Chapter Text
Clint knew something was up the moment that long-haired blonde alpha took him from his spacious cage and moved him to a tiny one, and next thing he knew he was in a car.
His new alpha didn't talk as he drove, but he listened to the radio. The car smelt like food, and it made Clint’s stomach rumble. The ride felt too short.
The alpha was rolling his crate, unlocked the door. All Clint could see was shoes and hear loud talking. It was a bit muffled, but that normal since he was half deaf.
“Bucky, I'm home! And I brought a surprise.” His new alpha yelled.
Muffled thumping.
“That surprise better be food. I didn't cook anything tonight.” The other alpha said, and his name must be Bucky.
There had been food in the car, Clint recalled.
“Well, I did bring food, but that's not the surprise, Buck.”
“What the-- Steve, you didn't.” Bucky sounded angry. “Steve, you know how I feel about pets.”
“I know, I know, I'm sorry, but Thor begged me to take him! The shelter is out of space, and no one would adopt him, and they were about to put him down!” Steve, that had to be his new alpha, pleaded with Bucky.
Clint didn't know the exact meaning of “put him down,” but he was pretty sure it meant to kill. He had heard the phrase used frequently in the shelter with the other omegas, usually before someone disappeared forever.
“Steve…”
“Please, Bucky. I'll never do it again. This omega’s been at the pound his whole life just because he's half deaf. Don't you think he deserves a home?”
“You bought a half-deaf omega without even knowing anything about how to take care of an omega,” Bucky asked. He still didn't sound happy.
“Thor gave me a manual?”
The Keeping and Caring of Abused Omegas.
Clint had seen it on the counter before he was shoved into the tiny wheeled cage. He wasn't supposed to be able to read, but he could. At least some, anyway. His brother had taught him the basics when they used to live together. Before the omega catchers came and everything was ruined.
“Steven Rogers!” Bucky snapped. “Abused?!”
Another word that Clint heard frequently, but wasn't sure exactly what it meant. The alphas at the shelter didn't like that word. They smelt angry and upset when it was used.
“They were about to put him down, Buck!” Steve protested loudly, “Plus, Thor gave me materials for free. Two bowls, a brush, shampoo, a collar, a leash, and a bed. It's all in the car. Please don't make me take him back, I'll take good care of him, I swear.”
Bucky sighed.
“We'll keep the omega on one condition: if he causes too much trouble, we give him away.”
Give him away. Clint’s least favorite words.
The long, blond-haired alpha at the shelter said that if Clint was given away one more time, he couldn't be able to save him. Clint hated this cage, but he would be willing to stay in it for the rest of his life if Steve would keep him and let him avoid disappearing like the others. Like Barney.
“Deal.” Steve immediately agreed. He sounded happy.
“I'm going to the car to get the stuff,” Bucky said, but he still smelt angry. Clint decided not to trust him. Angry alphas weren't safe.
“What's his name?” Bucky asked putting the supplies into a neat pile as he opened takeout bags, taking box after box of delicious smelling food out. He was staring at Clint, who was cautiously sniffing around, the kitchen, tail tucked tightly in between his legs. It was a bit of a struggle to investigate and keep an eye on Bucky at the same time.
“His name’s Clint,” Steve said, filling Clint’s bowls with water and omega food while he spoke.
It was food. But not the food Clint really wanted. He sat down and scratched his ear.
“Uhuh,” Bucky replied absently, watching Clint sit down, scratch a floppy brown ear, and sniff around some more.
“Clint! Come here, boy!” Steve was calling him, He glanced over, contemplated ignoring Steve, and then remembered Bucky. Bucky already didn't want him here- what would he think if Clint was disobedient and ignored his mate? He would take him back. Give him away. Fear was his motivation as he basically scurried over to Steve, ducking behind his legs.
“Good boy.” Steve patted Clint on the head and put his bowls down. Clint didn't eat, despite his grumbling stomach.
“Why isn't he eating?” Steve asked, and there was a grunt and the sound of rustling. Clint had no idea what was happening, but then Bucky said, “'Omegas may avoid eating until alphas have given them explicit permission or left the room in fear of an alpha becoming angry.' Seriously? You couldn't just get a normal omega?”
Normal? Clint could do normal. He began scarfing the food down, despite how it seemed to stick in his throat, each dry pellet crunching between his teeth. The large bowl was empty within minutes and Clint couldn't decide between relief and nausea. This was way more food than they had given him at the shelter.
Then Steve filled his bowl back up and he seemed to lean more towards nausea. They didn't expect him to eat more, did they?
“Steve, are you sure we should do that?”
“You saw how fast he scarfed down that food and look at how twiggy he is. He's definitely hungry. C’mon Clint, eat it you want.”
