying to leave behind a difficult conversation, one he didn't want to have. He thought he could see where it was going and he didn't…
He felt Steve's presence behind him and he turned, motioning lamely at the mini version of their cabin. Smaller agent and himself had worked tirelessly on it for days.
"Is that...a chicken coop?" Steve's eyes were wide, his lips twitching at the corners as if they didn't know whether to pull down into a frown or up on a laugh.
"Yes well, I thought… they kept trying to follow me inside, Cooper said they must like the look of the cabin… here let me show you." Tony walked over to the coop to the delight of the flightless little terrors inside. All six of them were out of the coop, pecking around in the grass area surrounding their little home. They looked up at him as he approached, casting wary looks toward the Alpha standing back behind him. Tony could see the rusty wheels turning in their little chicken brains.
"We are not going to attack anyone." Tony whispered harshly, casting a cautious look over his shoulder, before wagging a finger at them as he approached the gate. "Alright guys, you better be on your best behavior or there's no watermelon for you later."
"Tony, this...is impressive. Are those solar panels?"
"Yes they power the lights and the door, ah, here." Tony pressed the button on the gate, watching with satisfaction as the wire door lifted seamlessly to let the chickens out into the yard.
"That… wow. It looks just like the cabin."
Tony smirked, though it felt a little brittle around the edges. "Yes, it was fun to build with Cooper. Kid really has an eye for detail. He, uh, wanted to build them a home and give them names."
"Names, huh? Not curse words?"
Tony chuckled dryly. " No, kept it PG... I call them the HenVengers."
Steve choked on a laugh. "The what?"
"The Hen-vengers. That green one...be careful he's sizing you up right now...that's Brooster the incredible hen. He has a nasty temper. The smallest one over there is The Pluck Widow…which watch out for her too because she has a way of sneaking up behind you... Yeah, like that."
He heard Steve's muffled curse as the hen in question pecked his ankle
"Then there's Clucky Barnes, Squawk Eye, and…" he cast a cautious glance toward Steve to gauge his reaction. "The big one over there is Steve-hen."
There was a heavy moment of silence before Steve threw his head back and laughed. Tony would be a liar if he said a part of him didn't warm and preen under Steve's good humor.
"Oh Tony," Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "What about the one on the porch? What's her name?"
Tony glanced over to the last hen. "Her name is a work in progress," Tony muttered, scooping up Pluck as she tried to go after Steve's ankles again. "No watermelon for you tonight," he scolded gently. She ruffled her feathers, glancing up with those big liquid, chicken eyes that pulled right at his heart strings. Tony let out a small sigh. "Fine. But just a small piece. We don't peck our friends and namesakes. C'mon guys, we talked about this."
He knelt, setting Pluck down on the porch next to she-who-has-not-been-named, and turned to face Steve with a smile. The smile faltered at the serious look Steve was leveling him with.
An awkward silence settled between them.
"Tony, this was a mistake." Steve sighed, his gaze averted. Tony felt the breath leave his lungs, all the oxygen sucked up and away as his heart struggled to beat in his chest.
"I don't… a mistake?" Tony asked softly. Was it the coop? The hens? Maybe it was too much-
"Our mating," Tony felt his stomach drop out, and if he hadn't already been kneeling his legs would have probably buckled. What was Steve saying? Was it something he did? Something he said? The moisture left his mouth. He should have seen this coming... and he hadn't.
"You're not… you're not who I thought you were. At least, not anymore." Steve said on a sigh, still not looking up to meet Tony's gaze. Tony's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that their mating wasn't a love match. But he was trying, damnit. It wasn't like he was asking for much. Just a couple of years, hell maybe less, and he could get out of Steve's hair if that was what he wanted. He was surprised at the flash of pain that was gnawing away inside his chest. Burning there. The feeling of betrayal. He had thought… well, he supposed that it didn't matter what he thought.
"And I don't know how to fix this. I mean," Steve sighed again, running a hand through his short blonde hair so that it stuck up in little spikes and left a trail of red glitter through it.
Tony's brow puckered in confusion. What was Steve saying?
