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“Steve.” Bucky’s dissatisfaction dripped around his name, he wasn’t even trying to hide it, and Steve’s jaw clenched because he was about to strangle his oldest and best friend. Until Bucky’s better half grabbed his wrist and shoved him behind her.
“Steve,” Natasha repeated. They were standing in Bucky and Nat’s kitchen, and when Nat repeated his name, softer but much more firm, it echoed across the cutting board he’d been sharing with Bucky. “You don’t have to feel pressured to bring anyone--”
“Whatever happened with Sharon?” Bucky interrupted, making Natasha turn around and glare at him.
Steve shifted and thought about leaving. He knew Bucky meant well, but he always thought they needed to do things together; so for Bucky to be getting married, and for him to still be single? Well, that didn’t sit right with Bucky. “She took that promotion abroad.”
“I don’t get it, Stevie. You’re a fine, good looking alpha. Not everyone can have the beta love story me and Natasha have, but--”
“But,” Natasha cut in, “we need to get started on dinner, if we’re going to eat sometime this evening.” She pulled some onion and green pepper from the fridge and tossed them at Bucky then took a package of ground beef to the stovetop. As they cooked, Bucky tried to ask Steve about a few other coworkers at his architecture firm and of the guys on his baseball team, but eventually, Nat managed to successfully change the subject. She started telling them about her latest assignment with the security contracting firm she’d been working at for a little over a year.
But Steve knew the moment of peace wouldn’t last long, and even if Bucky didn’t bring it up again tonight, he could picture the wedding weekend. Natasha had all those ballerina cousins of hers, and, heck, Scott was single again. He could see Bucky getting desperate enough to try and make that happen, and just the thought made Steve bring the knife down across the onion with more force than was strictly necessary. It was easy to imagine every single friend or family member being thrust in his path, how Bucky would probably pay more attention to Steve than his own damn wedding.
Steve couldn’t have that.
They were just sitting down to dinner, Bucky sliding a plate full of chicken and mac and cheese in front of Natasha, placing a brief kiss on her cheek, when he blurted out the words, “Actually, I might’ve found someone.” Bucky almost missed the table entirely, and dropped Steve’s plate into his lap. “Maybe. Maybe, Bucky! Sit down and stop grinning like a loon.”
“Steve, I think you broke him.”
“Be quiet, you evil minx.” Bucky blew a kiss at his fiancee. “Steve is about to tell us all about...”
He realized Bucky was waiting for him to fill in with the details of his perfectly fictional new love interest, and his utter lack of planning was the only thing to blame on what happened next. “He’s cute... An omega that I met recently...”
Nat put down her fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Where?”
“What’s he look like?”
Steve chose to answer Bucky’s question because it was the easiest to pull out of thin air. “Um, brown...hair. Eyes too. But look guys, it’s nothing-- brand new. If you keep hounding me like this--
“We’ll smother it like a barely started flame?”
He took the out. “Exactly.”
Bucky reached over and shoved at his shoulder. “But how hot is this flame?”
Under the table, both he and Natasha kicked him at the exact same time, and Bucky put his hands up in defeat, even if he spent the rest of dinner sending Steve smug little smirks.
THE AGENCY
The woman in front of Steve made him want to straighten his tie. She looked impeccable in a three piece suit and not a single red hair out of place. “We received your name from Nick Fury, but he didn’t give us much else to go on.”
“To go on…?” He was sitting across the woman’s large, modern desk. Pepper Potts, Agency Director , inscribed on a black, metal nameplate on its surface. Steve felt like he could make the place too dirty, that if he so much as moved his shoe he’d scuff the shiny, white tile.
“Your interests,” Director Potts continued. “What sort of person do you find attractive? Drawn to? What sort of dates were you looking to bring them on?”
“Well, it’s for a wedding weekend.”
Director Potts nodded, straightening in her leather chair and moving the folders on her desk into different piles. “So, a multi-day event?”
“Yeah.” Steve swallowed, whoever the agency found for Steve, they’d need to be okay with longer than a night. “Is that--?”
“Whatever you need,” Director Potts cut him off. “We’re here to fit your needs.”
Steve flushed and tried not to think about what these services were normally used for: to couple a needy alpha with a willing omega. It implied sex, even when there were so many other reasons to want a partner on your arm. Steve expected nothing from the omega he'd be matched with, only a barrier against unwanted and prying questions.
“Are there any similarities between the people you’ve liked in the past?” Director Potts asked, when Steve was unable to offer up any helpful information.
Steve thought of the women and men he’d been with before. There was Peggy, and back before her Logan. Both were big-eyed brunettes, and quick tongues. Sharon wasn’t a brunette, but she certainly had attitude. “I like some spunk.” The Director hummed, shuffling the files around again. “And I told my friend he had brown hair and brown eyes, so...”
Director Potts tapped a finger on his desk. “Well that does narrow it down a bit.” She slid three files in front of Steve and sat back with her hands folded on the desk in front of her, waiting. Steve took that to mean the folders in front of him were his candidates.
All of a sudden, Steve felt as if he was watching himself, flipping through files, auditioning someone to be his own. It felt so sleazy, so much so that he almost walked out the door right then. Except, he’d already gotten in too deep. It was like Bucky always said: he always jumped into an idea first and then thought about the consequences later.
He opened the top file, on one side was a photo and on the other a handwritten bio. The first guy’s name was Justin Hammer, which sounded so much like a cheesy porn star that he closed the file folder immediately and turned to the next one.
Jim Morita was a handsome omega. A Japanese-American who liked to fly planes in his free time. He was standing by one in his photo. He was also shirtless, a towel around his neck as he leaned back and showed off his abs. Steve swallowed and shifted his gaze to the bio. The first line alone made Steve swallow again. I’ll make our time together one you will never forget, a time you will never want to forget. It seemed a bit much, and when presented next to the suggestive photo...Well, Steve closed the folder.
The next one was Tony Stark. He was thankfully fully-clothed, wearing a suit that clung to his body in all the right places--tailored, classic. He was slender, but there was a hint of muscle along the shoulders that broadened his suit jacket. The photo was tasteful, the only hint of personality in his cocked hip and raised eyebrow. Under the bio was one simple sentence, If you want to know more, meet me.
Steve found that he did want to know more.
Pointing his finger onto a file and selecting the omega out of a lineup made Steve’s stomach turn, made him know his mama was glaring down at him from heaven.
But he still wanted to meet him.
TONY
Steve stood in the hallway outside the room. The door was shut but it had a window so Steve could observe its interior from the outside. Inside was a sitting room with furniture that looked like it belonged in a palace or the Victorian era, more than in the ultra-modern agency. The upholstery was full floral patterns and and gold stitching. Tony stood out like a sore thumb.
Even with his back to Steve, Tony seemed too energetic for the room. His focus was on the table, where it looked like he’d disassembled a radio. All the parts were lined up on the mahogany table, and it looked like he was doing little to prevent his project from sprawling out into the rest of the room.
Steve knocked before walking in, even though he didn’t have to, the whole reason the omega was in the room was to meet Steve. “My Mama had a radio like that. It was a hand me down from her Pa, but to this day, I say you can’t find a better way to follow a baseball game. Haven’t seen one in years. Well, parts of one, anyhow.”
“Uh, come in.” Tony turned to face the door, stretching his arms out long against the table as if he was trying to hide the contents behind him. It was a fruitless attempt, it just made Steve want to ask about the project all the more, but it was clear Tony thought it should remain hidden. “You’re, uh. Early?”
A small smile twist the corner of Steve’s mouth up. “Not quite.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed, assessing. “Think I lost track of time? Silly omegas can’t keep anything straight.” It came out like a joke, a flirtation even. But Steve could only stutter, not knowing how to reply, and he started to feel his cheeks flushing. All the while, he watched as Tony pocketed three pieces of radio parts then turned to sit on the arm of the plush upholstery chair like nothing had happened.
“I’m sure you were just--” Steve gestured to the parts still on the table. “Preoccupied?”
Tony shrugged, like the gesture was supposed to mean anything to Steve. Tony seemed to be assessing him again, gaze running from his feet up over his torso and landing on his eyes.
“I’m, uh, Steve.” He offered his hand out to shake.
Tony’s eyes widened in surprise, then he slid his slender hand along Steve’s waiting palm. His grin turned solicitous. “Aren’t you polite?” Steve felt himself go red, and Tony’s grin just broadened. “Handsome alpha like you. Surprised to find you here.”
“Well, I don’t have-- My friends, you see--” Steve stammered, dropping his head. “The wedding is only a few days away, and I thought this would be….” Steve cut himself off, aware that what he was about to say could be taken as an insult.
