Author's Note: This is inspired by something that happened to me a few weeks ago, and because of the obsessed state my mind is in, naturally I saw the parallels to the MCU. Just about everything that Steve does in this fic is what happened in my life, except that I have never (and still don't) own a cat. Nevertheless, even though my little adventure only took four days of my time, I think I can safely say the experience changed my life forever. This is set in an AU where all of the Avengers are randomly going to the same college at the same time (which is insanely fun to play with) :D No superpowers.
for my Winter Fury
who is neither mine, nor Winter Fury
The first time he saw the cat, Steve didn't think much of it. He pulled up outside the house and was in the process of juggling his new easel and his heavy portfolio bag so he could reach the pocket with his keys, when he looked up and saw he wasn't alone. A black cat crouched in the farthest corner of the front porch, watching him warily with its ears pricked up. Only one yellow eye studied him. The other was nothing but an empty socket.
"Hey, kitty," Steve said, fishing his keys out at last. "Where'd you come from?"
Of course the cat made no reply. It just stared at him, a certain tension in its muscles making it clear that it would run at the slightest provocation.
"Better get on home," Steve said, opening the door and shifting the easel under his arm to get a better grip on it. "Your family's probably worried about you."
Then he went inside and promptly pushed the cat to the back of his mind. There were classes and assignments to think about, and he had to cover for the guy who usually opened the gym in the morning, and besides that he needed to do laundry...
But when he came back home the next day, the cat was still there. It sat there as if it hadn't moved an inch, and stared at him intently with its single eye. Steve paused with his hand on the doorknob, meeting the cat's gaze. Then, with a resolute nod, he hurried inside.
"Hey, man, what's up?" Sam asked when Steve bustled into the kitchen purposefully. He'd apparently just been for a run, since he was dripping with sweat and chugging orange juice right form the bottle. Steve made a mental note to talk to his roommate about that later.
"You seen that cat hanging around the front porch?" Steve rooted around on his shelf in the refrigerator until he found the lunch meat.
"Oh, don't tell me..." Sam groaned when Steve grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink.
"It's been sitting out there all day," Steve said, undeterred. "It's hungry."
"Aw, c'mon, Cap!" Sam whined, using the nickname all their friends had started using once Tony had joked that he was the captain of their 'friend-ship.' "You know I'm a bird guy! Befriending a cat would be an insult to Redwing's memory!"
Steve rolled his eyes as he left with the food. "Right, I'm sure he's rolling over in his little birdie grave." But he was glad that Sam had reached a point where he could joke about Redwing again. Last semester had been harder than Sam liked to admit, after his pet bird had died over Christmas. Steve had never quite understood why Sam had been so enamored with a bird that would let out an ear-splitting shriek approximating the sound of his name every time he entered the room...but to each his own.
The cat stood up when Steve stepped out onto the porch with food in his hands. Its tail flicked slightly, its eye trained on the two slices of turkey. Steve took a step towards it, but it immediately backed right up against the railing, looking like it was ready to scamper away at any moment. So Steve set the bowl of water and the lunch meat down at his feet and retreated to the steps. Sitting down to make himself look less threatening, he said softly, "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help you."
The cat hesitated for a moment, but its hunger seemed to overpower its fear. It inched forward, keeping its eye on Steve, and finally lowered its head to eat. Steve watched it, noticing with concern how skinny it was. He could clearly see its spine poking through the black fur.
"You really need my help, don't you?" he murmured.
The cat looked up at the sound of his voice and contemplated him for a long moment before bending over the bowl of water. Steve held out his hand invitingly. The cat eyed it, then crept forward, sniffing his fingers. They probably smelled like turkey, but he didn't have any more.
Steve ghosted his fingers through the fur on top of the cat's head, expecting it to dart back into its corner at the first touch. But instead, it just sat there watching him, letting him pet it lightly. After a few more strokes, Steve reluctantly got to his feet again. He had an essay due tomorrow, so he couldn't just sit out here all night.
"Bye, cat," he said, stepping back inside. The cat just sat there, watching him leave.
The next morning, there was no cat on the porch, but Steve left a can of tuna there anyway. Sam, who was leaving at the same time, shook his head. "You know you have to take it to the shelter, right? It probably belongs to somebody."
Steve wasn't sure he believed that—the cat was so skinny, and seemed so wary of him. But maybe it had been lost for a long time, or abandoned after whatever had lost it that eye. He nodded, knowing Sam was right. That was the right thing to do when you found a stray cat. He just wished it didn't feel like abandoning the cat all over again.
He couldn't get the cat out of his mind all day. It made for a huge distraction during lectures, and in his drawing class he ended up sketching pictures of one-eyed cats instead of the still-life collection he was supposed to copy. When he was finally finished for the day and could go home, he spent the whole drive fretting over whether the cat would be there or not. But to his relief (and disappointment, but mostly relief), he saw a black lump sitting in the corner of the porch when he pulled up in front of the house.
