Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, Warner Bros. Entertainment, and/or their otherwise respective owners.
Author's Notes: Hi, everyone! Welcome back!
Short FYI, if you didn't already see: this story will have three companion pieces now. One of them has already been posted; it's called pump it. It was a lot of fun to write; I enjoyed it, and I hope you do too!
Also, the title for this chapter comes from the song Just A Girl by No Doubt...ish. I just replaced "girl" with "omega,"lol.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Until the next chapter,
~TGWSI/Selene Borealis
~the black and gold 'verse~
~black and gold~
~chapter 7: just an omega~
Tony had known that the stock price crash of Stark Industries was imminent when he'd announced that they would be stopping the weapons manufacturing. He'd known that people would make fun of him, call him a coward and a weak omega and all the other things in the book. He'd known it. He'd expected it.
What he hadn't expected was to be locked out of his own company.
Obadiah came over on Tuesday, the last day that the kids had off as leave before they went back to school, with several boxes of pizza as a gift. "I hope you all don't mind," he chortled. "And it's all pork-free, don't worry."
The kids were more than excited about it, because pizza was pizza, and Tony was happy to take a night off from cooking. But then he saw the logo on the pizza boxes was from a shop in New York City, one of the places he'd mentioned offhandedly before to Obadiah was one of his favorites. And Obadiah coming over to the Glass House when he hadn't visited more than five times over the past six years was weird, but this too? Something was definitely up.
He asked Obadiah about it, to which the alpha man chuckled nervously. "Why don't we go talk in the library, Tony?" he suggested.
Tony could hardly believe the news when Obadiah told him. The board was claiming that he had post-traumatic stress disorder and was filing an injunction against him. It didn't help that he was taking his own leave of absence from the company.
"I have a family!" he protested. "What am I supposed to do, just leave them at home after I was gone for two months?"
"Nobody is suggesting that," Obadiah said. At Tony's look, he amended himself, "I'm not suggesting that. I'm on your side, Tony. We'll get this sorted out. Honestly, I had expected this to happen, just not so soon."
Tony knew he was lying with that. The only side that Obadiah was ever on was his own. But if Obadiah was siding with him, that must've meant that he'd decided that stopping the weapons manufacturing would make them the most money in the end, as impossible as it sounded even to the omega. And you know what they say: better the devil you know and trust versus one you can't.
"Thanks, Obie. I haven't just been spending time with my kids over the past week. I've been working on something else, too. Something big," he admitted, calculatingly dangling the carrot in front of the alpha's face.
Obadiah fell for it, hook and sinker. "Really? Can I ask what it is? I might be able to leverage the board with some more info."
"I'd like to keep it a secret for now. I still need to work out a couple of kinks." Tony smiled at him impishly. "But the second I'm done with them, I'll be able to announce to the company and the rest of the world."
Obadiah smiled back at him hesitantly. "That's good, my boy. That's good."
He left long not after that. Tony didn't doubt it was because he didn't care for children, in spite of having had one of his own. Poor Zeke, he thought at the reminder. May he and his son rest in peace.
On Friday night, after Bruce and Jason went out, Tony prepared for his first test run outside of the lab. The Mark Two was fully built at this point, thanks to JARVIS' automated assembly abilities. The bots helped him get into the suit. Once he was inside it, he and JARVIS went through all the checks that they needed to in order to make sure that everything was working as it should.
Then, it was time.
"Are you sure that this is a good idea, sir?" the AI asked him after he'd told him to open the ground entrance of the tunnel that fed into the lab – an addition to the Glass House after he and Bruce had gotten married, because some of the projects that he'd made in his lab were simply too big to be carried out the other way. "There are still terabytes of calculations needed before an actual flight is – "
Tony rolled his eyes. "JARVIS! Sometimes, you've got to run before you can walk."
"That did not make any sense, sir."
"Sure it did. Now, ready in three, two, one..."
When the basic flight capabilities of the suit all in one piece went well, because he hadn't tested those out before this (oops), he went ahead and did the big test. He shot out of the tunnel like...well, like a rocket, letting out a loud whoop as he did. "Oh, yeah!" he shouted. "Let's ride!"
He flew over Gotham in the Mark Two. At night, the city really was beautiful. He did not have any problems, even, in admitting that to him, it was more beautiful than Malibu was. The dreams of his fourteen-year-old self could not compare to the reality that he had now.
