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Tony wasn't even in the country when they found Captain America.
When Fury called him in, he was on his way home from a business trip to Japan, a return trip on which he'd chosen to take the armor instead of his private jet. Which he was grateful for when he accepted the call and Fury simply said, “We found him,” before hanging up.
Tony hadn't been aware of any kind of search and rescue mission going on. So his first thought – as ridiculous as it was in hindsight – was that SHIELD was talking about Rhodey, possibly dead or hurt, without Tony so much as getting a prior notice of his capture beforehand. Needless to say, he broke the sound barrier twice on his way to the Triskelion, parking his suit near a gaggle of junior agents who were hopefully going to leave it well enough alone.
“Sentry mode,” he snapped, and the armor instantly locked its servos, eyes lighting up bright blue. If anyone tried to take the armor, it would be ready to defend itself and alert Tony in the process. Not that he was giving much thought to that right now as Fury strode towards him, the other agents parting like the red sea in his path.
“Long time no see, Stark,” Fury said, and Tony tried to read his expression for any indication that Rhodey was in critical condition. But Fury's face was blank as ever, not giving anything away.
“What's going on? Where is he?”
“We'll talk downstairs.” Fury turned, his coat billowing behind him, and Tony followed on his heels with a ball of anxiety churning in his gut.
“So what happened? No one even told me he went missing. Did the Air Force put you up to this?”
Fury gave him a shrewd look. “What are you talking about?”
Right. So it wasn't Rhodey. Tony took a deep breath. “Who did you find?”
“Operation Valkyrie.” Fury looked at him for a moment before the wrinkles around his eyes relaxed. It was probably the first time Tony had ever seen Fury surprised. “Your father didn't tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Tony demanded, already ticked off at the mere mention of Howard, but Fury didn't seem perturbed. They'd reached a double sided metal door that required Fury's handprint and eye scan for them to pass through, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Fury stopped, turning towards Tony to look him dead in the eye.
“We found Captain America. Alive.”
Tony stared right back at him. “Bullshit.”
“Your father funded the project before his death. I assumed that you knew.”
“Wait, hold on.” It took another moment for Fury's words to fully sink in, Tony's mind whirling faster and faster. “You actually found him? He's not dead?”
“No.”
“What the fuck?” Tony ran both hands through his hair, staring into the middle distance. Captain America. The boogieman of his childhood, his father's greatest creation. Alive. “How?”
“The Valkyrie was frozen in the Arctic for seventy years. But due to the icecaps melting, it floated closer to the surface where our scanners could pick it up.”
Well. At least global warming was good for one thing. “How did he survive?”
“We're speculating at this point, but it was probably the serum,” Fury said as he started walking again, leading Tony down a long corridor with a single door at the end. Once again, it required a passcode and three different scans. Say what you want about SHIELD, but they definitely didn't skimp on security. “His body can withstand much lower temperatures than a regular human body. His healing factor probably kept him alive through the freezing process.”
“Fascinating.” Tony let Fury lead him through another door, this one guarded by two SHIELD agents with grim faces, and then they finally reached what looked like a mix between a bunker and a lab, where a whole plethora of scientists and doctors were running around, frantically jotting down notes and reading their scanners.
Through the giant window that spanned half the room, Tony could see a body dressed in a very familiar uniform, resting on a medical cot with half a dozen tubes sticking out of him. Tony walked over to the glass, looking down at the blond man, pale and stiff with a blue tinge to his extremities but nevertheless alive. Tony could see his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, clearly aided by the oxygen tube stuck down his throat, a nearby monitor displaying his very faint heartbeat.
“Holy shit,” Tony murmured, staring at the man's face that he recognized from dozens of reels his father had showed him during his childhood. “It's really him.”
“That answers one of my questions,” Fury said, and Tony turned towards him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Why did you bring me here? I assume you're getting your funding elsewhere these days, since my old man is long gone.”
“It's not about the money,” Fury said, which was enough of an evasion that Tony made a mental note to have his finance managers look into it at their earliest convenience. “And I'm not the one who requested your presence.”
