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cap_ironman2013-01-12 08:07 pm
cap_ironman_fe) wrote in cap_ironman2013-01-12 08:07 pm
Entry tags:
A Gift of Fic for agardenafter!
Title: Courting in Reverse (2/2)
Recipiant: agardenafter
Author: tsukinofaerii
When Tony woke up, his things were in his bedroom and Steve was gone. There was a handwritten note: stay. It had been underlined three times.
There was also a children's primer. It had an animated wolf on the cover.
Without a werewolf at hand, Tony couldn't be sure who had brought it in. Remembering how specific Steve had been about scents and pack identity, he could guess. There were ways to mask scent—the war wouldn't have been nearly as bad on humanity if they hadn't been able to hide from the werewolves' noses—but as far as he could tell, Volkaublary seemed to go for the low-tech options. Even the primer was a simple screen reader, far away from the elaborate systems he'd grown up with as a child.
Breakfast had been left in the front room again, an assortment of baked goods and some hot tea in temperature-controlled carafes. The pastries were heavy on meat, nuts and berries, and tended to savory over sweet, all of which he would have expected from people who weren't known for agriculture. That still left the question of where the flour had come from. Tony had a hard time picturing any of the werewolves he'd met so far as farmers. There definitely wasn't room in the forest for vast fields of grain; that sort of thing would have shown up on someone's overhead.
He nibbled on a selection of pastries as he scrolled through the primer. It was pretty much the exact reverse what he'd expected. Werewolf children, it seemed, were born furry. "Your fur will go away, and sometimes you'll go on two legs instead of four," he read aloud, tilting his head at the picture of a child turning into a puppy.
Greg would be snickering into his coffee. He'd think it was the joke of the year, that Tony's children would be wolf cubs, unless they decided to try for humans. Their first birthday gift from their uncle would probably be dog collars, and then Steve would have to kill him and make Tony an only child.
That might not be so bad.
Tony was halfway through his third pastry—some sort of spicy sausage that he had to hope hadn't originally been cute—when Steve came back. He paused in the door, almost seeming to pose, and took a deep breath through his nose.
He was dressed in a way that Tony would have usually called undressed. Technically everything was hidden, but the scraps of clinging blue cloth that clung to Steve's skin in a pretense of being shorts didn't really hide anything. It was loose, granted, but thin, and the shorts only came low enough to cover the curve of Steve's ass.
Whatever he smelled must have satisfied him; his shoulders rounded out, and his whole face seemed to relax as he finished coming inside.
Which was good. As messy as Tony had gotten the night before, he reeked of sex to even human noses. A werewolf could probably tell how many times and in what positions. If Steve wasn't satisfied with that, Tony was going to do something drastic. Like sneak out and take his chances with the pack.
Steve paused to pick up something at the food table before joining Tony on the divan. His bare knee and elbow barely brushed Tony's, though it didn't seem like he was making an actual effort to have space to himself. He was just occupying somewhere that wasn't in Tony's lap. "The primer?" he asked, taking a large bite.
"Not helpful," Tony sighed, flicking the screen to turn it off. He'd finish later, and then use the reader as a base for something else. A link to Acheflow would be handy. "I bow to your wolfy wisdom. Is there anything for how a human is supposed to integrate into wolves? Without being bitten," he added hastily, when a distant, thoughtful look came to Steve's eye. "I like my humanity, thanks."
"Nothing written. We don't get that many wyr joining the pack." Steve's ankle snaked out and snared Tony's, rubbing against it. The calluses of his bare heel scratched gently against Tony's skin, sending soft tingles up his leg.
Maybe shoes aren't a werewolf thing, Tony thought, like clothing. He stretched out his leg to press into Steve's better, angling it for maximum contact. No one had brought him any shoes, and he was pretty sure the ones he'd seen so far had been barefoot. It wasn't so bad in spring, but the snow in winter was going to be wicked.
"Any updates on when I can start talking walks again?" he asked, slumping sideways to drape himself across a cushion. "I've got my tools, but I'll need more space if I'm going to work on anything."
Surprisingly, Steve's foot dropped away as soon as Tony shifted. "Tools?" he asked, sounding mildly surprised. "What sort of tools?"
The loss of touch was disappointing, but Tony rallied. "Several types, from hand-wrenches to a dismantled particle accelerator I'd really like to put back together." The confusion didn't clear from Steve's expression. "I'm an engineer. I build things. Sometimes those things go boom, so you really don't want me building them in here." That would have been a quick recipe for disaster. One really bad accident and Tony might be able to bring the whole city down on their heads.
Or one really great success, but Tony didn't think anyone but he would count those.
A deep frown marked Steve's face. He stared at Tony, leaving him with the odd sensation that he was being checked for... something, but whatever it was, Tony was in the dark. "Tell someone what you need, and they'll see to it."
"So I'm allowed to go out?" That made Tony perk up hopefully. It hadn't even been a full day, and already he was feeling boxed in. It was one thing to stay inside voluntarily, when there were beautiful people and fine drinks to keep him company. Forced inactivity was intolerable.
As soon as they came, his hopes were dashed away again with one shake of Steve's head. "Not yet," he said, almost apologetically. "Some people are allowed to see you, but I don't think the rest of the pack really knows your smell yet."
More dodging. Tony was starting to lose his patience with it, but he knew better than to open his mouth. Just because the doors didn't seem to have locks didn't mean there wasn't a way Steve could seal him in.
Which meant he had to play it carefully. "Alright, staying in," he sighed, drooping dramatically. "Like a fairytale princess in a tower."
"I promise I won't make you grow out your hair," Steve promised with an amused smile. He pushed up from the divan, fingertips trailing across Tony's shoulder in passing. "I have to go lead a Hunt. Bucky will be by soon to answer your questions. Tell him if you need anything."
The way he said hunt made it sound like more than just chasing small, innocent furry creatures though the woods. Tony wondered at the difference, but nodded and flipped on the screen to the primer. "I'll find some way to keep busy," he said, waving the alpha off to his duties.
It was almost an hour before Bucky arrived. By then, Tony had already dismantled and reassembled the screen and was trying to break into the Port on the library at Acheflow. He had to direct it through three different LPO units to suitably trick the security system into thinking he was accessing it from a local address, but it was worth it to see the lists and lists of data bloom under his fingertips.
And from the Library, it would be easy to network out and keep track of everything else that was going on in the city. Most especially Greg. Tony was starting to accept that he'd rather neatly been gotten out of the way, and he wanted to know why.
"So you're the alpha's mate," Bucky said, walking in as if it were his home. "You don't look like much."
Force of will alone kept Tony from jumping. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the hastily programmed keypad and raised an eyebrow. The man was the other one who had been standing with Steve; slightly shorter, with a mess of brown hair. He was wearing the same sort of non-outfit that Steve had been, and while Tony could only suppose it made changing form easier, the amount of almost-nudity was going to take some getting used to. Not impressive to look at, until he moved and the strange, fluid grace that was part and parcel of being a werewolf came out.
"Being raised by wolves is no excuse for bad manners," Tony said easily. Inwardly he thought, Locks. Lots and lots of locks. He didn't think he was going to get used to the easy access everyone seemed to have to his rooms. Back home, even his mother sometimes had trouble accessing his father's personal spaces.
