There was a reason that Tony kept the Alphas and Omegas separate.
Different floors, different living quarters within the tower. The unmated ones at least.
It could get...complicated...during heats and ruts, to put it mildly. And Tony had developed a well worked system. Emergency precautions. Just in case.
Your heats had been easy to handle. The suppressants worked. Made life, your heats bearable. Your only current problem was your insomnia.
You decided to walk the halls, try and settle your mind enough to let you sleep. You made your way, up and down, lost in your own thoughts. And then you heard a whimper.
It was faint. Barely there. But you knew that voice. You were absolutely certain.
Bucky.
Bucky hated you, that you were also certain of. He hadn't adjusted particularly well since joining the team. But eventually he'd taken to everyone. Everyone but you.
Snide comments. Avoiding you at every turn. Practically running from any room once you entered it. Yeah, he hated you.
You briefly wondered what you should do. He may have been dreaming. Steve had told you that Bucky had awful nightmares. You should find him. He could help, bring Bucky out of it.
And then you heard a moan.
He wasn't dreaming. You knew that now and a thought crossed your mind. You were sure he hadn't had a rut since before HYDRA. It didn't seem likely. And it also didn't seem likely that he'd be having one now.
But he was in a tower full of Omegas.
And you were unmated.
He moaned again, strangled, almost painful. Every Omega instinct you had cried out for him. You couldn't remember the last time you'd had a knot. And you ached at the thought.
Should you help him?
Would he let you?
"FRIDAY? Can you tell me the current state of Sergeant Barnes?," you asked the AI. "He seems to be in some distress. Heart rate is fast, almost dangerously fast," she replied and you knew now for sure.
Bucky was having his rut.
You swallowed and took a risk. A big one. "FRIDAY, unlock the door." You took a breath and pushed it open. You immediately wished you hadn't, the scent nearly knocked you on your ass.
Clove. Sandalwood.
Just a hint of gunpowder.
And goddamn, if it didn't make you weak.
"Omega," you heard him say, his voice husky. Deep. And it made you absolutely soaked. "You can't be here," he said in the darkness and you could see him sit up. His chest was bare, a thin sheen of sweat. You could see it in the moonlight.
"Please, James," you spoke, moving closer, carefully. "Let me help you," you told him and he shook his head. "Go," he said gruffly, "you need to get as far away as possible," he told you and you moved even closer, your body now aching for him.
You knew he could smell you, your arousal. He was fighting himself, his natural instincts. He may have hated you, but you wanted to help him. Needed to help him. "Please," you repeated and he shook his head again,
You kneeled at the foot of the bed. "You need me, you need an Omega. You have to be in pain, Alpha," you spoke softly, slowly. He swallowed hard and you noticed his fists were clenched, his jaw as well. "I'll hurt you," he said quietly. Your heart ached for him.
