Chaos and Dancing Stars 4/?
Aug. 13th, 2017 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyshadowdrakevia http://ift.tt/2w3fxH3:
A/B/O AU. Part One, Part Two, Part Three.
Mind the cut :)
A gentle touch to his shoulder pulled him out of the semi-haze of hibernation. Tony peeled his eyelids up slowly and tried to focus. Steve was a warm weight pressed again him, and their mingled pheromones worked like a blanket. Tony’s mouth was uncomfortably dry. He worked his tongue uselessly against the roof of his mouth, hearing the soft smacking sounds as unexpectedly sharp the way video game sound effects sometimes were.
“Tony?” Bruce touched him on the shoulder again. The contact was fleeting and hesitant.
Making a soft mewling sound, Steve snuggled further into Tony’s chest. He ended up with his face buried in Tony’s armpit, took a deep breath, and blew it out in a ticklish stream. Tony looked up to see Bruce looming over the back of the couch, though he was obviously doing his best to be the least loom-y as possible. Tony blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to clear the haziness out of his eyes without needing to release his grip on the back of Steve’s neck.
He felt like he should not be so comfortable perched on the edge of the couch without being able to move for fear of waking his teammate, but he’d never been so comfortable in his life. It was the drifting, swaddled, floaty feeling that he’d been searching for in chemical form during his twenties and had never found. Why had he always refused heat sharing, again…?
“Tony, I really need you to focus on me for a second. Do you need a stimulant?” Bruce offered unhappily, holding up a syringe.
That cleared the last of the cobwebs. He felt tension seeping back into his shoulders and the muscles along his spine. “No. What did you find?”
“According to his blood work, he’s an omega,” Bruce reported, waving his hand over Steve’s sleeping body. “I can’t say what his internal biology looks like without more testing, but his o-levels are off the charts. Usually, he runs about A-93. Right now he’s at O-97, Tony. I’ve never met anyone with o-levels that high.”
Tony frowned, processing the numbers and syllables through his frighteningly slow brain. Oh, yeah, that would be why he refused to share heats. Biology being its bitchy self. He had to struggle to swallow, and Bruce disappeared for a second. He came back with a bottle of water, flicked the top off, and held it down for Tony. In the back of his head, he was very aware of how infuriating he should have found the notion of being bottle-fed, but all he could think about was relief for his aching throat. Relief, and not having to let go of Steve. He stretched his neck up and sealed his lips around the mouth of the bottle, sucking hard.
Bruce pulled it away from him before he was done and got a snarl for his efforts, but the water didn’t return. Tony glared at him, but he already felt a little waterlogged, and it probably wasn’t a great idea for him to have any more. He just wanted it.
“I don’t know how this has happened,” Bruce explained, setting the bottle down on the floor, “but he is going into heat. Obviously. I’m still waiting for a few results back, but so far all the tests just show that he’s a perfectly healthy omega in pre-heat.” He shifted his feet and scrunched up his face, fingers picking at the back of the couch. “And I think it’s putting you into rut.”
“Fuck that so hard,” Tony hissed. “No.”
(keep reading)
Bruce’s smile was wan, but tinged with real humor. “Can’t say no to biology, Tony.”
“The hell I can’t. In my workshop, behind the Iron Man pop art, there’s a safe. Jarvis will open it for you. There’s a heat interrupter and a rut interrupter.” Disturbed his agitation, Steve started shifting and nibbling on Tony’s chest. Tony stroked a hand absently down his neck, ignoring Bruce’s startled expression. Interrupters weren’t supposed to be accessible to anyone outside of an emergency room, but Tony wasn’t about to let something petty like the law stop him from having supplies on hand.
“Is that a good idea?” Bruce asked. His brows were scrunched together and his lips had pulled into a tiny knot of worry that worked back and forth across his face. Interrupters were for emergencies only, and generally only used to stop someone from hurting themselves if they were going into heat or rut after being involved in an accident.
“He doesn’t have any consent forms on files,” Tony pointed out. “Without them, the only thing we can do is lock him in a room and let him suffer through it alone. Do you really want to try that on a supersoldier? I’m having trouble thinking straight and we’re still in pre-heat. Anyone who’s even slightly A-ten in a five block radius is going to be pounding on the door.”
It was a gross exaggeration, but it got his point across. Bruce nodded after another moment’s thought, and then raked a hand through his hair, and headed for the elevator. The interrupter would be a temporary measure at best, and Tony wasn’t even sure it would work with the serum. Most drugs cleared out of his system so quickly that they were effectively useless. The interrupter might go the way of the morphine as far as Steve’s militantly regulated body was concerned. Tony’s best hope was that it would buy them just enough time to get him on a blocker and figure out what was wrong with him.
