Do Unto Others - Chapter 4
Title: Do Unto Others
Author: earth_heart
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Chapter: Four
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, brief mention of past Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics
Spoilers: Captain America and The Avengers. And, y'know, any other movie that has anything to do with The Avengers. :3 Just... tryin' to cover all my bases here.
Summary: Going from the 1940s to, well, today, was a much bigger mindfuck than Steve could have ever anticipated -- if he'd ever even thought to anticipate such a thing. He wasn't expecting to just be frozen for seventy years, after all. So many things have changed, but a lot of things are still the same. Like society's views on omegas. Which is confusing to him, considering that one of the country's biggest heros is an omega.
A/N: Hey, look, the Avengers at Wendy's! >__> I swear, once this chapter is over I will actually endeavor to move on with the story. No more fast food.
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The girl behind the counter stares at them with wide eyes. "What was that again?" she asks faintly. Steve feels bad, he really does. Maybe they should have called ahead. Tony would have been able to find the number easily.
"Three of your triples for him," Tony says, pointing at Steve. "One of them a large combo with a chocolate frosty. I'll have a medium number two combo with a coke, and then whatever they want." The omega waves a hand behind him, motioning for the rest of the pack to come forward.
"I will feast upon four combos of the number three!" Thor points at the menu board enthusiastically, and the girl leans away from him like she's afraid she's going to get hurt.
"Small, medium, or large?" she asks nervously.
"Large for all of them," Tony cuts in before Thor can answer. It's just as well, Steve thinks, because the god looks a bit confused. "Give him a coke -- nah, two cokes -- and two frosties. One of each flavor. Clint?"
"Number eight, large, with a vanilla frosty." The beta smiles winningly, and Steve eyes the girl with a growing sense of worry. She's starting to look slightly hysteric, like they've all lost their minds. Surely they're not causing that much of a problem, are they?
Natasha steps forward then and smiles softly at the poor employee. "Two large salads," she says politely. "Both of them apple pecan. And two large lemonades."
Steve looks at Bruce, noticing that his beta is looking around the restaurant at all the people looking at them. They're attracting a bit of attention, but people are keeping their distance so far. Tony doesn't seem too concerned, although many of the not-so-quiet comments are about him.
If his omega isn't concerned, then Steve shouldn't be. He tries to relax, until the girl -- her nametag says Lisa -- tells them their total. Good gosh, when did food get so expensive?
"Is that it?" Tony sounds surprised, like he expected it to cost more. "Wow, not too bad. Okay then." He hands over a credit card, and signs the recipt he's handed before rocking back on his heels and grinning at Lisa. "So, sweetheart, sorry about the quantity. Feeding them is like trying to feed an army. An incredibly attractive army, mind you."
Lisa is smiling now as she gets their drinks, but others are staring at Tony. Steve doesn't like some of the looks being directed at his omega, and his displeased growl is loud enough to prove it. Many of the onlookers turn their attention to him as the pack gathers close and Tony rolls his eyes. They're flanking him on all sides, ready to protect their packmate, who is not very pleased if the look on his face is anything to go by.
"Really, guys?" He scoffs, but quickly smiles at their server as she goes about setting up trays with fries, their drinks, and the sandwiches as they're made. "These guys," he chuckles, winking at her. "So full of alpha macho bullshit. They think little old omega me can't take care of myself. How quaint."
He sounds cheerful enough, but he's pulled in his scent again and his shoulders are stiff. He's angry -- he's furious -- and Steve isn't going to just let that go. They're a pack, and he's their alpha. He's not doing his job if he lets a problem go just because someone is independent and not used to relying on others.
"We'll be right back," he says, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder. His eyes narrow at the soft growl he hears, and he moves to grip the omega by the back of his neck. The skin is warm under his palm, his fingers brushing up against the soft hairs at the base of the other man's skull. He steers Tony out of the door and away from the windows. There's a small cluster of trees that will shield them nicely, so he walks them over and doesn't let Tony go until they're there.
"What's wrong?"
"Y'know," the older man drawls, his eyes burning with something accusatory, "I vaguely recall you saying something to me about not treating omegas any different than any other rank. Your actions and your words tell two different stories."
