Dear Heart

Peter didn't think it would actually happen, that anyone could actually close the last free omega clinic in the city, but on a hot hot day in July his friends have stopped by one by one to tell him that, even after months of campaigning against the proposed shut down, the omega clinic is no more. Which means that the nearest place Peter can go for free suppressants is New Jersey. Seriously.

Bucky and Steve get there during the afternoon lull. "I fucking fought a war for omega rights," Bucky seethes, gesticulating with his prosthetic which has been acting up lately, doesn't grip like it used to. "We went over there because they were torturing omegas. Treating them like cattle. And then I come back and my fucking boyfriend - who also, by the way, fought in that fucking war - has to go over to fucking Jersey for his fucking -"

"Peter knows all this, Buck," Steve says. "Who are you yelling at?" Steve makes a face at Peter, exasperation, desperate fondness.

Ever since he started working at Cool Beans his friend group has expanded to a bunch of ex-military types, since Cool Beans is right next to the church that hosts veterans events, PTSD clinics, self-defense, job help. Steve's a full-time councilor and Bucky and his partner Sam, both cops, volunteer frequently when they aren't patrolling the neighborhood, their muscles and squad lights earning them the nickname "avengers."

"I'm yelling at Them!" Bucky waves his prosthetic at the air. "The church types, the politicians, the dads who kick their omega sons out on the streets after their first heat." He's on a roll now. "I'm yelling at the patriarchy and the white man and every person in the army who told you that you couldn't do just as well as any alpha."

Steve pulls Bucky over to a table, mouthing a sorry at Peter. "It ain't fair," Bucky's lamenting, quieter now. "You're a decorated war vet, and this is how they treat you?"

"I'm fine, Buck. Drink your coffee. I feel like you're projecting."

"Don't psychoanalyze me, Captain..."

Peter turns back to tinkering with the coffee maker. The owner of Cool Beans told him that he could play with all the machines he wants as long as he's still able to make the coffee, and Peter's been engineering this particular machine with the hope of only having to press one button to make any drink. He thinks Ned will help him out with the coding, if he asked.

Mechanics always helps steady his breathing. He never thoughts they'd actually shut down the omega clinic. Suppressants are only given out in monthly packs. Can he really get over to Jersey once a month? Can he afford to? Will he have time?

And he's close to the end of his current suppressant pack, and close to a heat. Which isn't helping with his anxieties, or his senses. Every smell in the coffee house is too much. The coffee, of course, but also Bucky, who smells like a worried alpha, and Steve, who's trying to soothe him with his omega scent.

Thank god it's summertime. Ned has an internship at Oscorp (they'd both applied for the Stark Industries engineering internship, Peter even submitting his idea for adhesives, but SI only took two high schoolers a year and even though the odds were stacked against him Peter still felt small and hopeless when he got the form rejection letter in the mail. He hadn't even bothered applying to Oscorp, which was supposed to be equal opportunity but required people to divulge their secondary gender on the job application form which was code for "we don't hire omegas." Ned, an alpha, got in easily, which is why he has an internship and Peter is making coffee.) MJ is blogging for Slate or Jezabel or someplace else that talks a lot about feminism and pop culture. She usually uses Cool Beans as her own personal study but is covering the clinic story today and doing on-the-street interviews. So Peter's blissfully alone to try to puzzle out how to shift his schedule around to get to New Jersey and back for the next year.

Steve shepherds Bucky out the door and it's just Peter there as afternoon slowly turns to evening. A couple more regulars from the VA drop by. Natasha and Clint both ask Peter how he feels about the clinic closing, and he shrugs, and they nod. There's nothing else to say.

It's a slow day. Too hot for tourists and locals, according to Twitter, gathering at the clinic for a protest. Peter thinks about flipping the sign to 'closed' and joining them, is about to do it, when someone shoves the door open.

At first Peter doesn't react. It's still bright day outside. The guy is dirty and homeless-looking but they get that a lot, and Peter tries not to judge. The first thing that really sets Peter off is the scent. An alpha close to rut.

Peter swallows. "Um, I'm sorry, um. Sir. But we're about to close."

The alpha stares at him. "Yeah, I don't think so." The alpha sniffs. Loudly. A grin spreading across his face. "I've noticed you here before, you know. You're alone in this shop an awful lot. Business not so good?"

"I have some friends coming by," Peter tries. "You - you need to leave."

"I don't think so," the alpha says again. He flips the sign to closed, just like Peter was about to do. "Which should I do first, kid? The register, or you?"

He flips the lock on the door. Peter wonders if anyone would hear him scream. His phone vibrates with a text but as soon as it does the alpha grabs his arm.

Peter presented when he was thirteen, and Uncle Ben was the one to sign him up for omega defense classes (which is how he met Natasha, witnessing, in her classes, exactly why she was called the Black Widow). He was part of a fraction of the male population that could get pregnant. He was perversely, unbelievably desirable. He was a target. He learned.