A polite cough behind him made Tony turn towards a beta doctor in a crisp white lab coat who immediately held out his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Stark. I'm Dr. Vasquez.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tony said, shaking his hand. “Were you the one who asked for me?”
“Indeed I was.” Dr. Vasquez waved Tony along. “I want to show you something.”
Curiosity piqued, Tony followed the doctor to a set of monitors that displayed a list of different lab results, most of which seemed to relate to Captain Rogers' general health. Tony skimmed through them quickly, a little surprised by how good Captain America's blood work was, despite being frozen for more than half a decade. Tony wasn't a medical doctor, but after Afghanistan, he'd gotten intimately familiar with standard health checks, especially those related to circulatory issues, so the numbers that did mean something to him? Seemed exceptionally good.
“We expect him to regain consciousness within the next hour,” Dr. Vasquez said, gesturing at the oxygen levels displayed on the right. “Which is why your cooperation is exceedingly important.”
“My cooperation?” Tony echoed, brows furrowing. “How so?”
Dr. Vasquez picked up a chart with several values scribbled onto it in multiple different handwritings. “We've been tracking Captain Rogers' hormone fluctuations over the past several hours. And to our surprise we've found alarming levels of omtegin in the Captain's bloodwork,” the doctor said bluntly, and Tony perked up, studying the charts with newfound interest.
“Are you sure? My father always told me he was an alpha –“
“He is. The omtegin is a result of continuous ingestion, not something his body produces on its own.” Dr. Vasquez flipped through the chart, nodding to himself. “Definitely at least quadruple the natural dosage. I've never seen anything like it.”
Tony stared at the doctor for a long moment, unwilling to accept the only conclusion that made sense here. “You're saying he's an addict.”
“I'm saying that he was likely high on omega slick at the moment of his temporary death, and that given the amount of it still present in his blood, he had probably been doing it fairly regularly over an extended period of time.”
Which was exactly what Tony had just said. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”
“During the second world war, slick wasn't a controlled substance yet,” Dr. Vasquez said thoughtfully. “The long-term medical studies on its effects were conducted in the late sixties. His superiors likely wouldn't have known any better.”
“You think he was on some kind of prescription from the military?” Tony asked dubiously, and the doctor shrugged.
“It's possible. Increased aggression can be useful on the battlefield. I wouldn't be surprised if the generals were trying to bolster their chances by any means necessary.”
Unfortunately, Tony had no problem believing that. His father's own backwards attitude toward omegas aside, Tony had done his own research on the subject as soon as he'd found out that one of his natural bodily fluids could be – and had historically been – used for biological warfare. Omega slick was harmless in small doses, but when it was consumed in large quantities – more than a single omega could ever produce on their own – it could be exceedingly dangerous.
In the wake of the omega rights movement, slick doping had been made punishable by law for a multitude of reason, not the least of which were the addictive highs and extended, dangerous ruts it could cause in alphas. Still, Tony had seen many a vial of the stuff passed around at parties during his youth, and once the government had started cracking down on drugs, slick was traded on the black market like any other controlled substance.
Tony would be lying if he said that he could entirely condemn it. For some omegas in desperate situations it was the only way to make the money they needed to start a new life outside of their bonds to toxic alphas. But those very same omegas were likely to fall victim to exploitation or even sex trafficking, so it truly was a double edged sword with no handle. Not to mention the dangers of exposing oneself to an alpha addicted to omega slick in the first place.
Who would've thought that Captain America was one of them?
“So you're saying he was probably in rut when he went under,” Tony said, and Dr. Vasquez nodded, then shook his head.
“Not exactly. Alphas in high stress situations don't go into rut in the literal sense. The hormone surge manifests itself as territorial aggression rather than arousal. But yes, he was likely at the peak of an extended rut right before he was frozen in the ice.”
“Battle rut.” Tony nodded. “I've heard of it.”
“We have reason to believe that his body will need some time to fully metabolize the omtegin that remains in his system. Our current estimate is four to six hours.” Dr. Vasquez shifted his weight, clearing his throat. “Which is why we called you here.”
“I'm sorry?” Tony asked, confused. “I thought you wanted me here because of my father's work.”
