Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Tony woke up, Pepper was clinging to him as if he was a lifeboat. He didn't really understand at first. Pepper had been freaked about the whole burning thing, she'd been panicking, Tony had been trying to pacify her, and then, blank...

Now that he was thinking on it, no, not “blank”, more like incandescent red, burning from pain all along his body. Like fire running through his veins. Smoke began to rise from the sheet he hadn't known was covering him, and he understood all of a sudden.

Extremis. He'd somehow gotten infected with the virus, and, even more unlikely, had survived it. He knew the game wasn't set with just that, though. He'd have to avoid stimulating it, for every time he'd have Extremis heal him, he'd have risks to blow up. Literally.

A week later, he had gathered all the data he could get his hands on in AIM's remains, and was calling Bruce for help. He was mildly surprised to see his fellow scientist appear with a mere “I'll explain later, help me crack this”, but he was very grateful nonetheless.

Two weeks later, they were running simulations on a “vaccine” that would undo everything Extremis did. A month later, they were injecting Pepper with the sure-fire anti-Extremis serum.

Tony didn't take it then. Extremis had melted the arc reactor and shrapnel in his heart upon injection, and regrown the ribs Yinsen had sawed to put the casing in, but he knew he still had some of the metals in him, and that he may very well die of metal poisoning if Extremis didn't weigh it out.

So Tony worked to stabilise his version of extremis. Which was a bit more difficult than just eliminating the whole thing.

The heat reaction was the first part to go. Tony really didn't want to be under the risk of blowing up, so he found what part caused it, and fixed it in himself. It took him less time to inoculate the fix to himself than it took for Pepper. He'd like to say it was because he already had data... But he knew it was just because he hadn't double checked quite as much. It wasn't that important. He told Bruce that they could work out the rest later, now that the worse bit was out.

He went to Malibu, see the wreckage of his past life, fetched his bots, and caught up to the world outside, just in time to learn Thor had been fighting aliens that could have caused earth's loss, and went pretty close to loosing the battle, too. It was the second time, in three months, that an Avenger had taken on a world scale menace on his own, and almost died doing it. It was to note that in both case, the avenger's death was not the worse threat, the worse was that if the Avenger had got himself killed, world would have been in deep shit too.

Like Apocalypse levels of deep shit.

The solo act had to be stop.

Like, fast.

Tony was working on a proposal to SHIELD to relocate the Avengers in his tower when Pepper came in his office. He smiled, started to invite her in, then took stock of how she looked.

Tony felt himself go cold.

“What is the matter?”

“How many times have we spent any significant amount of time together since AIM? Outside of medical context.”

Tony couldn't come up with anything. Which he knew was bad, especially with the tone Pepper was using. “We can...”

“No, Tony...”

“Go out now or someth-”

“I get what you're doing now-”

“-ing, what day is it? Thursday? Thursday can be date day.”

“... We're Monday.”

“Same difference, let's go.” Tony almost toppled his chair getting up, but Pepper stopped him with a hand to his sternum.

“No... It was not what I was saying, Tony. I was saying I thought everything over...” Alarms started to blare in his head, and he tried to interrupt, to change the subject, anything, but Pepper didn't let him. “I was saying, Tony, I thought about us...”

Tony curled up in his bed, framed by his own arms, hoping that nothing more would happen, that he wouldn't have to face the awful losses ever again. But it was all a dream, he knew it, he was always able to fuck up everything good in his life, the one reliable thing he'd always be doing...

Yeah, of course Pepper had stressed that she wasn't mad, that she had been one of the first to urge him on in the Iron Man direction with the whole Loki mess, and that she'd always want him to do what he could to help everyone. Of course she had said all the reason Tony hadn't had time to get on a date with her were good ones, but he still felt like he should have been better, he should have done more...

“After all... He'll always be an Omega... It's not his fault...”

Tony grabbed the first thing he could reach (his phone) and hurled it into a wall in anger. No, it didn't have anything to do with his gender, he'd gone way beyond anything expected of him, and he KNEW he wouldn't have done anything differently had he been an Alpha. But would Pepper have stayed, if he'd been?

Predictably, his whole bout of self hatred and pity, lead him back down to his lab. He carefully tended to his two bots, reviewed the whole array of damaged armors JARVIS had brought back after the fight against Killian, remembering the “Clean Slate” protocol he'd programmed. He once again wondered. Would Pepper have forgiven him everything if he'd had time to implement it before getting shot with an Extremis hypodermic syringe? Was his relationship with Pepper the price he had to pay to keep them?

He almost had JARVIS blowing all the armors on the spot, but it was just useless, now, Pepper was a woman of decision, she wouldn't come back, not once she'd made her mind and told Tony her final decision.

Tony sat down at the workbench delicately, then tilted his head back. “Hey J, been a while, hasn't it?”

Of course not, Tony almost always talked to JARVIS. JARVIS had also helped him run diagnostics for the Extremis problem, but it wasn't the point of the sentence. The point was that it'd been a while since he'd sat down with just JARVIS, the bots and his armors in one of his lab. JARVIS, marvel of programming that he was, understood that. “Indeed it has, Sir. May I say it's a relief to see you here?”

The smooth British accent and slightly mechanical tones acted like a balm on Tony. “I am thinking I should definitely marry you some day, J.” He was joking, of course. But not by all that much. Fuck, JARVIS was always there for Tony, whenever he needed him, and for all Tony knew it wasn't a healthy relationship for anything more than deep friendship, Tony just wished he could have this uncomplicated, easy banter and soft caring from his mate, without all the restrictions and strains. But he knew it was a pipe dream.

He was happy to have JARVIS in his life, really. He didn't even know how he'd fare without his unwavering support. A support he'd taken from his namesake...

Tony wiped at his eyes thinking about the man he'd called his dad starting from his eighteenth year and up until he was thirty. Edwin had always been there for Tony, and it was why JARVIS had chosen to name himself after him, and to modulate his voice on the British man too.

“Tell me what usable parts we still have there, and project me an holograph, I'll see if I can make a couple of functional armors from this wreckage, then we'll get to designing a few back-ups.”

It was well time that Tony gave JARVIS the possibility to ignore orders when the situation was extreme, Tony mused as he stared at the TV. JARVIS had started talking about matters that called his attention five times, only to be muted two seconds in. JARVIS had even gotten Bruce to physically come and pull Tony out of his engineering haze, but by the time they'd gotten his attention, everything was done and finished, and Tony could only help by locating Steve's shield in the Potomac...

He had propped the shield on the super soldier's bedside, and left wordlessly under the curious gaze of the black man sitting on the chair next to Steve. He didn't feel like he had any right to talk, here in Captain America's hospital room, after he'd totally failed to help him in his time of need, and all that just because he'd been dumped... just how pathetic could Tony get?

The only thing he allowed himself was a note magnetised on the renovated strap, saying to call him for anything and listing his priority phone number that JARVIS would always forward to him.

He started his plans over, but only got the urgency of the situation when he saw Natasha's hearing on the news.

It was a direct, and he immediately called for one of his chauffeurs to pick her up; even flying his brand new stealth suit all the way to DC to have the sealed letter with all the info and cash the spy could need and a state of the art satellite phone that only used the SI satellites for an optimal security.

He didn't climb in the car himself, or pick one of the cars that screamed his involvement; it would only worsen both Natasha's and his position. He just paid a very unnoticeable chauffeur to rent a car with cash, and sent a text to Natasha with the car's plate number. The reply was a “thanks” text from the satellite phone.

The next few month were used to make sure the Avengers wouldn't be bothered, individually or as a group. It asked for massive lobbying and a good few public hearings, but Tony was good at those, and had the money to back it up.

Once he was ready to shoulder the weight of an Avenger team, he only had to find them...

Chapter Text

When Steve had seen his shield, propped against his hospital bed, with a sparkling new paint-job and brand new straps, he'd thought it was a copy. But then he had taken it in his hands and felt it's specific vibrations between his palms and he'd known it really was HIS shield.

That had thrown him in for a loop. He had let go of it in the river, SHIELD was not there to fish it for him any more, so how the hell had it found it's way back to him? With a revision on top of it?

The note hadn't been much help to solve the mystery, and he had thought about calling the number just to ask, and thank whoever did this for him.

It had been Sam who had solved the mystery for him, with a pretty short “Tony Stark.”

for a while, Steve had only been able to blink at that. Sure, Howard's son was quite famous, but why just say his name when entering a room?

Sam had pointed at the shield. “Tony Stark brought it on the fourth hour after you got out of the Operating Room. From what I gathered, he also paid for all your medical expenses 'anonymously' I should have stopped him for a chat. For all I know, he's my only hope to ever have wings ever again.”

Steve didn't know what he thought of that. At least the mystery had been cleared, but why did Stark do that? Especially on the same day as the incident. Couldn't he have just helped? God knows his presence would have been welcome in the fire-fight. He caught the other half of the sentence, en lieu of addressing those questions. “You do want to fly again?”

Sam smiled. “Dude, it IS awesome, better than most of the sex I've had so far.”

Steve was still a bit unsettled by how sex could come up in such a mundane conversation. Was that what they called flirting?

Two months of following cold tracks, of small hopes and slight deceptions later, Steve had a better handle on the flirting thing. He was almost positive that Sam was in fact playing the seduction game with him.

He had been surprised at first, they were both male, and Steve was an Alpha, while Sam presented as a Beta (and he always had since the first day Steve had met him, Steve, for all he knew mentalities had changed didn't like asking for someone's gender type, so he was still only mostly sure... Sam could still de an Alpha, but with his enhanced nose, he liked to think he'd have noticed by now), so they were not compatible.

But then, Steve had made some researches on sex equality, and learned that infertile couples were not frowned upon any more (or at least not as much) so Sam could very well be seriously interested.

Steve had decides not to think too much about it. He tried his best to flirt back, and waited for Sam to clarify his intentions. It would always be time to accept or refuse to sleep with his new friend once he got propositioned.

Proposition that was not coming. Steve didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed about that.

On the third month, Steve and Sam were following another lead. Steve was almost sure it would bring him either to a raided base without a Bucky to be seen anywhere near it, or to a dead end. But it was all he had, so he still went.

As Steve had suspected, he and Sam ended up in a bombed-up house, littered with corpses. Bucky was not in the vincity of it, and there was no trail to tell where he was going from there. There was, however, someone here. In an hell of a flashy red and gold armor.

“Stark.” Okay, this was a terse greeting, but Steve didn't know what else to say, and he still didn't know how he felt about the man.

“Captain.” The armor stood up, walking up to Steve and his partner. Steve found himself shifting in front of Sam out of habit. “You're one tough man to get a drop on.” And here was the faceplate lifting, showing a smiling face, but marked with a few creases and bags under the eyes. Stark also extended his hand.

Steve guessed he had to shake it, the man had found his shield for him, after all. “Then how did you find me?”

The smile Stark gave seemed partly genuine. “Bribed your information giver.” Steve frowned, and Stark's smile grew. “I promoted Hill to the head of Avenger's Room of Monitoring... Well, Pepper did... Anyway, she agreed to tell me what you were doing, and I just had to find a Hydra base that had exploded recently and wait for you there.”

“Don't you have other ways to find people?” Surprisingly, Stark's smile got smaller, but it seemed more genuine already.

“You got a new phone I could not find the number of, and Hill wouldn't tell me... And I didn't want to invade the privacy of someone who hasn't signed up for the Avenger's special brand of crazy yet...” He added with a wink to Sam.

Sam walked around Steve and shook Stark's hand. “I'll gladly sign up for it if you make me some new wings.”

“Wings...” Stark made a show of wrinkling his nose. “I still wonder how you hope to have any maneuverability with those huge things.”

“I think of them as normal-sized, and size problems is just a convenient excuse for those who lack in skills.” Steve was not mistaken, this was Sam's special brand of flirt by innuendo. He felt a bit cheated. He had thought they had something special there.

“Size is relevant, take it from the weapon engineer!” Okay, so joking on size was just that common... Or Sam and Stark really liked to make double-entendres...

“Your caliber doesn't make a difference when you miss your target. In the end, everything goes down to skill!” Yeah, okay, Sam just loved his innuendos.

“I beg to differ, skill is good, but no one will ever pin me down without some damn good fire-power” Guess the 'playboy' thing wasn't just a joke... Steve really wanted to face-palm.

“When you're done comparing your sizes, will you tell us why you're here?” Both the men turned his way, Sam with a smile and Stark with his mouth hanging open.

It was Sam who answered first. “Aw... You can argue on size too, you know, Stevie. I'm sure even Stark doesn't have as big a caliber as you.” And to complete his effect, he rapped his knuckles on the shield's rim.

Steve was kind of bored, being the only responsible person, so he decided to play the game too. Stark's face was priceless enough to wake the ten years old in him up. “But I'd still say that size is not relevant, what counts is the way I use it.”

Stark seemed to finally find his voice. “I'm sorry, Captain, but you're definitely doing it wrong. It's a shield, you use it as a Frisbee, Am I the only one to see a problem with that?”

“You're so close minded, Stark, ruling out half the fun because of pre-made assumptions on what you can or can't do with your tools.” He almost burst out laughing at the face Stark pulled. “And to think I assumed nowadays people accepted alternative views...”

Sam was bent in two, clutching at his belly and snickering uncontrollably. Steve wondered if he'd end up rolling around on the ground like he'd seen in some cartoons. Stark, for his part still looked shell-shocked, but he pulled himself back together. “Call me Tony, it feels too strange to get called by my dad's name in this context... And I still think I can do better with your tools than you do.”

Steve remembered the time Iron Man had used his shield to reflect repulsor's blasts and almost went for a 'be my guest', but it was too fast, and made him uncomfortable, so he decided to get Stark back on track. “As interesting as this conversation is, I am sure you didn't come all the way here and wait for us just to argue about my tools, Tony.”

Tony arched his brows. “I am always up for an argument about tools, but you are right, it's not the reason I came over. I wanted to tell you the Avengers should be needed again quite a bit from now-on, with SHIELD's fall and everything... I am looking to gather the team. There are apartments ready for everyone...” he snuck a glance at Sam. “And then some...”

Steve played with the phone Stark had given him. It was apparently another one of those marvels of technology Sta-Tony was used to making. It could call anyone, at any time, and only needed to be plugged once a month. It also could give S-Tony, but no one else, his position at anytime, and served as a key to the Avenger Tower. Steve felt a little bad for turning him down and leaving him to deal with most of the messes on his own, but he'd left Bucky without a search for the greater good once before, and it was already on time too many. Now, he didn't want to put anyone before his best friend.

He was a little concerned by how Sam had persisted in following him, but Sam WAS a grown man, he could make his decision, and he'd left Steve know that he didn't like for other people to make decisions for him, so Steve hadn't insisted.

He was still a bit sorry that his friend didn't get his new wings because of him.

A month later, he was woken up in the middle of the night by the high-pitched whine of Tony's repulsors, and got out of the tent in a rush.

Tony was there in front of the fire that had been dying but that he had visibly restarted (Steve didn't want to know how, he'd have to pitch in with a lecture about proper camping safety procedures and proper use of weapons, and he was just not in the mood for this kind of shit at such a small hour of the morning).

Tony had his helmet resting on the rock Steve and Sam had used as a seat in the evening, and he was holding up a white box. He goggled at Steve’s bare torso, and swallowed twice before he started talking. “Donuts?”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did Tony just use the phone he'd gifted Steve just to come in and share donuts? Sure, it was nice, but also so definitely out of place that... “Yeah, gladly!” Was Sam's answer as he squeezed past Steve in the tent's entrance and reached for the proffered treat.

Steve really wanted to bury his face in his hands and go back to sleep. It was way to early to deal with the Stark eccentricity. He was once again interrupted in his thought by Sam. “Fuck me! Is this...?”

Steve looked around at the self-satisfied grin on Tony's face, then at Sam, and then at the brown metallic backpack against the rock that Sam was staring at. He kind of understood Sam's swearing. That was a hell of a good surprise.

“I definitely would, especially with the arguments you've got there, but I prefer my overpriced bed for those kind of things...” Tony answered, checking out Sam's equally topless form. “And yes, it is my newest version of your archaic wing-pack. Back when SI made your model's prototype, I only gave it a quick overview to verify it didn't have any blatant flaws, but I left it to my tech teams to work it all out... This one is a hundred percent Stark-made, so you can expect it to be two hundred percent awsomer than ever before!”

Stark lifted the pack up, gave it a shake to rid it from the pine needles and handed it to Sam, who quickly busied himself with what Steve assumed where pre-flight verifications, while Tony crouched next to him and explained some technicalities and guided him in the steps that were different.

“I was wrong.” Steve didn't realize he had talked out loud until Tony froze and turned his head. He took a deep breath. It was something he had to do, anyway. “I was wrong, when I said you only thought of yourself. Everything I said about you this day was wrong, and I can't just let this lie. You proved that you could do a lot for other people, many times, since then, so I ask your forgiveness. For everything. I don't want to make excuses as to why I did it, I was an ass, but I hope I can redeem myself one day, let you see some good parts of me maybe.”

Tony bit his lip. “I already see a really good part of you right now. Would you mind turning around for a second?” Steve had to give him a flat look at that, because this was no way to receive an apology. “Gee, okay! I accept that you couldn't know how awesome I am at first glance and I forgive you for judging me on my cover, let's be friends forever and whatnot...” He took a deep breath. “And yet I was dead to the world in my workshop when you fought for our liberties and probably saved my life, since I was on the target list... And I was as nasty as you this one day, so I guess I also have to apologize... I don't like apologies, don't expect anything more elaborate than sorry. There, take a donut.”

Tony shoved the box his way, that Steve accepted it as a peace offering (another one), then went back to his explanations about repulsor technology, bird's color schemes and integrated red LEDs.

