Bewitched, Body and Soul

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25470067.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Relationship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Character: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson
(Marvel), Maria Stark
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Alpha/Beta/Omega
Dynamics, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Mutual Pining,
Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and
Angst, But mostly fluff, Dancing Lessons, Stargazing
Series: Part 2 of Arranged, Part 1 of Wilderhope
Stats: Published: 2020-07-23 Words: 16040

Bewitched, Body and Soul

by iam93percentstardust

Summary

Almost ten years after joining the British Army, Steve Rogers returns to his childhood
home after his mother's death. The house seems quiet in a way that it's rarely been. But the
peace is shattered when his oldest friend stumbles into his home and into his life, seeking
an escape from an arranged marriage to a cruel lord. Steve provides that escape but finds
himself engaged to be married instead. This wouldn't be a problem - except that Steve is,
always has been, and always will be deeply in love with Tony Stark.

Notes

Thank you to crownofstardustandbone for the fantastic moodboard she made for this fic!
You can find it on my tumblr, linked in my profile.

See the end of the work for more notes

Inspired by and now for a ficlet by iam93percentstardust

The first scents Steve remembers ever smelling are blackberries and vanilla.

He knows that he must have smelled other things before that—the subtle milk and honey scent of
his mother, the lingering traces of wood-ash and leather in their home from his father, his own
peppermint and pine, and everything in between from the world around him—but the first one he
remembers is the scent of little Anthony Stark, shyly peeking out from behind his mother’s skirt.

Steve is five years old and his home, along with all its happy memories, has recently burned to the
ground. He and his mother stay with his aunt for two weeks while his mother sends out requests
for employment. Steve doesn’t much like his aunt. He had never met her before this, before the
fire. Aunt Georgiana had been his father’s sister and when his father had left them during his
mother’s pregnancy, his aunt had abandoned them before coming back after the fire. Aunt
Georgiana is cold, never cruel, but very severe. She insists that Sundays are the Lord’s day and
spends the entire day in the parlor, reading from her Bible and forcing everyone else to sit and
listen with her. Steve doesn’t mind reading from the Bible. He had quite enjoyed the little church
in the village he used to attend with his mother but Aunt Georgiana only ever uses the passages of
death and damnation and never the ones about the Lord’s goodness and mercy like Father Luke
used to.

After two weeks, his mother hears back from Baron Stark, whose family had held the lands Steve
used to live on for nearly three hundred years. Steve doesn’t know exactly what the letter had said
but when he can’t sleep, he listens to his mother talk to Aunt Georgiana as they pack their things.

“Their nurse left their employment not a month ago,” his mother says. “They’re looking for
someone to look after the boy.”

“Hmph,” Aunt Georgiana sniffs. “I suppose you think you’re the one who’ll be able to look after
him as though you haven’t already got a child of your own?”

“Steve doesn’t need much looking after,” his mother argues.

Aunt Georgiana scoffs. “That boy needs more looking after than anyone I’ve ever met. Always
getting himself into trouble and running about—and it isn’t like he’s got the health to manage it!”

“Lady Stark has already promised us the finest doctors in the country,” his mother says soothingly
but Steve can hear the testiness beneath it.

He’s caught by a coughing fit then and has to sneak away before it bubbles out of his throat and
alerts his mother to his presence.

Aunt Georgiana lends them the use of her carriage to escort them to Dauntsey Park. Steve sleeps
for much of the journey, his coughing fit from the night before having taken a lot out of him, and
is woken by his mother when they arrive. Neither Lord nor Lady Stark are at the entrance to greet
them but Mr. Jarvis, the butler, shows them to the nursery where Lady Stark is waiting for them.

The nursery is a bright and airy room, filled with soft fabrics and brightly painted wooden tools.
One of the windows is open, a light breeze bringing in the smell of the nearby wood.

“Mrs. Rogers,” Lady Stark says warmly, standing and embracing his mother, who doesn’t even
have time to drop into a curtsey. “I was so saddened to hear about the fire. Are the two of you
doing alright?”

“Steve inhaled more smoke than he should have,” his mother says, ruffling his hair fondly. Steve
scowls and ducks away from her, brushing his hair back to where it should be.

He looks around the room again, interestedly looking at the toys that he hopes the younger Stark
will share with him, when his attention is suddenly caught by the alluring scent of blackberries and
vanilla. He sniffs the air, trying to figure out where the scent is coming from, and follows it to a
pair of big brown eyes, peeking out from behind Lady Stark’s skirts.

“Hello,” he says.

Lady Stark twitches her skirt, revealing a little boy, a couple years younger than Steve, with messy
brown curls and a gap in his front teeth. “Here’s Anthony though everyone but Howard just calls
him Tony,” she says cheerfully, picking him up and settling him on her hip.

“Aren’t you the most darling thing?” Steve’s mother coos, reaching out a hand to the boy. Tony
shyly grabs onto her finger and smiles at her toothily.

Steve huffs. He doesn’t see what’s so special about Tony.

They grow up together.

It takes them some time to come together, to learn to work as friends and not as enemies but once
they do, they become the closest of friends and companions, often butting heads but always coming
back together and always, always, united together against the combined forces of their mothers.
Tony adores Steve for his bravery and stubbornness and Steve, in turn, admires Tony for his sharp
wit and intellect. They love each other with a sort of childlike adoration that might have turned to
something more if it wasn’t for Steve presenting as an alpha during his thirteenth year.

It’s a surprise to everyone, most of all Steve, who had always thought that his poor health wouldn’t
allow for such a designation. Alphas are meant to be big and strong, the protectors of their families,
not…him.

And it might not have been a problem if it hadn’t been for the baron insisting that Steve move out
of Tony’s room. “It was barely acceptable when they were children,” he rages. “It’s absolutely out
of the question now.”

Steve doesn’t understand the decision then though he’ll come to know later that even then, when
Tony had still been three years from his own presentation, the baron and baroness had known Tony
would present as an omega. At the time though, all he knew was that he’d been asked to leave the
rooms he had grown up in and, more importantly, asked to leave his closest friend. He and his
mother move into a small house in the gardens of the manor and eventually, life goes on.

Tony still visits him, at least once a day. To Steve’s surprise, the fresh air combined with Doctor
Erskine’s medicines does wonders for him and, as he matures, he grows into the strong, tall alpha
he had always dreamed of being. His friendship with Tony strengthens, untouched by the baron’s
rages or the distance between them, and it might have blossomed into something more romantic if
the baron hadn’t forcibly enlisted Steve into the army the day after Tony presented.

Steve doesn’t even know about Lord Stark’s decision until the officers come for him. He could put
up a fight. By that point, he’s taller than even the tallest among them and stronger, he suspects,
than most of them combined. But Tony is standing in the doorway behind him, his mother
somewhere inside and they’ve both always hated it when he fights. Tony frets, his mother worries.
So he doesn’t fight, not when Tony is watching with his arms wrapped forlornly around himself.
He doesn’t want Tony to think poorly of him. He’s never wanted that.

He says his goodbyes, first to his mother and then to Tony, who spends ages fussing with his
saddlebags. Tony pulls him down, presses his forehead against Steve’s, and asks for a promise that
Steve will never forget him.

How can he? Tony is everything to him, likely always will be, and when they stop for the night and
he reaches into his bags for the bread his mother packs for him, he finds a small handkerchief at
the bottom of the bag, embroidered with a small, shaky T.S. He inhales slowly, blinking back tears,
and raises it to his nose. The scent of vanilla and blackberries fills his nostrils, a comfort, a
reminder of the home he’s left.

No, he’ll never forget Tony.

Steve comes home nearly ten years later, almost two months after Sarah passes, to a home that
smells musty and a little bit like sickness. There’s still a faint lingering smell of his mother’s scent
in the air but it’s fading with her passing.

He’s a decorated captain now, highly respected by his superiors and well-loved by those serving
under him. The Prince Regent had knighted him only a few weeks earlier, offering him a small
piece of land near Much Wenlock. He plans to travel there as soon as he’s packed up the house
here. He’ll miss it but it wouldn’t do to turn down such a gift from the prince.

As a respectable gentleman and alpha, Steve has had several offers for his hand by now, mostly
from young omegas looking for a comfortable life but also from their mothers hoping for the status
that comes from their children mating a war hero. He turns them all down though, still
remembering Tony.

He knows now that his feelings for Tony had likely gone much deeper than friendship, a fact that
had eluded him when they’d still been children, not that it would have mattered much even if he
had known. Lord Stark would never have approved of such a match for his only son.

He had exchanged letters with Tony throughout the years, always brief, always airy. Steve hadn’t
had much spare time to write longer letters and Tony had always been terrible at writing, mind too
scattered to sit down and pay attention. Still, he thinks he has a good idea of what’s been going on
at the manor these last few years, which is why it so surprises him when he hears the patter of
running feet, catches a whiff of vanilla and blackberries, and then his door is thrown open and
someone is throwing themselves into his arms.

He nearly draws his sword, instincts honed after years in the army, but his hand stays still long
enough to recognize the scent and the dark curls tucked under his chin.

Tony.

Tony is in his arms and Steve won’t lie to himself. He’s often wondered what it would be like to
have Tony for his own though as he’d gotten older, he’d stopped thinking about it as much,
uncomfortable with the thought when the last time he had seen the omega, Tony had been barely
older than a child.

“You’re here,” Tony sobs. “You’re really here.”

“Tony?” he asks, stepping away so he can get a closer look at him. His first glimpse of the omega
after almost ten years has his breath leaving him in a sharp gasp and about lays him out on the
floor. Tony is lovely, all big brown eyes and soft curls and cupid’s bow lips that makes Steve want
to pull him right back into his arms and place teasing kisses over his mouth until the omega is
trembling for him.

