Chapter Text
As Steve drifted back into consciousness, he tried to recall why exactly he was passed out on the concrete. There was a pain in the back of his head, and a little voice in his mind told him that something was very wrong, but he couldn't place what exactly that was just yet. The previous day's events started trickling back into his mind, and Steve groaned.
That's right, Stark had been mouthing off to a certain God of Mischief. That's why this happened. He really should've known by now that you can't just make fun of Loki and expect nothing to happen. Though, he wasn't exactly sure why he of all people got caught up in this mess. Maybe the whole team was affected? Regardless, there was a little bit of anger bubbling up inside him at Stark. The man simply couldn't listen to orders! He just went off and did his own thing, which always seemed to put others in danger. And now, because of whatever the hell he'd said—Steve vaguely remembered something about a bag full of cats—they were stuck in this predicament.
Great, just great. That's exactly how he wanted to start today. Cleaning up Stark's mess.
Again.
Steve blinked his eyes open. That's when he realized that yes, something was very wrong. Everything looked a lot larger than it should have. The buildings around him were far taller than he remembered them being, and upon further inspection, they only looked like they should've been two stories tall. They didn't look two stories now.
Taking a deep breath, Steve surveyed the surrounding area. He was in an alleyway somewhere, with unfamiliar buildings on either side of him. His senses seemed to be even more enhanced than before, but he was really small. That's when he noticed the paws.
Startled, Steve jumped backward a little, not expecting the hiss that seemed to come out of his throat. "No, no, please God, no."
A broken mirror beside a trash can revealed that no, he wasn't going crazy, and yes, somehow he'd been turned into a cat. Loki, it had to be Loki! The only issue was that he seemed to be alone, which meant that his team was somewhere, alone, probably just waking up to find themselves changed into animals.
Pausing, Steve thought back to the last thing he remembered from yesterday. After Stark wouldn't shut up, Loki had said something back to him that Steve hadn't heard. But then Loki tried attacking Stark with magic, and he'd tried to protect his teammate... Great. So, chances were, he was the only one like this. All because he put himself on the line to save Stark.
It still confused Steve why he felt so protective of the annoying billionaire. He just couldn't wrap his mind around why he wanted so badly to help Stark sometimes, so he always just settled on 'he's my teammate, of course I want to help him'. It didn't explain why his sketchbooks had been filled with pictures of Stark lately, but that was something to figure out later when he wasn't furry with whiskers.
Finding his balance wasn't too hard with four legs instead of two, but the tail was definitely throwing him off. It made it easier to balance, but it just felt so foreign, and sometimes it seemed to have a mind of its own.
Steve crouched down before he launched himself up onto a dumpster, than quickly up onto the fire escape. He might as well figure out where he was, if he needed to get back to Stark Tower sometime and see if maybe Stark, Bruce or Thor would be able to do something to turn him back. Stark and Bruce might be able to find some scientific way, but Steve was really hoping that Thor would be able to just drag his brother to the tower and force Loki to change him back. Somehow, he doubted that was going to happen.
Climbing up onto the roof wasn't the easiest task, but Steve found that it was very possible. Once on the roof, he hopped up onto the edge and looked around for the familiar building. It took a while to spot, but when he did find it, Steve groaned. It was so far away, and currently stuck as a cat, he was a bit worried about how long it would take to get there.
Steve sighed. He figured that he should probably get going, if he was going to make it back to the tower within the next few days.
-x-
Tony groaned at the harsh sunlight. He didn't remember drinking yesterday, but he felt like he had a massive hangover. His head was pounding. What had even happened yesterday? The battle, Loki, magic... shit.
Tony opened his eyes and jumped up quickly. He knew that Loki did something—
"Why am I a fucking mouse?" Tony shouted, looking around. This was bad, this was very bad. A mouse lost in New York City. He wouldn't survive the night. Tony quickly assessed the damage—fur, whiskers, giant ears, tail—before he started formulating a plan. If he was turned into a mouse, getting back to the tower would be quite difficult, but it was doable. He was a genius, after all. Getting Loki to turn him back was another question completely.
