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WIP amnesty: two fics I don't think I'll finish
This first fic is 3500 words, and was originally being written for ... ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sperrywink, I think? but I never finished so I never got to give it to her. Um. Sorry?
It's supposed to be Frank/Mikey but it didn't get that far. Frank is a bounty hunter and Mikey is a shapeshifter in this, and the backdrop is the far-flung future on a planet called Pandora. I borrowed heavily for the video game Borderlands.
Mikey Way didn’t look like a criminal to Frank. For one, he was cleaner than the bandits he’d run into on Pandora. And for another, he wasn’t wearing a piece that Frank could see.
Frank shifted on his belly over the outcropping of rock and put aside his binoculars. He pulled out the Wanted poster. It’d been folded and unfolded so many times now that it was looking ragged. Still, he could make out the features. Most damning, though, was the striped shirt Way wore in the picture. It was the same shirt Frank saw through the lens of his binoculars.
It was getting dark, finally. Pandora had a long, blisteringly hot day and a night that was as short as it was cold. Frank hated the whole planet. It was full of bandits looking for mythical treasure and nasty motherfucking creatures the locals called skags. But he’d followed Mikey Way’s trail and this was where it’d brought him -- out in the middle of nowhere, on a planet that’d been deserted by the big mining operations decades ago.
Way went into his hut. Frank had heard that all the tents and huts around here were made of human skin, but he tried not to think about it too hard. It didn’t matter, and there was nothing he could do about all the bandit gangs’ victims that’d died before Frank had stepped foot on this godforsaken planet.
Frank put the Wanted poster in his pocket and the binoculars in his pack, then started making his way down to the hut. He was swift but silent. It was hard to see for a few minutes, before one of the moons rose up and shone silver on Way’s camp.
Outside the hut, Frank unholstered his phaser and set it to a medium setting. It would knock Way unconscious and leave him sore later, but it’d spare his life. The poster specifically said alive, and Frank was definitely getting the full bounty for this one.
A thin hide covered the door to the hut, and Frank slipped in without pulling it back much. He stood silently just inside while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He barely breathed. Eventually, a slice of moonlight showed itself, falling across the cot at the far end of the hut. The shape lying there shifted and there was a soft sigh.
Way didn’t sleep like a wanted criminal. There was no weapon near the cot, unless he slept with it under his pillow, and the quiet snore told Frank that he was fast asleep. Not used to being hunted, then. His crime must have been relatively recent. Or...
Frank shook his head and stopped himself from thinking about it so much. He didn’t need to know any more about his quarry; he had him. Still, he wondered how deeply Way was sleeping.
Deliberately, Frank scuffed his boot against the hard-packed dirt floor. A rough scrape sounded, loud in Frank’s ears. Frank kept the phaser trained on Way’s sleeping form.
Another sigh came, and then another soft snore. Frank shook his head, almost amused. He cleared his throat. Loudly.
“Gee? Wha’ time issit?” Way mumbled.
“Time to wake up,” Frank said, his voice loud in the cramped hut.
Way scrambled for a moment and sat up, but before he could say anything or react in any other way, Frank fired the phaser straight into his chest. Way stiffened for a second before he slumped back down on the cot, looking much like he had when he was asleep.
Frank kept his phaser trained on Way and moved forward to check and make sure his pulse was strong. It was, at his wrist and at his throat. Frank tilted Way’s face into the moonlight to get a better look at him. He looked a lot like his Wanted poster, although the picture didn’t quite do him justice. His cheekbones were sharper, for one. He had longer eyelashes. His skin...
With a jerk of his head, Frank shook off whatever it was his brain was thinking and he got his pack from outside the hut. Zip ties for the hands and feet for now. He made sure they were tight so he could relax. Frank needed to rest; he’d been moving nonstop since he’d set foot on Pandora. Food first, though.
He’d foraged for edible plants nearby and had found a sort of flat cactus that he saw a skag pup gnawing on. It tasted like shit, but it was filling and better than the vita-tack Frank had stocked up on at the last settlement. He pulled out the bandana he’d wrapped it’d in and gnawed on a strip of the stuff. What he wouldn’t give for his mama’s lasagna right now.
He started a fire in front of the hut. It was cold and getting colder, and the blanket Way’d been sleeping under was inadequate. He even dragged Way out of the hut and in front of the fire so he’d stay warm. No sense in having the kid die of exposure before Frank collected on him.
Frank gave another look to Way, making sure he wasn’t moving, and curled up on his side next to the fire. He closed his eyes and let himself rest.
It seemed like only seconds passed when he opened his eyes again, but the night was over and Way’s eyes were trained on him. He didn’t look put out for being tied up, just watched Frank curiously.
Frank sat up and nodded his head. “I’m Frank Iero and you’re a wanted man. I’m bringing you in.”
“Who wants me?” Way asked with just his head picked up. Frank went over to help him sit. He looked surprised when Frank grabbed his shoulders and helped him up.
“I don’t know,” Frank said. “I picked this job up off a bounty board on Elestria.”
Way cocked an eyebrow. The expression was impressive. Frank could almost hear the bitchy inflection of it. Way didn’t speak, though, which was unnerving.
“Aren’t you going to tell me you’re innocent?” Frank asked. He was used to that. “Beg me to let you go? Try to bribe me?”
“Would it do any good?” Way asked. He sounded mildly curious, but it was hard to tell. He seemed to have a tight handle on his emotions.
“No,” Frank said. “I just usually hear a lot of that.”
“Do you care what they want me for?” Way asked. Frank noticed that his eyes were on the zip ties at his wrists. Probably trying to figure out how to get out of them.
“I took the knife out of your boot,” Frank said. “You’re not getting out of those until I say.”
Way raised his head and looked at Frank with narrow eyes. There was something mysterious there, something Frank wanted to figure out. Like one of the Angorian puzzles he’d played with as a kid, the ones that took days or weeks to master, but were a cinch once you learned the secret.
Way kept staring at him. He even tilted his head. Frank realized he was waiting for an answer to his question. Frank shrugged. “I’m just doing a job, kid. But if you want to tell me why you’re worth twenty-five thousand slips of premium Lux, I won’t stop you.”
“Not credits?” Way asked.
Frank shook his head. Lux was more widely traded in the galaxy. Credits could only be spent on a handful of planets.
Way let out a low whistle. Then said, “So you don’t know why I’m wanted.”
“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Frank said. He was comfortable enough with his job to say that. He’d brought in enough criminals and escaped cons to know the kind of person he was helping put away. He had no problems sleeping at night or looking at himself in the mirror. He did an honest job for honest pay.
“Suit yourself. I won’t bore you with the details, then,” Way said. There was something in his voice, almost like suppressed laughter. Frank shrugged it off.
The overhead sun was hot and Frank removed his jacket. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover by nightfall,” he said, pulling an extra bandana from his pack and tying it around his forehead. It would keep the sweat from running into his eyes. Way would just have to bear it; Frank’s only other bandana was wrapped around the cactus.
“I assume you’re going to untie me,” Way said dryly.