It takes him a moment to realize that Tony is already shaking but not in pleasure, if the fear in his
eyes is anything to go off of. “Tony, what’s wrong?” he asks sharply, seeing now the hot tears
sliding down Tony’s cheeks. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Tony breathes, shaking his head. “Howard…” He stops and has to catch his breath.
“Howard has promised me to Viscount Stone. I had hoped—”

He stops again and Steve isn’t certain what he had planned to say next, not that it matters. His mind
is stuck on Viscount Stone, who has taken several omega brides over the last several years, all of
whom have died mysteriously. Rumors abound in London about his harsh, cruel ways, rumors that
are only rumors because no one wants to jail a viscount. Steve can’t—he won’t—see Tony married
to a man like that.

“What can I do to help?” he asks immediately.

“You would…? Steve, you don’t even know me anymore,” Tony points out.

“I know enough.”

Tony looks close to tears again and Steve reaches out to pull him into a comforting hug, sparing
only a thought for how perfect the little omega feels in his embrace. This isn’t the time to be
thinking such a thing. But perhaps, later…

“I had hoped to hide here,” Tony whispers. “But he found out about it too soon. He’s sent people
after me and they’re on horses. I’m just on foot. I can’t escape them, I won’t be fast enough.”

Sure enough, if Steve strains his ears, he can hear hoofbeats coming up the trail. There isn’t time to
hide Tony and besides, he doubts he would be able to in this tiny cottage. But there is something…

“Tony, do you trust me?” he asks urgently, drawing back so he can see Tony’s face.

“Steve, what-?”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” he bites out. The horses are getting closer, close enough that he can smell
the alphas Lord Stark had sent after his wayward son.

Tony smiles, small and helpless. “Always,” he breathes.

Steve pulls him back in and slants his mouth over Tony’s perfect lips, kissing him passionately as
the door slams open.

Lord Stark wants them bonded and Tony out of his home as soon as possible. Steve shouldn’t be
surprised by this and he’s largely not but he is horrified that the baron cares so little for his child
that it doesn’t even bother him that if Steve had refused Tony’s marriage suit, Tony would have
been ruined; instead, Lord Stark’s biggest concern is that he’s lost out on the chance to tie his
family to a Viscount.

“Why not a Duchy?” Tony sneers at their supper the night before their bonding ceremony.

Lord Stark scowls back. “You know damn well why. Couldn’t get anyone to agree to bond with
you, not for the biggest dowry in the world.”

Under the table, Steve’s hand slips into Tony’s, squeezing as Tony looks down and blinks back
tears. Steve has always known that the baron could be a cruel man but this is unnecessary. Lord
Stark has already made his feelings known when he arranged for a cheap ceremony done as
quickly as possible. Not for the first time, he wishes that he’d had the chance to court Tony
properly, to give him little bonding gifts and take him for outings in the park, instead of a rushed
mating after a stolen kiss.
Oh but what a kiss.

In the two weeks since his return home, he finds his thoughts returning to that kiss at the oddest
hours: when he’s supposed to be reading over the latest correspondence from James, who’s
overseeing the preparation of Wilderhope; when Lady Stark tracks him down to ask about a future
reception—not right now, of course, but sometime soon; late at night when he takes himself into
his hand.

Tony had been…lovely. He had been sweet and pliant in Steve’s arms, opening for slow, lingering
kisses that they hadn’t had the time for but he hadn’t been able to stop himself with their first kiss.
Even as Lord Stark’s men had poured into the room, he hadn’t been able to lift his mouth away
from Tony’s until whoever was leading the men chasing Tony had cleared his throat. When he’d
finally pulled away, he’d opened his eyes to see Tony’s still closed, his lips kissed red and full.
Steve had wanted to kiss him again, to lay teasing kisses across his tempting Cupid’s bow, suck the
soft skin of his throat into his mouth, nibble on his perfect ears, take that sweet gland between his
teeth until Tony was all he could smell and their bond latched into place. But Tony’s eyes had
fluttered open and Steve’s hands had fallen from his upper back to his tiny waist, setting him a few
inches away.

“My sweet Tony,” he had whispered. “Be mine.”

The ceremony is short, attended by Lord and Lady Stark, a witness from Steve’s regiment, and a
clerk from the local seat of government. The priest seems nervous, eyes darting between Steve and
Tony and then over to Lord Stark before returning. Steve wonders just what threats Lord Stark had
laid upon the father for him to agree to the ceremony without any of the traditional rituals that
come before it.

Tony is beautiful in a white summer dress and Steve doesn’t think he looks too bad either in his
military uniform. Tony, at least, is kind enough to gape at him when he enters and Lady Stark is
beaming from ear to ear so he figures he’s doing reasonably decent.

His hand is squeezed and he looks down to see Tony looking up at him with worried eyes.
“Everything okay?” he murmurs, low enough that the priest can’t hear them, let alone anyone in
the congregation.

“You looked like you were thinking too hard,” Tony murmurs back. “Having second thoughts?”

“Never,” he vows, which is entirely true even if Tony doesn’t fully believe him, judging by the
way he grimaces.

“I know you had other prospects. But I do appreciate this and—and we can get an annulment in a
year or so.”

Something cold washes over him and he stills.

He knows—of course he does—that this is little more than a marriage of convenience, that this
wouldn’t be happening if Tony hadn’t been promised to Viscount Stone. But Tony has been on his
mind for so long, has been the only omega he’s ever been able to imagine mating for so long, that
he had halfway convinced himself that this is a true bonding. He’d thought that maybe Tony has
always felt the same way about him; he still has Tony’s handkerchief tucked away in his things,
surely that must mean something. But his words—the promise of an annulment—reminds him that
this is just a sham.
“Steve?” Tony asks worriedly.

He comes back to himself just in time to hear the priest ask him if he promises to take Tony as his
omega. “I do,” he says honestly.

“And do you, Anthony Stark, promise to take this man, Sir Steven Rogers, as your lawfully
wedded alpha?”

Tony nods. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you alpha and omega. You may…”

The priest falters here and Steve knows what’s throwing him off. He and Tony would traditionally
exchange mating bites here but they can’t do that. Lord Stark wants them gone so they’re leaving
first thing in the morning for Wilderhope. There’s no time for the mating heat that would
traditionally follow the bite.

“You may kiss?” the priest finishes weakly.

Steve bends down and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth. Tony doesn’t want him;
he won’t make it worse by kissing him the way he wants.

Wilderhope was built nearly two centuries ago. It’s a lovely manor home white shutters on the
windows and ivy climbing up the walls. The house has been empty for the last fifty years since the
last of the gentry who lived here before him died, leaving no one else to claim Wilderhope and its
surrounding property. Steve had visited once before returning to Dauntsey Park to pack up the last
of his belongings from the old cottage. He had been utterly enchanted with the manor home,
thoroughly delighted with the gardens he’d found and the small pond hidden in the forest. It’s
exactly the kind of home he’d always wanted to take his omega back to though he had never
dreamed it would be Tony.

He finds though that he can’t be disappointed. It had been a shock, yes, to learn that Tony planned
for an annulment next year but that gives him a whole year to convince Tony to stay with him, to
hopefully make him fall in love with him. They had been close once. He hopes they can be close
again.

They don’t talk much in the carriage on the drive. It isn’t such a long journey, a few days travel but
they stop in an inn each night. Steve had felt a small thrill that first night when he’d realized that,
as Tony’s husband, they would be expected to share a bed. Somehow, when he’d thought about
marrying Tony, he’d never quite put together their marriage and the fact that they would be
expected to sleep together. He plans to offer a separate room to Tony once they reach Wilderhope
but, in the meantime, he’ll take full advantage of the room he’s offered.

And he does—take advantage that is. Oh he doesn’t press Tony into the bed and cover his soft skin
with sweet kisses. He doesn’t press into him until the omega is mewling his pleasure and begging
for more. In fact, they go to sleep on opposite sides of the bed. But in the middle of the night, Steve
wakes to find that either he or Tony—or perhaps both of them—have shifted across the bed so that
Tony is now sleeping curled around him, pressed up against his side. This would be the moment
where Steve should shift back across the bed but Tony is small and warm against him and he
argues that it isn’t so different from all the times they shared a bed before he presented, or even the
few times they’d fallen asleep together in the gardens of Dauntsey Park. He shifts onto his side,
clutching Tony closer to him, and falls back asleep. In the morning, Tony, who has never been an
early riser, is somehow awake before him and has already left the bed.
It’s like that for the three days of their journey. Steve has been a light sleeper for years as a result
of his time with the army and he wakes often when the room is still dark and cool to find that Tony
is asleep in his arms instead of across the bed where he’d fallen asleep. And always, always, in the
morning, Tony is gone, often already downstairs in the dining room for breakfast.

It hurts that they don’t talk like they used to, that Tony doesn’t seem to trust him the way he once
did. Tony had come to him when he’d run from Dauntsey Park so what had changed between their
first kiss and their wedding that pushes him away now? He hopes it isn’t something that he’s done
but he knows also that Tony has always internalized the things that bother him. It could have been
anything that upset the omega: a stray comment that Lord Stark said, his ruination, any number of
things. It doesn’t necessarily have to have been Steve himself.

Even in his own mind, it sounds like he’s trying to justify it.

He’ll apologize, he promises himself, just as soon as he figures out what he did wrong. Then things
will be better. He hopes.

