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If a huge, fluffy, sable colored collie and a tiny, short haired tuxedo cat don’t scream Steve and Tony respectively, then the dog dragging around the shield and the cat trying to get into the coffee cupboard definitely do. The Avengers, who are still human, stand with their mouths agape as Cat-Tony finally manages to paw the latch open, giving a triumphant meeerp! and sinking his claws into the bag of ground coffee. Dog-Steve whines, his tail thumping against the cabinets as he abandons the shield in favor of gently mouthing Tony's head and dragging him to the couch in the adjacent room, far away from the caffeine. Clint knocks the heel of his hand against his forehead, sure that this absolutely cannot be real. But there's Tony, pitifully meowing as Steve places him down on a pillow and bops him on the head with a white paw, causing Tony's ear to flip the wrong way.
"What the fuck is my life?" All Clint wants is one normal day; is that too much to ask? Something mundane that doesn't involve them coming back from several redundant and annoying meetings at SHIELD to find both of their leaders as domestic pets. As cute as they are, this poses a problem. The fact that this is the strangest thing Clint has encountered in the last year or so is saying something. "This isn't normal, right?" He's got to ask because he needs someone to confirm that it is, indeed, real.
Natasha gives him a look, pleading with him to be patient, and asks Thor, "Any clue how to change them back?"
"None whatsoever, I am afraid. But if this is the work of my brother, I may have seen it before." Stepping further into the room, Thor plucks Tony from the floor where he is stealthily trying to make his way back to the cupboard; he's careful as he flips Tony's ear back to its default setting, grinning to himself. Tony hisses and smacks at Thor's arms, but the god only chuckles and tucks him to his chest. "Peace, my friend," he says, stroking down Tony's back, "I have no desire to hurt you." Tony glares at him, ears flattened against his head and lets out an annoyed grumble. "If this is the work of my brother, you should change back on your own within two days, though if I remember correctly, the spell tends to last under a day."
"You do realize," Clint says, eyeing the ball of sleek fur in Thor's arms, "that you are currently snuggling Tony Stark."
"I do!"
A thwap of an insistent paw against his leg brings Clint's attention down to the collie. "You look like Lassie," he quips, grinning. Steve whines, tilting his head; Lassie was after his time and not recent enough to have come up in any of his modern searches just yet. It doesn't stop Clint from making jokes about it. Steve doesn't need to understand in order for fun to be had- It's a house rule. "Did Timmy fall down the well?"
Nipping at Clint's hand, Steve barks- just a warning to stop the teasing, but Clint is not about to let it go, no sir. His team-leader is a dog; opportunity is knocking, and he's going to answer the damn door if he pleases.
"Clint-" Bruce warns, but he's hiding a grin behind his hand. His eyes gleam impishly, so unlike what the scientist prefers the world to see. But Clint knows better. Bruce is as big a troll as Tony is.
He winks at Bruce conspiratorially and turns back to the collie. "Did little Natasha fall down in the old mine?"
The sound Steve makes could only be interpreted as a groan, and Clint earns a whack to his arm from Tash which, frankly, he deserves.
"Right, Tashie wouldn't fall down a mine; how silly of me-" Without pausing he asks, "So what now?" while looking around at the others. He dances on the balls of his feet. Maybe strange is good after all.
Bucky and Natasha have worried expressions on their faces, but Thor and Bruce look positively gleeful. Clint is going to go with that. That looks the most fun.
It isn't like Steve could scold him, anyway.
"I have a tennis ball in my room, be right back!"
"Clint, no!" Natasha calls out, ready to dart after him, but a gentle hand from Bruce stills her.
Clint is already halfway down the hallway when he notices her annoyance; he ignores it, instead choosing to poke the bear. "Don't be raining on my parade!"
"You are not Barbra Streisand!"
When he returns, it's not with just the tennis ball but with a discarded shoestring that he dangles in front of an unamused Tony. "Come on, Stark, play! Get the string! Get it!" Tony's tail twitches, and he pointedly looks away to delicately lick one paw. "You're no fun," he moans, dropping the string. "I bet Steve'll play!" In answer, Steve barks, his tail wagging, and splays out on his front paws, fluffy butt in the air. "See?"