“It’s that or stun and drag you. Which I’ll do if you don’t cooperate,” Frank promised. He’d rather not, but for that much Lux he’d drag a man twice Way’s size three times as far. He pulled Way’s knife from where he’d stashed it in his boot and advanced on him.
Way watched him with that damned eyebrow raised. A challenge, but Frank didn’t know the rules.
“Feet,” Frank mumbled, and reached down to cut the tie. It severed easily, the blade sharp. “Your hands stay tied.”
“Okay,” Way said agreeably. “But if we come up on some trouble, you’re going to wish you’d let me have the use of my hands.”
“What, do you think I’m letting you have a weapon?” Frank asked.
“I don’t need one,” Way said.
The bandits were camped two Ks away, and Frank didn’t take out his binoculars in time to avoid them. “Shit,” he said under his breath, and looked at Mikey. “We should go around-”
“Too late,” Mikey said, and the bandits started firing.
Frank pulled out his phaser, slid it to maximum, and fired back. Mikey got flat down on the ground, making himself less of a target. The bandits rushed, and Frank got a few of them. Thankfully, they weren’t very good shots. Frank’s accuracy was a lot better, and he caught one of them right in the face.
There was a lot of noise and dust flying as bullets and phase blasts hit the dirt, and somewhere between here and there, Frank lost sight of Way. A big brute came into view, brandishing some kind of corrosive machine gun, and if Frank was paying attention, he’d have felt his heart pounding in his throat.
“You never shoulda come here, merc!” the brute yelled, and let loose with the bullets. Frank felt one slam into his shoulder, knocking him back on his ass, and then the skin began to do something like sizzle. Damned corrosive weaponry. It was great when you had it in your hands, but now Frank was feeling what it was like on the other end. It burned like fire, and the brute was grinning, laughing, and advancing on him.
Then Frank heard another sound. It was a roar so loud he could feel the air shift and the ground vibrate. He barely got a good look at the beast before it charged straight for the brute. It was a skag, but unlike any skag Frank had seen on this rock. It was huge and crackled with energy. It was heavily armored, and the frantic bullets that were sent its way seemed to be deflected easily.
“Argh!” the brute screamed as the skag tackled him to the ground. Frank took the opportunity to back away, firing off shots toward the remaining bandits who were behind the brute and skag. The bandits did the smart thing and ran.
Frank looked around for Way, ready to drag him away to safety, but didn’t see him anywhere. He scanned the bodies, hoping one of them wasn’t Way. They were all bandits.
“Shit. Shit,” Frank said. He’d lost his bounty and he had a hole in his shoulder, and now...
Now he had a big, badass skag advancing on him, looking like Frank was dinner. Its feet pounded solidly as it advanced, and its breath came in short, loud snorts. It didn’t take its eyes off him. But then, inexplicably, the skag stopped, changed direction, and ran off back toward the hills. Frank was left staring after it, wondering just what the hell had just happened. But it was gone, and Frank could pay attention to his shoulder. He walked slowly back to where he’d dropped his pack and pulled out some biogel. His left arm was going numb. Shit. Even his fingers were clumsy as he unscrewed the cap on the gel.
Something caught his eye as he was fumbling with the gel and his shoulder. There on the ground in the place he’d last seen Way was something black.
Nah. Couldn’t be. Frank shook his head, finished with the gel, then went over to investigate.
There it was, just lying in the dirt. A black, unbroken circle. The zip tie Way’d been wearing. It hadn’t been cut. Except it’d been tight around Way’s wrists, and when Frank picked it up and ran a finger along the smooth plastic, he didn’t even find any blood. So how had Way gotten out of it?
Twenty-five thousand Lux was a huge incentive to keep looking for Way. Frank only wished he knew more about the man. If he had a better grasp of his personality and habits, he’d be much easier to find. He kicked himself for not pressuring Way into more talk. Frank was good at using someone’s quirks against them. He’d found plenty of fugitives in just that way.
But Way was a mystery. Frank now wondered about his crime. Before, he’d only seen Way as another job, and maybe a bit of a puzzle, but now Frank had a full-on obsession. Unfortunately, there was no way to know more about Way without contacting the boss directly, and even though the Wanted poster had suggested he do just that before setting out, Frank hated to do that. The less contact the better. All he wanted from the boss was his Lux.
Frank was another three Ks from a relay station, and with his busted shoulder and all the bandits around, he was reluctant to move until it got dark again. He’d have to find a good spot to hide out until then.
There was a rock formation up ahead that looked promising. If there was a cleft in it, it would make a nice place to rest.
Not only was there a cleft, but there was a small natural cave. It looked like it’d been used by travelers in the past because there was already a nice round pit for a fire (and a bit of a vent in the ceiling, too) and what looked like a carved-out sleeping spot in the wall.
Frank needed sleep, but he needed to catch up with Way even more. Still, Frank wouldn’t get far if he was exhausted, and he was already running on fumes as it was.
He made a fire and got comfortable, then looked for the rest of the skag meat. As he rummaged through the pack, his hands brushed against something cold and hard. He shook his head; he hadn’t wanted to use the collar. Even though the Wanted poster details had suggested it. Even though he’d picked it up before he’d started tracking Way.
But now that he’d let Way slip through his fingers, he wondered if he’d have been too quick to dismiss the whole idea of a collar. Zip ties had always done him just fine in the past, but apparently Way was a little more slippery than that, and the boss had known it.
“Shit,” Frank said, taking out the collar and looking it over in the firelight. It was made of silver and had gold accents. It was a pretty thing, as far as collars went, but Frank knew it had a darker side to it. He reached into his bag again and there at the bottom was a controller, the reason Frank had been hesitant to use the collar at all.
But now it looked like in order to get Way and bring him in, he’d need to use the damned thing. On the other hand, the collar had a tracker built in, and that would come in handy if Way slipped away again.
He had a choice, of course. Frank could just let Way go and then find another bounty, a big one, before he retired and moved on with his life. But there were two problems with that. One, the bounty on Way was so large that he’d probably not find a job of equal value. And two, well. Mikey Way had gotten under his skin somehow. Frank could admit his pride was a little stung from losing him. Maybe it was his ego that was driving him to chase Way. Whatever it was, Frank was ready to find him.
After he got a little sleep.
The shoulder was feeling a lot better in the morning, surprisingly enough. There was an ache to it, but it was mostly all right. Frank was grateful. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission when he had Way out there.
It was hard to believe that Way hadn’t been hit by a bullet or eaten by a skag, but Frank was going on the assumption that he was all in one piece and headed straight to the closest relay station. He’d have a head start on him, so it was best to move fast from now on.
The suns were hot and the ground was baking when Frank made his way out of the cave. He tied a bandana over his head and checked his compass for the right direction. It was easy to lose track of where you were going on Pandora because you couldn’t go by the suns, or at least Frank couldn’t. He’d have to rely on the compass and his own wits to find his way back.
Up ahead as he walked, Frank could see the heat coming off the hard-packed road. Three Ks wasn’t that far, but the suns were already getting to him. He took a swig from his canteen and sighed, trudging on.
