Rose, now that her allergies weren't trying to kill her, found that she really liked animals. In particular, she really liked housecats. Her "Cat Café" date with Steve had showed her that, that particular affection was also apparently returned. So, when Natasha was pulled away for a mission, she thought that it was only logical that she helped her out.
Natasha was less than convinced.
"I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Rosie." Rose whined pathetically, giving the red head her best pout.
"Come on, Nat! I swear I can do it! Besides, it's not like Clint can do it this time." Natasha raised a brow at her, silently acknowledging her point. Usually, Clint was placed in charge of the feline when the former Russian spy was out on assignment. Unfortunately, the archer was also going on this particular mission. However, that didn't necessarily mean that Rose was the correct person for the job.
"You're not wrong- but you're also not right either. I usually have Darcy or Barnes do it if Clint's not here. You know- people who actually have experience with animals." The blonde pursed her lips, unwilling to give up her chance to play with the cat.
"Yeah, but Darcy hates cats. And they hate her too!" Natasha just stared at her, the silent "your point?" hanging in the air between them. Determined to have her way, Rose persevered. "Bucky is also, like, super busy. He and Steve are doing HYDRA things!" The spy snorted at her, emerald eyes sparkling with amusement.
"'HYDRA things'? You mean 'mediating Tony and Steve's pissing contests'?" Rose huffed her agreement of her assessment, eyes huge and hopeful over the fact that her friend hadn't immediately shot her down. Despite her attempts at remaining aloof, Natasha found herself being unwillingly suckered in by the petite woman's huge eyes, countenance softening slightly as she capitulated. "Fine- you can watch Quinn." Rose squeaks happily, pumping her hands victoriously.
Natasha isn't finished.
"But-" The blonde froze mid-celebration, giving the other woman a wide eyed look. "If you have any trouble, you have to ask Barnes for help." Rose nodded vigorously as Natasha finished. "I'll leave you a list of instructions on her care. All of her meds will be on the kitchen counter, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding them. I'll also bathe her before I go, so she should be fine." Taking in Rose's elated expression, Natasha had to hold back a sigh.
This was probably a terrible idea.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
Natasha found Quinn two years ago in the backwoods of Kentucky. The smoosh-nosed Himalayan had been a bald, emaciated mess, tearing into two dogs that had tried to make a meal out of her.
It was love at first sight.
An excellent diet, a plethora of medications, and a dedicated owner had turned the cat into a near work of art. Brilliantly white and fluffy, Quinn (named after one of Natasha's favorite book characters) was the pinnacle of cat beauty- enough so that she probably could have been paraded around at one of those "Cat Shows" that Rose had seen on TV. The spy had also made it clear that the cat was extremely intelligent- a fact made clear when the blonde spied the enormous amount of baby-proofing that the woman had set up in her otherwise simplistically modern apartment.
Her knitting yarn was in a locked tub.
It was…a little daunting.
She wasn't going to be deterred though. Not from this.
Rose wanted a pet. More specifically, she wanted a cat. However, she'd never had an animal before (for obvious reasons). It was probably still too soon to get one with her boys- but that didn't change the fact that she did want one. Taking care of Quinn for a couple of days seemed like an easy enough test run- almost like babysitting before having a kid of her own. Granted, Quinn had more extensive needs than your standard housecat, but Rose just figured that meant she would be extra prepared, you know?
Besides that, cats loved her.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
Rose figured out very quickly that not all cats liked her. More specifically, Natasha's cat had taken one look at her and decided instantly that she hated her fucking guts. She'd taken exactly one step into the apartment, had barely kicked off her shoes (since the spy was very insistent that they scuffed the wood and, as such, were not allowed), and made eye contact with the beautiful feline- and that had been enough. The cat had screamed like something that had crawled out of the depths of hell, hissed threateningly at the blonde, and then sprinted to places unknown.
It was not an auspicious start.
Shocked and a little disappointed by the cat's response, Rose decided that- rather than attempting to coax the creature out (or try and find it at all), her best chance would be to check off the first thing on the "Quinn Care" list.
Breakfast.
It took her a moment to find the pantry, but the cat food (something organic and ridiculously expensive) was thankfully out in plain sight. She quickly measured out the correct amount and placed it in the cat's crystal studded food bowl with a quiet clink.
The she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After twenty minutes, it became clear that the cat either hadn't heard the food being poured or simply couldn't tolerate Rose's presence. Praying that it was the first one, the blonde went and picked up the bag of food. Then, using a trick she'd seen Darcy use with her half-dead Chihuahua, she shook the bag loudly and plaintively.
Nothing.
Frustrated, she shook the bag again, though this time significantly more aggressively.
Nothing.
Irritated at the fact that she was apparently going to have to try and find the cat, Rose groaned to herself, hands tightening around the flimsy paper bag. The sound had barely escaped her lips when an incensed "meow" popped up right behind her, startling a shocked shriek from her mouth. The hands tightly grasping the bag of cat food jerked apart in her surprise, effectively ripping the bag in two and scattering little fishy smelling pellets all over Rose and her friend's kitchen. Rather than be equally startled, the cat took the mess as an invitation, immediately moving to gorge itself on the scattered food.
