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Tony weighs the stack of flyers in his hands and sighs. He agreed to help Rhodey work on this political campaign, in part because he agrees with the initiative but mostly because he enjoyed watching his father’s face turn five different shades of red when he announced his most recent activities at Sunday dinner. Tony’s mother had several things to say about it: not to provoke his father like that, that politics were a topic best left for occasions other than family dinners, and that she was proud of him for his activism.
So, Tony finds himself once again walking door to door, speaking to the residents who would answer the doorbell, and stuffing flyers through the mail slots of houses that didn’t answer.
It is mid-September, and summer seems keen to hold on as long as possible this year; Tony is sweating through his t-shirt and just wants to be done with this task. He glances across the street, where Rhodey chats animatedly with a woman working in her garden. Sighing again, he makes his way up the path to the next house and rings the doorbell, listening for sounds that may indicate someone will open the door.
When the silence stretches on for another minute, Tony pulls a flyer from the stack, folds it up, and slides it into the mail slot, leaving part of the paper sticking out the front to draw attention to it like he’s been shown to do. Before he has time to step back, the flyer disappears, the metal slot cover dropping shut with sharp clink.
Tony blinks, then calls out. “Hello? I’m Tony, I’m with Citizens for All, do you have a moment to chat?”
The only response he receives is the faint sound of paper ripping.
Rude, Tony thinks, then decides to stuff a few more flyers in out of spite.
The moment he lifts the slot cover, a furry white paw shoots out, nearly catching Tony’s arm.
“Whoa, hey there, Kitty!” Tony exclaims as he pulls his hands out of range. The paw flails around a few times, then withdraws inside the house.
Curious, Tony reaches out and uses the edge of the flyer to lift the slot cover again. And again, the furry white paw shoots out, claws extended. This time, Tony lets the creature have the flyer, and watches in fascination as it disappears within the mail slot, followed shortly by the ripping sound from before.
He’s about to give a third offering to the mail slot when Rhodey calls to him from the street.
“Tones! You about done?”
Tony laughs and turns toward his friend. “Yeah, just a couple more houses. You?”
“Here, I’ll help,” Rhodey offers when Tony makes his way down the front walk. “It’s way too hot to be out here right now, I can’t believe this is September.”
Tony nods in agreement and glances back at the house with the flyer-destroying feline, noting the address. His curiosity is piqued.
~
Two days later, Tony finds his way back to the house, carrying a stack of campaign flyers and a feathered cat toy in his backpack. He uses the stick handle of the cat toy to lift the mail slot, and doesn’t bother to suppress his giggle when the paw thrusts through the opening, claws extended, ready to latch into its prey.
Tony slides two of the flyers into the opposite side of the mail slot, careful to stay out of range. The claws swipe to the flyers, hook into the paper, and yank them through the slot. Tony gives the cat a moment to shred its quarry, then repeats the process. When he thinks the cat might be bored of paper, he dangles the feathered end of the cat toy in front of the mail slot. Suddenly, two furry white paws fly through and latch on to the feathers, yanking them back inside. A tug of war ensues, which ends when the string holding the feathers to the stick finally snaps and Tony is near tears from laughter.
He leans against the door and speaks softly to the cat. “Thank you, I hope you had as much fun as I did.”
The sound of an engine driving by pulls Tony’s attention to the reality of what he’s doing: standing on a stranger’s front porch, playing with a strange cat through the front door. He shakes himself, then decides he at least owes the homeowner an explanation, and pulls a notebook and pen from his backpack.
Hey, he writes, I was passing out flyers in your neighborhood and just wanted to say that your cat is awesome. If it’s not too weird, maybe we could meet? Give me a call if that’s cool.
He signs the note and adds his number, then wedges it into the side of the mail slot, so the cat doesn’t shred it. Smiling, Tony steps away from the door, wondering how he’ll explain this one to Rhodey.
When he reaches the sidewalk, he glances back and notices his note is gone. He goes back to check if the note fell somewhere on the porch, and hears the rustle of paper inside the house.
“Oh, damn it.”
~
Two days after his attempt to leave a message for the cat’s human, Tony makes his way back to the same house. He’s not actually sure why he came back, except that the cat’s persistence in destruction of everything coming to the front door rivals his own stubbornness, and Tony is determined to meet the beast. He’s got another cat toy with him and if this one breaks, too, he’ll…just wait until someone comes home. There has to be a human living here, right? The cat doesn’t take care of itself, after all.
Tony strides up to the door, cat toy in hand. He taps on the door softly and calls out, “hey kitty, I’m back,” before gingerly lifting the mail slot and dangling the feathered toy for the cat to attack.
Sure enough, a set of claws strikes the toy and pulls it inside. Prepared for this, Tony holds firmly to the other end. The cat keeps tugging on the feathers, while Tony braces his hip against the door and pulls the stick outward. He can see the feathers coming through the slot and manages not to whoop in excitement, when suddenly the feathers are released, the paw pokes through, and the claws latch firmly into Tony’s thigh.
The sound Tony makes is neither suppressed nor excited. It’s somewhere between a shriek and a curse, and although the claws retract almost immediately Tony can tell without looking that they’ve broken skin. He’s questioning yet again why he decided to make visiting this house and meeting this hellspawn cat an imperative when the door jerks open, causing him to lose his balance.
“Hello?” The man standing in the doorway is looking at Tony with a mix of wariness and concern.
