"How long will you be gone?"

Cat twined the phone cord around her finger as she spoke, trying to keep her voice low. Mrs. Schroder, the school secretary, was sitting less than five feet away. She was completely engrossed in her laptop, but it was still less private than Cat would have liked.

"A few days." Natasha's voice was garbled by the background noise. She'd been called on a last-minute mission, which would take a few days. It was the first thing she'd said when Cat picked up the phone.

She didn't say Sorry or I'll be back soon. She hadn't said much of anything, really. When Cat picked up the phone, Nat greeted her with a warm, "I'm leaving for a couple days. Don't set anything on fire."

Her voice was set to a cool neutrality, which made Cat wonder if she was alone. Cat imagined her sitting in a plane, or a car, or a train— whatever was making that loud noise in the background. Was she taking the call in a dark corner, or was she swarmed by a team of people in tactical gear? Were they all listening to the call take place like Mrs. Schroder, five feet away? Cat was surprised she'd bothered to call at all.

She'd never called like this before. Was that significant?

"Just letting you know," Nat said, still sounding like she was reading lines off of a goodbye scene.

Cat looped her finger around the curl of the phone cord and pulled the curl straight. She tried to guess what was keeping Mrs. Schroder so absorbed with her computer. Attendance records? Solitaire?

"Well… okay." What was she supposed to say? "Thanks for calling."

Phone held to her ear, Cat listened to the sound of rushing wind on the other end.

"You're welcome," Natasha said after a second. Obviously she didn't really know what to say, either.

A knock against wood brought Cat's attention to the secretary, who had rapped her knuckles on the desk. She was now glaring at Cat's abuse of the phone cord. She shook her finger at her and mimed letting go of the cord.

Cat let it slowly unwind from her finger and waited for the secretary to start minding her own business again. She turned back to the phone. "I don't need a babysitter, right?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I'm having Tony check in with you," Natasha said, "but no going to the lab or having fun. You're still grounded."

Cat rolled her eyes. "How could I forget? You keep reminding me every ten minutes."

"On second thought, feel free to sleep on the streets and get kidnapped again," Nat sniped. Cat could feel the sarcasm through the phone.

"Maybe I will," she shot back.

"Go ahead."

"Might as well join an underground drug ring while I'm at it," Cat said cheerfully. "Hmm… what will I name my drug ring? 'Cat and Friends: Hugs and Drugs.'"

That caught the secretary's attention.

"Only joking, Mrs. Schroder," Cat said hastily.

Mrs. Schroder muttered something and turned back to her Solitaire. Or maybe it was online Blackjack? Mrs. Schroder did have that suburban mom, online gambler look…

"If you start an underground drug ring while I'm gone, I will be seriously ticked off," Nat said on the phone.

"I'll behave," Cat relented. She swung her legs under her seat. Her sneakers hung half a foot off the ground. "So, can you bring me back a souvenir?"

Natasha made a short huff of amusement, like Cat had surprised it out of her. "There won't be a lot of gift shops where we're headed."

"What about rocks?"

"Rocks?" Nat repeated.

"Yeah."

"Why do you want a rock?"

"Rocks are everywhere," Cat said. She unwound the phone cord from her finger. It had been cutting off her circulation, and she watched the blood rush back to it. "But make sure it's a nice one, not one of those ugly rough ones."

"Any other requests?" Nat asked dryly.

"If you see one of those electric scooters that go faster than cars…"

"Never going to happen."

"Fine, I'll just ask Uncle Tony to make me one," Cat said, emphasizing the Uncle Tony for Mrs. Schroder's benefit.

Natasha wasn't fazed. "'Uncle Tony' values a functioning airway too much for that."

"Wow, can you go two seconds without saying some—" Cat looked up at Mrs. Schroder and lowered her voice. "—borderline assassin shit?"

"Can you go two seconds without being a sarcastic trouble-making brat?"

"Rude."

"Yes, you are."

"Are you still going to get me a rock?"

"Yes. One second." Something muffled the speaker on Natasha's end. Cat heard the rumble of another voice, too low to be recognized. A few seconds later, Nat returned to the phone. "I have to go. I'm going to give you a number to call if you need me. Emergencies only."