“Easier?’ Tony continued for him. His eyebrow was raised, but he looked more amused than anything else. “You’re not wrong,” Tony purred, eyes bright, and even though every other sentence had been a pickup line or innuendo, Steve felt like there was some genuine compatibility, or at least the possibility of some.
Steve didn’t realize what he was doing it until he was already halfway through the action. They were still shaking hands, and then Steve was leaning in closer than he should. A simple sniff in the air, a subtle scenting.
Tony chuckled. “Next time you could lick the gland on my neck,” he whispered, voice low, “you may get a better impression of my scent that way.” Steve sucked in a breath and the scent of Tony rushed into his lungs. He smelled of metal and coffee, and even the briefest hint of interest.
But in the next breath, Steve’s common sense caught up with him and he was sputtering. “I’m sorry-” Steve began, because scenting someone you just met, especially as closely as Steve was doing, was considered incredibly rude, regardless of their current circumstances. Even if Tony was at the agency, Steve shouldn’t assume.
There was a spike of anxiety and unease growing in his own scent. Tony scrunched his nose and dropped his hand. His expression closed off with the motion, and the smile he levied Steve was positively fake. “What’s a little intimate scenting amongst strangers, hmm? Shall we get started on the details?”
Steve shook his head to clear it, and then quickly nodded in case Tony mistook his head shake for something he didn’t mean. Steve didn’t necessarily want to do this, but he did need to. He’d already told Bucky and Nat he’d be bringing a plus one. He only really had time to meet with Tony, and he thought he could like Tony, at least the one he’d briefly seen behind the now closed-off expression.
Steve moved to the table and pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “I wrote the details of the event down. It’s uh-- Director Potts said you were comfortable with longer uh…”
“Assignments?” Tony provided. “Yes. I am. So long as they aren’t more than a week.” He was all business now, and Steve swallowed. Business was good, he shouldn’t want the overly flirtatious persona if that wasn't who Tony really was.
“This will just be a weekend. There’s an opening reception on Friday then a few events on Saturday. The wedding will be all day Sunday, and we’ll travel back to the city Monday.”
Tony had pulled out his phone and was nodding along. “Pretty standard. I’m guessing everything is business casual, except for the actual wedding and rehearsal dinner?”
“Pretty much.” Steve didn’t know what else to say. The scent of Tony still lingered in the back of his throat, and usually he was better at keeping a distance, but Tony had been flirtatious right from the get go. Until Steve scented him, then he closed down like the parking lane during rush hour.
Tony went to settle back down on the ridiculously plush chair. Steve turned but remained standing where he was, shuffling his feet on the elegant rug. “I have some additional requirements.”
Steve found himself nodding before even thinking it through. Director Potts hadn’t mentioned anything like this but Tony presented it like it was normal. “Okay?”
“For all long term assignments, I expect Four Star accommodations.”
Steve swallowed. “That’s usually a bit out of- Well, it doesn’t matter. We’re booked for where the bridal party is staying, and that meets that.”
“A suite?”
“I can uh, upgrade?”
“Good.”
“I’ll need curbside pickup too. You are driving us there, right?”
Steve thought of his rustbucket car. He’d hoped to take the train. “Driving works great.”
“Good.”
“Anything else?” Steve asked after a moment, a hint of frustration seeping through.
The corner of Tony’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “I’ll let you know when I think of it.”
Steve looked over the omega, handsome and put together in his business suit. His facial hair was neat and trimmed, his eyes like a magnetic force, pulling Steve - and probably anyone else - into their gaze. Tony was beautiful, and he could have anyone. “What’s in it for you?” Steve gestured at the table. “Anyone who could make something out of loose parts like that, probably doesn’t need…” Steve trailed off, snapped his jaw shut and hoped to god that he hadn’t just offended the man.
Tony’s eyes were narrowed yet again, he tapped his fingers against the armrest. Steve couldn’t look away, so when Tony’s entire demeanor loosened, and a plastered grin appeared on his face, Steve’s breath caught. “Well that’s easy. Sex.”
“What?”
“Sex. I work at the agency because I love sex. Just sex. Not, 'I’m going to find my mate and bond with him forever,' type of sex. But apparently, most of you knot-heads--no offense--like to wine, and dine, and after the sex are all like, ‘Be mine,' and it’s just not my scene.” Tony stood, the suit falling down Tony’s legs, the jacket hugging his shoulders as he straightened the hem. “I like sex, I want sex, and the alphas that come here usually want something very temporary. That’s my speed.”
Throughout Tony’s speech, he’d walked closer to Steve, and his metallic scent filled the space between them. Steve didn’t even have to try to scent him, Tony was flooding the room with his intentions. Steve felt the effects, wanted to say something, but instead was thinking about chess moves to will an oncoming erection away.
He breathed through his mouth, and it muted the scent enough. “Well, Mr. Stark, I hope you’re just okay with the money and the hotel stay, because, um, well, we weren’t-- aren’t-- going to be… You know. That.”
“Sex?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Tony took a step back, taking his scent with him. He tilted his head. “Are you sure?” he practically purred the words.
Steve was here for one very specific reason. He wasn’t the type of alpha to buy sex, even if the omega was, apparently, very willing. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Absolutely. Do these terms work for you?”
Another narrowed gaze, this time accompanied with a tilt of Tony’s head. Steve felt like somehow this whole exchange, since the moment he’d walked in, had been a test and he’d failed. But then Tony said, “Deal” and the air rushed out of Steve’s lungs.
They had a deal. And now, Steve wouldn’t have to worry. He looked over at Tony, who was fiddling with his phone. At least, he wouldn’t have to worry about the things he was worried about before. He may have just signed himself up for a whole new bunch of worries, though.
FRIDAY
Tony wasn’t waiting at the curb, even though Steve had texted him five minutes ago. He went over his checklist again. Best man speech was in the folder with the guest list and weekend itinerary in. His garment bag was hanging in the handlebar of the back seat, folding a bit at the bottom, because car didn't have enough room in the back seat. The whole car needed a revamp, but he couldn’t quite afford it when he was doing crazy things like hiring a date for the weekend.
He was about to pull away to look for a parking spot when he spotted Tony rolling two, large suitcases out of the elevator. Steve immediately put his emergency blinkers on, checked the street to make sure no cars were coming, and opened his door. By the time he was walking around the car, Tony was trying to push the door open, while still managing the two, large suitcases.
“Oh, now you’re here to help.” Tony’s displeasure was evident in his sour twist of his scent and across his face. His eyes rolled as Steve grabbed both of the bags. “And here I thought chivalry was dead. Though, I guess it’s been amended to curbside service only.”
Steve flushed. “I figured with there not really being much parking in the city that--I didn’t expect you to be bringing so much for just one weekend...” He let his excuses trail off. It had been easier to wait at the curb, faster too. But he also had his Mama’s voice in his head all of a sudden, telling him how to treat a date. And this wasn’t the best second impression.
“One suitcase is clothes, the other is time sensitive.”
Steve put them both in the car’s tiny trunk and let out a grateful sigh when it closed. He looked towards Tony, forcing a smile on his face and tried for a light tone. “Time sensitive? One of those isn’t about to explode in the back of my car, is it?”
Tony half-smirked, not the most reassuring expression he could’ve given Steve. “Let’s live dangerously and not answer that.” He snapped his fingers and pivoted on his loafers back towards to agency. “Carla has the last of it.”
“Last of-- You mean there’s more?”
Tony sighed and looked at him like he was actually insane, eyebrows up and sunglasses being lifted from his eyes. “This is a wedding, Steve, do you think I packed my suit in a rolling suitcase? Italian silk does not get folded . Carla has the garment bag.”
“And Carla is?” He was exasperated, and they were still double parked, so maybe a slip of growl slipped out along with the question.
Tony’s expression cleared, and when he spoke his words turned icy, challenging. “What does it matter to you, alpha? Carla is my friend, and she also happens to be the receptionist.” Tony waved in the general direction of Steve’s car. “Go. Wait in your rust bin and I’ll join you soon. Don’t want to keep us waiting too long right? Curbside chivalry and all.”
Steve knew he shouldn’t have growled. First he’d scented Tony and now he’d growled in his presence. It was worse than raising his voice, and it wasn’t Tony’s fault that this whole second impression was going as badly as the first.
Not that Tony was making it easy.
Who needed three suitcases for a weekend? And he was bringing a project along? Steve was paying him to come this weekend, not to tinker away on whatever he was doing.
