By day seven Steve is almost entirely out of his heat. He's definitely lost some weight during it and he looks worn out by the end. Dark bags sit under his eyes and his lips are bitten raw. He moves slowly as it tapers off, and Natasha makes sure he eats every hour, but he gets up to start helping her clean up.
He remains silent through most of it, dressed in a clean heat gown as he piles up the most pressing laundry from the nest. Natasha tells him he can leave his nest up for as long as he wants, but he just wrinkles his nose.
Natasha doesn't blame him. His nest is better than it was at first, but it still smells like anxiety and heat.
Natasha is busy scrubbing the dishes she'd been avoiding doing for fear they'd be too loud when Steve comes into the kitchen and grabs a snack bar. She sees his fingers trail nervously on the counter out of the corner of her eye, Steve's scent the slightest bit sour.
"So. Am I kicked off the Avengers now?"
Natasha glances up and Steve is focused on carefully peeling away the food wrapper, his lips pressed into a line.
She reaches slowly for a thermos lid, thinking over her words. "Status is not a reason for job discrimination anymore," she says. "At least it shouldn't be. It's illegal."
Steve doesn't say anything and Natasha wipes carefully around the rubber seal on the lid. "From what I saw, the Avengers were worried for you, but not upset that you're an omega."
Steve's mouth twists as though he'd tasted something bitter and he bites harshly into his bar. After a few minutes of chewing he swallows.
"What…" his voice is almost a whisper. "What am I supposed to tell them?"
Natasha looks up, and there's a startling amount of vulnerability in his eyes. His scent is bruised and uncertain, the apple green with anxiety.
Natasha breathes out and sets the thermos lid in the drain rack. "You don't have to tell them anything more than you want to," she tells him quietly, filling her scent with understanding. "And I haven't told them anything either."
Steve's eyes drop away from hers, and she's reminded all over again that this Steve had been there all along. Hiding under layers of alpha and Captain America masks. She can't imagine what it must have been like, hiding his designation in the army, and then waking up seventy years in the future and falling into an unexpected heat in front of strangers.
Not to mention his clear history of trauma. Natasha may not know all the details, but she doesn't need to. Someone had hurt Steve because he is an omega and he'd been terrified of it happening again.
Unbidden, her mind pulls up an image from the last week. Steve waking up in either need or panic and trying to roll over to present. Except he's shaking and panting, keening high and frantic in the back of his throat like he's dying. Trembling so bad he keeps slipping in his nest as he pushes himself back into a corner—
Natasha cuts off that memory thread and focuses back on present-day Steve. The one having to deal with coming out of a heat like that.
Looking at him now, she imagines the thought of trying to deal with that while navigating the reveal of his omega status must feel like a daunting task. The thought of Steve facing all that alone makes her instincts cringe. It may be leftover impulses from helping him through his heat all week, but she doesn't care.
"It's your story," Natasha says softly, her hands hanging off the lip of the sink. "You can choose what to tell." Steve swallows visibly and rolls his shoulders inward, crumpling his wrapper in his hand.
"And if you need to talk about it, my door is always open," Natasha continues, thinking she understands a bit why Tony had invited Steve to the tower, despite their poor initial meeting. He's lonely. It's so clear now.
Steve nods stiffly and looks away, his eyes misty, and Natasha takes that as a sign to focus back on the dishes. She debates her next words for a few minutes before deciding to take the plunge.
"SHIELD also has some therapy services," she offers neutrally, aware of Steve tensing even though he tries to hide it. "I wouldn't suggest them if I didn't think they were worth something. I've done it. And Clint too, after the fiasco that was Loki."
She can feel Steve looking at her and she continues to wash the dishes at a leisurely pace, letting him choose how he wants to respond. She wonders if SHIELD had offered counselling to him already. Even if they had, she knows it can take more than one push in the right direction to get someone to try it.
Steve's voice is quiet and tired when he speaks. "I'm guessin' they're less likely to call me hysterical and shut me up somewhere now, right?"
A piece of hair falls into Natasha's face as she looks up and she shakes it away. Steve asks the question like he already knows the answer, but she can see the searching glance he sends her.
