Chapter Text
There wasn't much that could shake the Black Widow, especially not in the middle of a fight. But when instead of her currently mind-controlled best friend, whom she had just clocked into the face hard enough to send him sprawling onto the floor, she was suddenly looking at a giant blond dog, she took a moment to just stare.
It was some kind of mongrel, the face with light, ice-grey eyes suggesting some kind of Husky in the mix, probably a malamute by its size, but with a less fuzzy coat the color of a golden retriever or yellow lab. It shook itself and turned around to face her, swaying slightly, as if drunk. Then it lay down on its belly, steely gaze and ears fixed on her, but head tilted sideways, baring its throat in a clear sign of surrender.
"Hawkeye?" Natasha asked, but didn't dare lowering her defenses.
The dog rested its head on its paws and responded with a slight wag of its tail. That could have been meant as a yes. Or it could have been a random response from an ordinary dog. And as much as it seemed that it was Clint in there, there was no way to confirm it. Or that he wasn't still controlled by Loki. Or that it wasn't another one of Loki's attempts to trick them in some other way.
And while they were still on a helicarrier with fighting all around there wasn't much she could do about it anyway. But she also couldn't let a potentially malicious dog roam around freely. With a sigh, she forced herself to relax and appear non-threatening, lowering her hands and going down on one knee.
"Goddammit, Barton," she muttered and beckoned to the dog. "Come here."
It got up and padded over to her, still looking a bit stunned, but somewhat more steady. Once it was within arms reach, Natasha leaped forward, sneaking one arm around its head, and then rammed the widow bites on her other hand into its neck. The dog yelped and struggled, but then slumped over, unconscious.
"I am sorry about this," Natasha explained and then went about figuring out how to transport and restrain a giant, possibly sentient dog.
***
Natasha had just managed to drag the dog to a rarely used side room and handcuff it to a shelf in absence of better options, when Captain America caught up with her, looking for someone who could pilot a Quinjet. She wasn't happy to leave the dog who was possibly Clint alone, but the threat of an impending invasion didn't leave her much choice.
She wasn't really surprised that he didn't stay there long, but in the middle of the fight, she didn't have a lot of time for that. Or to keep track of the four-legged furball mauling aliens while keeping just outside her direct line of sight.
Once the fight was over though, and she looked around for the dog, he was nowhere to be found. She thought she caught a glimpse of golden fur outside the window while sitting down for Shawarma with the rest of the team - because apparently, they were a team now - but it was gone again before she could do anything about it. After dinner she went back to SHIELD HQ to get some sleep in one of the ready rooms, because of course her own apartment was in the middle of the evacuated area, figuring if someone had found a giant dog on the Helicarrier she would hear about it sooner or later anyway.
However by the next morning, Natasha hadn't heard anything about a dog on the Helicarrier, and a little friendly snooping over cafeteria breakfast confirmed that in fact, no one had seen the dog, so she assumed Clint had escaped his restraints and then probably snuck his furry butt onto the Quinjet somehow. At that point she was getting a bit worried about her doggified partner, after all, Clint was enough of a trouble magnet in human form, but at least there was only one logical place he would go.
Natasha hadn't made it even halfway from SHIELD to Clint's apartment when she was stopped by a somewhat flustered-looking police officer.
"Excuse me, Ma'am," the woman said. "I know things are a bit chaotic right now, and I'm not going to fine you this time, but leash laws still apply. And anyway, you should probably keep a bit more of an eye on your dog right now, so he won't get hurt."
Natasha narrowed her eyes at the officer. "I don't have a dog."
"Oh, so this isn't your dog?" the policewoman asked, gesturing at the giant blond mutt that was sitting at Natasha's heel like he belonged there, happily panting up at them. "There's a shelter nearby who have set up a lost and found for missing pets. I can take them there..."