He froze at the thought, car door open and waiting for him to slide in. It took the honking of a driver by to jostling him back to reality. What a horrible thought. Yes, he was paying Tony but that didn’t give him the right to disrespect the man.
Once in the car, he took a deep breath, and he could smell his own agitation, the bitter taste coating his tongue. He could do this. They just had to be friends with one another, and get through the weekend. Hell, they just had to be civil.
The backseat door opened, and Tony whistled. “Whew, it’s rank in here. Are you okay up there? It smells like someone cried so hard they became the wet blanket.” Tony was actually chuckling, like this whole thing was amusing to him.
He just had to be civil.
~~~
By the time they got to the hotel, even civil seemed like a tribulation. A ride that usually took an hour, took ninety minutes because Tony had to check on his science suitcase midway through and needed to stop for coffee, “At least once Steve. What are you, an animal?” And all while his scent flooded the car, seeping into the cracks in the leather and the well-worn carpets. It was distracting, but even cracking a window did nothing to ease it. Steve had sat in confined spaces with betas wearing an enticing cologne or perfume, but this--sitting next to Tony for so long, being so frustrated by him, but also... pleased, in a way, that he was here with Steve, sharing space and time with him. Tony had agreed to this assignment, and something about that made Steve’s alpha preen.
But then Tony would do something like make a haughty comment about the state of a perfectly modest car driving by, and Steve would clench his jaw against the desire to start yet another argument.
When they pulled up to the hotel, Tony pressed his lips together and pulled out his phone. He looked to his screen, then back at the hotel, then back at the screen. “They really have lowered their standards for what qualifies as four-star, haven’t they?”
Steve wanted to scream.
Once they got inside, Steve heard that sniff again. “The suite’s small.” Tony’s luggage nearly took up two thirds of the main room. He left them there and continued his tour, passed the stunning view of a lake, through a narrow corridor, into the bedroom. “Oh, it’s because they needed to fit two beds in this room. Steve seriously, we're sharing, and we need more space to walk around. I’m sure we can switch--”
“No.”
"Hmm?" Tony was looking at his phone, probably already pulling up the hotel website.
"We're not sharing."
That made Tony look up from the screen. “What do you mean?” He slid up next to Steve, almost into his personal space and close enough that all could smell was the scent that still haunted him from their car ride. It kept pulling Steve in...or maybe that was Tony’s arm, slithering around his waist. “You weren’t serious about that whole keeping our distance thing, were you?”
Steve cleared his throat and took a step back, letting Tony’s arm fall to his side. “I was serious.” He could feel a blush coming on, even as he clenched his fist. “I don’t buy sex.”
Tony’s eyes went cold, and Steve felt a shiver go down his spine. He shouldn’t have said that. “And that’s what I am? Sex on legs? Someone you’re taking advantage of?”
“I didn’t--”
Tony wasn’t cold anymore, he was hot with anger and taking over the small room with his arms coming out wide, gesticulating wildly. “You probably can’t fathom that maybe you’re just a hot piece of ass. We bicker and banter, and I can't be the only one of us wondering if this could better resolved in between the sheets.” Steve felt his stomach drop and pressed his thumbs against his tension headache, as Tony continued talking. “Or maybe I don’t care either way. I’m going to get laid whether you’re interested or not.”
Steve could feel the pressure in his gums as he clenched his teeth until his jaw clicked. “What does that mean?” he finally managed to ask.
Tony kept their gazes locked. “I told you what’s in these arrangements for me. Meeting alphas who don’t just see me as their prize at the end of the rainbow. I’m here for you, and I’m here for me. If you don’t want me, well, there’s plenty of other people at this hotel. Most people here work here or think we’re together, or are you. No one will see me as their happily ever after. If you don’t want me, then I guess we’ll see how sleazy your friends are.”
Anger bubbled in the pit of Steve’s gut. He was being blackmailed for being a decent human being. “I should call the agency.”
Tony barked out a laugh, it wasn’t a kind sound. “And tell them what? Your friends haven’t met me yet. Maybe you can replace me quickly with Mr. Abs or Mr. Cock...y if Hammer or Morita are more your speed.” Tony walked back into the suite’s living room, started gathering his suitcases. “Let me know what you decide, Mr. Rogers. I’ll stay or leave, but I’ve put my cards on the table either way.”
Steve wanted to call his bluff. The Hammer gentleman seemed completely unbearable but the other omega… he seemed nice. Maybe it would be better for everyone involved if he did call the agency. He was considering it, actually considering it, and he could tell the moment Tony realized it. He turned away from Steve, pushing one of his rolly suitcases away and focusing on the view out the window, more silent than Steve had known him to be since they met.
“I’m not going to trade you in like some collectors card,” Steve found himself saying before he realized he’d come to the decision. “You’re here as my date.” Something about how Tony huffed a sigh at the word date made Steve want to reach out and touch him. But it wasn’t his place to comfort. “If you must... pull , all I ask is that you be discrete. The last thing I need is the pity of an entire wedding, thinking I’m a jilted lover.”
Tony looked at him over his shoulder, he was smiling but it was tinted with sadness. “I’m used to being discrete.” He looked back out the window and barely heard the next words out of his mouth. “But no one’s ever said, ‘no’ to me before.”
“It’s not you I’m saying no to, it's the principle--”
“I get it,” he hissed, vulnerability gone and replaced with firm, solid walls. His smirk was perfunctory. “Guess we should be getting ready for the Welcome Cocktails,” he said, before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door in Steve’s face.
~~~
Steve left the bathroom after his shower to find the suite empty, which wasn't surprising, but he still felt a twinge of disappointment. He and Tony had had words, but he’d still wanted to arrive at the event together, like a couple.
When he walked out of their hotel, he spotted Tony on the other side of the large pavillion that formed the center of the hotel. He was on his phone, laughing. His head was thrown back, causing his back to arch, and he was all legs and sharp angles. He looked carefree, a way he hadn’t been at all with Steve, and he wondered briefly, before he could dispel it, what his happiness smelled like.
Tony looked over, and all the happiness erased from his face. He nodded at Steve, speaking again into the phone and turning away. Steve headed for the lobby. The Welcome Reception was on the rooftop deck, so Steve waited for the elevators and did his best not to lean back and eye Tony again.
Maybe a part of him had hoped that Tony would get off the phone and come to the party with him. But no such luck. The doors opened, and Steve stepped in, and he tried to let thoughts of Tony fall away. He was here for Bucky and Nat, his best friends for years. With a date secured, neither of them would be playing matchmaker and Steve could keep the focus where it belonged, on his friends.
The elevator doors opened up again to the sun setting. The reds and purples were just starting to take over the bright blue sky. A string of fairy lights encircled the rooftop that must’ve belonged to the hotel--because he couldn’t imagine them belonging to either the bride or the groom--that Steve thought looked nice.
Two arms wrapped around him from behind and then he was being spun into the pleasantly familiar embrace of Natasha. Her familiar beta scent allowed him to finally leave the thoughts of frustrating omega in the elevator behind him. “Good, you’re early.”
“Only by a few minutes.”
“We were hoping people we actually liked would arrive before half the Russian ballet shows up,” Nat said, leading him to the railing overlooking the city. He could see the twenty storey Agency Tower in the distance, and turned away before he could let his mind wander back to Tony.
“Your whole family in town?”
“Are you kidding? Do you my grandmother made it an option? Madame B insisted every single cousin attend. Dottie and Anya had to request leave from the Bolshoi company.”
“I was led to believe that was impossible.”
“Not when your grandmother is Madame B.” Something caught her eye over Steve’s shoulder, and Steve could tell by the devious turn of her grin that it was Bucky behind him.
“Why, if it isn’t the man of my dreams.”
Bucky draped his arm over Steve’s shoulders and handed his soon-to-be wife a drink. They smelled the same now; it never stopped being weird. “Who moi?” Bucky’s French accent was absolutely terrible through his Brooklyn inflections.
“No, Pyotr Smirnov.” She flashed him a smile and took back the Smirnov vodka shot.
“Natasya!” A shrill voice hissed from across the rooftop.
“Заткнись,” Natasha called back.
Bucky leaned in to Steve’s ear. “She told her to shut up.”
“That one’s Eva, right?” Steve looked over at the fair-haired woman. The only resemblance she had to Natasha was the way she could make someone turn cold with a brief glance.
“Correct,” Bucky replied. “And she was incredibly disappointed when she discovered you brought a date.”
“Bucky,” Steve warned.
“What? I’m just informing you.” Bucky grinned. “Where is he anyway?”
“Still getting ready.”