It’s early afternoon on the third day when they pull up to Wilderhope. Tony has spent the last hour
or so staring out the window at the grounds after spending most of the morning with his nose
buried in a book—Steve catches a glimpse of something that looks mechanical though he doesn’t
fully understand what it’s meant to be.

The carriage pulls up in front of the house, slowly rolling to a stop. Over Tony’s head, Steve can
catch a glimpse of James waiting on the front steps, descending them to open the carriage door
once it stops. Steve steps out first, smiling tightly at his old friend that he would normally greet
with a hug. The morning after his betrothal to Tony, he’d sent word ahead to expect him with an
omega but he has no idea how much time James has had to get used to the idea before they had
arrived.

James looks like nothing but composed though as Steve turns and offers a hand to help Tony out.
Even after three days on the road, Tony is the picture of the noble omega, clean and pretty in light
muslin and he takes Steve’s hand delicately to help him out of the carriage. It’s a far cry from the
boy who used to be right on Steve’s heels as they raced around Dauntsey Park’s gardens. He
wonders how much of that is a show Tony is putting on for the sake of a strange alpha he doesn’t
know or if Tony truly has changed that much in the years since he last saw him.

“Omega Rogers,” James says politely, bowing his head as he studies Tony, who doesn’t seem to
notice James’ scrutiny as he’s distracted by the house. James turns back to Steve and gives him a
crooked grin. “Steve.”

He hears the question in his friend’s voice, the one that’s asking him what he’s doing with an
omega like Tony. And Steve, beginning to realize for the first time that the Tony he grew up with
isn’t the Tony who’s standing in front of him now, has no answer for him.

“What are you doing, Stevie?” James asks that night as he prepares the bed. Tony is downstairs
still, discussing with the cook his dietary needs. Steve had forgotten that shellfish makes him ill,
which isn’t much of a problem since they don’t live near the coast, but there are apparently a few
other foods that make him ill as well that he hadn’t remembered from his childhood.

“What do you mean?” Steve counters gruffly.

“I mean I remember you talking about that omega for years.” James slips a warming pan beneath
the sheets. The summer heat means they won’t need it for very long but Steve thinks it might be a
familiar comfort for Tony. “He was all you could talk about for months after we signed up. But
that doesn’t seem like the boy you used to talk about.”

“He’s not,” Steve says waspishly. Maybe he should check on Tony. He’s been downstairs for a
while. He might be hurt or ill or—he’s probably worrying over nothing. Those old protective alpha
instincts acting up. “Obviously, he grew up. I did too. We’ve both changed, nothing wrong with
that.”

“Not disagreeing with that but Stevie, you fell in love with a little spitfire.”

“I never said I was in love with him.”

“You never had to. It was obvious in the way you talked about him. Point is, the omega I met this
afternoon? He’s not that same spitfire so what are you doing with him?”

Steve glances at the door nervously. Tony hasn’t expressly forbidden him from talking about his
past betrothal but he doesn’t know that Tony’s okay with him talking about either. This is James,
however. They’ve never hidden anything from each other.

“He’s in trouble,” Steve says quietly. “His father, the baron, was going to marry him off to Stone.”

“The viscount?”

Steve nods and James whistles lowly. “We only had a few moments to come up with a plan and I
don’t know, James, I just acted. He was already in my arms and he felt right. But that’s all this is.
He’s in trouble, that’s it.”

“All this is?” James asks doubtfully.

Someone clears their throat and they both look toward the door to see Tony, watching them with
hooded eyes that he can’t quite read. “Tony,” Steve says, standing up from his chair. James slips
the warming pan out so that they can go to bed. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean to—I can have
another room prepared for you tomorrow. We don’t have to share one. I just forgot to mention to
James that we needed a second.”

Tony’s gaze darts to James, nervously almost. Steve knows what that means at least, even if he
doesn’t know what most of Tony’s other looks mean. “James, could you leave us?” he asks.

James shrugs and goes, Tony stepping aside to let him out. “How did you meet?” Tony asks as the
door closes behind him.

“In the army,” Steve says, watching him carefully for any sign of distress. “We were soldiers
together for most of our careers.”

“He chose to become your servant afterward?” There’s no censure in Tony’s voice, only idle
curiosity, but Steve finds that he narrows his eyes anyway.

“There were special circumstances,” he snaps. Tony doesn’t need to know that James had offered
his service as payment for Steve saving his younger sister’s life or that Steve had tried to accept his
debt in full instead of forcing him into a life of servitude. James had insisted though and they had
eventually settled on three years with paid time off and vacations every weekend. He doesn’t want
to make his friend work for him any longer than absolutely necessary.

Tony glances at him but doesn’t try to push the point and Steve doesn’t know if he’s pleased or not
by that, if he’s grateful that Tony hadn’t pushed for an argument or upset that this is further proof
that James is right, that the Tony from his childhood is gone.

“You said I could have my own room?” he asks instead.

Steve closes his eyes against the wave of pain. He’d expected it after Tony’s words during the
wedding but expecting it doesn’t mean that it hurts any less. He wants this to be a real marriage,
wants Tony to want him as badly as he does, wants to go back to that moment after their kiss when
Tony had looked up at him with bright, beautiful eyes and a soft smile.

“Of course,” he says eventually. “Not tonight. I don’t want to wake anyone up to prepare another
room but tomorrow, I promise.”

“Oh.” Tony pauses. Then—“Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

Tony goes positively beet red as he mimes an obscene thrusting motion with his hips. “I know
what to expect,” he hurries to say. “Mama taught me quite a lot.”

Steve chokes on his gasp. “No!” he exclaims once he has his breath back.

There’s a flash of hurt in Tony’s eyes, so quick he thinks he must have imagined it. “No?” he
queries.

“Absolutely not.” Not until you ask, until you want. “That’s not—we’re getting an annulment. It’s
harder to break a bond than a marriage contract.”

Tony stares at the floor for a long moment before murmuring, “Right. I’ll just—” Steve wishes he
knew what was going through his head as Tony turns away, reaching into the trunks for his
clothes. His motions are jerky, cold almost, as he strips mechanically and changes into his
nightclothes. Steve averts his eyes, climbing into the bed instead. He notices when Tony climbs
into the bed but he rolls over onto his side, facing away from the omega, in a desperate attempt to
ignore that they’re together in their marriage bed for the first—and last—time.

It takes him a while to fall asleep as tears drip silently from the tip of his nose. He wishes, not for
the first time, that he’d had more time to think of a different plan, one that wouldn’t tie Tony to
someone he doesn’t want.

Married life turns out to be not so different from single life.

He wakes in the mornings in a bed that’s gone cold with the absence of a spirited omega to keep it
warm. At least there’s still one thing familiar from his childhood: Tony is still not an early riser so
Steve eats breakfast by himself in the kitchen with only Maria, the cook, for company. He often
goes for a ride afterward breakfast, skirting the edges of his property and checking in on the few
tenants he has living on the land. By the time he returns, half the morning has gone by and Tony
has risen and laid claim to the library. That’s another thing that’s still familiar: Tony apparently
still loves to read.

Steve wants to join him, longs to as a matter of fact, but every time he draws close to the closed
library doors, he thinks of Tony telling him they can get the marriage annulled and he turns
around. He has a study; he can spend his days in there instead.

He eats the noontime meal in his study and spends the remainder of his day answering letters and
riding out on the property to answer any specific requests for aid. His tenants are counting on him
to take care of them. The least he can do is make sure the property is kept up and maintained.

He spends the evenings as alone as he does the mornings, never knowing what Tony does or if he
even talks to anyone. For all he knows, Tony has fled Wilderhope altogether for as little as he sees
him. He doubts it, if only because he hears the two maids gossiping about the fact that the master
of the house and his omega not even sharing a room, let alone a bed. Detachedly, he thinks he
should be concerned about the amount of gossip going on about his love life but it’s Tony’s
reputation that’s at stake and if Steve has heard something, then Tony definitely has. If Tony
hasn’t asked the maids to stop, then he assumes he’s decided the gossip is unimportant.

Almost a month after their arrival at Wilderhope, James asks him, “Why are you doing this?”

Steve glares at him. “You know why.”

“I know why you married him in the first place. I’m wondering why you’re making yourself
miserable by staying away from him.”

“He doesn’t want me, James, and I won’t press myself on him.”

“How do you know he doesn’t want you?” James challenges.

Steve lays down the letter he’d been reading. Clearly, this is going to be a longer conversation than
he’d anticipated when James had first poked his head inside the study. “He told me he wants an
annulment. Should I have taken that another way?”

James throws himself into the other chair in the small study and Steve has to fight back a wince at
the way the chair creaks. It’s a delicate chair, one that he’d had put in when he’d been anticipating
an omega who would want to spend time with him. It’s not designed for James’ alpha body.
“Stevie, you’ve said it yourself: he’s changed. But, you know, so have you. Maybe he got scared.”

Steve’s heart starts racing. If he scared Tony, he’ll never forgive himself.

“Not like that,” James nearly yelps. “I just meant, you’ve both changed. Maybe he was worried that
you’re not compatible anymore and you’re not showing him any different. Maybe you need to go to
him.”

He gets up and leaves, patting Steve’s shoulder and saying, “Just think about it, would you?”

So Steve does.

He’s still thinking about it that night when he finds himself unable to sleep and wanders outside.
When he had been younger, he and Tony would sneak out onto the parapets of Dauntsey Park to
stargaze. He hasn’t done it since before he left with the army but he finds that he’s thinking about it
now. Wilderhope doesn’t have parapets like Dauntsey Park does, doesn’t even have the sort of roof
that he can climb out on, but he’s more than capable of laying on the grass to look at the stars and
in the middle of the summer, it’s warm enough that he won’t catch a chill.

