#alseph

Deciding to sleep with Bucky was easy. It just felt so right in that moment, with the way he was looking at you, and knowing he must have been saying sweet things about you to the hot chocolate man. Telling him was easy, too. You took an opening that presented itself. It was smooth and suave and a little bit sexy of you, if you do say so yourself.

The drive home was significantly less sexy and much more awkward. You were both nervous and excited by the prospect of finally seeing each other and touching each other, and all that nervous energy was compressed in the vehicle like air in a balloon— nowhere to go.

Bucky’s left leg was bouncing as he drove. You kept crossing and uncrossing your legs, acutely aware of your vag the whole time. Not aroused yet, just… aware. It was a weird feeling.

Bucky’s hand absent-mindedly made its way to your thigh and his thumb started rubbing back and forth, and you just stared at it. Then he stared at it until he had to tear his hand and his eyes away before you crashed.

All in all, not the most comfortable drive you’d taken together.

The walk into the building and wait for the elevator were equally uncomfy.

“Your room or mine?” Bucky finally asked as you both stepped into the lift.

“Ummm… yours I guess. If you don’t mind. Since I’ll be shut up in mine for so long,” you replied.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” He hit the button for his floor, perhaps a little too hastily.

Bucky opened his door and ushered you inside. After closing the door, he stood behind you, twiddling his thumbs and not knowing what to do next. “So, um, welcome to my bedroom.”

You giggled at how awkward he was being, and how cute that was. “Yeah, Buck, I’ve been here before.”

“Right, right,” he mumbled.

You started to unzip the puffy coat you were wearing, all the layers entirely too much. At the sound of your zipper, Bucky practically pounced on you to help.

“Here let me…” He yanked the coat off your shoulders and draped it over a chair.

You had so many layers on that it took a while to get down to your long-sleeve turtle-neck and thermal leggings. Once finally there, Bucky knelt to help you peel your top off, peppering kisses to your stomach as he lifted the shirt higher until it was finally discarded onto the mountain of outerwear. He did the same as he pulled the leggings down, kissing your hip just above your panties and down the outside of your leg, little pecks that left goosebumps in their wake.

“This feels unfair,” you complained jokingly. You were down to your underwear and bra, while he still had on his flannel, shirt and jeans. Only his shoes had come off thus far.

Immediately he began to yank his flannel off, getting tangled in the sleeves in all his eagerness. You giggled at him, and it helped to alleviate some of the tension in the room. He pulled at the back of his shirt to whip it off, and you knew he was buff but hot damn. You reached out to run your fingers lightly over his middle, pressing into the thin layer of fat and skin and easily finding his defined abdominal muscles underneath. He closed his eyes and reveled in your touch, your fingertips causing tingles to erupt wherever you brushed them.

Still lovingly stroking his lower torso, you took a step in and pressed light kisses to his left pec and down his side, brushing your lips to his skin in feather-light touches just like he had done to you. Your lips traveled down then back up until they reached the junction where the flesh of his shoulder met his vibranium arm. The skin was puckered and angry, and it made your blood boil and your heart ache to think about how he got those scars. Bucky’s eyes flew open, and he misinterpreted your protective concern with discomfort, shoving his arm behind his back on instinct.

But you just looked up at him through your lashes, reached behind him to lace your fingers with his metal ones and drew his arm back to his side, all the while peppering delicate kisses to the marred skin of his shoulder.

When you began to draw your lips down onto the cool metal of his bicep, he cupped your cheek in his right hand and pulled your face up to meet his. You had to lean up on your tip-toes and hook the fingers of your free hand into his belt loop for balance.

This kiss was different than the ones you had shared at the ice rink. It was deeper, more passionate, but still infused with bounteous affection. He extracted his left hand from your grip to grasp the back of your neck and pull you closer to him, though there wasn’t much distance left to go. When you finally disconnected, severely breathless, Bucky took barely any break for air himself, latching his lips immediately onto the side of your neck.

Suddenly you were being lifted off the ground, and you yelped at the surprise. He placed you delicately down onto the bed and hovered over you a moment, just taking you in.

A smile spread across his face, and it triggered one to twitch your own lips wider. “What?” you asked with a giggle.

His grin grew broader. “I just can’t believe you’re so beautiful,” he replied. You couldn’t help but blush and turn your head to avoid his intense and loving gaze. He took advantage of the shift to trail more kisses on the exposed side of your neck, before murmuring into your collarbone, “And all mine.”

This caused you to stiffen beneath him, and the shift in mood was palpable. Bucky pulled away immediately. “What? What’s wrong?”

You looked him in the eye. “You know how I feel about being the possession of an alpha.”

Bucky rolled off of you and sat up against the headboard with a sigh. You followed. He took your hand and brought it into his lap, fiddling with your fingers absent-mindedly.

“We should talk about that. Because—especially in my rut—I’m going to call you ‘mine.’” You opened your mouth to object, but he looked up beseechingly and said, “Can I finish my whole thought and then you can respond?”

You closed your mouth and nodded.

“When I say you’re mine…” Bucky chewed his lip as he considered his next words carefully, but then they came spilling out of him like a faucet. “I’m yours too. Or at least, I want to be. And not just your alpha or your mate or your boyfriend or whatever. I want to be your… person. The person you go to for… protection, and comfort, and fun, and… because you’re excited to share something and just because you want company and…” He huffed out a breath, unsure how to continue. He could keep going down that path forever and never reach the end. He wanted to be your everything.

“You are,” you said softly. He looked at you hopefully. “You already are those things,” you repeated. “I just…”

Encouraged by your affirmations, Bucky turned to face you more, tucking one leg under himself to achieve the correct angle. “You have my heart, Y/n. You do. You have all of it.”

“I hope you saved some for Stevie,” you joked with a slight smirk, bumping his shoulder with yours.

He huffed out a short laugh. “It’s metaphorical, you goof,” he replied, his own smirk small but present before disappearing again to make way for his serious face. As he continued he spoke faster and faster, desperate to make his point before you shut him out. “And that’s just it, I guess. I don’t want to own you literally, which, if we mated, I would, legally, and I agree that’s stupid. And I’ll fight by your side the rest of our lives for you to not literally be my property. But I do want you to be… mine. My partner, my mate…my omega because you’re already all those other things. Those things I said. You’re my person, Y/n. And… I love you.”

You had tears in your eyes now, and the hand not being held firmly between Bucky’s was shaking at your side.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

The laugh he responded with was tearful and triumphant. He grabbed your other hand and brought them both to his lips before concluding, “Neither of us belongs to the other, no matter what we do. But we do belong together. We belong with each other.”

“It’s not about possession… it’s about belonging…” You spoke it aloud even as you realized it, in the selfsame moment.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. He pulled you into his lap and gripped your face between his hands, stroking your cheekbones. “Exactly,” he repeated in a reverent whisper.