Bucky flashed a smile. It seemed to have extra teeth, and they were all sharp. "It's not?" He helped himself to one of the pastries that were leftover from breakfast, biting into it with relish. The whole time, he kept his back to Tony, clearly pretending he wasn't even there.
Tony was starting to get the feeling that Bucky didn't like him, and he couldn't place why. Existing in the same area for less than a day seemed inadequate. "I take it Sam is off Hunting with Steve?" Tony asked faux casually, fingers skimming across the touchpad surface to calibrate a minor tweak in the system.
Immediately, Bucky stopped chewing in favor of glaring menacingly. "What do you know about that?"
It is important. That was good to know; the more he knew about his new situation, the better off he'd be. "I know enough. I'd like to know more."
"Not about that," the wolf—second in command? Beta? Bodyguard? Tony needed to learn the terms fast—snapped. "It's private. For the pack."
I'm pack now, Tony almost said, but that probably would have put Bucky off altogether. "Okay, then," he said instead, not willing to push for something that could be completely innocuous. Private just meant he'd have to find out on his own. "Could you tell me about scent?"
Thin lips pressed together as Bucky stared at him distrustfully. "You're wyr. You can't smell enough to need to know."
So it was going to be like that. "It's important to Steve and to the rest of the pack." Tony's fingers zigzagged through the pattern that would turn the reader back into a harmless children's story before setting it aside. "I also want to know how werewolves do things, romantically speaking. I have a husband and no idea what makes him tick."
"No."
Not even a hesitation or an explanation. Just no. So much for Gregory's theory of leading the pack. "Excuse me?" Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're supposed to answer my questions."
For a second, it seemed like Bucky's brown eyes lightened, turning gold. When Tony blinked, the effect was gone. "Steve trusts my discretion. You don't need to know how to romance him. You're here for the treaty and nothing else."
"How reassuring." Sagging back into the cushions of the divan, Tony shook his head. "Then do tell me what you will, as I don't particularly value staying entirely in the dark. Can you at least tell me about rank and hierarchy, or is that some incredibly valuable secret as well?"
Bucky picked up another pastry to nibble on as he launched into an explanation of the pack's ranking system, the sarcasm flowing right past him. Tony fiddled with the modified screen as he listened, jotting down notes to himself.
The very first one read talk to Sam. He underlined it three times.
After a week, Steve had to admit to himself that continuing to keep Tony locked up not only wasn't necessary, it was probably dangerous. Thor, one of the guards, was a willing participant in making certain Tony's craft stayed well-supplied. That meant that there had been no less than three small fires and an incident that had left a melted chunk of metal in the middle of Tony's bedroom, which had been converted to a workspace the day after Tony took occupancy of Steve's bed. The more restless Tony got, the more dangerous his work it seemed, and he was starting to get very restless. Returning to the stench of blood and death in his rooms was becoming a definite concern.
He approached Tony in his workroom while he was working on something hopefully innocuous. It seemed to involve a tiny soldering torch and a large collection of screws, but nothing was glooping, simmering or threatening imminent explosion. For once, his mate was wearing sensible leather protective gear and a set of goggles that looked like they'd been filched from wolf engineers; they were shaded to help with glare, which was something humans didn't have to worry as much about, Steve had been told.
After a minute of waiting, Tony turned off his torch and lifted his goggles. "Yes, darling?" His eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and his voice had a wary edge. It might have been a trick of the imagination, but he thought that there might have been bags developing under his eyes.
Steve held out his hand, palm up. "Come here."
Tony looked at it, then back at Steve, as if seriously considering the value of refusal. After a second, he stripped off his heavy gloves and slid his hand into Steve's.
Not saying another word, Steve led him through the front room and out into the hall. It was empty as always; Sam didn't have a mate, and Bucky and Gail's cubs were old enough that they didn't spend the days romping up and down the tunnels anymore. Steve led Tony past the guards into the open, shared area of the tunnels. Wolves whose work kept them inside looked up as they passed, nostrils flaring as they stared at Tony curiously, the way they hadn't been able to when he'd first arrived. A few cubs, still on four feet but old enough to be brave, dared to dart past their legs, fur rubbing across skin.
Tony didn't seem to know what to do with the staring. He started out smiling charmingly, nodding at people who caught his eye. As they continued winding their way through the tunnels to the main entrance, his smiles came less, and his fingers were tight around Steve's.
He didn't relax until they finally reached the main entrance. Sunlight filtered through the leaves to dapple the floor across the entry, which had been left open for the sake of wolves coming and going. It was early afternoon, and the weather was just warm enough that the breeze that wound its way through the trees was welcome. The courtyard outside was filled with cubs, on four legs and two, with a handful of adults on duty watching them as they splashed in the creek and generally made a mess of themselves.
Gail was one of them. She smiled at Steve, waving briefly before turning back to rubbing the muck off her youngest's muzzle. She didn't even glance at Tony, which Steve supposed was only to be expected. She was as bad about being protective of him as Bucky was. A few of the other adults nodded as well, but their eyes were fixed on Tony. He must have looked strange, covered from neck to ankles as he was. Steve had almost gotten used to it, but the pack had never had a chance.
Some of the anxiety was starting to ease out of Tony's scent, and the sharp tension in his shoulders had gone. He was still clutching Steve's hand, though, so Steve gave him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You wanted some fresh air."
Blue eyes turned on him. They were bright with gratitude. "I did. And this is the freshest," Tony smiled, squeezing back.
Steve's heart gave an odd little flip in his chest. He could feel Gail's eyes watching him, though he could only see her in the corner of his own vision; it was the same sort of gaze she had on the cubs, wary and faintly worried that they might trip over their own paws and do themselves damage.
Tony looked around the courtyard, rocking a little from the balls of his feet to his toes and then back. "So, what do I do? Just sit here?" he asked, affecting nonchalance. "That hardly seems like actual progress. I feel like I should go hunt a bunny rabbit with my bare teeth instead."
Huffing, Steve nudged Tony toward a low bench. Like most things, it was wide enough to allow a wolf to stretch out comfortably, but it would be fine for a wyr too. "No hunting. Just sit. The pack will want to meet you, and it's easiest if you stay in one place."
"Ruin my fun," Tony sighed, but he dropped obediently to the bench, tugging Steve along by their linked hands. "If I have to do a meet and greet, so do you."
"I wasn't going to leave you alone," Steve admitted as he settled in at Tony's side, putting a few inches of space between them. Sharing a bed was good, but it was still odd. Every instinct said Tony was his mate, while the same instincts said that this was a veritable stranger, a wyr in wolf territory. Sex made it easier, but it never quite erased that itch of wrong.
Leather scraped against the wooden bench as Tony closed the distance between them. His shoulder pressed tentatively into Steve's, and then harder, leaning his weight heavily into Steve's side. Sighing, Steve pushed back into the pressure, giving exactly what Tony gave. Like the ghost of a foul scent being waved away, the awkwardness vanished.
