Chapter Text
“Meow. Meow. Meow meow meow.”
“Please stop.”
“Miaaaaaaooowwww.”
“Don’t you have any self-respect, Tony?”
“Miaaoww.”
“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go.”
Clint dug a spoon into his ice cream and said, “I thought you would have years of built up immunity against such tactics by now. All that took was five minutes of meowing.”
Tony tugged Rhodey by the arm towards the elevator. “It’s because he wants to go as well. He just needed an excuse to give in.”
“I just didn’t want you to escalate,” Rhodey corrected.
“Pshaww, as if as you aren’t used to dealing with my escalations,” Tony said with an airy handwave, before rubbing his wrist against the frame of the elevator door, as if the common area wasn’t saturated enough with his scent.
Rhodey rolled his eyes. “That is not a thing to be proud of.”
“I’m proud of anything involving you, Featherfluff,” Tony said, dragging Rhodey into the elevator and giving Clint a jaunty wave.
They could hear Clint muttering as the elevator doors closed. “Cats…why are they so strange?”
The car trip was mostly spent with Rhodey grumbling and Tony turning up the music so he could pretend that he couldn’t hear all the grumbling. By the time they arrived at their destination, Cold Hearted Man by AC/DC was blaring from the car windows and Rhodey was tapping a finger along to the music but still pretending to be grumpy for form’s sake. He couldn’t fool Tony; after so many years of friendship, they both knew all of each other’s little tics. Tony slung an arm around Rhodey’s shoulders, making sure to rub a wrist against Rhodey’s back as they walked into the Javits Center.
“Don’t be so mad, you know you’ll end up enjoying yourself. You love car shows,” Tony said, dropping his arm after Rhodey shot him a look at the scent-marking.
They both stopped for a moment at the entrance, looking around the wide, high-ceilinged space filled from end-to-end with beautiful cars on display and people of all ages walking the floor. There were large LED signs of the car brands fighting for the attention of the visitors and all manner of interactive displays for family fun, including virtual reality set-ups and little cars for kids to drive round a mini race track. The well-dressed spokespeople and attractive models hovered around their vehicles, promoting their cars to the visitors and journalists. People were peering into the engines of the cars that had their hoods popped up, many examining the cars from the inside, and countless more were taking selfies with everything.
Tony loved it. There were plenty of private car shows for the rich and famous, exclusive events where people with something to prove paraded around outrageous cars and drank champagne as they tried to outdo each other in the art of spending money. But Tony hated those events, always felt like the Very Important People were as much on show as the cars. In a messy crowd like this, in the middle of New York’s International Auto Show, he felt like he could be just one more person among the thousands. Sure, he would be recognized, he might even be asked for a photo and an autograph, but in a place like this, the people were going to walk by you more often than not. They were here for the cars, not the Tony Stark show.
Even Rhodey’s annoyed front was thawing at the sight of all the shiny automobiles on display and he huffed out in delayed reply to Tony’s statement, “I do like car shows. But I don’t like going to car shows with you.”
Tony patted the feathers on Rhodey’s wrists back down, trying to soothe him. “I don’t know why you would say such a hurtful thing,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit hurt. “I’m the funnest at car shows.”
“Only if you consider watching you get into arguments with the sales people for upselling the car specs or not admitting flaws in their designs fun. And you’ll modify the insides of any car you buy to the point where I’ll find myself sitting in what I think is a normal car only for you to drive into a lake to demonstrate its new submarine function, without warning me.”
By the end of that complaint, Rhodey was shooting Tony a sideways look, the small brown plumage around his neck flared out in memory at that surprise Tony had sprung on him. A rabbit shifter dodged out of their way, nose twitching like crazy. Everyone bore characteristics of their animal form in different ways and Rhodey’s was only visible in the feathers around his neck and wrists, which were looking distinctly ruffled. Tony sighed and reached up towards the feathers on Rhodey’s neck only to have his hand batted away.
“You’re scaring the hoppitys, Gummybird,” Tony said mildly, steering them through the throngs of people, eyes seeking out the cars that would interest them both.