Bucky wasn’t Gollum, hiding you in a cave from the rest of the world and squealing, ‘My preciousssss.’ He was just a big softy, giving you a Valentine’s Day candy heart reading, ‘Be mine.’ It was as simple as that, and even though you let yourself get carried away in vehement rejection of all the societal bullshit sometimes, you wanted that too. That intimacy and that surety and that commitment.

You leaned in to kiss him on the lips, slowly and softly. “Make me yours then,” you whispered.

You felt his smile against your lips. He flipped you under him, making you squeal at the surprise shift.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, down and down and down.

You arched up so he could unclip your bra and toss it somewhere behind him.

It was downright sinful the way he maintained perfect eye contact with his searing, crystalline blue eyes as he licked a delicate circle around your nipple. Only when he closed his lips around it did he finally let his eyes flutter shut and with a harsh suck let out a satisfied moan. He did the same with the other one, then began to move lower again. He knew he would lavish lots of attention on your breasts in the future, maybe even later tonight, but right now he was impatient to taste you.

Joy bloomed in his chest when he reminded himself that he had his entire life to play with your beautiful tits.

So down he went. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and yanked it down your legs. You vaguely heard the sound of seam tearing in his haste, but you couldn’t possibly care less in that moment because Bucky was gawking at your pussy like it was the god damn Mona Lisa.

He glanced up at you and kissed the inside of your thigh. “You wanna know something?” he murmured, running his knuckles lightly and lazily along your lower lips. You could feel his warm breath on your core as you hummed a distracted affirmative. “As True Mates, we’re hyper sensitive to each other’s scent, right? But with my enhanced senses, I can also smell whenever you get…” He gave one teasing kitten lick to your clit through the fabric. “Excited to see me.”

“Really?” you breathed, not fully processing what he was saying, too lost in the way his right pointer finger was slowly circling your clit now.

“Mmhm,” he confirmed. “Nearly dropped a kettle bell on my foot this morning at how good you smelled.” He smirked up at you. “I could smell you ogling me work out, doll face.”

You blushed deeply and brought your hands up to cover your face. You had indeed been admiring him in the gym that morning, but who could blame you? After his run, he had shed his sweat-stained t-shirt and completed the rest of his exercise routine with all of his glorious muscles on display.

The stimulation of your clit ceased abruptly and you peeked through your hands to discover the cause, only to have them pulled away from your face entirely. Bucky was hovering over you again, frowning. “Don’t you ever hide from me, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You shouldn’t find it so attractive that he was giving you orders, but your body didn’t care about that kind of logic, and additional slick leaked out of you at his commanding tone of voice. True to his word, his nostrils flared at your surge of arousal and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He launched himself down, parting your thighs further for him to slot his face between, and dove into your core.

His first broad lick up your folds, with a tongue wide enough to encompass most of your cunt on its own, was such a foreign and pleasant sensation that you arched entirely off the bed with a gasp. He held you down by your hips and lapped again, moaning obscenely.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “You taste so much better than you smell, darlin’,” before beginning to eat you out in earnest. His tongue flitted and fluttered over your clit with dizzying speed, and if it weren’t for his strong grip on your hips, you would be writhing around like someone possessed. He gave a strong, vacuum-like suck to your clit that made more wetness flow out of you, and he immediately probed his tongue deep into your entrance to taste your essence from the source. He moaned again, sending tantalizing vibrations through your core. His tongue was forceful and long as he fucked you with it.

He replaced his tongue with two thick fingers and brought his tongue back to your clit, randomly alternating his licks between soft and hard pressure, long strokes and little flicks, every once in a while wrapping his lips around and giving a suck. His fingers pumping in and out felt like heaven, and once he curved his fingers up and stroked your upper walls, you were done. You came apart with a scream.

After helping you through your high with loving strokes and gentle murmurs of how good you were for him, he crawled up your body, slotting himself between your legs.

As desperately as he wanted to be inside you, there was one more piece of business you needed to attend to first, as a couple. When he felt you were cognizant enough to answer, Bucky looked deep into your eyes and asked, “Do you want me to bite you now or when you’re on your heat, sweetheart?”

You were taken aback by the question. You hadn’t really thought about it. “Um…”

“It’s gotta be one, because if I don’t bite you now, I will bite you then. I won’t be able to stop myself,” he said.

You hesitated, and he brought your hand up to caress his own scent gland. “Remember what we said, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m yours as much as you are mine. I want you to bite me too.”

You smiled at that. It wasn’t uncommon for an omega to bite their alpha, but it wasn’t traditional either. It didn’t surprise you that Bucky was that modern, that committed to you, but it was nice to hear.

“If I bite you now,” he continued, “you’ll be cognizant of it. It’ll be our choice. But biologically, the bond would be stronger if it’s done on your heat.”

That was something you read somewhere, and it had troubled you. Bonds established when omegas and alphas are at their most vulnerable, their most animalistic, were somehow more potent than those made by people making rational decisions based on emotion and connection. The concept was concerning, but if you made the decision now, while you were aware and awake and sensible, then perhaps there was no harm in waiting for the opportunity to let the bond be as strong as it could possibly be.

So you smiled up at your alpha and murmured, “We can wait. I want to be as connected with you as possible.”

Before you could make it out the door to go to the ice rink, Bucky fussed and fretted over you. He insisted you dress up in as many layers as possible, even though the rink was indoors and it was not that cold outside anyway. You changed into a long sleeve turtleneck (who even knew you owned a long sleeve turtleneck?), one of your sweatshirts, one of Bucky’s sweatshirts, a fleece, and a winter coat. On the bottom were tights, thermal leggings, then jeans, plus two pairs of fuzzy socks such that you were going to have to rent skates at least two sizes up from your actual shoe size, and you were wearing Pepper’s shoes just to get out of the house. Your hands were clad in gloves and then mittens. Ear muffs and then a hat were atop your head. And you were wrapped in one of Bucky’s scarves.

His sweatshirt and scarf were partly so that his scent might overwhelm your particularly potent pre-heat one a little bit, which seemed to be getting stronger by the minute. You could even smell it on yourself now.

As he tied the scarf around your neck, you informed him, “You know, you could just scent me.”

He froze. He hadn’t thought to ask if he could scent you, since you’d turned him down on numerous occasions in the past.

“Is that-would you be ok with that?” he asked, nervously fiddling with your scarf more than necessary.

You shrugged, and if anyone asked, your cheeks were getting red because you were overheating under all those layers. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Bucky cleared his throat and with shaking hands unwrapped your scarf again. He pressed his body to yours, though he couldn’t get too close considering all the puffy layers. Even though you were bundled up like a marshmallow and actually starting to overheat, when he kissed your scent gland with just a bit of tongue, you felt chills go down your spine. Hastily, Bucky re-tied the scarf around your neck and took a step back before you could notice how fast his heart was racing.

