[He was lounging in the bathtub again. He had been doing so more and more lately, content with the current small confines even if there was the pressing need to go back to his home. Steve could not follow him permanently, so he was resisting the urge to head back to the waters that he had once been so used to in case there was no want or will to leave them again. For now, he was satisfied crammed into the small confines of the bathtub, water dangerously close to overflowing.
His tail flicked gently in the water, arms folded on the edge of the tub as he rested his cheek on his bare stacked arms. This was as close to resting when Steve wasn't around, his ears perked to any sound and his body ready and willing to haul itself out and crawl dangerously at anything that might be a threat to him or this place that Steve called him.
Possessiveness of space was not something that he generally found himself being; he coveted objects, people and food sources (the fridge was the rare item he might guard). Lately, he was territorial of the apartment, which made SHIELD's job of keeping an eye on him and Steve far more difficult. It also made his secret more tedious when he was ready and willing to fling himself, scales still formed and all out a window at an agent perceived too close.
He sighed and shifted in the tub, fins flickering with a now constant healthy shimmer. He was putting on weight. He was remembering more slowly, helped along by Steve talking him through things. The only problems in his current world was a lack of the ocean, the continued presence of HYDRA around, and the slow swell of his belly. His hips were aching almost constantly as well.
It wasn't until he became aware of a distinct flutter as he lounged in the tub that, at first, confused him. He took the time to study this oddity, like the flutter of thin seaweed in the current or more like the caress of butterfly wings. He rumbled a sound and the fluttering stopped again, and he passed it off as indigestion; he had eaten very well the day before. Then it returned again. And again.
And he was up and out of the tub, setting his hands down on the tiles so as not to drop on his belly. It was the natural order of things, he supposed, not that upset to realize the true meaning of everything. He slid like a snake along the bathroom floor to the edge, peering at the hardwood and remembering the house rule not to get it too wet.
Instead, he pushed himself up on his arms and craned his head out of the doorway. Then he worked his throat and issued a soft inquisitive trill in the hallways. It was his 'come and pick me up so I don't mess the floor' trill. It was followed with a general human inquiry.]
Steve? Steve, we have a pressing matter to discuss.
Four months later
His tail flicked gently in the water, arms folded on the edge of the tub as he rested his cheek on his bare stacked arms. This was as close to resting when Steve wasn't around, his ears perked to any sound and his body ready and willing to haul itself out and crawl dangerously at anything that might be a threat to him or this place that Steve called him.
Possessiveness of space was not something that he generally found himself being; he coveted objects, people and food sources (the fridge was the rare item he might guard). Lately, he was territorial of the apartment, which made SHIELD's job of keeping an eye on him and Steve far more difficult. It also made his secret more tedious when he was ready and willing to fling himself, scales still formed and all out a window at an agent perceived too close.
He sighed and shifted in the tub, fins flickering with a now constant healthy shimmer. He was putting on weight. He was remembering more slowly, helped along by Steve talking him through things. The only problems in his current world was a lack of the ocean, the continued presence of HYDRA around, and the slow swell of his belly. His hips were aching almost constantly as well.
It wasn't until he became aware of a distinct flutter as he lounged in the tub that, at first, confused him. He took the time to study this oddity, like the flutter of thin seaweed in the current or more like the caress of butterfly wings. He rumbled a sound and the fluttering stopped again, and he passed it off as indigestion; he had eaten very well the day before. Then it returned again. And again.
And he was up and out of the tub, setting his hands down on the tiles so as not to drop on his belly. It was the natural order of things, he supposed, not that upset to realize the true meaning of everything. He slid like a snake along the bathroom floor to the edge, peering at the hardwood and remembering the house rule not to get it too wet.
Instead, he pushed himself up on his arms and craned his head out of the doorway. Then he worked his throat and issued a soft inquisitive trill in the hallways. It was his 'come and pick me up so I don't mess the floor' trill. It was followed with a general human inquiry.]
Steve? Steve, we have a pressing matter to discuss.