Rhodey rolled his eyes, settling his feathers down as much as he could. “Remember that hoppity that kicked you in the nuts at M.I.T.?”
Tony winced. “Yeah, I remember, that’s why I don’t want you to scare them. Those bastards can really pack a kick when they’re twitchy.”
“Not as hard a goat,” Rhodey pointed out with fond reminiscence, turning his head to admire a silver Chevrolet Corvette GS.
“Must you bring that up?” Tony grumbled. “Goat shifters are right up there with geese as the prime winning argument of how Domestics can be equal to Wilders when it comes to danger and unpredictability. People always think Bruce got dangerous after he became the Hulk, but he’s a goat shifter. They don’t get that he’s always been dangerous and angry.”
Tony knew he was stereotyping, even if he was mostly joking. He was too aware that the line between Domestics and Wilders was a blurry one, with a lot of gray areas. But there were people who really believed that you could judge a person’s character based on whether that person had a domesticated animal shift or a wild animal shift, for whatever arbitrary measurement of domestication and wildness. People who thought that way had never met the likes of Bruce Banner, considered to be a Domestic what with his goat shift, and also someone who exemplified anger management issues.
“It’s only the backward assholes who think that,” Rhodey said, bumping shoulders with Tony in camaraderie, one of the few people who understood how personal this could be for Tony. But Tony didn’t want to dwell on that today. It looked like Rhodey had finally let go of his earlier mild annoyance, which was good because now they could get some fun started.
Tony shrugged. “True, too bad there are still so many of them in this world.” He paused, looking for a subject change and perking up when his eyes landed on a nearby display. “Oh, look they have the Koenigsegg Agera RS here. Not bad, let’s test out the seats. I want to see how the hardtop is detached.”
The matte black Koenigsegg was low to the ground, sleek but large, like a muscular panther. It deserved a nice and slow inspection, although Tony tried to give off vibes of disinterest as he admired the car’s elegant lines. The salesman, George Something-Or-Other, was well familiar with them from previous car shows and mostly stayed out of their way while Tony prowled around the car and Rhodey messed around with all the buttons inside the car like he was prepping a plane for take-off. They were just getting out of the car after trying out the seats when a familiar scent drifted over to them.
“Tony, hey.”
He looked up and met the bright gaze of Steve Rogers.
Tony almost pitched face first out of the car. He recovered quickly with a couple stumbled steps, before straightening, smoothing down his jacket like nothing had happened.
“Hey, Steve. I didn’t know you were coming to the car show,” Tony said with as much casualness as he could muster.
From beside Steve, Sam said, “Yeah, we totally didn’t know you were here either.”
Tony shot him a look at the strange tone. “Okay?”
Steve interjected rapidly, “Yeah, I didn’t know you would be here. It’s a real surprise. That’s a nice car, do you like it?”
“It’s okay,” Tony said with a shrug, not looking at the car.
Steve smiled. “That means you do.”
Damn, Steve read him too easily these days.
Tony tried to play it off anyway. “It’s too black, more Batman than Iron Man, so I’ll have to think about it. What about you, do you have your eye on anything? I thought you were more a motorbike kind of guy.”
“Like you aren’t a fan of Batman,” Rhodey muttered, but Tony feigned selective deafness.
Steve didn’t push any further, but his pale gold tail wagged once with amusement as he said, “Yeah, you know I am. I’m just curious about how the fancier newfangled cars look nowadays.”
“Nuh uh, your ‘golly gee whiz shucks I’m just a wide-eyed innocent puppy from Brooklyn’ act is not fooling me anymore,” Tony said, waving a finger at him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever said golly gee whiz shucks before,” Steve said with a bark of bright laughter.
“It was always implied,” Tony said with a sniff.