Cursing, but figuring there was little harm in letting the creature have a little extra food, Rose quickly got to work cleaning up the scattered bits and putting what she could salvage into the largest plastic container she could find. By the time she'd finished, the cat had moved on to the food in its bowl, eating and growling the entire time. Her squished nose made the sound more similar to a snore than a full-blown growl, little snuffles leaving its mouth whenever it popped up for air.
It was….actually kind of cute.
Unable to resist, Rose reached out a tentative hand to pet the fluffy creature. The cat, as if sensing the attempted contact, whipped around and hissed at her.
Yeah- I'm betting that petting is a definite no from her.
I'm pretty sure that you aren't supposed to pet fucking demons anyways.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
Ten minutes later, Rose quickly figured out why Natasha had such strict rules on the amount of food Quinn was allowed.
The cat was puking everywhere.
The blonde could barely keep up with the mess, frantically following the feline around as she did her very best to paint every inch of the apartment with half-digested kitty kibble. Rose managed to keep her from vomiting all over the sofa, launching the cat off the leather with a desperation not usually seen outside of a life or death scenario- which this undoubtedly was.
Goddess or no- Natasha would murder her if she came back to a stain on her couch.
Quinn did not appreciate being tossed.
Righteously furious at being manhandled, the cat quickly made her way over to Rose's discarded shoes. Hell bent on vengeance (and still nauseous from over eating), the cat turned and began to prepare to vomit, back arching and relaxing as it made the most horrendous noise that the blonde had ever heard. Rose, who was on the other side of the room and scrubbing vomit out of the wood floors, shot up at the nose, quickly zeroing in on the vomiting cat. Scared that any sudden movement would force the puke out of the cat and onto her unguarded shoes, Rose barked out desperately.
"Hey! Quinn!" The cat paused in its yacking, seemingly startled by the loud noise. Emboldened by the reaction, she continued. "Do not puke in my shoes! No!" Quinn turned her head, blue eyes dead and supremely unimpressed with her tone.
She began to vomit again, back arching and relaxing as disgusting hacking noises escaped her. Pure terror courses through Rose's veins as she shouts again.
"No! Quinn- no!" The cat makes eye contact with her again, something almost smug appearing in the depths.
The hacking continued.
"Damn it- no! Bad kitty! Bad!"
If it was possible, the cat would have given her the middle finger. Instead, the hacking continued, growing more and more wet sounding as food made its way back up.
"Quinn! Quinn! No- Please- Come on!"
Maintaining eye contact, the cat finally throws up inside her shoes.
Shell shocked and disgusted, the blonde could only gape as the cat chirped triumphantly at her, quickly escaping the room before any sort of reprisal could be made.
…I think I hate this cat.
I get the impression that the feeling is mutual.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
The rest of the day is a disaster. Any attempts at brushing, playing, or doing anything with the feline are soundly rebuffed. She'd even tried just leaving the cat alone, and that hadn't worked. After 30 minutes the cat had wandered back from whatever pocket dimension it was hiding in (she could never find the damn thing when it hid), hissed at her, and then run away again. It was like it was reminding her just how much it loathed her.
The vomit fermenting in her shoes was reminder enough.
The real challenge came at the end of the day.
Because of her numerous medical conditions, Quinn required a couple medications before bedtime. Now, giving a cat that liked you a pill was a challenge.
Rose quickly realized that she was hopelessly screwed.
Using what she'd read off the internet, the blonde had wrapped the irate cat in a towel and then attempted to shove the pill down the back of the animal's throat.
The only thing she succeeded in doing was shredding the towel and her jeans. The only reason the rest of her wasn't shredded was because thankfully kitty claws didn't count as a "godly weapon".
Quinn, apparently offended by this fact, chose to vomit the half-chewed pill all over the front of Rose's shirt.
Grossed out but undeterred, Rose tried again.
It takes her close to 45 minutes to coax the cat out of the ceiling. She has no idea where the pill disappears to.
Desperate, she tries for a third time.
Rose seriously contemplates calling an Exorcist. She's almost positive that the cat's head actually spun all of the way around, and the noise she made more than likely summoned something from the pits of hell. This time she knows exactly where the pill goes- namely, it goes almost all the way through one of the kitchen cabinets, leaving a trail of cat puke and pill dust downs the sides of the wood.
Out of options, she finally calls Bucky.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
Her boyfriend shows up close to 30 minutes later, dressed in his TAC gear and looking deeply amused by Rose's shredded appearance. Eyebrows raised, he lets out a low whistle.
"Damn, Rosie- you lose a fight?" Rose scowled at him, idly fixing the rat's nest her hair had turned into as she snatched the man into Natasha's apartment.
"No shit, James. No one told me I'd need holy water to deal with this fucking cat." Bucky snorted at the scathing remark, easily zeroing in on the growling cat hiding underneath Natasha's kitchen table.
"Who? Quinn? Nah, she's no demon." The blonde scoffed at him, watching as the dark haired man easily crossed the room and crouched in front of the irate animal.