When Bruce returned, he had an interrupter in either hand, thumbs nervously resting on the injectors. They had the same form as an epi-pen, though heat interrupters were yellow and rut interrupters were green where epi-pens were orange. Even though the colors were fairly obvious, Bruce examined each one carefully before setting the blue tip of the interrupter to Tony’s thigh. He checked it again before depressing the green button, and then repeated the process on Steve while Tony’s hindbrain was still struggling with the shock of the injection.
Steve jerked at the sudden spike of pain, a hiss turning quickly into a yowl of indignation. Tony got a hand around him and held on until Steve’s own conscious brain kicked in. He looked around in obvious confusion as the interrupter did its job.
“What..?” he mumbled, pushing himself up on one elbow and sweeping his eyes down Tony’s body, and then twisting to look up at Bruce. He saw the interrupters in Bruce’s hands and frowned.
They were still tangled together, and now that the pheromones were clearing out of the air, Tony was acutely aware of the pain in his shoulder where he’d been laying on it. He stretched his neck, wincing at the sharp stab in his collarbone.
“I suspect magic,” Tony told him helpfully.
“Mr. Barnes has returned to the tower,” Jarvis announced. “He would like to know ‘what the freaking fuck is the goddamn emergency,’ and why he is not allowed in the common room.”
Tony tested the idea of having another alpha in his space. It still made him prickle uncomfortably, but he didn’t think it would result in the two of them tussling around the floor. Steve watched the side of his face with a helpless kind of worry. Tony couldn’t interpret if it was the idea of not being able to see Barnes, or the idea of Tony allowing another alpha into what had effectively become their den.
“Vent the room,” Tony said finally. The interrupters would temporarily – in Steve’s case maybe very temporarily – stop them from producing pheromones, but the room was still choked in them. He heard the atmovents come online, and for a moment they were caught in a storm. Vents in the floor pumped a highly oxygenated mix into the space, while the vents above sucked the air out. It would pass through a dozen filters, and then be released outside.
His head started to clear almost immediately. He sucked in a deep breath of the oxygen rich air, and then set about untangling himself. Steve clutched at him briefly, but didn’t protest as Tony wiggled out from their nest and sat upright. Tony stretched, and Steve seemed to press more deeply into the cushions. Being interrupted was never fun – Tony should know – and the sense of loss was both immediate and acute. Tony hesitated only a moment before reaching out to put a hand on Steve’s waist. Steve hid his face in a throw pillow.
“Okay,” Tony said with a sigh once the vents had clicked off. “Let him in.”
The elevator doors opened immediately, which meant that Barnes had probably been button-mashing and arguing with Jarvis the whole time. He stalked into the room, looking pissy and rumpled. He was still wearing his field gear, including the tight black sleeve that covered his prosthetic, and a black leather glove. Tony shifted closer to Steve without meaning to, automatically placing himself between Steve and Barnes, but at least he hadn’t started growling. Steve burrowed further into the pillow.
“What the hell?” Barnes demanded. “Do you know how long it took us to set that mission up? I swear to God, if it gets blown and this was just another one of your fucking pranks, Stark –” He froze when he finally turned to look at Tony and noticed Steve trying to disappear into the couch cushions. “Oh, hell. Steve?”
Steve made an unhappy noise and curled his knees up, unintentionally tucking himself around Tony’s hips. Barnes scented the air, and then frowned. His eyes flicked up to Bruce, who was still holding the interrupters in hand like he’d been caught with a murder weapon.
“Hell and goddamnit,” Barnes said. He used his teeth to pry the glove off his prosthetic and spit it out. Pulling a hair tie off his wrist, he raked his hair back and quickly flipped it into a messy ponytail. Eyeing Tony carefully, he got down on his knees and scooted over to the couch. “Steve? You conscious in there?”
“We think it’s magic,” Tony managed finally, trying to tell his body to calm the hell down. It felt like all his muscles had twisted into a spasm all at once. He was coiled and disturbingly ready to smack Barnes on the face. The back of his throat itched like he was trying to hiss.
“It ain’t magic,” Barnes said. He kept his eyes on Tony as he reached out carefully for Steve’s wrist.
Tony aborted a motion to grab him. He curled his hand into a fist and brought it back to his lap, and then grabbed onto his pant leg for extra insurance. Barnes set a gentle hand on Steve’s arm and tugged slightly. Steve huffed out a resigned sigh before surfacing from the cushions.
“You gonna’ live?”
Steve glowered at Barnes, and then yanked his arm back and pushed himself up to a seated position. Tony wasn’t inclined to move, so Steve had to squirm around him. He ended up sitting on Tony’s other side, effectively separating him from Barnes, which Tony did not mind in the slightest.
“I have a feeling that you two know what’s going on here?” Bruce hazarded as the silence stretched.