The sniff brought through a clear scent of Steve and Sam. And the scent of Sam on Steve. It wasn’t strong, wasn’t any kind of claim, but it was the scent of people who spent a lot of time together. Tony’s dark gold ears twitched, almost flattened, until he forced them still. But he couldn’t resist reaching out, too deliberately he knew but he couldn’t stop, and rubbing an open palm over Steve’s shoulder, dragging it down his chest and then patting him twice as if that would make it seem more casual.
“So, uh, let’s go for a walkaround, shall we?” Tony said, not caring that it was a non-sequitur.
Tony started walking off and Steve quickly stepped forward to keep up, pale gold ears pricked forward and tail whipping side-to-side so fast it was like he was trying to achieve lift-off butt-first. It was unusual for Steve to be so openly cheerful in public but it was a good look on him. Maybe he really was looking forward to admiring shiny new cars today. Tony hid his smile at the unexpected pleasant company, brushing shoulders with Steve as they kept apace.
“So you guys totally didn’t know we were here, huh?” Rhodey asked Sam from behind them.
“It was a complete surprise,” Sam said in a flat tone. “No one could have possibly told us you were here.”
It was a weird exchange, but Tony was too focussed on brushing up against Steve occasionally with his shoulder while pretending like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Hah, take that, Sam, with his bird scents.
They ended up wandering the car show, not really settling on anything specific, but coming back a couple times to the Koenigsegg. Steve showed mild interest in how fast some of the cars could go because he was a bit of a speed maniac on the streets, but otherwise, seemed happy just chatting with Tony. Behind them, Sam and Rhodey fell back to talking about Scandal which they both watched religiously.
Pretending to admire a gleaming red Aston Martin Valkyrie, Tony watched as Steve feigned interest in the salesman who was obviously a little awestruck that he was talking to Captain America. The salesman rambled on as the feathers on his neck and wrists were flaring up and down, instinctively flashing colorful plumage. The blue-green iridescent feathers were very eye-catching in the sunlight and Tony had to force his tail to stay still so as not to reveal his irritation at the blatant peacocking directed at Steve. Mine, his instincts hissed, but he ignored it in favor of staring sightlessly under the hood of the Valkyrie. This prominent display of interest from the general public was nothing new and he should be used to it by now. None of them had bothered to come in disguise and they had been attracting a few curious looks and some not-so-subtle photography for the last hour. The flirting always came soon after that and he was just going to have to suck it up.
Instead of throwing a literal hissy fit, Tony decided to partake in one of his favorite hobbies; observing Steve while pretending not to be observing Steve. It was always interesting to Tony that Steve seemed so much more controlled and reserved in public, which was unusual for dog shifters. His soft gold ears were in an alert position, and his tail was held high with confidence, but he didn’t wag much when interacting and he kept his smiles mostly small and polite. But when he turned to Tony, like right now, that familiar glimmer of humor was still present in those blue eyes. Oh shit, wait, that was usually a bad sign—
“Gosh, I’m not sure I really understand what all that jargon mean,” Steve said, his ears drooping a little like it was all too confusing for him, like he didn’t spend hours in the garage tinkering under the hood of the 1967 Camaro Tony had gotten for him to restore. “But I’m sure my friend Tony here would be interested to know all the details.”
“Oh, oh, Mister Stark, oh, of course,” the salesman started, eyes lit up when he turned his gaze on Tony, who he hadn’t really registered while he was in his earlier Captain America haze.
Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve from behind his blue shades as he became the new target for the salesman, who was now just realizing that he had a golden opportunity to sell potentially more than one Aston Martin to one of the richest men in the world.
By the time Tony had deftly extracted himself from that sales pitch, they had lost Sam and Rhodey who probably would enjoy the car show better without Tony offering critique on the muscle cars they liked.
“Lunch?” Steve asked, the picture of innocence.
Tony swished his tail slowly a few times, feigning annoyance. “I know what you did there.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“‘Captain America throws Iron Man under the bus’ should be tomorrow’s headlines,” Tony said, marking air quotes in the air with his fingers as he weaved through the throngs of people.
“They don’t call me the man with the plan for nothing,” Steve said solemnly.