“Ah, no. The late Mr. Stark's notes were very comprehensive,” Dr. Vasquez said a little awkwardly, glancing at Fury before he looked Tony dead in the eye. “We believe that Captain Rogers will be... distraught upon waking. And that your presence will help in keeping him calm enough for us to give him the medical attention he needs.”
Tony frowned. “My presence?”
Fury took a folder from one of the other doctors in the room and handed it to Tony. “As a temporary comfort omega.”
Tony paused. Rolled the words back in his mind. Questioned for a second if he was hallucinating.
But Fury and Dr. Vasquez just kept looking at him expectantly. Which finally made it sink in that they were legitimately asking him to be a temp mate.
“You're kidding me,” Tony said flatly. Fury didn't even blink, his face impassive as ever. “Am I the only omega you've got on hand? Seriously? What the fuck kind of hiring policy do you people have?”
“SHIELD employs many competent omegas,” Fury said calmly. “But of the thirteen people with high enough security clearance to know about Captain Rogers' resurrection, you are the only omega, yes.”
“I'm on suppressants.” Usually Tony wouldn't divulge his medical status so easily, but putting all of his cards on the table would hopefully speed up this useless discussion. “Have been for years. There's probably barely any omtegin in my own system.”
“Our aim isn't to prolong his high here,” Fury said with a note of disapproval in his voice. “It's a point in your favor that you're not producing slick. We just need you to be in the room as a stabilizing agent.”
Tony didn't quite snort out loud, but it was a close thing. “Stabilizing? Me?”
“Yes. Personality aside, your body produces pheromones. Your presence will –“
“Yes, thank you, I know how my own biology works,” Tony said cattily. Fury raised an eyebrow.
“I probably don't need to tell you this, but Captain Rogers' chances of survival will be drastically decreased if he doesn't –“
“Jesus Christ, spare me the guilt trip. I'll do it,” Tony snapped, ripping the folder out of Fury's hand and skimming through the first paragraph. “What's this?”
“Your NDA.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow at Fury. “Wow. It's like you don't trust me at all.”
“Just sign the damn paper, Stark. We're on the clock.”
Tony wanted to resist a little longer, if only because he loved contradicting Fury. But Captain Rogers would wake up any second now, basically held captive down here within SHIELD's clutches, suffering alone and probably confused. And Tony was the only one who could help him. He didn't want to waste any more time than he already had.
Tony read through the NDA carefully – luckily it was short and concise – before he signed the paper with a flourish. Fury whisked it away, gesturing for Tony to walk back towards the room that held Captain Rogers' body.
“After you.”
Tony gave him a sarcastic curtsy before he walked over to the table Fury had pointed him towards, where a group of scientists was already waiting for him. He took off his jacket and put on the sterile gown that they handed to him, donning a pair of gloves too.
Then they were off to the races. Tony followed Fury into the room Captain Rogers was in, eying the opaque one-way mirror suspiciously. He'd never liked being surveilled, especially in situations where he couldn't predict the outcome.
Rogers might wake up and be perfectly fine. Or he might go on a rampage and severely injure everyone in this room. It was anyone's guess at this point.
“Bring up the temperature, please,” Dr. Vasquez said, and Tony watched as the Captain's chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his face still slack and almost deathly pale. The room was getting hotter by the minute, so much so that pearls of sweat were starting to bead on Tony's forehead. But still, Captain Rogers didn't wake up.
One of the lab assistants stepped forward, a syringe in his hand. “Administering epinephrine,” he said, and Tony frowned.
“Hang on. Aren't we trying to –“ keep him calm? Tony would've said if Rogers didn't choose that exact moment to surge up off the cot, tearing through his restraints like tissue paper and ripping the oxygen tube from his mouth.
“Hold him down!” Fury snapped, and all the doctors rushed forward at once, gripping the Captain's shoulders and arms – and Rogers flung two of them across the room as if they weighed little more than a bag of flour, like swatting away a gnat. Against his better judgement, Tony stepped in to help, holding up his hands as he crossed the short distance to the cot – and Rogers whipped around to look at him so quickly that Tony startled to a stop, his heart pounding in his throat.