He must have forgotten though that Tony’s new room looks out into the gardens because after a
few minutes, he hears light footsteps on the grass behind his head. Steve doesn’t have time to turn,
barely even scents blackberries and vanilla, before Tony is sitting down beside him, pulling his
knees up to his chest.

“Are you okay?” Tony asks.

Steve closes his eyes, assured that there’s nothing wrong with Tony if he’s asking that. “What
makes you think I wouldn’t be?”

Tony pauses. It feels very pointed and Steve peeks one eye open just to see Tony looking at him
judgmentally. “You’re lying on the grass in the middle of the night. I haven’t seen you do this
before so forgive me for thinking that something might be wrong.”

Ah, there’s that spitfire that Steve used to know so well. “Yes and you’re out here barefoot,” Steve
observes. “One might wonder what’s wrong with you.”

“…I hadn’t noticed.”

No, Steve isn’t all that surprised by his statement. Tony has always been one to be a little wild,
riding horses bareback, playing in the gardens barefoot and tracking mud all through the kitchens.
He remembers it used to drive the Starks’ cook, Ana, utterly insane.

He smiles. “So worried about me that you forgot to put on shoes? I’m touched,” he teases.

“Don’t go getting a big head,” Tony says dryly. “Maybe I just don’t want to have to get another
alpha so soon after I got you.”

A sharp flare of jealousy thrums through him at the thought of Tony belonging to someone else. It
isn’t fair, he knows. Tony’s isn’t his and will be leaving just as soon as it is proper for him to do so.
But it’s how he feels and he isn’t particularly surprised by this either. He’s always thought of Tony
as his in some way even if it’s been made clear to him that the omega doesn’t feel the same way
about him.

Still, Tony’s expecting him to tease him back so he manages, “Yes, I suppose that would be
suspicious, wouldn’t it?”

“No, what would be suspicious is if you had money,” Tony shoots back. “This would just be good
fortune.”

“Good fortune? To lose me so soon after our marriage? Tony, I’m hurt. Surely there’s someone out
there who would be sad to see me go.”

“Oh please, you must know what the papers are saying about you.”

He stills. Tony reads the papers about him? How had he not known this before? “What are they
saying?” he asks curiously, half-sitting up on his elbows so he can see Tony’s face, shadowed in
the light of the moon.

“Arrogance doesn’t suit you,” Tony says promptly but then he continues, “For every paper that
calls you brave, there’s another one that calls you quarrelsome.”

Steve laughs. He supposes that’s true. He’s never been one to shy away from a fight, particularly
when getting into one meant he could protect someone who couldn’t protect themselves.

“I’m sure that all those papers would consider me fortunate to lose you so soon after our marriage,”
Tony continues.

“You know, those same papers would call you troublesome as well,” Steve says, thinking about all
the pranks he and Tony had pulled over the years.

“Nonsense,” Tony says haughtily. “I’m the very soul of grace and decorum.”
Steve shoves him over.

Tony topples, spluttering as he rolls into the grass. “You terrible alpha!” he exclaims.

“Yep,” he agrees shamelessly.

“Oh look at my nightshirt, it’s ruined.”

Steve looks at it but it doesn’t look ruined to him. Even so, he deadpans, “Oh no. Whatever shall
you do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tony retorts. “Look at you. You’ve been out here nearly an hour and you
still look practically pristine.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “You never used to care about that.” And then he winces
because what on earth had he been thinking? He knows better than to bring up their past like this.

“Maybe I’ve changed,” Tony says quietly.

Steve fixes his gaze on the stars far above them, not wanting to know what the expression on
Tony’s face is right now. “Have you?” he asks, desperately hoping that he hasn’t, that this past
month has been a misunderstanding.

Tony hesitates. “No,” he says eventually and before Steve’s heart has a chance to leap for joy,
Tony shoves a fistful of dirt and grass into his face.

“You terrible omega!” he retorts as he coughs out grass and probably a bug or two.

“Absolutely.”

He reaches for Tony, pulling him down and tickling him. Tony laughs, loud and joyful, even as he
tries to squirm away but Steve just digs his fingers in deeper, shamelessly using his strength as an
advantage to keep the omega pinned against him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Tony pants. Steve immediately lets go and Tony slumps onto his chest.
“Oh, you’re horrible!”

Steve barely notices the words, too distracted by Tony’s weight on his chest. Hesitantly, he raises a
hand, stroking down Tony’s back. If asked, he’ll say it’s because of the dirt on Tony’s shirt but
truthfully, he just wants to feel the warmth of his body. The omega doesn’t seem to notice the
liberty he’s taking though or maybe it’s that he doesn’t care because he just settles down, making
himself comfortable as he sprawls atop the alpha.

“Tony,” he whispers.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember when we were children and we used to look at the stars and you would tell me
stories about them?”

“Yes.”

“Tony?”

“…Hmm?”
“Tell me about the stars?”

He almost regrets his request as Tony rolls off of him but then he’s tucking himself up against
Steve’s side just like he used to when they were children and Steve needed him to point out which
star was which.

“That one’s Orion,” Tony begins.

“My favorite,” Steve interrupts.

Tony laughs warmly. “I remember.”

And something loosens in Steve’s chest.

Much to his surprise, Tony is already downstairs when he goes down for breakfast the next
morning, head propped idly on his hand as he reads over a letter. It’s such a shocking change from
the last month that Steve, stopped dead in the doorway, almost thinks that he’s still asleep and
dreaming but then Tony looks up, smiles, and says, “About time you got up,” and he knows he
could have never dreamed something like this.

He steps into the kitchen, the light scent of blackberries and vanilla teasing his nose. It’s refreshing
and yet tantalizing enough that he finds himself taking a deep breath to inhale more of it. He thinks
he could fill his lungs with Tony’s scent and never have enough of it.

“What about you?” he asks instead of doing what he wants and inching closer to Tony to take in
more of his scent. “A rather early hour, don’t you think?”

“I was expecting a letter from Mama,” Tony says airily. He waves the letter in his hand around.
“And I thought it might be nice to start sharing our breakfasts so I can see you before you do
whatever it is you do. What do you do?”

“I look in on my tenants,” Steve says distractedly, missing the way Tony’s gaze goes sharp and
curious at his words. “What did Lady Stark have to say?”

“She wants to know if we’ve settled in and when she can start planning a reception.”

“Reception?”

“Mmhmm. For our marriage.” Tony turns back to his letter, taking a sip from his tea. Steve
wonders what he’s drinking. He knows there are a few different blends in the kitchen but he can’t
smell it over Tony’s scent going hazy with contentment.

“What are you going to tell her?” he asks, thinking back over the problem at hand. A reception
here. At Wilderhope. Where they’ll be expected to put on the image of a happy couple and
presumably be wrapped around each other and maybe even dance. He’s not ready for that. He
doesn’t think he’ll ever be, not unless Tony were well and truly is and since Tony never will be,
he’s certainly not ready.

“Yes, of course. We’ve been here a month. More than past time to host a party. Our bond would
have settled by now, my first heat already over and done with.” He pauses and Steve can fill in
what he isn’t saying: both bond and heat would be settled and done if they had actually done either
of those things. “I think we’re ready, don’t you?”

“No!” Steve says sharply, more so than he had intended judging by the way Tony rears back in
surprise. “No, it’s—” He stops, not sure how to say that he only wants a reception if it’s a real one.
But that isn’t fair to Tony, Tony who would be expected to host such a party as his duties as a
society omega.

“Steve?” Tony asks gently. He realizes Maria has left the kitchen, presumably to give them some
privacy. It’s kind of her. “Is everything okay?”

He flounders for something to say that won’t reveal his true feelings on the subject. “I only mean, I
don’t know how to dance,” he manages. There, that sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?

Tony laughs. “Is that it?” He stands, rounding the corner of the table, moving closer until he’s
standing right in front of Steve. “Come here,” he says softly, holding out his right hand.

Steve looks down at it. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to teach you.”

Steve stills, slowly looking back up at him, wondering if this is meant to be some kind of a joke, if
Tony has somehow figured out his feelings. But Tony’s eyes are kind, his smile gentle, and Steve
hesitantly places his hand in Tony’s.

Tony tugs him closer and says, “Left hand on my waist.”

“On your where?”

Tony laughs, bright and lovely. “My waist. Surely this isn’t too forward for you. We’re married,
Mister Rogers.”

Steve laughs too, helpless in the face of Tony’s mirth, and hesitantly places his hand on Tony’s
waist. Tony nods encouragingly at him but then shifts Steve’s hand so that it holds him tighter.

“You wouldn’t want to let go of me during the dance, now would you?” the omega asks, settling
his own hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Now, other hand in mine. Ordinarily, you would lead, which
seems ridiculous. Most alphas don’t learn how to dance and most omegas do but because I’m the
one who can bear children, I’m not allowed to lead.”

“Not the time for omega rights,” Steve interrupts, softening his words with a teasing smile.

“Nonsense. It’s always the time for omega rights.”

“Then how about you can tell me all about it after you teach me this dance?”

“Deal,” Tony says swiftly. “Like I said, you should be leading but since you’re learning, I’ll lead.
The important thing to remember is that this is a glide. Your movements should be smooth, your
shoulders level. Step forward with your left foot.”

As he speaks, Tony’s right foot shifts back a step and almost automatically, Steve follows him,
wanting to stay close. “Now, your right foot, step forward but a little out.” Again, he demonstrates
as he talks and Steve follows him, looking down to make sure he doesn’t step on Tony’s toes.
“Bring your feet together. Now back with your right foot, back with your left, bring them together.
This is all on a count of one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two—”

Steve trips over his own feet when he tries to move his left foot before his right has even moved
forward. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“It’s no trouble, darling,” Tony says. Steve’s breath catches but when Tony doesn’t seem to notice
what slipped out, he slowly exhales. A mistake, that’s all that was. Tony hadn’t meant to call him
that.