Finding that his senses were a lot more enhanced than before, especially his sense of smell and hearing, Tony headed over towards a gutter drain. There were so many instincts buzzing around in his head, the most prominent being to hide somewhere and stay out of sight. He had to fight the instinct just to make it over to the gutter drain. Climbing up onto the roof of the luckily one story building took a lot of skill, strength and patience, but eventually he made it up.
Tony sighed. Despite the fact that everything else looked so huge, the tower looked puny in comparison. That could only mean that it was really far, especially for him right now. It would be a long walk for a man, but it was huge for a mouse.
What were the chances that his teammates were also animals right now? Tony tried to think back to what had happened. Loki was being an ass, so he was just responding... he wasn't exactly sure what made Reindeer Games so angry, but Loki said something about a curse, about the tower, and then... then Rogers had tried to save him. Why the fuck had Rogers tried to save him? They weren't friends. Rogers hated him, and he couldn't stand America's Golden Boy.
It wasn't really his fault, though, that he couldn't stand Rogers. He'd grown up his whole life being compared to the man everyone thought was dead. Howard loved Rogers more than he ever loved his own son. Tony hated being compared to the Boy Scout all of the time. He knew that he was a disappointment, compared to the man Howard had helped create. He knew that there was nothing he could do that would've ever impressed his father as much as Rogers did.
So why had Rogers tried to save him? Obviously it hadn't worked, but it angered Tony. He didn't need to be protected by Rogers of all people! He could take care of himself. He'd prove it, too, by getting back to the tower in one piece. Convincing his friends that he was turned into a mouse would be another story altogether, but he'd think of something eventually.
Tony sighed. At least this day couldn't get any worse.
-x-
Four hours into his trek, and Steve hadn't made it too far. He found that when people saw cats that they thought were feral and could possibly have fleas or rabies or some other disease, they weren't too happy about being near them. What Steve didn't realize was that people would actually try to kick him or hit him with things. So that's why he was sitting in another alleyway, on top of a dumpster, watching people walk by.
Letting the cat in his head take over to clean his pelt, Steve waited. Eventually he'd be able to head off again, and hopefully get a little closer to the tower. The sun was going to be going down in another four hours or so, so he still had time. Plus, traveling at night didn't seem like a bad idea. In fact, there was a good chance that he'd be able to travel further at night than during the day.
"You a house cat?" Steve jumped a little upon hearing another voice. And here he thought that he was alone.
Looking farther into the alleyway, Steve watched as two large yellow eyes opened in the shadows, and a wiry black cat melted out of the darkness. He looked old and thin, and his tail was bent at a strange angle in two different places. When he grinned, Steve saw the razor-sharp teeth, yellowed, that lined his jaws. The old tomcat's ears flicked as he padded slowly over to the dumpster and looked up at Steve.
"Well?" He asked, his voice scratchy.
"A house cat... yes," Steve said. He had a home that he desperately wanted to get back to, and he was a cat, so... Plus, he wasn't exactly sure how to survive on the streets as a cat.
"Thought so, with all that well-groomed fur," the tomcat rumbled. Dagger-like claws slid out onto the pavement, scratching at it for a moment. "Don't know how to hunt, do ya?"
Steve shook his head, unsure if this cat was just saying that, or if he was going to teach him. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to get near the other cat, though. He definitely didn't want to get fleas with his pelt.
It was back when he was grooming his fur when Steve noticed how long his silvery fur was. It had interesting dark and light markings on it, and it was definitely a pain to clean. Since his fur was so long, it kept getting tangles and snarls in it, and it just felt heavy.
"No, I don't," he replied hesitantly.
The old fleabag started laughing, a broken purr rumbling in his chest. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." Steve rolled his eyes and got up to leave. "I do have a tip for you, though," the old cat called after him, getting Steve to stop. He might as well listen, if this cat had something important to tell him.
"Stay away from Bone's territory. He's vicious, and he'd kill a house cat like you if you just looked at him wrong," the old cat called before he padded over to the shadows again.
Bone? Apparently he'd need to stay away from other cats' territories. Not that he knew where those were, but... Steve raced down the sidewalk, not wanting to give people a chance to notice him. They did anyway, and Steve quickly ducked down into another alleyway. He followed it for a while, watching as the crowds of people seemed to disappear.