“It's okay,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “We're all here to help you. You are safe.”
Captain Rogers sniffed the air – like a dog, Tony thought, his stomach turning – before his pupils dilated alarmingly, his mouth dropping open as he panted. Which was when Tony realized that everyone in this room had severely misjudged the situation.
Rogers wasn't in battle rut. He was in heat.
For a split second, Tony prepared himself for the worst, widening his stance and holding up his fists in case the Captain decided to lunge at him and try to – do something. But all Rogers did was to keep staring at him without blinking, looking a little like someone had just clobbered him over the head with a sledgehammer. That only lasted until an especially brave – or stupid – doctor started approaching the cot again, a syringe held in his hand – and Rogers whipped around to growl at him, teeth bared and shoulders bunching up in a clear threat.
“Stop,” Tony shouted, and instantly the Captain's attention was back on him, intense enough to make Tony's next breath stick in his throat. “Nobody touch him.”
“Mr. Stark, we –“
“Let me –“ He took a step closer to the cot, and instead of showing aggression, the Captain twisted towards him like a flower facing the sun, still staring at Tony like he was the only person in the room. Tony didn't even want to know when Rogers had last seen or smelled an omega. Probably before he'd shipped out to Europe.
Hopefully he wasn't about to do something incredibly stupid.
One of the doctors slowly took out a clipboard, hovering over the page with his pen like an overeager student. Tony tried not to let his annoyance deter him as he walked over to the cot and touched the Captain's shoulder with his gloved hand.
“It's alright,” he repeated, as gently as he could. When Tony smiled, Rogers' eyes widened with almost comical awe, like he was completely spellbound by the sight of him. “I'm here to help you. We all are.”
“Help –“ The Captain's voice was rough, like gravel crackling in his throat. He looked over at the doctors, hackles rising as he growled –
“Hey, hey. They're here to help you too.” Tony patted Rogers' shoulder consolingly – and yelped when his hand was caught in a strong grip before he was yanked onto the cot, halfway buried underneath the Captain's body.
The sound of several guns cocking made Tony throw up his free arm. “Wait! Wait, I think he's –“ Tony winced when Rogers stuck his ice cold nose against his neck, inhaling deeply before his huge body shuddered like a leaf in the wind. Rogers didn't attack him though. “He's fine. We're fine.”
“Stark,” Fury said sharply, but Tony waved him off.
“It's okay. He's not going to hurt me.”
Tony was sure of it. Even though the Captain was perched on top of him, he kept his weight entirely off of Tony, more so caging him in with his arms than actually holding him down. Tony experimentally tried shifting his body to the side, away from Rogers, and instead of keeping him in place, the Captain gave him a forlorn look that quickly turned into a mistrustful glare when he looked out at the rest of the room.
“He's protecting me,” Tony said. “From you. Stand the fuck down.”
Fury eyed him for a second longer before he tucked his gun away, a silent signal for his men to do the same. The Captain didn't relax at all, was still trembling faintly all over, and so Tony slipped off his gloves and stroked his hair, smiling at the strained gasp that Rogers made in response.
“It's okay. You can –“
“Can?” Rogers ground out, his eyes digging into Tony's with unfettered desperation. “I can?”
Tony blinked at him, unsure what they were talking about. But the Captain looked so pitiful that he automatically agreed, “Yes, you can.”
It was only when Rogers groaned in relief and let his body drop down on top of him that Tony realized what was happening. He was frozen in shock when the Captain pressed his rock hard cock against Tony's hip, burying his face in Tony's neck –
And then Captain America came right there on top of Tony, in full view of several bug-eyed scientists who were taking notes about it, as if they had any right to see this at all, let alone when the Captain was barely even aware enough to realize where he was –
“Everybody out,” Tony heard himself say, his voice stone cold. When nobody moved for several seconds, Tony bared his teeth and growled, “I said out. All of you.”
To their credit, the doctors and nurses were quick to follow his command. Fury less so, the reason for which became apparent when he tossed a tiny remote at Tony.
“Panic button. Press it and we'll get you out.”
