Archive of Our Own

Witches and Wolfpacks

The Market fell during the werewolves’ mating season this year.

It happened rarely. Werewolves were very secretive about their ways, especially in front of witches. Apparently, enough of the Alphas had been betrayed by witches way back before the treaties that it was just normal practice to keep it from them. Many packs still avoided the Market grounds during mating season just in case, but there were just as many that circled through the Market as if it was just another day. They even used the Market as chasing grounds after it closed for the day.

Tony, personally, would have rather skipped the Market altogether this year, but the Market wasn’t just a market for wares—it was also a place where witches got to show off new achievements, from cauldrons that didn’t melt from even higher temperatures than last year to potions they needed peer-reviewed before they submitted them to a pharmaceutical coven. He would be remiss not to check out the new potions and supplies on offer, especially if he could bring them back to his own coven to improve on.

For a long time, his coven had been small, just him and his parents, and then just him, Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper. Their little family had expanded, though, as Happy met May, and May brought in Peter, and Peter brought in all of his friends. Rhodey met Carol, and Carol brought in Maria, and Maria brought in Monica. Pepper met Natasha, and Natasha brought in Yelena, and Yelena brought in Kate, and Kate brought in Clint. They all had different skills, and while they’d said it was fine if he didn’t want to bring the coven’s wares to the Market, he’d seen the disappointment in the younger generation’s faces.

He had also seen concern in Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper’s faces, and he hadn’t wanted to admit he was just trying to avoid certain werewolves because they’d just sigh and roll their eyes at him again, maybe even with some mumbled ‘pining idiot’s and ‘fucking coward’s under their breaths. So, he’d packed up a truck with the coven’s wares, extracted a promise from Happy that he’d bring the technologically impaired trinkets and potions in the horse-drawn wagon the next day, and headed for the Market.

Luckily, he got a spot on the opposite side of the Market from where Hammer usually set up, which was the only small mercy he received. If he’d gotten stuck near Hammer again, he would have turned his truck right back around to head home. Hammer had the bad habit of sniffing around him and saying, “So, unattached again this year? Do you need someone to help you through your heat?” Everyone who heard him was on Tony’s side, but it was still considered bad form to curse someone at the Market, and Hammer was very careful about not being caught by him outside of it.

Unluckily, Alpha Rogers and Beta Barnes sniffed him out as soon as he started carefully setting out his clockwork mood readers. Steve was wearing the same too-small shirt he always did when Tony saw him, muscles bulging against the fabric in a way that should have been threatening but came off to Tony as incredibly attractive (along with the thought that those muscles could easily hold him down). Bucky was wearing a shirt that fit, unfortunately, but he was wearing jeans that strained across his thick thighs, which of course made Tony want to sit on them.

And it was inappropriate. Werewolves did not mate with humans. Tony could technically be turned, but he had no interest in it—werewolves couldn’t be witches, and he wasn’t about to lose his hard-won and carefully-honed powers just to get dicked down. The leader of a coven couldn’t just fuck off to get sexed up; they needed to protect and nurture their younger, less experienced witchlings. Besides, he was pretty sure werewolves liked omegas to give them pups. Tony had had his fill of kids the second time Yelena had accidentally kicked him into a wall, and that was before Peter had managed to glue him to the ceiling with an adhesive he’d been developing as an alternative to spiderwebs in potions.

“Do you have any of those good potions this year?” Bucky asked, opening a box helpfully labeled ‘potions’ that Tony was going to set up once he got the glass case set up.

Tony immediately slapped his hands away from the box. “What kind of potions? I will douse you in wolfsbane if you break a single vial in there.”

Steve helpfully scruffed Bucky and dragged him back out of the booth. “That one that makes him have nice dreams.”

Tony slanted them both a sharp look, considering. Bucky put on his best ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ innocent look. Steve tried to look innocent and mostly failed, but only because Tony had once caught him scarfing down a pan full of magic brownies—and not even actual magic; he could smell the weed coming off them from five feet away. “…Dulce somnii can be addictive,” he finally reminded them, returning to setting out his mood readers. There was a certain way to set his booth up, after all. Potions came last, because they were delicate. It also gave him the chance to feel out who was buying and hide anything he didn’t want to be responsible for selling.

“Yes, well, we wouldn’t ask, except that Bucky’s had a very hard time sleeping the last several months,” Steve said with an uncomfortable shrug. “Flashbacks from when those hunters kidnapped him.”

“Hmm,” Tony replied, not willing to say anything that could be seen as too condemning or too welcoming. He did have dulce somnii, but he didn’t like to sell it unless he had to. It was addictive, so he hated to sell it; however, he was also one of the few witches who could reliably brew it every quarter, and if he didn’t sell it, other witches with inferior product could sell theirs. “How many months is several? I don’t want to give it to you unless I really have to,” he finally asked, setting out Peter’s web alternative and Kate’s prank draught darts.