Steve looked at Sam, who was opening and folding his brand new wings with a schoolboy's smile spread on his face. They were quite neat, looked a bit like a brown falcon's, enough to have some measure of camouflage here in the forest, and red lights that could light up the edge so Steve could easily spot his partner.

“Thank you.”

Tony turned to Steve. “Don't mention it, I enjoyed the view a lot.” He said with a leer, before turning to Sam. “I had to make sure you were at least a little bit safe with this idiot. Us normal humans have it tough in the superhero business. You've got to know that you just sold your soul to the Avengers for those, though. It's in my contract, I only make new gadgets for the Avengers. My agents will have you signing the joining form as soon as you get within five miles of New-York state!”

Sam stared at Tony wide eyed.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Here is your key to your quarters.” Tony handed Sam a phone that looked just like Steve's, then jammed his helmet back on. “My number's in it, don't hesitate to give me a call if you notice anything on the wings... Or for any other reason, really. See ya.”

And with that, he took off. Steve mused that for an egomaniac drama queen, Tony sure didn't like thanks.

“Hell of an Omega.” Sam said as he unstrapped the backpack off himself.

Steve smiled and nodded “reminds me of a friend.”

He was sure Bucky would have loved Tony. Maybe he still would... They were so much alike.

Steve was a little concerned about the kind of disaster they may get up to once they got to know each-other.

But before he could get worried on that, he'd have to find Bucky...

Worrying about the mischief tony and Bucky may get themselves in in the future seemed like such a sweet reprieve, all of a sudden.

Chapter Text

Tony landed on the strip of his tower, letting the robots rid him of his armor. So Captain America and Falcon would probably be alright, but they wouldn't come... Tony kind of understood, if it was Pepper, Rhodey or Happy out there needing him, he'd do anything to help them.

And he definitely wasn't bitter that Captain America had another Omega to run after when Tony was offering to live with him. He was not in kindergarten anymore, and the purely aesthetic pull toward the Alpha's nice curves wouldn't affect his professionalism in the least. (Not that much risk anyway, because he never pretended to be all that professional.)

For now, he just had to hold the world together for as long as Cap needed, so he wouldn't have to blame himself for not helping. Tony owed him that, he hadn't been there during the paperclip operation.

But he still couldn't take care of everything on his own, so he reluctantly went for his second option.

”What is it, Stark?”

The voice rang in his workshop, sounding a bit tired and with an hint of a sigh under it.

“I can't hold this whole mess up all on my own, Natasha.”

”Don't you have Banner?”

“I do, but he can't always pitch in. plus I don't like to ask him for it, guy's still not at peace with the Hulk.” He answered while looking critically at one of his blueprints (a bike, modeled after the one his father made for Steve back in the war) and charting the modifications he could still make on it.

“And you're calling me, specifically, because?” Was it concerning that Tony liked her direct way of talking?

“Because my phones still don't reach all the way to Asgard, the Captain has something else to do, Falcon is with him, and I haven't heard about Hawkeye since three months before the whole paperclip mess.” He saved the changes on his blueprint and opened another randomly (as luck would have it, it was a reviewed version of the Black Widow's gear... Didn't he have a life outside of the Avengers? Ah, yeah, Pepper...Fuck. Maybe Rhodey, then, but he wasn't sure he could safely label him as 'outside of superhero business'.).

“What do you expect me to do? I have my own problems to take care of.”

“I'd like you to trust me with the part of your own problems I can probably help with... Or if you 'don't recommend me' for those, then trust Pepper and Hill, and help me find the members I'm still missing.” He couldn't help the bitterness from seeping through. One day, he'd stop holding a grudge for this evaluation... He'd start counting tomorrow.

She sighed. “And what do you intend to do once I help you find them?”

“Same as I did with you, Bruce, Steve and Sam, offer them a place to stay in the Avenger Tower and an Avenger phone to be able to keep in touch and locate them. And respect their decision if they turn me down. I've never been known for forcing myself on people, Natasha.” No, he wasn't in the mood for engineering. He waved for JARVIS to shut down the holographs and got up.

Another sigh. “Yeah. Okay... You didn't offer this place to stay to me, though...”

“Yes I did. Not my fault if you didn't check the latest update in your phone that made it a key to your personal quarters.” He looked around for his bots, maybe he could take a look at their code and program a patch for them...

“I... see... Okay, I accept...” She took a deep breath. “CLINT! Phone call for you!”

Tony held the phone away from his ear for a second at the sudden burst of sound. “Seriously?”

“Who is it?” Came the surprised question.

“Tony Stark.”

”Fuck, Nat, you could have warned me!” Well, wasn't THAT flattering... Maybe he should just go and take one of his good wine bottles.

“Hi, I wanted to ask you if you were interested in a spot in the Avengers, vigilante team, descent pay, full dental and health insurance, possibility to get a suite free of charge in dead center of NY, possibility for centralized care of the tenant, also free of charges, custom Stark-made gadgets, and hopefully a few team-mates to watch your back when fighting, but I'm having some difficulties with the last one...”

There was a silence, then Clint said that he'd 'think about it' and hung up.

Tony stared at his phone for a couple of minutes, then decided he was entitled to a drink. To a not wine drink. Pepper was not there to look disapprovingly at him, anyway.

AIM, He'd thought he was done with it.

He should have guessed it was only temporary, it as like that with pests, always rearing their ugly head back up even after you thought you'd eliminated it...

JARVIS pushed an icon to the right side of his HUB and Tony blinked twice of the right eye to validate the choice, then slid his left foot a centimeter back to balance the recoil as the shoulder launchers fired half a dozen rockets at the incoming vehicles.

The bikes exploded and Tony was left with a couple of men on the ground. Totally manageable.

“Sir, you have a call from the Avenger line.” Came JARVIS' information as he knocked one of the men out.

“Really?” A glance at the call icon showed the red hourglass he had attributed Nat (no actual pictures was a rule he'd given himself for this whole Avenger thing. He'd do his level best to protect his team, and that included their identities) He extended his right arm and repulsored an approaching goon in the head. “Patch it through.”

”Stark?” Well, wasn't that wonder-arrow's voice? Ow, fuck, where did the Gatling-bearing helicopters come from?

“Yup, himself. What can I do for you?” He engaged his boot thrusters and launched himself straight in the first chopper's rotating blades, breaking them with just a few small dents to his platting and causing the aircraft to spiral down.

“The fuck is this noise?” Tony twisted around, and faced the other copter.

“Just a bit of a fire-fight, nothing serious.” The model of the helicopter flashes just right to it's image on the HUB, just before it's wire frame flashes over it, showing the exact location of the mechanical parts. “Was there a specific reason for you to call?” He focused his sight on a single point of the wire frame and blinked three times, trusting JARVIS to fir the necessary missile at the right place.

“Huh... I thought about your offer.” The missile went and Tony gave a cursory glance downward to make sure no one would get squished by the falling aircraft.

“Good, good. Jarvis, please make the point with ARM. So what's your answer?” He spotted a running form on the heat scan and dove down.

“Huh, the help part sounded nice, so I wondered if you'd extend it first?”

Tony landed just in front of the runaway, who turned out to be a little girl. “Fuck, why were you still there? I thought the buildings were evacuated!” And then, turning the exterior speakers off. “Yup I would, but why would you need help when you already have the Widow with you?”

The kid starred at Tony, and he noticed the too pink hue of her skin, and shot a glance up, wondering why Jarvis still had the display on heat signatures, but then he noticed that her eyes were pitch black on their whole surface. Well, that was quite unique.

“Still a bit too many, and super powered.”

Tony extended his hand to the child. “Sure sounds like fun. When? Where?"

He flipped up his faceplate and crouched down to avoid spooking the child as Clint rattled GPS coordinates of somewhere in ester Europe and said that the sooner would be the better. Tony ducked his chin and told the archer that he could be there on the little hours of the morning, then excused himself and let JARVIS hang up.

“Hey girl, what were you doing there in the middle of a fight?”

The kid opened her mouth, showing an array of very thin and pointy teeth. “Dad said I can't leave the basement.”

Tony gaped at the girl. They were in a residential area, surrounded by the pretty white-picket fences houses, and yet here was a girl who said she couldn't leave the cellar while her whole family had already evacuated the premises... He found himself scooping her up without even noticing he was doing it. “You know what, girlie? I'll give you a tour of the outside world.”

It was pretty impressive how much emotions those black eyes could convey.

Once he had given the freshly redressed mutant girl (Lisie, probably a Beta) to Hill who had promised she knew of a good place for her to stay (Tony tried very hard not to think of the fact that she wasn't telling him where it was, he didn't want to resent her for her lack of trust. He didn't), he went to his vault.

He got JARVIS to remove his armor, then to prep a fresh one and charge it with the flight plan to join Clint.

Being an Avenger was a full time job.

Chapter Text

Natasha stretched herself across the ratty one-person bed she had shamelessly stolen from Clint. (She was pretty sure he wasn't that bothered by it, or by the price she now demanded in order to share it with him. After all, they had been separated for a while.) She contemplated undressing and seducing her lover back to bed.

She decided against it, seeing as he was busy keeping watch on the bad guys and Stark was liable to be early (it wasn't likely, mind you, but the guy was totally unpredictable, so he totally screwed whatever odds she could make up) so she pulled her laptop out of her bag instead.

She would normally avoid the security risk, but she had this one totally stripped of it's wi-fi components. She also pulled her phone's cord from her bag and plugged it on her laptop, making use of Stark's ultra secure satellite access in order to browse... People news sites.

It was actual info, okay! And it could be totally hilarious especially to someone who had as much base knowledge on just about everyone.

This time, she actually chuckled when she read the article the scandal press had managed to cook up in the afternoon.

So apparently, Stark was miraculously the dad (or mom, seriously, how stupid could tabloids get?) of a six or seven years old bright pink skinned and blue haired girl, which would have made her conception happen right before the whole Afghanistan and Iron Man point of his life...

Her laughter managed to peel Clint away from his window, and he bent at her elbow, reading the news article over her shoulder. “I always wonder where they stash their brain when they write those.” He said, the way she heard his voice telling her he was shaking his head. “Seriously, he picked up a stray and, what? Went on an 'everything a little girl could dream of' ride in town with his armor still on, isn't this the only conclusive data? Thankfully we never had such incompetents to guide us in mission.”

Natasha nodded along to his tsking, now chuckling at the thought of the type of mission she could have been sent on if she was subjected to the kind of incompetence Clint was outlining. (Sure, if it had ever happened, she would have been totally pissed and made quite a few higher-ups wet their pants, but there, stretched out on her partner's bed with his breath tickling the nape of her neck, it looked way more hilarious.)

Her archer settled on the strip of mattress she was not occupying and sighed long sufferingly. “So, have they already came up with names of the likely mothers...and fathers?”

He loved her tabloids just as much as she did, after all, even if he was the most vocal in his complaints. It somehow suited them, watching the shoddy work of people whose work description was somehow similar to theirs, yet so fundamentally different that they could fail it so spectacularly and still be alive and employed at the end of the day. It was like bad rom-com must feel like to the average American citizen, a very badly rendered version of their own life, but comical by it's sheer stupidity, and heartening in it's naivety.

She tapped a few keys, and opened several articles, scanning them along with him. “Hmm, just one. Alpha, male, reasonably good looking, and who is either a speedster or has the capacity to impregnate Omegas by the a simple kiss... I looked into that one before, Stark kicked him out of his party less than a minute after he managed to lay one on our resident genius.”

Clint snorted and ran a quick illegal background check on said Alpha. “Well, got a couple of complaints for sexual harassment, probably not as many as the instances he actually harassed someone, seeing how rich he is, that still scares victims away from police, what the fuck... And I suppose they're saying it's because of their bad relationship that Stark hid his spawn? How do they suppose the kid would have survived up to toddler stage Omega-less if Stark actually was the mother?”

“Maybe we could team-up and become investigation journalists, now that SHIELD is no longer an option, we'd make way more realist stories than theirs. Would be relaxing, all the good sides of our job, but without the actual killing... Oh, wait, there it is, the mother would be that Vanity Fair journalist he slept with on his last day before Afghanistan... And who was there seven months later to interrogate him both at the Gala and during his coming out as Iron Man... I have to say journalists have a very different view on pregnancy than I do...”

Clint nodded. “And this, sweetheart, is the reason we couldn't possibly become investigation journalist for anything more than a cover mission, they HAVE to be incompetent. Readers don't want the truth, they want a piece of dream and intrigue, we'd be terrible at it... Seriously, Avenger is a way more realist job prospect for us.”

Since she was... Well, her, she didn't dissolve in laughter at the way this particular sentence would sound to the average Joe, but she definitely snorted. “I guess it is as well that your mind is set, after all, you are pulling the Avenger card to get Stark to come.” She pulled the screen of her laptop down, turning her head to kiss Clint before going on. “How is it going in the serpent's nest, by the way?”

He sighed and nuzzled at her neck, in a way she knew brought his nose close enough to her scent glands for even his non-enhanced Beta senses to be able to catch her scent pattern. She loved it when he did that, and smelt her aroma thicken with her emotions. She loved how this unique scent was totally her, she could change it, or mask it, with perfume, even make it flare with any emotion at will, but the pattern underneath, it was her, without a doubt. Her partner could trust it to be her at a hundred percent when even she couldn't trust the masks she wore, the words she said, or the gestures she made. This smell of hers and the way Clint sought it, those where her true identity.

His hand came up to thread in her hair, and he flopped down. “Still the same, busy as bees with their nefarious plans, but unaware of us.”

Well, of course. They'd make terrible journalists, but they were the best for spying and surveillance, their victim didn't have a clue they were being watched, even with the both of them goofing around and spending half their time flirting or making out, they were still following almost everything their target was doing without drawing much suspicion.

In fact, it even worked the opposite way. Nat waking all the neighbors at night and Clint giving the stink-eye to anyone looking at her ass was making them even more invisible than Clint was when he was stalking this cell alone. The way they walked outside with their hands in each-other's back pockets, the way Natasha left her Alpha scent flare when people looked too long at her mate (that one also had the advantage of turning Clint on, he really liked it when she went all Alpha about him), or the less than perfectly concealed semi-automatic in the small of her back (Clint loved that too, he was so hopelessly attracted to danger...), all that gave them the perfect cover, made them part of the furniture in this shady block.

“Maybe we should call Stark.”

Clint snorted. “To get a statement on his love child?”

Natasha smiled. “No, to make sure he has a good idea of what he is flying in. I don't want him parading in town with his suit and screwing the whole surprise benefit.”

Clint bit at her ear, rumbling lowly. “You're it.” And he stood up, walking back to the window while making sure she got an eyeful of all his defined muscles and the smooth way they flexed.

Natasha ogled the display shamelessly. She really liked that they were still seducing each-other on a daily basis even after all this time, it kept the flame alive.

She unplugged the phone from her laptop with a wolf-whistle for her boyfriend, then slipped in her 'Natasha-Natalie' mask while she dialed the genius. She only kept a very loose watch on her archer's butt as she briefed Stark on the serpent society, it was part of the mask.

The plan has been sound... The application... got complicated...

The whole reason of them calling Iron Man in was that the local cell of mildly troublesome super-powered thief and small time terrorists that SHIELD had initially sent Clint to monitor (as part of his reinsertion plan, just a surveillance mission to show him he could still be useful even without shooting anything... Though Natasha would never be telling him that... She knew he already knew, anyway) had turned to Hydra when it had made it's big come-out and they were fundamentally radicalizing from 'super powered people using their gifts for their own personal gain kind of like a high-school gang...' to 'blood-thirsty pack of wolves that had started weeding out their own ranks'.

It was the weeding out that had prompted them to call Stark in. It usually spelled nothing but trouble when some members of a mildly villain group started to disappear while said group was supposedly in peace, because those who disappeared where usually the ones who tended the more toward the 'mildly' side of the equation. Everyone knew that Hitler's Shoah started inside the German frontiers (and those who didn't wouldn't make it long in Natasha's field of work, history was a wonderful source of information to run simulations on present day problems).

So they had to act quickly, before things got really bad, and, incidentally, while the serpent society was still short a few of it's members, because they'd probably recruit more to fill the gap...

Anyway, the plan had been pretty simple.

Not Stark's level of simple (“I've got a plan: attack” was almost a legend by now), but sleek enough for them to avoid getting tangled in it (one of the dangerous things in their field of work, hard set plans without someone to adjust them on the fly, members ended up panicking and latching onto it instead of letting it go...), Iron Man was to crash the party from above with all the blaring fire and snarky moralization he enjoyed tossing at his enemies. The Black Widow was to use the distraction and his reputation as a loose canon to sneak in, verify the society's true fire-power while Hawkeye covered her.

That was the plan...

Not barging in and finding that the serpent society was just sealing a bargain with HYDRA over a cargo of their disintegrating weapons.

That had very predictably gone down to hell. (Natasha usually liked predictable, but that, there, was just too fucking much!)

Also, Hawkeye stressed that the HYDRA goons (a good twenty of them, to avoid getting robbed upon delivery) had come in through the sewers by digging a five meter long tunnel to the nest's basement. It was very important to his reputation. (Natasha understood the sentiment, they weren't amateurs, and having people sneaking in a building on their watch was mighty irritating.)

Anyway, the present situation was: Tony was eliminating the not yet armed snake-like mutants with what sounded like mildly brutal efficiency into her com link, and making his way to come and help her and Hawkeye. Help that would be greatly appreciated, seeing as the HYDRA goons (and a few serpent society members) had cornered her in a cellar, away from her archer's cover, who couldn't help her, because line of sights was a two ways thing, and inside, he was at a disadvantage against a group of twenty persons with disintegrating guns.

