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I ended up spending more than 15-30 minutes on this one. xD Continuation of this Capwolf bit.
The mission had been as routine as Avengers’ missions got, and it had gone off, more or less, without a hitch. Just after sunset, Thor had hammered them a back door into the bank, Cap had gone through shield-first, and the rest of them had followed. Three startled would-be robbers in the process of stuffing handfuls of bills into duffle bags had been dealt with quickly. One had just dropped immediately to the floor and put his hands over the back of his head, the other had stood there staring with his mouth open until Steve had pointed a finger at the floor. He’d dutifully gotten down on his knees, while the third had thrown the bag of cash into Clint’s arms before making a run for the exit. His quick retreat had allowed the half-dozen hostages to flee.
Frustrated, and obviously a man raised on cheesy comic books, the last robber had shouted, “You’ll all learn to fear Jelly Man!” and then had thrown what looked like a neon green squishy octopus toy at Thor. Thor had smashed it out of the air like a pro at bat, and the smiling octopus toy had splattered into about 50 gallons of bubble gum pink slime.
Herding the hostages out, Tony had missed being spattered with slime. Jelly Man had not. In a matter of heartbeats, three avengers and the bumbling villain had been caught in a veritable ocean of slime, which had promptly started climbing up the walls.
“Well, as far as super weapons go, that one is inventive,” Tony had offered while the kid had just wailed in inchoate fury, thrashing in the slime.
So, all-in-all, routine mission. Jan gotten the pink anti-slime cutesy squid bomb out of thrashing villain’s bag, and Tony had shot it out of the air like shooting down a clay pigeon. It had obligingly turned into a lime green mist, and they’d all waited around for three uncomfortable hours while the anti-slime had done its job.
Slime neutralized, friends freed from the goo, evil-doer carted away, day saved. Next step should have been to go back to the manor for some post slime showers, maybe Iron Man took off for the night, and Tony Stark appeared with a convenient order of nineteen extra large pizzas, and all was right with the world.
Not included in the plan was Steve, still crusted in a residue of slime, stepping out into the pale glow of a full moon, and dropping to his knees in the street with his arms curled around his stomach. Definitely not included in the plan was getting Steve into the back of the Avengers transport and having him scream his way into the body of a freaking wolf while the Avengers themselves mostly squawked like startled chickens and tried to avoid his lashing claws.
“Night night, Cap!” Clint shouted, and jabbed the point of an arrow into Steve’s rippling flank. He let out a throaty roar, and then collapsed to the transport’s floor.
Goddamned werewolves.
~*~
(Read more)
“Tin Britches,” Jan warned into the stunned silence following Steve’s explosive transformation, “if you say I told you so, I will poor acid down the back of your suit.”
“I was definitely not going to remind you that I said it was viral,” Tony said on a stunned autopilot while he scanned Steve’s still-shifting body. Fur erupted out of the neck of his uniform, and a wet crack made Tony flinch down to his toes as his hips seemed to realign.
“Acid,” Jan said shakily.
In his chemically-induced sleep, Steve-the-freaking-werewolf whined and lashed out aimlessly with one clawed paw. In knee-jerk reaction, Jan went wasp-sized, and Thor hesitantly raised his hammer.
Tony held his hand up to prevent any terrifying accidents. “Maybe everyone not in metal armor should step away from … Captain Canine here.”
“Good idea,” Jan agreed. “I’m going to go pilot. Try not to die back here, okay?”
It had been two months since Steve had been scratched by werewolf. They’d exhausted all the dog and moon jokes weeks ago, which Steve had born with good grace. On the night of the full moon, Steve had locked himself in the vault that was Tony’s best attempt at something that could contain the Hulk. Just in case. Not even a single yip, or a hair out of place.
On the floor, Steve began to stir. Thor and Clint backed away. Tony eased cautiously forward, one hand extended.
Big blue eyes opened beneath Steve’s mask, and his jaws parted slowly. He made a drowsy noise, and then he lifted his head to look up Tony. He made a soft whining noise. Tony lowered himself slowly to the floor at Steve’s side and reached out to him. He had no way of knowing if the armor was going to protect him if Steve ended up being an evil werewolf who wanted to bite him. Steve whined again, his legs moving weakly. Tony reached carefully under the wolf’s jaw and released the clip on the chin strap.