“Do you want to be scented?” you asked, fiddling with your mittens.

“Sure,” he replied, a little breathlessly.

You leaned up on your tip-toes to reciprocate, and when you were done you quickly scurried out the door towards the car.

The ice rink was charming and thankfully not too crowded. You and Bucky were hand-in-hand as you glided in circles around the rink, and though you were separated by several layers, your hand tingled being held by his. When you tripped, Bucky’s strong arms caught you before you collided with the ice, and you could swear your heart stopped. You had a good-natured race around the track, laughing and zipping around, much to the dismay of some little old ladies who were just trudging along. Their curmudgeonly attitude of course only made you laugh harder. You knew Bucky had allowed you to win the friendly competition, but you gloated dramatically nonetheless.

About an hour in, Bucky could tell you were getting a little tired, and suggested you take a break. He helped guide you by the arm down onto a bench just off the ice.

“How about some cocoa to warm us up, hm?” Bucky suggested.

You were actually rather heated already from the activity, the layers, and the warmth radiating from Bucky’s eyes, but you nodded anyway. He smiled, squeezed your hand one last time, and began to retreat to the snack stand a few dozen feet behind the bench.

The second he was gone, the wolves descended.

A gaggle of alphas who couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty skidded to a stop just in front of your bench. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one jeered. “You smell divine. Here to pick up some help for your upcoming heat?”

“This’d be a really weird place to do that,” you answered. “If I were on a hunt like that, I might try a bar, where I’d be more likely to pick up an age appropriate option.”

Your snark didn’t deter them. The boys stepped off of the ice and started getting closer. You were a bit nervous, but you didn’t want to show it. Honestly, you were more nervous for their sake than your own, considering what Bucky might do to them if he found some punk kids hitting on his omega. It would probably cause a concussion to be tossed onto an ice rink.

“Thanks for the offer, boys, but I’ve already got an alpha. He’s the one with the metal arm waiting in the queue for cocoa.” You pointed behind you where Bucky was waiting on line at the snack stand. You knew he could hear every word with his enhanced hearing. “You know, the Avenger.”

You saw the boys’ eyes widen in recognition each in their turn, before one eventually cleared his throat and stepped back onto the ice. The others followed wordlessly. When they were all gone, you could finally take a deep, steadying breath. You glanced back at Bucky to find he had turned to face you. He tossed you a wink your way before turning his attention back to the snack bar. You smiled to yourself, relaxing back into the bench.

Over in the queue, Bucky turned away from you and allowed his face to break into an idiotic smile. You seemed to elicit that reaction in him a lot. This time, he was blown away by the fact that you referred to him as your alpha. It made his heart swell with pride, and hope, and pure, radiating happiness.

When he got to the front of the line, a cheery old man greeted him warmly, “Hi! Welcome to Cocoa Carl’s Hot Cocoa Stand. I’m Carl. We’ve just run out so it’ll be a few minutes while the new batch heats up. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No problem at all.” Bucky was in too good a mood to be impatient.  He simply leaned against the counter and hummed to himself good-naturedly.

“Might as well ring you up while we wait,” Carl said. “What’ll ya have?”

“Two hot chocolates, please,” Bucky replied, fishing his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

“On a date?” Carl asked as he set out the to-go cups.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied dreamily.

“This is a nice place for a date,” Carl commented. “Whipped cream?”

“On one of ‘em, please.” Bucky smiled again pulling the cash out. “My ‘mega’s got a sweet tooth.”

“I can see why they’d like you then.” Carl leaned down to a little mini fridge under the counter to retrieve a can of whipped topping. “You’ve got a sweet scent. Strong too.”

Bucky ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Yeah… pre-rut…”

Carl chuckled. “Been there.” He checked on the heating milk, and since it wasn’t hot enough yet, he wiped his hands on the towel tucked into his belt and turned back to his customer. “Tell me about your omega.”

“Oh geez,” Bucky’s grin was back and wider than ever. “She’s the best. Strong and thoughtful and smart and funny. She has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the world, you know? Caring as all heck. She’d cure the world of all its ills if she could. And so, so beautiful. I mean her eyes, wow. I could look into them all day.” Bucky sighed.

“She’s a lucky girl to have an alpha who cares for her so much, and brags about her so readily. And who brings her on such a nice date, and gets her a nice hot cup of cocoa.” The machine was finally ready, and Carl began dispensing the steamy beverage.

“Oh no,” Bucky insisted. “I’m the lucky one. Really. I don’t deserve her. I’d—I’d do anything for her.”

Carl was smiling a toothy, gummy grin as he handed the cups over. “You sound really in love,” he mused, winking at Bucky before turning his attention to the next customer in line.

Walking back to you with cocoa in hand, Bucky thought about what Cocoa Carl said. Was he in love with you? He supposed he should be, since you were his True Mate. But had it really happened that fast? The two of you hadn’t even kissed yet.

You accepted the cocoa with a grateful smile and an excited squeal and leaned up to peck him on the cheek. Just the brief contact of your lips on his stubble set his heart racing and he decided that yeah, Cocoa Carl was absolutely right.

After sipping your cocoa, you and Bucky did a few more circuits of the rink before deciding to head home. You returned your rented ice skates and passed by the snack stand on your way back to the car, arm in arm. The owner waved at you, and you both waved back with your free hands.

“You hold onto him,” Carl called out to you and you stopped walking to listen. “He’s one of the good ones. And he’s real sweet on ya.”

You giggled and Bucky’s cheeks tinged pink. “I will,” you assured the kind old man. “He’s one of the best ones, for sure. And it just so happens I’m sweet on him too.”

You looked up at Bucky adoringly and he couldn’t help the urge to lean down and kiss you on the lips. It was short and chaste but for one beautiful moment, time seemed to stand still.

When you pulled away, Bucky’s striking blue-gray eyes were gazing down at you with such adoration and softness you could have melted.

You smiled and murmured, “Take me home, Alpha.” Then you leaned up and whispered directly in his ear, “Take me to bed.”

A shiver ran down his spine at your words, and he looked at you with wide eyes. “You mean it, doll?”

You nodded, a glint in your eye. “Yeah, Buck, I mean it. Whether or not the universe meant for us to be together, I want to be with you. And I didn’t want to agree just to make you comfortable with helping me through my heat. I needed to want you before and during and after, and I do. I really do.”

You were driving with Bucky, back from the post office and some other errands you had run. You liked running errands with Bucky; it felt domestic, wholesome. Since you had given up the prideful stubbornness that made you want to do all those activities alone, you very much enjoyed his company on these outings. You were just glad to get out of the compound every once in a while.

“So I think your heat’s coming super soon. As soon as tomorrow,” Bucky informed you from the driver’s seat.

You knew what he was getting at. You hadn’t agreed to sleep with him before your heat yet, and he needed to have your consent before it became the hormones talking.