They were in a stalemate, (which was still partially reassuring, considering that Stark would most likely be the one breaking it...) all of the bargaining contingent crammed in a corridor, with her in a cave at one end, were they were (rightly) wary of following her because she had the advantage of really cramped fighting space that was putting guns at a disadvantage and a ladder that they could either jump and risk wounding themselves upon landing, or climb down and be at their mercy all the while.

Additionally, if one of them went down and she killed them, she'd get one of these fancy disintegrating guns, which would be VERY bad for their collective asses.

But she still was at the risk grenades...

On the other end of the corridor was Hawkeye, fifty meters away from the turn. From what she had gathered and his fighting habits, he had to be crouching in a shadowy corner or up on something. Anyway, no one could get the bead on him... Well, they might be able to if they went in number, but after he'd dropped five of them in close succession, there were not many volunteers to go and put themselves in his sight-line.

Also, if they went in group to flush Hawkeye out, They risked the Black Widow to make get out of her hole.

It really helped the both of them that they were all suitably scarred shitless of Natasha. She had done quite the carnage before hiding down in this cellar... Which was the whole reason there were only twenty hostiles left standing in the corridor. Before Clint and her demonstrations of skills, they had been little over thirty.

Losing a third of your fighting force in less than a minute was always pretty disturbing (distressing, even).

The real problem was that Natasha didn't like to rely to heavily on either exterior help or fear from her opponent.

Especially if the fear was not entirely justified.

And for this very special case, she was just very glad she hadn't started bleeding before she managed to duck in the cellar...

One of those fucking gun had nicked one of her utility belt pouches, making it disintegrate right against her hip.

Her night vision wasn't good enough to know exactly what the damages were, but she suspected she was losing blood steadily because she had more and more trouble concentrating.

Her partners knew, and were plotting her rescue accordingly, so at least it was that, but she so fucking hated the weakness.

After a bit of time considering, she chose to try an emergency treatment, even if it made her particularly vulnerable against possible grenades.

She didn't have space in her suit for a first aid kit. She simply zipped down the top, slipped the sleeves off (this was the worst part, she was very vulnerable while her arms were half tangled in the fabric) and folded the whole thing back down around her hips, tying the sleeves together as tightly as possible to press down on her wound.

The lack of protection on her abdomen and chest would have bothered her, normally, but she was up against disintegrating guns, so the reinforced fabric's 'protection' was very relative. Plus she was mostly up against males, (with maybe some Omegas, she hadn't had the time to scent them, but Omegas would get distracted just as easily by a naked woman bust as any man.) so it actually gave her a bit of an advantage.

She had barely finished her emergency bandage when the trapdoor opened, and she reached for her gun. Instead of the grenade she was dreading, one of those blasted disintegrating guns was pushed in he opening. They were obviously thinking of blind firing at her...

She aimed for the muzzle and fired.

The gun exploded, showering her in sharp metal bits that had her reconsidering the protection of her catsuit. At least, from the yelling she heard, it was apparent the holder of the gun had suffered more than she was.

Her ea piece buzzed and Hawkeye asked what was happening. She filled him in, and heard a second and third yell a dozen of seconds later.

“Down to sixteen.” Was her archer's flippant answer to her inquiry. He must have used the distraction of the injured hostile to sneak up to the corner of the corridor and shoot a few of them.

“Didn't you say they were around thirty? Fuck, the two of you are frightening.” Came Stark's useless two cents.

“Yes we are.” Had she mentioned that she loved her boyfriend? (No, that is the blood loss speaking, stop gawking, go your way.)

She was aware of Stark crashing their party by a high-pitched whine on the other side of the trapdoor instead of from the earpiece (no military training, hellloooo!) and climbed up the ladder to take a peek at the action.

Stark was standing in a very wide stance, targeting all the guns with both missiles and repulsor blasts, (which made for a lot of noise) Hawkeye standing just behind him, protected by the metal platting of the suit, that seemed to reflect the disintegrating rays, and shooting arrow after arrow over the suit's shoulder in all his archer glory.

The fight was done in less than a minute, and Hawkeye ducked around Iron Man to reach for her door (with a warning by the com system because HE knew proper protocols in order not to get shot in the head by a friendly) and hauled her out.

Stark, who had crouched down to examine the guns, turned their way at the sound they made.

He stayed frozen in place for a couple of seconds, then snapped his helmeted head back down and she heard a curse, then the start of a 'j' sound from the comm before she got cut from his mike.

Clint handed her his tactical uniform's vest, and she accepted it. First, because it was very stupid to let yourself get cold after a significant blood loss, second for the protection of the fabric...

Third, because it meant her boyfriend would be half naked, and she was all for that, especially if he had to use his bow again. Bow practice made his muscles move in the more delighting ways. (And it was that type of logic that told her that she was pretty badly injured, she was normally a lot more focused when on mission)

She zipped the vest up. “Are we done here? I need medical attention.”

Iron Man turned back to them, and she saw him freeze again when he saw Clint. (The part of her that wasn't narrowing her eyes at the unwanted attention on HER man was feeling a bit sorry for the Omega, being turned on by all sexes had to be bothersome in the instances where it wasn't incredibly fun.) “I'm calling a cab and the police over. ARM is on it's way, but they'll take a couple more hours, hopefully it'll be small enough to get the whole thing under control and make sure no sleeper agent sneaks the prisoners out.”

“Only two hours?”

“I called them just after beautiful and deadly over there told me the whole extent of the disaster... Let's get you to your ride.”

Just as Natasha and Clint were turning, Stark caught her forearm, stilling her. She shot him a quizzical glance, but he didn't do anything funny, just asked if she had a good hospital or doctor on retainer (obviously she did) and pulled a wad of local cash from his armor's side that he pushed into her hand with a “taxi”, then, with a pointed head turn to Clint, “and stuff”.

They left Stark behind to verify they had had everyone, handle the police, and pretend he had been alone.

She thought she could get used to working with him.

After he learns to communicate.

Chapter Text

Tony really can't help his gaze from wandering up and down his newest team-mate's back as he and Natasha walk away. For all he received the lady spy's warning off loud and clear, there is just no way to ignore THOSE muscles. All corded and efficient, with some volume, but not enough to get him out of the 'lean' category... and the way they pulled a bit when he walked... that incidentally made his ass stand out...

He had to bit his lips and squeeze his eyes hard to get himself back on track. Damn his Omega biology that had his body believing it should always be touching people, just six months since Pepper ditched him, which made... About ten months since he last slept with her...

His body was totally freaking out at the lack of physical intimacy, he hated the way he had to let himself be ruled by stupid Neanderthal instincts.

He cleared his throat a couple of times before talking to JARVIS again. “Okay, make a note: we'll have to work on automatic censoring of naked people when I don't have a specific need to know how they are underneath...”

And maybe he should pick his one-night stand habit up again, now that he didn't have one hell of a weak point in the center of his chest...

He just didn't like the thought.

First, there was the danger it still represented for him, superhero didn't gather quite the same level of resentment than a simple playboy billionaire weapon manufacturer, or the same type of resentment, the ones who hated him before would look like cute little lambs compared to those who hated him now that he was Iron Man.

Second, he likes to think he had changed, and while he could almost trick himself into believing he was enjoying the wild life, before all the shit went down and he had had this occasion to see the real thing from Pepper, he didn't really know if he'd be able to stand his face in the mirror if he surrendered and to his hormones and went to do something he morally disproved of just to get some comfort.

He allowed himself to wallow in the misery of his situation for a whole minute before shaking himself out of the spell, and slipping back into his Iron Man persona. “Okay, JARVIS, what does the heat scan say?”

He was pretty glad to leave the whole mess in Hill's capable hands when she finally showed up at daybreak. The Vanko accident had left him know how damn reckless it was to just hand over the people you had captured to the police, but it didn't mean he liked the whole circus it spelled for him...

He was instructing JARVIS to have the woman's hourly salary doubled anytime she had to deal with authority on his behalf as he took off toward the Black Widow phone location. Paying insane amount of money to the people who did things he hated to do for him, and did it well, was one of his policies.

(People wondered how Pepper had stayed her PA for so long ever though he was a totally shitty boss to her. Tony didn't. He knew at least a part of it came from the fact that even then, she had been paid about the double of what the average white Alpha male CEO used to get. Which made ten time more than what any company hoping to snatch her away would think to offer a female Beta.)

(Tony had always found those gender and gender type inequalities stupid. He paid people according to their skills, namely, he estimated how much they did in an hour, and paid them based on that, so that someone who worked twice as much as his neighbor would also get paid twice as much as them. It was how he kept all the best ones in Stark Industries.)

(And he needed some rest if his mind was going in tangents quite that easily...)

He spotted his couple of spies at a restaurant’s terrace, dressed in date clothes, Natasha in a sky blue, long sleeved empire style dress, that wouldn't aggravate her wounded hip, while hiding her various scrapes. Barton in cream colored slacks and shirt with his half done necktie matching the pastel blue dress of his partner. They made a beautiful, but not out of place picture in the crowd taking their breakfast.

Tony found himself wondering if they already had the clothes ready or if Clint bought it on the fly. It wasn't important, but his mind was locked on the question. Probably because if the archer had bought that, it didn't just mean that he was very skillful at blending in, but also that he was one of the sweetest men Tony had met so far.

A red square flashed over the archer's eyes when his eyes locked on the armor still rather stealthily standing on the roof opposite to their terrace. Tony had JARVIS finding him the military hand gestures that meant he would be there in thirty minutes and flashed it to his newest team-mate.

Barton tilted his head forth a bit, and flagged a waiter down, other hand coming to rest on his girlfriend's cheek.

It didn't take Tony as much time as he had predicted to get into just the right clothes. He definitely had to make sure to give a raise to the ones who stocked ARM's intervention plane with false Alpha olfactory camouflage, false beards, and hair wax. There even was a business suit and briefcase in there.

He found it fun to act like an undercover agent as he slipped back out of the jet fully decked in his armor, got rid of it in a deserted park, sending it back to the ARM jet under JARVIS' piloting, and hailed a taxi to join the spies again.

Barton's eyes locked on him as he slipped out of the cab and walked over to their table purposefully.

“Hello, Mister, Madam. Exited?” He didn't have any trouble faking the not totally truthful smile of a true real estate agent, but since he was totally unable to fake knowing the local language or having the place's accent, he settled for chic British, as if the couple were foreigners, there to buy a secondary residence. Probably not totally in phase with their cover story so far, but they were hiding from paparazzo, not actual spies.

Natasha caught the ball, turning to him with the widest of smiles, hand coming to rest lightly over her stomach in the usual pregnant fashion. “Very.” Her Russian accent was appropriately thick, making her eventual knowledge of the local language not as strange as Tony had first feared.

Tony cooed a bit at the gesture, all faux-happy to know his 'client' was expecting. “Well, then, let's get on with the visits so you can start making a comfortable nest for your little angel as soon as possible.”

Clint smiled too, flagging a waiter for the bill. “The sooner would be the better, but I can still offer you a drink?”

“Better not, my cabbie might get impatient and stop waiting for us...”

Barton nodded, paid the bill, and followed Tony to the cab, circling his girlfriend in his arms, hand resting on her abs in a way that was totally natural for a future dad, and gave Natasha some support to avoid leaning on her bad side too much. The archer was definitely a very thoughtful partner.

Tony kept on the pretense in the car, babbling about the way pregnancy had to tire the lady out (when she blanked a bit after sitting down), or about the supposed security, natural light and space the first apartment offered.

When they were finally alone in the lobby of the apartment building, cab gone after Tony paid him and said the visit might take a while, he turned to his team-mates. “So, impressions?”

“Nine, you might as well have been a real estate agent in another life.” Came Barton's reaction.

“Seven, you kept switching between Winchester and Oxford accents, and you didn't show us any pictures of the place.” Was Nat's verdict, delivered with a sarcastic smile.

“Well, I'll be damned.” He whipped out his phone and called Hill to have one of her underlings come pick them up in a location car and drive them somewhere the jet could pick them up out of public sight.

Keeping a low profile was a pain, but it was the spy duo's wish, so he only complained a little about it.

He still started thinking up the specs of a faster, more easily land-able, jet for the ARM on the way back.

The spies took a single, apartment, designed for one person, and firmly refused Tony's offer to make it more spacious.

What he did for a day after their arrival was NOT sulking, (seriously, Bruce!), he had to sleep and see that his QuinJet 3.0 was ready for manufacturing.

They did accept to test the gadgets he had made for them, though, and elected to give the ARM a hand for a few hours a day both in sorting the information and in combat training. (The training was nice, and probably necessary, but Tony hadn't thought too much about that so far, as most of his ARM effective came from the remains of SHIELD.)

He called Dr Jane Foster, that Thor had spoken of back in the Helicarrier, and offered her to move in the tower, into the quarters he had furnished for Thor, and as much funding and resources as she wanted. She first refused on the basis that she wouldn't get to the top from using her boyfriend's connections, and because there was this strange signal she was tracking and she didn't want to have to give it up in exchange for fundings.

Tony had asked a bit more on the signal, because apparently, each time she'd found one so far it had been pretty serious. This one came from space, but he offered her to continue monitoring from the tower, and to give the info directly to the ARM. The compromises seemed to pacify her, but she then stopped again and said that she still had her intern to consider.

Tony just knew that if he offered to give the girl an apartment too, the scientist would take offense, so he just told her that he had made the Avenger's private quarters pretty roomy, even more so for Thor's because the guy was a prince, and pretty duff, and had a girlfriend, and Tony really wanted him to accept the offer to join his team, so a decent living place was the least he could offer... And that Jane's intern could probably use one of the spare rooms as her bedroom with just a trip to Ikea to furnish it. (Obviously, he wouldn't let something like Ikea furniture get in the special living quarters of his tower, but he didn't want Dr Foster to freak out on him, so he preferred to avoid the words 'custom made'.)

Once Dr Foster was safely settled in in Thor's apartment, unpacking, and her assistant was talking to Hill about the technicalities, Tony left himself relax about that one topic. He would just have to be careful in introducing Jane to her lab and resources. He had a feeling she might run the hills first time she saw them...

He also tried to contact Dr Selvig, on her advice, SHIELD had contracted with him, after all, and he was serious in getting scientists in the tower, Stark Industries didn't thrive from just his genius, after all, and he still liked his company and employees enough to ensure their financial safety, (even after he'd made Pepper CEO of SI) which came from making sure SI had all the best peoples to keep her at the top.

Thor's return prepared to the best of his abilities, Tony got back to the Cap problem.

He was wary of going to them again. He didn't want to come across as pushy.

Anyway, he wouldn't get the Captain to come to the tower for as long as his friend was missing.

Maybe he just had to help get Cap's friend back.

“JARVIS? What are my wonder spies up to?”

“They seem to be training, Sir.”

“Seem?”

“I am unsure training is the best word to describe what they are doing, Sir.”

Tony frowned a bit. “Well, are they clothed?”

“Yes, Sir.” He hadn't imagined that point of humor in his AI's voice..

“Then I guess I'll go and see for myself., Where are they?”

Tony understood JARVIS' hesitation on the training part when he stepped into the range. The two spies were there, sure. Firing on the targets that appeared, moved and disappeared according to the random setting Tony had made for highest difficulty.

But they didn't look like they were training...

They were turned toward each-other, free hands flying between them, (which was impressing, seeing as they still managed to hit every single target, and doubly impressing since Barton needed both hands to fire his arrows, needing the time to pull them out before he could fire at the target, which he still did...) additionally, one Natasha's leg was stretched before her on the weapon tablet.

When he edged in a bit more, hand going to the rack of noise concealing headphone, and saw Natasha's hand shoot out to strike at the archer's ribs. Barton avoided it by bending backward, in a movement that reminded Tony keenly of Matrix, and then his own hand shot out, but to his quiver, and he fired yet another arrow at the moving targets. Arrow that hit dead center, if the archer had been contorting while firing it.

It was Barton who spotted him, since he was facing his way. He made a pair of hand gestures, and Natasha answered in sort, but Barton moved his hands again, then pointed at Tony.

This was definitely sign language, and he understood why they knew it when Barton slipped a pair of technological devices in his ear while Natasha turned to face Tony and removed her headphones.

“You could have told me, you know, I'm pretty sure I can make you way better hearing aids than whatever you have there.” Is the first thing that came to his mind, and he wants to bite his tongue for letting it slip, but it makes both the spies smile! And that is strange, because Natasha never really smiled to him without a purpose, so he kind of fears getting slowly dismembered.

“I like those, they're purple!”

“I can make them better AND purple, stop looking down on me!”

The archer shrugs, and Natasha keeps staring at him, head tilted, reminding him of the actual reason why he came here.

“Would you mind lending me a hand? There is still a wayward assassin to find in order to complete this lovely team...”

Natasha sized him up, eyebrow cocked, but she put her handgun down and got both of her feet back on the ground. “I'll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

Steve stared at the package on the hotel receptionist's desk. A neat, thick aluminum foil letter, with his name, a room number, and the hotel's address under the stamps.

“I didn't take a room yet?”

The receptionist frowned, seemingly disturbed. “The royal suite has been reserved in your name since yesterday, and is prepaid for two weeks, with VIP room service included, that is why we kept your correspondence even though you weren't there yet.”

Steve frowned and shifted a bit, biting his lip. “By who was it reserved?”

The receptionist blinked. “It was reserved under your name, but I wasn't in shift yesterday, so I don't have anymore information for you on that front. And I doubt anyone else does, there is no reason for us to ask that kind of question. Especially since that kind of service is usually taken by couples in their honeymoon...” Her gaze quickly flitted from Steve to Sam, and then back. And Steve saw the curiosity on her face getting carefully covered by professional disinterest.

