Chapter Text
Fighting wizards and witches always left room for strange happenings — curses, enchantments, transformations, reality-bending nonsense — and it was precisely why Steve Rogers hated fighting them.
Monsters were simple. Monsters you could punch.
Wizards? They were chaos wrapped in robes and smug smiles. They didn’t fight fair — they’d vanish in clouds of glitter, hurl glowing runes, or whisper a few words and make your weapon melt into a rubber chicken.
So, after today’s battle with one particularly unhinged sorcerer, Steve made absolutely sure to check himself over several times.
“Cap, I think you’re good,” Tony said as they exited the debrief room. “You might as well strip at this point.”
Steve shot him a flat look. “You know how sneaky they are. I’ve seen spells that don’t kick in for days.”
“Well,” Clint said with a grin, “if you turn into a unicorn, we’ll know it’s you.”
“Don’t even joke like that,” Steve muttered, half-serious.
They all split up after that. Tony to the lab, Clint and Natasha to the range, Thor to… wherever Thor went when he wasn’t breaking mugs, and Steve to the gym. After an intense training session and a large dinner, he finally called it a night.
For once, he actually slept — deeply, dreamlessly.
When he woke, he felt great. Relaxed. No aches, no tension in his back or shoulders. He stretched lazily and yawned, the sound coming out oddly high-pitched.
He blinked.
Wait.
The room looked off.
The colors were muted, everything tinted in shades of blue, green, and yellow. His usual crisp soldier’s eyesight was… fuzzy.
“What the…” he muttered automatically — except it came out as a short mrrrrow.
Steve froze.
That…wasn’t English. It wasnt even human.
He went to rub his eyes, but his hands didn’t move right. His arms bent weirdly. He looked down — and his blood ran cold.
Paws.
White, furry paws.
He blinked rapidly. “No… no, no, no.”
The sound that came out was another helpless meow.
He jumped off the bed in panic — and landed perfectly on all fours. His heart (if cats had the same heart rate as humans, his was sprinting) pounded as he looked down at himself. Small, fluffy, white fur, twitching tail, sharp claws.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he tried to say, but it came out as a distressed yowl.
He scrambled to the bathroom, his new paws slipping on the tile until instinct kicked in. He jumped — easily, effortlessly — onto the sink. His landing was flawless. “Not bad” he thinks.
He glared at his reflection.
A small, all-white cat with bright blue eyes stared back. His fur was soft, almost cloudlike, and when he turned slightly, he spotted a faint red star mark on his stomach.
“Curse you, wizard,” he thought bitterly.
It was official. He, Captain America, was now Captain Americat.
He sat on the cool countertop, tail twitching. “Okay. Think, Steve. You’ve survived ice, aliens, and Tony’s cooking. You can survive this.”
The real problem? Convincing the others that this adorable little feline was, in fact, their leader.
He considered options: write something? Perform a move only he knew? Guide them to his shield?
He sighed — or tried to — and it came out as a tiny puff of air through his whiskers.
After some internal debate (and a small grooming session he absolutely didn’t mean to do), he left his room.
Everything was huge now. The hallways stretched forever, the furniture loomed like cliffs, and the elevator button was far above paw-level.
“Right. Stairs it is,” he thought.
He found them, pushing the door open with a surprising amount of strength. Okay, good, still got super-soldier muscles. Kind of.
Descending took some work, but soon he reached the common floor. Voices echoed — Tony’s sharp sarcasm, Thor’s booming baritone, and Clint’s dry humor.
He crept into the main room, hiding behind the counter. Tony sat at the table, tapping at his StarkPad. Thor stood with arms crossed, looking deeply offended about something. Clint lounged on the table edge, smirking.
Perfect audience, Steve thought grimly. Time to make an entrance.
And then… movement.
Out the corner of his eye, a bird fluttered past the huge window.
All rational thought fled. His pupils dilated. His tail flicked.
Bird.
Before he could stop himself, he launched forward — claws extended — and smacked into the glass with a loud thud.
“WHAT the hell—?” Tony stood up.
Clint blinked. “Who got a cat?”
“I did not know there was a feline in here,” Thor said, intrigued.
Steve groaned internally, sliding down the window in a heap of fur.
“Crap,” he thought. “Off to a terrible start.”
——————————————————————————
Tony’s voice was the first thing Steve heard after recovering from his highly undignified crash into the window.
“Uh… guys? Why is there a cat in here?”
Before Steve could make a dignified retreat, three large shapes loomed over him — Tony, Thor, and Clint, all peering down with wide eyes and curious expressions.
Steve froze. His tiny chest rose and fell rapidly. They looked huge from this angle, like skyscrapers bending down to inspect a mouse. A strange, instinctive fear shot through him — primal and unfamiliar. His fur puffed up, his tail doubling in size as he backed away with a sharp warning mrrrrow! His ears flattened tight against his skull.