Anything more he was going to say was cut off by Eva sliding into their conversation circle. She stood closer to Steve than she needed to and the floral scent she wore covered up any of her natural pheromones, for which Steve was grateful. The last time they’d met, she’d recently presented as an omega and had little control over her scent.
“Steve, good to see you.”
“You as well.”
She leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered her room number in his ear.
Steve sputtered. “I, uh, have to go.”
“Eva, what did you say to him?” he heard Natasha chastise her cousin, as he walked towards where he hoped the bathroom was on the other side of the elevators.
He let the door swing behind him and stood at the sink, catching his breath. This was why he’d invited Tony, as a buffer from Eva and the like, but where was the man? Downstairs on the phone. He was treating Steve like shit all because, what? He wouldn’t use him like apparently every other alpha had?
He took a moment to run his hands under the faucet and rub at his face. Taking a deep breath, he tried to psyche himself back up for the party. Maybe Tony would have arrived in his absence.
Except, when he return to the party from the bathroom and finally did see Tony, he was standing by the bar talking to Sam. How they were able to get so chummy in what couldn’t have been more than five minutes, was anyone's guess. They were both twirling glasses of whiskey and even though he was too far to scent the air around them, Steve let his imagination run wild.
“Whoa,” Nat said, sliding up next to him. “You’re putting off enough angry-alpha tells that even the betas are sensing it.” Steve turned red, but took a deep breath, trying to reign in reaction to seeing Tony talking to another alpha. Natasha followed his gaze. “Sam? What did he do to you now? Another prank at work? I wouldn’t interrupt him talking up that handsome omega, for something so petty.”
Steve felt like Tony had to be ignoring him at this point, because he was definitely glaring lasers at him. And if Nat could smell him, well. “That’s my date,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh.” Nat patted his arm, and he knew it was more because she didn’t know what to say than because she had any real pity for him. They both watched as Tony ran a finger in between where their arms rested on the bar. Nat shifted, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. “You, uh, might want to remind him of that.” She nudged him towards the bar, and he knew she was watching him as he approached the two men.
Because he really did need to put a stop to whatever this was. Natasha was already suspicious and this was just the first event. If things kept going like this, by tomorrow she’d start asking questions.
Sam grinned at him, but as he approached it dropped and his brow wrinkled with confused. “Steve, my buddy, what’s up?”
“Hey Sam,” he said, perfectly casual, like his scent wasn’t sending off waves of disapproval. “Hey, Tony.”
“Oh you two have met,” both Sam and Tony said in unison.
“Yes,” Steve clipped. “Tony’s my date.” Sam’s eyes went wide and his hand went from the bar by Tony’s to his pocket in an instant. “It’s good to see you, Sam,” he said, as genuine as he could under the circumstances, because this wasn’t really his fault. He turned towards Tony.
“Should we get some air?” Tony offered when Steve didn’t say anything.
“We’re on a rooftop,” Sam reminded.
“The view,” Steve cut in. “Let’s go check it out.”
As soon as they were alone, Steve turned on Tony. “I said discrete! You think hitting on my only coworker here is discrete? ”
“Hitting on--?” Tony’s eyes went wide and he looked genuinely confused. “We were talking! Mingling. You know, as one does at a cocktail hour.”
Steve tried to rewind the scene in his mind, detracting any possible bias. They’d been standing close, but not in each other’s personal space. And while they’d both been grinning, were they supposed to be frowning at a party?
As Steve was backtracking, it looked like Tony was only gearing up with more anger. Which, of course, was when Bucky and Natasha approached.
“Steve, is this your date?”
Tony’s face transformed, dropping into a practiced and polite smile. Steve’s breath caught, impressed, as Tony leaned into him, natural and sure, able to drop their argument with ease. He stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Tony. Steve told me all about you guys.”
Bucky grinned at that, but Steve didn’t miss Natasha’s eyes narrow. “We unfortunately can’t say the same,” she said.
“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “Steve’s always kept the important things close to his chest. How’d you to meet, anyway?”
“In the bookstore.” Tony had the reply ready, before Steve could even stammer a word. It was a good one; he loved bookstores and tried to buy local over online shops as often as he could.
“Sounds like Stevie.”
“What section?” Natasha asked, half smirking like she was telling herself a joke..
“Architecture,” they both replied, then turned to each other with such shock that they definitely gave their story away. Steve hadn’t yet told Tony he was an architect. It was in his file, but the look of surprise on his face clearly showed he hadn’t read it.
“There’s a story there.” Natasha pointed her finger at Steve then dragged it in the air to rest on Tony. “And I'll get it out of one of you, eventually.”
Steve was about to panic, but then he felt Tony’s arm wrap around his waist. “Some things are private,” Tony said like a pro. Oh, right, he was a pro. Steve shifted in Tony’s arm until he pressed his grip into Steve’s side. “There’s no reason to be so shy, if she really wants to know the sordid details.”
“No! Nope.” Bucky waved a hand into the middle of the conversation. “You met at a bookstore, that’s all we need to know.”
“I haven’t heard how you two met Steve, though,” Tony deflected. “Or at least not the whole story.”
“I met him first,” Bucky informed.
“Only because your grandmother arrived earlier than my mom!”
“Still first.”
Natasha sighed, because they’d had this argument for over two decades. “Our first year of preschool,” Bucky explained. They spoke together like a well-loved machine, picking up pieces of the story where the other left off.
Steve let them tell the embarrassing story of how he covered himself with glitter during one of their first art classes.
“I wanted to try every medium,” Steve explained, and he let his jaw unclench, tried to relax into Tony’s arm. He even threw his forearm over Tony’s shoulders after a while and Steve almost believed it himself, what Tony was selling.
So it was that much harder when Bucky and Nat walked away and Tony’s blank expression returned. “They seem nice.”
“They are.” Steve swallowed. “Look, I’m--You were right. When it came to Sam. You were just being friendly.”
“It’s fine, Steve.” Tony sighed like it may be fine but it was also exasperating. “I’d made my intentions clear, so you read them into everything I did. And I wasn’t very nice to you earlier. I reacted badly to your, um,...rejection. But I’m not gonna flirt with your friends, and I shouldn’t have let you believe that.”
Steve was about to reply, let Tony know that he hadn’t meant to disrespect him with the suggestion, but he was brought short by his gaze turning cool, closed off. “But, if you do want me, and you’re just saying no because you think the system is taking advantage of me? Well, then you’re just like every other person who makes assumptions about omegas that work for the agency, about me. I want , Steve. I’m not being exploited.” Tony let out a rush of his pheromones, making it clear exactly what he wanted, and Steve couldn’t deny the reaction it had on his body. He had to hold his breath to keep his cock from hardening in his pants.
It only took a moment for a gust of wind to come, and it was all sent away, but Tony was still looking at him, like he could read Steve’s desire easily on his face. “You think you need to protect me. But I don’t need it. I didn’t ask for it. And I don’t want it.”
Tony had made it abundantly clear exactly what he did not want. All those alphas that wanted forever, that wasn’t for Tony.
Suddenly, an influx of images filled Steve's mind. He could see himself wrapping his arms around Tony, bringing him close, into a kiss. He saw them laughing together instead of fighting, lounging on Steve’s couch and scenting each other in the kitchen over a sink full of dishes. He hardly knew Tony, but what he’d seen of him had been nothing short of a whirlwind, tossing out ever preconceived notion Steve had. And the way he riled Steve up. It was so easy to imagine Tony pushing him against the wall and letting out their frustrations with kisses and bites instead of shouting.
Steve would fall, and he already knew Tony had no desire to catch him.
They spent the rest of the cocktail hour at a distance, making polite small talk with a few guests, and soon the party started to even out. Tony was gearing for the elevators, but Steve wanted to stay after to clean up, so Tony went down ahead.
Not much time past before he was walking down the hall to their suite. His key opened the door easily, but when he went to push it open, it caught on the chain. “Tony?” he called through the silver of the door.
There was a flurry of motion on the other side, and Steve could just make out the sight of Tony’s rolly suitcase opened in the middle of the room. “One sec!” He could hear the franticness in Tony’s voice, smell his desperation. “I’m just--”
Steve had the briefest thought that maybe there was someone in the room with him. Was he hiding Sam in their closet right now? Or under the bed? Maybe it wasn’t Sam at all, maybe it was the receptionist, or the valet guy, or someone who walked by Tony and caught his eye. He could smell Tony through the door--and Tony alone--yet still his mind went wild.