Cubs came first, unsurprisingly. Like the ones in the hall, they were brave and curious, and not at all deterred by the fact that Tony still smelled a little off. The ones wearing fur rubbed up against their knees and nipped at Tony's pants and scampered off to strut with their courage. Those in skin were shier, venturing out in small packs of three and four to tell Tony their names and brush a hand against him. Once the cubs had taken the first step, the adults followed, drifting by for a one or two sentence conversation and a brief touch against Tony's shoulder, his knee, his hair.
Steve had expected Tony to be uneasy with the casual contact, but if anything he seemed to lap it up as much as the wolves did. He grabbed hands, kissed cheeks, and once even hugged someone. Untrained in pack interaction he might have been, but he picked it up quickly. Steve didn't bother hiding the proud smile as Tony made his place.
They stayed there until the sun started to set. Parents came to retrieve their little ones, and the guards-slash-babysitters made their ways back to their homes. Once the courtyard was empty, Steve took Tony's hand again to lead him back inside.
He was surprised when Tony stretched his legs to take the lead, apparently having already memorized the route. "Are wolves diurnal?" he asked curiously, looking around at the nearly empty tunnels. "I thought so at first, but it doesn't seem to add up the longer I think about it."
"Not really," Steve shrugged. "Most people sleep around sunrise and sunset. Daylight is just useful for work. Most hunting happens at night."
"And social gatherings?" Tony guessed, glancing back to see Steve nod. He hummed to himself, head tipped back to watch the ceiling. "So you're skipping parties to stay with me every night?"
That made Steve laugh. "Not parties, no. Just gatherings. Events." He shrugged loosely, trying to think of how to explain it so a wyr could understand. "It's... the pack as pack. As a unit. You'll see."
Something bright lit up Tony's eyes, and he grinned. It took Steve a moment to realize that it was the implication that he'd be getting out more that did it. For a second, he felt a stab of guilt at having kept Tony isolated when he clearly was a social person. But most of it had been necessary, in the end, and no amount of hindsight could change that.
Taking a few quick steps forward, Steve snagged Tony's hand, lacing their fingers together. It couldn't make up for the days lost, but going by the way Tony's smile widened, it might have helped a little.
If there was one thing Tony had to say about alpha werewolves, it was that they definitely lived up to their reputation. Tony bit back a groan as he edged out of bed, leaving Steve stretched out asleep behind him. The sore muscles weren't bad; Tony had plenty of rough sex before marriage had caught him, and he was used to the results. Being tied hadn't much shocked him, either, though topping Steve had been a pleasant surprise.
No, it was the bite marks. Deep red hickeys that ran from the back of his knees up to his neck, anywhere Steve had been able to sink his teeth in. Either it was another form of marking, or it was a subtle form of punishment for some sort of transgression. Either way, Tony had no intention of complaining. He was pretty sure that at one point, Steve had made him orgasm just with his teeth.
But what had been great in the moment was turning to bruises a couple of hours later. He needed to move, to keep it all from setting in and trapping him in bed for an extra day.
He dragged on a pair of shorts—Steve's, which were incredibly short and a little loose around the waist, but otherwise not a bad fit. His were littered around the room in scraps, which he would have been more upset about it if hadn't been a fantastic idea at the time. Then he slipped out of the room.
The rooms—suite, arrangement, whatever—that he shared with Steve weren't large, all told. It was clear that werewolves did most of their living outdoors. Tony did what he could in the front area, stretching and walking in circles, but it ultimately wasn't enough. He needed to move. It had been days since he'd seen the sky or had been able to actually stretch out. Beneath the aches, his muscles itched for activity.
Tony took one quick peek back in the bedroom, but the bulk of Steve spread out over the bed hadn't moved much. Dim lights played across his skin, measuring slow breath in the play of shifting shadows. It was as close to a chance as Tony was going to get; it was past midnight, and the wolves would likely be asleep.
He just needed some space, that was all.
Slipping out of the room, Tony wiggled his bare toes against the smooth floor of the hallway. No guards were in sight, but the alpha's rooms were a lone door at the end of a long, unmarked hallway. It was entirely possible there would be guards somewhere. Definitely Sam was nearby at least; he'd said his "den" wasn't far.
Of course, he'd also told Tony to howl if he needed him, so Tony wasn't sure how much of that he was supposed to believe.
Keeping his steps light, Tony set off down the hall. A breeze brushed over his skin. After a bit of looking, he traced it to a vent that had been neatly disguised in the roots overhead. Most of the wolves' technology seemed to be that way; minimal where required, and hidden where possible. If Sam's stories were to be trusted, they took obscure pride in doing things their own way, rather than like humans did.
Things like clothes. Tony still wasn't over that.
What Tony's memory called up as a single, long hallway turned out to have branches and, yes guards. They didn't seem to notice him, or maybe they just weren't going to be fooled by noise behind them when it was a closed loop. Either way, they didn't look his way in the time between him spotting them and darting down the nearest hall.
The stone was a little darker on the side-corridors, tinted faintly green, and some of the roots that snaked down from the roof weren't the same wood. Tony followed it all the way down to the single door on the end. Which, really, seemed like a waste of space, but he hadn't seen a map and so couldn't be certain. For all he knew, there were massive storage units wedged in there.
When he turned around, a wolf was blocking the hall.
It was a deep red-brown, with darker fur coloring its face and ruff. The wolf didn't move, just watched him, sitting back on its haunches. Carefully, Tony started to edge around, but it curled its lips, baring long white teeth. As soon as he backed up, the teeth went away.
"Look, you have to let me out of here sometime," he hissed under his breath. "The alpha won't be happy if you turn me into dinner."
The wolf watched him, tipping its head. He saw its nose work, sniffing at him, and then wrinkle; whatever it smelled, it clearly didn't like it. In a shimmer of motion it transformed, shape flowing into a small, redheaded woman. A naked redheaded woman, who was still sitting as if she had four feet instead of two. Freckles splattered across her cheeks and shoulders. Even though she'd shifted form, she still hadn't put her teeth or claws away.
"You shouldn't be here alone," she said, voice a tight, threatening growl. It should have sounded ridiculous in a human throat, but his knees didn't seem to get the message. "You're supposed to be with the alpha."
Tony worked to keep his eyes on her face. Naked women had come and gone in his life with a delicious regularity, but being threatened by one didn't happen often. "I went for a walk. No harm in that."
"Isn't there?" She rose from her crouch with liquid grace. Her arms folded under her breasts, making it beastly hard for Tony to keep from sneaking a peek. Marriage hadn't removed his appreciation for beauty one bit. "You're an idiot. If you get yourself killed for no reason, you're just going to hurt him. I won't allow it."
"I'm not going to hurt him!" Tony's voice came out too loud, too sharp. He could hear it bouncing off the stone; no doubt the guards had heard. There was no help for it. "Especially not by dying."
She looked him over, blue eyes flickering down to his feet and back up. "Good. Now go back to your den before you come across someone less forgiving than I am."
He eased around her, nervous about the way she turned to keep him in sight. As soon as he was in the clear, Tony started walking. Turning his back on an angry werewolf wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but he was almost sure she wouldn't just kill him. Probably.
As soon as Tony reached the main corridor, he bolted.