One day later

Steve rubbed the edge of his jaw, frowning at the blueprints with an analytical intensity. His finger landed on a spot on the map. "What if we entered from here?"

Natasha shook her head. "Too open."

"We'll have better access to the guards," Wanda said, spinning a pen between her fingers.

They were all gathered around a makeshift table (makeshift, because it was really more of a large cardboard box) in a cramped Bulgarian hotel room. Blueprints, sketches, and plans overlapped each other on the table. The room was very cramped and smelled like damp wood.

The hotel had provided them with the bare necessities: bed, sheets, bathroom. There were no chairs. Steve was sitting on the bed (that was a generous way to describe it; 'Mattress' would be more accurate) and Wanda was criss-crossed on the floor. Natasha had elected to stand.

"You mean they'll have better access to us," Natasha countered.

"Isn't that why I'm here?" Wanda's fingers glowed red.

Getting into the holding facility required more stealth than force, which explained why it was just the three of them on this mission. Natasha and Steve worked well together, and Wanda was a powerhouse.

"It's an unnecessary risk," Natasha told her. "We'd be better off here." She took the pen from Wanda and marked an entrance on the Southeast side.

Steve opened his mouth to interject, but a loud knock on the door interrupted him. They all went still. Steve got up, gesturing for them to stash the blueprints away. Wanda's hands glowed brighter. She flicked her finger and one side of the cardboard box rose from the floor. All the papers on the table flew into a stack and were swiftly ushered inside the opening. The box dropped back on the floor with a thud.

Steve looked through the peephole before muttering, "Hotel staff" to them. He opened the door halfway, standing in the way so that his frame blocked the stockpile of weapons in the far corner of the room. Natasha met them at the door, folding her arms and scrutinizing their guest.

The hotel porter was a nervous, oily-haired man holding an outdated phone. None of them had brought traceable electronics with them; Natasha had brought one burner phone, which no one knew the number to. The hotel room had one phone at the front desk, and no room service.

"Miss," the porter addressed Natasha in Bulgarian, melting slightly under her gaze, "it's for you." He raised the blocky phone to his face.

Natasha and Steve exchanged a quick glance. Natasha responded in Bulgarian. "Who is it?"

The porter hesitated. "They said they had a… Cat."

A spike of alarm shot through her. Natasha snatched the phone from the porter and lifted it to her ear. She crossed to the other side of the room, far enough so that the porter couldn't eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Cat?" Her voice was hushed. Concern clenched her stomach.

"Hi," Cat's voice drawled through the speaker, completely calm and level. She didn't sound like she was being held at gunpoint. In fact, she didn't sound troubled at all.

Natasha's brief flash of concern crossed into mild confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bored."

Natasha nearly hung up the phone. She took a deep breath but kept her voice low. "I told you to call for emergencies. Are you aware of what an emergency—"

"I didn't call the number you gave me," Cat interrupted. "I found the hotel you were staying at online and called the front desk."

Instead of giving the correct response that this sentence warranted— clenching her fists and yelling, "You did what?!" in the pitch and tone of a clinically insane person— Natasha made herself very still and intoned, "You what."

Steve wandered closer, his face tight. There was a question in his eyes. Natasha shook her head impatiently, waving him off

"I found the briefing in one of the conference rooms and then I googled 'hotels in—' well, I'm probably not allowed to say the city you're in over the phone. And then Tony helped me— he told me to tell you it was against his will, and to be fair, it was only after I bothered him a lot— anyway, he helped me narrow them down and then I just had to call everyone, which took ages— like three hours because they kept putting me on hold— but then boom! Found you!" Cat paused briefly, like she was waiting for applause. "I did tell you I was bored."

Natasha's brain categorically sorted everything that was wrong about this situation— there was no emergency, Cat had read the briefing file, Cat had found out which hotel they were staying at, Tony had helped Cat— and to cap it all off, Cat was talking again.

"Actually, the real reason I called is because we're out of coffee filters."

"...coffee filters," Natasha repeated. This girl had no idea how close she was to being strangled over a landline.

"Yeah."

"They should be in the drawer next to the fridge," Natasha answered on autopilot, still processing the first half of the conversation.