“Can we try it slower?” he asks.

“Of course we can. And one, two, three, one, two three—”

And before Steve knows it, they’re gliding across the sun-drenched kitchen, the morning sun
warming their backs as they turn, and he thinks to himself that if he could just freeze this moment
in time, Tony in his arms as perfect as he’d been during their kiss, he’d be the happiest man in the
world.

“One, two, three, one—”

“Two, three,” Tony murmurs under his breath a week later.

“Thank you for counting,” Steve whispers. He glances around the crowded ballroom.
Wilderhope’s ballroom is small, barely large enough to fit all the people Lady Stark wanted to
invite, but somehow, they’ve all managed to cram in there and leave enough room for dancing. If
Tony hadn’t been counting though, he thinks he probably would have stepped on at least Tony’s
toes and probably someone else’s as well.

“My pleasure,” Tony says. He spins gracefully, coming to a stop beside Steve as the music ends
with one last flourish. “Wouldn’t want you to offend anyone by stepping on their foot.”

Steve snickers, thinking of the look on Lord Hammer’s face earlier this evening when Tony, tired
of listening to him speak, had done just that. It would have caused an incident if Tony hadn’t been
so quick to apologize, unctuous words slipping from his mouth that smoothed ruffled feathers and
caused Lord Hammer to preen like one of the peacocks Steve had seen during his time with the
army. He thinks though that he might have been the only one to catch the sarcasm hidden beneath
Tony’s pretty word, the double meaning in the way he congratulates the beta on the birth of his
third child and insults his bedroom prowess in the next breath with a sly insinuation that all three
children are not the lord’s. Steve nearly chokes on his laughter but the comment flies neatly over
everyone else’s head.

“Mama is calling us over,” Tony says as the beginnings of the next dance starts up and Steve leads
him away. With only a week to practice, Steve hasn’t had time to learn all the dances and Tony had
suggested that they use the dances that he doesn’t know to greet their guests.

“More well-wishers?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see from this angle.”

Steve can but the most he can see from here is the back of a blond head and a coat finer than the
ones either he or Tony are wearing. “Whoever it is, your mother doesn’t look happy.”

“Must be another one of Howard’s business partners,” Tony says. He links his hand through
Steve’s arm as they meander in Lady Stark’s direction. Steve makes an assenting noise. Lady Stark
had not been pleased to discover earlier that evening that her husband had invited his business
partners to the party with the intention of doing business rather than congratulating their child on
his marriage. She had forced each and every one of them to congratulate the happy couple before
she’d allowed them to join Howard in Steve’s study, forcibly given up for the occasion.
They draw closer just as the man turns and Steve abruptly halts. It’s not one of Howard’s partners
at all. “Who would dare invite that man?” he hisses.

“Who?” Tony asks curiously, standing on his toes to try and see him. Fortunately, or perhaps not
so fortunately, the crowd parts just enough to reveal Lord Tiberius Stone talking to Tony’s mother.
The omega’s mouth twists in an ugly snarl. “What is he doing here?”

Lady Stark spots them and waves them over again. Tony sighs and mutters, “No running now,” as
he drags Steve, completely unwillingly, along with him. They come to a stop beside Lady Stark.

“Mister Rogers, have you had the pleasure of meeting Lord Stone yet?” Lady Stark asks. Just like
with her son, Steve can spot the irritation lurking beneath her smile. He shakes his head. “Ah, then
it is my honor. Lord Stone, my son, Tony, and his husband, Mister Rogers.”

“So you’re the man who stole my omega,” Stone says, lips curling in a nasty sneer.

Perhaps I wouldn’t have had to steal him if your other omegas hadn’t disappeared so suspiciously,
Steve thinks. He raises his chin. “I didn’t steal anyone,” he says outwardly.

“No? But he was my fiancé. Wouldn’t you call that stealing?”

“Would you not say that love has the greater claim?” Steve counters.

“Love?” Stone scoffs. “Love had nothing to do with it. You ruined the brat in a moment of passion,
nothing less.”

Two bright spots appear on Tony’s cheeks and he opens his mouth but before he can say anything,
Steve snaps, “I have loved Tony since before I knew what love was, since it was nothing more
than the adoration of a child. I would love him in any lifetime and I’m glad that he is mine in this
one.”

“He has no bond bite,” Stone argues. Tony’s hand flies to his neck, scent going sour with distress.
Steve can’t have that. He refuses to let Tony smell of anything besides happiness and content.

“Of course he doesn’t. You said it yourself. Our marriage was born out of a moment of passion.
Excuse me for wanting to take the chance to court him properly before we mated,” Steve says
coldly.

Stone laughs. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you haven’t taken the brat to bed.
Look at him. He’s—”

But Steve doesn’t let him say what he thinks Tony is. His fist snaps out, faster than most people
could blink, knocking Stone’s head back. A hush falls over the people nearest them. “You heard
him,” Steve says, addressing the crowd. “I was provoked. He insulted my omega.”

Someone murmurs an assent and then someone else nods and before long, everyone is returning to
the party. He might still face consequences—Stone’s social stature is high above his own—but he
can’t find himself to be upset about that when Tony’s honor has been defended.

He looks down at his omega, thinking to apologize for the show of violence and for acting as
though Tony couldn’t defend himself, but Tony is watching him with a curious expression, one that
Steve can’t place and he finds himself going silent instead.

“Excuse me,” Lady Stark says suddenly. “May I borrow your omega for a moment?”
Before Steve can stop her, she’s dragging Tony away. Tony turns once, just enough for Steve to
see the pleased smile on his face, before they’ve vanished into the crowd. He sighs, rubbing a hand
over his face. Well, if Tony hadn’t known how he felt before, he probably knows now. Somehow,
though, he can’t bring himself to feel too embarrassed. Tony deserves to know how very loved he
is, even if he can’t return Steve’s affections himself.

Steve doesn’t really know what it is about the ball that makes Tony warm to him but that’s exactly
what happens. In the space of two days, he goes from hardly ever seeing Tony to seeing him every
couple of hours at least, from sharing their meals together to Tony coming by his office to ask for
parchment and a fountain pen so he can send letters to his mother and closest friends to joining
Steve out in the gardens at night and telling him more stories about the stars. Steve remembers
most of the stories from their childhood but he loves getting to hear them all over again from a
Tony who can tell him the stories in greater detail.

He loves it.

He hates it.

He…doesn’t know how he feels. He wants to love it, and a small part of him does, but a greater
part is worried that this is only temporary, that Tony has lost his senses and will soon come back to
them only to realize that he wants nothing to do with Steve. He truly does enjoy having Tony
closer, he doesn’t think he could ever hate it, but it’s hard to be as incandescently happy as he
wants to be when he knows that one day soon, this will all end. Whether it ends in their annulment
or in Tony pulling away from him again, this will end and Steve will be alone again. He should try
to protect himself now, should push Tony away before he pulls away.

But then he looks at Tony, slowly blossoming into the high-spirited, vivacious omega Steve
remembers from his childhood and he finds that he can do no such thing.

“I’d like to go with you today,” Tony says one morning at breakfast.

“Go with me where?” Steve asks without looking up from his newspaper.

Most mornings are quiet. While Tony has been joining him each morning for breakfast, it’s clear
that he’s not used to the early hour that Steve rises at. Steve has tried to sleep later in an effort to
compromise on the time but he’s been wholly unable to convince his body firstly of sleeping later
and then, when he tried to stay in bed later even if he was awake, that he isn’t hungry at that time.
Eventually, he’d given up and accepted that Tony would have to get used to being up earlier.

“On your ride.”

“On my…ride?” Steve puts the paper down, completely distracted by the happenings in the nearby
town. “I didn’t know you learned how to ride.”

Tony nods eagerly. “I learned after you left.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Tony taps his fingers on the table, looking away shyly before back at him. “Because I
wanted to be able to join you, only Howard wouldn’t allow it.”

Steve is stunned. Not once had he ever thought that Tony wanted to follow him into his service.
“Join me?” he repeats.
Tony smiles sadly. “I missed you, my friend.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said as much aloud and Steve’s heart leaps to hear it even as he’s
disappointed that friendship had been the only reason. Still, he nods and says, perhaps too honestly,
“I would love for you to join me.”

This can only end in heartbreak. He knows this. Growing closer to Tony will ruin him when the
omega inevitably leaves. However, when he looks back at Tony, riding astride the sweetest mare
in their stable, he doesn’t care one whit about his own heart because this vision—Tony laughing
and set aglow by the morning sun—is worth all the heartbreak in the world.

“May I join you today?” Steve asks later that afternoon as they take the noontime meal in the
dining room rather than the kitchen. Perhaps it’s forward of him to ask to visit Tony in his sanctum
but the memory of Tony making friends with the tenants of Wilderhope is still fresh in his mind
and he decides that he’s not ready for the day to be over yet.

“Join me?” Tony asks.

“In the library,” he clarifies, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I haven’t had the chance yet
to look around and I suppose I thought it might be nice to see what you do all day. What—what do
you do all day?”

Tony stares at him for a moment, another of those unreadable expressions on his face, and then he
lights up with a bright smile that transforms him from something pretty into absolutely
breathtaking. “I invent,” he says.

“Invent?”

Tony nods. “I used to help Howard with some of his projects but I’ve been working on other things
and today, I had an idea for something to help water crops so it isn’t as time consuming.”

