Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An alpha bachelor of ability, good moral character, 31 years of age, born and reared in the East but home made in the West, desires to correspond with kind omega, object matrimony.

Ana hummed thoughtfully. Her niece was still looking for marriageable alphas. This was a very simple and plain ad, but… sometimes simple and plain was better than ostentatious. Besides, only a letter would truly tell. It was probably expensive to put these ads in the paper, especially as far east as the alpha had. She clipped the ad out and put it in an envelope with all the others that she would send on later.

“Ana,” Edwin said, scolding. “Don’t destroy the paper before Anthony gets to read it!”

“He never reads the personal pages,” Ana insisted, but obediently shut the paper again. “Besides, I doubt he’ll care, since he had such a late night last night, sneaking out to see a lawyer.”

Edwin’s face went tight and unhappy, and he turned back to the stove, knuckles going white from gripping his spatula so hard.

Ana frowned. Edwin didn’t usually snap about her cutting personal ads out of the paper, nor did he usually turn his back on her when he was obviously upset. She stood up and walked over to gently place her hands on his tense shoulders. “Not good news, then?”

“No,” Edwin said softly, sounding so defeated.

Ana slid her hands from his shoulders down to his biceps and gently placed her head on his shoulder with a sad sigh. “I’m sorry, Edwin.”

“Not as sorry as I,” Edwin answered quietly.

Ana squeezed her eyes shut, frustrated, but said nothing; she knew that her husband was feeling the same way.

.-.

When his parents had died, Tony had expected Obadiah to take over his finances. It made sense; his parents had had a lot of stocks and bonds, and Obadiah had the business savvy to take care of his interests. Tony would continue living in his parents’ mansion, and Obadiah would take care of his money until he found a suitable spouse. Jarvis, of course, had stayed on to take care of him—Obadiah couldn’t be expected to do that part. He was not that kind of beta.

Instead, he was the kind of beta who invested Tony’s fortune without discussing it, who paid Tony’s bills but gave him pittance for an allowance, and who thought it was appropriate to keep throwing his ne’er-do-well alpha son at him. Ezekiel wouldn’t know how to keep his hands to himself if his life depended on it, and Tony was raised just properly enough that he could only brush him off. Good omegas didn’t curse, or fight, or make a scene. Especially when the father of the alpha harassing them had control of their finances.

Tony was getting really tired of Ezekiel pinching him. It was bad enough that Ezekiel couldn’t keep up with him in discussions of things like cars or chemistry or politics, but Ezekiel had no ambition. He didn’t want to work toward anything; he just wanted to be catered to. Tony was becoming increasingly aware that as long as Obadiah continued to provide funds for Ezekiel’s shiftless lifestyle, he would do anything Obadiah asked as his ever willing, comfortable pawn.

Like courting him aggressively even after Tony had asked him to stop.

Tony curled his hands into fists, staring down at his lap. If only he’d known before what was going to happen, he could have requested Jarvis be the guardian of his finances. But Obadiah had been clever, had waited until he had complete control and was personally enmeshed in the business dealings he’d been doing with Tony’s money, to show his true colors. Tony had been a fool.

He comforted himself with the fact that Howard, who had been born naturally suspicious, had been fooled, too.

Tony looked up when he heard a knock on the door, managing a soft ‘come in.’ He knew he was too overwhelmed to do more, too likely to crack and burst into fresh tears if he said anything more.

Jarvis poked his head in, expression soft. “Will you be eating breakfast up here, sir, or would you like it in the dining room?”

Tony twisted his bracelet around his wrist, frowning. It had been one of his mother’s, a gold bangle with a trio of pink pearls on it. He stared at his bracelet for a long moment before he looked up and said, “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Very well,” Jarvis acknowledged. “We’ll be waiting in the kitchen for you.”

“Okay.” Tony turned and looked into the mirror of his vanity, at his sharp jaw and cheekbones, and long lashes over dark eyes. He’d taken after Howard a lot. He wished he could have taken after him in orientation, too.

Every lawyer he’d been to was either too afraid to go against Obadiah or had told him that legally there was nothing they could do—Obadiah was his guardian, and as such legally had control of his fortune. If he had been mismanaging it, they’d be able to do something, but from what they saw, he was just investing money into sure ventures just like Howard had always done. Tony could find no way to get proof of Obadiah’s underhanded business dealings safely, and his money was all tied up in places he wasn’t even certain about, so there was nothing to be done; Obadiah would continue to be his guardian, and in doing so would continue to selfishly keep his money under the guise of ‘taking care of it’ when he really only meant to blackmail Tony into marrying his son, and Tony could only watch helplessly.

He was maybe, possibly beginning to feel a little hopeless about it all.

.-.

Jarvis made tea instead of coffee for him. Tony didn’t say anything, because clearly the man was just as upset as he was. He probably should have waited until he had some privacy to cry; crying in front of Jarvis was probably all the answer he needed for the unasked question of ‘is there anything to be done?’

He should have asked for Jarvis to be his guardian. Jarvis knew him, knew what he was thinking and feeling, without even having to say a word. Jarvis was better to him than even his own father had been.

Ana helpfully dropped a spoonful of honey into his cup. She knew that Tony didn’t like tea but could stand it with a touch of honey.

They ate in silence, and it wasn’t awkward, but… it was tense. Tony was mulling over his remaining options (frighteningly few, and most of them dramatic), and Jarvis was cutting his bacon, eggs, and toast into teeny tiny pieces and chewing on them way too long for what he’d cut them down to. Ana let them sit in silence, instead writing a few extra groceries onto her list—honey, first and foremost, because her husband would probably continue to make Tony tea, and Tony would continue to love her husband too much to say anything about it.

“I’m going to Janet’s today,” Tony said suddenly, making the two betas jump.

He hadn’t been planning on it, but he was feeling low, and Jan had always been able to take his mind off of things when he was feeling too overwhelmed about them. Besides… she was really the only other person outside of Jarvis and Ana who would sympathize with him instead of chiding him for not trusting his guardian more. Jan had been begging him to come over to try on some of the new suits she’d designed, anyway.

“Will you need a driver today, sir?” Jarvis asked, trying to pretend he wasn’t glancing at his wife in concern and failing miserably.

“I can drive myself,” Ana scoffed, glaring at him.

Jarvis frowned at her, looking simultaneously amused and disappointed. “That’s the problem. You can drive yourself. But you always do it so fast.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if Americans used kilometers like God intended,” Ana insisted.

Jarvis sighed and rolled his eyes, unable to help a smile as Tony tried to smother some reluctant giggles. “Please let me drive you, dear.”

“Well, alright,” Ana huffed. “But only because I need to go to several stores downtown and I hate driving downtown.”

“You only hate it because there’s so many people there that you can’t speed,” Tony pointed out, and laughed when Ana pursed her lips at him severely.

Ana continued to frown at him until she lost the battle to keep a straight face in response to his giggling, instead smiling wryly as both Tony and Jarvis finally relaxed, even if it was only a little. “Have fun at Ms. Van Dyne’s, Tony.”

Tony smiled at her. “Oh, I will.”

His life might be in shambles right now, but Jan always made him feel better.

.-.

“Why that slimy, miserable old miser!” Jan seethed, stomping the length of her room and back again. “That stupid old baboon! That—that cad!”

“Yes,” Tony agreed, turning in front of her full-length mirror to examine how he looked in the sharp jacket she’d designed in apple green. Not a great color on him, he lamented, but the shape of the jacket was superb.

“I can’t believe that he’s allowed to get away with this! Can’t I have him murdered?!” Jan stopped, gasping, and covered her mouth. “Could I have him murdered?”

Tony entertained the idea for a moment before dropping it, sighing. He needed to be realistic. Even if having Jan murder him would solve a lot of his problems, it would just cause a bunch of new ones. For both of them. “No, you can’t have him murdered.”

“Ugh! It’s so unfair!” Jan exclaimed angrily, then stomped over and whipped the jacket off of him, throwing another one into his arms. “Ew, no, this is all wrong. Here, try this one!”

Tony frowned, thumbs rubbing over the fabric. The cut wasn’t the same, but it was a deep indigo color. Maybe that would look better on him. He turned to face the mirror and began to put it on.

“No I hate that too,” Jan snapped before he could even put one arm through a sleeve, snatching it from his hands and stomping away to throw them both in a basket. She gripped her hands into fists, then gave the basket a kick for good measure, too, knocking it over and sending all of the clothes in it onto the ground.

“Jan!” Tony exclaimed, frowning, and took a step toward her. He hadn’t seen her this angry in a long time. He hoped he remembered what to do to calm her down.

Jan sniffled and turned toward him, eyes full of angry tears. “I can’t help it. You shouldn’t be dealing with this. Your options shouldn’t be ‘marry Ezekiel or become a pauper.’ It’s not fair! It’s not!”

“I know,” Tony whispered, reaching out for her, and she came into his arms immediately, burying her face in his chest to sob into it. “I know.”

“I wish I was an alpha for you,” Jan whispered helplessly. “Or that I could use my money to help you. But I can’t. My father already told me not to get involved, that it would just make things worse for you.”

“It would,” Tony admitted, burying his face into her soft, clean hair. He took a deep breath and let it back out in a sigh, because how often growing up had he looked at Jan and thought the same thing? That if only he was an alpha, she wouldn’t have to put up with everything that she did? He wondered if it was the same for everyone that was born an omega.  “It would. I’m sorry, Jan.”

Jan leaned back to sniff and frowned up at him, brows furrowed together as she whispered, “I’m so angry that this is happening to you, Tony, and there’s nothing any of us can do.”

Tony smiled back sadly, wanting to cry with her, but… sometimes he felt like he’d cried all his tears out already. He’d been surprised he’d had tears left to cry the night before, when it had been nailed home how hopeless everything was. He really couldn’t get control of his money without marrying Ezekiel, and then it would technically be Ezekiel’s money to control, and Ezekiel would always fold to whatever his father wanted.

He could either suffer being married to Ezekiel and have at least a little access to his parents’ fortune, or he could suffer being without a fortune that was rightfully his but not have to deal with a handsy alpha. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been born into money—maybe then the decision wouldn’t be so hard.

Jan sniffed some more, than hurriedly wiped her eyes, jaw setting with determination. “Well,” she said sharply, full of vim and vinegar again. “If I can’t do anything to help you out of the position you’re in, I can at least make you look good while you figure it out yourself.”

“Jan,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes, then yelped when she shoved him toward one of the changing screens set up in her room. “Jan!”

“Take that awful shirt off and try on this one,” she ordered, tossing a shirt over the screen at him.

Tony frowned, confused but knowing it would be futile to argue. He began unbuttoning his shirt, mumbling, “…You gave me this shirt last year…”

“That’s why it’s awful, honey,” Jan scoffed. “It’s so last year and anyone worth their solitaires will know it. And here are some new slacks.”

“Red slacks?” Tony asked in disbelief. “And a yellow shirt? Come on, Jan, that’s just—just—”

“Wonderful, I know,” Jan cut in, flouncing back over to the rack of clothes she’d rolled out as soon as he’d come in. “And it’s goldenrod, not yellow, you fashion neanderthal.”

Tony huffed but changed into the red slacks, too. “Listen, just because you want to single-handedly bring culture to America through fashion doesn’t mean I’m always going to be your stupid dress-up doll,” he complained, taking the matching red jacket she threw over at him and putting it on as well. “I can’t even pay you properly. Obadiah thinks it’s frivolous, and I honestly have so many other things to pay for with my allowance that I can’t feel guilty about this too—”

“I don’t want you to pay me,” Jan sighed, rolling her eyes, and shoved the changing screen aside. She ignored his embarrassed yelp and instead reached out to smooth his jacket over his shoulders, frowning thoughtfully as she tugged at the cuffs and then tucked a pocket square into his jacket that matched his shirt. After a few more seconds of primping him, she took a step back, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Go look at yourself and eat your words to me.”

Tony sighed and went to go look in her full-length mirror again. “Jan, you know I don’t really like having oh well how do you do.” He turned, eyebrows raised in surprise, and hummed happily when he saw the way the fabric held him just right, making his shoulders look broader and his waist trimmer and—wow, his butt looked fantastic! “Jan, I love it!” he exclaimed, spinning toward her.

Jan smiled smugly. “Of course you do. I’m an artist.”

“You certainly are,” Tony agreed, looking over his shoulder into the mirror, then paused. The suit was so nice, fitting him like a glove in all the right places. He hadn’t had a full suit that fit him so well in a long time. He frowned, shoulders sagging, and whispered, “But I can’t wear this to parties.”

“What?!” Jan exclaimed, affronted, but quickly fell concerned when she saw how truly miserable her friend was. She softened her voice to ask, “Why not?”

“Ezekiel, he—he’ll try to… touch me,” Tony admitted haltingly, wincing when Jan’s face began to turn red with anger. “I’ve been trying not to dress as nicely to try to discourage him. If I wear this, he… He’ll try to be sneaky about it, but… he’s not… very good at being sneaky.”

“If Ezekiel touches you at any party while you are wearing my clothes,” Jan said, voice devoid of all emotion. “I will cut off his hands and make him eat them.” She leaned in very close to Tony’s face and whispered, “And I will tell him that.”

Tony couldn’t help but shiver and be very, very glad that Jan had decided they were going to be best friends instead of worst enemies when they’d met as children.

.-.

Dinner was another quiet affair. Jarvis had tried to set the food out on the table, but Tony still didn’t want to be alone, so he and Ana just quietly carried the food back into the kitchen to place it on the island and sit on the stools there. It felt better in the kitchen, homier and more intimate. Even his dinners in the dining room with his parents had always held some air of isolation.

Finally, though, Jarvis slammed his fork and knife onto the table, making Tony and Ana jump. “There has to be something we could do.”

“Every lawyer I’ve met with has said I need a beta or alpha to control my money,” Tony murmured, setting his cutlery down as well and folding his hands in his lap. “They said I could have had guardianship written over to you when I was younger, but… now he’s so enmeshed with my finances that he could just say he lost most of it in business dealings. I was stupid not to keep track of my own money,” he spat, curling his hands into fists.

“Your parents had just very suddenly died, Anthony,” Jarvis cut in sharply. “I think we can all be forgiven for being distraught after their gruesome demises. Of course Obadiah would swoop in while we were hurting, telling us he’d take care of everything. The sneaky son of a—”

“Dear,” Ana cut in sharply.

Jarvis let out a snarl but ducked his head, gripping his hands into fists so tight that his nails cut into his palms. “There must be something,” he whispered angrily, and so, so helpless.

Tony reached out for one of his hands and stroked Jarvis’s knuckles gently with his thumbs, frowning, before leaning down to press his cheek to the back of the beta’s hand. He felt it relax, ever so slightly, against his cheek.  “If there’s something to be done, I can’t find it, and I… I don’t know any other lawyers I could go to who wouldn’t go tattling to Obadiah. None that would be brave enough to stand against him. And if I don’t marry Ezekiel—”

“You will not marry Ezekiel,” Jarvis growled. “I will let you marry anyone else but him.”

“If only it was you who gets to make that choice,” Tony sniffed, smiling, eyes hot with tears. He swallowed thickly, turning his head to dry his eyes on his sleeve and managing a slightly upbeat, “And who would you let me marry, anyway? You’re even more protective than Father was.”

Jarvis tried not to sound bitter when he managed to laugh in return, but he missed the mark completely. “Yes, well, we all know how your father was. No alpha was good enough to carry on the Stark legacy.”

“…He would let you marry an alpha bachelor of ability,” Ana murmured, and then said, louder, “An alpha of ability.”

Jarvis looked up at her, frowning. “Ana, what are you talking about?”

“Hush, Edwin,” she said, getting up from her seat and hurrying over to the drawer where she kept her envelope for her niece. “You married me because you knew I was wild enough to smooth your square edges.” She pulled out the envelope and peeked inside it. There were at least a dozen ads in it, and she was certain she could find more if she looked hard enough with someone else in mind. “And I’ve got just the idea to get our sweet Anthony if not his money, then to safety.”

“Ana,” Tony said, sitting up, completely bewildered but hopeful. “What are you talking about?”

Ana slapped the envelope down in front of him. “I save these for my dear niece, back in Hungary,” she explained. “She’s expressed wanting to move to America and has asked for marriage ads to send letters to prospective husbands. We could find an alpha for you this way, too, dear.”

“An arranged marriage?” Tony asked skeptically, and pulled out the ads. He wrinkled his nose at some of the more pointed ads, but they didn’t seem… terrible. “Obadiah would never agree to this.”

“Obadiah doesn’t have to,” Ana said gleefully. “Getting an alpha’s permission isn’t as important out west as it is here. The pickings are slimmer, after all. And as long as you’re frank about how you’ll come with very little money, you won’t have much to worry about. Your husband will have a legal claim on you, and it would be bad press if Obadiah forced you away from the husband that you chose.” She smirked. “Remember, omegas and betas of high society still love romance, and won’t it be romantic that the Stark heir abandoned all of his money for love?”

Tony frowned, brows furrowing together as he read through all of the ads. “I—I don’t know, Ana, this all seems so—so childish. It feels like running away.”

“Tony,” Ana said gently, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. “Please, take it from me. It’s not childish to run away from what’s causing you harm.”

Tony flinched. He didn’t need reminding that Ana had fled from war and persecution. “Obadiah is no war,” he managed to say.

“Well, no,” Ana admitted. “But that doesn’t make your problems less, Anthony.”

“Obadiah is a war,” Jarvis cut in solemnly, making Tony shut his mouth against what he was about to say. When the omega looked up at him in confusion, he quietly explained, “He will wage a quiet war against you until you have no choice but to marry his son, Anthony. He will spin his web like a cunning little spider, pulling threads until you give in. Until you are only a husk of your former self, until you have no will left to fight, just to let things happen as they may.

“I don’t want that for you, Anthony. And neither would your parents.”

Tony fiddled with the ads again, shoulders hunching. There were so many things he wanted to say, but… none of it really mattered, did it? His parents were dead, and Obadiah had control of all of his money, and there was nothing he or Jarvis or Ana could do about it.

“You’ll have more of a choice with these than you’d ever have with Ezekiel, dear,” Ana whispered, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Tony swallowed thickly. He wanted to stay in New York. He knew how New York worked, knew its people. But he would never be able to marry anyone but Ezekiel if he stayed, and he knew that too.

At least this way he had a choice.

Tony got up and went to the phone to call the switchboard. “Hello, Operator? I’d like to make a phone call to the Van Dyne residence. Yes, I’m looking to call Janet.”

Jarvis frowned. “Tony, what are you doing?”

Tony turned to look at him. “Well clearly I can’t have all the letters sent here. Someone would tell Obadiah about my influx of—”

“Hello? Tony? Are you alright?” Janet’s tinny voice asked, concerned.

Tony turned back to the mouthpiece of the phone. “Yes, I’m quite alright. Janet, I’m going to do something duplicitous and I need your help.”

“I love duplicity. What do you need?”

Tony laughed a little even though he also wanted to cry with gratitude over how unquestioningly and unwaveringly loyal his friend was. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her as a friend, but he was glad of it. “After discussing it with Jarvis and Ana, I’ve decided to leave my worldly possessions behind and move across the country.”

“That sounds so exciting! Do you need me to finance it? I’ll send you off in the best of style,” Jan began happily.

Tony’s heart warmed. She really was much too generous. “Actually, I was just going to ask to use your address as my return address for all of the letters that I’m going to send out in response to all of these marriage ads Ana has found for me.”

Jan was quiet for several minutes, so long that Tony frowned and was about to ask the operator if the line had been lost.

“A mail-order bride?! You?!” Jan burst out, and began to laugh.

Tony scowled. “What, you think I can’t do it?”

“I’m just imagining Ezekiel Stane’s dumb face when he finds out you had secret correspondence with a stranger and flounced off to go marry that person instead,” she laughed, snorting a little when she tried to stop. “Oh Tony, Tony, can’t you just imagine it? He’s such an idiot but so full of himself—I can’t imagine a better slap in the face to him or his father. He’d probably make the same stupid face he did when I said I was dating Hank.”

Tony remembered the exact expression she was talking about, when Ezekiel had been his slimy self and asked Jan out on a date even though he was supposed to be exclusively pursuing Tony, per his father’s orders. Janet never suffered fools and egotists, and he was both, so she was half as patient already. The dumbfounded look on his face when she’d said she was currently accepting the courtship of an entomologist, of all people, had made every omega at the table flee to the bathroom to be able to laugh freely.

“So may I use your address?” Tony asked, because her glee seemed like an answer, but he didn’t want to put her in any trouble. “I don’t want Obadiah to get suspicious, and—”

“Darling, of course you can use my address,” Jan giggled. “This is the best thing ever. Oh, I wish I’d be there to see Obadiah’s face when you left. He’ll turn puce. It would serve that horrid man right if he just keeled over and died from the shock.”

Jan’s excitement was infectious, and Tony couldn’t help but start to look forward to the letters he’d hopefully receive. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders that he hadn’t even known was there. Perhaps, whether he’d realized it or not, he’d been preparing this whole time to suffer a marriage with Ezekiel, but hope that he didn’t have to was suddenly alive and fluttering in his chest.

“Thank you, Janet. I really appreciate it. I appreciate you,” Tony told her sincerely. He knew they were friends, and that Jan loved him, but he thought it was nice to tell her how much she meant to him sometimes.

Jan was quiet again before she whispered, “Oh, Tony. I appreciate you too. Any alpha or beta would be lucky to have a sweet, kind, and generous omega like you.”

Tony sniffed. “Thanks, Jan. I’ll see you tomorrow? After your date with Hank?”

“Oh, definitely,” she answered immediately, cutting through the thick feeling he’d been swimming in. “I swear if he talks about ants one more time—”

“You like that he likes ants,” Tony pointed out.

“Tony,” Jan said, and he could almost see her derisive stare. “I do enjoy when he talks about his passion, but when he compares my beauty to an ant’s?!”

“The highest of compliments from a man passionate about ants,” Tony answered affably.

“ANTHONY EDWARD STARK I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD TAKE HIS SIDE IN THIS,” Jan roared, and Tony squeaked and hung up the phone immediately, giggling.

“One of these days she’s going to decide you’re not cute enough to forgive,” Jarvis said mildly. He began to eat again and carefully didn’t wince when he realized his food had gone cold.

Ana gave him a knowing smile and went back to her own supper, reaching out to give Tony a gentle pat on the back as he came back to his seat to eat.

“So, since I might be marrying one of these people,” Tony began thoughtfully, nibbling on a carrot from his salad. “Does that mean I should use my good stationery?”

Jarvis turned toward him sharply, sputtering, “You should always use your good stationery!”

“You could even add just a little dab of perfume to the letters to really get your potential beaus riled up,” Ana added.

“Ana!” Jarvis gasped, scandalized, as his wife began to laugh, then turned to Tony sharply. “You are not riling anybody up, young man!”

Tony laughed and then laughed harder when Jarvis tried to scold him some more.

.-.

Tony started work on his correspondence immediately after supper, because he had quite a lot of letters to write already, and Ana had said she’d pick up a matrimony magazine when she went out the next day. He curled up under a blanket on the couch in the den, in front of the fire Jarvis had built. The large mansion had always seemed to have a chill upon it after his parents had died. It was warmer in here, with his family, where Jarvis was going over household accounts for Obadiah to pay (and padding what he could for extra spending money for Tony), and Ana was reading a pocket novel she’d picked up while grocery shopping.

Tony shoved down the hurt of remembering his father going over paperwork where Jarvis sat, and his mother reading Shakespeare where Ana sat, as he practiced his letters where he always sat. They were gone, and he missed them, and it hurt, but he wouldn’t let that taint the warm feelings he had for Jarvis and Ana now. Ana and Jarvis weren’t his parents, but they took care of him like their own son even though they technically didn’t have to. He would never forget that.

“How should I address them?” Tony wondered, tapping his bottom lip with his pen. “None of them have names.”

“Address them with ‘to whom it may concern’ and ask for their names,” Ana answered. “That’s what my niece does.”

“Does she get an awful lot of answers?” Tony asked, frowning. What if he didn’t get any responses at all?

“Hmm, always at least half of the letters she sends get answered,” Ana replied after some thought. “She’s also told me that she’s usually able to tell they won’t be a good match after a few letters, so she sends a letter telling them so, and she almost always gets a response thanking her for her time.”

“That sounds nice,” Tony admitted to himself quietly, and decided that if he didn’t get a husband out of this, at least he might get some friends. “How am I supposed to make myself look favorable though? ‘Omega with no money and no skills’ isn’t very attractive. I don’t want to seem like I’m hiding that from them.”

“You have skills,” Jarvis scoffed, offended on his behalf. “If nothing else, you could be a tutor. You know your maths quite handily, and reading and writing, and you keep up on what’s going on in the scientific world. You speak French beautifully.” He paused, thoughtful. “…If you can’t find a husband, perhaps you could find a job as a teacher. I’m sure Ms. Van Dyne wouldn’t mind spotting you some money to get out west.”

“Society omegas and betas might find that romantic, too,” Ana said thoughtfully. “Especially if Janet hammed it up a bit. ‘He was so passionate about teaching the children out west, how could I say no,’ or something like that.”

Tony nodded, pushing it to the back of his mind. He hated to ask Jan for anything, even though he knew she would willingly hand over anything he asked for. It made him feel like he was taking advantage of her, even though he knew that if the roles were reversed, he would give Jan anything she needed as well. He would try this first, without having to depend on her generosity. She’d always said he was stubborn and independent to a fault, so he was really only living up to her expectations by doing this.

‘I really hope this works,’ he thought, perhaps even prayed, as he put the nib of his pen to his stationery.

To whom it may concern,
    I hope this letter finds you well. I saw your ad in the newspaper and thought perhaps we could strike up a correspondence to get to know each other, considering that ‘good moral character’ and ‘kindness,’ while good traits for both of us, are not quite the only traits necessary for a good marriage. If you’re agreeable, I would like to correspond with you to see what you are like as a person. If in the case you are agreeable, I would like to know your name, because ‘alpha’ could mean any number of people, and I would like to address you properly.
    My name is Tony, and I am twenty-six years of age. I enjoy reading, playing piano, and riding horses. My parents died in an accident when I was young, but I have dear family friends that have taken me in and treated me as their own son. I am skilled in mathematics, reading, and writing, and am also fluent in French, so I could perhaps make an income tutoring if you required me to work. Unfortunately, I have very little money to my name currently. I hope you don’t find that a deterrent, but I can understand if it is.
    I’m not quite sure what else to say, so I will just add a few questions to perhaps help our correspondence start—where is your home? Are there towns nearby? What are your hobbies? I hope this isn’t asking too much, and that our correspondence is fruitful.
With greatest respect,
Tony

Chapter Text

Dear Tony,
    Yes, your letter did indeed find me well. I hope this letter finds you well also. I think correspondence is an excellent idea. As you said, good moral character and kindness alone are not a basis for marriage. Hopefully I’ll prove that there’s more to me than that. My full name is Steven Grant Rogers, but you can call me Steve.
    I’m thirty-one years old and also enjoy reading. It’s nice to come home after a long day riding around and just be able to sit and enjoy a good book. Unfortunately I don’t really have time for very many hobbies aside from reading and the occasional woodcarving. Life on the ranch is nice, but it does require hard work. I make just enough money to get by most years, sometimes even manage to make a little profit. I would certainly have enough to support you, though, so no need to worry about working.
    In answer to your questions, my ranch is just outside a small town named Timely, which is where I go for basic supplies. Larger cities are few days’ travel from here, but I make the trip to the nearest city at least once every couple of months, if not more, and I would be sure to bring you along. The envelope says this came from New York, so I know you’d probably miss big cities quite a lot.
Hoping to hear from you again,
Steve Rogers

Tony pursed his lips, brows furrowed together. It hadn’t been an incredibly interesting letter. Some of the alphas he’d talked to had really tried to be engaging. (Some of them too engaging, and Jarvis had nearly fainted dead away when he read one of them.) This alpha, Steve, hadn’t really tried to engage further at all, just answered his questions. Would their marriage be like that, too, Tony putting forth all the effort and Steve doing as he was asked or told and nothing else? He couldn’t imagine a marriage like that. He was about to drop the letter in the ‘no’ pile but then noticed a postscript on the back of the envelope, almost too small for him to have noticed.

Sorry, it said. I’m a better conversationalist in person, I promise.

Well, Tony sighed, frowning. He supposed that could be true. Jan had always pouted when Hank had sent her letters, because they weren’t composed nearly as well as hers had been, but alphas were not often taught to write letters outside of for business. ‘Not everyone has the privilege of going off to finishing school, Tony,’ Ana had said only a touch reproachfully after he’d wrinkled his nose at the first letter he’d read. Tony gave the letter another long look before tucking it back into the envelope and setting it aside in his ‘continued correspondence’ pile.

“This is so many letters,” he sighed, leaning his chin on his hand. His ‘no’ pile was woefully small.

Well… he supposed it was bigger than it actually was. After the first letter where Jarvis had gasped and clutched his chest, mortally offended, he’d shoved a bunch of the ones he’d opened and read in the wastebasket. He’d simply hissed like an angry cat as he shoved the letters down as far as he could.

Jan would probably rescue them. Tony and Jan kept sharing curious looks because Jarvis’s face was red not only with anger, but embarrassment, and Ana kept giggling even as she also put some of the letters she skimmed into the wastebasket as well. They were probably incredibly torrid. Tony wouldn’t respond, but he definitely wanted to read them, and Jan would offer excellent commentary. She always did.

“Do you want me to bring any straggling letters by as they come, or would you prefer if I brought them all together again?” Jan asked, skimming another letter. She wrinkled her nose and set it in the ‘no’ pile.

Tony trusted her judgment and did not pick the letter up. Jan was good at reading people. “Obadiah might get suspicious of you coming around so much,” he said after some thought. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind separating them from the next batch though?”

“No trouble at all. I actually made a chart with all the names,” Jan admitted, blushing. “Sometimes when I’m getting really frustrated with a design, I organize your letters.”

“That’s adorable,” Tony told her seriously.

“You… trust the people who see this chart?” Jarvis asked after a moment. It pained him to distrust Jan, after everything she had done to help Tony, but they couldn’t risk this getting back to Obadiah. Who knew what he would do if he discovered what was happening?

Jan opened her mouth to scoff an ‘of course,’ then stopped, frowning thoughtfully. After a few minutes, she tried again, answering, “Only a couple of the maids have seen it, and Hank. Hank thinks what’s happening to Tony is a bunch of b—”

Jarvis cleared his throat loudly. He raised his eyebrows at her, frowning, expectant.

“—Boo,” Jan said, because even she was not brave enough to swear in front of Jarvis. “Hank thinks it’s a bunch of boo and if Tony can’t find someone to marry, he’s offered to write to some of his friends in California.”

Tony couldn’t help going a little teary eyed. He and Hank got along alright, but it was definitely one of those ‘he’s courting my friend’ and ‘he’s the friend of the omega I’m courting’ things. To know that he cared enough to offer this, when Obadiah could do so much to hurt him and his research… Even if he was only doing it because he cared for Jan, it was showing a lot of loyalty. He hoped that Jan hung onto Hank, because even though he was incredibly awkward in formal settings, he was proving how much he’d give for her if only to have the chance to love her.

“And I’ll speak to the maids,” Jan added, frowning. “Most of the gossip I overhear is how disgusting it is that Tony has to do this though, so I think they might understand.”

Tony couldn’t help but sag a little, both depressed and mortified. Even people who didn’t know him felt sorry for him.

.-.

Tony wasn’t enthused about Steve’s response, but he hadn’t been crass, and he hadn’t shown any signs of being a bad person, so Tony decided to give him one more chance. One letter alone wasn’t enough to judge a man’s character, and after all, Ana had said that her niece had been able to decide how she felt about her suitors after a few letters. He decided Steve’s next response would be the deciding factor in whether to continue correspondence.

He might have, unfortunately, punished Steve a little with a fib for his less-than-stellar correspondence.

Mr. Steven Rogers,
    I appreciate your prompt reply. Your letter unfortunately found me a bit under the weather; there is a cold going around, but I’m on the tail-end of it now. During my convalescence, I was able to look up where Timely is. I must admit, it took some effort. It seems Timely is very small. How often do you end up going for supplies?
    What is your ranch like? Do you farm as well, or is it only a ranch? What sort of livestock is it?
    I do sincerely apologize for the briefness of this letter. I’m still feeling a bit fatigued from my illness. I hope you’re faring better than I did these past weeks.
With kind regards,
Tony

.-.

Dear Tony,
    I’m very sorry to hear that my reply found you in ill health. I’m glad that you’re recovering, though, and hope the remaining days of illness pass quickly. I know how frustrating it is to be sick. I’m almost certain I spent more time in bed with various ailments as a child than I did outside playing. Luckily it sounds like your illness was nowhere near as frequent and horrible as I remember mine being.
    Timely started out as a very small town, yes, and I go at least once a week for supplies, but I’ll travel in more frequently for the town parties. It seems like there’s always something to celebrate in Timely. It’s grown bigger with the railroad coming through it, but it’s still little more than a depot where the train pauses for supplies. I live far enough away that I can’t see or hear the train when it goes by twice a day, see its smoke or steam, but I do hear its whistle every night as I fall asleep, when it’s quiet and still. I find it a comfort, knowing that it’s passing by like always, a steady presence wishing me goodnight. I know the city is loud and you’ll probably miss it, but I hope that you’ll find comfort in the whistle as well.
    I own a cattle ranch, though it’s not very big. I’m proud of my spread, though. My house used to be a one-room shack, and now it’s a beautiful two-story structure with lots of room in it. The kitchen even has a pump inside of it. I built almost all of it with my bare hands. There’s also a porch where, admittedly, I don’t get to rest often, but when I do, I get a beautiful view of the stars and rolling hills. I like to sketch them when I can. They’re not very good, but it gives me something to do while I sit and unwind with a glass of beer before bed. I’ve enclosed one of my drawings to show you what the view is like. I apologize for the poor quality, but it was the best one I could find.
    I don’t have time for farming, but if you’d like a garden plot to grow some vegetables in, I wouldn’t mind building one for you. I can’t say I would be much help with it. Ma always said I had a black thumb. I killed her marigolds. She didn’t even know it was possible to kill a marigold until I did it. Did you know it was possible to over-water a plant?
    Well, the postmaster is giving me an antsy look. I’ve been trying not to fold this drawing too much and have failed miserably. I hope it gets to you in one piece.
Feel better, Tony.
Steve

Tony trailed his fingers over the drawing lightly, mouth dropped open a little in awe. Steve thought that this was poor quality? Tony almost felt he was looking at a photograph. There were the rolling hills Steve had described, a moon hanging fat and heavy in the sky, stars dotted around it with little gleaming rays. He wondered if Steve had done the sketch by the moonlight. He must have. Tony couldn’t imagine anyone being able to do this from memory alone.

It was beautiful.

“You’re blushing,” Jan said, smirking, and when Tony ducked his head, mortified, she crowed again, “You’re bluuushing!”

“I am not,” Tony lied, covering his cheeks to hide how hot they were.

Jan snatched the paper once his hands were away from it, letting out a triumphant ‘ha!’ “Is it vulgar? Should we have let Mr. Jarvis read it first?!” she asked gleefully, smoothing the paper as Jarvis and Tony both squawked in affront for entirely different reasons. She looked down at it, grinning, but then her expression softened into something more awed and impressed. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Ana asked, and then scoffed and smacked her husband’s arm when he tried to grab for it. “If it was raunchy, she wouldn’t be looking at it like that.”

“Ana!” Jarvis gasped, affronted.

“It’s a drawing,” Jan whispered, holding it out to them.

Tony squirmed in his seat and fought the childish urge to declare ‘it’s mine!’ and snatch it back. He was more mature than that–had been trained better than that. He couldn’t help feeling pleased when Ana and Jarvis looked impressed when they examined it too, though. He told himself it was irrational–this was his second letter from the alpha, and even though it was much better than the first, he had no claim on Steve. Steve had no claim on him. He shouldn’t feel pleased as if they were approving of an intended mate.

“It’s lovely,” Ana said knowingly, handing it back. “I’m sure he would be pleased if you asked for more drawings.”

“That—that would be greedy,” Tony answered weakly. “And rude! I don’t have the right to be so demanding. I—”

“Anthony,” Jarvis said gently, eyes soft, as he reached out for his hand. “I don’t think you understand how pleased it would make this alpha to provide something he made for you just because you said you liked it. In fact, I know he would be pleased if you asked for more drawings.”

Tony squirmed again. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be inappropriate?”

“When Edwin started courting me, he nearly tripped over himself when I said I liked his tea and promised that I would have it every morning once we married,” Ana explained, smiling when Jarvis blushed a little. “And he hasn’t let me go one morning without a cup of his delicious tea since. I’m sure this alpha would love to provide you with something that he’s skilled in.”

Tony frowned, smoothing the drawing again. It looked like Steve really had struggled to find a way to fold it. It didn’t detract from how beautiful the picture was, though.

“So is this alpha going in the ‘no’ pile?” Ana teased, because Tony might have, just possibly, complained about Steve’s poor letter ever since he’d received it. Tony squirmed but couldn’t come up with a snarky reply, which she deserved for her teasing.

Jarvis raised his eyebrows at him, playful smile curling at his lips as he began to put the envelope in the ‘no’ pile.

“Stop it,” Tony hissed, blushing, and snatched the envelope back.

“Oooh, Tony’s got a crush!” Jan squealed, clapping.

“I do not!” Tony exclaimed, glaring at her, and hoped his cheeks weren’t as hot as they felt.

“You’re glowing like a rose,” Jarvis said, and Ana politely covered her mouth to try and hide her giggling.

Tony glared down at his lap, bottom lip beginning to jut out in a pout as Jarvis and Jan began to laugh as well.

.-.

Tony kept the drawing on hand. He couldn’t stop looking at it. It was beautiful, and the scene it depicted was so incredibly charming. He wished he could frame it, but he was afraid someone would notice it and ask about it, and he felt uncomfortable making up a story for it—not when it was given to him with such sweet intentions.

Tony glanced at the drawing again as he readied his pen for another letter, feeling ever so slightly guilty for his fib in the last one, when he’d claimed to be under the weather to get out of having to be entirely polite. He’d just have to be extra sweet this time.

Mr. Steven Rogers,
    I’m much better now, thank you. It really lifted my spirits to receive your letter. I must admit, I wasn’t entirely enthused about making a home on the prairie, but your letter eased some of my nerves about it. I’m sorry to hear that you had poor health as a child. Hopefully that hasn’t followed you into adulthood. I imagine it must be hard to be ill when you have so much responsibility.
    Timely has a lot of parties? What are they like? Is there dancing? I love to dance. I always fill up my dance card when I go to parties here, even if it’s only with other omegas. I have to admit, hearing you wax so poetically about Timely and the train whistle that sings you to sleep each night was quite sweet. I felt like perhaps I could also come to love that train whistle and those rolling hills. You made it sound so peaceful and nice. I might miss the noise of the city, but perhaps I might like the quiet of the prairie just as well.
    I also must express how incredibly flattered and grateful I am for the drawing you sent me. You certainly sold yourself short when you said that it wasn’t very good! It’s not of poor quality at all! I’m amazed at how skilled you are with pencil and paper. At first I was very confused, because I thought you’d sent me a daguerreotype by mistake! It’s beautiful and if you wouldn’t mind if you have the time if you had other drawings you’re comfortable part you should be proud of your work. Thank you for sharing it with me.
    Your house sounds lovely. I’m certain it’s something you should be proud of too. I can’t say I’d be any good with a garden, as I’ve never done any such work myself, but if you’re amenable, I wouldn’t mind trying. It will be good to do something and have a firm goal in mind as I do it. (It’s possible of course, that I’m also excited to get my hands dirty. I have never been allowed the option of getting my hands dirty before.) I might need your help to get started, though. Hopefully between the two of us we’ll be able to manage at least part of a green thumb.
    Now, pardon me if I sound ignorant, but you said you have a cattle ranch, and you’re proud of your spread? What exactly does a spread consist of? Is it all cows? I know you said it was small, but what does a modest spread consist of?
    Reading that back, it looks embarrassingly obtuse, but I truly don’t know the answer to any of these questions. I hope you don’t judge me too harshly for not knowing. I would have a lot to learn, coming to your ranch. I hope you don’t mind teaching me.
Kindest regards,
Tony

.-.

When Jan brought the next batch of correspondence, Tony squirmed impatiently as she handed each of them a stack of envelopes to open. Tony flipped through his stack until he found a reply from Steve, dismayed when he realized there wasn’t one. Had Steve lost interest? Had he been writing other omegas? Omegas who didn’t have so much to learn, who didn’t come with so much baggage? Omegas who, perhaps… might come with money?

Had he become suddenly unattractive as a prospect when he’d admitted he didn’t know anything about ranches?

“Honey,” Ana said, smiling at him in amusement, and passed a letter over to him.

Tony snatched it from her with trembling fingers and looked at the return address, shoulders falling in relief when he saw Steve’s name. He slit the envelope open quickly and pulled the letter out.