He flew over the pier that had the amusement park on it. The rides were all going that night; when the display in front of his eyes zoomed in, he saw that there were two kids riding together on the ferris wheel. As he watched, the ice cream that the boy was licking fell off his cone. He snorted; in all honesty, that was something that Harley would do.
Idly, he wondered as he flew around, what his husband was thinking about him (though he wouldn't necessarily know that it was him) flying in the suit. Would he think that he was another big bad guy coming to terrorize Gotham? That he was somebody dangerous? Or just another idiot seeking out a thrill? If it was the latter one, he knew what to say in response: "pot, meet kettle."
There was some truth to the adrenaline rush, though. Soon, simply flying around the city wasn't enough.
He needed more.
"What's the SR-71's record, JAR?"
"The altitude record for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir."
"Records are meant to be broken," Tony said. He began to fly upwards, pushing the suit as fast as it could go. "Come on!"
He watched the altitude level go up higher and higher on his display.
Then:
"Sir, there is a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring."
"Keep going!" Tony insisted. "Higher!"
They hit the 86,000 mark, meaning he'd broken previous records. It was stupid, but it made him laugh.
Only a few seconds after, his suit stopped working. All the power shut off. He began to fall.
"We iced up, JARVIS!" he screamed. "Deploy the flaps! JARVIS! Come on, we've got to break the ice!"
He got the flaps manually deployed himself, but he was still falling towards the earth. He couldn't stop himself. And, from the looks of it, he was going to fall straight into traffic, taking out who knew how many people with him if JARVIS didn't come back on. Great.
But thankfully, JARVIS did come back on at the last second. With another whoop, Tony flew upwards. He decided that he didn't want to take any further chances for the night, heading back for home. He flew back into his lab through the tunnel and hovered in the air. "Kill power," he said.
Against his expectations – albeit this was his fault for not wording things better – he fell into the ground, hard. Hard enough that he both heard and felt the suit make a huge dent in the lab's floor. DUM-E came over with the fire extinguisher and once more used it prematurely. When he was done, Tony laid there for a moment, grimacing, positive that this time, he had to be bruised to high hell.
Just as he was about to order the robots to get the suit off of him, a voice exclaimed, "Master Stark, what the hell are you doing?"
Ah, shit.
Alfred.
Bruce and Jason came home early that night, because of course they did.
They appeared in the archway to the kitchen. Jason's mouth fell into an "o" at the sight of Tony clutching an ice pack to his head with one hand and a bigger one to his stomach with another, while Alfred was standing in one of the corners of the wraparound counter, keeping a watchful eye in case Tony needed to go to the hospital after all. He'd been most insistent on taking Tony there at first, and hadn't given up until he'd confirmed three separate times that Tony did not, in fact, have a concussion.
"No way!" Jason exclaimed. "You were the guy flying around in the metal suit, weren't you?"
Tony smiled weakly.
That was all the confirmation that the fourteen-year-old boy needed. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Bruce cut him off with, "Jason, why don't you go upstairs?"
Jason turned around in surprise. "But – "
"It'd be good for you to get some extra sleep tonight," Bruce said. "And don't tell any of your siblings besides Dick about this, please."
Jason looked primed and ready to test his adoptive father, so Tony came to his husband's aid. "I'm alright, Jason. You don't need to worry about me," Tony soothed him. "But you should go upstairs."
Jason stared at him, then huffed. "Fine," he snapped, before he headed upstairs.
"And don't eavesdrop!" Bruce tacked on as he did.
Thirty seconds after the boy had gone up the stairs, Bruce metaphorically struck. "What the hell were you doing, Tony?" he said, unknowingly echoing his surrogate father's earlier words. "You built another suit?"
Tony raised an eyebrow at him, nonplussed. "That's what you're angry about?"
"No, that's not what I'm angry about. I wish you would've told me that was what you were working on for the past almost two weeks, but that's not what I'm angry about," Bruce shot back. "I'm angry that you went out in that suit while pregnant."
"Barely," Tony interjected. He wasn't doing it to piss his husband off or anything, it was just the truth.
Bruce's nostrils flared, but he was used to Tony's antics. He closed his eyes, took in a breath, and then opened his eyes again. "Are you trying to put yourself into more danger than what you've already been in? Because that's what it looks like from my perspective, Tony. So if you're not, then please, enlighten me."