“Yeah,” Barnes sighed. “We do.”
(Your picture was not posted)
A/B/O AU. Part One, Part Two, Part Three.
Mind the cut :)
A gentle touch to his shoulder pulled him out of the semi-haze of hibernation. Tony peeled his eyelids up slowly and tried to focus. Steve was a warm weight pressed again him, and their mingled pheromones worked like a blanket. Tony’s mouth was uncomfortably dry. He worked his tongue uselessly against the roof of his mouth, hearing the soft smacking sounds as unexpectedly sharp the way video game sound effects sometimes were.
“Tony?” Bruce touched him on the shoulder again. The contact was fleeting and hesitant.
Making a soft mewling sound, Steve snuggled further into Tony’s chest. He ended up with his face buried in Tony’s armpit, took a deep breath, and blew it out in a ticklish stream. Tony looked up to see Bruce looming over the back of the couch, though he was obviously doing his best to be the least loom-y as possible. Tony blinked at him for a few seconds, trying to clear the haziness out of his eyes without needing to release his grip on the back of Steve’s neck.
He felt like he should not be so comfortable perched on the edge of the couch without being able to move for fear of waking his teammate, but he’d never been so comfortable in his life. It was the drifting, swaddled, floaty feeling that he’d been searching for in chemical form during his twenties and had never found. Why had he always refused heat sharing, again…?
“Tony, I really need you to focus on me for a second. Do you need a stimulant?” Bruce offered unhappily, holding up a syringe.
That cleared the last of the cobwebs. He felt tension seeping back into his shoulders and the muscles along his spine. “No. What did you find?”
“According to his blood work, he’s an omega,” Bruce reported, waving his hand over Steve’s sleeping body. “I can’t say what his internal biology looks like without more testing, but his o-levels are off the charts. Usually, he runs about A-93. Right now he’s at O-97, Tony. I’ve never met anyone with o-levels that high.”
Tony frowned, processing the numbers and syllables through his frighteningly slow brain. Oh, yeah, that would be why he refused to share heats. Biology being its bitchy self. He had to struggle to swallow, and Bruce disappeared for a second. He came back with a bottle of water, flicked the top off, and held it down for Tony. In the back of his head, he was very aware of how infuriating he should have found the notion of being bottle-fed, but all he could think about was relief for his aching throat. Relief, and not having to let go of Steve. He stretched his neck up and sealed his lips around the mouth of the bottle, sucking hard.
Bruce pulled it away from him before he was done and got a snarl for his efforts, but the water didn’t return. Tony glared at him, but he already felt a little waterlogged, and it probably wasn’t a great idea for him to have any more. He just wanted it.
“I don’t know how this has happened,” Bruce explained, setting the bottle down on the floor, “but he is going into heat. Obviously. I’m still waiting for a few results back, but so far all the tests just show that he’s a perfectly healthy omega in pre-heat.” He shifted his feet and scrunched up his face, fingers picking at the back of the couch. “And I think it’s putting you into rut.”
“Fuck that so hard,” Tony hissed. “No.”
(keep reading)
Bruce’s smile was wan, but tinged with real humor. “Can’t say no to biology, Tony.”
“The hell I can’t. In my workshop, behind the Iron Man pop art, there’s a safe. Jarvis will open it for you. There’s a heat interrupter and a rut interrupter.” Disturbed his agitation, Steve started shifting and nibbling on Tony’s chest. Tony stroked a hand absently down his neck, ignoring Bruce’s startled expression. Interrupters weren’t supposed to be accessible to anyone outside of an emergency room, but Tony wasn’t about to let something petty like the law stop him from having supplies on hand.
“Is that a good idea?” Bruce asked. His brows were scrunched together and his lips had pulled into a tiny knot of worry that worked back and forth across his face. Interrupters were for emergencies only, and generally only used to stop someone from hurting themselves if they were going into heat or rut after being involved in an accident.
“He doesn’t have any consent forms on files,” Tony pointed out. “Without them, the only thing we can do is lock him in a room and let him suffer through it alone. Do you really want to try that on a supersoldier? I’m having trouble thinking straight and we’re still in pre-heat. Anyone who’s even slightly A-ten in a five block radius is going to be pounding on the door.”
It was a gross exaggeration, but it got his point across. Bruce nodded after another moment’s thought, and then raked a hand through his hair, and headed for the elevator. The interrupter would be a temporary measure at best, and Tony wasn’t even sure it would work with the serum. Most drugs cleared out of his system so quickly that they were effectively useless. The interrupter might go the way of the morphine as far as Steve’s militantly regulated body was concerned. Tony’s best hope was that it would buy them just enough time to get him on a blocker and figure out what was wrong with him.