As soon as the clip came free, Steve shook his great head, knocking the helmet free. He licked Tony’s hand. No, not Tony’s hand. Iron Man’s hand, the gauntlet. Tony set his hand on the back of Steve’s head and then let his fingers push through the fur down his neck.
“Can you understand me?” he asked.
Steve made a wuff noise that almost sounded like a yes.
“Are you in pain?”
A yawn. He pressed himself up and back, and up, and up. Tony had to lean backwards to look all the way up at Steve, and he got an immediate sense of vertigo. Tony stood up quickly. In the suit, he’d always been taller than Steve, but the werewolf towered over him, tall enough that his velvety ears brushed the transport’s ceiling.
“Nice werewolf,” Tony said as Steve surveyed them, shifting his weight experimentally on his double-kneed legs.
“That’s our plan?” Clint asked in a soft hiss. “Nice doggy, here, fetch the stick, boy?”
Steve’s massive wolf’s head swiveled toward Clint, and Clint all but leapt backwards, bow drawn. Ignoring him, Steve looked back to Tony. He took a step forward, the motion seeming strange on his almost too-thin legs and too-small paws. Tony resisted the urge to step back. Steve leaned down and snuffled at him. He sneezed, and then turned away from Tony, apparently no longer interested. They stayed in that tense silence for the rest of the trip back to the mansion, Steve sniffing at the interior of the transport with almost casual curiosity while Tony, Clint, and Thor looked on. Occasionally, Steve would hunker down and become intensely interested in something – Tony’s tool box, a duffle of spare clothing, a seemingly random spot on one bulkhead – and then would move on. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d think that Steve was looking for something.
The transport landed on the pad, and Steve gambled to cargo, waiting patiently for it to be lowered. His tail wagged. When the door didn’t open immediately, Steve pawed at it. He whined.
Tony looked over at the others, and Clint shrugged. He still had his bow in hand, arrow knocked, the first two fingers of his left hand resting lightly on the string, but it was pointed to the floor. Thor watched Steve pensively, Mjolnir held loosely by his side. Steve twisted to look at them over his shoulder. He made a noise that started out low and ended high, clearly an interrogative.
“What if he runs off to terrorize the city?” Clint asked finally.
Steve’s ears lowered in an affronted glare.
“Hey, don’t give me that. If our positions were reversed, you’d think the same thing!”
Steve huffed out a breath and hunkered down to scratch at the door again. His head turned up to the control panel, and then he looked down at one paw-like hand, obviously contemplating whether he could work it.
“Steve,” Tony said, getting his immediate attention. “I’m going to trust that you are still you in there, somewhere. But you have to prove that to us, too. I’m going to open the door, and you’re going to right inside, and down to the lab to wait for Mr. Stark and Hank. Okay?”
Steve’s eyes – still his eyes, intensely blue and intelligent – locked onto him for a moment, and then he dipped his head slowly, if awkwardly, in a nod. Tony eased around him to the control panel just as Jan peaked her head back to ask if it was a good idea. Tony keyed the cargo door open, and Steve bounded through it like a shot the moment he had enough clearance to wiggle through.
“Shit!” Clint exploded along with Jan’s exasperated, “No one ever listens to me!”
They poured out after the werewolf, but Steve was fast. By the time they even made it out the door, he was across the roof and disappearing over the side. Tony and Thor took to the sky while Clint made a dash for the edge of the roof, and Jan appeared to vanish in a small red explosion of light. Tony scanned the trees on infrared, looking for movement, but he found nothing shaped like Captain Ameriwolf.
“Iron Man, the front door!” Thor shouted.
“Jarvis,” Tony breathed. He dropped in a barely controlled dive, pulling up at the last second to land awkwardly on the front porch. He stumbled forward a few steps to regain his balance and shouldered through the opened door.
Standing stock-still, Jarvis blinked at him in confusion. He still had one hand raised as though to close the door. “Sir… I believe there is a giant dog wearing Captain Roger’s uniform in the house. He was polite enough to knock, at least.”