The door flew open, and Steve stumbled back. Tony was still wearing his dress pants from earlier, but his jacket was draped over the arm of the sofa and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. He ran a hand through his hair. “I was unpacking.” He gestured towards the bedroom, where two separate beds lay side by side, designed to keep them apart. “I must’ve locked the chain on autopilot. Sorry about that.”
Steve walked in when Tony stepped back, and he noticed the rolly bag was surreptitiously missing from the room. It was strange that he was unpacking in the living room in the first place. Steve commented on it as he passed into the bedroom.
“Oh, well, you know--” Pink colored Tony’s cheek. “Silly omegas, we always overpack. Had to spread out.”
Steve claimed the chair by the window, sitting on it to take off his shoes. “You know, I’ve never actually said, nor do I believe, any of these ‘silly omega’ comments you’ve been making. And, well, they make me a bit uncomfortable.” He focused on his socks as he pulled them off. “So, if you don’t mind stopping, that’d be swell.” Steve looked up to see Tony stopped, shell-shocked, by the bedroom door. Steve tried to smile, because he really wanted things to be good between them, but he worried it might look strained on his face. “You want first shower?”
“No.” Tony shook his head, swallowed. “You can--All yours.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, walking by Tony. He paused by him, wanting to say more but not really knowing what, so instead he reached out and squeezed the man’s shoulder. It was slender, and muscular under his palm, and Steve tried not to wonder if that muscle continued down his torso.
Tony caught his gaze, and his eyes were wide and searching but between one blink and the next, Steve was pinned with Tony’s familiar flirty expression. “Save me some hot water.”
Steve snorted, rolling his eyes, as he walked into the bathroom.
SATURDAY
Tony’s head bounced on Steve’s shoulder as the bus drove over a speedbump. It wasn’t that early in the morning, but apparently it was early enough that Steve still had to cajole Tony out of bed with a to-go mug of coffee. Bucky had caught his eye as he settled Tony into the bus and winked at him, had the gall to give him a thumbs up before sliding into his seat next to Nat.
Soft and sleepy, the sharp and prickly edges that Tony adapted at times fell away entirely. He was pliant, and affectionate. He’d curled into Steve’s side as they’d walked down to the bus, and nosed at Steve’s neck, and Steve almost tripped over their feet at how close the action mimicked scenting.
“Okay you hooligans,” Clint’s voice echoed down the aisle as the bus pulled to a stop at their destination. “When these two lovebirds told Steve and I they weren’t going to have a Bachelor or Bachelorette Party, we decided that they really don’t get a say in the matter.”
“I helped plan this event,” Bucky cut in.
“Excuse me, future Mr. Romanoff, but you only planned it after me and Steve teamed up on you.”
“Aw,” Nat interjected, from her seat next to Bucky. “I missed you guys double-teaming my fiance?”
Bucky erupted into laughter, and Steve chuckled along, even though he knew his face was turning red.
“I didn’t know you were so kinky,” Tony whispered into the space between them, eyes still closed. Steve hadn’t even know he’d woken up, but his comment went a long way to completing the job of making Steve’s blush take over his whole face. Tony’s head was still on his shoulder, but he pulled off to give Steve a huge smile. “I dig it.”
Steve shook his head. “They’re joking.”
Even Tony’s eye roll looked affectionate, and Steve wondered if it was part of his act as Steve’s Date, or if it was genuine, followed quickly by the thought that it shouldn’t matter one way or another. Yet, here Steve was.
“I know,” Tony said. “My kind of humor.”
Clint’s announcement cut off any reply Steve may have made. “So of course we’re here to celebrate the last day of these two single people’s life by doing the thing they like the best.”
“Unnerving people with blank stares?” Eva shouted over the other suggestions that echoed through the bus.
“Close!” Clint called out. “Target practice.”
“Where are we?” Tony asked.
He didn’t sound overly concerned but suddenly Steve panicked. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t even think that you might not be comfortable. Paintballing. I meant to mention it but with everything that happened last night…”
“It’s fine,” Tony cut him off, but there was an undercurrent of annoyance in his tone. In front of them the guests had started leaving the bus. “I’ve never been before.” Tony looked down at his outfit, a white and black graphic t-shirt with geometric shapes on it, and a pair of light denim jeans. “You said casual, but I don’t think I dressed for this, is all. You said long sleeves and pants. If you had told me before…”
Crap. He’d been too worried about getting downstairs and into the bus on time to remember to warn Tony. “You can wear my hoodie,” Steve interrupted. “If you’re worried about your clothes.”
Tony sighed, shaking his head. “We’ll see, maybe. We should probably get going. Bus is already empty.”
They passed through a building, where a sunny man behind the desk directed them to the field out back. A stack of paintball guns waited in a pile. The two groups with the timeslot before them--the sunrise teams--were just finishing up their rounds, and one man passed by them with so many paint splotches on his clothes, Steve couldn’t tell what color his shirt started as.
Tony tugged at his hand. “I think I’ll borrow that sweater.”
Steve chuckled and, luckily, he was wearing long sleeves as his under layer. He settled the well-worn navy zip-up around Tony’s shoulders just as Eva walked up to them, with her sisters in tow. Steve was too busy watching Tony sniff the sweatshirt, that he only noticed their approach when he smelled Dottie’s alpha scent. A growl emitted from low in his throat for just a second, because Steve cut it off immediately, stuttering apologies as soon as he could form words.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony cross his arms over his chest, the long sleeves curling around his hands. He snuck a curious glance at Steve from under thick lashes.
“It’s alright,” Dottie smirked. “He’s cute, I’d be growling too.”
“ He’s , right there, Dot.” Eva shoved her sister’s shoulder, and Dottie shoved back. Eva turned to Tony instead of shoving back. “You. Tony, right? You wanna take on the alphas?”
Tony pulled his attention away from pretending not to look at Steve, to consider Eva’s offer. “Is there enough of us?”
“We’ll be short two but there's an even number of betas split between us. It’s me, Anya, you, and Clint.” Eva grinned. “Clint’s our ace. He’s a better shot than two men combined.”
“I’m in,” Tony said, the grin clearing some of his earlier tension. Then, as if remembering himself, he turned to Steve and curled around his arm. It was excessive, but no one else seemed to think it was an act. “That is, if you are.”
Steve chuckled cause it seemed like the appropriate response, but also because for the first time Tony seemed genuinely playful, especially with the way his brown eyes lightened with laughter. “Game on.”
~~~
Steve was breathing hard because he’d just run thirty yards for cover. He could still hear Eva and Tony laughing across the field. His shirt was clear of yellow or green paintballs--Tony and Eva’s paintball colors, respectively--and he was pretty sure his sweatshirt was still clear of any paint too.
Steve had to admit, Tony looked distractingly good in it. Like he was being warmed and protected by Steve, until, of course, he aimed his paintball gun at Steve’s torso and unloaded his ammo with a maniacal laugh.
A shuffle and Nat was at his side. “Your boy has it out for you.”
“So does yours.” They’d split the bride and groom, putting one beta on each team. The only ones left on their team were Nat and himself. Anya had tried to shoot Sam, at the exact same time Sam had shot Anya. Dottie was taken out by Eva, as if the younger Romanoff was gunning for her older sister. Only a few minutes before Steve rushed behind the barricade, Clint and Bucky had taken out Sam, Hill and Coulson in an ambush attack that showed what really happened when the two of them finally found higher ground. They’d picked off every person in their line of sight in mere minutes. Coulson had walked off the field giving his mate, Clint, a slow clap.
Steve had to agree they deserved the applause. “We never should’ve put Clint and Bucky on the same side,” Nat said, as if reading his mind.
“We were on ROTC, too, Steve.” Nat knocked his shoulder with her own. “We should be doing better. They that aren’t far away. Maybe an ambush? We can try and avoid the snipers.”
Steve could smell Eva and Tony, and he was sure they could sense him and Nat. Clint and Bucky were up high in perches along the opposite end of the field, they’d be able to shoot down at them the second they tried to cross over to Tony and Eva. There wasn’t much they could do--
A battle cry broke off his thoughts.
Whatever they were going to do, it was too late, their time had run out. Tony and Eva were roaring as they ran across the field screaming, “Charge!”
Natasha reacted first, aiming her paintball gun over the barrier they were hiding behind, shooting a barrage of bullets at them. From overhead, came Bucky and Clint’s reply, as they splattered their barricade with paint. One paintball hit Nat square in the shoulder, but not before she took Eva out.
Nat brought her hand up to nurse the growing welt on her shoulder, and winked at Steve before slipping away.
Between one breath and the next, he was tackled to the ground. Tony straddled his lap with his paintball gun pressed into his chest. “Just you and me pal.” Tony’s toothy grin took other his face. “You yield?”
