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Dynamics

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Okay. He's still alive, and the suit's online. Bitchin'. Now to see who else made it. Tony winces, and sits up carefully. "Jarvis, where are we?"

"I have not the faintest idea, sir. However, the atmosphere is safe to breathe."

"Awesome." He pops the face plate and looks around. "Guys?" They seem to have ended up in some kind of... department store? The fuck? There's a table covered in what looks like dog collars next to him, and the biggest racks of perfume he's ever seen outside of a Sephora. Or maybe this is a Sephora, and dog collars are just in this year. Either way, not what a guy is expecting when he falls through a dimensional rift. "Hey!" There's no sign of the others and Tony does his best not to panic. "Cap? Katniss? Somebody, come on!" It'd be just like him to lose the whole fucking team right when things were getting good. He feels perilously close to tears, and takes a deep breath to stop that from happening.

"Tony?" Steve sounds like shit, but it's still a profound relief to hear him. Tony goes clanking toward the sound, leaving craters in the floor. Steve is around the other end of the perfume rack, and he looks dazed, leaning on it. "Tony!" And yeah, Steve can be kinda like an over-sized golden retriever puppy, but he's usually less obvious than this. He heaves himself fully upright and then throws his arms around Tony's neck and actually fucking licks his face. The really weird part is how good it feels. A lot of the tension just kind of flows out of Tony. He sighs, and absently wipes his face on Steve's shoulder.

"Come on, I don't know where anybody else is."

"Any idea where we are?" He keeps one arm around Tony, absently possessive. It's nothing he hasn't done before, but there's a strange weight to this, and he just keeps doing it, even as they make their way to the aisle.

"Parallel-universe Sephora, near as I can tell." And it is definitely parallel-universe, between the mass amounts of perfume, the dog collars, and the sheer amount of cosmetics intended for men.

"This is the weirdest store I've ever seen," Steve mutters. "Why is there all that ad copy about heat over the winter coats?"

"I have no idea, though that pink lipstick over there would look amazing on you. Oh, thank fuck." He waves to Natasha, who comes to join them. She takes a moment to actually touch Tony's face and look into his eyes, which is practically a loving kiss on the mouth when Natasha's in work mode. Why the fuck is everyone being so mushy? She and Steve just share a Look, though. They find Bruce under another table, this one covered in shirts with necklines that are bizarrely low in the back. He crawls out and blinks at them, dazed and presumably hungry, pants barely hanging onto his hips. He is fucking adorable, and takes Steve's weird face-licking like a man.

"Fuck, why am I doing that?"

"Why are you doing that?" Tony agrees. "You too, Natasha." She's actually nuzzling him a little, snuffling gently at the skin just behind his ear. It feels good, but it's unusual.

"I don't know." Steve sighs, reluctantly letting go of Bruce.

"Friends, we are changed!" Thor calls, blundering through the racks of coats to reach them.

"My sense of smell does seem... sharper," Natasha says, stepping back.

"It is more than that, I fear. I cannot be certain, but I believe our very natures have been somehow shifted in line with this place."

"Fine, but where's Clint?"

The question seems to grip all three of them, and Tony and Bruce find themselves tagging along on a desperate search. They want to find Clint too, but the others are getting more than a little crazy by the time Clint finally comes up an escalator, looking deeply confused.

"Guys?"

"Clint!" Steve fucking charges, scooping Clint up into his arms and holding him tightly.

"Steve? What the fuck, man?" He wriggles until he can see Steve's face better.

"We were worried," he says softly, and kisses Clint. Now, Clint's work mode is about as good as Natasha's, so even weirder than Steve kissing him on the clock is the way Clint just shivers and melts.

"All right, what the hell is going on?" Bruce mutters, rubbing his eyes. "Something is off here."

Thor and Natasha both zero in on Steve and Clint, and suddenly all three of them are literally snarling at each other, white teeth showing like they really do want to bite. Clint wriggles free and runs over to Tony, hiding behind him and then wrapping his arms around him, clinging.

"Rogers, Odinson, Romanov!" Fury barks, striding toward them. "Stop this high school shit immediately and report!"

It's enough to snap all three of them out of it, but then Steve blushes. "Does anyone else—"

"Notice that Director Fury smells strangely good? Yes." Natasha looks deeply perturbed. "Your scent is usually fairly pleasant, sir, but…"

"Did I not tell you to cease this high school shit immediately? I've only been an Omega my entire life."