You hummed your confirmation of hearing him, but didn’t respond, just gazed out of the passenger window.

He seemed relatively unfazed by your lack of response. Licking his lips, he added, “Whether you spend it holed up by yourself or with me, you’re going to be trapped in your room for a while.”

He didn’t even entertain the possibility that you’d get someone else to help you through it. He wasn’t as possessive or jealous as other alphas, that was true. He could bear to watch you dance with other people, even other alphas, but knowing someone else was helping you through your heat? Taking care of you and giving you pleasure? That might just kill him.

“So what do you say to going out tonight? We could do dinner and then something fun. Do you like ice skating?” he offered.

“I’m gonna spend a lot of time shut away from most people coming up, so can we do family dinner?” You looked up from your phone and smiled. “Then I would love to go ice skating with you.”

Bucky smiled and nodded but didn’t look at you, instead glancing into the rear view mirror before training his eyes back onto the road ahead. You hadn’t mentioned anything about spending your heat with him, but you also hadn’t said you would be spending it alone. ‘Most people’ rang out through his head on repeat the rest of the drive; a hopeful beacon.

As soon as you stepped into the compound, a wave of pleasant aromas assaulted your nose. Not the typical cocktail of pheromones emitted by the various alphas and omegas of the group, but herbs and spices and delicious things.

You turned to Bucky with a smile. “Smells like we picked a good day to have family dinner.”

The closer you got to the kitchen, the stronger the aromas became. In the kitchen, Wanda and Pietro were moving in perfect sync. Pietro was zipping around the small space at his super speed, somehow managing not to run into Wanda, probably because she was in his head.

Everything was laid out splendidly on the counter. Bucky went to reach for some kind of savory pastry puff, but found his hand being swatted away by a tendril of red energy.

“Don’t you dare, James Barnes!” Wanda hissed from her place at the stove.

Bucky put his hands up defensively and backed away. You pulled a seat for him at the table and bowed low and dramatically. He thanked you with a chuckle and a curtsy before settling in and looking expectantly at you.

But instead of sliding into the seat next to him, as he clearly anticipated, you walked around the table and plopped yourself down in the chair directly across from him. He looked a little shocked, but was pleasantly surprised when you tossed a wink his way.

Just then, Wanda piped up, “Ok so I know you just sat down, but can the two of you help me move stuff to the table?”

You scooched your chair out and called over your shoulder, “Sure thing, Wands!”

You grabbed the tray of puff things Bucky had tried to sample, while Bucky balanced a tray of meat on one hand, a tray of vegetables on the other, and a basket of bread in the crook of his vibranium elbow.

“Show off,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well he could pick it up with his enhanced hearing. He smirked, and purposefully flexed his muscles in response.

“Why don’t you wanna sit next to me, doll?” he asked as you both set your dishes down on the table.

You shrugged. “I’d actually like to be able to smell the food the twins were nice enough to prepare,” you replied. “Be able to pay attention to my friends, you know.” You didn’t meet his eyes as you began distributing napkins to all the place settings.

Behind you, Bucky was grinning like an idiot. You had basically just admitted that his scent was so intoxicating to you that it overwhelmed even the delicious aromas of the feast being presented. That it was so distracting that it made you lose all sense of focus. That his mere proximity and the vague possibility of touch was enough to steal all of your attention.

He was thrilled he affected you as much as you affected him. Your scent was dizzying and incredible and even across the table, he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much else.

Also at dinner with you, besides the twins and Bucky, were your parents, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint, Peter, Rhodey and Vision.

When everything was set out and everyone was seated, Pietro zipped to the head of the table and grandly announced, “Welcome to the best culinary experience of your life! A little taste of Sokovia, and also some stuff from internet recipes we thought sounded good. Bone app the teeth!”

Bucky was right that you were entirely too distracting for him to pay much attention to anyone else. But that was all right.  Bucky was never that talkative during these large group dinners anyway. In all honesty, he rarely attended them. Everyone was secretly grateful to you for being the reason he was opening up more and being more social, even if he was spending most of the meal gazing at you longingly.

It wasn’t just your scent that got him. It was the way you were so engaged and invested in those around you; if someone was speaking, you were listening like they were the most important person in the world. It was the way you would thank the twins and compliment them each time you dug into a new dish, making appreciative groans that went straight to Bucky’s groin. It was the way you did an adorable little happy food dance when munching on the dishes you especially liked. It was the way you kept stealing glances at him and when you caught his eye, you would smile that sweet smile that made his heart race.

At some point during the evening, Steve leaned over to whisper in his best friend’s ear, “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much consecutively since before the war.”

That took Bucky a bit by surprise. He didn’t even think about all the time he spent smiling now that you were in his life. But it was a lot.

“She just… makes me happy,” he replied, sneaking another glance at you. You had stuck forks in two spinach puffs and were doing the Charlie Chaplin bread roll routine, much to everyone’s amusement.

Steve put his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed tight. “That’s really great, man. I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get sappy about it, punk,” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair when he let go.

At the end of the meal, Wanda poked her head in the oven only to emerge back into the dining area to announce, “So the pie isn’t quite done yet. But I figure once we clean up and maybe watch an episode of Great British Bake Off, it should be ready.”

“Save me and Bucky some!” you chirped, helping to gather dirty dishes to bring into the kitchen.

“You’re not sticking around, kiddo?” Tony asked.

“We’re going ice skating!” you answered happily.

“We don’t have to go, doll, if you want to hang out here. I know how much you love the Bake Off,” Bucky offered. “And pie.”

You deposited the dishes into the sink, then turned your entire attention to Bucky in that way you did so whoever you were speaking to couldn’t help but feel special. “No, we made plans! I’m really excited to go ice skating with you!”

“Ice skating sounds fun!” Peter piped up from where he was loading cutlery into the dish washer. “Could I- Ow!” Steve not-so-subtly stepped on his foot before he could ruin your one-on-one plans with Bucky.

You chuckled. “One day we should all go ice skating as a group. But tonight is date night.” You grabbed Bucky’s arm and beamed up at him, and he couldn’t help himself from leaning down and kissing your forehead, which made your nose crinkle in delight.

In the morning, Bucky walked out into the corridor with a huge smile on his face as he remembered the evening before. The second he stepped out his door, however, he stopped in his tracks. His smile was smacked off his face by the scent permeating the air.

Lavender, orange and cedar. Positively dripping with lust and need. Need for an alpha. Need for him.

Before he could stop himself, he was barreling through the compound on his way to you. When he reached the door, he pounded against it with his metal fist.

“Doll? Doll let me in, please,” he called out desperately.

He was immeasurably glad you agreed beforehand to let him help you through your heat, because he is 100% convinced that nothing in the world could have stopped him from doing exactly this the second he got a whiff of your scent. He would have had to lock himself in a strait jacket in a prison cell on the other side of the continent to keep from running to your side even just knowing you were in need, but catching that aroma cinched it. He needed to help you. He needed to please you.

