Denny doesn't know what his place is supposed to be in the band, whether he's supposed to try and be like John Lennon or the opposite. At night, Linda keeps telling him that it's okay they're sleeping together, that Paul doesn't mind, but Paul keeps getting in his head.
After a particularly tense day in the studio, Linda decides to show them what they all need.
Thank you to the lovely @crinkle-eyed-boo @parmahamlarrie @zanniscaramouche @cyantific @lululawrence @kingsofeverything @allwaswell16 @gayscantslicetomatoes @wadey-wilson @disgruntledkittenface @noellehenrymain @justalarryblog @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed and @haztobegood for tagging me to share a line/snippet of what I’m working on.
This is from one of my @1dreversebang‘s that I’m working on, inspired by the lovely artwork that @oldbay-on-apples has created!
Harry balls his fists on his knees, elbows locked, shoulders drawn up tight towards his ears. If he concentrates hard enough, clears his mind of distracting thoughts, he can almost feel them. They’re familiar but foreign—always a maddening contradiction—that he can see out of the corner of his eye, always out of reach, but there nonetheless.
As a small child, he thought it was normal, he thought he was normal. His parents didn’t correct him, not at first, just entertaining his fanciful whims and references to his wings and theirs, like he was talking about an imaginary friend or fairies at the bottom of the garden.
It’s almost funny thinking back on it now, how one's perception of what’s normal is so open and without constraint before the age of innocence is lost, before societal rules are learned, drummed in, until everything else is stripped away.
Back then, there was no reason to assume he was different, that others didn’t see what he saw. And why would there be?
To Harry, they’d been just another part of him like an arm or a leg, even though he couldn't touch them or move them. Children accept so much about the world without suspicion because they have no reason not to believe. It isn’t until they grow older that doubt sets in, and sense takes over, that the magic is replaced by critical thinking and disbelief.
He’d thought it was utterly unfair that he’d never seen his own, not properly, only visible in glimpses over his shoulders; mirrors and windows not capturing them. The older he got, and the more he understood about the world, the more he became frustrated as to why they wouldn’t show up in photographs or on the videos his parents would take. He wanted to see them, wanted them to be something tangible. Proof. When he expressed his annoyance, his parents would just chuckle and dismiss him but as the years went on, their laughter and smiles began to wane, replaced by hushed tones and concerned looks.
He remembers the day the wide-eyed purity of his childhood had ended with crystal clarity like it was only yesterday; the day he realized he wasn’t normal at all, that he saw the world differently to everyone else.
His parents had sat him down at the kitchen table the night before he started big school, wearing matching worried expressions, brows drawn tight, his mother clasping her hands in her lap as his father spoke. He’d said that while they loved his wonderful imagination, not everyone would understand and he needed to stop talking about wings as though they were real. It had been a much longer conversation than that, but that was the gist of it; Harry protesting and confused, his mother crying, his father trying to placate them both. He’d gone to bed that night changed, afraid of what was to come, and scared, so very scared, and the most alone he’d ever felt in his life.
They’d been right, in some ways, and he’s grateful for their warnings. The other children didn’t see the wings, not their own, not other people’s. Sometimes he even forgot about them himself and over the years he trained himself to ignore them, to deny their existence, to see through them or around them. He came to resent them. These things he couldn’t speak about, these things that made him so very different.
But he doesn’t want to live like that anymore, caged in his tiny flat in the city that he was forced to hide from, denying such a big part of himself. No, what he wants is freedom, at least in the way he perceives it. He might still be alone in his isolated cottage on the outskirts of the village, but he wants to spread his wings wide, even if only metaphorically speaking.
I’ll tag back everyone above and also add @evilovesyou @runaway-train-works @fallinglikethis @reminiscingintherain @louandhazaf @falsegoodnight @absoloutenonsense @pocketsunshineharry @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @fournipplesau and @larrydoinglaundry if they’d like to share something.
My first wings!fic, hope you like my take. It’s been a ride, people.
Regularly schedule programming returns Dec. 5th.
Word count: 934
Warnings: Fluff. So fluff.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader
People’s wings made you realize how beautiful their eyes were. Maybe not all people felt that way, but with everyone’s wing color being the same as their eye color, you thought it brought out those colors more clearly in their eyes.
Take Tony’s wings, example. Shades of deep, warm brown tinged with gold. Some people might have overlooked the gold in his eyes if not for his wings.
Or Steve’s wings, with his feathers in shades of blue ranging from royal to sky. You’d have to be close to him to see the variations in his eyes, but even up close you might have missed them if not for his wings.
Thor’s wings were pretty awesome, too. His body had adopted his new eye that Rocket gave him as its own, and now he had one wing in ocean blues and greys, and one wing in various shades of caramel and sand.
The prettiest wings you’d ever seen, though, were definitely Bucky’s.
Really, no one would have been scared of him as the Winter Soldier with such pretty wings. That’s why Hydra had dyed them a threatening black. Years free from their control had his wings long since back to their natural color, and they were stunning.
Ice blue, seafoam green, and soft cold greys blended together with a tinge of iridescence. Some feathers were almost white, others vibrantly colored, all created the most striking tapestry of feathers you’d ever had the privilege of seeing.
And all he wanted to do was hide them.
You understood his desire to make himself smaller, take up as little space as possible, really you did. He couldn’t do that with his wings carried any way other than pressed closely against his back. There was still a (rather significant part) of you that longed to see them spread fully, see the full beauty they carried, but his comfort level around you wasn’t there yet.
Time to change that.
----------
“Hey, Bucky,” you said with a smile, flopping down on the couch next to him and draping your wings over the back. “What were you gonna watch? Movie, show, blank TV screen?”
The recovering assassin’s eyes shot to yours, surprise and a bit of uncertainty lurking in their depths. You absently wondered if any of the silver you were catching glimpses of was in his wings, or if the iridescence covered that.
“I-I wasn’t watching anything,” he finally said when you just kept smiling. “I was just thinking? I mean, I can go if you wanna watch something, I don’t want to be in your way…”
You shook your head and waved him back into his seat as he started to get up. “No, no, don’t let me chase you off. This is your home as much as it’s mine. Is it okay if I turn something on?”
At his tentative nod, you grinned and settled yourself in. “JARVIS,” you declared, “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, if you please.”
Around the scene where the soldiers were trying to break Spirit, you started to wonder if maybe this movie was a bad choice as Bucky was worrying his bottom lip and clenching his hands, but his delight when the stallion broke free made you relax back into the couch. You spent the emotional waterfall-to-train-ride scene crying too hard to worry about what your companion was thinking, but by the end of the movie you had a sleepy and apparently emotionally wrung-out soldier on your hands.
“All right, Bucky baby,” you cooed softly to the former assassin draped boneless across the common room couch. “Time to get you to bed, sweetie.”
“Don’t wanna move,” he grumbled with the cutest pout you’d ever seen. “Too comfy to mo–” He was cut off by the biggest yawn you’d seen in a while, and you had to stifle a giggle at the sight.
“Upsie-daisy,” you encouraged him, pulling on his arm. “Let’s get you to your room.”
With much pouting and grumbled complaining, Bucky stumbled to his feet and leaned heavily on you as you dragged him towards the elevators. By the time you’d reached his and Steve’s shared floor, he was draped across your back between your wings, his own wings relaxed enough they were starting to slip around your shoulders.