Dear Tony,
    I’m glad to hear that you’re well again. Yes, I’m lucky enough that my childhood illness didn’t follow me to my adulthood. One time my best friend kept track of how sick I was on a calendar, and we found that I was ill almost half the year! I can’t imagine being that sick and running the ranch. To be quite honest, I’m lucky I didn’t die in childhood. I’m lucky I can even walk! I had polio and it kept me bedridden for… God, three months? Luckily my mother had a doctor friend who had an experimental treatment he was willing to try. I was sent to live with him, got better, and just… never left. Here I am, decades later, and it’s hard work, but I live for it.
    Timely sometimes feels like we’re all just one big family. Someone’s having a milestone birthday? Time to throw a party. Someone’s come of age? Let’s throw another party. Holiday parties, weddings with the whole town at the receptions, someone’s feeling bored and they want a shindig. There’s one at least once a month, and I try to get to all of them. There’s almost always dancing, but unfortunately I was never gifted with rhythmical feet. Luckily I know everyone in Timely, so I would have no problem if you wanted to let other people fill your dance card. I’d just want you to have fun, and I would be happy watching you do that with other people. It’s not as if someone would try to steal you away. So many people have tried setting me up with others they know, they’ll be happy I’ve finally found a mate. I’ve… never really felt that spark with any of the people I was set up with. Not like I feel it with you.
    Also, thank you for your kind words about my drawing. Perhaps I’m too much a perfectionist. I only ever seem to see what’s wrong instead of what I’ve done well. I’ve enclosed a few more drawings. The dog you see is named Lucky, and he belongs to the owner of the general store. He used to be mine, but a steer stepped on him, and he lost his leg, so I had to retire him. I drew the group of steers by the river on a long, hot summer day under a shady tree. Sometimes it’s nice to just sit and watch them. I used to read but one time I fell asleep and one of the goddamn steers ate half my book. I’m so sorry for that, Tony. That was rude.
    Well, I can set up a small garden, and if it works out, I can always enlarge it. If not… I’m sure we can do something with it. What, I have no clue. I’m sure there must be a plant somewhere that we could just stick in there and wouldn’t kill. If nothing else… grass? You can’t kill grass, right? Either way, you will definitely have the chance to get your hands dirty. And I don’t think your questions were obtuse or ignorant at all. You’ve admitted you know nothing and want to learn more about it. I find that very admirable. I hope you find my answers adequate.
    My spread consists of one hundred and fifty acres. It’s a modest size out here. There are a few larger outfits here but most of us are small, and actually band together to get our herds to sale. I admitted previously that I usually break even or make very little profit. Luckily that’s really all we need out here–if I can’t pay for something, I can barter for it. A side of beef will pay for a lot out here, and I usually keep a few back for myself. Of course, it’s not just cattle. I have horses, chickens, and a few mules, plus a few cattle dogs to help corral the herd. I also have a goat. She’s mean but she protects the chickens, so I kind of have to keep her, I guess.
    I’m gone most of the day, I’m ashamed to say. I have to make you aware of it, though. I have to move the herd to greener pastures, make sure there are no stragglers, take care of any injured animals. It’s long, hard, hot work, and sometimes I’m tired down to my bones when I get home. You’ll be on your own a lot. But I’ll make sure the house is comfortable for you. I own many books that you can peruse at your leisure, and if you find yourself needing more, I’ll send for some. I have a few decks of cards, and plenty of writing materials if you want to correspond with your friends back home. And if you have need of anything else, I hope you won’t hesitate to ask.
    I will endeavor to make sure you have everything you could possibly need while I’m gone, and hopefully my company will make it worth your wait, but I can understand if that would be too much for you. Being alone for so long… I know how hard that can be. But hopefully you’ll make some friends here, too. I wouldn’t mind if you entertained some while I was gone. I don’t want you to be lonely, and it would certainly ease my mind to know you weren’t alone all the time. Timely’s full of good people, and you seem like the kind of person who would make friends easily. I hope I’m not overstepping by saying that I hope you’ll be happy here. I hope you’ll be happy with me.
Sincerely,
Steve

Tony sat back in his seat, feeling a little shell-shocked.

“Tony?” Jarvis asked in concern, frowning.

“I need to be alone,” Tony answered immediately, and fled to the sounds of Jarvis, Ana, and Jan calling after him worriedly.

.-.

Jan eventually knocked on his door, and when she heard no answer, pushed it open and peeked inside. She frowned when she saw Tony curled up on his bed, letter clutched in his hand, other hand curled against his mouth. His hands were shaking. “Tony? Are you okay?”

“Everything is moving too quickly,” Tony whispered, knuckles white, then turned his head to hide his face in his pillow.

Jan waved Ana and Jarvis away before stepping inside and pulling the door shut behind her. While they could be sympathetic to some of the plights that omegas faced, there were definitely things that betas could not totally understand. They could own property, control their money, and while some alphas thought themselves above them, betas could still retain the same legal standing that alphas did. They could wish that Tony and Jan could have that, but they’d never really understand how it felt, being so powerless.

Jan crawled onto the bed behind him, curled up against his back, and pressed her forehead to the back of his neck. “Talk to me, honey,” she whispered, lifting one hand to pet his hair, the other gripping the back of his shirt.

“Everything is moving too quickly,” Tony repeated softly. “This is only Steve’s third letter to me and we’re planning our house, and he’s telling me what my day would be like, and what we’d do together, and what life on the ranch will be like for me. I don’t know anything about him, not really. How can I marry someone I don’t know?”

“How can Steve?” Jan replied quietly.

Tony was quiet for a few moments before he hesitantly asked, “What do you mean?”

“Darling, he doesn’t know anything about you either,” Jan sighed, using her nails to gently scratch over his scalp until he relaxed a little. “All he knows is that you’re an omega, and you have no money, but he doesn’t care about that—he’s just trying to give you all the facts that he can, so you can make an informed decision.”

“I guess… I guess it’s really only just now sinking in,” Tony admitted, finally loosening his grip on the letter. “That I’m going to marry one of these people. I’m going to leave my home, leave New York, everything I’ve ever known. And for what? A person I don’t even really know. A person I can’t even really know until I meet them face-to-face.”

“I think you know him better than you think you do,” Jan said, sitting up. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she leaned over him, smiling a little when he finally pulled his face from the pillow to frown up at her in confusion. “Come on. At least two of those letters were good.”

Tony was silent for a few minutes before he finally, quietly whispered, “I don’t even know his favorite color.”

Jan snorted, patting his shoulder fondly. “You may not know his favorite color or what he looks like, but you know he’s modest, and kind, and that he’ll provide for you. You know he’s a great artist, and he enjoys reading, and he’s a hopeless romantic. You know he’ll be kind to you. Think about all the things you know about him.”

Tony frowned as he thought about it, brows furrowing together, before his lips quirked into the smallest of smiles. “I know he’s a horrible conversationalist unless he’s talking about his ranch or the town nearby.”

“See? You know a lot about him,” Jan said, smiling. She stroked her fingers through his hair again, tilting her head. “Listen, Tony. You have the privilege that few of us will ever have–Steve doesn’t know you’re a Stark, or what that would even entail. He doesn’t know you’re an heir to a fortune, or that you’ve been financially abused by your guardian. He just reads your letters and knows you only as ‘Tony,’ a penniless omega willing to leave everything he knows behind to start a new life with someone he is willing to get to know after he marries.” Her smile went a bit sad around the edges, a little wistful and, perhaps, the tiniest bit jealous. “That’s a very attractive person to be.”

“Jan,” Tony whispered, then bit his knuckle nervously.

Jan looked down at him again, concerned, and said, “You know you can say anything to me, or ask me anything, and I won’t be upset.”

Tony nodded slightly. He knew that. He felt the same way for her. But sometimes he needed the comfort of being reminded. “Do you truly think I’m doing the right thing?”

To her credit, Jan didn’t answer immediately. She pursed her lips as she thought, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. Tony let his eyes drift closed, enjoying the gentle attention, even though he felt a dull ache when he remembered that his mother had done the same thing, card her fingers through his hair when she was thinking. He missed her.

“I think,” Jan finally said slowly. “That this is the only option you have with the lot you’ve been given. Your father always decided no one was ever good enough for the Stark name, so you decided not to sign it in your correspondence. And Obadiah has taken your fortune, so you’ve had to learn to make do without it or marry a sorry excuse for an alpha. I think… I think this is your right thing. The only thing you can do to make your life yours. The only thing you can do to make yourself happy.” She smiled, but there were tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she did. “I think you should choose to be happy. You could be happy with this Steve. You could learn to love him. I don’t think you could learn to love Ezekiel Stane.”

Tony turned to look up at her, frowning. He reached out to cup her cheek, thumb coming up to brush the tears from her eye. “Don’t cry, Jan.”

“Someone has to cry for you, when you have no tears left to cry for yourself,” Jan told him, and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

Tony curled his hand behind her neck to draw her further down and press their foreheads together. “Thank you, Jan. For everything.”

Jan smiled, letting out a wet laugh. “So what are you going to do now?”

Tony sighed, leaning back to look at her. “I think I knew from the moment I started writing letters, I was going to make this choice eventually.”

“You’ve always been so brave,” Jan whispered, and leaned their heads together again. “I hope you’ll be happy, Tony.”

“Me too,” Tony whispered back.

.-.

Tony’s hand shook when he wrote back to Steve. It was a simple letter, almost rude in its bracing candor, but he didn’t have the nerve for flowery language and burying his question in niceties now. He’d apologize when Steve rote back to him. If Steve wrote back.

If Steve still wanted him now that Tony was making this real.

Dear Steve,
    I hope this letter finds you well.
    I’ve noticed that in all of our letters we’ve talked as if nuptials were a foregone conclusion, and I would like to ask for some clarification. What is it that you are looking for in a mate? What is it that you would expect from your omega, whoever that might turn out to be?
Kindest regards,
Tony

Tony tucked the letter into an envelope, then paused. There was a possibility this could be his last letter to Steve that wasn’t a goodbye. It seemed so impersonal, even though its answer would be telling of whether or not a relationship could continue. Is this how he wanted what could possibly be his last letter to Steve to be? Just coldly impersonal, as if those previous letters hadn’t mattered? But he wanted to protect himself, too, in case what Steve answered was something he couldn’t offer him. He realized with a jolt that he’d started the letter with ‘dear’ instead of a more proper, appropriate address to an alpha he technically didn’t have ties to.

He pulled the letter back out and reached for a fresh piece of paper to start over again, then paused, nib hovering over the parchment. He stared at the blank sheet for a moment before pushing it aside and instead unfolding his original letter again. If anyone asked, his stationery was expensive, and he couldn’t afford to waste an extra piece of paper just because he accidentally wrote ‘dear Steve’ instead of ‘Mr. Steve Rogers.’

He tried not to think about how Steve actually had become dear to him in such a short time, and how that might look to other people. Every time he thought about it, he remembered ‘this is too fast’ and ‘what if I seem too eager.’ He comforted himself with the knowledge that Steve had started it, with his ‘dear Tony’s and ‘sincerely’s. If nothing else, Steve would not be put off by that.

Tony paused in refolding the letter, then smoothed it back open, frowning. It really was so impersonal. He hoped Steve wouldn’t be offended. He really was just trying to protect himself. He was pretty sure that Steve would respect that. Steve seemed like the kind of alpha who would want someone to be safe and happy. Tony stared at the letter a little longer. Perhaps Jan was right. Maybe he did know Steve better than he thought.

Still, he grabbed the pen and added a postscript, just for a little peace of mind.

P.S. Steve, what’s your favorite color?

Chapter Text

Jan dropped Steve’s reply directly into Tony’s hands, but he set it down onto the table, too frightened to open it, too afraid that Steve would expect something, and Tony wouldn’t be able to live up to it. He wanted desperately for it to say, ‘Dear Tony, I’m looking for you in a mate,’ but he knew that was childish. His life wasn’t a romance novel. This was real life, and real life was messy and difficult and… and had real consequences. Like being destitute or marrying a philanderer and his scummy father.

Instead, he focused on mechanically opening the other letters, reading them, setting them aside in piles for continued correspondence or piles for sympathetic apologies saying, ‘I feel we’re not a good match.’ There were plenty of other alphas and betas who were kind enough to him. He had options to fall back on.

Ana and Jan kept glancing at him worriedly, but Jarvis simply waited, quiet, a soothing presence, until finally he set down one of the letters he was reading and looked at Tony with soft eyes. “Anthony, putting it off isn’t doing you or your beau any good.”

Tony’s shoulders hunched, and he set his clasped hands in his lap to hide how much they were shaking. “What if what he wants is something I can’t give him?”

“Then you kindly tell him you can’t give him what he wants, and tell him you’d still like to be friends if that’s at all possible, and be understanding if he tells you ‘no,’” Jarvis replied, reaching out to place his hand on one of the omega’s shoulders. He gave a firm but gentle squeeze when he felt the fine tremors running through the younger man. “Sometimes even when you do get to control things, you get hurt. That’s just life, Anthony. Don’t draw your suffering out.”

Tony looked up at him, opening his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what. He looked back down at Steve’s letter, closing his mouth, and reached out for it, taking it carefully in two hands. Such an unassuming piece of paper had no right to hold his future so precariously inside of it.

“Why don’t we give Anthony some privacy,” Ana suggested suddenly, making him jump.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” Tony began, but Jan and Jarvis were already getting up out of their seats.

“We need wine,” Jan decided. “Mr. Jarvis, I know it’s early—”

“I’ll help you pick out a bottle,” Jarvis replied magnanimously, and ushered both she and his wife into the wine cellar.

“—go,” Tony finished lamely. He stared after them for a moment before returning his attention back to the letter Steve had sent him.

Well. He couldn’t put it off forever.

Tony took a deep breath before slitting the envelope open. He set the letter opener aside, fingers lingering on it, then shook himself. He had no reason to be afraid. Jarvis was right. Putting it off was doing himself no favors, and Steve deserved better. And he… was curious. Even if he was scared.

Dear Tony,
     I suppose we have been writing back and forth as if marriage was an inevitability. I guess I was just… so hopeful, since we hit it off so well. I really like you. I hope you return the sentiment. I suppose it’s high time that I told you my expectations for my bride. I probably should have done it sooner. I hope that you don’t find my expectations unfavorable. I’m also willing to compromise, if there’s something you know you’ll be unable to do.
     First and foremost, I expect companionship. While I do spend the day with my ranch hands, most of whom are my friends, once it’s time to wind down for the night, they go back to their families and I’m left in my empty house. I get very lonesome. It’s quiet, so I would like to have someone to come home to. I’m almost certain that this solitude is killing me. It’s lonely out here, late at night, with only the dogs that mostly stay outside for company. It would be nice to come home to someone, to have someone to talk to as I relax a little bit before going to bed, a fire and food already ready for me, instead of having to work that much harder at the end of an already long day.
     And of course I need that person to be my partner on the ranch. I’m not saying that I need someone to get on a horse and round up cattle with me although the company would be nice! But I do need a partner who can pull their own weight. I need someone to do the laundry, and clean house, and cook. I’m gone most of the day, so I feel like it’s not too much to ask my partner to do that, unless of course my partner was It’s not as if the entire house needs to be cleaned every day. I don’t make a particularly large amount of laundry, so that doesn’t need to be done every day either. I feel like keeping house isn’t too much to ask for while I’m out on the range.
      And maybe we could talk about Maybe we could consider I was hoping we might I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. I would like to discuss having children eventually. Now, I don’t mean to sound like I’m demanding someone pop out kids for me have children just because I want them to. But I think it would be good reasonable honestly nice to at least be able to discuss it. It’s not a deal breaker if my partner doesn’t want them, but… I’d like to at least discuss it. Of course, I don’t expect my bride to just fall into bed with me either! I have a separate room set up for when my bride comes. I don’t expect us to share a bed until we know each other and are comfortable with it. Hell, I don’t even have to touch you. Just having some damn company would be nice.
     Tony, I have to admit this now. I swear like a sailor. I’ll try hard not to. God knows I’ll try. But I’m pretty sure God knows I’ll fail too. My ma didn’t make me eat half the soap in the house for nothing, but getting kicked by an angry steer taught me new words for the ones that got washed out of my mouth, most of them worse. That first letter I sent to you was the result of several scrapped letters that were mostly inked out. I just don’t want you to be surprised if you decide to marry me.
     I hope you decide to marry me. I hope you don’t find me repulsive after this.
Sincerely,
Steve

Tony swallowed thickly as he began to fold the letter back up with fumbling fingers and couldn’t help his breath hitching in surprise when something came fluttering off the back of it. “Oh!” He hesitated, then picked up the scrap of paper, fingers trailing over the patch of creamy yellow, like a light smear of lemon chiffon cake. Steve’s looping, lazy scrawl was there, too.

P.S. This is my favorite color. What’s yours?

Tony brought his hand to his mouth, teeth biting into his knuckles. The little scrap of paper had no right to be so cute and unassuming after how heavy the letter had been. Being alone all day and considering children—he didn’t even know what Steve looked like. Maybe he was repulsive. Maybe he was small and had scars all over and one eye and what sort of alpha liked lemon chiffon yellow? Alphas should like red, or—or royal blue, or—not lemon chiffon!

A sweet alpha would like this yellow, a small, traitorous part of him whispered. Tony looked down at the scrap of paper and the paint on it again. Yeah. A sweet one.

Except he wasn’t sure he could even offer Steve the barest bones of what he was looking for in a mate.

“Anthony?” Jarvis called, peeking around the door.

Tony started to cry, and he hated himself for it. “Jarvis, what am I doing?”

Jarvis moved around the door immediately, coming over to kneel beside his chair and pull him into his arms. “You’re doing your best.”

Tony sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to the beta’s shirt. “I don’t even know how to cook, Jarvis! What do I really have to offer him? What can I do?”

“Anthony,” Jarvis whispered into his hair. “You have so much to offer. You’re clever, and kind, and resourceful. I’m sure you’d figure something out. But I’ll teach you, as much as I can before you leave. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

Ana and Jan tiptoed out from behind the cellar door as well, Ana holding a bottle of wine. Jan slipped over to the table and picked up the letter with gentle fingers. Ana left them to it, walking over to cut up some oranges, grapefruit, and apples to dump into a pitcher with the bottle of red wine.

Jarvis leaned back to brush a hand through Tony’s hair, frowning. “Do you need to go back to bed, Anthony?”

“No, I just,” Tony sniffed, and grabbed a napkin off the table to dab at his eyes. “I just—I was—I’m not going to be any good for him. I’m… I’m a society omega. What can I offer Steve?”

“Your nubile young body?” Jan suggested.

Tony choked on his tongue, but it couldn’t be heard over Jarvis’s screech of outrage. “JANET VAN DYNE!”

“We were all thinking it!” Jan exclaimed defensively. “Well. Everyone except you apparently.”

“Ms. Van Dyne, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Jarvis began.

Ana came over and pushed a glass of sangria into Jan’s hand. “Here, dear.”

“Ana!” Jarvis barked.

“Oh, Edwin, we were all thinking of it,” Ana scoffed. “Anthony is an attractive young omega.”

“Anthony wasn’t thinking it!” Jarvis exclaimed.

Tony cleared his throat and busied himself taking a sip of the drink Ana shoved at him as well. Oh good. She’d put bourbon in it too. He was going to get gloriously drunk before noon and then he’d be too ill to go to the party he was expected at. Anything to avoid Ezekiel, and it would have the added bonus of making him forget Steve’s letter.

Jarvis turned to look up at Tony in stony silence before he stood, shook himself off, and said, “I am going back to bed.”

“Edwin, don’t be such a stuffed shirt,” Ana teased, but Jarvis began walking for the door. “Honey! Please be reasonable!”

“I am being quite reasonable,” Jarvis said. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon on the way out.

Ana stared after him, lips pursed, before tipping her head back for a long slug of her wine. “The old spoilsport never did care for crassness, even from me.”

“I’ll apologize later,” Jan replied dismissively. She sat at the table and reached out to take Tony’s hand. It was still shaking a little. “Tony,” she said softly, eyes going soft and dewy. “Take some time to yourself with this. Just think about it really carefully, alright? Are you upset because you’re seeing you could never make it out west, or… because you’re scared you could do better out there than you ever could here?”

Tony looked at her, mouth opening and closing uselessly, before he threw back the rest of his glass of punch.

Ana sat down at the table as well, reaching out to refill his glass with the pitcher. “You don’t have to send back a response immediately,” she reminded him gently. “Janet is right. Take some time and just think about it, Anthony. Answer some other letters. Read the newspaper. Take a walk in the gardens. I’m sure that Steve isn’t expecting you to put pen to paper immediately after reading his letter. He’d probably prefer you to take some time to consider it.”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frowning. He knew they were right. He really did need to just… think. Could he give Steve those things, or not? Could he manage a life out west? What was he really afraid of?

“I’m going to need to finish the punch,” Tony said after a moment, and punctuated his statement with an almost-too-large swallow.

Ana paused mid-sip, then set her glass down to frown at him. “Why?”

“So I can have a hangover from hell so that when Ezekiel and Obadiah arrive to take me to a party, I will be indisposed,” Tony admitted.

Ana pursed her lips, thoughtful. “…Whose party is it?”

Tony grimaced and folded his arms on the table, shoving his face into them as he mumbled, “Tiberius Stone.”

“Ew!” Jan blurted out immediately. “Gross! He’s even worse than Ezekiel!” She grabbed the pitcher to fill his glass to the brim. “Drink up, honey.”

“I’ll run you a hot bath,” Ana added.

“You don’t need to do that,” Tony exclaimed, lifting his head. “Ana! You’re not a servant! You don’t need to wait on me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous, Anthony. That’s not what’s happening,” Ana scoffed, rolling her eyes. “How else are you to fake a fever?”

Tony stared at her, brows furrowed together. “I—I don’t… know?”

“You really must tell us stories about your life growing up,” Jan insisted, leaning her chin on her hand. “You sound like you were a real firecracker.”

“I am still a real firecracker, dear,” Ana said, and stood. “I’m going to go look through some of my powders. Surely one of them will go with your skin tone to make you look pallid without it being obviously fake.”

Jan and Tony watched her leave the room. “She’s so neat,” Jan breathed. “How did Mr. Jarvis ever manage finding a girl like that?”

“He said that he bought a tie from her in Budapest and immediately fell in love with her,” Tony replied, trailing his finger around the rim of his glass before plucking out a slice of orange. “The way Ana tells it, she saw this tall Englishman and thought his accent was cute when he tried to say ‘thank you’ in Hungarian.”

“That’s so romantic,” Jan sighed, smiling, and picked a chunk of apple out of her punch to pop into her mouth. “It’s not fair. All of these older people have such sweet stories of meeting their partners in Europe, and we got stuck here with the Stanes.”

Tony hummed agreeably, laying his head on his arms as he thought about his parents. They’d met in Italy, when Howard had been cheeky, and Maria had been unimpressed. Howard had sworn that he would impress her. Maria had promised that nothing he did would. And then six months later they’d gotten married. Maria had told stories about their courtship. Howard was apparently the typical blockhead alpha, but in the moments where he was soft and sweet, she fell in love with him.

Tony wanted that, too. But he knew he’d never get that with Ezekiel. He’d probably never get it with anyone else, either, if he stayed.

Tony picked up the scrap of paper with a splash of yellow paint on it again, humming thoughtfully. Steve liked lemon chiffon yellow.

Tony smiled a little. Soft and sweet.

.-.

“You’ve murdered me,” Tony moaned, arm thrown over his eyes. “Please close the drapes! I will actually die if you don’t!”

“You’re such a big baby,” Ana teased, but obediently covered the windows to darken the room.

Tony moaned again, curling up on his side. “How much rum did you put in that daiquiri?”

“Just the regular amount,” she replied, fluffing a pillow before gently putting it over his head to help block out the rest of the light. “I just added a hell of a lot of gin to it.”

“You’ve murdered me,” Tony whimpered again. “I will heave all my innards out if I move ever again.”

“Aim at either of the Stanes,” Ana said. “I hope it gets in their shoes.”

Tony laughed a little, then groaned as his stomach lurched. “Oh, I’m actually going to die.”

“Edwin is making you a tonic right now,” Ana assured him, running a hand up and down his arm gently. “Just be glad you’re not Janet.”

“Oh, God, all those turns to her house in that car,” Tony giggled, then grunted and swallowed thickly. “God. Ana, if I should perish, I want all of my belongings to go to you and Jarvis.”

“Baby,” Ana teased again, then pulled the pillow up just enough to press a kiss to his forehead. “Rest, dear.”

Tony grabbed her sleeve before she could pull away entirely. “Ana?”

Ana paused, then slowly sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes, Anthony?”

Tony rubbed the soft fabric between his fingers nervously before softly asking, “Will you—will you tell me how you and Jarvis met again?”

Ana blinked at him in surprise, but then her expression softened, and she leaned down to press another kiss to his forehead. “If you want, dear.”

Tony curled closer to her, pressing his shins against her back gently, relishing the extra contact as she gently began to rub the base of his skull. “I do.”

“I was living in Budapest,” Ana began slowly, as if walking through the memory, taking her time. “I worked in this little clothes shop, selling ties. And there was… there was the ugliest tie, that I never could get rid of, and I still can’t believe the owner of the shop had dared put it out for sale. It was gaudy. It was olive green and salmon pink. My lord, what an ugly tie,” she whispered, mostly to herself, but smiled when Tony reluctantly giggled. “And, well. I was the tie girl. I had to pretend I thought that tie was great. I tried to up sell it to every customer, but they always turned it down. Then one day, the owner of the shop came up to me, and he said, ‘Ana, if you sell this tie today, I’ll give you a raise.’

“I knew I’d never be able to do it, but of course I was as brash as I always am,” she continued. “And I so wanted a raise. And lo! A foreigner walked into the shop! I thought, here’s my chance—a sucker.”

Tony let out a reluctant huff of laughter. “Really?”

“Really,” Ana replied, smiling. “I flirted. I up sold. I assured him that the olive green went with his skin tone and the salmon pink highlighted his eyes. I used every compliment I knew—and a few I made up on the spot. Edwin kept looking at this silver and blue tie, but I insisted. The green and salmon. The shop owner got tired of watching me, and once he was gone, Edwin told me he’d take the tie, but only if I agreed to go on a date with him. He was charming, and so handsome, and my mother always told me I was much too reckless. So I agreed.

“And Edwin was so charming,” she sighed, and covered her mouth for a moment. “So sweet, and kind. I fell in love with him immediately. Of course, I did play hard to get,” she added hurriedly. “And my mother didn’t approve, but… then the unrest started happening, and I was frightened—everyone was. So my mother told me she approved, and I went to Edwin, and we married immediately and followed your father to Italy. He paid for our honeymoon. He struggled to show his emotions, but… I think he did try to show Edwin that he was happy for him in his own way. We were so happy.” She stroked her thumb up and down the back of Tony’s neck gently. “We’re still so happy.”

“So romantic,” Tony murmured to himself. He felt warm down to his bones even as he ducked his head back under the pillow. “Ana?”

Ana tilted her head, still gazing off into the distance. “Hmm?”

“Did you ever get your raise?”

Ana blinked slowly, then let out a bark of laughter when she realized what he’d asked. “Ha! No. The shop owner thought that I’d bribed Edwin with my feminine wiles.”

Tony laughed, then groaned when his stomach lurched again. “Oh my God.”

Ana smiled down at him, then quietly asked, “Will you tell me about how you met Steve?”

“What-?” Tony asked, startled, and lifted the pillow to stare at her in surprise. “What do you—”

Ana shrugged, reaching out to smooth his hair out of his eyes. “Just… if anyone ever asked how you met him, what would you say?”

Tony frowned, brows furrowing together as he thought about it. If someone asked him how he met Steve… what would he say? “I… I guess…” He chewed on his bottom lip nervously before continuing, “I guess I’d say… I answered a lot of marriage ads. Some of the replies I got were… awful. And Steve’s first reply kind of was awful too. But I decided to give him a chance anyway, and his second reply to me was beautiful and thoughtful and… and he gave me a present.”

“A present?” Ana asked, sounding surprised. “What kind of present?”

“U-um—” Tony blushed a little. “A drawing. Of the view from his porch. It—it was beautiful. And he was so humble, said he wished he had something better to give me. We exchanged additional correspondence, told each other what we expected out of a partner, and… um… I traveled west to meet him.”

“Now if you heard that story from somebody else,” Ana said gently. “You would think it was incredibly romantic, wouldn’t you?” When Tony stayed silent, she gave his shoulder the gentlest of squeezes. “It’s just as romantic as the start that Edwin and I had, that your parents had, that Janet is having with her beau. You don’t realize it, because it’s so new, and not at all what you expected, but you’ll look back, and you’ll realize how beautiful and sweet it really was.”

Tony bit his bottom lip, then whispered, “But what if I don’t marry Steve?”

To her credit, Ana took a few minutes to think about it. Finally, she said, “Then he will be a bittersweet memory, still romantic, but with a touch of melancholy. But just because you didn’t end up together, it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t romantic.”

“…Do you have bittersweet memories, Ana?” Tony asked softly.

She smiled sadly and whispered, “Too many to count,” before she gave him one last kiss on the cheek and took her leave of him.

Tony kept his head buried under the pillow for a while, thinking, before he carefully pushed himself to the edge of his bed and opened the drawer in his bedside table to pull out the drawings Steve had sent him. There was the clear night sky, and there was the retired cattle dog Lucky, and there was the steer that Steve kept watchful eye over until they went to market. It was terribly romantic, wasn’t it, that Steve sent him these drawings? And he’d been so worried, too, that they wouldn’t be good enough for him.

Tony reached out with shaking fingers to pull the false bottom out of the drawer and draw Steve’s letters out, too. His eyes trailed over the looping scrawl again and again. Steve was so earnest, all those Dear Tonys, and Sincerelys, and I hope you like it heres. Tony got the impression that he was kind. He wasn’t so sure about this… swearing problem that Steve had, but… he supposed if he got kicked by a steer, he’d swear a lot too.

And it wasn’t like Steve was being really unreasonable. Jan and Jarvis were right—he was just scared. Tony was realizing with sort of a sinking feeling that he was afraid he would do too well away from everything he knew, and not because he was afraid he would fail. He’d felt so free and alive when he’d realized he could get out from under Obadiah and Ezekiel, like he could do anything. Maybe he was scared that he’d get to Steve, and do well, and then be dragged back.

He’d never know either way if he didn’t make a decision, though.

Tony reread Steve’s last letter, frowning. He could… he could be a companion. He could be someone to talk to, someone to come home to. Steve wouldn’t need to spend each night alone, watching the prairie. He had lots to talk about. His parents had always laughed about how he could have a conversation with himself, too, so if Steve were ever too tired to talk, Tony could… talk for the both of them.

And taking care of the house? He could do that. If he had all day to do it, he could probably even manage to make his work look passable. Steve had said he could entertain, too, so… so maybe if Tony made friends, he could do that. Steve seemed to really want him to like Timely and the people in it, so he would probably make friends to spend time with. Surely someone would be his friend. He hoped he didn’t come off as stuck-up. He’d heard that sometimes city manners didn’t translate well in the west. Hopefully the people of the town were as kind as Steve himself was.

For the matter of children, well… He… He could probably… Tony had never really thought about children. He could admit he’d been too afraid to do it. Up until now, any children he had would be the result of… coupling… with Ezekiel. He hadn’t wanted to speculate what it would mean, in any terms—how the bedding would have happened, how he would have to suffer congratulations over the hypothetical child, how he’d fear for his child under Obadiah and Ezekiel’s thumbs.

But with Steve… Steve had said that if Tony didn’t really want to have children, that that was okay. That was more than most alphas would allow. And it wasn’t like he was… opposed to children. Just… to children with Ezekiel. Steve seemed like a good, kind man. Tony thought perhaps that Steve would… would be a good father. And perhaps he himself might be a good mother, with a supportive mate instead of a selfish one. And of course, after all, Steve had only asked to discuss it. They were still going to get to know each other after he arrived in Timely.

They would be friends first. And Tony so desperately longed for friends.

There was a knock on the door, and Tony hurriedly shoved the letters and sketches under his pillows, terrified. Though Jarvis and Ana always gave him privacy, Ana rarely ever gave more than a quick tap before she walked in, and Jarvis rarely ever came into the rooms he was occupying without Tony expressly asking for him, because he always had something to do in the house. If he was knocking, that meant he was buying time.

Jarvis poked his head in. “Sir, the Stanes are here. They wish to see you.”

“I’m indisposed,” Tony whispered. The light from the hallway was making his head pound again, and his stomach lurched as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Very well, sir,” Jarvis began, only to squawk as Obadiah shoved past him anyway.

Ezekiel came to hover next to him, pretty sure that if he tried to pass into Tony’s room without permission, Jarvis would happily gut him.

“Anthony!” Obadiah barked angrily.

Tony winced, grinding his teeth together. “Uncle Obie,” he whispered.

“You’re expected at the party,” Obadiah continued. “You can't just not show up!” He grabbed at the blankets to pull them off.

Jarvis politely rammed his shoulder into him to push him away. “Even an uncle should not rip the bed clothes off an omega in his own room,” he told Obadiah primly.

Obadiah looked livid, but he also knew better than to question Jarvis on what was and was not proper. Jarvis held propriety in high regard. Even Ezekiel didn’t tangle with him, and Ezekiel had little regard for anything but the allowance he got from his father.

Obadiah took a deep breath, then let it back out slowly, still looking angry as he scowled at Tony, but a lot less likely to do anything rude. “You’re expected at a party,” he repeated.

“I need a pan,” Tony blurted out, jerking into a sitting position.

Jarvis, ever prepared, handed the omega the bedpan that had been sitting on his bedside table. Tony bent over it with a loud ‘hurk.’

“We’ll make your excuses,” Obadiah said, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, and stomped out.

“Excellent timing, sir,” Jarvis told Tony.

“Jarvis it burds. Oh by God id's combing oud by dose.”

“I’ll get a wet cloth,” Jarvis said. “And have Ana bring up some crackers.”

“I’mb dying,” Tony sobbed.

Jarvis didn’t call him a baby. He was too professional for that.

That’s what Ana was for.

.-.

Tony set his lap-desk across his legs, nibbling on a cracker carefully. “Mr. Steve Rogers, as terrifying as your letter was, I find your terms acceptable.” He tilted his head and made a face. “Ugh. Mr. Steve Rogers, your desires for a mate are decently—No. Mr. Steve Rogers, I can’t possibly thank you enough for your candor.” He wrinkled his nose and sighed. No. That didn’t sound right either.

Tony frowned down at his blank stationery for a long moment before lifting his pen, whispering a soft, almost embarrassed, “Dear Steve.” He hesitated, then set the letter aside again. He had to think a little more, even though he was pretty sure of his answer. Perhaps he’d come up with the words he needed as he thought about it. He reached out for the book Jarvis had brought him instead, flipping it open to the first page.

“‘The vegetables we know as beans and peas, called legumes, are members of the large Fabaceae family and represent some of the most important vegetable staples known to mankind…’”

.-.

Dear Steve,
     I hope this letter finds you in good health. I am currently under the weather again, but I should be well again by the time this letter reaches you. I must admit that I’ve wondered how to address you and the things you wrote in our previous correspondence, and I’ve decided to just push forward. I may struggle to find my feet if I come to Timely, but I think, by your side, I will be able to learn.
     I took no issue with any of your desires in a mate. Every person, I think, wishes for someone to come home to, especially after a long, hard day of work. I hope that I can be that person for you. If you want to talk, I’ll listen, and if you’re too tired to speak but still want my company, I can speak for the both of us. I’m certain there will come a time where you’ll wish I would stop. I’ll try not to talk too much. I’ve been told I can ramble. But maybe you’d like that, after having nothing to listen to but cattle.
     I’ll help as much as I can, but I also ask you to please be patient as I learn. I’ll probably make mistakes, and I’ll try to make sure they’re not too costly, but I’m sure there will be mistakes so spectacular that they’ll leave both of us speechless. But I do wish to be your partner, and to help ease your burden. I must be honest and tell you that I might not be able to help you too much with the heavier duties, as I have not put in much physical labor during my life, but I will try to help in any other way that I can. If keeping house and cooking for you are the ways to do that, I will endeavor to do both whole-heartedly.
     I’m not entirely opposed to children, and am open to discussion. The idea of children is terrifying to me, but I can admit that part of that is because my parents left me so soon, and up until now have been afraid to think about them. That isn’t to say that I don’t want them, of course, but my concerns, even if they stem from nothing, do weigh on my mind. I hope we can achieve an agreement on this topic that suits both of us. I’m heartened greatly by your assurance that you don’t need children, no matter how desperately you may want them.
     I’m not certain how I feel about you swearing often. I understand stubbing your toe and wanting to let out a good, heartfelt ‘damn,’ and I can suppose I can also understand getting kicked by a steer and cursing a blue streak. Swearing just to swear is not something I’m necessarily comfortable with. But if you can promise to try not to swear without reason, I can promise to try and learn to live with when you do swear.
     My favorite color is red. You're quite an artist, so I am going to assume that you know the shade: the perfect shade of the sun going down, the deep indigo of night hovering at the edges of it, the sun a giant golden sliver disappearing over the horizon. The backgrounds of where we live might be different, but the sky and sun we look at are the same. Steve, I think we’re a good match. I have never had such ease of correspondence with another alpha, and I think it means something. Do you think we’re a good match, Steve? Could you ever consider me your omega?
Kindest regards,
Tony

P.S.—What was your mother’s favorite kind of soap? I’ll make sure to keep some handy just in case I find your swearing a bit too exuberant. I wish you well, Steve.

Chapter Text

“Fold the dough in half toward your body, give it a quarter turn, then use the heels of your hands to push it back out,” Jarvis explained.

“How many times do I have to do this?” Tony asked, grunting with the effort of pushing the dough back out.

“It’s not how many,” Jarvis said. “It’s how long. I usually do it for about five to ten minutes.”

Tony frowned, brow furrowing. “And it’s done after ten minutes?”

“Well…” Jarvis hummed, tilting his head. “That’s just how long it takes me. It will probably take you longer since you’re not used to it. You can tell you’re finished kneading when the dough is nice and smooth. And if you’re still unsure, you can always poke it with your finger. If the hole fills in quickly, it’s done; if the dent obviously stays, you need to keep at it.”

“Poke it,” Tony repeated, reaching over for his pen to jot that down too. His pen and the paper he was writing on were already covered in flour, but now his pen had a smear of sticky dough on it.

“It shouldn’t be coming away on your hands, either,” Jarvis added, sprinkling some more flour onto the dough.

“Shouldn’t be… coming… away on hands… add… flour,” Tony whispered, writing that too.

Jarvis couldn’t help a fond laugh. “You really don’t need to write these down immediately, Anthony. I’d repeat it for you later.”

“I have to write it down or I’ll lose it,” Tony insisted. He had so much to learn in so little time.

Well… Maybe not so little time. He hadn’t heard back from Steve, yet, after all, and who knew if Steve still wanted him after his reply? Perhaps he hadn’t sold himself well enough. Steve had an awful lot of desires in a mate and Tony probably hadn’t been incredibly reassuring when he admitted that he wasn’t necessarily very skilled at these things. He’d asked for Steve to be patient as he learned, but maybe Steve couldn’t afford to be patient. Tony understood that.

Still, Steve had seemed so kind in his letters, had seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t mind someone failing as long as they were honestly trying. Surely he wouldn’t hold Tony’s ignorance against him. Tony might not know Steve personally yet, but he liked to think he knew some of the intimate parts of him. He knew that Steve got lonely, and that he was artistic, and that his favorite color was yellow. And Steve knew him—knew he was anxious, and scared, but still willing to try. That must count for something, right?

“Once you have bread perfected, you can make mostly anything with it,” Jarvis said, cutting through his thoughts, and Tony focused on kneading again. “Pot pie crusts, rolls, soft pretzels… You can make a slurry of cinnamon and sugar and make cinnamon rolls…”

“What if it doesn’t rise again?” Tony asked worriedly. He’d had that problem with the first batch. He hadn’t proofed his yeast properly. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. But what if by some miracle he did kill the yeast between proofing and leaving it to rise?

Jarvis looked surprisingly unworried about the idea. “I’m sure that Steve will have a cast iron pan.”

Tony looked up at him in confusion. “A cast iron pan?”

“Throw some butter in the pan and cook small, flat pieces of the dough in it. You can put some olive oil and spices on it or sprinkle it with sugar and nutmeg.” Jarvis shrugged. “I have to do that all the time when Ana cooks.”

“I’m telling Ana you said that,” Tony said, smiling a little.

Jarvis snorted, unimpressed. “Ana knows she can’t cook. That’s why I do it.”

Tony laughed, and then let out a startled noise when Jarvis pushed a lock of his hair back behind his ear and leaned in to press a kiss to his temple. “What was that for?” he asked, surprised, because Jarvis usually didn’t indulge in shows of affection unless Tony clearly needed it. It didn’t upset him when Jarvis showed him affection without cause, but… it made Jarvis extremely vulnerable in case the wrong person saw it and reported it back to Obadiah. So he didn’t indulge himself often.

