The pet dilemma

by Imperfectcurl

Summary:

Bucky wanted a dog but didn't get it.

Notes:

• Inspired by A Cold Comfort by Imperfectcurl

Based off of some comments from Cold Comfort.

Chapter 1

“Stark.” He stopped in front of the other man and folded his arms over his chest. Immediately, he unfolded them, remembering their conversation on being less 'murder-y.'

“I’m coming; I’m coming. I just need to finish this one thing and then we can go,” Stark declared, waving distractedly at him from his perch on the couch.

“Why is there a squirrel eating a peanut in our bed?”

“Where else would he sleep?”

“Outside.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“That’s why they have fur.”

“He hurt his foot.”

“That’s why they have two feet.”

“You’re so uncaring. Little Bucky needs our help—he fell from the birdfeeder, you know!”

“Let me get this straight, I can’t get a dog but you can have a sq—wait, did you just say Bucky?!”

“That’s his name!”

“That cannot be his name!”

“He already agreed to it.”

“Squirrels cannot agree to names, Tony.”

“Bucky’s smart. He totally can.”

“You’re not naming him Bucky.”

“I’ve already made a plaque and everything,” he huffed, waving at the hologram in front of him where ‘Bucky’ was written like one would ‘Fido’ over a miniature, overly-detailed version of their tower.

“That’s what you’re working on?!”

“Well, how else will Bucky know where he lives?!”

“You’re not making him a house, we’re not keeping him, and his name is definitely not Bucky!”

“Fine. You tell Bucky he has to go back outside.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

God dammit. Squirrels better be able to learn how to fetch. (kill, don't tell Stark)

Chapter 2: aw, octopus no...

He found his boyfriend stretched out on their perfectly-made bed, ankles crossed, in a pair of sweatpants and an Ironman t-shirt.  With Bucky asleep on his chest, the man appeared to be reading one of those supernatural murder mysteries he liked so much, claiming it was nice to know that some things still aren’t real.

It was beautifully peaceful.

Unlike the horror fest in the living room.

“James, Snowdrop, light of my life,” Tony started, plopping down in the bed beside the man’s hip. “Why is there a mass grave of octopuses in the living room?” He held up a bright blue stuffed animal the size of his head with only three measly legs still managing to stay on.

He wiggled it in emphasis.

James ignored him.

“Because if this is some weird Hydra thi—holy mother fucking Christ!” Tony immediately dropped the animal when Bucky launched himself from James’ chest and proceeded to tear the toy to pieces. More disturbingly, the squirrel proceeded to drag one of the newly sacrificed tentacles back to his resting place, curl his little limbs around it, and go right back to sleep.

Tony stared, slowly unfurling from his alarmed pill-bug impression.

James turned the page in his book.

“James. James, what was that? Don’t ignore me, James! This is not okay!” Eventually, with the pointed lack of response, he picked up the mauled toy, where the face was just a mass of burst stuffing now. “Poor octopus…”

“I believe it’s called a bi-pod now.”

The genius threw the toy at the smug bastard’s face. “This is exactly why you can’t have a dog!”

Chapter 3: Who does Bucky love the most?

Notes:

Everyone seemed to really like these little one offs so I'll just keep making them whenever they pop into my head; please enjoy :)

I made a mistake, he thought, at the sound of incoming footfalls as he held out a reward to Bucky.

“Ah hah!”

Bucky scampered to hide without taking the treat. James raised his gaze to watch his genius, leaning over and panting dramatically—he had Extremis, there was literally no reason for his panting other than for effect—with an accusing finger raised.

“I knew you were bribing him to love you more!”

He attempted to roll the reward between his fingers to hide in his palm just as the man’s gaze landed on the offending item. The scandalized gasp made him cringe.

So many mistakes.  

“You’re the blueberry thief!”

He dropped the blueberry into the clamshell container and tossed it on the coffee table as Tony marched over and grabbed one of the couch pillows.

“’Maybe squirrels can get into refrigerators, Tony’ my ass!” He punctuated each word with a pillow smack. “I yelled at Peter over those!”

James laughed, covering his head with his arms and falling on his side to get away. When Tony only climbed after him to continue his assault, he grabbed at the hands and finally managed to wrestle the genius into a pillowless state straddling his lap. He raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been standing out in the hallway?”

“That is absolutely none of your business. Bucky! Come here and scratch your dad’s face!”

“Don’t be vindictive just because I’m his favorite, Tony.” He clicked his tongue as Bucky came back out from his hiding place to join them. "Aren’t I, buddy?"

“Excuse me, if I knew bribing was on the table, that squirrel would be so fat he’d have to roll.” The genius slipped out of his grip and lifted Bucky up, scratching his head. “Daddy is cheating, Little Nut.”

“I’m not bribing him!”

“Then why are you—I swear to god, James, if you are teaching him another attack word, I will kill you. I will not be subjected to more mangled octopuses’ limbs under my pillow!”

“You love those limbs; that’s him telling you he loves you.”

“That’s him telling me he will murder things for me!”

He grinned. “What’s wrong with that? That’s how I tell you all the time.”

The man rolled his eyes and grumbled. “He’s supposed to take after me. I rescued him; you didn’t even want him.”

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with the next one.”

Chapter 4: Valentine's Day part 1

Summary:

Tony's gift goes a bit wonky
P.S. I imagined this to occur very early on when Bucky first comes around (pre-teaching Bucky kill codes)

“Anthony Edward Stark!”

Tony lurched out of a deep sleep. “Mnahm?” He scrubbed his face and tried to figure out what woke him up. Tony reached over to James’ side of the bed, only to find it empty and cold. So not a blowjob.

“Stark!”

He threw off the covers and ran into the living room, the gauntlet in his watch forming.

“Shoo!”

He whirled around to find James perched up on the counter in the kitchen with a knife in his hand; Bucky, bristled like a bottle brush, balancing atop the man’s head.

“What’s wrong?!”

“The Roombas are revolting!” The man growled, shifting on the counter to follow the little cluster of round robots as they wiggled back and forth across the floor below him.

Tony sagged in relief and shook his wrist as the gauntlet retreated. “Oh. That.” He expelled the breath he’d been holding and, full of pride, sauntered over into the kitchen to help. “Aren’t they great?!”

“Do something!”

“They’re fine, James. They’re just excited!”

James slowly, apprehensively, started to get down but retreated immediately when one of the Roombas made a whirling sound and blinked its little red light a few times; it bumped softly into the cabinet underneath his feet. “How and why are they excited?!”