The second Hunt of the season didn't go as well as it could have. That year's crop of cubs were still incredibly loud and bad at obeying commands, even for a handful of sixteen year olds. Steve and Sam had their paws full trying to keep them all corralled and on-point. The Hunting Pack was lucky that two of them—Miles and Kitty—managed to bring down a grazer by working together. The most any of the rest of them caught were some small tree-huggers. There had definitely been more productive Hunts.
He oversaw the catch being turned over to be dressed and cooked. It would be dinner for the Hunting Pack, each wolf eating what they killed. Maybe the ones who only got a mouthful of scrawny meat and bones would think about putting in more effort next time. Then he had to waste precious time handling an argument about harvesting duties for the Overhead Fields, which tried his patience merely by existing. Steve had never been the sort of alpha who handled the little details well; he'd become alpha because someone had to kill Johann and take the position, not because he had any talent at administration. If it weren't for his seconds, he had a feeling he never would have made it past the first year.
By the time the petty squabbles were sorted, the sun was already starting to set, casting golden light under the rainbow leaves of the trees. Wolves scattered to their own little dens, slowly emptying the courtyards and pathways, to sleep through the twilight as they tended to. Steve sought his own den, nodding to the guards as he passed them. They were still on edge, the scent of wyr making them stiff and wary, but the feeling of barely contained aggression was starting to leave the pack. Steve had spent the whole day reeking of Tony; it was bound to do some good. Soon, the new scent would be as embedded into the pack as anyone else's, and all Tony would have to worry about would be more normal threats, rather than someone losing their temper and ripping the throat out of a man their noses told them was a stranger.
Laughter greeted him when he opened his door.
"—he'd swallowed the tail," Sam said, with the rise in tone that meant he was finishing a story, voice brimming good humor. Tony laughed freely, rocking backward. They were sprawled together on the floor, not quite in a pack-like huddle, but close. The only place they touched were Sam's bare toes against Tony's ankle, which raised Steve's hackles, but not much. Tony still smelled like his, and was starting to acquire more and more pack-scent. The ghost of wyr cities was fading rapidly from his skin.
"Good to see you two getting along." Steve brushed both their shoulders as he walked past to scrub the blood of some of the children's messier kills from under his nails and to scrub his teeth. He had a feeling that Tony wouldn't appreciate the evidence of a hunt as much as a wolf would.
By the time he came out, damp and smelling more like soap than sweat and fur, Sam had gone, and Tony was snuggled down in his bed with both pillows and that ridiculous primer Steve wasn't even sure why he'd given him. Steve paused, running a hand through his damp hair as he looked over the situation. He hadn't meant to go to bed yet, but Tony looked... comfortable. And it had been a long day.
He dropped down on the side that had been his the night before. "Give me a pillow."
"Nope." Pointedly, Tony snuggled down into the little nest he'd crafted.
"Tony..." Steve reached out to try and snatch the nearest, but Tony rolled away, taking them both with him and leaving Steve to grab at air. "I'm not going to argue with you over this."
"Why not?" Keeping the pillows behind his back, Tony danced away. "Come and get it. Unless you're not alpha enough."
Steve growled a little under his breath and rolled across and off the bed. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he lunged for Tony, who twisted, somehow staying just out of reach. Another attempt got closer, but ended in the same results. The room was large, but too small for Steve to actually get up any decent amount of speed. Between that and not actually wanting to hurt Tony, Steve's physical advantages were mostly nullified.
They went around in a circle a few times before Steve realized what Tony was up to. It shouldn't have taken him that long, but it had been years since Steve had played with anyone. The last person had been Gail.
"Sam told you, didn't he?" He kept his eyes centered on his mate as they moved around each other, dancing without actually touching. They were doing everything completely backwards, but he supposed that was part and parcel of the arrangement.
"I may have asked for some pointers," Tony admitted, ducking as Steve made a grab. "Bucky wasn't precisely helpful."
Bucky wouldn't be. He'd been protective of Steve's scrawny hide for too long to have forgotten it just because Steve was alpha. "Why would you ask?" Twisting, Steve started to back Tony toward a corner. "You didn't have to."
"Maybe I want to." Tony executed a pivot, turning on his toes to keep from being trapped in a corner. The movement brought him in close against Steve, chin up to meet his eyes. He smelled like spice and metal, a hint of something darker curled under the layers of scent. "Just because this wasn't our choice doesn't mean we have to be miserable about it."
Steve was able to reach around Tony's back and sink his fingers into the purloined pillows. He didn't yank them away. "Is that what this is about?"
"What else would it be?" Tony's cheek rubbed against Steve's, scenting him, beard rough and almost tickling. It was a hesitant motion, as if Tony weren't really sure it was something he was supposed to do. Steve rubbed back, sighing softly.
Maybe it would work out after all.
Another twist, but this time Steve went with him, bodies moving together in something like a dance. It was odd, doing it on two legs instead of four, with Tony instead of Gail. There were no playful nips or nudges. The movements didn't flow as smoothly, and Steve's chin couldn't quite reach over Tony's shoulder comfortably. Somehow, they made it work.
At some point, the pillows dropped and were kicked out of the way. Tony's arms slid around Steve's neck, his chest slotting in against Steve's easily. Their lips found each other, and when they finally toppled into bed, that was easy, too.
"You're going to come meet your niece."
Tony kept his cheerful smile on as Gregory glared fuzzily up from the viewer embedded in the center of his desk. It had taken him forever to find one that he could commandeer; werewolves didn't have much use for long-distance communication, so it had been buried deep in one of the war rooms that hadn't been used in over a century. The amount of work Tony had to do to make it function was entirely worth waking Gregory up two hours before dawn for a social call. It was, according to Sam, the appropriate time for that sort of thing, and it wasn't at all his fault if Gregory didn't keep the same hours.
"I refuse to travel out to your cave just to meet a puppy as it comes out of the incubator." The connection scrambled for a second, colors slashing across Gregory's grumpy visage. "Though how you were able to build one of those out there is beyond me. You can bring it to visit once it's on two legs."
It didn't seem worth mentioning that incubators were as standard for werewolves as they were for humans. Gregory would find out soon enough. "I'm sorry, did that sound like a request?" Tony asked cheerfully. He hadn't gotten a chance to tug on Greg's tail in two years, and he'd missed it more than a little. "I already cleared it with Leader Van Dyne. You and Father are going to be the human delegation as Mother comes to meet her grandcub. Your marching orders should be there in the morning."
For a moment, it almost sounded like Greg had growled. The screen flickered and turned black as he cut the connection.
Steve's chin settled on Tony's shoulder from behind, arms slipping around his waist. Late-night stubble scraping across Tony's cheek as Steve scent marked him. "Are you sure you want him to come?" Steve asked doubtfully, peering down at the dark viewer distrustfully. "He'll get bitten with that attitude."
Tony leaned back into Steve's chest, lacing their fingers together across his hips. "Better than leaving him to his own devices," he said. "Trust me."
Apparently things hadn't been going well for him in Acheflow. Jan was less willing than their father had been to indulge him, and anything that resulted in Gregory's frustration was good news to Tony.
Watching his face when he realized that Tony wasn't exactly trapped in a barbarian cave was going to be priceless.