Jarvis ran his fingers through his hair again, eyes soft and fond and sad. “You’ve laughed more in the past few months than you did in the rest of the time since your parents died. There’s a lightness in you now.”

Tony looked back down at the dough he was working, cheeks flushing a rosy pink. His first instinct was to deny it, but… he’d had more hope in the last few months than he had for previous years. There was a light at the end of the tunnel for him, a chance to do what he wanted instead of what he was told to do. He hadn’t realized how much the inevitability of marrying Ezekiel had worn him down. Now he was making all these plans, practicing all these things he might need to know in the future, taking down notes in case he forgot and had no one to ask, and he was enjoying it. He… he hadn’t enjoyed something, truly, for a very long time.

“Steve has made you happy again,” Jarvis said softly. “And I’m wary, of course I am, but… I think he’ll continue to make you happy, Anthony.”

Tony turned and buried his face in Jarvis’s chest with a quiet sob. “Oh Jarvis-! How can I leave you like this? After all you’ve done for me!”

“I always knew a time would come when you would have to leave,” Jarvis informed him gently, wrapping his arms around him and stroking a hand up and down his trembling back. “I knew one day you would marry and go off to start your own family. Of course, when you were younger, I’d imagined it happening with someone you liked. Now you have that chance again, and I want you to take it, and I never want you to look back.”

“I’ll always look back for you, Jarvis,” Tony whispered. “For you and Ana and Jan. You’ve all done so much for me. I won’t look back for anything else but you.”

Jarvis smiled and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. “Maybe one day, when you’ve been gone long enough that no one will suspect, Ana and I will come and visit you.”

“I would like that very much, Jarvis,” Tony murmured softly. “And I could introduce you to Steve, and show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Jarvis stopped rubbing his back, but he let his hand linger, and Tony was certain it wasn’t his imagination that his hand was shaking. “I’m sure you will.”

“Mail call!” Jan shouted gleefully as she pranced into the kitchen with the letters held triumphantly above her head, then paused, hand slowly sinking until the letters were pressed to her chest. “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Tony said hurriedly, and lifted his hands to wipe his face. Then he wailed. “I got dough in my hair!”

“HA!” Jan snorted, pointing at him, then ducked her head demurely when Jarvis shot her a look. “I mean. Oops. Bad luck, Tony.”

Tony came at her with both doughy hands. “I’m going to wipe these all over your shirt.”

“Tony noooo!” Jan shouted, turning to run, but she was giggling.

Ana yelped as Jan ducked past her, then grunted as she had to spin with the motion to avoid Tony and his floury hands, too, holding the bag of groceries she’d bought over her head. “Children!” she shouted after them, like she had so many times before, and smiled when they shouted happy, giggly apologies over their shoulders.

Jarvis took over kneading the dough as Ana began putting groceries away. “Did you hear that?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Ana said, smiling, even as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Edwin. I had no idea how much I missed the sound of laughter until just now.”

Jarvis smiled a little, not turning from the dough, allowing her the privacy to get her bearings again. “You gave that back to him, you know. Not me, not Jan, not even Steven—you’re the one who suggested writing letters. You gave him his freedom again.”

“If the Stanes try to stop Tony, I’ll kill them,” Ana whispered.

Jarvis finally turned, laying one lightly floured hand over her clasped, trembling ones. “I doubt it would come to that, dear.”

“You know the Stanes, Edwin,” Ana said shakily as she looked up at him, allowing herself to show him the worry and fear she’d felt for so many years. “You’ve seen what they can do firsthand. How can you say it wouldn’t come to that?”

Jarvis gave her hands a squeeze and, solemnly, told her, “Ana. You would never have to do that, because I would do it first.”

Ana blinked up at him, surprised, then leaned in to press her face against his neck and breathe. “Edwin…”

“Why do you think Obadiah kept me around so long?” Jarvis asked mildly, tone so at odds with what he was saying—calm and matter of fact, as if he wasn’t talking about cold-blooded murder. “He knows if he took Anthony from me, I would no longer have anything to lose. He knows if he took Anthony from me, I’d send you on the first ship back to Hungary and then eat his miserable heart.”

Ana leaned back and stared at him, stunned silent, then let out a sigh and hid her face again.

.-.

“This is really good, Tony,” Jan said, slathering some apricot jam on a slice of bread. “At least you’ll be able to make bread for Steve, if nothing else.”

“Thanks, Jan,” Tony said blandly, copying his notes from making bread over into a clean notebook. “I really appreciate that.”

“Yes, my compliments are the best,” she preened. Tony rolled his eyes so hard his entire body moved with it. She primly said nothing, instead shuffling through the letters she’d brought him. “That chemist you were talking to sent another letter.”

“We’re not really working out,” Tony admitted softly. “I think he knows it too. I feel kind of bad because he really was sweet.”

Jan wasn’t too bothered. The beta had been sweet, but she’d seen how smitten Tony was with Steve. She’d known that Tony jumped into things wholeheartedly and feet-first and just hoped for the best. As soon as Steve had sent Tony that drawing, Tony’s mind had been made up–he just hadn’t realized it yet.

“Maybe you’ll work out better as friends,” she suggested when he picked up the envelope and frowned at it. “Just because you’re not compatible as spouses doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Weren’t you just telling me that you had an interesting conversation about… what was it… atoms or something?”

“Radioactivity,” Tony deadpanned, unimpressed with her recollection. “We were discussing Henri Becquerel’s discovery of radioactivity.”

“Ugh, I don’t actually care,” Jan sighed loudly. “It was like listening to Hank talk about ants. I support your endeavors but after an hour you could stand to listening to me bitch about the price of cashmere.”

“Janet!” Jarvis exclaimed, appalled.

Jan huffed. “Well they could!” she reaffirmed defiantly, and then passed Tony another letter so he couldn’t yell at her some more. “Here. This one’s from Steve.”

Tony immediately dropped his pen, taking the letter with both hands. “Steve!”

“A man would be mighty flattered to hear someone call their name like that, Anthony,” Ana pointed out with a grin.

Tony flushed immediately at the connotation, and then in embarrassment at how obviously smitten he was. Ana laughed a little, then squealed, startled. Tony and Jan stared at her as she flushed and fled the room before whipping around to look at Jarvis.

“Tea?” Jarvis asked, and poured them some before they could answer.

They wisely took the tea without a word.

Jarvis scooped up the few letters from new suitors to read and swept out of the room with a mild smile and nothing else.

“…Mr. Jarvis frightens me,” Jan admitted once she was sure he was gone.

“I think he knows,” Tony replied. “And I think he likes it. Would you mind if I…?”

She blinked at him. “Huh?” She saw him fingering the corner of Steve’s letter and jumped a little in her seat. “Oh! Um. Sure. I’ll just… go… somewhere.”

“There’s a lovely window seat in the library,” Tony offered. “Take your tea or Jarvis might get offended.”

“I’m taking my tea because I like Mr. Jarvis’s tea,” Jan sniffed. She snatched up the tray of bread and jam too. “And I’m going to snoop through what you’ve been reading about.”

“Hope you’re ready to read a lot abOUT GARDENING!” Tony called after her and smiled when she blew a raspberry at him before the door swung closed.

He waited until he was sure she was gone before he traced his hands over the edges of the envelope, fingering the corners nervously. What if… what if Steve said he had reconsidered? What if he’d found someone with experience in farming or ranching? What… what if he’d found someone with money?

Tony hugged the letter to his chest and took a few deep breaths, blinking tears out of his eyes. It didn’t matter. He had other options. He liked Steve, but he didn’t really know him. He just… very much liked the idea of him. So if Steve… If Steve had decided that they weren’t a good match after Tony’s admissions, he’d accept it. He’d just mourn the idea of Steve and make sure to take extra good care of the drawings he’d been given.

Tony took another deep breath, setting the envelope back on the table and smoothing his hands over it. This piece of paper would decide whether his future was with Steve… or someone else. Tony took a moment to smile sadly at the address on the front. Something in him ached, and he figured it was because it wasn’t actually his address, but Jan’s, and his name wasn’t actually on the envelope as the addressee, like he’d requested of his suitors; even if it were for his own safety, there was something a little sad about it. He traced his fingers over the letters of the address slowly, then sighed and reached for the letter opener.

There was no reason to prolong his misery. He’d need to decide soon anyway.

Dear Tony,
    I know you said you’d feel better by the time your letter arrived to me, but I hope you’re feeling better anyway. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you take no issue with any of my desires. I hope the terms I want you to know I appreciate your candor
    Tony, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you if you could see yourself marrying me in my letters for weeks. I have baskets full of my trashed attempts. And you just… You just came right out and asked. I’m in awe. I feel like a coward for not asking sooner, for making you ask instead, but at the same time… You must be an incredible omega, Tony, and I would be honored to call you mine. I hope I’ll be able to show you that I’m not actually cowardly or hesitant. My friends actually tell me I’m damnably reckless and straightforward. I’ve just been trying so hard not to say anything that might offend you, because I know things are different in the city than they are here, and I just wanted so much for you to like me.
    I don’t even know what else to say. Or what else to ask. I just want to go shout to the world that you’d consider me a good mate. That you’d consider me for a spouse. I may go do that tonight, once the cowhands have left. Or maybe I’ll just go out and do it right now. I’m not ashamed. You’re kind and patient and willing to leave behind everything you know to come to everything you don’t. What more could a man ask for? I can’t think of any other time in my life when I’ve felt so happy. I hope you feel happy too, Tony. I hope you won’t be disappointed in me.
    My ma always bought this soap with rose petals in it. It was kind of ugly. Smelled bad too. Good luck getting it in my mouth, though. I’m not a seven-year-old boy anymore.
Sincerely,
Steve

P.S.–I’m open to other flavors of soap if you can’t find any with rose petals in it.

“Oh,” Tony said, beginning to stand, before all the strength left him at once and he slumped back down. He clutched the letter to his chest. “Oh, oh, oh. Oh my God. Jan. Jan?” He turned toward the door, voice cracking as he shouted, “Jan?!”

Jan burst in immediately, still holding the cup of tea and the tray with bread and jam. Jarvis and Ana stumbled in after her. Tony stared at them, surprised, and then rolled his eyes. It had been foolish of him to believe they’d go too far when he’d been reading Steve’s letter.

“What is it?!” Jan asked, wild-eyed. “What did he say?!”

Jarvis took the tray from her hand, frowning. He didn’t want her to drop it. She was excitable even on the best of days. Ana took the teacup from her other hand just in case.

Jan rushed over to him when it looked like Tony might keel over. “Tony! What did he say!?”

“I–he’s glad I said yes,” Tony answered after a moment, breathless. His lips began to spread into a wide smile. “He’d be honored to call me his omega.” He laughed a little, helpless, and lifted a hand to wipe the tears forming in his eyes. “He’s going to go shout it to the world that I think he’d be a good mate.”

“Tony!” Jan exclaimed excitedly, throwing her arms around his neck. “Tony, he wants to marry you!”

He clutched back at her, burying his face in her shoulder as he whispered, “He wants to marry me.”

Jan bounced where she stood, which also had the unintended consequence of bouncing Tony a little, too. She held him tighter. “You can leave the Stanes behind! Ezekiel won’t have any claim on you anymore!”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed softly.

Jan paused when she heard his breath hitch, then ran a hand up and down his back. “Are you okay, Tony?”

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Tony whispered, even as he clung to her shirt so hard that his knuckles ached. “I’m relieved. I swear I am. I’m happy. So why am I crying?”

Jan looked up at Jarvis and Ana helplessly, burying one hand in Tony’s hair. “I… I don’t know either, honey.”

“Anthony,” Jarvis said gently, coming over to place his hand on his back. “Come here.”

Tony left the letter in Jan’s hands and turned with a sob to curl up against Jarvis’s chest instead. “Jarvis-!”

“Some people cry when they’re relieved,” Jarvis explained quietly, lifting one hand to lightly scratch over the omega’s back, like he had when Tony cried as a child. “And I’m sure you’re very happy, Anthony. But you’ve had a terrible burden on you ever since your parents passed, whether you knew it or not. Now freedom is so close you can taste it. You’re crying years of terror out, my dear boy.”

Jan clutched the letter to her chest, tears of her own rolling down her cheeks. She’d known that Tony was miserable, but he’d hidden so much from her—his decline down into this shell of a person had been so gradual she hadn’t really noticed its toll on him until he’d called and asked for her help, sounding hopeful and excited for the first time in… heavens. Years. She had no idea what she could have done to help, but she would have gladly helped shoulder the burden in any way she could, if only being a sympathetic ear for him. He would have done the same thing for her, after all. She felt like she’d failed him.

Ana slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her away to give the boys some privacy. “Janet, may I speak freely?”

Jan wiped at her eyes quickly. “Yes, of course!”

“You’ve done all you could,” Ana told her gently. “Because it’s all that Anthony would allow you to do. You would have been overstepping if you’d done more. It’s not your fault that Anthony’s stubborn. You threw yourself into this endeavor wholeheartedly and Anthony will always love you for your help. Please don’t feel badly that you didn’t do enough. You’re just a child, too, and an omega one. There was nothing more that could have been done.”

“It’s not fair,” Jan whispered helplessly. “He has to leave everything he’s ever known to be happy. He has to leave you and Mr. Jarvis. He has to leave me. And I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want him to go off alone. It’s not fair. He shouldn’t have to do everything alone.”

Ana smiled, and it was the saddest one Jan had ever had the misfortune of seeing on her. “It’s not selfish, Janet. It just means you care. The only way it would be selfish would be if you disallowed him the chance to strike out on his own. Whether he succeeds or fails is on him—but it’s up to us to allow him the choice to do so, and believe in him. Especially because no one else has.”

Jan frowned up at her, pondering what she’d been told, before she straightened her shoulders and nodded. She lifted her hand to dry her eyes one last time, and swore it would be the last time she cried for Tony (at least until he was gone and had no chance of seeing it). She would stand behind his decisions. She’d always been allowed to make her own, after all, so it was only fair to back Tony up.

It was time someone finally allowed Tony to make his own decisions, too.

.-.

Tony put off writing to Steve by responding to all of his other suitors first, telling them that he was sorry, but he’d found a spouse, and he hoped there were no hard feelings. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to write to Steve—he just… didn’t know what to say. He wanted to write back that he’d be on the first train to Timely as soon as he could manage, that he would marry him at the train depot if Steve could get the preacher there, that he was excited to get away from New York and to Steve—

But he also wanted to appear… calm. And collected. Even if he also wanted to run outside and shout, “Steve wants to marry me!” So he got all his nerves and excitement out by calmly and gently breaking it to his other suitors that he was now affianced so would have to end their courtships, and telling the select few that he’d made a connection with that if they weren’t too terribly hurt by his rejection, he’d still like to correspond with them. He could understand if they wanted to cease contact though. They’d started correspondence with the expectation that they might marry him.

But he was going to marry Steve.

Tony squeaked and covered his mouth to hide his grin, embarrassed. He was going to marry Steve. Steve, who had only wanted companionship and someone to help out around his home. Steve, who had no problem with Tony having company over while he was gone, because he didn’t want Tony to be lonely. Steve, an artist, an alpha who liked lemon chiffon yellow and didn’t mind that Tony didn’t know how to do everything he necessarily needed to for life on the ranch.

Steve, who was earnest and kind and nothing at all like Ezekiel.

“It is poor manners to run outside screaming about your engagement,” Jarvis said mildly as he picked up the empty coffee-cup from beside Tony’s elbow. “Steve gets a pass because he has no neighbors to wake.”

“I-! I wasn’t going to do that!” Tony exclaimed, blushing, and yanked another piece of stationery toward him.

He’d just… really, really wanted to, was all.

Jarvis hummed, raising his eyebrows with a smile. “You should ask Steve what his favorite dessert is so I can teach you how to make it.”

Tony sat up straighter at the thought. “Oh!” That would be nice. Steve might even be pleasantly surprised.

He should ask what Steve’s other favorite foods were. He was supposed to cook for him, after all. He’d gotten bread down, and he could roast a chicken, and Jarvis had shown him how to make a chicken spread to put on a slice of toast, but… Steve would definitely get tired of chicken and bread. He was a rancher, after all. He must eat a lot of beef.

“Will you teach me how to cook beef?” Tony asked as Jarvis set a cup of warm milk on the table next to him, a silent but firm suggestion that he go to sleep.

Jarvis paused, thoughtful, then slowly replied, “I could… show you how to make a roast.”

“That’s all?” Tony asked, unable to help feeling disappointed. He couldn’t possibly make a roast every day. Although… he supposed it would help him practice…

“Ana might know a few recipes,” Jarvis said after some more thought. “I know more mutton dishes than beef.”

“Maybe they’ll translate,” Tony suggested, but he wasn’t hopeful. The allowance they received from Obadiah wasn’t really enough to be able to experiment. They had to eat what he cooked, and if what he made was inedible, they went hungry that night.

Jarvis frowned. “I’ll think on it some more, Anthony.”

“Maybe Ana can find me an inexpensive cookbook while she’s buying herself a new penny novel,” Tony mumbled, frowning.

“I’ll ask her,” Jarvis said, and decided to also tell Ana that if it was a little more expensive than either of them would like, they could probably take some from their meager savings to pay for it, as long as she didn’t mind. He didn’t think she would.

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Tony sighed. “Now I need to write to Steve.” He still didn’t know what to say beyond, ‘Dear Steve, I am getting on a train tomorrow and you’ll be stuck with me before you can regret saying yes.’ That didn’t seem polite.

“I suppose,” Jarvis began, looking pained.

Tony blinked up at him, curious as to what else he might add to a letter beyond Steve’s favorite dessert. “Yes?”

“…You… could… dab a little perfume on the letter,” Jarvis said, like every word hurt him.

Tony giggled, surprised, and blushed a little. “Oh! Jarvis!”

“If he’s your fiancé, I guess it’s okay,” Jarvis grumbled. “And he’s sent you drawings, so. …Never mind,” Jarvis muttered, and fled so politely that if Tony hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have thought Jarvis was trying to escape anything at all.

Tony waited until he was sure Jarvis was out of hearing range before laughing out loud. He wondered how much it had cost Jarvis to suggest such a thing. He’d been so offended at the idea originally, and he really was as prim and proper as any of Tony’s teachers at finishing school.

Tony smiled a little down at his stationery. Well, Jarvis had just been trying to help, even if it had fallen flat. At least he’d gotten a good laugh out of it. He picked up his pen, twisting it in his fingers as he tried to figure out what to say, but couldn’t make it further than ‘Dear Steve’ without blushing and letting a high-pitched noise pass his lips.

Could he really just say ‘that makes me really happy?’ It seemed like it wasn’t nearly enough. He wasn’t just happy—he was elated, excited, relieved. He was nervous and scared out of his wits to fail. He was afraid to leave the city life he’d always known, but Steve had made ranch life sound so romantic, if a little lonely. And Jan was right—he was also a little afraid that he’d thrive away from everything and everyone he’d known.

Tony sighed and reached for the cup of warm milk, holding the edge of the rim to his bottom lip to breathe in the scent slowly. Maybe he should just drink his milk and go to bed. Maybe he’d be able to figure out what to say if he slept on it. He tipped his cup so he could take a sip, luxuriating in the silkiness of the milk and the smoothness of the honey mixed into it, with just a little woodiness from some fresh nutmeg. This would definitely help him get some restful sleep so he could answer Steve tomorrow.

Jarvis jerked the door open and poked his head back inside. “I forgot all about cottage pie!”

Tony jumped, spraying milk from his mouth in surprise.

“…I’ll bring a towel,” Jarvis said, and closed the door again.

Tony scowled after him, wrinkling his nose a little, before he grabbed a handkerchief and turned to blot at the letter to Steve. It was ruined though. He sighed and turned his attention to the finished and addressed envelopes, glad that they, at least, weren’t too terribly damaged.

.-.

“Not damaged, just a little sticky,” Ana said lightly as she waved a couple of envelopes to help dry them. “Edwin, I can’t believe you forgot all about cottage pie. That’s one of the simplest beef dishes. You like cottage pie!”

“But you don’t,” Jarvis pointed out reasonably, carefully blotting one of the damper envelopes dry. “Why would I make something that you don’t like to eat?”

Ana looked taken aback. “Oh, Edwin, you don’t have to stop fixing dishes just because I don’t like them!”

Jarvis lifted his head to frown at her severely. “Ana, my dear, please don’t take this too personally, but that is the daftest thing I’ve ever been told. ‘Make me eat something I hate.’ Preposterous,” he muttered, returning to blotting the envelope in front of him.

Ana gaped at him, then narrowed her eyes, lips pursing. Her eyes darted between her husband and the envelopes in her hands. She looked like she was seriously considering slinging the letters at his head.

Tony doubted they would hurt Jarvis too much, but he hurriedly snatched them from her grasp anyway. It would be just their luck if Jarvis got a nasty paper cut to the face. “Thank you for your help. I’m sure they’re fine now.”

“I will arm myself with other ammunition,” Ana informed him solemnly.

“Dear,” Jarvis said flatly. “You almost never hit me, and when you do, you are always, always horrified. Why do you continue to do this to yourself?”

“Just for this, I’m making dinner tomorrow,” Ana sniffed. She turned to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Goodnight, Anthony,” she said gently, before sticking her nose up in the air and strutting out of the room.

“Ana,” Jarvis hissed, appalled, as he rushed after her. He paused in the doorway to give a slight bow and distracted ‘goodnight, sir’ before continuing after her. “Ana, I’ve already bought everything for fish and chips. I’m even brining the fish already. Ana your fish always come out dry. ANA. PLEASE.”

Tony giggled to himself as Ana shouted back, “Well your chips are garbage!” He knew they’d make up before they went to bed. They always did. They might bicker, but it was all in good fun. They knew their strengths and tried to cover each other’s weaknesses. Ana couldn’t cook very well, so Jarvis did it instead. Jarvis wasn’t always great at shedding his duties and being the comfort Tony needed, so Ana stepped in to hug him instead. Hopefully, he and Steve could gain a rapport like that, helpful and playful and snarky, with no real heat.

He wanted a marriage like that, he thought, organizing the dried envelopes. He paused, wondering… Could he have a marriage like that? Jarvis and Ana had courted in person, but Ana herself had once said that their courtship had been sped up by impending war. Jarvis had said what Obadiah was doing to him was like a war. Could… could his marriage to Steve become a marriage like Ana and Jarvis’s?

Tony sat down at the table again and picked up his pen, finally sure of what he wanted to say.

Dear Steve,
    I’m very happy too. I thought about running out and shouting to the skies, too, but I doubt my neighbors would like it very much. I hope very much that our marriage will be a happy one. I’m quite looking forward to getting to know you personally. Sometimes I imagine what you look like. I imagine a kind face. I guess I’ll soon find out. I’m excited to.
    Please let me know when a good time to come would be, and I’ll make arrangements. I know you said that you have to drive the cattle, but I don’t know when the time to do that is. I don’t want to be in the way, and to be quite honest, I also don’t want to be home alone with you gone more than a few days in a new place. I’d like time to establish myself as your mate and maybe make some friends before that happens. I hope you can understand.
    In the meantime, Steve, what’s your favorite dessert? What do you like to eat? I’d like to learn to make a few of your favorites before I come. My butl Jarv My fa friend is teaching me a few things. I can make bread and roast a chicken, and he’s promised to teach me how to make a roast and cottage pie. His wife has also promised me that she’ll teach me to make goulash. But I can’t feed you off of four meals alone. What ingredients would I have most on-hand? I want to make sure I’m a good housekeeper for you.
    I want to make sure I’m a good mate for you. I hope I’ll live up to your expectations.

Tony hesitated, hand hovering at the bottom of the letter, before he bit his bottom lip, blushing, and signed it.

Sincerely,
Tony

Chapter Text

Tony was able to beg off attending two more parties with the Stanes, but eventually, a party was scheduled that he actually wanted to go to. Susan Storm was hosting, and he loved Susan. He didn’t quite understand why she was allowing herself to be courted by Reed Richards, of course, but he supposed Reed must have some sort of redeeming quality. (He and Jan couldn’t think of one, but Susan wasn’t stupid, and her little brother Johnny was very protective of her and didn’t mind Reed too much; not to mention, Reed’s friend Ben was a doll. Clearly there was something about him they liked.)

So Tony sent a response saying he would be there, and then promptly fled to Jan’s home in a cold sweat over what to do.

“You’ll wear the red and marigold suit I gave you, is what you’ll do,” Jan scoffed, not looking away from the dress form she was currently working on.

Tony took a moment to mourn the fact that the lacy negligee wasn’t for him, nor the pretty satin robe and petticoat on her other dress forms. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Come hold this lace for me,” Jan ordered, and waited for him to obey before asking, “What are you worried about?”

“Ezekiel might be there,” Tony replied immediately.

Jan turned to look at him, mouth set into a grim line. “I already told him that if he touches you while you’re wearing the clothes I made for you, I will make him eat his own hands.”

“Obadiah won’t be there, so he has nothing to keep him in line,” Tony continued, shoulders hunching. “He’d pretend he didn’t want to slobber all over me if his father was there, but if he’s not—”

“I will make him eat his own hands,” Jan cut in.

Tony frowned at her. “Jan. I know that. And you know that. But Ezekiel thinks you’re joking.”

“It will be such a shame when I make him eat his own hands,” Jan lamented, turning back to the negligee. “Perhaps they’ll let me sew in prison.”

“You wouldn’t get caught,” Tony scoffed, but frowned at her anyway. “Does Hank have a friend in town I could hang off of for the night? What about that one friend, what is his name–”

“Henry is courting someone, unfortunately,” Jan said apologetically.

Tony sighed. “The one time your beau could have helped me out and his friend had to go and—ow! Jan!”

“My needle slipped,” Jan deadpanned, but batted his hand away so he wouldn’t get blood on the lace. “Sorry. It’s just—it’s not Hank or Henry’s faults that Ezekiel is a slime-ball.”

“I know,” Tony said meekly, and stuck his pricked finger into his mouth.

“I’ll tell Hank he doesn’t need to come, and we’ll be each other’s chaperone. How’s that?” Jan asked after some thought.

Tony frowned, pulling his finger out of his mouth just long enough to mumble, “I wouldn’t want to put Hank out…”

“Oh, Hank hates these parties,” Jan sniffed in disdain. “But you know him. He prefers being by himself in a lab than making small talk. Alphas are such boors. How they’d manage without us, I don’t know.” She tilted her head thoughtfully before adding, “Also now I’ll be able to be by your side so Ezekiel won’t have a chance at putting his hands on you. I’m pretty sure even that dolt can understand how willing I am to put him in the ground.”

“We’re not five anymore, Jan,” Tony said, but he was fighting a smile. “I’m not a big crybaby who needs to be protected anymore.”

She turned to offer him one of the most derisive scowls he’d ever seen. “You may not be a big crybaby but I’m still going to protect you. You’re my best friend, and life dealt you a useless hand. Of course I’m going to do what I can to make life easier for you when it’s possible.”

Tony’s smile went watery. “I doubt you tackling Ezekiel to the floor and strangling him with your belt would make my life easier, Jan.”

“You wouldn’t have to deal with Ezekiel anymore,” Jan pointed out.

“Yes, but then I’d have to break you out of jail, and then we’d both be fugitives. I can’t imagine Steve would want to marry a fugitive.”

Jan pursed her lips, unwilling to concede. Then she smirked, smug. “I think Steve would find you even more attractive if he thought you were dangerous.”

“But I wouldn’t be dangerous,” Tony pointed out. “You’d be the murderer in this scenario, not me.”

“Steve doesn’t need to know that,” Jan scoffed.

One of the maids announced Hank before Tony could say anything else (mostly “Janet, no!”), and Tony was immediately mortified. “Jan! You didn’t tell me you had a date with Hank! I’ll leave—”

“My foot you’ll leave,” Jan cut in immediately. “Show him in please, Samantha!”

Hank entered a few moments later, looking quite put out. “Jan, I didn’t know you had a friend with you. I’ll leave—”

“Oh, pish posh,” Jan cut in, waving him away. “You know each other well enough. It’s not like I was going to sit in your lap anyway, Hank.”

“You have literally done that in front of me,” Tony said after a moment of shock. “You have sat on Hank’s lap in front of me at least twice.”

“It was uncomfortable. It felt like showing off,” Hank added, agreeing.

Jan was incredibly unimpressed. “I was showing off, Hank. Tony! Keep Hank company while I go get dressed! We’re going out!” she ordered and flounced out of the room.

They watched her go before turning to face each other again, awkward. Hank kept turning his hat in his hands. Tony fidgeted with his jacket.

“…I hear you’re engaged,” Hank said after a moment. “I’m… glad to hear that.”

“Thank you. It’s a secret engagement at this point though,” Tony admitted. “So, um–please don’t tell anyone.”

“Yes, I understand.”

They went back to fidgeting.

“…Jan tells me that she’s made a new suit for Susan Storm’s party,” Hank said.

Tony smiled down at his feet. “Yes, well, she usually does.”

“I’m sure it’s a very handsome suit,” Hank said, and then, “Probably some daring color that I would never wear. I should thank you for that—she’s so busy making clothes for you that she doesn’t have time to make more than one suit every once in a while for me.”

“I suppose that will change when I go to Steve,” Tony mused.

Hank made a very sad noise at the idea. “Oh, yes. That’s probably true.”

Jan dashed back into the room, dressed in a beautiful light blue dress with a pretty dark blue peacoat with a cinched waist. “Alright! I’m ready!”

“Where are we going?” Hank asked fearfully.

“Shopping, of course!” Jan answered, her cheerfulness almost jarring in the face of Hank’s concern.

“Oh, well, if you’re going shopping,” Tony began, trying to squeeze past Hank.

Jan scowled at him. “You’re going too, Tony.”

Tony squirmed uncomfortably before deciding Hank probably already knew, since Jan had said that Hank hated what was happening to him too. “I… I don’t have any money to go shopping, Jan.”

Jan stared at him, silent.

“…I’ll get my coat,” Tony said weakly.

“Great!” Jan said, beaming, and then took Hank’s arm. “We’ll have to take the carriage, since Father insists I’m not allowed to drive in city limits and his chauffeur is busy.”

Hank’s expression conveyed that he wouldn’t allow Jan to drive within city limits either, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say the words. “Alright.”

.-.

Hank was overjoyed when he learned that he didn’t have to go to Susan’s party. Tony was pretty sure he was so happy that he could have dropped to one knee and actually proposed then and there except then Jan would have told him no for being so completely unromantic. So instead he just happily let Jan drag them around the department store, holding each and every bag and box she was given as she purchased things.

Jan eventually dragged them over to the perfumes. “Hank, I know you like my lavender perfume, but—”

“I like the way you smell, whatever you wear,” Hank cut in. “You could dab cabbage juice behind your ears and I’d like it.”

“…That’s not quite the compliment you think it is, but I’ll accept it,” Jan said after a moment. “I’m going to use this perfume to make all of the alphas incredibly jealous that I already have a beau.”

“If that’s what you want, dear,” Hank answered obediently.

Tony made a face at them behind their backs. “Gross.”

“I’m going to make you wear my awful Midnight Rose perfume,” Jan warned.

Tony, wisely, moved further down the counter to examine soaps, because he didn’t fancy the idea of wearing a scent that smelled like dead roses. He paused, hovering by the fancier ones. He could probably charge it to the house expense account. They used soap after all. And if Obadiah found out it was fancy soap instead of the regular lye soap Jarvis usually bought, well… Tony supposed he could demure and insist he wanted to smell nice for Ezekiel. They might let their guards down a little then.

None of the soaps had rose petals in them, though. He found himself dreadfully disappointed about it.

Hank came to stand by him, likely to avoid Jan making him try on perfume himself. “Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?”

“No, just… I was looking for something and they don’t have it,” Tony admitted. It would have been a cute joke, showing up with the soap Steve’s mother always used to wash his mouth out with. He tapped his finger against his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Hank? Did your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap?”

“I never really swore,” Hank replied, shrugging.

“Oh,” Tony said. He hadn’t either, really. But then, he’d never been kicked by a steer.

“But, that being said,” Hank coughed, looking everywhere but at the soap counter. “If you’re looking for a particularly awful taste, I’d go with anything that has lilies in it.”

Tony couldn’t help a shocked giggle. “Oh!”

“Not that I was ever made to eat any,” Hank added hastily, glancing at Jan.

“I’m sure,” Tony agreed. He glanced between them for a moment before leaning in and whispering, “I doubt Janet would mind. At all.”

Hank stared at him. “…What does that mean?”

“Alphas, honestly,” Tony sneered, and went back over to Jan with a huff.

.-.

“Thank you for escorting us to the store, Hank,” Jan said, pleased.

“You’re welcome,” Hank replied, smiling at her.

Jan smiled back at him, then smacked Tony’s arm with the back of her hand. “Leave.”

“Ow! All you had to do was say something!” Tony exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

“Be useful and take something up to my room,” Jan said imperiously. “But you might want to hurry if you don’t want to watch me smooching Hank.”

Tony grabbed the top three boxes Hank had deposited in the entryway and fled, because he loved Jan, and Hank was nice enough, but he didn’t want to see them kissing.

He nearly bashed into Samantha in his hurry to get inside Jan’s room. “Oh! Samantha! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, sir,” the maid told him, smiling. “I know you wouldn’t have knocked me down.”

“Spoken like someone who Jan has knocked down,” Tony answered, smiling reluctantly, and the beta laughed. “Will I be in your way if I stay here?”

“Oh, no,” Samantha answered quickly. “I wasn’t cleaning–just delivering Miss Jan’s correspondence. I hear you’re engaged,” she added in a whisper, leaning in. “I just want to say–I’m very happy for you, sir. The Stanes—well. Servants talk. Even if only half of it’s true…” She looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m very, very happy about your engagement, sir.”

Tony felt hot with mortification, and then cold with terror. If even the help was happy he wasn’t going to the Stanes… What happened in that house? He was so lucky he’d been allowed to stay in his own home with Jarvis and Ana.

“Thank you, Samantha,” Tony said after a moment. “I do appreciate that.”

“Sir, if your engagement falls through,” Samantha began, then stopped, and instead reached out to grab his hands. She gave them a squeeze, looking deeply upset, before fleeing the room.

Tony turned to watch her go, stunned, and maybe just a little bit scared. He’d never considered that the Stanes could be worse beyond their treatment of him, but he’d never really had the stomach to think about what happened behind the Stanes’ doors. To know that the servants gossiped to each other, and were afraid for him, that… that was something new. Something that made the prospect of having to marry Ezekiel even more terrible.

Tony sat at Jan’s desk and clasped his hands in his lap to try and stop them shaking. He didn’t want Jan to see how upset he was. She’d doubtlessly demand to know why, and he’d never been good at lying to her. She’d probably go and interrogate the maids for more information. There was no reason to worry about that now. He was engaged to marry Steve. And if… if somehow it did fall through, the beta he’d been corresponding with had volunteered to house him on the west coast. He wasn’t trapped here.

When he started fidgeting, Tony reached out to look through Jan’s correspondence. She’d said that organizing it had helped her when she got stuck on a design. Maybe having something to do with his hands would help ground him, too.

Some of it was correspondence for him. He began going through it faster, hopeful, and let out a triumphant ‘ah ha!’ when he found a letter from Steve. He’d been waiting on pins and needles for it. Hopefully, this letter would tell him how long he’d have to endure Ezekiel before he could go to Steve. He groped blindly for a letter opener and nearly snarled when he couldn’t find one, pulling open a few drawers and slamming them shut again.

Finally, impatient, he peeled it open, letting out the quietest of curses and then frantically looking around just in case someone heard. Then he remembered he wasn’t at home and there was no Jarvis to box his ears over it, and hurriedly turned back to the letter, nearly bouncing in his seat when he realized there was another drawing in the envelope.

Dear Tony,
    I’ve been imagining what you look like ever since I got your first letter, so you’re not alone. I think about it all the time while I’m out on the range, and it’s gotten me through many long, hot days. I imagine beautiful eyes, and a soft, cheeky smile. I asked my best friend if he’d consider my face kind. He mostly just called me a sentimental idiot, so take that as you will. I’ve enclosed a drawing one of my cowhands’ children drew of me. I think it’s an excellent likeness, or at least as much of one as can be made outside of a stenograph.
    I’m a little embarrassed to admit this because I’m afraid the fact might intimidate you, but… almost everyone in town bullied me into staying home from the cattle drive when they realized I was serious about you. They didn’t want me to miss a single one of your letters. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but my best friend, James, he’s my partner on the ranch. We both have equal shares. Usually I’m the one that goes on drives because I don’t have a family at home, but when he saw me getting serious, he volunteered to well, no, he didn’t volunteer. He told me point blank that I was to stay home and answer your letters so I didn’t ‘miss my chance’ with you or he would tie me to a chair so I wouldn’t have a choice. He should be back from the drive soon. I’m here until next summer, when we have to drive the cattle again, so you can come anytime you want, sweetheart.
    My favorite dessert is pound cake, so hopefully that’s not too difficult for you to learn. If not, I can teach you how to make it. I know how to make it myself, I just… don’t normally have time. But I’d find the time for you.
    As for other meals, the items you’d have most on hand are eggs, milk, and flour, always. For meat I typically have some sort of pork or a cut of beef. Fowl isn’t my favorite meal, but I’ll eat it, and I’m sure an east coast roasted chicken is much different from a mid-western one. Plus, I’ll eat mostly anything, even if it’s bad. Not that you’ll make anything that’s bad, of course! Just know that if you’re experimenting and not sure of how something turned out, don’t ask me. I just love not being hungry. Sorry if that isn’t any help. It’s a fault of mine, being a bottomless pit.
    If you’ll send me a letter detailing your travel plans, I will meet you at the train station. I understand it could take a while, what with having to earn money for the train. Please keep me informed. I don’t like the thought of you waiting on the platform for me, and my daft ass just wandering about my ranch. I hope to see you soon, Tony.
Sincerely,
Steve

“Sweetheart,” Tony whispered, blushing. Steve had called him ‘sweetheart.’ How… how romantic. He covered his face for a moment with a squeak, trying to get hold of his emotions. Then he remembered the drawing and perked up. If he could just see what Steve looked like, even in the vaguest sense–

Tony stared at the drawing for a few long seconds before letting out a screech of laughter, unable to help himself. And then he couldn’t stop.

“What?!” Jan asked, bursting into the room. “What? What is it?!”

Tony waved the drawing around helplessly. “A p-picture of Ste-he-heve!” he laughed, hugging his stomach. God, he hadn’t given himself a bellyache from laughing in years.

“A picture of Steve?!” Jan asked, excited, and held the drawing up. She stared at it for several minutes, silent, until Tony’s laughs faded into giggles. “Tony,” she said seriously. “I’m sorry that you’re just marrying a brown and yellow blob. Hopefully your children will take after you.”

“Jan, no!” Tony howled, falling into laughter again.

Jan cackled and lunged at him, fingers dancing along his sides, and then squealed when he gave back as good as he got.

.-.

Susan was as lovely as ever. Reed was… Reed.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean that to be as offensive as it came out,” Susan said hurriedly as Ben yanked Reed away before Jan could stab his eye out with her cocktail fork. “I’m sorry Tony. Please don’t let Jan stab Reed’s eye out.”

“Jan,” Tony said chidingly.

Jan’s face did something supremely unattractive, but no one was foolish enough to point it out. “Reed,” she hissed. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” Reed said immediately.

“Ben, get him out of my sight,” she added through gritted teeth.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben said agreeably, and Tony assumed that Reed was about to get the scolding of his life as he was dragged away.

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” Susan repeated softly, mortified. “Reed shouldn’t have said that.”

“I mean… he shouldn’t have, no, but the face he made when Jan asked him to repeat what he said was funny,” Tony admitted. “I thought all the blood just drained from his body.”

Susan giggled reluctantly. “I’m—still sorry. Please ask one of the caterers to spruce up your punch, courtesy of Reed of course.”

“One day you’ll get him fully trained,” Tony joked. “Although having his life flash before his eyes will probably keep him from mentioning how awful my life is to my face ever again.”

Susan winced. “Yes.”

“Let’s go get our punch spruced,” Tony suggested gently, sliding his arm through Jan’s. “And make the rounds before we meet Susan again and gossip about what everyone’s wearing.”

“…Alright,” Jan said stiffly.

“I’ll have Johnny and Ben keep Reed occupied so we can gossip freely,” Susan offered.

Jan lifted her chin magnanimously. “Reed will live another day.”

“Honestly, Jan, do you have to terrify everybody?” Susan sighed, shoulders sagging.

Jan sniffed in derision. “Tony isn’t terrified of me.”

Tony puffed his chest out proudly. “She can’t afford to kill me because I’m the only one who will listen to her talk about fabric for hours on end!”

“…Mm,” Susan agreed after a moment. “That’s true. Make sure to get a good look at Raven’s dress! She’s done something with charmeuse, and I want your opinion on whether or not I can pull it off.”

“Charmeuse!” Jan gasped. “In that shade of blue?! I wonder if she can tell me where she bought it…”

“I’ll go top off our drinks,” Tony offered. “And you can go interrogate Raven on her charmeuse.”