“Whoa, whoa,” Tony said, crouching down a little. “You’re scaring it, Point Break.”
“Me?” Thor said indignantly. “Cats love me! Watch.”
Before anyone could stop him, Thor reached down and scooped Steve right off the floor.
“Put me down!” Steve shouted — or tried to. It came out as a furious, indignant mreeeow!
“It doesn’t sound like he’s enjoying that,” Clint observed, trying not to laugh.
“Bah, nonsense,” Thor said confidently. “Watch this.”
He shifted his hold, cradling Steve in his massive arms like an infant. Then, with surprising gentleness, he began to stroke Steve’s head and neck with his enormous thumb.
The effect was instant — and horrifying.
Steve’s mind screamed No! Fight it! Resist! but his body betrayed him. A deep, rumbling purr erupted from his throat, vibrating through his entire little frame. His muscles melted. His paws went limp. His eyelids grew heavy.
Oh no. Oh no.
He was purring.
“Awww,” Clint said softly, unable to help himself. “He likes you.”
“See? I am a cat whisperer,” Thor declared proudly. “He adores me already.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, congratulations, Dr. Doolittle. Still doesn’t answer the question — who got a cat and didn’t tell me?”
“Yeah, seriously,” Clint said. “Nobody here screams ‘cat person.’ Maybe Bruce, but he’s too busy in the lab to feed himself, let alone a pet.”
“Maybe Steve?” Clint added with a teasing smirk. “He’s got that mysterious old-man vibe. Secretive, private—”
At that, Steve meowed sharply, eyes narrowing. I’m not secretive!
“This feline has a strange marking,” Thor interrupted, turning Steve slightly. “Upon his belly.”
“Where?” Tony leaned in, brow furrowing.
Thor lifted a bit of white fur and there it was — a small, faint red star on Steve’s stomach.
All three men stared.
“That’s… weird,” Clint said.
For a moment, Steve forgot his embarrassment — his mission snapped back into focus. He had to prove it was him. He wriggled free of Thor’s hold and jumped down to the floor.
“Hey!” Clint said.
Steve turned toward them, straightened up, and — very awkwardly — stood on his hind legs.
All three froze.
“What the hell?!” Clint said, bursting into laughter. “Is he… walking?”
Tony blinked, mouth slightly open. “That’s… not normal, right?”
“This is no ordinary creature,” Thor said, impressed.
Not working, Steve thought, dropping back down on all fours. Think, Steve. How can you make them understand?
He meowed again, this time sharply, and tilted his head toward the hallway. Then he started walking — pausing to look back, flicking his tail impatiently.
Tony’s eyebrows rose. “Is… he trying to get us to follow him?”
“Looks like it,” Clint says following, “Sure knows his way around, though.”
They trailed after him. Steve led them straight to the elevator, rubbing himself against the panel in clear frustration.
“Oh, he wants up,” Tony said, pressing the button.
When the doors opened, Steve bounded inside and — in a small miracle of coordination — jumped up and smacked his paw against the third-floor button.
Clint’s jaw dropped. “Okay, that’s creepy.”
Tony frowned. “Isn’t that Steve’s floor?”
“Maybe he did get a cat,” Thor offered, stroking his beard.
When the doors opened again, Steve bolted out and led them straight to his suite. The room was empty, of course — because he was the room’s owner.
“Where’s Rogers?” Clint asked, looking around.
“Friday,” Tony called. “Is Steve Rogers in the tower?”
“Steve Rogers is in his suite,” the AI replied pleasantly.
Tony blinked. “What? Where?”
Steve jumped on the bed, tail twitching in frustration. He meowed, loudly and repeatedly, even bouncing on the mattress to get their attention.
Thor smiled kindly. “Ah, he wants more pets!”
Steve hissed at him.
“Okay, no more rubs,” Thor said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Tony stared hard at the cat — at Steve. His brain started piecing it together. Yesterday. The wizard. The weird spell energy. Clint’s unicorn joke.
His stomach dropped.
“Please,” he muttered, half to himself, “don’t be what I think this is.”
He knelt, meeting the cat’s bright blue eyes — eyes that looked unnervingly familiar.
“Friday,” Tony said quietly. “Is this cat… Steve Rogers?”
There was a pause.
“DNA analysis confirms that the cat and Steve Rogers share identical DNA,” Friday replied.
A stunned silence followed.
“Oh my god,” Clint said, gaping.
Tony groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is your fault, Barton.”
“My fault?!” Clint squawked. “How is this my fault?”
“The unicorn joke? Real funny now, huh?” Tony said dryly.
Thor blinked, still cradling his hammer like it might help. “This is… not what I expected when I came to Midgard.”
Steve just stared at them all, tail twitching, thinking darkly, I hate magic.