Once you’d dragged him into the bedroom he slowly shifted his weight off of you. You turned around to guide him to the bed and froze as he yawned again and stretched out his arms, his wings extending as well when he did.
Your assumption had been right; they were breathtaking. Pale blues and pastel greens and light greys and yes, there was some silver in there too. Without even realizing you did it, your wings snapped out and presented to him.
He froze when he realized what you’d both done, eyes locking on yours. You could feel the heat in your cheeks from a blush that probably matched his. The silence was awkward as neither of you moved, but Bucky was the first to break it.
“Your wings are beautiful, doll.”
“Not half as pretty as yours,” you replied, feeling your blush deepen.
Bucky hesitated for a moment, then reached for your hand. “Would you… I have a hard time sleeping alone, and since Steve’s gone… would you stay with me?”
You nodded and tugged him gently to the bed. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
That night, with the most beautiful wings in the world wrapped around you and the breath of a sleepy super soldier against your forehead, you slept the best you ever had.
Of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas: Winged World Fanfiction
An Introduction to My World
Having read a few A/B/O stories, the dynamics, and the thoughts behind it, I decided to give it a try, creating my first ever world and writing my own set of rules for it. While most of the regular rules apply, a few things are different, including the caste system inherent in their society.
There is no distinction between race or colour. This is a world ruled by the winged: a land of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas where size matters and the power of one’s secondary biology far outweighs the land of one’s birth. This is not to say that wars are not fought between lands, as this original tale (A Painter’s Embrace) takes place during the time of the Regency when England and the Prince Regent were at war with France and Napoleon, but I digress.
This first chapter is simply to introduce you, kind reader, to the world of my creating and give you a fair understanding of the differences between our world and theirs.
(Please note, that while most ABO fics are based on wolf dynamics and anatomy, this world is not. You will not find references to knotting in this story. Nor do I speak about pups. This is a land ruled by secondary natures of big, bigger, biggest, and crazy instincts, but not of the canine variety. The ruling class takes its tone more from the realm of dragons than wolves, and children are known as hatchlings or fledglings.)
Shall we begin?
Wings Hierarchy/Castes System
Males:
Alpha males are, simply by evolution and biology, the supreme predators and protectors of society. They are the top of the food chain, strong, powerful, and confident, with enhanced olfactory senses (a heightened sense of smell). It is particularly easy for them to scent other people and discern their emotions from that. They can be tall and lean, or short and heavily muscled, but alternatives can occur. An Alpha’s dominance comes not from his appearance, but from the secondary nature, he was born with, an ability to inspire or intimidate via the strength of his Will.
Alphas can be split into two subcategories: an Alpha and a Warlord Alpha. A regular Alpha is a male who outranks all of a lower caste within the room. A Warlord Alpha outranks everyone. He commands and holds the attention of all and none can stand against his Will. Warlord Alphas are a law unto themselves and if pushed too hard will react with violence.
The Will of an Alpha can feel as gentle as a warm blanket, or as heavy as an iron wall depending on whether they are seeking to comfort or they are looking for submission. A smaller Alpha can overthrow a physically powerful male if he has a greater strength of Will.
An easily identifiable trait of this Will is in the size and shape of an Alpha’s wings. Though they can range in a rainbow of colours, the length, depth, and width of one’s wings is, usually, a dead giveaway as to how strong of an Alpha he is. They tend to be big and majestic, very much in keeping with that of an eagle.
Alphas tend to hoard things they find pleasing. Often their hoard consists of items their future mate would approve of, an instinctual knowledge of what to keep to make their chosen one happy. This then sees a room in their home filled with books, or jewels, or clothing, but art can be hoarded, or animals depending on their mate’s preference. Wealth comes naturally with their elevated place in society.
An Alpha’s choice in mate is dependant on scent. While some will chose a female they find pleasing, or one for whom they hold affection, scent is a key factor. Biology again comes into play because it is commonly believed for every Alpha there is an Omega who is, simply put, theirs. The one mate meant for them, and this is determined by scent. Not all Alpha’s find there one and can establish a mate bond with another Omega, Beta, or Alpha if they so choose, but all are affected by the strong pheromones released by an Omega during a heat cycle.
Physically, Alpha males are generally well-endowed and go into Rut - a time of hormonal surge - twice per year. It is not necessary to be in rut to impregnate or bond with their mate, though it does ensure a greater chance of conception when a male’s rut aligns with a female’s heat. The accompanying spike of hormones can result in a three to five-day window of time in which the Alpha refuses to allow their mate to leave their nest, and will become highly aggressive to anyone who infringes on his territory during that time. His need for sexual relief elevates along with his desire to care for and see his mate satisfied.
Should an Alpha be unmated during a rut, he will usually spend his rut away from others working off the excess hormones with intense physical exertion until exhaustion claims him and his rut naturally ends.
Most Alpha’s will, over time, form family units - or weyrs - offering protection and kinship to those they feel strongly about. Though they have, usually, only one mate, it is not uncommon to gather Betas and their mates, or Omegas requiring protection to their weyr.
Warlord Alpha males usually attend a position of power and have a greater voice in society than others, while regular Alphas can be found in most levels of the upper and middle class.
***
Beta males are kind and caring. They are the calm souls, the ones with the coolest heads, and often take the position of peacekeeper if they find an Alpha who suits them. A Beta will be ferociously loyal to their Alpha, and an Alpha to their Beta. A connection of kinship forms between them and the bond runs deep. Bonds between Alpha and Beta are built on great respect and trust. There is nothing a Beta would not do for their Alpha.
While usually the calmer of the two, this isn’t to say a Beta is a pushover. They are fierce fighters, exceptional protectors, and look after the entire weyr as if it were their own.
There is no set description for a Beta, though most are only slightly smaller and less powerful physically than their chosen Alpha. Their olfactory sense is less potent than that of an Alpha, finding the scents released to be strong, but not overwhelmingly so. Most Beta’s will chose a mate who is another Beta, or in some cases, an Alpha and do not go through the Rut phase.
A Beta’s wings are generally compact, shorter than an Alphas, more in keeping with a falcon making them fast and maneuverable. Speed is their advantage, a fitting counterpoint to their Alpha’s strength.
While a Beta also can use their secondary biology to get their point across, the act of using one’s Will against another is less potent, feeling more like a strong nudge to do the right thing. Those who are generally more submissive will back down, but there is not the same sort of instant reaction that accompanies an Alpha’s act of Will.
A strong Beta may choose to form their own weyr, but most gravitate toward those run by Alphas or simply form a small family unit with their mate and offspring.
Beta males can be found in all levels of society, whether a position of power, or a shopkeeper, or law enforcement, their calm nature serves them well.
***
Omega males are incredibly rare. They are the weakest class of winged male, often thought of as inferior and looked down on because of this. More often than not they are physically lacking in size or stature, with small wings resembling that of a sparrow.
They are defensive and skittish, shunned and mocked by those who see them as inferior, and unless they can find an Alpha willing to offer them protection, they can have rather short lives. Those who do find a place in a weyr are forever grateful and do all they can to assure their Alpha’s happiness.
Omega males do not go through rut and are the least fertile of all the males, a possible reason why there are so few Omega males as the gene is harder to pass on.
Omega males hold a place in the lower levels of society unless elevated by belonging to a strong weyr.
***
Landed males are males born without wings and without a secondary biology. They make up a third of the population and landed humans have little say in winged society. The lack of secondary biology makes it impossible for them to stand up against those with it, becoming immediately subservient in nature.