Steve hitched his hips, trying to push Tony off but it had the opposite effect entirely when Tony replied by grinding his own hips. “You could’ve just said yes,” Tony teased, self-satisfaction dripping from each word. “You don’t need to rub up on me like an alpha in rut.”
Steve froze, unable to move because now the only thoughts he was having featured Tony around during his rut, making Steve want to flip him over right here in the field and straddle his lap, kiss him senseless.
“Yield, alpha.”
Steve’s hips rocked up again, this time on their own, in response to that word coming out of Tony’s mouth.
“Testy.” Tony smirked. “You really don’t want me to shoot you point-blank like this.” He rolled his hips, both of them were half-hard, Steve could feel it through their clothes even if Steve’s sweatshirt covered Tony's waist. “At least, not unless you’re really into painplay.” Tony furrowed his brow. “No, no, nevermind. Platonic right?” A wink and another grind onto Steve.
He was being toyed with, that much was clear. And Tony had him between a rock and a-- a-hem --hard place. He looked magnificent in his victory. “I yield.”
The bittersweet pressure rocketed off him, and Tony was jumping up and down, rushing to where the rest of his team were already celebrating. Steve rolled his head on the grass and watched, counting each breath and trying to compose himself. They were lifting Tony up, hoisting him on their shoulders.
A shadow crossed over his body, and Steve looked up to see Nat blocking the sun. “I would’ve thought you’d have been comfortable enough with your date, to not get distracted by the classic straddle-your-opponent routine.”
Steve wondered what it would be like to get used to the feel of Tony’s legs parting around him, if that was even possible. “What can I say? Tony’s got a way about him.” He took her offered hand and got pulled up and into the consolidarity pats on the back, as his teammates gathered around. Every so often, he’d look over towards the omegas and betas celebrating, and half the time Tony would already be looking his way with a smile.
Steve had no idea what it meant.
~~~
They played two more rounds and Tony's team ended up ahead 2-1. Together they all walked, sore and happy, back towards the building where they could return their gear and check out. Everyone was rehashing the games, smiling and sweaty, and it seemed natural to wrap an arm around Tony and pull him close.
He kind of expected the man to freeze or pull away, but instead he leaned into Steve. The sweatshirt was soft under Steve’s hand, and he let his hand trail down Tony’s back, rubbing up and down his spine.
Tony looked up and met Steve’s gaze, appearing as if he was about to say something when--“We have to do this again, Tony!” Eva sidled up against Tony's other side, her excitement making her Russian accent thicker. She unabashedly pulled him away from Steve, and they started exchanging social media accounts, leaving him to open the door.
He ran his hand through his hair, catching on some paint that had splattered off a paintball Clint had nailed him with during their third game. It was still wet, he could probably get it out before it got sticky. He tugged at Tony’s sleeve. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom and--” he started to say, wondering when informing Tony of his whereabouts became something he did without thought.
Tony smirked. “Go get clean, you look like you’re auditioning to play the part of a Jackson Pollock painting.”
Steve left, his face actually hurting from how hard he’d been grinning. Which is why he felt like a fool when he came out of the bathroom to see Tony bent over a television with a screwdriver in his hand and the alpha cashier’s gaze on his ass. Eva was watching Tony fiddle with the television, and Clint and Coulson had joined them. They were chatting, laughing, no one focused on the fact that the paintball cashier was a little too interested in Tony. Or if they noticed, they didn’t care.
Steve hung back, heading towards Bucky and Nat who were pressing thumbs into each other’s paintball welts like they had back when they were kids. “Are we about ready to go?”
“Just waiting on your boy.”
“Tony?” Steve let his attention turn back to his date. “I’m sure we can go. He’s probably just being friendly.”
“Oh! He is.” Bucky grinned. “And getting us 30% off. Cashier Charlie really wanted that TV fixed before tonight’s game. Tony’s keeping money in yours and Clint’s wallet. I say we let him.”
“I’m nearly done,” Tony called over, because the building really wasn’t that big, and of course, he could easily hear their conversation.
“We should start packing the van,” Coulson suggested, leading Clint, Eva, and her sisters outside.
“Thanks so much,” Charlie was saying to Tony. “It’s really impressive, what you were able to do with just a screwdriver.”
Tony spun said screwdriver around his fingers. “I can make a rocketship with a whole toolbox.” He winked, because winking was apparently Tony's second most used expression after smirking, and of course that made Charlie flush. Tony returned to work, and after another moment, he waved his hand over the television and said, “Ta da. This is done, time to be off.”
Charlie straightened, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “So. Um. Maybe--Well, you know.” Behind Steve, Nat snorted, obviously watching the stammering cashier try and flirt with Tony. “Maybe I can get your number?”
Tony’s eyes went wide. Steve’s jaw clenched. He wondered how much of that surprise was for the performance he was putting on for Steve, Bucky and Nat.
“Oh.” Tony tucked his head, gesturing towards Steve. “I’m seeing someone. Um… I guess, people tell me I flirt with everyone, and I try to reign it in but...Well.”
Steve wondered if that was the truth or another lie. This whole scenario was a lie, so what was one more?
Was his name even Tony?
“Babe, ready to go?” Tony turned and walked over to him, sliding an arm around his waist. Bucky and Nat were joking with Tony, laughing about how silly the situation was because, of course, Steve’s fella would be turning down offers left and right, walking off into the sunset under Steve’s arm instead.
But Tony wasn’t Steve’s fella, not really. All Steve could do was wonder what Tony’s response to Charlie would’ve been if he weren’t stuck pretending to be Steve’s.
~~~
“Another!” Bucky called out, standing on the metal ring that connected the barstool legs, cheering. He pulled Clint up by the collar and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Cheers!” They shouted together.
“Those boys are drunk,” Tony announced, his words not slurring but definitely weighed down by the beers he’d been drinking. He fit into Steve’s side so well in the booth, clinking his beer with Steve. “And you’re drunk, too.”
Tony wasn’t wrong, Steve felt flush from the alcohol and Tony’s proximity at his side. Every so often some other guests would slide into the other side of the booth and chat with them; like they were a couple.
The bar had known to expect them after paintballing, and even though the sun was high in the sky outside, the wedding party and their closest friends were thoroughly smashed. Which was good, Natasha had informed them as she sipped her vodka soda, because that meant they’d be in bed by nine and up bright and early twelve hours later.
Now, a few drinks in, Nat hardly looked like she was thinking about the clock. She was in the center of her cousins, actually demonstrating a pirouette in the middle of the bar. It was half the reason why Bucky had made them all cheers.
Tony shifted next to him, his hand had found Steve’s thigh sometime around the middle of his last drink and, maybe, Steve had parted his legs a bit, and let Tony’s fingers slide along the inseam of his pants.
Would Tony's be doing the same thing if it were Charlie sitting next to him right now?
Those were his thoughts, his blindingly jealous thoughts, because Steve had no idea if any of this was real. Yes, Tony smelled like coffee and metal, and yes, he was warm and willing - had been willing from the very beginning. Because that’s what was in it for him, using his clients for their knots.
Steve was nothing but a number.
“Your jaw’s doing that thing again.” Tony poked at the muscle protruding from his face with every beat of Steve’s clenching teeth. “You look like you’re trying to keep in a sneeze. I thought…” He trailed off, his finger moving now, tracing down the curve of his jaw and over his freshly shaven neck. His nail caught on his Adam’s apple, and Steve stopped breathing. “I had thought--Allergies.”
Steve should focus, because what was he saying? “What are you saying?”
Tony chuckled to himself, his scent wafting off of him happy and content, and Steve tried not to breath in because he was already falling. “Back at the paintballing place, thought maybe you were suppressing a sneeze.”
“Oh.” Steve shook his head, took another long sip of his beer and suddenly wished it was something stronger like Natasha’s vodka. “No.”
Tony was looking at him, waiting, as if he knew there was more to the story and was obviously entitled to hear it.
“I don't really have any allergies. I was just…you know…watching you help fix that TV.”
A smile spread wide over Tony’s face and the hand that was on his thigh moved to Steve’s chest as Tony leaned close. “You like watching me work?”
Steve stuttered, because, honestly, that reason would’ve been a much better one than the jealous truth of the matter that was Charlie and his wandering eye and his desire to get Tony’s number. He must’ve looked taken aback, because Tony was shaking his head again.
“No, not that then.” Tony hummed, considering, as he looked around the room. Clint and Natasha were now trading loud, boisterous stories about their last assignment. Steve watched Tony watch them, but it was all with a growing suspense that soon Tony would hit the nail on the head. “I suppose you did hear him ask me for my number.” His brown eyes were back on Steve. He looked amused, satisfied. All the signs were there; this was just a game to Tony. “You jealous?”