"He's huge," Natasha remarks, snatching the ball from Clint's hands, "he's all fur."
"Hey! You don't get to play with him! That was my idea!" She glares, and he flops onto the couch defeated, crossing his arms and pouting. "You told me not to, now you get to play with him? I'm the one who always wanted a dog!" He is not being petulant. He's not.
She ignores him in favor of tossing the ball down the hallway, and Steve bounds after it, nails clicking on the floor. "We're going to need some things to make the next two days easy on them."
Running back, Steve drops the ball at Tash's feet, jumping around, his tail whipping out and smacking Bucky in the leg. He side-steps it, frowning.
Natasha glances knowingly back at Clint, tossing the ball again. As Steve runs after it, Clint raises an eyebrow, confused. He's answered when Bucky drops down on the couch next to him and looks up at him sullenly. Clint realizes with a pang that he's been quiet this whole time. He's new to the team and only newly broken from the brainwashing, and Clint claps his shoulder in solidarity, even if he doesn't understand it personally. But Bucky's best friend is a fucking dog at the moment- the only person he fully trusts. Clint gets that at the very least. He's not completely dense. And he likes Bucky. He's funny and easy on the eyes. But Bucky barely knows the rest of them yet, not for lack of trying- he's just too new to them. Got that shiny new car smell still and everything. He follows Steve everywhere and keeps the rest of them at arm's length.
Sighing, Clint smiles at Bucky, "He'll be back soon." Bucky looks down, and Clint feels his heart flip. "He's still here; you heard Thor- 24 hours most likely," Clint tells him softly just as Steve races back in the room, taking the corner so hard he skids out a little. It's hard, but Clint manages not to outright laugh at that. This is serious, damn it.
Bruce tosses the ball this time, and Steve skids into the wall chasing after it. "He'll be back before you know it. I mean as a human. Not with a tennis ball in his mouth. Or Tony's head. And I mean his actual head. Not like when they're not animals, and Steve's-"
"Barton!" Tash snaps, and Clint goes red in the face. He feels like Hagrid in Harry Potter- I shouldn't'a said that! I should NOT have said that! Tony and Steve had begun dating about a month before Bucky was found, only they hadn't divulged that to him just yet. Something about easing Bucky into the 21st century or whatever. The reasons were stupid to Clint, but he adhered to their decision regardless. He's a good friend like that.
Which means he needs to change the subject. "Provisions for the animals, you were saying, Tashie?" It's a hail Mary, honestly. Bucky doesn't seem the type to just let something like that go. Turning to face him, Clint hams it up instead, grinning innocently at him.
Bucky lets out an exhausted laugh, "Please," he says, "I knew the moment I saw them together."
Shocked doesn't even begin to explain it. Clint turns to him with something akin to disbelief. "You knew?" And you didn't gossip with me? How absolute dare!
Snorting, Bucky stands. "I think I'll ride out these next two days in my room. Let me know when they change back." There's not much any of them can say as he leaves, though he does bend to scratch Steve behind his ears before he does. Steve whines and trots after him, but Bucky just shakes his head and closes the door before Steve can set a single paw inside.
"Well that puts a damper on things," Clint muses. Patting his leg, he whistles, beckoning Steve back over to him, but Steve doesn't move. He lifts a paw and scratches at the door, whining. From where he's sitting in the living room, Clint has a full view of the portion of the hallway where Bucky's room is; it's a sad sight.
"Steve," Bruce calls, "it's okay, he'll come around." Steve refuses to budge, not until Tony wiggles his way out of Thor's arms and trots down the hallway to wind in and out of his legs. Steve whimpers, dropping his snout to nose Tony away, but he really should know by now that no one tells Tony Stark what to do.
It makes sense why he's a cat, honestly.