- Part One - Part Two -
Recipiant: agardenafter
Author: tsukinofaerii
When Tony woke up, his things were in his bedroom and Steve was gone. There was a handwritten note: stay. It had been underlined three times.
There was also a children's primer. It had an animated wolf on the cover.
Without a werewolf at hand, Tony couldn't be sure who had brought it in. Remembering how specific Steve had been about scents and pack identity, he could guess. There were ways to mask scent—the war wouldn't have been nearly as bad on humanity if they hadn't been able to hide from the werewolves' noses—but as far as he could tell, Volkaublary seemed to go for the low-tech options. Even the primer was a simple screen reader, far away from the elaborate systems he'd grown up with as a child.
Breakfast had been left in the front room again, an assortment of baked goods and some hot tea in temperature-controlled carafes. The pastries were heavy on meat, nuts and berries, and tended to savory over sweet, all of which he would have expected from people who weren't known for agriculture. That still left the question of where the flour had come from. Tony had a hard time picturing any of the werewolves he'd met so far as farmers. There definitely wasn't room in the forest for vast fields of grain; that sort of thing would have shown up on someone's overhead.
He nibbled on a selection of pastries as he scrolled through the primer. It was pretty much the exact reverse what he'd expected. Werewolf children, it seemed, were born furry. "Your fur will go away, and sometimes you'll go on two legs instead of four," he read aloud, tilting his head at the picture of a child turning into a puppy.
Greg would be snickering into his coffee. He'd think it was the joke of the year, that Tony's children would be wolf cubs, unless they decided to try for humans. Their first birthday gift from their uncle would probably be dog collars, and then Steve would have to kill him and make Tony an only child.
That might not be so bad.
Tony was halfway through his third pastry—some sort of spicy sausage that he had to hope hadn't originally been cute—when Steve came back. He paused in the door, almost seeming to pose, and took a deep breath through his nose.
He was dressed in a way that Tony would have usually called undressed. Technically everything was hidden, but the scraps of clinging blue cloth that clung to Steve's skin in a pretense of being shorts didn't really hide anything. It was loose, granted, but thin, and the shorts only came low enough to cover the curve of Steve's ass.
Whatever he smelled must have satisfied him; his shoulders rounded out, and his whole face seemed to relax as he finished coming inside.
Which was good. As messy as Tony had gotten the night before, he reeked of sex to even human noses. A werewolf could probably tell how many times and in what positions. If Steve wasn't satisfied with that, Tony was going to do something drastic. Like sneak out and take his chances with the pack.
Steve paused to pick up something at the food table before joining Tony on the divan. His bare knee and elbow barely brushed Tony's, though it didn't seem like he was making an actual effort to have space to himself. He was just occupying somewhere that wasn't in Tony's lap. "The primer?" he asked, taking a large bite.
"Not helpful," Tony sighed, flicking the screen to turn it off. He'd finish later, and then use the reader as a base for something else. A link to Acheflow would be handy. "I bow to your wolfy wisdom. Is there anything for how a human is supposed to integrate into wolves? Without being bitten," he added hastily, when a distant, thoughtful look came to Steve's eye. "I like my humanity, thanks."
"Nothing written. We don't get that many wyr joining the pack." Steve's ankle snaked out and snared Tony's, rubbing against it. The calluses of his bare heel scratched gently against Tony's skin, sending soft tingles up his leg.
Maybe shoes aren't a werewolf thing, Tony thought, like clothing. He stretched out his leg to press into Steve's better, angling it for maximum contact. No one had brought him any shoes, and he was pretty sure the ones he'd seen so far had been barefoot. It wasn't so bad in spring, but the snow in winter was going to be wicked.
"Any updates on when I can start talking walks again?" he asked, slumping sideways to drape himself across a cushion. "I've got my tools, but I'll need more space if I'm going to work on anything."
Surprisingly, Steve's foot dropped away as soon as Tony shifted. "Tools?" he asked, sounding mildly surprised. "What sort of tools?"
The loss of touch was disappointing, but Tony rallied. "Several types, from hand-wrenches to a dismantled particle accelerator I'd really like to put back together." The confusion didn't clear from Steve's expression. "I'm an engineer. I build things. Sometimes those things go boom, so you really don't want me building them in here." That would have been a quick recipe for disaster. One really bad accident and Tony might be able to bring the whole city down on their heads.
Or one really great success, but Tony didn't think anyone but he would count those.
A deep frown marked Steve's face. He stared at Tony, leaving him with the odd sensation that he was being checked for... something, but whatever it was, Tony was in the dark. "Tell someone what you need, and they'll see to it."
"So I'm allowed to go out?" That made Tony perk up hopefully. It hadn't even been a full day, and already he was feeling boxed in. It was one thing to stay inside voluntarily, when there were beautiful people and fine drinks to keep him company. Forced inactivity was intolerable.
As soon as they came, his hopes were dashed away again with one shake of Steve's head. "Not yet," he said, almost apologetically. "Some people are allowed to see you, but I don't think the rest of the pack really knows your smell yet."
More dodging. Tony was starting to lose his patience with it, but he knew better than to open his mouth. Just because the doors didn't seem to have locks didn't mean there wasn't a way Steve could seal him in.
Which meant he had to play it carefully. "Alright, staying in," he sighed, drooping dramatically. "Like a fairytale princess in a tower."
"I promise I won't make you grow out your hair," Steve promised with an amused smile. He pushed up from the divan, fingertips trailing across Tony's shoulder in passing. "I have to go lead a Hunt. Bucky will be by soon to answer your questions. Tell him if you need anything."
The way he said hunt made it sound like more than just chasing small, innocent furry creatures though the woods. Tony wondered at the difference, but nodded and flipped on the screen to the primer. "I'll find some way to keep busy," he said, waving the alpha off to his duties.
It was almost an hour before Bucky arrived. By then, Tony had already dismantled and reassembled the screen and was trying to break into the Port on the library at Acheflow. He had to direct it through three different LPO units to suitably trick the security system into thinking he was accessing it from a local address, but it was worth it to see the lists and lists of data bloom under his fingertips.
And from the Library, it would be easy to network out and keep track of everything else that was going on in the city. Most especially Greg. Tony was starting to accept that he'd rather neatly been gotten out of the way, and he wanted to know why.
"So you're the alpha's mate," Bucky said, walking in as if it were his home. "You don't look like much."
Force of will alone kept Tony from jumping. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the hastily programmed keypad and raised an eyebrow. The man was the other one who had been standing with Steve; slightly shorter, with a mess of brown hair. He was wearing the same sort of non-outfit that Steve had been, and while Tony could only suppose it made changing form easier, the amount of almost-nudity was going to take some getting used to. Not impressive to look at, until he moved and the strange, fluid grace that was part and parcel of being a werewolf came out.
"Being raised by wolves is no excuse for bad manners," Tony said easily. Inwardly he thought, Locks. Lots and lots of locks. He didn't think he was going to get used to the easy access everyone seemed to have to his rooms. Back home, even his mother sometimes had trouble accessing his father's personal spaces.
Bucky flashed a smile. It seemed to have extra teeth, and they were all sharp. "It's not?" He helped himself to one of the pastries that were leftover from breakfast, biting into it with relish. The whole time, he kept his back to Tony, clearly pretending he wasn't even there.