Hot anger bubbled in Steve’s gut. He wanted to bring his arm back from behind Tony’s shoulders; he wanted to pull him closer and not let anyone have room to come between them. It showed, Tony backed away, just a centimeter, but enough for Steve to feel like shit. “Does it matter?”
Tony put his hand to Steve’s jaw, made him look Tony in the eye. “Does it?”
“Did you want it?” he asked because Tony was pushing.
“Want what?” The breath from Tony’s words brushed against the sensitive skin of Steve’s neck.
“The guy. Charlie. His number?”
Instead of answering, Tony met Steve’s gaze and held it for an unsteady breath, then he closed the space between them with a drunken grace. Steve gasped along Tony’s lips, rough and dry, pressed against Steve’s. He opened up, swiping his tongue and groaning when Tony parted for him. It was everything he wanted, and nothing he could understand. Did this mean anything? Because when Steve reacted to Tony, Tony surged forward, turning into Steve fully and practically climbing into his lap. That had to mean something. Right?
Alcohol tinged both their breaths, but the taste of Tony shined through, metallic and spiced and real. He could smell him too. This close, it was impossible not too. The musky smell of slick, as Tony moved closer. Steve’s alpha reacted, wanting to take and claim. The thought of licking his slick-- it made a growl rumble under their kiss.
Someone whistled. Bucky screamed, “Get a room.” And reality came crashing back to Steve. Tony didn’t seem to care, his hands coming up to rub Steve’s hair, his nails massaging his scalp. Steve knew this wasn’t fully what he wanted, and he was aware enough to know that it would hurt all the more to let this go, to let Tony go, if they kept going. But the way Tony gasped when Steve pulled away, it made it so that Steve had to rush back in, steal one more kiss from a man who wasn’t even holding them from Steve under lock and key. They were freely offered, and that was the worst part. Taking them would mean more to Steve than giving them meant to Tony.
Another taste, just one more, before Steve pulled back and took a breath.
He opened his eyes, hadn’t even realized they fallen shut, to see Tony’s still closed, his thick lashes brushing against his cheek. Steve held his breath as brown eyes blinked open, and he saw the moment they focused on Steve because it was like a light turned on inside them, brightening the brown and dilating his pupil.
Steve’s heart raced; that reaction--Tony couldn’t fake that. He couldn’t.
But the words he’d said the day they’d first met-- just mere days ago-- haunted the back of Steve’s mind.
I like sex, I want sex, and the alphas that come here usually want something very temporary. That’s my speed.
Steve knew he was different than the other alphas clients. He wanted more. Like those knot-heads Tony spoke of. The ones who liked to wine, and dine and--even though he and Tony hadn’t even done more than kiss--just like the others, Steve was already thinking about the word “mine.”
And that was crazy because Steve hardly knew Tony and Tony had said it wasn’t his scene, anyway. Except now, Tony was looking at him, open and honest, slowly leaning in and biting soft kisses along Steve’s lower lip. “I didn’t want it.”
Steve licked his lips as if he could taste the words Tony had just spoken against them. “What?” he whispered.
“The paintball guy’s number.”
“Oh.” Steve didn’t know what else to say, but he was pretty sure the elation he felt was apparent in either his face or his scent probably both, because Tony chuckled, kissed him again, and Steve let him. He wanted it, and he’d already fallen this far, and maybe he’d be able to blame it on the alcohol to everyone else, but to himself he’d know he just wanted to be selfish. So he chased the taste of Tony, until someone more responsible than he, ushered them out.
SUNDAY
They’d both fallen asleep on the bus back to the hotel, waking up to their heads bumping together as it pulled to a stop and only staying that way long enough to stumble to their beds to sleep.
Steve had already told Tony about his plans to get ready with Bucky, and that they’d meet in the afternoon for the wedding. So he didn’t wake the man when he slipped from the room Sunday morning. He paused by their bedroom door, making out Tony’s sleeping form in the dark. Steve had left the shades drawn, and nothing had broken Tony’s soft and steady breathing. If Steve breathed deeply, his lungs would fill with their mixed scents. He didn’t though, instead, he turned and left their suite and tried to put the last twenty-four hours behind him.
Today was for Bucky and Natasha.
The hotel they’d picked was also acting as their venue. There was a grassy hilltop outback that cleared into a view of a lower valley. The sprawling hillside was covered with orange and white wildflowers. The ceremony was planned to take place on the field and then the pavillion in the center of the hotel was where their reception would take place.
As soon as Steve saw the venue he knew why they selected it, open aired with spectacular views, even on ground level. There were large stone columns along the edges of the pavillion and dispersed throughout it were trees and bushes with stark white flowers. It smelled as beautiful as it looked.
A lot of the grunt work they were doing themselves. Clint was already setting up chairs out on the grassy field with Coulson. The Romanoff cousins were decorating the pavillion with lights and, what looked to be, strings of jewels and pearls, or something equally as elegant.
He headed through the lobby and to the elevators, pressing the button that would lead him to Bucky and Nat’s room.
Steve didn’t know what he’d expected; they weren’t a traditional couple by any means, but he at least thought that they'd stay separate today until the ceremony. So when he pushed back the door, the metal lock keeping it propped open, he hadn’t expected to find Nat pushing Bucky into kitchenette counter making out.
They didn’t notice him until he cleared his throat, and then they didn’t even have the decency to spring apart. They just turned their faces towards him and laughed.
“Whoops.” Bucky winked. “Dad caught us.”
“Don’t worry, Sir,” Natasha followed along. “I’ll make an honest man out of him in no time.”
Steve snorted. “Never been an honest bone in his body.”
“Don’t I know it.” Natasha finally unlatched herself from her fiance, even though he kept his hand around her waist, rubbing along her side. Steve wondered if he even knew he was doing it. “Aren’t you supposed to be…apart? Getting ready,” Steve reminded, because apparently they needed it.
“This one"--Bucky clenched the hand he had around Natasha’s waist, making his fingers tickle into his side--“was just leaving.”
Steve pinched his nose and waved his hand in the air in front of him dramatically. “Did your gross cuteness always smell this much?”
“We’re just good and ripe right now,” Bucky replied, giving Natasha another peck before letting her go to gather her stuff she needed to get ready in the hotel’s bridal suite. “Wedding day is prime picking.”
“If you say so.” The cheerful attitude was infectious, and Steve felt their happiness reverberate and lighten him. Natasha gave him a peck on the cheek on her way out and then it was just him and Bucky on Bucky’s wedding day.
Bucky rubbed his hands together. “Can you believe it?”
“No,” Steve said. “Yes. It’s Nat, she’s been in your foxhole for decades.”
Bucky let out a breath, shook out his hands and it was like all the nervous energy couldn’t be contained by the grin on his face. “Let’s do this.”
“Let’s do this.”
Helping Bucky into his wedding tux was a bit surreal. He remembered suggesting to a nine-year-old Buck to use his shirt to clean off some blood on his cheek, and like no time at all they were here. Bucky was eyeing him, Steve could feel it, as he helped him put on his cufflinks. “What?”
“What? What?”
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Oh, am I supposed to look at the other person who's in the room? Oh, wait.”
Steve had to remind himself not to strangle his best friend on his wedding day. “You’re looking at me like you have something to say.”
Bucky smirked, like he knew he could get away with anything in his groom’s suit. “Think you’ll be here soon.”
Steve groaned.
“Tony seems--”
“Don’t.” Steve couldn’t hear it, whatever well-intentioned soulmate comment Bucky was about to make about the man Steve had paid to come here with him. It hurt all the more because under different circumstances, if they’d met on the train or at a coffee shop...
“All right, all right, it’s too soon. I know.”
“Yeah…” Steve trailed off because what else could he say? The last thing he wanted to do was make that smile fall from his friend's face. On his wedding day . “Maybe, though.”
And it was enough to let himself imagine it. Bucky must’ve seen because the pat on his shoulder was one of solidarity, between two men that had found their match.
And what a match Tony would be.
He would keep Steve on his toes, would always have something new to show him, to teach him, everything seemed to be a puzzle for Tony to figure out. And if they were together, if they were each others, then that sweet smell of their mixed scents wouldn’t be a memory in the back of his mind after tonight. It would be forever.
An ache formed in Steve’s chest, and as he helped Bucky go through his vows, as they took one small shot of whiskey for courage, as Steve secured the rings and they took a few photos, it grew.