Clint wanted to be left alone, but there was no way either alpha would do that unless he showed he was trustworthy. What was more trustworthy than eating the food given to you?
Clint got about halfway through the bowl before his stomach seriously protested and heaved, throwing up. The pellets tasted even worse coming up.
“Oh, ew! Steve, I told you that you shouldn’t give him more food.” Bucky exclaimed, but Steve didn’t answer, and Clint knew why. He had just thrown up on the alpha’s shoes.
“He threw up on my shoes.” Steve sounded shocked, blinking and Bucky burst out laughing. Laughter was good right? Clint tentatively wagged his tail, ignoring every instinct to run like and hide.
“Have fun cleaning that up.” Bucky snorted, and obviously, not all laughter was good because Steve smelt very, very upset meaning Clint had messed up again. He could fix this. All he had to do was clean Steve’s shoes. It smelt absolutely repulsive, and he really didn’t want to, but he didn’t want to be sent back.
“Just put him in his cage, Buck,” Steve said, looking down at his shoes in disgust.
Oh no. Steve definitely wasn't happy. Clint bristled warily, tail tucking back as the large alpha walked towards him. He bared his teeth in a warning that Bucky paid no attention to.
“I know you won’t bite me,” Bucky said lowly, and Clint just snarled. It was true.
He hadn’t bitten anyone since his early shelter days, and when he had been taken out for the first time, a couple of alphas had taught him how unacceptable it was to bite with a nice placed kick to the jaw. Luckily, those had been his baby teeth. It had still hurt and bled quite a bit.
Bucky picked him up like he weighed nothing, and despite all of Clint’s struggling and snarling, didn’t let go, walking towards the dreaded cage.
No, no, no...Bucky forced him into the cage easily, but gently, locking it. Clint wanted to whine, but he didn’t. He wished he hadn’t thrown up or eaten so much and his heart was pounding in his chest louder and louder in his ears with every passing second.
“You’re not going to take him back, are you? Anyone omega that throws up on your shoes is automatically my favorite.” Bucky inquired stopping to wet a towel at their sink.
“No, of course not. It was just one pair of shoes. I asked you to put him in the cage so he wouldn’t try to eat anymore. I saw him eyeing the throw-up.” Steve took the towel from Bucky and bent down to start wiping his shoes.
“Oh well, should I take him out then?”
“No, just leave him in there to cool down. We can read the manual while he’s in there without making him uncomfortable.”
No, please don’t leave...Not again. Clint threw himself at the bars of the cage, but the only thing that gave out was his own legs. He'd been left in the cage before.
It had been his second owners. He didn't know what happened, except one day the just packed up and left him locked in the cage with nothing except for a bowl of food and half a bowl of water. He'd been in there for a week or so, laying in his own feces and piss and so dehydrated that he was truly considering drinking his own pee before the omega catchers figured out and found him. They had been furious to see him, but they had given him food and water and given him a bath, so they couldn't have been that angry.
Clint gnawed on the bars, knowing full well it wouldn't do anything, but chewing helped calm his anxiety a bit. Steve and Bucky weren't his second owners. They were his fifth. And there was no reason for them to leave him to die in his cage when all they had to do was return him to the omega shelter.
“What the hell is he doing, Steve?” Bucky’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“I don't know! I'm reading!” Steve was rapidly flipping the pages of The Keeping and Caring of Abused Omegas. “Biting...biting…Abused omegas may bite themselves or their surroundings when feeling anxious or intimidated. It is impertinent that you immediately put a stop to this behavior, especially if your omega is harming themselves. Calm your omega with soothing tones and words and if they become anxious, do not yell at them. Reward non-biting fear behavior with a treat.” Steve read aloud, and although Clint didn’t understand all the words, he was pretty sure he got the gist. Biting was fun, though.
Steve unlocked his cage door, and Clint immediately charged out, running straight past both Steve and Bucky despite their calls. “Clint, wait! Just calm down!” Clint ignored them and kept running, speeding through the kitchen and zooming underneath the nearest object with space: the couch. His heart thudded in his chest as the two alphas followed him to the couch. They didn’t attempt to make him come out forcefully, Bucky rather cooing and waving a treat in Clint’s line of sight. However, the very thought of eating again made him feel like throwing up again.
“Bucky, let’s just leave him. He’ll come out when he feels safe.” Steve sounded hurt, but he was the one who had wanted Bucky to put him in the cage, so Clint only felt slightly bad. There was creaking as Bucky and Steve sat down on the other side of the couch and the same rustling sound as they read their manual.
Clint waited under the couch for about twenty minutes and when nothing happened, slowly poked his head out. He waited for another minute and when neither Bucky nor Steve did anything, he slowly slid out. It appeared that the two alphas were asleep, which made sense. A lot of his owners fell asleep reading. Perhaps books weren’t all they were made out to be.