They live in their own communities within the cities, or in small villages beholden to a local Alpha who grants them both work and protection in return for respect and loyalty.
Many landed males work as servants in winged homes, or as farmers on Alpha land. Most end up in menial labour jobs, unsuitable for someone with wings and are considered the lower class.
***
Females:
Omega females are considered the equal to an Alpha in society. Though they are by no means physically strong, nor do they have the Will of an Alpha, Omegas are, by their secondary biology, the most sought-after and cherished of all the females.
They are not always meek or timid, bowing to the Will of an Alpha. It is more a case of nurture over nature as those raised by strong parents will often be able to withstand the most insistent Alpha at least for a time. When it comes to protecting their weyr, mate, or offspring, they can be downright feral.
An enhanced sense of smell allows them to discern the actions of others quite clearly unless the scent glands of an individual are masked due to heavy or thick clothing, or covered by another equally noxious scent such as excessive alcohol abuse or the acrid scent of cigar smoke.
They too can smell their chosen mate, often rejecting a suitor they find has an unpleasant aroma. All three castes possess scent glands where the neck and jaw meet beneath the ear, the inside of the wrist, and along the inner thighs.
Physically, Omegas range in size, shape, and colouring. Their wings tend to be of the more compact variety, like those of a hawk or a raven, but some, those who are highly sought after and regarded as great beauties, could have wings as big and powerful as any Alpha. These females are often known as Queens.
Their secondary biology gives them a pleasing aroma though their scent is far sweeter and even more enticing the closer they grow to their heat or fertile time. Heats occur once every month, lasting three to five days, and causes both a spike in temperature and pheromones.
An unmated Omega will suffer from strong urges of a sexual nature and a desire to ‘nest’ - create a place of comfort and security where they can ride out their heat. Unlike Alphas, they cannot spend the first three days beating their body into submission. The spike in their pheromones will draw any unmated Alpha within scenting distance to them, often resulting in an unwanted mating if they are not careful.
Omega females are attended by another Omega or Landed female to see they eat and stay hydrated during their heats. Once a bond is formed with an Alpha or Beta, heats become less intense though no less enjoyable.
Most Omegas will become pregnant if they have sex during a heat, and often if the Alpha and Omega are not yet bonded, the Omega’s heat will trigger an early rut for the Alpha, guaranteeing a strong bond and furthering of the bloodline.
Bonding occurs when the gland beneath the ear is bitten during sex, hard enough to break the skin, and binds two people together for the rest of their natural lives. The bite will scar over, becoming the visible equivalent of a wedding band and proclaiming them mates.
Highly valued and cherished, Omegas are often pampered and spoiled though at one point in the past they were considered little better than chattel to be parcelled out as prizes by unmerciful Alphas.
***
Beta females are the equivalent of their male counterpart. Level headed and nurturing, they care deeply for their weyr but can become complete tigers if they feel threatened.
Here again, they can align themselves with an Alpha, often one they are not attracted to physically, to create a strong weyr. Kinship and loyalty are key, and many Beta females find themselves in roles that would test their metal.
They too have a falcon’s style of wings, compact and sleek, making them fast and light.
It isn’t uncommon for a female Beta to join the ranks of Army or Navy, assuaging the desire to fight and protect, while watching the back of their leader. Where a male Beta will step back, try and keep the peace, a female Beta tends to simply forge ahead, take matters into their own hands, and solve the problem, so their Alpha doesn’t need to.
They usually look for a Beta mate, one who respects their chosen Alpha but aren’t averse to taking an Alpha mate if the offer appeals to them.
Unlike Omegas, female Betas aren’t prone to heat cycles but experience a regular monthly cycle, and aren’t affected by the strong pheromones produced by Alphas or Omegas as severely.
Beta females will bond closely with their Alpha’s mate, developing a deep friendship and can often be found playing nursemaid to their offspring for the fun of it.
Those who prefer to stay in the middle ranks of society can be found as shop proprietors, guards, or law enforcement. They make successful business owners, and fierce protectors as their Will is usually stronger than that of their male counterpart.
***
Alpha females are the rarest of the females though they do occur. They never develop the strength of a Warlord Alpha, however. Like Omega males, they are considered an oddity and are often shunned, though society does so with more care.
They are quick to anger, strong, fast, with wings to rival any males. They can be big and brutish, or small and slender, and they go through a rut no different than the males making them fertile only twice per year.
Aggressive and quick to fight, Alpha females can often find themselves in trouble with Alpha males, and though they may have a powerful Will, not many can stand against a Warlord Alpha and live.
Some have created their own misfit weyrs, accepting Omega males and Betas who suit them, but it is rare they ever choose a mate and those who do find it difficult to conceive. Most live a life of solitude, constantly moving from place to place.
***
Landed females are females born without wings and without a secondary biology. They make up a third of the population and landed humans have little say in winged society. The lack of secondary biology makes it impossible for them to stand up against those with it, becoming immediately subservient in nature.
They live in their own communities within the cities, or in small villages beholden to a local Alpha who grants them both work and protection in return for respect and loyalty.
Many landed females work as servants in winged homes, or in shops within the cities. Most end up in menial labour jobs, unsuitable for someone with wings and are considered the lower class.
***
The majority of winged society considers Landed humans to be a minority in need of their protection, though some factions believe those without wings should be subservient and nothing more than slave labour to be used and abused at their pleasure.
“Captain Rogers.” Colonel James Rhodes stood stiffly in the common area, wings so dark blue they were almost black tucked behind his shoulders, looking bruised and battered, but fierce as hell. “Thank you for meeting me, and for not involving the rest of the family.”
“Colonel.” Steve greeted him, his own wings raising in welcome and reached to shake his hand. “It’s no problem. What can I do for you?”
“Captain Rogers–”
“Wait.” Steve came around the couch, folding his arms. “Um, where’s Tony? We haven’t heard from him since he landed in Afghanistan. How did the weapons demonstration go?”
Rhodes seemed like he tensed even further, his wings shaking slightly and something awful rocked through Steve’s body.
“Rhodes.” he said slowly. “Where’s Tony? Why are you here and he isn’t?”
The Colonel’s next words made Steve’s knees give out, made him collapse onto the couch.
“Steve. We don’t know where Tony is.”
*******************
Chapter One
*******************
“What do you mean you don’t know where he is?” Steve growled the words, and he jumped to his feet, golden wings flaring out angrily. “Tell me what happened now.”
“Everything was fine.” Rhodes said wearily. “Everything was fine, the weapons demonstration went fine and the convoy was on it's way back to base and—“
“And what?!”
“And something exploded. Everything exploded. Damn it Steve it was like--” The Colonel was usually completely composed, completely calm, a complete contrast to the ball of energy that was Tony Stark, but now he just looked defeated. Defeated and angry and closer to tears than Steve had ever seen him.
“Steve.” Rhodes dropped onto the couch, his head in his hands, wings drooping in exhaustion. “I don't know. I just don't. One minute everything was fine. Tony made some crack about me not riding in the Fun-Vee, because I had to stay in the Hum-Drum-Vee or something and that was it. I told him I'm see him back at base, and then everything was exploding and damn it, so many soldiers just-- just kids, man. They were just kids.”
“I'm sorry.” Steve forced his wings back, his voice to lower. “Colonel I'm sorry about your men. Are you alright?”
“I'm fine.” The Alpha showed him the cast on his wrist. “Busted my wrist but nothing that's going to keep me from doing my job.”
