Archive of Our Own

1.
The most important part of him that Steve had hoped the super soldier serum would change was the part it missed: he came out of the strange experimental coffin to gunshots, Erskine's death, a Hydra operative and the fact that he was still an omega.

That was the reason Col. Phillips sidelined him to the USO, claiming that he had expected an army of super alphas, not a pumped-up omega who was too pretty for his own good.

Later, when Steve rescued Bucky and finally got some of the respect he had long craved, he had to put up with rumors that Bucky was his alpha and that was the only reason Steve was "allowed" to lead the Howling Commandos. Bucky didn't do anything to squash the rumor because he had wanted to knot Steve for years, and Steve was politically savvy enough to realize that it was a convenient situation for himself, if insulting. Bucky laughed at his displeasure when Steve finally admitted it, then offered to help "wipe that pout off your beautiful lips." Steve punched him and the resulting brawl took down the other half of an English pub that had not been bombed out. Jacques called it the most impressive alpha/omega foreplay that he had ever seen, so Steve punched him too.

After a while, everyone seemed to forget that Steve was omega, not just because of his role as a captain of a fighting unit but because his scent had become odd and imperceptible. He also went over a year without a heat, something that bothered the doctors he reported to but was a little like heaven to Steve who had always experienced terrible cramps, headaches, and fever-sweats for days before and during his heats. When he finally went down, he locked himself in a basement in Italy expecting the worst and came out 24 hours later perfectly fine. Bucky looked pole-axed at that, obviously having hoped that Steve would finally give in to his suit. Steve laughed at his disappointed expression, Bucky hit him and another building was destabilized in the resulting wrestling match although by the end of it Bucky was laughing too.

But the simple fact was that every man in the Howling Commandos was an alpha. Peggy was an alpha, all of Steve's superior officers and colleagues were alphas, and even Howard Stark was an alpha. While most of the support personnel were omegas or betas, they did not associate with officers too much outside of pubs or dance clubs (or bedrooms).

Steve was a man out of sync, a military leader and a heroic celebrity who was an omega. He had hoped that the serum would finally give him the place in the world where he felt like he belonged, but he remained an outcast, just of a different sort. Instead of being seen as too weak and sickly to make a proper mate for an alpha, he had become too strong and aggressive. He didn't even smell right to alphas after a while, his pheromones tamped down by the changes in his hormone levels. When Bucky could smell it on him, he told Steve that it was a strange odor, something like apples and bacon cooked together. Not unpleasant, he promised with a leer, but Steve tried to hit him anyway as a matter of course.

The war continued and Steve learned to play it down. He acted like an alpha to the point where people who didn't know better assumed that he was, and he fought like the soldier he always knew he could be.

2.
It wasn't until after the Battle of New York that Steve fully understood the changes that had taken place in the world while he had been locked in the ice. The omega Pepper Potts, Tony's mate and the mother of his twins, was possibly one of the most powerful businessalephs ("businessperson", Banner corrected him gently) in the world. Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill were alphas, which was no surprise, but Hawkeye and Agent Sitwell were omegas. Steve met many omegas in positions of power in the police, the fire department, and even the military. In 70 years, everything Steve knew about social roles had been stood on its head. He liked the changes, even if they set him off on the wrong foot occasionally (apparently, calling a female alpha such as Hill "Mistress Maria" was a sure-fire way to get on her shit list).

He read with interest studies about him that called him "transgender", which turned out to be someone who felt like they had been born the wrong gender. He could not argue with that, and even mentioned it in a PR interview with the preternaturally nice beta celebrity Ellen, which spiked her show's ratings into numbers that Steve could barely grasp. Tony laughed about it for days while Fury's eyebrow twitched for just as long. Natasha, whose gender Steve could not figure out for the life of him, "fist-bumped" him and nodded knowingly, which at least made him feel better about the situation in regards to team dynamics.

The lonely feeling of being out of sync stuck with him, though. During the War, he was simply too busy to think about bonding or sex or romance more than as fleeting ideas on cold nights. He had never been in love with Bucky the way Bucky was with him, he knew that and regretted it because it would have made both their lives easier in the long run if they had bonded as teenagers. As it stood, Bucky was long dead and gone. Steve considered the alphas around him as uninteresting or unavailable, and he couldn't imagine what they thought of a queer-smelling, barely-omega super-soldier like him.

Usually it was fine, as he was adjusting to being an Avenger and working closely with SHIELD. He was kept fairly busy but not busy enough to avoid seeing the bonded pairs around him as painful reminders of what he didn't -- and probably never would -- have for himself.

The most profound relationship was Phil Coulson and Clint Barton. When Romanov told Barton that Coulson was dead, the man had fallen to his knees and thrown up. He went into grief-wracked sobbing convulsions and it took both Steve and Thor to wrestle him onto a medical gurney where he was immediately tranquilized by very upset SHIELD medics. All because of Coulson.

Steve was used to alpha fans acting submissive around him so he had dismissed Coulson at first. But as the crisis with Loki unraveled, Coulson had struck Steve as a competent, no-nonsense alpha, handsome in a mature way that had always been a secret weakness for Steve. Bucky had teased Steve about his "daddy fixation" which usually got them in a fight, but that did not make it any less true, Steve thought regretfully as he watched Hawkeye spiral down into self-destruction. He could understand perfectly why Barton was falling apart in the aftermath of Coulson's death. Steve suspected Coulson would have that effect on any omega he bonded with.

It was cataclysmic for the Avengers as a team when Fury unveiled Phil Coulson, fragile but recovering in a top secret lab in Missouri (of all places). Steve suspected that was as much of a tactical play as announcing Phil's death had been, because in the end the Avengers bonded even more closely in their opposition to all outside authority over the issue of Phil's recovery. They won, of course (more proof to Steve that it was Fury's plan all along, because that was one man Steve had no intention of ever underestimating), and Phil was moved with Stark's usual pomp and circumstance to Avengers Tower for his full recovery.

Coulson seemed to really like it when Steve visited, so despite the evil eye that Barton would discretely give him, Steve showed up every day in the afternoon to sit by Phil's bed and talk about things. At first it was Phil asking about the War, and the Howling Commandos, and Bucky; but after a few days Steve felt comfortable asking questions in turn. He learned about Phil's past as an Army Ranger, how he joined SHIELD, why he loved his job, and his hobby of baking. Barton sometimes hovered but usually left them alone, so while Steve got to know Phil pretty well he did not get much insight into his team mate other than he had a jealous streak. That much Steve couldn't really hold against him.

