“Peggy,” Steve says. “Peggy, please.”
“Now you just stay still...”
“You’re gonna get scratched,” Bucky says around the straw in his mouth.
“And it’s gonna be your fault,” Steve tacks on.
“Both of you shut up,” Peggy mutters. “And both of you...”
Waffles aims a thousand-yard stare at the wall, framed by the reindeer headband Peggy has placed atop her head. Pancakes darts away, but Peggy throws herself across the floor and catches the cat before she can reach the door.
“...are going to be adorable,” Peggy continues, as she drags herself upright and the cat along with her. The hat in question, attached to another headband, is about three feet away on the floor, and Peggy knee-crawls her way over towards it. “Steve, stop her.”
Steve sighs, but dutifully picks Waffles up before she can paw her antlers off her head.
“And you are wearing the Santa hat whether you like it or not, Pancakes.”
“...told you,” Bucky says about forty-five seconds later, after Peggy wrestles the hat onto the smaller of the two cats, and sports four bright red streaks on her collar bone for her trouble.
“I am a trained professional; I know the risks of my actions,” Peggy says, standing up and straightening out her shirt with her free hand. She surveys the men before her, nodding approvingly at their ugly Christmas and Hanukkah sweaters, respectively. “All right.” She holds up the decidedly angry animal and grins broadly. “Picture time!”
And if their fur-babies aren’t amused by the kitty costumery, well, at least their human babies are.