Tony couldn't even be mad that Fury had planned for this contingency. Instead, he repeated, “Out. Make sure nobody watches,” and Fury turned on his heel and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Logically, Tony knew that they were still being recorded by the security cameras in the corner. But a part of him couldn't help but feel a little more relaxed now that he knew the prying eyes in the room were gone. He resumed the gentle motion of his fingers trailing through the Captain's hair, prompting a shaky sigh that trailed off into a pained moan as the Captain curled in on himself with his face pressed against Tony's neck, still twitching and jerking.
“Hurts,” he whimpered, and Tony shushed him, gently patting his head.
“It'll get better soon, I promise. We just need to get this out of your system.”
The Captain gave a protesting grunt, even though his hips were already moving, trying to rub his cock against Tony's stomach as best he could. Tony pushed him a little ways to the side – again, Rogers followed his silent direction without any protest beyond a pained grimace – until Tony could prop up one leg on the cot and give Rogers something to actually grind against.
On the first thrust, the Captain moaned as if the sound was ripped out of him, high and bleeding, before he sped up abruptly, humping Tony's leg without any hesitation. His aroused scent was clouding the air, taking up all the space in the room. Tony felt like he could taste it on his tongue, so strong and potent that it seemed to sink under Tony's skin, dragging his own desire out of hiding. Tony's underwear already felt a little damp with slick, and as much as he tried to stop it, his dick was definitely responding too. He just hoped that it wasn't too obvious.
Either way, that wasn't important right now. He was here to do a job, and he was going to damn well do it.
“There you go,” he said encouragingly, and Rogers looked up at him, his eyes filled with such a primal need that it made Tony shiver. “That's better, isn't it? You can just –“
Before Tony could even finish that sentence, the Captain bellowed, rocking into Tony so hard that he made the cot creak as he apparently came again, his chest heaving as though he'd just run a marathon. A second later he collapsed, crumpling gracelessly on top of Tony and completely knocking the air out of him. Tony wheezed in a breath, stroking the Captain's neck and back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. It did seem to work, but only insofar as it made the Captain relax even more, still draped across Tony like an especially heavy blanket.
Which would be all well and good, if Tony wasn't starting to feel a desperate need for oxygen.
“Captain. Captain,” Tony tried, but he got no response. “Captain Rogers. Steve.”
That got a reaction. The Captain – Steve – reared back, looking at him with wide eyes. Tony mustered up an encouraging smile.
“There you are. How are you feeling?”
Steve stared at him as though he'd never seen another human before. After a long pause, he croaked, “You're American.”
It was the most coherent thing Steve had said so far. And yet it didn't make any sense. “I am,” Tony said, despite not knowing what Steve was getting at. He was shocked to see Steve's eyes fill with tears a second later.
“Why?” Steve said, his voice hinging on a sob as he clutched Tony against his body. “You shouldn't – sh-shouldn't be here.”
Shit. At least this confirmed that he was aware of the situation now.
“I know,” Tony whispered, guilt roiling in his stomach. “I know you didn't want this. But you'd be much worse off trying to get through this on your own, trust me. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but –“
“S'pposed to protect omegas,” Steve whimpered under his breath, his hands clenching arrhythmically against Tony's back. “Why'd they send you? I thought – did we lose? Is that why –“
All at once, Tony realized what the problem was. “We're not on the front lines,” he said quickly, grabbing Steve's shoulder and holding on tight. “You're in Washington D.C. The war is over. We won.”
Steve hiccuped. “We did?”
“Yeah. You saved us all, Cap.” Tony was getting a little choked up at the thought, but he pushed through it, brushing a soothing hand down Steve's back. “But right now, the two of us are going to save you, alright? Can you let me do that?”
“You smell so good,” Steve groaned, rutting forward into Tony's crotch. So the pheromones were still hard at work. “Can I – can I –“
“Yes, of course. Go for it.” Tony couldn't even say how glad he was to finally be able to express consent and know that Steve understood him. The last thing they needed was for Steve to sink into a depressive guilt spiral once he fully realized what was going on right now.
Tony was going to do plenty of that on his own after this.