"It's...not about danger," Tony said. His lack of a proper response irritated Bruce, but in his defense, he was trying to choose his words carefully so that he could properly articulate to him what his intents were. "I wanted to make a better suit after the one I built to escape Zadran and his henchmen, to make something to get them and anybody else who's gotten my weapons when they aren't meant for them, and...to protect our kids."
Because make no mistake, even though he hadn't listed it before, that third reason was in everything that he did.
"We can already protect our kids more than enough, Tony," Bruce attempted to argue. Tony appreciated that, his usage of "we" instead of "I."
But.
"I know you can, and I thought I could before all of this," Tony returned. "But I've realized...despite all the power that I've had, I was still playing out quite a fair bit of omega stereotypes. I'm not going to do that anymore – not the parts when it comes to my job and career. I need to do this, Bruce. I need to make sure that nobody uses my weapons against our kids in the same way that they did me, that they never even think about laying a finger on them. Because yes, you're Batman. But how many people who would come after our kids really know that?"
His little speech didn't work as much as he'd wanted it to. Bruce wasn't finished with him yet. "Tony..."
A sardonic chuckle came from behind Tony. "Master Wayne, don't you think perhaps you are being a little hypocritical?"
Bruce looked past Tony as the omega turned around in his seat. "Excuse me?" the alpha asked.
"Oh, don't mind me. I don't mean to interrupt your argument and get between you two," Alfred said airily, pausing to sip at his cup of tea. "I just recall the conversation that you and I had when you announced your intentions of becoming Batman to me, sir. I tried convincing you not to do it, just as you are trying to convince Master Stark to not get back into the suit now, and just as you two tried to convince Master Grayson to not become Robin. I was not successful then and neither of you were successful with Master Grayson, so why do you think you will be successful now, especially considering how alike you all are and that Master Stark is an adult?"
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alfred..."
"Ah, I have said too much," the beta man spoke. He took his cup of tea with him as he walked out of the room. "I think I shall be going to bed now. Goodnight, sirs."
Neither alpha nor omega said "goodnight" back to him. In Tony's case, it was mostly because he was in shock. Alfred had practically thrown a conniption fit after he'd gotten out of the suit because of thinking that he was injured, and now he was siding with him?
Meanwhile, what Alfred had said seemed to strike a cord in Bruce, the alpha shifting his weight as he lowered his hand from his nose. "Was this how you caused the 'lab accident' you spoke about the other day?" he inquired.
Tony winced. "Yes. But it wasn't that bad." That was definitely understating it, but oh, well. Now that Alfred and Jason were gone, he lifted his shirt to show off the forming bruise on his stomach. It was a light pink, hardly even red. The resulting discoloration would most likely be purple, but not black or blue. "This isn't even that bad, either, compared to what you usually get."
"I would really like you to not hold your own injuries to the standards for my own," Bruce deadpanned. He crossed the distance between them, placing a hand on Tony's stomach, which made him wince again and flinch slightly. Bruce sighed. "Alfred, as loathe as I am to admit it, does have a point. I can't stop you. I'm your husband, which means that I would likeif you stopped, but I can't control you. More importantly, I know how this goes." He inhaled deeply. "But I can't lose you again. I need you to promise that you're going to be careful, and safe. For you, not just for the baby."
Tony's mouth went dry. "I promise," he said. He put his hand on top of Bruce's on his stomach. "I swear to you, I'll be careful and safe."
. . .
. . .
(For some reason, though, perhaps his precognitive abilities, he had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to keep that promise.)
Two weeks and one day later, so Saturday the 17th, Tony had JARVIS get started on the Mark Three he'd come up with bright and early, before most of the children woke up. He'd woken up from a nightmare after four hours of sleep, and though Bruce had cuddled with him for another hour after that, he hadn't been able to fall back asleep again.
The main difference between the Mark Three and Mark Two was what they were composed of, because for extra safety as he'd promised Bruce, he'd decided to make the Three out of a gold-titanium alloy that he had on hand from building one of the Stark Industries satellites. There was a downside to this, however; when he saw the render JARVIS had made for the suit before beginning its construction, he grimaced. "It's a little ostentatious, don't you think?"
"What was I thinking? You're usually so discreet," JARVIS said.