Jan handed her champagne flute to him and flounced off immediately, gleeful. Tony watched her go fondly.

“I am really sorry about Reed, Tony,” Susan insisted one last time, voice soft. “That was so humiliating, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. We all know Reed isn’t… consumed with propriety,” he finally said after some thought. “I knew he’d probably say something awful tonight. Alphas just… aren’t concerned with that kind of thing.”

Susan still looked unhappy. “I’m going to set him straight. Don’t worry.”

“Good luck,” Tony told her, amused, and lifted the champagne flutes. “Well! Can’t say you skimped on the giggles, Susan.”

Susan managed a half-hearted smile. “Well, it’s not as if you can’t use it, especially after… that.”

“It’s fine,” Tony replied again, smiling, and turned to go to the punch table.

All he had to say was ‘Reed told me’ and one of the caterers made a face and pulled a flask from beneath the table. “Say no more, dear,” she said. “Hope you like gin.”

“I love gin!” Tony told her happily. “Put more in mine.”

“Done,” the caterer said.

It was honestly the best interaction he’d had at the entire party.

Tony turned from the table, glass in each hand, going up on his tiptoes to look for Jan. Both she and Raven were petite, and he was almost certain that Raven’s beau Max had abandoned the two omegas to their chat, so he couldn’t even depend on his height to find them in the crowd. He resolved to scold Max about this later. He was sure Max would get a kick out of it.

“I see you’ve finally ducked your chaperone,” someone said from behind him.

All of the blood in Tony’s body went ice cold as he slowly turned, swallowing thickly when he was met with Ezekiel’s smirking face. “E-Ezekiel,” he said weakly. “I didn’t realize you’d come to the party.”

Obadiah hated Reed Richards and the Storm family. Tony had foolishly expected them to turn down the invitation. He should have known better—as soon as Obadiah learned that Tony had accepted the invitation, of course he was going to send Ezekiel to bring him to heel. He’d probably be bullied into going to another of Tiberius’s parties, where he’d be forced to hang on Ezekiel’s arm and pretend to be too dumb and doe-eyed to understand what the alphas were talking about.

Ezekiel’s eyes raked up and down his body like a physical touch, so obviously that Tony shivered in disgust and wanted to hide. “Miss Van Dyne made that suit for you, didn’t she? It’s quite flattering.”

“Yes, well, most of Janet’s designs are,” Tony said, trying covertly to look for Jan again, grip on the glasses tightening so much he feared for their structural integrity. He wished fervently that Jan would sense his distress and come rescue him.

“The yellow washes you out, but the red makes you look delectable,” Ezekiel added, reaching out for him.

Tony carefully, casually ducked his hand, letting out a nervous laugh. “Don’t let Jan hear you say that.”

“I’m not afraid of Jan,” Ezekiel replied blithely, advancing on him again. He grabbed Tony’s elbow to keep him from backing away. “How about a dance, Tony?”

“I–I–S-Susan is expecting me,” Tony said, voice shaking, and tried to pull away, but the alpha’s grip tightened so much it started to hurt. “Mm-!”

Ezekiel jerked him back towards him, smile going mean around the edges. “Tony, come on. You’ve missed two parties. I can’t have my fiancée turn down a dance with me when we’re finally at a party together. People will talk.”

Tony prickled with anger, and he scowled, whispering, “I’m not your fiancée. I don’t want to marry you.” He was Steve’s fiancée and no one else’s. Especially not Ezekiel’s.

“Sweetheart,” Ezekiel drawled, resting his free hand on Tony’s hip, and casually sliding it back to grasp a handful of cheek. “You must know that you don’t really have a choice.”

Rage and disgust burned heavy and hot in his breast. Tony gulped down a breath to try and calm himself down, but his blood was pounding in his ears in anger. How dare Ezekiel touch him like this in front of all of his friends! How dare Ezekiel presume that Tony was his fiancée, especially without the courtesy of asking him! How dare Ezekiel speak to and treat him like a petulant child who was throwing a tantrum!

How dare he call Tony sweetheart after Steve had and make it sound disgusting.

“I’m not your fiancée,” Tony whispered harshly. “And you’re not mine. Take your hands off of me at once. You have no right to be so familiar with me.”

Ezekiel’s face did something ugly before settling on anger as well, and Tony felt a real thrill of fear when the alpha grabbed his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “You listen to me, you spoiled brat,” he growled. “You don’t have a choice.”

“I do!” Tony snapped back immediately, because he did, he did have a choice, and he’d made it, and he was going to marry Steve. “I do have a choice, and even your father can’t take that away from me! I’m not going to marry you because I’m engaged to marry someone else!”

It took a moment for the haze of anger to pass, and for Tony to realize what he’d said, and for him to notice how quiet it had gotten around him. He turned his head a little, mortified when he saw all of the other partygoers staring at him in shock. He looked back up at Ezekiel, terrified. Ezekiel still looked angry, but he also looked stunned, as if Tony had slapped him, his grip on his shoulders going lax.

This might be his only chance.

Tony tried to pull away and almost managed it, but then Ezekiel’s fingers bit into his flesh again, and he let out a deep growl. “Get off me!” Tony shouted, startling him into actually letting go, because he’d never done anything but demurely suffer through his attentions before. He threw the drinks into Ezekiel’s face and fled as he screamed, the alcohol burning his eyes.

Tony wished he’d gotten to take a sip of his drink, he lamented as he fled out of the room, sprinting past the coatroom because he couldn’t afford to stop. He really needed one.

Once outside, the reality of the situation hit him. Ezekiel would doubtlessly come for him once he recovered, and he would be pissed. He’d ridden here with Jan in her father’s motorcar, but would the chauffeur take him without Jan? And where would he go? Home? Ezekiel would only follow him, getting madder and madder, and then he’d know the house so Tony wouldn’t even have a chance to hide from him. Jarvis and Ana wouldn’t have a chance against an angry alpha.

“Come on,” someone said sharply, grabbing his arm.

Tony fought reflexively as he was dragged down the front steps at a run, but stopped when he recognized who had a grip on him. “Reed!”

“Come on,” Reed said again, tugging on him, and he stumbled a little before finally matching his pace. Reed had his own motorcar. Tony didn’t know where they were going, but at least it was away.

Tony waited until the car had roared past the gates before he called out, “Thank you, Reed! You didn’t have to do this!”

Reed shrugged uncomfortably. “Listen,” he shouted over the engine, and took a corner perhaps a little too fast. “I know I’m not good at this socializing thing. I only do it for Susan. But I don’t like the Stanes, and I don’t like alphas that harass omegas who want nothing to do with them. And I especially don’t like alphas taking advantage of their station to bully the omegas that depend on them. So… I am sorry for what I said earlier. And I hope you have a plan because I sure as hell didn’t beyond ‘get Tony away from the party.’”

“Take me home!” Tony answered. “I’ll figure out what to do there!”

“The Stanes will come after you there,” Reed argued. “Ben and Johnny are going to slow Ezekiel down, but they can’t do much without ending up in jail. We’ve only got a little time.”

“Jarvis will know what to do!” Tony told him, then sat back in his seat, whispering, “Jarvis always knows what to do when I’m in trouble.”

.-.

Jarvis was waiting in the entryway for them with two large carpetbags. Tony knew, in that moment, that if he left, he would never be able to come home again.

And the Jarvises would make him go.

Tony ran to Jarvis immediately, throwing his arms around him, and didn’t care that Reed was there to see it. “Jarvis!”

“Word travels fast, dear,” Ana told him gently as she grabbed a coat from the closet for him. “Especially when Edwin knows the Storms’ doorman.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Tony whispered helplessly, even though he knew that he didn’t really have a choice.

Jarvis squeezed his arms around him tightly without a word.

“Edwin,” Ana said gently, sounding so, so sad. “Edwin, he doesn’t have much time.”

Jarvis pulled away from Tony, blinking back his tears quickly, and sniffed once. Then he was all business again, helping Ana button Tony’s coat and then lifting one of the bags to put into Tony’s hands. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t fit anything of much value in these.”

“Jarvis,” Tony whispered, swallowing thickly.

“Just a few of your mother’s things that I was able to hide from Obadiah. Your father’s favorite book. The book on gardening you were taking the most notes about.”

“Jarvis!” Tony whispered again, eyes filled with tears.

Jarvis cupped his cheeks, hands fluttering as if he didn’t know where to touch, how to convey how much he loved him. “You’ve grown into a fine young man, Anthony,” he finally said, then leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead.

Tony choked back a sob. “I wouldn’t have done it without you, Jarvis. You and Ana. I’m like this because of you.”

“And you have no idea how proud that makes us, darling,” Ana replied, tears in her eyes even though she was smiling, as she gently pulled him into a tight hug as well. “We’ve sent word. Janet’s father is expecting you. The Stanes won’t be able to get to you there.”

“I’m sorry,” Reed cut in before Tony could say anything, looking out the door nervously. “But we don’t have much time.”

Tony took the other bag from Ana’s shaking hand and allowed them to gently push him toward the door. Reed reached out to take the bags, looking pained, and carried them to his car. Tony turned and gave Jarvis one last kiss and lingering hug before turning to step out the door. He would never be able to come home after this.

“We love you, Tony,” Ana said softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

Jarvis gave him the gentlest of shoves over the threshold and whispered, “Don’t look back, Tony.”

Ana shut the door before he could turn and look at them one last time. It felt very final.

Tony stood frozen, hands gripped into fists, stunned. He wanted to run back inside and never leave. He wanted to be by Ana and Jarvis’s sides for always.

Instead, he straightened his shoulders and walked down the steps from the mansion, silently getting into Reed’s car, careful to keep his head high and face forward. He would do this last thing Jarvis had asked of him. He would not look back. Not when Jarvis could see him doing it.

Reed was blessedly silent. Tony listened to the roar of the engine and imagined it was a bit like how his feelings sounded now—loud, and angry, but continually chugging forward. He whispered a ‘thank you’ that couldn’t be heard over the engine when Reed handed him a handkerchief to wipe the tears from his face.

The mansion was no longer his home. He had to keep pushing forward. He had to keep moving toward Steve.

Chapter Text

“Tony!” Jan cried as soon as he pushed the door to Reed’s car open, running to embrace him. “I’m sorry! If I’d known Ezekiel was there, I never would have—”

Tony clutched at her, burying his face in her shoulder. “Jan.”

“Tony,” Jan whispered again, gripping his coat with white knuckles. She let go with one hand to instead lift it and gently run her fingers through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp the way she knew he liked. “Oh, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve ruined everything,” Tony whispered.

Jan leaned back to frown at him sternly. “You’ve ruined nothing at all,” she informed him imperiously, her tone just daring him to argue. “We’ll figure something out, Tony.”

“But Obadiah will be watching the train stations now,” Tony whispered, shaking. “And he’ll have someone waiting outside the gates for the chance to snatch me up anyway now that I’ve shown I was planning to escape. Oh, Jan, I never even got the chance to learn how to make pound cake for Steve,” he moaned around a hitch of breath.

Jan said nothing, just swallowed around the lump in her throat as she continued gently scratching over his scalp.

“Johnny and I could cause trouble,” Reed offered. “And I know this would be the sort of thing Ben wouldn’t mind getting caught up in.”

Jan offered him a smile, apparently deeming his offer enough to forgive him for his horrible statement earlier that night. “Oh, Reed, thanks. We’ll keep that in mind, but hopefully we’ll figure something out that won’t put anyone in danger of being arrested or put on Stane’s bad side.”

Reed raised an eyebrow. “You mean anyone other than you.”

“Stane wouldn’t dare cross me and mine,” Vernon said sharply from the doorway, making the younger alpha yelp. “Anthony, Janet, come inside at once before you catch cold.” Before someone sees Tony and it gets back to Stane, he didn’t say, but he didn’t need to, and gently touched Tony’s back as Jan helped him inside. He turned back to Reed and inclined his head just slightly. “It appears you’re not a total nincompoop, Richards.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty of time to prove you wrong, unfortunately,” Reed replied, taking out the two carpet bags that he’d put in the boot of his motorcar. “Have a good night, sir.”

Vernon nodded and took the bags from him, carrying them inside before one of the maids could scurry out and try and grab them first. If one of the maids slammed the door harder than she usually did as soon as he was inside, he decided not to mention it, frowning when he found his daughter and her friend curled up on the couch in the den. He’d known that Jan and Tony had hatched some sort of plot to foil Obadiah Stane, but he’d never thought that it would come to this.

He’d thought it had been a fun joke, not an actual escape from a marriage Tony hadn’t wanted.

“Daddy, what do we do?” Jan asked, voice shaking.

Jan was such a strong girl, a strong omega, that sometimes when he saw her like this, it jarred him. Vernon didn’t know what to do. On one hand, Tony was obviously so terrified that he could not possibly even fathom the idea of handing the omega over. On the other, even with all of the prestige, power, and money behind the Van Dyne name, he wasn’t entirely willing to put it out there that Tony was under his protection, especially when Stane still technically had custody of him, or at least the Stark fortune. That could start an entirely different legal mess.

“I don’t know,” Vernon admitted. “But I’ll buy as much time as I can, Janet.”

Jan’s eyes filled with new tears even as she whispered, “Thank you, Daddy.” Then she leaned down to press her lips to the crown of Tony’s head as he continued to cry into her lap.

Vernon hovered in the doorway a little longer before turning and handing the carpet bags to one of the maids to take to a guest room. He knew Tony probably wouldn’t sleep in it, but he’d give him the illusion of privacy, if nothing else.

.-.

Tony had been hidden in Jan’s room for two days when a telegram arrived.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Samantha said contritely, frowning. “But they insist it’s addressed to the right person.”

Jan frowned but accepted the envelope. “Thank you, Samantha.”

Tony saw that the telegram was addressed to Janice Van Dyne and, despite his terror, despite his anxiety and distress, he began to laugh.

“What?” Jan asked, brows furrowing together. “What is it?”

Tony, helpless, merely pointed at the envelope in her hands.

Jan frowned at him a little longer before turning it over. Then she let out the longest, loudest groan he’d ever heard. “Doom.”

Tony tried to smother his laughter with his hands, but it didn’t work.

“One of these days I’m going to find out why Victor calls me that,” Jan hissed, even as she carefully ripped the telegram open. “It’s gone too far to be a friendly joke. He doesn’t even shorten it to call me ‘Jan.’”

Tony tried to say something, but all that came out was a somewhat squeaky and hysterical snort.

Jan pursed her lips at him, entirely unamused, then opened the telegram to read it. “Honestly, Tony, it’s not that funny—” She stopped, frowning in confusion, before reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “Tony.”

Tony sobered immediately at the tone, giggles fading under her concerned frown. “Jan?”

“I-? Think Doom’s trying to help you?” she squeaked back, sounding mostly confused but also slightly, cautiously, optimistic.

“Victor von Doom. Is trying to help. Me,” Tony repeated slowly in disbelief.

Victor von Doom was, perhaps, the snobbiest omega on the east coast. Of course, he was also the richest omega on the east coast, and most alphas were willing to look the other way when he committed a faux pas just to be on the receiving end of some of his fortune. If the Van Dynes were considered Old Money, Victor von Doom was considered Oldest Money; his father was higher up in social circles (some people even whispered about Victor being the heir to the Latverian throne) and had sent him to America to find a suitable alpha to wed to open up commerce for his company.

When Victor had written back, “I like it better here so I’m staying,” his father had only upped his allowance to pay for a place to live permanently and some security with the promise that he come back when he was thirty-five if he weren’t married yet, and the soft order to ‘try and find an alpha with social standing if he could.’

Victor von Doom had never gone out of his way not to sneer down his nose at Tony as if the position he was in was his fault, so Tony had no idea why he would try to help him now.

“Here,” Jan said gently, handing him the telegram.

Tony took it reluctantly.

Janice,
I am sending this via telegram because time is of the essence. My aunt in Maine is sick and I wish to visit her, but my father insists I need an omega companion to come with me. I have chosen you for this. We will be gone several weeks, so pack for that. Also bring an empty trunk for the souvenirs I will buy for you as payment for coming with me. I will meet you at the train station at half past eight tomorrow morning. Do not disappoint me.
Victor von Doom

“…Why wouldn’t he just send a letter,” Tony whispered after a moment. “It would have been cheaper to get a personal messenger than pay for this telegram.”

“Why is that what you’re focused on when twice he’s called me ‘Janice’ in writing?!” Jan exclaimed irritably.

“He calls you that in person, so I’m not surprised,” Tony replied, reading over the telegram again and ignoring the way she squawked in outrage. God, it had probably cost more than the groceries Ana and Jarvis bought for the week. He read it a third time, just to be sure, before looking back up at Jan and frowning. “How is this helping me?”

Jan frowned at him severely, in the same way she frowned at him when she thought he asked foolish questions about her fabric choices right before she changed his life with a new suit. “Tony,” she said, voice dripping with derision. “How would you have survived without me?”

“I wouldn’t have,” Tony told her sincerely.

Jan appeared touched and dismayed all at once. Tony was disappointed to say she looked like that when it came to him a lot.

.-.

“It’ll be weird if you have three trunks,” Tony insisted for the fifth time.

“It’s me, so no it won’t,” Jan sniffed. “Just because you can fit your life in two trunks—”

“I could fit weeks’ worth of things in one,” Tony said.

Jan sniffed at him again. It wasn’t like she was just taking clothes or anything—she was taking projects, swatches of fabric and baskets of thread and needle. And she was going to hold Victor to buying her some souvenirs, too. So she needed the trunks. (She didn’t tell him she was bringing a fourth trunk and would probably buy more in Maine, because his side-eye had been lethal over just three.)

Instead of continuing to argue (Tony was delicate right now, it might hurt him too much to lose), she fussed with his carpet bags. “I’m putting lacy stuff on top of you, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble breathing.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, glancing at the walls of the trunk he was going to be closed inside of.

He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous, because he was, a lot. He’d practiced with Jan and could unscrew the lock from inside by feel so he could get it open, but that was only if his trunk weren’t on the bottom of a pile of luggage. If that happened, he could only count on the two small holes on each end that her father had drilled for air. Jan had called the train station and they’d estimated the trip to Maine would be at least six hours, maybe longer, since she didn’t know which exact stop. He was scared of being locked in a trunk for that long.

But he had no other choice. Even if his trunk were on top of a pile, he couldn’t get out of it for fear of being seen.

“Here,” Jan whispered, handing him one of the small throw pillows from her chaise lounge. “For your head. It shouldn’t block your air.”

Her hands were shaking. Tony didn’t mention it, because his were shaking too. “Thanks.”

Jan took a moment to cup his cheek, brush his hair off of his forehead, before she leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll get you out of here, Tony. One way or another, we’ll get you to Steve.”

“Thanks,” Tony said again, and offered her the best smile he had in him to give before he curled up on the bottom of the trunk, feet pressed to the carpet bags at the bottom, hugging himself when he realized he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt her begin laying clothes on top of him, whispering, “Jan, I’m scared.”

He felt Jan hesitate before she grabbed one of his hands and gave it a squeeze, whispering back, “I am, too.”

Tony looked up at her, blinking tears out of his eyes, and gave her a squeeze back. She nodded back solemnly before returning to covering him with clothes.

It got scarier when she gently closed the lid and locked the trunk.

“You okay, Tony?” Jan asked, voice muffled.

“No,” Tony admitted. “But we really don’t have much of a choice now.”

“Right,” Jan said unhappily. “Well, here we go, Tony.”

Tony nodded to himself, gripping his hands into fists as he whispered, “Here we go.”

.-.

They didn’t make it very far, but then, Tony hadn’t really expected them to. Obadiah had probably already had a handful of crooked cops in his pocket even before Tony fled his home with the Jarvises and hidden out at the Van Dyne estate. Obadiah was probably saying something about an omega who had run away from home, who he was “so afraid” for because he had no money, had probably even told them that he was being manipulated and held against his will. Of course they were going to search any vehicle coming out from or going into Jan’s house.

He could hear Jan ranting and raving as they opened the doors to pull the trunks from her motorcar, screeching about how she would be late and look here, if she missed her train they’d be hearing from her lawyers. Tony was reluctantly amused by how her voice raised in pitch when one of the cops yelped and dropped something, screeching, “If you damage my dress form, I will murder you where you stand! Daddy! Daddy!”

But then the door in front of Tony’s trunk was being opened and it was being dragged out. Tony clapped his hands over his mouth to muffle his startled yelp when his head banged against the side of the trunk he was in as they dropped it to the ground. They’d surely find him if they were searching the trunks, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for them. He heard them opening the other trunks one-by-one and hoped he wasn’t shaking so much it was visible, clammy palms clasped tightly over his mouth.

He heard a key being inserted into the lock of his trunk and tried not to flinch as it was wrenched open, frightened squeak muffled behind his hands when someone began pawing through the clothes on top of him. He felt his shirt being tugged on and readied himself to go out swinging—

And then the calmest, angriest voice he had ever heard said, “Officer, what are you doing rifling through my daughter’s underthings?”

Tony froze, not just from the terror of being found, but because there was now a very, very dangerous alpha in the vicinity.

“S-sir,” the officer replied, and Tony swallowed back another yelp when they yanked their hand back and nearly tore his shirt off with it.

Jan—clever, glorious Jan—jumped in before anyone else could say anything, sobbing, “Daddy, they were going to go through all of my things! They broke my dress form and—oh, Daddy, I’ve never been so humiliated in my whole life! And now I’m going to be late to the train and Victor’s going to be so upset!”

“Janet, return to the vehicle,” Vernon growled.

Tony could imagine her haughtily flouncing into the motorcar, knowing the people who stopped her were about to be taken care of. He couldn’t help but wonder, to his surprise, what his own father might have done in the same situation. He’d never know, and he was perhaps a little sadder about that than he’d ever felt previously. Seeing Jan interact with her father… it made him ache for his own parents sometimes, on the oddest occasions.

He flinched as the trunk was slammed shut, yelping into his hands again when it was tossed carelessly back into the car. Luckily it couldn’t be heard over the sound of Vernon yelling, “Get her to the station now,” and then letting out a furious roar as he turned on the crooked police, or private detectives, or whatever they were.

“What is your father doing, Ms. Van Dyne?” Tony heard the driver say, voice once again safely muffled by the trunk.

“He’s beating what appears to be the head officer very soundly about the head while the others try and pull him off,” Jan declared proudly, probably pressed up against the window to watch.

Tony couldn’t help a somewhat hysterical giggle.

“Very good,” the driver said. “I will pass by the police station on my way home to pick him up. Ms. Van Dyne, advise your luggage to stop giggling.”

“Tony!” Jan hissed immediately, pushing herself away from the window and toward one of the air holes in the trunk.

“We made it,” Tony whispered back, feeling watery with relief. He felt something poking at his pillow and moved it to reach out and delicately take the finger she’d pressed into his air hole, giving it a squeeze. “Jan, we made it.”

“Through the first stretch,” Jan allowed. “Do you need anything before we get to the station?”

“No, I still have the thermos and sandwiches you gave me.”

Jan curled her finger a little, pressing it into his palm. “Alright. Step one is finished. I won’t let my guard down until the train pulls away from the station.”

“Are we really going to be late?” Tony asked, concerned.

Jan scoffed. “No. We figured this would happen, so Daddy had me leave early just in case. But you know, hysterical omegas, always thinking they’re going to be late.”

“But Jan, you are always late,” Tony pointed out, frowning.

“Tony,” Jan barked, but he couldn’t understand what she said next because the driver was laughing so hard.

.-.

Once Tony felt the train moving underneath him, he decided to reward himself with a quarter of his cucumber sandwich.

Jan had wanted to give him something bigger, something with meat and cheese to ‘get him through the trip.’ Tony would forever remember the crushed look on her face when he’d told her that he knew hunger and would prefer not to be given anything at all, nerves tying his stomach in knots along with the fear of having to relieve himself and being unable to. The half-full thermos of water and the cucumber sandwich had been a compromise. And Tony would never admit it to Jan, but once some of the terror bled off and hope was fluttering bright and high in his chest, he was starving.

But like he’d told her, he knew hunger, so rationing his sandwich throughout the trip wasn’t a trial for him.

Tony decided to wait before trying the lock. He wanted to be well underway before taking any chances, especially with how close they’d come to being caught not even an hour ago. It would also get him used to being in there if he were unlucky enough to have his trunk under another. He squirmed around to pull his pillow further away from the air holes so he could get some more fresh air, then carefully peeled open the waxed cheesecloth the sandwich was packed in.

He took a small bite, savoring the flavors of garlicky mayonnaise and cucumber and the lightest dusting of pepper on his tongue. He’d never thought a simple cucumber sandwich could taste so good. Maybe it was the freedom that came with it. He took another bite of the sandwich—

And nearly choked on it as the end of the trunk where his feet were jerked upward, slamming his head into the opposite side.

Tony froze, terrified, realizing a moment too late that he’d crushed the sandwich quarter in one fist in terror. He thought, in the back of his mind, that he might have ruined several of Jan’s lacy things with the mayonnaise. He would be very sorry about it if he didn’t die from a heart attack first, as it was becoming clear they were not just moving luggage around, but were actively carrying the trunk out of the baggage car.

Was this the end? Had he celebrated too early? Had Obadiah and whoever he’d hired found them? He tried to become one with the bottom of the trunk and wondered if he should stay still when it opened to lull them into a false sense of security or if he should lunge up and start swinging as soon as it unlocked.

He covered his mouth to muffle his startled, pained yelp as the trunk was dropped on the ground, wondering if all luggage was treated like this or if it was just because they thought someone was in it.

“Oh! Please be gentle with my trunks! Someone’s already cracked my dress form!” Jan said, not sounding even slightly upset like she had when she’d been stopped outside her home.

Tony couldn’t help but fall limp in relief. If Jan was being pleasant, he had nothing to worry about.

“Thank you, gentlemen, I do so appreciate this,” another voice said.

Tony figured it was Victor because of the accent and wondered if it were possible to melt, because if there was one thing you could count on Victor for, it was to lose his temper if he even imagined he was being insulted.

“No problem, sir. If you need help, don’t hesitate to call on us again!”

Tony listened to a door open and close, the sound of several pairs of feet walking away under the noise of the train wheels. He closed his eyes and breathed in, counted to ten, and let the breath back out.

Then there was the rattle of keys and the sound of his trunk being unlocked before Jan cried, “Tony!” and began digging through her clothes for him.

Tony sat up immediately and wrapped his arms around her neck with a relieved sob. “Jan.”

“Oh, Tony, honey,” Jan sighed, hugging him back tightly.

They got to enjoy their hug for about a minute before Victor asked, “Are you always this touchy-feely?”

“Of course,” Tony said, confused. “Aren’t omegas affectionate with each other where you come from?”

“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t allowed many friends because the chances of being kidnapped were so high,” Victor said coolly, and then frowned. “Anthony, what is on your face?”

Tony was thrown by the sudden change in direction and could only manage to utter an inelegant, “Huh?”

Jan leaned back to look at him and snorted before covering her mouth, looking gleeful. “Tony! You have mayonnaise all over your face!”

Tony stared at her, uncomprehending, before letting out a mortified groan. “Oh no!” It must have happened when he tried to muffle his yelp after he crushed his sandwich in his hand. He looked down at his hands. They were also covered in mayonnaise. “Oh…”

“It’s all over Janice’s hair now,” Victor informed them.

Jan was silent for several minutes before she said, “I suppose it’s a small price to pay for your safety, Tony.”

Tony didn’t grab for her again, but only barely, instead murmuring a shy, “Sorry…”

Victor pulled out his handkerchief and began wiping at Tony’s hands before he could do anything else. “And your shirt is ripped, too.”

“I think the man searching my trunk did it,” Tony admitted.

Victor looked supremely put out by this information. “Disgusting. You can have one of mine then.”

“Thanks, Victor,” Tony said sincerely.

Victor went from looking supremely put out to extremely uncomfortable. “Think nothing of it. I won’t miss it.”

Tony did nothing but nod, because he didn’t want to make Victor more uncomfortable. He’d always seemed a little cold, but with the knowledge that he’d been kept from close friendships as a child for fear of kidnapping, it made a little more sense why he was… the way he was. Instead, he said, “I was surprised to get your telegram.”

“Well, Reed had mentioned it was only a matter of time before the Stanes got their hands on you, so I decided not to let them have any time at all. Besides, the Stanes already believe I’m a shallow idiot,” Victor sniffed. “Just because I wouldn’t allow myself to be bored by the younger Stane, somehow I’m the problem and not him. Americans are quite boorish, aren’t they!”

Tony thought of Hank, who willingly sat and listened to Jan rant about fashion and fabric; and Reed, who for all his faults looked at Sue like she hung the sun, moon, and stars; and he thought of Steve, of the letters validating Tony’s concerns, his doubts and fears and loss, and praising his bravery despite those things. “Well… not all of them…”

To Jan and Tony’s surprise, Victor coughed and blushed a little. “Well… Maybe not all of them.”

Jan leapt on the admission immediately. “Did you find someone?! Are you considering an alpha?!”

“Are all Americans gossips?” Victor complained immediately. “Susan asked the same thing. So unrepentantly nosy. It’s none of your business!”

“I am an unrepentantly nosy gossip,” Jan told him seriously. “And by the end of this trip, I’ll know all of your deepest, darkest secrets. And I will keep them for you, of course! But I will know them.”

“It’s true,” Tony added when Victor looked disbelieving. “One way or another, Jan learns everything. She’s someone you definitely want on your side, though. She recently threatened Reed with a shrimp fork.”

Victor looked horrified but intrigued. Tony could sympathize. Jan was a terror, but she was a terror who cared.

Tony jerked when he recalled what Jan had said. “Wait. What do you mean, by the end of this trip? Are—are we actually going to Maine?”

“Well, we are. You’re not,” Jan said, smiling mischievously.

“I do have an aunt in Maine,” Victor admitted under Tony’s bewildered stare. “However, other than a failing memory and a short temper, she’s not ailing at all. Of course, with her failing memory, I can convince her of most things—like that I arrived with two chaperones instead of one, but the other separated from us when we got off the train to… hmmm… chase after an alpha?”

Tony was quiet as he thought about it. He supposed it made sense; it fit the story without being an outright lie, and without giving too much information away. He might not have been chasing an alpha, but… he was definitely on his way to one, no matter the reasons behind it. It really would be the best option.

Finally, Tony sighed, frowning. “You’re making me sound like a tart.”

“Aunt Agatha enjoys being scandalized, so it wasn’t an accident that I made you sound like a tart,” Victor deadpanned. “Also, if she’s scandalized it’ll help her remember it. She’ll even make up her own details, and since they’re made up, they’ll all be wrong, and Janice and I will just agree with them.

“In the meantime,” he continued before either of them could cut in. “There’s a stop in Manchester long enough for me to send a telegram to your fiancé and for you to get onto a train going to Chicago. I’ve already made arrangements for you, and I’ll give you enough money to buy a train ticket wherever you need to go once you’ve gotten a response from your fiancé so that he knows to receive you.”

“Chicago,” Tony whispered, and couldn’t help hugging himself. He’d been to Chicago once before with his mother, to go shopping, but he didn’t remember much of it. It was kind of terrifying to think about. Then again, most of the last few months had been terrifying to think about. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up now, just when freedom was within reach.

“Thank you again, Victor, for all of your help,” Jan said softly, taking his hand.

Victor coughed and looked away from them, cheeks going pink as he snatched his hand back. “Father asked me to visit Aunt Agatha at some point while I was here. It’s not putting me out at all.”

And it probably wasn’t, to him, which made it all the more important to them.

“C-Can I write the telegram to Steve that you’ll send?” Tony asked after considering the plan again. “So—so he knows it’s genuine, since he knows how I write,” he added when Victor looked at him in confusion. He did not want to throw the other omega’s kindness back into his face by telling him that he didn’t want to send Steve a telegram that was probably more expensive than his house.

Victor considered this, then nodded, looking pleased with the thought. “Yes, that’s a good idea. Good thinking, Anthony.”

Tony smiled back at him shyly. He thought, in different circumstances, they might have been very good friends. Maybe they still could be, in the future. Maybe once he’d been married to Steve long enough that Obadiah couldn’t contest the marriage, he could chance sending people letters. Maybe Victor wouldn’t mind corresponding with him.

“And I’ll buy you a new dress form in Maine, Janice,” Victor added. “I had no idea leaving your own home would be so treacherous.”

“Oh, thank you, Victor. I mostly just said that so they’d be gentle with Tony,” Jan said, getting up to check her trunks. “But I really appreciate it anyway! I’ll take you up on that offer, don’t you worry!”

“I have no doubts,” Victor drawled. “Anthony, come sit while Janice checks her belongings. I had tea delivered.”

Tony accepted a cup of tea and a plate of very dainty cookies that he did not know the name of but tasted good with the bitter tea. “Thank you.” He wasn’t just thanking him for the tea.

“They were my mother’s favorite,” Victor offered, apparently the only way he would accept his thanks.

Tony sipped at his tea for a few minutes, watching Jan as she fussed and muttered under her breath, expression growing darker and darker with each trunk. Then he turned to Victor and asked, “Why do you call her that, anyway?”

Victor’s cup hit its saucer with a clink as he stared at him, bewildered. “Mother?”

Tony couldn’t help giggling in amusement. “No,” he said once he’d regained composure, and clarified, “Jan. Why do you call her ‘Janice?’”

Jan slammed the last trunk closed and whipped around to give them both a glare. “Yeah, what’s that all about?!”

Victor looked back and forth between them, looking so completely out of his depth that it was almost funny, except for the fact that he’d been calling her ‘Janice’ since they’d met. “It’s her name. Why wouldn’t I call her by her name?”

Tony snorted his tea out his nose.

Jan gave Victor a severe frown. “Except that it’s not my name, Victor.”

Victor stared at her for a very, very long time before he said, “But—it is. I remember. You were one of the first people who wasn’t intimidated by me, so I remember when we were introduced.”

Tony looked back and forth between them as they stared at each other, each of them silently and frantically trying to figure out at what moment it had apparently gone so wrong. He did not know whether it would be appropriate to laugh or not. Here Jan had thought that Victor had been snubbing her the whole time, but really, he’d misheard when she was introduced and thought he had her name correctly. Would it be rude to laugh?

“But no one else has ever called me ‘Janice,’” Jan said finally. “Surely you must have wondered—”

“Everyone called you ‘Jan,’” Victor said, looking dismayed. “Never your full name-!”

He was going to laugh, Tony decided, regardless of whether it was rude or not.

“It’s not funny, Tony!” Jan bellowed as he laughed so hard, he almost dropped his teacup. “Stop laughing!”

Tony could not stop even if he wanted to.

Jan looked like she was seriously considering grabbing one of the decorative pillows off the couch and smothering him with it. “Tony!”

“Johnny Storm,” Victor gasped suddenly, scandalized, and it actually shocked both Jan and Tony into silence. It was too bad that he was so upset he couldn’t truly appreciate that, because it rarely ever happened.

“…What about Johnny?” Jan asked after a brief pause to get her bearings. “Other than he needs to stop teasing me about Hank.”

“He’s the one who said your name was ‘Janice!’” Victor exclaimed. “We were dancing, and he pointed at you and said that you were Janice! Or, well,” he added, frowning a little in embarrassment. “I couldn’t hear him quite well over the music because he was trying to be quiet, and I was also focusing on him not stepping on my toes again, so I might have misheard him. But I did ask him very specifically if he’d said ‘Janice’ once the dance was over and—and he didn’t correct me!”

“Johnny,” Jan growled, gripping her hands into fists. “I’ll remember this.”

Tony reached out to grab her arm gently. “Now, he was probably just doing it to tease you—”

“Yes,” Jan agreed solemnly. “So I will make him sweat.”

“Yes, you do that, Janet,” Victor told her. “On the other hand, I can’t believe I’ve been calling you ‘Janice’ for two years and not one single person has corrected me! They all knew I was talking about you but they never said ‘actually her name is Janet!’” He frowned at Tony severely. “Not even you corrected me, Anthony.”

Tony shrugged helplessly. “I mean… by the time I realized you were saying ‘Janice’ instead of ‘Janet’ it had already been a few months. I figured Jan would tell you.”

Victor swiveled around to scowl at her. “And why didn’t you?!”

Jan scowled back at him. “Don’t throw this back on me! As if I saw you enough to take you aside and tell you that you had my name wrong! You were always surrounded by alphas trying to catch your eye and I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of them. Omegas need to stick together, after all.”

Victor opened his mouth, then shut it again, apparently unable to find fault with her reasoning. “Yes,” he offered reluctantly. “I suppose we do.”

“And I don’t think either of you will ever understand how thankful I am for that,” Tony added softly. “So thank you both again, from the bottom of my heart, for helping me escape the Stanes and getting me to Steve.”

Victor looked embarrassed as he tried to shrug it off. “I’m glad I could help,” he said softly, apparently unable to dodge his thanks anymore.

“I’d always go out of my way to help a friend, Tony,” Jan added, and reached out for his hands. “Especially you.”

Tony curled his arms around her, trying to soak up as much affection as he could. He was having such fun with them that he’d almost forgotten that there was a possibility he might not get to see them again. He’d already had to say a hurried goodbye to Jarvis and Ana, and he hadn’t gotten to hug them as long as he wanted. Soon he would have to say goodbye to Victor and Jan, too. He hadn’t realized how many farewells he’d have to give just to be able to greet Steve. He wished he’d had more time.

Jan leaned her cheek against the top of his head and gave him an extra tight squeeze, as if knowing he wanted the comfort. Tony couldn’t help but despair a little. What would he do without Jan?

Well, he’d soon learn, he decided. And he’d do his best to make Jan proud. Jan, and everyone else who had loved and helped him make his way to safety.

.-.

STEVE ROGERS
HAD TO LEAVE HOME SUDDENLY STOP AM MAKING WAY TO CHICAGO STOP CAN I COME TO YOU NOW STOP AWAITING RESPONSE STOP
TONY VON DOOM

Chapter Text

The train only stopped in Manchester long enough for Tony to give Jan and Victor hurried hugs. He might have managed something a bit longer if Victor hadn’t insisted on it not being necessary, but Tony had wanted to show him how sincere he was in his thankfulness. He’d noticed that Victor had looked at he and Jan with a silent sort of longing, as if all he’d ever wanted was an omega friend to hold hands with or cuddle. Tony wondered if it was a culture thing, that omegas in Latveria weren’t physically affectionate with each other, or if it really was all because of how Victor had been separated for his safety. Victor had been so stiff in his arms, but the hands that he’d hesitantly placed on Tony’s waist had been gentle, not pushing him away, so he was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he didn’t really like it.

Tony privately hoped that Jan would make Victor comfortable with physical affection. He knew that she wouldn’t really give Victor a choice in the matter of accepting it.

The train ride to Chicago was long, long enough that Victor had sprung for Tony to have a spot in the Pullman car. Tony appreciated the foresight, even though he found he couldn’t sleep, only managing fitful little naps that ended with a startled gasp as he imagined Obadiah or the men he had hired finding him. He was almost certain that when he was finally at Steve’s ranch, he’d lie down and not get up for a full twenty-four hours at least. The past few days had been exhausting, and while he’d go on as long as he had to, the tiredness was sinking deep into his bones.

Finally, too frustrated to try and sleep anymore, he pawed through one of his carpet bags. Jarvis had had to pack them hurriedly, but Tony had noticed that he hadn’t forgotten to pack his stationery. He pulled out one of the bundles of paper, penning a letter to Victor thanking him again for his help and, after some serious thought, asking if they could continue correspondence. They hadn’t really gotten to know each other very well, but he’d liked the softer parts of Victor that he’d seen, the uncertainty in the face of open affection, the discomfort when they expressed gratitude for his help. Perhaps he just needed some omega friends.

Then he began a letter to Jan, detailing how his journey after they’d separated had been going. Fair, he’d decided, but did not do her the disservice of lying and saying he wasn’t afraid. She’d held him as he cried the last few days, after all, and he’d even admitted he was scared to her out loud. They’d never had any secrets from each other, anyway, growing up. He wasn’t going to start having them now.

Tony paused, hand hovering over where he’d just signed his name. Could he even really send these letters? Obadiah would probably look for him even after he was married, and he would be a fool not to have an eye out for any incoming mail for Jan. And Jan had left town with Victor, so Obadiah was probably keeping an eye on Victor’s mail, too. Tony frowned, trying to come up with someone he could send the letters to, but any time he thought of someone, he realized that he would either be putting them in danger because they were his known friends, or he didn’t actually trust them to hide his secret and get the letters to his friends.

Tony sighed, frowning, and ran his thumb over the corner of one of the envelopes before he finally decided that he probably wouldn’t be able to send them until well after he was married. He turned to put the letters back into his bag and paused when he saw an envelope he didn’t recognize. He picked it up, surprised to feel something heavy inside it, then carefully pulled the flap open and looked inside.

“A key?” he murmured softly, confused. He tipped the envelope, so the key fell into his hand, running his thumb over the iron blade. It looked like one of the keys to Jan’s trunks. “Huh.” He wrapped his hand around it and then pulled the envelope open again, because it wasn’t like Jan to give him something without an explanation. And, like he expected, there was a small note inside.