"The contract that we drew up…" Steve looked up and met Tony's shocked stare with a bitter smile. "That wasn't fair to you. It was small of me to… that's not the kind of man I want to be. Or the kind of mate. I guess I wasn't completely honest with you about my reasons for some of the restrictions I placed on you. I was just so angry. I was angry that you chose me after everything we had been through in highschool, and angry because I felt like I didn't have a choice- like you backed me into a corner. Because you were right about your other options for mates. They would have had Stark Industries developing weapons again. And I knew I couldn't let that happen, not if I could stop it. But, at the time, I felt justified because… you were such an ass in high school." He laughed, but it was a dry, self deprecating, sound and without any humor. " I know we didn't get along in high school. I don't like bullies; I don't care where they're from."
Tony opened his mouth to speak but Steve waved him off.
"And I know that's not who you are anymore, Tony. I get it. It's in everything you do. I mean," He gestured toward the chicken coop. "You built a home, a really nice home, for the feral chickens. You've got a good heart. Bruce enjoys your talks, your encouragement. He comes around more often now. Laura says the kids love you, and you helped her a lot during the week. Especially with Cooper. You've been doing your best in a really, not ideal, situation. I want you to know that I see that, that we've all seen it. And I know it's been hard… I can't imagine… I just."
Steve turned, facing away from Tony as he dragged a hand through his hair again adding more sparkles to the blonde locks. " I don't want to be one more thing for you to survive, you know? I don't know much about what happened to you when we were kids or in Afghanistan. But I'd like to. Get to know you, I mean. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'd like to start over. I'm not telling you to trust me, I know that trust is earned and I haven't done much to earn yours yet, but I'm hoping you'll give me a chance. I'm releasing you of the restrictions we placed on you when you signed the contract."
Tony blinked, numb, at a loss for words. "I, uh…"
"I have to ask you to limit your going out to the city, and when you do go it needs to be with someone from the pack. I should have just told you but… maybe you might have noticed that none of the pack really ever leaves the packland. It's for a reason. We have enemies out there that would love to hit us where we are most vulnerable. Laura and the kids… we hide them. Being in this life, doing what we do, it's dangerous for those that we love. Which is why most of us haven't even thought about settling down. I mean, it was a pipe dream. But Clint asked us a long time ago, and we agreed, that staying off the grid was the best way to protect the heart of the pack." Steve shrugged lamely. "Not to say we can't still go to the city if you want to...just try to make it sparingly."
There were a lot of things that Tony wanted to say. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, disbelief and excitement mixing together in a chaotic swirl of emotion. Of all the things he could have said, the first thing to burst out of his mouth was
"I can call Pepper?"
Steve closed his eyes on a wince, hand coming up to rub hard at his jaw. "Yes, of course you can call Pepper, Tony. I should have… Look, I'm sorry this took so long. Obviously our location… that has to be kept secret. And you have to use a special phone, which I can get for you. But until it comes in you can use mine."
Steve reached into the back pocket of his khaki pants and pulled out a slim black phone.
"Tony?" Pepper sounded out of breath, a tinge of hopeful disbelief coloring her tone.
"Hey, Pep, long time no talk." Tony's arm was folded across his chest, the other one cradling Steve's phone to his ear as he leaned against the tractor in the barn. It was the most private, safest, place that Tony could think of close by. His throat was tight with an emotion he couldn't name.
"Oh, Tony" There was a relieved exhale, "You have no idea how worried I've been. I know… I assume things are better if you're calling me? If not I can send a friend out to your location within 10 minutes. Just say the word-"
Tony chuckled dryly, closing his eyes against the rush of affection for one of his dearest friends. Tony could count on one hand the number of people in the world he trusted implicitly. And Pepper was one of them. God, how he had missed the sound of her voice. He supposed he could have broken the contract at any time and used Jarvis to contact her directly, but he hadn't wanted to jeopardize the mating. If there were a breach of contract, Steve could get rid of him - kick him to the curb. Tony was starting to suspect that Steve would not have done that if Tony had tried to reach out to Pepper, he just didn't seem the type to go back on his word. Tony was starting to discover that Steve was nothing like Howard Stark.
Tony blew out a soft breath, ruffling his bangs and sending them fluttering back down into his eyes.
"No need to worry, Ms. Potts. Everything is alright over here." Tony paused, startled to find that he was beginning to believe that sentiment. "How are things over in your neck of the woods? The board keeping you on your toes?"
Pepper let out a soft hum, well used to Tony's diversionary tactics.