"No, I'll take care of it," Natasha decided, because letting Clint be locked up in a kennel somewhere wasn't something she would let happen. And anyway she wanted her partner back. She accepted the note the officer gave her with the details of the shelter, then waited until the woman was gone.
"Come on, I'm taking you back to SHIELD so they can figure out how to turn you back," she said and turned back the way she had come. It took her only two steps to realize the dog wasn't following her.
"What?" Natasha asked, turning around to Clint, who was still sitting in the same spot, but now slightly hunched over, looking less than happy. "This is ridiculous," she sighed, but walked back over and squatted down until she was at eye level with the dog. "Bark once for yes, twice for no."
The dog gazed back at her levelly, which was somewhat disconcerting, but at that moment she could almost see Clint and he seemed mildly amused when he replied with a deep, resounding woof.
"You don't want to go back to SHIELD?"
Clint barked twice, this time with a slight underlying snarl.
"Why don't you want to come back with me?" she asked feeling a hint of betrayal. Didn't he trust her anymore? But no, he had come to her. He just didn't want to come in, although she couldn't figure out why.
By now Clint was all out growling. He barked twice again, a high yipping sound. But it wasn't aggressive, she realized looking at the dog. He was hunched low now, shrinking back, tail tucked. He was scared.
Natasha sighed. "Alright, let's not do this here," she decided. It was clear, he wasn't coming back to SHIELD HQ with her and that meant he needed another place to stay. "Let's see if your place is still standing."
***
On the upside, Clint's building was still standing. On the downside, there was a hole over most of one wall which was part of Clint's apartment. Or used to be at least, most of it was now visible through the hole and there was not much left intact. "I guess that's a bust," Natasha sighed and absentmindedly patted Clint's head, who was quietly whining at her feet.
She looked around the building one more time to see if there might be a safe way in to salvage at least some of Clint's stuff, but what was visible of the inside wasn't looking very stable. "Alright, let's go to my place," she said with a sigh.
They didn't get very far though, because as it turned out her flat was stuck in the middle of one of the more damaged areas that were currently closed off to civilians until the buildings could be secured. In the end, they backtracked into one of the less affected areas and managed to find a café for lunch that had tables set up on the sidewalk, where Natasha wouldn't attract attention talking to a giant dog.
"So now what?" she asked after a waiter had brought out her coffee and sandwich, and a bowl of water for Clint - she made a mental note to figure out dog food soon. Clint paused in messily emptying his water bowl and tilted his head with a quiet whoof, which she decided to equate with a shrug.
Natasha sighed. "You don't want to come in to SHIELD..."
That elicited a low growl, which she ignored.
"... But there's not really anywhere else to go. And I don't like the idea of you running around on your own like this."
Clint put his head on her knee and looked up at her with the kind of pleading gaze he usually used when he wanted her to break him out of medical. "It's cute you think that works better now just because you're a dog."
Clint tried to lick her hand in revenge, but somehow Natasha could still read him well enough to anticipate it and move away. With a huff, he went back to his water bowl.
Natasha focused her attention on the sandwich instead while she pondered the problem. She didn't know why Clint didn't want to come to SHIELD with her, but she could guess that he was probably a bit reluctant to get poked with science. He seemed to be well enough apart from the being a dog bit, so she didn't see a point in forcing the issue. And although she was more of a cat person herself, she would be willing to live with dog-shaped Clint for a while, until she could either talk him around or maybe the whole thing would just wear off. The only question was where, because for the next while there would probably be a short supply of empty apartments, hotel rooms, or even beds in dingy hostels, with lots of people requiring accommodation until the buildings damaged in the attack could be rebuilt.
Her eyes wandered across the distant skyscrapers while she considered moving out of town for a while, how to best travel with a giant dog in tow, and where they would even go when her gaze got stuck on one in particular. Natasha sighed internally, she hadn't really wanted to consider it, but if Clint went along with it, this might be for the best.