More rustling. "Are you sure? I can't find— oh! Here. Found them, thanks." The rustling stopped. "So… how's it going over there?" Natasha could hear the smugness in Cat's voice. She knew exactly what she was doing.

In that moment, Natasha decided against giving her the reaction she was looking for. "It's going fine," she said, completely casual.

"Just fine?" Cat asked, clearly trying to keep the charade up.

"Yep. Peachy."

"Oh…kay?"

"Okay," Natasha responded, hiding her smirk. "Well, if that's all, then I'll just hang up now."

"Wait!" The line was still for a moment before Cat burst out, "Come on! That was fucking impressive."

"Not really. You saw something you shouldn't have been looking at and coerced a billionaire with essentially every piece of modern technology at his disposal to help you."

"Maybe, but I surprised you."

Natasha snorted at that. "Okay, sure. You surprised me."

Cat seemed satisfied with that. "Have you found any rocks yet?"

"Not yet."

"Make sure it's a nice one, okay?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Don't set your expectations too high."

"When will you be back?"

"Aww." Natasha tried to wipe the smile that was forming on her face. She tried for a mocking tone. "Missing me?"

"No!" Cat sounded affronted at the very suggestion. "Missing your humongous ego, more like."

"I think you're projecting." Natasha glanced up at Steve and Wanda, who were acting like barriers between the porter and the call. "I have to get back to work now. And unless you're bleeding, on fire, or about to die— from something other than boredom— don't call me at work."

"Why would I call you if I was bleeding out? I'd just call 911."

Natasha decided to ignore that. "And for God's sake, use the number I gave you."

"Have fun on your mission!"

Natasha waited for her to end the call. Cat's voice faded into the coldness of the room, and she felt reality settle back into her. On the other side of the room, Steve and Wanda straightened like they'd been pretending not to eavesdrop.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

Natasha nodded, passing the phone back to the porter. "Everything's fine."

Two days later

"Don't open that," Natasha said, glancing at the package Steve was holding. "It could be a bomb."

She was doing some minor hacking from the makeshift table. Wanda was passed out on one of the beds, catching up on sleep. The oily-haired man had come knocking at the door again, informing them that a parcel had arrived for them. Natasha was immediately on alert.

Steve's eyes widened, studying the package carefully. "I think this is from Tony."

"What?"

He dropped down next to her, showing her the handwriting on the parcel.

Natasha reached for one of her knives and slit open the package. "We should still be cautious." She peeked inside, but all she found was a small USB flash drive.

She plugged it into the laptop. To her surprise, Cat's face flashed across her screen.

Steve was taken aback as well. "What in the…"

Natasha hit play.

Cat found the camera in a box in Nat's closet. (No, she hadn't been snooping around. But even if she had been— hypothetically— what else was she supposed to do with her free time?)

It could turn on and record, but those seemed to be its only two functions. The camera quality wasn't great. If Cat sat too far into the frame, she would be unrecognizable. Apparently, Russian ex-assassins weren't known for their penchants to hoard expensive vlogging equipment.

But beggars couldn't be choosers, and Cat was excited to have a project. She was situated in one of the communal kitchens of the Compound, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She'd propped up the camera by a pile of textbooks. The background wasn't too messy and the lighting was okay, so she deemed it professional enough.

She'd bribed a Stark Industries worker with free coffee to get her a microphone. She didn't have anywhere to put it, so she'd simply taped it to the side of an old mug.

Cat pressed record.

The footage was just clear enough for Natasha to recognize Cat's blonde hair and brown eyes. The girl was wearing fluffy sweatpants and a worn red sweater that Natasha recognized as her own. The oversized clothing looked huge on her. She'd probably gotten it out of someone else's laundry.

Cat scooched further into frame, holding what looked like a mug to her mouth. Her blonde hair fell in waves down to her elbows. She could probably get a haircut soon, Natasha mused.

"Day five," the messy-haired Cat narrated. She'd adopted a ridiculous Australian accent and spoke in a low, intense tone, like she was in danger of being overheard. "Still stuck in this dreary dwelling. The possibility of escape grows grimmer every passing day—"

"Did you just call my dwelling 'dreary'?" Tony appeared onscreen, holding a mess of wires and scrap metal in his arms. He wore his working jeans, the arc reactor glowing blue through his ratty rock band shirt.