Tony sits back and leans on his hind legs, lifting his front paws to either side of Steve's neck. The fluff around his collar bunches under Tony's paws, showing just how much of him is fur. It's telling in a way: Steve is big on the surface- all mane. Inside he's still the small guy from Brooklyn, and at that moment, all he wants is his best friend. Tony licks at the puff of fur on Steve's cheek, mewing softly.
Heaving a sigh, Steve turns from the door, dislodging Tony from his balance against him. Tony huffs and gracefully falls back on all fours; he bats at Steve's tail as he passes but otherwise follows Steve back into the living room.
"This has made me feel much sadder than I would have expected." Leaning forward, Thor rubs two fingers together, the universal sign for fishing a cat to come. "Pspspspss!"
"Are there cats on Asgard?" Bruce asks, eyes widening as Tony willingly jogs up to Thor, brushing past Steve without a glance toward him.
"Yes, they are celebrated," Thor sits and pats his lap, smiling as Tony hops right on up. "They are lauded as wise."
Tony gazes up at Thor and slowly blinks; he looks too smug for Clint's liking. "Don't feed his ego."
"I am not. Cats, like Tony, are-" Thor is interrupted by Steve jumping onto the couch and barking at Tony, stretching a paw out and hooking it around Tony's middle. The sound Tony emits is akin to a squeak, and his claws dig into Thor's thighs, trying to hold on, but Steve persists in tugging him.
"Anthony!" Thor yells, hands plucking Tony's claws from his leg. It gives Steve the leverage he needs to pull Tony onto his side and slide him until he's just barely under Steve's chest. He's readying himself to flee when Steve plops down, effectively trapping him.
"Mroooow!" Tony moans, twisting onto his back and pushing with his front paws against the massive collie above him.
"Er, Steve? I think you're crushing Tony," Clint tries. But the dog doesn't move.
"I wonder," Bruce says, coming to kneel in front of them, "how much of their brain is still human, and how much has been given over to animal instinct?"
"What do you mean?" Sitting on the other side of Steve and waving away the flurry of his hyperactive tail, Tash reaches around him in an attempt to free Tony. Steve isn't having it. He nips at Tash's hand and lets a paw drop on Tony's disgruntled head. Mine is clear in the actions.
"What I mean," Bruce says, grinning at the two, "is that Steve is displaying loyal and playful behavior, as well as laying claim to Tony. And Tony is being haughty, which he usually is, but also uncontrollable and very petty. I imagine he's trying to escape Steve because he's upset with him for ignoring him earlier for Bucky."
"You've literally just described them as they usually are."
Sighing, Bruce stands, "I'll get my answers when they change back."
"Anyway," Tash says, giving up on trying to free Tony, "we'll need a leash because I am not picking up Steve's dog shit in here; baggies for when we take him out; bowls; chew toys; and food. For Tony, we'll need food and a litterbox, bowls, and maybe some catnip because I really want to see him go ape over that." Tony's meowed complaint comes muffled from under Steve's fur. "Deal with it, Stark, you're a cat."
"You know what I love?" Clint says, continuing without waiting for an answer, "I love that we all just took this as normal. I mean- who does that?"
"We've seen stranger," Bruce says with a shrug, "been through much worse."
"Have we?"
Tash nods, stroking Steve's fur, "It is what it is. Thor knows this magic; they'll be right as rain in less than two days. Let's enjoy it while we can." Standing, she looks at the clock. "I'm honestly sick of walking in on those two making out in the kitchen anyway; I could use a break." She stretches, reaching her hands towards the ceiling, "It's late. I'm beat."
"Someone should take Steve out," Clint says, "and where is Tony going to go to the bathroom? Are they hungry? Do we leave water out? I've actually never had a pet so-"
"I'll take Steve," Tash sighs, "but he better heel and hurry up; I'm exhausted."
"Should we lay out newspaper for Tony?" A muffled hiss answers Bruce, and he smirks, "Unless you think you can use the toilet."
"There's some chicken in the fridge, and I'm sure there's a can of tuna in the cabinets. Come on Steve," Tash beckons, "let's go." He's up in an instant, and Tony is left laying on his side looking confused, his tail fluffed up in agitation.