Tony was starting to get the feeling that Bucky didn't like him, and he couldn't place why. Existing in the same area for less than a day seemed inadequate. "I take it Sam is off Hunting with Steve?" Tony asked faux casually, fingers skimming across the touchpad surface to calibrate a minor tweak in the system.
Immediately, Bucky stopped chewing in favor of glaring menacingly. "What do you know about that?"
It is important. That was good to know; the more he knew about his new situation, the better off he'd be. "I know enough. I'd like to know more."
"Not about that," the wolf—second in command? Beta? Bodyguard? Tony needed to learn the terms fast—snapped. "It's private. For the pack."
I'm pack now, Tony almost said, but that probably would have put Bucky off altogether. "Okay, then," he said instead, not willing to push for something that could be completely innocuous. Private just meant he'd have to find out on his own. "Could you tell me about scent?"
Thin lips pressed together as Bucky stared at him distrustfully. "You're wyr. You can't smell enough to need to know."
So it was going to be like that. "It's important to Steve and to the rest of the pack." Tony's fingers zigzagged through the pattern that would turn the reader back into a harmless children's story before setting it aside. "I also want to know how werewolves do things, romantically speaking. I have a husband and no idea what makes him tick."
"No."
Not even a hesitation or an explanation. Just no. So much for Gregory's theory of leading the pack. "Excuse me?" Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're supposed to answer my questions."
For a second, it seemed like Bucky's brown eyes lightened, turning gold. When Tony blinked, the effect was gone. "Steve trusts my discretion. You don't need to know how to romance him. You're here for the treaty and nothing else."
"How reassuring." Sagging back into the cushions of the divan, Tony shook his head. "Then do tell me what you will, as I don't particularly value staying entirely in the dark. Can you at least tell me about rank and hierarchy, or is that some incredibly valuable secret as well?"
Bucky picked up another pastry to nibble on as he launched into an explanation of the pack's ranking system, the sarcasm flowing right past him. Tony fiddled with the modified screen as he listened, jotting down notes to himself.
The very first one read talk to Sam. He underlined it three times.
After a week, Steve had to admit to himself that continuing to keep Tony locked up not only wasn't necessary, it was probably dangerous. Thor, one of the guards, was a willing participant in making certain Tony's craft stayed well-supplied. That meant that there had been no less than three small fires and an incident that had left a melted chunk of metal in the middle of Tony's bedroom, which had been converted to a workspace the day after Tony took occupancy of Steve's bed. The more restless Tony got, the more dangerous his work it seemed, and he was starting to get very restless. Returning to the stench of blood and death in his rooms was becoming a definite concern.
He approached Tony in his workroom while he was working on something hopefully innocuous. It seemed to involve a tiny soldering torch and a large collection of screws, but nothing was glooping, simmering or threatening imminent explosion. For once, his mate was wearing sensible leather protective gear and a set of goggles that looked like they'd been filched from wolf engineers; they were shaded to help with glare, which was something humans didn't have to worry as much about, Steve had been told.
After a minute of waiting, Tony turned off his torch and lifted his goggles. "Yes, darling?" His eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and his voice had a wary edge. It might have been a trick of the imagination, but he thought that there might have been bags developing under his eyes.
Steve held out his hand, palm up. "Come here."
Tony looked at it, then back at Steve, as if seriously considering the value of refusal. After a second, he stripped off his heavy gloves and slid his hand into Steve's.
Not saying another word, Steve led him through the front room and out into the hall. It was empty as always; Sam didn't have a mate, and Bucky and Gail's cubs were old enough that they didn't spend the days romping up and down the tunnels anymore. Steve led Tony past the guards into the open, shared area of the tunnels. Wolves whose work kept them inside looked up as they passed, nostrils flaring as they stared at Tony curiously, the way they hadn't been able to when he'd first arrived. A few cubs, still on four feet but old enough to be brave, dared to dart past their legs, fur rubbing across skin.
Tony didn't seem to know what to do with the staring. He started out smiling charmingly, nodding at people who caught his eye. As they continued winding their way through the tunnels to the main entrance, his smiles came less, and his fingers were tight around Steve's.
He didn't relax until they finally reached the main entrance. Sunlight filtered through the leaves to dapple the floor across the entry, which had been left open for the sake of wolves coming and going. It was early afternoon, and the weather was just warm enough that the breeze that wound its way through the trees was welcome. The courtyard outside was filled with cubs, on four legs and two, with a handful of adults on duty watching them as they splashed in the creek and generally made a mess of themselves.
Gail was one of them. She smiled at Steve, waving briefly before turning back to rubbing the muck off her youngest's muzzle. She didn't even glance at Tony, which Steve supposed was only to be expected. She was as bad about being protective of him as Bucky was. A few of the other adults nodded as well, but their eyes were fixed on Tony. He must have looked strange, covered from neck to ankles as he was. Steve had almost gotten used to it, but the pack had never had a chance.
Some of the anxiety was starting to ease out of Tony's scent, and the sharp tension in his shoulders had gone. He was still clutching Steve's hand, though, so Steve gave him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You wanted some fresh air."
Blue eyes turned on him. They were bright with gratitude. "I did. And this is the freshest," Tony smiled, squeezing back.
Steve's heart gave an odd little flip in his chest. He could feel Gail's eyes watching him, though he could only see her in the corner of his own vision; it was the same sort of gaze she had on the cubs, wary and faintly worried that they might trip over their own paws and do themselves damage.
Tony looked around the courtyard, rocking a little from the balls of his feet to his toes and then back. "So, what do I do? Just sit here?" he asked, affecting nonchalance. "That hardly seems like actual progress. I feel like I should go hunt a bunny rabbit with my bare teeth instead."
Huffing, Steve nudged Tony toward a low bench. Like most things, it was wide enough to allow a wolf to stretch out comfortably, but it would be fine for a wyr too. "No hunting. Just sit. The pack will want to meet you, and it's easiest if you stay in one place."
"Ruin my fun," Tony sighed, but he dropped obediently to the bench, tugging Steve along by their linked hands. "If I have to do a meet and greet, so do you."
"I wasn't going to leave you alone," Steve admitted as he settled in at Tony's side, putting a few inches of space between them. Sharing a bed was good, but it was still odd. Every instinct said Tony was his mate, while the same instincts said that this was a veritable stranger, a wyr in wolf territory. Sex made it easier, but it never quite erased that itch of wrong.
Leather scraped against the wooden bench as Tony closed the distance between them. His shoulder pressed tentatively into Steve's, and then harder, leaning his weight heavily into Steve's side. Sighing, Steve pushed back into the pressure, giving exactly what Tony gave. Like the ghost of a foul scent being waved away, the awkwardness vanished.
Cubs came first, unsurprisingly. Like the ones in the hall, they were brave and curious, and not at all deterred by the fact that Tony still smelled a little off. The ones wearing fur rubbed up against their knees and nipped at Tony's pants and scampered off to strut with their courage. Those in skin were shier, venturing out in small packs of three and four to tell Tony their names and brush a hand against him. Once the cubs had taken the first step, the adults followed, drifting by for a one or two sentence conversation and a brief touch against Tony's shoulder, his knee, his hair.