“That sounds vaguely suspicious...” Said Sam from Steve's elbow, reaching out to flip the letter over.

“So congratulations are not in order...?” The receptionist was now slightly pink in the face.

Sam grinned. “Sadly, no. But seeing as we have a suite without any locks between the rooms, some may be in order tomorrow morning, especially if there is a fully stocked mini bar.”

The receptionist blushed even more, and Steve half chocked on his tongue, emitting a strangled squeak before starting to stutter on the risks of using a room they hadn't even reserved themselves.

He was interrupted by Sam pointedly tapping at the sender's address on the flap of the letter. “I suspect it must have been reserved by Tony, how else would we be getting a letter from the Avengers tower labeled with the number of a ridiculously expensive room that has been reserved on your name?”

Steve came short and peered at the letter.

The return address did spell an address on Broadway, Manhattan, New-York, and there was a “Avenger Tower” written next to the street number...

Also, the flap was held closed by a technological device, stamped with a Stark Industries logo, and had a small manual printed on it, that explained that the package was securized, and would only open if the good fingerprint was flashed over the captor, and that the content would be destructed if the opening was forced.

It seemed pretty genuine, but Steve was almost sure Tony would have flown in himself with his armor if he had wanted to give Steve something.

Almost as soon as this thought surfaced, Steve wanted to kick himself for it. Tony was a busy man, he could not always fly in to them. Steve was not that arrogant, usually.

He still pulled the Aphone (...For Avenger Phone, Tony had said. He liked strange names, it seemed) and pressed speed dial #1.

The line was picked on the second ring. “Well, hello, Captain, what may I do for you?”

Steve told Tony about the situation, still feeling a bit guilty to hog the genius' time for what seemed like such a petty matter, especially after he had turned Tony down and left him to deal with all the special situations on his own...

Tony, however didn't seem like he minded one bit , humming along to Steve's words, and chuckling a bit on the honeymoon part, but when he finally answered, he sounded dead serious, not at all testy or mocking like he had been the first time Steve had seen him (which went a good way to prove it had all been influence from Loki's staff thing...) “Not me... How big do you say the letter is?”

Steve hadn't told Tony how big it was so far, but he answered. (A4 in surface, about an inch thick.) Tony hummed again, Steve heard cloth rustle. “Okay, I activated your Aphone's camera, point it at the device, would you?”

The receptionist looked more and more perplexed as Steve executed the order, and maybe a little anxious...

He brought the phone back to his ear. “Well... It LOOKS genuine, but, please, don't touch it for now, it might also be a knock off. If it's a bomb, something that big could make quite the damage... Also, don't speak about bomb out loud, no need to alarm everyone around you, okay?”

“O-kay...” His voice wavered a bit, and both Sam and the receptionist looked at him with quite a bit of alarm, so he pulled himself back together. Tony was right, panic would not help. When he talked again, it was with an artificially firm voice, the one he had mastered in the USO turn. “So, what happens if it is as you said?”

“Then I suit up and I come to defuse it. If it's a knock-off, then it is likely rigged to explode when you try to unlock it. The danger of waiting is pretty low. After all, any enemy of yours wouldn't have had the exact time when you were with the package. That clicks with the fact that the room was reserved for so long, so, really, no alarm needed, just keep your fingers clear of the fingerprint reader... I'm checking with my supplies of this device now, I normally make them for specific agencies that justify this level of paranoia, and sell them by packs of a hundred securized letters. Not something I'm mass commercializing, so it should be pretty easy to track down... Let's see, picture... serial number twenty seven, thirty five... Ah, found it."

Steve heaved a sigh of relief, that had both the Beta present relaxing. He tensed up a bit when Tony spoke again, but did his best not to let it show. “Huh, that's strange... I didn't sell that one. Wait a minute, … , ah. I think I found... Jarvis? Would you verify if the account I gave Natasha the use of has been used for an hotel suite reservation?”

Natasha. That was already pretty reassuring, so he did repeat the name out loud, questioningly for Sam and the receptionist's sake. Sam heaved a sigh, and the receptionist swallowed, slumping a bit, pacified by Sam's reaction.

“Yup. Lured her over to the Avenger side with promises of cookies and deadly weapons.” Came Tony's flippant and absolutely not serious answer. The first time he had done this kind of thing, it had grated on Steve's nerves, but he really appreciated it now. Especially since his chuckle visibly reassured his two spectators a bit more.

“There has been a transaction of ten thousands six hundreds eighty nine dollars twenty six cents to the Hillside hotel, in New Zealand, from the account you lent to Romanova, Sir. It comes with a note, do you wish to hear it?” Said a smooth British accentuated voice that Steve assumed was Jarvis. Steve tried not to swallow his tongue at the amount announced. He still managed to smile as Tony urged the man to read the note. “It says 'Since you apparently did not contact Sharon, as you promised, dumb-ass, I am giving you a chance to make a move on the one you preferred to spend your time with instead of her. I absolutely do not judge you for your preferences, but you could have told me, I'd have varied my suggestions accordingly. Anyway, you've been on the road for a while, and the amount I paid the hotel for your suite is not reimbursable. Enjoy your honeymoon.' And then three heart symbols.”

The smooth, slightly sarcastic way the British man delivered the message clashed with it's content, but it had Steve blush and splutter while Tony laughed warmly. “Wait, no I don't, we don't...”

“No use telling ME that, Cap. Anyway, you can probably assume that both the suite and the letter are safe... Well, except maybe for sex toys in the bedsides tables...” He laughed again, and Steve was torn between righteous indignation and a warm feeling that curled in his stomach at hearing the Omega chuckle happily while speaking about sex right in his ear. He was pretty glad to be wearing thick jeans, right this moment, even if it was slightly uncomfortable.“If you want to pick this bone with Natasha, though, she's speed dial #3 on your Aphone, two is Sam, four is Barton, and five is Bruce, by the way. Star is ARM's hotline, for mildly important stuff, and zero will connect you directly to Hill, if there is a high clearance needed. Sam has the same set, except the second is you. If you were wondering. And yes, I hogged first speed dial on all of the Aphone (well, except mine), and it's totally okay because I was the one to program them. Will that be all?”

Steve would have taken this last sentence for a simple dismissal and demand to free the genius' time, if not for the purring, playful tone of it, that had him stumbling on his reply. “Huh, yeah, it's it's cool, thanks for everything, Tony... Sorry for the disturbance...”

“It was a pleasure, you should call me more often, honey.”

Steve gaped as the warm laugh washed over him again, doing something strange to his insides, and the signal got cut.

“Still as much of a firecracker?” Sam asked with a smile, looking vaguely supportive.

“Uhh... Yeah. ... . It's Nat's doing. She... Wishes us an enjoyable honeymoon...”

Sam snorted, and extended his hand to the receptionist for the room key. She surrendered it quietly, if with a slightly dazed expression. She had no reason to cause a fuss, seeing as she'd presented them with the package when Steve had flashed her his ID.

Steve took the letter from the counter and and hit Natasha's speed dial touch as they headed for the lift.

They opened the letter, that was actually keyed on Sam's fingerprints, contrary to what the address would have anyone believe, (thanks Natasha for thinking to let us know about that beforehand too...) with minimal (he was not that childish, and anyway, arguing with Nat didn't do any good to anyone) bickering, name calling or unwanted advice.

When they saw what had been inside of the letter, Steve forced the distracting thoughts, of who Tony had as speed dial one, away. (Was it uncharitable to wonder if it was his lawyers? It would probably be Banner, though, they had struck a very quick friendship, even under Loki's staff influence, so Tony would probably think of him first.)

Natasha had sent them a pretty impressive wad of Intel on Bucky.

Steve wondered how she believed he'd stay there in an hotel room (even an incredibly expensive one) for two whole weeks when he was probably the closest to finding his friend as he had ever been so far.

He understood when he read the spy's letter.

Natasha had, probably intentionally, but it may also be because she didn't have actual leads too, put up a file about Bucky's “life”. All his background information. What happened when he was in Hydra's clutches, where he'd been since he flew from Hydra, a few patterns she had recognized...

But nothing more recent than the already cold trail that had led Sam and Steve halfway across the world to New Zealand and it's late October's early summer.

'Know your target.' Natasha's letter said. 'Their habit and their reflexes, the way they think, their favorite weapon, hairstyle and sleeping position. Know everything, even what you don't think you will have to use, and so you will be able to understand them. To predict them.'

Steve knew that, of course. It was something he had done, on a smaller scale, when he was chasing Hydra. He had just refused to do that for Bucky.

He had refused to admit that his friend. Damn, his brother in heart, was no longer someone he knew inside and out by heart. Steve wondered when he had started to be blind to Bucky's changes. Maybe he could have known about the enhancement, if he had paid attention to the changes in his wing man, instead of denying them with all his might.

It was time he changed that.

Bucky may have changed. He would still be Steve's brother, and Steve had to understand and support him through it, not to deny his right to do so.

When he whispered that final realization, Sam patted his back companionably, and declared he had known Steve would finally get that at one point or another.

Steve had sucked in a breath, and looked over at his friend. (Maybe more. Maybe Tasha was right and he ought to use the opportunity to be more. She was right about Bucky.) Sam had beamed at him and asked how they were splitting the documents.

Steve had squeezed his eyes tight and answered that they would be making one stack on strategic things and one on habits and other history. That they would read their own stack, then exchange, so they both were prepared.

Then he got up, and he added that before they started, they would eat dinner and sleep.

Sam had nodded, satisfied. He had never said as much to Steve directly, but he had been worried about the way Steve had been overworking himself searching for Bucky.

Steve had known he was distressing his new (and literal) wing man. He hadn't admitted that either. He had been so stupid, for so long. He was lucky to have friends that still put up with him, and helped him.

Steve's cup of coffee fell from his hand.

He hadn't been totally awake. A bit on the automatic side. Already knowing he's have to read the papers again later, but the fuzzyness and the filtering of too scientific words had seemed like a good way to leave himself a marge. To let him get a clue of what happened to Bucky, get a bit accustomed to the horror with quick scan of the documents before he dug in it in all it's details.

It had backfired.

The part about the arm... It had stung, but Steve had seen the metal prosthesis, he was already partly guarded against words such as 'spinal chord link', 'left scapula's reinforcements', 'special collarbone screws' or 'replacing the ribs'.

What he didn't have a single measure of mental protection ready for had been the 'oviduct removal successful', jumping to his eyes in the middle of a page of mingled mumbo-jumbo that he hadn't tried to make sense of.

Sam jumped when the porcelain chattered, splashing the coffee all around.

The black Beta cursed, then saw the vacant stare Steve was fixing on him, and seemingly forgot all about the coffee. “Steve. Steve, are you OK?”

Steve swallowed. There were shivers running all along his skin, and he knew he had to be trembling. “Can't make eggs.”

Sam frowned, carefully set down the document he was reading, and got up. He didn't look half as horrified as the situation asked for.

It hit Steve that his mumble hadn't been precise enough and that Sam may have thought Steve was talking of breakfast, of bird's eggs, when Sam continued to fix him with an interrogative gaze as he walked over. “They, they... Bucky... Can't make eggs... No more.”

Steve saw understanding dawn on Sam in the way he stopped completely, swallowed too, then opened his mouth a couple of times. 'shock'. This was the shock stage.

Sam's jaw clenched, fists balling until his knuckles lost most of it's color, and he started to breathe hard. 'anger'.

Steve idly wondered why HE wasn't angry too.

Ah, yeah, still in shock.

Anger would come later.

When he was done processing.

He hoped it would be quick, he really wanted to be angry.

Very angry

Bucky would never be able to be a mom.

Hydra had taken that from him.

That bunch of Nazi bastards had stolen Bucky's choice to ever lay his very own egg from him.

Steve wanted to punch someone.

Preferably the ones who did this to his friend. And the ones who gave the orders. And the bastard that guarded the door while a part of his brother's life had been cut away from him.

And himself, for letting Bucky fall from that damned train, not coming to find him and letting him in Hydra's evil clutches.

Sam shook out of it first, slipped his own stack back in the envelope, (it was all about Bucky's strategic choices, and didn't feel as important, compared to... THAT) slipped it under his arm, grabbed for Steve's stack of documents... (Steve could not really make out what Sam had in head, but he knew he was probably the one more fit for taking a reasonable decision right now, he didn't really know Bucky, so he wasn't quite as stricken as Steve.)

Sam called the room service, saying that there was a mess to clean up in the kitchen, but that no one was to get in the bedroom.

Steve knew he would have blushed to the tone and turn of Sam's words, had he not been so engulfed by the grief Bucky's fate brought him.

Strangely, his logical brain was still running, under all the mess, and he knew that Sam's insinuation that they would be intimate was the best way to avoid prying eyes. He should approve. He couldn't care.

Sam tugged him in the bed, put the envelope and the documents on the bedside table, and climbed in with Steve.

Steve spent most of the morning crying. Sam cried a bit too, either by sympathetic pain, or because he was upset too.

Steve remembered that he'd once refused to lean on Bucky and cry when his mother had died.

God had he been stupid, back then.

It was pitch black outside. The lights were on, an the lights were on. Steve and Sam were leaning against the headboard, all the medical and procedural reports spread before them.

They needed to know what exactly had been done to Steve's best friend.

It was fortunate that the serum had cured the headaches he used to have when he cried too long, of the afternoon-long nap would not have been enough to put him back in a vaguely cognitive shape.

The serum also made his stomach more solid, and he really think he would have been sick, otherwise.

The sickness was only mental, now.

Sam has helped him make sense of the biological speech in the documents, as apparently people growing up in Sam's time did learn the full scale of all genders and types reproductive organs. (When Steve was in school, it was... different. Steve didn't even really know how HE worked, let alone the name of all the different parts of an Omega's reproductive system.)

So it appears that Hydra 'only' took away Bucky's second uterus and his oviduct, everything had been left alone. Or more like, deliberately preserved, if the note about how the medic who accidentally damaged his tubules was anything to go by.

Sam had said that he would have drawn a chart and schema of the Omegan reproductive system if he hadn't believed it to only serve in confusing Steve further, “because Omega have really complicated duct work in there.”

Steve had nodded. He had nodded again when Sam had said he would explain everything, because he didn't know how far Steve's knowledge of this went, or how much of it was wrong.

So an Omega's anus connected to their cloaca, that in turn was connected to the rectum, and from there to the digestive system; to the pseudo-vagina, here the cervix was, and thus the start of the 'female' reproductive course; and to the end of the oviduct, the ovisac, where the finished egg was stored until the Omega was in an environment where he could safely lay it.

Each opening into the cloaca was kept closed by a ring of muscles when it was not used, and the cloaca itself was self cleaning thanks to the same glands that lubricated it to prepare for sexual intercourse.

Omegan anuses were capable of stretching wide enough to lay the egg or detach from a fully formed knot if needed without any injuries thanks to the way the muscles were disposed, and because the cloaca skin could get pulled outward when a large object got out, and was very elastic. (So yeah, it doesn't sound very sexy, but then again, birthing or getting caught by a predator while stuck together was neither Steve or Sam's idea of sexy... And the fact that the cloaca skin lubricated had to help in the swift expulsion of large a object, too.)

The cloaca was a pretty wide tube, if not very deep. The rectum connected the closest to the anus, from behind, well in line with the spine, the ovisac connected higher, vertically to the anus, and just a little higher still, was the belt of muscles that marked the start of the pseudo-vagina, before finally leaving space for the cervix. (All that, Steve already knew.)

The shape came in handy because of the nature of knotting itself, and because a tight channel was not the best to safely lay an egg. When there was knotting, the belt of muscle contracted, insuring that all the sperm stayed in the pseudo-vagina, and the glands in this antechamber started delivering substances that killed all the gametes that had a genetic tare. It was the whole reason Omega almost never had stillborn, they didn't leave much up to chance in the creation of a healthy child.

From there on, the still surviving spermatozoon went into the tubules, where the Omega body could keep them alive for up to three months.

When in heat, the omegas could introduce the gametes into the first uterus, that was about as big as a cherry, and deliver ovules along with them to create up to a hundred zygotes at once.

From the first uterus, there were canals that led to the second uterus, where a zygote could be grown into a fetus for five months before getting pushed down the oviduct; another canal that led to the penis, enabling Omegas to inject the fully formed cells into a woman's womb, even if they mostly did it if the woman proved unable to produce an ovule even when the Omega is sending the signals demanding that she does.

The big thing on Omegas, the thing scientists were still pretty amazed about, was the third duct going from the first uterus, because it went into another gland that separated the zygote again into primary gametes, mobile ovules or sperm. The new gametes with mixed genetics from the Omega and the sperm's 'donor', went back into the pseudo-vagina, and were sorted again with the same substances as the first time, before going into a separate tubule. (Omegas would not want to have sex while doing this and if they tried anyway, the muscles to the 'vagina' would stay closed)

The circle with the tubules, first uterus, division, vagina, and tubules again could be ran multiple times by the Omega body, meaning, first, that even if they had only had unprotected sex once, one year ago, the could still eventually produce a child from it, seeing as everything turned and was kept alive by their system, and second, that an Omega child could have (very) multiple natural parents.

Omega were also able to impregnate a woman with either just their own sperm, or any of their mixed gametes, or, as said earlier, with an already fecundated ovule, though the choice between those options happened instinctively

Apparently (and that still baffled the science) Omegas where also able to avoid doubloons in the genetic code, and instinctively could 'chose' what part to keep, and what part to ditch, and to make sure that the child would be genetically closer to whoever they estimated would help them raise the kid.

This whole system was part of the reason why Omegas were instinctively pushed to sleep with as many people as possible, too.

(This all, Steve didn't know, and couldn't have back in his time because it was not fully understood yet, though some old woman tales pointed similar things.)