When Tash returns later with Steve leading on a brand new leash, it's with everything they need, including a litter box they fill and tuck into a corner. Tony makes an interesting noise before rushing to it.
They leave him to his privacy.
On the morning of the second day, Clint enters the common areas expecting to see the two curled up on the couch together like they had been the day before--which had been surprisingly adorable. Despite being mad at Steve, Tony still curled up on Steve's front paws and rested his head against him. Steve had laid his own head across Tony's furry belly. Clint may or may have not have snapped a few photos.
He's expecting an encore when he walks into the living room the next day, phone at the ready.
He's greeted with an empty room.
It's disconcerting not to see them, and Clint's heart speeds up when he remembers that it was Loki who did this and he's got to have had a reason, even if Thor thinks it's just a prank.
"Don't panic," he mutters, trotting through the open common areas and looking for a giant tan ball of fur and his sassy kitty companion. The kitchen shows no sign of them and neither does the media room. The leash Tash bought the first night is still hung by the door, so no one took Steve out--which would still leave the Curious Case of the Missing Cat© anyway.
He checks Thor's rooms, thinking that maybe the god had let them in given how smitten he was with Tony as a cat. Steve wouldn't leave Tony, ergo…
But Thor is sleeping splayed out on his bed with no animals in sight.
Natasha's room is the same- just a sleeping bestie but no cat or dog, though the giant stuffed llama Clint bought her for her birthday is clutched in her arms. Their little secret; it's need to know.
Bruce is also alone, though he's awake when Clint pops his head in. He's at his desk typing and looks up, raising his eyebrows at the intrusion.
"Er, sorry," Clint apologizes, not exactly sorry but willing to act like it, "but we seem to be missing two members. You may have seen them? One is literally Lassie- big and fluffy and patriotic as fuck. The other is wearing a permanent tuxedo."
Bruce tilts his head, chuckling, "I took Steve out earlier and fed them both. I was going to have them come in here for a bit to keep an eye, but Bucky opened his door at the wrong time. Steve rushed in and Tony followed. We couldn't get them out. They should still be there."
"Bucky is upset with this whole thing," Clint points out unhelpfully, "Steve shouldn't be bugging him. I should go get them."
"You just want to go in there and be nosy."
Well. Maybe. But Bruce doesn't need to know that. "I just don't want to upset Bucky more than necessary; he's still adjusting." Which is, at least, partially the truth.
Waving him away with a knowing look, Bruce pointedly turns back to his laptop. "Go be annoying elsewhere."
"I'll order Chinese later, how's that?"
"All is forgiven- Now go!"
Bucky's room is diagonally across from Bruce's, and when Clint steps up to it, he does so quietly, leaning his ear against the door. He hears nothing. Instead of just walking on like he did with the others, this time he knocks. "Bucky?"
"It's open," Bucky responds and Clint gingerly opens the door, sticking his head on first. "Yes, they're in here," Bucky answers the unasked question.
He's on his bed, legs bent like a pretzel; the TV is on but he's not paying it any mind. Tony is pawing at a piece of beef jerky in his hand, but Steve's head on his lap has all his attention as he strokes down his long snout.
"You okay?" Clint asks, moving to the foot of the bed. "I can get them out if you want."
"You know," Bucky says instead of answering, "I was upset the other night because I thought I wouldn't have my best friend for two days."
"But-?"
"But I do." Looking up through his hair at Clint, Bucky smiles. "Human or dog, Steve is exactly the same."
"And Tony? How's he not annoying the crap out of you? Because I'll tell you- OW! Son of a-" If a cat could smirk, Tony is absolutely doing so as he comps down on Clint's hand that had drifted far too close for a cat's quick reflexes. "Let me go, you feral bastard!"
Bucky easily scoops Tony up, gently tapping his head with his flesh hand, "Let him go, Tony."
Grousing, Clint snatches his hand back when Tony releases him, cradling it to his chest. "I better not have to get a tetanus shot because of you, Stark!"