Steve knew that he wasn't going the right way, but he couldn't help that right now. That old cat was right—he needed to know how to hunt. There were instincts in his head that might be able to help with that, and he was starving. The buildings started to look more and more abandoned the farther he went, and Steve knew that the chances of finding some sort of prey here were a lot higher.
Scenting the air, Steve caught wind of a smell that his brain told him was mouse. He grinned—cats ate mice, so he shouldn't have a problem with this. Unsheathing his claws, Steve got low to the ground the prowled forward. The fur on his belly was pressed to the ground, and he'd definitely have to clean that again, but it didn't matter. He'd get a meal.
Steve narrowed his eyes, catching sight of the dark brown mouse not too far away. Steve pounced, front claws sheathing in hesitation before he pinned the mouse to the ground. Now, he would've been expecting a surprised squeak from the mouse. What he wasn't expecting was when the mouse shouted, "Shit!"
Pausing, Steve eased off the pressure so that the tiny creature would be able to breathe. He then lowered his head to the mouse and sniffed it before something clicked in his brain.
"Stark?" It was a longshot, but as far as he knew, mice didn't swear like a sailor, and his scent was... familiar.
"Rogers? Get the fuck off me, you big oaf!" Stark muttered. Steve lifted his paw, giving Stark a chance to turn around. He watched as the tiny mouse's eyes widened and he tried to dart off, but Steve quickly, out of instinct, slapped his paw back down onto the mouse, catching his tail.
"Let me go," Stark growled.
"Only if you don't run away," Steve replied. "It's dangerous out here, Stark. If I was any other cat, you would've been dead right now."
"Thanks for reminding me," Stark grumbled, rubbing his tail when Steve released him.
"This is what happens when you piss Loki off," Steve growled, taking a seat. He wrapped his tail around his paws. Looking down at Stark was normal—he had to, literally, look down at just about everyone because of his height. But this just felt wrong, looking down at Tony like this. He was just so tiny. And here Steve thought that he had it bad, being so small compared to people. How must Stark have felt?
"I get it, you're mad. It's not like I wanted this to happen," Stark said, trotting off in the direction of the tower. "You didn't have to try to protect me, you know. I'm not helpless."
"You are now," Steve retorted before he could stop himself. He didn't want to cause a fight right now, because having Stark run off would be very bad. As much as the other man annoyed him, he didn't want him to get eaten by some street cat. Steve followed slowly by his side, noticing how slow the mouse walked. At this pace...
"I'm not helpless, you just caught me off guard," Tony replied, his little tail lashing back and forth. Steve, surprisingly, could smell his irritation.
"I didn't mean it like that. You're a mouse, do you know how many animals in this city want to kill you right now? People too—you can't walk through those streets without people trying to kill you. I'm a cat and they've been trying to hurt me," Steve said, wanting to make a point. "You don't have a suit of armor here, Stark. We're both vulnerable."
"I get it, I get it," Stark muttered. "That's why I was waiting until it got dark before trying to get back. I'm not stupid, Rogers. I've just never been a mouse before."
Steve sighed. There was no talking Stark into realizing that he was very vulnerable right now.
"Let's just get back to the tower and figure this out, okay?"
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Stark settled down. "I'm waiting here for nighttime."
Steve glanced over at the trash cans, then back to Stark. Scenting the area, he smelled something that made his mouth water. Eating food out of a trash can was definitely not something he'd normally do, but Steve couldn't deny that he was a bit worried. What if he got hungry enough that the cat in his head took over and killed Tony? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he killed his teammate. Judging the distance, Steve jumped up onto one of the trash cans.
"What are you doing?" Stark asked, watching him with curiosity.
"Well I'm not going to eat you, and I've starving," Steve replied, fishing out a sandwich. It was basically untouched—whoever dropped it there must've noticed that they just got a tuna sandwich, and so it went right into the trash can. It bugged Steve a little—they were throwing away perfectly good food, someone could've eaten that! Regardless, he grabbed it with his jaws and hopped back down onto the ground, landing beside his teammate.
"You should eat some," was all Steve said to Stark as he dropped the sandwich down onto the ground and used his claws to shred the plastic off of it. Mmm, his senses were going crazy.