Tony,
You’d be crazy if you thought I wouldn’t find a way to give you a wedding gift! I wish I’d been able to offer you something more, but it was all I could manage. I hope you and Steve are happy!
Much love,
Jan

Tony covered his mouth to muffle a sob when he saw the little heart that she’d doodled next to her name. He didn’t know what to do without her. They’d been together ever since they were three years old, when their mothers had gotten into a heated argument over a feathered hat only to turn around at the sound of a shriek to find that Jan had punched an older boy in the eye for tugging on Tony’s hair. Tony was no shrinking violet; Jan was just that protective of him. And he’d never thought that on the day he married, he wouldn’t have Jan at his side.

Jan was supposed to make his wedding clothes, and they’d pick out a dress for her as his maid of honor, and she’d violently elbow her competition out of the way when he threw his bouquet. Now he was on a train to Chicago, where he’d find out if he could go to Steve or if he needed to wait. He was alone, with only his two carpet bags, his gifted trunk, and the little satchel of money that Victor had pressed into his hands before he'd stepped off the train. He couldn’t even reach out when he arrived at his final destination to tell the people he loved that he was safe. They’d all have to sit there, wondering if he’d made it, wondering if he was safe and happy, and he couldn’t alleviate any of their worry for his own safety.

Obadiah had ruined everything he’d ever hoped and planned for. He’d even ruined Tony’s planned escape to Steve.

Tony hadn’t known he was capable of such hate until that very moment, when he seethed in anger with every fiber of his being at the Stane family.

.-.-.-.

TONY VON DOOM
COME AT ONCE STOP I’LL BE WAITING STOP
STEVE ROGERS

Tony nearly sagged to his knees as soon as he read the telegram. He never thought that so few words could fill him with such relief, hope fluttering cautiously in his rib cage. He read it again, just to be sure, then held the telegram to his chest, letting out a shuddering breath that bordered on a sob.

Steve wanted him to come. He had somewhere to go where he could be safe. He’d believed Steve would, of course, because they’d been discussing it, but never under these circumstances, never because he was actively fleeing people. He’d worried that Steve would realize just how much baggage he’d be coming with. Steve was smart, after all—Tony had tried to keep his living conditions vague, but what else could someone think when they got an emergency telegram that said ‘had to leave home suddenly’ when he’d admitted he had no money? But that hadn’t stopped Steve at all, had seemed to only firm his resolve, if he was going to be waiting at the train station for him to arrive without any idea of when that would be.

Tony took a moment to compose himself, then put his hand on the handle of the cart his trunk was on. He’d let the porter go so he could attend to other travelers, because the Chicago train station was bustling with activity and he didn’t want to hold anyone up while he figured out where to go. They all looked so busy, though. Tony frowned nervously. He didn’t want to leave his trunk unattended—he didn’t even know what Jan had put in it, and his heart ached at the thought of someone perhaps snatching it up—but all of the porters looked very busy, arms full of baggage or pushing large carts with trunks on them. But he also wanted to get to the ticket counter quickly, because what if the train that passed through Timely left soon? He didn’t want to miss it and have to wait longer.

The trunk wasn’t that heavy, probably. The porter hadn’t looked like he was straining at all when he’d been pushing it earlier. And it was just one trunk! Tony could probably push it by himself. It wasn’t like he was an invalid, or anything. He put his other hand on the cart and went up on his toes so he could orient himself toward the ticket counter, then braced his feet against the floor and began to push.

Holy Moses. What the hell had Jan put in the trunk!?

Tony stopped pushing and leaned back, letting out a breath as he scowled down at the trunk. It was on wheels. It was simple math—he applied force, and the trunk was supposed to move. While it had moved, it had taken all of his effort to do so. Tony circled the cart and grabbed one of the handles to see how heavy it was. He was dismayed to find he couldn’t budge it an inch. What had Jan sent him off with? An anvil? Did she expect he'd need one? Would he need one? Surely Timely had anvils!

“Need a little help there?” someone asked, and Tony nearly yelped and threw himself over the trunk.

He turned around sharply, putting his back to the trunk to see who had spoken to him. He swallowed thickly as he looked up at the alpha, forcing himself not to wring his hands. He wouldn’t show he was nervous at all. “I-I’m fine!” he assured the alpha.

The alpha smiled even as he quirked a brow at him. “Now, I’m not doubting you, but where I come from there are some pretty proud omegas, so I’m used to being told someone doesn’t need help even though they really, really do.”

Tony opened his mouth, then shut it again, peering up at the man with a frown. The alpha looked sincere enough, he supposed, and… it would be faster if he had help. And he supposed he could always play the wounded omega if he needed to get away—people always stopped to help a hysterical young omega, regardless of whether the danger was real or not. So he inclined his head in agreement. “Alright. Maybe I do need help.”

“My name’s James,” the alpha told him, taking hold of the cart and pushing it with ease. “James Rhodes. My friends call me Jim.”

“My name is Anthony St—ah,” Tony cut himself off. “Um. I actually prefer Tony. I’m Tony… von Doom?” The name felt strange on his tongue. It was one thing to put that on a telegram to cause confusion if anyone came looking for him, but quite another to introduce himself to another person like that. Victor had looked unbothered by the idea when Jan had suggested it though (had actually looked rather pleased with her idea), so he figured the fib wasn’t too bad.

“Nice to meet you,” Jim replied, either missing or choosing to ignore his hesitation. “Do you have a chaperone or something? I don’t think I’ve seen an omega traveling alone. Not one who wasn’t wearing mourning clothes.”

Tony blushed a little. “Oh, uh—I—well, the circumstances were—”

Jim glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then looked ahead again. “You know what? That’s probably none of my business. Where are you headed? Maybe we’re going the same way.”

“I, ah,” Tony began nervously, peering up at Jim with suspicion. He was certainly very nosy, wasn’t he? Obadiah couldn’t have gotten someone to find him this quickly, could he? But then, not everyone could be a pawn for Obadiah to control, and Jim… Jim seemed really nice. He didn’t give Tony the creepy-crawlies like Ezekiel and Tiberius had, and… and his smile was really kind. Maybe this was what a normal alpha acted like, he thought. Not all omegas acted the same as society omegas, after all, so the same should be true for alphas and betas. He’d probably have to relearn seeing people as friendly instead of suspicious, if he was to ever make friends where he was going.

“Timely,” he finally answered. If Jim was also leaving the station, he’d probably not come into contact with anyone looking for him, anyway.

“Timely?” Jim repeated, sounding amused. “I’ve been there a few times visiting a friend. It’s… nice enough, I suppose.”

Tony looked up at him, immediately curious. “You have? What is it like there?” Steve hadn’t really talked about Timely except to tell him it was full of good people and that he went there for supplies, but he’d obviously tried to make it sound good, to put Tony at ease. Jim was an impartial stranger, though, so his view of it might be more realistic.

Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, you know, typical small town. Everyone knows everybody. You can only keep a secret if you don’t share it. I’ve only gone for short trips, so I don’t know much about the day-to-day, but somehow I’m always invited to tea with eligible omegas whenever I’m down there and they make the best cake.”

“The best cake,” Tony repeated wonderingly. He hadn’t gotten to learn to make pound cake for Steve. Steve had said he’d teach him himself, but he’d really wanted to learn it before. Maybe someone there would be willing to teach him?

“It’s a bit of a trip; it’s just outside of Santa Fe,” Jim added as they pulled up to the ticket window. “You’ll probably want a Pullman car.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tony told him, unable to help a smile before he turned to the man at the counter. “May I have one ticket to Timely, please? In a Pullman car.”

The man nodded. “You’re in luck! The train just pulled in. That’ll be eighty-five dollars, sir.”

Tony felt his smile freeze on his face. He hadn’t realized it would be that much. He took out the money purse Victor had given him. He wondered if he’d even have enough to pay for third class seats. He opened the purse and looked inside, mouth dropping open.

“Tony,” Jim whispered harshly, putting his hand over the purse so he could block any wandering eyes.

“Oh, ah,” Tony began, embarrassed, and pulled four twenty-dollar bills out to hand to the ticket man, who had raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. “Here’s this, and—um—he didn’t put any single dollars in here,” he whispered up to Jim.

“I’ll spot you the five dollars,” Jim told him, perhaps a bit more loudly than he might normally have if the ticket man and a few other curious travelers weren’t staring at him. He dropped some coins on the counter, staring the ticket man down.

The ticket man became visibly nervous and handed Tony his ticket. “Have a pleasant trip. One of the porters will take your trunk.”

“Thank you,” Tony replied, still embarrassed.

Jim allowed one of the porters to take the cart, instead going to stand by Tony. Tony worried, for a moment, that Jim would put his arm around him or grab his hand, like the alphas back home had, but was pleasantly surprised when Jim’s hand merely hovered over the small of his back, urging him to follow the porter, before it fell back to his side.

“Maybe don’t gawk at how much money you have next time,” Jim murmured, falling into step beside him. “An omega traveling alone, with a purse full of money? You’re an easy target.”

“I didn’t know he’d given me so much,” Tony admitted softly.

Jim looked surprised, then helplessly amused. “I wish I had friends who gave me money like that.”

“Oh, well, he’s not really—” Tony began, then stopped, thoughtful. He’d wanted to be Victor’s friend, after all, hadn’t he? And since Victor hadn’t grown up with any close omega friendships, perhaps this was all he knew to do to show affection. “He’s… very, very rich,” he finally explained.

Jim tilted his head, intrigued. “Like railroad tycoon rich?”

Tony tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. He’d met the Goulds, and while he’d been impressed with their finery, he didn’t think it really matched up to Victor von Doom. “More like, ‘we’re pretty sure he might have a claim to the throne in his home country’ rich.”

“Wow,” Jim said, reluctantly impressed. He turned to smile down at him. “It’s good that you have friends like that, though. He obviously cares a lot about you being able to safely travel.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile down at his hands shyly. Victor might not have had a lot of patience for things he didn’t like, and he probably didn’t even think about how much he was giving him, but it was nice that it looked like a friend being concerned to Jim.

“Well, I’m on my way home to visit my parents in Philadelphia,” Jim said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I hope you enjoy Timely. The people there are nosy but they’re also really, really nice.”

“Maybe the next time you’re in Timely, I can repay you for the rest of my ticket,” Tony replied, feeling guilty that he’d had to offer it so Tony wouldn’t have to pull out anymore money, try to show that he wasn’t carrying more money than he knew what to do with. “Or, um—you could come to supper?”

Jim tilted his head, smiling a little. “Would your alpha really be okay with that?”

Tony hesitated. Would Steve be okay with that? He was inviting another alpha to their home even before they’d married. But then… if he told Steve what had happened, surely he’d agree? Steve had seemed like the type to repay a debt. And Jim hadn’t made any advances toward him at all, so if he just told Steve that, he’d probably be relieved enough to allow it. “I don’t think Steve would mind,” he finally decided, then frowned when he noticed that Jim had stopped walking and was staring at him with the queerest look on his face. “Jim?”

Jim’s lips twitched as if he couldn’t tell whether he wanted to laugh or not. “Steve? Do you—do you mean Steve Rogers?”

“You know him?” Tony asked, unable to feel a little exited. “We’ve been corresponding for—well, it doesn’t matter how long, but—yes, we’re to be married when I arrive.” His smile dimmed. “At least—at least I hope so. I’d wanted to do things a bit differently, but… there were extenuating circumstances.”

“Tony,” Jim said, lips spreading into a grin. “I watched that man snarl at his friend because he thought he was going to fold one of his drawings to send to you wrong. He’ll definitely still want to marry you. I don’t think any circumstance would change his mind.”

Tony felt his shoulders relax at the assurance. He clasped his hands together and couldn’t help smiling up at Jim. “Oh, do you really think so? He won’t be disappointed?”

“I can’t say that for sure, Tony, but I can tell you this—Steve’s been alone for a very long time,” Jim told him gently. “It’s like he was a jigsaw piece, and no one ever really matched up. During my visit, everyone in town was talking about how he’d been smiling more. I think he needed someone entirely different from who people thought he needed—someone soft to temper his hard edges, or someone who would always anticipate his needs so he could relax more. I’m an outsider, of course, so I can’t be entirely sure that I knew more than anyone else, but looking at him… he just needed someone who would take him as he was, and would insist that he take them as they are, too.”

Tony stared up at him, awed. It sounded so much like Steve’s letters—he’d only wanted to be accepted for who he was, swearing and all, and he’d insisted that he’d accept Tony as he was, even as he learned how to live on the range, too. It seemed that Steve was just as sincere in real life.

“I think you’ll be good for him,” Jim added as he led Tony over to the steps leading onto the train. “And maybe he’ll be good for you, too. I wish you luck. And knowing it’s Steve, I’ll definitely come around for supper the next time I visit. He’s one of the most easygoing alphas I’ve ever met, so long as you’re not a bully.”

Tony was pleased to hear that. He probably could have dealt with Steve being a little territorial, but knowing that he wasn’t settled some of his anxiety. He turned to look at Jim, intrigued. “Jim, is Steve handsome?”

“Ah,” Jim said, flustered. “Well, I don’t—he’s… okay? I guess? He’s an alpha with a face. That’s… that’s him.”

“Incredible,” Tony said, impressed with how awful Jim’s answer had been.

“Look, I don’t—I’ve got my eye on someone already and so anyone compared to her is just sorta… background noise,” Jim explained hastily. “Steve’s not… bad looking. He doesn’t set my teeth on edge when I talk to him but I’m pretty sure that’s because he once saw me pitch someone out of the saloon.”

Tony tipped his head, acknowledging. “Well, I’m sure whoever it was you threw deserved it,” he decided after a moment. Then he smiled at Jim again. “Thank you for your help, Jim. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, I was just protecting the travelers of Chicago,” Jim replied, smirking a little. “You looked like you were frustrated enough that you were going to pick up your trunk and throw it across the platform.”

Tony covered his mouth to smother a slightly hysterical giggle. “I was not!”

“It looked like you were,” Jim said, amused. “Have a pleasant trip, Tony.”

“Thank you, Jim,” Tony said again, and wondered if he’d ever know how much he meant it. “I hope yours is pleasant, too.”

.-.-.-.

Somehow, something in Tony settled with Jim’s reassurance. He was still frightened, of course—he probably would be until well after they were married, until Obadiah would no longer have a claim on him. But he was no longer scared that Steve would change his mind about him when he saw him, or that they wouldn’t be a good match when they met in person. Jim was just a bystander, so his views were probably at least a little flawed, but he’d admitted that when he’d talked to him. He was an outsider to Tony, too, but he’d thought they’d be good for each other. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

He’d thought he might worry about other things, like how long he’d need to be married to Steve before it was safe to send word to his friends, or whether Steve would turn out to be just like his letters or not. Now, though, he mostly worried about things farther in the future—Would his garden turn out? What should he try to plant first? He’d read that beans were an easy plant to care for, and maybe tomatoes and squash. He wondered what Steve’s favorite vegetable was. He’d said he’d eat anything even if it tasted bad, but he must have a favorite, right? He liked pound cake, after all. Surely he had a favorite vegetable.

He also wondered about Steve’s friends. Steve had mentioned that they’d been excited about him finding someone. His best friend and partner on the ranch had even insisted on taking Steve’s place taking the cattle to market because he wanted to make sure Steve stayed and replied to any letters he received. That meant that they were invested, right? So they’d want Tony to be happy too? He really wanted them to like him. He hoped he measured up to their expectations, too. He wanted them to think he was good for Steve, like Jim had.

Tony wished he had something to do with his hands. He knew that Jarvis hadn’t had time to pack much, and he and Jan had been too preoccupied with escaping at all that they hadn’t even thought to grab a book or something. He went through his carpet bags anyway, since Jan had already surprised him with a key to a trunk. Perhaps someone had secreted away another item of interest, or a book. Unfortunately, all he could find were the bundle of letters from Steve, his stationery, the cookbook Ana had bought for him, and his notebook detailing the basics Jarvis had taught him. He wished he’d had more time to practice homemaking before he’d had to leave.

He paused halfway through rereading Steve’s third letter. It had been sort of romantic, hadn’t it, meeting his future husband through letters. As excited as he was to meet Steve, he’d miss the anticipation of the next letter. He remembered the excitement he’d felt every time he’d held the envelope in his hands, how nervous he’d been before he read the letter, and then how giddy he was after. He wondered if Steve had felt the same way, sitting on pins and needles until he received it. Did he come into town to check for letters, or did someone deliver them? If he came to town, did he open them then and there, or did he wait until he was in the privacy of his home? He sort of hoped that Steve couldn’t wait. He thought that might be cute.

It seemed such a shame that the letters should end, Tony thought sadly. Then he looked back down at the letter in his hands, considering. Maybe… maybe he could write just one more letter. He could give it to Steve when he arrived. He might think it was sweet, the omega he’d been corresponding with showing up with one last letter in hand. He could always change his mind if he got there and Steve didn’t look amenable, after all.

Dear Steve,
     I’m on my way! I hope I didn’t frighten you with my telegram, but the situation was incredibly dire. I wish I could have come to you under better circumstances. However, I’m not sorry that I’m coming. It was really only a matter of time before my hand was forced, and now was as good a time as any.
     I may have overstepped my bounds today, unfortunately. I hope you won’t be offended or disappointed with me. I invited another alpha to our home for supper as thanks for helping me in Chicago. I know we’re not married yet, but he was very helpful. He said he knows you though, so hopefully you won’t mind. His name is James Rhodes, and he made me forget how scared I was for a moment, and he assured me that all the good things I thought about you were true. He said he thought I’d be good for you, and that you’d be good for me. I hope we are. Good for each other, that is. I really want us to be.
     I’m so exited to meet you, Steve. I want to go riding across your property with you, and look at the steer, and sit under a tree and read with you. I’m sure I could keep them from eating your book if you happened to fall asleep again. I think it would be nice to see you comfortable enough to sleep next to me on the range.
     I hope you don’t mind me being so bold. I’m just so, so excited at the prospect of starting a life together. I think, somehow, that I was always waiting for something to happen, for something to cause us not to come together. But now I’m on my way, and we’ll be together, and I’m so full of hope and giddy apprehension. I keep imagining how our life will be. I know that that’s sort of silly, especially when life can take such twists and turns, but I can’t help but imagine the best. Mostly, I imagine us being happy together. It feels a little childish, because I’m sure we’ll have our struggles, but… I want this to work, from the bottom of my heart.
     I’m looking forward to our life together, Steve. And I hope you are too.
Sincerely,
Tony

Tony read the letter over and considered inking out the entire sentence, but… it was the truth, after all. He did want Steve to be comfortable with him. And maybe he wanted Steve to know that, even if it was too bold. So he nodded to himself, folded the letter up, and put it in an envelope, then put it in his carpet bag. Then he fidgeted, wondering if he should write another letter he couldn’t send to Jan.

“Hey,” the beta ahead of him said around the crunch of an apple.

Tony looked up at her, startled. “Hello? Oh, I’m sorry. I must be bothering you,” he added, tucking his hands in his lap.

“I’m not bothered. I just noticed you don’t seem to have much to do,” she replied carelessly. She held a hand out to him. “I’m Greer.”

Tony took her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Greer. I’m Tony.”

Greer nodded, taking another bite of her apple. “Hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you must be on the train a long time if you’re in the Pullman car, right? That’s a long time with nothing to do. My father gave me an entire carpet bag filled with books. Yeah,” she added with a grin at Tony’s appalled expression. “The porters hate me. Anyway, I have all these books, right? And you’ve got nothing to do. Maybe you can help me and do the porters a favor at the same time. You want a couple books?”

“Oh,” Tony said, perking up at the idea. He hesitated after some thought. All he had were the large bills that Victor had given him, and he didn’t really want to let that information be known. “That’s really alright? I don’t have a lot of money to spare right now, and—”

“Tony,” Greer said firmly, and shoved the carpet bag next to her onto the floor. It hit with a loud thud. Tony stared at it in horror. “I don’t want to sell any of these to you. I want to give them to you. I can’t read all these! And I don’t particularly want to travel with them, either! Can you imagine me lugging these all around California?”

Tony stared at the bag a little longer, the very idea of it filling him with dread, and it wasn’t even his problem. “Oh,” he said weakly. “If you’re sure…”

“I have never been surer of anything in my life,” Greer told him, then shoved the apple in her mouth so she could reach down and open the bag. “Wha you wah?”

“Oh, well, I… I guess I enjoy adventures, or science fiction,” Tony offered, hoping the books she picked out wouldn’t be too sticky.

Greer grumbled around her apple, then threw her hands up in defeat and just knocked the bag over, books spilling across the floor. She took the apple out of her mouth. “I can’t be bothered, so just pick one. Or five. Actually if you want the whole bag—”

“And have the porters hate me?” Tony scoffed, then covered his mouth, blushing a little.

Luckily, Greer didn’t look put out by it, with the way she laughed at him. “Alright. But you can definitely take more than one if you want!”

Tony got up and hovered over the books, peeking through them thoughtfully. Finally, he decided on a few with interesting titles, and a couple he knew he definitely liked. He couldn’t help but look them over proudly. He was coming to Steve with so little, even just these few things made him feel like he was providing for himself more. Maybe Steve would like these books, too. It would be nice to be able to talk about them with someone. Ana had preferred mysteries, and Jarvis and Jan enjoyed romances.

If he didn’t, maybe he still wouldn’t mind Tony talking to him about them. Tony was good at holding conversations with himself, after all, and Steve seemed like the type to listen.

.-.-.-.

Steve was right. The train only barely stopped in Timely—it seemed more like a hesitation at the raised platform rather than an actual stop on the way to a bigger city. Still, for as shortly as it stopped, several other people seemed to get off. The platform was crowded, and the picture of Steve he’d been jokingly sent had left… a lot to the imagination. Tony didn’t really have any idea who to look for. And maybe—maybe he was getting nervous again. He looked around the platform, frowning, wondering if he’d know Steve if he saw him. All he really had to go on with a brown blob with yellow hair, and Jim's halting description of ‘alpha with a face that isn't necessarily bad looking.’

The platform was starting to clear. Tony frowned, twisting the letter he’d written in his hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious for having written it. Maybe he should have focused more on how he was going to find Steve, what he was going to say to him. It felt a little late to be trying to come up with something now. He supposed he couldn’t go wrong with a ‘how do you do’ or ‘pleasure to finally meet you,’ but… Steve was going to be his husband, and those words seemed so trite. Perhaps the right words would hit him like a bolt from the blue as soon as they laid eyes on each other, but he was seriously beginning to doubt that. He hoped that Steve wasn’t too disappointed with how he’d arrived—all of his clothes had been a little rumpled, but this was the nicest one he could find in his carpet bags—

“Tony?” someone asked, the single word surprisingly hesitant for all that it was filled with cautious excitement.

Tony took a deep breath, then turned, feeling vulnerable and brave all at once as he looked up to meet the alpha’s gaze. “Steve?”

Chapter Text

Tony had imagined Steve’s face for months, but nothing he’d dreamed of could have prepared him for the real thing. He wondered, in the back of his mind, if he’d been too afraid to hope that Steve would be earnest, kind, and handsome, because he never thought he would be so lucky.

Steve was big, and broad, with shoulders that went on for miles, and his hair was on the longer side, like he was just on the cusp of needing a haircut. His skin was surprisingly pale—he’d thought Steve might be a little tanner, being out on the range so often, or out doing manual labor in the hot, southern sun. He had freckles, though, and they were very cute, spattering across his nose like he’d sneezed over a cinnamon cake. He had a beard, too, which seemed incredibly foreign to Tony; a beard meant you were too poor to afford a razor in New York, so almost every alpha had had clean-shaven faces. Somehow, Tony thought the beard suited him.

And his eyes… They were so deeply, stunningly blue. Tony couldn’t bring himself to look away, staring up at them in awe. He’d never seen such blue eyes.

Steve swallowed thickly, and Tony waited with bated breath to find out if he was disappointed or not. “You’re so much prettier than I imagined,” he finally breathed.

Tony immediately felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease. Steve thought he was pretty. He’d known, logically, that he was an attractive person, but he’d also known that that didn’t mean he’d be attractive to everyone. He couldn’t help his lips tipping up into a smile. “The picture you sent me didn’t do you much justice.”

“The picture,” Steve repeated softly in confusion, brows furrowing together, before his face went bright red at the realization. “Oh. The picture the kids drew. Ah. Yes, well, the shape was about right, though.”

“I suppose,” Tony said, lifting his hand to try and stifle an amused giggle. He wasn’t sure it entirely worked, but Steve appeared charmed by the action, so he didn’t feel too badly about it. He blinked in surprise as he felt paper crumpling against his face and pulled his hand back quickly.

He still had the letter he’d written on the train in his hand. It was a bit worse for wear, now, after his anxious twisting and crumpling of it. He was tempted to hide it, suddenly embarrassed, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. He stared at the envelope for a moment, considering, then looked back up at Steve shyly. “Um… I might have written something for you. While I was on the train,” he offered hesitantly, holding the letter out to him. “I didn’t really have much to do, and I wanted to focus my thoughts… And I, um… I wanted to write you one last letter,” he added. “Because I loved your letters so much.”

“Tony,” Steve breathed, hand immediately coming up to take it. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.” He hesitated, though, fingers just grazing the edge of the envelope. “Is it okay if I read it?” he asked, brows furrowing together in concern as he turned his gaze from the letter back to him.

“I… I’m a little embarrassed about how frank I was in it,” Tony admitted. “But I—I think I really do want you to read it.”

Steve took it between careful fingers, flipping it over to rip it open. Tony couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of Steve doing this every time he got one of his letters, ripping them open to read as soon as he got them.

“Steve,” someone barked suddenly. “Are you just going to stand up there in the sun all day?”

Steve flinched, turned just enough to toss an embarrassed glare over his shoulder, then looked back at Tony with an apologetic smile. “He’s right, I’m sorry—um, are you hungry? We could go to the hotel and get something to eat. It’s a long ride back to the ranch,” he added. He paused, then frowned, quietly adding, “Maybe you’d like to tell me about your sudden urgency to get here, too.”

“Ah,” Tony began, then sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yes, I suppose that would be best,” he agreed, because it wouldn’t be fair to have Steve marry him without all of the facts. He’d been hesitant to divulge all of them in a letter, which could be taken out of context or even be stolen and taken back to Obadiah. Steve deserved to know everything before he married him.

“The hotel has really good food,” Steve said after a moment, looking a little guilty, as if he’d hated to bring it up. He was starting to open the envelope again.

“STEVE,” someone barked again.

“OKAY,” Steve snapped back, spinning toward the stairs. Then he stopped, a breathy, ‘what the hell’ escaping his lips.

Tony blinked at his back in surprise, then finally stepped around him to see what he was looking at. It seemed like the entire town had shown up at the depot. Everyone was goggling up at them like they were one of the displays at the zoo, some looking deliriously happy and others shedding a few tears. Tony remembered, suddenly, what Jim had said at the train station in Chicago—Everyone knows everybody. You can only keep a secret if you don’t share it. Everyone had been trying to find a partner for Steve and hadn’t managed it.

But he also remembered that Jim had said he’d be good for Steve.

“Um. How do you do,” Tony said to the crowd after a moment, because they were hopefully going to be his neighbors soon, and he wanted to get off on the right foot with them. He remembered what Jarvis had always said—that giving off the first impression of being polite was never the wrong decision. (Another part of him remembered Ana’s whispered addendum, that it was better for people to underestimate him as a quiet omega.) He was pleased when he was met with a few cheerful ‘how do you do!’s in return.

“Will you get lost,” Steve hissed, waving at them. “You’re embarrassing me!” The crowd slowly began to disburse, but not without many of them giving Steve knowing smirks or rolled eyes. Steve muttered to himself, still flushed.

Tony couldn’t help but stare at him, in awe, because where he came from, no alpha would casually admit that someone was actively embarrassing them. Steve didn’t look ashamed of it, though. In fact, he looked a little… fond. And Tony found the way his ears went pink to match his cheeks, in conjunction with his casual admittance of embarrassment, was incredibly charming.

Steve turned back to him, still looking vaguely embarrassed even as he smiled, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I suppose up here on the platform is a pretty silly place to stand around.” He glanced at the letter in his hand somewhat regretfully, then carefully slid it into his pocket. “Let’s go to the hotel and get something to eat. Are these your bags?”

“Oh, yes,” Tony began, leaning down to pick them up, but before he could even reach them, Steve had grabbed them, moving the two carpet bags to one hand. He couldn’t help but stare. The handles were so wide that he couldn’t hold both bags in one hand, and Steve was apparently doing it with ease. He couldn’t help flushing a little when Steve offered him his free arm, reaching out to delicately slip his hand around it. He could feel Steve’s muscles ripple under his palm. He had no idea why he hadn’t thought Steve would be strong. Steve had mentioned manual labor in his letters, after all.

“Is this all?” Steve asked.

Tony began to nod, a little dazed, before he realized what he’d been asked and blurted out, “Oh! I have a trunk, too. A wedding gift from a friend.” He looked up at Steve in concern. “It might have an anvil in it.”

“…Why,” Steve began, then shrugged it off, apparently not concerned. “I’m sure we could always use an anvil. Is that it?” he asked, pointing up the platform to where the porters had put the luggage.

There was only one trunk left, probably because everyone else getting off the train had known where they were going. Still, Tony answered, “Yes, that’s the one.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Come on. I’ll put your bags in the wagon and then grab it.”

“The wagon,” Tony repeated quietly as he was led over to the steps of the platform.

There was a group of younger people tittering nearby, but they scattered when Steve raised an eyebrow at them. It exposed a small farm wagon, but there were no horses attached to it. There was a large bench mounted at the front, and the rear had nothing in it but for a few wooden crates. Steve swung his carpet bags over the side to tuck under the bench with ease, and then turned to return to the platform.

“Should I get someone to help?” Tony couldn’t help but fret. Jim had been able to push the cart with his trunk with ease, but he’d had wheels to help him at the time. There didn’t look to be any carts handy, and he doubted he’d be much assistance when he’d barely been able to move the cart himself.

“I’m sure we can always take the anvil out if I do,” Steve assured him, smiling in good humor.

“I just don’t want you to strain yourself—” Tony began, then nearly swallowed his tongue when Steve grabbed the handle on one end and tugged upward, easily pulling it off the ground and dragging it toward the steps. “Oh,” he squeaked instead. “Um. Okay. Never mind.”

Steve dragged the trunk down the steps, propped one side up on the back of the wagon, then lifted the other to slide it in. It looked like it took no effort at all. Tony swallowed thickly and tried very hard not to think about it, but he found that very hard when Steve dusted his hands off with a few quick claps. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to take Steve’s arm again, even though he hadn’t offered it.

“The hotel isn’t very far,” Steve said, cutting into his thoughts. “And I know it must have been a long trip from New York. How would you like to stretch your legs?”

“Oh, um.” Tony looked down at his feet, then back up at Steve. “That sounds fantastic, actually.” He glanced back at the wagon, frowning. “Will my things be alright?”

“Sure,” Steve began carelessly. Then he noticed how concerned Tony actually looked about leaving his things and quickly corrected, “Yeah, they’ll be fine.” He slapped his hand against the side of the wagon. “No one’s going to be able to hook up their horses to it without someone else causing a fuss, because they know this wagon’s mine, and I’ve paid Gabe to keep an eye on it while it’s here. He’s the telegrapher,” he added when Tony raised his eyebrows. “He’s actually a good friend of mine. Think he only accepted the money because technically I wasn’t supposed to just keep the wagon here like this.”

Tony tilted his head, frowning. “Is it okay that we’re leaving it here longer, then?”

Steve smiled even as he rolled his eyes a little. “There won’t be another train stopping for another sixteen hours. I think it’s fine.”

“You really are a small town,” Tony said, not quite managing to keep some of the ruefulness out of his tone as Steve offered him his arm again. He curled his fingers around his forearm and reminded himself that squeezing Steve’s arm to feel his muscles would be inappropriate, considering they’d literally just met in person. “I guess I wasn’t quite sure what that meant until I got here.”

“Yeah, it can be a little jarring when big cities are what you’re used to your entire life,” Steve agreed, luckily not taking any offense. He began leading him toward the hotel. “But we’re a stop for people traveling across the country, so we’re big enough for an actual hotel.”

Tony nodded, trying to keep his head from swiveling around too much as he took in everything. The town really was just one road leading up to the railroad platform and back out to the prairie. “If I was going to California, I’d probably stop here just to stretch my legs and avoid getting too cramped on the Pullman car,” he agreed, eyes lingering on the general store. Steve had said some of his friends owned it. Then again, if the town was this small, and Steve was as gregarious as he claimed, he was probably friends with every store owner. “It’s very pretty,” he added belatedly, because there were flowerboxes on all of the windows, and the storefronts were all well-kempt and clean.

“Yeah. Just don’t tell Mrs. McAvoy that her miniature roses are prettier than Mrs. Langdon’s. They both got cuttings at the same time and have been at each other’s throats about it ever since,” Steve whispered conspiratorially, and when Tony looked back up at him, he gave him a playful wink.

Tony immediately flushed bright red, and he wasn’t even entirely sure why, except that maybe he hadn’t really expected Steve to be so familiar immediately. Then again, he thought, smiling to himself a little as he looked back down at his feet. They’d shared enough letters to be that familiar, hadn’t they?

.-.

The hotel dining room was small but elegant, at least as much as it could be: clean white tablecloths, fresh flowers as table decorations, and polished silver. The wainscoting could stand to be repainted, and the paintings were somewhat faded from the sun, but Tony couldn’t be anything but charmed as he looked around, carefully setting himself down into the seat that Steve had pulled out for him.

“Would you mind if I read your letter?” Steve asked as he came around to sit down across from him. “Or has that moment passed? I can wait.” The way his fingers drifted down to his side refuted that, but he didn’t look self-conscious about it.

“I mean. It’s a letter. There’s no expiration date on it,” Tony replied, amused. “I’ll look at the menu while you—” He watched Steve whip the envelope back out and open it. “…Read it,” he finished, laughing a little, then picked up the little menu card on his plate. He watched Steve’s eyes dart back and forth across the paper for a moment, then dropped his gaze down to the menu card, for some reason feeling like he was intruding.

There wasn’t a lot to choose from, but then, he hadn’t really expected there to be. It wasn’t like back in New York, when they could simply run out for extra ingredients to have on hand. He decided he’d go with the roasted chicken. It seemed light enough, and even though Steve had been incredibly welcoming, his stomach still felt like a bunch of knots. It probably would until he felt safe, he lamented, and couldn’t help but wonder when that would be.

He was so wrapped up in thinking that he almost missed Steve’s sharp intake of breath. He remembered with sudden clarity how frank he’d been in the letter and couldn’t help flushing in embarrassment. Maybe he’d been too bold.

“Tony,” Steve murmured, finally looking up from the letter. He swallowed thickly. “Tony, did you mean it?”

“I—of course I meant it,” he muttered, shrugging uncomfortably. “I’ve meant every word I’ve written to you.”

“Right,” Steve answered hurriedly. “Right, of course, I just—” He leaned his face in his hand and made a noise that sounded a lot like a squeak. “Oh God and you’re right here and you’re seeing me react to one of your letters. You’re seeing how I reacted to all of your other ones. Oh God.”

Tony was hurt, but only for a moment, because then he noticed Steve’s ears were quickly turning pink. As he watched, Steve’s ears flushed darker, and he realized with a start that they were just as red as the rest of his face, which he was trying in vain to hide behind his hand. “Do you… like it?” he couldn’t help but ask, too cautious to immediately decide that he was happy about it.

“Of course I like it,” Steve said into his hand. “You could have kept the letter to yourself and yet you gave it to me anyway and let me see what you really think and I—I’m never prepared.” He finally pulled his hand away to meet Tony’s gaze, so he could see how earnest he was even if he still looked vaguely embarrassed. “You’re always so brave in our letters, Tony. My friends always told me that I was the king of moving too fast, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t pushing you, and you just—you just come right out and say everything I’ve wanted to. Tony, I want so badly for this to work, too.”

Tony dipped his head, pleased and embarrassed and overwhelmed. Steve had called him brave before, too, but somehow it felt much nicer in person. “I… I think I should lay everything out for you, so that you can make a more informed decision,” he finally said, because Steve might have understood the barest bones of who he was, but it was only fair that Steve knew what he was getting into before they married, especially if Obadiah ever tracked him down and tried to drag him back home.

“I can’t imagine you’ll say anything I can’t live with, but alright,” Steve agreed reluctantly, looking up as the waitress came back to take their orders.

Tony waited until she was gone again before he took a deep breath, clasping his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting too much. “Let me figure out where to start,” he sighed, frowning. “You know my parents passed away, of course—”

“And that you were raised by some dear family friends,” Steve agreed, nodding.

Tony couldn’t help but swallow at the thought of Jarvis and Ana, wondering if the hurt would ever fade. “Yes,” he answered. “Let’s start there. I suppose that’s how we ended up here, after all.” He took another deep breath. “I can understand if you change your mind after this, Steve.”

“I mean, I doubt I will,” Steve repeated with a shrug. Somehow, though, it didn’t come across as flippant.

Tony couldn’t help but be in awe of how sincere he was, even as he began, “My parents were wealthy. I suppose I am now, too, technically.” He scowled a little as he thought about Obadiah stealing his money again. “In theory.”

“In theory,” Steve murmured, confused, but quieted again to allow him to continue.

“When they died, I wasn’t yet allowed to control the estate. I was too young. I can’t say I fault the logic,” he added with a reluctant shrug. “I’d just lost both of my parents. I’m sure I would have made many poor decisions in my grief. So I went into the care of my father’s butler and his wife.”

“…A butler,” Steve repeated, and now he looked bewildered.

Tony shrugged a little, helpless, because growing up he’d always known that Jarvis had not been ‘just a butler,’ but that had also been the only way he’d referred to himself. “I’m not entirely sure how they met or how the relationship ended it up as it did. I know that my father rescued both Jarvis and his wife from Hungary during a war somehow, and Jarvis remained loyal to him thereafter. They’d always taken care of us, and when my parents died, he and his wife just… continued taking care of me.”

“Okay,” Steve answered slowly, still looking a little confused. “I’m glad that he was there to take care of you, in any case. Seems like he did a good job, whatever it was.”

Tony managed to flash him a small smile at the praise for Jarvis, but it quickly faded as he tried to figure out how to continue his explanation. “My father had another friend, Obadiah, and I trusted him to look after my finances. He was my father’s business partner, after all. It made sense. It wasn’t until later, when I became of age, that I realized I couldn’t regain control of my fortune or have it transferred over to Jarvis. Obadiah had gotten it too tangled up in his dealings. If I forced the issue, he could have simply said he lost it on the market. So I—I have money. I just have no way of obtaining it. The law says that since he’s my guardian on paper, it’s his right to control it until I find a husband.”

Steve took in the information, blinking, then scowled in distaste, simply stating, “That’s not right.”

Tony paused to stare at him in surprise. “I—Thank you, Steve,” he said, and meant it.

“I’m serious,” Steve began.

“I can tell. It’s just… you’re one of the few people who has said that to me. Oh, people might have whispered it behind their hands at some point, sure,” he added when it looked like Steve didn’t believe him. “But no one wanted to portray themselves as going against Obadiah. He’s very powerful back in New York.” He swallowed thickly. “And he has an alpha son.”

“I already don’t like where this is going,” Steve said, and when Tony flinched, hurt, he hurried to add, “For you. I don’t like how you were treated. I can surmise what that means. Unfortunately.”

“Yes, well,” Tony answered, looking away from him in embarrassment. “Can’t say I much enjoyed it, either, but…” He looked down at his hands in his lap, blushing a little. “It ended up bringing me to you, so.”

Steve’s glare immediately softened. “Tony…”

“Please, I just—need to get this out,” Tony cut in, looking back up at him with all the regret he could muster. He was pretty sure he only had the strength to say it once. He’d never had to, before. Everyone in New York had come to know his circumstances through the grapevine, after all.

Steve sat back in his seat again and nodded, contrite. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s not as if I didn’t have friends who shared your sentiments,” Tony answered hurriedly. “So—Obadiah has a son. And I’m sure he wanted to keep control of me and my family’s fortune, so he made sure everyone knew that his son was going to marry me. Other alphas learned not to show interest in me, because Obadiah would go out of his way to ruin them. I was beginning to despair of ever getting out of the marriage when Ana—Jarvis’s wife—told me that there might be something I could do yet to escape them.

“She has a niece that she’d send marriage ads to in Hungary. She said that I should answer them, too. That way, at least, I’d have a choice,” he added, voice soft. “And I hadn’t had a choice in so long. It hurt to hide away the pieces of myself that seemed important. I’m Tony Stark. It’s a name in the echelons of high society. But I couldn’t tell anyone that for fear that word would get back to Obadiah. I knew that if he found out I was trying to leave, he’d make it impossible for me to do so.” He paused there, letting the information hang, the fact that he’d held things back.