His third owner had a tendency to fall asleep reading. She had two tiny alphas and a third on the way and had decided an omega would be a good idea. So she adopted Clint. Everything had been perfect until she had the baby alpha. All the already limited time that she had for Clint...she devoted it to her baby alpha. Then a male alpha moved into the house, and just like that, Clint was booted out and back at the omega shelter.
Clint himself didn’t know where he was supposed to sleep, so he just settled in the corner, closing his eyes and enjoying the silence.
He woke up the next morning to the smell of delicious alpha food that he doubted he would get to enjoy. Both Steve and Bucky were in the other room, and Clint cautiously padded in keeping himself close to the ground. They didn’t seem to notice him, at least not until Bucky turned around and nearly stepped on him.
“Whoa, careful there,” Bucky warned, backing up to give Clint some space to pass. Clint quickly moved out of the way, going to his food bowl. It was empty and his stomach was too, but if they didn’t have his food ready yet, he wasn’t going to complain. On the contrary, he did need to empty was his bladder.
“Breakfast is ready!” Steve said cheerily, turning off the fire. Whatever he had in his pans smelt delicious and just made his stomach rumble even more. “Bucky, feed Clint.”
“What? C’mon, he’s yours.” Bucky whined, but he was already opening the bag of omega food. He poured less than yesterday into Clint’s bowl, which was fine with Clint, although he didn’t eat, looking at the brown-haired alpha expectantly.
“Go ahead. Eat. You don’t need permission.” Bucky turned his back on Clint, and at his words, Clint began eating wishing he could be having alpha food as he ate the bland, tasteless food. He was pretty sure there wasn’t even real meat.
“Want some bacon, Clint?”
Bacon?! Clint’s tail began wagging rapidly, immediately ditching his food to go to Steve. As he said, he did have bacon, and although Bucky gave Steve a disapproving look, he took the slice and ate it with much joy.
While Bucky and Steve ate their breakfast, Clint waited for them to finish, laying under the table and eating any offering that Steve gave him under the table. (Another strip of bacon, a handful of eggs, and two tiny squares of a delicious pancake.)
After breakfast, Bucky took him outside, which was good because he really needed to pee, and didn’t want to do it inside the house. He took a good minute sniffing around and trying to find exactly which patch of the fenced yard he wanted to use as a marking spot.
Nothing bad had happened so far. Steve and Bucky were caring. They gave him nice treats and didn’t force him into the cage. Plus, Steve gave him bacon. Clint was laying on the couch (much to his joy, he was allowed onto the couch) when Bucky called his name and took Clint to the door. He opened the door,
“Steve, I’m going to train him. We’ll be back in an hour or so.” Clint’s anxiety skyrocketed a bit. House training had been easy. The rest of the things...well, he was lucky that his fourth alpha had been patient (and easily the best owner he had ever had). He hadn’t done all of his tricks in awhile, so hopefully, he remembered them.
“I’d like to see this.” Steve snorted, following Bucky to the yard. He settled down in the chair on the porch while Bucky took Clint further out into the grass.
“Okay…sit,” Bucky ordered, and Clint sat. That was easy.
“Lie down?” It took a tiny moment for this one to register to Clint, and he hesitantly slid down from his sitting position to belly on the ground. Bucky’s grin made Clint’s tail wag a bit.
“Roll over.” Clint rolled, confidence growing as he did so.
“Either you’re a miracle worker or this dog is already trained.” Steve piped up from the porch, and Clint couldn’t help but feel pride as well.
“Um...fetch!” Bucky picked up a ball and flung it towards the other side of the yard. Clint took off after the ball, memories blurring at the command.
His fourth owner had been named Phil. Phil was amazing. Balding, nondescript, calm yet gentle and caring. He has taken one look at Clint at the omega shelter and said, “He’s the one.” He took Clint home, took care of him. They did everything together. Walked together, exercised together, played together, watched movies together. Phil even let Clint sleep in his bed.
Then one day, everything crumbled. One late night, Clint woke up to the noise of a breaking window. He had snuck out of the bed and crept out of the room. Three people were in the living room, dressed in all black. One of them had a large stick and the other two were looking through Phil’s things, large bags in hands. A growl started in Clint’s throat as he watched the three, and they immediately wheeled around.
“Oh shit, an omega.” One of them whispered, freezing.
“What do we do? Want me to shoot it?” The other whispered, looking to the alpha with the stick.
“No. Let’s take it. Might be worth a pretty penny.” The alpha said gruffly, stepping towards Clint and swinging the stick as an obvious threat. Clint shuffled backward, growling even louder.