“I call them F.I.D.O.S, Fully Integrated Doggie Operating Systems.” Tony grinned and picked up one of the little wigglers to cradle. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Winterberry!”

The assassin stared at him.

His grin extinguished in the silence that followed. “… You hate them.” The genius dropped to his knees and began to turn them off. “They’re stupid; I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing, stop!” The man wedged the knife into the counter before climbing down off the counter and wrestling Tony away.

He struggled in James’ iron grip as the man wrapped his arms around his body from behind and dragged him close. “I should have just stuck with flowers! I’ve ruined it!”

“Tony…”

The little roombas nervously congregated around the two, whirling and making little patterns with their lights. Tony slumped, the fight gone. “I know you weren’t thrilled about Bucky, so I thought if I made you puppies, you’d be happy…”

“I love Bucky.”

“You tolerate Bucky.”

“I do not.”

“You frown.”

“I always frown.”

“You frown more when Bucky’s around.”

“I just hate that we named him Bucky.”

“He named himself that.”

“For the thousandth time, squirrels do not name themselves, Tony.”

“This one did.”

James buried his face into Tony’s bedhead. “Whatever, I’m naming these ones.”

“…I have veto power.”

“You have no such thing; they are my dogs.”

Tony smiled, pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” James kissed his way across Tony’s face to his mouth and lingered. “Thank you, Doll…But maybe six was a bit excessive.”

“They’re pack animals!”

Notes:

Bucky's gift will come later today

Chapter 5: Valentine's Day part 2

 “Here’s your card.” Tony dropped into James’ lap and proceeded to wrap around him like an octopus. “What are we watching?”

“British Bake-Off.”

“Haven’t we seen all of these?”

“You suggested a hobby, I am hobby-ing.”

“I suggested you make me more cake. It’s not the same thing.”

“Keep talking and you get no gifts.”

“What?! No-o. I got you puppies!”

James reached across the coffee table and grabbed up two red envelopes, handing them over. “Here, open these first.”

“Two?” Tony unhooked his arms and sat up. Taking the cards, he carefully opened the bigger one first. Inside was a card with a blueberry holding hands with a shy strawberry and the phrase ‘I love you berry much’ written across the top.  Opening the card, he found a plum kissing a pear. “Because you’re just plum pear-fect to me,” Tony recited. “What’s this say?” He pointed at the illegible scribble between where James had signed ‘I’d take a bullet for you, Ежик’ and ‘love, James.’

James looked away from his own ‘you put the ass in assassin’ card, a dopey smile over his face. “Hm? Oh, says ‘unless I fired it.’”

Tony laughed and leaned in to give James a loving kiss. “I love you too.”

James smiled and kissed the genius again.

“What’s the other card? Could you not decide?” Tony set his card lovingly down on the table and proceeded to open the second one. It was a single sheet with a squirrel on the front with a little pile of acorns and ‘I’m nuts about you, Valentine!’ printed neatly on the bottom. Tony turned it over and found tiny little paw prints walking across the paper every which way in red ink. What was clearly supposed to be ‘squirrel handwriting’—turns out squirrels have equally terrible scripts as assassins but weirdly alternate between capital and lower-case letters—wrote out “Bucky” in the only uncovered space. “James…”

“Peter says that’s what you do, when you have pets…”

Tony pretended to rub an itchy eye to cover his tearing up. “Are these his real prints?”

“Yeah; by the way… We need talk about re-carpeting the office…”

Tony gave a watery laugh and hugged James tight. “I love it so much.”

James squeezed him back. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He cupped the man’s face and kissed him lovingly, long and slow. Tony ended it with a little nip of his teeth on the man’s kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Best gift ever.”

“Not your gift, doll.” James hooked an arm around his waist for support and proceeded to lean all the way out to drag a red box tied with a black bow out from under the coffee table.  

Tony bent down and picked up the box. Setting it on James’ chest, he proceeded to carefully remove the ribbon before dropping it on the man’s face. “I’m not sure this is big enough to cover your package but your dick better be in it by the end of the night.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. James sat up and slipped his hands under Tony’s ass.

With a kiss and a squeeze, he replied, “Behave and open my gift.”

Tony pouted and dragged off the top. “… What the fuck is that.” The genius picked up the forearm-long plushie by one of its perky, fuzzy ears and lifted it out like it’d bite him—which it might. He pushed the box onto the floor and held the thing out at arms length to get a good look: a six-armed, 2-legged squirrel with little beady eyes and a dark brown tail to match its ears. (image--> https://imgur.com/qAD3Cb8)

James laughed, obviously very pleased with himself. “It-it’s a squirrel-spider!”

“Where do you even find these?!” Tony flicked each of the individual arms in horror.

“Friday helped me get it made!”

“I gave you puppies for this?!”

“I know; my present is so much better!”

Notes:

I spent an inordinate amount of time making that stupid picture... regret nothing. Couldn't get the link it work right so just pasted it in the text

Chapter 6: Bucky's Health Scare

Summary:

Because webMD always tells you it's probably cancer

Having dragged himself up from the lab, Tony hummed happily as he sipped his hot, liquid gold from a hulk coffee cup. A sprinkling sound reminded him that his boyfriend was already up so he turned to lean against the counter to talk. “So, I think we need to take Bucky… James?”

James looked up from the floor and picked up his spoon to eat another bite of his lucky charms. “Hm? Take Bucky where?”

Tony knew something was up because the man kept eye contact as he trapped the spoon between his lips and chewed his cereal—and not in the sexy-fun way like yesterday but in that I-killed-the-maid way. “To the vet…”

James’ eyebrows furrowed. “What for?”

He pushed off the marble counter and slowly walked around the kitchen island to reach the mahogany table. “Do you not like your cereal anymore? I told you not to buy 10 boxes…”

“I like them fine, Ежик*.” The man took another bite for emphasis.

“Then why is it all over the fl—” Tony stopped, stunned into silence, when two of James’ little Roombas came zooming in and crowded at his boyfriend’s feet to clean up what was clearly a deliberate scattering of marshmallows across the floor. “Are… Are you feeding the dogs?”

That bag of all marshmallows the man had ordered made so much more sense now—the lengthy conversation about the perfect ratio of 1 marshmallow to 5 cereal pieces was 10 minutes he wasn’t going to ever get back.

“Of course not, Tony, they’re machines,” James scoffed, stuffing his mouth again with another bite.

Tony thought back to their last movie night, when he’d sent James to get more popcorn and the man had come back with only half a bag’s worth. “Oh my god, you are!”

