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The scent was driving him insane; the windows were sealed to avoid drawing attention from every passing alpha, and Clint was starting to stew in it. He'd never have thought he would miss Jarvis' weird mother-henning of any omega who went into heat in a Stark building, but the second night in a row of being the omegas' only line of defense was grating on him. Falling back on years of training had left him patrolling the small apartment almost constantly (read: pacing the living room like a fretful dog) since Natasha had left to clue in the others.
As a beta, Clint was better suited to the task of guarding the twins. As a sexual adult human, he was suffering. The pheromone-neutralising tape he had double-plied across the safehouse's tiny windowsills would be no use around the lintel of the bedroom door: the twins' stash of water would only last so long before one or the other had to stagger into the kitchen to refill the flasks. The last time, Wanda had been shaking so hard that Clint had to take over. The way she had leaned into his side when his hand brushed hers was NOT helping him concentrate. The shower had somehow become a part of the omegas' nest, so he would just have to deal with her begging scent all down his left arm.
Clint had settled himself on one of the apartment's ratty armchairs with his weapons in easy reach when he noticed it. The scent (intermingled toffee-toothpaste-apples-bonfire and something utterly synthetic that could only have come from a Hydra lab) was changing. In the time it took Clint to get from the outer door to rap on the bedroom door, its tone had changed from 'please' to 'thank you'.
Realisation struck him half a second too late. He had already knocked.
"Do you guys need anything?" His voice was strained even to his own ears, but there's no way they would be able to tell. A negative grunt confirmed that. No omega was coherent when they were... knotted? Clint slammed down on that train of thought as he returned to his chair.
Omegas helped each other out when they had to - Clint was an adult, he knew there weren't always trustworthy alphas around when you needed some - and hell, there was even a push for an omega-omega marriage bill last year. It had fallen through by a small majority, but still. But siblings?
His brain supplied an image of the pair of them, no older than his own omega son, coming into their first heat and having nobody to help. No kindly parent to give them a discreetly-wrapped toy and keep them hydrated, maybe not even someone to explain what was happening. Of course they would work it out together. Clint found himself pacing again, flexing his hands like he was looking for someone to throttle.
......................................................................
When they limped back to the Tower five days later, Tony made a comment about Clint being a lucky dude. Clint was proud that he only punched him in the face.