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Tony had always known that Steve had a soft heart. It was part of what made the Captain endearing, that willing nature to help out others. It was also, Tony discovered, what prompted Captain to rescue a little black ball of hellspawn from outside his mansion. To Steve, it looked like an adorable fluffy kitten with pretty green eyes.
Said adorable fluffy kitten had decided that Tony's closet would be the perfect den. The little monster had already claimed it as his territory, the territorial markings nearly driving Tony out of his own closet. Or well, it would have completely driven Tony of his closet if it weren't for his overlying outrage at his clothing being used by the kitten to sharpen its claws.
So, to Tony? The kitten was a summoned demon out of his worse nightmares. Only with fur, hypodermic needles, and wielding cuteness with lethal accuracy.
He was going to die of blue balls if this kept up.
Or okay, maybe not. He still had his hand. But he was going to die alone and cold, cast away to the couch in favor of a newer, more adorable, model of cuteness to inhabit Steve's bed.
"Shit! Fucking hell!" Tony glared at the furry menace that was smugly cleaning its paw. Little bloodsucking demonspawn, it was probably enjoying the taste of his flesh and blood. "I cast you out" he hissed, shooing at the kitten with his uninjured hand, "Begone," and threw salt on the cat's head followed by a sprinkling of water from the fridge. It hadn't been blessed by a priest, per say, but Jarvis had given it his blessing. Kind of. It would do.
The kitten blinked its green eyes at him, thoroughly unimpressed and began cleaning its ears. Tony frowned, was that cat smirking?
Steve decided to enter the kitchen at that moment, and blinked at the display in front of him. Tony moved quickly away from the countertop where he had leaning over, sprinkling salt over the cat's head. The kitten hopped down to the floor and sauntered over to where Steve was, pawing at his pant's leg. Being the very nice all American boy he was, Steve picked up the cat and settled it on his shoulder, where it began to purr.
Tony had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to win this argument, "Your cat," he said, shoving his hand in Steve's face, "Just tried to disembowl me. Slice me up like sushi."
Laughing, Steve moved Tony's hand away from his face and examined it, "Tony, it's just a scratch."
"A scratch done with bloodlust," Tony hissed, "Look at him, licking his paws. He's getting a taste for human flesh."
"That's too bad," Steve smiled, eyes hooded, "How about me, then?" and pulled Tony in closer to his body, "If it hurts that much, want me to make it better?"
Eyes wide, Tony shivered as Steve brushed his lips across his palm, working his way over the webbing between his thumb and forefinger until he reached the slashes along the back of Tony's hand. "Oh, well, in that case," he said, faintly, "I think that would be just fi-SHIT"
All he could see was black. Black fur getting into his eyes, his mouth, and pinpricks of pain along the sides of his face and against his backside from where he had been pushed onto the floor by the launching of a fuzzy mass at his face. He would say it again. The kitten. Was hellspawn.
Then light. He blinked. He could see light again and was free from the suffocating darkness. A blobby mass above him resolved into Steve's worried, but amused, face. The black blob next to Steve's face was less welcome, as it sharpened into a fuzzy black ball of hissing, spitting, kitten, weapons unsheathed and ready to attack.
"Steve," was all he said, "Your cat is the spawn of Satan. Maybe we should consider finding an exorcist."
Steve, gave him a skeptical look, and then glanced at the kitten, who was purring up a storm and rubbing its cheek against Steve's hand, "Tony, you just need to give him time to warm up to you," he said, reprovingly. "I found him outside by the dumpster, he's obviously been through a hard time."
The kitten gave a small, sad, mew, and looked at Tony with imploring eyes. "Here, take him, maybe you just need to spend some time together," Steve said, "Give me your hands."
"I like not being sliced to ribbons," Tony replied, but Steve just stared at him patiently until he held out his hands. Soft fur tickled his fingers and the cool leathery touch of little paw pads delicately settled onto his palm as Steve put the kitten in his cupped hands. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, and made his last moments full of fond memores of those good old days when he had Steve, in a bed, to himself.
There was a moment of silence, then purring and the soft rasp of a tiny pink tongue against his thumb. The weight shifted in his hands and he felt paws on his chest.
Tony opened his eyes to see his field of vision consumed by dilated pupils and green, and a sound that reminded Tony of the rattling roar of an old Ford's engine. The little furball was purring it's little black heart out, snuggling under Tony's chin, and making happy little chirping sounds. Steve smiled at them both, with some amusement, Tony was sure, for the dumbfounded look on his face.
"See, Tony? You just need a little time together. Wait here. I'm going to see if I can find a camera."
This cat. Was evil. A supervillain of cats.
Tony looked down at the little black furball suspiciously.
It mewed at him. And then grinned like the Chesire cat.
Well. Shit.