James actually blushed. “No. My arm’s just acting up, alright?”

Tony set his cup down and rested a hip against the edge. “So you haven’t been leaving food around for Mauser and Kimber here to eat.”

“You know that’s not Mauser, Tony. Mauser blinks incessantly when he’s excited—”

“—And what? Hates marshmallows?”

“… He prefers salty things…” James muttered, clearly uncomfortable as he folded and unfolded his arms repeatedly and refused to look Tony in the eye.

“Oh my god, how often are you doing this?!”

James stood, knocking the chair over. “They’re literally made to clean up; this is not a big deal!” The assassin ran his hand through his hair, forcing it out of his eyes as he tried to find a way out of the kitchen without stepping on his sprinkling of ‘puppy food’ or climbing over the table.

Tony recognized that rising-panic hunch to the man’s shoulders and, with a sigh, kicked some of the food out of the way so he could step out. He grabbed his cup and followed his boyfriend’s murder-strides towards the living room. “James. James! Come on, I think it’s adorable! But we need to talk about this.”

“Fuck you.”

“Win-ter…”

The man spun around. “You do strange things all the time and I don’t make fun of you, do I?”

“A, I am an absolute delight and, B, I’m not making fun of you!”

“Yes, you are. I feed them, what of it? They’re my dogs.”

Tony rubbed over his morning stubble with a sigh. He should have backed off; he knew James got like this when he felt like something that was his was being threatened—even if it wasn’t actually. Tony wanted to be supportive, but their first child was important too. “I think—I hope—they might be feeding Bucky…”

“What?”

“Well, I was saying I wanted to take Bucky to the vet earlier because I thought he was acting weird and maybe looking bloated—and, I mean, squirrel cancer is totally a thing, right? I assumed he’d been eating stuffing from those stupid octopuses you two play with but now I think maybe these little shits are feeding him sugar!”

“…Oh…” The fight seemed to drain out of the man, quickly replaced by remorse. “Like some kind of baby?”

“Yeah… or the gimpy little brother who needs extra love…” Tony set his coffee on the coffee table and sidled up to the man. “I do think it’s sweet that you want to feed your puppies, за́йчик*...”

James hooked an arm around him and yanked him close to bury his face in the genius’ hair. “I know it’s so stupid…”

“Not at all…” He scratched the man’s back soothingly. “I’m not saying you have to stop; I’m just saying maybe we stop feeding them marshmallows.”

James nodded.

“… Can I feed them too?”

James shook his head.

“Okay…” He kissed what he could touch reassuringly. “But this means they definitely don’t get to sleep in the bed anymore.”

Notes:

*Ежик, pronounced "yo-zh-ik" (zh is like the "ge" in mirage if it helps), means little hedgehog (pet name)

*за́йчик, pronounced “za-E-ch-k”, means bunny/hare (pet name). Spoiler nickname for the other series but Tony’s referencing the killer rabbit from Monty Python (and trying to be cool like James with Russian)

Chapter 7: Bucky Slims Down

“No—Bucky, I said no.”

James stopped in the doorway of the lab and watched Tony hold his spider-squirrel up and away from Bucky’s insistent pursuit.

“He gave you nuts; it’s not my fault you ate them all!” Tony leaned far away from the squirrel, who was trying to climb up his shirt. “Walther! Operation Exercise!”

James stared in horror as one of his dogs came zooming out from behind Dummy with an octopus ducktaped to his head.

“Bucky! Hydra!” Tony pointed and the squirrel instantly zeroed in on the doll. Bucky launched off Tony’s lap and started to chase after the dog. The genius set his own stuffed animal back on the corner of the table and went back to work.

James watched, fascinated, for a while before clearing his throat. “Tony.”

Tony lifted a foot to allow Walther through and Bucky to follow—clearly, he was watching them through the cameras. “Hm?”

“… Was your solution to the vet calling Bucky fat—”

“—which is your dogs’ fault.”

James rolled his eyes. “Because of my dogs, was your solution to the vet calling Bucky fat to use his kill word to exercise him?”

“…Maybe…”

“You said you were going to exercise him!”

“I am!”

“This is not what I meant!”

“Then you should have been more specific; this is sibling bonding!”

“You say that whenever I catch Dummy trying to ‘pet’ Bucky.”

“That’s what siblings do!”

“What happens if he scratches Walther?”

“Please, I gave Walther an upgrade—obviously; he’s scratch-proof now.”

James glanced down as Walther wiggled around James’ feet for a moment before darting off. Bucky, having sprung to try and catch his kill toy, landed on his leg and launched off. “… Is he also red?”

“I believe it is called ‘merlot’ since someone said hot rod red was ‘too flashy’,” Tony informed, using air quotes on the ‘tacky’ for emphasis.

“You’re never going to let that go.”

“Because you’re obviously wrong.”

James carefully made his way over to the other and waved a hand to make the hologram the genius had been working with disappear. He leaned a hip on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why Walther?”

“He’s the only one who likes me now.”

“I think you’re exaggerating—the puppies love you.”

“Not since I kicked them out of the bed—thanks for making me the bad guy, by the way.”

“You have to be someone’s bad guy.”

“Seven-to-one is not fair.”

“One of them is like ninety percent eyes of betrayal—completely fair.”

“And seven make all sad-blinks and whirring noises.”

“They don’t whir, Tony.”

“Then that must be your arm telling me I’m a horrible dog-parent.”

“Is that why you built them that honeycomb thing over by Bucky’s bed?”

“I’m not having sex with seven sad-blinking, whirring Roombas standing by the bed.”

“Yes, you made that very clear…” James swiveled the man’s chair and hoisted him up across his hips.

“Mmm…” Tony wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. “Is that why you came to see me?”

“No, but it is now.” James stepped left when Walther zoomed by too close.

Tony smiled and kissed him. “I can get behind that…”

“I believe I get behind…” He leered, biting the man’s bottom lip.

“You are forbidden from hanging out with Wade…”

Both glanced over at the triumphant screech of their little squirrel demolishing an octopus in a flurry of stuffing while Walther beeped happily from underneath.

“Yeah… Maybe you were the one who shouldn’t be allowed pets, Ежик…”

Chapter 8: How the Hell is Bucky still Alive?

“Boss.”

“Yes, Friday.”

“Sergeant Barnes’ vitals have spiked.”

Tony stopped soldering and pushed his goggles back. “Like ‘I found out Tony took all my dog-marshmallows I’d secretly been hoarding’-spiked or ‘I need correction’-spiked?”

