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A domestic evening

The Spoiled Treasure of the 107th

The morning sun hit the penthouse with a blinding clarity that felt almost too bright for the soft, hazy world Tony had been living in. He woke up slowly, his body feeling heavy and well-used, tucked firmly between the silken sheets and the radiating heat of his Alpha. Steve was already awake, sitting propped up against the headboard with a newspaper in his hand—an old habit he refused to give up, despite Tony having built him the most advanced digital interfaces in the world. Steve didn't want a hologram; he wanted the smell of ink and the crinkle of paper.

In the armchair by the window, Bucky was nursing a cup of black coffee, his metal arm gleaming in the light. The two alphas were talking in low, rumbling tones about some old boxing match from the forties, their voices a comforting drone that made Tony feel like he was wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

Tony stirred, shifting his weight, and immediately felt the heavy weight of Steve’s hand drop onto his hip.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," Steve rumbled, not even looking down from his paper. His thumb traced a slow, possessive circle over the silk of Tony’s pajamas. "You slept late. Guess that little show you put on for us last night really took it out of ya."

Tony’s face flushed a delicate pink. He sat up slowly, keeping the duvet pulled tight around his chest, his eyes downcast. "Good morning, Steve. Good morning, Mr. Barnes. I... I'm sorry I overslept. I should have been up to make your breakfast."

Bucky let out a soft huff of a laugh, leaning his head back against the chair. "Don't sweat it, doll. Stevie here made some eggs. Tastes like sawdust compared to yours, but it kept us alive. You just stay there and look pretty. You earned the rest."

"He did, didn't he?" Steve added, finally folding his paper and looking down at Tony with a sleazy, satisfied grin. He reached out and caught Tony’s chin, tilting his head up. "You look real sweet when you’re all drowsy and rumpled, Tony. Like a little bird in a nest."

Tony leaned into the touch, his inner omega purring at the attention. "Thank you, Alpha. You're very kind to me."

"I’m more than kind, sweetheart. I’m generous," Steve said, his Brooklyn accent thick and boastful. He leaned in, nipping at Tony’s earlobe. "Now, why don't you go get washed up? Me and Buck got things to discuss, and I want you lookin' sharp for lunch."

Tony nodded obediently and scurried off to the bathroom. He took his time, scrubbing his skin until it glowed and dressing in the clothes Steve had laid out for him the night before—a soft, oversized cashmere sweater in a pale cream color and fitted leggings that made him look small and vulnerable. He brushed his hair until it was soft and messy, just the way Steve liked it, and then he spent a long time staring at the door.

He had a request. A real request. And the thought of it made his stomach do nervous little flip-flops.

He emerged from the bedroom twenty minutes later, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. He walked into the living area where Steve and Bucky were now huddled over a map on the coffee table, looking every bit the soldiers they once were. Tony stopped a few feet away, hovering in the doorway, his heart racing.

Steve noticed him first. He didn't say anything at first, just watched Tony with a narrowed, predatory gaze. "You're hoverin', Tony. Something on your mind?"

Tony jumped slightly, his eyes darting to Bucky and then back to the floor. "I... I didn't want to interrupt, Alpha. I can wait."

"You're already interruptin' by standin' there lookin' like a nervous wreck," Bucky teased, though his voice was warm. He set his coffee cup down and turned his full attention to the omega. "Come on, doll. Out with it. You look like you're about to jump outta your skin."

Tony stepped forward, his steps small and hesitant. He stopped just in front of Steve, his head bowed so low his chin almost touched his chest. "Steve? I... I was wondering... if it would be alright... if I used the account today?"

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "The account? You mean the one I set up for your 'allowance'?"

"Yes, Alpha," Tony whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I wanted to buy something. If you'll let me."

Steve looked over at Bucky, a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. "Hear that, Buck? My little omega wants to go on a spendin' spree. What's the matter, sweetheart? Not enough diamonds in the safe? You want a new car? A gold-plated toaster?"

Tony shook his head frantically, his face turning a deep, embarrassed red. "No! No, nothing like that. I... I just wanted some new books. To read while you're busy."

Bucky chuckled, leaning forward. "Books? That's what's got you shakin' like a leaf? What kind of books, Tony? Some of that complicated science junk you used to fill your head with?"

Tony bit his lip, his fidgeting intensifying. "No, Mr. Barnes. Steve said... Steve said those books were too stressful for me. That they made my head ache and kept me from focusin' on my duties. I just wanted... there's a new series of illustrated fables. And maybe a book about gardening? The ones with the big pictures."

The room went silent for a beat. Steve and Bucky exchanged a look—a look of pure, unadulterated paternalistic amusement. To them, Tony’s descent into simplicity was the ultimate proof of their success. He had gone from designing weapons of mass destruction to wanting picture books and gardening guides.

Steve reached out suddenly, grabbing Tony’s waist and pulling him firmly between his knees. Tony let out a small gasp, his hands instinctively landing on Steve’s massive shoulders for balance.

"Look at you," Steve said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly drawl that always made Tony’s knees weak. "You’re actually nervous askin' me for a few storybooks? You think I’m gonna say no to my good boy when he wants a little treat?"

"I... I didn't want to be greedy," Tony murmured, his eyes shimmering. "I know I already have so much."

"Greedy?" Bucky barked out a laugh, standing up and walking over to join them. He reached out and ruffled Tony’s hair, his metal hand surprisingly gentle. "Doll, you’re an omega. You’re our omega. You’re supposed to be greedy. That’s the whole point of havin' an Alpha—to give you everythin' your little heart desires."