"Ha, ha, very funny." Tony took off his glasses so that he could rub at his eyes without getting them dirty because of the lack of sleep. As he did, he paused, looking at the color of the frames. Black and gold.
His mind started to whir.
"Tell you what," he spoke, "throw a lil' bit of black in there."
"Not hot-rod red? It is your favorite color," JARVIS chirped.
He thought about it, but ultimately stuck with his choice. "No. I think the black will go with the gold better."
"Black it is then, sir."
He didn't get a chance to watch the assembly of the suit or look at it once it was completed for the entire day. He spent his time with his family instead. And that night, after the younger kids had gone to bed, it was Dick's turn for the TV in the living room. He changed the channel to the news as Tony relaxed in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of Ana's signature tea recipe for morning sickness. It was way too early for him to be experiencing with it, so he'd learned with his other pregnancies, but he figured that he couldn't start drinking it again too early.
"Tony, shouldn't you and Bruce be at this?" Dick called out to him.
"Hmm?" he replied back, walking to the archway between the two rooms.
He saw the headline even before the TV reporter began talking. "Tonight's red-hot red carpet this side of the country is right here at the Vauxhall Concert Center, where Tony Stark's third annual benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund has become the place to be for Gotham's high society and more," she said dutifully.
"...JARVIS, did we get an invite for that?" Tony questioned, since the AI could hear and respond to him just as well here as in the lab, he just didn't call upon him that often besides there and nor did the rest of the family.
"I have no record of an invitation, sir," JARVIS told him.
"Since his bizarre and highly controversial press conference one month ago, Tony Stark hasn't been seen in public except for a few returns to his company's headquarters in New York City," the reporter continued on. "Some claim he's suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and has been bedridden for weeks. Whatever the case may be, no one expects an appearance from him tonight."
Oh, no they didn't.
Yes, Tony had only been to the office about once a week since coming back from Afghanistan. Yes, he hadn't been attending the meetings that he should've been. But that didn't mean he was incompetent.
"Dick, if Alfred or Rebecca stop in here before I'm able to see them, tell them that you three are in charge tonight," he requested of his eldest son. He wasn't quite sure where the beta man or alpha woman were, although it was likely that they were downstairs with Bruce. "I'm going to get Bruce. Change of plans. He and I are going out tonight."
An hour and a half later, the Stark-Waynes arrived at the Vauxhall Concert Hall to the excitement and fluttering of the press. They didn't take any questions as they walked inside, though Tony raised his hand with a smile as the journalists demanded to know where he had been over the past month, what he was doing or planning to do next.
"Go mingle," Tony requested of his husband once they were in the main room, his eyes surveying the place. "I need to talk with Obadiah and get something from the bar. I'm starving." Which was ridiculous, because he'd eaten a large dinner that night, but whatever.
"Are you sure?"
"Very. Go have fun," he replied, though he knew that the terms "fun at parties" and "his husband" didn't really mix, no matter the front that he displayed for everybody else.
Tony went over to the bar. "Give me a virgin sweet tea with lemon, please. Extra lemon," he ordered. "Also, tell me: have you seen Obadiah Stane anywhere?"
The bartender pointed him in the direction of the alpha man. Tony nodded, grabbing his drink when it was ready, squeezing two of the three lemon slices and stirring the juice around in his cup as he prepared himself to walk over to the COO of his company.
"Dr. Stark."
Tony resisted the urge to groan, turning around. "Phil," he said with faux-cheerfulness. "I was wondering when I was going to get to see you after you helped out my husband and talked with Pepper at my press conference. It's been a longtime."
Agent Coulson smiled at him, unperturbed. "I was waiting for the right moment. I didn't want to disturb you and your family at your home."
Really? That didn't stop you before. "Well, now really isn't the right time..."
"I know this is a trying time for you, but we need to debrief you. There's still a lot of unanswered questions, and time can be a factor with these things."
Tony waved his hand. "How about we just put something on the books?"
"Would the 23rd at 4 PM at Stark Industries work?"
"Tell you what, you've got it. You're absolutely right." During the small amount of time that they had been talking, Obadiah had already walked off, out of sight. But he could see Bruce talking with Pepper not too far away. She was wearing a dress that she absolutely looked stunning in. "In fact, I'm going to go over to where my assistant is talking with my husband right now and we'll make it a date." He proceeded to leave Phil Coulson in the dust, telling Pepper once he was within earshot distance, "You look fantastic! I almost didn't recognize you."