Face shifting from gloomy to irritated in an instant, Cat whipped around to face him. She promptly lost the accent. "You're ruining my take!"

"Your 'take?' What is this, a Bear Grylls audition?" Tony dropped the scrap metal with a clang and drew closer to the camera, his face filling up half the screen. "Lordy," he exclaimed, his arm coming up to jostle the footage. "How old is this thing? Can you even call this a camera?"

"Hey, don't touch it!" Cat snatched the camera back from him and set it back in its original position. "I found it in Nat's spy stuff. It's probably an ancient relic." She made shooing motions towards him. "Now can you go, please?"

"You can't just tell me to go away!" Tony said indignantly. "That's not very nice."

"Good!" Cat crossed her arms. "Go away!"

"They're getting taller and bossier," Tony muttered, but he backed up half a step, just out of frame.

The camera had unfocused. Cat spent a few seconds adjusting it, then launched back into her monologue. "I've now gone days without food or water." Her Australian accent came in heavy on the woh-tuh. "Some part of me wishes I were dead." She delivered the line with a dramatic flourish, her big brown eyes boring unblinkingly into the lens.

Tony snorted loudly.

Cat's eyes narrowed. "What?" she snapped.

Tony shrugged and raised his eyebrows innocently. "Nothing, nothing, I— did you not eat an entire sleeve of Oreos five minutes ago?"

"That's a lie!" Cat gasped. To the camera, she said, "Don't believe anything this strange man says."

Tony leaned into frame again. "So who's this for? Natasha?" He waved at the camera. "Hey, it's my favorite redhead!" He winced. "Pepper, you didn't hear me say that. You're more of a strawberry blonde, anyway…"

Cat elbowed her way into frame. "Nat, if you're seeing this, you should know that I haven't done anything fun for the past three days. I've been lying down in my room with the lights off, completely comatose—"

"Except for the occasional fifteen trips outside to 'walk her dog—'"

"Taco is a growing dog! She needs exercise!" Cat's yell drowned out Tony's comment. She leveled him with an impressive glare. "Don't you have, like, things to do?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Was that not abundantly clear when I said 'go away?'"

"You know what? You're mean."

"Boo-hoo."

"And you can forget about that Christmas present."

Cat froze, caught off-guard. The shock that passed over her face was so quick and imperceptible that Natasha barely caught it. "You were going to get me a present?"

"What? Of course I was going to—" Tony suddenly looked stern. "You're not trying to guilt me into this, are you?"

Cat's expression had smoothed over, all grins and bravado now. "Can you make one of those electric scooters that can go faster than cars?" she asked eagerly.

"How about a normal-sized scooter with sparkly streamers on the sides?"

"As long as it can also shoot lasers," Cat said.

Tony shook his head. "Sure, kid."

Cat looked into the camera. "I'm getting a scooter, Nat!"

Wanda had joined them at the table, watching the video. When the video ended, pausing on Cat's delighted face, she laughed.

"Cat is funny," she said, crinkling at the eyes. "I see why you keep her around."

Steve looked similarly amused. "You're not talking her out of that scooter," he told Natasha.

I know. Natasha resigned herself to her fate. If Cat was getting a scooter, it was going to be from WalMart and definitely not electric. "Her Aussie accent needs work," was all she said, rising up from the table and getting back to work. "Now, the plans…"

One day later

The plan was halfway successful. They'd gotten in without a hitch, Wanda had extricated the package, and they'd been en route to the helicopter waiting for them three miles away when a team of drones swooped in on them and began shooting.

Wanda had swept them all down, crunching them to pieces with her powers, when the tanks started rolling in. Steve was taking them out one by one while Wanda, trying to conserve her powers, aided him with boosts and blasts of red energy. Natasha was taking out a few of her own, but unknown to her team members, she had a side mission.

She had to find a nice rock.

She'd remembered her promise to Cat while firing at a tank operator, and was now on the lookout for any possible contenders while also avoiding moving projectiles. She was good at multitasking.