Steve had expected Tony to be uneasy with the casual contact, but if anything he seemed to lap it up as much as the wolves did. He grabbed hands, kissed cheeks, and once even hugged someone. Untrained in pack interaction he might have been, but he picked it up quickly. Steve didn't bother hiding the proud smile as Tony made his place.
They stayed there until the sun started to set. Parents came to retrieve their little ones, and the guards-slash-babysitters made their ways back to their homes. Once the courtyard was empty, Steve took Tony's hand again to lead him back inside.
He was surprised when Tony stretched his legs to take the lead, apparently having already memorized the route. "Are wolves diurnal?" he asked curiously, looking around at the nearly empty tunnels. "I thought so at first, but it doesn't seem to add up the longer I think about it."
"Not really," Steve shrugged. "Most people sleep around sunrise and sunset. Daylight is just useful for work. Most hunting happens at night."
"And social gatherings?" Tony guessed, glancing back to see Steve nod. He hummed to himself, head tipped back to watch the ceiling. "So you're skipping parties to stay with me every night?"
That made Steve laugh. "Not parties, no. Just gatherings. Events." He shrugged loosely, trying to think of how to explain it so a wyr could understand. "It's... the pack as pack. As a unit. You'll see."
Something bright lit up Tony's eyes, and he grinned. It took Steve a moment to realize that it was the implication that he'd be getting out more that did it. For a second, he felt a stab of guilt at having kept Tony isolated when he clearly was a social person. But most of it had been necessary, in the end, and no amount of hindsight could change that.
Taking a few quick steps forward, Steve snagged Tony's hand, lacing their fingers together. It couldn't make up for the days lost, but going by the way Tony's smile widened, it might have helped a little.
If there was one thing Tony had to say about alpha werewolves, it was that they definitely lived up to their reputation. Tony bit back a groan as he edged out of bed, leaving Steve stretched out asleep behind him. The sore muscles weren't bad; Tony had plenty of rough sex before marriage had caught him, and he was used to the results. Being tied hadn't much shocked him, either, though topping Steve had been a pleasant surprise.
No, it was the bite marks. Deep red hickeys that ran from the back of his knees up to his neck, anywhere Steve had been able to sink his teeth in. Either it was another form of marking, or it was a subtle form of punishment for some sort of transgression. Either way, Tony had no intention of complaining. He was pretty sure that at one point, Steve had made him orgasm just with his teeth.
But what had been great in the moment was turning to bruises a couple of hours later. He needed to move, to keep it all from setting in and trapping him in bed for an extra day.
He dragged on a pair of shorts—Steve's, which were incredibly short and a little loose around the waist, but otherwise not a bad fit. His were littered around the room in scraps, which he would have been more upset about it if hadn't been a fantastic idea at the time. Then he slipped out of the room.
The rooms—suite, arrangement, whatever—that he shared with Steve weren't large, all told. It was clear that werewolves did most of their living outdoors. Tony did what he could in the front area, stretching and walking in circles, but it ultimately wasn't enough. He needed to move. It had been days since he'd seen the sky or had been able to actually stretch out. Beneath the aches, his muscles itched for activity.
Tony took one quick peek back in the bedroom, but the bulk of Steve spread out over the bed hadn't moved much. Dim lights played across his skin, measuring slow breath in the play of shifting shadows. It was as close to a chance as Tony was going to get; it was past midnight, and the wolves would likely be asleep.
He just needed some space, that was all.
Slipping out of the room, Tony wiggled his bare toes against the smooth floor of the hallway. No guards were in sight, but the alpha's rooms were a lone door at the end of a long, unmarked hallway. It was entirely possible there would be guards somewhere. Definitely Sam was nearby at least; he'd said his "den" wasn't far.
Of course, he'd also told Tony to howl if he needed him, so Tony wasn't sure how much of that he was supposed to believe.
Keeping his steps light, Tony set off down the hall. A breeze brushed over his skin. After a bit of looking, he traced it to a vent that had been neatly disguised in the roots overhead. Most of the wolves' technology seemed to be that way; minimal where required, and hidden where possible. If Sam's stories were to be trusted, they took obscure pride in doing things their own way, rather than like humans did.
Things like clothes. Tony still wasn't over that.
What Tony's memory called up as a single, long hallway turned out to have branches and, yes guards. They didn't seem to notice him, or maybe they just weren't going to be fooled by noise behind them when it was a closed loop. Either way, they didn't look his way in the time between him spotting them and darting down the nearest hall.
The stone was a little darker on the side-corridors, tinted faintly green, and some of the roots that snaked down from the roof weren't the same wood. Tony followed it all the way down to the single door on the end. Which, really, seemed like a waste of space, but he hadn't seen a map and so couldn't be certain. For all he knew, there were massive storage units wedged in there.
When he turned around, a wolf was blocking the hall.
It was a deep red-brown, with darker fur coloring its face and ruff. The wolf didn't move, just watched him, sitting back on its haunches. Carefully, Tony started to edge around, but it curled its lips, baring long white teeth. As soon as he backed up, the teeth went away.
"Look, you have to let me out of here sometime," he hissed under his breath. "The alpha won't be happy if you turn me into dinner."
The wolf watched him, tipping its head. He saw its nose work, sniffing at him, and then wrinkle; whatever it smelled, it clearly didn't like it. In a shimmer of motion it transformed, shape flowing into a small, redheaded woman. A naked redheaded woman, who was still sitting as if she had four feet instead of two. Freckles splattered across her cheeks and shoulders. Even though she'd shifted form, she still hadn't put her teeth or claws away.
"You shouldn't be here alone," she said, voice a tight, threatening growl. It should have sounded ridiculous in a human throat, but his knees didn't seem to get the message. "You're supposed to be with the alpha."
Tony worked to keep his eyes on her face. Naked women had come and gone in his life with a delicious regularity, but being threatened by one didn't happen often. "I went for a walk. No harm in that."
"Isn't there?" She rose from her crouch with liquid grace. Her arms folded under her breasts, making it beastly hard for Tony to keep from sneaking a peek. Marriage hadn't removed his appreciation for beauty one bit. "You're an idiot. If you get yourself killed for no reason, you're just going to hurt him. I won't allow it."
"I'm not going to hurt him!" Tony's voice came out too loud, too sharp. He could hear it bouncing off the stone; no doubt the guards had heard. There was no help for it. "Especially not by dying."
She looked him over, blue eyes flickering down to his feet and back up. "Good. Now go back to your den before you come across someone less forgiving than I am."
He eased around her, nervous about the way she turned to keep him in sight. As soon as he was in the clear, Tony started walking. Turning his back on an angry werewolf wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but he was almost sure she wouldn't just kill him. Probably.
As soon as Tony reached the main corridor, he bolted.
The second Hunt of the season didn't go as well as it could have. That year's crop of cubs were still incredibly loud and bad at obeying commands, even for a handful of sixteen year olds. Steve and Sam had their paws full trying to keep them all corralled and on-point. The Hunting Pack was lucky that two of them—Miles and Kitty—managed to bring down a grazer by working together. The most any of the rest of them caught were some small tree-huggers. There had definitely been more productive Hunts.