But watching them together was Steve's favorite part of his visits, when he got a chance. They were equals and obviously colleagues but the bond between them was almost palpable. Steve had rarely seen a pair better matched, even if it was not something that anyone would have guessed by knowing them individually. When they were together, Clint was the perfect omega that Steve had never been or could be, and Phil was the perfect alpha that Steve was not and could never have. It was a strangely satisfying type of torture to spend time with them, and Steve could not find it in himself to stay away.

After a few weeks Phil was getting strong enough to walk around, so in the middle of one visit he asked for Steve to help him. Steve looked around, just then realizing that he had not seen Clint's green-eyed glare since he got there.

"He's been held up at SHIELD, some training course that Hill threatened him into teaching," Phil answered the unspoken question.

"Oh, okay, in that case." Steve got up and helped Phil stand. His balance was fine since he was off the heavy drugs, but his muscles were weak from nearly two months being bed-ridden. He hung on Steve's arm like an omega debutant, gingerly stepping along and letting Steve lead. He steered them into the living room, where they took a tour around the room before Steve lowered him onto the couch. Phil was breathing heavily and sweating, even that simple exertion taxing his reserves.

"Let me get you some water," Steve said, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

When he came back out, it was to see Clint on his knees in front of Phil, who was cradling his omega's face in his hands. Steve stalled, surprised, because he had not heard the front door to their suite open, nor Clint walk in.

"You stupid asshole, walking around. What if you fell?"

"You know Steve is here, right?" Phil asked, smiling in the face of Clint's wrath.

"Yeah yeah." Clint's eyes cut to Steve for a moment but turned back to Phil. "I know."

"Hmmm." Phil pulled him in and kissed him, their lips barely touching. Steve had never seen Clint relax so completely before, his body loose and pliant against Phil's legs as he levered himself up into the kiss, a true omega surrender. Phil held him in position, dictating every move between them, his claim on Clint possessive and confident yet still tender. Steve's grip on the water bottle tightened, a band of pure envy wrapping around his heart. No one had ever been so gentle with him when he was small and weak because Steve had always pushed away that kind of affection, fearing it was pity. Then he was huge and strong and no one but Bucky ever thought to even try.

Both heads snapped to him as the water bottle popped in his fist, water splashing all over him and the floor. He looked down dumbly. "Oh. Sorry."

Neither of them mentioned it as Clint brought him a towel from the bathroom and Steve mopped up the mess. Afterwards, though, Clint seemed to soften to Steve's presence, not glaring at him whenever Phil asked Steve for help walking around or when they spent an extra hour talking about a new history book Phil had read and wanted to share. Clint even invited him to join them for dinner every once in a while.

Steve was just too damn lonely and pathetic to say no.

3.
There was one aspect that had not changed in 70+ years, and in fact had become worse: unbonded omegas were considered liabilities. It was odd to Steve that while omega civil rights had advanced to the point that they could be accepted as leaders in positions of power, social perception had gone backward, at least in his opinion. According to his SHIELD tutors it was some kind of backlash that happened in the 1950s, born out of a post-war effort to get omegas and beta females "back in the home" and out of the job market.

Apparently, though, six months after the Battle of New York, Steve's status was causing waves because all of history had assumed that Bucky was Steve's alpha. Since Bucky died in 1945, Steve was being portrayed as a loose cannon of an unbonded super-soldier omega due to go into wild untamed heats at any moment. His constant bickering with Stark had, apparently, not helped matters much.

Steve stared at Fury for a long time. "Bucky was never my alpha. That is a matter of record."

"Since when have facts ever gotten in the way of gossip or public opinion, soldier?" Fury shook his head. Standing off to the side, both Hill and Coulson were stone-faced yet still managed to express some kind of distant sympathy.

Steve sighed. "Yes sir."

Fury tapped the desk with a finger. "You've got some choice about who, but not in whether it happens or not. You need an alpha so we can get both the World Security Council and the fucking press off our backs."

"I served for three years during the war while unbonded. This is ridiculous."

Fury just stared back at him. Next to him, Hill shifted uncomfortably, a small movement but enough of a tell for Steve to realize why she was there. He looked directly at her. "Not you."

She sagged, visibly relieved, then gave him a polite nod. "Nothing personal, Captain. You're just not my type."

"Same, Deputy Director. Same." He nodded in agreement.

"You're not going to like my second runner up any better," Fury leaned forward on his desk, folding his hands together. If anything, Coulson's face became even more pinched.

Steve thought about it for a moment then laughed. "Not Stark."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "He's an Avenger, and he's already bonded to one high-powered, aggressive omega. Press would have a field day with the threesome speculation, but no one would question his ability to knot you."

Steve flinched. "No."

"So who? You need to make a choice."

"Me." Coulson stepped forward. Fury looked surprised, a first for Steve as the man never seemed to get rattled by anything.

Fury turned in his chair to look at Coulson. "I get your infatuation with Captain America, Phil, but this is a little much even for you."

Steve's ears burned at being talked about in such a way, but Coulson shrugged. "That has nothing to do with it, Nick. I'm bonded to Barton and I love him, that's not the damn point here."

Steve tried not to act shocked at Coulson's casual language, which was a change from his reserved, professional personality. He looked back at Fury, who was squinting at Coulson.

"You talked about this with Barton?"

"I have. To say he's less than thrilled is an understatement, but our options are limited here. Rogers has turned down Hill and won't even consider Stark. We have a limited number of alphas to choose from before the WSC puts forward their own suitors, and you know it. Banner won't even consider mating, period. It has to be an Avenger or one of our own, so that leaves Natasha to take on an alpha role or me."

"Natasha's not an alpha," Steve said, reasonably certain it was true.

"Not…technically. But she can be." Coulson shrugged again. "It's complicated, and not something I care to ask of her."

"She'd do it," Fury clarified, glancing at Steve. "But I'm in agreement with Agent Coulson, it's not ideal for anyone."

"That leaves me." Coulson crossed his arms in what was a surprisingly vulnerable way, hunching into himself.

