[Natasha's voice is firm. She barely tears her eyes away from Sam to glance at Steve, confirm agreement in the steely look in his eyes. The two of them—her boys, Natasha thinks with an iron clad possessiveness that most wouldn't consider characteristic of the Black Widow and wouldn't expect from a small, rather diplomatic woman but that they would expect from a dyed in the wool alpha—had come back from their supply run with Steve seething and Sam shaking.
And it's all she can do not to give Sam a hug, kiss his forehead, and then go out and find whoever it was who'd put both of them in that state so she could make sure this never happened again.]
If we leave you behind, you'll be back on the Raft in a week.
[The idea of Sam being arrested while he struggles through a heat alone puts her teeth on edge, makes her own scent change. Normally rather sweet and spicy, all autumn spices and earthy honey, turns hot and tart with temper.
Steve and her are close enough, bonded enough as co-alphas on the team that it doesn't start a fight, but there's no missing the fact the more protective side, the aggressive side, the part of her biology that tells her to keep the people who were hers safe is kicking in.]
Or worse.
[Where worse is someone else would claim him. If it were Steve, she'd be able to stay calm about it, despite the way she and Sam have flirted off and on for years now.
She's understood they wouldn't be a good match.
At least her head understands it.]
We'll just have to find somewhere more remote. No neighbors. We'll ride this out—when you think about it, it was bound to happen eventually. Either you'd hit your heat or one of us would have a rut. We can't give up on the plan just because we don't have access to the quality of drugs we've gotten used to.
[It's not even really a surprise it happened eventually. Natasha's thought about it before. She just expected it would be Steve, that superhuman metabolism of his burning through the lower calibur suppressants before they could find something more sustainable.
This changes her plans significantly.]
One of us will stay with you, the other makes the rendez-vous with Wanda.
[ Sam can't quite help it - the way he flinches slightly, the way he reacts to mention of the Raft. It's not usually a hair trigger for him, the occasional nightmare aside. But the notion of being arrested and thrown in a cell while his heat hits him full force is frightening on a deeply visceral level. The thought of being separated from two of the only people he feels intrinsically safe with?
Unthinkable.
And yet, when she alludes to the worst option...
Sam whines. It's desperate, and he immediately drops his face in his hands, pulls his legs up and in. Yeah, sure, let the ground open up right under him, because while Sam doesn't want some random alpha to stake a claim just cause... his body is all about that right now, heat licking at his nerve endings. It'sinfuriating, this need to give in to base desires. To just have someone take him to bed, and have him, and take care of him. He loathes being subject to his own body like this.
Steve meanwhile, takes one step forwards and freezes, then looks back to natasha. His instinct is to protect and soothe, and Sam is pack. Steve feels like Sam is one of his, but as a friend, a team mate, someone deeply cared for. And that's a problem right now, both because of what's happening to Sam as well as what Steve can pick up in the room. The air is thick with scents. It's charged and not fully pleasant.
So Steve pitches the only solution: ]
I go to Wanda. Otherwise I'll do something we'd all regret just to make him hurt less.
[Natasha's lip curls slightly when Steve steps forward. It's not for him, not really. She trusts Steve, and she'd protect him if he needed it, have his back the same way he'd have hers. But she was on edge, and the smell of heat in the air was getting to her.
Normally so controlled, so careful, Natasha still can't entirely ignore the effect it has on her. The way a part of her wants to rub her cheek against Sam's shoulder, to put her scent on him like a possessive cat.
In his current state, the urge to protect him is different.]
I'll get him out of town. I have a trailer...
[Because of course she did. Of course she had a second location to fall back on if their current safehouse was compromised.]
It's not much, but we can ride this out there without anyone close enough to notice and get ideas.
[No one but her. She bit her lip at the thought. She's not sure how she'll handle that. The answer seems obvious—claim him. His scent certainly feels like an invitation. But she and Sam had talked about it before, before the accords, before their escape, and it hadn't been right. For all their flirting and circling, Sam needed something Natasha hadn't been able to offer at the time.
And privately, she knew he deserved better. Probably he deserved someone like Steve, but that wasn't in the cards either.]