Bucky leaned in, resting his arm on the wall of the booth so he could tower over Tony with a smirk. “Well, doll, if you don’t want to sell it to us, you could always just sleep with us to guard my dreams personally.”

Tony rolled his eyes and told himself it was foolish to feel hurt. It wasn’t Steve and Bucky’s faults that they were flirts even if they weren’t interested in him. They had each other, and if they ever desired an omega, they would find an omega werewolf. “Haha. I’m serious, though, how many months?”

“Since the last Market,” Steve said before Bucky could bluster off about how, technically, it was even longer than that, because there were days in between where he didn’t have nightmares. “It wouldn’t be so bad, except he’s getting violent.”

Tony paused, hands hovering where he’d set up the potion case. He turned to glance at them over his shoulder, frowning, fingers tapping along the glass. “…Getting violent.”

“It’s not like I’m going feral or anything,” Bucky began, apparently offended by his tone.

“Dulce somnii isn’t going to help if the nightmares are bad enough to have physical consequences,” Tony continued, ignoring him. He turned his attention to carefully setting the potions up in their case. “Sounds to me like what you need is Dr. Strange’s help.”

Steve and Bucky stared at him as he worked, silent. Finally, Steve said, “If you don’t want to help us, you can just say so. You don’t have to make things up.”

“His last name is actually Strange. It’s on his medical license,” Tony answered patiently, because he’d watched every kid in his coven have the same discussion with Stephen Strange as they met him. He wouldn’t have believed it himself, except he’d known of Stephen before his accident.

Bucky’s eyes almost bulged out of his head. “You were serious about him being a doctor?!”

“I’m a doctor too,” Tony muttered petulantly, mostly to himself. Then, louder, he added, “Yes, he’s a medical doctor. He was a neurosurgeon until his accident. Now he’s a wizard. He’s actually gotten another degree in Medicinal Magic.”

“You’re shitting me,” Steve said, absolutely astounded.

Bucky looked just as stunned. “That’s a real degree?”

Tony privately thought they should go ask Stephen that question and see where it got them, but it would probably end up with them blasted across the Market, which wouldn’t help Bucky anyway. Besides, how were they to know that Medicinal Magic was a degree? Werewolves couldn’t do magic, so they rarely ever took anything beyond basic theory classes. Instead, he nodded, answering, “Yes, it’s a real degree, and if I remember correctly, he was also researching illness in supernatural creatures. I’m sorry. I can’t help you with Bucky’s nightmares anymore. I really think you should see Stephen or even Bruce about your problem.”

“Oh, well… thanks,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his head. He looked a little disappointed.

Tony figured he couldn’t blame him—they’d never met Stephen, so it stood to reason they wouldn’t trust him as much as they did Tony. Bruce was notoriously prickly even on the best of days; it was even worse now that he was cursed to have his anger take a physical form. Tony was probably their best bet as a whole. But he hadn’t been lying about his dulce somnii. It worked by being absorbed slowly while the body was at rest. If Bucky was moving around, his body would absorb it too fast, and while it probably wouldn’t kill him, he’d still get extremely sick. Tony couldn’t, in good conscience, sell it to them.

“Well, this is certainly disappointing,” Bucky muttered, scowling, and crossed his arms. “I bet Strange isn’t as pretty as you are.”

“He almost is. He’s just as mean, too,” Tony told him helpfully, finally looking up from his potions. “If he thinks you’re an idiot.”

Steve and Bucky both sighed. He took that to mean they were aware he’d consider them idiots. He did not rub it in their faces.

“You think Strange is pretty?” Steve asked after a moment. He sounded grumpy.

“Of course. We’re facial hair bros,” Tony replied, shrugging. “He just doesn’t have the shadow and liner I do.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I feel vaguely cursed,” Bucky said.

Tony scowled at him. He told himself that werewolves couldn’t know that witches always looked their best when it was time for the Market, because it was the easiest place to find other witches to date. He wasn’t necessarily looking to take anyone home (his heart was unfortunately set on werewolves who couldn’t tell eyeshadow from eyelid, apparently), but he wasn’t about to let himself be embarrassed at the biggest local gathering of witches by looking less than his best.

“What if Strange can’t help us?” Steve asked when Tony said nothing. The grumpiness had faded to concern. “What if Bruce can’t?”

“They’ll be able to point you in the right direction, at least,” Tony told him firmly. “I’m not a medical witch. The closest thing I have to a medical background is that I took a CPR class in college. I’m sorry,” he repeated, trying to show he was as sincere as he possibly could be when both Steve and Bucky seemed to wilt under the admission. “I know you have trouble trusting witches, especially during a time as delicate as your mating season. But unless Bucky needs tweaks to his arm, or you need ethically sourced ingredients or potions, I simply don’t know how to help you.”

“Well… thanks,” Steve finally managed to say. He almost sounded like he meant it. “We do appreciate it, Tony.”

“I hate meeting new people,” Bucky grumbled as Steve began leading him away. “And he’s not as pretty as Tony and he has a weird name. I still think Tony could just guard my dreams.”

Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. He wasn’t that type of witch, either. His skill was in creating—the clockwork mood readers that were good for kids struggling to tell their parents their feelings, or better tools other witches could use in their experiments, or, yes, brewing potions, because it was what his mother had been skilled in, and she’d taught him all her secrets and shortcuts.

Bucky’s prosthetic arm had been a group effort—his use of nanotechnology, Bruce’s biology background, Helen Cho’s biomedical engineering, and Wakanda’s magical ores had been brought together specifically for the purpose of trying to make prosthetics that shifted with the owner. Bucky had actually been their second candidate for it. The first had been a harpy whose wing had been damaged after an air collision with a sizeable drone. He was currently working with everyone to come up with a prosthetic for a mermaid who had needed her leg amputated in her human form so that her leg could shift into a tail. Even then, most of the medical jargon that Bruce, Helen, and Shuri slung around went over his head.

Unfortunately, Bucky’s needs had currently surpassed his skills. It happened. He had no reason to feel like he’d let both Bucky and Steve down.

“You’re so gone on them, it’s really pathetic,” Natasha said.

Both of Tony’s feet left the ground as he jumped to face her, but he’d never admit it. He glared at her, confused, and hoped he wasn’t blushing too much. “How long have you been here?!”

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the motorcycle standing next to his truck. “I told Pepper I’d come help you set up so that we could just slide the stuff from the wagon in tomorrow, so… like five minutes after you got here?”

“Oh, damn it,” Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. She was definitely going to tell everyone about how he was still pining over two totally unattainable werewolves.

Natasha clapped him on the shoulder, good-natured. “On the bright side, I heard that Hammer’s banned from the next three Markets because last time one of his dread boxes exploded and an investigation proved he’d been cutting too many corners and bringing volatile experiments against regulations. So. There’s that.”

“Yes!” Tony cheered, because that meant Hammer wasn’t going to sniff him out and hit on him for the next three years. At least her bad news came with good news.

.-.

Steve and Bucky didn’t come back, so Tony figured that they’d gotten the help they’d come for from Stephen, or even Bruce. He told himself he wasn’t hurt about them not saying goodbye before they left. It was mating season. They were probably really looking forward to frolicking through the woods together, or whatever mated werewolves did to renew their claims on each other. He didn’t know and he didn’t want to ask, because while he knew they probably wouldn’t have a problem with him knowing, he didn’t want to be able to torture himself with daydreams of them being together more than he already was.

He’d offered to let Natasha have the first go around the Market, but she’d waved him off, already tapping on her phone. He figured she was updating Pepper on the ‘werewolf situation,’ along with the fact that they’d already sold three clockwork mood readers, one pepper-up potion, and a half dozen calming tea bombs. Altogether, not bad for the first hour, as everyone was scoping out each other’s shops.

Tony was just taking note of some very interesting flower crowns that the stall purveyors said warded against fae influence when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it back out slowly, counting to ten. He didn’t want to let on that he was distressed—Rhodey had always said that the way his scent went sour with anxiety made most betas jumpy as they searched out who was distressing him, so they could point them out to the nearest alpha. When he’d argued that that was the beta response to any omega in distress, Rhodey had just shaken his head, and Pepper had put a hand on his shoulder and very kindly told him, ‘no, it’s literally worse than most omegas, probably because of how powerful your magic is.’ When he’d gone to May, Maria, and Natasha for backup, they’d all just sort of… sympathetically winced and told him that he wouldn’t be getting it, because it really was that bad.

He opened his eyes again, gaze darting back and forth and not finding anything. He was probably just overreacting to a familiar smell, or sound, or… something that anyone could have done. Just because he’d had a fear response didn’t mean that he was being stalked. He was fine. None of the nearby betas had noticed anything, so he wasn’t giving off distress signals, so everything was fine. It was.

Still. He turned and very carefully began making his way back to his own stall, just on the off chance that he was wrong. He wasn’t, he reminded himself sternly. But just in case he was, it would be best if he was at his own stall, with a familiar beta, one who knew him and his past. One who knew what lurked behind sharp smiles and casual touches, eyes with nothing behind them except greed and cruelty. Natasha had never had to pick up his broken pieces, but he knew that Rhodey had whispered to the other adult members of the coven when Tony wasn’t around, just in case they needed to step in and protect him from his past mistakes.

“Tony,” a familiar voice said, one that still sometimes slipped into his nightmares, and Tony froze as a hand clapped onto his shoulder. “What a surprise to see you here.”

It wasn’t, because Tony came to most Markets, and every witch on the eastern seaboard knew it. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to snap like he wanted to, to shove the hand off, to even step away. He remembered the way the hand on his shoulder had curled in his hair and thrown him to the ground, the way it wrapped around his arm and broke it, the way it had wrapped around his throat, once, and Tony had realized he’d die if he stayed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, a lump having formed in his throat.