When Frank got back to the station, he automatically checked his messages through the universal link. There were three. He loaded them to his comm device before heading straight to the station’s lone diner. His eyes darted back and forth along the walls and booths of the room, assessing the danger automatically. In his line of work, being extra cautious was a lifesaver. No one looked hostile, though -- there were only three customers and two employees, and they wore their pieces out in the open. No subterfuge usually meant friendly or at least neutral.
Frank ordered something that looked a little more appetizing than the cactus he’d been gnawing on and sat down at a table away from the glass wall, facing the rest of the room so he couldn’t be caught unaware.
The first bite of food was so bad that Frank nearly spat it out. Oh well. He picked up his comm and scrolled through to get to his first message.
“Hey, it’s me,” Jamia said, like she always did, like Frank couldn’t see her face on his screen. “I’ve been getting messages from some big shot, I assume he’s a client of yours? I’m sending them along to you.” She looked annoyed. Frank wondered how anyone got Jamia’s comm address. “Stay safe out there.” The screen went black.
Frank sent a quick thanks in text because if Jamia saw his sun-beat face she’d worry. He guessed that’s what best friends did.
The other two messages were from the client, someone he’d never seen before. A personal communication usually meant bad news.
He went by Mr. M, according to the address on the bottom of Frank’s comm screen. The picture was fuzzy and Frank got the idea that was intentional. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but his voice came over the comm clearly.
“My associates tell me you are close to catching your quarry. I assume you know to use the collar. On a more personal note, you can tell Way that I already have his brother in custody. If he ever wants to see him again, he’ll cooperate with you.” And then Mr. M faded entirely into black, and Frank was left wondering just what the fuck was going on.
Frank got a tip on Way from a transport employee about half an hour later. Way was on the last ride of the day from Pandora to Giloth, the only place the transport actually went. This was bad news, though, because from Giloth, Way could catch a ride to any of the main Fed planets in the system and Frank would lose him completely. He’d have to stop him from doing that, and soon. Unfortunately, the transport didn’t go anywhere for another ten hours.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” Frank said under his breath. Way was going to get away, and Frank wouldn’t see that pile of Lux. Goodbye retirement.
There had to be a way to catch Way and keep him. Maybe this brother angle was the right way to go. Frank could use this to his advantage. Set a trap.
TBC
The next fic is Avengers A/B/O where Tony is a teenaged (secret) omega and Steve is an alpha. 2500 words of Tony angst.
Tony wished he felt something besides the hangover. That would be the normal reaction, right? Pain, tears, or even just numbness. Numbness would be understandable; he’s heard of people who grieve that way. Instead, he feels bored. He wants to be out of the cemetery and in his workshop. He wants to work on the robot he’s been building. He wants to code. He wants to lose himself in the elegance of equations.
He stands stock still even though he wants to fidget. He puts considerable energy into keeping his face carefully blank. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes are the only things moving.
He takes in the ‘mourners’, people who look vaguely familiar and people he’s never seen before. He stares at them, because staring at the caskets makes him feel cold in the pit of his stomach. Maybe that’s grief, after all.
The hand on his shoulder (the one he’s been ignoring since he got out of the limo) tightens. He wonders if it’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. Then the hand is removed and Obie is making his way up to the front to give the eulogy. It’s a short walk.
Obie’s eyes squint for a moment, looking off on the distance before he begins. His jaw tightens. He looks angry, and Tony turns his head and glances behind him. Just curious, wondering what made Obie look that way.
The breath leaves Tony’s body in a rush and he nearly falls over in relief. He locks his knees so that doesn’t happen, bites his lip hard to keep from calling out. It’s hard pretending to be something he’s not even on a normal day, but right now he just wants to go to the man in the distance and let him take care of everything.
He’s getting out of a taxi, and he’s almost too far away to be recognizable. But it’s him, it’s Steve, and now Tony feels something other than boredom.
Tony knows he should be listening to the prepared lies Obie is giving to the crowd. He vaguely hears the words ‘beloved husband’ and ‘devoted father’ but they wash over him and don’t sink their claws in. He wonders if Obie remembers this is a funeral for his mother as well as Howard. Does it matter to him? Is it because she was an omega, or just because she had nothing to do with Howard’s day to day work?
Tony realizes his hands have a fine tremor and wishes for a strong drink.
He keeps watching Steve as he makes his way to the crowd. He stops and stands at the back, which just feels wrong.
Something breaks inside and Tony wants to be anywhere but where he is now. He turns on his heel and threads through the gawkers until he’s made his way to Steve. Steve is taller, and broader, and usually Tony hates people who make him feel small but right now Tony just wants someone he can trust. No, he wants Steve in particular. He can’t show it, though, because he’s supposed to be strong and in control. Sure, most people here think they know Tony’s orientation, or they assume he hasn’t presented yet. No one knows the truth. It was a secret between the three of them, and now two of them are dead.
Steve looks at him, and Tony takes his sunglasses off and looks back. When Steve’s hand falls on his shoulder, Tony can’t help but compare it to Obie’s. Steve’s hand is big like Obie’s, but it’s gentle and warm even through the layers of Tony’s suit and shirt. It’s not gripping him, it’s just resting there, and Tony can’t help but want more of the same gentle comfort.
He knows that if he moves forward, Steve will hug him. But if that happens, Tony’s boredom will turn into something else because it’ll be safe, except there’s no way Tony’s doing that in front of all these people. So Tony swallows hard and turns around. Steve’s hand drops, but he doesn’t move away. He’s like a wall of reassurance at Tony’s back. It makes Tony breathe easier. He can get through this now. As long as Steve is near, Tony can hold himself together.
Obie is glaring at them. Tony catches a look that could be hate or could be disgust, he’s not sure. But then Obie’s mouth moves into a semblance of a smile so fake it almost makes Tony laugh. Obie is an old-fashioned alpha, and Tony knows he thinks he’s due the company. Tony’s company, now. If Tony came out as an omega, everything his father had worked for and built would fall into Obie’s hands.
Tony doesn’t know how much longer the funeral drags on. He puts his sunglasses back on and holds his chin up when the caskets are lowered one after the other into the ground. He tries to look at them as something other than what they are, tries not to think about what they hold. It’s difficult.
There’s a point where Tony is supposed to throw handfuls of dirt onto his parents’ caskets. It makes him feel sick, and he swallows hard against the bile in his throat. He shakes his head. No, he’s not doing it. Obie gives him a disappointed look.
Then Steve is rubbing his arm and whispering, “It’s okay, you don’t have to. It’s okay, Tony.”
He hasn’t cried since Obie told him about the accident. He’s not going to start now, of all times. Even if he wants to.
The funeral is over. Obie tries to grab him, but Tony wriggles away.
“Don’t be childish,” Obie snaps. His voice is low, but it’s made of steel. “There’s still the wake. Act like an adult.”
Fuck you, Tony wants to say, but he’s a little afraid of Obie, no matter how close they are.
