#ironic that i am posting this shortly after being tagged in that omegaverse lawsuit but oh well

[amusewithaview]

Breakfast Is Served (abo au)

For Darcy, it starts something like this:

“You gave up caffeine for Lent?” she asks flatly.  It’s not so much a question as it is a plea for sanity to reassert itself in the labs. Her tone is eight parts ‘please tell me you’re joking’ to two parts ‘why, god. why' and combined with her thousand yard stare it must make for quite the picture, considering the way Tony is eyeing her.

“Not for Lent,” he says, and for all that he’s playing at being wary of her reaction he smells like nothing so much as amusement and the hard minerals that never quite dissipate from his scent pile.  “Not religious.  For Pepper.  Pepper is my religion.  My creed.  My-“

“Please don’t finish that,” she breaks in.  “Okay so, no caffeine.  What does that mean, exactly?”

“I may have removed temptation from the premises.  Temporarily.”

“Tony, are you telling me-“

“Why is the coffee gone?” Jane demands, bursting into the room.  The astrophysicist smells like adrenaline and sleep-deprivation and buttery toast to Darcy’s nose.  “What did you do?” she growls, stalking up to Tony with the light of battle in her eyes.

“He claims he found religion but my guess is a bet gone wrong.”

“Hey!  I would never!”  Two gimlet stares have him grumbling about being too predictable in his old age before admitting: “Fine, yes, a bet may have been involved.  But!  It stands. No caffeine for me.  You may have caffeine,” he allows generously, “but only when you’re away.”

Jane wrinkles her nose. “Leave the lab?  I can do without.”

Darcy sighs heavily.

This is going to end in tears.  Hers, probably.

 For Steve, it starts something like this:

“Captain,” JARVIS says quietly, after coughing gently to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“One of the other residents of the Tower is currently sleepwalking.  Normally I would lock them down in their rooms but they exhibited marked symptoms of stress when I attempted to do so.  I was monitoring for their safety but it appears they’re headed to the common kitchen area and I am concerned that they may injure themselves.”

“I can check in on them and wake them if necessary.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve’s not sure what he’s expecting when he heads up to the kitchen, but it’s certainly not what he finds. What he sees is a messy head of hair, sleep-flattened on one side and curling gently on the other.  What he hears is a mix of mumbled gibberish and faint, plaintive whines.  What he smells is a full English Breakfast and woman and omega and-

He swallows hard.

The woman is occupied in opening every cabinet and systematically emptying them of their contents. She stops short seconds after he fully enters the kitchen.  Her head lifts, turning to face him, and he sees that her eyes are mostly closed, only the faintest gleam visible to indicate that she’s looking at him. Her nose lifts into the air and she takes a few deep breaths before letting out a soft dreamy sigh.

“Coffee,” she murmurs, and starts shuffling towards him.

Bemused, he watches her progress, expecting her to stop, to go around him, something.  Instead, she doesn’t stop, keeps walking till she’s just in front of him then reaches up and starts plucking at his shirt. Her soft smile is replaced by a faintly unhappy expression and she starts making those same plaintive little sounds again.  They’re awful sounds.  They reach into his chest and seem to squeeze at something there.  Steve allows her to pull him down a little and only just barely keeps himself from swearing in surprise when she shoves her entire face against his neck and just breathes.

“Coffee,” she says again, this time in a happy purr.

It is going on seven in the morning.  Steve is in no way prepared to handle an armful of delicious-smelling, soft-skinned, downright gorgeous omega at this, or any, time.  He settles his hands on her hips, intending to push her away, but the instant he touches her she starts climbing him and his metaphorical armful becomes quiet literal.

She’s still got her face pressed up against his throat, but she’s upped the ante and now she’s nuzzling him and making adorable little humming and chirping sounds of happiness. She smells warm and contented and it’s taking all of Steve’s not inconsiderable self-control to keep from pressing his own face into her neck in return and marking her up good and proper.

“-tain?  Captain?”

“Where’s her room, JARVIS?” he asks, and hopes the AI can understand his words through the involuntary growling undertone his words carry.  The omega in his arms, and he really needs to get her name, purrs in response and presses even closer.

“Follow the lights, Captain,” JARVIS instructs.

With the AI’s guidance it takes Steve less than five minutes to get to the right apartment.  It’s the longest five minutes of Steve’s life, so far. It’s dark enough that he can only make out faint shapes in her apartment, but the whole place smells like her and its just shy of overwhelming.  Her bedroom is even more scent-heavy and by the time he gets her to unlatch her arms and settles her on the bed, he’s almost drunk with it.

He ends up sitting beside her, letting her scent his wrist, till she falls asleep.

“JARVIS…”

“Yes, Captain?”

It would be cheating to ask the AI for a name the lady hasn’t given yet.

“Never mind.”