"We might have one more option." Clint's head shot up, the now empty water bowl clattering noisily back onto the pavement when he hit it with his snout. He fixed her with the sort of hopefully attentive look he usually got when they were ordering take-out and she was close to agreeing to pizza.
"Stark offered us to come live at his tower," she explained. "They're calling us the Avengers. Fury thinks it's great, after all the whole team thing was his idea. I didn't want to go." Mostly just to spite Fury, she thought. "But apart from SHIELD housing, right now we don't have another place to stay in the city."
Clint fixed her with an intense, calculating look and then barked once, underlining it with a nod that looked more like he just sneezed.
"Come on then," she said, leaving some cash on the table. "I guess you're going undercover as my pet."
***
In the end, they made one more stop before heading to Stark Tower, at a pet shop. Because another two helpful people had told her to better put a leash on her (admirably well-behaved) dog, and while she found the idea humiliating, they had done worse for their job. She'd just have to treat this as a very weird undercover mission.
At least Clint didn't seem to mind as much, because the only harness she could find that would even fit his giant fluffy frame - she thought a harness might be slightly less horrible than a straight-up collar - was bright purple. He also clearly relished the attention from the shopkeeper who kept telling him what a good boy he was and scratching him behind the ears. He was looking so smug, she couldn't hold in an eye-roll and just filed that information away to give him shit about later. When he was properly human again. Because it just wouldn't be as much fun if he couldn't try and talk himself out of it.
They finally made it to Stark's Tower around mid-afternoon and when the weirdly sentient elevator let them off, all the other freshly minted Avengers were already present, gathered around an island counter that separated a comparatively small kitchen from a living area that was bigger than most city flats. Captain Rogers had probably arrived not too long before judging by the duffel bag at his feet and was the only one facing away from the elevator, but he promptly turned around when Natasha entered. On the other side, Tony Stark was trying to explain the very fancy coffee maker to Thor, who proclaimed it to be a most marvelous machine, while Dr. Banner was amusedly watching from a corner.
Stark obviously had some snide remarks ready, but stopped and stared when he saw the dog. "Huh," he said. "I thought you'd be more of a cat person."
"That's not my dog," Natasha countered coldly. "Actually it's Cli-"
She was interrupted by a sharp tug on the leash, and when she looked down she saw Clint had the leash in his mouth and was trying to back into the elevator, ears flat, tail tucked, emitting a low growl.
"Stop it," she said sharply and Clint dropped the leash, slinking backward. Natasha sighed inwardly and hoped she got his intentions right. This whole not being able to talk thing was getting annoying fast.
"He belongs to my partner, Clint Barton," she said and it looked like Clint didn't have a problem with that. "I found him this morning when I went by to look at Clint's flat. His name is Arrow."
She said the last thing with a side glance at Clint who sneezed in response but seemed to have calmed down.
"Clint Barton, the archer?" Rogers asked and she nodded. "What happened to him?"
Natasha thought for a moment how to answer that without giving him away, but decided as usual that it would be best to stick as close to the truth as possible. "I haven't seen him since the Helicarrier," she said. "He should be free of Loki's mind control, like the other victims. But he hasn't been in contact since and if he doesn't turn up SHIELD will probably declare him dead eventually."
Rogers deflated visibly. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding weirdly dejected. "I'm sure he's important to you."
"Oh, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere," Natasha replied once she realized what he was getting it. "Clint is not that easy to take out. He'll turn up again when he's ready."
"Aye," Thor interjected as he made his way out from behind the counter. "I had the honor of battling along the hawk-eyed one in the lands of New Mexico and have found him to be a most formidable warrior. It saddens me that he has come to grief through my brother's mischief, so I do hope he is well and can soon be reunited with his noble companion."
Clint let out a self-deprecating huff and the full focus of the thunder god suddenly rested on him.
"Do not undervalue yourself, my furry friend," Thor said to the dog. "You are a most noble creature and well worth a companion to a great warrior, regardless of your heritage."