[ Quiet, but firm. Sam's gaze is locked on that one slightly crooked edge of carpet, trying not to feel ashamed for his own need, for the burden it puts on them. He hates being the reason the plan changes. Feels weaker and smaller than he knows himself to be, and wishes they'd just go with his suggestion.
Doesn't want Natasha to leave. Always wanted her, period, but had accepted her disagreement and been happy with the friendship they'd built. Hell, he had rooted for her and Banner at the time. To want someone isnt to sit and bide your time - it's to want the best for them. At least that's how Sam feels.
The amount of relief and want he feels because she'll take him, if only just this, makes him ashamed all over again. Still, he knows he needs to put a firm yes on the floor before he goes too needy for his mind to be trusted. Owes her the knowledge that he agrees - that he consents to her.
Steve backs up a little, nodding. ]
I can do a supply run for.... necessities for this. Before I leave.
[Two Alphas snarling at him wasn't likely to do Sam any good, even under normal circumstances, but it's what he gets when he suggests doing a supply run. The words are barely out of his mouth before Natasha and Steve are both shutting it down sharply, Steve in the sharp, curt bark of a man whose been through the military, and Natasha in hiss.
She would have said more, and likely Steve would have had his own opinions, if they hadn't managed to step on each others' feet like that.
It's enough of a start to shake them each out of their individual lectures, though, sharing a quick glance. Sam's heat was too strong for anyone to think straight.
Natasha nods to Steve who, after a half second pause, nods slightly, eyes narrowing just shy of a blink. The communication between them is wordless but understood; Natasha nods him to the door, and he lets himself out.
Natasha will take care of Sam. Everything beyond that will wait until this is out of his system. Just the two of them, Natasha speaks again in a more moderate tone.]
You're not going anywhere alone.
[Not for some time, at least.]
How long do you think you have? I'd like to get you out to my trailer, somewhere secluded. We'll get through this, okay? After that, we'll figure out next steps.
[ It's intense, two alphas stepping on each other's toes like that. Even if it's technically on his behalf, Sam has to fight the urge to become smaller. He's proud of never shrinking from alphas, has worked hard to earn that self-assured confidence and calm. Had to prove himself twice over and then some in the Air Force, after all. Still, it's a lot, especially with his heat licking at his base instincts that make him want to roll over and show his belly.
In the proverbial sense.
Mostly.
It becomes easier to breathe when Steve leaves, and Sam knows he shouldn't feel guilty for the thought. He loves his friend, but he doesn't want him near this situation, despite what his body wants - because his body is stupid and just wants anyone. Sam himself... He swallows. ]
Hard to say. Used to be 6 to 12 hours after the first signs of fever, but I ain't had a heat in... shit. Years.
[ He's calm in his reply, but only because he instinctively mirrors Natasha. Finds it easy to answer a question directed at him like this. But that timeline? Likely greatly accelerated. ]
I know this isn't... I'm sorry. That you have to handle this.
[ This being something she doesn't want - not like this, at the very least. ]
Hey, don't apologize for this. It's not your fault, and it's not a problem, even if the timing is inconvenient.
[Because there's no denying that the timing terrible. Not as bad as it could have been—Sam's not still on the Raft—but not good either. Still, Natasha bristles at the idea that Sam is a problem, that his body or his hormones fulfilling their natural course is somehow a fault.
Maybe it's the rebellion against the Red Room, the fact she still bristles at the way the girls' biology, whatever their presentation, had been treated as a problem to be solved or a resource to be exploited rather than just a part of who they were. Rather than just being a fact of the bodies they lived in.
Natasha didn't want Sam to feel that way. Not ever.]
But it does mean we need to get on the road. I hope you're up for a tense car ride.
[Raising one hand, Natasha brushed Sam's cheek in a way she hoped was reassuring rather than possessive because she felt possessive.
As much as they'd decided against it, she wouldn't lie to herself about wanting him. She always wanted him. Some small part of her felt guilty about that, like this would be taking advantage, using the situation to get something she'd been interested in and Sam rejected when he was in his right mind.
As long as she didn't get attached, as long as she stayed in control, it should be fine. She could do that for him, even if she couldn't give him the Alpha he really needed.]
[ It's subtle, but immediate - the way he turns his face into that whisper of a touch on his cheek. The way he chases her touch immediately. Chases that reassurance.
Perhaps chases that possessiveness, too.