“You’re going to find him, right?” Steve asked, and he hated that he sounded insecure and maybe like he was pleading, but Tony was missing. His Alpha was missing.
“Of course I am.” Rhodes said firmly. “There’s no way in hell I'm not going after him.”
“James!” Their talk was interrupted when the elevator dinged, and Pepper stepped out of it, looking as beautiful as always in a grey pinstripe suit, her hair done up in some delicate design. “I'm so glad you’re here!”
She nearly ran across the room and Rhodes stood to pick her up in a hug, his dark blue wings wrapping up and around her, covering her tiny frame completely. They had an interesting relationship, Pepper and Rhodes did. Pepper took suppressants to mute her Omega biology, and never expressed any interest sex per se, but she always seemed to be particularly drawn to the Alpha in a way that she wasn't drawn to anyone else.
Rhodes of course, was head over heels for the beautiful Omega, from her delicate feet to the pale pink wings on her back and everything in between, and took every opportunity he could to see her.
He hated that this time was under such awful circumstances.
“It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.” Pepper was saying as he set her back down carefully, her hands on his chest. “What brings you by? Oh, dropping off Tony, right? Rude for him to run off to get a shower and leave you down here! You should have called me and we could have had dinner waiting for you.” She glanced down at his wrist. “What happened to your wrist?”
The Colonel sent a look at Steve, then took Peppers hand’s. “Pepper--”
“James.” She answered, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you hurt? Where is Tony?”
“Tony--” Rhodes took a deep breath. “Tony is missing. There was an attack, and we lost several soldiers and Tony-- we don't know where Tony is.”
“Missing.” Pepper repeated, and Rhodes grabbed her when her knees gave out, horror flashing across her face. “Our Alpha is missing. Oh- oh god.”
“Easy.” The Alpha set her on the couch carefully, kneeling to keep holding her hands. “You alright?”
“No, of course I'm not alright!” Pepper snatched her hands away and jumped back to her feet, pacing for a moment before stopping in front of him, hands on her hips, wings raised aggressively. “Colonel you need to tell me everything that happened right now. Do not leave anything out or so help me god I’ll drop you back in that desert myself.”
“Yes ma’am. Um first should we--”
“Speak, Colonel.” Pepper snapped. “I am waiting. You had one job. One. That was to get my Alpha to Afghanistan and back safe again, and yet here you are, while he is missing. So speak.”
“Pep, that's not fair. There was no way for Rhodes to know—“ Steve started to protest, not because he wasn't tempted to be angry with Rhodes, but because he knew that the Alpha was just as shaken up as they were, if not more, by the disappearance of Tony. “There was no way he could have possibly known what was going to--”
“I am not talking to you, Steven, so either sit down and shut up or leave the room.” Peppers voice was firm but her beautiful wings were shaking. “I do not think the rest of the family needs to be here until we have all the facts, so someone had better give me the facts now, and we can figure out what the hell we are going to do.”
“Right.” Steve sent Rhodes an apologetic look and sat down in the opposite chair, hands folded loosely in his lap, even though his foot tapped anxiously.
“Speak, Colonel.” Pepper demanded. “Tell me what happened to Tony.”
*****************
*****************
“Tony's missing?” Clint blurted. “How the fuck does that happen? There was a convoy right? Tanks? Soldiers with guns? Not soldiers, Alphas with guns. Trained Alphas who could probably rip someone in half. How were they caught off guard? What the fuck?”
“It was an ambush, Clint.” Pepper said, sounding much calmer than she felt, now that she had had an hour to process the information. “Colonel Rhodes tells me that it was completely unexpected, that several soldiers died, and when the dust cleared, Tony was gone.”
“Gone?” This from Natasha, whose pure white wings were trembling with anger. “Just gone. He let someone just take Tony?”
“Tasha, it was an ambush.” Steve repeated and Pepper squeezed his hand for support. “We are lucky that anyone got it alive at all. Soldiers and civilians lost their lives, Rhodes barely made it back stateside.”
“He shouldn’t be here at all!” Sam exploded. “He left our Alpha in the desert! He left him there! You don’t leave men behind! Rhodes is here just fine and healthy but our Alpha is gone and--”
“That’s enough, Sam.” Steve cut in and Sam growled, but tucked his red wings behind his back and folded his arms. “Now listen, guys. Rhodes says that they didn’t find anything that showed Tony is—“ he cleared his throat. “Some blood, but nothing that says for sure that Tony is-“ he cleared his throat again, unable to even say the words. “We just don’t know, yet.”
The door from the kitchen opened, and Colonel Rhodes stepped back into the room, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I'm sorry, you guys. That was General Ross and he thinks--”
“Rhodes I'm going to give you all of about five seconds to tell me everything you know, or I swear to god I will tear you a new---” Natasha advanced on the Alpha, fists balled at her sides, her words little more than a snarl, and Rhodes’ wings snapped out towards her in a warning.
“Stand down, Romanov!” He ordered, loading his words with so much Alpha that the Beta backpedaled towards the couch, her wings dropping quickly, not stopping until she reached Sam, who put his arms around her comfortingly. “Now.” Rhodes straightened his jacket with a jerk, staring around the room soberly.
“We have no reason to believe that Tony is dead. No reason at all. This was an ambush, which means our positions were known about ahead of time, which means that whoever attacked us knew that Tony- or at least some high level person of interest- was in the convoy. It's not a coincidence that he was snatched after a weapons demonstration. We have a list of organizations that--”
“Who is we?” Bruce interrupted. “Who all is working on this? How is it that you have been stateside for only a handful of hours and yet all these other people knew about what happened before us? Why weren't we called from Afghanistan?”
“I think a better question is why haven't we been deployed to the Middle East to find him.” Steve added. “There isn't a better team than us to find Tony. I'm not blaming you, Colonel. I know that you are scrambling to figure this out, I know your hands are tied as far as what you can do, but why aren't we being sent over there?”
“Captain Rogers.” Rhodes sighed. “You know, as does the rest of your team, that it is considered an act of war for this team to cross international borders without being officially sent by this government, or invited by other governments.”
“What’s your point?” Clint looked dangerously angry, but he was still sitting, unwilling to have the Alphas anger turned on him. An Alpha command would stop a Beta in it's tracks, but the right command could strip an Omega entirely of their free will, and he wasn't about to put himself in that position.
“My point--” Rhodes softened his voice intentionally, nodding when the Omega relaxed. “My point is that there is nothing you can do. Perhaps the Captain, and maybe Sam since they are still considered military personnel. However an ex assassin-” pointing to Natasha. “-a spy with a penchant for arrows-” Clint. “-and Dr Banner have no right and technically no reason to step foot outside of United States borders for anything other than a vacation.”
“Natasha.” Pepper spoke up. “Weren’t you just telling me how much you enjoyed the history of the Middle East? And how badly you wanted to see Iran and fully immerse yourself in the culture there?”
“Oh, I think I was.” Natasha’s green eyes sparked. “In fact, Tony puts so much emphasis on family time, I think we should call it a family vacation and all go.”
“I am under strict orders to inform each and every one of you that if you are even seen heading in the general direction of Afghanistan, you will be apprehended and thrown in prison under suspicion of espionage and unprovoked aggression towards a friendly nation.”
“In what world is Afghanistan a friendly nation?” Sam yelled. “And how is it unprovoked when you were attacked and Our Alpha is missing?” Natasha turned in his arms to try and hush him. “No, explain that to me!”
