Chapter 8
Tony accepted the promise of medication without hint of rebellion. He appeared to watch as the doctor gently took his arm and searched around for a useable vein to inject. Bruce, in particular, kept his gaze zeroed in on the doctor as she found a vein on the second attempt, disguising any unease she might have possibly felt as Bruce’s lip raised in threat of a silent snarl as she failed at her first attempt.
“His veins are rather small,” had been her almost idle comment as she successfully inserted the needle on her second attempt. Bruce nodded in grudging acceptance, pleased that the woman had not tried to theorise a reason without as to why that was. Nor had she made any excuses. She would be a good suit for Tony.
Bruce continued to watch the woman with an eagle gaze as she puttered around adding appropriate medications to the heated saline solution and ensuring Tony had sufficient coverings. It wasn’t that he doubted the woman’s capabilities, not really, but it meant he didn’t have to observe Tony’s complete inaction at all the medical attention. He did not have to observe how Tony just laid there so silently, only allowing his eyelids to slip into a slow blink as the liquid was added to one of his drips. He did not have to observe how pale the man still was, despite renewed contact with his daughter (how pale was he before he started overstretching their Bond? It should not be taking him this long too better!), how bruised, battered and defeated the omega appeared.
A few moments later, after the doctor had checked everything that needed doing, she nodded to the assembled Avengers and left the room to continue her rounds having said everything needed to them earlier. Now was the time to allow the omega to catch up on his sorely needed rest while they waited for test results to come back. “One hour only,” she reminded them as she departed the room.
Bruce did not have to observe any of this.
Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion – the genius was renowned for his hatred of all medication, from Tylenol to antibiotics. Bruce had explained once while Steve had been mid-rant about how childish the other man was regarding the taking of medication whilst in the middle of an infection that it was because Tony was terrified of addiction or dependency. No matter how unlikely he was to get addicted to simple antibiotics.
Bruce had explained that he knew full well how irrational he was being, but both of his parents, and Tony himself had all had issues with dependency and just the thought of taking any form of drugs made him extremely uneasy.
The team were all familiar with the genius’ attempts to therefore circumvent medication, no matter how much it annoyed them.
To see him accept it so… passively, no, submissively? That just added yet another layer onto the unease that was running rampant through the air.
Steve didn’t even need to glance at his team-mates to know they were just as disquieted by the scene before him as he himself was. Passive just did not describe Tony Stark. Submissive suited him even less.
Only the police officer, Walker, and Tony himself didn’t seem to hold the same level of confusion mixed in with concern that the others held. Tony was blinking exhaustedly, finally regaining a bit of colour to his pallid cheeks as he clutched his daughter to his chest possessively. The contact was clearly helping both of them as the pain from their stretched bonds slowly disappeared. For Alicia at least, Tony must still be in agony from his stretched Bond with Carl.
However, the omega was surely relishing the warmth that was encasing him, both from the blanket and the heated saline drip that was gently trickling into his veins and warming him from the inside out. Part of Steve was urging him to clasp the other man’s whitened hand and chafe at it until the whiteness was bright red that would at least fade to the man’s more usual, healthy, tanned colour. But the nurses had cautioned against such actions explaining it could damage his skin and cause further pain due to the hypothermia.
Wasn’t that a horrific thought? His cells were so damaged from the prolonged exposure that just rubbing at them too much would damage him further? Rub the skin itself off. Steve didn’t even try to suppress the terror that thought filled him with… he’d so narrowly escaped that. If it wasn’t for the serum running through his veins…
Besides. Steve was unsure how welcome the action would be. Tony had previously been very touch-orientated – he had responded well to a clasp on the shoulder, or pat on the back. But that had begun to change fairly soon after he had found his Bondmate, Carl. Steve had always assumed it was because Carl was jealous of other people touching his omega – some alphas were like that, after all. It wasn’t uncommon or even looked on as bad. After all in such a scent-orientated society, an alpha could easily smell when another person had touched their omega. Some Alpha’s could feel physically nauseous at the scent of other people on their omega, whereas others were unbothered. It was normal and accepted.