Three simultaneous explosions went off. Steve and Natasha's heads both swiveled toward the source and found Wanda, who was looking gray and breathing hard, standing in the middle of the clearing, her hands flung out before her. She had taken out the rest of the tanks in one fell swoop, smoke and metal raining down before them.

She dropped to her knees. Steve swung towards her immediately, swooping her into his arms.

"I'm okay," she said weakly, trying to struggle to her feet.

"I've got you," Steve said. "Nice work, Maximoff." He looked at Nat, who was still souring the ground. "Are we good?"

"Go ahead," she said, eyes landing on a piece of metal a few feet away. "I'll be right there."

Steve nodded and sprinted off to the extraction site.

The piece of metal, still smoking, was a part of the exploded tank. It didn't look much like a rock— it was gray, but the similarities stopped there— but this was the best Cat was going to get. Natasha kicked it a few times, waited for it to stop smoking, and cautiously picked it up.

Sentimental, right? That's what souvenirs were supposed to be.

Cat lifted the hunk of metal in the air, examining it through the light. It was nearly as big as her palm. It looked like it had once been steel-gray but was blackened on the edges. On the rightmost edge was a hint of white paint, a letter that had once been part of a word but had most likely been blown off of it.

She looked up at Nat, who was watching her expectantly.

"This isn't a rock," Cat said. "Do you know what a rock looks like?"

Natasha set her things down on the floor. She'd just come through the door, back from her mission. "Obviously it's not a rock," she said. "It's part of the tank Wanda exploded. Isn't that better?"

Cat stared at the piece of the tank. It was better. In fact, this was way, way cooler than an ordinary rock.

Natasha sighed, reading her silence as disappointment. "I can get you a better rock next time. Or you could go downstairs and I'll find you a rock on the sidewalk and you can pretend it's from Bulgaria."

"No," Cat said firmly. "I love it." She pressed the cold metal to her chest. "Thanks."

Natasha blinked. "Okay."

"I'm going to go do my homework now." Cat took the hunk of tank metal and started for her room. She could tell all her classmates that she had a piece of an exploded tank from Bulgaria now, and half of them would believe her.

Natasha stood in the living room, still in her Black Widow suit. Kids are weird.

As always it's been a while lmao. I've had a hectic few months with college apps and everything and I have the worst sore throat right now actually, guzzling down cups of green tea and honey as we speak. (Or I speak? I don't know)

Also I admit that I rewrote this draft a bunch of times with like five different fluffy prompts. The good thing is that I have a lot of in-progress drafts now that I can hopefully turn into chapters real soon. Then again I'm very inconsistent with updates so have fun waiting lol just kidding don't hate me

Anyway hope you enjoyed this fluffy chapter of Cat annoying Nat as usual.

I haven't responded to reviews in forever so here are some responses to my EXTREMELY SWEET REVIEWERS (just replying to random ones in recents)

sunflowers42: yes that's the plan! I actually have 5000 words of a cat and nat at the farm chapter written and it's honestly one of my favorite things. I just haven't released it yet because it doesn't fit with the timeline right now but hopefully I can in the next few chapters. Thank you so much for your well wishes, mental health still lowkey crappy but that's ok dealing with it 3

athousandsuns101: Aww thank you! Sorry to keep you from studying but ik what that's like lmao. I love getting this compliment because it's honestly one of the things I try really hard on, to keep the characters in character and not too cringey. Tysm!

Alba Huxley: Wow. This is actually wild to hear. Thanks so much for sticking with me and I am so so glad that you decided to leave a review. Whether I respond to them online or not I always read the reviews and they give me the energy and inspiration to keep going (said that a bunch of times already but that's ok whatever) Your review is literally perfect and I was actually so moved. Thanks a bunch and I hope you keep reading :))

Guest (chapter 8, Aug 3): THANK YOU OMG I AM SO BLESSED to receive this. damn this compliment hits hard and i'll be thinking of it for a long time

Guest (chapter 28, Jul 28): thank you thank you thank you for the long review and thank you for the mental health stuff. will definitely do my best to update more.

and on that note later gaters

tell me ur favorite moments from this chapter!