"I'm not comfortable being third wheel to an established bond, Agent," Steve said, ignoring the concerned looks Hill was giving both of them.

Coulson closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, straightening up to talk. "I understand. And the minute you find a better match, you won't find us standing in your way. But for now, this is the best option on the table." He paused and looked Steve in the eye. "Unless you plan to reconsider Stark."

"No. No, I don't." Steve rubbed his face. "I can't believe this. Seventy years later and I'm still meat on the block for alphas to kick around." He opened his eyes to find every single one of them staring at him with stricken expressions. Steve slashed the air with one hand, because their alpha guilt wasn't his problem. "Never mind. I understand the politics and the publicity issues. So I'm second omega to Agent Coulson. Do we need to do a press release on this? Interviews?" Steve put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground, trying to think of what they would have to do to sell it to the world. It was not the way he had dreamed of finding his alpha or of entering into a relationship with someone at any level, but like missing his date with Peggy and letting Bucky fall into a deadly chasm, Steve's personal opinions didn't amount to much.

Coulson turned professional manager on a dime, laying out the steps that would be taken (there would be a press release, and limited interviews, and even "leaked" photographs of their private bonding ceremony). Steve tried hard not to think of Coulson as his alpha, despite the traitorous part of his brain that liked the idea too much. Coulson had Clint Barton, and they were an unlikely perfect, beautiful bonded pair. Steve focused instead on how he was going to make himself as invisible as possible in their lives.

4.
Part of the ruse was a slow build-up of the relationship between Steve and Coulson. Pepper (or rather, her PR division) set them up on some semi-public "dates" where they went to charity events alone together, or were "seen" eating lunch at some diner or bistro around the city. They were supposed to act like they were falling in love while secretly doing no such thing, which should have been easy but wasn't at all because Steve's inner omega kept announcing itself in the form of wishful thinking. Steve wasn't so desperate that he would roll over for the first alpha to hold a door open for him, but he wasn't immune to the grounded, masculine alphaness of Phil Coulson. The man was sharp as a tack and had a bruising, dry wit, in addition to looking well put together in his ubiquitous suits. He reminded Steve of Claude Rains (who was no one's heart-throb but Steve's, perhaps) and Steve worked very hard to keep relations between him, Coulson and Barton very professional and courteous when they were out of sight of the paparazzi.

They continued inviting Steve over for dinner occasionally, and oddly enough, those where the times when Steve felt the most comfortable, with no pretense of anything but friendship between the three of them. Clint seemed to like Steve better during those private moments, out of the spotlight, and more than once Steve caught Phil smiling at them like an indulgent alpha. It would have been adorable if it weren't just a little heartbreaking.

In the meantime, life continued for Steve as usual: training, SHIELD missions, and occasionally Avengers assembling to save the world. Which, sometimes, did not quite go as planned.

Steve stared at the clouds above him, thinking that the sunset being filtered through them was worth painting. All of the oranges and reds merged seamlessly with purple and blue and gray, it was spectacularly beautiful, and Steve reached out with his senses to touch the colors.

"Aw, shit. C'mon, Steve, man, don’t do this, Phil will divorce my ass for letting you die."

Steve tried to turn his head but pain sliced through his brain like a knife, stopping him cold. "Mwugh."

"Yeah that's how I feel about this too, fuck, you're bleeding like a stuck pig. Stop bleeding! Shit! NAT! Get over here! He's got too much guts, I've only got two hands, I can't—"

"Shut up, Barton," Nat's voice was firm and cold, balancing the hot hysteria of Clint's. "Your comm?"

"Down like yours, that EMP blast took everything out."

"Not Iron Man or Thor. They went to follow that robot ."

"Leaving us here? Shit!"

Steve felt pressure in different places around his torso, not that he could place whose hands were whose. "M'okay." The words were wet with blood, and Steve took a moment to think that maybe he should worry about that.

"Sure you are. No problems, right? What's a little disembowelment between friends?"

"You're babbling, Clint."

"Nat!"

"Here, and here. Now hold that."

"What is this? Don't answer that. This is so gross. Gross."

"You've seen worse."

"It's Steve."

Steve wondered how that explained anything, but he was floating between waves of pain and delirium.

"Holy shit." Phil's voice washed over Steve, settling him. Phil was there, Phil was his alpha, he would take care of them. He would calm Clint down and put Steve back together. Phil could do it, he could do it all.

"Maybe not all, Steve, but I'll try." Phil spoke softly, close to Steve's ear. Steve whined, the pain bearing down on his nerves. "Shhh, baby, shhh, listen to me, okay? Listen to me. Focus on my words. I need you to focus."

"Morphine?" Natasha sounded further and further away.

"He'll metabolize it too fast to help. We can only hold him together until a med team gets here."

"He'll bleed out first, Phil," Clint said, his voice pitching higher than usual. Steve wanted to touch him, tell him that he couldn't bleed out, but it was nice that Clint cared.

"No, he won't." Phil knew, of course Phil knew, he knew everything about Steve's medical records and limits. He knew everything.

Someone laughed. "Aw, Steve, you're kind of pathetically cute when you're cut nearly completely in half and delirious."

"Clint, shut up." Nat sighed heavily.

Phil was close to his ear again, his breath warm and comforting. "Steve, just listen to me. I'm going to count to ten, then backwards to one. We're going to do this together. You're going to focus on my voice and trying to breathe."

"Ath'ma." Steve wheezed, panic gripping him.

"No! No, you're not suffering an asthma attack. This is just an exercise. Nothing serious. Let's start, okay? Trust me, Steve, trust me. Let's start: One…two…three…"

Steve tried to count with him in between screaming in pain. He could feel his body straining to knit itself together, his heart racing to help move and make blood, his organs pushing at each other and bones reaching out to mend. Something he never admitted was that healing was often far more painful than being hurt. Riding out the pain was all he could do. He heard Clint's rambling, nervous commentary in the background, behind the noise of agony, but again and again his attention dialed in on Phil's steady voice next to him, his alpha (not really, not at all) holding him together. In lucid moments Steve wanted to cry at the unfairness of being so close to what he wanted, to what Phil and Clint already had together.