"You're really going to eat something that you found in the garbage?" Stark asked.
Steve just flicked his ears and curled up a little, enjoying the taste of tuna. After a moment, he glanced to the side and watched as Stark moved a little closer. It was hard to think of the mouse as Stark, because he looked so much like a normal mouse as he sniffed at the bread before breaking off a piece and sitting back onto his hind legs so that he could eat.
Steve paused. "Eat as much as you can, I don't know when we'll be able to find food like this again."
Stark didn't answer, and Steve made sure to keep a lookout for predators. Dogs and cats would both be bad right now.
-x-
While Tony was thankful for food, he wasn't thankful about being stuck with Rogers. And why the hell did Rogers get to be a cat when he was still stuck as a mouse? That just wasn't fair. But then again, Loki probably did that on purpose, just to annoy him. The bread and tuna tasted really good right now, but that was probably just because he hadn't had anything to eat in... well, a long time. He wasn't exactly sure.
Tony glanced over at Rogers again. He was huge compared to Tony, and that really bothered him right now. He hated being vulnerable, but he was never going to admit that Rogers was right, and he was in a lot of danger right now. The teeth and claws were what really made Tony's fur crawl. Those claws that Rogers had were gigantic and looked wicked sharp. He was still glad that Rogers hadn't just skewered him before, but instead had given them a chance to recognize one another.
He could only too easily imagine those claws ripping right through his flesh and bones, or those huge teeth just sinking down into him and killing him. Tony shivered, and Rogers must've mistaken it as him feeling cold, because the next moment there was a large, fluffy tail beside him. Rogers was radiating heat, and Tony couldn't deny that it felt nice, but there was no way that he was going to let Rogers baby him.
"Move the fur, fuzzy," Tony muttered, trying to shove the tail away from him.
Rogers frowned, but his silver tail flicked and curled up around the large feline paws, instead. Finally, some space.
"How do you think we're going to turn back?" Rogers asked. Breaking the silence. He looked uncomfortable, and Tony watched as he shifted his weight from paw to paw. He almost looked... nervous.
"No clue," Tony replied, grabbing another piece of bread. "I was kind of hoping that Thor might be able to find Loki and make him change us back."
"How will the team know what happened to us?" Rogers asked.
Tony rolled his eyes. "Have you ever just had animals following you around? Especially when two of your teammates are missing, and Loki was involved? I think they'll get that it's us."
Rogers shrugged before settling down again. Tony didn't want to admit it to Rogers, but he liked it when he was lying down so that they were a bit more eye-to-eye. Rogers seemed to like it too, or it could tell that it made Tony relax a little.
"You should get some rest," Rogers said suddenly, whiskers twitching. "If we're going to be up walking all night, it would be a good idea. I'll make sure other predators don't show up, okay?"
Tony stared at him, unsure of what to say. Part of him screamed at Rogers for trying to 'take care' of him, while another part of him was glad for a chance to rest. Instead he just decided on shrugging and curling up into a little ball, wrapping his tail around his nose. He opened an eye when he heard Rogers move, but it seemed that the big feline was just scooting closer to him, making it easier to keep an eye on him.
Tony huffed. He didn't need Rogers to protect him.
Oh well, he needed rest more right now.
-x-
"How long have we been walking?" Stark asked for the third time. Steve sighed and padded alongside his teammate.
He wanted to get further than this. Four hours would give him a chance to get a lot closer to the tower, but definitely not at this pace. If Stark would stop being so stubborn, Steve was sure that they'd be able to get back to the tower sooner. He didn't like being out on the streets at nighttime feeling so vulnerable, especially while his team didn't know where he was.
"Four blocks, we've walked four blocks," Steve snapped, irritated. He glared down at Stark, who was glaring right back at him. Steve's anger melted a little when he noticed how red the little mouse's paws were. "Come on, Stark, just let me carry you. I can tell you're in pain."
"I'm fine," Stark muttered, though he did sit down for a moment to rest his sore paws.
"We need to get back to the tower as soon as possible, and if you're injured, that's going to make it a lot more difficult," Steve said. If Stark would just listen to him, this all might go a lot easier. "I want to be human again as soon as possible, and I'm not leaving you here. That's not an option. Be reasonable."