And he acted on instinct.

The alpha wanted him to submit but when he touched Peter's arm Peter didn't submit. He didn't even think. He just. Threw.

The alpha crashes into the hard metal tables and is on his feet again before Peter can really straighten up. He grabs Peter by the throat. "Think you're powerful? Think you can pull one on me?"

He smells like the sour eggs of marshes, like cigarettes, like sulfur. Peter whines low in his throat and kicks out. The knee is the hardest bone in the body. Thank you, Natasha.

The alpha drops him and Peter scrambles to his feet, diving for the door. The alpha hauls him back and punches the side of his face, hard.

Peter kicks out again. Screams. The alpha puts a hand over his mouth and Peter bites, hard. He's acting on instinct. He doesn't remember Natasha's lessons or how to throw a punch from the shoulder and not from the wrist he's just thinking a frantic loop of no no no no no. He squirms away, gets to the door but can't get the fucking lock unstuck.

It's still day outside. He bangs against the door, hoping to attract attention. People on the street. This is his neighborhood. They look out for each other. The alpha hauls him back and hits him again.

The door shakes.

The alpha is on top of him, mouth on Peter's neck and he's whispering threats, calling Peter names that make his blood run cold, and then his hand is reaching for that soft place at the base of Peter's skull, the place that will make him limp and pliant, the bane of every omega's existence.

Peter kicks out again but the alpha is strong, full grown. The door shakes again. Peter tastes blood. His shirt is being pulled off. The hand grabs his neck.

The door shatters.

It's Sam who shot the lock of the door and Bucky who kicks it open, both aiming their service pistols at Peter who doesn't understand, feels like he's underwater. He whines. He doesn't know what he did to make Bucky so mad but he can feel the pulsing waves of the hormones and just wants to submit already, is trying to submit.

"Stay down!" Sam orders, and Peter curls in on himself trying to obey.

"Fuck, Sam, get Peter, I got this one."

Someone is touching him. Peter feels like he's been stuffed with cotton, like he's a doll with the seams being picked apart. He can't remember why he doesn't want to be touched. He can't remember why he's scared he just knows he is.

"It's okay, you're okay. I've got you. Let me clean you up. Did he hurt you anywhere else, Peter? Can you sit up?"

Peter's trying to get away, heart jackhammering. Bucky smells angry but familiar, like sand and salt and sea, but there's still that other scent, that ugly marsh scent, and it smells like pain now.

"You did so good. We saw you fight him. Nat's going to be so proud. We're so proud of you. Peter, look at me."

"I'm calling Steve."

"Does he have an alpha?"

"He hangs around with one."

"He's going into heat."

It's just words, not attached to people any more, just sound and scent. Peter feels utterly primal. He feels like he's going to be embarrassed about this later. At the word alpha he nods. He remembers alpha. "Ned," he croaks.

Ned's an alpha. Everyone is shocked to find that out, but he's the sweetest alpha Peter knows. Sam finds his number in Peter's phone and Bucky hauls the attacking alpha out into the too-bright day and Steve comes into the shop, his feet crunching over glass. "Oh, sweetheart," Steve says, all soft, and Peter hasn't cried yet but he cries at the tenderness in Steve's voice, the way he bundles Peter into his arms.

Peter knows he's going into heat, Sam and Steve both tell him. He knows but he cries more anyway. Bucky doesn't come back. Sam cleans up the space and leaves. Peter tries not to feel abandoned, tries not to cry. He knows, at this moment, that this is the reason why Oscorp doesn't hire omegas, and he hates himself for being a stereotype, for being emotional, for being so fucking vulnerable and scared.

"You're doing so well," Steve assures him. "You were brave. You fought off a rutting alpha. That was the hard part, sweetheart. This is easy."

It would be, if Ned was his real alpha. His friend is slow to get to the shop, apologizing from the moment he walks in. The protest has swelled and the subway is barely running and Tony Stark is back in town and fucking with traffic and, god, Peter, are you okay?

Peter whines, because he really is just a needy omega right now, and he hates himself, and he reaches out for Ned. And Ned takes a step back.

"Aren't you his alpha?" Steve asks. He sounds like a big brother.

"I - not really? I've always helped, like protect him with his heats, right? But - and I swear I was going to tell you Peter, like, weeks ago, but it's been so busy with the internship and now you're just bleeding and," Ned takes a deep breath. Looks like he's about to cry, too. It's been an emotional day. "I've kind of got a girlfriend?"

Peter was never in love with Ned, not in that way, and he's surprised by how much this feels like a rejection. He curls back into Steve's arms.