The others thing about Omegas was that their testicles were totally retractable, and did go up to be warmer in the cases where they need to work as ovaries; (a bit to technical, but Steve didn't really pretend he understood everything, also, it was a part of the things Bucky had told him when he was going through puberty and was a bit freaked to find out that he was an Omega and not an Alpha as almost everyone had believed up until then.) and the indent they had at the very base of their penis, (that was, by the way, one of the most sensitive place they had, along with the spot where the spot they had not far from the cloaca, that worked almost like an Alpha of Omega prostate, but was somewhat different...) that corresponded with the place female Alpha's 'knotting muscles' were. Omega nature seemed to really favor knotting.

So, the parts that had been removed in Bucky were his second uterus, the one where the baby grew up until they became almost too big and started to hamper the Omega's movements and chances of survival.
(Omega were far better prepared to deal with pregnancy than women, and normally stayed fit for it all... Which was better in an evolutionary perspective both for their chances to survive their own pregnancies, and for their ability to take care of the kid once he was born.)
(The care was further helped by the fact that the egg stayed an egg for four whole months, so it's mother had time to recover from the pregnancy and egg laying, which still wasn't all that enjoyable, even if Omegan eggs were only as wide as a five to six months old foetus, and not as a fully formed baby, the membrane being supple when first laid and only getting tougher in two hours after getting in free air, so they were very oblong while going out, and resumed to a more round/oval shape afterward.)

The other thing missing, was, as Steve had first spotted, the oviduct, the tube the foetus went through to get coated with the yolk it would need in order to grow up without it's parent's life support, and that then made the membrane and shell. It also made pure yolk eggs, the size of a chicken's that Omegas fed their child in complement of breastfeeding, since they didn't grow boobs, and thus couldn't make as much milk as a woman.

At first, Steve only took in the information Sam was telling him, but as he understood Omega reproduction better, he felt a whole new level of dread and anger set in. “Wait. You mean they made sure he could still use his Omegan system to create babies, but removed the part that makes him bear it himself?”

Sam glanced down at the sheet that detailed the operation process (all in cold words and technical terms, as if they had just been changing a bike engine, not messing with a living person's organs). “Yeah.”

“It makes me want to puke, but I can understand why they didn't want him to get pregnant...” Steve allowed, still queasy. (But he did, an assassin would be more useful if he stayed childless...) “But why the fuck would they have bothered to keep everything else intact?”

The question was almost rhetorical.

Sam had spent the fifteen last minutes explaining him exactly all the way in which an Omega's child was better than anyone else's, even if they didn't bear it themselves.

The implications were frightening him.

They found the documents.

The ones that said, in as clinic terms as everything else, that they had triggered 'the asset's' heat and had introduced him to Hydra's best Alphas.

The ones that said that one of them had bitten Bucky, and had committed suicide when the bond withdrawal had hit him, (it made a fierce happiness bloom in Steve's chest, at least one of the bastards had gotten what he deserved, although not as violently as he'd have preferred...) it just added that 'the assets' bond was stronger and that caution had to be used (Steve wanted to punch something).

The ones that said that 'the asset' had been put in heat and been introduced to female Alphas.

The one that said the female Alpha hadn't gotten pregnant and suggested they switched to Betas.

The ones that said Betas hadn't gotten pregnant either and labeled the 'talent nursery' a failure.

They had raped Bucky.

Repeatedly.

And they had made reports about it.

Fucking clinical reports on RAPES!

Steve and Sam decided that they would study all the other info, that they would be sure to be able to help Bucky.

They also decided that for as long as they didn't have a lead on Bucky's position, they'd fucking decimate Hydra.

Chapter Text

Tony would normally have ignored the phone. He was soldering the finest links of his new 'sidecar' armor, that would permit him to bring a passenger along on fast, long rides. (It would be awkward, and not all that aesthetic, but Tony had a team now (well, beginnings of one, anyway), so it was better that he could help evacuate them if it was needed.)

So, the meticulous clockwork-like details he was bent on would have given him reason enough to ignore the call, or have JARVIS hang up on it. Except the ring tone was 'The star spangled man with a plan' and Tony was not very eager to ignore the Captain.

Especially since he had only called once in two months since getting the phone, and it was for something important. (Sure, it wasn't actually a bomb, but Tony didn't like to take chances with that kind of things, especially not when there were civilians around.) (Tony had still stuck a note to the comunal kitchen's fridge demanding that the spy acted less like a creepy stalker. He had other things to do than worry about harmless letters and flirting with one of the finest specimens of male Alpha.)

He carefully set down the delicate pieces he was working with and had JARVIS connect the call to the room's loudspeakers, putting his soldering iron down in it's hold at the same time.

“Hey, honey, what can I do for you?” Tony did know that he was a bit too shameless in his flirting with dear old Steve, but the guy didn't seem all that disturbed by it, anyway. He pulled up the hologram of a project that wasn't too complicated, so he could fiddle with it while still paying attention to the Captain.

“Hello, Tony... Would you help me get revenge?” And Tony knew the shiver that ran up his spine at the dark, angry voice was absolutely not appropriate. He pushed the holograph of Clint's new quiver away with a wave of the hand. This had to be serious, Cap seemed like way too much of an upstanding man to seek vengeance this way.

He didn't let one bit of flirtiness or suggestion creep in his voice as he answered. He didn't want Steve to hate him, or to think he didn't have any empathy. “Hydra?”

“Yes.” And the loathing clinging to his voice had Tony decide he'd help. He would have anyway, probably, but he wouldn't play games with Steve's emotions.

“Ok. What do you need?” He had always liked neat and straight-forward, he suspected Steve would too, in this case. “Information, money, transport, materiel, weapons, backup?”

He heard Steve take a surprised inhale at the other side of the phone. “Just like that?”

Tony felt mildly irritated at the Captain disbelief, he surely didn't come across as such a selfish asshole? “You asked. Did you do it thinking I would turn you down?”

“No! I... I thought you would ask why?” He sounded a bit bewildered, and a bit contrite, and also a bit relieved. Tony decided to let it slip.

“I am curious of your reasons, why you only want revenge now, even if I suspect that it is Natasha's letter. I'm curious of what horrible thing you discovered that would make you angry enough to reach out to me, since you haven't wanted to do it so far...” Tony sighed. He didn't want to play the counselor. He was totally not suited to counseling anyone. “But the fact is that you reached out to me. I won't look at the gift horse in the mouth. I just help you, and maybe you'll end up trusting me sometime soon, who knows? Also, if you want to tell me what they did to your Omega to make you that angry, I will listen and plan accordingly, but I won't withhold anything to get these info.”

“Sorry. I wasn't trying to... You just... Aren't you busy?” The genuine apology pacified Tony a bit.

Still not enough to just let it lie, but enough that when he talked again, it was with more relaxed tone. “That, my dear, is for me to decide... And for Pepper to nag me over. But she doesn't do it as much anymore, and she is CEO while I am just consulting, so I am be free enough to offer help to my team-mates. What about I send a jet to pick you up? This way I can show you firsthand what I can do for you.”

He only then realized how much of an innuendo was under that one. Well, not like Tony would be opposed to applying any of his innuendos, especially with someone as well built as Captain America. And he had meant it in a mostly innocent way, anyway.

“Hu... You would? Ah, sorry yes, you would... I mean no need to rush, we have a place to stay at and some homework to do, so, huh, no need to you know... Be overly expensive on our behalf...” Tony smiled. Cap sure was cute...

“Spoilsport. But sure, I'll have JARVIS arrange it and call you again when the place and time is chosen.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Good. JARVIS, you're taking care of that. Do you want me to talk with Barton and Romanov in your behalf, or do you prefer to do it face to face?”

“At once, Sir.” And there were some mechanical inflexions in his voice that made Tony think that JARVIS had an opinion on the way Tony was handling this. Probably positive.

“I'll talk to them when I'm there... Huh, Tony?”

“Yes?”

“Don't you...” Tony heard him decide not to ask his question. It stung a bit, but after an inhale, Steve blurted another one. “Who's your speed dial one?”

Speed dial... Oh, the Aphones... “It's JARVIS.”

“Jarvis... Why don't we have him?” He sounded curious, and... Hurt. It made Tony smile a bit.

“Because you've got me. JARVIS is almost always with me when I answer, and he will be the one to answer the Avengers calls in my stead if I can't.” but he still could add him in the contact list, now that he thought about it, JARVIS had to be as much of an Avenger as Sam.

Tony looked out of the kitchen window at the street that was no longer lined with red trees. “Winter is coming.” Okay. It was kind of lame. But Tony took care to only say it once a year. And as a Stark, he totally could say this kind of stuff.

“So it would seem, Sir. Do I need to make sure The Wall is secure?” JARVIS was definitely mocking him...

Oh. Yes! Tony had to make something that could go with the W.A.L.L. initials! And with a E section, so he could double up the fun with WALL-E jokes! He said so to JARVIS, who feigned thinking it was a good idea. Joke would be on him, he'd agreed!

“And I'm totally making a Stark mobile! Black and silver, shape of a wolf head!”

“I find it strange that a Stark is wearing the Lannister colors.” Barton said from the table. Tony didn't hear him come in... Needed more coffee.

“I am totally secure in my love for Tyrion Lannister. He's totally the more badass and human Beta of the bunch. And 'hear me roar' is so much more impressive than 'winter is coming'. Plus red and gold are the Griffindor colors!”

Clint smiled, , grinned. “So you identify as a Griffindor. I'd thought you would be a Ravenclaw... So is Bruce the Ravenclaw?”

“First, I'd rock the Ravenclaw, but out there fighting, I'm totally a Griffindor! And Bruce would say he's a Ravenclaw, but it's obvious he's also part of the Griffindors too. What would YOU be?”

“I'd totally be a Hufflepuff! Hard work and patience are my allies, out there with a bow!”

“I would have thought of you as a Griffindor, you know, jumping from roofs and all...”

Natasha surprised him by answering to that. (Damned spies, appearing out of nowhere without a sound, they'll give Tony a heart attack one of those days.) “Going by that, we'd all be Griffindors, you know. And I know for certain that I am a Slitherin!”

Tony gaped at her for a while. “That's it, I'll have the Avenger's A framed in a Griffindor blazon. Also, yes, Slitherin without a doubt, you're hogging all the cunning to yourself in there. Cap's a Griffindoor, though, brave up to recklessness... And Probably Thor too. Wonder what our Falcon would be?”

Natasha shrugged. “I'm pretty good at finding out, but... I don't want to go and say Griffindor. … Hufflepuff, then. Loyal and generous. But anyway, the Hogwarts' houses chart is not the best one. It's pretty evident that it's fiction.”

“Don't talk about Harry Potter that way!” She raised her eyebrows at the cup Tony pointed her way.

“Stark? What's your sleep/work ratio?”

Tony blinked at her. “On the day, or the week?”

JARVIS (traitor that he was) didn't even wait for the spy to answer. “to day's is around a fiftieth, on the week... Close to the twentieth.”

Natasha took on an expression that was so very Pepper like, that Tony started to back off. Slowly. Elevator doors were not far, he could make a dash for them and go hide in his workshop.

She started moving on his third step, caught up to him before he'd ran five.

He found himself flattened on the floor, his coffee cup safely cradled in Natasha's hands, Natasha seemingly sitting on his back.

And... No! She WASN'T drinking HIS coffee, was she?

She was.

Tony didn't dare protest. There was something pointy in his neck. A shoe heel...

“I give! Release me!”

Natasha tilted forward, her pretty face coming in full focus. “Here are the condition on your release: you get in this elevator, go to your room, get under the cover, and keep your eyes closed for at least four hours.”

“Don't you prefer money? I've got money!”

“I thought SI didn't pay ransom?” Barton was way too cheery about Tony's bad fortune. His new quiver was going to the bottom of the to-do list. And he said so, to JARVIS. Barton pouted, but he'd deserved it. Anyway, he was still starring at Natasha with dead fish eyes, as if bullying Tony to bed was some sort of a foreplay.

Natasha continued, unperturbed. “And I want special authorization to override all the protocols you engage from now and up until the deal is done, so I can come and enforce it if JARVIS tells me you're cheating.”

“JARVIS is MY ally!”

The spy's smile froze Tony's blood in his veins. “And that's why he'll do what is needed for your own health.”

No wheedling could get him out of that one. He agreed and stormed out. (To his room, because he didn't have a death wish.)

Sleep was still as hard to get by as ever, and the four hours of closed eyes were almost up before he slid into an agitated sleep.

Tony was putting the finishing touches to the blueprints of his new lion armor. (Because he was too a Griffindor. At least when he was in the armor. Yeah, he may be a bit on the sleep-deprived side, but he'd never used to sleep all that much, even before Afghanistan or New-York...) Shut up, JARVIS, the lion armor IS useful! The tail helps in flight stabilization. And the mane is made of detachable handy grenades (sound, flash, EMP, smoke, blast...).

“Sir, Captain Roger and mister Wilson will land in fifty minutes.”

Tony raised his head. “Oh? Well, look after the house, and make sure the bots don't touch the Captain's new bike, I'm going to fetch them.”

The bots whirred sadly at the rebuff, but the paint job was pretty amazing, and Tony would rather it got wrecked in battle than by a pair or curious clutzs.

The ride over to the airport was definitely nowhere near as fun as I used to be in Malibu, and driving his bright red convertible at the start of fall in town was pretty smelly.

He got there with time to spare. It wasn't really like him, but then, he liked to be unpredictable. Maybe he should show up early to one of the meetings Pepper always forced him to attend? It would render things delightfully chaotic.

Little boring, though.

But it wouldn't be said that Stark was not a resourceful man. He pulled the earpiece from his pocket. It doubled as a homing device for his armors, even if that functioned via a very specific vibration in the communication pattern. Less obvious than the bracelet, very hard to decipher, easily replaceable once the trick is about to be found. Tony was pretty found of his one-shot, it made reverse engineering and preventing him just that much more difficult.

Calling JARVIS was nothing more than a formality. Asking him to read the numbers about Extremis and asking him to run new types of calculus on it in a way that wouldn't make people around him was a bit more tricky. Tony have always loved a challenge.

The arrival board flashed the gate for the plane from Los Angeles. Tony would never have made his friends take a commercial flight (especially one with a stopover) , normally, but JARVIS insisted that it would probably make the Captain more comfortable. Which was silly, because commercial flights were definitely nothing like comfortable in Tony's mind. At least, it had been first class seats.

He was looking for a tall blond walking together with a black man, pretty easy. He settled against the glass wall in front of the gate, waiting for his two heroes to show up. Baggage check out happened before the passengers got out, so he may be in for a long wait.

He spotted his comrades on the custom line and was waving at them so they'd know where to look, when a sense of alert came by him.

It was the type of alert that came from his Omega instincts. Some scent or another was prompting action from him. He took a deep sniff, trying to spot what was triggering that.

Industrial grade cleaning products, cologne, sweat, Alpha scents of tiredness, or relief, some agressivity...

Aggressive musk.

That was a mood scent. It meant something along the lines of 'back-off or I'll bite your head off', and both Alpha and Omegas could make it. Except that to an Omega's nose, it pushed instinct to act and help the victim if it was emitted by another Omega, and to actually back-off if came from an Alpha.

He felt protective, so it was likely an Omega.

His nose pointed him the direction. There was a young, tanned, blond Omega, with the typical long legs, wiry muscled frame, light dip in the waist just above the hip and slightly rounded facial features. He was holding an impressive black and yellow trekking backpack up against his leg, and frowning at the big Alpha that seemed to be backing him up against the wall under the pretense of helping him with his luggage.

Tony was pretty glad to have learned army sign language (not just for Barton! There were cases, like this, where it could come in handy) when he was able to get Sam's attention and signaled his that he (point the chest) smelled (finger on the nose) something suspicious (right hand on the left wrist) that way (point the direction) and that he (point chest again) was going to verify (thrust forward with the arm in the correct direction).

Steve frowned, but Sam made the gesture for understanding (circle with the thumb and index, everything else straight-up) Steve and him (circling gesture upward) would join (hand move in the right direction) in (tap the watch) five (well... five fingers) minutes (fist with the index crooking out).

Sign language was pretty neat, Tony would see if he could also learn the official American Sign Language. And teach it to the team, too, it did come in handy (but Clint's quiver was still at the bottom of the to-do list).

Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. Not the best to stay incognito (since he tended to always wear them) But he was in jeans and sweater, so he still had a hope.

“Come on, Alex, I'll offer you a drink. You can't just leave like that, it's fate, I tell you. Just one. I'll carry your bag...”

Wow. He was still on that line when it had to be at least a full minute since he started arguing... The guy had to be very resistant to the word 'no'. This was annoying , even as a simple spectator. “I said get lost! Seat placing in a plane does not make anyone soulmates...”

Ugh, and to think the flight from Los Angeles took five hours and a half... No wonder 'Alex' was at the end of his rope. Tony stepped forward, smoothly avoiding the burly Alpha to clap the young man on the shoulder. “Hey there, sweetheart, surprised to see me?”

Alex jumped a bit, and looked around warily, but Tony was exuding the same 'leave me alone' smell as Alex, now (it was a sympathy reaction, and something that was supposed to hint your opponent that he was getting outnumbered... No such luck for them, though, the guy seemed too stupid and arrogant to take them as a menace) and that told him what he probably started guessing already.

“Yeah, I am. You didn't have to do that, you know, I can take the cab.”

Tony's nose-wrinkle had nothing of an act in it, cab were terrible. “And loose a full hour of your company? You know I wouldn't do that.” The Alpha creep was starring at them with a half frown.

The blond sighed theatrically. “You're such a sap!” And Tony suddenly found himself with an armful of Omega. Not that he was complaining, he did Omegas too. And Alex was a decent kisser.