When he stepped onto the porch, the cat actually leapt to its feet and trotted up to him, letting out a plaintive meow. Steve's heart completely melted. "I know, I know," he said, reaching down to scratch its ears. It didn't shy away at all, just looked up at him with its single eye and meowed. "Stay right there."
After retrieving another can of tuna and refilling the water bowl, Steve sat with the cat and watched it greedily devour the food. Upon closer inspection, he could tell the cat was male, and he also saw that beneath the black coat of fur, there were highlights of dark, reddish brown that shone when the light hit just right.
Steve started talking to the cat in a low, soothing voice. By the time he had finished his meal, Steve had named him Winter. He wasn't sure why, it just felt...appropriate. He'd always been like that when it came to naming animals. It was like a sixth sense, just a vague knowledge of what the animals' name should be. Very different from Sam's method ("His name's Redwing because he has red wings." "Thanks, Sam, I kind of put that together on my own."), and too touchy-feely for Clint (who had named his dog Mr. Dog). Bruce, bless his heart, would probably suggest names like Rover or Snowball, never mind that this was a black male cat. But regardless of what anyone else thought, Steve knew it was right to call this cat Winter.
Steve knew he shouldn't be naming the cat at all. The speed at which he was warming up to human company was an even clearer indication that he'd at least been owned at some point. What if there was some poor owner out there, searching for him frantically? What if he belonged to a family, and the parents had to tell their weeping children it had been too long, why didn't they go buy another cat...
A quiet, almost curious meow broke into his thoughts. He looked down and saw Winter sitting in front of him, licking his chops. Steve slowly extended his hand, careful to come at him from the right side, where he could see the approaching hand. Before he even came close, Winter stepped forward and rubbed the side of his head against Steve's outstretched fingers. His one eye looked deep into Steve's, and he meowed again.
The lump in his throat made it hard to swallow. "You know I can't keep you, Winter," he said, putting his hand back in his lap.
Deprived of the hand, Winter stalked around Steve in a circle, rubbing his cheek against Steve's knee, his elbow, his back... Steve knew that cats rubbed their faces against things to mark their territory. Winter was marking him as his own.
He hadn't known his heart could break this way again.
The next time Winter passed in front of him, Steve trailed his fingers from the cat's head all down his spine to his tail. Winter turned back, pressing his head insistently against Steve's hand until Steve kept petting him. To his surprise, Winter nuzzled his hand with the wounded side of his face, pressing the empty eye socket against his palm, as if saying over and over, Comfort me.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, petting the cat until the sun went down. "I'm sorry."
As soon as he got off work at the gym, Steve reluctantly set about taking Winter to the shelter. He wasn't sure if Winter could tell what he was doing or just didn't like cardboard boxes, but he refused to stay in the one Steve carefully prepared for him. Even when Steve set him in the box himself, and gave him some food, Winter jumped right out of the box as soon as Steve lifted it. Eventually, Steve had to pick Winter up and manhandle him into the car without the aid of a box.
The ride to the shelter was short, even though Steve drove as slowly as he dared. Winter chose the center console between the front seats as his perch, and he looked interestedly out the window as they drove. Steve tried to take the turns as gently as he could, since Winter was struggling to keep his balance on the smooth plastic. He talked to Winter the whole way—not in the silly baby voice Sam used to use with Redwing, but in a normal voice, like he was talking to a real person. He wished that car ride could last forever.
But soon he was pulling into the parking lot of the animal shelter, and with a deep sigh, gathered Winter into his arms again. Winter made a ferocious growling sound deep in his throat as Steve lifted him out of the car. Steve winced as claws dug into his bare arms, but he didn't relax his hold. As he shifted his grip to make sure he was supporting Winter's back legs, he could feel Winter's heart thumping a mile a minute. Winter was terrified.
He murmured soothingly, stroking Winter's fur as best he could while maintaining a firm grip on him. This grew even harder as he stepped inside the lobby, where every dog in the county seemed to be waiting. Winter's claws dug even harder into his arm.
Thankfully, one of the ladies behind the front desk seemed to realize his plight and let him step in front of the indecisive couple trying to decide between the two dogs whose leashes they still held.
In the end, it was all over very quickly. They locked Winter up in a cage with food and a toy, neither of which he showed much interest in. Winter's lone eye stared at Steve as he left the room with a heavy heart. He was abandoning the cat, just as his original family probably had.
For the next month, Winter never left Steve's mind. The next week was fall break, but he didn't go home, or take up Sam on his offer to go with him to D.C. He used his art projects as an excuse, but he spent long hours half-heartedly working and then staring out the window. He called the shelter every week to see if Winter had been claimed by his owner. Every time they said no, he was filled with both hope and something akin to guilt. Apparently no one wanted a cat with one eye.