Maybe there had been other reasons Tony was like this? It didn’t necessarily have to be Carl. The alpha had certainly seemed affable enough. He had been concerned with appearances – not necessarily how one looked, but in how one appeared to others. Natasha had explained that he most likely found it hard being an alpha to someone like Tony. The man had issues enough to sink a battleship, let alone the pressure the media put on the pair. It was not the omega’s fault, but he would be a difficult Bond partner to anyone not used to their style of life.
Steve had still been horrified.
He had known that the media could be invasive, but the sheer lewdness of some of their comments; speculation over whether Stark ‘wore the trousers’, whether Carl was alpha enough to make the ‘Mighty Iron Man’ submit and obey… Some of the comments had been derogatory enough to make some omega activist groups sit up and take notice. Some of the comments had even been redacted.
Stark had initially laughed the comments off, but Carl had always taken on a pinched expression, one which tightened as they grew more and more derogatory in nature. Tony had laughed less and less about it too, instead growing quiet whenever the news mentioned him and his Bonded.
Steve had been certain that had been one of the reasons he’d finally stopped Avenging. Carl had been unable to take the heat. It must have been hard enough to watch your omega go and put himself at risk, add that onto the celebrity status superheroing gave him? Steve was certain he wouldn’t have been able to manage.
Could that have driven the man to violence though? They were Bonded. Not just in love, but Soul-Bonded. Born for each other, et cetera. Some speculated that some Bonded pairs could even feel eachothers pain… It wasn’t unheard of for abuse to occur between a Bonded pair, but it really was incredibly rare. There would always be those who would take the situation too far when granted with a feeling of power, even when it hurt their hearts to do so. That was just a factor of life. Yet, to do so to your own Bonded…
The very thought made Steve feel filthy inside. Abuse itself went against every moral fibre he possessed, but the ability to hurt your Bonded.
The disgust, however, was tempered by the very slightest feeling of excitement. A feeling Steve did his very best to stamp down on; before Carl had turned up, Steve had born hope that the Avengers could become some form of pack like was common in his day.
It wasn’t a sexually based thing as the media (and average citizen) seemed to believe – the Bonds that could be formed were nothing like those between partners. Instead it was more like a familial bond, except the members didn’t need to share blood. Well, they did, but that was only in the pack bonding ceremony. It happened in a lot of military outfits; the pack members would gain a further understanding of each other – an idea where each other were, that sort of thing. They’d be able to pick out the members of their pack from within a crowd whilst blind-folded and nose-stopped up. That sort of thing. It was just a heightened sense of awareness…
The only issue was that it needed to have at least one alpha, one beta and at least one omega for the bonds to be formed. Bonded pairs could join, but both had to be willing. Tony had indicated his willingness, Carl… wasn’t. On a team which only contained a single omega, their options had been limited.
Packs were much rarer these days – people seemed to think there was something… animalistic about them. Steve didn’t believe so, he’d never been a part of one himself of course, but he’d seen others who had been.
Still, the slight hope that if Carl was out of the picture then a pack could be formed? Well, Steve was not going to air his hopes remotely… for one, it wasn’t proven yet that Tony was a victim of abuse, but his reactions so far…
Still.
Steve resolved to not make a snap judgement until he had the facts from Stark when he was more compis mentis. He’d made instant judgements about the man beforehand, and had been proven wrong. He would wait this time until he had personally spoken to Tony.
The room remained silent as they all watched Tony slowly slip into sleep. Clint was unable to prevent himself from expecting the man to make some form of cocky remark about how they were all perverted for watching him sleep. Or just some form of banter. Anything.
Instead he just laid there, his daughter clasped in his arms. Maybe it should have concerned the Beta, the child being held so tightly – it would have been so easy for the exhausted omega to accidentally roll over onto her and suffocate her. But Clint had no doubt that nothing like that would happen, not ever. The pair were instead surely helping each other. They’d both had traumatic days, after all.
Besides, it’s not as if the rest of the team would allow that to happen, anyway.
Clint watched in silence as Alicia shifted herself upwards slightly so that she was nestled under the crook of Tony’s chin. The flat of her forehead pressed against his neck so she could feel every intake of raspy breath the man let out and inhaled. Without opening his eyes, the omega’s hand instinctively pressed itself against her back, cradling her firmly so that she was unable to fall.
“…last…f’d?”
Tony’s raspy words broke the silence that the room had descended too, a silence disrupted only by the low hum of machinery and quiet (soothing…?) beeps. Clint blinked, he’d thought the omega far too far gone for words.