Steve, to his credit, took some time to mull the information over. “And you’re afraid that I’ll think… what,” he finally asked, frowning in confusion. “Nothing you’ve said makes me think any less of you, Tony, and it doesn’t make me doubt any of your feelings. You just gave me this letter that you wrote on the train,” he added, holding the letter up in one hand, as if Tony needed the visual evidence. “Do you expect me to believe that your thoughts and feelings are fake in this? In any of your letters?”

“Some might… think I was using them,” Tony explained hesitantly, unable to help wringing his hands under the table.

Steve stared back at him blankly, then said, “I don’t feel used. I don’t feel used at all. You were upfront about your lack of knowledge and skills about working on the range. Someone just trying to escape would lie. All you talked about was wanted to learn.” He paused, frowning, then asked, “That’s not the end of the story though, is it?”

“It’s not,” Tony answered, nodding, and felt his cheeks heat with shame. “Very few people knew about my plans, so when we became engaged, I couldn’t tell anyone. But Obadiah’s son, he cornered me at a party. Tried to force himself on me,” he added, ducking his head. “So I told him I was already engaged, and he was furious. Other partygoers had to help me escape him, and I holed up in my friend’s house for a few days until another friend came up with an idea to smuggle me out.

“I escaped New York by hiding in a trunk in the luggage compartment, if that’s any indication about how dire the situation was. I sent the telegram to you on a stop where I changed trains to get to Chicago instead of Maine. And I know—I know Obadiah will take it as a personal affront that he couldn’t control me, so I doubt he’ll stop looking for me. I just want… want you to be prepared. If Obadiah finds me here and tries to force me to go home.” Tony sucked in a shuddering breath. “I know that can be a deal breaker, an angry guardian coming for his ward, but—”

“But he’s not,” Steve cut in, and Tony couldn’t help but look up at him through his lashes, because Steve didn’t sound angry, or putout, or disgusted. He just sounded… firm. Unyielding. “He’s not your guardian. That would mean that he cared about you, and it’s clear that he doesn’t. And you’re not his ward—you were taken in by people who actually cared about you. From your story, the only thing he ever showed care for was your money. That doesn’t make him your guardian. Not out here.”

Tony’s breath hitched, and he allowed himself to hope, drawing himself to sit up straight. “So this isn’t—isn’t something that would make you change your mind?”

Steve reached across the table and took his hand before he could stop himself. “Tony, all you just told me was how strong you were to escape all that and leave the only support you had behind. Of course it doesn’t change my mind. And if Obadiah tries to come and take you back, I won’t let him.” He frowned, brows furrowing together in concern. “Were you worried about that? I don’t want to sound flippant, but… don’t be. His opinion means nothing to me. It’s yours I’m worried about, and you’ve expressed that you want to make a life together. So. Let’s do that.”

Tony sucked in a wet breath, feeling hollowed out with relief. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that Steve didn’t care about Obadiah or the threat of him coming to get him. “Steve, I…”

“Steve,” the waitress gasped in affront as she brought their food out. “Have you made your beau cry already? You’re never going to get married, you idiot!”

“No,” Steve choked out, startled, and Tony couldn’t help a slightly hysterical laugh at the horrified expression on his face.

.-.

“So…” Steve began as they stepped out of the hotel, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Tony turned to look up at him, both hands clasped around his money purse. “So?”

“…So,” Steve tried again, then stopped and closed his eyes to sigh at himself in frustration. “I’m so bad at this.”

Tony couldn’t help a smile. “Putting your first letter to shame already? You told me you were a better conversationalist in person.”

“I just—want to do everything right,” Steve admitted, turning toward him with a frown. “Especially after everything you told me. I don’t want to offend you, or hurt you, or—”

“Steve, I just got off the train today,” Tony cut in. “Of course there are going to be missteps as we get to know each other in person.” He reached out for Steve’s arm, then hesitated. But… Steve had been telling him how brave he was. He figured he shouldn’t stop now. So he continued reaching, curling his hand around Steve’s arm, and added, “You told me that you’d be patient as I learned. Of course I’ll be patient with you, too.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, stunned, then pulled his hand out of his pocket so he could lay it across Tony’s. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

Tony continued to smile at him, then tilted his head. “So… what’s our next step, Steve? I’ll follow your lead.”

“Um,” Steve began, apparently startled. He blinked down at Tony, thinking hard, before he finally said, “Well, we’ll need to start heading back to the house soon. It’s a few hours’ ride out.”

“That far?” Tony couldn’t help but ask, dismayed.

“With a wagon that has an anvil in it,” Steve replied, amusement clear in his tone. “You said you could ride in your first letter. It’s much faster riding on a horse than in a wagon.”

Tony tipped his head back to look up at him, pleasantly surprised. “You remember what I said in my first letter? Steve, that was so long ago!”

“I reread your letters a lot,” Steve admitted, smiling bashfully, and lifted his hand to rub the back of his head. “My friends have been teasing me since I got your first letter. I’m sure if we’d been apart much longer, I would have worn the paper out.”

Tony could have sworn that his heart did an excited flip in his chest at the thought that Steve was doing the exact same thing he was, reading his letters over and over as he waited impatiently for the next one. “Oh. Me too.”

Steve’s smile grew wider with joy even as his shoulders sagged in relief. “Really?”

“Well, I’m sure I had a lot more to enjoy, what with the drawings you sent me,” Tony demurred quickly. “I’m sorry I had nothing as nice as that in my letters back to you.”

“I assure you that your letters to me were happily received without any extras, Tony,” Steve assured him, reaching down to clasp his hand again. “Quite happily.” He tipped his head back up the street. “How about we go see the preacher?”

Tony’s smile faded in concern and confusion. “You… don’t want to have a wedding?” Everyone in town had seemed so excited to see Steve had found a beau. It didn’t make sense that they wouldn’t want to celebrate with him.

“I think it’s sort of unfair, that I’d get to have my family and friends at the church, and you didn’t,” Steve admitted after a moment. “So I thought we might have a quick ceremony now, and then later, when you could invite your friends and family, we’d have a big celebration. It’s already unfair enough that you had to leave everything and everyone behind. I’m sure everyone here will understand once I explain it to them.” His mouth quirked up into a wry smile. “Besides, Bucky isn’t back from taking the herd to market. He’d never forgive me if I had my big wedding without him standing at my side as best man.”

Tony couldn’t help but think of Jan, and how she was supposed to be at his side as his maid of honor, and of Jarvis and Ana, who he’d always imagined would fill in the empty spaces where his parents should have been. The thought of one day being able to invite them to come celebrate their union was nice, even if he had his doubts that it would ever be safe to invite all of them.

“That sounds wonderful, Steve,” he finally said when he realized Steve was waiting for his answer. “I… Yes, a small ceremony sounds fine. Thank you.”

“Yes, well, not marrying you before I bring you into my house isn’t really an option,” Steve admitted, shrugging uncomfortably. “No one here would think less of you for it, of course, especially since we’ve only just met in person, but I’d probably always have nightmares of my ma rising from the grave to smack me to death with a wooden spoon for the impropriety.”

Tony stared up at him, stunned at the admission, before he finally threw his head back to laugh, loud and long, at the idea of anyone being able to cow someone as big and strong as Steve simply because he brought his intended omega into his home without marrying him first.

.-.

The ceremony was quick, quiet, and relatively painless, except for the fact that when the preacher had said ‘you may now kiss your bride,’ both Steve and Tony had stared at each other in dismay. Finally, though, Steve had leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Tony had responded in kind with a kiss to the cheek.

The view as they made their way to the ranch was breathtaking, for as simple as it was. Tony had never seen so much open space in his life, and every time he saw an unfamiliar bird, Steve seemed to know exactly what kind it was. Tony was certain that he’d never had an alpha be so attentive to him in his life, especially without ulterior motives.

“Steve,” Tony asked after a moment of thought. “Did you have other omegas that you wrote to?”

“Sure,” Steve replied with a shrug, unrepentant. “None as engaging as you, though. From the very start, it felt like you wanted to know me personally, not just what I could provide for you. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course, especially if an omega is going to travel to be with me, but you were the first omega who offered to take on a job if I asked it of you.” He turned to flash Tony a smile. “And you kept writing to me even after my first letter. I’m man enough to admit I struggle with putting my feelings to paper, and many omegas were discouraged by it. But you didn’t give up on me.” He paused, then asked, “I’m sure you had other alphas vying for your attention, though.”

“Yes, well, I sort of picked a favorite early on,” Tony admitted, blushing a little and scratching at his cheek. “But there were a couple that I—thought could be very good friends, if you didn’t mind me continuing to correspond with them.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Can’t say I mind that much. I’m the one you chose to marry, after all.”

Tony ducked his head to try and hide his pleased flush. “Yes, I did,” he agreed. He couldn’t wait to get to know Steve better.

Chapter Text

Steve pointed out the house as soon as it came into view. “We’re a ways off still, but that’s home. I think it’s big enough that we won’t step on each other’s toes.”

Tony lifted a hand to block out the sun shining in his eyes, following the direction Steve’s finger was pointed. “Where?” He saw a dark blob against the sunset, barely. He put his free hand on Steve’s shoulder and stood up on the front board of the wagon. “That’s it?”

“Whoa!” Steve said hastily, reaching up to clamp his hand around Tony’s elbow to steady him. “Sit down. It’ll still be there when we get closer to it.”

Tony squinted, trying to see it better. “Just a second, I—”

“We’re gonna hit a bump in the road, and you’re gonna fly off and break your neck,” Steve groused petulantly. “You’re tryin’ to make me a widower before we even get home.”

“You wouldn’t let me fall,” Tony retorted, and was surprised to find he actually meant it—and not just because Steve’s grip on his elbow was strong (though it was) or because he’d felt Steve brace himself against the board as well (he had). He knew, down in his bones, that Steve wouldn’t have let him fall and get hurt, even if it meant he had to throw himself down to break the fall. He couldn’t help but smile a little at the fact. He really needn’t have worried about not knowing Steve well enough. He hadn’t just gotten to know Steve in his words; he’d gotten to know him in the spaces in between them, too, unspoken but certainly there.

“Will you just—Tony I can’t hold these horses with just one hand—” Steve began, but he didn’t try and yank him down against his will, either.

Tony dropped back down into his seat, trying not to feel too flustered. The alphas back home would have snapped at him or yanked him back down regardless of whether he was going to do so himself. Steve’s grip had been firm, but not tight; he could have easily yanked his arm free if he’d really wanted to. It had seemed more like Steve was trying to hold him up so if he did lose his balance, he wouldn’t fall. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve answered immediately, grabbing the reins again. “I’m sure this is all new, and… different.”

“I’ve never seen so much open space,” Tony admitted, peering around again. “I… expected more desert.”

“Lots of desert out there,” Steve replied, shrugging. “Luckily we’re in the plains. Good cattle country.” He glanced at Tony, smiling a little. “Sand doesn’t really agree with cattle’s stomachs, you see.”

Tony smiled down at his lap at the joke, even though it also made him realize just how much he didn’t know. He had had so much to learn before coming, and he hadn’t had a chance to learn even a fraction before he’d had to flee. “That makes sense. I guess I already have a lot to learn.”

Steve glanced at him speculatively before returning his gaze to the road, humming quietly. “I’m gonna tell you a secret. Well, not really a secret,” he added, tilting his head in thought. “Most everyone around here knows, but they never talk about it, so it feels like a secret.”

Tony turned his head to look up at him, frowning a little when he noticed Steve’s brows were furrowed together, and he looked pensive. “You don’t have to,” he offered.

“No, I’m gonna,” Steve said. “Just tryin’ to remember what I put in my letters to you. I have yours memorized, but I basically forgot what I said as soon as I sent it,” he added, smiling shyly.

Tony smiled again and hoped he didn’t look too pleased or smug at the admission. “I… might know your letters to me by heart as well,” he said, looking out at the plains again. “So if you have a question or anything…”

“I mentioned being sick, right? And being sent to live with someone for treatment,” Steve asked.

Tony tilted his head, frowning and rubbing his chin as he mentally flipped through each of the letters Steve had sent him. He remembered it being early on in their correspondence. “Hmm… Yes, I’m sure. You said you were sick—had even had polio—and your best friend kept track of it one year and you were sick for almost half of it. But your mother sent you to a friend for treatment, and the treatment worked,” he added, looking back up at him. “And you’ve been healthy ever since.”

“That’s the jist of it,” Steve agreed, nodding. “But there’s more to the story. I’m actually from New York, too.”

Tony blinked at him, stunned. “You?”

“In name, mostly,” Steve answered with an uncomfortable shrug. He was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking, before he continued, “My da came from Ireland. So did my ma’s parents. They were poor, but my ma was a nurse, so she always had work. It’s how she met Dr. Erskine—she helped him at his practice. But he wanted to work more on his experimental treatment, and he had to come out where it was less crowded, drier. That was before I was born, but Ma was interested in the treatment still, so she kept in touch. Then she had me, and I was always sick, so I took up what little extra money they had,” Steve said, shoulders sagging a little. “I know it was hard on them. Da didn’t have any problem blaming me before he drank himself to death, after all.”

“Steve,” Tony said softly, unable to help aching for him. He reached out and put his hand on top of Steve’s, frowning.

Steve offered him a small smile. “No need to worry. Ma made up for whatever bad Da did. She was a great mother.”

“She must have been. She raised you, after all,” Tony said, managing to smile back at him. “And you’re still scared she’ll haunt you for being rude.”

“I still remember her wooden spoon,” Steve sighed, and Tony covered his mouth with his free hand to try and stifle a giggle. “Anyway. Da died, and it was just me and Ma. But I got sicker, and she wasn’t able to afford everything the doctors suggested to make me better,” Steve added, frowning again. “So she wrote to Dr. Erskine, to see if he had made any progress on his experimental treatment, and if he might have any suggestions for us. Dr. Erskine always liked Ma. Never had an unkind word about her the entire time I lived with him,” Steve said proudly.

“She sounds wonderful to me,” Tony said, because she did. He loved his own mother, of course, but growing up in high society as they had, there were expectations and societal norms to follow, so sometimes Tony had felt there was a door between them that he wasn’t yet old enough to open. Then she’d died, and he’d never gotten the chance to know her as an adult.

“She was,” Steve agreed, smiling again. “So when Dr. Erskine said he was ready to look for patients to start the treatment, she said she’d be willing to send me to him as soon as she got the money together. Dr. Erskine said he wanted to get started right away though, so he’d pay for the train ticket, and Ma could just pay him back. He told me that every penny she sent him went into an envelope for me, because he knew Ma wouldn’t accept it as a gift, even if he pointed out we were helping him more than he was helping us,” Steve added. “And the treatment worked, so I got better. He still wanted to monitor me though, so I stayed on his farm, hired out to ranchers and learned their business.” He paused, then added, face going somber again, “My best friend’s family moved here a couple years later. Told me my ma got consumption. Dr. Erskine and I were getting the money together to send for her, because she’d do better out here than in the cold and wet of New York.”

Tony frowned as he went silent, reaching out his other hand to clasp Steve’s in both of his. “Steve…”

“She made it out here,” Steve said, grim. “She did. We had a lovely seven months together. Dr. Erskine said it was six more than she would have gotten in New York. But she still withered away in front of me.”

Tony gave his hand a squeeze and wondered if Steve even felt it. “I’m sorry, Steve.” He hesitated, then asked, “Did you at least get to say goodbye?”

Steve glanced at him sharply, but he didn’t look angry. He looked confused, mostly, and then stricken, as if he was remembering Tony’s letter where he said his parents had died, and the question had made him realize that Tony hadn’t gotten to. “Yes,” he said, instead of pointing it out. “Yes, we both got to say goodbye.” He looked back at the road. “There’s a portrait of her above the fireplace. Last painting I ever did. Threw myself into work, after. New York wouldn’t have felt like home without her there, after all.”

Tony sat back in his seat with a sympathetic nod. New York hadn’t felt much like home after his parents had died, either, parties where everyone treated him like finely spun glass that might break with the wrong word, or friends of his parents who gave him sad eyes and sadder frowns as they asked how he was. Jarvis and Ana had filled the void where his parents had been, but outside of the mansion, there wasn’t really anything they could do to fix the way he was treated. Jan had tried to ease some of the tension, but even she couldn’t make society stop viewing him as less-than without his parents, and a commodity to own as a lone, wealthy omega. He wondered how different that would have looked to a poor alpha.

“So I’m not… from here, either,” Steve finally concluded, drawing him back out of his thoughts. “I came when I was… oh, goin’ on ten, I think? Didn’t know anything about farming or cattle. Tried to help Dr. Erskine with his garden, once. He’s the one who helped me get a job with the ranchers. I’m sure everyone else will be happy to help you learn everything you need to know, too, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t help but feel bolstered by that. Steve had been an outsider, once, but that hadn’t stopped the people in and around Timely from taking him in. And everyone had seemed so excited for Steve (for them both?) when he’d arrived at the depot, waiting with bated breath to see what kind of omega Steve had found for himself and happy that he finally had. Even the waitress who had scolded Steve for ‘making him cry’ had really helped put him at ease. Steve said these were all good people. Tony couldn’t help but believe him.

“…Steve,” Tony began thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” Steve asked, looking back at him.

Tony looked up to meet his gaze, trying to bite back a grin. “…Are you a cattleman because Dr. Erskine was trying to keep your black thumb out of his garden?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open, and he blinked at Tony wordlessly. He looked back at the horses. Looked at Tony. Looked out at the rolling hills of grass. Looked back at Tony. “Oh my God. I only helped him one day when he said I should go tell the Smiths he’d sent me.”

Tony let out a frankly unattractive bark of laughter before he covered his mouth to muffle it. “Steve!”

“I really thought he was trying to help me build muscle strength but he really just didn’t want me around his squash,” Steve gasped, looking absolutely mortified.

Tony laughed harder, reaching out to grab Steve’s sleeve so he wouldn’t lose his balance and tumble right off the wagon.

.-.

They eventually got close enough to the house that Tony could actually see it. It looked like an incredibly nice house, just like Steve had said—two stories, and a porch that looked like it wrapped around the entire bottom floor. It looked like one of the rooms on the second floor had a balcony, too. There were a couple of trees next to the house, and they looked enormous. There was also what looked to be a large barn near to the house, and another house-like structure nearer to a corral? He wondered what it could be.

“It’s prettier than I imagined,” Tony decided, because he hadn’t really imagined the house beyond someplace that he’d live with Steve. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up. He remembered that Steve had proudly told him there was a pump inside the kitchen. He thought that was incredibly charming, especially because he’d had running water back home. He hoped he’d be good at pumping water.

“Thanks. I worked hard on it. I’ve moved my stuff out of the master bedroom for you,” Steve said as he pulled the wagon up to the steps leading up onto the porch.

Tony frowned at him in concern. “I don’t want you to put yourself out for me, Steve.”

“You’re the omega of the house. You get the master bedroom,” Steve told him firmly, hopping off the wagon like it was nothing. He circled the wagon and held his hands out to help him down, adding, “I’m bullheaded. You’re not going to change my mind.”

“Well,” Tony sighed, frowning. “If I’m not going to change your mind.”

“Omegas are in charge of the house,” Steve said, grabbing his waist and helping him hop down to the ground. He paused, considering, then added an embarrassed, “Ma always was, anyway.”

Tony tilted his head, brows furrowing together. He couldn’t remember much about his parents’ dynamics, because he’d still been quite young, not really allowed to attend parties in the same way an adult could. Still, he remembered that his mother was always a gracious hostess, and his father had just… seemed along for the ride. “Okay. But I’ll need your help learning what all that means,” he added, frowning up at him. “I was an orphan before I could put my finishing school classes to the test.”

Steve’s smile faded a little. “You’ve had a hard life, huh? For all the comforts you had, I mean.”

“…I suppose,” Tony admitted. “I prefer not to think about it too much.”

“Right,” Steve said, voice drifting off. He frowned down at Tony a moment longer, then realized his hands were still resting on his waist and jerked them back like he’d been burned. “Oh! Sorry! I’ll just—” He turned back to the wagon, grabbing Tony’s carpet bags.

Tony ignored the way his heart fluttered in his chest when he saw that Steve’s ears and the back of his neck had gone pink, instead clasping his hands in front of him. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Steve said hastily. He cleared his throat, then put both bags in one hand and extended the other toward the door, pretending he wasn’t flushed in embarrassment. “Shall we?”

Tony felt the need to clear his throat as well, nodding. “Of course.” He couldn’t help perking up when Steve dropped his hand to offer his arm to him again. “Such a gentleman,” he said, approving, and maybe teasing a little.

Steve smiled a little as he reached out to open the door. “Just doing what feels right.”

“I like it,” Tony decided. He allowed himself to give Steve’s arm just a little squeeze. “It makes me feel good.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped, just a little, as if he hadn’t realized how anxious he’d been. “I’m glad,” he said, then ushered him inside.

Tony paused just inside the door to look around, only belatedly moving out of Steve’s way when Steve squawked and nearly ran him over.

It was a large room, with a couple of easy chairs and a couch facing the window. There was a dining table on the far side, and a doorway that he assumed led to the kitchen. The floors were wood, but they were covered in woven carpets. A wide staircase was in the middle, leading up to the second floor. To the left of it was a giant fireplace on the back wall, probably connecting to the kitchen, made of shale stone in reds and browns and a beautiful mantle made of red wood. He remembered what Steve had said about his mother’s portrait and drew his eyes up, breath catching in his chest as they finally caught on the portrait.

Steve’s mother was beautiful. He could see where Steve got his good looks, all pale skin and blonde hair and long lashes. She was smiling, a small but warm thing. It made her eyes crinkle at the corners. She was wearing a blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes. She had a white ribbon in her hair. Tony suddenly ached at the fact that he’d never get to meet her, because she looked so incredibly kind and warm.

“What’s her name?” Tony asked quietly.

Steve stepped up beside him, and it was only then that he realized he was now standing right in front of the mantle. “Her name was Sarah.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Tony replied. His eyes traced over Sarah’s face again. Steve hadn’t done anything to make her look less than what she was—had painted her wrinkles, her freckles, a mole just below her ear. It just made her look more beautiful, more real. “This is incredible work, Steve. You never said you painted,” he added, turning to look up at him.

Steve was still looking up at his mother’s portrait. “I don’t anymore, not really. Didn’t really want to, after Ma died.”

Tony looked back at the portrait too, taking in every detail he could. “What a lovely painting to have as your last one,” he decided. “She’s beautiful. I would have liked to have met her.”

“She would have loved to have met you too, Tony,” Steve said, quiet.

Tony smiled up at the portrait, then turned to look back up at Steve. “So whe—oh,” he said, surprised, when he realized Steve was looking at him. He glanced between Steve and the painting, then shrugged bashfully. “Were you waiting on me? Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said, and he sounded like he meant it. He cleared his throat and seemed to shake himself, turning toward the staircase. “I put the master on the second floor. The windows let in a nice cross breeze when it’s hot at night, and there’s a fireplace for when it gets cold in the winter. There’s a balcony, too. Don’t use it much, really. I prefer the porch.”

“That makes sense,” Tony decided. “It sounds lovely. Where’s the bathroom?”

Steve paused, then said, “Ah, well, there’s a bathtub in the master bedroom. It drains outside, but you still have to carry the hot water up from the kitchen. There’s a chamber pot under the bed for at night, but there’s an outhouse a ways behind the house.”

Tony blinked in surprise, then belatedly remembered to sputter, “…Okay!”

“I know a lot of the wealthier houses had indoor plumbing. It never really occurred to me to want it myself. Didn’t seem like a worthy expense to me,” Steve tried to explain.

“That’s fine, Steve,” Tony told him firmly, before he could get too embarrassed. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to know. Can I see it from the window?”

Steve blinked at him. “I didn’t want to see my outhouse from my bedroom window so… no.”

“Of course,” Tony said, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that. Then again, he wasn’t an expert on outhouses. He told himself it wasn’t a stupid question, even though it felt like one. “Okay.”

“I’ll give you the grand tour after we get all your things settled and I get the horses put away,” Steve offered.

Tony turned back to him. “Oh! Can I help? I can tack and untack a horse,” he said proudly, then paused. “Although… I’ve never had to care for them afterward. There was always a hostler who did that part. But!” he added brightly. “If you show me how, I can learn!”

Steve smiled at him, obviously amused. “I can show you tomorrow. You’ve had a pretty harrowing journey, I think.”

“Please? I can help,” Tony started, then closed his mouth so fast his teeth clicked together, embarrassed. That was unbecoming. Steve had said tomorrow. Steve was probably tired too, after the ride.

Steve tilted his head, just watching him for a moment, before he nodded. “Yeah, alright. I don’t mind. Just didn’t want you agreeing just to be polite.” He smiled again. “Sometimes omegas do that, when they want to impress an alpha.”

Tony scoffed to try and cover a small, teeny-tiny part of him that was embarrassed. He would not blush at being caught out. “I’m not doing anything to impress you.”

“You don’t hafta do anything to impress me,” Steve said, smile widening. “I’m already impressed just by you being here. Anything else is just extra.”

Tony was definitely blushing now. He peered up at Steve, frowning. “Are you making fun of me?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely not, Tony. I told you. You’re so brave. I’m always going to be impressed.” He motioned at the stairs. “Come on. I’ll take your bags and trunk upstairs and then we’ll take care of the horses together.”

Tony stared at him for a moment longer, then turned to obediently walk up the stairs ahead of him.

“It’s on the left,” Steve added, and there was definitely amusement in his voice.

.-.

“There’s the outhouse,” Steve said, nodding toward a rather solid-looking little building about ten yards behind the house.

Tony peeked over the back of the horse he was leading. “Looks fancy.”

“Like I said, the house was a shack when I first got here. We had a windstorm, and the outhouse blew over with me in it,” Steve deadpanned.

Tony whipped his head around to look at him, eyes wide. “Really?!”

“It was such a harrowing experience that I wouldn’t joke about it,” Steve assured him.

Tony thought about what the experience must have been like and decided very quickly it wasn’t something he wanted to ponder too much. “What’s that building?” he asked instead, pointing at the one nearer the corral.

Steve turned his head to look at what he was pointing at, then smiled a little, directing his attention back toward the barn. “It’s the bunkhouse. The cowhands live there when they’re not driving the herd to market.”

“Does your best friend live there too?” Tony asked as he followed Steve into the barn. There were several empty stalls, but some of them still had hay in them, so there must have been other animals of some sort around somewhere.

“Bucky? Nah, his family has a house in town,” Steve said, motioning at the wall where the tack went. “He has little sisters, so his ma wanted them closer to the doctor. Not sickly or anything, just seemed smarter with three girls, especially if they took after Bucky.”

“His name is Bucky?” Tony asked skeptically, even as he untacked his horse. He noticed a sore on the horse’s side and frowned, gently rubbing his thumb over it. “He has a saddle sore.”

“His name is James Buchanan. He goes by Bucky because there was three other James on our block.” Steve pointed at one of the shelves. “Ointment. Usually I don’t use Brownie for wagon work, but with all the other horses out driving herd, well. Pickings were slim. He’s more for riding than pulling wagons. Oh, wipe him down first, then ointment.”

Tony paused, then said, “Wipe him down?”

“I’ll show you,” Steve replied easily. “Anyway—normally it isn’t so quiet around here. I do have cowhands. It’s just…” He sighed, struggling for words, then continued, “Eventually they go to bed. And I’m just sitting up in my house, all alone.”

Tony looked over at him again, watching him carefully wipe down his own horse before taking a wet rag and copying the motion. “I think I understand,” he said after a moment. “It’s different. I had friends, but I always went home to a big empty mansion. It was just Jarvis, Ana, and me. They loved me, but… it was lonely, still. They have each other. The relationship I had with them wasn’t the same.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed quietly. “I have friends and everything, but Buck’s courting someone, and the others like to go into town to drink, and I’m just… not about that life anymore. It’s why I put that ad in the paper.”

“I’m glad you did,” Tony admitted, standing up straight.

Steve smiled over at him, wide and bright, almost goofy looking except it was so sincere. “Me too. I’m glad you gave me a chance after my first letter. I know it was bad,” he added before Tony could try and tell him otherwise. “I was telling Buck what it said, and he about drop-kicked me. Said I’d be lucky if you sent me a letter saying you weren’t interested anymore.”

Tony considered what he’d said, then cleared his throat, instead turning his attention to the horse to smear some of the ointment on its sore. “I… thought about it, honestly,” he admitted. “But, um. Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way.”

Steve looked over at him, frowning. “What?”

“You were already in the ‘yes’ pile ahead of other alphas just by virtue of not mentioning… um… what’s in my pants,” Tony said, blushing a little.

“…What?” Steve asked after a moment, stunned. Then he looked outraged. “Strangers were asking about your underpants?! That’s disgusting! They didn’t even know you!”

Tony jerked around to face him, surprised, then let out a somewhat hysterical giggle and turned away again. Most had skipped right past undergarments altogether, but he wasn’t about to tell Steve that when he already looked ready to track down those alphas and bust their heads together.

.-.

Steve had some fried chicken in the icebox that they ate for a snack before bed. “I’m a fair hand in the kitchen because it was just me and Dr. Erskine, but I’m looking forward to not having to cook when work picks up again,” he’d said when Tony had complimented it. “There’s nothing worse then coming home all hot and dirty and then having to cook. One of the fellas had an omega who’d cook for all of us in exchange for room and board, but when he…”

Tony had seen how upset he was at the memory, so he hadn’t pushed, instead promising that while he hadn’t gotten to learn as much in the kitchen as he would have liked, he’d endeavor to learn quickly, while Steve had the time to give him tips on what he liked. Steve had assured him that he would be a quick study, like he had been with the horses. Tony couldn’t help but believe him. Steve was even more earnest in person—everything he said seemed so reasonable. He’d never known anyone like that back in New York, except maybe Jan, and even her attitude was tempered by society.

Speaking of Jan.

Tony knelt down in front of the trunk Steve had left at the foot of the bed, key heavy in his hand. You’d be crazy if you thought I wouldn’t find a way to give you a wedding gift! Jan had written, and he really had been foolish to think she’d allow him to start his marriage off with two carpet bags he hadn’t even gotten to pack himself. Tony turned the key over in his hands a few times, jittery with nerves, then took it in both hands and carefully stuck it in the lock. Once he heard it click, he took a deep breath, then carefully pulled the trunk open, leaning the lid against the footboard of the bed.

It took Tony a moment to realize what he was looking at, but when he realized, he couldn’t help a little hitch of breath, reaching out to carefully put his hands on the linen he found on top. She’d packed a trousseau for him. He remembered this tablecloth from a dinner party at her house. Tony thought it would look nice on Steve’s dining table, if a little large. He could hem it up, though, maybe. Or… maybe one day they’d have a bigger table.

Under the tablecloth was a set of sheets. They looked like they’d fit the bed. Tony thought about swapping them out, then decided against it. It was a little embarrassing, but he really wanted to wait until it was a… a marriage bed. They were marriage sheets, after all. He and Steve weren’t even sharing a room yet, but the sheets were supposed to be for both of them to use, weren’t they? Tony was unsure about the finer details, but it felt right to save them, so he decided not to think too hard about it, instead pulling them up so he could peek underneath them.

“Oh,” Tony whispered, shocked, when he found the red suit and golden-yellow shirt Jan had made for him. It felt like a lifetime ago. He’d thought he’d left it behind, because he’d left the finer clothes Jan had made him at her house for fear Obadiah would see them and force him to go to more parties with his son. He hadn’t been able to fit more in his carpet bags than a couple of undershirts that she decided he needed. He trailed a finger over the delicate stitching on the dark red vest. Maybe he could wear this to one of the parties in town. Surely it would be a special occasion that warranted it? He couldn’t think of another time he’d get to wear it. Certainly not while doing chores or helping out on the ranch where he was able. That would be foolish.

Maybe he’d ask Steve, once a party invitation came around. Steve would know if it was appropriate or not, surely. Tony stroked his hand over the fabric fondly, then carefully pulled it up to see if there was anything beneath it.

He yelped and slammed the trunk shut, turning to lay his arms across it for good measure. Oh God. Oh God the lacy negligee Jan had been working on. It was just sitting there. Being lacy. Would it even be long enough to cover anything?! —He wasn’t going to wear it. Ever. That was too embarrassing by far. Had she even made it with him in mind? Tony covered his face and groaned when he felt the heat of his cheeks against his palms. Of course Jan had made it with him in mind. Just like she’d packed this trunk with linens and a fine suit for parties. There were probably other things on the other side of the trunk, but he was loathe to check it out. He took the key and locked the trunk back up, mostly because he didn’t trust himself not to get back up and peek inside just to make sure the negligee was there in mortification, then climbed into bed.

Oh. It was so soft. Tony didn’t know why he was so surprised. Steve might not have had indoor plumbing or electric lights, but he did seem to have shelled out for creature comforts; the couches and chairs were well-stuffed, the wooden chairs at the dining table had thick pads on them, the carpets were plush underfoot, and he’d mentioned that if Tony wanted to change anything, he could. ‘Two bachelor alphas would hardly know what an omega would want out of home, after all, so it’s important that you be given free rein of your domain,’ he’d said, and Tony had had to try very hard not to swoon after being told the opposite since his parents had died.

He snuffled into his pillow and tried not to blush when he wondered if the linen was fresh or if he was smelling Steve.

.-.

Tony hadn’t expected to sleep well, so he was stunned when he looked outside and saw that the sun was already high in the sky. He quickly washed his face at the basin (was this water from last night that he simply hadn’t noticed, or had Steve snuck it in while he slept?), dressed himself, and hurried downstairs.

Steve wasn’t there, but the smell of bacon and eggs still hung heavy in the air. There was a plate on the table with a napkin over it, and when Tony lifted it, he found a plate full of food—the bacon and eggs, some thick slices of toast, some tomatoes, and there was a bowl with a little bit of butter and jam on the side. Tony felt guilty for a moment, that he hadn’t been the one to make breakfast for Steve, but… clearly Steve wasn’t upset about it. He’d mentioned how tired Tony had looked last night, and had just sort of smiled at him indulgently when Tony said he’d wake up early. He truly was different from all the alphas back home. It was overwhelming, mostly, but Tony was also finding that he liked it.

As he was sitting down to tuck into his breakfast, he noticed an envelope propped up against the candle in the middle of the table, with Steve’s familiar writing spelling out his name. He grabbed for it before it had even really registered, pulling the envelope open and bringing out its contents.

Dear Tony,

     You’re here! I honestly couldn’t really believe it until I woke up this morning in the guest room. I was so jittery with nerves since the telegram, so worried about why you were coming in such a rush, and then hoping you’d like me. I had fun getting to know you yesterday. I hope we’ll have just as much fun getting to know each other as the days pass. I can’t wait to introduce you to all of my friends. I guess it’s a good thing that Bucky bullied me into staying behind, because this way I can acclimate you to being the omega of a rancher at a slow pace instead of just throwing you into the fire with a ‘best wishes.’

     I was going to wake you up, because I knew you’d want to jump into learning everything you could immediately, but you looked so exhausted when we finally went to bed last night, I couldn’t bring myself to. You’d been through a harrowing experience, and to be honest… part of me liked that you felt safe enough to fall so deeply asleep. Especially after all you’ve been through. So have some breakfast, maybe explore around the house a little, and then I’ll come get you when I’m finished with my chores. I thought we could ride around and look at the ranch. It’s small enough that it shouldn’t take long. We should be home in time to make supper and then… I don’t know. Get some use out of that front porch? It’s been so long since I’ve had a guest. I’m trying very hard not to go out of my way to impress you, because I don’t want you to be disappointed that I’m not that way all the time, but… on the other hand, it’s also all I want to do. I want you to be impressed. Because I’ve been impressed by everything you’ve done since you got here.

     Well, if I wait any longer, the cow is going to bust her way in here, so I better go take care of her. See to all the other animals. I hope you like strawberry jam. I’ll be in soon!

Sincerely,

Steve

Tony bit his lip, feeling warm and fuzzy down to his bones. Steve had been impressed by him, and Tony had been so worried the entire time. He wondered if he should tell Steve that he’d also been impressed. On one hand, he delighted in how different Steve was from the alphas back home; on the other, he knew it would probably make Steve sad, that alphas treated him so differently. Maybe there was a way he could spin it so that Steve was too distracted by the compliment to think about it too hard.

Then his eyes landed on the postscript at the end, and he had to cover his mouth to muffle a shriek.

P.S.—Hey, I heard you yelp last night? If there’s a spider or something and you want me to take care of it, just tell me. I’m used to them now, so I don’t mind.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Steve hadn’t left much of a mess from cooking, which Tony privately thought didn’t bode well for him. He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of cleaning as he went while Jarvis was teaching him. Jarvis had assured him that once he got more confident at timing how long it took to prepare things and got a sense of how long they cooked that he’d be able to get dishes scrubbed in between. Tony wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t gotten to practice as much as he would have liked, especially since Jarvis just sort of naturally started cleaning up after him like he’d always done. He was worried about showing Steve how messy he was when he cooked. Steve had said he would be patient as Tony learned the new territory, but Tony wasn’t too keen on showing just how skilled he wasn’t in the kitchen.

Tony pushed the worry to the back of his mind. He was here. They were married. Steve was stuck with him, if he allowed himself to be uncharitable about it. He decided not to be uncharitable, though, because Steve had been incredibly welcoming, gracious almost to a fault, and he’d said they should be patient with each other as they learned how to live together. Besides, Steve’s stove looked a lot different from the one that Tony had done all his practicing on. He bent down next to it and reached out for the latch on the oven door, pausing when he felt warmth against his fingers. Cast iron retained heat for a long time, he remembered suddenly. Steve had used it to cook, and it was still warm. He wondered if Steve kept a fire going the entire time that he was home. It reminded him of the potbelly stove that Ana had talked about when reminiscing about her past, that had warmed her whole house during the winter back in Hungary.

Tony continued on to the deep sink, setting his plate in and then setting his hands on the earthenware edge. It was a simple sink, flat, no decoration. It was charming, though, in its own way—nothing like the copper one back at the mansion. He looked at the pump, considering, then reached out and carefully gave it two hard pumps.

Nothing happened. Tony wondered if it would be too dramatic to panic about breaking the pump Steve had been so proud of.

“You need to pump it a few more times before the water starts coming out,” Steve said behind him.

Tony spun around with a squeak, leaning back against the sink. “Steve!”

“Sorry,” Steve said, and he sounded sincere, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Tony was used to sneers, though, or mean smiles that didn’t reach judgmental eyes. At least from alphas. Steve’s smile reminded him of Ana’s, when she was teasing him, or Jarvis, when he was trying to keep from fondly rolling his eyes. Tony found himself relaxing before he realized it, his own mouth spreading into a hesitant smile.

“I put the pump in later,” Steve added, motioning at the pump. “Didn’t think I’d be able to get it to work by myself. So, I built the house how I wanted. If I’d planned the pump, I would’ve put the kitchen closer to the well. It’s a ways off though, so it takes a few more pumps than you’d expect to get water.” He waved at the pump. “Give it another go.”

“Okay,” Tony said, turning back to the pump. He pumped the lever four, five, six times, and then water poured out the spout. He couldn’t help the smile it brought to his face as it splashed over his plate at the bottom of the sink. It was charming, in a way. “It’ll help me get an arm workout, if nothing else,” he offered, turning back to Steve. He blinked when he saw Steve was empty-handed. “Didn’t you say you were going to milk a cow?”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again, tilting his head. “I didn’t—oh, my note,” he remembered belatedly. “Yeah, I went to milk the cow.”

Tony stared at him, wondering how to ask his question without sounding like an asshole. Finally, he figured he’d just go for it. “Where’s the milk?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth again, then rubbed the back of his head, eyes darting to the window over the sink before they returned to meet Tony’s. “There was… an incident.”

“…An incident,” Tony repeated slowly.

Steve coughed, crossed his arms, then let them drop again, as if realizing it could be seen as threatening. “Well, there—there was a hoof.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, bewildered. “Okay?”

Steve crossed his arms again, shoulders sagging with a long, defeated sigh. “I didn’t give her my full attention, so she took the chance to kick at me, and I lost the whole bucket of milk. She’s a handful even on the best of days. She’s especially ornery because she’s running dry.”

“Running dry?” Tony repeated faintly, frowning. He’d never heard of such a thing. Then again, he’d never thought much about cows. Still didn’t, now that he knew most of Steve’s herd was off for sale. He’d figured he’d have plenty of time to learn more over the winter.

Steve tilted his head, squinting a little. “Um, bare bones explanation… Cows produce milk when they calf. After the calf is weaned, they’ll still produce for a while, but eventually the milk runs dry.”

“Forever?” Tony asked, then paused, wondering if he should feel stupid. He found himself bracing for an eyeroll or sigh, like the alphas back home would respond with when he tried to ask questions about their work.

“Well, until the next calf,” Steve replied with a shrug, which didn’t make him feel stupid at all. “Then she’ll produce milk again. Some people keep multiple cows to keep a steady supply, but I don’t use much milk. She’s an old gal that I foolishly named.”

Tony tilted his head. “Why is naming her foolish?”