Steve could smell his frustration. He knew that Stark clung to his pride and ego, but he should be able to ask for help when he needed it, especially from his teammates. Steve would always help him out, if prompted. Stark glared at him some more before he finally caved in. Steve took it as a good sign and pressed himself against the ground.
"We are never speaking of this," Stark muttered, and Steve barely felt it as the tiny brown mouse climbed up onto his back.
"Hold on tight... If you fall off, there's a good chance that I won't notice," Steve murmured, glancing over his shoulder. His teammate looked like he was still trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to 'hold on'. There was a little prickle from the mouse’s nails as he dug his tiny paws into Steve's fur and tried to keep his grip. Steve took a few steps forward, wanting to make sure that Stark wasn't just going to fall off. The tiny mouse wavered for a moment before he pressed himself down and kept his hold.
Content that he would be okay, Steve started off towards the tower at a somewhat fast pace. Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he should be talking with Stark, making sure that he was okay. After all, things had to be quite different from his end, being as tiny as he was. But the mouse made no move for conversation, so Steve didn't either.
He was still a bit mad, to be honest. Stark always had to say something wrong to the enemy, and it wasn't bad enough that Loki had a personal vendetta against the Avengers, he just had to go make it worse. Of course, he'd tried to save his teammate, so it was partly his fault, too, that he was stuck in this mess. But if he hadn't, and Stark had ended up turned into a mouse all alone...
Steve didn't want to think about that. As annoying as he could be sometimes, Steve never wanted to see Stark get hurt. If some other cat had found him before Steve had gotten there, if he'd pounced with his claws instead of hesitating, even if he hadn't been fast enough and Tony had gotten away without him even knowing... There were so many ways that their situation could've been much worse. So honestly, he should be thankful that they were both still alive, in one piece, and headed back to the tower.
Steve had to stop a few times—climbing onto the roof to figure out where they were while keeping a mouse on his back was quite difficult, but that happened, and they were still going in the right direction... Steve sighed, his tail subconsciously curling around his teammate, who was sitting next to him.
"He couldn't have dropped us off a little closer to home?" Stark said, and Steve could sense his worry. He settled down beside him, tucking his front legs underneath him. It was actually a very comfortable position.
"We'll make it back," Steve murmured, resting his chin on the roof. "Just wait and see. Tomorrow night, we'll be back at the tower, and we'll be human again. You can have some coffee, since I know that you'll be needing some more of that, we'll do another team movie, and everything will go back to normal. How does that sound?"
"...Good," Stark replied. Steve smiled a little to himself when he noticed that Stark was leaning against him. Only because he's warm, Steve reminded himself. Stark would never even want to be near him if he wasn't a mouse right now. Steve's body heat was obviously greater, and he didn't mind keeping his teammate warm.
Steve yawned, struggling to keep his eyes open. He glanced over at Stark and noticed that his eyes were already closed.
"Stark?" he whispered.
"What?" He didn't sound too happy.
"Am I supposed to be this tired? I don't know how often cats normally sleep," Steve said, yawning again. Rationally, Steve knew that he should get up and get his blood flowing again. They had to get back to the tower, and at this rate it wouldn't be by tomorrow night.
"Cats sleep a lot... I'm pretty sure mice do, too," Stark mumbled. He sounded tired.
"Well, if we're going to stop to rest, let's not rest on the edge of the building," Steve murmured, slowly getting to his paws. Stark made a noise of complaint as Steve looked around for somewhere to rest. The roof was pretty bare, so he chose a spot where, if it did start suddenly raining, they wouldn't get caught in it. "Come on, Stark, over here."
The small brown mouse basically slithered over to where he was. His eyes were only half open, and Steve could tell that he wasn't going to get much farther. Steve curled up around his teammate, letting Stark snuggle up against his fur. He needed to keep an eye on the little rodent, because if anything happened to him while Steve was trying to protect him... Steve wasn't going to let anything happen.
