5. Rescued 5

Moving Donut was far more complicated than the Cor-mmandos. The dogs had their beds and a few toys, but Donut had somehow, inexplicably and mysteriously amassed a large collection of cat beds (six), window ledges (two), cat towers (three), and step-ups (four). The step-ups were so she could get up on the couch and the bed and up to her window ledges, since her hips precluded her from jumping higher than foot off the floor. It was also why her cat towers looked more like stacked boxes, because she simply did not have the motion range or strength to climb anything more inclined than the back of the couch.

Steve, of course, offered to help, claiming that he had nothing else to do that afternoon. Pepper gleefully agreed to babysit the Cor-mmandos, which Clint suspected would involve a lot of girly things like grooming and eating fattening liver snacks. He vowed to keep the Cor-mmandos exposure to Pepper's wilily ways at a minimum…just as soon as Donut was settled.

"Gosh, she's small," Steve said, holding Donut in one large hand. He had her against his chest and she was happily head butting his pectoral. Clint could tell she was happy because her tail was twitching. Clint was going around and gathering up her things, and taking a mental tally of anything he might need himself. Donut's list was much longer.

"Does she always frown like that?" Steve sounded worried.

Clint dumped the last two cat beds on the large pile in the middle of his tiny living room. "That's her resting face."

"Her resting face?"

"It's just the way she looks. And she walks in circles. I don't know, her parents were pure bred Himalayans but she just came out a little different."

Steve sighed, rubbing Donut's head with his thumb. "I know that feeling."

Clint paused. He forgot that most of Steve's life had been spent as a sickly, skinny kid who got beat up a lot. For the first time, Clint thought that maybe he and Captain America might have something in common.

"You have a lot of stuff for her," Steve said, giving the pile a confused look.

Clint waved a hand at the door. "It's my neighbor's fault. I go on a mission and I come back and there's something new for her. Mr. Delany spoils her rotten." Clint picked Donut up out of Steve's hold and cuddled her closely to his chest, scratching behind her ears and giving her a comforting nuzzle.

Steve looked at him skeptically. "Uh huh."

Clint carefully put Donut in her carrier, making sure the fluffy towel on the bottom was folded right and that she had her beanie-baby teddy bear with her. She batted at the door when it closed and Clint tapped her paw. "No, be good. Daddy's got to move all of your crap. Yeah, be a good little brat! Good girl!"

He turned around to see Steve tucking his phone back in his pocket.

"Did you take a picture of that?" Clint growled.

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

"You need to stop watching the History Channel."

"You know, when you get angry, you really do look just like her."

"It's my resting face," Clint snapped, throwing a whole cat tower at Steve, who caught it easily and laughed at him.