At some point many hands lifted him in the air, and Steve finally felt himself starting to pass out, Phil's hand clinched tightly in his. The last thing Steve remembered as he was placed on the gurney was the sound of his alpha whispering the number seven…

5.
After Steve had nearly been sliced in half and spent two whole days in recovery (a personal record post-serum), Clint started haunting him, showing up randomly for lunch or dinner and even accompanying him on SHIELD missions that Steve knew full well had not originally included Clint.

The dates with Phil also picked up a little, getting longer and more "serious" so that the romance could be spun to the press (and the WSC) believably. Secretly, Steve really enjoyed their dates, but he always tried to put a professional face on things when they were out of the public eye. Phil didn't seem fooled, eyeing him speculatively sometimes, but he never asked Steve prying questions and simply went along with the game. Once, Phil engineered a visit to Mid-Town Comics and they spent three hours there in deep discussion of art, storytelling, and the heroic mythos. Steve was almost giddy with attraction by the time they left, and Phil was bouncing on the balls of his feet with a gloriously alpha-esque grin on his face. If the whole relationship had not been faked, Steve might have tried to kiss Phil. Of course he didn't, but that was a hard won private battle.

When, finally, their upcoming nuptials were announced, the press went very predictably crazy.

"Forget it, I retract everything I said, this is a terrible idea and I'd rather face a squad of HYDRA goons alone with nothing but a broken spoon." Steve spoke while staring at the screen where a recap of news coverage for the previous 24 hours was playing.

"I see the romance is already dead," Phil answered blandly. Clint, sitting at the back of the office with his arms crossed over his chest and balancing the chair he was sitting in on one leg, snorted loudly.

"It will die down, Steve." Pepper sighed the sigh of a woman used to dealing with recalcitrant men, and Steve cringed to think he had just dumped himself into the same bucket as Tony Stark.

"Sorry."

Pepper smiled. "It's understandable."

"When is the bonding ceremony set for?" Phil asked, turning to Pepper.

"Three weeks from now? The 4th of next month." Pepper checked her phone. "Should be on your calendar."

"Will it be a three-way ceremony or just me and Steve?"

"Research suggests that a triad ceremony would look best, so that it doesn't appear as if you are throwing your childless omega over for Captain Rogers, super-soldier."

The chair slammed down on the floor and Clint stood up, graceful and dangerous as ever. Steve was not usually attracted to other omegas but it was easy to see what Phil saw in the coiled energy of Clint Barton. His sharp, focused eyes seemed to be 100 colors all at once and directed very clearly at Steve and Steve alone.

Phil turned slowly to look over at where Clint was standing. "Issues?"

"You know how I feel about this." Clint's focus never wavered from Steve's face.

Phil sighed. "Clint, we've—"

"Yeah, we have." Clint broke his gaze and walked out, his gait tight with tension and his strides long. He reminded Steve of a big cat, a tiger or a panther, stalking out into the jungle.

Steve turned to face Phil. "I'm not a threat to your relationship. I thought Clint knew that."

Phil's eyes narrowed and Steve was surprised by the level of displeasure directed his way. "I think you are severely misreading this situation."

Steve shook his head, trying to clear it of his feelings and misgivings and childish desires. Instead of spending time on Phil's cryptic statement, Steve looked over at Pepper. "Just let me know when and where, I'll be there." He followed in Clint's footsteps, metaphorically if not literally, and walked out of the office.

Of course Steve was never allowed the easy way out of anything. He was scheduled for a "date night" with Phil that evening, so he dressed in a nice suit because JARVIS told him that they were due to put in an appearance at a charity ball followed by reservations as a very upscale restaurant. Steve liked fancy restaurants, they always made him feel pretty swell, but he was not in the mood to torture himself with an evening pretending to be making eyes with someone else's alpha.

He was not quite ready to not go at all, though, and frowned out the window as Phil drove in the opposite direction of the restaurant.

"Were you as bored as that event as I was?" Phil asked lightly, loosening his tie.

"Where are we going?"

"Not to Chez Pierre's, that's for damn sure." Phil smiled, watching traffic.

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." The word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He was pretty sure Phil could hear straight through to what Steve was really saying.

His suspicion was proven right when Phil's smile shifted into a small, self-satisfied grin. "Then enjoy the ride."

Steve huffed and crossed his arms but didn't argue, turning to watch the cityscape as it rolled by.

They ended up at a small Greek restaurant in New Jersey that Phil obviously knew well. As they walked in the young woman at the door smiled at Phil. "Clint's not with you tonight, Alpha Coulson?"

"No, Marie, he had other obligations. This is Steve." Phil placed his hand on the small of Steve's back, possessive and polite, all but sky-writing the fact that Steve was (supposedly, for the moment) his omega.

The girl's eyes went wide for a moment but she recovered and quickly seated them. Steve kept his peace as Phil ordered appetizers and a beer for himself.

"You're not comfortable with the fact that they believe you are my omega," Phil said, breaking the silence with what was mostly a challenge.

"Not really, no. I know I need to get used to it."

"You did fine at the charity event earlier."

Steve shrugged. "I can act. I know that my old propaganda stuff is a joke these days but I did a decent job."

Phil nodded. "I know that. Most people who know anything about Captain America know that."

Steve hmmm'd in answer, drinking his water.

"Which is the act, though?"

Steve's throat went dry. "I don't know what you mean."

"Is the act that you are pretending to be my omega, or that you don't want to be?"

Steve leaned forward on the table, resting on his elbows. "Damn it, Coulson—"

"Can you at least call me Phil?"

"Phil." Steve rested his face in his hands. "Leave it."

Phil was quiet for a long time. Steve lowered his hands and looked at him. "What?"

"Is it me? Or do you just not want an alpha who isn't Bucky Barnes?"

"I keep telling you people, Bucky was never my alpha."

"Did you want him to be?"

"No! …yes? No, not really, but now I kind of wish I hadn't been so stubborn. Doesn't matter, he's dead." Steve sat of straight and sighed. Phil had obviously clued into Steve's attraction and desire, but that really did not mean anything. There were lines not to be crossed. "Honestly I don't want…I don't need an alpha."

Phil nodded slowly, paying more attention to his napkin than to Steve. The quiet descended between them for a while as food was served, until Phil cleared his throat. "You're moving in with us?"

Steve stumbled over the question for a moment. "Oh. You mean after the ceremony?"

"Yes." Phil continued to act cagey.

"I have to, don't I?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"I should."