While he was tired, Steve couldn't get to sleep for a little while. Stark had long-since fallen asleep, somewhere tangled up in a mass of silver fur. What would happen if there wasn't a cure? What if they couldn't find Loki? Or, worse yet, what if something happened to them on the way back to the tower? Bad thoughts kept Steve from being able to fall asleep. He couldn't shake the feeling that Loki had done this on purpose. It wasn't the first time Iron Man had insulted him during a battle. It was like he had been waiting for that to happen so that he could attack them... it was almost like he knew that Steve would try to protect Stark.
Hmm... It was best not to dwell on those thoughts though, Steve decided, as he let sleep take over.
-x-
"We've got Jarvis and S.H.I.E.L.D. both looking for any traces of Steve, Tony and Loki," Bruce said, biting his lip. It wasn't any day when Loki decided to pull one of his tricks and make two Avengers disappear for several hours. What was worse was that when they disappeared, so did Loki, and any chances of being able to locate their two missing teammates anytime soon.
"I apologize greatly for Loki's wrongdoings," Thor said, looking exhausted. He'd been out searching for any sign of Loki since the battle, guessing that he was probably the only way that they'd be able to get their teammates back.
Bruce huffed. Thor always apologized for Loki, but thus far he hadn't gotten his brother to stop causing mayhem. Bruce had noticed that Loki wasn't trying to murder everyone anymore, and while his attacks were still usually violent, he seemed to be testing them, or just plain old messing with them instead of really trying to kill them. The Other Guy was bubbling right under the surface any time anyone brought up 'Loki', and Bruce knew how much his 'other half' hated the god.
"Guys, I think we found something," Clint called, running over into the room. Natasha followed behind him, holding to containers, one red, one blue.
"He left a note," Clint muttered, clearing his throat. He skimmed it for a moment. "So we found it on Stark's bed, and it basically says that either they'll make it back to the tower, and that stuff," he pointed to the containers that Natasha was holding, "will," air quote, "turn them back to normal. Either that or they'll die trying to get back, or Steve may end up killing Tony. So, uh, good news is that Steve's not evil, so they'll be trying to get back here, but... No clue what it means about turning back to normal. What do you think he did to them?"
Bruce processed the information. If they had to make their way back to the tower and have that be a difficult and dangerous task, then either Loki changed them so that they weren't human anymore, or he'd shrunk them. But that still didn't explain why Loki was convinced that Steve might end up killing Tony. Steve would never—the Captain was a good man, and Bruce knew that all of the Avengers trusted him with their lives.
There was no way that he'd just kill Tony. Bruce knew firsthand how bothersome Tony could be at times, and he knew that the two didn't always get along, but Bruce was able to tell that they wanted to, whether or not they knew it.
"I don't know," Bruce admitted, fixing his glasses. It was a nervous habit he'd developed and had yet to crack. "But I think we should continue to look for them."
"You believe Loki, then?" Natasha asked. Bruce raised an eyebrow at her in question, so she continued, "We don't know what's in these vials. It could just poison them instead of 'turn them back'."
"We don't have much of a choice," Bruce said. "Thor, do you think I'd be able to analyze these in my lab?"
Thor shook his head. "If Loki left that much, they'll need all of it to turn back. I suspect that they're still in the city."
"If we find them, instead of letting them make their way back here, then we can resolve this faster," Clint said, grabbing a jacket. "I'm going to go look. Uh... what should I be looking for?"
"Anything out of the ordinary," Bruce said. "They should recognize you guys, whether you recognize them or not, so that should help."
"Let us search my friends, and bring them home," Thor announced, picking up his hammer before he headed for the door.
What sort of trouble did you two get into this time? Bruce sighed and grabbed a jacket, following after his team, making sure to alert Jarvis to tell them if Steve and Tony made it back to the tower, no matter what form they were in.
Somehow, Bruce wasn't surprised that it was Steve and Tony who got stuck with one another. Maybe Loki had seen it, too, and had done this on purpose... Nah, he wouldn't do that. Loki was a villain, after all.
-x-
When Tony woke up, he was initially concerned at the amount of fur everywhere. Where was he? This wasn't his bed back at the tower, or in Malibu. It wasn't until he hears Rogers' soft snoring when he remembered the previous day's events. Tony sighed, untangling himself from the mass of silver and back fur.