That surprised a chuff of laughter out of Tony who shook his head. “Shameless. Completely shameless. What would your fans say?”
Steve tilted his head, thinking about it, before saying, “My real friends would understand going to Iron Man for an assist.”
Flattery would absolutely get Steve anywhere, because Tony wanted to purr at those words. He had to tamp down on an exuberant grin. Instead, in a rare show of restraint, he only smiled and said, “For that, you’re going to let me treat you to lunch. It’ll be something very expensive, unrecognizable, and served in tiny portions.”
“That’s harsh, Tin Man,” Steve said with a sigh.
But Tony noticed that Steve’s tail was now wagging briskly again, a rare sight in public but becoming more commonplace in recent days. Tony tucked his fangs behind his lips as he smiled in delight. “You’ll eat up every overpriced morsel and love every minute of it.”
He wrapped a hand around Steve’s elbow, rubbing his wrist surreptitiously against Steve in the process, and tugged him along. His own tail was swaying with excitement, enjoying the idea of spending the rest of the day out here with Steve.
# # # # # #
They had to split up again when they left the car show because Tony’s car was a two-seater — an Alfa Romeo 4C Coupe which he didn’t really like and only drove it to hear Rhodey complain about its tiny interior — so he couldn’t give Steve and Sam a ride back. Steve had only shrugged and said they had their own transport back anyway. When Tony and Rhodey walked through the door, Rhodey still had his feathers ruffled over an argument he and Sam had been having about some new General in the military and his suitability in that position. Tony had made all the right sounds in all the right places, but he was mostly thinking about how Steve had looked over lunch when a kid had come up to him for an autograph. There was that look of surprised pleasure, followed by adorable concentration as he had drawn a little picture of the boy with a Captain America shield on a napkin before signing it. The scene had been too precious for words.
When they walked into the common area with Rhodey still griping about Sam’s wrong opinions, the place was empty except for Natasha lounging on the bench by the floor-to-ceiling windows, soaking up the sun. She looked up lazily.
“Argument with Sam?” she surmised from the little she heard.
Rhodey and Sam got along really well, bonding over their shared raptor shifts and ability to go flying on a whim. But sometimes, their differing views on the military meant that they had the occasional heated arguments. Everyone was used to it by now.
Sliding into an armchair, Rhodey muttered, “He’s just wrong as usual.”
“I’m sure he is,” Natasha teased in a tone which made it clear that she didn’t believe anything of that sort.
“You don’t even know what we’re arguing about,” Rhodey pointed out with a sideways look.
“But he is very wrong anyway,” Natasha said solemnly, crossing her legs at her ankles and looking for all the world like she was on the beach instead.
Rhodey shook his head but smiled, clearly accepting that he was being lightly mocked. “Damn right he is. He’s a bird with the wrong call sign, what does he know?” It was a common joke between Rhodey and Sam; how Sam’s call sign, named after the EXO-7 Falcon suit, should give Sam identity issues since he wasn’t a falcon shifter.
Tony hasn’t seen Natasha since yesterday so, approaching slowly to give as much forewarning as possible, Tony dragged a light hand over Natasha’s forearm as he walked by. She smiled, pushing her arm against his touch. He was heading to the shared kitchen when he heard the elevator.
The elevator doors were barely open a few inches when a goshawk dived sideways out of the lift and straight for the couch, wings twisting in ways that didn’t seem possible if one didn’t know the goshawk’s reputation. In a blur of feathers and motion, Sam landed on the couch in human form, his shift too fast for the human eye to track. Even if it had been recorded and played back on video, all that would have been visible would have been a smear of colorful shimmer before a human man took the place of a diving bird. There was never any visible transformation, just one form disappearing before another took its place regardless of size difference, and with clothing and accessories all reappearing with the human form. There had been a lot of studies in pocket dimensions in the 80’s, with limited success in replicating the results of what scientists now suspected was Asgardian magic spread across Earth centuries ago.
Sam grinned from the couch when the door to the stairs suddenly swung open and Steve came skidding in.