Steve's been patching him up, cleaning his cuts, and he holds Peter tight now even as he hisses at Ned. "Peter was just attacked and he's going into an early heat and you can't help him because you got a girlfriend two weeks ago?"

"I don't help him anyway!" Ned protests. "I just kind of - we don't - he's my friend. We aren't, you know, gay. Or I'm not."

Peter wants to disappear. He wants to go back in time and join MJ at the protest, or stay in bed and mope about the lost SI internship. Anything to not be here, in this moment.

"What do you normally do?"

"Sit in his apartment. Make sure no douchy alphas come in while he's in heat." Ned rubs the back of his neck. "Then I just. Yeah. Kind of hold him. After he's, you know. Gotten himself through the other part."

Peter didn't even know that Ned could blush like this.

Steve's rubbing soothing circles on Peter's back. "And of course the omega clinic closed down today." The clinic had shots that they could give, to stave off a heat. And safe rooms to have a heat in.

"Shouldn't we call your aunt?" Ned's looking at Peter.

He takes a deep breath, and that's a mistake. Ned's not really his alpha but he still smells good, spicey like cloves, like pie and Thanksgiving. "She's visiting her sister. She'll be back." He tries to think. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm calling her."

Peter summons all his strength and climbs off of Steve's too-comfortable lap. He can't look at the other omega, not with what he has to ask. "Do you think..." he wishes there was another way. "Do you think I could, um. Crash with you? And." He clears his throat. "Bucky?"

Something complicated passes over Steve's face. This is so not cool, but Peter can't go back to his empty apartment, not when there's just a piece of plywood between him and every alpha in the city, not without the protection of his aunt or Ned.

"Sure, sweetheart. Can you stay with Ned for a sec? I'm just going to talk to Bucky."

Ned has Aunt May's number but he sits next to Peter, knee to knee. "I'm really sorry," he says, and he sounds it.

"It's okay." Even though it's not. Peter clears his throat. "Is she nice?"

"Her name's Sienna. She's. Yeah, she's nice." Ned clears his throat. "Are you really going to spend your heat with those guys?"

"They're really nice."

"The alpha's, like, really old."

"I think he's like thirty," Peter says, although he realizes he's never asked.

Ned makes a face. "Same thing."

"I'm not going to sleep with him." Peter feels itchy and horny and impatient. He also feels really out of it. There's blood on the floor. He needs to clean up. It's only been forty minutes since everything happened but it feels like way, way longer. "They're a couple. And Steve's omega. Even you have to trust an omega."

"I don't trust anyone with you right now," Ned admits. "You look like crap. MJ is totally going to freak out."

Peter leans on Ned's shoulder. He watches Steve and Bucky through the coffee shop windows. There's more cop cars but everyone's staying back, probably because Bucky told them to. Peter's can't quite believe that he was attacked in a coffee shop, that he was almost raped at a job that's no where near the one he wants, that he's sixteen years old and the only alpha he's ever really trusted has moved on to better things.

Ned rubs his hair and it's all cloves and Peter's heart slows, just a little. "You really scared me," Ned says.

"Sorry."

"I can't believe they're closing the clinic."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry the world's like this." Ned sounds weird. It's been a weird day. "I'm sorry you couldn't get the internship. Alphas are the worst."

Bucky appears at the door, and he's obviously trying to make himself smaller, hunched in on himself, rubbing the back of his neck with his good arm, eyes all sad and hopeful. "Not all of them," Peter says.

That night, after Peter promises to give a statement to the police after the heat passes, after Steve makes him drink a lot of water and have a lot of juice and set him up in the bedroom, promising they'll be right outside, that Peter will be safe, that they're not going anywhere, that they don't mind the couch, after Peter falls in and out of the mindless haze of heat, he pulls up the Stark Industries website again.

It was always a bit of a pipe dream - every one remotely interested in tech wants a job with SI, and Tony Stark is publically in favor of omega rights, his own CFO Pepper Potts one of the richest omegas in the world. But Peter imagines a life where he gets to tinker and solve problems and invent things like the phone in his hand, like the adhesive that he thinks could reduce building materials and cost, like the robots Stark surrounds himself with.

He scrolls through the job listings. He knows now is not the time, that he should be concentrating on getting through his heat as quickly as possible, but the fantasy of a life well lived is the only thing keeping him grounded right now.

It's been a long, terrible day. The alpha shouldering past him into the store. The lock being flipped. How he'd held Peter like he was a doll, like he was nothing at all.

Peter blinks at the screen. Blinks again. The job listing is definitely there. Full-time summer internship. Paid position. Needs to be filled immediately.

Personal assistant to Tony Stark.

Peter didn't even read through the rest of the requirements. His day couldn't get any worse, and maybe the fantasy of getting the job would get him through his heat. He applied, then turned over in the bed that wasn't his own that smelled like the alpha that didn't belong to him and tried, desperately, to fall asleep.