Phil sighed heavily then grabbed one of Steve's hands, holding it tightly in his own. Steve tried not to shudder, tried not to imagine how Phil looked when he pinned Clint to their bed. "Steve, you only need to do enough to get the WSC off of our backs. Anything else above and beyond that should be only what you feel comfortable with. I went through a lot to bond with Clint, I'm patient. If that's what you want."

Steve pulled his hand free, the cold seeping into his skin where Phil had been touching him. There seemed to be some kind of offer in Phil's words, but Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he was a third wheel at the table even when Clint wasn't there. "I'm fine."

6.
After the bonding ceremony, Steve "officially" moved into Phil and Clint's suite at the Tower but in reality he still spent most of his nights in his own suite. While Phil and Clint tried hard to let Steve know that the second bedroom was his, and not a glorified guest room, it still felt temporary and false and intrusive. Clint pushed a lot for Steve to spend the night in "his room" at Phil and Clint's, and it was a weird sort of territorialism for an omega to display. Steve knew that Phil would never put Clint up to that kind of thing -- Phil would just ask for himself, if he really wanted to have Steve around, which he clearly didn't. Steve didn't blame him. There was no place for him there so he kept to his own suite as much as he could.

He was surprised when one evening, Phil came knocking. He looked around Steve's living room, his practiced eye taking in how little of anything was really there, but he stood still with his hands clasped in front of him. Steve motioned for him to sit, and they both sat down on the comfortable chairs that Steve had found in place when he moved in.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me, Steve."

Steve sat up straight. "What's going on?"

Phil grimaced. "It's, well. You don't spend much time at home." He cleared his throat. "With us."

Steve nodded, figuring he had been lucky to escape this particular conversation for as long as he had. "I didn't want to be in the way." He held up his left hand, his bond ring glinting in the light. "This is for show, we know that."

Phil nodded, his jaw tight but his eyes unrevealing. "Clint's going into heat."

"Oh. Oh! Okay, thanks for letting me know. I'll make myself scarce." Suddenly, Clint's recent attitude began to make sense. Some omegas got to be very mother-hennish during their cycle.

"That would be the opposite of helpful."

Steve opened his mouth to apologize, but then stopped. "What?"

Phil looked down at where his hands were still clasped in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. "He's feeling very guilty about the fact that you stay here. Now he's going into heat and I think he's worried that it will chase you out permanently."

"That isn't my home, Phil," Steve said, moving forward to mirror Phil's pose.

"And that's the problem, isn't it? We haven't…I haven't made a home for you. It's my responsibility to make a safe place for you, a place where you want to lay your head. I've followed your lead, thinking you would adjust slowly, but that's not the case is it? You would stay here full time if Clint didn't harass you into coming to dinner or staying over some nights." Phil sighed heavily while Steve's brain scrambled to follow. "I'm sorry, Steve. I've let you down, and that's put Clint on unsteady footing. He's insecure at the best of times, and our courtship was…stressful." Phil smiled wryly.

"Then I'm not sure how keeping my distance would be a bad thing for Clint, honestly. He loves you, and he needs you. I'm just…what did Tony call it? A trophy omega?" Steve laughed, but Phil's expression turned even darker.

"No. Please don't ever think of yourself that way."

Steve sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Phil, you're not really my alpha. We all know that, especially Clint. And even if…even if I wanted something, uh, different? It's just not something I was ever meant for."

"You're miserable and lonely, Steve," Phil said, his voice soothing and calm and laced with alpha concern. "I can't pretend not to see that. I can't pretend not to care."

It was pure pity, and it pissed Steve off. "Again, I'm not seeing how this is your problem. You have your omega, and he has you, and he's going into heat. Why are you even here?" Steve waved a hand at his mostly beige and brown living room.

Phil stared at him for a very long time, but Steve's patience was fueled by anger.

"I've really fucked this up." Phil stood and straightened his jacket.

Steve had no idea what to say to that, so he didn't reply. Phil nodded once, firmly, as if agreeing with himself, and then left.

Natasha explained the next day while they were sparring that Clint's heats were monsters, and lasted for a full week. He got the impression that there was a lot more to the story than that, but it wasn't his business so he took the advice to heart and steered clear of their suite. He even went so far as to volunteer for a two-week mission to China along with Natasha and Sitwell. In the end it was a hard, dirty op but it wasn't enough to keep Steve's imagination from dreaming of how Phil and Clint would look locked together by Phil's knot, sweating out Clint's heat in a passionate storm of sex and love and need.

On the flight back over the Pacific, Steve stared for a long time at the bond ring on his finger, loneliness creeping through his thoughts. The irony of that was not lost on him, at all.

+1.
Steve's first heat since coming out of the ice hit him like a sledgehammer. The doctors had told Steve that his heat was imminent, and that it would probably be worse than his usual post-serum heats because even if Steve did not remember being iced for nearly three-quarters of a century, his body knew something had gone terribly wrong. The doctors likened it to waking up out of hibernation: normal systems had been put on hold and they were turning back on with a vengeance. He was lucky that he had been given an eight month grace period, but it was still three months earlier than he had been planning on.

He knew it was going to be bad when he woke up with a migraine, something he used to get regularly pre-heat before the serum. He had JARVIS let the team know he was down for the count. It was one of the nights he had ended up in "his" bedroom at Phil and Clint's, since he had stayed to eat dinner with them at Phil's request, which was happening more often since Clint had pulled out of his own heat a few weeks earlier. He debated for a moment trying to make an end-run for his own suite, but experience told him that would make things infinitely worse. He knew that the symptoms would still be less painful and of a shorter duration than he had lived through pre-serum, but he also remembered just how bad they were and even a half-grade migraine was going to be agony.

For the first time in a long while, he thought of Bucky's cool hands soothing his hot skin, washing him down with a threadbare rag during the depths of the Depression. Summer heats were the worst, when the city was stale and damp with humidity and Steve felt like dissolving into his own sweat and pain. Bucky had always retreated for the worst of it, both of them knowing that Steve would be desperate enough to beg for his knot. It left Steve alone and delirious with need, but he knew that Bucky was standing guard outside of their apartment door, keeping other alphas out and letting Steve know that someone was taking care of him. He had never said yes to Bucky because he thought it would not have been fair to him, but in the end Bucky died still waiting, and what would it have cost Steve to have at least that much love from an alpha he truly cared about?