Is it safe? he all but asks, and she can only imagine what some of the 'treatments' for mentally struggling omegas had been back in the day.
"Yes," she says with conviction, setting a plate in the drain rack. "And if you find someone who won't take you seriously, you can drop them and get someone new."
Steve doesn't look fully convinced, but she can see him thinking about it.
oOo
It's a few days after his heat before Steve gathers the Tower residents, plus Fury, to explain how he'd come to be Captain America as an omega. His story is much what Natasha expected. Typical period discrimination and war-time propaganda used as a gag.
Steve is stiffer now. She can see him bracing himself as he talks, his scent slightly cold and sharp as he outlines some of what he'd been through. He's still nervous about being an outed omega, but he's more defiant about it now. Looking ready to snap at anyone who tries to imply he isn't good enough now they know he isn't an alpha.
No one in the Tower would say such a thing, but Natasha can't blame him for half-expecting it. She doesn't want to imagine how much pushback he'd gotten for him to keep his status hidden. Even the fact that no one close to him had revealed after he'd died is very telling.
Evidently Captain America's status was something the government was very willing to cover up, and now it is all in the open.
One thing in Steve's story sticks out to her that she wasn't expecting.
"Very very few people knew I was an omega," he says quietly, his eyes skating around the room nervously. "The Commandos didn't even know so…" His hand flexes on his knee, his scent damp and musty. "So I couldn't really be an omega except around Bucky and… and it was… when he died it was…"
He trails off before beginning to talk about waking up in the present day, but Natasha pays less attention. Her mind is busy coming up with a horrifying theory which she would rather not think about.
It's true, only a small number of people could've known Steve's status. If too many people knew about it, then word would get out. Which means if whoever had hurt him had been in the military there is only a very small pool of people who it could have been.
She's aware she's drawing hasty conclusions. She doesn't even know if Steve's trauma had been specifically during the war. But after spending a week smelling his fear-soaked scent she thinks it might have been. Whatever happened had been fresh in Steve's mind.
Even then, that still leaves a few options, depending on who knew his status and who Steve was around the most. She's read the files. The Commandos ranged all over, so Steve would be mostly out of reach to someone in Command or on base. And he'd said the Commandos didn't know he was an omega.
Which is why she hates the next leap of logic her brain tries to concoct. What if it was Bucky?
What if Bucky was the one to hurt Steve? With the pained look on Steve's face when he mentioned him and the way his scent fluctuated during that stilted passage she has to wonder if it's more than just grief.
Whoever hurt Steve needed to be close to him. They needed to have a reason Steve wouldn't tell anyone, and they needed to know he was an omega.
She hates how easily her brain constructs the scenario. Bucky, the best friend alpha suddenly confronted by his omega friend who is now not only bigger than him but in charge and looked up to as an alpha by everyone. And Steve had said he could act like an omega around Bucky. What had that looked like exactly? If Bucky abused that in any way, did Steve even realise? Or did his trauma response to his heat completely blind side him?
Steve and Bucky were supposed to be friends, brothers even. Inseparable on the playground and the battlefield and all that. But she knows not to believe everything she reads in history books.
She also knows better than to jump onto the first train of thought her brain comes up with. Natasha gives an imperceptible shake of her head, clearing her thoughts. Speculating is pointless. If she's wrong then she's just thinking herself into knots, and she owes Steve privacy in this. He doesn't need Black Widow picking apart his secrets.
Heaven knows he deserves to keep a few.
Steve comes to her later, telling her that SHIELD had suggested he see a counsellor named Marilyn.
Natasha knows because she had been the one to call the office and ask them to contact Steve.
"She's good," she tells him, proud that he'd felt comfortable enough to ask her about it. "I went to see her too, when I first came to SHIELD." Steve's eyes widen in surprise at the admission and Natasha offers him a small smile.
"She's an omega too," she says. "Just give her a try, okay?"
Steve is silent for a long second before he lets out a breath. "Okay."
oOo
Natasha does not think about her worst-case-scenario theory about Bucky again until about two years later. When it abruptly becomes clear that the Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes, back from the dead.