He oversaw the catch being turned over to be dressed and cooked. It would be dinner for the Hunting Pack, each wolf eating what they killed. Maybe the ones who only got a mouthful of scrawny meat and bones would think about putting in more effort next time. Then he had to waste precious time handling an argument about harvesting duties for the Overhead Fields, which tried his patience merely by existing. Steve had never been the sort of alpha who handled the little details well; he'd become alpha because someone had to kill Johann and take the position, not because he had any talent at administration. If it weren't for his seconds, he had a feeling he never would have made it past the first year.
By the time the petty squabbles were sorted, the sun was already starting to set, casting golden light under the rainbow leaves of the trees. Wolves scattered to their own little dens, slowly emptying the courtyards and pathways, to sleep through the twilight as they tended to. Steve sought his own den, nodding to the guards as he passed them. They were still on edge, the scent of wyr making them stiff and wary, but the feeling of barely contained aggression was starting to leave the pack. Steve had spent the whole day reeking of Tony; it was bound to do some good. Soon, the new scent would be as embedded into the pack as anyone else's, and all Tony would have to worry about would be more normal threats, rather than someone losing their temper and ripping the throat out of a man their noses told them was a stranger.
Laughter greeted him when he opened his door.
"—he'd swallowed the tail," Sam said, with the rise in tone that meant he was finishing a story, voice brimming good humor. Tony laughed freely, rocking backward. They were sprawled together on the floor, not quite in a pack-like huddle, but close. The only place they touched were Sam's bare toes against Tony's ankle, which raised Steve's hackles, but not much. Tony still smelled like his, and was starting to acquire more and more pack-scent. The ghost of wyr cities was fading rapidly from his skin.
"Good to see you two getting along." Steve brushed both their shoulders as he walked past to scrub the blood of some of the children's messier kills from under his nails and to scrub his teeth. He had a feeling that Tony wouldn't appreciate the evidence of a hunt as much as a wolf would.
By the time he came out, damp and smelling more like soap than sweat and fur, Sam had gone, and Tony was snuggled down in his bed with both pillows and that ridiculous primer Steve wasn't even sure why he'd given him. Steve paused, running a hand through his damp hair as he looked over the situation. He hadn't meant to go to bed yet, but Tony looked... comfortable. And it had been a long day.
He dropped down on the side that had been his the night before. "Give me a pillow."
"Nope." Pointedly, Tony snuggled down into the little nest he'd crafted.
"Tony..." Steve reached out to try and snatch the nearest, but Tony rolled away, taking them both with him and leaving Steve to grab at air. "I'm not going to argue with you over this."
"Why not?" Keeping the pillows behind his back, Tony danced away. "Come and get it. Unless you're not alpha enough."
Steve growled a little under his breath and rolled across and off the bed. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he lunged for Tony, who twisted, somehow staying just out of reach. Another attempt got closer, but ended in the same results. The room was large, but too small for Steve to actually get up any decent amount of speed. Between that and not actually wanting to hurt Tony, Steve's physical advantages were mostly nullified.
They went around in a circle a few times before Steve realized what Tony was up to. It shouldn't have taken him that long, but it had been years since Steve had played with anyone. The last person had been Gail.
"Sam told you, didn't he?" He kept his eyes centered on his mate as they moved around each other, dancing without actually touching. They were doing everything completely backwards, but he supposed that was part and parcel of the arrangement.
"I may have asked for some pointers," Tony admitted, ducking as Steve made a grab. "Bucky wasn't precisely helpful."
Bucky wouldn't be. He'd been protective of Steve's scrawny hide for too long to have forgotten it just because Steve was alpha. "Why would you ask?" Twisting, Steve started to back Tony toward a corner. "You didn't have to."
"Maybe I want to." Tony executed a pivot, turning on his toes to keep from being trapped in a corner. The movement brought him in close against Steve, chin up to meet his eyes. He smelled like spice and metal, a hint of something darker curled under the layers of scent. "Just because this wasn't our choice doesn't mean we have to be miserable about it."
Steve was able to reach around Tony's back and sink his fingers into the purloined pillows. He didn't yank them away. "Is that what this is about?"
"What else would it be?" Tony's cheek rubbed against Steve's, scenting him, beard rough and almost tickling. It was a hesitant motion, as if Tony weren't really sure it was something he was supposed to do. Steve rubbed back, sighing softly.
Maybe it would work out after all.
Another twist, but this time Steve went with him, bodies moving together in something like a dance. It was odd, doing it on two legs instead of four, with Tony instead of Gail. There were no playful nips or nudges. The movements didn't flow as smoothly, and Steve's chin couldn't quite reach over Tony's shoulder comfortably. Somehow, they made it work.
At some point, the pillows dropped and were kicked out of the way. Tony's arms slid around Steve's neck, his chest slotting in against Steve's easily. Their lips found each other, and when they finally toppled into bed, that was easy, too.
"You're going to come meet your niece."
Tony kept his cheerful smile on as Gregory glared fuzzily up from the viewer embedded in the center of his desk. It had taken him forever to find one that he could commandeer; werewolves didn't have much use for long-distance communication, so it had been buried deep in one of the war rooms that hadn't been used in over a century. The amount of work Tony had to do to make it function was entirely worth waking Gregory up two hours before dawn for a social call. It was, according to Sam, the appropriate time for that sort of thing, and it wasn't at all his fault if Gregory didn't keep the same hours.
"I refuse to travel out to your cave just to meet a puppy as it comes out of the incubator." The connection scrambled for a second, colors slashing across Gregory's grumpy visage. "Though how you were able to build one of those out there is beyond me. You can bring it to visit once it's on two legs."
It didn't seem worth mentioning that incubators were as standard for werewolves as they were for humans. Gregory would find out soon enough. "I'm sorry, did that sound like a request?" Tony asked cheerfully. He hadn't gotten a chance to tug on Greg's tail in two years, and he'd missed it more than a little. "I already cleared it with Leader Van Dyne. You and Father are going to be the human delegation as Mother comes to meet her grandcub. Your marching orders should be there in the morning."
For a moment, it almost sounded like Greg had growled. The screen flickered and turned black as he cut the connection.
Steve's chin settled on Tony's shoulder from behind, arms slipping around his waist. Late-night stubble scraping across Tony's cheek as Steve scent marked him. "Are you sure you want him to come?" Steve asked doubtfully, peering down at the dark viewer distrustfully. "He'll get bitten with that attitude."
Tony leaned back into Steve's chest, lacing their fingers together across his hips. "Better than leaving him to his own devices," he said. "Trust me."
Apparently things hadn't been going well for him in Acheflow. Jan was less willing than their father had been to indulge him, and anything that resulted in Gregory's frustration was good news to Tony.
Watching his face when he realized that Tony wasn't exactly trapped in a barbarian cave was going to be priceless.
- Part One - Part Two -
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Also adorable.
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But I do want to point this out in as many words; if you filed the serial numbers off this, I would absolutely buy the novel of which this is the first couple of chapters. I'm jus' sayin...
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Brilliant idea, great job.
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Though, I'd like to understand how artificial incubators actually works. How Tony and Greg were generated? And Steve and Tony child too?
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