The Alpha seemed to shake off from the shock, moving as if to grab Alex's wrist.

Tony caught the hand on the fly, feigning a genuine handshake. “Thank you for entertaining him, I was worried he'd miss me, up there with no phone signal... Well, now, Al, I've got to move the car quickly, or we'll have to pay the park...”

The problem with that plan was that the backpack was not on Alex's back, and not shaped in a way that permitted to just carry it like a suitcase. And the guy still hadn't gotten the message.

“But who are you? Why didn't Alex tell me about you?”

Tony slid his glasses off, starring at the guy. “Why should he have? Is there any law that forces plane passengers to tell their neighbor when they are homosexual?”

This kind of sentence was risky, and Tony would not have tried it if he hadn't been sure he could win this had it to turn into a fistfight.

It didn't have to come to that, though, because then Tony's pair of heroes got past the gate.

He interrupted the harasser’s embarrassing fumble for word (that would probably have ended up in something homophobe while trying to seem accepting, like, 'oh, no problem, I can get you both'). “Look, Sam and Steve finished the custom! Steve! This way!”

The result was... Spectacular. Steve smiled, and started walking their way, Sam at his side. Big burly Alpha took a look at the both of them... And took a step back.

It was kind of insulting that he only saw the big males as a menace, but then again, it worked.

Steve may not have known the bluff, but his crisp way of speaking, and the (probably deliberate) casual words he used worked a charm. “Hi Tony. Steve reporting back to the madhouse.”

“It's not a madhouse!” Behind Tony's back, he heard the creep give Alex an awkward 'see you another time' and scamper off.

“Oh, I should not have listened to Natasha's tales of the goings in the tower, then?” And then, ignoring any (probably brilliant) answer Tony could give, he turned to Alex. “Hey. Want me to-” The helpful voice and hand gesture to Alex's trekking backpack had the young Omega growling. “... Help you shrug that on?”

Steve's sheepish voice had Alex blinking. “Oh. Yes, sorry. It's just... I don't need help to carry my own bag, I'm an Omega, not an elderly...”

Steve snorted. “I can do the difference, trust me. My Omega best friend used to be stronger than me. Even now, it's a pretty close match.”

Alex crouched to loosen the backpack's straps, then left Steve hold it up long enough for him to put it on, fasten the different clasps, and tighten everything back to the correct setting.

“So...” Tony started, mildly awkward. “If you really intended to grab a cab, I may be able to give you a lift. I still have a free seat. We're headed to Manhatan... Huh... Alex?”

“Summers. Alex Summers. Thanks for your help?”

Tony considered for a second, but his inner Diva demanded that he made a show. “Tony. Tony Stark. And those fine specimens here are Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.”

They smiled and waved, while Alex was blinking wildly. “You're kidding me, right! There's no way I was randomly saved from some random creep by Iron Man and Captain America! This kind of thing does not happen!”

They smiled. (Except Sam, who war grumbling about being some chopped liver that no one noticed. Tony groped his ass and said he was noticed alright. It didn't make it better.)

As it turns out, Alex had to go to Westchester, and he had planned to call his brother for pick-up after the landing, because otherwise he (Scott, apparently) would have been there half an hour early, and Alex did't like it when his brother goes too over the top in the name of brotherly affection.

Anyway, a lift to Manhattan would save Alex's brother a whole hour of driving, so he had accepted Tony's offer.

Tony liked Alex, and it was not because of how well he kissed. (Because Tony still had sense enough to know that he had to be, like twice as old as the kid.) It was strange, since he'd started gathering his stray heroes, how he found himself liking more and more people. Maybe he had changed?

(But if it was true, it meant it was Pepper dumping him that had made him change, and that sure wasn't a thought he wanted to dwell on.)

Chapter Text

Alex looked at Tony Stark's trunk. “Sorry, but I don't think it'll fit in” (It was only then that his thought process matched up and he almost blushed at his own words. Well, at least, it didn't sound like too much of an innuendo to outsiders...) It was true. His trekking bag could go in, but there would be no way to add the two cases, duffel bag and two cabin bags on top of that.

Funny how he'd became a mite shy after learning the identity of the guy he hadn't hesitated to kiss ten minutes earlier.

Said guy peered over Alex shoulder, in his beautiful red convertible's sport car sized trunk, (that already held a suspiciously shiny and red case,) and winced. “I definitely have to make some cool new luxury car with a decent import capacity.”

Smiling, Alex stepped back. “It's alright, you know. My brother can also pick me up...”

He gestured for Sam and freaking Captain Dorito to put their own cases and duffel in the car, alone, it could fit, and they were the ones Tony Stark had came to pick up, after all

“There should be space between the back seats to put that, if it's you and Sam on either side.” Came Stark's calculating voice. Captain Dorito's face lighted up at the suggestion, making Alex conscious of how downcast the guy had been when Alex had suggested to go on his own... Strange...

“Sure, let's do that.” Sam pulled Alex to the rear door, and within the ten next minute, He was exiting the John Fitzgerald Kennedy airport ground in Iron Man's car.

The meltdown could wait, for now, he had a brother to call. Pulling his phone out of his Jean pocket demanded some squirming (that wasn't made easier by the bag against his side), but he managed. He just had to hit the call button twice, since Scott had been the last person to call him.

Which was why he'd taken the first plane back to New York. Some bad guy had apparently sequestrated a pair of mutants, and professor Xavier was worried his usual strike team wouldn't be enough for the scale of the enemy they would have to go up again to free them.

Alex had left Xavier's school as soon as he had learned to control his powers. He didn't think it was selfish. He had finished his high-school cycle, and he'd never made it all the way to the X-men strike team. He had also known that the resentments on how his brother was there, and not him would only have soured their relation. He would had nagged, and pouted, and worried, and Scott and him would have ended up hating each-other and themselves.

But when the day before Scott had called, apologetic and worried, he hadn't hesitated one second. He had pulled an internet window up on his laptop, and asked if he should take the evening, night, or morning plane. The relief in his big brother's voice when he had said that anytime in the two next day was good had triggered something in Alex. He had finally understood that his taking distances to cope with being left out of the grown-up's game had actually made Scott think Alex hated him.

Alex would have to make sure to give his bro a hug when he saw him.

“Alex? I couldn't reach you, are you alright? Did you take a plane ticket, already?” Alex smiled. His brother was such a mother-hen

“Just landed, actually.”

“What? You could have told me when you embarked, I would have been waiting for you with the car!”

“Which is why I didn't tell you. Will you come pick me up, or do I take the train up to Purdy?”

“You've got luggage, don't you? I'd prefer you didn't have to haul it around in correspondences and such.”

“Well, I'm getting a lift to Manhattan, so from there, there aren't much correspondences to make, if you just fetch me at the train station...”

Alex distinctly heard Scott making a half strangled sound. “A lift? You mean you just went in someone's car like that because they told you they were going in the same direction as you?”

Alex frowned. “First. Yeah, I did, it was an Omega and he'd just helped me fend off a creep. Second, stop fucking acting like the protective big brother, I am perfectly able to protect myself from mere rapist, and you know it, or you wouldn't have called me over.” Scott inhaled over the phone, and Alex half snapped at him. “And if I hear any but on that point, I'll have to prove it by punching you instead of hugging you when we meet. That would be a shame, because I was looking forward to the hug after one year of separation.” He waited for Scott's acknowledgment before going on. “Third, I have luggage, and I didn't want to bother too much with the correspondences and waiting time and everything, and the car saves me at least twenty minutes compared to public transport, and at least half an hour of wait outside if you come fetch me. Fourth, I physically can't decline a ride with Iron Man and Captain D-America... And Sam.”

“Falcon” grumbled Sam from the other side of Alex's bag. Well, at least this time he hadn't skipped him entirely... Tony laughed, and Captain Dorito's ears went slightly pink.

“'Iron Man and Captain America'? You're shitting me, right?”

Alex smirked, because there were times like that when he just wanted to be show-off little shit. “And Falcon. Don't forget Falcon.”

Sam grumbled again. Iron man laughed from the front seat. “You know, Sam, you may need more than one battle to establish a real reputation. Especially since this one was not much more than a generalized brawl. Give it one or two months in the public eye...”

The sound must have gone over, because next time he spoke, Scott sounded strangely resigned. “You're not kidding. How does that even happen?”

“Well. Steve and Sam were in the same plane as me, Tony came to pick them up, and he saw me get harassed? Looks like some kind of a joke to me too, but the Tower is just next to grand-central, so I'm not complaining. How's it going on your side?”

“The professor managed to get in contact with the kids. They said they grew up there, since they were five, and they had some kind of a device under their skin so if one disobeys, the other gets hurt as punishment. Also, they said the guards used to talk about the greatness of Hydra, so there's that.” Under the small jokes, Scott was seething, it was pretty audible. Scott didn't kid around with sibling love. Neither did Alex.

But aside from the rage, it wasn't the point that stuck. “Wait... You mean that you called me to help break a couple of mutants out of a villain facility and I ended up jumping in the first home-bound plane right with the two heroes who caused said villain organization to be known to the general public? And now we're talking about Hydra captives with Captain Dorito less than six feet away from me? How the hell is this even possible?”

That was the point where communication in the car became tricky, what with the multiple persons reacting to Alex's statement... Reactions that included curiosity, disbelief, amusement, shock...

First, Alex had to convince them that he wasn't lying. Well, no, he didn't HAVE too, he could as well pass it off as a joke, but Alex readily admitted that he may be just a bit vain. And Fuck in this car there was a guy who had rescued and spent the day playing with a young girl who was visibly a mutant (to the point where press believed he was her father), one black hero, and Captain America. They shouldn't have that much of a prejudice against mutants, right?

He shut the window of his door to get some privacy from the outside and summoned one of his red energy hoops around his finger, impressing it with a spin, and only called it back in when it had caught the attention of everyone in the car.

Then he started to explain. The mutants, the school, Professor X, his gift, Cerebro, the twin mutants kept in cells among persons who were both standard humans and up to no good. Then how the school estimated that they weren't enough to go help in this particular situation, and how Alex was able to get the balance just a bit more equal,and Scott's latest revelation.

Scott had still been in his ear all along, and when Alex expressed how he couldn't believe in such coincidence, he pipped up. “When you meet our new guy, you can ask him about how he met Anne-Marie, too big coincidences seem to be a thing around mutants... You think you new friends would help us?”

Alex looked around at his grimly determined company. “Yeah, I think they would.”

Scott sighed. “Then it would be better that I come to you in the car. I'll see if Professor Xavier has the time to make the trip with me, he's the most informed on what we would be facing, I guess it's best for talking to potential allies.”

Alex bit his lip. Sure it all sounded good and all, but just assuming that the Avengers would accept, and springing the prof on them seemed... rude. And Alex wasn't even sure he would get to stay with them. Of course,what Alex himself would look like for acting like a shameless leech was nothing if he considered the twins, but it still niggled at him.

“So, you'll be there in one hour, right?” He asked instead. Scott validated, and Alex hear him walk and talk, preparing to go.

Captain America was the one who saved Alex from all the awkward. “If he already comes all the way to the tower, can you ask him to bring this team of his' strategist along? It sounds like we have plans to make.”

Alex sighed with relief. “Right. Strategist. Wait, is our strategist prof X, or Storm?”

“Well I'd say both of them are... Think I should ask her to come with?”

“Eh, no, better she stays at the school, protect the grounds and everything. It won't do to have both of our most powerful mutants out of the grounds without the Blackbird. What if the school gets targeted in the meantime?”

“That... Has never happened so far?”

“Wait, you mean you usually just go out leaving the students to fend for themselves?”

“The senior students are totally able to protect themselves and the kids. And we have the Blackbird that can always come back...”

“Dude, your contingency plan sucks. Seriously, you should try to work on that... But aside from that, yeah, I think you and the prof would be enough. See you at the Avenger Tower?”

Tony extended an arm backward.”Give me this, I'll have Jarvis send him an SMS with the address of the garage entrance.”

Alex would never have thought he would one day sit in the Avenger's common kitchen with a glass of orange juice in front of him and most of the team laughing with him.

Then again, not twenty-four hours earlier, he would also have sworn that he would never get to be part of the X-men with his big brother because his bad habits and minor infractions would doubtless disqualify him to working in a school.

Strange how his life was shifting. LA boy without a single worry in his life aside from his now estranged brother, lost in the complications of foster-care system, and on the opposite side of his own. Then young mutant with a dangerous power, accepting the strange offer of a boarding school in Westchester. Then almost adult mutant with a good handle on his powers, but still too teenaged to accept to wait to become a hero, and jealous of his brother who is already there. Then kind-of runaway brother in Los Angeles again. Then, powerful mutant called in reinforcement by the team he had wanted to join, stuffing his bag with the necessities as fast as he can, while per-reserving a flight to NY. Lastly... What would you even call it? Fortunate liaison with the Avengers?

Whatever. The orange juice was delicious, it screamed 'luxury' to his taste buds. Alex raised his head, looking at Tony. “Do you take applications from mutants? I think I am ready to sell my soul for this.”

Tony smiled. “What are your super-heroic traits?”

“I absorb solar energy and concentrate it in plasma blasts. Well. Plasma hoops, actually, but I learned to concentrate and aim then instead of the spirals of indiscriminate damage I used to make... I am not sure you really want me to demonstrate, though, this kitchen looks way too nice.”

The sane members of the team nodded, but Tony pounced on the declaration. “Would the range be Okay? I have the best range!”

And that's how Alex found himself in front of a weapon table, carefully looping one of his energy hoops around his arm, then launching it forward with a thrust and twist. It had been a while since he had seriously practiced with his power, but he still nailed the target, if a bit on the right, and the whole thing caught fire.

Tony was downright gleeful, asking more about his power, and how it worked, and after Alex's admission that he may need his suit because sometimes his power slipped, he started his interrogation over on the specs of Alex's suit. Alex had the feeling that it was somewhat usual for the genius,based on the other Avenger's smiles.

Alex was somewhat relieved to hear Tony's Informatic Butler announce his brother's arrival. No, Tony was nice, really. And his inquiries on Alex's mutant powers, and the others Alex had witnessed was nowhere near as disturbing as some questions he had had to field during his year in LA. But it was now evident to Alex that you could pretty easily get an overdose of Tony-ness.

Alex only grasped how much Tony had actually let him in when the elevator's doors opened on Prof X and Scott, and Tony's demeanor changed.

It wasn't huge, just shoulders going higher, grin going a bit plastic, and charm starting to ooze off him, as well as his slightly irritating, self-centred humor.

Alex knew what he was doing. He was wearing himself as his armor. A facsimile of himself, close enough to be easy to keep going for hours on end, yet different enough to deflect any psychological blow by convincing himself that the person getting insulted was not, in fact himself.

It was something Alex sometimes did. Lots of people sometimes did this, but most Omegas had to do it way more often. And seeing Tony gather his whole act, just to talk with a pair of prospective allies, Alex got hit by a truth he had never made out so far.

Tony Stark was twenty years older than Alex. Alex was part of the Stark generation. Growing up, he could always answer 'and what, Tony Stark is an Omega too' to his fellow classmates if they became too cross in their sexism.

Tony was one of the figureheads of Omega elevation. But it meant he hadn't had any support. Growing up, he didn't have a single example modern of Omega who succeeded with their own strength. (Because of course, Genghis Khan or Alexander the great had been the most badass Omegas ever, but that was half the world away, and more than a millennium ago, and narrow minded machos were very prompt to answer that it wasn't even sure they had really been Omegas at all... As for the United Kingdom's royalty, the fact that there could also be a queen seemed to make any further point moot to this kind of idiots.) When he was twenty, and even later, he must have had so many enemies, so many people waiting in the wings, betting for Tony's deemed inevitable fall. So many people casually reminding him that he was only an Omega, and that they weren't expecting him to do any good.

And that was the result. Tony had survived all that by wearing his armor any time he wasn't with friends.

Alex was pretty awed to realize he was already in this 'friends' category.

That said, Alex was an Omega too. An Omega who didn't like to back down from a fight. Tony probably knew that Alex wasn't going to go sexist on him.

Alex tackled Scott in a hug as soon as he got out of the elevator. When he left go of him, almost everyone was smiling fondly at the display. It made Scott grumble a bit, but Scott was always grumpy, away. It didn't prevent his brother from holding him at arm's length for a whole minute and check Alex over. (For traces of injuries or to see how much he had grown... Probably the second option, since he made a comment on the extra inch.)

He smiled at the prof too. It had been a while, and the prof smiled back, his mind brushing against Alex's, feather light and warm, and Alex opened up to it. He knew how protective the prof was with his students and old students, and let the prof have a quick view of his mental state, letting him know that he was as well, if not better, than he had been when he left the school.

Alex was not really surprised when the prof locked down on the knot of emotion about Tony. The prof's eyes found Alex's head tilting a bit, asking if he was willing to share that bit. Alex nodded, and watched on as his gratitude for everything the older Omega had done, unfolded under the prof's careful prodding.

The prof smiled -He has done so much, hasn't he? I am not even sure HE knows how much it meant for all those who came after him.-

Alex smiled too, wistful. No, he didn't think Tony grasped how much he changed things even outside of what he had done consciously. But the fact that an Omega had been the one creating the damn best weapons (weapons, of all things, the one thing macho Alphas tended to respect was weapons) had been a shield and a push to so many other Omegas. Because if Tony Stark was the unchallenged best at what he did, why couldn't other be good at what they did too.