Finally it was time, and while most of him was looking forward to see his two friends marry, another part of him was just excited to see Tony again.
The grass crunched under their dress shoes as they walked down the aisle and took their places at the end. Steve sought out Tony. When he found him, sitting in a sea of Russian blondes, Tony was the one to wave first, and Steve felt his face flush when he waved back. A few people aww-ed and Eva knocked her shoulder against Tony’s.
In that moment, it felt so real that the ache in his chest cracked open and burned with injustice. He looked away, towards Bucky, whose focus was entirely fixed on the door where Nat would appear at any moment. The music started, the guests stood, and the wedding began.
~~~
“Hey there, stranger.” Tony bumped his hip into Steve’s as they walked from the field to the pavillion. “Here I thought the splattered paint look was your best, but you’re knocking a tuxedo out of the park.”
Steve chuckled, and as other guests walked by he wrapped his arm around Tony and pulled him in close. He probably could’ve kissed him then, and Tony would’ve let him. “You look pretty good yourself,” he replied, trying to quash the burning pit inside with deep breaths that smelled of Tony. He wore his suit well, the fabric like silk under his fingers.
“This old thing?” Tony stepped back, looked down at himself. “I toned it down, you know? Don’t want to upstage the bride. Though, to be honest, Nat doesn’t seem the type to care,” Tony joked.
Further along in the pavillion Natasha and Bucky were laughing in each other’s arms as they greeted guests making their way to the reception. “I’m pretty sure all Nat cares about right now is getting Bucky and a bottle of vodka into a quiet place.”
“Ah, romance.” Tony sounded a bit wistful, which didn’t align with most of what Tony said about relationships.
“It appeals to some.”
Tony’s brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to reply when they reached the entrance of the reception and instead they were pulled into a Bucky and Natasha group hug.
~~~
His duties passed quickly. He gave a speech everyone seemed to like, clinked on his glass for Bucky and Nat to kiss every time Buck was about to put some filet mignon in his mouth. Tony snickered by his side and when Steve had the urge to pull him into a kiss, he grabbed his hand instead. Tony didn’t let go.
They'd hired a band, horns and strings, and it was impossible to stay seated when the lead singer started to cover the hits. The entire wedding was on the dance floor, Steve and Tony alternating between dancing with different groups and together. At one point, the Romanoff cousins started dancing literal circles around Tony until he started laughing and spinning with them.
Now, Tony was flush-faced, his arms wrapped around Steve’s neck, his head nestled under Steve’s chin. They swayed to a song Steve knew but couldn’t recall the name of, and he was about to ask Tony, when he felt a string of soft kisses against his neck.
His breath caught, and he tried to moan at the same time, so instead a strangled sort of noise came out of Steve and Tony froze.
“Is this…?” Tony didn’t finish the question, Steve was already shaking his head.
Tony pressed his lips together. “I’m going to go get a drink.”
“I’ll come too.”
They stood stiffly by the bar, and Tony kept trying to catch his eye. Steve could still feel the warmth from where they were pressed together along his chest. He tugged Tony’s arm, nodded to the corner of the pavillion where a bench wrapped around a tree. They sat side by side and stared at their hands, clasped together between them.
The sight of it, of his larger one linked with Tony’s smaller, the callouses on Tony’s palm rubbing against the back of Steve’s hand. It seemed intimate, it was intimate, and Tony wasn’t pulling away.
Steve wanted to start speaking first but had no idea what to say. He took a deep breath and decided to jump into the deep end of the truth. “You tried to kiss me again.”
“Yeah,” Tony agreed, the word coming out in a puff of a breath. “You didn’t want to.”
“No,” Steve answered, even though it wasn't a question.
“Because you didn’t like it?”
Steve turned to look at Tony, and he was already looking at Steve, eyes wide like they were trying to explain to Steve absolutely everything, without uttering a word. “You know I liked it Tony. I liked it too much.”
“No such thing.” Tony was leaning in again, and Steve had no idea if it was a conscious movement or not, but Steve had to turn to look away to keep from crushing his mouth against Tony’s slightly parted lips.
“There is, Tony. I liked it too much, more than I should, or you ever will.”
Tony was silent for a moment; then, from one breath to the next, he was a rush of movement, standing from the bench and turning to offer Steve an outstretched hand. Around the pavillion guests were drinking and dancing and no one noticed when Tony led Steve out of the reception and into the lobby.
They waited side by side in the elevator as the numbers flew by until they hit their floor. “What’s going on?” Steve asked. The elevator chimed and the doors opened.
“I want to show you something.”
“Tony…” His voice carried a warning because heading to a room with not one bed but, at Steve’s insistence, two beds, seemed like not the best idea, when he could still feel the tingling on his neck from Tony’s brief kisses.
“Trust me.” Tony said the words like they were easy, like they hadn’t been lying to everyone from the start, like they themselves hadn’t been at each other’s throats for most of the time they knew each other. Unsynchronized frequencies, unable to communicate.
“Okay.”
Tony slid the suite key into the door and flicked on the light. The room looked the same as it had that morning, and Steve waited by the door, feeling like an awkward stranger in his own hotel room. After a moment, Tony rolled out the silver rolly bag he’d said carried his work. He lifted it gently to the coffee table and opened it up.
Steve couldn’t see at first, Tony’s body blocking the contents of the suitcase. But then he moved back, and Steve saw polished wood and the screen of a speaker. A radio, an old one at that, beautifully constructed, and shining in the dim hotel light.
Tony clicked the switch, turned the nozzle a moment and then it hit the air, the broadcast of tonight baseball game. The voices were faint, the volume kept low, but Steve would recognize it anywhere.
He looked from the radio to Tony, who was standing by the side of the coffee table with his hands behind his back, swaying on his feet. Nervous.
“Tony what…?” He swallowed. “Did you make this?”
“You had mentioned, your mom and your baseball games.”
Steve felt the need to sit down, perched himself on the end of the nearby couch. “Yeah…”
Tony shrugged like he wasn’t just giving Steve an incredibly thoughtful gift out of nowhere. “You seemed sweet, you know. When we first met. For the most part.” Tony sucked in a breath. “I know I can be difficult.” Steve snorted. Tony smiled. “Hey! I have certain needs.”
“Which can only be met at certain hotels with a certain number stars, of course.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“A bit.” Steve bit his lip, looked back at the radio. “I don’t know what this means, Tony.”
“It means, that I think I like you. I mean, I really like making things too, and that had a lot to do with it, at first, but also now...” Steve didn't say a word, but he knew a million questions must have crossed his face. “Maybe--” Tony took a deep breath and came to stand in the space between Steve’s parted legs. “Maybe you’re the kinda knot-head I could see being mine. At some point.”
Everything slowed down for Steve, his hand running up and down Tony’s arm, the other one curling at his hip. But inside, Steve raced, his heart, his pulse, his mind. Everything was getting turned on its head, and all he could hear was Tony saying the same word over and over again: mine, mine, mine.
“A date?” How Steve stammered out the words, he had no idea, they came out too soft and Tony only heard him because he was so, very close. Steve met his gaze, and tried not to imagine a future where he looked upon those eyes every day. “I wanna try, for real.”
Tony let out a rush of his scent, metal and musk and happy, he took Steve’s chin in his hand and made sure Steve was paying attention. “It’s been real, for me.”
“Tony,” Steve gasped, and it felt like a clamp was pressing into his chest, making it hard to breathe. Tony leaned forward and kissed him, and it all released in a rush. He surged forward, a hand wrapping around Tony’s neck and bringing him in. His finger brushed along the side of Tony’s scent gland by accident but they both reacted with desperate moans. Steve broke off to breathe, and Tony started chuckling.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Tony shook his head, but couldn’t seem to stop laughing.
“Tell me.”
“I was just wondering,” he said with a smirk. “What’s in it for you?”
Steve remembered the question, he had asked it to Tony back when they first met, and he also remembered Tony’s answer. Steve ran his hands up and down Tony’s back, let one linger in his hair and the other fall to the small of his back. He felt lighter than air, arms wrapped around Tony, and knowing with certainty that it was exactly where Tony wanted to be. “Well, that’s easy.” Steve replied, leaning in to kiss Tony. He pressed the last word into his lips. “Sex.”
“Oh, thank god,” Tony said, dramatically, like he’d been a starved man. “Absolutely. Date night.” He kissed Steve. “Should start tonight.”
Steve shook his head. “Nah, I’m taking you to dinner first. Wine you, dine you…”
Tony rolled his eyes, with a wide grin across his face. “and then after the sex. “Be mine.”
fin.