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Bucky was stupidly tired, which sucked. He’d only walked a few blocks. He had no right to be tired after only a few blocks. He used to be able to walk for miles with no problem at all.
Before.
He flexed the new fingers. Watched the way the metal caught the light. Listened to the increasingly familiar whir.
He still hated the thing.
He still loved it, too.
The arm was Natasha’s fault. She’d set him up with the group who’d generously paid for it. The charity. God he hated that word. And he loved it, or at least appreciated it. Nobody owed him a damned thing, he was just a wreck of a human being who had wasted every --
Bucky was jarred out of his thoughts by a shaggy Golden Retriever who came barreling down the sidewalk at him, wagging its tail so furiously it was a wonder it didn’t dislocate its hips.
“Hey, puppy. How ya doing?” Bucky asked it. There was nobody to hear him, so it was okay to talk to random dogs.
He scratched the dog’s ears a little, and it leaned its full weight against his knees. “No tags, huh? Where did you come from, sweetie?”
The dog sat primly and grinned up at him, panting. He rubbed its head again, then clapped his hands (really should have thought that through, the metal was hard, and it barely made any sound), and he said, “Okay! Let’s go home!”
Clapping aside, the plan worked, because the dog leapt to its feet and took off toward a nearby house. It was an adorable house, and Bucky could just picture the cute pair of old people who should live there behind the white picket fence and the lace curtains. He followed the puppy (all dogs are puppies, no matter how old) up to the front door and rang the bell.
Nobody answered.
He fidgeted for several minutes, listening to the steady thump of a tail against concrete, then broke down and rang the bell again.
Nobody answered.
The dog clearly belonged here, he thought, watching it patiently wait for the door. Bucky stepped off the front porch and went around to the side yard. The back yard had a chain link fence around it, which made sense. Mr. Fluffy must have jumped it.
“Okay, come on, pup!” Bucky called. The dog followed blissfully, and Bucky reached over the gate to undo the latch.
“What the hell are you doing?” said a voice. Bucky looked up to see a pale blonde kid come around the corner of the house and glare at him.
“I wasn’t stealing it,” Bucky said immediately. Yeah, that sounded innocent, Bucky thought, rolling his eyes internally.
“I didn’t say you were,” the guy shot back. He clearly wasn’t a kid, despite how short he was. He had fine bones and giant blue eyes, which was more than Bucky usually noticed about strangers.
“Okay, look,” Bucky said, before the guy decided to call the cops, or even haul off and hit him. “It’s a great dog, but I have no intention of taking it, so let me put it back in here where it belongs and you’ll never hear from me again. All right?”
The guy propped his fists on his hips and glared even harder, which Bucky honestly hadn’t thought was possible (but was really kinda hot, a thought Bucky hadn’t had in a long time). “No, it’s not all right.”
“Seriously? What do you want, then?”
“Nothing,” the guy said, eyeing Bucky fiercely.
“Whatever,” Bucky threw back. Nobody was hot enough to put up with this bullshit. “I’ll just take the dog home with me, then.”
He stalked off toward the front yard, and Mr. Fluffy followed happily. “Go home, buddy,” Bucky muttered to it without slowing.
Mr. Fluffy bounded along at his side. He didn’t actually intend to steal the dog, but he should have known that hot stuff back there wouldn’t give in first. “Jesus, fine,” Bucky muttered to himself. He turned back around and went to the gate again.
“Hey man, you win. Just take your damn dog, okay?” Bucky said to the guy. “I’m tired and I want to go home.”
“You can’t expect me to take that thing just because you’re tired of it. Who does that? It’s fucking irresponsible pet ownership. I could be anyone, you don’t . . . “
The guy’s voice trailed off, possibly because Bucky’s mouth was hanging open and his eyes felt like they were ready to fall out.
Bucky finally managed to croak, “This isn’t your dog, is it?”
Hot guy was clearly trying not to smile, and failing. “Nope. I guess it’s not yours, either?”
Bucky rolled his head back. “Fuck. No, I was just trying to take a walk, and it found me. Then it, uh, told me it lived here.”
Hot guy raised an eyebrow.
“Whatever. Do you have any idea where it actually lives?”
“Afraid not. Looks like you’ll have to take it home and put up some flyers or something.” Hot guy was grinning at him, now, and he looked even hotter than when he glared.
“I can’t do that, Snoodles would definitely not approve.” Snoodles was Sam’s cat, and he was finicky as hell. No way would Snoodles put up with a goofy dog in the house, and Sam didn’t put up with things that Snoodles didn’t put up with. He drew a breath to explain all that, but maybe he didn’t need to.
The guy’s eyes had gone wide with surprise and he said, “How do you know Snoodles? Are you Bucky?”
“Yes?” Bucky said. It probably shouldn’t have been a question, but --
“I’m Steve,” said Hot guy, stretching his arm out over the fence to shake hands. “Sam and I are old friends.”
“Wait, Steve the artist? Sam talks about you all the time!”
“Yeah? He might have mentioned you. A few times. Um, you want to come in for a glass of water or something?”
Steve’s cheeks had gone all pink. Jesus, he was fucking adorable. Bucky blinked at him for a second before he said, “Uh, sure. Water would be great.”
Yeah, who doesn’t love water? God I’m a dork, Bucky thought.
“Great!” Steve said, with an awful lot of enthusiasm. “I guess we can put the dog in the back yard for now.”
“I was trying to, but then somebody yelled at me,” Bucky teased.
Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, that was before I knew I was rescuing Snoodles from a fate worse than discount cat food.”
“You’re a real hero, Steve. Saving Snoodles and Mr. Fluffy all in one move.”
Steve laughed. “Just so you know, I’m pretty sure Mr. Fluffy is a lady dog.”
“Mr. Fluffy rejects your gender essentialism,” Bucky said, because he didn’t feel like admitting that he hadn’t checked under the dog’s tail when he assigned the name.
“Good for you, Mr. Fluffy,” Steve said. He opened the gate and leaned down, and Mr. Fluffy wiggled over to him, delighted to have a new person to cuddle with. Bucky shrugged and followed the dog through the gate. He successfully resisted the urge to cuddle with Steve, though.
“So, water?” Bucky said.
“Yeah. It’s a pretty long walk from Sam’s. I’d be thirsty, too.” Steve led the way to the back porch, and Bucky and Mr. Fluffy followed him.
“Longer than I realised, I guess. Kinda tired myself out,” Bucky admitted.
“Oh.” Steve said. “Well, I was going to order a pizza for dinner. You want to stay?”
“You asking me in for a date?” Bucky said without thinking. Oh hell, what if he was? What if he wasn’t? Shit.
“I don’t know, did you want me to be?” said Steve. He was giving Bucky a serious, appraising kind of look.
Bucky grinned at him. “You know, I think I do, actually.”
Steve grinned back. “In that case, yeah. I am.” He held the door open for Bucky, gently pushing Mr. Fluffy aside with one foot.
“I didn’t say yes, y’know,” said Bucky.
“Get in here, or I’m going to date the dog instead,” Steve said, laughing.
“All right, when you put it that way . . . “ Bucky said, and he went inside.