“We are not at war with Afghanistan!” Rhodes raised his voice. “We are not at war with them. This was obviously an attack carried out by a small faction that is simply hiding out in Afghanistan and the government is not going to invade an entire country looking for one man. The United States is not going to start a war that will kill countless innocents to find one man.”
“One man.” Bruce repeated, and everyone looked at him in alarm when green started filling in his skin. “James, this is our Alpha. This is Tony Stark. Is SHIELD and the United States really going to let the man who designs three fourths of their tech rot in some cave in the desert?”
“Please, calm down, Banner.” the Colonel said quietly. “As of right now, it's been less than thirty six hours. We were pulled from the desert fairly quickly and I got on the first plane here. I went first to my superiors, second to you. Things will be happening quickly, I promise.”
Silence in the common room, as each team member tried to come to terms with what was happening.
“I'm the one leading the search for Tony.” Rhodes continued after several minutes. “I know this is your Alpha, the head of your family, but remember Tony is my best friend. We have been inseparable for years, and I'm not about to abandon him now. I will be on the first plane back there, and I won't come back until I bring him home.”
Peppers face was white, her hand trembling in Steve’s. “I know this isn't what we all want to hear. But James is right. We need to go through the proper channels to find Tony. No one wants to turn this into a war--”
“I'm a little tempted to turn it into a war.” Clint muttered and Rhodes sent him a sympathetic look.
“-- No one wants to turn this into a war.” Pepper said again, a little louder this time. “And Tony would be furious if he knew you were all planning on running across borders and causing incidents just to find him.”
Grumbling around the room, but everyone knew she was right. The right way to find Tony was through the authorities, through diplomacy, to ask permission to cross borders and to--
“I call bullshit.” Bucky interrupted from the doorway and they all turned to look at him.
“Buck.” Steve lifted his wings cautiously. “What are you doing? Where did you get-- where did you get all of this.”
“Tony designed gear for me for when I was ready to join the team.” Bucky grunted in reply, and checked the magazine on his handgun before shoving it into his holster. “Tell me where I can find Tony.”
“Sergeant Barnes.” Rhodes began but Bucky shook his head.
“Tell me where you last saw him.” He was decked out in full combat gear-- heavy boots and black pants, with a black leather combat vest cut to show off his left arm. He had twin holsters on his thighs, one on his back, and a row of throwing knives as well. He looked dangerous and furious and everyone just...stared.
“Sergeant Barnes.” Rhodes tried again. “You cannot go charging over borders and wreaking havoc to try and find Tony. You can't. I am under strict orders to--”
Bucky's wings shot open wide, the metal edges screeching terribly as they moved, slicing into the wall and framing him in a thick black curtain.
“Tell. Me. Where.”
A stare down, pale blue eyes boring into darker brown, and Rhodes caved first, scribbling down coordinates, and crossing the room to hand them to Bucky.
“Please.” He said earnestly. “This cannot be an international incident. I am only giving you this information because not only are you not officially on this team, you officially don't exist as the Winter Soldier. But you cannot, I repeat, you cannot just charge in guns blazing and tear down the country looking for Tony.”
“Tony is my Alpha.” Bucky disagreed and his wings snapped open wider. “I'll tear down whatever the hell I want.”
***********************
Thousands of miles away, two soldiers dragged a limp body down a dim corridor and threw him in a corner.
“He hasn't moved.” a man, a Beta, said quietly. “He hasn't even opened his eyes yet. Do you think we killed him?”
“Raza.” The Alpha next to him took a deep drag off his cigar. “He is a Stark. Trust me when I say it is difficult to kill a Stark.”
“And how would you know this?”
“It took several attempts to kill his parents, but I finally found an Asset to do it.” The Alpha answered calmly. “It will take more than a load of shrapnel in his chest and a concussion to kill Tony Stark. He will be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Get Yinsen.” the man said. “Tell him to help our new prisoner. We have missiles to build.”
“Stane.” Raza called as the Alpha moved away. “What did the Starks do to you, that you would hate them so much?”
But Obadiah Stane didn't answer, just stalked away into the gloom, a grim smile on his lips as he thought of the man that was now his prisoner.
Beware the fury of a patient man, as the saying goes, and Obadiah had been waiting for years for this moment. Years and years for his revenge.
Summary: Every Hero has a beginning, some are grand and some make their own.
Pairing: Tim Drake x OC
Notes: The end! I’m not sure what I am going to do next. I have a few ideas so I guess we shall see what sticks.
Lily belongs to @guns-n-lilies
Check the Tag Wings Fic for all chapters
@royslittleharper @guns-n-lilies @nightwing-rules
The four thousandth times the charm right? Faith asked herself as she stood in front of the bright dance studio. Her hands in her pockets as she looked into the dance room where a few dancers were slowly starting to stretch and chat amongst themselves.
“I don’t mean to bother you but, are you going in?” Faith turned to see a few years older than her standing next to her. A light blue duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her dark brown hair pulled up in a soft bun.
Looking back into the room Faith felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach, “I… I…”
“You don’t have too.” the girl whispered. “Sometimes things aren’t meant to be anymore.”
“Like they don’t fit…”
The girl nodded in agreement, “Like a puzzle, sometimes those pieces aren’t meant to be… maybe…” she paused as if unsure she should say it or not turning to look at Faith. “There is something else that fits you better?”
Faith turned to meet the girl’s gaze the slender girl’s large brown eyes that seemed to look into Faith’s very soul. But not in like a creepy way, but in an, I understand" way.
“Maybe there is,” Faith whispered, “I… I think there is…” Turning she slowly started to leave.
“Well, good luck” the girl called after her, “I hope you find it.”
Faith turning smiling giving a small wave before dashing out.
——–
Tim found her a few hours later in the dance room at Wayne Manor. But she wasn’t dancing like normal.
No.
She was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest as she looked at herself in the reflection of the large mirrors bouncing a small ball on her reflection and back at herself.
“Hey…”
Her hazel eyes looked up meeting his in the mirror.
“Hey.”
“No auditions?”
“Yeah”
“I never got to ask, how did the last one go?” he asked sitting down next to her as she bounced her small ball back and forth. Back and forth.
“I didn’t go.” Back and forth.
He already knew this, “You didn’t?”
“Nope, and I haven’t been going to practices either.”
“Oh?” He knew that too.
Sighing she let her small ball drop, slowly it started to roll away. Quickly Tim stopped it picking it up, his eyes never leaving Faith’s as she studied her own reflection.
“I just don’t know…” she mumbled tapping her sneaker on the wood floor, “it just isn’t the same anymore.”
“How isn’t it the same.”
She turned to look at him, “It doesn’t make me happy.”
“Well… what does?”
She shrugged, “Who knows… but I want to be happy. I like to be happy.”
“Well, I mean, You did have a lot happen this year it’s ok if you’re not happy all the time.”
She letting out a small moan she lay down, “But I want to be happy all the time.”
Tim looked down at her as she stared at the ceiling, “Faith, you can’t be happy all the time.”
“Why not?”
He laughed laying down next to her, “it’s called being human, with feelings.”
She turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips, “Guess so.”
They both sat there in silence for a while, both caught up in their own thoughts. Finally, Faith spoke.
“Hey Tim,”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good friend.”
He studied her, unsure where that came from. Did she know? Did she suspect that he was the boy who had been following her? Making sure she was ok. The one who had given her the mask.