“If you name a cow, you get attached to the cow,” Steve sighed. It sounded like he was repeating someone. “And if you get attached to the cow, you can’t bring yourself to butcher the cow.” He looked at Tony for a moment, then quietly added, “Her name’s Peggy because she kicked me as a calf, and it reminded me of a gal back in New York who punched me when she thought I was gettin’ fresh with her.”

The laugh passed through Tony’s lips before he even registered it was going to happen. Steve didn’t look upset about it, though—resigned, maybe. A little amused, too. He found himself relaxing. He hadn’t even realized he’d been winding tighter with anxiety, remembering all of the times Obadiah and Ezekiel had dismissed him as an idiot. Steve made him feel at ease. He made him feel like he wasn’t stupid for asking, just curious, like Jarvis and Ana and Jan.

Steve was kind, and patient, and had a sense of humor that didn’t come at the expense of others. It made him feel hopeful.

“Maybe Peggy needs an omega’s touch,” Tony said, turning to begin pumping water again.

“Well, I’ll show you how to milk her,” Steve offered, even though he sounded unenthused. “But I think she’s just mean. One time she chased me out of the barn.”

“I can’t imagine you being chased out of anywhere,” Tony mused. Steve was tall, and broad. Sturdy, they would have politely called him back home.

“She bit a hole in the seat of my pants,” Steve said morosely, and Tony let out another bark of laughter.

.-.

Steve took him back out to the barn at Tony’s insistence after showing him how he did the dishes. He’d done most everything already—the horses were ‘pasture horses,’ apparently, and he’d only kept them in the barn overnight to keep an eye on them after the ride out of town yesterday, since they weren’t usually used to pull wagons. He’d fed them a bucket of grain, sent them out to pasture, then turned his attention to Peggy, who was still in a stall.

“Maybe she doesn’t need an omega’s touch,” Tony agreed as Steve led him over to her. She stamped her front hooves and snorted in a way that made him slow to a stop behind Steve before he reached her. “She looks angry.”

“That’s just her face,” Steve said cheerfully, reaching over the door to pat her on her forehead.

Tony watched him yank his hand back when she snapped her teeth at it. “If you say so,” he answered. He didn’t believe him, but it would be impolite to say it to Steve’s face, he figured. “She has a baby somewhere?”

“A calf, yeah,” Steve replied, walking over to grab a pitchfork. “It’s about eight months old. I put it out to pasture with the other cows.”

“Eight months? That’s still a baby,” Tony said, following him. “What are we doing?”

“I am mucking the stalls Brownie and Pokey were in. You are sitting and asking me questions,” Steve answered.

Tony scowled. “I can help!”

“You’ll have plenty of time to help later,” Steve told him patiently. “In fact, I’ll put Brownie and Pokey up in the barn again tonight so we can go out riding tomorrow, so you can muck them then. I haven’t fed the chickens yet though, and the ladies get cranky when I’m late, so I’d like to hurry through this today.”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again. He fidgeted for a few seconds, then hesitantly asked, “That’s all?”

Steve paused, pitchfork full of used hay halfway to the wheelbarrow he’d set up beside the stall doors. For a moment, he just looked at Tony, considering. Finally, though, he answered, “That’s all. Tony, I’m not gonna tell you no just for the sake of saying no.”

Tony flushed against his will, dropping his eyes to the ground. He didn’t know why he felt embarrassed, other than that it wasn’t Steve’s fault he’d been conditioned to believe that every alpha thought he was weak and stupid back home and treated him according to that expectation, regardless of whether he tried to insist that he wasn’t either of those things. It was wrong to push those expectations onto Steve. Steve had done nothing to deserve it—had been nothing but kind, accommodating, and concerned for his comfort on the ranch. He was the one being pushy.

“Tony,” Steve said gently, and he must have set the pitchfork aside, because his hands were coming up to rest on Tony’s shoulders. “Will you look at me?”

He hadn’t even heard Steve approach. Tony couldn’t bring himself to look up at him, though. He felt too embarrassed. Too ashamed. He couldn’t have looked up at Steve even if Jarvis had been there telling him to. He turned his head, attempting to shake it, but lost the will halfway through.

“That’s okay,” Steve said, voice softening. “You don’t have to look at me. I’ll just talk, okay?” He waited, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to do anything to answer, too scared he wouldn’t be able to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Okay,” Steve repeated quietly. “Tony, I know you want to learn about your new life here. You want to be able to help. But Tony… it’s your second day here. Your first one, if we’re counting full daylight. You don’t hafta learn everything in one day. You have plenty of time.”

Tony swallowed thickly, trying to figure out how to respond in a way that wouldn’t come across as selfish. Finally, he whispered, “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“Tony, you’re not going to be a burden,” Steve answered immediately. He paused for a moment, then quietly added, “I don’t want you to ever feel like you are. You’re not a burden for not knowing things.”

“I had so many things I wanted to learn before I came here,” Tony said, finally looking back up at him. He blinked back the heat in his eyes with a sniff. “I wanted to be prepared, but I ruined all of it because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Steve,” he added, voice cracking. “I didn’t even get to learn how to make pound cake for you.”

“Oh,” Steve gasped, like it had been punched out of him. He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, stricken, then dropped it back to Tony’s shoulder, pulling him in closer, not quite chest-to-chest, but enough that Tony could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Oh, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Tony croaked, because he honestly had no idea why Steve would be. He was the one having to teach him everything, not the other way around.

Steve’s fingers tightened around his shoulders before he let his hands drop, curling his arms around Tony’s back until he could pull him into an embrace. It was loose. Tony could have broken free of it if he really wanted to. He doubted Steve would have forced him to stay in his arms even if he held tighter, though.

Tony leaned in, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder with a hitch of breath he refused to call a sob. His hands came up to clench the back of Steve’s shirt in shaking fingers, too afraid to embrace him back fully. Too afraid Steve would push him away.

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeated into his hair, soft, as if Tony might shove him away if he was too loud, run and never look back. “Oh, Tony. I keep talking about how brave you’ve been, how brave you are. You’ve done everything you could to get here safely and in one piece. Sweetheart, now you get a chance to rest.”

Tony’s breath hitched again, and this time he allowed himself to call it what it was—a sob. “What?”

“You’re safe now, Tony,” Steve told him, louder, voice firm with conviction. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you or take you away. You’re not running away from someone who’s going to hurt you anymore, because I’m gonna protect you.” He leaned back, hand coming up to brush the backs of his fingers along Tony’s chin, urging him to lift his head to look at him again. “Take a breath, sweetheart,” Steve told him gently. “You’ve been carrying such a heavy load, all by yourself, for such a long time. Please let me help you carry it.” He paused, then added, “Please. Let your husband help you carry it.”

Tony stared up at him, struck speechless. Maybe that was for the best, though, because the lump in his throat had become unbearable. He couldn’t possibly swallow it down anymore. Steve was right—he’d been so afraid, so anxious, for such a long time. He didn’t think he knew how not to be, anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night without fear that Obadiah would be announcing his marriage to Ezekiel the next day, or that he’d be told he was penniless, and he’d need to move out of his parents’ mansion and depend on his friends for support. He couldn’t remember not feeling ashamed when he had to ask for help, feeling like a burden despite all his friends telling him he wasn’t one, that he’d do the same for them if the situations were reversed.

“I don’t know how,” Tony whispered, ashamed.

“I’ll help you,” Steve promised, and somehow it seemed more tender and reverent than any of their wedding vows. He smiled a little, stroking the backs of his fingers over Tony’s jaw before he added, “And I’ll start… by telling you to take a long, deep breath.”

Tony sucked in a breath, uncertain how ‘long’ or ‘deep’ it really was. It felt shaky, more than anything, and while he did feel the lump in his throat shrink with it, he felt his eyes burn more. He almost choked. He held his breath for a moment, feeling nauseous.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” Steve said gently, and Tony exhaled in a puff of air followed by a choked off cough, then a sob, and another. Steve pulled him into his chest again, holding him tight. “There you go. There you go, Tony.”

Tony buried his face in Steve’s shirt, each sob feeling like it was loosening something hard and sharp in his chest. His grip on Steve’s shirt tightened until his fingers were sore; he was certain his knuckles would be white, if he looked at them. His knees were shaking, and he couldn’t help but lean more of his weight on Steve, feeling like he was falling apart.

“I’ve got you,” Steve said, like a promise—like a certainty. “I’ve got you, Tony. You’re safe now, and I’m never gonna let anything happen to you. You’ve gone through enough.”

“Steve,” Tony murmured, feeling hollowed out. But he also felt like he could be filled with something better, now, like he was making more room inside himself for the hope he’d been feeling all the way from New York.

All the way to Steve.

Tony let out another sob, and Steve tightened his arms around him, and held him until even after the roosters started crowing irritably.

.-.

Steve sent him back up to the house once he finished crying. He did it gently, with so much care that Tony figured he looked as bad as he felt—wrung out, exhausted, and surprisingly sore. Tony couldn’t bring himself to argue, too tired. But… not a bad kind of tired, he thought. Like he’d cried out everything that had been wearing on him, from the day his parents had died to the day he stepped off the train in Chicago and received Steve’s telegram that welcomed him with open arms, ‘come at once, I’ll be waiting.’

Tony found himself sagging onto one of the easy chairs, too tired to go up the stairs back to his room. He felt like he should be there when Steve came in, too, like sequestering himself away would be giving the wrong impression. He wanted to see Steve, to talk to him. He… wasn’t embarrassed for having cried, like he thought he might be.

He could still hear Steve’s words ringing in his ears. Let me help you. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. He couldn’t… remember the last time someone had said that to him. Or at least, the last time someone had said it and meant it. He let his eyes slide across the wall, taking in the framed sketches, the shelves full of knickknacks he hadn’t yet gotten a chance to examine closely.

Then his eyes landed on the portrait of Sarah Rogers. He stared at her, taking in her soft smile, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She had raised an amazing child into an amazing man, he decided. He wished desperately that he’d gotten the chance to meet her. Her portrait made her look approachable. Kind. Patient. Just like Steve.

Tony stood again, walking over to look up at her properly. She looked so small in the picture. He wondered if that was because of her illness, or if she was just petite. He tried to imagine her forcing someone as big as Steve to put a bar of soap in his mouth and couldn’t help a giggle at the image it drew up, especially with the knowledge that he was still apparently haunted by the specter of a mother who would beat him with a wooden spoon if he brought his intended omega he hadn’t wed into his house. He felt a pang of homesickness—his parents had had one portrait done together, when he was a baby. It had been hung in the library. He wondered if he’d ever see it again. At least Sarah Roger’s kind smile was here to bring him comfort, though. It made him feel at ease, a little.

It was a pity that Steve didn’t want to paint anymore, he thought. He had a fine hand at it. But, he supposed he could understand losing passion after a parent died—he’d been unable to leave his bed for weeks after his own parents’ funeral, never mind going out to buy the latest science journals to read or tinkering in his father’s lab. At least Steve still had it in him to sketch things.

Tony heard a throat clearing and turned, surprised, to find Steve standing in the door of the kitchen. “Steve?”

“I thought you might be resting, so I didn’t want to disturb you,” Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his head as he stepped further into the dining room. “I, um. I fed the chickens. And gathered the eggs. I thought you might… like that time to yourself. How are you feeling?”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, really thinking about how he felt. “I don’t know,” he finally said, shrugging a little. “Empty, mostly.”

“Well, you cried hard enough I’m surprised you have any moisture left in your body at all,” Steve mused. He came closer, assured, at least, that Tony wasn’t going to fall to pieces again in the next few minutes. “Normally around this time, I’d grab a quick lunch and pack a snack, then I’d go out on the range, check for signs of people riding through or the cows acting strange, but I think we should stick close to home for the day instead. That sound alright to you?”

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” Tony rushed to assure him. “I can stay here by myself! Don’t let me stop you from doing what you need to.”

Steve coughed and lifted his hand to rub the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed. “I, uh, I mostly did it to get away from the house. I mean, I can go, if you want more time to yourself, of course!”

Tony remembered what Steve had said in his letter—It’s lonely out here. It would be nice to come home to someone. And those words, crossed out, that Tony had held up to the light to see when he was alone—I get very lonesome. I’m almost certain that this solitude is killing me. How sad, that he had this lovely house, that he’d built with his own two hands, and no one to share it with.

“Well,” he said carefully. “We could… stay in. Surely, we should get used to the other’s company.” He paused, then added, “And… maybe we can make lunch together.”

“Yes,” Steve rushed to say, then blushed. He rubbed the back of his head again, then seemed to realize just how long his arm had been in the air and dropped it, eyes falling to the floor as he let out a nervous little hum. “That sounds good. Great! I meant it sounds great. I can teach you how to use the stove and oven.”

“Oh, good,” Tony said, expertly ignoring his fumble. He began toward the kitchen. “It’s much different than the one I learned on. Am I meant to keep the wood burning all day?”

“It’s not such a big deal if you don’t during the summer. Just bank fire back up and it should get hot enough in no time,” Steve answered, turning to following him. His hand came to hover at the small of Tony’s back, then lifted to push the door open ahead of him instead. “In the winter, though, we’ll wanna keep the fires going. We don’t get a lot of snow, but it gets cold. I’ll be here to help, though.” His voice took on a more amused tone. “Winters are the easiest part of ranching. We just wait for the cows to birth the next herd.”

“Oh,” Tony said, coming to a stop in the middle of the kitchen. “I suppose that makes sense. What should we make for lunch?”

Steve came to a stop beside him. He crossed his arms, giving a low hum of thought. Finally, he glanced down at Tony, a glint in his eye that Tony recognized from every time Jan had had an idea that got them into just enough mischief that they earned a light scolding if they were caught and not a real boxing of ears. “What would your Jarvis have to say about eating dessert before lunch?”

Tony couldn’t help the thrill that went through him at the idea of breaking a rule, even though he was an adult and there was no way Jarvis would ever know about it. A smile came to his lips that he couldn’t have hoped to bite back. “He’d certainly never allow it.”

“I fear my mother would say the same. Luckily, neither of them are here. So, what do you say we wait for lunch… and instead we make a pound cake?”

Tony blinked up at him in surprise. Then what Steve said actually registered, and he couldn’t help but brighten up, excited at the prospect. “Okay!”

.-.

Pound cake was an astoundingly simple recipe—a pound each of flour, sugar, eggs, and butter. It was mostly the oven that Tony had trouble with, but Steve had assured him that the more he used it, the more he would get a feel for it.

The cake had turned out nice. Nothing like the sponge cakes Jarvis made back home, or the delicate chiffon cakes that were served at parties. It didn’t set heavy in his gut, though, especially with the strawberries Steve had cut up and spread on top of each slice. ‘This is my favorite dessert because you can top it with any fruit in season,’ Steve had explained as he’d grabbed an extra slice to sop up the juices on his plate. Tony had taken that as permission to take a second piece and do the same. It was kind of a plain cake, once all the fruit was gone, but he liked the bits along the edge that were brown and crunchy.

Steve had gone out to try and get Brownie and Pokey back in the barn, so that they could just saddle them up after taking care of the chores in the morning. He said it might take a while, though; apparently Pokey was a very obstinate horse, which was why Steve would be riding him. It was also why Steve had said it could take him a while to round them up, so there was no reason to wait up for him. He’d probably have to take a bath after, anyway, and he’d be going straight from the stream to his room.

Tony took the time to do the dishes. He’d watched the way that Steve had cleaned as he went as they made the cake, and it gave him an idea of how to do so himself. It probably wouldn’t be perfect until he figured out the best way to work the oven and stove, but it would be a start. Steve still wasn’t back by the time he was drying the last plate and putting it away, though, so he nosed around until he found a linen closet. He dug through it until he found a towel, because he hadn’t seen Steve take one with him. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Steve take a change of clothes with him either.

“…Well, maybe he has spares in the barn,” Tony decided. It wasn’t implausible. He didn’t know a lot about the ranch yet. Maybe he even had a spare towel in the barn. Tony stared at the one he’d grabbed for a moment, then shrugged, instead walking over to hang it on the doorknob outside. If Steve didn’t use it, he’d just put it back, wouldn’t he?

Tony turned to head upstairs to bed, deciding not to bother with a bath when they were going out riding tomorrow. He’d just use the wash basin again to freshen up; he hadn’t done anything strenuous that day except cry, and he’d fixed that with a quick splash of water from the pump in the kitchen. He paused when he noticed the paper and pen still sitting out on the little table of a secretaire near Steve’s room. That must have been where he wrote his letter that morning, Tony thought fondly. He took a step up the stairs, then paused again.

Well. Steve hadn’t said how long he’d be gone. Tony wasn’t quite ready to sleep. And Steve had said he could use any of his stationery for correspondence. If Steve came in while he was writing his letter, he could always just hand it right to him and hurry up to bed. He came back down the stairs and turned the nearest lamp up a little, then walked over to the secretaire, carefully pulling the chair sitting nearby to the table.

Tony couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought that Steve must have done this too, when he’d been writing his correspondence to him. He remembered what Steve had said, baskets full of scratched out attempts at letters. He imagined Steve bent over the table of his secretaire, balled-up pieces of paper surrounding him as he worked on his best version of his newest letter, late into the night, as he tried to find the perfect words.

He hadn’t, not really. He’d had to cross out swears, and struggled through keeping a conversation going when he wasn’t necessarily good at it, and had tiptoed around the reason for their correspondence until Tony had come out and asked outright what his intentions were. But he’d also sent him sketches that Tony would have framed if he could without Obadiah asking about them, and had sent him a little card with a smear of light yellow on it as his favorite color, and had told him the type of soap his mother had used to wash his mouth out as a child. Tony couldn’t imagine Steve writing anything else, and he loved the letters he’d received, faults and all.

Tony pulled a piece of paper close and looked at Steve’s pen, surprised to find that it was the old-fashioned kind, the ones that had to be dipped in an inkpot. For a moment, he worried he wouldn’t be able to write with it, and he should hurry and get his fountain pen out of his bag. However, after a nervous ‘dear,’ he found himself getting the hang of it, and his ‘Steve’ looked quite normal. Hopefully, Steve would be willing to overlook it.

Dear Steve,

     I’d like to apologize for being pushy, today. I understand now that I was trying to do too much, too soon. I’m pretty sure you won’t accept my apology, though, so I guess I’ll just say… thank you for understanding. A lot has happened to me in a short amount of time, and I think I’m just now coming to terms with all of it. I think I have a few good cries in me left to go, honestly. I think I’ll do those in private, though. It’s not that I don’t trust you, of course, it’s just that there’s only so much embarrassment a person can take at once, you know? Especially when you’ve spent so long being told you’re overreacting, or hysterical, or stupid. You were the first alpha who didn’t treat me like I was being any of those things. You’re the first alpha who made me feel truly safe in a long time.

     Aside from that, today was really nice. Breakfast was good, and I loved making the pound cake together. I wish I’d thought to grab my book of notes so I could write down some of your tips, though. Perhaps we can make another pound cake together soon, and I’d remember to bring my notebook down. Maybe we could go through it together, and you could pick a recipe for me to make for you. Or, maybe we could make it together, too? It was fun, being in the kitchen together. I’ll miss that when you have to take more work on again. Hopefully I’ll be more confident in the kitchen then, though, and I’ll have plenty of good meals for you to come home to.

     I’m looking forward to tomorrow, too. I’ll try to do better and listen to you when you want me to slow down. I can’t promise I’ll always be good at it. It will be a learning experience for both of us. Maybe you can wake me so we can make breakfast together? I’ll need to learn how to use that stove to cook eggs eventually. Maybe we can even make a picnic lunch to eat on our ride. Perhaps the pound cake will travel well.

     I’ll see you in the morning, Steve. Rest well. I hope Pokey didn’t cause you too much trouble.

Sincerely,

Tony

Tony found an envelope and slipped the letter inside of it, then looked around, wondering where to put it where Steve would be sure to see. Eventually, he decided on just setting it carefully on top of the doorknob to his room. It took some finagling, but eventually he got it pretty secure. Pleased, he turned down some of the lamps, leaving just enough light that Steve could see to relight them if he wanted, then went upstairs. He wondered if he’d sleep as well that night as he had before. A lot had happened that day, after all.

He heard the door open and paused, wondering if he should go back and say goodnight to Steve. Then he heard the sound of bare feet hurrying across the floor, and he couldn’t help but back up a few steps and look down the stairs.

Steve was rushing across the room in nothing but the towel Tony had left for him. Tony found himself staring against his will, mouth dropping open. Somehow, he’d never considered how muscular Steve must have looked under his clothes, having simply stopped himself at acknowledging Steve had muscular arms and he liked holding them. It looked like his muscles had muscles. He was truly built like a triangle. He was also still a little damp. He watched a bead of water roll down Steve’s back as he stopped to snatch up the letter Tony had left for him.

He let go of the towel to rip the letter open. Tony saw the way it hung loose around Steve’s hips without his hand holding it up and turned to throw himself into his room with a muffled squawk, hoping Steve was too focused on the letter to hear it.

Chapter Text

Steve knocked on the door the next morning. “Tony?” he asked through the door. “You mentioned me waking you up to help with breakfast. Did you still want to? I can let you sleep for another hour if you want.”

Tony found himself sitting up before he even thought about it. “Yes, I want to help with breakfast.” He lifted his hands to rub at his eyes, jaw cracking on a yawn. “I’m awake. I’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” Steve replied. “I brought a pitcher for the wash basin so you can wash up. I’ll leave it here on the floor, okay?”

“Thank you!” Tony called out, biting back another yawn, and tossed the blankets aside so he could get up. The mattress was just as comfortable as it had been the first night, and he knew if he didn’t get up immediately, he’d sink back into it and fall right back to sleep. He paused just long enough to put on the robe he’d found packed in the bottom of his carpet bag, one that he remembered his father wearing and Jarvis hadn’t had the heart to throw out. The pattern was sort of busy, but it offered more warmth than the lacy one his mother had left after their passing, and he was sort of glad he didn’t have to ask Steve for one.

The pitcher was right outside the door as Steve had promised, and he scooped it up and brought it back inside, wondering what he should wear. He’d realized, as he was finally unpacking his clothes, that he didn’t really have… anything comparable to Steve’s work clothes. Sure, they weren’t considered his finer clothes back in New York, but they were much nicer than Steve’s, all clean whites and hand stitching. He and Steve were going on a ride today. He wasn’t entirely certain what he should wear. Maybe he could ask Steve to come up and help him choose what he thought was best.

Tony paused, pitcher tipped halfway toward the basin, then turned, hand drifting up to his mouth as he considered the logistics of it. He’d have to hide his undergarments. But he didn’t want Steve to think he didn’t wear any, either. Would Steve assume that? He’d seemed pretty appalled that people would send him letters about them when he’d mentioned terrible correspondence, but this was different—this was Tony’s wardrobe that he’d be allowing him to look into, and he wouldn’t lie and say he wouldn’t be thinking about it a little if the roles were reversed.

Maybe he’d just put a few outfits on the bed for Steve to choose from, he figured.

.-.

Steve wasn’t cooking when he finally got downstairs, but he was turning from throwing wood into his stove. He froze when he saw Tony. Tony couldn’t help but freeze as well, remembering with sudden clarity that the last time he’d seen Steve, he’d been nearly naked and quite damp. And he’d certainly looked quite nice, nearly naked and quite damp, with his wide shoulders and narrow waist and—

“Ouch!” Steve exclaimed, yanking his hand off the stove door. He jerked his hand up to begin blowing on it, as if that would help.

Tony finally remembered how to behave like a normal human and rushed over to him. “That won’t help. Come here,” he said, grabbing Steve’s arm and attempting to drag him over to the sink. He knew from experience, after all; Jarvis had had to do the same thing when he'd first started learning how to cook. He tugged again when Steve didn’t move, which thankfully got him to finally budge, and he allowed Tony to tow him over to the sink and shove his hand under the spigot. He let Steve’s hand go only once he was sure he’d hold it in place, then turned to begin pulling at the pump.

Steve watched the water begin to rush over his hand, mouth dropping open a little in shock. Then his cheeks flooded pink. “I’m not normally an idiot when I burn myself. I just… uh… had a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sure,” Tony said agreeably, swatting his free hand away when he reached to help. “What were you thinking about? Anything I can help with?”

Steve coughed, then sort of wheezed, flush splotching a darker shade of red. “It was nothing. Lunch,” he added belatedly, as if it didn’t sound like the complete lie that it was.

Tony stopped pumping water to blink up at him, lips pursing into a frown as he decided whether or not he wanted to call Steve on it. He hadn’t known Steve in person for very long, but in his letters, he’d come across as a very honest (if perhaps too straightforward) person. On the other hand, if he was willing to lie about it, maybe he shouldn’t push. They were only on their third day together, after all. People deserved privacy even from their spouses, he remembered Ana telling him once.

“I’ve only seen you in clothes,” Steve finally said, as if the silence hanging over them had been unbearable.

Tony’s mouth dropped open, and he couldn’t help another slow blink as he tried to work out what Steve meant. “…I’m wearing clothes,” he finally answered, unable to come up with anything else.

Steve waved his unburned hand at him, as if that was an explanation. Tony looked down at himself. He was still wearing his pajamas, but that was only because he didn’t want to have to bother changing a second time after breakfast, and they were covered by the robe. He looked at Steve. His clothes looked like pajamas as well. He couldn’t imagine Steve riding horses in matching pinstripes. He squinted up at Steve skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Steve looked like he was in more physical pain because of their conversation than he had when he’d burned himself. He waved his hand at him again. “It’s… I’ve never seen…” He gulped in a breath of air, then let it back out in a sigh, lifting his hand to cover his red face. “It’s lacy.”

“Lacy,” Tony repeated, looking back down at himself. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the top hem of his nightshirt was visible where the robe closed. It wasn’t the finest lace he’d ever worn in his life (and the negligee Jan had sent for him was even lacier, he remembered shyly). Still, if Steve had only lived with his mother and then another alpha, maybe the peek of lace would have been pretty surprising. He looked back up at Steve, hesitantly asking, “Do you… like it?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered immediately, voice strangled. He groaned and lifted his other hand to cover his face as well. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be normal about this.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said, as if he had not gone to bed and stared up at the ceiling trying to reconcile Steve’s broad shoulders and narrow waist, while also desperately trying not to remember the way that drop of water had slid down his muscular back toward his low-slung towel. He lifted his hands to pull the edges of his robe closer together. “Should I go change?”

“No,” Steve barked, hands dropping, and he somehow looked even more mortified than before. “I want you to be comfortable. This is your home now. I’m—This is so embarrassing, Tony, I feel like such a—” He reached out to grab Tony’s hands to keep him from closing his robe. “I’m sorry.”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then finally answered, “I mean, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? We’re married. You shouldn’t be ashamed of seeing my—uh. Lacy things.” He pulled at the hems of his robe again, peering down at the simple shift he was wearing. The lace was only along the hems. He looked back up at Steve. “But maybe you shouldn’t be doing anything important until you get used to it.”

“You said that so nicely,” Steve said faintly. “But I still sorta want the ground to open up and swallow me.”

“Well, don’t,” Tony replied, shrugging, and took a step back. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to… do whatever you’re doing. But…” He felt heat finally rising on his cheeks, and he couldn’t help but lift a hand to scratch at his neck in embarrassment. “It’s… nice. You’re… different from the alphas back home.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, brows furrowing together into a concerned frown. “…How different?”

Tony didn’t think that the alphas back home would stop at just staring. He could imagine leers, jokes that he’d have to smile through and brush off without trying to offend them. Maybe even a heavy hand landing on his hip or shoulder, fingers curling in possessive and cruel. Perhaps… something worse, though he was hesitant to contemplate it. ‘Just alphas being alphas,’ Obadiah would chortle if Tony complained. Or they’d blame him for not covering up properly, tell him he shouldn’t have had any lace visible if he didn’t want them to comment on it. They’d tell him he was asking for attention, and the only one to blame was himself.

It was why he’d been so charmed that Steve had been outraged on his behalf when he’d told him about the correspondence that he’d considered truly bad.

“My eggs come out rubbery,” Tony finally said. “Maybe you can teach me how to cook them better than Jarvis could.”

Steve’s jaw worked, almost like he was trying to bite back a gnashing of teeth. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, swallowing down his visible anger until his expression was just as kind and patient as it had been the day before. “I’ll show you how to do the first one, then let you try the others. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good,” Tony agreed, reaching out for his hand again. “How’s your hand?”

“I let go in time to avoid a bad burn, I think,” Steve said, allowing him to take it. His hand was pink, just bordering on red, but there were no blisters or puss. “The water helped.”

“I’m sure the blowing helped too,” Tony added, unable to help his lips curving into a cheeky smile.

Steve tipped his head back with a groan. “Oh my god. I swear I’m not stupid.”

Tony covered his mouth to smother a giggle, but Steve didn’t look angry when he failed.

.-.

Tony’s eggs had still come out sort of rubbery, but the last one was mostly edible. Steve had wolfed them down regardless, and Tony remembered Steve saying he’d eat most things, even if they tasted bad, in his letters. He hadn’t really understood what that meant until now. While he was worried about how he could expect to improve if Steve was willing to eat everything set in front of him, it also felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing that food wouldn’t go to waste even when it didn’t turn out right.

He'd watched Steve put together their lunch in a nice wicker basket as he ate at a more sedate pace, “Something my ma insisted on buying while we were in town. We only used it a couple times before she was too sick to go out.” The last of the fried chicken from the ice box, salad, pieces of sausage fried in dough, a jar of apricot preserves, the remains of the pound cake, and three large, beautiful tomatoes so red they were almost purple.

“I take it you’re a fan of tomatoes instead of pound cake,” Steve said, amusement coloring his tone.

It took Tony a moment to realize he was still staring at the basket. He jerked his eyes up to Steve’s face, heat rushing to his cheeks. “What? Yes. Or—well, I’m just not used to pound cake yet.”

“You can have a different favorite food from me,” Steve cut in before he could babble on. “How do you like them? Oil and salt? On toast? I can cook some up and put it in the basket real quick.”

“I’ll eat it like an apple,” Tony answered. He was very kind in not telling Steve that he was not fast enough in hiding his disgust. Jan and Sue had wrinkled their noses at him back home, too. “I wasn’t entirely sure what to wear riding, so I set out a few outfits. Will you come help me decide?”

Steve blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. “Oh, um, sure?”

“I don’t really have a lot of clothes, and I think Jarvis didn’t have time to think about what he was packing for me,” Tony added, before Steve had to ask. He didn’t want to embarrass him anymore today.

“Oh,” Steve said again, frowning. “Of course.” He rubbed his chin, considering. “The next time we’re in town, let’s make sure to buy you a couple more outfits. Ranch work is dirty, even if you’re just doing the housework. It’ll be good to have spares.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, trying not to sound too cheerful. It had been a long time since he’d gotten to buy new clothes. Mostly, Jan had just given him whatever she felt like, and while he’d appreciated it (he never would have been able to keep up with changing fashion trends otherwise), he hadn’t ever really gotten to pick his own clothes out. Even if he had to okay it with Steve, at least he’d get a choice.

Steve followed him up to the main bedroom after they washed up the breakfast dishes, and Tony found it charming that he hesitated outside the door before he finally straightened his shoulders and passed the threshold like a man going to war. He was just choosing what pants Tony would be wearing on the ride. Then Steve grimaced as he looked over his clothes, and he couldn’t help but worry that he’d chosen poorly out of his meager offerings.

“Wow, these are all… really nice,” Steve finally said, reaching out to take a pair of pants between his fingers to rub the fabric. He frowned speculatively. “It seems like such a waste, using any of these to ride. Are you sure you don’t have anything a little more… worn?”

Tony shrugged, a little embarrassed. “This is all I’ve got.” Steve sighed, but Tony felt his shoulders relaxing a little with it, because it sounded more like the sighs Jarvis and Ana would utter as they tried to balance the household budget in a way that would get them yelled at by Obadiah as little as possible rather than actual frustration with him. “It’s okay if they get worn. We’ll just replace them when we’re in town, right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed vaguely, reaching out to test the middle set of clothes between his fingers as well. “I guess—these brown pants are alright, but your shirts are kinda… wispy? The sun’ll burn right through it… I’ll bring you one of mine,” he finally decided with a nod. “I’ve got plenty, and you need protection from the sun.” He turned. “Do you have a hat?”

“Yes,” Tony began instinctively, then stopped, hand coming up to his mouth as he looked at the pants Steve had chosen. “No. I think a hatbox would have been too much to carry. It was a church hat, anyway, not a sunhat.”

“I’ll grab you a hat, too,” Steve said, reaching out to clasp his shoulder as he turned to leave. “And who knows, maybe we’ll get you a replacement church hat in town, too. I’ll leave them on the doorknob, okay?”

Tony nodded, realized Steve’s back was to him, and added, “Yes. Thank you, Steve.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said, waving over his shoulder, and shut the door behind himself as he left.

Tony stared at the door for a long moment, hand coming up to touch where Steve had clasped his shoulder. Steve was handsy, but in a genuine way, not smarmy or anything. It sort of reminded him of the way he and his friends would touch—easy, casual, nothing behind it but a bid for connection. He supposed it made sense, if Steve had been as lonely and isolated as Tony had.

Tony hung up his robe and turned to step into the pants Steve had suggested. He figured Steve had chosen them because they were a little thicker than the others, would offer more protection from the saddle. He held one of his shirts up, frowning. He supposed the fabric was a little too thin for hours in the sun. It was very kind of Steve to offer up one of his own and a hat.

Tony squeaked, covering his mouth as the gravity of the situation hit him. Steve was bringing him a shirt and hat to wear on their ride and picnic. He was going to wear Steve’s clothes. He couldn’t help the nervous laugh that trickled out between his fingers and pretended he wasn’t blushing at the idea of having Steve’s scent on him like that.

It was too bad that it wasn’t safe to correspond with Jan. She would have foamed at the mouth to read about it.

.-.

Steve’s shirt was a little too big (maybe a lot too big around the chest, Tony thought, pursing his lips), but Tony hadn’t been friends with Jan since they were toddlers to have gleaned nothing from her. Steve had brought him a sewing kit, and Tony had quickly added some slapdash hems, so he wasn’t swimming in it, while Steve had gone to get the horses saddled. It was passable for a ride and picnic, he supposed, frowning at the messy stitches and uneven hems. He probably could have done better with more time, or even a machine. He decided he wasn’t ever going to tell Jan about it. She’d shout at him for not absorbing more from her.

He was glad that Steve had given him the shirt and hat. It was still early morning, but he could feel the sun beating down across his shoulders and back. He would have burned beneath his shirt if he’d worn his own. He had to keep adjusting the hat, but he was glad for the coverage, guarding his eyes from the sun’s glare and keeping the heat off the back of his neck. Steve had promised to get him a hat that was sized properly as well, and Tony had felt a smidge of guilt that Steve was having to put out so much money on him so soon, but Steve had somehow noticed and assured him that Dr. Erskine had also had to put out money when he first arrived—it basically came with the territory of moving from one climate to another.

“Besides,” Steve had added cheerfully. “You’re my omega! I’m supposed to provide for you. What sort of alpha would I be if I left you to fend for yourself, especially when you don’t actually know what all you need?”

Tony had glowed a pleased pink in response, and it had nothing to do with the sun shining down on him.

Steve led him to the closest waterhole, pointing out all the trees to him—spruce, and pine, and juniper. Sometimes he cut sickly and dying trees to use for firewood, but it was a pain to haul them, so he mostly got his wood from a neighbor who was in the lumber industry in exchange for a handful of steers each year. He said that other parts of the property had wild berries, and sometimes Bucky’s family would come out and stay in Steve’s big house so they could spend the week picking them and make jam. They usually left a few jars before they returned back home, closer to town.

“Maybe they’ll let me help this year,” Tony mused, biting into a piece of fried sausage as he stared across the rolling grass. He turned to look up at Steve. “Will there be enough room for all of them with you in the guest room?”

“I always sleep in the guest room when the Barnes family comes to stay with me,” Steve answered with a shrug. “The girls use the big bed.”

Tony blinked, then looked back out at the hills. “Oh.”

“But obviously I’ll tell them things have changed,” Steve added hastily, sitting up straight. “I’m not kicking you out of your room for them, I was just saying it won’t be weird to see me in the guest room.”

“Are there many Barnes girls?” Tony asked, looking back up at him.

Steve squinted at him, as if there might be some sort of trick behind his question, before he finally answered, “…Four.”

“Four sisters,” Tony repeated quietly, wondering. Most of the families he knew rarely had more than two children. He wondered if that was because they didn’t want to spread their money around as much. Rich people were kind of miserly, even as they doted on the children they had, he remembered. And Mrs. Barnes had had five. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Steve asked, sounding honestly perplexed at the idea that they wouldn’t. “You’re new, exciting. They moved out here when they were still pretty young, so they don’t remember New York at all. I’m sure they’re going to ask you about everything from fashion to whether automobiles are real or if Buck and I made them up to tease them.”

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. “You must tease them a lot.”

Steve smiled back at him. “Yeah, well, there’s about a ten-year gap between Bucky and Becca. She's the next oldest. He says it’s to get back at having to help change all their diapers.”

Tony remembered the way Susan and Johnny Storm would bicker almost to the point of blows (at which point Johnny, terrified, would shy away). But he also remembered the way Sue’s eyes would narrow when she thought someone was slighting her brother, and the way Johnny’s hands would grip into fists if he didn’t like the way someone talked about his sister. Jan and Victor were only children, like him, but Ana had talked fondly of her siblings and how she missed them. He thought it might have been nice, having a sibling. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt so lonely.

He looked up at Steve again. “Do you think they’ll teach me how to make jam, too?”

Steve blinked, surprised, as if the thought they wouldn’t had never occurred to him. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just tell Mrs. Barnes that you wanna learn and she’ll be happy to have an extra set of hands.” He looked Tony up and down slowly, then offered him a wry smile. “Maybe you’ll be strong enough to lift the canning pot for her. Usually she gets me an’ Buck to put them on, then chases us back out of the house.”

“Uh,” Tony said, suddenly remembering how easily Steve had lifted his trunk at the depot when he’d needed to struggle with a cart.

“…Or maybe I’ll still do it,” Steve added quickly, apparently also remembering him fretting about the possibility of anvil in his trunk with how heavy it was. “Although—hopefully we’ll get a little more muscle on you before then.”

Tony reluctantly lifted his arm and flexed. “I hope so. I wasn’t expected or even allowed to do more than the minimum at home. I just had to try and look pretty.”

“I don’t think you have to try at all,” Steve said, then coughed, looking away from him quickly. He lifted a hand to cover the way the back of his neck had gone red. “Anyway. Over the next couple days, we’ll figure out some chores for you to take on. I can do the lion’s share for now, until you get the hang of it, then teach you new ones. Then when I’m taking the cattle to market next summer, you’ll be prepared to be on your own.”

Tony was a little worried about being on his own that long, but Steve had said he could have guests, and by then he’d have been there for a year. Hopefully he would have made friends by then. If nothing else, maybe he could invite the Barnes family around. He nodded, firming his resolve. He’d come here to be Steve’s omega and he’d understood all that entailed. He wouldn’t back out just because he was a little nervous for the future. “That sounds good. Thank you, Steve.”

“Well, of course,” Steve began, shrugging. “It’s my job to make sure you’re prepared for—”

“I meant it for you calling me pretty,” Tony cut in, and watched, amazed, as Steve’s face skipped pink entirely and went straight to cherry red.

.-.

There was a wagon set up in front of the house when they finally rode back. Two people stood from seats on the porch, but they were still hidden in its shade.

Tony couldn’t help but pull Brownie up short, cold sweat breaking out on his back at the thought that Obadiah had somehow found him. He considered turning Brownie and just galloping away, until the horse literally couldn’t anymore, and then getting off to sprint.

Then Steve lifted his arm, waving his hat at them in greeting, and called out, “Thor! If I’d known you were going to come today, I would have moved our picnic to tomorrow!”

Tony sagged as if his strings had been cut, lifting a shaking hand to wipe his face. He hoped Steve didn’t notice he’d almost taken flight. Hoped the two men hadn’t noticed either, or if they did, assumed he was a skittish city omega and not someone who had fled his home in terror. He sucked in a deep breath and urged Brownie forward again, trying not to look like his heart was still fluttering frantically beneath his ribs.

“Tony, this is Thor and Loki Odinson,” Steve continued cheerfully, oblivious, as the two men stepped down off the porch at their approach. “They own the local sawmill. I’d asked them for some lumber to make raised garden beds a while ago without putting a time constraint on it,” he added, grimacing in apology to them. “I thought I’d have more time to work on it.”

“We heard that Tony had arrived when we went into town yesterday,” the taller man said, turning a wide and disarming smile on Tony. “So of course we got the wood together to bring it over as quickly as possible. It’s not too late to plant.”

“It isn’t?” Tony asked, unable to help smiling back at him. Thor came across as very jovial. He decided he liked him. And it was nice to know he hadn’t missed the planting season entirely, apparently.

Loki shrugged, looking vaguely bored. “Eggplants. Snap beans. Tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes!” Tony exclaimed excitedly. He hadn’t seen any in the icebox beyond the three Steve had packed in the picnic basket, and Steve had let him eat all of them.