Because things have changed from a mutual decision when he knew their paths were aimed at different horizons. Now, he's not so sure. Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking fuelled by his heat. He feels like all he wants is for her to want him, and he's not sure how to reconcile with the cold logic of a previous agreement, the comfort of a great friend and partner in the field. ]
Okay
[ His agreement comes easy, and along with that his shoulders relax for her. Perhaps something Natasha will notice - how even just her mild reassurance is enough for him to relax, to orient himself according to her compass, to follow her lead. Sam letting himself be taken care of, just this once. Omega trusting alpha. ]
[The way he relaxes does not go unnoticed, and it takes some of the edge off Natasha's temper too, off her scent, smoothing it from something acrid into an almost welcoming burn. Like the heat off good whiskey or warm spice. She slips her arm around Sam's body in something like a half hug, her nose turned toward his shoulder.
The fact she's seven inches shorter than he is ought to make it a little silly, the way she bodily offers herself as comfort, as protection, something stable while Sam's heat rocks him, but there's more to being an Alpha than physical size and strength, and Natasha exudes the confidence and sense of purpose that truly defines her status.
She's here for him. And for a moment, she holds him, letting him adjust to their plan, before guiding him toward the door.]
You can't feel too bad if you're already talking back like that.
[She rolls with the quip, the answer coming a little late but still naturally.
They'll take this at their own pace, whatever that might end up being.]
[ Used to be that people really ascribed to the stereotypes of alphas needing to be physically imposing, omegas needing to be delicate. Whole bunch of bullshit, of course, and yet even to this day, there's some prejudice people have to fight against. Sam regularly gets mistaken for an alpha when he's wearing blockers. He imagines that while Natasha surely knows hot to use that to her advantage, she must have been dismissed as 'just' an omega or beta plenty of times.
Foolish of people to dismiss her strength. Sam appreciates it, now more than ever. So used to carrying himself without support, for a heartbeat or two he just indulges in how steadfast Natasha is, how much strength she really exudes in a comforting, stabilizing sort of way. When they get going, Sam can't deny feeling better. ]
When have you ever known me not to give everyone and everything around me some lip?
[ It's true. Sam wouldn't know meek deference if it hit him in the face. Anyone wanting him to yield to them needs to work for that a little - and isn't there some joy in that, too? ]
[Unflappable. If sassing her makes him feel better, gives him some feeling like he's still in control, Natasha won't take that away from him. She will, however, joke about it.
If Sam is still cracking wise when she fucks him, they might have another conversation about it.
Either that or they'll have to find him something else to do with his mouth.]
You can't feel too bad yet if you're still joking.
[As she talks, she pulls him outside. Steve's been gone long enough that his scent is just starting to dissipate outside the door. The fresh air, such as she can get it, brings a little relief.
The scent of Sam's heat is still overwhelming, though.]
[ Sam Wilson will absolutely still crack wise while getting fucked within an inch of his life and/or sanity. If there ever was a man who was born to say 'make me' to any request for him to shut up and behave...
Sam breathes in some relief when they get outside. Not that he doesn't usually find the mingling scents of Natasha and Steve decidedly comforting - they make him feel safe, they signal pack and comfort in ways few other people's scents do - but right now, Steve's scent is almost acrid in his nose. The earlier aggression between Natasha and Steve, and the fact that Sam's body is on board with the chocie in partner made here, makes Steve's scent feel like an introducer to Sam's needs. ]
You can start worrying when I go almost nonverbal and can't say anything other than 'please' or 'more' any longer.
[Natasha relaxes slightly. There's only so much her guard can drop in these circumstances, but the part of her mind that can't help but view Steve as a rival still unclenches a little.
The part that needs to protect her pack, to make sure her Omega is safe when he's at his most vulnerable, won't relax until they're somewhere secure.
A den. A nest. It's written in her instincts, and as much as they are above just their biology the biology never goes away.
And when Sam says please and more, she loses her ability to speak for a moment.
Focus.]
I think my that point I won't be worrying too much about anything.
[ A small spike in scent. That is an omega pleased, even as Sam ducks his head a little, expression going bashful. The need to show her his throat, to reward the admission with access, is so strong it nearly makes him buckle, and he has to steady himself against the car once they reach it. Swallows, hard. ]
Good. That... that's good.