“Which way?” Tony asked, brushing past the well of relief to find Jarvis still in one piece. Jarvis pointed him toward the stars, and Tony took off at a run with Thor crowding in behind him. They found Tony’s door standing open. The comforter had been torn off the bed, and several of the pillows were on the floor, but otherwise the room was intact and empty.
“He has taken Mr. Starks bed linens?” Thor asked in confusion.
Tony accessed the house systems, looking for anything from the security system to them where Steve had gone. “He’s in Mr. Stark’s workshop,” he said, feeling like he was missing something and not liking it. He accessed his personal cameras in the workshop and found that Steve had dragged the blanket and one pillow in but had left them on the floor and was hunting around the workshop, nose to the ground.
“Where is Mr. Stark?” Thor asked.
Tony blew out a breath. “Still at SI, but I’ve already called him to come back when he’s available. Maybe we could get your friend Dr. Blake in on this?” Tony looked up at Thor, whose expression had turned pensive. He swung Mjolnir slightly from one hand.
“I do not know that this will be in his field, but I will ask. Excuse me.”
Thor left quickly, brows furrowed in deep thought, leaving Tony alone in “Mr. Stark’s” bedroom. He closed the door quickly and went to slip into something more comfortable.
~*~
When Tony opened the workshop door, he found Steve-the-werewolf rolling around on top of his $600 comforter. At the sound of the door swooshing open, Steve flipped around, and then scrambled to get upright. The comforter slipped out from under him, sending him sprawling on the floor, but he was back on his feet before Tony could get out more than a startled bark of laughter. Tongue lulling out of his massive mouth, Steve shot across the workshop.
Tony had the space of a breath to think that maybe he should have waited for someone else to come down with him before Steve was on him. He hit the floor hard, and Steve, acting more like an overeager golden retriever than a massive flipping werewolf, licked his face in great sloppy stripes. His entire body wiggled in excitement, claws clicking on the floor, little excited whines occasionally interrupting the bathing.
Planting both hands on Steve’s chest, Tony tried unsuccessfully to shove him. Tony’s heart hammered in his chest so hard that he thought he might be having a heart attack. He was just licked by a werewolf, who, presumably, had a virus that would turn Tony into a werewolf as well. Fucking wonderful.
Not even seeming to notice Tony’s shoving, Steve squirmed his way back to Tony’s chest, and just sprawled out, trapping Tony underneath him. He panted happily, rubbing the side of his face on Tony’s shoulder, and getting their legs tangled up together.
How many times had Tony dreamt about rolling around on the workshop floor with Steve? He couldn’t say that any of those fantasies had involved fur and viral saliva. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the saliva. Steve had been scratched, not bitten. Maybe it had something to do with the claws specifically, or maybe it was that specific werewolf. Maybe it would be fine. Yeah, fine. His life turned out fine all the time.
“Mr. Stark!”
He heard Hank’s voice and winced. Considering that he was being pinned by a werewolf, it wasn’t like he had any illusions about escaping the workshop before anyone could see that he’d made the terrible decision to walk into the workshop without any protection, but it didn’t make it any easier.
As if caught out as well, Steve went very still. Tony craned his neck to see Steve’s wolfish muzzle pointed at the door where Hank was standing frozen. Tony felt a low vibration against his stomach, and then his chest. Before he could figure out what it meant, a great snarl exploded out of Steve’s throat. He rose to all fours, staying crouched over Tony’s prone figure, the snarl turning into a deep growl.
“I’m okay, Hank,” Tony said loudly over Steve’s growls. “But I might be compromised. Probably a better idea of everyone else stays out for now.”
Steve briefly interrupted his growl with a loud bark. Hank hesitated, but when Steve charged forward, he threw himself backward. The door slammed with a loud crash. Steve was immediately mollified by Hank’s retreat and circled back around to Tony’s side. Tony had taken the opportunity to sit up, but he hadn’t managed to get back to his feet. Steve plopped down on his belly, and set his head in Tony’s lap, looking up at him with what Tony would have called adoration in a dog.
“Well, I guess we’re going to spend some time together, Steve,” Tony said, resigned.
Steve huffed out a noise that sounded smug.