Steve once again didn’t manage to hide his grimace in response. Loki saw this, turned to Tony, and said, “I can bring you seeds and starter plants for three varieties.”

“Why did you bring him,” Steve asked Thor, who simply laughed in response.

Tony finally stepped down off of Brownie, then immediately regretted it. Sort of. Steve was big, and somehow, Thor was even bigger—taller, and broader, and somehow visibly more muscular. Loki was slighter, but he still had a few inches on Steve. He looked between all three of them, feeling positively tiny, even though back home, he was the average height. He asked, somewhat plaintively, “Is everyone this big out here?”

Steve and Thor stared at him in response, agog. Loki just shrugged, still looking bored. He reminded Tony of Victor, somehow. Perhaps the air that he was above any drama going on around him, or that he didn’t even really want to be there. He considered this, and the fact that when it had mattered most, Victor had been there to help him. So he cautiously asked, “Do you have any pointers on growing tomatoes? I didn’t get a chance to study gardening as much as I’d have liked before I came out.”

Loki’s eyes were sharp, like a cat’s, Tony thought, giving him a languid up-and-down before he lifted his hand to toss his hair over his shoulder. “Okay,” he replied, shrugging.

Tony couldn’t help but smile in response, relieved. “I have a book inside for notes. I’ll go get it.”

“Why don’t you take Loki with you?” Steve offered, shrugging. “Thor and I will get the lumber unloaded.”

Tony couldn’t help but blink in confusion. He could tell that Loki wasn’t an omega. “That’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered blithely, already rolling his sleeves up, as if he saw no problem with Tony talking with Loki alone.

Maybe he didn’t, Tony realized. If visitors were few and far between, maybe people just trusted each other more out here. Then again, maybe it was a money thing, too—society omegas were held to even higher standards than families with lower standing, he remembered Jarvis and Ana saying. “Okay,” he said, still a little hesitant, then turned back to Loki and motioned back toward the front house. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Loki began.

Steve thrust the picnic basket at him. For some reason, his eye contact looked more intense than it had been before. “Here, carry this, will you?”

Loki stared at him for a long moment, judgmental, before he repeated, “Sure.”

“I can carry it,” Tony offered, holding his hands out for it.

“Just get me a glass of water,” Loki said, not handing it to him.

It made Tony realize that he had no idea how long Loki and Thor had been waiting on the porch through the heat of the day. He nodded quickly, then turned, promising to bring a glass out to Steve and Thor, before he led the way up to the door. Loki followed him into the kitchen to set the picnic basket on the table, so Tony handed his glass directly to him before taking two more glasses of water out to Steve and Thor.

“Tony,” Thor began as he turned to take their empty glasses back into the house, and Tony turned back to him, wondering if he was going to be asked for a refill. Thor’s expression was solemn. “My brother can be a trickster, but his heart is in the right place. …Usually. …If he offends you, just tell me, and I’ll talk to him about it.”

Tony frowned, confused, and glanced at Steve, who simply shrugged in a way that somehow conveyed, ‘well, what can you do.’ “Oh, well. Um. Okay?” he offered, brows furrowing together. He didn’t quite understand why they were allowing him to be alone with Loki if they were that concerned about it, but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding like an asshole, so. He figured if Loki did anything untoward, he’d just scream, and Steve would appear out of thin air. It would probably be fine.

He returned to the kitchen with his notebook and pencil in hand. He knew a lot about beans and peas. He didn’t know much about eggplants or tomatoes. He wished, again, that he’d been able to prepare more before he came, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. Loki was… well, he sort of reminded Tony of Sue Storm’s cat, which waited until someone made eye contact with it before it batted fragile items off shelves. Except… taller.

Tony was beginning to expect the air out here bred giants.

“If you aren’t careful, your face will stick like that,” Loki said around a mouthful of fried chicken.

Tony hadn’t even been aware a piece of fried chicken had survived the picnic. He blinked for a moment, confused, then flushed in embarrassment. He must have been making a sour face. “Oh.” He schooled his expression into the practiced, vague smile he used back home when Ezekiel talked to him.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you want me to do with my face then?” Tony asked in exasperation.

“Just sit down so I can tell you about tomato plants,” Loki told him flatly. “What’s in this dough?”

Tony sat down at the table obediently. “Sausage.”

Loki poked through the basket again. “Alright. You better write fast, because I won’t repeat myself.”

Tony hurriedly flipped his notebook open to a clean page and picked up his pencil. “You didn’t strike me as someone who did.”

Loki slanted him one impressed stare before he said, “When you plant your tomatoes, you’re going to want to plant them with a stake or a trellis, so they have something to climb as they grow.”

Tony started scribbling, nodding. That made sense. He thought he remembered the tomato plants having those in the garden, when he’d been growing up.

“Tomatoes need six to eight hours of sun to bring out the best flavor,” Loki continued, not waiting for him to finish, and Tony’s scribbling became a little more frantic when he realized that Loki hadn’t been lying about not waiting for him.

.-.

Tony had a lot of information, by the time Thor and Steve tromped into the house. He rubbed a hand over his face as Steve leaned over him, mumbling, “This is a lot of work. Maybe next year we can do tomatoes, so I can focus on eggplants. You don’t even like tomatoes.”

“I mean, I do like them, just not like a fuckin’ apple,” Steve replied with a shrug.

Tony tipped his head back to stare at him, stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Steve had warned him he swore a lot. He’d been preparing himself for it. But Steve hadn’t sworn in front of him before, and he hadn’t expected it to be so casual. Well, he’d been doing hard work with Thor in the hot sun, if the way their shirts were clinging to them was any indication, so maybe they’d been talking… like that… the whole time he’d been inside with Loki. Maybe he'd forgotten he was coming back inside with mixed company, and that was why it had slipped out.

“…I mean not like a darn apple,” Steve added quickly, a touch of franticness to his voice.

“Are you telling me you’ve never sworn in front of Tony?” Thor asked, turning from pumping himself another glass of water. “Like, he’s been in your presence longer than an hour and this was the first time?”

Even Loki looked surprised. “I’m surprised you haven’t just spontaneously combusted.”

“Shut up,” Steve said, looking more miserable because of the conversation than he had when he’d walked in, exhausted, with Thor.

“It’s okay!” Tony hurried to assure him.

“It is not, this man is going to die,” Thor told him seriously. “He hasn’t watched his mouth so well since the last time his mother washed it out.”

“Shut up,” Steve repeated, glaring at him. “I’m absolutely capable of not swearing. We’ve been together for three days and this was the first time.”

Loki and Thor didn’t look convinced. “You sound weird. Normally you’d sprinkle in a couple swears in that,” Loki said, leaning his chin on his hand.

Steve swiveled to look at Tony again. “Tony. I’m going to ask you to go upstairs and cover your ears.”

“I can handle it!” Tony exclaimed. He wasn’t entirely sure though. Loki and Thor were making him have doubts.

“You should go upstairs and cover your ears,” Thor agreed, and Loki nodded sympathetically.

Tony looked back and forth between all of them, not quite feeling ganged up on, but almost. “Well… I guess I’ll go,” he finally said, gathering his notes and pencil before he stood up. He gave them all a supremely unimpressed frown. “But I’m going because I want to, not because you told me to.”

“Of course,” they agreed solemnly, and Tony took a moment to be incredibly weirded out by it before he left the kitchen and scurried up the stairs.

He paused outside the door to his room, then called out, “I’m going in my room now!” Only once he got a chorus of acknowledgment did he step inside. He waited with the door cracked, unable to help his curiosity, because surely they couldn’t be that loud.

The explosion started immediately, outraged ‘what the hell’s and ‘I’m tryin’ not to be an asshole’s and ‘We’ve known each other in person three fucking days can you give me a goddamn break?!’ They were interspersed with laughter (good-natured, he thought) and what sounded like ‘how did you keep your dumb ass from just exploding in frustration.’ It didn’t… sound angry, he thought. It sounded more like how Jarvis and Ana bickered, or the way he argued with Jan when she thought he should wear more daring colors and he didn’t want to stand out. It sounded… friendly? Like a disagreement with emotions high, but with low stakes, sort of like when he’d insisted cotton was fine and Jan had howled about linen, both of them knowing it didn't really matter but very passionate about it anyway.

“Oh no,” Tony murmured as more swears started to get slung around, finally turning the knob and pulling the door shut all the way. He could still hear muffled bellowing, but none of the words. He took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship that it showed, that Steve had built the house and door so that it blocked out most noise. He’d have to compliment him on that later. After things had been settled downstairs, of course.

He looked down at his notes, flipping through them. It seemed like there was a lot going on with each plant, but there was some overlap. Apparently, all of the plants needed something to climb up. He wondered if it would be too much. It seemed like a lot of extra work, and they were getting a late start. He didn’t want to make it too difficult, although Steve had said he’d have no problem with it. Besides, with the cattle gone to market, he’d said there wasn’t much to do anyway.

Tony paused, then let out a little hum, walking over to the bed and climbing on top of it. He opened the notebook to a new page so he could edit what he’d scribbled down properly. He didn’t know how long Steve was going to be entertaining(?) his friends or when he would be allowed down, so he could fill his time with getting his thoughts in order. After all, he wanted to be prepared when Loki brought over the plants for him, if he still wanted to. Steve had said the garden could be his responsibility, and he couldn’t help but want to prove that he could do it, especially with how much Steve had to teach him now.

He tipped his head as he heard the yelling stop, wondering if he’d be called back down, but then there was another shout, and a loud thump, like furniture being forced to move quickly. He’d become familiar with the sound when he visited Sue and she and Johnny would get into scuffles before someone separated them. He figured it probably wasn’t a real fight, but he also wasn’t going to go down there and find out. It was better to just wait until someone presented themselves to him, mussed up but pointedly ignoring it. He had a garden to plan, after all.

Chapter Text

Steve had a black eye forming when he finally came up to open the door, yellows and greens swelling into blues. Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, wondering if he should mention it. He ultimately decided not to. Instead, he held up his notebook. “Are Thor and Loki still here? I sketched out a growing plan for the garden.”

Gratifyingly, Steve appeared impressed as he looked the sketch over. He even let out a low whistle. “That’s gorgeous, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated up at the compliment. He wanted to say it was because Steve was the real artist between the two of them and was just trying to be modest, but he looked like he genuinely meant it. Tony hadn’t realized how starved of appreciation he’d been. Jarvis, Ana, and Jan had praised him all the time, but it was always in private, and Obadiah had actively discouraged him from any of the hobbies he’d endeavored to occupy his time with. He couldn’t remember the last time an alpha in his life had complimented something he’d done with sincerity, he realized, heart in his throat. Almost against his will, he asked, “It is?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, leaning forward to give it a closer look. “This looks really technical, actually. I think if we got you some more books on gardening, you could plan out really beautiful plots.” He smiled a little. “Or even offer your services to others. Might finally give Mrs. McAvoy and Mrs. Langdon runs for their money.”

“…That… sounds fun,” Tony offered carefully. He didn’t actually believe he was that good, but Steve had also watched him break down in the barn, so maybe he was just trying to get Tony’s confidence up. The idea made him feel kind of squirmy inside, and he didn’t know if it was good or bad, so he ignored it to examine later. “Do you think we could get started on making the poles for the vegetables tomorrow so that they’re ready when Loki comes back?”

“Absolutely,” Steve agreed immediately, then turned, holding the door open wider for him. “Let’s go show Thor and Loki now. They wanted to say goodbye to you before they headed home anyway.”

The sun was getting low in the sky, Tony realized, and darkness would soon follow. He didn’t know how far away the Odinsons lived, but he didn’t want them traveling in the dark too long, so he hurried out in front of Steve. He slowed to a more respectable walk as he reached the staircase, and he made it halfway down the stairs before he looked up to where Thor and Loki were lingering by the front door. His footsteps slowed to a stop.

“Ah, Tony, sorry for making a mess of the kitchen! Don’t worry. We cleaned everything up properly,” Thor called out, smiling. It stretched his lips so the swollen cut on his bottom lip opened again, blood welling up shiny and wet.

Tony stared at him wordlessly, curling his notebook up against his chest. His eyes narrowed as they slid over to Loki, who looked uninjured, although his front pocket had been ripped off—along with the fabric it had been attached to, leaving a giant hole in his shirt. “…Hmm,” he finally responded, trying to affect his best impression of Disappointed Jarvis.

“…Ha,” Steve coughed out nervously. “Tony has something he wants to show you before you leave!”

“If it gets him to stop looking at me like Mother does after Loki and I get into a fight, gladly,” Thor answered, shuffling on his feet. Loki remained silent, but Tony could tell from the sudden stiffness of his posture that he apparently still feared their mother, too.

Tony wordlessly lifted his notebook up for them to examine, just to let his disapproval linger at them. They quickly turned the attention to the pictures he’d drawn in an effort to avoid his gaze. Thor lifted his hand to his chin, considering, eyes darting back and forth. Loki simply leaned forward, face giving away nothing. It made him a little nervous, because Steve had been immediately impressed. But then, he’d also said he couldn’t make a plant grow, Tony figured. Steve probably had been looking at it with an artist’s eye, not whether it was actually a good way to set up a garden plot.

“I wouldn’t plant the eggplants with the tomatoes, at least for your first growing season,” Loki finally said, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re both nightshades, so they’ll compete. Once you’ve got more experience with them, maybe.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, settling his notebook back in his arms so that he could note it down. He definitely didn’t think about how easily Loki had corrected him without calling him stupid.

“I’ve never seen Mother plant pole beans with tomatoes, either,” Thor said after some thought. Then he shrugged, glancing at Loki questioningly. “Just bush beans. I think the pole beans can choke them.”

“I’ll bring you some bush beans,” Loki added magnanimously.

Tony frowned. “I don’t want to put you out.”

Thor stepped forward before he could say anymore, reaching out to gently place his giant hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony,” he said kindly. “You will never put anyone out over beans.”

“What?” Tony asked, bewildered, as Steve began to laugh behind him. Thor was no help though, because he also began to laugh. It still didn’t feel like they were laughing at his expense, though. It almost felt more like they were laughing at an inside joke between themselves, and he’d one day learn what they were talking about.

“They’re prolific,” Loki offered when it became clear Thor wouldn’t be able to control himself to answer, shrugging his shoulders in a delicate motion. “You can keep harvesting them all through the summer. Your planter boxes are small compared to what our mother keeps. She’d never notice half a dozen plants missing if I took them, and when I ask her for them, she’ll probably send me along with a dozen.”

“That’s very kind,” Tony said after a brief stare at Steve and Thor. He looked back up at Loki, brows furrowing together in confusion. “I don’t think it was that funny.”

“Thor and Steve are stupid,” Loki replied, long-suffering, and Tony laughed when they both turned on him with a squawked ‘hey!’

.-.

Steve saw Thor and Loki off. Tony gave them some privacy after Loki and Thor had looked meaningfully at him (not that he understood whatever their meaning was). Instead, he’d gone to poke around at the garden beds that Thor and Steve had put together for him. They were larger than he’d thought, which seemed sort of daunting, but Steve had said he didn’t have a lot to do until the others got back from market, so he’d probably be willing to help Tony get everything set up and planted. It was a little further from the water pump and the creek than he would have liked, but he figured he could set up a rain barrel nearby maybe.

Tony paused, standing on the wooden edge of one of the planters. He glanced between the soil that had been piled in and his sketches. He remembered a conversation he’d been having with one of his other suitors, talking about drip irrigation research that had come over from Germany and how some farms out west were experimenting with it. If he kept his rows neat and tidy, he could probably use rubber hoses with holes poked through to drip water throughout the garden without having to work too hard. If it didn’t rain much, hauling buckets of water to fill a rain barrel would be easier than walking back and forth, constantly refilling a watering can. If he put one on the far ends of the planter box and attached a spigot to each one, by turning them both on, he could keep the water pressure even, instead of it being stronger at the end closer to the barrel. He’d also be able to control the moisture of the soil better.

With the watering taken care of, he could focus on the general care of the plants themselves, from weeding around them to making sure they were healthy and picking off weak stems and flowers. It would also be helpful as the plants grew bigger, so the water would stay close to the soil instead of bouncing off of the stems and leaves, falling around the roots instead of on them. He could do research of his own, maybe work up to a larger scale on one of the farms they’d seen on the way to Steve’s ranch.

“Big thoughts going on in there,” Steve offered carefully from behind him, reaching out to cradle an elbow so he didn’t teeter off the planter box as he approached. “I don’t s’pose you wanna tell me about ‘em?”

Tony blinked down at the dirt slowly, then turned, reaching the arm Steve was holding out to brace his hand against his shoulder. “Would it be too expensive to buy rubber hoses, rain barrels, and spigots?”

Steve blew some air out from between his lips and turned his eyes skyward as he thought about it. “Uh? I mean, I have some rain barrels already, just need to patch ‘em up. Before I put the pumps in, it was always smart to have extra rain barrels for the odd summer shower. Hoses, well… I’ve never priced ‘em out, but…” He lowered his gaze back to Tony’s face, considering. “Why?”

Tony bit back the immediate urge to tell him to forget it. Steve didn’t sound upset, just curious, and he figured if Steve was going to put the money out, he deserved to know what it was for. He thought, even if Steve told him no, it would still feel a lot better than Obadiah shutting him down without hearing him out. It still made him steam a little, remembering the one time he’d tried to explain anyway, and Obadiah had lifted his hand to wordlessly tell him to stop, like he was a dog or something. Hell, maybe Steve might even explain why he was saying no if he didn’t like the idea.

“When I was… corresponding with other prospective beaus,” Tony began carefully, watching him for any signs of annoyance. Steve didn’t balk at the reminder that he’d been one of many suitors, though—just tipped his head and raised his eyebrows in a wordless ‘go on.’ It bolstered Tony a little, so he waved his free hand at the planter boxes. “He said that there had been some watering experiments out of Germany that some of the farms in California were experimenting with. It’s called ‘drip irrigation.’ I thought, if I got some lengths of rubber hose and attached it to some rain barrels, I could replicate some of those experiments and see if it worked for our little garden.”

Steve turned his gaze on the planter boxes, lifting his other hand to rub the back of his head. “So I guess you’d. Just keep the barrels filled, then… I suppose you’d use the spigots to control the water. I mean,” he said, letting out a puff of air as he craned his head back to look up at him again. “I’m game. If it works, that’s less work for you, isn’t it? And if it doesn’t, well. We could probably use the hoses for something else. Tying Peggy up so I could milk her, maybe,” he added to himself bitterly.

It shocked a laugh out of Tony, part honest amusement and part relief. “I think she’d just chew through them just to spite you.”

“Yeah,” Steve complained, hands reaching out to grab Tony’s waist.

Tony bit back a surprised yelp as Steve easily picked him up and swung him around so he was on flat ground again. “Oh!”

“Loki is coming back with plants tomorrow, because they want to make sure you don’t miss any of the growing season,” Steve added thoughtfully, offering Tony his arm. “He’ll probably help you plant some, but he’ll say it’s so he’ll know you won’t fuck it up, even though we’ll both know he’s just tryin’a be nice. The town’s all sort of decided he’s allergic to feelings.”

Tony blinked up at him, surprised. “You really were holding back, weren’t you?”

“Huh?” Steve asked, looking down at him with furrowed brows.

“I think I’d prefer it if you could keep your swears to ‘damn’s and ‘shit’s, though,” Tony continued.

“…Oh my god. Did I—” Steve choked out, face immediately flushing dark red.

Tony offered him a mischievous smile. “Don’t worry, Steve. I won’t let Loki think I’d fuck up the garden.”

“NO,” Steve bellowed, and Tony covered his mouth to smother his laughter as Steve crumpled to the ground, head bowed in shame. He thought he heard Steve mutter about a spectral wooden spoon. Tony didn’t think it was too presumptuous of him to assume that Sarah Rogers wouldn’t have smacked him, at least this time, because Steve’s reaction was simply too funny.

.-.

Steve had breakfast ready again by the time Tony stumbled downstairs, and he grumbled about not getting up in time to at least practice under Steve’s watchful eye as he jabbed a soft yolk with the corner of his bread. Steve didn’t even have the decency to pretend he was upset about it.

“I think, once we get the garden squared away today,” Steve began over Tony’s mutters. He waited a beat, until Tony reluctantly turned a mulish scowl on him, before he continued, “I’ll help you draw a bath. It’s got a pump, but the water’s cold, so I’ll dump a few buckets of boiling water in the tub, and then you can wash.”

Tony frowned in concern. “I can wash in the stream if it’ll be easier.”

“No,” Steve told him flatly. Tony bristled, but Steve just turned back to his plate of food. Before he could think up a blistering reply, Steve added, “I fear if someone came across you while you were naked, you’d simply evaporate from being. ‘sides, you haven’t had a real bath since you got here.” He pointed at Tony’s plate with his fork, and Tony slowly put a fork of fried potatoes in his mouth. “…It’s probably some misplaced alpha pride,” he offered after a moment.

Tony looked up at him from under his lashes, frowning. “Me taking a bath?”

“In the privacy of your own room, yeah,” Steve answered with a bashful little shrug. “Ma an’ I had a shared bathroom in our tenement, and if you missed your turn, you had to wait until everyone else was done. I remember my ma having to wait until midnight to get a turn at the bath because she missed her turn takin’ care of me while I was sick. I… kinda got the bathtub for her. Figured she deserved it, after all those missed baths.”

Tony looked back down at his plate, turning his fork in his hand awkwardly. He imagined Steve’s mother in the bath upstairs, relaxing, never worrying that she was keeping someone from their turn, knowing she’d never have to watch the clock to get clean again. There was a lot he’d taken for granted back in his mansion in New York, even if Obadiah had kept the purse strings tight. It would be… almost cruel of him to decline the comforts that Steve wanted to make sure he had. After he’d worked so hard to make sure his mother had them after going without his entire life.

“I want to be a lobster when I get out,” Tony said, spearing another piece of potato on his fork.

“God, omegas,” Steve huffed, humor in his tone. “I’ll never understand why the water has to be so hot. Do you secretly want to be soup, or something?”

“You got me, Steve,” Tony deadpanned. “I’m gonna drop carrots and potatoes into the water with me as soon as you leave. Make a nice little Tony Stew. It’s how I keep my beautiful complexion.”

“Tony,” Steve coughed, shocked, and then threw his head back and laughed.

.-.

Loki approved of Tony’s final layout for the plants, although he didn’t have much to say about Tony’s drip-irrigation idea. “The garden is Mother’s domain,” he’d said, and Tony would have thought he was dismissive, except there was a real thread of fear in his voice as he patted dirt around the roots of a bush bean sprout. “Planting is the only part I ever help her with.”

Tony watched him carefully so he could follow what he was doing with his own plant. The garden in New York had mostly been his mother’s, but she’d allowed the servants to help care for it. She’d even allowed them to take some of the vegetables if they found they had too many for themselves. He’d been too young to truly help at the time, and had been playfully banned the first time he picked a green tomato and attempted to eat it, banished to watch from the windows and hope someone brought something yummy in to him. She’d been very protective of her other hobbies though, he remembered; she’d firmly shooed him away from her sewing baskets and bookcases with rare books with the promise that she’d allow him to touch when he was older. He wondered how old he really would have had to be before she offered him an embroidery hoop.

“Do you know how to can vegetables?” Loki asked after a brief pause, glancing up at him.

“Um,” Tony said, and then nothing else, because it occurred to him that they had had canned vegetables at the mansion, but it had been things Ana had bought. Jarvis might have canned some, but so much of their budget went to running the mansion that they ate most of their vegetables as soon as they ripened.

“Winifred will probably teach him,” Steve answered for him before he could get too embarrassed. He and Thor were setting up a third planter bed to put squash in (at Frigga’s stern direction, apparently). “She and the girls will come pick berries and make jam. I’m sure that she’ll help him with canned beans.”

Tony was so bolstered by the idea that it took him a moment to realize that both Thor and Loki had stopped what they were doing to stare at Steve. He lifted a hand to wipe a drop of sweat from his temple, blinking in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

At that, Steve looked up from where he’d been carefully wedging a corner together. He balked when he saw the way he was being stared at. “What?!”

“…The Barnes girls are coming here,” Thor repeated slowly.

“Yeah? They always do?” Steve answered defensively. “They love jam.”

Loki turned to Tony and gave him an almost sympathetic frown. “I’m so sorry that you’re married to an idiot, Tony.”

“Huh?” Tony asked, genuinely confused.

Loki stared at him for a moment, then huffed out a shocked laugh. “Perhaps Steven is in good company, though.”

“Hey!” Tony exclaimed, scowling at him, even though he still wasn’t certain what they were talking about. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t understand social norms out here.

“Why would Winifred Barnes bring her daughters here when you are just married?” Thor finally spat when it was clear neither of them were going to understand. “Newlyweds are not meant to be disturbed. The only reason Loki and I came yesterday was because Mother thought we could just dump the lumber and leave without talking to you. Being pulled into helping set up the plots was not the plan!”

“…Ah,” Tony said, face flushing for reasons other than the warm sun.

Steve was also turning red as a tomato, spluttering uselessly until he finally managed, “You mean they think we’re-? We literally just met in person a few days ago!”

Loki slanted him a look that clearly stated ‘and?’ before turning his attention back to the bean plant between his hands.

“Oh my god,” Steve said faintly.

Thor seemed to take pity on them at that. “Obviously, having met Tony, Loki and I understand that you two are taking things one step at a time. However, when Loki and I were in town, everyone was gossiping about how… cozy you two were already. So leaving you alone was probably the logical next step.”

“‘Cozy,’ huh,” Tony repeated quietly, mortified. Apparently, the meaning was the same here as in New York, if spoken in whispers behind hands: too familiar out in public for an alpha and omega.

Steve looked like he was about to throw up, angry and embarrassed all at once. “They shouldn’t be talking about Tony like that. He’s new here and has to learn so much, of course we’re taking the time to get to know each other!”

Loki sighed, but his expression actually held what looked like a bit of regret as he glanced up at him. “Most of the alphas at the saloon were making jokes about you being unable to help yourself since your intended had turned out to be so pretty.”

“Thanks a lot!” Steve exclaimed, embarrassment quickly turning to anger.

Tony didn’t blame him, even as he turned back to his planting to avoid making eye contact with any of them. Steve had been nothing but polite and kind, and it hurt him a little that people would ever insinuate that Steve could force himself on somebody. Steve had gone out of his way to make sure Tony couldn’t ever imagine it, hands always careful when he reached out to him, words chosen with precision to soothe any raised hackles. He wasn’t sure of much in his life, but he did believe that Steve was one hundred percent constitutionally incapable of hurting an omega that way. He’d even looked angry at the few times Tony had mentioned when the alphas back in New York had been… less than kind. Even though Tony had long gotten used to ‘well, alphas will be alphas!’ as an excuse for their behavior, Steve had made it clear that it wasn’t right.

“Everyone who knows you knows that isn’t true, Steve,” Thor told him firmly. “But like it or not, everyone is respecting your recently married status. You’re going to have to invite people over if you want to see them.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice gruff, and stood up. “I gotta. Go do something. Throw some rocks in the creek, maybe.”

Tony watched him stomp away, kneading a handful of dirt as he considered going after him. “Um, do you think—”

“I think it would be best if we let him alone for a bit,” Thor answered, firm but not unkind.

Tony swallowed and nodded his head, turning back to the garden plot so he could plant his next seedling. “Okay.”

“The only reason we said anything was because we figured it was better he heard it from us than have to react to a bad joke in town,” Thor continued, and Loki gave a soft huff of agreement. He stooped to scoop a cup of water from the bucket Steve had brought over so they wouldn’t have to keep traipsing back to the pump, then offered it to them.

Loki waved him off, but Tony turned, wiping as much dirt from his hands as he could before he reached out to take it. “I just. I thought everyone liked Steve,” he said after a moment, frowning, before he took a sip. He remembered how everyone had gathered to look and see who it was that Steve had been corresponding with, who he was planning to marry. They’d all seemed so excited for him, and Steve hadn’t been angry when he’d shooed them away, just exasperated.

“They do,” Thor assured him. “This is just… a country thing that I don’t think Steve will ever come to terms with, even after living here so long. So little happens around here that gossiping about your neighbor is the only pastime some of the people in town have. They know that Steve would never be pushy. That’s why they think it’s okay to joke about—he’d never actually do such a thing.”

Tony tried to reconcile it with the gossip back in society circles. People talked about others, and sometimes the words were couched in jovial terms, but there was always some truth to it. If someone back in New York had mentioned that Steve was probably taking what he wanted after waiting so long, they believed he would, even if their tones and words could call it a joke. Apparently, that was the opposite here. The people in town had joked about Steve losing control of himself, but only because they were certain it would never happen.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” he finally said, staring into the empty cup. “Back home, even if they said it the same way, even if they laughed… they’d mean it. It would be a warning.”

Loki looked up from his digging, lifting a hand to brush some hair out of his face as he solemnly took the words in. Thor shifted awkwardly on his feet in front of him, then held his hand out for the cup, at a loss for anything else to do. Tony let him take it. There wasn’t much he could have said to soften the blow, and quite honestly, after seeing how hurt Steve was, he didn’t really want to.

“I’ll tell Ms. Romanova,” Loki finally said, glancing up at Thor.

Thor nodded back grimly. “Aye, she’ll make the jokes stop for sure.” He reached out, putting his hand on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony looked up at him reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Tony. And I’ll apologize to Steve too. He just mentioned going into town to get you some proper clothes yesterday, and it occurred to me that he should know what people have been saying. I didn’t realize there was more than one way to hurt someone with it. I should have just told Steve. I shouldn’t have burdened you with this.”

“Maybe it’s better you did,” Loki said with a snort, turning to carefully lift up a tomato plant from the ground. “He looked ready to scratch your eyes out.”

“I did not!” Tony scoffed, scowling at him.

Thor gave him a pitying look. “You did. I was grateful that Steve reacted first.”

“I’m not gonna scratch anyone’s eyes out,” Tony huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Thor another glare. “But maybe I would cover my eyes so Steve felt comfortable punching them in front of me.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, before he turned back to patting dirt around the tomato plant. “Tony, you were going to launch yourself at Thor from the ground when you realized what he was talking about.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, jaw working, and dug his hands into the dirt so he could feel it squish between his fingers, because he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of making a fist. Then he paused, considering. The soil was still moist from watering it to make sure the plants wouldn’t go into shock. He squeezed another handful, bringing it up to stare at the dirt. He considered the weight of it, glancing at the back of Loki’s head. Then he drew his hand back, taking a moment to aim, and threw the handful of soil with force, before Thor could realize what he was doing and stop him.

Loki made a high-pitched noise of dismay, flinching as the wet dirt thwapped against his face. “Cold-! What the—” He lifted a hand to wipe the dirt away, then scowled, lifting his gaze to Tony. “You.”

“Hmm,” Tony hummed, realizing that throwing dirt at someone without Steve there to defend him had probably been a bad idea as Loki began to stand. He could think of nothing else to do but throw another handful of dirt at him.

“Jeez,” Thor sighed as Loki lunged at Tony to try and shove his face down into the garden bed. “Really? I’m going to finish the other garden plot.”

“Help me!” Tony sputtered indignantly as he tried to slap Loki’s hands away.

“No, he’ll stab me,” Thor grumped, and Tony couldn’t help the terrified yelp it scared out of him.

On the bright side, it brought Steve back from wherever he’d been sulking to help him, even though he didn’t get there soon enough to keep Loki from shoving a handful of dirt down the back of his shirt.

.-.

Thor and Loki left as soon as the last garden plot was finished, and Loki was certain that Tony knew what he was doing. He got the feeling they would have stayed longer, except Steve was still being short with them despite his anger cooling to a low simmer.

Tony wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything that would help ease Steve’s hurt. Steve had been nothing but kind and patient since the moment Tony had arrived. He genuinely felt the safest he ever had in his life. Steve was better than all the alphas back home—even the ones who had helped him, Tony had come to realize. He had suffered under Obadiah’s hand for years before he’d managed to find a safe place to land, and no one had helped him. There were absolutely some comforts of New York he missed out here, but he’d given them all up a thousand times for how safe he felt in Steve’s company.

Steve was the kind of alpha who had gotten Tony’s emergency telegram and immediately moved himself to the guest bedroom so that Tony could have the master bedroom. Even if Tony hadn’t known that when he stepped off the train, he knew that Steve wouldn’t push him into anything, and Steve had proved that over and over with everything he taught him about life in the country.

“Well,” Tony finally said, wiping the dirt off of his hands as well as he could. He’d gotten all the tomatoes, beans, eggplants, and squash well-planted, and Steve had dutifully poured water over them once he’d finished. It was probably time for a late lunch. Maybe an early dinner, even. He glanced at Steve, trying to estimate his mood now that he’d had most of the day to stew on it himself. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t want you to think that’s what everyone’s like,” Steve burst out, frustration apparently getting the better of him.

Tony turned to give him the benefit of seeing his confused expression in its entirety, brows furrowing together as he tried to parse what he’d meant. “Huh?” Of all the things he’d expected Steve to say, that hadn’t been it, and he didn’t really know what to do with the sentiment.

“I told you Timely is a nice town with nice people,” Steve continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “That there were parties and people to celebrate with. I want you to make friends here. I don’t want you to think that everyone is making… those kinds of jokes, even if everyone knows they’re not true.”

Tony blinked up at him, stunned silent. He’d thought Steve was trying to think up a way to assure him that he would never in a million years force himself on him. He hadn’t realized Steve was worrying about something else entirely. “…Oh,” he finally responded, at a loss for what else he could say.

“There are people in town who’re really nice and I think you’ll be great friends with,” Steve added. There was an edge of desperation in his voice, though, and in the way his brows twitched together as if he was just barely keeping himself calm. “I don’t want you to be isolated out here. It’s important to have friends, especially if I’m gonna be gone next year taking care of the cattle drive. They’re not all making gross jokes.”

Tony found himself reaching out to take one of Steve’s hands before he could even really think about it. “I know.”

Steve seemed to deflate as soon as their hands made contact. “I just. It’s a bad joke. But that doesn’t. Make them bad people? I’ll talk to them.”

“It’s okay, Steve. If you’re not bothered about the subject of the joke, I’m not bothered about the people who said it,” Tony assured him, and was only slightly surprised to find that he meant it. When Steve shot him a dubious look, he offered him a somewhat amused smile. “One bad joke isn’t my first impression of the people of Timely.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure? I can box some ears while you’re not looking.”

Tony remembered how it seemed like the entire town had gathered at the train depot to see who it was that Steve had been corresponding with. How they’d all looked deliriously happy that Steve had found a prospective beau. How Steve had casually told them off with a hissed ‘you’re embarrassing me’ and no one had looked upset, only amused. How, at a loss, Tony had said ‘how do you do’ and had been given genuinely delighted responses.

“Yeah,” he finally answered, smiling up at him. “I’ll chalk it up to growing pains. I’ll get used to them, and they’ll get used to me, and they’ll realize they shouldn’t make jokes like that. At least, not when you’re not around to defend yourself.”

“…Well, if you say so,” Steve grumbled, as if he still wanted to bash some heads together but was choosing to defer to him. He twisted his hand so he could hold Tony’s properly and motioned toward the house. “Let’s eat, and I’ll boil some water for the bath. You’re… hmm,” he added, narrowing his eyes at him skeptically. “Well.”

Tony could still feel the grit of dirt down his back from when Loki had shoved a handful of soil down his shirt, so he allowed Steve’s ‘well’ to hang there as a proper description. “Thank you. What sounds good for dinner?”

“Well, I’ve got some ham we could fry up, then cook some potatoes in the fat,” Steve offered. “Or some beet root. I can check the cellar. Oh, and Thor left a basket of stuff his parents sent over as a wedding present? It looks like fabric, but I haven’t really checked it out.”

“If we can save up for a sewing machine, I could make something with it,” Tony offered, looking up at him. “Or at least hem the edges for blankets.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t know about buying one right off, but maybe someone in town—” He couldn’t quite hide his face twitching into a scowl. “—would be willing to let you borrow theirs. It wouldn’t be electric, but you’re a quick study.”

Tony couldn’t help the pleased grin that grew on his face if he tried, so he didn’t, instead turning his attention to washing up in the sink so their entire dinner didn’t taste like dirt.

.-.

Steve had to walk up and down the stairs with the heavy buckets of boiling water to fill the tub, which he did during dinner. Tony had wanted to help, but Steve had still been a little surly about earlier, so he figured now wasn’t the time to push him. Instead, he’d focused on frying up dinner, which he’d proudly decided was perfectly passable (and Steve had wolfed it down between trips to the bathroom, which was equally flattering). Watching Steve tote buckets up and down the stairs, while a very nice showing of strength that Tony privately appreciated, did make him worry about tripping and getting hurt on the stairs, though. Tony had already started to devise a pulley system, so he didn’t have trek so far and make less work overall.

He considered how to bring it up with Steve without seeming too pushy or like he was trying too hard to be useful. Steve had already made it clear that as gung-ho as he was to help, he needed to take it one step at a time. He started pumping cold water into the tub to fill it up the rest of the way, deciding he could bring up his idea in the morning, so long as he made it seem like an improvement for his own benefit while Steve was gone, rather than trying to take the job out from under him. Steve seemed to really like showing he cared through actions. And Steve must have been well-practiced filling the tub, he realized, if it was one of the few comforts he made sure his mother got to have. He dipped his hand into the water once it was filled a respectable amount; it was still bordering on the edge of too-hot when he tested it, just the way he liked.

Tony was turning to throw his clothes in the basket in the corner when he spotted something on the bed. He nearly tripped over his pants in his rush toward it when he realized it was a letter. Steve must have put it there when he’d been bringing up the buckets of hot water. He had no idea when Steve had written it. They’d been together for most of the day, except for when he’d stomped off for a bit to cool down, and when he’d been back and forth filling the tub. He glanced at the tub, then decided the water would keep for a few minutes, turning back to tear into the letter.

Dear Tony,

     I don’t know what to say. The last letter you gave me was so kind. I felt like I was on top of the world reading it. Then Thor told us the jokes they were making in town, and I know you know I would never do anything, but I can’t imagine how shocking that was to hear. I’m glad you’re brushing the jokes off and are willing to give the people in town another chance, but I think I’m still going to be embarrassed about this for a while. I know you’d tell me not to worry about it, but I can’t help thinking about the things you told me, about how the alphas back home were “pushy” and no one stopped them. I’d thought the people of Timely were better than that. If I heard someone was getting pushy with their omega, I wouldn’t laugh. I’d go by to make sure they were okay. And I wanted you to think that’s what everyone here in Timely would do.

     You’ve been so brave coming here. I know I keep saying it, and you’re probably tired of hearing it. But it didn’t really register just how dangerous it was for you, not just to leave the only home you’d ever known, but to travel without an escort, and to meet me, sight-unseen, ready to marry me when you only knew a little about me. I could have been lying. I could have been a horrible person, and you wouldn’t have known for sure until it was too late. You gambled that I was better, and realizing the stakes, I’m incredibly humbled.

     I know you probably don’t want to talk about it anymore. You said you wanted to give the town a clean slate. Said something incredibly kind about ‘growing pains.’ So I’ll defer to you on that. But just know, if anyone decides to make a bad joke in front of me, I’ll deal with them. And I guess I’ll tell Mrs. Barnes and the girls that we’re not doing unmentionable things all over the house when we go into town tomorrow so that someone can help you figure out how to can beans.

Sincerely,

Steve

Tony hummed, the corners of his mouth curling up against his will at the last line. He hadn’t really thought about how the joke and his reaction to it would have made Steve think of things differently. They still had a lot to learn about each other, obviously. He bit his bottom lip as he thought about asking Steve to stop pointing out his bravery, running his thumb over Steve’s signature. He decided not to, though. As embarrassed and awkward as it made him feel, he also liked the warmth it brought to his chest. He liked impressing Steve, even if he didn’t really know why Steve was impressed. He didn’t think he was anything special.

Then again, maybe he was to Steve. Thirty-one, and unmarried despite the town’s best efforts, to the point that he’d had to put an ad in the marriage papers. And there had been something about Tony that had made him choose him out of the others who had written back to him, even though there were others who were probably used to life on the range, or at least were more familiar with what it entailed. Maybe he was special. Or maybe he could just… be special to Steve. He smiled a little, folding the letter up to put back in the envelope, and only then spotted the post script on the back. He unfolded it to read it properly, cheeks flushing a little when he remembered the last time, when Steve had said he’d take care of any spiders, not knowing that Tony had been reacting to Jan’s… gift.

P.S. –Tony, if you’re reading this before your bath, don’t let your water go too cold. If you’re reading this after your bath, I hope you’re red as a cherry, I guess.

Tony blinked at the words for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter that shook loose from deep in his belly. Steve didn’t understand why he wanted the water so hot, but he was at least supportive. He remembered Jarvis wrinkling his nose at his steaming water once, too, and overheard Vernon scolding Jan for using all the hot water again. Maybe it really was just an omega thing. He figured that was okay, so long as no one got on his case about it. At least he knew that Steve would never have to scold him for using all the hot water, if he was boiling it himself.