He rolled into his pillow to block out the light piercing his eyes and to wipe away the tears. It was going to be a long, wretched cycle. He hoped once the migraine retreated he could get to his own suite before his heat swung into full bloom.

"Steve?" The door to his room opened quietly, and Phil stepped inside. "JARVIS says you've got a migraine. Is this part of your pre-heat cycle?" His voice was pitched low, barely above a whisper, but it still hurt a little to listen.

"Yeah."

"Would an ice pack help?"

"Yeah." Steve shoved his face further into the pillow. He had no idea what he was going to do with an ice pack, he was in too much pain to move, but it sounded nice.

A few moments later the bed dipped and a merciful angel placed an ice pack along the base of his skull. Steve groaned.

"What else?" Clint's whisper drifted over him while Phil held the ice pack in place.

"Pressure point," Phil answered.

"Got it." The bed dipped again and Clint's heavy, roughened hand took hold of Steve's. Clint was sitting with his back against the headboard, and he tugged Steve's hand into his lap where he pinched the skin between Steve's thumb and forefinger.

"Guys—"

"Shhh." Phil's other hand landed softly on the back of his head, holding him in place. It felt wonderful and perfect. Steve shuddered.

He lost track of time after that, dozing off and waking up in turns, fitful but never alone. The ice pack came and went, and sometimes he woke up to Clint gently rubbing his temples. He finally collapsed in exhaustion when the pain receded for good, and woke up late in the night to find Phil and Clint wrapped around him in the bed, under the covers. They were both in sweat pants and tee shirts, which Steve figured was a polite concession, but it still felt weird.

And nice. Phil was plastered against his back, arm wrapped protectively around Steve's middle, holding him close. Clint was half sprawled out in an awkward twist, his legs tangled with Steve's but partially on his back. Steve felt the stirring of his heat, though, in the fever of his blood and his growing erection. He squirmed, trying to slip down the covers and out.

"Stooooop it." Clint flopped a hand around, slapping him in the jaw. "Stop."

"I need to go."

A huff of air against his ear made him shudder again. "Do you?" Phil asked, pulling Steve back against him.

"My heat—"

"Yeah yeah. Can't be worse than mine, dude, you have no idea." Clint pulled up and curled into Steve, his face snuggled against Steve's chest.

"We can't do this." Steve tried to breathe.

"Why not? We're all adults." Phil ran his hand over Steve's stomach.

"It's not fair…to you. To us." Steve ground his teeth to ward off the heat running through his nerves from Phil's careful touch.

"We're legally bonded. It's consensual."

"Hey, unless it's not. You feeling pressured? Because we're not assholes, you know, we'll back off." Clint sat up. Phil pulled his arm away.

"No, it's…yes, it's consensual. I just mean it's a bad idea, for all of us. For you." Steve marveled at his complete inability to express himself, but his brain was just barely back online.

Clint grimaced. "Oh. Okay. Sure. I get it. I'll just…go. I'll get out of here. You two have fun." He started rolling away but Steve grabbed his arm. Clint looked over at him.

"That's not what I meant."

Clint remained frozen in place, his expression guarded as he stared at Steve.

"Clint, I mean, you and Phil are together and I don't want to damage that. I never want to be that omega, pulling a perfect pair apart just because I'm going into heat. Where would we be when that fades?"

Clint still didn't move, but Phil closed the distance between them again. "I'm not sure how perfect we are, but I appreciate the sentiment. However in the name of full disclosure this is something Clint and I have been talking about —fantasizing about — for a while now."

"Phil's had a hard-on for you since he was twelve. You're going to have a tough time talking him out of rolling around in the sack with you." Clint smiled, but it was raw and Steve did not trust it.

"You haven't, though." Steve squeezed Clint's wrist.

"No. But I'm not fucking blind, either. I have good eyesight, maybe someone mentioned that?" His eyes raked over Steve. "You're gorgeous. And…hell, you're a good man. Too good for me, just like Phil. So I get two men who are completely out of my league? Hell yeah."

"Clint." Phil sighed heavily behind Steve.

"Shut up, you know I'm right. I'm fucking lucky. I'm okay with that."

Steve opened his mouth to tell Clint he was wrong, that Clint deserved Phil, and to explain again how much he did not want to drive them apart, but his heart stuttered and what came out instead was "I'm tired of being alone."

Phil shifted in order to push Steve onto his back. Steve let go of Clint and allowed himself to be manhandled. His pulse was racing, his heat rushing up on him. He would be lucid and sensible for at least a few more hours, but after that, things would change. Steve was beginning to wonder just how much.

"Steve, listen to me." Phil placed his hand against Steve's face, forcing him to look up at him. "This was supposed to be a bond in name only, a legal way to get everyone off your back about being unbonded. I never expected anything to happen between us—"

"Most because of me," Clint said over Steve's shoulder.

"Mostly because of my love for Clint." Phil smiled slightly, then shook his head. "But it was clear before we had the bonding ceremony that something was going on. Even Clint could tell that you were…pining."

"Hey! I notice things." Clint grumbled.

Steve closed his eyes to ward off Phil's too accurate analysis. "Not my place. Not something I should even ask for."

"Why not?" Phil's voice was gentle but not demanding, holding back his alpha nature in order to let Steve talk.

"I'm different. Never really an omega, not an alpha, not…not anything, never was, even when Bucky kept after me. Not something worth burdening you and Clint with. You don't need a second omega, and not one like me. Broken, odd, hell I don't know." He opened his eyes. "I should go."

Steve's brain slid sideways off the dock when Phil leaned down and kissed him. He tasted warm and musky, his tongue softly pushing against Steve's. He loomed over Steve, holding his head still and draping one leg over Steve's to press him down and Steve could not hold back the whine that shook loose from his throat. Phil pulled back just enough for them to look at each other. Steve felt lost in his alpha's gaze, caught and trapped and trembling with pleasure.

"Tastes good to me."

Steve couldn't help but snort in disbelief.

"You don't believe me."

Steve cast his eyes to the side. "Not saying you'd lie."

"But also not saying that you think I'm telling the truth." Phil pulled back.

Steve felt his stomach drop at the loss of contact. His heat was starting to boil over and it would not be too much longer before there was no turning back. He rubbed his face with his free hand.