"Relax," Bucky sounds amused, and Clint softens; he's a bit of a dick, he knows, but Bucky sounded so dejected on that first night that this is a nice change he doesn't want to ruin. "You're not bleeding, right?” Bucky asks. “He didn't bite hard enough to break the skin?"
"No, no blood. Brat-" Clint mumbles, glaring at the cat, "-but I'm pretty sure I deserved that."
"He's a cuddle bug like this," continues Bucky, completely ignoring Clint's name-calling like Tony doesn't also deserve it, "He's such a sweet kitty." Moving over to make room on the bed, he pats the spot beside him, "Sit down and he'll be purring on your lap in no time, you'll see." He carefully moves Tony to his back, cradling him in his metal arm and rubbing the inside of one of his ears with the other. Tony's eyes close contentedly.
For half a second Clint wants to decline. It's not like he knows Bucky well enough to sit on his bed and hang out with him. And for all Tony is a pretty cool dude, Clint hardly believes that he's such a sweet kitty. But in the other half of that second, Clint realizes that this is the perfect way to actually get to know Bucky. And probably have enough blackmail fodder for Tony that Clint can get him to design those EMP arrows for him.
That and Steve is looking up at him with those big puppy dog eyes. It's really not fair. They usually only have to deal with those big brown eyes on Tony; giving them to Steve is like shooting fish in a barrel. What Clint wants doesn't really matter with those eyes looking up at him, and he gives in and sits, bringing his legs up underneath him and reaching out to pet Steve. He likes his fur- It's soft and a bit rough at the same time, thick and fluffy and warm.
Bucky smiles down at Steve, scratching under his chin. "I ordered a Lassie box set off of Amazon to watch with him when he turns back," he says. "We just watched some clips from YouTube. It looks very... wholesome." Carefully , he sets Tony back down on the bed.
"So...Steve?"
That makes Bucky snort. "Common misconception. This punk ain't wholesome." Steve whines, rolling over to show his fuzzy belly and Bucky reaches out to scratch it. "You heard me, you little punk- I'm calling you out on your shit."
The weight of a tiny paw presses into Clint's thigh, and he shifts from laughing at Steve to looking curiously at Tony, "Can I help you?" He's answered by a teeny little mew, and it's too cute. Absolutely not fair. Tony doesn't need to be this cute, not as a human and definitely not as a cat- And the petty bastard knows it. Sighing, Clint leans back against the headboard, his shoulder bumping with Bucky's, to open his lap to the cat. Tony blinks at him, slowly and purposefully, and plops down in the center of the pretzel of Clint's legs, curled up in a ball. His paws knead at Clint's thighs for a moment, but he seems pretty content. The moment Clint strokes down from his head all the way down his soft sides, he begins to purr.
Damn it. It's adorable.
"I concede," he says, looking at Bucky, "he's precious."
"Told you."
They watch the television in silence for a bit, each casually petting the animals. It's so soothing and nice that Clint actually feels his stress melting. If they didn't need Captain America and Iron Man so much (he's never going to admit actually needing the men themselves), he'd suggest Thor find a way to make it permanent– although maybe a trip to one of the local shelters might not be remiss. Maybe the team needs some mascots. Even Natasha's change in attitude the other night– from alarmed and upset to playing with Steve– showed the positive impact of having pets. He's not sure he's ever seen Bucky this...relaxed...either. It's a nice change.
Later, he and Bucky take Steve out, and when they return, the food dishes have magically been moved to Bucky's room. Clint shoots a knowing look at Bruce and Natasha as they pass Bucky's open doorway, but he helps Bucky feed them quietly. Steve, usually so well-mannered, gobbles up the mix of kibble and canned food– grunting happily, while Tony daintily eats the expensive pâté on the ceramic fish shaped bowl Bruce picked out for him. He refills the water dish and sits back on the bed, and when Bucky slings an arm around him, he leans comfortably against the soldier to watch as their leaders eat their lunch.
If he wakes up the next morning cuddled in a super soldier's arms with a human again Steve and Tony curled around each other at the foot of the bed, he's certainly not complaining.