"Thor, buddy, I don't think the dog understands you," Stark put in.
"Of course, he does, as I do him," Thor replied. "It is the all-speak, the gift of the Gods to all people of Asgard that we may understand all people and they us."
"Ooookaaay," Stark said and apparently decided not to deal with this anymore because he turned back to the coffee maker.
Clint barked in response and Thor cocked his head thoughtfully. "He wishes for pizza," he said, the last word almost questioningly, and if Natasha had had any doubt still that the dog was really Clint she was definitely sure now. "What is pizza?"
"It's a food," Banner explained who had so far watched the whole episode from his corner. "A sort of bread with sauce and cheese on it, and various vegetables and meats to taste."
"That sounds marvelous!" Thor decided. "We shall have some!"
Stark chuckled. "Yeah, we can order some for dinner. JARVIS, make a note."
"I don't think dogs should eat pizza," Banner put in.
"Oh, yeah, he'll need dog food if he stays here," Stark added and produced a tablet computer from somewhere. Moments later he was bent over it with Banner like the two were on a mad science spree, deep in a talk about canine nutrition. "Oh does he have any allergies? Dietary requirements?"
"I don't know," Natasha replied. "Because he's not actually my dog. As I said."
"He will need all the proper adornments of a warrior's companion!" Thor said and a moment later was furnished with his own tablet computer, Stark now dividing his attention between showing him how it worked and his ongoing discussion with Banner.
"He will need a bath first," Rogers muttered who had meanwhile crouched down next to the dog, tentatively petting his head. He retracted his hand from the grimy fur and it came away a dirty brown where he had touched him.
"He really does," Natasha sighed. "Come on, Arrow let's find a bathroom."
"If you'll follow the lights I shall lead you," the same posh British voice as from the elevator said and Natasha was only slightly surprised when lights along the corridor lit up.
"Uhm," Rogers said hurrying after her. "Are you... Should I...."
Natasha turned around to him, her murder glare turned up only halfway but he went beet red almost instantly.
"Can I help you?" he finally got out, but he had the kind of hopeful look she only knew from Clint. That one time they ended up volunteering to play with service dog puppies as a cover. Apparently, Captain America had a similar reaction to puppies, if the almost 100-pound fluff ball trotting along next to them could be counted as a puppy. She remembered Clint's goofy grin as he cuddled with a pile of baby Labradors.
"Alright, come along, Captain."
***
Taking along Rogers turned out to be a good choice. The bathroom the spooky computer voice led them to was huge with a corner bathtub that could easily fit three people, even if they were Rogers' size, and a shower with space for at least as many. After briefly debating the benefits they decided to wash the dog in the bathtub and Clint jumped in happily enough.
They didn't have dog shampoo, but an array of toiletries - the miniature kind usually found in hotels - were arranged next to the sink and Natasha decided that human shampoo would have to do. Clint was well-behaved the entire time, still, it was enough work for two people to get that much fur shampooed and rinsed, and they needed three washes to get all the grime out.
Once the run-off was finally clear and the tiny shampoo bottle was empty, Natasha stepped away to fetch a towel while Rogers stayed with the dog to keep him from jumping out of the tub. When she turned around for one moment there was an unholy shriek and a splattering noise. She turned back abruptly, ready to murder someone, and found Rogers now thoroughly soaked, the already tight white t-shirt he was wearing now plastered to his muscled torso and very much see-through.
Natasha could swear she saw the dog wink at her, and to be fair it was quite a view. She threw Rogers a towel with an appreciative once-over that made him blush again. He patted down his front with the towel for a moment, before he seemed to realize that it wasn't doing much. "I'm, uh, change. I'll go change," he said and headed for the door, leaving Natasha to dry off the dog.
She wasn't mad about it. "You're a menace, Barton," she muttered to the dog while she rubbed the towel over his head and got an affirmative woof in reply.