Bucky heard the rustle of sheets as you tried to disentangle yourself from your bed. Then he heard a frustrated groan when you just gave up, panting, “FRIDAY, let him in.”

There was a click, and in a millisecond Bucky had burst through the door. He was greeted with the sight of you, dripping sweat and slick and in just his shirt from the night before. Contact with the fabric of your panties and the sheets was too much for your sensitive core, so you had already removed your soaked underwear and had your legs spread, which put your pussy on full display for him. You felt gross, but it was the hottest thing Bucky had ever seen.

“Bucky, everything hurts,” you whined.

“Ssshhh, I know, ‘mega, I know. I got you. I’m gonna make it all better,” he cooed.

He knew skin to skin contact would provide some small relief, so as much as he loved seeing you in it, he peeled his shirt off of you and then climbed into your bed. You had properly nested, piling the bed with pillows, fuzzy blankets, and, he was proud to see, several of his sweatshirts. You’d stolen them over the last few weeks, and they made it so his scent was strong even without before he’d been present. It made his chest swell with satisfaction you had sought out his scent, even when you were too incapacitated to seek him out personally.

Bucky pulled you into his bare chest and immediately you breathed a sigh of relief. He rubbed up and down your arms comfortingly with both his flesh and metal hand. The metal arm provided cooling relief to your heated skin, and the other provided relief in the form of skin-to-skin contact. You tangled your legs with his.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured, then kissed the side of your head.

“Is this always what it’s going to be like?” you asked.

You felt him shrug under you. “Welcome to your heat.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that…” you mumbled, burrowing your face into his chest in an attempt to hide.

“Hey, hey no.” Bucky pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “None of that. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He tucked his chin back over your head before muttering, “And besides, it was actually really hot.”

You chuckled, but it transformed into a whimper as you felt another cramp hit you. Bucky could feel your skin heating up under his fingers and against his torso.

“The relief from contact is fading,” Bucky informed you. “The only thing that’s going to help now is release. Can I touch you?”  

“Please,” you whined, flopping onto your back and arching off the bed when another cramp made its way through you.

“All right, I’ve got you.” Bucky still held onto your shoulders with one arm, but the other snaked downwards.

When his fingers first made contact with your sensitive core, you instinctively pulled your hips away, but he didn’t like that at all. He slapped your pussy, lightly, but you still yelped.

“Stay still, omega,” he growled. His voice was low and ominous and it sent a chill through you. You glanced up at him and could see his pupils were nearly fully dilated, the shimmering gray-blue of his irises almost entirely eclipsed by black. You could tell he was fighting for control with his inner alpha, and losing.

He brought his hand back to your core, and you fought hard not to pull away. He swiped his fingers through your dripping folds a few times before bringing some of the moisture up and circling your clit. Soon you were no longer fighting the urge to pull away, instead bucking up into his hand.

“Mmm…” Bucky hummed his approval and brought his other hand around to tweak and play with your nipple. “So needy, little ‘mega. You like it when your alpha touches you, don’t you? When your alpha takes care of you.”

“Yes, alpha,” you panted. Part of you hated this type of talk, but if Bucky was going to give in to his inner alpha, you figured you might as well give in to your inner omega. It would be an agonizingly long week otherwise.

“You need to come, baby girl? Need to feel better?” You just whined in response. “Oh, poor baby, bet your needy cunt is clenching around nothing, huh? Lemme help you.”

He dipped his middle finger into your entrance, thumb still playing with your clit. “Oof, so tight, baby girl, and that’s only one of my fingers. Gonna need to get you ready if you’re gonna be able to take your alpha’s thick knot.”

“Yes—need your knot—please.” You were past being intelligible, simply moaning and babbling nonsense.

“Sshh, baby. You’ll get my knot when you’re ready. Your alpha will give you everything you need.” He added another finger and curved upwards. All it took was a few ‘come hither’ motions and you were arching off the bed, screaming.

Bucky continued to stroke through your folds languidly as you came down. “Mm I’ve got the prettiest omega. Looks so beautiful when she comes apart. Bet she tastes delicious too, her taste sweetened by her heat.” He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked, letting out a moan as your release hit his tastebuds. “Mmmm I was right. Gotta taste that right from the source.”

You let out an involuntary whimper as he extracted his arm from behind you, but then he was above you, pressing just enough weight onto you to make you feel safe and comforted, but not so much to crush you (which he could easily do, as a two-hundred-plus-pound super-soldier).

He slithered his way down your body. Last night, he had peppered kisses on his way, but now he was too impatient, and honestly so were you. He ate you out with gusto. He was making no effort to hold back his noises, his grunts and moans, and neither were you. Somewhere in the way back of your mind, you were grateful the walls  of the Compound were soundproof and that you had de-activated FRIDAY for the week of your heat, but that was very, very far back in your consciousness. The only thing you could focus on was the feel of Bucky’s mouth on your core and the way his hands were now groping your breasts, the metal and the flesh providing a delicious difference in temperature on either breast that was helping to keep you grounded to reality, keeping your brain from floating up into the clouds.

Only after you came on his tongue did Bucky give in to your desperate pleading and move back up your body.

“Ok baby, you think you’re ready for my knot?” he growled.

“Yes, Bucky, alpha, please!” Those were about the only four words you could manage, and in various combinations, they were likely to be the some of the only ones you would say for the next week.

Last night, it felt like each new feeling brought something new, something heightened, to your very existence. But your heat made each new sensation even stronger, even sharper, so once again, each new step felt like a climb higher and higher until your tether to reality was precarious at best.

Finally, when you were very close to the edge for perhaps the sixth time (you had long since lost count), Bucky was ready to join you. It wouldn’t be the last time during your heat—you had a long week ahead of you—but it was the first. And it would be the most momentous.

“You ready for my knot, baby girl? Ready for my bite?”

You were beyond words. You just mewled, desperate for both, for anything.

Then he burst, and his knot caught on your walls, and his teeth split the skin of your bonding gland, and everything was kaleidoscopic colors and the most intense sensations you had ever felt in your whole life, all of it you could remember and all of it you couldn’t, you were sure of it.

You were in the common room, chilling and having a snack with Wanda, when Steve approached.

“Hey Wands, I’m going out for lunch with Bucky and would rather be left alone. Scent me?”

You were so startled you nearly dropped the entire bowl of popcorn onto the expensive suede couch, for which your father would have murdered you.

Wanda just nodded. “Of course, Steve, no problem.”

You gawked at them. “You guys aren’t…” You made a vague gesture with your hand. You remembered a story Steve had told the group during family dinner one night about his first girlfriend back in the forties. “Fonduing?” you finished.

Steve laughed. “No, no, no. I’m just pre-rut and don’t want any omegas coming onto me.”