Clint did not move back at all, though, cramping Steve's personal space as he pushed up against his side. "Phil doesn't lie. Not to us."

"This isn't…this isn't about being a team."

"Didn't say it was, man." Clint's calloused finger ran down Steve's cheek. "He's got no reason to play you, and I wouldn't let him if he tried. We're all on the same page here. I'd rather be in on the action, honestly, but if you need some privacy to bond that…that's okay too. I can do that." Clint took a deep breath and gave Steve one of the most sincere, sweetest smiles that Steve had ever seen. He reached out and grabbed Clint's tee shirt, yanking him down on top of him in a bruising kiss.

"Oh my god, that's, please, dear god yes." Phil stuttered out a gasping breath. "Oh my god. I'm the luckiest alpha alive."

Clint stopped the kiss, snorting in laughter. He looked over at Phil fondly and shook his head. "Perv."

"I married you, didn't I?" Phil smiled softly at Clint, and Steve, mashed down under both of them, felt the familiar sensation of being out of place flood him. He closed his eyes. Phil leaned down and his nose touched the edge of Steve's ear. "I married you too."

"Phil—" Steve gulped for air.

"You're so close, you're drenched with it. I'm going to knot you, Steve. I'm going to take you and knot you and make you mine."

Steve shuddered, heat blossoming out from deep in his chest and rolling over him in release. He closed his eyes and nodded, trying to shift and realizing he still had one hand clinched in Clint's tee-shirt.

"Clint, go get supplies. We're not moving from here for a while."

Clint slipped out of his grasp and Steve closed his eyes. He stretched out, trying to relax even as his heart rate sped up and he started to feel slick between his legs. He hated being so vulnerable, but for a change it was tolerable with Phil's hand on his chest. He was not actually holding Steve down—he couldn't, not if Steve wanted to get up, and they both knew that—but the weight of it grounded Steve's spiraling senses.

The physical pull of his heat made his skin taught and his muscles ache to the point of shaking. He was slipping down into it completely, falling fast. With an alpha touching him it brought all the need pouring out through his veins. He barely registered Clint's return until he felt him kissing at his ear, telling him to relax.

Steve opened his eyes again to see Phil up on his knees, pulling off his shirt and stripping out of the sweatpants. Telegraphing every move, as if Steve were an easily spooked horse, Phil moved to sit between Steve's legs. Pliant and willing, Steve planted his feet on the mattress and rolled his hips up. Phil groaned, wrapping his hands up under Steve's hips so that his thighs were resting on Phil's forearms.

"Damn that's hot," Clint whispered before licking the shell of Steve's ear.

"Your heats are fast and hard. I read your medical file. Brace yourself, sweetheart, I'm not going to ease up." Phil scooted forward. "Clint," he added, with a nod towards Clint who moved closer and rolled a condom over his cock.

Steve raised his arms over his head and grabbed the edge of the mattress. "Please. Please! Oh damn it!" He yelled the last as Clint grabbed his dick, squeezing it hard. It kept Steve from coming but there was no holding it back for long. He felt the blunt head of Phil's dick against him, sliding along over his hole, teasing his nerves. Phil was thrusting his hips back and forth enough to create friction, and Steve whined in protest. He shoved his hips up in an effort to catch Phil's movements, but Phil huffed out a short laugh. Settling Steve with one hand on his stomach, Steve watched through heat-blurred vision as Phil lined himself up.

"Oh." It was all Phil said as he leaned over and pushed inside.

The stretch around Phil's dick burned, even as slicked up as Steve was. Phil shifted to rest on his fists, bracketing Steve under him. It was odd that a man who was so much smaller than he was could loom over him, but Phil was a classic alpha in mind and body. Steve was shaking with need as he watched Phil start to claim him. Steve's chest was flushed and he could smell himself, the odd mix of musk and sweet that Bucky had claimed to like but most alphas avoided. Steve wanted to squirm away for a moment, even as Phil was fully seated inside of him, his knot only half-formed but full enough to keep his thrusts shallow.

"Steve?"

"I'm good." Steve gasped when Phil shoved up hard, hitting Steve's prostate.

"Yes you are," Phil grinned, and did it again, making Steve arch up off the bed.

Clint wrapped his arm over Steve's chest to restrain him. The unusual strength of the other omega made Steve's heart flutter as Clint held him down.

"Look at my omegas, wrapped up together. God, I could get used to this."

"He's practically bleeding out for bonding, Phil," Clint whispered, licking Steve's shoulder. Steve flinched, and was not surprised when the other men stopped. "What? Steve?"

"I know it's weird, my taste. Please don't stop, please don't, not for that." Steve had never come so close to begging in his life but if Phil didn't knot him, if Clint left in disgust, Steve was pretty sure he was going to have a full-out omega breakdown.

"Phil," Clint said before licking at Steve's skin again.

Phil kept fucking, rolling his hips to force himself deeper, but took one hand and held Steve's chin. "Mine. I won't stop because other people told you that your smell is off. I think it's delicious. I think you are perfect. I want you, Steve, don't shy away from me."

"I won't. I won't," Steve felt like he was babbling, then turned incoherent when Clint started stroking his cock in time with Phil's thrusts. Steve's whole body stuttered and shut down as he came, nerves firing like gunshots down his spine, and his vision whited out. He came too with Phil's hand's gripping Steve's thighs hard enough to bruise, his knot expanding to lock them together. Phil's eyes were closed in an orgasmic grimace, and his shoulders shook although he held the rest of himself still. After a moment, he opened them and looked at Steve, his eyes still clouded with pleasure as his orgasm kept going. He slowly dipped forward and licked a long stripe up Steve's chest. Steve heaved for air in anticipation then cried out as Phil bit the junction of his neck and shoulder hard enough to break skin.

Bonding was everything he had been promised, both as painful and transforming as all the stories said. Their chemicals mixed in Steve's blood as Phil licked the bite, and it felt like a cooling, calm transfusion seeping into Steve's bones. His vision turned surreal, vibrant colors suddenly standing out and everything around them in high relief.

"Oh fuck, that's…that's…Phil!" Clint was rutting against his thigh, his own expression wide open and amazed. Phil rolled his head to the side, blood still on his lips. Clint dove in to kiss him as his hips slammed against Steve and he came. Steve had to move, turned on by the thought that Clint was tasting both him and Phil. Omegas couldn't bond but a triad could balance on the edge of a full bond if the alpha was strong enough, and if anyone met that requirement it was Phil. Steve found the idea incredibly arousing.