“She’s fine, Tony.” Clint replied, careful to maintain the soothing ‘victim voice’ he’d adopted while speaking to the man – boy, really. At least, he assumed that the omega was asking after his daughter, that made the most sense and it had been hard to understand the slurred words.
“.. feeds of’n. Often. Three hours. Din’ do. C’ld not. Tried.”
“Hush, Tones.” Clint stepped closer towards Tony once more and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, rested his hand on the battered head. He allowed his fingers to thread through the man’s still-grubby hair, gently tugging at the strands in a soothing fashion. He didn’t like how the omega was slowly waking up rather than falling into the sleep he so desperately needed.
So, although it felt like the worst thing to do was interrupt the man and hush him…. It was (hopefully…) the right thing to do. Clint was just about to open his mouth and continue his soothing speech when Walker began speaking, his voice becoming almost richer sounding as he purposefully emphasised his low southern drawl.
“Alicia is absolutely fine. I promise you. I’ll have some food ready for her when she wakes up and you can just sleep in a bit. Can you feel her? She’s sleeping on top of you on your chest. She sure looks comfy, slumbering away there. Can you feel her breaths? I’m sure she can feel yours. She looks so peaceful right now, her eyes are closed, they must have been so heavy. Are your eyes heavy? They sure do look it… That’s right kid, you close those heavy, heavy eyes. Let them slip closed, that’s the way…”
“n’ a ki…”
Walker didn’t try to bite back the grin, even as he motioned at Clint to continue his rhythmic stroking/tugging motion. “Alright, alright. Grumpy old man. You just let those ol’ tired eyes close… Good, like that. Now, now, don’t slide them open again. There we go. Stop cheating and peeking, now. Doesn’t that feel better? Fast asleep like an ancient old man. ‘Course yer no kid. You’re an ancient old man, isn’t that right?”
None of the Avengers tried to hide their amusement as Walker basically badgered their old team-mate into sleep, ribbing at him the entire time.
It was a moment of not even real comedy that was sorely needed. No one wanted to think about the reasons that Tony had to be talked to sleep. So instead they all decided to focus on the comedy of the thought instead.
“We could do with you in the Tower,” Clint whispered as he watched the slumbering pair a brief while later as he continued to pet the slumbering man and child. “Tony’s never got to sleep easily, I remember when he lived with us he was permanently awake. Used to say it was because his brain just refused to shut up, though I always suspected it was also because he had so much work to do.”
“He wasn’t entirely making excuses,” Bruce murmured somewhat absentmindedly as he kept his eyes fixated on the various machines beeping and humming around his friend. “He literally does have that many thoughts running through his mind at any one time that it can make sleep tough.”
Steve eyed his team-mate with some concern. Bruce did not appear to be taking this whole scenario well; it was obvious from both the distracted air the other alpha held and the way he appeared to be doing his utmost best to not look at the slumbering omega. The two had previously been close; had there been argument between them that Steve was unaware of?
Or maybe Bruce was feeling shame? Or just couldn’t manage to look at their ex-teammate. They’d all been injured over the course of the years they’d been a team together and the alpha had never before been unable to tend them. Steve had fond memories of watching the other man berate Tony for being foolish enough to avoid proper med care at the same time as he patched him up. This… reserve was most unlike the man.
Yet another thing to watch over.
It was really quite impressive how much one person could affect a team. Particularly one person who had such a small sense of his own self-worth. Mind you, in such a small team then everyone’s actions effected each other. But Tony… despite his age, he provided them a home. It was possibly because he was an omega, or possibly because he was the youngest. He was their younger sibling and carer all rolled into one.
It had taken a long time for Steve to understand Tony’s particular brand of caring; the way the younger man would try to rile his teammates up until they revealed what was bugging them. Or would just try and chuck money and possessions at them in a misguided effort to make them feel better. Part of it was no doubt his age; he would understand better how to bring a family together as he grew older, but part of it was no doubt just Tony himself. He seemed so… uncertain in how to be an omega – it was as though he felt guilty for caring about the others and for wanting to make them a home environment.
These attributes had worsened after Carl; Tony had stopped talking to the others quite so freely and very rarely had he sought them out for one-on-one chats the way he’d used to. Steve had noticed that at the time, but…
With an internal growl, he shoved his thoughts away from that well-trod path. He had already decided that he was going to wait until Tony was conscious before making any decisions! He was busy worrying about Bruce at that moment.