-I understand the feeling. His father was about the same for the Betas of my generation.-

And Alex would not have thought about that on his own, but it is the truth, even though Betas are about a half of the population, there was a time when they were looked down on,considered lesser than Alphas. A Beta could always get into the army, but once upon a time, only Alpha could hope to get a commanding position. Captain America was a nice example of the way public opinion used to sway in favor of Alphas at the time, even if the guy himself didn't look or act sexist. Alex hoped that one day, discriminating against Omegas could look as backward as discriminating against Beta was becoming now. (well,against male Betas, anyway, female Betas were the one who got the shortest straw in professional career, still. Along with Omegas, obviously.)

-It will take time,but I hope we get there. Who knows, you could also help make a difference?- He caught Alex confusion. -Another Omega hero could further the impact Tony Stark already bore on all those prejudices.-

Alex promised he would think about it, then gently tugged out of the prof's warm touch, who politely retracted from Alex's mind.

Alex's eyes refocused and a glance around told him everyone but Scott was staring at Alex and the prof. Right, probably not used to seeing telepathy. Alex smiled and asked if they were starting the meeting now.

Alex glowered at his brother until Scott lowered his eyes. Alex knew that his brother was kind of prickly, and that him being unpleasant toward Tony had nothing to do with him being an Alpha or Tony being a Omega. But Tony wouldn't know that. And Alex sure as hell didn't want his new friend and his brother trying to kill each-other.

Tony gave Alex a small nod,and went back to the plans and satellite image,and electricity consumption charts of the area the prof had pointed out. Steve piped up to point the places where guards should be, then trailed off. “I'm sorry if it seem out of place, but... Is either of these twins an Omega?”

And it was out of place, and that was why Alex didn't jump the gun and call Steve a sexist. Out of place, or personal questions, like that, were so not the Captain's style that he assumed he had to have a good reason.

The prof blinked. “Yes. Pietro is.”

Scott, being the only one who didn't have a good insight on the Captain was the one to ask. “How is this relevant in any way? Omega or not, they are in distress, and we've got to help them.” The venom dripping from his tone had Tony cast him a half appreciative, half annoyed look.

Steve gave a small, strained smile, then glanced at Sam, then at Natasha, before answering. “It is relevant because of what happened to the last powerful Omega Hydra had under their power.”

The prof recoiled slightly in his wheelchair, and Alex's mind went in overdrive. 'The last powerful Omega Hydra had under their power' hadn't Steve said that his best Omega friend was a clause match to him in terms of physical strength? He almost missed Steve leaving the room, wrapped as he was in his thoughts.

He wondered about that departure for a minute, along with almost everyone around the table, and understood when Steve stepped back in the conference room holding a thin folder in his hand.

Tony snatched it and spread the six sheets face down on the glass table, before doing something elaborate on the interface that had popped up. A blue light flashed under the table,and ten seconds later, Alex had thumbprints of the sheets on the section of the table before him. There was the same interface in front of each of them, and Steve smiled when Alex made an interrogative gesture, so he started to read the first document.

His head snapped up when he was at the half of it. He looked around the table. Natasha, Sam and Steve weren't reading, observing everyone else instead, Scott looked as sick as Alex felt, the prof had an air of concentration that didn't do much to hide his grief, Clint had an impassive face that had to be a mask he had perfected in his years as an assassin, Tony as apparently reading the very last sheet, and was radiating anger. Bruce, near him, flipped the last page too, then delicately closed the interface, and got up, announcing that he as relying on them to come up with a good plan.

Alex remembered Bruce's power,and seeing Tony's reaction, deducted that the good doctor was fearing for his own control.

Alex swallowed and started reading again,but not everything, just one sentence out of two. The image he got out of it as still horrifying. Hydra had wanted to use 'the asset's superior Omega reproductive system to combine his and other agent's strong genes, but while making sure he wouldn't bear the resulting child himself.

It hadn't worked, but it didn't change the fact that he had had to sleep with multiple persons while he couldn't decide on it himself, both on receiving (to gather genetic material) and giving (to implant the mix he should have made) end. The fact that it hadn't worked was at least half of a relief, because it meant the poor Omega at least didn't have a kid running around inside Hydra, getting used and abused...

And once the horror was dulled, Alex understood Tony's anger. Omegas were very protective, especially of other Omegas, even if rumors liked to attribute all the protectiveness and feral comportment to Alphas, truth was that Omegas were about twice as Alpha as any Alpha. (Which made perfect sense if you understood the genetics behind gender and gender-types distribution.)

That happening to an Omega made Alex want to rip someone's insides out. And Tony was older, so these instincts (that were linked with maternal/paternal ones) had to be even stronger in him. And if Steve was right in his worries about Pietro, then Alex was ready to bet there wouldn't be enough left of the bodies in that base for a proper funeral. (Omegas were actually ferocious like that, no matter what Alphas and religion would like them to be like. An Omega was closer in instinctive character to a mother bear than to the nice does fairytale depicted them as.)

“This didn't happen to Pietro, his memories are whole, and this would have left a real scar on his psyche. I would have known.” Said the prof, and Alex relaxed a bit at the reassurance. Thank fuck, no teenager deserved that.

“Good, but maybe we should still move before it has any chance of happening to him.” Steve was a bit strung up, and Alex understood. Sharing knowledge on what happened to his best friend had to be hard,and it came from a real fear for the poor mutant.

Tony clicked his tongue. “I don't think it is Hydra's modern approach of thing, though. Drug induced heat, and trying different partners is something that would have been considered sound twenty or more years ago, but with nowadays understanding of the mating process, they would have gone about this very differently.”

A few curious eyes fixed on him, and Alex noticed that himself, Natasha, Clint and the prof were the only ones that had really understood that comment.

Tony also looked around at the curious faces. “Uh, okay, see, Omega biology is wired to make babies when the time is right. That's why stressed-out Omegas don't actually get heats when they are stressed, contrary to what literature would have us believe... So they wanted that Omega to create babies, but instead of putting him in a relaxing environment with one or several regular partners he could have formed a bond with, they went and forced the heats, then removed his partners from his proximity. This had to be sending contradictory signals to him, and his body decided that he was not in an ideal situation for assuring his kid's survival, so he probably locked down any actual means of knocking anyone up. And trying new persons could only worsen the situation. It means that maybe he isn't actually sterile from the initial operation, like it had been concluded.”

Steve sighed a bit, Tony went on. “And since it has been shelved at the time and not tried again with the proper methods since, we can hope Hydra is not into this kind of shit anymore. Also, if I understood young Pietro's situation well, it would be tricky for Hydra to put the correct process on rails with him, because Pietro would be conscious of what they are trying to do, and that would thwart the whole thing because no Omega would be able to produce a child knowing that it is going to be abused growing up. It has been verified over the history, Omega slaves almost never had children, no matter where they came from, except if they were reasonably happy with the way they were treated. I don't think Pietro is part of that category.”

Alex was relieved to hear that, no one should ever be raped. But then, Tony bit his lip and started talking again. “Unfortunately, it doesn't mean we can dally. There is still the other issue: they did effectively use some kind of permanent sterilization on... the asset... with the specific goal that he would not risk pregnancy. They could do it on the children. If they haven't already, it would be cool that those two could chose whether or not they will bear children on their own when they are of age, getting this kind of decision taken from you sucks.”

Some persons around the table made faces at that, The reason for Steve's was right under Alex's nose, but he was sure there was another reason why Natasha looked a bit pinched. And Tony had a sort of faraway look that Alex didn't get until he remembered a piece of news about him having entered early menopause because of the metal poisoning. Alex hadn't given it much credit, and he had decided that it as none of his business anyway, but it did explain the way Tony talked about choices with so much heart.

They were going back to the car, and then, they would head back to the school. It's been so much time since Alex last set his feet there, that he already felt nostalgic at the thought of those high towers and big gardens, and how he had left all those black spirals in the basement the first time he tried to channel his power in there. He wondered if the marks are still there.

Steve helped him put his bag in the car's trunk, and this time, Alex didn't go all prickly.

Tony hugged him before opening the door. Alex smiled, ducked in, started a hand-wave, and then, Steve bent down. “Huh, by the way, Why 'Captain Dorito'?”

Alex snorted, his eyes going to Tony's smile and the way the rest of the team was straining hard not to laugh. Alex thought back on the way Tony had been keeping an eye on the Captain's backside in the elevator. “Ask Tony.”

Alex pulled the door closed and waved, his biggest smile on.

How do you put it?... Alex was totally very not surprised at all when he got a new channeling suit from Tony the day before their planned rescue mission.

Chapter Text

Three days.

Tony watched the car go, Alex waving from inside it. He already missed the young Omega.

He told his biology to go fuck itself. He had liked Alex for his smile, the way he didn't let anyone tell him what he should do. He liked Alex because of the way he had told his Alpha brother off over the phone.

He didn't like Alex just because he was a young Omega and Tony's biology and instinct craved for the company of his peers. He knew that the part of him that just wanted to hug Alex and cover him with care was the same part that told him he should have had babies when he still could. He knew that watching over Alex was only the way his body felt fit to still have a chance at maternity, even by proxy.

And Tony would not surrender to that. He liked Alex, he liked the fire the young man had in him. He sure as hell wouldn't try and kill it by wrapping him in cotton wool. No, Alex was a fighter, and Tony would be damned if he tried to change that. He would help him, as one helped a friend, by giving him the weapons to keep on fighting.

The specs of a new suit for the young Omega were already drawing themselves up in his head.

Next to him, Steve cleared his throat. “So. What is this Captain Dorito thing about?”

Tony smiled and pulled him to the kitchen for a practical demonstration.

He left the dear Captain squinting at the triangular chip in front of a mirror. His frown was all sorts of cute, sure, but They had two days and twenty hours before the planned raid on the Hydra base.

Tony had never planned anything with so much downtime, but at the same time, it was also very short. And Tony had about twenty projects to finish before he could let his team go on the field against Hydra goons. Especially if they were using those god-damned disintegrating guns. Three days was almost too short.

And he would also have to sleep somewhere in there, because he had to be fresh for the action...

No time to dawdle. (Even if Steve holding the Dorito up, one eye closed so the upper points would land on his reflexion's shoulders and the lower one on his crotch was pretty hilarious.)

Two days.

Tony plopped the improved quiver in Clint's lap, tossed the new Widow Bites at Natasha, and zeroed in on the coffee maker. He considered one second, but still decided to pour the leftover in a cup instead of drinking it right from the pot. Plus this way he could put it back in and have the new batch start brewing.

Then, he turned around and announced that he would need measurement to fit their reflective body armors, and asked Bruce to help him make hand-held detectors for those damn guns, so the Avengers could take care of those and he wouldn't have to fit every single one of the X-men with reflecting armors too.

Sam and Steve came down for the measurements and fittings first. Nat and Clint would test their new pieces of equipment in the meantime, so they could point any problem while Tony took care of their body-armors.

Steve stopped short when he saw his bike. Tony pushed down the bit of anxiety, and summoned his best smirk. “A beauty, isn't she? I kept the lines the same, but I changed the engine and some of the gadgets... Do you like her?”

Steve stalked up to the bike, his hands going up to stroke the white star Tony painted on either sides of the tank (not an actual fuel tank, because that wasn't energy efficient at all, and not very practical for cross-country travel, but he had kept the space to store the ammunition) “It's...”

“Flashy, I know, but I also made bland covers if you want to be undercover...” Tony pointer to the night-blue plastic parts that he had made to be clipsed over the painted metal. “I can show you it's special options...”

Steve interrupted his ramble with a whisper. “Perfect.”

Tony sagged. “Good. That. That's good. She's yours. You can even travel with Sam, I'll show you how to convert her to two seats after we're done on the measurements, what do you say?”

Tony spent the best part of the time Steve was there reminding himself that he shouldn't be making a move on someone whose Omega was still lost. Not after what he had just learned.

Also, flirting too much with someone while measuring their frame was the best way to make the 'someone' think you were only in it for their body.

And only flirting with Sam would also make it obvious that he was excluding Steve.

All in one, it was a tiring hour. And Tony resented being an Omega because keeping his fingers to himself was a bit of a challenge.

One day and half.

“Hawkeye.”

Clint looked up from where he was sorting his arrows, slipping them in the compartments of his new quiver. “Yeah?”

“We're going to be inside for this one. Care to run a simulation so that I know exactly how you act when in an enclosed fight? I may be able to fix you specific bits of equipments, and I'm pretty sure Cap would like the insight.”

“Uh.” Clint got up. “What kind of simulation, exactly?”

Tony smiled. “Call of Duty, what else?” Clint blinked. “I may have modified it, though. I hacked the arsenal so you have all the range of possible weapons. And I will have JARVIS tracking the real body movements into character displacement. It may take half an hour to get used to the controls, but for an improvised basic simulation, it should be enough.”

Clint smiled. “I like the way you think. Am I the only one to play?”

“No, but I made the first scenario to run solo. The group simulations will come after. For now, I want to give you the best gear so if you somehow end up stranded, You'll still work at your level best.”

“Sure. Where do I go?”

“Rec room. Do you have a problem with getting a public? The way I programmed it, you'll need the whole room, so the simulations will have to be one after the other...”

“Uh, no, I guess it's better everyone has a good handle on what the others can do, so we can give the appropriate help when in the field...”

That was what Tony had thought at first too. “Ok. Why don't you got fetch Natasha and join me there? I'll take care of the soldiers.”

Tony should have had this idea way sooner, because he learned quite a bit on the flexibility of the assassin duo. He had only thought to improve the weapons he had seen them use before, but it turned out that they were proactive with almost everything, and he had to spare a pair of hours to grill them further on the good and bad point they found on their top twenty weapons while running simulation.

Steve was a different matter, and Tony had to admit his loss when it came to making him run simulations on CoD. Even with the best programming to replicate his shield and JARVIS' interference, it didn't act the way Steve knew it should actually have worked, and it frustrated both him and Tony enough that he shifted to hand to hand and a pair of guns.

He kicked asses with a pair of gun. Tony made a note to add that to his new uniform.

Similarly to Steve, They weren't able to run true to life simulations of Sam's flight, as JARVIS' cameras were not sharp enough to catch the shift of muscles he used to control his wing-pack (and Tony didn't have the time to rig him a simulator plate). They still used the opportunity to see how he would fight on the ground.

The data gathered was a bit erratic, because Sam had taken to the game like a teenager, and had tried every single weapon Tony threw in there, and finally settled for a rocket-launcher. Tony loved his style, but even Sam agreed that what was nice on the video-game was not as possible on the ground, and went a second round with more portable firearms.

Tony resolved to reinforce the protection on the legs and include gloves that would protect his knuckles, he seemed to do quite a bit of kicking or punching, but not in a way that was quite as controlled and safe as Natasha did. (Sure, Steve had one hell of a leg-play too, but he didn't actually seem to hurt himself with it like JARVIS was saying Sam may do.) The guy would need a new lightweight and efficient body-armor later on, but for now it would have to do.

He left the rest of the team coordinate and train, and went back down to his workshop where he had Bruce helping him take care of a few more inventions.

They kept a live feed of the CoD Game and of the room, and went about armor designs and gadgets positions together. It wasn't Bruce's specialty, but he had interesting points, and Tony knew that it soothed him to actually have something he could do in the mess and nerves of an upcoming battle.

Regardless of his expertise with everything else, Bruce was a great help in designing Alex's suit. And they managed to have it fine-tuned and flexible enough that Professor X's resident scientist (Hank Mc Coy... Tony was a bit jealous of the the prof on that.) could adjust it more specifically once it gets there.

Tony had one of the ARM's intern drive up to Westchester to deliver the package, then used the opportunity to go over the last details with Hill, as some pertinent questions tended to crop up after one or two days of knowing a problem.

One day.

So. Tony knew he needed to sleep. The main problem with that was that his brain wouldn't shut up. If he wasn't doing something productive, the stream of self-degrading thoughts started, and that led back to his more horrible memories, that in turn would be sure to turn into nightmares (if he was lucky... He usually had the night terrors, in fact) if he actually managed to fall asleep at all.

Back when he had still been with Pepper, laying bedsides her at least quieted the hysterical Omega part of his brain a bit, but without even that, he was pretty sure he would crash before he fell asleep. And he didn't want the crash to happen in the middle of a battle.

Extensive time thinking on the subject and the memory of how Bruce reacted when Tony was telling him about the Extremis event pushed Tony to do something he never thought he would do.

He went to Bruce and whined about not being able to sleep and demanded that Bruce slept (just sleeping, not as an euphemism. Tony never thought euphemisms were needed about sex, anyway) with him. (Because, if Tony was to ask help, he would do it with style!... Shut up.) After a token grumbling, Bruce accepted with the condition that they did it somewhere Tony didn't have any weapon at hand that he could accidentally use on him and trigger the Hulk with.

Back with Pepper, Tony used to try and be as 'normal' as possible for her, but there with Bruce, after having already showed weakness, and knowing that the Beta would understand, Tony left himself go, curling in a ball, forehead pressed to Bruce's chest. Bruce sighed and wrapped himself around him.

The feeling of safety was pretty overpowering. Bruce had made it clear sex was off-limit in his first week in the Tower. He hadn't ever judged Tony so far, and he was the Hulk's host, strongest being on the planet, who had caught Tony when he was falling to a certain death... And he was currently guarding Tony's sleep.

Tony found himself calming down in a couple of minutes. Muscles relaxing and thoughts slowing down. “Thanks, big guy.”

His huff caught Tony's hair. “World's most unreliable pillow fort. Maybe you should think of building yourself a nest, if surrounded and cozy is what helps you.”

Nesting... Tony hadn't thought of it. He had always be overtly proud of his gender, but he had never wanted to make himself seem like lesser by surrendering to his instincts. Sure, he had slept around a lot, but his heats had been a private thing since he was twenty-one. And anyway, nests were mothers' thing, a way to be sure your egg wouldn't roll out and break or be stolen while you slept, then to restrict the baby's range of movement when he hatched and was still vulnerable. Tony hadn't seen the need for it.