Deep in a bunker, listening to Fury, who is also alive, Natasha finds herself watching Steve most out of everyone else. He'd been on her radar ever since they'd discovered the horrible truth behind SHIELD. And he'd repaid the favour back at Sam's place when she'd admitted to her own conflicted feelings about the whole mess.
But it seems like the universe isn't done throwing things at Steve Rogers because only a few hours after that conversation they're fighting the Winter Soldier on the bridge. And Steve had pulled his mask off.
Natasha can still smell the sharp, pained shock that had filled his scent in the back of the van. It was faint under his scent-blockers, but up close she could just pick it up. He sat unmoving in the cuffs, his voice and face deceptively empty as he'd confirmed Bucky's identity with absolute certainty.
It was him.
And what does that mean for the niggling worry in the back of her head? Natasha had tried not to ruminate on that first, horrible heat. Steve was either on suppressants afterwards or he handled his biannual heats himself, letting Natasha avoid remembering how difficult that week had been.
Natasha doesn't want Barnes to have been the one to have hurt Steve. But suddenly, out of all the people Steve used to know who it could have been, Bucky is back. So if it is him, they have an extra problem.
So she watches Steve.
He's closed off, like he always is on missions. Even her banter about dates and weekend plans during STRIKE missions could never really shake that. Although she always felt rather proud when she could get him to crack a smile while suiting up or during a lull in fighting.
She doesn't see that happening now.
She tries to prepare herself for every eventuality as they split off to execute their take down of the Helicarriers. It is clear that Steve hopes to get his friend back afterwards. But that doesn't necessarily mean Barnes is above suspicion. Abuse is complicated, especially with lives so entangled. And she's not about to assume that Captain America is immune to those toxic cycles.
On the other hand, Bucky might not have done anything. And he might not ever remember anything about Steve ever again. No matter his and Steve's past, he'd been brainwashed and tortured by Hydra for seventy years. He's the Winter Soldier, and she doesn't know if there's anything left under that for Steve to find.
She doesn't think Steve will accept that future without a fight.
She's proven correct when Steve orders Hill to strike the Helicarriers while he's still inside. Natasha knows an immediate attack means less chance for Hydra to thwart them at the last moment. But she also knows that Steve is focused on something else besides being on the other end of a gun right now.
That doesn't mean she's leaving him there.
She pulls Sam into Fury's helicopter, the Triskelion and three Helicarriers crashing and burning around them as she calls desperately for Steve over the comms. Hill doesn't have eyes on him and Natasha's heart sinks.
"Steve!" she repeats into her comm. "Steve, respond!"
An agonising few seconds later and an unexpected voice replies. "Steve… requires medical evacuation." The voice is slightly rough and gravelly, a faint, almost imperceptible note of uncertainty sneaking through.
Natasha doesn't move as she listens to the voice rattle off an approximate location for where Steve should be. Her hand stays up by her mouth, her hair whipping in the wind of the beating helicopter blades.
"Who am I talking to?" She already knows but a shiver runs through her anyways when he replies.
"Bucky."
Bucky is very clearly feral when they arrive. He stares bloody-murder at them from his position crouched over Steve. He has his hands pressed against Steve's abdomen. Steve's blood glistens darkly on the silver knuckles of Bucky's metal hand.
He scents of fire and smoke, a dangerous forest blaze just barely held back.
Natasha goes into mission mode. No matter her low-key concerns about him and Steve, she needs to deal with the situation at hand. Bucky looks feral and protective, and Steve is bleeding out on the gravel bank.
Natasha peels off her scent-blockers ignoring the sharp ache in her shoulder where she'd been shot, and then electrocuted. Bucky watches her every movement, his eyes bright with suspicion. Natasha keeps her scent under tight control. As dangerous as the feral alpha is, her eyes stray to Steve, flicking over his pale, bruised face. Her neck turns in deference to Bucky, a thrumming energy under her skin as she waits.
The ash in his scent eases up every so slightly and Bucky warily shifts back from Steve's body. Sam moves forward, his own scent-blockers removed as well. Another beta scent, this time of saltwater, tries to diffuse the situation.
Bucky eyes them with tight-lipped suspicion as they load Steve into the helicopter. But Sam clearly knows what he's doing and his calm demeanour seems to keep Bucky at bay.