(Your picture was not posted)
I ended up spending more than 15-30 minutes on this one. xD Continuation of this Capwolf bit.
The mission had been as routine as Avengers’ missions got, and it had gone off, more or less, without a hitch. Just after sunset, Thor had hammered them a back door into the bank, Cap had gone through shield-first, and the rest of them had followed. Three startled would-be robbers in the process of stuffing handfuls of bills into duffle bags had been dealt with quickly. One had just dropped immediately to the floor and put his hands over the back of his head, the other had stood there staring with his mouth open until Steve had pointed a finger at the floor. He’d dutifully gotten down on his knees, while the third had thrown the bag of cash into Clint’s arms before making a run for the exit. His quick retreat had allowed the half-dozen hostages to flee.
Frustrated, and obviously a man raised on cheesy comic books, the last robber had shouted, “You’ll all learn to fear Jelly Man!” and then had thrown what looked like a neon green squishy octopus toy at Thor. Thor had smashed it out of the air like a pro at bat, and the smiling octopus toy had splattered into about 50 gallons of bubble gum pink slime.
Herding the hostages out, Tony had missed being spattered with slime. Jelly Man had not. In a matter of heartbeats, three avengers and the bumbling villain had been caught in a veritable ocean of slime, which had promptly started climbing up the walls.
“Well, as far as super weapons go, that one is inventive,” Tony had offered while the kid had just wailed in inchoate fury, thrashing in the slime.
So, all-in-all, routine mission. Jan gotten the pink anti-slime cutesy squid bomb out of thrashing villain’s bag, and Tony had shot it out of the air like shooting down a clay pigeon. It had obligingly turned into a lime green mist, and they’d all waited around for three uncomfortable hours while the anti-slime had done its job.
Slime neutralized, friends freed from the goo, evil-doer carted away, day saved. Next step should have been to go back to the manor for some post slime showers, maybe Iron Man took off for the night, and Tony Stark appeared with a convenient order of nineteen extra large pizzas, and all was right with the world.
Not included in the plan was Steve, still crusted in a residue of slime, stepping out into the pale glow of a full moon, and dropping to his knees in the street with his arms curled around his stomach. Definitely not included in the plan was getting Steve into the back of the Avengers transport and having him scream his way into the body of a freaking wolf while the Avengers themselves mostly squawked like startled chickens and tried to avoid his lashing claws.
“Night night, Cap!” Clint shouted, and jabbed the point of an arrow into Steve’s rippling flank. He let out a throaty roar, and then collapsed to the transport’s floor.
Goddamned werewolves.
~*~
(Read more)
“Tin Britches,” Jan warned into the stunned silence following Steve’s explosive transformation, “if you say I told you so, I will poor acid down the back of your suit.”
“I was definitely not going to remind you that I said it was viral,” Tony said on a stunned autopilot while he scanned Steve’s still-shifting body. Fur erupted out of the neck of his uniform, and a wet crack made Tony flinch down to his toes as his hips seemed to realign.
“Acid,” Jan said shakily.
In his chemically-induced sleep, Steve-the-freaking-werewolf whined and lashed out aimlessly with one clawed paw. In knee-jerk reaction, Jan went wasp-sized, and Thor hesitantly raised his hammer.
Tony held his hand up to prevent any terrifying accidents. “Maybe everyone not in metal armor should step away from … Captain Canine here.”
“Good idea,” Jan agreed. “I’m going to go pilot. Try not to die back here, okay?”
It had been two months since Steve had been scratched by werewolf. They’d exhausted all the dog and moon jokes weeks ago, which Steve had born with good grace. On the night of the full moon, Steve had locked himself in the vault that was Tony’s best attempt at something that could contain the Hulk. Just in case. Not even a single yip, or a hair out of place.
On the floor, Steve began to stir. Thor and Clint backed away. Tony eased cautiously forward, one hand extended.
Big blue eyes opened beneath Steve’s mask, and his jaws parted slowly. He made a drowsy noise, and then he lifted his head to look up Tony. He made a soft whining noise. Tony lowered himself slowly to the floor at Steve’s side and reached out to him. He had no way of knowing if the armor was going to protect him if Steve ended up being an evil werewolf who wanted to bite him. Steve whined again, his legs moving weakly. Tony reached carefully under the wolf’s jaw and released the clip on the chin strap.