The tower was still so far away, and the sun was really hurting his eyes. Tony reluctantly buried himself once more in the plush fur. Thus far, things hadn't been that bad, but Tony knew Loki, and he wouldn't have done this if there weren't going to be challenges, right? Hopefully when Rogers woke up, he'd still be thinking like himself and not like a cat.
Tony was a bit shocked at how safe he felt right now. Who knew that Rogers could make him feel so safe? Okay, so that was a lie. He knew that Rogers made him feel safe. But Mr. America made everyone feel safe, so it wasn't like that was unusual.
It wasn't that Tony wanted to admit that Steve Rogers was a pretty cool guy, it was that he had to admit it. While he'd always been compared to Captain America growing up, Tony was glad to find that as an actual person, Steve Rogers was just as flawed as the rest of them. Maybe even more so. (Not more than himself, Tony's mind had to point out. No one was more flawed than him.)
"Hmm, morning already?" Rogers mumbled, yawning. Tony flinched a little upon seeing those giant teeth of his. Rogers wasn't going to hurt him, Tony reminded himself again and again. No matter how much he bothered his teammate, Rogers would never actually kill him, right?
"Stark? We should probably get moving," Rogers said, and Tony sighed. He didn't want to move, but then...
"Hey, watch the tongue, buddy," Tony muttered.
Rogers was acting like a cat, grooming his fur and, because he was hiding in Rogers' fur, Tony.
"Sorry," he mumbled, nudging Tony a couple of inches away before he went back to grooming himself. Tony couldn't deny the strong urge he had to do the same—his pelt wasn't exactly clean after those New York City streets and sidewalks, but he didn't want to give in to the instincts. He wanted to remain as human as possible.
"Could you... not do that right now?" Tony asked, waving a hand-paw in his direction.
"It's weighing me down. If I could, I'd cut a lot of it off," Rogers explained. A few minutes later, he shook out his fur and leaned down to let Tony climb up onto his back again.
Great, the downward climb. Holding onto a cat's fur and riding a cat's back while stuck as a mouse was not an easy task. Tony wasn't about to tell Rogers exactly how hard it was for him—no, he didn't want the other man's pity—so instead he just kept his mouth shut.
"I'd like to see how close we can get today," Rogers said, starting an easy pace down the sidewalk. There weren't many people up at sunrise, so it was fine. "I'm not sure that we'll be able to get back by tonight, and finding Loki could take a while, but let's see how far we get. It looks like a beautiful day, so it shouldn't be that hard, right?"
"Right," Tony replied, though he didn't believe Rogers. Beautiful day or not, they were going to start running into some serious problems.
Tony breathed a sigh of relief when people just continued to walk past them. Everything was perfect until someone screamed.
"There's a rat on that cat!" And then the highest pitched scream Tony had ever heard.
Even Rogers hissed in pain from that pitch. He darted forward quickly, and Tony was barely able to stay on his back as he darted into an alleyway and behind some trash cans.
"She thinks I'm a rat?" Tony gasped, letting himself tumble to the ground when Rogers laid down. "Do I look like a rat?"
"Not in the slightest," Rogers meowed, amused. "Is there any way that you could... I don't know, hide a little bit? You stick out."
"You want me to wear your fur like a coat? Or like a blanket?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"
"Climb back onto my back, but up near my shoulders," Rogers suggested. Tony huffed before jumping up onto the cat's back. He was quite unbalanced when Rogers suddenly stood up, and when he tumbled down Tony discovered that where his shoulders and ribcage met his neck, there was the perfect little place in the groove between his shoulder blades.
"Well?" Rogers prompted.
"I'll see if I can..." There was a lot of fur on this cat, and if he just moved it around a little bit right here, he could create a little cubby where he could then cover himself with the fur. A rumbling noise distracted him. "Uh... Rogers?"
"Sorry, that tickles," Rogers purred, and wow that was a loud purr. Tony was almost vibrating it was so strong. Or it was because he was a mouse on a cat's back. It could be that.
"I think I'm covered," Tony replied, patting his teammate. He settled down, curling his tail around his nose before he made sure to hold on tightly to the fur around him.
"Let's get going," Rogers said, and he started heading off.