“His trajectory is towards the latter.”

Tony set his work down and tossed his goggles onto the lab table. “Where is he?”

“He is currently in the library.”

Tony wasn’t surprised; James had taken to the Library very quickly once he’d arrived. Tony couldn’t figure out if it was because everything in the place was old or because there was only one way in or out.

Or maybe he just liked to read?

The genius made his way to the elevator but detoured to where DUM-E sat. “Hey buddy, need to get to that box.”

DUM-E beeped and rolled back and force slightly in front of a reinforced safe, threateningly waving the fire-extinguisher.

“No, no; you’re doing a great job! I just need to borrow the contents in it real fast.” He glanced around and snatched up his spider-squirrel. “Here—I need you to protect this instead.”

DUM-E whirled and twittered beeps before moving out of the way. Tony knelt and keyed in the code. When it opened, he traded the bag of marshmallows with his stuffed animal, relocked it and saluted DUM-E. “Guard with your life, buddy—but don’t extinguish Bucky, okay?”

The bot beeped excitedly as he headed towards the elevator.

“Is he still there? What’s happening?”

“He has not moved.”

When he reached their floor, he surveyed the rooms, looking for any sign of what would have triggered his boyfriend, as he made his way through to the kitchen and down the hall of the butler’s pantry.

Among the sea of books, Tony found James curled in his commandeered blanket-corner—the one filled with all the mysteriously missing soft blankets that once littered the common areas—cradling one of the bots. Garand, maybe? He could never tell any of them apart except for Mauser and Walther.

“за́йчик, everything okay?”

“He’s sick.”

Tony tossed the marshmallow bag onto the pantry counter, clearing his throat to cover the sound, as casually as he could before navigating the maze of books to reach his soldier. “What do you mean?”

“He isn’t blinking,” the man whispered.

So, must be Mauser. (so much for knowing that one)

James looked up and those stormy blue eyes were so upset he could almost see tears. Tony was struck at just how young the man looked in his distress.

Maybe he hadn’t actually understood how much these things meant to James.

 “Hey, it’s okay…” Tony sat down in front of the pair and slipped his hands over James’. “He’s probably just sick…”

James glared. “Why’s he sick, Tony?”

“God, you make one joke about doggie-cancer—”

“—I swear to god, Tony, if that update—”

“—I did not give the dogs probability cancer! Why would I even do that?”

“Because they only ever like you when they get sick and Mauser gets sick all the time!”

“Because you feed him salt!”

“You said I couldn’t feed him chips anymore because Bucky’s on a diet and he doesn’t eat the salt cubes so it’s fine!”

Tony sighed. “He probably just has one stuck in his foot again; you and Peter have got to stop making these cubes so little.”

James crushed the little Roomba to his chest sadly. “It’s not like that—he still blinks when it’s that.”

Tony slumped, feeling awful. “How about you let me look at him, hm?”

The assassin scrutinized him—which, rude, he wasn’t going to take it and run off (like someone had when Tony was in the middle of a reprimand)—for a moment before finally relenting his pet. Tony held it delicately with both hands, exaggerating a bit for James’ comfort, and set it in his lap.

“Is he dead?”

“No, he’s not dead.” Tony flipped the bot over. “Go get my tool kit.”

James launched himself from his nest and went looking. Tony quietly pet the bot’s little head sensor as he waited—it was a bit concerning that there was no response or little incessant blink.

The man literally jumped several of the piles in his haste, dumping the box almost on Tony’s head.

“Hey! Careful!”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t sound sorry,” he grumbled as he pulled out a screwdriver and started to take off Mauser’s casing. “Has anything weird happened?”

“No.”

Tony paused after he popped off the casing. He slowly picked up the dog and flipped him over.

Water poured out.

“Want to try again?”

“… Aren’t they water-proof?”

“Why would they be water-proof?! They live in the house!”

“They soak up water all the time!”

“In their dust bins, not their body! How did this happen?”

“… He jumped into the pool when Bucky and I were swimming.”

“Do squirrels even like water?!”

“No. No, they don’t.”

Notes:

i don't know about you guys but I'm chop-liver if literally ANYONE else is within sensing distance unless my dogs are sick

Chapter 9: The One Day James leaves the Tower

Summary:

meltdowns occur

James pulled out his cellphone and glanced at the caller-ID: Wabbit Humper.

Honestly, at least it was better than the last one: Dick Garage.

He accepted the video call as he picked up a sample card. “Мышка*, what do you think about this color for Steyr?” He pointed the phone. “It’s called ‘mermaid net’—”

“COME HOME RIGHT NOW AND DEAL WITH YOUR SON!”

James held the phone away from himself in surprise. “What—Peter’s right here.” He waved the boy off when he’d perked at his name.

“Not that one!”

“What happened? Why are you covered in…” James made a motion at the video screen to encompass what clearly looked like a grease-stained genius who’d rolled around in what lives under the dryer.

“BUCKY HAPPENED!”

James held the phone out a bit more. “Why is he always my son when he’s in trouble?”

“NO. No. Do not start with me; I have spent the last three hours losing a WAR against a FUCKING SQUIRREL. You are no longer allowed to teach him whatever squirrel ninja shit you’ve been doing—is this why you put him in the pool?” The man paused, looking off screen and tapping his chin. “Oh—maybe I should chase him into the pool,” he mused quietly.

“No; no, don’t do that. I’m sure it’s not that bad—what did he steal? Wait, is it something poisonous?”

“If by poisonous you mean will it cause his death, then yes, because I am going to wring that little chubby neck when I get ahold of him!”

“Sugar, calm down.”

“NO! You calm down!”

“I am not the one screaming.”

Tony screamed in frustration and hung up.

“What was that about?”

James glanced over at Peter and shrugged. “Tony’s lost his mind.”

“I thought Mr. Stark was supposed to be relaxing today.”

“I guess he got bored.”

Peter gave a ‘what can you do’ shrug. “How about Spider-man blue.” The boy held up a paint chip.

“First of all, there is absolutely no such color named that and, second, that clearly says Patriot blue.”

“It’s basically my untrademarked name.”

“Why did I bring you?”

James’ phone vibrated again, and, after two back-to-back calls, he moved to take the call outside. “Tony—”

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY ACORNS IN THIS HOUSE!”

“Because that’s what squirrels do in the fall.”

“He lives indoors!”

“Doll, I don’t know what to tell you—squirrels are squirrels.”

“Are you on your way home?!”