As soon as the clip came free, Steve shook his great head, knocking the helmet free. He licked Tony’s hand. No, not Tony’s hand. Iron Man’s hand, the gauntlet. Tony set his hand on the back of Steve’s head and then let his fingers push through the fur down his neck.
“Can you understand me?” he asked.
Steve made a wuff noise that almost sounded like a yes.
“Are you in pain?”
A yawn. He pressed himself up and back, and up, and up. Tony had to lean backwards to look all the way up at Steve, and he got an immediate sense of vertigo. Tony stood up quickly. In the suit, he’d always been taller than Steve, but the werewolf towered over him, tall enough that his velvety ears brushed the transport’s ceiling.
“Nice werewolf,” Tony said as Steve surveyed them, shifting his weight experimentally on his double-kneed legs.
“That’s our plan?” Clint asked in a soft hiss. “Nice doggy, here, fetch the stick, boy?”
Steve’s massive wolf’s head swiveled toward Clint, and Clint all but leapt backwards, bow drawn. Ignoring him, Steve looked back to Tony. He took a step forward, the motion seeming strange on his almost too-thin legs and too-small paws. Tony resisted the urge to step back. Steve leaned down and snuffled at him. He sneezed, and then turned away from Tony, apparently no longer interested. They stayed in that tense silence for the rest of the trip back to the mansion, Steve sniffing at the interior of the transport with almost casual curiosity while Tony, Clint, and Thor looked on. Occasionally, Steve would hunker down and become intensely interested in something – Tony’s tool box, a duffle of spare clothing, a seemingly random spot on one bulkhead – and then would move on. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d think that Steve was looking for something.
The transport landed on the pad, and Steve gambled to cargo, waiting patiently for it to be lowered. His tail wagged. When the door didn’t open immediately, Steve pawed at it. He whined.
Tony looked over at the others, and Clint shrugged. He still had his bow in hand, arrow knocked, the first two fingers of his left hand resting lightly on the string, but it was pointed to the floor. Thor watched Steve pensively, Mjolnir held loosely by his side. Steve twisted to look at them over his shoulder. He made a noise that started out low and ended high, clearly an interrogative.
“What if he runs off to terrorize the city?” Clint asked finally.
Steve’s ears lowered in an affronted glare.
“Hey, don’t give me that. If our positions were reversed, you’d think the same thing!”
Steve huffed out a breath and hunkered down to scratch at the door again. His head turned up to the control panel, and then he looked down at one paw-like hand, obviously contemplating whether he could work it.
“Steve,” Tony said, getting his immediate attention. “I’m going to trust that you are still you in there, somewhere. But you have to prove that to us, too. I’m going to open the door, and you’re going to right inside, and down to the lab to wait for Mr. Stark and Hank. Okay?”
Steve’s eyes – still his eyes, intensely blue and intelligent – locked onto him for a moment, and then he dipped his head slowly, if awkwardly, in a nod. Tony eased around him to the control panel just as Jan peaked her head back to ask if it was a good idea. Tony keyed the cargo door open, and Steve bounded through it like a shot the moment he had enough clearance to wiggle through.
“Shit!” Clint exploded along with Jan’s exasperated, “No one ever listens to me!”
They poured out after the werewolf, but Steve was fast. By the time they even made it out the door, he was across the roof and disappearing over the side. Tony and Thor took to the sky while Clint made a dash for the edge of the roof, and Jan appeared to vanish in a small red explosion of light. Tony scanned the trees on infrared, looking for movement, but he found nothing shaped like Captain Ameriwolf.
“Iron Man, the front door!” Thor shouted.
“Jarvis,” Tony breathed. He dropped in a barely controlled dive, pulling up at the last second to land awkwardly on the front porch. He stumbled forward a few steps to regain his balance and shouldered through the opened door.
Standing stock-still, Jarvis blinked at him in confusion. He still had one hand raised as though to close the door. “Sir… I believe there is a giant dog wearing Captain Roger’s uniform in the house. He was polite enough to knock, at least.”
