when will you make a grave? for i will be home then

[pursuitofcappiness]

who Steve, you!
what Homecoming
when Early morning, day 48
where Edge of the forest

He wakes up in the forest and he doesn't know where he is. But he knows his best bet's to walk east. He doesn't remember these trees, but he knows what time it is, looks for the sun creeping up over the horizon, knows where he's going.

He doesn't feel drugged like he assumes he'd be, and he doesn't feel injured. He just feels confused, like he doesn't know where he just was or what day it is. How did he fall asleep out here?

If he looks at his reflection, he might not recognize it. His hair is unkempt, his eyes are slightly sunken, and he has the light beginnings of a beard. The only thing familiar would be the sharpness of his stare.

As soon as he sees the end of the trees, he knows where he is. This place felt like a dream, and not a particularly good one. Now he's back in it.

Comments

now i just want frosted flakes

[pursuitofcappiness]

He takes this as a good sign, walks closer, and scratches the underside of his chin. This is mostly just so that if he pounces, Steve can still easily get away. If he went for the ears or behind, he'd have a whole head in his way. But he can work his way up.

He grins a little, without teeth, since they might be too aggressive. But this isn't so bad. He makes no sudden movements, but looks back at Tony briefly. Seriously, he thought this tiger would be way less friendly. He's rather majestic, and he's got such big eyes, it's hard to think of him as the beast he imagined not two minutes ago.

"Guess you're staying with us, if you don't mind."

well, they are grrrrrrreat!

[manofiron]

It figures the damn cat likes Steve. It gives everyone else a hard time, but Steve? It’s like a goddamn kitten with a ball of yarn. Maybe an exaggeration, but Tony’s feeling disagreeable enough to make a big deal out of it in the privacy of his own mind. Meeting the look Steve gives him, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. Why isn’t the fierce wild animal attacking or growling or anything? He doesn’t fucking know.

For his part, said tiger simply closes his eyes as he’s scratched beneath his chin. It’s strange, new and different, but after it continues for a few seconds, he decides that he likes it. Enough, anyway, that he doesn’t feel the need to bite the two-legs that’s doing it.

More noises come from him, equally as incomprehensible as the Steve sound, and the tiger flicks an ear. After a few seconds, he turns his head, trying to angle for the scratching to hit the space along the ridge of his ear.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve is pleasantly surprised when Stanley moves his head. It's massive, and heavy. Super strength or not, he could easily be outmatched if he makes a false move. But if ear scratches are what he wants, ear scratches are what he gets.

He is endearingly cute. He feels almost like he's petting a small housecat who happened to have been on the receiving end of some super soldier serum.

"Mind if I sit by you?" He makes the move to do so, slowly but surely encroaching on Stanley's personal space. "We're roommates now, so I'd like to get to know you better."

[manofiron]

The tiger doesn’t understand what’s going on. The string of sounds coming from the two-legs keeps changing, though he still can’t detect hostility. Even when he moves into his personal space and moves to take – no, the tiger decides after a second’s reevaluation, not take, share - the soft thing, there’s no hostility, no malice.

If there’s danger here, it’s likely to come from the loud one outside the room than the one inside it, and the loud one isn’t dangerous either. Just annoying.

Ears twitching, the tiger sniffs at the two-legs again, then shifts himself into a smaller space so that he has room to sit down. Slowly, he stretches out a massive paw, claws retracted, nudges at the side of the two-legs’ leg, eyes staring intently at his hand.

The tiger wants petted some more.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Obligingly, Steve supplies petting for him, mostly on his crown and neck to start off with. He's glad that he's the one doing this, as even with his claws retracted, that is one heavy paw. He reminds himself that however friendly it is, they've only just met, it can probably never be domesticated, he's a very sizable piece of kevlar-less meat, and tigers eat humans. Not just the one with 19" teeth. Regular tigers.

But goodness, it's kind of cute. Steve's never had a furry companion, but of course he would love one. Immediately. And of course he'd see a bear of a beast of a giant cat that would scoff at the puny human who's spent time in ice, and feel compassion upon seeing it. Not only this, but Stanley would probably be a pet better suited to Thor, so Steve's actually gotta try a little to pet or scratch him properly. It's actually kind of a nice feeling.

There's also so little threat from Steve that the whole point of sitting down, as obvious as it might become, is to have an easier time with petting Stanley. He gets to reap the benefits of a super soldier with tireless hands and whose mood is suddenly uplifted.

[manofiron]

Tony lurks in the doorway a little longer, watching the two of them like a suspicious father watching his beloved daughter with her first boyfriend. He’s no supersoldier, however, and he knows it. If the tiger chooses to attack, he’s likely to get killed first. Steve at least the strength and speed to protect himself. Which means that they really don’t need Tony hovering, and quietly, he slips into the hallway and heads back to the living room.

The tiger notes his retreat with a brief, unconcerned sniff, the majority of his attention centered on the two-legs and his hands. The tiger enjoys this scratching-stroking thing the two-legs is doing, and he decides that he’s acceptable. This two-legs can stay. This two-legs, in fact, is his.

Opening his massive jaws, the tiger yawns and, once finished, settles his head across the legs of the two-legs, directly in his lap. Perhaps for the first time, he’s mindful of his fangs, careful not to pierce fragile two-legs flesh accidentally. And ever so softly, felt more than heard, comes the faint, hoarse rumble of a very quiet purr.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve Rogers does not say "aww." Steve Rogers is not an "aww" kind of man. But he has also never been tempted before by a purring yawning tiger in his lap trying to soak up all his attention and affections. He wants Tony to stay, but he doesn't want to raise his voice in case it startles Stanley. Tony's back is already turned by the time Steve beckons him back into the room.