Tony was a bit surprised that Rogers was actually putting up with him and helping him out—Tony already knew that it was all his fault that they were in this mess. He couldn't figure out what the Boy Scout was up to—there had to be a reason that he was helping Tony out. People didn't normally just help him out for no reason. Then again, they were teammates, and that might've been the reason, but Tony wasn't entirely convinced of that.
If he was the cat... well, he wouldn't have left Rogers, but the man was being entirely too nice to him. Was he normally this nice when they weren't arguing? Shit... when weren't they arguing?
Oh! Those times when Rogers would come down to the workshop, but Tony didn't feel like talking, so he'd just sit there and be quiet company. They didn't argue then. (They didn't talk then, either.) Or most times during the team dinners that Rogers always insisted they should have. (Tony and Clint had started up Team Movie Night.)
Man, if he'd just listened before when Rogers told him to knock it off, then they wouldn't be stuck wandering through the city, trying to get back to the tower, while stuck as tiny (and itsy bitsy) animals!
"You okay?" Rogers asked quietly, startling Tony.
"Fine," he said stiffly. He could smell—fucking smell—Rogers' worry. It was weird as hell, but it was also... intriguing. Could Rogers do the same? He didn't want to think about that anymore.
"So, uh, just tell me to stop when you're hungry. I'll try to find something, but I can't make any promises," Rogers said. Tony didn't bother responding, instead deciding to just press his face against the silver fur around him and close his eyes.
It was a long and exhausting day, and Tony could only guess that it was even more so for Rogers, who had done most of the walking. When it started to get darker out—long after their noon break where Steve managed to find something to eat, thankfully—Tony had started walking (read: running) beside Steve, who was really slowing down.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The voice sent icy shivers down Tony's spine.
-x-
Steve cursed himself for not paying enough attention to notice that there was another cat around. Quick as lightning, Steve was in front of Stark, his claws flashing out, ready to protect his teammate.
"You're on my territory," the cat snarled. His fur was ruffled and missing in some patches. There were several scars coating this tomcat's flanks, with four jagged ones that ran down the left side of his face. Two large amber eyes watched the two Avengers-turned-animals with an evil look before the tomcat licked his lips. This had to be Bone, the cat whose territory you shouldn't cross.
"We'll be leaving then," Steve murmured, nudging Stark with his paw. Stark seemed to be a deer in the headlights though, tiny eyes wide and staring directly at bone. There was a thick fear-scent coming from him, and Steve knew that he wasn't going to be walking out of this.
"Not so fast," Bone snarled, and a couple of cats—where did they come from?—moved to block his exit. "First, hand over the mouse. I'll kill it first, then I'll kill you."
Steve glanced backward at the cats that were blocking the exit. There were so many of them. Steve's fur bristled, and he knew that it was making him look larger and more threatening. His ears pressed back against his head, and a quiet hiss escaped his lips.
There were four of them in total. Two tomcats, two she-cats. Bone was obviously their leader, but all four looked very fierce. Steve didn't know how to fight as a cat, and realized that if they didn't get out of there soon, neither of them would see the light of day again. One quick glance at Stark told Steve that there was no way that his teammate would be able to climb up onto his back and hold on.
His mind was racing, trying to figure out something that might save the both of them. Run. Run away, as fast as he could. He hated running away, but it wasn't only his life on the line right now, and there was no way that he was risking Stark right now. (Or ever.) Steve came up with an idea and acted on it before he was able to figure out of it was a good one or not.
In a flash, Steve grabbed the tiny rodent in his jaws, keeping the tiny mouse held in his closed mouth. In the same motion, he flung himself up onto one of the trash cans to be able to leap over the cats guarding the entrance. All four charged after him, clawing at his tail and hind legs before he was far off their territory, and far away from whichever direction they had been heading in to get home.
While he'd been running for his life and Stark's, Stark had curled up into a tight ball. Steve had to keep his rough cat-tongue pressed against the tiny mouse to make sure he didn't accidentally swallow him while he ran. It wasn't until he was sure that they were far, far away from those cats when Steve bowed his head and placed the tiny, unmoving mouse on the ground.
"Stark...?" He nudged the little mouse with his nose. "Stark? Tony, wake up. Tony!"