Steve makes a noise like a growl and Tony looks at him. He looks righteously pissed and protective. It makes Tony want to melt against him forever and ever.
“I just want to get out of here,” Tony says quietly. He turns to Steve and bites at his lip. “Will you ride with me back to the house?”
Obie puffs himself up and glares. “You can ride with me.”
Steve doesn’t flinch. He ignores Obie and looks at Tony. “Of course I will.”
Which is how they both end up alone in the back of the limo. With the windows and the divider up, it’s like a whole different world. A dark leather cocoon. Tony usually would go straight for the liquor, but Steve always disapproves of his drinking.
Steve gives him a look like he knows exactly what Tony is thinking and he approves of his restraint.
The wake is not until later. Tony presses the button for the driver’s intercom and says, “Just drive around for a couple of hours, okay?” He takes his suit jacket off. Steve looks at him for a moment and takes his uniform jacket off, laying it across the seat Tony’s is on.
Steve opens his mouth, and Tony cuts him off before he even starts.
“Don’t ask me how I’m doing,” Tony says. “I’ve heard enough of that over the past few days, and if I hear it again, from you of all people, I’m going to scream.” His voice comes out a lot less even than he thought it would.
Steve shuts his mouth and nods.
Tony scoots closer and rests his head against Steve. Steve doesn’t hesitate to bring his arm up around Tony’s shoulder so that Tony’s face is pressed into his chest. Steve smells like soap and some kind of sporty deodorant, but underneath that are the pheromones of an alpha. He’s warm and safe.
“I’m going to MIT in the fall,” Tony says, rather than saying I’m so fucked up or I’m so glad you’re here.
“So soon?” Steve asks, and Tony doesn’t recognize the tone of voice he uses.
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve been ready for college for years. It’s just that Mom...” He trails off. His mother didn’t want him skipping many grades, afraid that he’d be too alienated from his peers. She’d been looking out for him, he thinks. Because she loved him. She never quite got him, or understood him, but she loved him.
“Tony?” Steve asks softly.
“Did Obie even mention her in that speech of his?” Tony asks. He tilts his head up in time to see Steve’s jaw tighten in anger.
“I don’t think so. I wasn’t entirely listening,” he admits.
Tony knows Steve and Obie have a poor relationship. As much as Howard tried to make sure the two of them were friendly, it never quite happened. Obie thought Steve was just hanging around Howard to get something, he’d said as much to Tony. Whether that something was money or power Obie never said, but Tony thought it was all bullshit anyway. Obie didn’t know Steve like Tony did. Steve was a genuinely decent guy. The fact that he’d saved Howard’s life before he even knew his name was proof of that.
What Steve had against Obie... well, that was a little more vague. Steve seems to have taken the old ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all’ proverb to heart. He was nice like that. If Tony hadn’t gotten to know him over the past five years, he’d have thought it was just an act. Except it wasn’t, it was just Steve being Steve. He was some kind of fucking paragon.
And Tony was in love with him. He was in love with him, but could he trust him with his biggest secret? It was illegal to pose as the opposite orientation. The scent blocking pills and shampoos Tony had been using for the past month were Howard’s own inventions. Tony knew how to make them, planned to keep using them until it was safe not to.
“Something’s on your mind,” Steve said.
Tony covered his surprise with a snort. “You think?”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I’m worried about the company,” Tony said, a half-truthful confession. “I’m too young to take over, so who gets control?”
“I guess the board?” Steve says. “And Stane. I think it depends on what your dad’s will has to say.”
Tony swallows hard. What if the will outs Tony as an omega? What if it says he has to marry...
I’m scared, Tony wants to say.
As if Steve can hear him, he wraps his other arm around Tony and holds him closer. For a few moments, Tony can breathe easier.
The will is uncomplicated when it comes to business: Obie is to step up to the plate until Tony comes of age. This is fine with Tony, he’s got MIT to blow through and his own work to do.
But Obie isn’t named as Tony’s guardian, which doesn’t sit well with Obie. In fact, Obie pitches a fucking fit during the reading and glares when Steve is named responsible for Tony’s wellbeing.
It feels like relief, though. Tony has been worried since the funeral, since Obie’s hand tightened on his shoulder. He knows he should trust the man, since Howard did, but there’s something about the way he looks at him that makes him want to freak right the fuck out.
Like if Obie knew Tony was an omega, he’d be the first in line to claim him as his own. Which is gross, to be honest, but the more Tony thinks about it, the more sure of it he is.
Tony’s going to have to tell Steve soon. He can’t pretend he hasn’t presented yet, not at his age. Part of him wants to keep it a secret. He doesn’t really know how Steve perceives omegas. Of course, he’d always been perfectly polite to Tony’s mother, but maybe he was different with unbonded omegas. He had some pretty old fashioned ideas about some things, maybe he believed in the old laws or …
No, not Steve. He was fair-minded about everything else, why not about this?
Maybe Tony wouldn’t tell him. Maybe he’d lay off the suppressants for a couple of days and just let Steve figure it out from himself. But that left him open for attack on other sides, and Tony wasn’t going to have Obie convince the board that he’d be unfit to be in charge once his time came.
Legally, it was perfectly fine to hold a company and act as CEO and all the trappings of that life if you were an omega. But society still had hangups, and that was exactly what Tony was hoping to avoid by (eventually) posing as an alpha.
It’s going to be hard, posing as something he isn’t. Tony’s smart, he’s read all the literature and done research above and beyond what anyone would expect. He knows he’s submissive, that without being dominated from time to time he’ll just waste away. That’s not an option. He doesn’t know what his options are, other than come out or hide. He’s already having dreams that make him hard and aching when he wakes, dreams of falling to his knees at the sound of his alpha’s voice, of being fucked and claimed and above all being safe and protected.
He can pretend, sometimes, that the alpha in his dreams is just some generic person and not anyone in particular. Not Steve.
It’s hard being around Steve. It’s hard to hold steady and not drop his eyes and bow his head when Steve is around. But he does it. He learns. He’s been learning all his life how to be a good alpha, and he pretends this is all an elaborate test.
Tony takes the suppressants and uses the right body washes, shampoos, and lotions. He appears to have presented as an alpha in a subtle, gradual way. But the core need to submit to his alpha is there, no matter what his hormones are doing. No, he won’t go into heat as long as he takes the pills. No, his natural pheromones won’t be released. The products will put forth the scent of a young alpha, not particularly strong, but an alpha nonetheless.
But he still has an itch under his skin that refuses to be scratched. A constant clamor in his head that can only be erased by submission. It’s maddening. Tony has enough in his head as it is, plans and prototypes and codes and equations. He doesn’t need this awareness of alphas, so bad that he can’t walk down the street without assessing potential partners.
But he can’t afford to be weak. He can’t let himself trip up.
Drinking doesn’t help, exactly, but it quiets the noise in his head. He tries not to think of Steve’s disapproval.