[ Yeah... he's gonna be far gone, he can tell. Needing nothing more than for his alpha to take charge of him, to help him ride out the gnawing, insatiable need of the heat, and Sam can't think about why that ever would have seemed like a bad idea in the past.
He slides into the passenger seat. Thinks, immediately, that the car will smell like cloying sweetness for a good time to come. ]
You're possessive.
[ It's never been something he considered her to be, but perhaps it's just more quiet. All alphas are in some manner, and most express it in open territorial behavior, jealousy and the like. Perhaps Natasha considers something hers and doesn't feel the need to let the world know.
Perhaps Sam is pleased to know either way, that he has an effect on her. ]
[Natasha isn't usually one for big territorial displays. It's not her way. Not something she needs. She considers herself above them, usually, and makes that the truth.
Some part of her likes to believe that's something for male Alphas specifically. Those two factors interact in strange ways, and in the same way she finds sometimes male Omegas seem to get huffy about a female Alpha, she'd like to believe the ego is some kind of male affliction.
It doesn't actually work that way, though, anymore than being an Omega made someone a weak, wilting violet.
Now her nostrils flare and she doesn't actually argue it. Instead she gives Sam a moment to steady himself, catch his breath, then she puts her hand on the small of his back and urges him into the car with a wordless touch.]
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[Natasha's voice is firm. She barely tears her eyes away from Sam to glance at Steve, confirm agreement in the steely look in his eyes. The two of them—her boys, Natasha thinks with an iron clad possessiveness that most wouldn't consider characteristic of the Black Widow and wouldn't expect from a small, rather diplomatic woman but that they would expect from a dyed in the wool alpha—had come back from their supply run with Steve seething and Sam shaking.
And it's all she can do not to give Sam a hug, kiss his forehead, and then go out and find whoever it was who'd put both of them in that state so she could make sure this never happened again.]
If we leave you behind, you'll be back on the Raft in a week.
[The idea of Sam being arrested while he struggles through a heat alone puts her teeth on edge, makes her own scent change. Normally rather sweet and spicy, all autumn spices and earthy honey, turns hot and tart with temper.
Steve and her are close enough, bonded enough as co-alphas on the team that it doesn't start a fight, but there's no missing the fact the more protective side, the aggressive side, the part of her biology that tells her to keep the people who were hers safe is kicking in.]
Or worse.
[Where worse is someone else would claim him. If it were Steve, she'd be able to stay calm about it, despite the way she and Sam have flirted off and on for years now.
She's understood they wouldn't be a good match.
At least her head understands it.]
We'll just have to find somewhere more remote. No neighbors. We'll ride this out—when you think about it, it was bound to happen eventually. Either you'd hit your heat or one of us would have a rut. We can't give up on the plan just because we don't have access to the quality of drugs we've gotten used to.
[It's not even really a surprise it happened eventually. Natasha's thought about it before. She just expected it would be Steve, that superhuman metabolism of his burning through the lower calibur suppressants before they could find something more sustainable.
This changes her plans significantly.]
One of us will stay with you, the other makes the rendez-vous with Wanda.
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Unthinkable.
And yet, when she alludes to the worst option...
Sam whines. It's desperate, and he immediately drops his face in his hands, pulls his legs up and in. Yeah, sure, let the ground open up right under him, because while Sam doesn't want some random alpha to stake a claim just cause... his body is all about that right now, heat licking at his nerve endings. It'sinfuriating, this need to give in to base desires. To just have someone take him to bed, and have him, and take care of him. He loathes being subject to his own body like this.
Steve meanwhile, takes one step forwards and freezes, then looks back to natasha. His instinct is to protect and soothe, and Sam is pack. Steve feels like Sam is one of his, but as a friend, a team mate, someone deeply cared for. And that's a problem right now, both because of what's happening to Sam as well as what Steve can pick up in the room. The air is thick with scents. It's charged and not fully pleasant.
So Steve pitches the only solution: ]
I go to Wanda. Otherwise I'll do something we'd all regret just to make him hurt less.
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Normally so controlled, so careful, Natasha still can't entirely ignore the effect it has on her. The way a part of her wants to rub her cheek against Sam's shoulder, to put her scent on him like a possessive cat.