Steve smiles softly, amazed that out of all the omegas in the world, he has this one, this kind,
intelligent, incredible man. “That sounds amazing,” he says quietly. “I look forward to seeing your
plans.”

Tony smiles back at him. Steve aches to lean over and kiss him. Then Tony turns back to his plate
and the moment is lost.

Sometimes, Steve thinks that if he hadn’t already been in love with Tony Stark, then he’s well on
his way to falling. Every moment he spends with Tony reminds him of how much he adored him
when they were children, of why he’d been so miserable when he’d been forced into service. As
the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, he realizes that he’s deliberately seeking out
opportunities to spend time with Tony, planning outings into their lands, holding meals until the
omega has joined him, taking his work into the library.

He knows that the years apart must have been hard on Tony. What else could possibly explain the
guarded way Tony sometimes watches him when Steve asks if he could see something Tony is
working on? Howard had always resented the brilliance of his only child. He’d never known if it
was because Tony was an omega or if it was because Howard didn’t want anyone to be smarter
than him. At least when Steve had been around, Howard had known to watch his step around him,
as quarrelsome as he was. He can only imagine how much worse it must have gotten after he’d left.

He lays back, resting his head against Tony’s side, looking up at the dappled sunlight through the
leaves in the tree above them. Tony pauses in his reading. “Am I boring you?” he queries lightly
but Steve can hear the hidden insecurity now.

“Never,” he vows. “But you are soothing me.”

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“Bad dreams,” he says simply, which is true enough. Tony doesn’t need to know that they had
been about losing him to his father or Lord Stone.

“Then let me soothe you to sleep,” Tony murmurs. A moment later, Steve feels Tony’s cool hand
on his forehead, gently smoothing out the wrinkles in his brow and brushing the hair from his face.
Tony starts to read again as he draws a line down Steve’s nose with one finger: once, twice, and on
the third pass, Steve drifts off.

They’ve been married for six months when James hands him a letter at breakfast. “From Wilson,”
he says, “in London.”

Tony looks up curiously from their breakfast—a simple affair of eggs and buttered toast because
Maria has the day off and neither he nor the omega have any great skill as a cook. “Who do you
know in London?” he asks.

“Mister Samuel Wilson,” Steve says, glancing over the letter idly. “We met during my time in the
army. He’s a watchmaker and I—or I should say ‘we’ now—have a stake in his business.”

“What does he have to say?”

“He wants to know if I would like to go and visit him in London next month to look over our
investment.” He hands the letter over to Tony to read as he turns back to James. “Could you please
bring me parchment and a pen? I want to get this sent out when the afternoon post arrives.”

James bows out of the room and Steve returns his attention to Tony. “Will you be alright here by
yourself?” he asks. He wants to ask if Tony would like to go with him but at the same time, he
doesn’t want to presume. He knows that Tony is very happy here, has made friends with several of
their tenants, and has even started taking lessons from some of the tradesmen in the nearby town so
he can implement his inventions on the estate. “It won’t be for very long, only a week or so.”

“Yes, of course,” Tony assures him. “But—” He bites his lip, a tantalizing sight that catches
Steve’s eye, and glances toward the window. “Perhaps I could go with you instead.”

Steve nearly crows with happiness. His omega wants to be with him! It may not be in the way that
he’s still longing for but something is better than nothing, right? “I would love for you to come,”
he says honestly. “But you won’t be bored? Sam is anticipating several meetings with other
investors. Apparently, his business is doing much better than either of us expected.”

“Oh I won’t be bored,” Tony says. “I’ve never been to London. My friend—Lady Virginia, I think
you met her once when we were younger—she’s been writing me to visit her in London but I
haven’t wanted to leave yo—Wilderhope.” He stumbles over the last word and Steve knows it’s
probably foolish to hope but it had almost sounded like Tony was going to say “you.” And that was
an encouraging thought.

The days leading up to their departure are full of excitement for Tony and worry for Steve. He had
been excited too when Tony had first asked to come with him but as the omega chatters about his
plans for the city and how pleased he is to get to see his friend again and how she had written him
to tell him about all the places they would visit and the fun they would have and did Steve think
that they would get to meet the king, a slow, creeping dread comes over the alpha. London is all
that Tony has been able to talk about for the last week; the only times Steve has ever seen him so
excited about anything else has been when he’s talking about his inventions, not about Wilderhope
and certainly not about Steve. There’s a thought in the back of his mind, gathering like a storm
cloud, that when they get to London and Tony sees all that the city has to offer, he won’t want to
return to Wilderhope—to Steve.

For a moment, he wishes that he hadn’t accepted Tony’s request to go with him to London, that he
had asked him to stay instead so that someone could watch after the estate, even though he knows
James is more than capable of doing so. But he throws away that uncharitable thought as quickly as
it appears. He knows how much Tony is looking forward to this journey. It would be cruel of him
to take it away from him because of his own fears and moreover, he has no desire to become one of
those alphas, the ones who refuse to let their omegas even leave their homes for fear of losing
them. Howard was bad enough; Steve refuses to become even the slightest bit like him. He doesn’t
want Tony to ever be reminded of Dauntsey Park, especially not when it comes to himself.

But it’s hard to remember that when he feels as though Tony is slipping further and further away
from him the closer they get to London.

It’s even worse once they reach the city itself. Sam welcomes them into his home graciously,
which Steve is grateful for. He’s never seen the need for a London home though he has the money
for it. Right now though he almost wishes he had set up a household here if only because Sam
assumes that he’s sharing a room with Tony and Steve hadn’t wanted to correct him. If they’d had
their own home, at least the staff would have known to set aside a separate room for Tony to sleep
in.

Sleeping beside the beautiful omega every night is torture. But it’s worse still when Tony wakes in
the morning, earlier than he ever has at Wilderhope because he’s so excited about whatever plans
he has with Lady Virginia. It’s worse when Tony spends all day gallivanting around the city
nowhere near Sam’s townhouse. It’s worse when Tony comes home at night, eagerly jabbering to
anyone who will listen about what they had done and the fun he had had.

Steve spends the week in a haze of fear and dread, just waiting for the moment when Tony will
turn to him and ask if he can stay in London instead of returning to Wilderhope. He knows that
Sam can tell that something is off with him, something is wrong, but his friend keeps his tongue
and for that, he’s thankful. James would have pushed, demanded that Steve talk it out with Tony;
he wouldn’t have understood that Steve thinks that hearing the answer he knows he would get
might just shatter him.

And then it happens, on the last night of their stay. Tony finishes telling them about the trip he had
taken with Lady Virginia that day to Hyde Park and then he says mournfully, “I wish we could stay
longer.” Almost immediately though, he perks back up and turns to Steve. “Pepper was telling me
that some couples have a second home in London so they can return for the season. Do you think
we could do that?”

Steve’s fragile heart breaks into a thousand little pieces.

“Of course,” he chokes out, aware that both Tony and Sam are watching him.

Tony’s brow furrows concernedly. “Steve, are you alright? You don’t look like you’re feeling
well.”

“I’m fine,” he manages to say even as his heart breaks all over again from Tony’s worry. Tony
reaches over to feel his forehead, clucking in concern. Steve leans into the touch, closing his eyes.
This may very well be the last time he’ll get to feel Tony’s touch; he wants to bask in it as long as
possible. But all too soon Tony is taking his hand away. Feeling wrongfooted, Steve opens his eyes
to see Tony’s big brown eyes peering into his.

“You don’t have a fever,” Tony says. “But you still don’t look like yourself. Do you need to lie
down?”

“Tony,” he says softly, fondly, “truly, I’m fine.”

Tony doesn’t look convinced but he lets the matter drop. Steve spends most of the evening in the
parlor, talking with Sam, only going to bed long after Tony has. In the darkened room, he takes one
last look at the perfect omega sleeping in the bed, unaware of the turmoil in Steve’s heart.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted,” he whispers.

Then he turns away and begins to pack his things, moving as silently as possible. When he’s
finished, he takes the bags down to the front hall and then steals into Sam’s office to write out a
letter for Tony. It’s nearly dawn by the time he’s finished and the parchment is marked with
tearstains and scratched out words. He leaves the letter inside the room he’s shared with Tony, on
the table beside the bed, before returning downstairs, where he finds Sam waiting beside his bags.

“Leaving a little early, aren’t you?” Sam asks quietly.

“He doesn’t want—” Steve pauses and swallows back the me that nearly escapes, “—to go. I don’t
want to force him to make that decision.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

“No and I won’t. Tony has made his feelings perfectly clear.”

Sam looks at him for a long time before standing aside, leaving the way to the door clear. “I’ll miss
you, my friend,” he says, embracing Steve as he leaves. “Don’t take so long to visit next time.”

“Perhaps,” Steve says vaguely, certain that as long as Tony is in London, he’ll never return. It
would hurt too much. “Make sure Tony knows it wasn’t his fault.”

“I will,” Sam promises.

Steve takes one more look at the window behind which he knows Tony is still asleep before he
turns and sets off into the slowly lightening dawn.

My dearest Tony,

Dear Tony,

Tony,

I’m sorry to leave like this. I love you Please come back Don’t leave I didn’t want to force you to
have to go back to somewhere I know you’re miserable. I’m sorry Wilderhope couldn’t be the
home for you that it has become for me. Your stories this week have made me smile. You seemed so
happy talking about your time with Lady Virginia that I couldn’t bear to lose that smile on your
face to make you leave the city.