"Did you see me? Did you see my shoes?" She pointed at the destroyed footwear, eyes glittering almost manically. "She threw up in them, Bucky! On purpose! There was eye contact!" Bucky snickered at her before shooting the blonde a wink.
"I didn't say she wasn't a brat. You just have to know how to handle her." Unimpressed with his statement, Rose crossed her arms and gestured down at the still growling cat.
"Oh yeah? Then you do better." Bucky just winked in response, turning around and facing the demon cat head on. The smile instantly melts off his face when he makes eye contact with the feline, mouth twisting into a stern line as he regards it.
Then, to Rose's complete confusion, he starts to cuss at it- in Russian.
What's more confusing? The cat finally stops growling. In fact, if Rose wasn't mistaken, it was almost like the cat was arguing with him. Angry little chitters escape its smooshed face as it slowly makes its way out from under the table, the occasional yowl punctuating the rush of noise from its tiny mouth. Once it was close enough, and after a particularly commanding phrase from the former Soviet assassin, the cat lashed out at him, aiming a half-hearted swat at the man's face. Unimpressed with the little display of dominance, Bucky just scoffed at the fluffy cat, reaching out with lightning fast reflexes and snatching the cat up by the scruff.
The cat promptly goes limp and starts purring.
Rose gapes at him.
"How the fuck did you do that?" The cat now cuddled up to his chest, Bucky smirks at her, absently scratching the fluffy feline's offered belly.
"Like I said, baby doll- she's a brat." He bites his lower lip, dimples in his cheeks deepening as he gives her a nearly sinful smirk. "And I know how to handle brats."
….I think I'm jealous of a cat.
Why? Because you want him to grab you by the neck and flip you on your back?
God yes.
….I didn't expect you to agree with me. You good?
Dead inside, but that's normal.
Her boyfriend, as if to further demonstrate that he is the superior cat handler, quickly and easily shoves the cat's medicine down its throat. The cat, apparently unbothered by his attempts, settles down quickly- even going so far as to give the man kisses.
Rose has never been so jealous of someone in her entire life.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
After seeing Bucky with the cat, Rose quickly admits defeat. Rather than stress herself and the cat out, she decides that the better alternative is to have Bucky come along and "mediate". The brunet, after being stuck listening to Steve and Tony bitching at each other for days, gladly volunteers to help her.
It makes a world of a difference.
She's not sure if the cat just needed someone familiar around, or if they're both sad, desperate bottoms for Bucky Barnes, but Quinn is much more agreeable with him around. She's, admittedly, still kind of a "brat"- but never to the level she was with Rose. It's more like she's testing the man, trying to see how far she can push him before he shoves her on her back.
It's a sentiment that Rose can get behind. Or under. Whichever.
By the third and final day, Quinn has decided that Rose is an acceptable human. She's not nearly as affectionate as she is with Bucky, but she does sit in her lap at one point. Despite the abuse the animal had put her through, the blonde beams at the affection, gesturing at her amused boyfriend as if to say "see- she likes me!"
She doesn't even mind the pile of white hair the cat leaves all over her clothes.
-_-_-_-Page-Break-_-_-_-
Later, after Natasha returns and reclaims her cat ("why is there a pill stuck in my kitchen cabinet?""….ghosts?"), Rose sprawls out across the sofa in their apartment, idly picking at the hair embedded in her clothes. Bucky, busy in the kitchen making himself, Rose, and Stevie dinner, couldn't resist commenting on her fuzzy outfit.
"Trying to build your own cat, Rosie?" The blonde scoffed at him, waving lazily in his direction.
"God no- at least not right now. Cats are a lot of work." Bucky raised a brow at her comment, lowering the temperature on the stove so that the food wouldn't burn.
"Oh? 'Not right now'? You plannin' on getting a herd of cats, baby doll?" Rose snickered at the teasing question, popping up to toss a throw pillow in his direction.
"Please. I could barely handle one cat. I feel like an entire herd would actually murder me." Bucky hummed at her, eyeing the pillow that had landed several feet away from him with fake contemplation.
"You do have a point. Of course, it would probably turn into a war of attrition- you both seem to have nine lives." Rose cackled at the dry observation, collapsing back on the sofa with little gleeful snorts. After a moment, the laughter trailed off, something soft and thoughtful appearing on her face.
"No….I don't think I'm ready for a cat. But maybe…." Maybe….Maybe someday….
Maybe she could. Maybe they all could.
Her future was so long- stretched out before her in a wonderfully endless way. She wasn't sure that she was ready for a pet. Truthfully, with everything going on, it was probably a bad idea anyways.
But she had someday. And "someday"? Someday was beautiful.
"Baby doll? Dinner's ready! Come grab a plate before Stevie gets back and eats everything!" Rose gracefully rolls to her feet, a smile stretching across her face at the domestic call. Something warm and golden bubbles up in her chest, periwinkle eyes bright and happy as she made her way to the kitchen. If she focused, she could almost imagine another tinier pair of feet following her as she walked- a tiny person with her hair and his eyes following in her footsteps.
Someday…..Who knows?
She wasn't sure how dark the future would get- but she would have one. And the possibilities were endless.