“Bruce, Are you alright?” he asked quietly, stepping closer to other man in order to gain a bit of privacy. From the way Natasha was discretely eyeing him whilst in quiet conversation with Clint, the move hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she most likely approved. He would not have been the only one to notice the scientist’s a-typical behaviour.
Bruce remained silent as he continued to keep his eyes fixed on the machines as though afraid that if he were to look away then they might break.
“Bruce?” Steve re-iterated, laying a hand on the man’s tense shoulder. Bruce started, not expecting the contact and with rapid movements removed his glasses and jerkily began to clean them.
“Sorry, Steve. Did you say something? I wasn’t paying attention.” Each word suited his jerky movements, each word sounding bitten off and sharp in a way that was so foreign to the man.
Steve eyed him carefully before coming to a decision and speaking in a slightly louder tone, though still hushed enough that it wouldn’t disturb Tony or Alicia. “I was wondering if we could get some more chairs in here? I know I certainly don’t want to leave, and I’m sure you all agree, but it is late. We’re going to need our wits about us in the morning, and you, Officer, what are your plans? Surely your shift must be finished by now?” He possibly shouldn’t have said that last bit – it sounded like he was trying to make the man leave, which he really wasn’t, Walker certainly appeared to have taken it that way judging by the way he was bristling.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that… well… you look tired.” Exhausted, was more like it. We’re all tired, and you’ve been here longer than the rest of us. It has to be, what, four? Five?”
Walker accepted the apology with a nod, and firmly told himself to stand down. Rogers was right, he was exhausted, hence his acting like some cub in his twenties. Heh. Almost-23’s age. He rubbed his hand over his face, noting the scrape of bristles that had slowly pushed their way through the skin of his jaw. He desperately needed to trim his beard...
“Sorry, Rogers. Over-reaction. I think I will stay here, if you all don’t mind. I just…I mean, I need to get his statement still.”
Clint didn’t try to hide his smile. “He does that, hey? Gets under your skin like a damn worm or something. A half-drowned puppy that you just can’t help but care for and want to look after.”
Walker grinned slightly shamefacedly, “I’m not meant to get attached, but… yes. It’s just… you didn’t see him earlier. He was in such a crappy position and still being so… snarky. I quite often get called on attempted-suicide cases I think because I do care so quickly. I tend to build a rapport and…” It was at that point he noticed the previously relaxed atmosphere had been lost.
He glanced around the room, taking in the suddenly tensed muscles and frozen expressions. It took him a moment to realise what information he had accidentally spilled. “Shit. I shouldn’t have told you that.” he sighed, scraping his hand over his face once more. At this rate he was going to give himself a hand-shaped bruise, “Though what else you thought he was going to do having left his daughter with you…”
Even he could appreciate that comment was less than helpful.
“He didn’t do it. He’s here now, alright? He’s going to be fine. I appreciate that I ought to have a much better grasp over my tongue, but it’s been a long shift and I wasn’t thinking – I thought you already knew, and…” With an effort, he curbed his runaway tongue and just sat in silence for a moment while he waited for the Avengers to come back online.
Bruce was the first as he shakily mumbled something about going to get see a nurse about getting some extra seats to make up beds and hurried out the room. Natasha, in turn, kicked at Clint’s ankle and placed a hand on both Steve and Thor’s shoulders, “Bed,” she said simply to the room at large. “We knew this was most likely the case. It should not be a surprise. Pull yourselves together and we will deal with this in the morning.”
Thor nodded numbly; suicide was such a foreign concept for an Asgardian… it was almost impossible for one to kill themselves, of course people were sad, but as a culture it just…it was a bit of a shock that this was what Tony had been attempting. Natasha knew that he would struggle with that knowledge; they had run into this curious blind spot in Thor’s understanding of culture several times over the years. Mainly when famous people died by their own hand. Still. It was something to sleep on.
Natasha continued to gently chivvy and bully them all until they were all lying in an assortment of chairs or on the floor under blankets that Bruce had managed to procure from somewhere. Even Officer Walker. She chose to perch neatly on a single chair with a mug of coffee given her by some kind nurse as she sat and observed her Team.
She planned.