“Quiet, mutt.” The alpha snapped, which was when Phil’s bedroom door swung open and Phil stepped out in his pajamas, gun in hand.
“Freeze,” Phil said coolly, and all three alphas did, the one with the stick even dropped the stick. “The police will be here any second. You three-“
“Four.” A chilling voice, and then a loud bang. Phil crumpled to the ground, clutching at his chest. The smell of blood and metal and acidic smelling powder filled the air.
Phil didn’t move.
“You idiots. It was a simple job. Grab the omega and take what you have.” The fourth alpha snarled, and the three other ones quickly did what they were told, the smell of fear beginning to scent.
The alpha with the stick grabbed Clint, despite Clint’s snarling and thrashing. Clint sunk his teeth into the alpha’s hand, but the alpha just kept going, running with the others and throwing Clint into the back of the van.
The sound of sirens became louder but faded as the van kept speeding.
“That son of a bitch bit me!” The alpha yelled angrily, ignoring Clint’s loud scrabbling in the back.
“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t messed up, dumbass.” The cold alpha replied.
“We weren’t supposed to kill anyone!” Another alpha shouted, sounding appalled.
“Oh, so now you’re protesting it. Didn’t seem to have a problem with it yesterday.” One of the others said.
“All of you shut up. What’s done is done. Take a picture of the mutt. We’ll sell the omega, then we’ll split the profits. Then you fools can forget about it.”
Except that wasn’t what happened. The alphas muzzled Clint and left. Then they didn’t return. Clint tried everything to tear off the muzzle from banging his head on the door to trying to pull it off, but it was stuck and he decided that almost all alphas were evil, especially the one who invented the muzzle.
He was found two days later by one of Phil’s friends, Nick, and although Nick kept him for a day or two, he never took him back to Phil and dropped him off at the omega shelter.
Clint didn’t like to think about that night or what happened to Phil.
“Clint? Clint? What did I do?” Bucky’s worried voice filtered into Clint’s ears, and Clint shook his head, blinking at Bucky. He was back inside, but he didn’t remember going in or being carried in.
Steve was on the phone, talking to someone. “Yeah, I don’t know what happened. Bucky just threw a ball and told Clint to fetch, Clint ran after the ball, and he had just jumped to catch it mid-air when he developed a blank look on his face. He kinda just...fell. Wha- no, we brought him back inside. He-“ Steve looked back at Bucky and Clint. “He looks better now. Should we still-?” Steve frowned, being cut off again. “Okay. We’ll keep an eye on him. If he does it again, we’ll bring him right over.” Steve hung up, and Bucky looked at him expectantly. His hands were deep in Clint’s short hair, scratching softly, which Clint liked.
“What’d Thor say?” Bucky smelt oddly anxious,
“Sounds like a flashback…he thinks it was triggered when you said: “fetch.”
“What kinda sick fuck hurts their dog while saying the word fetch?” Bucky sounded furious, the smell of anxiety going to anger and sadness rapidly. Clint flinched, waiting, but Bucky never did anything, just continuing to stroke through his hair.
“I don't know, Buck, but I hope they got arrested.”
Clint decided that Bucky and Steve were a bit weird. They seemed to always smell angry and sad, yet never did anything to him despite the fact that he could be used as a punching bag.
As they got ready in the morning, doing their normal alpha things, Bucky fed Clint, took him out, and then settled on the couch to watch TV with him.
“Have fun at work, sweetheart!”
“Pray that Mr. Stane doesn't fire me, more like it,” Steve replied, giving Bucky a kiss and then leaving.
Bucky had lots of opportunities to hurt Clint, but he never did. Instead, he just played tug of war with Clint, slept a lot, and watched more TV. The hours seemed to drag on and on before Steve finally came home, and Clint was excited right along with Bucky because Steve was fun and apparently gave awesome belly rubs and gave Clint alpha food, despite Bucky’s disapproving looks. Then they ate, took Clint out, and once again didn't make Clint go into the cage. Bucky pulled out a giant, soft, plush, cushy omega bed and laid it down in their bedroom.
“For you.” He said to Clint, and that was where he slept now.
The next week was good, maybe even great.
He liked the routine: wake up, eat, pee, play, sleep, watch TV, sleep, eat, walk (once a week), pee, bathe (but only thrice a week, luckily), play, then sleep even more. He liked Bucky and Steve, he loved his bed. He loved that someone was always home. Sometimes with his other owners, he would have to stay home alone and lonely. The best part: they never made him go in the cage, nor did they leave him, and they didn't beat him either.
And then one day, Steve came home, put a purple collar around his neck, and said, “Welcome to the family, Clint.”
Clint loved Steve and Bucky.