And so Pepper talked about the company, her day to day life and her struggles with the board. She talked about stock, business meetings, and innovations. Tony closed his eyes and listened to the soothing cadence of her voice, even as it became peppered with irritation at the way the board was trying to strong arm her into making decisions that were not best for the company. She talked about how she was worried for him, how Jarvis had been keeping her apprised on his situation but how it didn't actually compare to hearing the sound of his voice.
"I've missed you, Tony."
"I've missed you too, Ms. Potts." Tony murmured with a fond smile.
"It seems...like you are getting along over there? Is everyone treating you well?"
Tony pursed his lips. "For the most part, yes. It wasn't great...at first. I mean, it's still not… but I think it's… it might be okay." Tony finished lamely with a helpless shrug that Pepper couldn't see.
"I missed my last Doctors visit." Tony interjected, abruptly switching subjects.
Pepper sucked in a breath. "For goodness sake, Tony. How are you...handling everything right now? I thought… I thought that you had that written into your contract with Steve."
Tony bit his lip and grunted. "Yeah, I didn't tell him why I needed to go into the city. He had a mission and ended up chasing Hydra. I missed my appointment." He couldn't help the bit of resentment that colored his words.
"That's a breach of contract, Tony." Pepper said quietly. "It doesn't matter why you had to go to the city. He's contractually obligated to get you there. Hydra or no Hydra."
Tony had to clench his teeth in order to stop him from defending his Alpha. "Yeah well…" he sighed.
"Are you okay?" Pepper asked softly.
Tony bent his head, rubbed his eyes as his jaw clenched and unclenched.
"Honestly? I've been better. Everything is so… so much." And then Tony was opening up, telling her about all of his experiences with the pack from the first day. He told her about his small room, the clothes prank, that first night with Steve and how he had almost…
He told her about the rest of the pack, Natasha's pointed questions and fiercely protective nature, the quiet and reserved Bruce who was a fount of information and fun to talk to, he talked about Clint and his family and the arrow prank. He spoke about the Henvengers, the barn, the mountain walks. He talked about his broken ribs, how Steve had carried him like a baby and treated him with kid gloves and how much he hated feeling weak. He told her about the nightmares, the raw and overwhelming feelings, the way his past was starting to blur into his present. He talked about attacking Bucky, and how the other man wouldn't meet his eyes now - as if the attack were somehow his fault and he felt ashamed, he talked about nearly breaking Clint's arm and the scuffle that had ensued in the kitchen.
And at the end of it, when he laid his feelings down and bared them, there was a telling silence from the other end of the phone.
"I see," she said, softly, and there was a wealth of affection in her tone.
"I don't know what to do Pep, I feel… I feel so all over the place."
"Well, I can say that I never did approve of the drinking and the suppressants. Or at least the amount of chemicals you were pouring into your system to be more… more like an Alpha and less like you. I don't think it was right of Steve to break a promise, and I am absolutely furious that he didn't keep his word, but I can't say that I hate the fact that you are off that shot. It was… it changed you fundamentally, Tony. I think you need to be careful. But they seem like good people. Steve seems… well, he seems like he has good intentions at least. Maybe a bit of a block head. But because an Alpha isn't an abusive asshole like your father was, doesn't make him inherently good either. Do you think James would ever lay an abusive hand on your or another omega?"
Tony chuckled, rubbing his temples.
"I think he has good intentions but who really knows, Tony? It sounds like you want to trust him. Just let him earn it. Be careful. In the meantime we are working on the legislation behind the scenes that will overturn those archaic laws." Pepper growled softly, irritated that her dearest friend had been put in such a position. "And if he ever lays a hand on you, I swear to all that is holy that I will cut it off and beat him with it. As well as other parts."
Tony chuckled at the fierce and fiery beta. She could give most Alphas a run for their money, that was sure. And she wasn't one to back down from a fight.
"Thanks Pep."
"Speaking of pesky Alphas… Rhodes has been harassing me for your where-abouts for a while now."
Tony sighed again, shaking his head at the thought of Rhodey… what would he even say to his oldest pal?
"Don't… don't tell him just yet, Pepper. You know how he can be. Let me...let me just see where this is going first."
Pepper sighed. "I can deflect some more. But it is a matter of time until he figures it out, Tony. He's deployed right now, but when he comes back… it won't be hard for him to figure out what happened."
Tony chuckled. Rhodey was going to be pissed.