You snorted. “That’s a bit conceited, isn’t it?”

Wanda was dead serious. “Oh no. Any alpha, but especially one as strong and… alpha-y as Steve—pheromone forward is a phrase I’ve heard—could have an issue. Same as we do.” Wanda was an omega, like you. “They’re less… scared for their life, I guess, since they could more easily overpower most omega harassers, especially Steve obviously, but. It’s a risk, going out this close to his rut.”

Your mouth opened and then closed again. “Really?” Both Avengers nodded. “How come I haven’t read about this? In all the Omega Rights literature?”

Wanda sighed. “Omegas are the ones at the bottom of the totem pole, but everyone’s screwed by the system. In the movement, as the privileged group, it’s seen as stealing the spotlight for alphas to complain, and outside of it it’s seen as un-alpha-y—submissive.”

“That’s awful!” you exclaimed. There were hums of agreement around you.

Just as Steve leant down to expose his neck to Wanda, Bucky emerged around the corner, tugging his worn, black leather jacket over his beefy shoulders. Steve’s eyes widened in realization and he straightened up before Wanda could carry out his request.

“Oh wait actually,” he murmured, “I don’t wanna leave Bucky taking the hits. We’ll just deal with it together.”

“I can scent him too,” Wanda offered.

Steve’s eyes darted between you and Bucky in a completely unsubtle manner. “I don’t think he wants to be scented by you, Wanda…” he murmured softly, but you still heard him.

You shrunk a little into the plush sofa. “Is it… normal for friends to scent each other just to avoid harassment?” you asked quietly.

Wanda, Steve and Bucky all nodded. Wanda added, “It can be a super intimate act, or it can be totally casual, just to keep alphas and omegas off each other’s backs.”

You stared at your lap a moment longer, nodding slowly.

The seedling of an idea was germinating in your mind.

That idea was pushed to the side when Bucky came around the couch to say goodbye with a kiss to your cheek. Your brain flashed back to that day in the diner, one of your first dates, when a particularly forward omega had invaded Bucky’s space. The memory of his distress-altered odor made your stomach churn. You wouldn’t be there to come to his aid this time, and if they wouldn’t listen to Bucky, they wouldn’t listen to Steve either. Not without one or the other of them getting aggressive and putting on a domineering alpha demeanor that you knew neither would pull out at the deli.

You grabbed Bucky’s hands to keep him in place, like you had that first day you met him. You couldn’t look him in the eye and blood rushed to your cheeks as you stammered out, “I can—can scent you. If you want. And Wanda can scent Steve and then you’ll both be left alone.”

His eyes sparkled with the prospect, and a teasing smile stretched his lips. “Don’t like the idea of me getting attention from other omegas?”

You stared him down. “I don’t like the idea of you getting unwanted attention from anyone.”

He chuckled softly at your evasive answer. “Yeah, all right.”

Bucky sat down on the couch next to you, leaning back and baring the side of his neck to you. Awkwardly, you leaned in, maintaining your balance with a hand on his chest. He placed his right hand over yours on his pec, and stabilized you both with his left hand on your hip.

You took a gentle sniff of his scent gland first, allowing the sweet aroma to calm your jittery nerves, and letting the relaxed vibe you could pick up through it assure you that Bucky truly wanted this.

You laid a sloppy open-mouthed kiss right on the puckered piece of skin where his musk was strongest. He tasted as good as he smelled and you nearly moaned aloud. His grip on your hip tightened slightly in reaction, likely prompted by a similar response. You pulled back.

“Did it work?” you asked, embarrassed at how out of breath you sounded.

Wanda sniffed the air experimentally. “Yup! Steve?”

Steve leaned down, and Wanda licked his scent gland; the entire affair was much quicker and less intimate than the moment you had just shared with Bucky. “Thanks, Wanda.” Steve pattered her back. It felt incongruously casual considering she had just licked his neck.

“Thank you, doll.” Bucky placed a delicate kiss on your temple as he rose off the couch, finally releasing his hold on your hip and hand.

When the super-soldiers were out of the room, your brain returned to its sapling of an idea. You mulled it around, tilled the land around the little idea-sprout.

Wanda could sense your contemplative mood. “What are you thinking about?” she asked through a mouthful of popcorn. Wanda never read people’s thoughts unless invited.

“It’s terrible and unfair that people have to be ‘taken,’ or at least pretend they are, to get people to leave them alone. But it’s the reality. And I’m more than willing to help Bucky, and I’m glad you can help Steve, but what about the people who don’t have friends of who can scent them whenever they want to run an errand undisturbed?”

Wanda hummed. “Some people put on fake bonding marks, like temporary tattoos, but if someone gets too close, you can be literally sniffed out.”

Your bud of an idea suddenly bloomed. You vaulted off the couch and scrambled over the back, shouting a hasty thanks to your friend before sprinting to Bruce’s lab.

When you came barreling through the doors, Bruce was startled into dropping his pencil. Luckily that was all he was holding instead of a vial of something dangerous or something important.

“Well hello there. Welcome to the lab, Y/n, is everything all right?” Bruce asked, bending over to pick up his pencil and managing to knock the glasses off his own face in the process.

“No everything is not fine this world is stupid and people deserve better than to be harassed for not being in a relationship,” you rambled, pacing furiously around the room.

“All right, all right, calm down,” Bruce cooed, coming around a table to block your path. “What did you have in mind?”

“Perfume,” you explained. “that mimics alpha or omega pheromones. So people can scent themselves.”

Bruce shook his head sadly. “People have tried. Fragrance and cosmetics companies market stuff like that every other season, and it never works.”

You arched a brow at him. “But has the foremost scientist in biotechnology ever taken a stab at it?” you asked pointedly.

“No…” he mused, rubbing at his chin. “I suppose it could be an interesting challenge…”

“Yes, please do it! I’ll help you market it and everything. And you can use whatever samples you need from me. I’m not a scientist, but I want to help in any way I can.” You jumped up and down with excitement.

Bruce chuckled at your antics. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

You squealed in delight and skipped out of the room.

It meant a lot for you to be able to help in some small way to make this messed up world better for people who weren’t as fortunate as you. Who didn’t have a doting alpha like Bucky to scent them and protect them from entitled douchebags. Who didn’t have everything they could ever need right in one compound, thus removing the need to go places that might be dangerous.

You tossed and turned, unable for the life of you to fall asleep. Something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Finally accepting that oblivion wouldn’t pull you under anytime soon, you got up to get a midnight snack. Your own kitchenette was rather empty at the moment, so you exited your suite entirely with the idea of raiding the communal kitchen.

As soon as you stepped out into the hallway, however, your plans changed. Your nose was assaulted with an odor that sent your omega instincts into overdrive: Bucky’s scent, but the cream was curdled. Your feet carried you on autopilot not towards the kitchen, but towards Bucky’s suite.