Sam has agreed to let you stay in his home until I can send James to the city to help you set up your
new household. I didn’t know where you wanted to live. You hadn’t mentioned anywhere special
during our meals I loved our meals together so instead of choosing somewhere for you, we both
know how much you hated my choice I’ve set aside some funds for you to purchase a house. There
should be enough for anywhere you choose—though please, don’t choose the palace.

I’m sorry this couldn’t be the marriage I wanted you wanted that either of us spoke about when we
were children. I know you wanted your marriage to be a fairytale even if you never talked about it
in those terms and I’m sorry that you were stuck with me instead. I’m sorry that your father tried to
force you into a loveless marriage with someone you didn’t want and that I forced myself on you
instead. I thought that I was helping but I see now how I was little better than Lord Stone in that
regard.

I had hoped that you would come to love me too love me as I do you see Wilderhope as your home
but I can see that I have been cruel in forcing you away from where you truly wanted to be. If I had
been half the alpha I should have been, I would have let you go immediately after the wedding. I
was selfish I wanted you You should have been free to go where you wanted, even if that took you
away from me, but I imposed another prison on you instead. I doubt I’ll ever be able to make up
for that but I hope that you’ll give me the chance to try.

Our marriage will be annulled at the end of the year and I hope that, given time, you’ll be able to
forgive me for how I have wronged you. I pray that we can be friends again.

I’m sorry.

Love,

Yours,

Cordially,

Steve

Wilderhope is quieter without Tony. Steve would have thought that would be obvious but
somehow he’d missed just how much quieter it would be. Tony, even when he had been quiet and
still, had had such a presence to him, one that filled any room he was in. He remembers that from
their happy childhood together but somehow, he’d missed that when they moved in together.
Maybe he’d been too caught up in his selfish feelings to notice what he’d had right in front of him.
Maybe he’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts of what could have been that he had missed what
he already had. He couldn’t have Tony the way that he wanted but he should have known that what
he had was enough. Maybe then, Tony wouldn’t have wanted to stay in London.

He sends James back to the city the moment he returns, tells him that Tony will need help
purchasing a home and hiring the staff to help him run it. James gives him an odd look and asks,
“He’s not coming back to Wilderhope?”

Steve shakes his head silently, not yet ready to say the words out loud.

“Why?”

“He likes the city,” Steve whispers, forcing the words past his strangled throat.

“So he asked to stay? Why would he do that? He loves—loves it here.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Just—can you go?”

James eyes his sadly for a long moment before eventually saying, “Of course I can. I’m sorry,
Stevie.”

Yeah, he is too.

He’d thought it could become a home for both of them but it had only ever been a home for him.
He doesn’t know if he had pushed too hard or if Tony had just never felt welcome here from the
moment he arrived but Steve must have done something wrong to push the omega away.

The days drift by, morning to afternoon to evening, and on some level, it isn’t really like things
have changed. He still goes to bed alone, he still wakes alone, he still goes about his day without
being able to take Tony into his arms and hold him the way he wants. On another level altogether,
things have fundamentally changed so much that he thinks he’ll never be able to recover from it.
He keeps looking up from his breakfast, eager to share something with Tony, only to see an empty
seat across from him. He keeps expecting Tony to barge into his office, excitedly talking about his
latest invention. He keeps waiting to take his horse out for the day, wishing for an omega who will
never come.

He isn’t the only one who misses Tony, he knows that. His tenants ask after him at least once a
day. He considers lying to them and telling them that Tony isn’t feeling well, wanting for just one
person to have hope that the bright, beautiful omega will be coming back to them. But he finds that
he can’t keep this lie from them so he tells them the truth: Tony was utterly enchanted by London
and had wanted to stay.

The news is greeted much the same as he’d expected it to be, with disappointment and sadness.
More than a few people are surprised, reacting rather like James had—with a stuttered, “But I
thought,” and then trailing off into silence. He doesn’t know what they had thought but he always
smiles sadly and says, “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

A week passes.

Two.

Sometimes, Steve finds himself staring out the window of the kitchen, looking at the little path
leading down to the road, hoping to see Tony running down it back to him. He never does but he
can’t seem to stop himself from looking anyway. Besides, as his mother always said, wishes never
hurt anyone. He wishes and he hopes and he prays and on a grey, rainy morning almost three
weeks after he left London, he looks up one morning to see Tony coming down the lane, James
right behind him.

His first, immediate thought is that he’s wished so hard for Tony to be back that now he’s
imagining him but no, he could never have imagined the spitting mad expression on Tony’s face.
Nor could he have imagined the way Tony is all but stomping down the lane rather than walking.

Even so, his heart leaps and as soon as he realizes that he’s not imagining it, he darts out of his seat
and runs for the front door, throwing it open just as Tony reaches for the handle.

“What are you doing here?” he asks bewilderedly.

“I live here,” Tony spits. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here too,” he says slowly.

“I know that. What are you doing here without me?”

“You said that—”

“I know what I said!” Tony shouts, eyes blazing. “James was kind enough to tell me all about what
I apparently said after I stopped crying my eyes out.”

Steve’s heart stops. “You were crying?” he whispers. He’d never meant to make Tony cry, only to
make him happy, make his dreams come true.

“Of course I was crying! My husband left me in an unfamiliar city because, what? Because you
thought you were doing me a favor?”

“You said you wished you could stay!” Steve yells back. He doesn’t mean to yell, he knows how
much Tony hates it when people yell, but the pent-up emotions from the last several weeks—the
last several months—are finally exploding and he’s upset and furious and confused all at once so
he’s yelling.

“I wanted to stay with you!”

Steve takes a step back. “What?” he asks confusedly.

Tony is crying again, big sobs that shake his whole body, and Steve wants to step forward and take
him into his arms but he doesn’t know if he’s welcome so he just wraps his arms around himself,
rocking back on his heels in the door. In the distance, he hears the rumble of thunder. Absently, he
thinks he should invite Tony in—but what if Tony doesn’t want that?

“I wanted to be with you this whole time!” Tony cries. “But you were busy so I wanted to tell you
about my day and when I asked if we could get a house in the city, it was so that we could spend
time there together.”

He can’t put the words together in his mind. They’re just not fitting with what he’s been telling
himself for so long. “Why?” he whispers brokenly.

Tony gasps for air, tears still sliding down his cheeks. He’s getting wetter in the rain but he doesn’t
yet make a move to ask to come in. Instead, he exclaims, “Because I love you!”

The world doesn’t exactly stop but Steve feels as though it has. “You…what?”

“I love you,” Tony says desperately. “I have loved you since before I knew what love was, since it
was nothing more than the adoration of a child. I would love you in any lifetime and I’m glad that
you are mine in this one.”

He recognizes the words, remembers them as what he had told Lord Stone at the ball so many
months before, and this—this is everything that he has ever wanted so why is he having so much
trouble believing it? “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks. “You asked for an annulment even
as we wedded.”

“Because I was scared!” Tony cries. “I thought I had dragged you down with me. I thought you
were doing this because you felt obligated and I didn’t want to trap you into a loveless marriage. I
thought better I could have you as a friend than lose you forever. But I love you and I thought—
after the ball—I had a chance maybe, a hope to convince you to see us as something more but you
left me.”

“I was a fool,” Steve says hoarsely. He wipes the rain from his eyes, realizes that it isn’t rain at all
but his own tears, and closes the door behind him as he steps out into the garden. Three steps
brings him to Tony, who he takes into his arms. Tony is small and slight and trembling but he
burrows into Steve’s chest, his tears starting to slow at last. “I was a fool who thought I had already
lost you, that you resented me, so I let you go but I should never have done so. I should have held
on. I should have trusted what you were trying to tell me rather than my own insecurities. Tony, I
adore you, I love you. Will you be mine?”

Tony chuckles wetly. “I’m already yours.”

“For real this time. Be mine, my darling.”

Tony looks up at him, eyes shining, cheeks wet. Steve can’t resist bending down and kissing the
salt from his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his eyelashes. “Be mine,” he whispers again.

“Forever,” Tony whispers back.

He kisses him then, brings him closer, and teases his lips across Tony’s. Tony gasps for him, opens
beneath him like a flower for the sun, and Steve dips his tongue inside his mouth for a single
instant. “My darling,” he murmurs and kisses him chastely, “my own,” and kisses him sweetly,
“my love,” and kisses him desperately, hard, with all the longing he’s been holding back for
months. Tony is right there with him, giving back as much as he’s taking, pressing his lithe body
into Steve’s, and letting out sweet, little moans that go straight to Steve’s cock.

“Bond with me,” Tony whispers, pulling back to press kisses into Steve’s neck.

Steve groans and bites a mark into the spot just below Tony’s ear, above his bonding gland but not
by more than an inch. “Are you certain?”

“Always.”

They trip through the house, dripping wet, unable to stop kissing for more than a moment. Steve
doesn’t want to let Tony go, not even to look where he’s going, even as they walk right into a
closed door, even as they hear the squeal of the maid before she darts back into the library. He
doesn’t believe that he gets to have this, gets to have Tony. He’s been dreaming of this his whole
life and now it’s here. Tony isn’t going anywhere, is in fact crowding closer to him, kissing Steve
as hard as Steve is kissing him. He gets to reach out to his future, this unbelievable, incredibly
bright future before him, and hold on with two hands and that’s exactly what he does.

They’re stumbling up the stairs, nearly falling over their own feet, when Steve stops and hauls
Tony up against him. “This is ridiculous,” he murmurs and Tony giggles as he locks his ankles
behind Steve’s back.