"What are you talking about?" Steve stares at him, confused, and then he sighs. "This has nothing to do with us thinking lowly of you, Tony." He's never met anyone as defensive as Tony. It feels like he takes six steps back for every step forward. "You have no idea how a pack operates, do you?"
"Enlighten me," his omega sneers at him. His teeth look a little pointed when he bares them, the canines a bit larger and thicker than they normally are.
"Don't you challenge me," Steve growls, showing his own teeth. "It's not because you're an omega, Tony. That has nothing to do with it. It's because those people were staring at you. They were insulting you, and I will not have that. At all. No one talks down to my friends or my pack. We're all in this together. We would have done the same thing if it had been Clint, or Bruce, or any of us."
A disbelieving snort is the response he gets. Another growl rips from him and he grabs Tony by the back of his neck again. Anyone looking at them would think he's just an alpha disciplining an insubordinate packmate, but that's not what's happening here. He drags the other man closer, until their noses are almost brushing, and glares into brown eyes that are trying to avoid his stare.
"Listen to me, Tony." He gets those eyes focused on him, slightly wide, and he realizes that he's let a bit of his Alpha Voice slip through in his anger and frustration. Immediately letting go, he takes a step back and holds up both hands. "I'm sorry, Tony. That was an accident. I just want you to understand that we're here with you because you're you, not because you're an omega. You've proved on countless occassions that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. Now you've got a pack, though. You have friends who care about you, and we all want to protect you."
The omega eyes him warily, then sighs. "If you say so," he grunts. Steve opens his mouth to speak, but stops when a hand is held up to cut him off. "Don't. I'm not used to this, okay? I'm not used to so many people saying they care. A pack. People who say it doesn't matter that I'm an omega. That's going to take time to get used to, Cap. Just give me time."
Steve stares, saying nothing, and Tony scowls. "What?" he huffs. The alpha smiles.
"That's probably the most mature thing I've ever heard you say," he teases. "I'm wondering what happened to my sassy omega."
"Your sassy omega says fuck you," Tony snips, but he's grinning and he looks more relaxed now, which was Steve's goal. "Now move your ass, Alpha Boy. My cheeseburger is probably cold by now, thanks to you."
Chuckling, Steve motions for the other man to lead the way and follows him back towards the restaurant. "Whatever you say, Stark. These burgers better be fantastic."
"Only the best for you," his omega simpers, and he laughs loudly.
"They are square," Steve marvels, picking up one of his burgers and staring at it. His mouth is already watering when he inhales greedily; his tongue flicking out to catch a few drops of grease. Flavor explodes in his mouth and he takes an enormous bite, barely chewing at all before he swallows and goes to rip off another chunk. All of the sudden he feels ravenous, like he hasn't eaten in days.
Looking up, distracted by a poorly-muffled sound, he sees the rest of the pack staring at him. Tony's trying not to laugh, and failing. No one else has started eating yet, not even Thor, and he takes time to chew his current mouthful before swallowing and motioning towards them all with his burger. He's reluctant to let something so good go.
"Eat guys, geez." They don't need to wait for him, like they were clearly all doing. It warms a part of him, the part of him that feels just like a wolf, but they're humans. A pack, yes, but not animals. They don't need to wait until he's had his fill, and he tells them as much.
"It's more that we were amazed by your eating habits," Tony pipes up as he's devouring his fries. "Anyone -- hell, everyone -- expects Captain America to eat slowly and properly. Cutting everything into bite-sized pieces like the old man he is." The omega's teasing him, he can tell by his bright eyes, and his scent is a clear giveaway.
Steve grins wolfishly. "I do when I'm not this hungry," he says, deadly serious, and Clint chokes on his current bite of food. Natasha thumps him on the back, looking amused, and the female alpha sends him a look that makes him smile wider. She may be a terrifying dame -- woman -- but she's a lot more relaxed around them. He likes that.
All jokes aside, they settle down to eat. Though really, that may be too weak of a word for what they're doing. They rip into their meals, inhaling the food without any form of modesty. Even Tony isn't making an attempt to seem polite. His omega has a bit of ketchup on his cheek, and grease is dripping into his goatee. They're eating like they've been starved, even Bruce and Natasha. It took a lot of energy, fighting the Chitauri, so it's no wonder they're acting like like wolves than humans.