Steve nodded, his grip on Tony’s waist tightening possessively. "Buck’s right. Back in Brooklyn, if a man’s omega had to ask twice for a trinket, that man wasn't worth his salt. You don't ever have to be scared to ask me for things, Tony. Especially not somethin' as sweet and innocent as some books."

Tony looked up, his expression one of pure, adoring relief. "So... I can get them? The ones with the gold foil on the covers?"

"You can get the whole damn bookstore if it makes you smile like that," Steve rumbled, his thumb stroking the soft skin of Tony’s stomach where his sweater had ridden up. "But listen to me, Tony. I don't want you just buyin' books. I want you to go online and find somethin' real nice. Somethin' expensive. A new watch, maybe some silk robes. I saw a pair of slippers lined with ermine that’d look real cute on those tiny feet of yours."

"But Alpha, I don't need—"

"I didn't ask what you need, sweetheart," Steve interrupted, his tone sharpening with that effortless dominance. "I told you what I want. I want my omega lookin' like he’s the most cherished thing in this city. When people see you—even if it’s just the delivery guy—I want 'em to know that Steve Rogers spends every dime he’s got makin' sure you’re spoiled rotten. Understand?"

Tony swallowed hard, his heart swelling with a sense of being protected and valued that he still couldn't quite get used to. "Yes, Alpha. I understand. I’ll... I’ll find something very expensive. To show everyone how well you take care of me."

"That's my boy," Steve said, leaning forward to press a firm, lingering kiss to Tony’s forehead. "Now, give me that tablet. I’m gonna authorize the purchases myself. I want to see what you’re pickin' out."

Tony scurried to fetch the device, his movements light and happy. He brought it back and knelt on the floor at Steve’s feet, leaning his head against Steve’s knee while the Alpha scrolled through the shopping cart.

"Fables of the Green Forest?" Steve read aloud, a smirk playing on his lips. "And 'The Little Omega’s Guide to Home Comforts'. Real stimulatin' stuff, Tony."

Bucky peered over Steve’s shoulder, a sleazy glint in his blue eyes. "Hey, look at this one, Steve. 'The Language of Flowers'. That suits him. He can learn what all the flowers mean and then he can tell us while he’s servin' us dinner."

"Perfect," Steve agreed, hitting the 'buy' button with a flourish. "But you only picked out three things, Tony. That ain't a spree. That’s a snack. Buck, what do you think? Does he need that sapphire necklace we saw in the catalog yesterday?"

Bucky hummed, his gaze raking over Tony’s throat, where the silver collar sat nestled against his skin. "I think the sapphires would match his eyes when he’s lookin' all shy. And maybe that velvet lounge suit. The one in deep plum. He’d look like a little prince in that."

Tony’s face was a permanent shade of crimson now. "Alphas, please... it’s too much. I won't have anywhere to wear a sapphire necklace."

Steve let out a dark, booming laugh, reaching down to tilt Tony’s face up once more. "You’ll wear it right here, sweetheart. For me and Buck. You’ll wear it while you’re cookin' our breakfast and you’ll wear it while you’re curled up in my lap at night. You’re my treasure, Tony. And treasures are meant to be decked out in jewels."

"You hear that, doll?" Bucky added, leaning down so his face was level with Tony’s. "You aren't a slave. You’re a prize. And a prize needs to be polished. You spend that money. You spend it until your thumb gets tired of clickin'. If I see you walkin' around here in anythin' that cost less than a grand, I’m gonna think Steve’s gettin' lazy."

Steve snorted, playfully shoving Bucky’s shoulder. "Like I’d ever be lazy with what’s mine. Go on, Tony. Back to the bedroom. I want you to find at least ten more things before lunch. And make sure they’re pretty. Nothin' practical. I don't want to see a single screwdriver or circuit board on that list. Just pretty, soft things for my pretty, soft omega."

Tony felt a rush of pure, submissive bliss. He leaned up, pressing a shy kiss to Steve’s cheek and then, with a hesitant glance at Steve for permission, a quick kiss to Bucky’s jaw.

"Thank you, Alphas," Tony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll find the prettiest things in the world. I promise."

"Good boy," Steve rumbled, swatting Tony’s rear lightly as he turned to go. "Now get movin'. Me and Buck got a lot of talkin' to do, and I want to hear the sound of those packages bein' ordered."

As Tony retreated to the bedroom, his mind already spinning with images of silk, velvet, and gold-leafed stories, he heard Steve and Bucky break into easy laughter behind him.

"He’s so easy to please, Steve," Bucky said, his voice full of genuine affection. "You really got the best one of the bunch. Shakin' over a book about flowers. It’s damm adorable."

"I told ya, Buck," Steve replied, his voice brimming with that thick, Brooklyn pride. "He just needed someone to show him that he didn't have to carry the world on his shoulders. Now he just carries my mark and a whole lot of expensive jewelry. And look at him—he’s never been happier."

"Damn straight," Bucky agreed. "The way it’s supposed to be."

Tony sat on the edge of the large, plush bed, the tablet in his lap. He felt safe. He felt cherished. He felt like a tiny, delicate thing kept in a golden cage, and for the first time in his life, he didn't want to find the key. He just wanted to be Steve’s good boy, forever and always. He began to scroll, his finger hovering over a set of hand-painted porcelain tea cups, a small, happy smile gracing his lips as he prepared to spoil himself exactly the way his Alphas demanded.