TBC
So there you have it, folks. The two WIPs in my gdocs that I'm probably not finishing. Feel free to tell me I should, though! You never know.
sperrywink, I think? but I never finished so I never got to give it to her. Um. Sorry?It's supposed to be Frank/Mikey but it didn't get that far. Frank is a bounty hunter and Mikey is a shapeshifter in this, and the backdrop is the far-flung future on a planet called Pandora. I borrowed heavily for the video game Borderlands.
Mikey Way didn’t look like a criminal to Frank. For one, he was cleaner than the bandits he’d run into on Pandora. And for another, he wasn’t wearing a piece that Frank could see.
Frank shifted on his belly over the outcropping of rock and put aside his binoculars. He pulled out the Wanted poster. It’d been folded and unfolded so many times now that it was looking ragged. Still, he could make out the features. Most damning, though, was the striped shirt Way wore in the picture. It was the same shirt Frank saw through the lens of his binoculars.
It was getting dark, finally. Pandora had a long, blisteringly hot day and a night that was as short as it was cold. Frank hated the whole planet. It was full of bandits looking for mythical treasure and nasty motherfucking creatures the locals called skags. But he’d followed Mikey Way’s trail and this was where it’d brought him -- out in the middle of nowhere, on a planet that’d been deserted by the big mining operations decades ago.
Way went into his hut. Frank had heard that all the tents and huts around here were made of human skin, but he tried not to think about it too hard. It didn’t matter, and there was nothing he could do about all the bandit gangs’ victims that’d died before Frank had stepped foot on this godforsaken planet.
Frank put the Wanted poster in his pocket and the binoculars in his pack, then started making his way down to the hut. He was swift but silent. It was hard to see for a few minutes, before one of the moons rose up and shone silver on Way’s camp.
Outside the hut, Frank unholstered his phaser and set it to a medium setting. It would knock Way unconscious and leave him sore later, but it’d spare his life. The poster specifically said alive, and Frank was definitely getting the full bounty for this one.
A thin hide covered the door to the hut, and Frank slipped in without pulling it back much. He stood silently just inside while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He barely breathed. Eventually, a slice of moonlight showed itself, falling across the cot at the far end of the hut. The shape lying there shifted and there was a soft sigh.
Way didn’t sleep like a wanted criminal. There was no weapon near the cot, unless he slept with it under his pillow, and the quiet snore told Frank that he was fast asleep. Not used to being hunted, then. His crime must have been relatively recent. Or...
Frank shook his head and stopped himself from thinking about it so much. He didn’t need to know any more about his quarry; he had him. Still, he wondered how deeply Way was sleeping.
Deliberately, Frank scuffed his boot against the hard-packed dirt floor. A rough scrape sounded, loud in Frank’s ears. Frank kept the phaser trained on Way’s sleeping form.
Another sigh came, and then another soft snore. Frank shook his head, almost amused. He cleared his throat. Loudly.
“Gee? Wha’ time issit?” Way mumbled.
“Time to wake up,” Frank said, his voice loud in the cramped hut.
Way scrambled for a moment and sat up, but before he could say anything or react in any other way, Frank fired the phaser straight into his chest. Way stiffened for a second before he slumped back down on the cot, looking much like he had when he was asleep.
Frank kept his phaser trained on Way and moved forward to check and make sure his pulse was strong. It was, at his wrist and at his throat. Frank tilted Way’s face into the moonlight to get a better look at him. He looked a lot like his Wanted poster, although the picture didn’t quite do him justice. His cheekbones were sharper, for one. He had longer eyelashes. His skin...
With a jerk of his head, Frank shook off whatever it was his brain was thinking and he got his pack from outside the hut. Zip ties for the hands and feet for now. He made sure they were tight so he could relax. Frank needed to rest; he’d been moving nonstop since he’d set foot on Pandora. Food first, though.
He’d foraged for edible plants nearby and had found a sort of flat cactus that he saw a skag pup gnawing on. It tasted like shit, but it was filling and better than the vita-tack Frank had stocked up on at the last settlement. He pulled out the bandana he’d wrapped it’d in and gnawed on a strip of the stuff. What he wouldn’t give for his mama’s lasagna right now.
He started a fire in front of the hut. It was cold and getting colder, and the blanket Way’d been sleeping under was inadequate. He even dragged Way out of the hut and in front of the fire so he’d stay warm. No sense in having the kid die of exposure before Frank collected on him.
Frank gave another look to Way, making sure he wasn’t moving, and curled up on his side next to the fire. He closed his eyes and let himself rest.
It seemed like only seconds passed when he opened his eyes again, but the night was over and Way’s eyes were trained on him. He didn’t look put out for being tied up, just watched Frank curiously.
Frank sat up and nodded his head. “I’m Frank Iero and you’re a wanted man. I’m bringing you in.”
“Who wants me?” Way asked with just his head picked up. Frank went over to help him sit. He looked surprised when Frank grabbed his shoulders and helped him up.
“I don’t know,” Frank said. “I picked this job up off a bounty board on Elestria.”
Way cocked an eyebrow. The expression was impressive. Frank could almost hear the bitchy inflection of it. Way didn’t speak, though, which was unnerving.
“Aren’t you going to tell me you’re innocent?” Frank asked. He was used to that. “Beg me to let you go? Try to bribe me?”
“Would it do any good?” Way asked. He sounded mildly curious, but it was hard to tell. He seemed to have a tight handle on his emotions.
“No,” Frank said. “I just usually hear a lot of that.”
“Do you care what they want me for?” Way asked. Frank noticed that his eyes were on the zip ties at his wrists. Probably trying to figure out how to get out of them.
“I took the knife out of your boot,” Frank said. “You’re not getting out of those until I say.”
Way raised his head and looked at Frank with narrow eyes. There was something mysterious there, something Frank wanted to figure out. Like one of the Angorian puzzles he’d played with as a kid, the ones that took days or weeks to master, but were a cinch once you learned the secret.
Way kept staring at him. He even tilted his head. Frank realized he was waiting for an answer to his question. Frank shrugged. “I’m just doing a job, kid. But if you want to tell me why you’re worth twenty-five thousand slips of premium Lux, I won’t stop you.”
“Not credits?” Way asked.
Frank shook his head. Lux was more widely traded in the galaxy. Credits could only be spent on a handful of planets.
Way let out a low whistle. Then said, “So you don’t know why I’m wanted.”
“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Frank said. He was comfortable enough with his job to say that. He’d brought in enough criminals and escaped cons to know the kind of person he was helping put away. He had no problems sleeping at night or looking at himself in the mirror. He did an honest job for honest pay.
“Suit yourself. I won’t bore you with the details, then,” Way said. There was something in his voice, almost like suppressed laughter. Frank shrugged it off.
The overhead sun was hot and Frank removed his jacket. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover by nightfall,” he said, pulling an extra bandana from his pack and tying it around his forehead. It would keep the sweat from running into his eyes. Way would just have to bear it; Frank’s only other bandana was wrapped around the cactus.
“I assume you’re going to untie me,” Way said dryly.
“It’s that or stun and drag you. Which I’ll do if you don’t cooperate,” Frank promised. He’d rather not, but for that much Lux he’d drag a man twice Way’s size three times as far. He pulled Way’s knife from where he’d stashed it in his boot and advanced on him.