When Bruce returned, he had an interrupter in either hand, thumbs nervously resting on the injectors. They had the same form as an epi-pen, though heat interrupters were yellow and rut interrupters were green where epi-pens were orange. Even though the colors were fairly obvious, Bruce examined each one carefully before setting the blue tip of the interrupter to Tony’s thigh. He checked it again before depressing the green button, and then repeated the process on Steve while Tony’s hindbrain was still struggling with the shock of the injection.
Steve jerked at the sudden spike of pain, a hiss turning quickly into a yowl of indignation. Tony got a hand around him and held on until Steve’s own conscious brain kicked in. He looked around in obvious confusion as the interrupter did its job.
“What..?” he mumbled, pushing himself up on one elbow and sweeping his eyes down Tony’s body, and then twisting to look up at Bruce. He saw the interrupters in Bruce’s hands and frowned.
They were still tangled together, and now that the pheromones were clearing out of the air, Tony was acutely aware of the pain in his shoulder where he’d been laying on it. He stretched his neck, wincing at the sharp stab in his collarbone.
“I suspect magic,” Tony told him helpfully.
“Mr. Barnes has returned to the tower,” Jarvis announced. “He would like to know ‘what the freaking fuck is the goddamn emergency,’ and why he is not allowed in the common room.”
Tony tested the idea of having another alpha in his space. It still made him prickle uncomfortably, but he didn’t think it would result in the two of them tussling around the floor. Steve watched the side of his face with a helpless kind of worry. Tony couldn’t interpret if it was the idea of not being able to see Barnes, or the idea of Tony allowing another alpha into what had effectively become their den.
“Vent the room,” Tony said finally. The interrupters would temporarily – in Steve’s case maybe very temporarily – stop them from producing pheromones, but the room was still choked in them. He heard the atmovents come online, and for a moment they were caught in a storm. Vents in the floor pumped a highly oxygenated mix into the space, while the vents above sucked the air out. It would pass through a dozen filters, and then be released outside.
His head started to clear almost immediately. He sucked in a deep breath of the oxygen rich air, and then set about untangling himself. Steve clutched at him briefly, but didn’t protest as Tony wiggled out from their nest and sat upright. Tony stretched, and Steve seemed to press more deeply into the cushions. Being interrupted was never fun – Tony should know – and the sense of loss was both immediate and acute. Tony hesitated only a moment before reaching out to put a hand on Steve’s waist. Steve hid his face in a throw pillow.
“Okay,” Tony said with a sigh once the vents had clicked off. “Let him in.”
The elevator doors opened immediately, which meant that Barnes had probably been button-mashing and arguing with Jarvis the whole time. He stalked into the room, looking pissy and rumpled. He was still wearing his field gear, including the tight black sleeve that covered his prosthetic, and a black leather glove. Tony shifted closer to Steve without meaning to, automatically placing himself between Steve and Barnes, but at least he hadn’t started growling. Steve burrowed further into the pillow.
“What the hell?” Barnes demanded. “Do you know how long it took us to set that mission up? I swear to God, if it gets blown and this was just another one of your fucking pranks, Stark –” He froze when he finally turned to look at Tony and noticed Steve trying to disappear into the couch cushions. “Oh, hell. Steve?”
Steve made an unhappy noise and curled his knees up, unintentionally tucking himself around Tony’s hips. Barnes scented the air, and then frowned. His eyes flicked up to Bruce, who was still holding the interrupters in hand like he’d been caught with a murder weapon.
“Hell and goddamnit,” Barnes said. He used his teeth to pry the glove off his prosthetic and spit it out. Pulling a hair tie off his wrist, he raked his hair back and quickly flipped it into a messy ponytail. Eyeing Tony carefully, he got down on his knees and scooted over to the couch. “Steve? You conscious in there?”
“We think it’s magic,” Tony managed finally, trying to tell his body to calm the hell down. It felt like all his muscles had twisted into a spasm all at once. He was coiled and disturbingly ready to smack Barnes on the face. The back of his throat itched like he was trying to hiss.
“It ain’t magic,” Barnes said. He kept his eyes on Tony as he reached out carefully for Steve’s wrist.
Tony aborted a motion to grab him. He curled his hand into a fist and brought it back to his lap, and then grabbed onto his pant leg for extra insurance. Barnes set a gentle hand on Steve’s arm and tugged slightly. Steve huffed out a resigned sigh before surfacing from the cushions.
“You gonna’ live?”
Steve glowered at Barnes, and then yanked his arm back and pushed himself up to a seated position. Tony wasn’t inclined to move, so Steve had to squirm around him. He ended up sitting on Tony’s other side, effectively separating him from Barnes, which Tony did not mind in the slightest.
“I have a feeling that you two know what’s going on here?” Bruce hazarded as the silence stretched.
“Yeah,” Barnes sighed. “We do.”
(Your picture was not posted)