Did she know he was Robin?
———
Tim groaned as he slowly gained consciousness. The laughs of the Joker and Harley Quinn running in his ears as he looked around. This was bad like the Joker had a bat that he was about to beat him in bad.
Suddenly a very old and loud siren went off. It sounded like the screeching of a million dying horns.
The Joker let out a loud screamed clutching his ears as he tried to scream over the noise to get Harley to go turn it off.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw Faith sneaking toward him. Slowly reaching out for the bat. It had rolled a few feet away when the green-haired villain had went to cover his ears. Snatching it Faith stood behind the clown.
The Joker turned and got a face of wood. While the loud blaring was still going on Tim could have sworn he heard something crack.
As the clown prince of crime stumbled back his gloved hands clutching his face the sirens turned off. Faith stood face to face with the Joker who looked at her in slight shock. Blood dripping from his nose he took a step closer to her towering over the small girl who was clutching the wooden bat.
“Who are you?” he hissed
“Uhhhh… Faith glanced at the bat a nervous half-smile on her face, “Batman?” she asked shrugging slightly. Tim froze from where he was trying to squeeze his arms out of the ropes. Did she really just say that?
The Joke, like his captive, paused unsure of what to do, none of Batman’s little minions had that sense of… humor? Or maybe that awkward about it. She wasn’t even following up the line with an attack. Just awkwardly standing there half grinning at him. Also, the girl’s bright yellow beanie was slightly throwing him off. Didn’t all of the bat’s kids wear some form of black and maybe red?
Unfortunately for him, his train of thought gave Faith the upper hand. Faith wasn’t one to miss an upper hand.
Crack. The bat went flying up catching the Joker under the chin sending him flying back.
The sound of Harley squealing with horror could be heard.
Grabbing Robin’s hand, which was now free, Faith pulled him up, “let’s go.” She said before dodging Harley’s large mallet and landing two blows on the girl’s ribs and one on the knee before pushing Robin toward the door. They managed to dodge another strike but not before Harley had grabbed Faith’s bennie.
“Run, run” she kept saying as she pushed the taller boy toward the escape.
They almost collided into Batman and Nightwing.
For some reason, Faith felt the need to hide the bat behind her back.
“Hi…” she said a huge smile on her face.
“You’re coming with me,” Batman said taking her arm. “No more going out on your own.”
“My parents told me never to go in strangers cars.” she said as he pulled her toward his batmobile.
“Very funny. Get in”
And that was how Faith became a hero… Batman likes to think he took her under his wing and helped her focus but Faith knows the truth.
She chose this. This was what fit her. All the people around her who had helped her learn who she was after her whole life had changed. They were a huge part of this transformation but she knew in the end, it had been her.
She had been the one to stop that convenience store robber.
She had gotten the purse back from that snatcher.
She had been the one to stalk Robin that night and help him get away.
It had been all her. While she would always be grateful to Batman and everyone else who had helped her grow into who she was Faith would always stay true to herself. She would always stick up for the underdog and stay loyal to those who soon became her family.
Because she wasn’t Gotham’s vigilante or hero for justice.
She was their Guardian Angel.
Bonus:
“Wait! Your Batman!” Faith yelled in shock as she stood in front of her uncle in the batcave.
“How did you not know?” Tim stood there in shock as the brunette stood there, mouth agape.
Next to him, Dick laughed, “Your sister figured it out the first week she stayed here.”
“Well, my sister is a genius who was in college before she was 14” Faith said crossing her arms over her chest, “Sorry if I’m not as smart.”
Why was he in a cave, and god why did everything hurt so badly.
Tony couldn't even open his eyes with his head pounding like this. Couldn't hardly breathe at all, and couldn't force his wings back far enough to see why his chest felt like it was on fire.
He ran a dry tongue around his mouth, tasting the blood. More of it was drying on his face, and he could smell it heavy in the air. Tony’s hair was matted against his head, felt heavy and sticky and he knew he probably had a head wound, and definitely a concussion to go with it.
His multicolored wings were shaking, wrapped around him still, but he could feel the cold air moving through the gaps in the usually beautiful feathers, and knew they had to be badly damaged. His gorgeous wings all torn up, and he couldn't fucking remember why.
Something about a missile? And a Hum-drum-vee? He needed to think, but his brain was moving sluggishly, and he tried to concentrate, tried to force something coherent through the pain.
Rhodey.
The thought of Rhodey prompted him to take a deep breath and attempt to pry his eyes open. Tony could feel his eyelashes pulling and sticking with blood and tears, and blinked hard until the fog cleared from his vision.
It was definitely a cave, a big one, bigger than he expected, and dishearteningly empty. Lights were strung haphazardly around the walls, casting just enough light to see... nothing. There was nothing from wall to wall, just rock and a few wires and a ceiling that rose higher than he could see. Wrapping his wings tighter around his body, Tony hunched his shoulders against the cold, and tried to draw a full breath, then screamed when his chest nearly ripped apart.
Except it wasn’t really a scream, not when his mouth was too dry to work, and a full breath was little more than a gasp. What should have been a blood curdling scream was little more than a whimper, but fuck—fuck he hurt so badly.
Something was wrong. His chest felt… wrong, like it was empty and over full at the same time, like his ribs were crushed and when he took another careful breath, he knew his lungs weren’t expanding like they were supposed to.
But Tony couldn't look at his chest now, couldn't focus about that. Not when he hurt like this all over, not when his wings were so badly damaged that they refused to fold back. He tried, pulling with every muscle he could to force them to unwrap, and they absolutely wouldn't move. Hurting like this, his biology and instincts had taken over his consciousness, refusing to let him move, locking his body up to keep him from inadvertently doing himself more harm.
Tony was already dizzy from the pain, weak with hunger and exhaustion and his eyes started to fall close again, the pull of unconsciousness too much to resist.
“Rhodey.” He whispered into the empty room. “My family. Where am I?”
***************
***************
Tony didn't know how long it was before he woke up again, but the pain in his head and chest was pushing unbearable.
“Son of a bitch.” He swore out loud, dropping his head back and swearing all over again as his skull connected with solid rock. “Son of a bitch. Okay okay okay.” He took a careful breath, waiting to feel the hitch in his lungs before letting it out and straightened slowly, feeling over the rock wall behind him until he could sit against it, pulling his wings in tighter so the feathers didn't catch or snag on a sharp edge. “Alright, where are we? Think, dammit.”
Afghanistan. The Jericho Missile. The Hum-vee versus the Hum-drum-vee.
“Rhodey.” He muttered and wanted to scream at the thought of his best friend lying hurt somewhere in the sand.
The attack. All those young soldiers. The bomb with Stark Industries written on the side.
Tony couldn’t help pulling in a quick breath, then did scream—or tried to— when his chest constricted and then seemed to spasm, pain ripping through every inch of his body.
“Oh shit.” He forced his wings apart and stared down at the mess of bandages crossing his chest, at the blood staining through the gauze and the ugly wounds the bandages didn’t quite cover.
“Oh god. No no no.” He must have taken a load of shrapnel to the chest, and the wounds still bleeding sluggishly, smaller pieces of metal sticking out in several places.
The explosion. His wings flying out to protect him but not fast enough.
Tony stretched one wing at a time, flinching more at the damage to his feathers than he had at the damage to his chest. Vain of him sure, but he couldn’t handle the reality of the shrapnel right now, he had to concentrate on something else.