Way watched him with that damned eyebrow raised. A challenge, but Frank didn’t know the rules.
“Feet,” Frank mumbled, and reached down to cut the tie. It severed easily, the blade sharp. “Your hands stay tied.”
“Okay,” Way said agreeably. “But if we come up on some trouble, you’re going to wish you’d let me have the use of my hands.”
“What, do you think I’m letting you have a weapon?” Frank asked.
“I don’t need one,” Way said.
The bandits were camped two Ks away, and Frank didn’t take out his binoculars in time to avoid them. “Shit,” he said under his breath, and looked at Mikey. “We should go around-”
“Too late,” Mikey said, and the bandits started firing.
Frank pulled out his phaser, slid it to maximum, and fired back. Mikey got flat down on the ground, making himself less of a target. The bandits rushed, and Frank got a few of them. Thankfully, they weren’t very good shots. Frank’s accuracy was a lot better, and he caught one of them right in the face.
There was a lot of noise and dust flying as bullets and phase blasts hit the dirt, and somewhere between here and there, Frank lost sight of Way. A big brute came into view, brandishing some kind of corrosive machine gun, and if Frank was paying attention, he’d have felt his heart pounding in his throat.
“You never shoulda come here, merc!” the brute yelled, and let loose with the bullets. Frank felt one slam into his shoulder, knocking him back on his ass, and then the skin began to do something like sizzle. Damned corrosive weaponry. It was great when you had it in your hands, but now Frank was feeling what it was like on the other end. It burned like fire, and the brute was grinning, laughing, and advancing on him.
Then Frank heard another sound. It was a roar so loud he could feel the air shift and the ground vibrate. He barely got a good look at the beast before it charged straight for the brute. It was a skag, but unlike any skag Frank had seen on this rock. It was huge and crackled with energy. It was heavily armored, and the frantic bullets that were sent its way seemed to be deflected easily.
“Argh!” the brute screamed as the skag tackled him to the ground. Frank took the opportunity to back away, firing off shots toward the remaining bandits who were behind the brute and skag. The bandits did the smart thing and ran.
Frank looked around for Way, ready to drag him away to safety, but didn’t see him anywhere. He scanned the bodies, hoping one of them wasn’t Way. They were all bandits.
“Shit. Shit,” Frank said. He’d lost his bounty and he had a hole in his shoulder, and now...
Now he had a big, badass skag advancing on him, looking like Frank was dinner. Its feet pounded solidly as it advanced, and its breath came in short, loud snorts. It didn’t take its eyes off him. But then, inexplicably, the skag stopped, changed direction, and ran off back toward the hills. Frank was left staring after it, wondering just what the hell had just happened. But it was gone, and Frank could pay attention to his shoulder. He walked slowly back to where he’d dropped his pack and pulled out some biogel. His left arm was going numb. Shit. Even his fingers were clumsy as he unscrewed the cap on the gel.
Something caught his eye as he was fumbling with the gel and his shoulder. There on the ground in the place he’d last seen Way was something black.
Nah. Couldn’t be. Frank shook his head, finished with the gel, then went over to investigate.
There it was, just lying in the dirt. A black, unbroken circle. The zip tie Way’d been wearing. It hadn’t been cut. Except it’d been tight around Way’s wrists, and when Frank picked it up and ran a finger along the smooth plastic, he didn’t even find any blood. So how had Way gotten out of it?
Twenty-five thousand Lux was a huge incentive to keep looking for Way. Frank only wished he knew more about the man. If he had a better grasp of his personality and habits, he’d be much easier to find. He kicked himself for not pressuring Way into more talk. Frank was good at using someone’s quirks against them. He’d found plenty of fugitives in just that way.
But Way was a mystery. Frank now wondered about his crime. Before, he’d only seen Way as another job, and maybe a bit of a puzzle, but now Frank had a full-on obsession. Unfortunately, there was no way to know more about Way without contacting the boss directly, and even though the Wanted poster had suggested he do just that before setting out, Frank hated to do that. The less contact the better. All he wanted from the boss was his Lux.
Frank was another three Ks from a relay station, and with his busted shoulder and all the bandits around, he was reluctant to move until it got dark again. He’d have to find a good spot to hide out until then.
There was a rock formation up ahead that looked promising. If there was a cleft in it, it would make a nice place to rest.
Not only was there a cleft, but there was a small natural cave. It looked like it’d been used by travelers in the past because there was already a nice round pit for a fire (and a bit of a vent in the ceiling, too) and what looked like a carved-out sleeping spot in the wall.
Frank needed sleep, but he needed to catch up with Way even more. Still, Frank wouldn’t get far if he was exhausted, and he was already running on fumes as it was.
He made a fire and got comfortable, then looked for the rest of the skag meat. As he rummaged through the pack, his hands brushed against something cold and hard. He shook his head; he hadn’t wanted to use the collar. Even though the Wanted poster details had suggested it. Even though he’d picked it up before he’d started tracking Way.
But now that he’d let Way slip through his fingers, he wondered if he’d have been too quick to dismiss the whole idea of a collar. Zip ties had always done him just fine in the past, but apparently Way was a little more slippery than that, and the boss had known it.
“Shit,” Frank said, taking out the collar and looking it over in the firelight. It was made of silver and had gold accents. It was a pretty thing, as far as collars went, but Frank knew it had a darker side to it. He reached into his bag again and there at the bottom was a controller, the reason Frank had been hesitant to use the collar at all.
But now it looked like in order to get Way and bring him in, he’d need to use the damned thing. On the other hand, the collar had a tracker built in, and that would come in handy if Way slipped away again.
He had a choice, of course. Frank could just let Way go and then find another bounty, a big one, before he retired and moved on with his life. But there were two problems with that. One, the bounty on Way was so large that he’d probably not find a job of equal value. And two, well. Mikey Way had gotten under his skin somehow. Frank could admit his pride was a little stung from losing him. Maybe it was his ego that was driving him to chase Way. Whatever it was, Frank was ready to find him.
After he got a little sleep.
The shoulder was feeling a lot better in the morning, surprisingly enough. There was an ache to it, but it was mostly all right. Frank was grateful. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission when he had Way out there.
It was hard to believe that Way hadn’t been hit by a bullet or eaten by a skag, but Frank was going on the assumption that he was all in one piece and headed straight to the closest relay station. He’d have a head start on him, so it was best to move fast from now on.
The suns were hot and the ground was baking when Frank made his way out of the cave. He tied a bandana over his head and checked his compass for the right direction. It was easy to lose track of where you were going on Pandora because you couldn’t go by the suns, or at least Frank couldn’t. He’d have to rely on the compass and his own wits to find his way back.
Up ahead as he walked, Frank could see the heat coming off the hard-packed road. Three Ks wasn’t that far, but the suns were already getting to him. He took a swig from his canteen and sighed, trudging on.