The helicopter ride is tense and silent. Natasha's brain keeps her busy cataloguing the injuries she'd seen on Steve. Multiple gunshot wounds, broken cheekbone, lacerations, possible water inhalation. And that's only what she'd seen.
Steve had fought back. Bucky's arm is broken and he holds himself stiffly, his neck red and inflamed. She doesn't know if that means anything about Barnes and Steve.
Natasha leaves Bucky with Sam to deal with while she rushes in with the doctors the moment Fury touches down at the nearest hospital.
And then, after the frantic rush to get Steve into emergency surgery and the hasty conversations with doctors about Steve's serum and anaesthesia, she's left to wait and fret. To keep herself busy Natasha starts making calls. She talks with Laura, reassuring her. Then with Hill and Fury as the Hydra news unfolds online.
Then she calls the Avengers Tower and reassures a frantic Tony that they are alive. At some point she gets her shoulder looked at, but mostly she waits for Steve to get out of surgery. It helps that Tony and the others are on their way. It soothes something in her to know that her— her pack is coming. (Even after two years it still feels novel to feel so comfortable with a group of people.)
She leaves Sam in Steve's hospital room with Barnes. She doesn't want to deal with the mental conflict of seeing him there. She doesn't have the emotional or mental energy to cycle through her eternal debate. If there's baggage there she'll deal with it. But even if there isn't, he's still feral and more or less brainwashed.
She knows how hard it will be to come back from that. The breadth of what had been done to him is staggering, and she's already seen what it had done to Steve. She's waiting endlessly while he gets put back together from it.
I've already had one friend come back from the dead today, she thinks as she waits for Steve to get out of surgery, her scent like dry, brittle leaves. You better follow suit, Rogers.
Steve's unconscious when he comes back, which is a relief. The serum makes it hard to put him under or manage his pain. She'd asked Bruce to bring Steve's specifically designed pain-medication for that reason. When he and the rest of the pack get here they can make him more comfortable.
Natasha makes sure to forewarn Sam and Bucky about their incoming visitors, keeping a close eye on Bucky's reaction. He'd planted himself as close to Steve's bedside as possible, his scent thick and possessive.
"They're his friends," she stresses, hoping to reach an understanding with the feral assassin so he doesn't attack them. "They're worried about him."
Bucky nods, and that's the best she can hope for. Maybe they shouldn't be introducing new people so quickly considering Bucky's condition, but they're a pack. One of their own had been hurt. They're dealing with the same instincts Barnes is.
She assumes.
Natasha stays outside the hospital room while she waits for Tony, Bruce and Clint to arrive. Her shoulder hurts less thanks to a shot of painkillers, making her head clearer. She very specifically doesn't think about Steve's heat. She's tired of the constant, unhelpful debate in her head. She just wants to be glad that Steve is alive.
All the other implications of Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes can be left for another day.
She can scent her pack the moment they step off the elevator. Clint looks harried and worried, his scent a mix of dry dirt and dead grass. Bruce's scent is quieter, she'd always felt he wielded it more like a beta than an alpha. The wool and curry in his scent is tinged with worry, but still inherently comforting.
Tony's scent is a mess. She'd almost forgotten about the leather in his scent. He'd started covering it almost two years ago, letting his floral lavender scent shine through instead. He'd never said why he'd made the change and Natasha hadn't asked. Scents are deeply personal, and in the months after his traumatic near-death during the Battle of New York, he'd made a lot of split-second decisions before getting help for his obvious PTSD.
The scent change had stuck though, which is why it's surprising now to scent the bitter, anxious leather notes there. The lavender is dry and brittle, like a vase of old dusty flowers left in the sun too long.
The group is barely holding it together. Which makes her feel a little better about herself. She lets Clint check her over before nodding back towards the hospital room.
"He got out of surgery a little while ago."
Three pairs of alpha eyes lock onto the door, but to their eternal credit, they don't go bolting in.
"Let's go slow," Bruce cautions, walking forward to knock gently at the door. "Barnes is inside."
