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Nobody knows where the cat came from. It just showed up one day, a little patchy thing, mostly white, but with a ring of black around its bony shoulders and another one around its blue left eye.
They considered getting rid of it. Ares suggested giving it to his kid. Karla recommended a shelter. Mac wanted to eat it, but Miss Hand said he couldn't.
But Lester wanted to keep it. He likes cats. So he named it Dart, and he fed it up, and now it just wanders around the Tower at all hours of the day and night, yowling up a storm and demanding scratches and generally annoying the shit out of everyone in a weirdly adorable way.
And Lester knows one thing: this whole situation, now? It's the cat's fault.
--
It starts with:
Daken wanders into the living room at around eight-thirty and says, “You're putting on a movie? What are you watching?”
Lester shrugs. “Ichi the Killer. I watch it every year. No subtitles, don't know what the fuck they're saying most'a the time, but I figure I've basically got it down.”
Daken raises an eyebrow, and then he smiles, just a little bit, and says, “We can order takeout. Is there popcorn?”
“Didn't say you could—”
“I'll translate for you.”
So they order Chinese, and the delivery person rushes it there and then babbles and blushes when Daken takes it from him and reassures him, pleasantly, that he can submit the bill to Miss Hand.
He also tips the guy thirty dollars, which Lester raises an eyebrow at, but Daken only shrugs. “Aren't we supposed to be heroes? Heroes tip. Besides, if you tip people, they want to help you later.”
They get the movie set up and settle down with their takeout and some liquor.
Daken is, surprisingly enough, not bad company for a movie like this. He does a decent translation, explains some of the jokes that Lester hadn't gotten before, and doesn't get too touchy. Sits a little closer than Lester'd like, but hell, he's watching his favorite movie, he's got a bottle of whiskey and some popcorn, all's pretty much right with the world anyway.
Eventually the cat wanders in, as she's prone to doing. She doesn't like the Claw Princess much—Lester figures all that emo-Wolverine smell makes her cranky—but she climbs into his lap anyway, curls up, and promptly falls asleep. Daken scratches her ears absently as he's translating, in between mouthfuls of noodle.
Once Ichi is finished they put on Riki-Oh, but at a certain point the soft murmur of translation trails off, and Lester glances over and notices that Daken's fallen asleep, still in his costume, an empty noodle container next to him, the cat still curled up in his lap.
Lester shrugs, drains his bottle of whiskey, and reaches over to scratch the cat's ears. He's asleep within a few minutes, too.
The cat, of course, decides after a while to go where she's appreciated and wanders off, leaving the two men asleep on the couch with Daken's head on Lester's shoulder and Lester's hand in Daken's lap.
Neither of them wake up when Karla takes a picture.
--
But the next morning the fucking thing is all over the Internet.
Because apparently Karla goes on Reddit?
So it's on Reddit, and it's on Tumblr, and it's on news sites, and the question on the lips of everyone in New York is, “Wolverine and Hawkeye? Is that a thing? Are they a thing?”
The consensus: yes. They are obviously a thing.
It gets into the papers.
They don't even notice at first. They don't read the news, what would they need to read the news for? They only find out what's up when Osborn calls them up to his office and shows them that they've made the front page of the New York fucking Post. He says, through gritted teeth, “Who took this?”
Daken shrugs. “Haven't the faintest. Don't we look cute.”
Lester's choking on his own spit. “What the fuck—”
“The picture was posted on Reddit two nights ago.”
They both jump, just slightly and Lester says to Miss Hand, “When the fuck did you get here?”
“I've been here the whole time.” She's sitting in the corner, working quietly on a laptop. “We've begun an investigation to determine the source of the picture.”
“Which will not be happening again.” Osborn's fuming. “This kind of disgraceful—”
Miss Hand shuts her laptop. “Hawkeye. Wolverine. If you'll excuse us for a moment.”
As soon as the two “heroes” are out of the room, Osborn says, “You have an idea. I'm going to tell you right now, whatever it is, I don't like it.”
“Mr. Osborn.”
“What? Get on with it, just tell me now.”
“I believe this could be an excellent opportunity for improving the team's public relations.”
He eyes her suspiciously. “How so?”
“The Avengers have, in recent years, been receiving an increasing amount of flak for their lack of diversity.”
“So?”
“So if we encourage Wolverine and Hawkeye to continue their relationship with the promise that we won't...bother them, it'll improve the team's image as an upstanding group of forward-thinking heroes. The press will love it.”
“But they're not—are they?”
“I don't know, sir. They very well could be. I don't know about Bulls—Hawk—Lester, but Daken is bisexual.”
“He is?”
She blinks. “...yes, Mr. Osborn. He is.”
He scowls. “How do you know that?”
“It's my job to know things like that, Mr. Osborn. He's slept with a couple of members of the Tower staff. He's also been flirting with Hawkeye since everyone moved in. I'm surprised that you hadn't noticed.”
“I always knew he was a freak of nature.”
She raises an eyebrow, just a bit. “I am also gay, Mr. Osborn.”
Osborn falters, looking disturbed, and then continues on with, “Well, I'm not going to stand for—”
“Since the release of that picture, our stock has already risen significantly with the popular media. The 'WolverineAndHawkeye' hashtag is trending on Twitter. They've become very popular.”