His wings were— they were trashed. Literal holes were blown through the varying red and brown feathers, the beautiful gold and silver primaries were nearly shredded, several of the delicate bones obviously broken. They hung limply, even when he tried to extend them, getting no where near their full span, and Tony closed his eyes against the knowledge that they would never be beautiful again.
“Son of a fucking--”
“The vulgarity is not necessary, Mr Stark.” A voice echoing in the cave had Tony scrambling to sit up, scrambling to orient himself as best he could, bringing his wings back to his body.
“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice still thready with pain but infinitely more confident than he felt. “Pretty rude to just talk over speakers instead of face to face,” he continued, pushing his hair back from him eyes. “especially since you apparently know who I am.”
“We are very aware of who you are, Mr Stark.”
“Awesome.” Tony muttered. “There's more than one of them. Fantastic.” He cleared his throat, wincing at the taste of blood but forcing himself to talk. “So what do you want from me? What's your game?”
“There is no game, Mr Stark.” The voice sounded amused. “You are our prisoner. We will do what we want with you for as long as we have you, it as simple as that.”
“Why didn’t you just kill me?” Tony snapped. “Could have saved us all this little time-waster.”
“Ah, but what fun is a dead prisoner, especially one as valuable as you?”
“You won’t get any money from my company.” Tony warned. “There’s a strict no negotiating with assholes rule.”
“It is not money we want.” The words were bored, as if the idea of holding Tony for ransom wasn’t even worth considering. “The Jericho missile you were so rudely detonating in our backyard. We want those.”
“No.” Tony tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t work so he settled for sitting straighter. “Absolutely not. I will never help you with that.”
“Oh, Mr Stark I am sure you will help us.”
“I absolutely will not!” Tony repeated, louder this time.
“Oh but you will.” A door he hadn't noticed on the far end of the cave creaked open, and a short, bearded man in traditional Arab garb entered, wings a rich shade of dark red. “You see, Mr Stark, I have no issue with hurting you. In fact, I can guarantee I will hurt you. Not badly enough that you die. Just badly enough to make you scream. I do not care how long it takes, but you will build the missiles. We can get you everything you need.”
“How?” Tony demanded. “How would you have the parts and plans to build a Jericho?”
“It would surprise you what we can acquire through our channels.” The man waved his hand vaguely. “We have the parts, you will build is a missile or we will make you regret every breath you have ever taken. You will scream.”
“I don't scream easy.” Tony retorted and the Beta smiled, his wings flicking out in interest.
“You were screaming plenty when we had to pull the shrapnel from your head and arms. Unfortunately we do not have a doctor to remove the finer pieces from your chest, so you will have to make do with those souvenirs.”
“We?” Tony echoed and the stranger nodded slowly.
“Yes. We. You would not think just one man could pull off kidnapping Tony Stark, do you? Impressive as I am, that would be a feat, wouldn’t it?”
“Are you the ones who blew up the convoy?” Tony growled. “Because if that's the case I’m going to kill you.”
“A threat from an Alpha who cannot even stand.” The man snorted. “Forgive me for not being impressed.”
Tony just glared at him, gathering his tattered wings closer to his body.
“You will eat.” He announced. “And do not try to harm yourself, if you are to die it will be at our hand and no one else’s. Take care, Tony Stark. This should be an interesting experience.”
“Keep in mind.” The Beta added as he waved another man in. “The longer it takes you to build my missiles, the less compunction I will have about showing compassion. This is just as much about the missile as it is about having a Stark at my mercy. Do not test my patience or you will regret it. I have seen your genius at work, I am confident you can do what you do with one hand or perhaps even one eye, so you should stop posturing before I take something valuable from you.”
“Come here and try it.” Tony snapped, and the man laughed his way out the door.
The other one, slight of stature, soft grey wings and looking like he belonged teaching somewhere, not taking orders from someone like Tony’s captor, moved forward quickly with a tray of food, a first aid kit, and several bottles of water, one of which he handed right to Tony.
“No.” Tony said instantly and the man shook his head quickly, pushing the bottle back into his hands.
“You must drink, Stark. It is not tampered, they have no use for either of us if we are drugged. You will die of dehydration if you are not careful.”
Tony watched him for another few seconds then, then ripped the cap off the water bottle, chugging it desperately, tears filling his eyes because just swallowing hurt his chest.
“Better.” The man encouraged and handed Tony the food. “Just a few bites then we will work on your wounds.”
“I’m not hungry.” Tony said stubbornly.
“You are being an idiot.” The man snapped. “You will never make it back that family of yours if you give up, so eat.”
Tony startled at the mention of his family, but didn’t argue, and forced himself to eat a little before opening the first aid kit, fishing out the pair of tweezers, antiseptic wipes and a roll of gauze. He couldn’t imagine he would survive this chest wound, but he set out to try and clean himself up as much as he could anyway.
“Let me help.” The man said, coming closer to reach for the tweezers. “I was the one to pull most of the shrapnel from you originally, I am aware of where most of it resides.”
“Thanks but I’m fine.” Tony said, gritting his teeth and touching the gauze on his chest carefully.
“You are being a stubborn fool, Stark.” The man argued. “You cannot do this yourself, accept help while you can.”
“I’m not about to accept help from that asshole Betas henchman.” Tony jerked away from the man outstretched hand, and tried to stand.
“No, Stark wait!” The man yelled, but Tony didn’t listen and tried to jump to his feet, barely making it to his knees before he was back on the ground howling, his vision literally whiting out from the unbelievable pain slashing through his body.
“What did you do to me?” Tony cried, grabbing at the wires that he had finally noticed protruding from under the mess of bandages on his chest. “What the hell— What is this. What is this?” He followed the wires to the battery on the ground next to him.
“Is this a battery? Is connected to my chest? What the fuck did you do?!” His eyes snapped to red, his torn wings trying to open in his rage.
The Beta groaned, running a hand over his face. “The shrapnel was headed for your heart, Stark. For lack of a better explanation, the battery is keeping it away from your vital organs. You know what an electromagnet it, I was trying to forge a crude one to keep you alive until there was another option.”
“Shrapnel.” Tony repeated. “Electromagnet. You hooked me up to a fucking battery.”
“I did what I had to.” the man whispered.
Tony stared at him for a long moment before clenching his teeth and reaching for the gauze again, holding the wires steady with one hand while he ripped the bandage away with the other.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What did you do?” Tony said dumbly. He wasn't even registering how badly it had hurt when the bandage came away, or how hard his hands were shaking.
All he could was stare down at the hole in his chest, at the wires coming out of it. There were tears across his skin, visible pieces of shrapnel buried just below the surface, the rest covered by a mass of purpling bruises. “What did you do. There is a hole in my chest. Why did you-- how did you---”
The color drained completely from Tony's face and he went limp, collapsing against the wall, his damaged wings trying to close back around him. “Jesus Christ. Why would you--” he was whimpering, teetering on passing out just from the shock. “Why would you do this to me?”
“I did what was necessary to save your life.” The Beta said morosely. “You should be thanking me, Stark. I know you don't see it know, but you would have died if I didn’t attempt something.”
“You should have let me die.” Tony's words were barely audible, his lips barely moving and black washed over him as he slid back into unconsciousness . “You should have just let me die.”
Bucky’s heat lasted three long, horrible days, and everyone took turns sitting and watching Bucky throughout to make sure he was alright.