Natasha is glad that they all still have the presence of mind to be careful and she doesn't have to try to calm them. As a beta she could do it, but she's already spread thin today. She'd prefer not to have to,
To her surprise, the initial introduction goes smoothly. Sam calls for the door to open, and first Bruce, and then Clint step into the room. They move slowly, keeping their distance from Steve as they go stand next to Sam.
Natasha watches Bucky from her spot in the hall. He remains tense and alert by Steve's bed, very aware of the foreign alphas. His metal hand is wrapped around the bed rail possessively, and he watches each alpha with overt suspicion, but he doesn't become aggressive.
Then Tony steps into the room.
Bucky's eyes sharpen instantly, his nostrils flaring. The moment Tony takes a step forward his lips peel back and he growls. The sound is deep and loud and makes the hair on the back of Natasha's neck stand on end.
This isn't a low warning growl or a posturing growl. It is the sound of pure rath. It screams danger, the rest of Barnes' body language backing him up. If looks could kill, Tony would be dead. Barnes looks murderous, his shoulders stiff and his body tense as though ready to spring into action at any moment. His right arm is in a sling, but his metal hand whirls dangerously from its place on Steve's railing.
Natasha's heart drops, her mind spinning as she darts her eyes over the situation. Barnes' scent is worse than by the river. It smells only of fire and death. This is bad. This is exactly what she was afraid of. They need to do something fast or—
Tony raises his hands in surrender, his scent fluctuating a little in fear as he tries to appear non-threatening. "Hey—"
His voice is soft and placating but Barnes snaps. Before Natasha can blink, he's across the room, pinning Tony to the wall with his metal arm on his chest. His growl is thunderous, his teeth flashing as he snarls.
Tony's scent goes sour with fear. He breathes in short gasps, his eyes wide as he stares into Barnes' narrowed eyes. Everyone else in the room seems to freeze, nobody daring to make a sound as they watch the scene unfold.
Natasha unleashes a steady stream of Russian curses inside her mind. She should have known better than to push a feral, brainwashed Barnes with three new alphas. It's no wonder he'd snapped at Tony. It is clear he doesn't have much control over himself. Maybe she shouldn't even have let him near Steve.
Pressed to the wall, Tony starts talking, his voice rushed and panicked as he tries to talk Barnes down. Natasha knows it's a lost cause. Barnes is clearly too far gone. She steps soundlessly inside, her body wound tight.
She needs to do something.
"Right," Tony says, breathless. "Right. I should have probably— dealt with that, before. Uh…"
He spies her coming up behind Barnes, and to her complete surprise, he twitches one of his hands at her. Subtly waving her down.
What are you playing at, Tony? she wonders frustratedly, scanning Barnes' back. He's still in his tack gear, one sleeve cut away for the arm sling and cast. Even with one arm down, Tony has got to know he's no match for a feral, brainwashed alpha.
Still, Tony continues to talk, his eyes focused on Barnes.
"M'name's Tony," he gets out, his head pressed against the wall to expose his throat. He's keeping himself as still and as submissive as possible, which is smart, but Natasha doesn't think it will be enough. Barnes looks ready to kill him.
"It's Tony," he insists. "I know I probably remind you of Howard—"
Barnes cuts him off with a grating snarl and Natasha freezes, thoughts running a mile a minute. Howard? Why is he being brought up now?
Tony only cringes at the hyper-aggression. "Yeah, same. But he's dead." Barnes eyes widen and he snaps them up to Tony's, breathing in sharply through his nose.
"I'm not him. I swear," Tony continues, rushed and earnest. "I'm not gonna hurt 'im. I'm not gonna touch Steve at all."
The ground falls out from under Natasha's feet as her mental map rearranges.
Oh. Опа! She understands now. She understands all too well. Bits and pieces of Steve's heat come back to her in a different light and she understands now. The back of her neck breaks out in sweat, her heart pounding as she stares at Bucky and Tony.
Bucky hadn't hurt Steve. Howard had. And Tony must smell like Howard and Bucky is scared and feral and Tony smells like Howard.
Tony must know this too, because his scent is filled with fear and Natasha can see his hands trembling. How is she supposed to get Bucky off of Tony? She doubts anything in the world could make him back down. And if she initiates a fight now they'd probably destroy the hospital. He thinks he needs to protect Steve from Howard and she doesn't know how to keep him from hurting Tony in the process.