“Which way?” Tony asked, brushing past the well of relief to find Jarvis still in one piece. Jarvis pointed him toward the stars, and Tony took off at a run with Thor crowding in behind him. They found Tony’s door standing open. The comforter had been torn off the bed, and several of the pillows were on the floor, but otherwise the room was intact and empty.
“He has taken Mr. Starks bed linens?” Thor asked in confusion.
Tony accessed the house systems, looking for anything from the security system to them where Steve had gone. “He’s in Mr. Stark’s workshop,” he said, feeling like he was missing something and not liking it. He accessed his personal cameras in the workshop and found that Steve had dragged the blanket and one pillow in but had left them on the floor and was hunting around the workshop, nose to the ground.
“Where is Mr. Stark?” Thor asked.
Tony blew out a breath. “Still at SI, but I’ve already called him to come back when he’s available. Maybe we could get your friend Dr. Blake in on this?” Tony looked up at Thor, whose expression had turned pensive. He swung Mjolnir slightly from one hand.
“I do not know that this will be in his field, but I will ask. Excuse me.”
Thor left quickly, brows furrowed in deep thought, leaving Tony alone in “Mr. Stark’s” bedroom. He closed the door quickly and went to slip into something more comfortable.
~*~
When Tony opened the workshop door, he found Steve-the-werewolf rolling around on top of his $600 comforter. At the sound of the door swooshing open, Steve flipped around, and then scrambled to get upright. The comforter slipped out from under him, sending him sprawling on the floor, but he was back on his feet before Tony could get out more than a startled bark of laughter. Tongue lulling out of his massive mouth, Steve shot across the workshop.
Tony had the space of a breath to think that maybe he should have waited for someone else to come down with him before Steve was on him. He hit the floor hard, and Steve, acting more like an overeager golden retriever than a massive flipping werewolf, licked his face in great sloppy stripes. His entire body wiggled in excitement, claws clicking on the floor, little excited whines occasionally interrupting the bathing.
Planting both hands on Steve’s chest, Tony tried unsuccessfully to shove him. Tony’s heart hammered in his chest so hard that he thought he might be having a heart attack. He was just licked by a werewolf, who, presumably, had a virus that would turn Tony into a werewolf as well. Fucking wonderful.
Not even seeming to notice Tony’s shoving, Steve squirmed his way back to Tony’s chest, and just sprawled out, trapping Tony underneath him. He panted happily, rubbing the side of his face on Tony’s shoulder, and getting their legs tangled up together.
How many times had Tony dreamt about rolling around on the workshop floor with Steve? He couldn’t say that any of those fantasies had involved fur and viral saliva. Then again, maybe it wasn’t the saliva. Steve had been scratched, not bitten. Maybe it had something to do with the claws specifically, or maybe it was that specific werewolf. Maybe it would be fine. Yeah, fine. His life turned out fine all the time.
“Mr. Stark!”
He heard Hank’s voice and winced. Considering that he was being pinned by a werewolf, it wasn’t like he had any illusions about escaping the workshop before anyone could see that he’d made the terrible decision to walk into the workshop without any protection, but it didn’t make it any easier.
As if caught out as well, Steve went very still. Tony craned his neck to see Steve’s wolfish muzzle pointed at the door where Hank was standing frozen. Tony felt a low vibration against his stomach, and then his chest. Before he could figure out what it meant, a great snarl exploded out of Steve’s throat. He rose to all fours, staying crouched over Tony’s prone figure, the snarl turning into a deep growl.
“I’m okay, Hank,” Tony said loudly over Steve’s growls. “But I might be compromised. Probably a better idea of everyone else stays out for now.”
Steve briefly interrupted his growl with a loud bark. Hank hesitated, but when Steve charged forward, he threw himself backward. The door slammed with a loud crash. Steve was immediately mollified by Hank’s retreat and circled back around to Tony’s side. Tony had taken the opportunity to sit up, but he hadn’t managed to get back to his feet. Steve plopped down on his belly, and set his head in Tony’s lap, looking up at him with what Tony would have called adoration in a dog.
“Well, I guess we’re going to spend some time together, Steve,” Tony said, resigned.
Steve huffed out a noise that sounded smug.
(Your picture was not posted)