First Steve and Tony, for hours, then Clint came to relieve Steve. After that was Natasha, who held Tony's hand the entire time, and then Pepper who brought a stack of paperwork and kept up a constant stream of chatter about the company and the latest news from SHIELD as a way to break up the quiet. Bruce sat and went over the final design for their new helicopter, forcing Tony to take bites of his dinner in between okaying certain specs and constantly checking on Bucky.
Sam was last, having been gone on a mission for a few days, but as soon as he got home and heard what happened he was downstairs as well, telling a nearly passed out Bruce to go to sleep, and taking up the post next to Tony.
And Bucky never moved.
He sat in the middle of the room, his knees drawn to his chest, wings wrapped around him, staring out at the wall.
They could monitor his vitals, thanks to JARVIS being built into every corner of the Tower including the Hulk room, and it was obvious every time a wave of heat hit. His body temperature would sky rocket, sweat would pour off his forehead, but Bucky never even flinched. Dropped back into his Soldier conditioning, he just sat perfectly still, his eyes an unsettling blank, and sometimes his lips would move as he mumbled what looked like nonsense until the wave broke and his body settled back down.
Natasha was the one to figure out what he was saying.
“It's Russian.” she stated the first morning, pointing to the monitor. “He’s speaking Russian.” Then she looked closer, her brow wrinkling in a frown. “He’s repeating his name and rank and where he is from, over and over.”
“Like he’s lost.” Tony ran a hand over his face. “He’s lost and he’s trying to get home and he’s telling anyone who will listen who he is and where he is from so maybe they will help him.”
“Why would he do that though?” Natasha took Tony's hand again. “Why would he think he is lost?”
“How many times do you think Bucky has slipped his conditioning and woken up as himself in a strange city. How many times over the past seventy years has he looked in the mirror and not known why he was still alive or how he got to be where he was? I'm sure it all came back within a few minutes, but until it did?” Tony stared down at Bucky. “How many times did he panic and think he was lost before all the memories came back and he remembered what had been done to him?”
“Jesus.” Nat whispered. “You think he’s slipping in and out of the Soldier persona and each time he does he can't remember why he’s locked in a room.”
Tony nodded. “I think every time his heat crests it knocks him back into himself and he starts to panic. But he’s not actually going to panic, because he’s too well trained for that. So he just thinks he’s lost, is repeating himself just in case someone hears him and can help him.”
“He will be lucky if he comes out of this sane.”
“He’ll be lucky if he comes out of it at all.”
******************
******************
Bucky came out of it, of course he did, around eight thirty in the morning, three days after he started.
One minute his eyes were still blanked out on the monitor, and the next minute life was flooding back into his expression and he was stumbling to his feet, crying out for Steve, for Clint, for someone to help him.
“I got him.” Clint was sitting next to Tony at the desk and shot to his feet, racing down the steps and typing in the code to open the vault door. “Bucky baby, it's Clint!” he called as the door started opening. “Can I come in?”
“Clint.” Bucky was sobbing and Clint grabbed him, helping him up from the floor and onto the bed, spreading his deep brown wings out protectively. “Clint I--”
“Hey baby I gotcha. You’re fine. Just fine. Everything is okay, we made it through, huh?” Clint raised his voice just enough to be heard on the monitors. “You need to go get some sleep, everything’s fine here, I promise.”
Tony didn't answer, but he nodded and pushed away from the desk.
Bucky was safe with Clint.
Tony could finally sleep.
******************
******************
“Um, Tony?”
Tony jerked awake in the recliner, startled by the presence of someone else in the living room, not even realizing he had fallen asleep. After Clint had told him to go get some sleep, Tony had made it to the common area before sitting in the recliner to answer a few missed calls before heading to his bed.
Apparently he had never made it to his bed at all, and a quick glance at his watch showed him that everyone had let him sleep in the chair for a good ten hours, which was only about a fourth of how much he really needed but that's---
Wait wait why was Bucky standing in front of him?
“Oh. Oh shit, Bucky.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Hey, honey. Are you you again? Are you alright? I was so worried about you, Jesus. No one told me you came upstairs, how long have you been awake and up? Can I get you anything? Do you need---”
Bucky didn't answer any of that. Instead he took a few unsteady steps in Tony's direction before crawling onto his lap, straddling Tony's thighs and tucking his wings behind him carefully. Then he leaned in and put his nose in Tony's neck and gave a long, shaky sigh.
“Can I stay right here?” he mumbled and instantly Tony was reaching for the lever of the chair, pushing the recliner up and out so he was practically laying flat with Bucky on top of him. Next his arms and wings, up and around Bucky's shoulders so they were blocked from the room by a wall of red and brown feathers, the silver and gold primaries almost touching Tony's feet.
“Hows this?” Tony murmured, and Bucky nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes and away from his mouth before pressing even closer, the post-heat come down draining everything from his body, and all he could think about was the Alpha and the safe, warm, home that surrounded him.
“I was scared.” Bucky said after a minute, and Tony's arms tightened around him. “I could feel myself shutting down. First time I've ever been glad for my conditioning. Just pushed everything away.”
“It didn't hurt?” Tony asked carefully. “You were-- you were okay?”
“It hurt.” Bucky whispered. “I felt empty, and it was awful and painful but that's better than everything I used to feel during my heats.”
“Damn it.” Tony muttered and he didn't know what else to say, so he just kept a steady hold on him, running gentle fingers up Bucky’s left arm, petting through his hair, stroking his thumbs over Buckys hips and murmuring sweet things until the Omega was nearly asleep in his arms.
“Can I stay here?” Bucky asked again. “Is this okay?”
“Bucky, you don't ever have to leave.” Tony shook his head. “Not ever. You can sit here and I'm gonna hold you just as long as you want.”
“Stevie said you would.” Bucky said tiredly. “Said if I asked, you’d hold me.”
“He was right.” Tony trailed his fingers through some of Bucky's feathers, letting him shift closer as he wanted. “He was right, honey.”
******************
Later– hours later, because they both fell asleep and even though several team members had been in and out of the living room, not a single person had wanted to wake them up-- Bucky sat up a little and looked down at Tony.
“Gonna go make sure Steve knows I'm okay.” he said slowly. “Take another shower and all that. But tomorrow? Will you be-- can we-- can I--”
“Tomorrow.” Tony assured him, whiskey colored eyes soft as they watched the Omega. “I'll be here.”
Bucky bit at his bottom lip nervously, then dropped his head and touched the barest kiss to Tony's cheek. “Even lost in my programming I knew you were watching me. I knew you were sitting up there making sure I wasn't alone. You never left me.”
“I wasn't going to leave you Bucky.” Tony slid his fingers along Bucky's jaw, back to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “I didn't know how to help, but I wasn't about to leave you. Sweet, pretty Omega, I wouldn’t ever leave you.”
Bucky didn't say anything for a long time, just stared down into Tony's eyes before bringing his left hand up to touch Tony's face cautiously. Tony murmured something sweet and turned his face into Bucky's palm, and those pale blue eyes lit with something that made Tony's breath catch.
But Bucky didn't say anything about that either, he just wet his lips anxiously, and bent to leave another barely there kiss on Tony's cheek.
“You’re a good Alpha.” he murmured, sliding off Tony's lap. “For the family and for-- for me. Thank you.”
“I'd do anything for you, sweetheart.” Tony assured him, and smiled until Bucky had disappeared through the door, leaving him in the dark room alone.
Then he sat the recliner up, and dropped his face into his hands, relieved tears falling from his eyes.
