Chapter Text
Bucky’s 14 minutes into a rant about rent hikes in Brooklyn, shitty secondhand moving boxes, and the no pet policy at his new crappy one-bedroom when Steve volunteers an incredibly sweet albeit misguided, “Baby Spice can stay with me.”
The sentiment behind offering to care for the menace that is Baby Spice, the three-year-old Shih Tzu, is not lost on Bucky. They’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, but Steve’s thrown himself headfirst into showing his commitment in numerous ways.
Still, Bucky can’t quite hide his surprise, hovering between a half-packed kitchen and a mountain of old clothes he’s got every intention of throwing out in lieu of actually sorting through and lugging over. He is not above going to extreme measures to make this hassle of a move as easy as possible.
“I mean, unless you’ve made other arrangements?” Steve prompts, cradling Baby as she licks at his chin. The silence stretches for long enough that Bucky inexplicably finds himself shaking his head. “Then I’ll take her! It’ll be perfect. You can come by to see Baby anytime, and maybe you’ll find a pet-friendly place soon.”
“Oh, well, uh.”
Later, Bucky will admit that there’s a lot he could’ve said in the moment—a lot he should’ve said, some might argue.
But he’s got Steve Rogers in his living room, that stupid giant body spread out on a pile of ratty cushions, looking at him with the kind of hope that’s only started to bleed back into their lives. Bucky would never think himself lucky, given all the bullshit the last handful of years, but he can’t imagine any other reason the universe decided him worthy of sharing his days with somebody like Steve.
So, really, it’s absolutely not his fault that the helpless, “Yeah, sure,” slips out, especially when Steve proceeds to shower him in kisses right after.
Not his fault at all.
◆
“What do you mean Captain America stole my dog?” Wade hisses as soon as Bucky wraps up his very lengthy tale on why it is exactly he’s shown up to their lunch without Baby Spice—Wade’s very beloved pet Bucky’s been dog-sitting while his friend went on a year long trip to find himself.
A Post-Blip crisis, some would say, though Bucky’s got a burning hatred for the 99 think pieces since the Return that are honestly starting to read like glorified new age bullshit. It’s all rejuvenate your Post-Blip life with this revolutionary productivity trick and 12 signs it’s time to dump your Pre-Blip beau.
Bucky can’t even read up on the latest fabricated celebrity news without being reminded that he’d been dead for five fucking years while the rest of the world moved on without him.
So Bucky would be the last person to parrot the newly coined term, except that Wade had up and quit his job within three months of his Return and booked a ticket to the other side of the fucking hemisphere for his very own Eat Pray Love. That is if Julia Roberts spent her trip in way more strip clubs than the movie suggests; it seems to make up half the stories Wade’s told him so far about his past year.
“Okay, first of all, he hasn’t been Cap in years,” Bucky huffs once he’s slurped up all the vestiges of his dirt-cheap bloody mary and asked a passing waiter for more. It tastes as shitty as he’d expect, but there’s bottomless free refills, and he can never turn down a good deal. “Second of all, he didn’t steal Baby Spice! I know exactly where Baby is, Steve’s sending me updates every day.”
“James Buchanan Barnes.”
“Okay, I was going to have Nat take Baby for the last two weeks, but Steve offered and—” he pulls out his phone and thrusts it across the table—“here, look! Baby’s having a blast!”
He scrolls through countless pictures of Baby curled up on Steve’s chest and across his lap and—by complete accident because Bucky really should’ve vetted their texts before showing them off—right above a dick pic Steve had sent not too long ago.
“Okay, ew.” Wade bats the phone away with an exaggerated grimace, as if there hadn’t been a time in their lives when they’d compared private parts after one too many post-break up drinks.
“Did you even read the texts?” Bucky scrolls back up past Steve’s somewhat clumsy if enthusiastic sexts and reads out the very sweet updates Wade had rudely ignored. “Baby’s already found the linen closet and ruined my sheets. Baby slept in my bed, is that okay? Took Baby for a walk, and I think she likes the neighborhood!”
Wade doesn’t look the least bit impressed, lips pulled into a sneer. “You sure those aren’t ransom notes?”
“It’s just like having a dog-sitter,” Bucky hedges, and even he has to grimace at how pathetic the excuse sounds to his own ears.
“A permanent dog-sitter,” Wade objects, and rightly so. Closing his eyes, Wade takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
Oh boy, he’s really mad.