I do, Steve thought, filling the pages of his sketchbook with curlicues that turned into cat's tails that became one-eyed cats winking up at him. That's the only cat I ever want.
By the time the thirty days were up and Winter could be adopted, Steve had made up his mind. He didn't care what Sam said. Winter needed a home, and Steve wanted to give him one. But when he swung by the shelter on his way home that evening, he was met with shocking news.
Winter was gone. Someone had come that very morning and adopted him. His cage was empty. Some stranger had come and taken his cat, the one who had chosen him. Winter had been so damaged, so starved for affection. He had opened his heart just enough for Steve, and what had Steve done? Abandoned him and let someone who could never appreciate him take him away. It didn't help to know that he had technically done the right thing.
The whole way back home, Steve went over everything he should have done differently. Why hadn't he just skipped class and gone to the shelter right when it opened, to be sure he could get Winter? Why hadn't he at least told the people at the shelter that he wanted to adopt Winter? He realized that he hadn't done any of these things because he'd assumed no one would want a cat who had so obviously seen a lot of wear and tear. He hadn't valued Winter's worth. It was like an insult. Maybe he didn't deserve to be Winter's human in the first place, if he thought so little of him.
By the time he got home, Steve was so dejected he almost didn't notice the note stuck under the door knocker. Open carefully. Merry Christmas! - Sam
Confused, Steve looked around at the autumn leaves still falling from the trees all around. Nevertheless, he cracked open the door as carefully as he could and shut it firmly behind him. Only after locking it did he hear a faint meow from the kitchen.
Even as he hurried down the hallway, a black cat came running towards him. One yellow eye shone up at him as he meowed in his tiny voice. "Winter!" Steve cried, falling to his knees and holding out his hand to the cat, who rubbed his empty eye socket against it.
Steve was still in the hall with Winter in his lap when Sam came home. He smiled and flicked the light on. "I knew your present wouldn't keep till December, no matter what you decided to call it."
He looked up at his roommate, hands too full of cat to get up, heart too full of emotion to speak. Sam stood watching him, waiting until Steve swallowed the enormous lump in his throat. "Sam...you're awesome."
Sam beamed. "I knew that. My Christmas present had better be freakin' amazing, by the way." He showed the inside of his arms, which were criss-crossed with dozens of scratches, some of which had drawn blood. "That thing's a monster!"
Steve privately resolved to finish the sculpture of Redwing he'd given up on when the bird had died. Sam more than deserved it.
Winter fit easily into their lives. He soon grew plumper and found all the best spots to nap in the sun. He even warmed up to Sam a little, though Sam claimed Winter took a perverse pleasure in knocking over anything Sam set down on a flat surface. The only thing that left Steve a little concerned was that Winter never seemed to purr, even when he obviously enjoyed the attention they gave him.
"Maybe his purr box is broken," Sam said when Steve confided in him.
"You know that's not how it works," Steve said, rolling his eyes. He rested his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle loosely as he watched Winter attack his scratching post next to the couch. "I just feel like I'm...missing something."
Suddenly Winter scampered towards him and leapt at just the right moment, hitting Steve's open palm with his head. He curved his body in a graceful arc as he landed, so Steve's hand ran all the way along his spine even though Steve didn't move. Steve stared at Winter, who turned around and blinked at him expectantly. Did that really just happen? Steve held his hand out again, holding it parallel to the floor. Again, Winter ran towards him and flowed underneath his hand like water.
"Bucky?"
Winter rubbed his face against Steve's leg...and he started to purr. Sliding down onto the floor, Steve gathered the cat into his arms and buried his face in his fur. "Bucky, is that really you?"
The rumbling ball of warmth squirmed slightly, and Steve reluctantly put him down. But instead of meandering away, Bucky settled down in Steve's lap and kneaded his thigh with his prickly claws. Steve looked up at Sam, who was watching in confusion.
"I got a black kitten for my tenth birthday," he explained quietly, stroking the purring cat in his lap. "He kept jumping at my hand like that, and my mom joked that he was like a bucking bronco. So I named him Bucky."
"What happened?" Sam asked, sinking into Steve's vacated seat on the sofa.
"We moved, and I guess Bucky got scared, because he ran away. I looked for him, but...I never could find him. In the end, we had to leave without him." He remembered how hard he had cried, how he had apologized to Bucky over and over again...and how he had eventually realized that none of that would bring Bucky back. His parents had encouraged him to get another cat, but how could he just replace the one he'd failed so spectacularly? He'd never even considered getting another cat until Winter had come along.
Steve chuckled, stroking under Bucky's chin where he liked it best. Bucky's one eye closed till it was a narrow slit of happiness. "I knew you were the only one for me, Bucky."