Tiberius took a step around him, so he was in front of him. He looked just as handsome and dangerous as he always had, smile sharp around the edges. The smile never reached his eyes. Tony wondered if he’d always looked so malicious, and he just hadn’t noticed because of rose-colored glasses, or if the alpha just got extra satisfaction knowing that he scared him.

“Well? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Tiberius asked, smile widening to show off sharp teeth.

Tony closed his mouth and swallowed thickly, unable to take his eyes away from Tiberius’s mouth. It was just another reason he couldn’t imagine being anything other than a witch; being turned into a vampire had been Tiberius’s choice, and he’d gotten even crueler without a heartbeat. Or, he thought with dismay, maybe the heartbeat had been holding him back from being his true self, and Tony had escaped just in the nick of time. He cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but all that came out was whimper when Tiberius tightened his grip—nothing painful, not even a hold he couldn’t break free from, but it felt like a threat, when Tony could still vividly remember that hand closing around his throat for the first and last time.

Then there was a growl, a deep rumble that felt like it shook the ground itself. Tony felt the blood drain from his face. He was probably sending off a scent of anxiety so acrid they could smell it across state lines. He hoped, vainly, that it was just the average alpha getting their dander up, a few barbs thrown around and maybe a spell or two.

The growl grew into a roar, and Tony finally turned to find a huge brown wolf barreling toward them, mouth open and teeth bared. He shrank down to the ground on instinct, less a duck and more a frantic melt to the ground to show submission. The last thing he wanted to do was get gored in a fight he accidentally started. Tiberius put his hands up in defense, but that was as much as Tony saw before the werewolf was on him, tackling him to the ground, hiding the fight with the bulk of his body.

Tony looked around frantically for a beta to step in and stop the fight, but every stall he turned to had a witch with their hands up, eyes on the fight, alphas begging off in face of a stronger opponent. Every beta he saw was carefully standing in front of them, an extra barrier to keep them from joining the fight. He patted around his pockets for his phone, to try and call Natasha to come help, but he remembered, stomach sinking, that he’d taken one look at her tapping away at her own and he’d dumped his in the empty cauldron to avoid any ‘haha’s at his expense so early in the day.

“Tony,” someone said gently, and a hand came down to curl around his bicep, pulling upward to urge him to stand. The grip was so careful, so light, more of an urge than a pull.

Tony jerked to face whoever it was, almost letting out a broken sob when he saw it was Bucky helping him to his feet. “Bucky, we need to—help—”

“Come on,” Bucky said, voice still at that same soothing tone.

Tony found himself relaxing in response, even as he kept glancing back at the giant werewolf attempting to tear the shit out of Tiberius. Tiberius looked like he was holding his own, but only just. He couldn’t bring himself to feel too sorry for him, but it would still be in poor taste to just let him be murdered, probably, especially when he hadn’t even really done anything to him. “But I…”

“I’ll come get Steve once you’re back at your stall,” Bucky promised, hand drifting down from his arm to the small of his back. “The best thing is to get you feeling safe. You were letting off distress signals so bad that betas on the next aisle over were looking around to take care of you.”

Tony flushed with mortification. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as a damsel in distress. It hadn’t been a secret that he and Tiberius had once been sort of an item and they’d ended on bad terms. He’d had to quell (not entirely untrue) rumors about Tiberius being abusive, and (totally untrue) rumors that the reason they’d broken up was because Tiberius had decided to be turned. Tony didn’t care what his partners did with their bodies. He’d just known that eventually, Tiberius would kill him if he allowed him the chance, and it had felt like dodging a bullet when word had gotten back to him that Tiberius was a vampire. Now there would be even more gossip about the two of them, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to fight it again.

Bucky seemed to sense he was experiencing some inner turmoil, because he pressed in closer, used the bulk of his body as a physical warning against the staring crowds as he urged him back to the safety of his stall. “I’ve got you, doll.” He paused, then let out a quiet growl, not threatening, just… a reminder that he was there. “Pretty omega, Stevie and me would never let anything happen to you,” he said under his growl, and Tony wished he meant that in any way other than friendship. At least then people wouldn’t be giving him weird or pitying looks.

Natasha was waiting outside the stall, and somehow that was even more embarrassing. “What happened?” she asked, voice clipped, hand already out to help guide Tony into the relative safety of their booth.

Bucky bared his teeth at her, but when she only bared hers back threateningly, he backed off. His deferment looked like it physically pained him. “Some vampire made him uncomfortable, made him put out distress hormones. Steve’s taking care of the creep.”

“A vampire,” Natasha repeated, expression going sharp and mean for a second before she carefully smoothed it back into the blank mask that Tony personally found even more terrifying. “I see.”

“…You do,” Bucky said in disbelief.

Natasha gave him her best bitch face, which she usually kept reserved for Tony and Clint when they inevitably blew something up. “I see that you and Steve are still cowards is what I mean. He wouldn’t have been threatened if he was part of a triad—or even just had a mate.”