"Thank you," Pepper said. She glanced over at Bruce. "I wasn't expecting to see either of you tonight. Obadiah told me that you weren't coming."
Ah. So it was Obadiah who had uninvited him from his own charity gala. Nice. Real smooth.
"Yeah, well, we changed our minds," Tony informed her, using a tone that he saw let her know what was really going on. "Where'd you get that dress? And where is Rhodey?"
"He's at home with Riri. And this was your birthday present to me."
"Oh. Well, I have great taste, don't I?"
"Yes, you do."
Bruce rolled his eyes.
Tony was getting more and more pissed at Obadiah, but he wanted to enjoy this night at least a little bit with his husband before he gave the other alpha man a piece of his mind, now that they were here. He gulped down the rest of his drink and set it on the tray a waiter walking by was carrying. "Husband, dear, would you like to dance with me?"
"What happened to the idea of me 'mingling?'"
"I told you to mingle and the only person you've interacted with is Pepper. I think you've done enough mingling for now. Come on." Tony grabbed him by the arm. "Let's dance."
He led his husband over to a spot on the dance floor. There was some light applause at the host of the party and his spouse dancing, along with another flash or two of a camera. Tony savored the moment; the other people on the dance floor quickly gave them room as they did a tango-like dance. He laughed as Bruce twirled him around, his alpha's eyes hungry with desire. It made him feel good to know that he could still put him on edge that way, that he was wanted. It gave him the rejuvenation that he needed to keep on going.
Their dance was short. When it was over, they kissed briefly, the final part of their unintentional little show for the public, before Tony whispered in his ear, "I'll be back. I need to go get a refill of my drink and talk with Obadiah." The other alpha man was back at the bar now.
Bruce nodded. "Get me a dry martini. Extra dry, extra olives." It was his and Pepper's preferred cocktail, something they had in common.
"I'll get two of them," he said back in reference to the beta woman.
Of course, of course before he could make it all the way over to Obadiah, he was stopped once again. This time, it was Christine Everhart. Taking a page out of his husband's book, he almost growled at the sight of her. "Ms. Brown."
"Tony Stark," she returned, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Yeah, though it technically is my party."
For all intents and purposes, she acted like she hadn't heard him. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. Can I get a reaction from you?"
Obadiah was looking like he was going to walk away from the bar and get lost in the crowd again. "Panic. I would say panic is my reaction."
"Really?" She realized he wasn't referring to whatever she was talking about. She scoffed. "I was referring to your company's involvement in the latest atrocity?"
"You mean this? I thought this charity gala would be something right up your alley."
He could tell he was riling her up. "You know, I actually almost bought it, hook, line, and sinker."
"I was out of town for a couple of months, in case you didn't hear," he snarked, getting real agitated now.
"Is this what you call accountability?" His heart fell into his stomach as she shoved a picture in front of his face. It was of a town in ruins with shrapnel of what he would've been able to recognize as Stark Industries weapons even if it wasn't for the company name being written on some of the pieces all over. "The Ten Rings did this to a town in Afghanistan called Gulmira. Ever heard of it?"
Tony seized the photograph from her hands, his eyes searching it, as if it could give him all the answers. "When were these taken?"
"Yesterday," Everhart answered. She almost sounded...surprised.
It was like horror had a fat grip around his throat. He'd made sure to blow up all of the Stark Industries weapons that the not-Ten Rings had had when he'd escaped. More than that, he hadn't approved any shipments to Afghanistan since he'd gotten back. So the fact that they were there...
"I don't know what's going on with this, Ms. Everhart," he told her, lifting his eyes from the picture to her face. She was genuinely surprised by his abrupt change of behavior. "I wouldn't ever condone something like this. But whatever is going on, I'm going to find out and put an end to it. I promise you."
Her lips pursed. "Can I have that on the record?"
"Give me a little while to sort it out – and by that I mean a couple of weeks – and you will. Can I keep this?" He held up the photograph. At her nod, "Thank you, Ms. Everhart. It was certainly...enlightening to talk with you tonight."