In his full dog shift, Steve was a magnificent sight. He was much larger than a normal dog or wolf, with sharp angles and strong lines; his fur was a pale silky gold all over, fairer than his blonde hair in his human form. Steve liked to joke that he was a mutt, through and through, but Tony thought he looked amazing, like a golden creature not entirely from this world.
However, right at this moment, Steve in his dog form just looked ridiculous. He had launched himself full tilt from the stairs and had very nearly crashed into the side of the couch. J.A.R.V.I.S. must have opened the door for him in preparation for his dramatic entrance. Not able to slow his momentum, Steve opted instead to leap straight onto the couch, right on top of Sam.
“Hah, no use attacking me, you already lost!” Sam exclaimed, trying to push Steve off.
Steve trampled over Sam with his large paws, ignoring his howls of outrage, and then leapt off the couch on the other side. He stopped in front of Tony, mouth open in a panting grin and blue eyes bright with amusement. His tail was wagging away, his body language exuding the kind of relaxed and cheerful air that was rarely seen outside the Avengers tower.
Tony had to work hard not to smile in return, instead raising his eyebrows at Steve. “Your other form of transport was your animal shifts? Did you really race Sam back to the tower?”
Tilting his head, Steve let out a short bark in answer, looking unrepentant.
It was silly because no landed animal, no matter how quick, could beat a bird shifter in flight, especially Sam’s goshawk form in the city, with his ability to weave around any obstacle. In human form, Steve would always leave Sam in the dust, but once they put on their feathers and furs, Sam was unbeatable in a busy city. That Steve wasn’t far behind Sam was a testament to his superserum speed and stamina. He must have jumped over many things, maybe even people, to come close to keeping up.
At the thought of Steve and Sam, racing with abandon through the city in their dog and goshawk shifts respectively, Tony did feel a pang of envy that they could both so openly move around in their animal forms, when he had never shifted in front of anyone other than Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. But that envy was short-lived in the face of Steve’s open-mouthed, panting delight. No one could feel down looking at that face. Tony had to restrain himself from rubbing the top of Steve’s cocked head just to make him smile all the more in his dog form.
There was a sound like a soft puff of air and within a blink, Steve was standing there in his human form. Steve smiled, tail wagging gently.
“Almost won this time,” he said with a jaunty swish of his tail that smacked Sam — who was still on the couch — in the shoulder. Sam retaliated by grabbing his tail and pinching its tip, which Steve just ignored.
Tony’s lips twitched and he continued his journey to the kitchen, calling out over a shoulder, “If you let me put repulsors in your boots, maybe you would stand a chance without even needing to shift.”
“Bet you I’d still win,” Sam cut in.
“Sounds like you boys had a good day out,” Natasha said from where she was on the bench.
Steve replied, “It was pretty great.” Tony could just imagine his smile and perked up ears as he said that.
“And did everyone get a new car?” she teased.
Rhodey chuckled. “We managed to distract Tony.”
Tony grumbled under his breath, slinking into the kitchen and ignoring the chatter in the living room. Steve followed him, tail wagging slowly. It took all of Tony not to keep his eyes trained on that fluffy pale gold tail, not to pounce on it for a good gnawing. That was just not respectable behavior and people didn’t expect it from a well-bred cat.
Well-bred. Hah! If only they knew.
Tony went to the coffee machine and rubbed a shoulder against it, because his scent was under Clint’s which was just unacceptable. His coffee machine.
Then he went to the fridge to pull out one of the fruit and veggie drinks he blended this morning.
“You want one?” Tony asked, in a nonchalant way, because he was definitely not thinking, ‘Take it, my food gift, take it, take it, drink, drink, eat.’
“Oh, I feel like a glass of milk instead of a grass drink,” Steve said, teasing.
While Tony liked when Steve bantered with him, his tail twitched sharply in annoyance because Steve didn’t want his food gift that he made. Tony tamped down on the urge to insist — because he was a master of his instincts, thank you very much — and shrugged.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Tony said. “I thought dogs liked eating grass once in awhile.”