In his current state, the urge to protect him is different.]
I'll get him out of town. I have a trailer...
[Because of course she did. Of course she had a second location to fall back on if their current safehouse was compromised.]
It's not much, but we can ride this out there without anyone close enough to notice and get ideas.
[No one but her. She bit her lip at the thought. She's not sure how she'll handle that. The answer seems obvious—claim him. His scent certainly feels like an invitation. But she and Sam had talked about it before, before the accords, before their escape, and it hadn't been right. For all their flirting and circling, Sam needed something Natasha hadn't been able to offer at the time.
And privately, she knew he deserved better. Probably he deserved someone like Steve, but that wasn't in the cards either.]
We can meet back up next week in Prague.
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[ Quiet, but firm. Sam's gaze is locked on that one slightly crooked edge of carpet, trying not to feel ashamed for his own need, for the burden it puts on them. He hates being the reason the plan changes. Feels weaker and smaller than he knows himself to be, and wishes they'd just go with his suggestion.
Doesn't want Natasha to leave. Always wanted her, period, but had accepted her disagreement and been happy with the friendship they'd built. Hell, he had rooted for her and Banner at the time. To want someone isnt to sit and bide your time - it's to want the best for them. At least that's how Sam feels.
The amount of relief and want he feels because she'll take him, if only just this, makes him ashamed all over again. Still, he knows he needs to put a firm yes on the floor before he goes too needy for his mind to be trusted. Owes her the knowledge that he agrees - that he consents to her.
Steve backs up a little, nodding. ]
I can do a supply run for.... necessities for this. Before I leave.
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She would have said more, and likely Steve would have had his own opinions, if they hadn't managed to step on each others' feet like that.
It's enough of a start to shake them each out of their individual lectures, though, sharing a quick glance. Sam's heat was too strong for anyone to think straight.
Natasha nods to Steve who, after a half second pause, nods slightly, eyes narrowing just shy of a blink. The communication between them is wordless but understood; Natasha nods him to the door, and he lets himself out.
Natasha will take care of Sam. Everything beyond that will wait until this is out of his system. Just the two of them, Natasha speaks again in a more moderate tone.]
You're not going anywhere alone.
[Not for some time, at least.]
How long do you think you have? I'd like to get you out to my trailer, somewhere secluded. We'll get through this, okay? After that, we'll figure out next steps.
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In the proverbial sense.
Mostly.
It becomes easier to breathe when Steve leaves, and Sam knows he shouldn't feel guilty for the thought. He loves his friend, but he doesn't want him near this situation, despite what his body wants - because his body is stupid and just wants anyone. Sam himself... He swallows. ]
Hard to say. Used to be 6 to 12 hours after the first signs of fever, but I ain't had a heat in... shit. Years.
[ He's calm in his reply, but only because he instinctively mirrors Natasha. Finds it easy to answer a question directed at him like this. But that timeline? Likely greatly accelerated. ]
I know this isn't... I'm sorry. That you have to handle this.
[ This being something she doesn't want - not like this, at the very least. ]
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[Because there's no denying that the timing terrible. Not as bad as it could have been—Sam's not still on the Raft—but not good either. Still, Natasha bristles at the idea that Sam is a problem, that his body or his hormones fulfilling their natural course is somehow a fault.
Maybe it's the rebellion against the Red Room, the fact she still bristles at the way the girls' biology, whatever their presentation, had been treated as a problem to be solved or a resource to be exploited rather than just a part of who they were. Rather than just being a fact of the bodies they lived in.
Natasha didn't want Sam to feel that way. Not ever.]
But it does mean we need to get on the road. I hope you're up for a tense car ride.
[Raising one hand, Natasha brushed Sam's cheek in a way she hoped was reassuring rather than possessive because she felt possessive.
As much as they'd decided against it, she wouldn't lie to herself about wanting him. She always wanted him. Some small part of her felt guilty about that, like this would be taking advantage, using the situation to get something she'd been interested in and Sam rejected when he was in his right mind.
As long as she didn't get attached, as long as she stayed in control, it should be fine. She could do that for him, even if she couldn't give him the Alpha he really needed.]
We'll get through this, okay?
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Perhaps chases that possessiveness, too.