But then there's a very heavy head on his lap and it's very warm and it seems to like him very much. He continues petting, marvels at how soft the fur is on the underside of Stanley's neck going to his belly. He's really a beautiful large cat. He has no idea what Tony's problem is with him. He's careful, still, but he's got good experience with being alert and still maintaining a high level of comfort. In Steve's mind, Stanley might be tough, but he's just a big softie on the inside.

"Do you mind if Tony comes back?" he asks, after a bit. "I think he'd like to make amends." He knows Stanley can't understand, but maybe he'll hear it in the tone of his voice.

[manofiron]

He doesn’t know what the two-legs is talking about. His tone is calm enough, but the sounds are incomprehensible. All but one, which he’s heard often enough to start associating with the loud, obnoxious one. His ears flatten at that sound, and his lips skim back from his teeth.

It’s not a warning of imminent attack. He doesn’t tense or move to bite the hand that’s scratching him. But his expression isn’t one that can be misinterpreted as pleasure or friendliness when that sound – one day, he’ll realize that it’s the obnoxious one’s name – gets made.

The answer here is clear. The tiger does mind. He doesn’t like the obnoxious one. This two-legs is okay. The other is not.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve takes this opportunity to appease Stanley by scratching his ears some more. Okay, so Tony's not invited to this little soiree. "That's what I thought about him too," Steve replies, kind of amused because he's talking to a cat, kind of because he's relating to a cat. "You'll see. He's pretty nice when you don't tear up his furniture."

He pauses from the petting to give that some thought. "Well, sometimes."

Steve thinks Stanley probably weighs half a ton, and although he can carry that, he's never tried, and he doesn't know that he can.

He moves onto playing with the scruff of Stanley's neck, partly to get a good full-body petting going on, partly to see if bigger cats operate like smaller cats. Who knows when placating him might be a good idea? His body's built for strength, not speed. If they need to catch him, subdue him, just to calm him down, they might be able to do it.

[manofiron]

He doesn’t have the slightest idea what the noises mean. As far as he can tell, they’re not directly related to the obnoxious one anymore, and that’s all he really needs to know. The two-legs can make noises until his voice gives out. It means nothing to him and all he really wants is for those nails to keep scratching through his fur.

What he needs, though he doesn’t know it, is brushed. His coat, while not filthy, is a little matted in places from being in the woods for so long. He’s done some maintenance on it since being brought inside; there have been some long tongue-baths as he casually contemplated eating the obnoxious one. But it feels nice to have someone else dealing with it.

His tail taps the top of his makeshift bed and he lets his eyes drop halfway closed. This is nice. He’s enjoying this.

[pursuitofcappiness]

So's Steve. He runs his fingers through Stanley's coat, thinks that they should get a brush or something. He thinks there was a horse-fur brush in the attic (there wasn't use for one, but he'd kept it around. With resources like these, it didn't hurt to hoard a little.) He'd go get it, but he doesn't feel like getting up.

Okay, petting this tiger is like. Heartwarmingly normal. Steve's one 70s haircut and Stanley's a couple thousand years of evolution away from this being a Christian the Lion story, but all the same, it's nice to have these little moments that everyone else in the universe gets to enjoy. And Stan, he's so very sweet when he's being petted, he probably doesn't even know he's won over Captain America's heart. He probably wouldn't care.

That's the best part, really. There's no judgment, there's no expectation to uphold. Steve's just The Man with the Hand right now. It's great.

[manofiron]

He isn’t thinking about the future or what could be improved upon. He’s existing solely in the present, with the soft, slightly lumpy thing beneath him – the mattress and the balled up sheets, if he knew what they were called – the solid warmth of the two-legs next to him, and his hand combing through fur in the most relaxing of ways. It’s not so bad, being like this, he thinks. It’s not the forest. It’s not running and jumping and climbing. There’s no game, no window, no endless sky. But it’s warm and dry and for the moment, comfortable.

The tiger’s eyes close as he lets out a mighty yawn, then leaves them closed as he rolls further onto his side, sets his head down, and lets the tension fade from his muscles. If the two-legs keeps it up, he’ll probably fall asleep.

For now, he’s just going to soak up the attention.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve's got plenty of attention to give. He wanted somewhere else to place his mind and he sure got it. He decides to give Stanley a belly rub. He can fall asleep if he wants. If the tiger ends up falling asleep on him, he'll just lie back and take a nap. It's not like Tony's using his bed while Stanley's on it anyway. Actually, it's morning and Steve hasn't done anything, but this is pretty relaxing and he might do that, take a fifteen-minute nap if his new pet (his new owner) lets him go.

A few of the gifts he's gotten in life were things that he's unexpectedly loved more than he'd have thought. A good strong will from his mother, letters from Bucky, one very useful shield, a picnic in a tower, friends he never expected to make... and a a new addition to the list, shocking mane and golden eyes and all.

No, it's still not an optimal place to be... but it's a nice silver lining.

[manofiron]

At first, he tenses. Stomachs are sensitive, vulnerable places, and only a very foolish predator leaves open his weak points. But after a moment, he relaxes, recognizing that while the two-legs is touching his stomach, he isn’t attempting to harm him. And the further he relaxes, the more he enjoys it.

They smell like food. They remind him of the animals in the forest that he hunts. Taller, bigger, with louder voices and things that aren’t fur or claws, but he isn’t hungry. The obnoxious one fed him earlier. His stomach is full and he’s as content as he can be, all things considered.

His breathing evens out. His ears relax and his tail stills. Slowly, the tiger falls asleep. And should the two-legs lay down with him, he won’t wake and take advantage of the vulnerability. There’s honor in the wild, and as the two-legs pays him the respect not to attack, so too will the tiger.