“I guess marijuana tastes okay,” Steve said, which startled a chuffing laugh out of Tony.
Good mood restored, Tony handed Steve a glass of milk and sat down on a chair with his own vegetable and fruit juice. “You have not smoked marijuana, don’t lie.”
“Who said I smoked it?” Steve said, completely composed except for the way his tail was swishing against the back of his chair.
“Magic brownies? No way,” Tony said with wide eyes.
“SHIELD parties used to get wild.”
Tony raised his eyebrows, ears swivelling. “Now I regret not taking Fury up on one of his invitations.”
Steve lifted his glass of milk and took a long drink. Tony used the opportunity to study him, letting his eyes linger on Steve’s blond hair, soft and almost glowing in the sunlight. His large dog ears were folded down but pricked forward, indicating his calm but alert state of mind. Their paler gold looked almost silver in this light, and they looked so very silky, with long tufts of fur and a tender pink inside. Tony wanted to touch them, rub them from the pointy tip to where they joined Steve’s hair. He wanted to scratch behind his ears, maybe he would get a foot thump out of Steve, get a little whimper…
Tony met Steve’s gaze and realized he had been caught staring. Steve’s tail was wagging and his eyes were wrinkled with a smile that must be hidden behind his glass, so at least he wasn’t mad at Tony’s creepy staring. Tony’s gaze shifted down to his own drink and he took a sip, feigning indifference. His cheeks warmed a little bit and his tail swayed behind him with his sudden agitation, but he tried to contain any other reactions.
“So when are you getting your new car delivered?” Steve asked.
Tony had gotten the Koenigsegg after all, but he planned to have it thoroughly modified. Rhodey was going to get another surprise when he had a ride in it.
“In a day or so,” Tony said, feeling pleased at the idea that he would have that sleek car under his hands soon enough.
“You know, I’m not sure why you buy cars. You can probably make a much better car than any on sale at the car show, any time you like,” Steve pointed out.
Tony grinned, soaking in the praise. He rubbed a hand unconsciously against the surface of the dining table. “I like trying out their engines. Then I like seeing what I can do to their engines myself. And sometimes I just like how the cars look. There’s a sort of artistic talent involved in creating a car that I can’t always produce.”
“Now I know that’s not true,” Steve said with a slight furrow between his brows, his big ears going back a little.
“I’m not an artist like you, there’s only so much I can do from scratch. And I tend to go overboard,” Tony said with a small smile.
“You’re an artist too, even if you don’t realize it. Only an artist could have created Iron Man. All his lines, the way every part fits together perfectly, streamline and beautiful at the same time, only an artist could have come up with that. And all your holograms in your workshop are like ever-changing 3D art.”
Tony stared at him, eyes wide. Then he went, “Mrp.”
The little unintended squeak surprised Tony, and he did a full body twitch in embarrassment, his tail held stiff behind him in an effort to stop any further unconscious reactions. Steve’s eyes were wide as well, and then he grinned widely, ears perked up in clear amusement.
“Mrp, hey?” Steve said. “I’ll take that as agreement.”
Tony scowled, his ears going back in annoyance and embarrassment. “You shut up.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean ‘mrp mrp mrp’?”
Tony drained the rest of his drink and got up in one smooth movement. “For that, you get to wash up my glass.”
Steve saluted him. “I’ll do a good job, Sir Mrp. I know you hate when we leave the kitchen in a mess.”
Damnit, he really did hate when they left the kitchen in a mess.
“See that you do, soldier,” Tony said, trying to inject authority in his voice. From Steve’s wagging tail and smile, it didn’t work at all.
Tony stalked out of the kitchen.
If he couldn’t help but brush up against Steve’s shoulder as he left, and if Steve pushed back against Tony’s touch, then it was just because Steve was sitting too close to the door. It wasn’t Tony’s fault and it didn’t mean anything. Not at all.
And if he sniffed his arm that brushed against Steve’s shoulder later, enjoying their mixed scents, that was just out of curiosity. It was a cat thing, that was all.