“You okay, Cap?” Clint asked from the couch. “Any major injuries? Horrible traumas? Bad moods?”
Steve paused in the act of removing his boots. “I… Don’t like where this is going.”
Clint waved his controller around. Steve wasn’t sure if he was controlling the game, or just gesturing. “Answer the question, Captain Cool.”
“Everything’s fine, situation normal, where’s-”
“RELEASE THE HOUND!” Clint yelled.
Natasha straightened up, launching DJ over the top of the couch. Steve had a split second to react, and then DJ was latching onto him, his arms around Steve’s neck. Laughing, Steve crashed down to the floor, DJ sitting on his stomach. “Hey, there, buddy,” he said, kissing DJ on the cheek. “I missed you!”
Nat leaned over the back of the couch, her chin braced on one upthrust fist. “The hound was ineffective,” she said to Clint.