At some attempt at saving his own skin, Bucky tries to reassure Wade of Steve’s complete care for Baby Spice because he really does adore the little devil. They’d even met when Bucky was taking Baby out on a walk. He’d like to think it was his chosen pair of pants and inherent charm that distracted Steve from his nice afternoon stroll and won him over, but he knows it was the goddamn Shih Tzu.
Sure enough, the first night Steve stayed over, Bucky found Baby cuddled up to Steve’s chest come morning like the needy little shit she is. Well, he’s learned that Steve isn’t all that different, and Bucky lets Steve practically cuddle him to death, so he’s got no leg to stand on.
“The guy’s smitten, Wade. How was I supposed to tell him Baby Spice wasn’t even mine?!” Bucky screeches, a little hysterically if he’s to guess by the weird looks they’re starting to garner from the next table over.
Wade’s jaw is clenched tight as he simmers in justified rage, far from thinking him innocent. “Listen, I think it’s great that you somehow fell into bed with Steve fucking Rogers while I was away, his dick looks decent enough and we both know you can use a good lay. But Bucky?”
“Yeah?” he squeaks out, not even bothering to protest the completely uncalled-for jab at his sex life pre-Steve.
In time for their watered-down refills to show up along with a soon-to-be well-tipped waiter, Wade growls a downright menacing, “I want my fucking dog back.”
Okay, yeah, that’s fair.
◆
Psyching himself up to finally see Steve and own up to the mortifying misunderstanding of dog ownership is bad enough, but when Steve opens the door with Baby in his arms looking the happiest he’s ever been, Bucky very nearly backs out and seriously contemplates just getting Wade a replacement Shih Tzu altogether.
Would Wade notice? Probably.
Worry must be exuding out of him, however, because Steve immediately drags them both inside, fussing and asking a million questions at once.
The inside of Steve’s home is—oh dear god, Bucky’s never going to survive this.
What used to be furniture stacked haphazardly with books and art supplies, the organized mess a beautiful peek into Steve’s mind in its own right, are now partially covered in hastily draped drop cloths. The reason is clear once he steps on an obnoxiously loud chew toy because the countless other accessories Steve’s apparently bought for Baby are suddenly hard to ignore.
There’s a set of dog bowls adorned with Emma Bunton’s face by the kitchen, rainbow-colored leashes and collars covered in rhinestones left behind in various corners of the living room, and what is probably the most luxurious hot pink dog bed taking up a lot of space for a dog that’s only the size of Steve’s truly admirable pecs.
“Um—”
“I may have gone a little overboard,” Steve sighs, evidently seeing the place with fresh eyes now that he’s got a visitor.
Steve’s curious taste in pet accessories aside, the dedication to turning his home into Baby Spice’s own personal palace is impressive, Bucky has to admit. He’s only had Baby for two weeks; what frenzied shopping rabbit hole did Steve fall into?
Not for the first time, Bucky wonders what kind of retirement fund saving the world awards somebody like Steve Rogers and has to bite back the undoubtedly inappropriate question.
Turning to actually look at Steve—and hopefully block out the eyesore that is PetCo’s pride shop gone wild—Bucky forces out a solemn, “Steve, we need to talk.”
“Oh.” There’s no missing the way Steve’s face falls, the heartbreak that ripples across his face in an instant.
“No!” Bucky immediately regrets his choice of words. “It’s not what you think! Well—” It’s worse, he doesn’t say. “Can we sit?”
Steve nods wordlessly, setting Baby down to follow at their heels as he leads them over to the couch. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks once they settle, scratching at a bearded cheek. “Sent you too many pictures of Baby or somethin’?” Guilt churns in Bucky’s gut at the forced humor in Steve’s voice, dredged up with clear effort. “Just thought you might miss her, is all.”
“Actually, it’s a little about Baby,” Bucky laughs weakly, much to Steve’s surprise.
“That was a joke. Are you really mad about that?” Steve’s wide eyes sneak a peek at Baby Spice where she’s flopped onto his foot, as if wary that she might overhear Bucky say some not-so-nice things about her.
Rolling his eyes in fondness, Bucky can’t help but let out a near hysterical laugh. It really is true that Steve’s fallen head over heels for Baby, he didn’t just make that up to defend himself in the face of Wade’s wrath. Dread washes over him, knowing he’s about to break Steve’s heart one way or another.
Why didn’t Bucky just say something the first time Steve offered to take Baby in?