“Whoa?!” Tony exclaimed, flailing at her, and wondered if he should just go home and hide under his bed until he crumbled into dust. It seemed like he should, with the kind of day this was shaping up to be. “Tiberius would be a creep regardless because that’s what he is—a soulless asshole who loves to see me suffer. He’d bother me even if I did have a mate. Or was in a triad,” he added mulishly when Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “Which isn’t going to happen so will you get off my fucking back and tell Bucky to go help Steve?”

“I think Steve should kill him,” Natasha said, at the same time Bucky sputtered, “What do you mean it isn’t going to happen?!”

Tony froze for a moment, thoughts fizzling to a blank halt. He looked up at Bucky, aghast, because now really didn’t feel like the fucking time to talk about his eternal singleness. Steve was still fighting with Tiberius, and while he liked Steve’s odds, he also felt extremely guilty about him having to get into the fight at all. He should have been able to take care of himself or, barring that, gotten a beta or alpha from his own coven to help him. He was putting their werewolf pack in danger by causing the pack alpha and his beta to fight for him.

“It’s not like I’m special or anything,” he finally said, crossing his arms. “You and Steve would help any omega in distress.”

Bucky looked as if Tony had just reached out and slapped him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again, swallowed thickly, then said, “You really believe that, huh?”

Tony scowled a little, confused. “Yeah? You and Steve are kind of stupidly noble. Which I like about you guys!” he added hurriedly when Bucky started to look hurt. “I do! The world could use more alphas and betas like you.”

“You think you’re not special,” Bucky said quietly, shoulders sagging.

Tony blinked at him, confused. He didn’t understand why that was what he’d focused on. “…Is this some sort of pep talk? I’m not really in the mood.”

“You think you’re not special to us,” Bucky amended, and he was starting to look more frustrated than sad. “You think, what—we seek you out and talk to you for hours and keep touching you because we do that for every omega we talk to?”

Tony frowned, brows furrowing together. “Well, I mean, obviously not, but we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open again. He just stared at Tony a moment, as if he’d never really seen him before. Then he turned and left without another word.

Tony stared after him, feeling as if he’d just made a monumental blunder, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. “I shouldn’t have come this year,” he finally said.

“Maybe not,” Natasha agreed, reaching out to carefully curl her fingers under his elbow. She eased him around gently, guiding him to one of the folding chairs she’d set up while he was gone. She allowed the corner of her mouth to quirk up into a smile, probably in an attempt to be comforting. “Too many hormones going on with mating season.”

Maybe that was it, but Tony sincerely doubted it.

.-.

Steve and Bucky didn’t come back for the rest of the Market.

Tony supposed he couldn’t blame them. He’d involved them in a violent altercation with a vampire, and then he’d apparently insulted them. Or something they were trying to do. Natasha kept sighing at him like he was stupid, which wasn’t anything new, except he’d soon gotten texts from Pepper and Rhodey that just said, ‘Oh, Tony.’ Pepper usually saved that for when she found him extremely pitiful, like when he’d crawled into her arms after breaking up with Tiberius. Rhodey had only said it once before, when Tony had shown up in his apartment, a lump in his throat keeping him from admitting his parents were dead and he was alone.

He told himself it didn’t matter, that clearly they were just enamored with each other and reestablishing their mating bonds because of their season. Maybe they were even finally wooing their third. That was fine. It wasn’t a personal slight against him. Bucky had been upset when he’d left, but he’d had to go rescue his alpha mate from a fight with a vampire, so. So.

So why did it feel like he’d made a terrible mistake? It’s not like they could have been together anyway. Werewolves did not mate with non-werewolves, and he would not give up being a witch. They wouldn’t work anyway. Werewolves liked to roam, and witches had to stay grounded in one place. He’d only hold them back.

“You’re sure you don’t need any help packing the rest up?” Happy asked skeptically as they loaded the last of the wares that didn’t meld well with technology into the wagon. “I can unbuckle the horses.”

“I can do it myself,” Tony answered, placing one last lithium-lined cauldron into the back of the wagon. Apparently, its conductivity helped with potions that affected the brain; he’d been given it by a pharmaceutical coven to recreate a potion to see if it would alter results if a known potion-professional used it. “It’s just some of the less-volatile potions and all the clockwork stuff. You already helped with the heavy lifting.”

“Natasha helped, you mean,” Happy grumbled to himself, because Natasha had moved all the heavy stuff while he and Tony had gotten some enchanted coffee and then promptly fucked right off before they could yell at her about possibly throwing her back out moving stuff by herself.

Tony shrugged, unconcerned, because if she got hurt, she’d have to deal with Pepper. He figured that was punishment enough, having been in the position to deal with that himself before. “Besides, you should get going. It’ll take you longer to get home. I want you to be there by the time I get back so that you can see the kids’ faces when I tell them how well their stuff went over with the crowd.”