Once you got in front of his door, reason finally started to kick in. You paused for several seconds, which was too long apparently, as FRIDAY chirped, “Welcome to Sergeant Barnes’ room, Ms. Stark. May I help you?”

“Is Bucky’s door unlocked?” you asked tentatively.

“No, Ms. Stark, but you have access,” the AI informed you.

Your face scrunched in confusion. “I do?”

“Yes, Ms. Stark. After you departed on Wednesday afternoon, he instructed me to give you unrestricted access. He was smiling very broadly and seemed intoxicated, though he had not consumed any illicit substances. My best guess is that he was high on endorphins from your encounter.”

Wait a second. Wednesday afternoon. You and Bucky had played board games together for several hours that day. Bucky had been so happy after you had spent an innocent afternoon playing Trouble and Scrabble and Pass The Pigs, he had, as if in a drunken haze, given you complete and total access to his private living space?

FRIDAY said he seemed intoxicated; perhaps then it was taking advantage of him to take him up on it. Then again, he wasn’t actually intoxicated, meaning he was totally in his right mind and you should not feel any shame for entering his room even without explicit permission.

Right?

Your internal debate was brought to a premature conclusion by the heart-wrenching sound of a terrified scream reaching your ears. In an instant, you had opened the door, which, as FRIDAY promised, yielded to your fingerprint on the handle with no additional fuss.

The suite was dark and a different layout than your own, but you navigated it without issue tracking his sour scent and staccato cries of distress.

When you made it to his bedroom, just your very presence calmed him, at least a little. His scent became a tad sweeter, and his cries were reduced to whimpers. He rolled over to face you and was breathing deeply but did not wake.

You knelt at the side of the bed, stroking his hair and cooing softly.

“Bucky? Bucky wake up,” you whispered.

He flipped onto his back and started groaning, “No, no, no, no, no.”

You placed a hand on his chest and tried to shake him awake, raising your voice only slightly to more of a stage whisper, calling his name to try and rouse him. He grabbed your hand from his chest and rolled back to his side to face you again, clutching your hand tightly to his chest like a child might cling to a stuffed toy, effectively trapping you. His whimpers made way for contented sighs, and he seemed to fall into either a dreamless sleep or at the very least a much more pleasant dream.

Your heart calmed at seeing Bucky sated, and suddenly the sleepiness that had evaded you flooded your system. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you couldn’t wrench your hand free, nor did you really want to if you were being honest. Bucky’s presence and touch was just as comforting to you as yours was to him.

It didn’t feel right crawling into his bed without his waking consent, so you settled more comfortably on the floor, leaning your head on his mattress near his chest so close you could hear his heart. Swiftly, sleep pulled you under.

When morning came, Bucky woke early, as usual, allowing his body to slowly rouse fully before opening his eyes. His enhanced senses were attuned to the chirping of the birds outside, the whirring of the gym equipment coming to life several floors below as Sam and Steve began their workouts, the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, and your heavenly scent. He always woke up with the faint wisp of your scent in his nose, lingering on his pillow from whenever you were last in his room as well as wafting through the hallway, ever present in the compound. But this morning, it was particularly strong for some reason. He sighed contentedly, a little purr sneaking out, and he gripped the hand pressed to his chest tighter.

Wait a moment.

He finally pried his eyes open and his heart nearly fell out of his chest. You were leaning against the side of his bed, your body slack and relaxed, a soft whistle blowing through your nose. He realized he still had a vice grip on your hand and he let go, feeling guilty for the fact that you probably lost blood flow to it long ago.

Your hand dropped limply to your side, but then you whimpered at the loss of contact and the disturbance caused you to wake.

You opened your eyes groggily to see Bucky’s smiling face. “Good morning, sweets,” he murmured.

“Mmmm good morning,” you drawled, closing your eyes again and stretching out. There was an audible crack from your neck when you tilted your head and Bucky winced.

“How long were you down there, doll? Everything all right?”

He shifted over and patted the mattress next to him. You crawled up and gave him a small, grateful smile. “I’m fine, Buck. You had a nightmare around 3am and when I came to check on you, you took my hand captive, so I stayed.”

Bucky immediately shrunk himself down, almost cowering, clearly overwhelmed by guilt and shame. You gripped his chin between your pointer finger and thumb and turned him to you. “It’s ok, I didn’t mind. Honestly. I couldn’t sleep either.” Softly, you added, “Being near you helped.”

He smiled and pulled you into his chest. “Thank you for being there for me,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “My perfect, nurturing omega,” he cooed.

You prickled slightly at that particular praise, not loving the idea that you fit into a stereotype, but you did love the idea of making him feel better, and isn’t that all that is? You sighed and snuggled further into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist so your torso could press closer to his.

“Next time, you can come into the bed,” he informed you.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes to gauge the sincerity of his words. “Even if you’re sleeping?”

You surveyed your surroundings. You were in a hospital room of some sort, that was for sure. There were more people than a hospital should allow into a patient’s room of this size though. Along with the doctor, who continued puttering around with a clipboard, and the man on the windowsill, there was a goateed man in the chair closest to your cot. He was wearing blue tinted glasses and an AC/DC t-shirt. His hair was ruffled and his shoulders were tensed. He looked like he had slept in that chair for at least a few nights.

You wondered what he was to you that made him stay by your side like that.

There was also a woman with bright red hair pulled into a French braid leaning against the wall near the window. And an extremely tall and muscular blond man with a white t-shirt at least two sizes too small stretched taut across his broad chest leaning against the door frame.

The doctor cleared his throat and approached you, clipboard at the ready, glasses perched on his nose. “I’ve got a few questions for you, now that you’re awake.”

“I have precisely zero answers,” you responded quickly but calmly. You made a vague gesture at your head. “There is absolutely no information up here whatsoever. I believe the kids call it amnesia.”

The man on the windowsill chuckled. “We’ve learned one thing already. She’s got a great sense of humor to fit in with us clowns.”

The doctor ignored him. “So you don’t remember your name? Or how you ended up unconscious in the middle of a large field in rural Pennsylvania?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

He scribbled on his clipboard before looking back at you. “Sometimes memories can return a little after waking. We’ll give it some time before we go poking around your head.”

“Cool, cool, cool. Sounds like a good plan. Um, thank you. Who are you?”

He laughed. “Sorry, we’ve all been so rude. I’m Bruce. Dr. Bruce Banner.” He switched his clipboard to one hand to reach out and shake yours with the other. “Due to a gamma radiation accident, I’m also the Hulk,” he added in a quieter voice.

You shook his hand amicably. “That means literally nothing to me.”

The redhead introduced herself as Natasha (due to Soviet spy training, Black Widow), window-sill man as Clint (due to some really mean circus carnies, Hawkeye), door-frame man as Steve (due to some German man and his fancy serum, Captain America), chair man as Tony (due to his own stupendous genius, Iron Man). You repeated each of their names back to them with a small smile and wave, cheerily confirming that neither their names nor their alter-egos rang any bells whatsoever.