But objectively thinking, if it got his Omega instincts to lay off a bit and let him sleep without panicking, then Tony was willing to try it. He didn't specifically disapprove of nests, contrary to one-night stands.

“I'll think of it. Sounds pretty good, in fact.” Especially with Bruce encircling him.

Bruce grumbled for him to go to sleep, already. For once, he fell asleep easily, trying to visualize the ideal way his new nest would feel around him.

Ten hours.

Tony woke up alone. Surprising, Bruce used to sleep enough for a normal human being, so Tony definitely should have woken before he did. “JARVIS?”

JARVIS eased the light on, and started the usual waking routine. “Good morning, Sir. It is One AM thirty-six, November the twenty-seventh twenty-fourteen. You have slept for nine hours and twenty-five minutes.” (Wow it had got to be his record since...huh, a long time ago...Or more.) “The weather over New York is clear, with an average temperature of forty-five degrees Fahrenheit, forecasts announce some rain in the afternoon. Reminders for the day: conference call with Miss Potts and the R&D and PR branches for the Starkpad panel review at eight forty, and 'kicking Hydra's ass' at twelve.” (He had totally forgotten the conference call... And JARVIS' delivery on the Hydra part was so... British.) “Other activities flagged as important are 'stare at the Captain's ass when I'm not as busy';” (huh, when had that made it into JARVIS' list? And why was his AI so damn judgmental at him today?) “'perhaps eat something other than coffee';” (Yeah, JARVIS was doing his 'disproving of your life choices' thing) “'build up the most awesome nest ever';” (he hadn't said that one out loud, had he? Fuck his life...) “'build air-cushions gliders into the boots of your ground-bond team-mates'; 'make Hawkeye a light-saber glove'; 'make sure everyone's stocked up on grenades' and 'give the reflective armors out'.”

Tony stepped out of the bed and into the shower, and asked for the headcount.

“Captain Rogers appears to be set on decimating the sandbags supply in the communal Gym, and Dr Banner is cooking what would probably be called a breakfast. Mr Wilson, Mr Barton and Mrs Romanova are in their private quarters and unavailable.” (Tony had bargained with JARVIS to have a distinction between 'in their quarters, but I can still go and visit them' and 'in their private quarters doing private things' after Bruce had told him off for being invasive during one of his yoga sessions... And considering the smell Clint and Natasha sometimes put out, they had to be pretty intimate, so it was as well, death by Natasha looked way painful.)

“Can you ask Bruce if he'd mind making some for me too? And... Did Steve eat, recently?”

There was a gap of a few seconds, and Tony wondered if JARVIS was debating over the privacy acceptability of this request, or if he wanted to drive a point, be it about said privacy, or about the way that Tony was obviously...

Well, honestly, yes it was a bit out of character. It might be that he wanted to get closer to Steve, or that his Omega mothering instincts were showing through...

Tony decided that he would not retract just because it had been pointed out to him. He could also just be thoughtful. It was a thing. Apparently. Amongst standard humans. “Well?”

“The Captain ate four hours ago.”

Dinner around 20h30, then, typical. “And he's been destroying my Gym since then? Can you politely ask Bruce if it would be too much to also fix a snack for our super-soldier?”

“Polite, of course, how could I forget? You're always an example of politeness, Sir.”

“Ah. Ah. That's why I'm asking you to do it instead, J, get on with the plan.”

And if Tony put on his skintight pants that made his ass look great and his leg even longer than they really were, well, He would put on the armor later to go with the armor, and they were made to stay clean way longer than any other clothes.

Plus, he didn't push the vanity as far as to clipping the energy vessels on it yet. (Even if they did do much for his silhouette too. Yes Tony was vain and proud, and liked to flaunt his looks, nothing new over there, knowing what looked the better on him was a skill he already had twenty years ago.) He would put them on later, though. They provided a better energy stream to his boots thrusters. He could do without, sure, but it was better with it, and he would have the time to put it on correctly. No sense in downgrading himself.

He took the elevator down to the gym. And propped himself against the door, waiting for Steve to notice him. (JARVIS had the good grace not to open it against his back and ruin his whole entrance. Good to know he still had Tony's back... Literally.)

JARVIS informed him that 'Dr Banner was amendable' to cooking for the three of them (better be five portions, though, because Steve sure ate quite a bit)

Steve didn't hear JARVIS, or Tony's answer. Tony suspected that there was something there. Something Tony knew instinctively and that he called insomnia.

It was probably par of the course. Steve was still searching for his Bucky...

But maybe Tony could help.

By doing more than just waiting.

He circled the gym, but didn't go all the way to stand opposite Steve. The remains of previous sandbags against the wall were a warning Tony still had sense enough to take account of.

And then he waited. He moved a bit, to have more chance to attract the attention, of course. But he wasn't about to walk up to the Captain and pat his shoulder,that was reckless, even for him.

Steve was getting even more worked up. His punch grew faster and stronger,and Tony was impressed, sure, but also concerned. The bag finally busted open, emptying itself by it's split seam.

“Better?” Steve raised his head, surprised by Tony's word.

“Tony. I...”

Tony didn't let him the time to do anything that could look like an apology. Tony didn't need an apology for a few punching bags. “You hungry? Brucie is cooking a bit of breakfast.”

There, misled. Steve blinked, frowned, “breakfast?”

Tony gave a solemn nod. “Yup. Afternoon nap ran a bit longer than we predicted.”

Steve was surprised enough to let himself be pushed out of the Gym and into the changing room. Tony waited at the door for him to finish showering.

He had to answer the awkward “so you and Banner...” not question, but he had succeeded in shifting Steve's focus from painful memories to present interaction, so it was already that. And Tony was an expert with awkward.

The breakfast was pretty fun. Bruce caught the tail end of Tony's explanation on their relationship with each-other, and took it for himself to explain how he usually measured the probability of turning big and green thanks to heart-rate, and how it was pretty accurate, so he was a bit wary of actually having sex with anyone. (Bruce was a lucky bastard. As a Beta, he could not have sex without suffering from hormonal panic, loss of self-insurance, or increased hornyness around anyone who could potentially be a mate...)

Bruce expertly wheedled Steve into drinking a relaxing herbal tea, and nudged Steve to go on and get some sleep in. It was kind of fascinating to watch the familiar actions from the outside. Bruce was impressive.

Tony waved Steve goodbye and went back down to his workshop. He had a couple of things to make.

Eight hours.

So, light-saber was a bit much to ask out of a glove in such a short notice... Tony put collapsible metal blades along the inner side of the forearm instead. After a bit of testing wearing the arm-guards himself (while soldering the last details on the reflecting body-armors), he deemed them comfortable enough, and put it with Clint's other equipments. (He also considered making it standard equipment, sometimes using the most primitive mechanisms and weapons was the best, it avoided any risk of technical failure, plus blades were pretty straight-forward... Maybe Tony should have something of the kind for when he was going out as a civilian without his armor at hand.)

Then he looked at the CoD videos again, and decided that Sam may still like a rocket launcher. Tony was sure he had a way to make it possible.

Six hours.

Tony couldn't think of anything more to do. Well, not exactly. Sure, he had a hundred and five ideas of things to do, finish, fine-tune, or re-purpose (he was sure he could get the repulsor's technology into the most amazing hovering desk lamp, without need to change bulbs, and footless), but he didn't have anything he could get finished now and that would be useful for the battle.

And it was still 'too soon for normal human beings to receive phone calls'. Or so had said Pepper's pre-enregistred holograph when Tony had asked JARVIS to call the X-men to know if they would need any custom made gadget (but they had Hank Mc Coy, so hopefully they already had decent equipments...).

Tony ended up fiddling with the uniform's designs to see if he could get everyone (but mainly Steve and Sam, who was he kidding?) to have an even better looking butt in it. He refused to feel any guilt about it. It wasn't because he had to be vegetarian that he couldn't look at the menu either.

Sadly, he would not have those neat new uniforms ready for this one battle (and anyway, the Avengers wouldn't be wearing regular uniform) but it meant that he could fiddle all he wanted, no negative outcomes on it if he failed or lagged behind. (Behind! Ha ha!)

Black Widow's skintight costume was already pretty damn sexy, but Tony decided to stick a red hourglass on her back. Metaphoric, recognizable by the general public, possible to remove or hide if needed, made her slim waist look even slimmer. Then, he had a field day hiding tons of pockets in it. She may not need them, but if she ever had to hide something, it would make search damn complicated. Plus, when she didn't use it, she could always slip bulletproof ceramic plates in them. (Which was the reason he mostly placed those pockets over vital points.)

Hawkeye's costume was grating at Tony's nerves because it didn't have sleeves, and Tony hated to think of all the injuries he put himself in risk of getting just because of that fact. But then, archer, fabric getting caught in the string or hindering movements... He could get it, really. Still hated it. For everything else, Clint had proved to be pretty acrobatic, and Tony made sure his pants would accommodate any movement without any fabric pull (he wasn't actually sure Clint could actually do a front split, but if he could, then it wouldn't be Tony's uniform that would prevent him from doing so).

On the color scheme, he took the costume from the front and split each leg in two, making it purple on the outside and black on the inside, then drove the color difference all the way up to the shoulders, then had JARVIS see if he could add some details. He loved the purple horizontal bar on the chest that made it look like a giant H. He was no longer withholding Clint's quiver, but it didn't mean he was totally forgiven. (And a crack uniform was a nice, harmless way to retaliate. Plus Clint had said he liked purple, after all. Made him think, he should take another look at the hearing aids...)

Steve's costume was not as fun to tweak with. He kind of had to keep the color scheme if he wanted it to be recognizable by the public at large, and that didn't that much space for improvisation. He still had fun placing a literal American flag on the chest area, or putting him in the pleated white and red skirt that his chorus dancers had in the USO tour had, or putting a star on each ass-cheek for shits and giggles, but saved those versions in his 'let's laugh at that when I'm totally trashed' folder, and scraped it.

In the end, the Captain America design remained the same. He still took the same precautions for his liberty of movement as he had for Clint's uniform, (because Steve did do side splits, seriously, his high-kicks shouldn't even be possible!) and added the same precautions on the arms. (After a moment of consideration, he took Natasha's costume back and applied those changes to it too. Sure, she could move pretty well in that catsuit of hers, but it had to be uncomfortable. Then he hesitated a bit and added proper chest support too. From what he heard, boobs hurt when they weren't secured properly. Shut up, as an Omega, it was legit info to look up.)

He had some fun with Falcon uniform, arbitrary choosing to deck him in white and red, so he would match with Steve (thanks Nat for the the lovely imagery), and made a few partial costumes that showed parts of his chest off, but eventually sobered up and made him something he would accept to see him wear on a battle field. One version in white and red, with a nice triangle patern that amplified his pectorals, with red wings to match it. The other in black, browns, creams and golds totally based on the brown falcon's plumage that would go well with his his falcon patterned wings. The guy seemed to like camo. (And yes, that totally justified the gold 'beak' on his goggles and the golden boots! - He had also made black ones, but it was boring- )

That left... Bruce... He would try and make him some totally elastic clothes, but shirtless was almost the Hulk's uniform by now. And... Thor. The guy had a magic armor. But it was true that if he stopped wearing the cape, (and hadn't the guy seen Mr Incredible? NO CAPES!) looking at his ass would become way easier.

Two hours, fifteen minutes.

The department's heads disconnected one after another, until only Pepper was on Tony's conference call screen.

“How is it going?” Awkward as hell, but it was to be expected, in the seven months since their break-up, they had almost only spoken to each-other in a professional capacity, or those painful inquiries on health and stress, and what-not...

“It's getting better. I have everyone here right now, even if Steve and Sam should go back to their wandering after we're done with the current mission...”

“Yeah. Hill told me about that... You could have told me directly, you know, I still have your back, Tony.” Upgrade from awkward to awkward, honest and painful... Perfect.

He breathed in. “I still don't know how to act here. You're not my PA anymore, not my girlfriend, I don't have a frame of reference of what I should tell you and what I should keep for myself! Flirt is off the table, I'm pretty sure I shouldn't complain about my love-life... Or lack thereof, I don't know if you want to hear about heroics when it's what made you leave...”

Pepper had that small smile on. “Tony... Okay, I understand that you're lost, but I really would like to be your friend still... What about I come to this fundraiser gala on sex equality in NY next week, and we go get lunch and we speak. Just speak like you used to before, and I'll let you know if you step on any line, okay?”

An angel, she was an angel. No wonder Tony hadn't been able to keep her. “Yeah, Okay. See you next week, then?”

“Next week, I'm putting a reminder with JARVIS. Will that be all Mr. Stark?”

Tony breathed deeply again. It was not the time to be crying and beg her to take him back. “Hmm. I think I still have to thank you for giving me Hill, that woman is almost as miraculous as you are.”

She smiled. “You are welcome. I'm pretty sure she's happier in you room of whatever than in our legal department... A shame, too, I had to appoint three persons to her replacement, that's how good she was.

“Avenger's Room of Monitoring! And you were still lucky, I don't think I could even replace her if she left.”

“She won't. You have a way to keep the people you need where you need them, it's almost a super power.”

Tony didn't comment. This had aftertastes of 'we shouldn't even have dated' so strong that it was almost the primary taste. (Bitter, bitter aftertastes, Tony had really loved Pepper.)

“I sure wish for her to stay. I hope I'm paying her enough to counter-balance the shitty sides... Will that be all, Ms. Potts?”

Her smile turned a bit sad. It used to when he mentioned how he kept people close with his money. But he hadn't been paying her to be his girlfriend, and she had dumped him, so it was a point in favor of this theory. (That was why he had made a company to give the Avengers a pay. Only difference was that the licenses and private donations were keeping that company up, not Tony, so HE wasn't the one paying them... Not directly, anyway.) “It will be all, Mr. Stark.”

She disconnected the call.

“You know, she's right. We're here because you're you, not for the money. And I am sure she isn't your CEO just for the pay either.”

Tony almost feel over, turning to face Natasha. “God! Don't do that! Why are you even here?”

She straightened. “Steve would like everyone to gather in the conference room for a last review of the plan. Apparently, he also got the X-men to participate with visio-conference...”

Well, Steve sure was full of surprise. (And this day was full of conference.)

Tony got up. “Let's go, then, we can't let our fearless leader plan this raid without us!”

Natasha chuckled as she walked out the door.

One hour

Everyone piled in the AvengerJet (because it still rang better than Quinjet) and started pulling the body armors on (except Natasha, who both already had it on and was on the pilot seat)

Tony had some questions to answer to about some pieces of equipment he gave them. It was as well, it helped him not to die of boredom.

Chapter Text

The attack didn't go as planned, which, usually was bad news... Except this time it was more of a 'we thought it would be harder' type of 'not as we planned' and that was positive.

Apparently, both teams had slightly underestimated the other, and came on stronger than strictly necessary in order to have a bit of leeway and be able to help the others if they got in a pinch. They had collectively underestimated the advantage surprise would give them, and they totally forgot to consider the fact that the kids, (more like teens, really,) could decide to step up the plate.

Which was a legitimate overview, they had a corrective implant, and shouldn't have dared to act, which made the whole difficulty of the plan, avoid to have the Hydra executive decide to kill them when they saw that they were overwhelmed...

But in this case, the professor X had telepathically told the twins about the attack, and let them know that he would personally hold the person who should have triggered any kind of bad response from their implants still. It was meant as a reassurance, so they wouldn't panic.

The twins had ripped their implants out as soon as they heard the first explosions to prove the professor was saying the truth, and then, they had made their own way out, leaving melted walls and stunned goons in their wake.

Even Steve had only seen a blur of too fast movement before Professor X informed everyone that the twins had made their way to the Blackbird and they didn't have to worry about hostages anymore.

After that, it had become a bit of a free-for-all. The teams had reformed on the fly so there could be teams of an Avenger with a deflective armor to fend off the disintegrating guns, and an X-man, and they had just... Dived right in. Clint and Sam were circling the outside, making sure that no one escaped, and the different strike teams had systematically decimated anyone inside the building.

It had been a bit messy, and Steve knew he would have to discuss battle strategies and communication with the team, but it was not bad, especially for their second operation as a team, and the first one with an allied team.

Tony grumbled about sub-par villains and anticlimactically easy battles after all three days of build-up as they chased down the last remnants of Hydra in this outpost. Clint said something along the lines of “welcome in my life of sniper... You know you did your job well when you feel disappointed by the outcome.”

They had rounded up and handcuffed the Hydra personnel, called ARM to let them know they were finished and had waited ten minutes until the clean-up team showed up. In this time, almost everyone had made their intent of stealing the gadgets Tony had provided known. (Steve hadn't, because theft was not something he cautioned, but he was pretty sure Tony would give him the equipment anyway, he just had to wait for it.)

ARM came in, Hill pulled Natasha, the professor and Tony aside to talk about legal rights and vigilante status. Steve tried to follow, but as the conversation devolved to land proprietary and need to destroy the disintegrating guns before they landed in Hammer's labs (whatever that was), he lost more and more chunks of info.

Apparently, they decided that the Avengers would claim the raid as their sole responsibility and hide the fact that there had been hostages, something about how putting traumatized twin mutants in the social services hands being a bad idea. (Alex had been pretty vocal on that point, with his brother's support.) But that meant they couldn't deny the vigilante acts by claiming assistance to endangered persons. Tony had answered that they hadn't killed anyone, and this place belonged to a legal company, and he really doubted they would seize justice on that because the Avengers disabled terrorists who were on one of their own factories, and that if they did, he was really looking forward to humiliating Norman Osborn on national TV...

Once they were done discussing, both the X-men (with the twins aboard) and the Avengers went back home and left the authority handling to Hill's capable hands.