When Frank got back to the station, he automatically checked his messages through the universal link. There were three. He loaded them to his comm device before heading straight to the station’s lone diner. His eyes darted back and forth along the walls and booths of the room, assessing the danger automatically. In his line of work, being extra cautious was a lifesaver. No one looked hostile, though -- there were only three customers and two employees, and they wore their pieces out in the open. No subterfuge usually meant friendly or at least neutral.
Frank ordered something that looked a little more appetizing than the cactus he’d been gnawing on and sat down at a table away from the glass wall, facing the rest of the room so he couldn’t be caught unaware.
The first bite of food was so bad that Frank nearly spat it out. Oh well. He picked up his comm and scrolled through to get to his first message.
“Hey, it’s me,” Jamia said, like she always did, like Frank couldn’t see her face on his screen. “I’ve been getting messages from some big shot, I assume he’s a client of yours? I’m sending them along to you.” She looked annoyed. Frank wondered how anyone got Jamia’s comm address. “Stay safe out there.” The screen went black.
Frank sent a quick thanks in text because if Jamia saw his sun-beat face she’d worry. He guessed that’s what best friends did.
The other two messages were from the client, someone he’d never seen before. A personal communication usually meant bad news.
He went by Mr. M, according to the address on the bottom of Frank’s comm screen. The picture was fuzzy and Frank got the idea that was intentional. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but his voice came over the comm clearly.
“My associates tell me you are close to catching your quarry. I assume you know to use the collar. On a more personal note, you can tell Way that I already have his brother in custody. If he ever wants to see him again, he’ll cooperate with you.” And then Mr. M faded entirely into black, and Frank was left wondering just what the fuck was going on.
Frank got a tip on Way from a transport employee about half an hour later. Way was on the last ride of the day from Pandora to Giloth, the only place the transport actually went. This was bad news, though, because from Giloth, Way could catch a ride to any of the main Fed planets in the system and Frank would lose him completely. He’d have to stop him from doing that, and soon. Unfortunately, the transport didn’t go anywhere for another ten hours.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” Frank said under his breath. Way was going to get away, and Frank wouldn’t see that pile of Lux. Goodbye retirement.
There had to be a way to catch Way and keep him. Maybe this brother angle was the right way to go. Frank could use this to his advantage. Set a trap.
TBC
The next fic is Avengers A/B/O where Tony is a teenaged (secret) omega and Steve is an alpha. 2500 words of Tony angst.
Tony wished he felt something besides the hangover. That would be the normal reaction, right? Pain, tears, or even just numbness. Numbness would be understandable; he’s heard of people who grieve that way. Instead, he feels bored. He wants to be out of the cemetery and in his workshop. He wants to work on the robot he’s been building. He wants to code. He wants to lose himself in the elegance of equations.
He stands stock still even though he wants to fidget. He puts considerable energy into keeping his face carefully blank. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes are the only things moving.
He takes in the ‘mourners’, people who look vaguely familiar and people he’s never seen before. He stares at them, because staring at the caskets makes him feel cold in the pit of his stomach. Maybe that’s grief, after all.
The hand on his shoulder (the one he’s been ignoring since he got out of the limo) tightens. He wonders if it’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. Then the hand is removed and Obie is making his way up to the front to give the eulogy. It’s a short walk.
Obie’s eyes squint for a moment, looking off on the distance before he begins. His jaw tightens. He looks angry, and Tony turns his head and glances behind him. Just curious, wondering what made Obie look that way.
The breath leaves Tony’s body in a rush and he nearly falls over in relief. He locks his knees so that doesn’t happen, bites his lip hard to keep from calling out. It’s hard pretending to be something he’s not even on a normal day, but right now he just wants to go to the man in the distance and let him take care of everything.
He’s getting out of a taxi, and he’s almost too far away to be recognizable. But it’s him, it’s Steve, and now Tony feels something other than boredom.
Tony knows he should be listening to the prepared lies Obie is giving to the crowd. He vaguely hears the words ‘beloved husband’ and ‘devoted father’ but they wash over him and don’t sink their claws in. He wonders if Obie remembers this is a funeral for his mother as well as Howard. Does it matter to him? Is it because she was an omega, or just because she had nothing to do with Howard’s day to day work?
Tony realizes his hands have a fine tremor and wishes for a strong drink.
He keeps watching Steve as he makes his way to the crowd. He stops and stands at the back, which just feels wrong.
Something breaks inside and Tony wants to be anywhere but where he is now. He turns on his heel and threads through the gawkers until he’s made his way to Steve. Steve is taller, and broader, and usually Tony hates people who make him feel small but right now Tony just wants someone he can trust. No, he wants Steve in particular. He can’t show it, though, because he’s supposed to be strong and in control. Sure, most people here think they know Tony’s orientation, or they assume he hasn’t presented yet. No one knows the truth. It was a secret between the three of them, and now two of them are dead.
Steve looks at him, and Tony takes his sunglasses off and looks back. When Steve’s hand falls on his shoulder, Tony can’t help but compare it to Obie’s. Steve’s hand is big like Obie’s, but it’s gentle and warm even through the layers of Tony’s suit and shirt. It’s not gripping him, it’s just resting there, and Tony can’t help but want more of the same gentle comfort.
He knows that if he moves forward, Steve will hug him. But if that happens, Tony’s boredom will turn into something else because it’ll be safe, except there’s no way Tony’s doing that in front of all these people. So Tony swallows hard and turns around. Steve’s hand drops, but he doesn’t move away. He’s like a wall of reassurance at Tony’s back. It makes Tony breathe easier. He can get through this now. As long as Steve is near, Tony can hold himself together.
Obie is glaring at them. Tony catches a look that could be hate or could be disgust, he’s not sure. But then Obie’s mouth moves into a semblance of a smile so fake it almost makes Tony laugh. Obie is an old-fashioned alpha, and Tony knows he thinks he’s due the company. Tony’s company, now. If Tony came out as an omega, everything his father had worked for and built would fall into Obie’s hands.
Tony doesn’t know how much longer the funeral drags on. He puts his sunglasses back on and holds his chin up when the caskets are lowered one after the other into the ground. He tries to look at them as something other than what they are, tries not to think about what they hold. It’s difficult.
There’s a point where Tony is supposed to throw handfuls of dirt onto his parents’ caskets. It makes him feel sick, and he swallows hard against the bile in his throat. He shakes his head. No, he’s not doing it. Obie gives him a disappointed look.
Then Steve is rubbing his arm and whispering, “It’s okay, you don’t have to. It’s okay, Tony.”
He hasn’t cried since Obie told him about the accident. He’s not going to start now, of all times. Even if he wants to.
The funeral is over. Obie tries to grab him, but Tony wriggles away.
“Don’t be childish,” Obie snaps. His voice is low, but it’s made of steel. “There’s still the wake. Act like an adult.”
Fuck you, Tony wants to say, but he’s a little afraid of Obie, no matter how close they are.
Steve makes a noise like a growl and Tony looks at him. He looks righteously pissed and protective. It makes Tony want to melt against him forever and ever.