They rubbed against each other for the twenty or so minutes it took for Phil to run his orgasm to the ground. Finally his knot died down and with a very un-romantic groan Phil sat back on his heels, still looking slightly stunned and very sweaty.

Clint laughed loudly, rolling onto his back and stretching out. He fondled his dick and balls, smirking at the both of them.

"Don't even think it, Barton. I'm barely going to get it up for the next round as it is." Phil gave Clint his best intimidating glare, but Steve thought it just looked cute. He figured that was the bond talking, though.

Phil reached out to Steve's neck. "Healing up already."

Clint looked over. "Aw. My bite took weeks to heal." He grabbed at Steve's hand. "Sorry, buddy."

"It's okay. I never expected to have a bite to remember anyway."

"I'm surprised. You mean to tell me you really didn't have 'plans'?" Phil settled down between Steve's legs, petting his stomach with soothing circles.

"Honestly, no. You've tasted me. You know I'm not something most alphas want."

"What about what you wanted?"

"Didn't seem to matter." Steve shifted to fluff up the pillow under his head. His heat was still coursing through him, along with the bond, but it would be an hour at least before he was ready for another mating. "Didn't seem prudent to get attached."

"I think you did anyway." Phil smiled as if holding a secret.

"Huh?"

"What Phil's trying not to say is that you already kind of incriminated yourself, so, you know, it's not like this is much of a risk for us." Clint was propped up on one elbow, smirking down at him.

Steve frowned. "What?"

"Clint." Phil snapped and Clint shut down, looking away.

"No, wait. What did he mean?"

Clint looked pointedly at Phil, who sighed. "He means when you were injured. You were actually fairly talkative for someone who was gutted and losing most of your blood."

Steve tried to remember, but nothing was very clear about that. What he "remembered" was mostly what people told him, and he was fine with that because all he knew for sure was that it had been excruciatingly painful to be neatly sliced 2/3 open. "Uh…"

"You kept calling me your alpha." Phil smiled again.

"Oh."

"You know, until you nearly died that was my greatest fear, that you really wanted him as your alpha. I'm kind of a jealous omega, you know?" Clint drummed his fingers on Steve's stomach.

It was Steve's turn to smirk. "I picked up on that."

"Yeah, shut up. Okay. I mean, I just realized that, you know, I kind of care for you too. You're easy to care about. And Phil loves you, and he's your alpha, and I'm not actually losing anything here like I thought I would. You've done everything you could to not take Phil from me, when you could have, so easily."

"No he couldn't," Phil said firmly, but Clint ignored him to give Steve a light, loving kiss.

Wrung out and still deep in the throes of his heat, Steve did not have the strength to do anything but pull Clint into a hug. Phil shoved at him until he rolled onto his side, then curled around him, his arm reaching over both Steve and Clint's waists to lock them all together. He kissed the back of Steve's neck. "How long will your heat last?"

Steve grimaced, squeezing Clint for support. "Only maybe 48 hours at most. Usually not even that long."

Surprisingly, Phil sighed in obvious relief. "Oh thank god."

Clint laughed into Steve's shoulder. "Mine really are five day marathons for him. You'll be more like a vacation."

Steve frowned. "You're welcome?"

Both Phil and Clint laughed at that, but from his place between them, Steve smiled. It was their own joke now, a shared moment between the three of them that belonged only to them. Even more than being knotted earlier had been for him, that was the moment Steve knew he was where he belonged.

+2.
The Maria Stark Foundation holiday gala was everything a high-class party was supposed to look like, in Steve's opinion. The ground floor and mezzanine of Avengers Tower was decked out in an eye-popping array of decorations and lights. Banners dripped from the balcony announcing holiday cheer for multiple religious observances ("Happy Chanukah!" "Merry Yule!" "Joyous Generic Atheist Goodwill!" — the last being Tony's personal contribution). Women were as dazzling and bedecked as the room itself, wearing bright floor-length gowns and their limbs glittering with jewels (real, not paste, Steve was certain of that), while men strutted like penguins in their tuxedos. Steve kind of expected Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to start a routine on the dance floor at any second.

"Heyyyyy handsome. Come here often?"

Steve looked down at Clint's barely-combed hair and his outrageously sleek purple tuxedo. He had a santa hat tilted at a jaunty angle on his head and had scored a length of sparkling gold garland that was draped over his shoulders like a gaudy boa. He was adorable. And possibly a little drunk.

"I live upstairs, in fact." Steve grinned.

"Oh, was that an invitation?" Clint scooted closer with his hips in the lead, batting his eye lashes.

"My god, we've been here 25 minutes and you're already drunk?" Phil appeared, holding an eye-popping pink martini and looking like a movie star in his perfect black tux. He had on a bright red bow tie in honor of the event, which was a major concession according to Clint. Steve thought it dapper, and a lot more stylish than Steve's staid mess dress.

Clint twirled the end of his make-shift garland boa. "Nat ordered my first two drinks."

Phil rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Go. Far away. Go."

Clint laughed loudly, then grabbed Phil and kissed him before sauntering away like he owned the place.

"He reminds me of Bucky," Steve said, barely containing his own laughter.

"Oh?"

Phil was looking at him critically, worry sparking in his eyes. Steve nodded. "It's good. He's loud and obnoxious and funny and charming, and I want to hit him sometimes." He grinned. "Just like home."

Phil ran his free hand up Steve's arm to rest on his shoulder, the touch heavy and possessive. "You are home, Steve."

Steve looked down at him for a long moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. Instead, he reached out with greedy hands and dragged Phil closer, leaning over to kiss him just as demandingly as Clint had a second ago. Phil's hand moved up to firmly clasp the back of Steve's neck and Steve shuddered.

"What the hell, Cap? Starting without me?" Clint yelled from somewhere across the room. People laughed and Tony catcalled and the official photographer managed to appear out of nowhere to capture the moment with a bright flash.

Phil banged his forehead on Steve's chest. "God damn it."

Steve laughed and saluted Clint, who winked back at him, before tugging Phil even closer in a tight hug. Phil sighed and relaxed against him, and Steve thought that maybe Phil was right: he was home.

###