“Well,” Happy huffed, but he couldn’t keep the fondness off his face or out of his voice. “Alright, but only because I want to see Peter’s reaction when you tell him that the pharmaceutical covens were really excited about his spiderweb substitute. If any alphas get fresh with you, tase ‘em,” he added sternly. “Natasha slipped a taser into your jacket pocket before she left.”

“Of course,” Tony sighed, because of course she did. Then he noticed the hairy eyeball Happy was giving him and added, “Yes, okay, I will, you mother hen.”

“Someone’s gotta mother your dumb ass,” Happy muttered, but he pulled him into a tight hug anyway. “See you at home.”

“See you, Hap,” Tony answered, giving him a clap on the back before they released each other. He watched Happy climb onto the wagon and give the reins a snap, waving when Happy gave him one last concerned glance. He waited until Happy was well on his way down the road before he turned back to his stall with a sigh.

There really wasn’t much left. He’d been actively trying to dawdle, if he allowed himself to admit it, and Happy had been kind enough not to call him on it. He’d been hoping that Steve and Bucky would come say goodbye. But they were still in the midst of mating season. They were probably busy. Besides, just because they’d come to say goodbye at every previous Market didn’t mean that things didn’t change. He’d probably see them the next time they came to circle the lake near the mansion. It was fine.

He walked over to the table with all of his clockwork mood readers spread out over it and dragged over a box, carefully wrapping each one in an enchanted piece of tissue to keep them charmed from breaking before he placed them inside. His fingers lingered on one that he’d always insisted was a dog, but all of his friends had known was absolutely a wolf. Then he sighed, lifting it up and turning the key to wind it before carefully setting it back on the table.

The toy worked just as he’d designed it to, the wolf’s head tipping up in a soundless howl and then falling back to face forward again. Its tail wagged from side to side with each faintly musical click of the cogs inside of it. Tony watched the jewel on its back begin to go from clear to swirling with color, reading his emotions from his touch on the key.

“Orange,” he sighed when it settled, frowning. It was like he’d expected, though—unsettled, nervous, mixed emotions. He still felt like he’d said something wrong to Bucky when he’d left. And they’d never come back to check on him after he went and got Steve, so Tony hadn’t had a chance to ask about it. As he watched, wisps of red and black began licking at the edges—fear, anxiety, stress. Like a toy boat being swept up into the rushing tide of a white-water river, wondering where exactly his misstep had been that had caused his current dilemma.

Tony reached out and slammed the toy onto its side so the jewel went dormant again, colors disappearing with a dull pulse of orange-red-black. He thought about chucking it for good measure, but that wouldn’t make him feel better, and he knew it. He sighed and picked it up again, pulling the key free and dropping it in with the others in their plastic tub, quickly disappearing in the piles of gold-silver-copper. He wished his feelings could disappear as easily.

Well. He wasn’t doing anything but moping and avoiding the teasing he would inevitably suffer back home. Procrastinating wouldn’t keep the teasing from happening, anyway—it would just give everyone more time to think up ammunition. Or worse, everyone would worry, because Natasha hadn’t been subtle about her texting after he’d sat down, and Happy had patted him down as soon as he’d arrived to check for injuries. He sighed and went back to wrapping the toys, whispering protective spells to the particularly fragile ones and giving stern talking-tos to the ones that had gotten a little too much attitude from Dum-E in the workshop.

He was just telling a particularly stubborn mouse toy that just because he had given it a working clockwork mouth to pretend to eat its copper cheese, that did not mean it needed to bite people that made children angry (think about how much trouble a child could get in for it doing so!), when a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He screamed bloody murder immediately in response.

“Oh my god,” Steve yelped, yanking his hand back as Tony spun to face him.

Tony was not sorry, even when he saw that Bucky had hidden behind Steve with his hands over his ears. “Why would you do that after what happened with Tiberius? I’m not apologizing.”

“Oh my god,” Steve repeated weakly, and it looked like he really wished he had covered his ears as well.

“I’m not apologizing,” Tony said, louder, in case Steve couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. “Feel lucky I’m not part banshee like Pepper.” Steve looked horrified, so he must have heard him. He looked back down at the mouse he’d been wrapping, muttering a spell to protect its delicate tail before he put it in the box. He wasn’t going to be idle in front of them. It might invite a conversation. He did not want to have one.

“So—” Bucky began, hesitantly pulling his hands from his ears. “We, um. We wanted to talk.”

“Well, I’ve still got things to pack, so don’t be offended that I’m still working,” Tony replied, not looking back up at him. Stronger men had backed down in the face of his casual dismissal.

“Bucky said that you thought that we treated all omegas the way we treat you,” Steve said, charging onward despite his chilly reception.

Tony couldn’t help but drop his hands to the table to lean on them, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping before he could stop it. Of course Steve either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care that he didn’t want to talk. He’d always admired that about him, except when it came to bite him in the ass like this. “Okay.”

“You think you’re not special to us,” Steve continued, ignoring him. “But the fact of the matter is you are. We’ve literally been courting you since we saw you. Tony, we left a fucking elk on your porch.”