Which is why she's completely startled when Steve speaks up.
His voice is soft and raspy. She can barely hear it above Bucky's growl, but it seems to cut through the room.
"Bucky."
Miraculously, Bucky's growling drops off almost instantly. His head whips around to look at Steve, only a low rumble filling in where his snarl had been.
Natasha stares in shock. She would have thought Bucky would be feral beyond words at this point (nevermind the fact that she's surprised he even knows his name.)
He stares at Steve like he's the most important thing on earth and Steve blinks slow and tired at him. His fingers twitch in Bucky's direction and Natasha sees Bucky's eyes catch the tiny motion and track it.
"Bucky," Steve continues, sounding groggy but determined. "It's okay. He's a friend."
If Natasha had any doubts about her new conclusions about Howard, they'd be gone now. She isn't thinking of that though. Instead she's watching amazed as that simple sentence seems to get through to Bucky. She can see him digesting it, his eyes uncertain now, instead of furious.
The room is completely silent. Clint and Bruce stand motionless next to Sam, their eyes darting between Steve and Bucky. Sam's eyes are narrowed, his fingers clasped near his mouth as he leans forward and watches the scene, appearing to be waiting for something.
Bucky's scent becomes less choking, confusion and suspicion crowding the smoky embers. Natasha catches a whiff of Steve's apple and honey scent, smelling as calm and soothing as he's ever been.
Steve looks completely unbothered as he gives Bucky one more look before raising his chin and baring his throat. A soft keen echoes through the room. It's not a fearful sound. It's the gentlest thing Natasha has ever heard, and she can see the effect on Bucky immediately.
He shivers as though struck by the sound, his rumble barely there as he gives Tony one last warning look before pushing off him. He backs towards Steve's bed, his shoulders hunched like a guard dog, his eyes on Tony the whole way even though his focus has clearly shifted.
Strangely the look is not as murderous as before. Instead it's slipped back into typical feral alpha posturing. Bucky is communicating with his body language rather than words as he makes his way back to Steve.
He focuses on Steve the moment he sits back down by the bed, actually angling his shoulders away from Tony as he looks at Steve.
Steve looks completely at ease in the bed. Showing none of the fear or tension Natasha had been worried about. Instead he smiles softly at Bucky and Bucky— ducks his chin, his hair falling in front of his face. His demeanour is entirely flipped from a few minutes ago, his aggression wholly drained away.
He reaches his metal hand up and brushes it, soft as a butterfly's wing over Steve's brow. Somehow, Steve goes even more boneless in bed, his eyes fluttering closed. He noses upwards like a pup, and Bucky's hand migrates to his hair, stroking it.
Steve begins to purr. The rumble low and rhythmically soothing. Natasha barely breathes.
She'd never, ever heard Steve purr. Not even during the most relaxed dog pile movie nights at the Tower before he'd moved to Washington. To be honest, she'd never expected to hear him purr. After what she'd seen during his heat, she wasn't sure if he'd ever be comfortable enough to let his guard down enough for that.
Yet here he is, purring with all of them in the room. Bucky's shoulders drop instantly at the sound, his face going lax and his scent shifting into a calming, cool forest. It's the first time Natasha has smelt his scent without the tinge of smoke or fire, and the pine and moss rolls over the room like a cleansing rain.
She glances at Sam and he's leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees, a sparkle in his eye. He has a half-stunned, half-amazed look on his face, and she feels the same. She's rarely, if ever, seen an omega successfully calm an enraged alpha so quickly, with so little effort.
Especially given what Bucky was trying to defend him against.
His aggression is completely controlled. He barely glares at Tony while he and Steve exchange a few words. And he looks like he understands and appreciates their discussion of Steve's pain meds. Natasha can practically see them rising in Bucky's esteem when Tony brings it up,
Bruce steps in to continue the conversation and Tony subtly slips out of the room. Natasha is sure he tries to leave unnoticed, but she spies his hand coming up to rub gingerly at his chest.
Natasha follows him out, finding him slumped in a row of stiff hospital chairs down the hall.