Osborn stares at the issue of The Village Voice Miss Hand brandishes at him, teeth gritted, and then says, “All right. All right. Fine. Call them back in.”
A few minutes later, the other team members are disturbed mid-lunch by the sound of Daken laughing and Lester shouting, “You want what?”
--
They're a media sensation. The most popular celebrity couple since the Orphan and U-Go Girl. There are pictures of them everywhere. Wolverine and Hawkeye: out and proud.
Lester's going to go crazy.
He doesn't mind being Hawkeye, at least not most of the time, but the papparazzi are driving him up a wall. He's already had to kill one for asking who tops, because it was either get the guy alone and stab a pen into his forehead or snarl, “We're not fucking,” at everyone who spoke to him that day.
Normie'd kill him.
Well, he'd try.
Honestly, Lester just doesn't want the hassle.
And of course Daken fucking loves the attention. He preens. He struts. After one particularly successful mission Daken kisses him, and if Lester has to hear that clip of the newscaster saying, “a big save with a passionate, ha-ha, ending, eh, Lauren?” he'll throw the television out the window. Even if Mac's still watching it. He doesn't give a shit.
Daken keeps saying they should do something together. Like a date. Which seems like a stupid idea to Lester, and when Miss Hand finally says he has to, the whole thing is a mess of journalists and screaming fans who giggle when Daken puts a hand on his in the middle of coffee.
And that's not even the worst part.
--
The reporters even corner their teammates.
Karla says, smiling, “Aren't they a charming couple? I'm so happy for them.”
Bob blinks somewhat abstractedly and rumbles, “I don't talk to my teammates much. I imagine they're very happy.”
Mac, whose meds are off again, sniffles and says, “I think they're cute. I'm so lonely...”
One enterprising interviewer even manages to get Ares alone, which is worth it just for the clip that gets out. She holds out her microphone and says, brightly, “Ares! You're from rather a...different age. How do you feel about being on a team with an openly gay couple?”
He frowns. “To whom are you referring?”
“Uh...Wolverine and Hawkeye, of course.”
“Ah. Yes. Explain 'gay.'”
Her smile falters. “They're...they're gay. Homosexual. They're both men. In a relationship with one another.”
“They are comrades in arms.”
“Well. Uh. Yes. But they. They sleep together.”
“That's hardly uncommon. Warriors often bivouac together.”
Her cheery tone is strained now. “And. Mr. Ares.”
“Just Ares.”
“O-ok. Ares. Does it...bother you? That...they...bivouaac together?”
“Not in the slightest. Such activities strengthen the bonds between warriors. Perfectly healthy. Are you bothered by it?”
She makes a sort of squeaking noise. “No! Um. Of course not!”
“Very reasonable.” Ares grins suddenly. “Now, I have no such entanglements. Perhaps you would like to get dinner.”
--
Anyway.
The worst thing.
“'s your fault,” Lester says drunkenly to Dart. “If it haddena been for you I never woulda had my hand in 'is lap.” He shudders. “Guh.”
The cat, who's sitting on the kitchen table with her face in the cheesy remains of his nachos, simply twitches her tail.
“Don't you ignore me. Goddamn cat.” He takes a swig of whiskey.
The cat licks cheese off her nose and meows, looking up at him with liquid eyes.
“Dammit, I can't stay mad at you.” He scratches her ears. “Wanna little drinky, cat?”
“I don't think you should be giving it whiskey.”
Dart hisses and leaps off the table, running out as Daken enters. Lester glares at him. “You scared her off.”
“Sorry.” Daken doesn't sound sorry. He grabs an apple from the bowl on the counter and perches on the table, just a bit too close for comfort. “So what's eating you, sweetness?”
Lester rolls his eyes. “You don't haveta keep it up here, asshole.”
“But what if I want to?” Daken takes a bite of his apple. “Seriously, though. You've been unusually irritable lately.”
There's a long pause, and then Lester slams his fist into the table. “It's this us bullshit. 's got everyone else all twisted up in it. I haven't been able to get laid in ages.”
“Oh, are you feeling lonely? You can always come get in bed with me.” Daken smirks. “We are dating, after all.”
“You shut the fuck up.” Lester pulls his chair back. “You're just trying to lure me with your. Your. Wiles.”
Daken laughs. “My wiles? I didn't know I had wiles.”
“Man, I don't know.”
“Well, all right, then. I'll stop.” Daken takes another bite of apple and smiles at him, leaning in close. “But. Since we're supposedly dating...don't you ever even get curious?”
Lester stares at him.
He tastes like apples.
--
The symbiote rests, but it does not sleep. While its host slumbers it waits, disturbing the air with its ghostly unbreath and dreaming of its true love, the host it always desire to return to.
And it is always hungry.
This host is frequently hungry too, often at odd times, and though he sleeps, he does not sleep well.
Which is to say: Mac wants a midnight snack.
So he rolls out of bed and wanders down to the kitchen. He can hear noises, but he's too sleepy for them to really register. Then, though, he gets to the kitchen door.
He stares at Daken and Lester.
They...don't notice him.
He turns, quietly, and walks away. He's going to need to think about what he just saw.
At the other door to the kitchen Karla holds up her phone, smiling faintly.
She posts the sex tape on Reddit two days later.