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Most days Bucky doesn’t remember his mom’s face or how was life before HYDRA, but he remembers that Steve loved a scrawny dog, back in the 30s.
He used to save up the pennies that Mrs. Robins gave him for reading the newspaper to buy dog’s food from the bodega that the Gonzales owned.
And the dog let only Steve approach, maybe because they were similar. Little bodies for a roaring personality.
Bucky almost lost his right hand when he tried to pet the damn thing.
So, it’s not a surprise when Steve says that he wants a dog.
Alright, he might’ve phrased it as “have you ever heard of therapy dogs, Buck?”, but Bucky can see through Steve and he knows that when the blonde has an idea, nobody can change his mind.
For this reason, they get a dog. And they (Steve) decide that they can train the dog, how difficult can that be?
3 months old
The smell of poop reaches Steve’s nostrils as soon as it’s out of his baby’s body, but he doesn’t bother opening his eyes.
He shakes Bucky’s sleeping form and mumbles: “your turn”, ready to fall asleep again.
“Of fucking course it’s my turn when the asshole poops.”
Steve swats his arm and slurs something that could be “don’t call our son like that” but sounds like ‘’on ‘all r ‘on aa”.
Two-point six seconds later, he’s sound asleep.
There’s not a lot Bucky could do, except leave the comfort of Steve’s body heat and find where the asshole and his mess are.
They tried to potty train the dog. Tried the keyword here. Because the beast poops and pees everywhere except on the puppy pads strategically placed all around their floor at the Avengers Tower.
Bucky doesn’t bother with turning the lights on, his eyesight is perfectly fine in the darkness and he knows their apartment like the back of his hand.
“Where are you, Stinky? I smelled what you did.”
As he pronounces the last word, he feels his barefoot sink into something soft and curses in five different languages.
Here’s to his ‘perfectly fine’ eyesight.
He hops on one foot to the bathroom and, before he can open the door, slips on a wet surface and falls on his back, grunting as the pain makes his vision go white.
Three seconds later, a wet, long and hot tongue licks his cheek, as to apologize.
“Steve fucking Rogers. Wake up!”, he screams at the top of his lungs and Steve fumbles out of their bedroom with his shield at hand.
“Where’s the danger?”
“Your fucking dog is the danger! I stepped on his shit and then slipped on his pee. And God help me, his breath stinks like garbage.”
“Don’t talk about him like that, he’s sensitive.”
Steve leaves the shield against the wall and picks the black and white pup up, rubbing his nose against the dog’s and giving him several kisses.
At least until the son of the Devil doesn’t bite him hard enough that he starts wailing, trying to not drop the squirming beast.
5 months old
“I’m freezing, can you please do your things, so we can head home, buddy?”
Winter in Brooklyn is not to be underestimated, even for Steve, whose body runs five or fifteen degrees higher than common people.
If only his dog could speed up. Bucky’s waiting for him at home with a glass of wine – even if they can’t get drunk – and the promise of a night of passion.
But no! Tony The Asshole looks at him with his big brown eyes and Steve melts a little inside. He’s a sucker for those eyes and those ridiculously long eyelashes.
It was Stark’s idea to give the dog his name since he helped the couple of supersoldiers finding a shelter that respected and loved animals unconditionally.
After three months of fruitless research, they managed to find a shelter based in Brooklyn that hosted a litter of four dogs abandoned in a dumpster. Is simpler to train a pup, instead of a grown-up dog, they thought. Hence, Tony became part of their family.
It was Bucky’s idea to add ‘The Asshole’, since their dog was an asshole, even if Steve would never say that out loud. He considered the dog his son, sue him.
Tony keeps sniffing around, not caring about a damn thing in this world, and Steve can only mutter under his breath something that the wind carries away.
It isn’t the first time that the dog has prevented him from having mind-blowing sex with his husband and won’t be the last.
1 year old
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Tony, happy birthday to you!”
The Avengers whistle as Morgan and Pepper throw pieces of cake to Tony’s face, ruining what looks like a day worth of every possible and imaginable service a spa can offer.
And then.
Then the worst happens.
A black and white missile runs against the wooden table, makes the structure tremble so much that the cake, the bottles of soda, wine, and vodka fall on the floor.
Someone, maybe Scott, screams; someone else gasps; the others stare at the 120 pounds dog now covered in red and golden cream.
And Bucky laughs. He laughs so hard that he starts crying.
“What the hell are you laughing about?”
Steve hits his arm when the shock has settled and the panic for the well-being of his son takes its place.
He shouldn’t have left him three floors below for Tony’s birthday party. He should’ve stayed with him. He should’ve declined the invitation–
“I– I can’t-“, is all Bucky manages to say before slipping on the glass of wine that someone dropped on the floor and hitting his head so hard he sees the stars.
And that’s how Bucky ends up in the hospital with a concussion.
He swears that the damn dog is going to be the death of him.
4 years old
“Excuse me, Clint, can you repeat what you just said?”
“I said that your dog impregnated my sweet angel Lucky!”
Steve looks at the blonde with a frown. It’s impossible that his son reached sexual maturity yet, he’s too young for having sex, and besides–
“... I thought Lucky was a male dog?”
Clint huffs and scratches his dog’s ear, exasperated because of this dumb supersoldier.
“For your information, I’m speaking of Lucky the 3rd. Kate took Lucky the 1st, so I went to a shelter and fell in love with a female dog, who lives on my floor and that your fucking dog deflowered.”
“Are you sure? I mean, your dog has the habit of going out wherever she wants.”
Hawkeye gasps dramatically and covers Lucky‘s ears.
“Are you calling my good girl a hoe, Rogers?”
Steve shrugs. He doesn’t know if it’s true, he just wants this conversation to be over. Even if he’s over 100 years old, he’s too young to be a grandpa.
“I’m saying that Tony isn’t responsible for this.”
“You say so, eh? You don’t mind if we watch the tapes of the fatal day, do you?”
“Why not?”
He should’ve known that it was a trap, otherwise, Clint would’ve skipped the boring review of the footage of his apartment.
One hour and thirteen minutes later, Steve is shocked into silence as his boy approaches the other dog and goes straight to the point.
Three hours later Steve can’t look at his baby’s eyes and asks Bucky what he thinks about adopting another pup.