“Okay, look.” Bucky takes Steve’s hands in his own, holding tight as if to channel the courage from Steve himself. Isn’t that what Steve’s whole schtick was back in the USO? Bucky’s pretty sure there was a whole goddamn song, chorus girls and all. “I should’ve told you this before, but Baby, well, the thing is—“
“Bucky.” Steve’s somehow lost the tension that had gripped those enormous shoulders when Bucky had started this disaster of a conversation, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. “Hey, whatever it is, it’ll be fine, okay? What is it, is something wrong with Baby?”
“I—she’s not my dog.”
Steve takes his words in slowly, blinking in confusion. “What do you mean she’s not your dog? You’ve had her for as long as I’ve known you.”
Bucky avoids Steve’s piercing eyes, choosing instead to focus on the hands still in his grip. If Steve hasn’t let go yet then maybe he won’t get too mad and completely shun Bucky from his life. “I was dog sitting,” he mumbles, voice barely a whisper but surely audible to Steve’s super ears. “She’s my friend Wade’s.”
“You—but she’s with you all the time.” Steve shakes his head, evidently unable to comprehend the idea of Bucky without Baby. In fact, he’s looking between them in confusion, head cocked, not unlike the way Baby would when they hide her treats during one of her favorite games.
Finally letting go of Steve’s slack fingers, Bucky covers his own face in shame. “Wade’s been away for the past year, but he just came back and, well…”
“Oh.” Steve must have picked Baby up while Bucky wallows in his humiliation, because she’s snuggling on his lap when Bucky peeks through his fingers. “Time for her to go home, huh?” he mutters seemingly to himself, sad eyes trained on the hairy bundle across his thighs.
“Steve, I’m so sorry,” he chokes out. “I gotta get her back to Wade or he’s gonna kill me.” His voice comes out hoarse enough that Steve’s head whips up in surprise.
“Are you crying?” Steve gapes for half a second before shuffling across the couch to smother him in a cradle much like the one he’d awarded Baby. “It’s okay, he’ll have her back in no—”
“It’s not okay, you love Baby so much! And now I’m taking her away!” The outburst comes out of nowhere, and it’s only then that Bucky realizes he really is on the verge of crying, Steve’s hands stroking gentle caresses down his back not doing much to help. All it does is remind him of the kind of care he’ll soon be without, when Steve decides he hates Bucky and throws him out.
Steve huffs a laugh, though he quickly muffles the sound at the sight of Bucky’s red-rimmed eyes. “Well, I don’t know, Buck.” He shrugs, lips pulled into that insufferable crooked smirk Bucky always loved to kiss away. He wishes he’d had the foresight to steal one last kiss before ruining any chance of another. “Maybe I’d rather this friend of yours not kill you. Maybe I love you more.”
Bucky scoffs in disbelief. “No, you don’t. I—I lied to you, kind of.”
“Eh, only by omission,” Steve hums, letting out a fully realized bark of laughter when Bucky shoots him an incredulous glare. “I made assumptions,” he admits, reaching towards the coffee table for a tissue to wipe away the few tears that had the chance to escape.
“Very logical assumptions,” Bucky grumbles because he’s not going to sit there and let Steve take the blame for this whole mess.
“And I do, you know,” Steve murmurs, uncharacteristically shy. “Love you.”
Bucky blinks away the last of his tears, feeling how red and puffy his face must be, sniffling in what he’s sure to be the least attractive manner imaginable. It’s all he can do to stare in wonder, at Steve’s kind face and endlessly forgiving smile, at how luck really can’t be what he’s got to thank here but he sure can’t think of anything else.
“Maybe,” Steve sighs, bringing them even closer together, ducking in to kiss at his atrociously chapped lips. “I love Baby because I love you.”
Holding onto the nape of Steve’s neck to keep him in place, reveling in being able to have many more kisses after all, Bucky confesses a quiet, “I—I love you too. In case that wasn’t clear.”
Steve lights up like it wasn’t, and surges in to lick into his mouth with an enthusiasm Bucky isn’t quite expecting. Then again, he can never quite guess at what Steve will throw at him next, be it offers of permanent dog care or early yet entirely sincere declarations of love.
The kiss only lasts long enough before Baby’s trying to get in the mix and they both have to recoil from possible puppy drool. Steve is incandescent with joy, however, when Baby demands his attention, and Bucky decides to let him have the day and take her back to Wade come morning instead.
After all, he’d do much worse than steal Wade’s dog to keep that smile on Steve’s face.