People sitting at the tables around them are starting to stare. Steve feels their eyes on him as he finishes his last triple burger and licks his lips before starting in on his fries. Thor is getting quite a bit of attention as well, and he can understand why. Between himself and the Asgardian, they've eaten seven triples. That is an incredible amount of food.
His fries aren't as hot as he usually likes them, but they're still delicious, so he's not really complaining too much. Now that he's gotten food into his stomach, he slows down slightly to better enjoy what he's consuming. While he eats, he watches his pack. They're all slowing down, even Thor. A heavy sort of exhaustion is beginning to settle over their pushed-together tables. The only one still actually sitting upright is Natasha, who always seems to be alert and on the lookout.
"... frosty." He realizes that Tony is talking to him almost too late. Blinking, he turns his attention to the omega and makes a confused noise.
"Nevermind," the man says, snorting, and then he's got a spoon in his hand and he's pushing it into Steve's melting frosty. Growling, the alpha slaps at his hand with greasy, salt-covered fingers. It doesn't much bother him when his packmate just laughs and eats the cold, pilfered treat. He looks smug, which his better than him looking angry or offended.
"Mine," Steve still grunts, but when Tony steals another spoonful he ignores him in favor of finishing his fries. Once they're gone, then he fights with his omega over the ice cream. Is it ice cream? He isn't sure, but it doesn't really matter. It's cold, and it's good.
"This is most delicious!" Thor announces, eating his vanilla frosty with great enjoyment. "We do not have such delights on Asgard!"
"Welcome to earth," Tony chuckles, leaving Steve hovering protectively over the rest of his frosty in order to take some of the thunder god's. Thor doesn't seem to mind. He shares willingly.
"That reminds me," Clint says around a mouthful of fries. When he sees Steve's disapproving stare, he quickly chews and swallows his mouthful before speaking again. "Thor, what rank are you?"
"Rank?" He looks confused. "I am a warrior. That is my rank."
"So are you an alpha, a beta, or -- well, you're definitely not an omega. Are you an alpha?"
"Oh!" The Asgardian shakes his head. "We do not have such ranks on my home planet. Everyone has a job and a purpose, but we do not operate like a wolf pack." He turns to Steve and smiles, his eyes warm. "I am honored to be a member of your pack though, good Captain. I hope it does not bother you that I have no rank the way all Midgardians do."
Steve shakes his head and smiles back. "It doesn't matter to me," he promises. It really doesn't. It's not like Thor can help it. "You look like an alpha, and you smell like one, so no one's had a problem with it." When he looks at the rest of the pack, they nod in agreement. Well, most of them do. Bruce is fast asleep, his head pillowed on his arms beside his half-eaten salad and his expression surprisngly relaxed. Natasha is leaning closer to the scientist, protecting him subtly without any prompting. Even Tony is drooping, leaning into Clint. The beta lets him and supports him, glancing at Steve before smiling and looking down at the omega.
"I think it's time we head back to S.H.I.E.L.D," he says quietly. Not quietly enough, apparently, because his packmate opens his eyes but doesn't bother to sit up.
"Not there," Tony grumbles, sounding petulant. "Plenty of room at Stark tower. More comfortable, too. Le's go there."
Steve can't really think of a good reason to say no. Tony hates the quarters on the helicarrier, and he knows the omega doesn't like being around Fury. He himself doesn't really care for the small, cramped rooms either. The others are looking at him, their expressions surprisingly hopeful, and he shrugs.
"I don't see why we can't," he says. "We still need to file our reports for director Fury, though."
"JARVIS sent 'em in already," his omega informs him, getting up sluggishly and picking up a tray piled high with trash. "Everything's correct, too, so Fury can't kill us."
Fury won't actually kill any of them (hopefully), so Steve fights down the instinctive flare of protective aggression as he stands up to help his packmate clear the table. "I guess we're going to the tower, guys."
Everyone nods and gets up to help while Natasha tries to wake up Bruce. The beta sits up sharply, wide-eyed and confused, but he calms quickly and offers a sheepish smile. He gets up to help them, and then they're heading out the door.