***
"How is that an extra large? That's barely enough square footage for a medium-sized cat. Do these people even know what a big dog looks like?"
Natasha was greeted by Stark's manic muttering the moment she stepped out of the bathroom, the dog on her heels. When she turned the corner to the lounge she found him now stretched out on a sofa with multiple holograms floating above his head. Dr. Banner was in a nearby armchair with the tablet they had shared earlier on his lap and Thor was spread out on the floor between him with his own tablet. When Natasha glanced over his shoulder she saw a web page selling pet costumes. Clint lazily trotted over and lay down next to him, which earned him neck rubs.
"Truly, these craftsmen seem to underestimate the measures of a warrior's companion," Thor said and Clint woofed in agreement.
"To be fair, Arrow is quite a large dog," Dr. Banner put in. He saw Natasha come in and turned to her. "Oh, by the way, do you know if he has a regular vet? Is he chipped? Vaccinated? De-wormed? Does he have any chronic conditions?"
Natasha blinked at him slowly. "No," she said, because how was she even supposed to know that. "After all, this is not my dog." And all this seemed a lot of effort for a dog, but then again this was actually Clint and he was worth all the effort.
This made everyone else look up too.
"You know," Stark said. "You keep saying that like you don't want him. You're not thinking about giving him away, are you?"
"No!" Natasha snapped. Because that was out of the question. Clint was maybe a dog now, but he was still her partner and she would keep him close so she could keep an eye on him and have his back. Especially as long as he was compromised like this.
"That's good," Banner said conversationally, already looking back at his tablet. "Because he is rather large, and probably part Husky. So he's going to need a lot of exercise. And with all the lost pets the local shelters are more than full right now, it would be pretty hard to find him someone who can care for him."
"Aye! We shall care for him as befits a warrior's companion until his master returns!" Thor exclaimed. Although Natasha was beginning to suspect that was his usual volume.
"Unless you want to keep him for yourself," Stark added. "Although with our jobs it will be easier as a team."
"You want to have him as a team pet," Natasha realized. At first, she wanted to object. Clint was her responsibility after all. But it made sense, especially since she would eventually be sent away on missions again by SHIELD, and then she would need someone else to look over the dog anyway. If he was still a dog by then, but it was easier to account for that eventuality now than to try and figure it out later.
And it looked like everyone else was already on board with it, she realized as she looked around the room and landed on Rogers who had returned with a fresh, tight, white t-shirt on. She looked at him questioningly and he responded with a shrug.
"I've always wanted a dog," he said. "And I was always allergic before..." He made an all-encompassing gesture.
Natasha nodded. "I guess it makes sense," she said settling herself on a free sofa spot where she could keep an eye on the chaos because the dog-items research squad could probably use some adult supervision.
"Great!" Stark announced. "Arrow, come here. I need some opinions on dog beds, although sadly the only decent-sized ones available seem to be neon-green or purple."
Clint jumped over with a happy bark, treading on Thor who seemed unperturbed. "It seems he prefers purple!" the demigod announced.
"I thought dogs were color blind?" Rogers asked, settling behind the sofa so he could peek over Stark's shoulder and input his opinion on color choices.
Natasha chuckled. "Clint likes purple. Arrow probably picked it up from him."
"Well if he likes it," Stark said with a shrug and absentmindedly ruffled the dog's head. "I can appreciate a good color scheme."
And then devolved into a debate with Rogers and Banner if lavender actually counted as purple and if metal food bowls would be better than plastic, interspersed with commentary from the dog, translated by Thor.
For the most part, Natasha watched the proceedings quietly and just basked in the familiar atmosphere, wondering how she had got here. This was not how she had thought her day would go, but it felt weirdly right. And, she realized, it wouldn't feel nearly as right without Clint. She had read Fury's proposals for the Avengers Initiative and they had included Hawkeye since the first drafts, and improbably enough he fit in just right. Even if for now, he was a dog.