“I just want to get out of here,” Tony says quietly. He turns to Steve and bites at his lip. “Will you ride with me back to the house?”
Obie puffs himself up and glares. “You can ride with me.”
Steve doesn’t flinch. He ignores Obie and looks at Tony. “Of course I will.”
Which is how they both end up alone in the back of the limo. With the windows and the divider up, it’s like a whole different world. A dark leather cocoon. Tony usually would go straight for the liquor, but Steve always disapproves of his drinking.
Steve gives him a look like he knows exactly what Tony is thinking and he approves of his restraint.
The wake is not until later. Tony presses the button for the driver’s intercom and says, “Just drive around for a couple of hours, okay?” He takes his suit jacket off. Steve looks at him for a moment and takes his uniform jacket off, laying it across the seat Tony’s is on.
Steve opens his mouth, and Tony cuts him off before he even starts.
“Don’t ask me how I’m doing,” Tony says. “I’ve heard enough of that over the past few days, and if I hear it again, from you of all people, I’m going to scream.” His voice comes out a lot less even than he thought it would.
Steve shuts his mouth and nods.
Tony scoots closer and rests his head against Steve. Steve doesn’t hesitate to bring his arm up around Tony’s shoulder so that Tony’s face is pressed into his chest. Steve smells like soap and some kind of sporty deodorant, but underneath that are the pheromones of an alpha. He’s warm and safe.
“I’m going to MIT in the fall,” Tony says, rather than saying I’m so fucked up or I’m so glad you’re here.
“So soon?” Steve asks, and Tony doesn’t recognize the tone of voice he uses.
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve been ready for college for years. It’s just that Mom...” He trails off. His mother didn’t want him skipping many grades, afraid that he’d be too alienated from his peers. She’d been looking out for him, he thinks. Because she loved him. She never quite got him, or understood him, but she loved him.
“Tony?” Steve asks softly.
“Did Obie even mention her in that speech of his?” Tony asks. He tilts his head up in time to see Steve’s jaw tighten in anger.
“I don’t think so. I wasn’t entirely listening,” he admits.
Tony knows Steve and Obie have a poor relationship. As much as Howard tried to make sure the two of them were friendly, it never quite happened. Obie thought Steve was just hanging around Howard to get something, he’d said as much to Tony. Whether that something was money or power Obie never said, but Tony thought it was all bullshit anyway. Obie didn’t know Steve like Tony did. Steve was a genuinely decent guy. The fact that he’d saved Howard’s life before he even knew his name was proof of that.
What Steve had against Obie... well, that was a little more vague. Steve seems to have taken the old ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all’ proverb to heart. He was nice like that. If Tony hadn’t gotten to know him over the past five years, he’d have thought it was just an act. Except it wasn’t, it was just Steve being Steve. He was some kind of fucking paragon.
And Tony was in love with him. He was in love with him, but could he trust him with his biggest secret? It was illegal to pose as the opposite orientation. The scent blocking pills and shampoos Tony had been using for the past month were Howard’s own inventions. Tony knew how to make them, planned to keep using them until it was safe not to.
“Something’s on your mind,” Steve said.
Tony covered his surprise with a snort. “You think?”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I’m worried about the company,” Tony said, a half-truthful confession. “I’m too young to take over, so who gets control?”
“I guess the board?” Steve says. “And Stane. I think it depends on what your dad’s will has to say.”
Tony swallows hard. What if the will outs Tony as an omega? What if it says he has to marry...
I’m scared, Tony wants to say.
As if Steve can hear him, he wraps his other arm around Tony and holds him closer. For a few moments, Tony can breathe easier.
The will is uncomplicated when it comes to business: Obie is to step up to the plate until Tony comes of age. This is fine with Tony, he’s got MIT to blow through and his own work to do.
But Obie isn’t named as Tony’s guardian, which doesn’t sit well with Obie. In fact, Obie pitches a fucking fit during the reading and glares when Steve is named responsible for Tony’s wellbeing.
It feels like relief, though. Tony has been worried since the funeral, since Obie’s hand tightened on his shoulder. He knows he should trust the man, since Howard did, but there’s something about the way he looks at him that makes him want to freak right the fuck out.
Like if Obie knew Tony was an omega, he’d be the first in line to claim him as his own. Which is gross, to be honest, but the more Tony thinks about it, the more sure of it he is.
Tony’s going to have to tell Steve soon. He can’t pretend he hasn’t presented yet, not at his age. Part of him wants to keep it a secret. He doesn’t really know how Steve perceives omegas. Of course, he’d always been perfectly polite to Tony’s mother, but maybe he was different with unbonded omegas. He had some pretty old fashioned ideas about some things, maybe he believed in the old laws or …
No, not Steve. He was fair-minded about everything else, why not about this?
Maybe Tony wouldn’t tell him. Maybe he’d lay off the suppressants for a couple of days and just let Steve figure it out from himself. But that left him open for attack on other sides, and Tony wasn’t going to have Obie convince the board that he’d be unfit to be in charge once his time came.
Legally, it was perfectly fine to hold a company and act as CEO and all the trappings of that life if you were an omega. But society still had hangups, and that was exactly what Tony was hoping to avoid by (eventually) posing as an alpha.
It’s going to be hard, posing as something he isn’t. Tony’s smart, he’s read all the literature and done research above and beyond what anyone would expect. He knows he’s submissive, that without being dominated from time to time he’ll just waste away. That’s not an option. He doesn’t know what his options are, other than come out or hide. He’s already having dreams that make him hard and aching when he wakes, dreams of falling to his knees at the sound of his alpha’s voice, of being fucked and claimed and above all being safe and protected.
He can pretend, sometimes, that the alpha in his dreams is just some generic person and not anyone in particular. Not Steve.
It’s hard being around Steve. It’s hard to hold steady and not drop his eyes and bow his head when Steve is around. But he does it. He learns. He’s been learning all his life how to be a good alpha, and he pretends this is all an elaborate test.
Tony takes the suppressants and uses the right body washes, shampoos, and lotions. He appears to have presented as an alpha in a subtle, gradual way. But the core need to submit to his alpha is there, no matter what his hormones are doing. No, he won’t go into heat as long as he takes the pills. No, his natural pheromones won’t be released. The products will put forth the scent of a young alpha, not particularly strong, but an alpha nonetheless.
But he still has an itch under his skin that refuses to be scratched. A constant clamor in his head that can only be erased by submission. It’s maddening. Tony has enough in his head as it is, plans and prototypes and codes and equations. He doesn’t need this awareness of alphas, so bad that he can’t walk down the street without assessing potential partners.
But he can’t afford to be weak. He can’t let himself trip up.
Drinking doesn’t help, exactly, but it quiets the noise in his head. He tries not to think of Steve’s disapproval.
TBC
So there you have it, folks. The two WIPs in my gdocs that I'm probably not finishing. Feel free to tell me I should, though! You never know.
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It was going to be so awesome. But I set it aside when I realized how much I'd have to write for it and worked on other things, and then my interest in it waned and I ended up writing in other fandoms. :\