"Where are you going with that?"
"I'm taking it to my stash."
Jack couldn't frown, but he did look somewhat bothered.
"It isn't yours."
"Of course it is."
Ironpig looked down his nose at the two other Avenger pets. Normally he was above their conversation – he was royalty, after all, and from Wakanda. They weren't. Besides, he had sweaters and neither of them did. Obviously he was special. This time, though, he couldn't help himself.
"It is Clint's arrowhead," he pointed out.
Nutmeg nodded, dropping his prize to admire it – and maybe bat at it with his paw.
"And he left it laying around," the young Flerkin pointed out. "Now it belongs to me."
"He didn't leave it laying around," Jack said. "It was locked in the armory with the rest of them."
"Same thing."
"You should put it back," Jack told him, snorting when a fly landed on his nose. "He's going to be looking for it."
"He has plenty of them. He won't miss one or two."
"You have six of them in your stash, already," Ironpig said.
"Yeah." Nutmeg purred, clearly impressed with himself. "Pretty neat, huh?"
"What are you going to do with them?" Jack asked, curiously. "You don't have a bow."
"I don't have a bow, yet," Nutmeg corrected him. "It's just a matter of time."
And opportunity.
"You do not have hands…" Ironpig said.
"And who would you want to shoot?" Jack asked. "Some of those can explode. You know that, right?"
"Of course I know that," Nutmeg replied, swatting at the fly that was pestering Jack, catching it, easily, and then eating it. "I'm counting on it."
"Are you trying to blow up the compound?"
"No. Peter lives here. I'd never do that."
"What, then?"
The Flerkin looked mysterious and picked up the arrowhead, again.
"That's for me to know and the rest of the world to find out."
He headed back down the corridor and Ironpig and Jack exchanged a look.
"I'm going to follow him," the young lab decided. "He's probably going to break something."
"Steve will catch him," Ironpig said. "And will take it away from him."
"We should show them where the stash is."
"Good luck with that. You will run up to them and someone will call you a good boy and scratch you on your ears. They will not follow you, however. Besides, Nutmeg would not appreciate it if someone gave away the current location of his stash."
It was always changing, after all. When one was discovered, a new place was always located. Usually under a heavy piece of furniture, but sometimes in a cupboard, or a closet.
"I'm not afraid of Nutmeg," Jack assured him.
"I am. He has murder mittons." The piglet gave himself a good shake. "Tony is coming home, soon. I am going to go make myself visible."
He knew that if he was standing somewhere nearby when the billionaire walked into a room it was an even bet that he'd find himself scooped up into the man's arms and have a chance to enjoy some serious cuddling. There was nothing the piglet enjoyed more than a good cuddle or an ear scratch.
Jack watched the piglet head back toward the lounge, and he hesitated. Since Tony was with Steve, just then, that meant that when Tony returned, so would Steve. Jack was always willing to have his ears scratched.
"I suppose it won't hurt to wait until later to expose the stash," he said – to no one, since they were both gone.
The lab gave himself a shake, also, then stood up and followed Ironpig toward the lounge.
OOOOOOOOOO
Twenty minutes later, Nutmeg walked into the lounge, as well. Tony Stark was seated with Pepper at the corner table that he and the others always sat at – which annoyed Nutmeg because it was just out of reach of his cat tree. He couldn't quite jump onto the table from any of the flat surfaces. Jack had told him that it was on purpose, but Nutmeg was sure that he was wrong. It didn't matter, though. When he was bigger, he'd be able to make it. Until then, he did what he always did.
The Flerkin walked over and jumped up into Pepper's lap, making a soft mewing sound that he knew would make her pick him up. Sure enough, she caught him in her arms and flipped him onto his back in her arm, and rubbed his belly, gently. The kitten purred, loudly, turning his head to give Ironpig a smug look. He had plenty of attention and didn't need to wear sweaters to get it, did he?
A movement at the entrance caught his (and everyone's) attention a few minutes later, and Nutmeg purred louder when he saw Peter walking into the room. The boy smiled at Nutmeg (not at Tony or Pepper, the Flerkin knew) and walked over to the bar to get a cola before joining them. As he was heading their way, Clint stopped him.
"I'm missing a few arrowheads, Peter Pony. Any idea where you kleptomaniac cat might have put them?"
"He is talking about you," Ironpig said, unnecessarily.
Nutmeg wasn't concerned. He watched as Peter promised the archer that he'd look for the arrowheads after dinner (Nutmeg was assuming that he hoped Clint would forget about them by then) and then watched as he walked over to the table. He smiled as he set his cola down and swiped his kitten from Pepper's embrace. The kitten purred as Peter buried his face into his soft belly hair, but pushed his nose away with a carefully sheathed paw when he pretended to blow a raspberry. That was fine for Ironpig, but Flerkin didn't need raspberries on their bellies.
"You didn't steal Clint's arrowheads, didja, buddy?" Peter crooned, sitting down across from Tony and cuddling his kitten. "You wouldn't do that."
If a pig could roll its eyes, Ironpig would have.
"They all know it was you," he told the Flerkin. "Even Peter."
"Peter loves me," Nutmeg replied, basking in the affection he was getting from the boy who he loved more than anything – and anyone – in the world. In any world. "He knows, of course. But he knows that I'm stashing them for him."
"Why would Peter want arrowheads?" Jack asked, walking over with Steve and just catching the end of the conversation.
"The same reason he's going to need the ammunition and the bottle caps I've been collecting," Nutmeg replied. "And the dead bugs."
"Which is…?"
"Someday we're going to take over the world. When we do, we're going to need something to do it with."
"Peter doesn't want to take over the world," Jack said. "He told Natasha that, before."
"He's just waiting for the right moment," Nutmeg answered, unconcerned. "When no one expects it. Like any cat would."
The other two didn't look too convinced, but Nutmeg wasn't bothered. He closed his eyes, ready to take a nap. A small crashing noise made him open them, though, and everyone turned toward the lounge entrance.
"What was that?" Peter asked, his hand pausing where it was rubbing Nutmeg's belly.
The Flerkin turned his head, looking over Peter's forearm, just as they all heard Friday announce a small explosion in the supply closet outside the commissary kitchen.
"Any injuries?" Tony asked, knowing that there would already be a damage control team heading that direction.
"None."
Ironpig snorted, and Nutmeg looked over at him, already annoyed at the smug expression on the piglet's face.
"There goes your plan for world domination."
Nutmeg flexed his paw, claws coming out although he was careful to make sure that they didn't come close to Peter's bare arm.
"He's young, still," the Flerkin said, closing his eyes. "There are plenty of arrowheads and I have plenty of time."
He heard Jack's snort, too, but ignored them both.
It was nap time.
THE END
OOOOOOOOOO
AN: So this was just a fun crack take on the pets of the compound. It was a request and I thought it would be fun to try.