He marched over to Obadiah, an omega on a mission. When Obadiah caught sight of him, the man smiled not at him – no, not smiled. Smirked. "Tony, look at you here! What a surprise," he said. "I was gonna tell you the other day when you came into the office, I think I've got the board right where I – "
"What? Want them?" guessed Tony. He snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure you do. I bet you were the one who filed the injunction against me, weren't you?"
Obadiah stiffened. "What? I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Then what is this picture? Have you seen this picture?" Tony forced it into the man's hands. "What the hell is going on in Gulmira?"
They were talking low, but not low enough that the people right next to them at the bar, including the bartender, couldn't hear them. They were all eyeing them nervously. Obadiah chuckled. "Tony. Tony, you can't afford to be this naïve."
No, Tony was a fool.
He was an utter fool.
He'd known after he'd come back from Afghanistan that somebody had been double-dealing his weapons, that it was the only way Raza Zadran would have been able to get ahold of them. And he'd always known that the only person Obadiah ever looked out for himself. He should've connected the dots a lot sooner than this, that the traitor in his midsts besides Farzana was him. For fuck's sake, it wasn't even like he actually liked Obadiah that much, despite the man being his godfather!
"You know what? I was naïve before, when they said, 'Here's the line. We don't cross it. This is how we do business,'" he spat venomously. "But we've been double-dealing under the table, haven't we? You've been the one that's been doing it."
Obadiah sighed, swirling around the drink in his hand. "You're just an omega, Tony. You're one of the smartest people alive, but I wouldn't expect you to understand because of that. And yes, I filed the injunction against you. It was the only way that I could protect you from the fallout of your own decisions."
"Just an omega."
"Just an omega."
Before Tony could do something that he would really regret doing in public later on, Bruce appeared at his side. "Tony, I think you've made your point," he murmured, flitting his eyes at the people all around them, ghosting his palm along Tony's elbow. "Why don't we go home?"
Tony looked around at the people watching them. He knew that if he continued doing this now, it wasn't a battle that he was going to win. Breathing in sharply, he nodded. "Yes, Bruce. I think that sounds like a good idea."
As soon as they were back home, Tony turned on the TV in the living room to CNN. As luck would have it, the TV reporter was doing just the story that he wanted to hear about:
"The 15-mile hike to the outskirts of Gulmira can only be described as a descent into hell, into a modern-day Heart of Darkness. Simple farmers and herders from peaceful villages have been driven from their homes, displaced from their lands by warlords emboldened by new-found power. Villagers have been forced to take shelter in whatever crude dwellings they can find in the ruins of other villages, or here in the remnants of an old Soviet smelting plant. Recent violence has been attributed to a group of foreign fighters referred to by locals as the Ten Rings. As you can see, these men are heavily armed and on a mission – a mission that could prove fatal to anyone who stands in their way. With no political will or international pressure, there's very little hope for these refugees. Around me, an omega man begs for news on his husband, who was kidnapped by insurgents, either forced to join their militia or killed. Desperate refugees clutch yellowed photographs, holding them up to anyone who will stop. A child's simple question, 'Where are my mother and father?' There's very little hope for these refugees, refugees who can only wonder who, if anyone, will help."
By the end of it, Tony was seeing red.
"Tony. Tony," Bruce said, trailing right behind him as he took the steps to the downstairs two at a time. "I know what you're thinking."
"I need to do this, Bruce," Tony hissed.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, Bruce clapped his shoulder and turned him around gently. Tony glared up at him, but his glare faltered when he saw the tint to Bruce's gaze. "I know that you think that you do," his alpha said. He swallowed. "I'm not going to stop you. Just...remember your promise."
He faltered himself. "I'll be safe and careful," he echoed from their conversation two weeks ago. He placed a kiss on Bruce's cheek. "I love you, Alpha. Keep the kids safe while I'm gone."
"Love you, too. And I will."
Tony then pivoted on his foot and went into his lab, his expression going from soft to hard in an instant.
It seemed like everyone outside of his family or the other people who really mattered thought he was "just an omega."Smart, but still bound by the limits of his biology. The media. The board of Stark Industries. Most of his peers. Obadiah. Raza Zadran.
Well, he was about to show the latter man, at least, just what he thought about his sexist bullshit. It didn't matter if the man was alive or if he'd died in that rock collapse that Tony had caused. He would desecrate the man's legacy if so.
It was time to break out the Mark Three.
Word Count: 5,497
Next Chapter Title: kashmir