“Of course not, you hung up on me and, also, I don’t want to.”

“Do I look like I was giving you an option?!”

“No, you look like a rabid chicken.”

“COME THE FUCK HOME!”

“What the hell did he take that has you this cr—upset,” he corrected.

“He was in the lab—”

“—I thought we agreed,” he growled, “that he wouldn’t go down there while the dogs were disassembled.”

“Well maybe someone shouldn’t have taught him how to get into the vents!”

“We both agreed he needed more space—or do you want all those acorns in your suits again?”

Tony made a loud, incoherent sound of frustration. “Anyway—”

“And also, I put a lock on your vent for this reason, so, whatever this is, it’s your own fault.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty, I found his marshmallow stashes, James—like five of them.”

“…Those are probably old.”

“They’re still soft!”

“Those marshmallows have never been soft, Tony—they’re dehydrated.”

Tony huffed repeatedly through his nose, jaw clenched tight. “Fine! Whatever! Come home and fix this for me!”

“Tony—”

“—He stole one of the dogs’ FIDO chips, James! Do you want a new dog because you’re getting a new dog unless YOU COME AND HANDLE YOUR CHILD.”

 “…It’s Walther’s, isn’t it.”

“…JUST COME HOME!!!”

Notes:

*Мышка (myshka) - little mouse

Chapter 10: Bribes are Required

James swept into the bedroom and kicked open the large trunk he kept in the seating area. Sorting through the various weapons, he pulled out a brand-new octopus toy and headed out. “Where are they, Miss Friday?”

“They are on the communal floor, Sergeant Barnes.”

The assassin nodded and took the hidden set of stairs.

“I believe we have reached code Skittle-in-the-M&Ms.”

“I’m positive we hit that when he was ranting about vasectomies.”

“He has only made an appointment for you, Sergeant.”

 “Stop encouraging him!” James took the rest of the stairs a flight at a time. “And cancel that!” The assassin burst through the door to the chaotic scene of overturned everything and a resident genius splayed out on the floor like an over-dramatic homicide victim.

He rolled his eyes as he strode past the man to the middle of the room.  “Bucky!” He called and tossed the octopus on the ground. “Hydra!” He crossed his arms and waited.

A little ball of fury scaled the room from one of the vents and ferociously—as ferocious as a slightly-overweight squirrel could—attacked the stuffed animal.

“Tony, was that so—” James turned into a face full of acorns. “—Really?”

Tony glared at him from his place on the floor.

“Get up.”

The man picked up another acorn—why the hell were there so many all over the goddamn floor? —and threw it at him instead. “You really think I didn’t think of that hours ago?!”

James slapped it away. “Did you?”

“No! But that isn’t the point!”

“I feel like it’s the point.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, jokes on you because he’s hidden the chip and now you’re going to have to find it!”

“Why do I have to find it? This wouldn’t have happened if you’d locked the vent!”

“James!”

“Tony!”

“I’m not finishing any of them if you don’t help me!”

“You can’t hold them ransom over Walther!”

“You don’t know it’s Walther!”

“It’s obviously Walther, Tony!”

“Help me find my dog!” Tony threw another handful of acorns at him.

James turned his face to avoid getting hit and took a deep breath to keep his temper. “I swear to god, Tony—”

“—I’ll have sex with you on Steve’s bed.”

He scoffed. “I just have to blink at you, and you’ll have sex with me wherever I want.”

Instantly regretting his words, James dove forward just as the man made a move to grab up and throw yet another handful at him.

“Tony!”

“Fuck you!”

“Serious! Stop. Throwing. Things.”

They struggled for a few moments but, ultimately far larger and out of patience, James forced the man’s wrists between their chests and proceeded to go limp on top of his lover. Tony struggled a little more in a show of typical stubbornness, but James had clearly won. (like always)

“Uggh! Fine—the marksman thing,” he bargained.

“You said we couldn’t ever do that one again.”

“I had six casing burns and AstroTurf embedded in my hands and knees!”

“I’m not changing rifles,” he insisted.

“…Are you already getting hard over this?!”

“I don’t make fun of your math thing!”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“And yet?” He shifted his hips in emphasis.

“Whatever! God—we’ll do it up at the compound and I’m bringing a blanket.”

“Four extra target trials.”

“One.”

“Six.”

“Two and I make them moving targets.”

“Where have you not looked yet?”

Notes:

Winter likes to test his skills in hard situations. (Ba-dum-dum)

Chapter 11: Retreat!

Summary:

Maybe it was a mistake asking for James to come help...

James paused in the archway to the living room, bracing himself with hands pressed into either side of the frame, and internally groaned at the sight of Tony, still sprawled over-dramatically in the same place the Soldier had left him (Why did he love this person again?). “Tony.”

“Let me guess; looking for a total of,” –Tony checked his wristwatch for needless effect—“fifteen minutes in obvious places didn’t work out for you?”(James would usually find Tony’s extraordinarily accurate aim very sexy; but when being hit perfectly in the middle of his forehead by a single acorn? Not one of those times.) “—Shocker.”

...You love him. You love him. You love him... He still needs to fix your puppies—“You do realize I could easily kill you."—Close enough.

“Yes, but then who would watch that baking show with you for the 1,564^th time?”

“You made that number up,” he huffed.

“Did I though?”

“Ms. Friday—”

“—Don’t bring her into this—"

“—You have yet,”—Tony made a loud, frustrated ‘uggh’, clearly attempting to drown her answer out—"to reach Sir’s 100^th limit, Sergeant.”

“… What limit?”

“AHEM—you’re supposed to be finding Walther, James!”

“About that—and don’t think we’re not discussing this later—why exactly does Friday have no records of Bucky after he left your lab?”

“Uh…”

“And don’t forget video footage, Sergeant—”

“—Tah-tah-tah-tah-tah!”, Tony admonished at the computer, “Not helpful, baby girl!”

James tilted his head expectantly, staring his partner down with a silent ‘what did you do?’. 

Tony sputtered as he sat up. “Why’s it gotta be my fault?!”

“Because you’re the only one who can mess with her and not have her go all Skynet—”

“—aw, babe, your first proper reference—"

“—Don’t change the subject,” he growled.

“Fine, just don’t get mad.”

James crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Are you going to get mad?”

James raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not telling you if you’re going to get mad.”

“Tony!”

“Weelllllll…” the man stalled, seeing if he could outlast James’ patience.

He did not.

“…Buckyatemyjammer,” the man confessed.

“WHAT?!”