Because things have changed from a mutual decision when he knew their paths were aimed at different horizons. Now, he's not so sure. Or perhaps that's just wishful thinking fuelled by his heat. He feels like all he wants is for her to want him, and he's not sure how to reconcile with the cold logic of a previous agreement, the comfort of a great friend and partner in the field. ]
Okay
[ His agreement comes easy, and along with that his shoulders relax for her. Perhaps something Natasha will notice - how even just her mild reassurance is enough for him to relax, to orient himself according to her compass, to follow her lead. Sam letting himself be taken care of, just this once. Omega trusting alpha. ]
Tense car ride sounds like a great time.
[ Never without the sass though, of course. ]
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The fact she's seven inches shorter than he is ought to make it a little silly, the way she bodily offers herself as comfort, as protection, something stable while Sam's heat rocks him, but there's more to being an Alpha than physical size and strength, and Natasha exudes the confidence and sense of purpose that truly defines her status.
She's here for him. And for a moment, she holds him, letting him adjust to their plan, before guiding him toward the door.]
You can't feel too bad if you're already talking back like that.
[She rolls with the quip, the answer coming a little late but still naturally.
They'll take this at their own pace, whatever that might end up being.]
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Foolish of people to dismiss her strength. Sam appreciates it, now more than ever. So used to carrying himself without support, for a heartbeat or two he just indulges in how steadfast Natasha is, how much strength she really exudes in a comforting, stabilizing sort of way. When they get going, Sam can't deny feeling better. ]
When have you ever known me not to give everyone and everything around me some lip?
[ It's true. Sam wouldn't know meek deference if it hit him in the face. Anyone wanting him to yield to them needs to work for that a little - and isn't there some joy in that, too? ]
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[Unflappable. If sassing her makes him feel better, gives him some feeling like he's still in control, Natasha won't take that away from him. She will, however, joke about it.
If Sam is still cracking wise when she fucks him, they might have another conversation about it.
Either that or they'll have to find him something else to do with his mouth.]
You can't feel too bad yet if you're still joking.
[As she talks, she pulls him outside. Steve's been gone long enough that his scent is just starting to dissipate outside the door. The fresh air, such as she can get it, brings a little relief.
The scent of Sam's heat is still overwhelming, though.]
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Sam breathes in some relief when they get outside. Not that he doesn't usually find the mingling scents of Natasha and Steve decidedly comforting - they make him feel safe, they signal pack and comfort in ways few other people's scents do - but right now, Steve's scent is almost acrid in his nose. The earlier aggression between Natasha and Steve, and the fact that Sam's body is on board with the chocie in partner made here, makes Steve's scent feel like an introducer to Sam's needs. ]
You can start worrying when I go almost nonverbal and can't say anything other than 'please' or 'more' any longer.
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The part that needs to protect her pack, to make sure her Omega is safe when he's at his most vulnerable, won't relax until they're somewhere secure.
A den. A nest. It's written in her instincts, and as much as they are above just their biology the biology never goes away.
And when Sam says please and more, she loses her ability to speak for a moment.
Focus.]
I think my that point I won't be worrying too much about anything.
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Good. That... that's good.
[ Yeah... he's gonna be far gone, he can tell. Needing nothing more than for his alpha to take charge of him, to help him ride out the gnawing, insatiable need of the heat, and Sam can't think about why that ever would have seemed like a bad idea in the past.
He slides into the passenger seat. Thinks, immediately, that the car will smell like cloying sweetness for a good time to come. ]
You're possessive.
[ It's never been something he considered her to be, but perhaps it's just more quiet. All alphas are in some manner, and most express it in open territorial behavior, jealousy and the like. Perhaps Natasha considers something hers and doesn't feel the need to let the world know.
Perhaps Sam is pleased to know either way, that he has an effect on her. ]
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Some part of her likes to believe that's something for male Alphas specifically. Those two factors interact in strange ways, and in the same way she finds sometimes male Omegas seem to get huffy about a female Alpha, she'd like to believe the ego is some kind of male affliction.
It doesn't actually work that way, though, anymore than being an Omega made someone a weak, wilting violet.
Now her nostrils flare and she doesn't actually argue it. Instead she gives Sam a moment to steady himself, catch his breath, then she puts her hand on the small of his back and urges him into the car with a wordless touch.]