Steve thinks about what his mother used to say, that he would know when he’d found the perfect
one for him when they could make him laugh even as they loved. He hadn’t known what she
meant back then, her meaning hidden behind the vague words, but he thinks he knows it now. The
poets would have him believe that this is a moment meant solely for passion, the violent joining of
two souls, but he and Tony have never been like that. Ever since they were children, they have
always walked together, never more than one step apart. This isn’t violent, this is…inevitable.

And this is Tony. If he can’t laugh with him, then who with?

Somehow, though he’s not sure how, they reach his bedroom, Tony still secure in Steve’s arms. He
shuts the door behind them with his foot, the door clicking closed with a soft snick. “You are so
beautiful,” he whispers reverently as he sets Tony down on his feet. Behind him, he catches sight
of the garden where Tony had told him stories about the stars and they had first bonded in this new
chapter of their lives.
“My beautiful Tony,” he says, nudging at Tony’s nose with his.

“No,” Tony murmurs. “You’re more beautiful than I am, more beautiful than the stars in the sky,
you with your sunlit hair—” He stands on his toes, trailing his lips across the line of Steve’s hair.
“—your eyes as blue as the river on a clear day—” He moves down and Steve closes his eyes as
Tony kisses each eyelid tenderly. “—your muscles that drive me to distraction.”

With trembling hands, Tony reaches for the laces on Steve’s shirt, loosening it enough to lift over
his head. In the back of his mind, Steve thinks that this isn’t right, that it should be him undressing
Tony. A much larger part of him though is watching his omega sink to his knees to slide his pants
off and he realizes that this is too perfect a sight to mar with what-should-be’s.

Tony breathes out shakily, the sensation of warm air enveloping Steve’s cock. He bites back a
moan. “I don’t—” He stops and looks up at the alpha through his lashes. “I’ve never—”

Steve drops to his knees and pulls Tony in, hugging him close. “Neither have I,” he confesses. “I
never wanted anyone but you.”

Tony laughs. “What a pair we make. You were the only one I wanted as well.” He leans forward
and kisses Steve quickly, a there and gone kiss that he misses as soon as Tony leans away. “We’ll
figure it out together?”

“Together,” he promises.

He gets one arm behind Tony’s knees, the other behind his back, and lifts him to carry him to the
bed. Outside, he hears the rain picking up, gathering into a full storm as the wind whips itself into a
frenzy. But inside, the bedroom is bright and cozy as he moves around the room to light the
candles while Tony watches him from the bed. When he turns from the fireplace, the warmth of
the newly built fire heating his back, he sees that his omega hasn’t been idle.

Instead, Tony is lounging against the pillows, naked and legs spread tantalizingly, giving him a
glimpse of the shadow between his legs. Steve’s breath hitches and he stumbles, tripping over thin
air. Tony laughs and winks saucily at him.

“Come here, my darling,” Tony urges. “Let’s see if you’ll be more graceful in our bed.”

“Our?” Steve breathes as he nearly runs across the room to join his husband.

“I will never leave it again.”

“Not even for meals?”

“You may bring me my meals in bed,” Tony says haughtily like the spoiled omega he was raised to
be.

Steve crawls over him, Tony’s legs naturally falling apart further to make room for him. He
brushes his lips against Tony’s. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he murmurs and kisses him deeply,
tongue delving into Tony’s mouth. He licks the roof of his mouth, curls his tongue around Tony’s,
and pulls back, teasing him gently.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Tony pants and isn’t it wonderful to know that he has such an effect on him
without really knowing what he’s doing? “I’m a gift.”

It’s probably supposed to be a joke but Steve sincerely says, “Yes, you are.”
Tony gazes at him, mouth parted and eyes wide, before suddenly moving. His hands grasp onto
Steve’s shoulders, dragging him down for more drugging kisses. His legs hook around Steve’s
waist, pulling him against his body and urging him into an instinctual rhythm that has him rutting
against Tony’s stomach.

“You can’t just—” Tony breathes into his mouth, “—you can’t say things like—oh!”

Steve’s next thrust brings his cock into line next to Tony’s, slotting neatly into the vee of his hips.
They rub against each other, sending small bursts of pleasure through him each time they touch.

“Make me yours,” Tony pleads. “Oh Steve, make me yours now.”

There will be time later, Steve decides. Time to lavish attention on Tony’s body the way it
deserves. Time to love him and make him tremble and moan and scream Steve’s name until the
whole estate knows who Tony belongs to. But today, he has wanted and needed for so long and
instead of dragging his kisses down Tony’s body, he finds himself kissing Tony’s swollen,
tempting lips again as he shifts his hand between them, bringing it lower until he’s circling the rim
of Tony’s wet hole with the tip of his finger.

“You’re soaked,” he says, awestruck by the very thought that he did this.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you what happens when an omega loves an alpha?” Tony teases.

Steve barks out a hoarse laugh and buries his face in Tony’s neck. “Say it again,” he growls, biting
down on the soft skin of Tony’s throat, marking a bruise just below his jaw where no shirt will
cover it.

“I love you,” Tony says immediately.

“Again,” he orders and pushes his finger inside. Tony is wet, scorching hot, and tight, so tight that
he almost fears he won’t be able to fit his cock inside. But, no, they were made for each other.
He’ll fit.

Tony moans, nails scratching a line down Steve’s back. “I love you.”

“Again,” and he pushes in this time with two fingers, scissoring them apart, making room for
himself in Tony’s body.

Tony reaches for his cock, stroking him from tip to base and spreading his pre-come. “I love you,”
he says sincerely. “I have loved you from the day we met and I will love you until the day we’re
parted. I wish we hadn’t wasted so much time but we’re here now and I will tell you everyday that
I love you until if you’re sure of only one thing, it is my love for you.”

Steve can’t bite back the whine threatening to escape at Tony’s words and he doesn’t want to. He
moans against Tony’s neck, open-mouthed, smearing his lips against the bruises he’s left.

“Come on, my darling,” Tony says gently, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “It’s time. I’m
ready. Bond with me.”

He pulls his fingers out, places his cock at Tony’s entrance, and pushes in slowly. Tony stretches
around him, tight and welcoming and so, so perfect. “You were made for me,” he whispers into his
omega’s neck, letting the words he’s wanted to say for so long spill out. He pulls out and on his
next thrust, angles his hips so that he hits the spot he’s only ever heard about. “And I for you.”

Tony cries out, clenching around him, and Steve moans again. He thrusts and thrusts again, strong
and sure as he grows more confident. “My omega,” he says.

“My alpha,” Tony responds, turning Steve’s head to him to kiss him.

“My love,” he exhales and he can feel his knot starting to expand, can feel that it’s getting harder
with every rocking motion to pull his cock out. He trails kisses across Tony’s cheek, down the line
of his jaw, to his swollen bonding gland. He licks a stripe across it, relishing in the way Tony
keens, hands clenching and unclenching on his shoulders.

“Please,” Tony pleads. “Steve, darling, love, please.”

“Once more. Say it for me one last time.”

He’s desperate with the thought. He wants—he needs—Tony to tell him again. He needs this
reassurance. He is wanted, he is loved.

Tony smiles up at him and kisses his cheek. “I love you.”

Steve’s hips jolt forward, burying his knot in his omega as he comes. His knot swells, locking into
place, and as Tony cries out his own pleasure, spilling between them, Steve sinks his teeth into
Tony’s bonding gland. The bond snaps into place, thrumming with energy and he comes again,
feeling the weight of Tony’s love expand through his mind.

He sobs, dropping his head onto the pillow next to Tony’s head. Tony strokes his fingers through
Steve’s hair, petting and soothing him. He should move, he thinks, roll onto his side so that he isn’t
crushing Tony but the omega doesn’t seem to mind so he stays there, relieved sobs wracking his
body.

“Oh my darling,” Tony purrs. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Steve chuckles wetly and rolls his head to the side to kiss Tony’s neck. “You tell me.”

“Mmm, it was perfect.” He shimmies, his hole rippling around Steve’s cock in interesting ways.
Steve groans and promptly collapses onto his side, clutching Tony to him.

“Don’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“We’ll never leave this bed.”

“You say that like it’s a threat.”

Steve laughs again and tests the give of his knot. It’s stuck fast and he smiles self-satisfied to
himself. Yes, he is a good alpha, thank you very much. Tony laughs brightly and thumbs at his
smile.

“Just look at that expression on your face,” he crows. “You terrible alpha, so pleased with
yourself.”

“I love you,” Steve tells him. He gets to say it now and nothing will ever stop him from telling
Tony exactly how he feels about him. Tony’s smile turns softer, sweeter, and he curls up into the
warmth of Steve’s chest as he closes his eyes. Automatically, Steve’s arms wrap around him,
holding him tightly.

Tony doesn’t say it again but he’s said it so many times that Steve doesn’t even feel the slightest
 twinge of anxiety. Instead, he just kisses the top of Tony’s head and closes his eyes as well,
relaxing in the storm outside and the feel of his beautiful, perfect omega in his arms.

He wakes later, after the storm has passed and golden afternoon light is streaming through the
window. At some point during their rest, his knot must have deflated and his cock softened enough
to slip out of Tony because they’re no longer curled up together. Instead, he’s turned onto his back,
just like how he has always slept when Tony was in the room across the hall. Tony is still laying
on his side but his arm is outstretched so his fingers are brushing against Steve’s. He can’t help but
feel that it must mean something that they’re still touching even as they slept, something poetic,
the kind that the romance novelists would love.

He lays there, watching Tony for another few minutes until Tony’s nose scrunches up and he
slowly blinks himself awake. “Hello, darling,” Tony says, smiling at him.

Steve inches forward and kisses him the rest of the way awake. “Hello, my love.”

End Notes

iamthewillow29 made this absolutely stunning piece of art for this fic :)

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