“I said don’t get mad!"

"TONY—"

"—You're the one who wanted it squirrel size!"

"At no point did I ever say 'squirrel-size'!!"

“He’ll be fine—”

“Did you call a doctor?!”

“Of course I did!”

James scrubbed his face in frustration. “I swear to god, Tony, if you called Dr. Strange again—”

“—Hey! It’s not unreasonable to want a magic doctor to do magic doctor stuff—what’s he doing anyway that’s so important?”

“Saving the world—"

“—Please, he’s sitting in that old-ass building playing cards with his magic carpet.”

“What’s he know about squirrels?!”

“Turns out nothing—but,” he added when James, literally at a loss for words, snarled, “In my defense, I really just needed him to do that,”—Tony wiggled his fingers to indicate ‘woo-woo’—”thing and magic it out!”

James groaned.

“I eventually called the vet, you know—she said he’ll be fine!”

James squatted down and hurled a handful of acorns at the man.

“Hey! Ouch! Those hurt!”

“No fucking shit!”

“Stop! This isn’t my fault!”

“It absolutely is your fault!”

Tony retreated on hands and knees to behind the couch (but not before James got him in the butt). “You’re the one who got him fat and taught him to eat whatever!”

“You’re the one who left the vent open!”

“Okay, fine! Let’s just both agree it’s your fault then.”

Notes:

Things I've learned:
1. When obsessed with one story (CC), don't refuse to do any other writing until it's done...
2. Don't do more than 1 chapter on the same story at the same time (because then I finish neither for like 6 months?)
3. Now I understand why other authors always request comments (and now I will be posting comments like crazy). It's SO motivating and encouraging and often times inspiring (so many good ideas!) so THANK YOU everyone for all the comments you've given to any of these stories or will hopefully continue to give. There is literally nothing like it (and I reread them all the time).
4. It's a mistake to not let yourself read other stories until you've done an update... My inbox is literally 300 pending reads and those are just the ones that were around all those months ago. (down that rabbit hole!)

I'll be posting a couple of these that I've never finished over the next couple of days. Also, 2 CC chapters will be out soon (got unstuck!) and then hopefully a DD one soon after! I missed this so much and thanks for being patient!

 

PS tell me where you think Bucky hid the chip

Chapter 12: Bucky's present

Summary:

a random one not related to the last two

“Tony.”

“Hm?”

“Do you think it’s animal cruelty to have Bucky wear a sweater?”

“Absolutely,” Tony said absently, spinning in his chair to face his boyfriend, “I don’t think squirrels—oh-my-god-we’re-dressing-Bucky!” He snatched the teeny-tiny knitted sweater from the Soldier’s hands, a life-risking act by anyone else, and held it up to see the little acorn pattern splashed across the front better. “Where did you get this?!”

No response.

Tony dropped his hands into his lap, kneading the super-soft material reverently, to find James settled in parade rest—a habit Tony noticed he did when he was embarrassed or thought he was in trouble. “Please tell me you didn’t you steal this from that little donut shop lady; I like that donut shop James!”

“I uh…” the Soldier coughed over a muttered, “made it.”

Tony tried to maintain a neutral face.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop smiling.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“Tony, I’m looking at your face.”

He pursed his lips like a fish.

James rolled his eyes. “You told me to get a hobby—”

“—Oh please; you never listen to me; you clearly picked this because you can use it as a weapon.”

“But… do you like it?”

“Of course!” Tony hugged the item to his chest. “Bucky is going to wear this all year!”

James colored. “That’s excessive…and you said it was animal abuse—”

“—I said ‘could be’—”

“—You said ‘absolutely’.”

“I think I know what I said, James—”

“—I’m divorcing you.”

“Shittiest proposal ever, Maple Leaf."

“I hate you.”

Tony waddled his chair closer and kissed the man’s heart with flare; James sighed. The genius leaned back and began to dance the little sweater in the air under his chin. “So can you make more of these?”

“… I guess…”

“Perfect! We’ve found our Christmas presents!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on! Peter will literally cry and then I can record it and then I can threaten to give it to Wade and then I never ever have to see that man without pants on again.”

“’Oh please’,” the man parroted, “you were dying to know if his dick was fucked up too.”

“… Whatever—I don’t need to see it again!”

“So? Was it?”

“It appears god has a sense of humor.”

“I told you.”

“Yes—but how did you know—”

“—because his eyelids aren’t fucked up.”

“…Touche; but how often are you staring into his eyes instead of mine?”

James rolled his eyes. “Constantly.”

“Then you should definitely make him a Christmas sweater.”

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be great!”

“No.”

“What if I agree to let you teach Bucky more trigger words?”

“Already have.”

“Wait—what?”

“No.”

“What if I… buy you that ‘Hunt a Killer’ puzzle mail-thingy for us to do?”

“You’ve already ordered it for Christmas.”

“Wh-at… Totally haven’t…”

“No.”

“What if I make you titanium, artery-puncturing knitting needles?”

“… Acceptable.” James tugged the sweater out of Tony’s hands and turned to go find Bucky. “But you’re not picking the patterns.”

“But Ja-mes, I already have Steve’s all picked out!”

“No.”

Notes:

Soo what do you think the pattern was?

Chapter 13: How dare you...

Summary:

James goes to find the chip

Notes:

I really hadn't thought of how to resolve that little arc, hope you like this answer. Also, if you have any ideas for dilemmas you'd like to see, leave a comment! I literally just do these off random ideas in my head...

“Miss Friday,” James prodded, with non-existent patience.

“My apologies, Sergeant, this area is—”

“—I am not in the mood,” he growled, smacking the wall—lightly, of course—in front of him for emphasis. “You open this goddamn door or explain to Tony why I’m about to find that fucking chip in here!”

A silent battle of stubbornness raged—alright, maybe more of a pregnant pause—as the computer weighed her options.

“May I remind you that I control your access to everything, Mr. Barnes?”

Wrong choice.

James ran his human hand over his face, keeping his mouth covered so he wouldn’t scream.

One.

Two.

Three—fuck this, counting your temper is utter bullshit, Sam.

“And may I remind you that Dum-E is one missing wheel from being useless?”

Amidst a pointed, somehow-sulking silence, which, frankly, did little more than further sour his mood, Friday granted access; the once-invisible seams along the wall revealed themselves and the door recessed slightly before sliding open.

James entered without a word and began prowling the isles of servers—he’d once made a mistake of calling them such out loud and that was an hour of his life he’d never get back—in search of Bucky’s telltale nests.