Steve was grunting curses under his breath as he rubbed off against Tony, a little less frantic this time. Tony slid his hands up his back and held on, his heart skipping a beat when Steve pushed into his touch like a cat, letting out an indecent moan. It changed the angle just enough for Steve's next thrust to push his cock directly into Tony's, and they both shuddered in unison when Tony let out an involuntary groan at the sudden burst of pleasure.
“Please,” Steve gasped, hoisting Tony up by the waist to bring them even closer as he ground their cocks together. “Please, please let me –“
On the one hand, Tony wanted to retain at least a little bit of plausible deniability in case Steve ended up hating him after this. But he was already hard and leaking, and Steve seemed to be waiting on him, searching Tony's face as though he was going to find all the answers there – and in the end, Tony was only human. They'd already come this far, might as well give in and enjoy it, right?
“Yeah,” Tony breathed, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist for better leverage, his heart pounding in his throat when Steve nuzzled his neck, frantically scent-marking him. “Go on. I'm all yours.”
Steve groaned so loudly that the sound echoed through the room before he grabbed Tony's ass, lifted him up and started humping him like an animal. It hardly mattered that they were both still wearing clothes – Steve was going so hard that it felt like he was fucking Tony right through them, rubbing against him so perfectly that it made Tony's toes curl. He was shockingly close within minutes, but luckily Steve seemed to be right there with him, still huffing against Tony's neck like it was the only source of oxygen in the room.
“Come on,” Tony whined, his breath hitching with every thrust as pleasure mounted inside him, dragging him closer and closer to the edge until Steve practically shoved him into orgasm, every roll of his hips drawing another spurt of come out of him. His head was spinning so much that he only realized that Steve was coming too when strong hands squeezed his sides and a mouth crashed down onto his, right before Steve started shaking apart, groaning out his release against Tony's lips.
Tony kissed Steve back as they both rode out the aftershocks, twitching and gasping in turn. It took a long while before either of them released the death grip they had on each other, relaxing into the cot with Steve's head pillowed on top of Tony's chest.
“How are you feeling?” Tony asked after a long, mostly comfortable silence, and Steve grunted, turning his head to nuzzle Tony's collarbone.
“Better.” Steve blinked up at him, his eyes already much clearer than they'd been before. “What's your name?”
“Tony. Tony Stark,” he said, and Steve seemed surprised for a second before his lips pulled up in a smile.
“Do you know a Howard Stark? Is he –“
“Dead.” Tony winced when Steve's face fell at the news, cursing himself six ways to Sunday. Way to break it to him gently, Stark. “I'm sorry, I – this is hard to put into words.”
“Did the Nazis get him?” Steve asked quietly. “Or was it –“
“He died in a car accident,” Tony said, already knowing that he was about to drop a bomb on Steve's entire life. “Twenty years ago.”
Steve blinked. Blinked again. “No, he – I saw him right before I –“
“Steve.” Tony grabbed his hand, holding on tight. “It's 2012. You were frozen in ice for the past seventy years.”
Steve was shaking his head rapidly, looking at Tony with such wide and vulnerable eyes that Tony almost couldn't bear to look at him. “No. No, that's –“
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Tony said, almost choking on the words, and that finally seemed to make it sink in that he was telling the truth. Steve didn't cry. He didn't scream or beg or lash out. Instead he went quiet and still, like he was frozen in the ice again. Tony wrapped him up in a hug, wishing that there was more he could do, wishing that this whole thing wasn't so goddamn unfair – “I'm here for you, okay? No matter what happens, I'll be there. You won't have to do this alone. I promise.”
He had no idea where this sudden conviction was coming from. Tony just knew that he couldn't stand the acrid note of grief and despair in Steve's scent. And that he was going to do everything in his power to help him through it.
“Okay,” Steve said quietly before he sank into Tony's arms with a shaky sigh that tore at Tony's heartstrings. “Tony?”
“Yes, Steve?” he asked, just as hushed, and Steve squeezed him tightly.
“Thank you.”
Tony closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry as he silently vowed not to leave Steve's side until they got through this mess. “Don't mention it.”