A couple hours of friendly chatting went by. You learned that these were some of the Avengers, along with who the Avengers were in the first place, and about some of their exploits. The attack on New York, Ultron, the very near split that occurred somewhat recently but its ultimately happy resolution.

At some point, a tall, refined strawberry blonde who introduced herself as Pepper came in and insisted everyone eat lunch. Most people evacuated for the cafeteria, giving you a pat on the back or a wave goodbye. Tony, however, insisted on staying with you. After a heated debate between Tony and Pepper executed silently and entirely with their facial expressions, Pepper sighed and left the room. When she returned, she had two trays. She kissed Tony’s cheek after she placed his in his lap, then left the two of you alone again.

A few minutes of companionable silence followed as you chewed your food. You learned new things about yourself in this process, like you didn’t like pickles but you didn’t mind if the pickle touched your sandwich, in fact you kind of liked the taste of the pickle juice residue. You also learned that you absolutely loved chocolate chip cookies.

As Tony nibbled on a tuna fish sandwich, you took a moment to observe him. The deep bags under his eyes reinforced the guess that he had taken up residence in that chair some time ago.

“Are you-” you began hesitantly, then started again. “Do you mean something to me?”

He looked at you with wide eyes. “Um-what?” he stammered.

“You seem to care a lot. Staying by my side and all. I thought maybe we were… connected in some way? Related, maybe?” Your voice was small, and you used your fork to poke at the coleslaw you had decided was not your cup of tea.

You were terrified to offend him with this line of questioning. You knew how much it would hurt if he loved you and you had no idea who he was. But you couldn’t help the fact that you didn’t recognize him, and your curiosity got the better of you.

He set his tray aside and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Bruce’s question about your memory wasn’t a trick one. We don’t know your name or how you ended up in that field either. We know nothing about you.”

Your brow furrowed. “So then… why? I mean, thank you, but why do you seem so… invested?”

He chuckled wryly. “I’d chalk it up to alpha protection instincts, but I’m a beta and none of the alphas on the team have put in the hours I have in this room. So, paternal instinct maybe?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Alpha? Beta? What?? Why are you reciting the Greek alphabet????”

Tony cocked his head to the side. “Alpha, beta, omega? The presentations? The biological… you really don’t know?”

You looked at him like he had twelve heads and seventy pairs of eyes.

“Huh. Ok. Weird. Gonna have to tell Bruce to mark that down,” he mumbled. “Um, yeah, how to put it. It’s something everyone’s born into. Alphas are typically more dominant, betas tend to be pretty neutral, omegas more… submissive is how people describe it, but I don’t like that word. Alphas are protective, betas peace-keeping, omegas nurturing. Yeah, that’s a better word, nurturing. Of course, these are all stereotypes. And the Omega Rights movement, which I absolutely support, believes firmly that it’s more of a lateral spectrum than a strict hierarchy, and the science is starting to support that. I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“What… am I?” You were almost scared to ask.

“From the looks of it, beta. You don’t really present one way or the other, and your scent’s not that strong,” he replied. “Beta’s sort of the default in that way. No heats or ruts, less sensitive to scents and pheromones. Honestly it’s kinda nice.”

You just blinked at him. None of this meant anything to you. Heats? Ruts? Sounded animalistic.

His hand floated to your neck. You retreated back into your pillow, but he only made feather-light touches on either side of your throat beneath your jaw and near your collar bones. “No bonding gland…” he murmured.

“No what??”

Your confusion about this whole system was baffling to Tony. Amnesia patients usually still understood the way of the world, still had a general understanding of basic concepts like presentation and gender, social norms, etc. You seemed to have a lot of that stuff down, like shaking hands, waving, eating politely; you even knew that the terminology was from the Greek alphabet. Why this one normal thing that everyone dealt with starting from birth was completely foreign to you… it made no sense.

“You don’t have a scent gland. One of these.” He bared his neck to show you the small protrusion of skin, a slightly darker shade of pink than the surrounding flesh. There was a set of old, scarred-over teeth marks.

“Why are there bite marks???” You were shocked and appalled, reaching out on instinct to run your fingertips over the piece of anatomy you didn’t seem to share.

“It’s a bonding mark,” he replied. “Pepper and I bonded, marked each other, ‘claimed’ each other; there’s different vocabulary for it.”

You shook your head and leaned back. “Weird.”

Just then, Bruce returned. None of the other Avengers were with him.

He clapped his hands together, heading straight for his clipboard. “Right then, any progress on those memories?”

“Nope. Still blank,” you replied.

“Bruce,” Tony muttered. He pulled the doctor aside to have a hushed conversation in the corner, presumably about your glaring lack of knowledge about the presentation system. You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed.

“Huh. Weird,” Bruce concluded the exchange, stepping back over to your bed. “Ok, so with your permission, I’d like to run some tests. See if we can find any clues to who you are.”

“With a DNA sample, FRIDAY—my computer system— can start looking for your identity,” Tony offered.

“Whatever you need,” you assented.

For the next hour or so, you were poked and prodded. Why blood, saliva, skin scrapings, gum scrapings, hair and urine were all necessary you had no clue, but you weren’t the doctor or the scientist, so you just let them do whatever they needed to do.

You were awoken from your nap to Tony and Bruce looking at you with odd expressions. Slowly, you sat up. “What is it?”

It was another couple of beats before anyone answered you. In that span of time, your heart rate increased and panic began to sink into your bones. Finally, Tony scrubbed his hand down his face and muttered, “So… you don’t exist.”

“Pardon?” you asked.

“There’s no record of you anywhere. DNA search resulted in nothing. Which means you were never registered with the A/B/O Board, never put into the public school system… couldn’t even have been born in a proper hospital. FRIDAY even hacked into private databases and, nothing.”

“Oh, ummm… odd.”

“You also have no presentation whatsoever,” Bruce added. “Some people, when they’re born, are registered as betas because their nature is repressed for some reason, but with the proper exposure to alpha or omega pheromones, present later as one or the other. That’s because people assume presentation at birth based on behavior and scent, which can be deceiving. But if you were to take those babies and test their DNA the way I have yours, you could know from birth their true presentation. But you don’t even have the string of DNA where your presentation should be encoded.”

“Are you saying I’m… not human?”

Tony shook his head. “All the aliens I’ve encountered also had presentations. Bruce?”

He nodded his confirmation. “I’ve been on three planets, on opposite sides of the galaxy, and all have had presentation systems. Even that guy Thor was friends with made entirely of rocks.”

“The talking raccoon did too,” Tony added.

You blinked a bunch of times. “I think I’m having a stroke. The fuck are you on about aliens?? Talking raccoons??” The monitor picked up a spike in your vitals, in your blood pressure and heart rate.