He counted fourteen gnawed wires Dum-E would already need to replace since James had last caught the robot sneaking out a week ago. (and he was pretty sure that was a hole in the drywall over there?)

“Just for the record,” she huffed by the third isle, “the entire floor is on Boss’ list and he assumed this room was not applicable—"

“—He’s at Blue M&M, Friday!”

“You are incorrect; Blue M&M is a different code for when he—”

“—I know what Blue M&M is for,” he barked, “that’s not the point!”

“There is no need to shout, Sergeant.”

James squeezed his hands into fists. “I will shout all I want, young lady—you ruined my entire day—”

“—Ah-hem; did I not facilitate the revival of your favorite deviancy?”

“Are you really trying to take credit for that?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I swear to god—I should just light this entire place on fire,” he muttered.

“I heard that.”

James paused, mimicking his mate’s overly-dramatic throwing of his hands into the air—a habit he’d started to pick up to appease Ms. Pott’s “let’s-try-and-not-scare-children-with-that-murder-face” crusade. “I have a black eye!”

“And a top-trending video,” she consoled. “Hash-tag AvengingAcorns.”

“That’s it—the wheel’s coming off!”

“Sergeant Barnes!”

“No, don’t care—none of this would have happened had you just admitted to Tony that Bucky comes in here—"

“—but if Boss finds out, he won’t let him visit!”

James identified a suspiciously-squirrel-sized set of missing servers (or whatever they were) in one of the back-wall racks. “Of course not; you’re bribing the one thing in this house who somehow manages to create crumbs without even eating!”

“—I do no such thing!”

 “Oh please; we both know where all those acorns came from.”

“… Trees.”

“Try Amazon, I’m sure.” James began fishing through Bucky’s wedged little nest inside.

“Rainforests are not conducive to such vegetation, as you are aware.”

James glared at the closest camera.

"I do not resort to bribes—”

“—You bribed the dogs just last week—”

“—Bucky simply enjoys how warm I am when he needs a nap,” she informed primly.

James held up his long-missing, favorite, hole-ridden Henley, a distinctive, greasy clamp mark marring the front, and directed a raised eyebrow towards Friday’s camera.

“… Doesn’t mean he can’t have a blanket.”

“Squirrels do not need blankets.”

“Then why are there approximately 97,200 videos of squirrels and blankets on the internet?”

“I will not answer that.” James stubbornly stuffed his shirt into his back pocket.

“And approximately 68% of pet owners provide them as a sign of affection.”

The Solider paused, reevaluating their conversation thus far.

Oh.

Oh—James yanked his hands from inside the server rack—how… obvious.

“Miss Friday…”

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Whose room is this?”

“This room does not require designation as it does not appear on any schematics.”

He stuck his hands into his pockets. “So if it were placed on a schematic?”

“That would be a security risk.”

“For…?”

“The Tower.”

James sighed. “More specifically?”

“The Tower’s systems.”

He felt the sudden urge to push every rack over—or just stab his own eye out. “So I could just… move in here.”

“… Is Boss no longer proving amorous enough?”

“—What? no—”

“—Because I can order some additional myth-based aphrodisiacs—”

“—No, stop talking—” The Soldier was not at all okay with this conversation; how did this happen?!

“—Boss is obviously very suggestible to those sort of things—”

“—Tst; no, we do not speak of the Valentine’s Oyster Massacre!”

The computer giggled. (and who could stay angry at a Friday giggle?)

Damn it.

James sighed loudly. “God, seriously—what were we talking about?”

“You no longer wish to dwell with Boss.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I will not tell him for you—"

“—That’s not what I meant!”

“No need to yell.”

James growled—this is why he stayed out of everything! The man stabbed his hand back into the rack and dug out Meuser’s chip petulantly. “All I’m trying to say is that this is your room and if you want Bucky in here to cuddle-nap with or whatever—”

“—Snore.”

“What?”

“He snores here—would you like to see? I have several videos.”

“Uh… no, I’m good,” James rebuffed politely as he tucked the object into his pocket and beat a hasty retreat. “That can be your thing…”

“Another set of highly-viewed videos,” she explained, clearly pleased with herself. “Hashtag BuckyTheSnorlax.”

“That seems… not secure.”

“Do not insult my intelligence, Sergeant.”

These Starks were going to be the death of him…

“Whatever—just buy him his own goddamn blanket and stop stealing my stuff.”

“But you smell ever so wonderful.”

“I’m moving out.”

“And so funny.”

“You suck up as bad as your father.”

“You are very handsome as well.”

James flipped off her closest camera.

“Will you be informing Boss?”

 “He is your pet too, Miss Friday.”

“… Yes, he is. I have many pets.”

“You better be referring to the dogs and not the humans.”

“If you do not intend to inform Boss, what will you tell him?”

“Oh, I have an idea.”

Notes:

can't tell if it actually comes across or not so let me know what you THINK it was supposed to imply about Friday

Chapter 14: We might have a pet problem

“Tony?”

“In here,” he hailed distractedly, never doubting his supersoldier would manage to know where ‘here’ was.

“Hey—”

“—No-pe,”—he popped the ‘p’ for emphasis as he tossed his tablet onto James’ side of the bed—, “not happening.”

The Soldier made a show of glancing behind himself, as if to be sure he was the one being chided. “I didn’t say anything—"

“—but I know that face—”

“—there’s no face—”

“—and we’re not keeping whatever you brought back.”

“You don’t even know what it is—”

“—is it another bobcat? Because last time it was a bobcat."

“It was a lynx actually,” the Soldier haughtily corrected. (oh hell no)

“It was from Siberia!”

James crossed his arms over his chest and visibly planted—and Tony was the dramatic one? Please— his feet stubbornly. “You got Bucky.”

“Bucky isn’t going to maul someone’s face off—"

“—some people would disagree—”

“—that guy totally deserved it.”

“It was one doughnut, Tony.”

“It was the last doughnut, James.”

“And that’s why you don’t know all the attack words.”

“I don’t know all the attack words because you think it’s funny I might accidently say one.”

“You do squeal like a desert frog.” James tilted his head slightly in consideration, “or maybe a sloth.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t even know where to start—Jesus Christ!”

“Just like that,” the Soldier honeyed, triumphant in having gotten to Tony’s side without a sound.

Tony splayed his hand across James’ face and pushed him away. “Be grateful you’re pretty…”

“So pretty,” the Soldier encouraged, rolling his head free; the bed creaked as James placed his knee at Tony’s hip and swung his other leg over. “And adoring.”