“Hi,” Tony manages to say, one hand bracing against the door jamb and the other pressing firmly on his thigh.
The man glances down, eyes widening when he sees how Tony is holding his leg. “Oh, damn. She got you pretty good, huh?”
“Yeah,” Tony says weakly. “Sorry.”
“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about, come on in, let’s get that cleaned up. I’m Bucky.”
Tony hobbles inside gratefully, finally getting a look at the cat as he limps across the front hall. Two blue eyes observe him serenely as she poses on the hall table, snow-white fur softly curling around her. She certainly doesn’t look like the ferocious huntress that tried to rip his skin a moment ago.
Bucky leads him into the kitchen and pulls out a chair from the table. Tony sits down, grimacing as his denim jeans scrape across the scratches.
“That looks like it’s bleeding pretty bad,” Bucky comments, rummaging in a cupboard. “You should probably lose the jeans, but that seems a bit forward when I haven’t gotten your name yet.”
“I’m Tony,” Tony tells him, already unbuttoning his jeans. “And, yeah, you might be right.” He hisses when the denim slides against the scratches, then yelps when Bucky pours an antiseptic wash over the wounds.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “This is supposed to be ‘hurt-free’ but that always seems a lie when it goes on, you know?”
Tony makes a noncommittal noise as Bucky continues to dress the wound, dabbing antibiotic cream along each scratch and taping a gauze square over everything.
“So,” Bucky says as he stands up, returning the first-aid supplies to their home, “you want to explain what you’re doing playing with my cat through a letterbox opening?”
Heat floods Tony’s face at this. He really doesn’t have a good explanation, except that – “I was door knocking for Citizens for All, and you weren’t at home, but she grabbed the flyer and was playing with it? And I thought she was fun? And I brought some more a couple days ago, and we played through the door, and I know it’s weird, but I figured that a cat that fun probably had a pretty cool human to go along with them and I tried to leave a note but she…killed that, too. So I figured I’d try again and maybe you’d be home, but I sort of forgot to try the doorbell, and was just playing with her, and then…you know the rest.”
Bucky watches Tony throughout his speech, lips tugging up slowly to a smile.
“So, what you’re saying is, you’re the reason I’ve had a monumental mess in my front hall two separate days this week.”
“Yes? I’m sorry about that, I shouldn’t have given her all those flyers.” Tony silently curses; Bucky is very good looking, blue eyes, brown hair tied up in a sloppy man-bun, his red Henley doing little to conceal how well-built he is…basically, he is Tony’s ideal, and he’s managed to screw it up before they even met. Now he’s sitting in this (gorgeous) stranger’s house, bleeding, in his boxers. Rhodey can’t find out about this, or Tony will never live this one down.
“Well,” Bucky says with a laugh. “Guess you ought to meet her properly, then.”
Tony’s eyes dart up in surprise. Bucky opens the fridge and pulls a small food pouch from the door, then strides towards the front hall, dropping the pouch on Tony’s lap as he passes. A moment later he returns with his arms full of fluffy white cat.
“Go ahead, she knows she won’t get one of those treats if she hurts you again.”
Tony opens the pouch and shakes a couple of what turn out to be cat treats into his hand.
“Alpine, this is Tony. Hopefully he’ll forgive you for clawing his leg like that. Tony, I’d like you to meet Alpine, defender of the front door and destroyer of mail.” Bucky sets Alpine on the table next to Tony, who holds out the treats for the cat.
Alpine gives Tony a peremptory sniff, inhales the treats, and then nudges her head under Tony’s hand. Tony takes the cue to start petting her, marveling at how soft her fur is.
“She really likes you,” Bucky comments when Alpine climbs into Tony’s lap and begins to purr.
“Well I did play with her, I doubt your mail carrier bothers to do that,” Tony replies, scratching Alpine’s chin.
Bucky huffs out a laugh. “No, they do not. I just get everything important sent to my office. So, um. This is probably a little weird, given that you’re in my kitchen without your jeans…yeah no, this is too awkward, I’ll let you get dressed.” He exhales sharply and turns away, hand brushing nervously at his hair.
Tony blushes, hoping Bucky is going to ask him out, and reaches for his jeans. Alpine suddenly feels much heavier in his lap. Tony tries to nudge her to jump down, but she refuses to move. When he tries to lift the cat, Alpine’s claws extend and sit just on top of Tony’s skin, a clear warning not to move. “Uh, Bucky? I think I’m pinned here.”
Bucky glances back from where he is respectfully looking out the window, then narrows his eyes.
“Alpine,” he chides, “let him up.” Alpine returns the glare and jumps nimbly to the table, allowing Tony to pull his jeans up.
“Thanks,” Tony says. “Um. So. I was wondering, if it’s not too weird, since I basically was stalking your house…”
“Do you want to grab dinner with me?” Bucky interjects, then bites his lip, eyes wide in surprise. “Shit. That’s…well that is what I wanted to ask, I just should’ve let you finish.”
Tony smiles. “Yes. That’s actually what I was going to ask you, so that’s…that’s perfect. Tonight?”
“Yes. Right now, let’s go.”
Bucky grabs his keys from the hook on the wall and gestures for Tony to precede him out the front door. He calls a good-bye to Alpine, then shuts the door behind him and locks it.
Alpine makes her way to a patch of late afternoon sunshine and curls up for a nap. Her mission to find her father a companion is finally a success.