“You think we leave elks on just anyone’s porch?” Bucky asked mulishly, crossing his arms. “Because we don’t.”

Tony sighed, unable to keep the smile playing at his lips at bay as he finally looked back up at them. “Do you understand that I am not a werewolf? I’m a witch. That means—”

“We know you’re not a werewolf, otherwise you would have been able to smell our interest the entire time!” Steve exclaimed, frustrated.

“—that the dead elk on my doorstep could have been seen as a threat.”

Steve and Bucky blinked at him, absolutely stunned, before Bucky just howled, “Noooooo!”

“You’re shitting me,” Steve said, like he had at the beginning of the Market, as Bucky threw himself onto the ground to roll angrily in the dirt. “You saw it as a threat?”

Tony watched Bucky moan in frustration into the dirt for a little longer. He figured that he deserved it. Then he dragged his gaze back up to Steve. “I saw it as you guys thinking I’m too skinny, which was also offensive, but didn’t make me fear for my life.”

“You are too skinny,” Steve said, dismay fading to confusion.

Tony stared at him, mouth dropping open. He was too stunned for outrage, but it was there, simmering under the surface.

“It’s an alpha thing,” Bucky rushed to tell him, hurrying to his feet and ramming his elbow into Steve’s gut. “Shut up, Steve.”

“Why?” Steve wheezed.

“God I hate alphas so much you’d be useless without us,” Bucky hissed, clearly considering elbowing him again. He decided to instead turn his attention back to Tony, looking pained. “You’re not too skinny.”

“Thanks. I think,” Tony replied, ignoring Steve muttering about how all omegas should eat more, especially witches who had to physically exert themselves to keep their younger coven members from blowing up their house. “But that doesn’t change the fact that even if I did understand that you were… flirting with me,” he said, trying not to sound too judgmental, because they had left the entire elk on his front step and it had taken him, Carol, and Rhodey to move it. “We just simply won’t work.”

Steve and Bucky both stopped talking to just… stare at him. He couldn’t really parse the expressions on their faces. They were doing that thing he always mentally called ‘wolf-watching,’ taking in everything they were seeing as if under a microscope. It was almost as if they were looking at him like he was a prey animal, and they were trying to figure out if he was a safe target or if they should find something else to sink their teeth into.

“Why,” Bucky finally said, not a question, but not quite a demand, either.

Tony blinked, frowning, because he’d thought it was obvious, but they… really looked like they had no idea. He let his fingers trail over the table until they curled under the edge of it to ground himself, then carefully answered, “Well, because werewolves don’t mate with non-wolves. And I don’t want to be turned. I want to keep being a witch.”

Steve and Bucky continued to wolf-watch him, considering. Steve worked his jaw a few times before he finally answered, “That’s… not a rule, Tony. Lots of wolfpacks have non-werewolf mates in them.”

“…I’ve never seen one,” Tony said, trying not to sound too defensive.

“They typically don’t travel a lot,” Bucky explained carefully, as if trying not to piss him off, which made him think he’d failed at swallowing his defensiveness. “Traveling is a bonding exercise. The pack travels together. Wolfpacks that are just werewolves don’t have to worry about pace or distance. Wolfpacks that have non-werewolves have to worry about leaving weaker members behind, or being outpaced by stronger ones that won’t have the pack instinct to wait.”

“Also it’s just… easier to mate between packs?” Steve added, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “We know how we court other werewolves already. Courting outside of that, well… we left an elk on your porch. We thought you would like the antlers for spells or potions or something,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

Tony’s heart swelled even as he told himself to calm down, not get his hopes up, because who knew if they would work anyway, so different as they were. “I used the antlers,” he managed to say, and Steve immediately brightened up. “Also please stop calling the front steps of my mansion a porch.”

“We don’t really know what a porch is,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Our Brooklyn apartments had fire escapes at best.”

“Of course,” Tony answered, at a loss for anything else.

“We’re happy that you’re a witch, and we wouldn’t ask you to turn if you didn’t want to. Being turned is a massive step,” Steve continued to explain. “We never intended for you to think it was required.”

“Oh, well,” Tony said lamely, shoulders falling. He felt embarrassed, even as he also felt like he shouldn’t—he hadn’t known he was being courted, and they had apparently not known he wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Or it was all of theirs. He suddenly understood his coven’s mocking eyerolls and the way the rest of Steve and Bucky’s pack sighed in frustration.

“Bucky said you thought a triad wouldn’t happen,” Steve added after a moment. “He was too upset to stick around and ask why. Then the medicine Strange gave him kicked in, and he slept for three days.”

“It shouldn’t have knocked you out for three days,” Tony said, looking at Bucky.

Bucky threw his hands up in dismay. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m honestly impressed that either of you two are still alive,” Tony continued. From some of the things he’d heard about in the supernatural circles, it was a miracle they’d survived to adulthood—a miracle which could be firmly laid at the feet of their mothers.