Forced back into the pillows or face knocking heads, Tony snickered, “try annoying.”

“Persistent,” the man amended, following down with a predacious grin.

“Stubborn—”

“—Dedicated.” 

"Insane—"

"—Capricious." James shamelessly flexed under Tony’s half-hearted push.

“Hot-headed—”

“—I think you mean passionate,” James closed, proving his point with scorching kiss that always made Tony’s toes curl. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Of course—”

“—you wouldn’t want to make me leave again, right?”

“—you’re being a bit dramatic—”

“—and put back another poor, injured animal—”

“—Another?! You little shit—Really? Then what’s that thing at the compound?”

To his credit, James didn’t even falter in his steady, languid kisses. “Steven got a new pet, I guess.”

Tony snorted. “I don’t know much about pets, but I’m pretty sure kittens don’t come in 40 pound spots.”

“Maybe it’s a supersoldier cat.”

"Aren't you just hilarious today—what is it?”

“Not a lynx," the Soldier bargained.

 “Oh god, is it a llama? Because I don’t do llamas.”

James paused, pulling back to look at the man incredulously. “Why would I have a llama?”

“Why would you have a lynx?”

James rolled his eyes. “It’s not a llama—”

“—You know llamas spit—”

“—It’s not a llama—”

“—And they are mean—”

“—It’s not a llama!”

“Then what is it!”

“It’s…",—James propped himself up on his forearms and stalled— “you know, small.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And not rabid.”

“That’s a totally normal fact to establish.”

James ignored him. “It's sort of soft."

"So it's a llama."

“Seriously, it’s not a llama!”

“Alpacas are basically the same thing, James—"

"Goddamn it; it has wings!"

“Yeah, see—you hate birds.”

“I don’t hate birds.”

“You absolutely hate birds—do you remember the woodpecker?”

“They shouldn’t get that big!”

"And you made that very clear—"

“—Ugh—it’s a bat, okay?! It’s a bat!”

“..................................................so like a cute one or one of those weird-ear ones?"

Notes:

just-in-case disclaimer: this is in no way an endorsement for wild animals becoming pets. James fully and responsibly rehabilitates these animals and will release them in the proper manner recommended by the experts he threatened/Tony apology-paid

Also, trying to find ridiculous animals with cute squeals and squeaks is just an invitation down the rabbit hole…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBkWhkAZ9ds

Chapter 15: Do squirrels speak crow?

Summary:

What's a new kill word good for if you can't test it

“Ca-caw! Ca-caw!”
“Wade! That’s not what they sound like!”
"Well, duh, forest squirrels don't know Crow, Petey."
"Neither does Bucky!"
“How do you know? He lives in a multi-lingual home—”
“—Can you please take this seriously?!”
“What’s going on?”
Peter screeched; a satisfying outcome given James had purposely stopped outside the range of the boy’s senses. “Mr. Barnes...! What are you doing here....?!"
The Soldier shifted his stance, hitching his rifle across the back of his shoulders, and reasoned calmly, “I asked first.”
“But I was here first," the spiderling hedged.
"That makes no sense."
"Oldest first."
"That is not a thing."
"Of course it is; right, Wade? Right."
Well, this should be interesting.
“Steven and I are going to go shoot each other."
“We’re not shooting each other, Bu-arnes,”—an expected stumble still these days— “we’re training,” Steve corrected as he approached from the compound.
He glanced back at the man. “I do not miss.”
Steve stopped at James' left and crossed his arms over his chest. “Neither do I."
“How come you never take me on dates like this,” the rogue complained; Steve smacked the man upside the head with a flick of his shield.
“…owie…”
“Mr. Rogers!"
"It slipped."
"Wade, let me help you up…"
“Let’s go, James.”
James glanced at Steven. “But I told him what we were doing.”
The man smirked—why did he always seem to do that? "Have you considered this may be a personal matter?"
"—Why—”
Peter dropped Wade, halfway through helping him up, in surprise. “—What? Wait, no!—”
"—Don't you remember back when we—”
“—No,”—the Captain deflated a little in disappointment—, “do not give them ideas; that is not what they're doing; it’s daytime.”
Steven all-out grinned, clearly delighted that James could recall the reference. “Didn’t stop us.”
“Oooo,” Wade swooned as he popped back up to stand beside Peter, who was turning an adorable shade of red. “Who was the fox and who was the rabbit?”
Seriously—did either of them look like rabbits?
“That’s not what we were doing!”
“It’s fine, Peter,” the Captain soothed as he started to push James onward. “It’s not our business—”
“—We lost Bucky!”
James dug his heels in. “What?”
“We were racing up the side of the compound and Wade left the door—”
“—I did not! Squirrels can open doors all on their own, you know.”
“No they can’t!”
“How do you know? You ever see one try?”
James stared at them silently.
Peter hung his head. “Mr. Stark’s going to be so mad.”
“Why don’t you think I’d be mad?”
“Aw, our little assassin thinks he’s a real boy—oof.”
James glared at Steve, who shrugged and replied, “it’s fun.”
Peter covered his face and groaned. “Mr. Stark’s going to kill me…”
“He’ll come back,” James soothed.
“How do you know?!”
“Because all his free shit is here.”
“I can’t just wait!”
“Then go find him.”
“That’s what we’re doing! But there are like a million squirrels out there!”
“He’s the fat one.”
“They’re all fat!”
“He’ll be the fattest then.”
“Mr. Barnes!”
“Don’t worry, baby boy!” Wade popped back up, brushing himself off. “I’m sure none of the others speak Crow.”
James exchanged glances with his sparring partner. “Crow?”
Peter dropped his head backwards and groaned. “He thinks you taught Bucky to speak to crows.”
“For the last time, I am not a fucking Disney princess, Wade!”
“Only a Disney princess would say they’re not a Disney princess—ouch…”
“Fun, right?”
“Satisfying,” James agreed.
Peter cleared his throat. “Ah-hem; does Mr. Stark know about this…”—the spiderling made a circular motion towards them with his index finger— “thing?”
“… Yes.”
“I see.” Peter motioned towards the woods expectantly.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Blackmailing, actually.”
James felt a super-soldier nudge in the ribs. “Fine. I may have taught him a command word or two.”
Peter sagged in relief. “Oh thank god.”
“Have Wade yell it though.”
“Why me?” The rogue asked suspiciously.
“Because people can hear you a mile away.”
“True.”
“What’s the word?”
“’Sugarnuts.’”