He doesn't look like Bucky had injured him. He has heavy bags under his eyes and his hair is a mess. His scent contains lingering traces of anxiety, as well as hints of guilt. Natasha breathes in the unfamiliar strains of leather and sits down next to him.
It's clear he'd known about Howard. She wonders how he'd found out.
"Well," she starts, her mind drifting back to when Tony had changed his scent. She'd noticed Steve seemed to be more at ease with the team, but she'd assumed it was because he was settling into the pack like she was. "Looks like you made it out of that with only a few scratches."
Tony runs a restless hand through his hair, messing it up more. "Well… you know," he says evasively, not looking at her. "It's kinda up in the air with feral alphas."
Natasha swallows and nods. He's right, but she's pretty sure they both know it was more than that. She fiddles with the zipper of her jacket, debating her next words.
"You know...when Steve had his first heat, he said some things."
Tony goes completely still next to her, his eyes unblinking as he stares at his shoes. Yes. He definitely knows. She can't imagine what it must have been like finding out something like that. It had been hard enough watching Steve's heat, and she hadn't known exactly what happened, nor was she related to the perpetrator.
"He didn't say anything specific, and I doubt he even remembers it. But it was clear something happened to him."
That's as much as she'll say. It isn't really her story to share. But it feels like a small relief to say it out loud to someone who already knows.
In the chair next to her, Tony rubs a hand over his eyes tiredly, his scent flaring slightly with anger before he sighs.
"Can't confirm or deny," he says quietly, and Natasha nods instantly.
She doesn't need that from him. It's simply nice to know Steve has someone else in his corner. And she can stop stressing about Bucky in that regard. It's a sudden weight off her shoulders. Brainwashed or not, Bucky had proven himself right then, the moment he'd turned away from Tony to go back to Steve.
She flicks her eyes over Tony, lingering a little on his chest where Bucky had pinned him. "You alright?"
Tony huffs out an almost-laugh. "Well, I almost peed myself back there, but other than that we're good."
Natasha's mouth quirks upwards. "To be honest I expected him to go off earlier when we had to split him and Steve up during the surgery. I'm surprised you got off so lightly."
Tony shakes his head in disbelief. "I know what you said about him being brainwashed and feral," he says, his fingers brushing over his chest in remembrance. "But considering how I only ended up with a few bruises, and Steve managed to get him to back down with hardly more than a word… I think he'll be okay."
Yeah. That's the conclusion she'd come to as well.
Tony remains silent next to her for a few moments before he breathes in determinedly and pushes himself up from the chair. "I'm going to head to the gift shop," he tells her, shaking out his hands. "They might have some emergency scent blockers."
She feels an unexpected twinge of warmth at just how much their pack has grown to care about each other. She doesn't know why Tony hadn't put on his scent blockers today, but it obviously wasn't intentional. He'd cut out a portion of his scent for the last two years because it distressed one of his packmates. She never could have imagined this in the first few bleak weeks after Coulson had been killed.
"You and Barnes gonna be good?" she calls, confirming what she already thinks to be true.
Tony looks back at her, a wry smile pulling at his lips as he tosses his head. "Are you kidding?" he asks, a sparkle entering his eye. "You ever heard Steve purr before?"
No. She hasn't, and she smiles as she settles back into her chair. She'd heard all sorts of pained and fearful noises from Steve, and she'd never expected to ever have the privilege of hearing him purr.
But now, she has. The memory is bright and calming after days of stress. Her scent rolls over into a crisp, clear fall day. It smells like sun shining down onto warm red leaves, maybe a few ripe apples coming through. Natasha breathes in deeply.
Yeah, she thinks. She knows they still have a long way to go, with Hydra and rehabilitating Bucky, but… We'll be okay.
The End
AN: I hope you enjoyed this addition to the series. I'd thought about Natasha's internal worries for several of the last stories and I wanted to share them. She definitely cares a lot for Steve. And I think it would be so hard to see how traumatised he was without really being able to do much about it. So I think that's part of why she worried so much about Bucky.
Of course, once again we get to see how, even feral, Bucky is ten times the alpha Howard ever was.