Steve squinted at him. “Are you avoiding the question?”

“No, I just need you two to be aware that I think you’re stupid,” Tony answered firmly. “I don’t know what he gave you, but I know that you shouldn’t have been out for three days.”

“Can we talk about why you think you wouldn’t be part of a triad?” Bucky asked, before he could get really worked up.

Tony gave him a look promising to scold him some more later. And maybe he’d even tattle to Strange at their monthly tea parties. Still, though, he answered, “Well, even if me being a witch would work, I’m all kidded out.”

“…Kidded… out?” Steve repeated slowly, as if he’d never heard the term. Then again, he was a werewolf, so maybe he hadn’t—most wolf packs always had a set of pups, ever year, even if it wasn’t the same mating pair each time.

Tony motioned at some of the things he’d packed that had been the offerings of the younger witchlings. “Yeah, like… kidded out. You only have to be kicked into a wall once to decide you don’t want anymore kids, let alone glued to a ceiling.”

“I want, so badly, to ask why you were glued to a ceiling,” Bucky breathed, then shook his head, trying to ground himself back in the conversation. “No! Tony, are you saying you think we don’t want you because you don’t want pups?!”

“…Children…” Tony said after a moment, grimacing a little.

Steve and Bucky rolled their eyes. “Children, then,” Bucky corrected, sighing. “You’re saying you think we don’t want you because we expect you to pop out babies?”

“Will you fucking stop talking about it like that oh my god,” Tony hissed, glaring at him. He glanced at Steve sharply when he noticed him shifting from foot to foot. “What?”

Steve ducked his head mulishly, then let out a little huff, sort of like a defeated sigh but more uncomfortable. “I, ah. Tony, we don’t… want pups.” He worked his jaw while Tony blinked at him, then quietly added, “I can’t have any. I got sick when I was a kid and… ah… well, nothing’s happening down there.”

Tony couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up his forehead, eyes darting down to Steve’s crotch and then back up to his face. “Nothing?”

“He’s just shooting blanks,” Bucky explained hastily. “No viable sperm. Everything else works.”

“Oh,” Steve said, surprised, as Tony visibly sagged in relief. “No, yeah, I can still knot and everything, I’m just never gonna get a biological child.”

“I can have kids,” Bucky added, putting a hand on his chest. “But I have enough sisters that I’ll probably have little nieces and nephews for the next fifteen years, so I don’t really need any of my own, so I’d be fine getting the snip.”

Tony raised his eyebrows at him, unable to help his disbelief. “You would.”

“If it means having you, of course,” Bucky replied, shrugging.

Tony stared at him, speechless. He glanced back at Steve, then took a step back, overwhelmed. “Why?” he finally asked, at a loss.

“We’re werewolves, Tony,” Steve answered, smiling a little, wry along the edges. “We’re kind of known for our loyalty. From what we’ve seen of you and your coven… you’re kind of a match in that aspect, aren’t you?”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, remembering all the times he’d swooped in to rescue part of his coven without a second thought to his own safety—Natasha, whose secrets had secrets, but he hadn’t let that stop him from taking her in and then accepting her sister-who-was-not-a-sister; Clint, who unapologetically brought in strays, who put cupid to shame with his magic arrows; Carol, who still sometimes had bouts of amnesia that made her irritable and waspish in turns; May and Peter, still reeling from Ben’s death but healing with a support system under them. Danger had followed them, and Tony, the head of his coven, had protected them regardless of what that danger had revealed.

“And that’s what you like about me?” Tony asked quietly.

Steve took a step in, but Bucky held his hand up, so he stopped, allowing him to take the lead. “Not just that,” Bucky assured him, reaching out to carefully place his hand on top of Tony’s. “It’s more than that. You’re so clever, and strong, and fierce. You won’t let yourself be walked over by any alpha or beta, but if they come to you respectfully, you’re happy to listen to them. You go out of your way to help people, even when maybe they don’t deserve it. You’re so generous, Tony. Whoever you decide to mate with, they’ll be so lucky to have you.”

Tony swallowed thickly, staring at Bucky’s hand gently cradling his own. It felt too good to be true, like he was asleep, and he’d wake up any minute. It couldn’t be as simple as a misunderstanding, could it? Nothing ever was. Not for him.

“Tony?” Steve added, finally coming closer. “Will you give us a chance? I promise we won’t leave anymore elk on your por—your front steps? Just antlers.”

Tony tipped his head back to sigh, because if he didn’t, he’d start laughing instead. Monica had screamed bloody murder when she’d gone to get the newspaper and found an entire elk bleeding out onto the cement. He couldn’t imagine how any of the kids would react if they found mysterious antlers instead. “Please don’t just leave anything on my front steps. Knock and someone will let you in.”

“We’re allowed to knock?” Steve asked, perking up with excitement. “We can come in?!”

Tony took his hand from beneath Bucky’s so he could bury his face in his palms. Apparently, they had more misunderstandings to figure out.