"You got dog food in the pantry. It's your dog."
"Okay," Steve turns away from the sauce to stare at them with a frustrated frown, "it's not my dog, I just haven't figured out what to do with him yet."
"It's got a Captain America collar." Clint says decisively.
"That Nat got him!" Steve argues pointing at Natasha with a wooden spoon.
"And you're welcome" she says, pointing back at him with a spoon of her own, full of frozen yogurt.
Steve rolls his eyes "Tell them Peg."
"Oh, don't bring me into this, the dog has slept on the bed, it's done."
Steve grunts and turns back around to keep stirring the pot "It's not like I can kick him out" he mumbles.
Clint reaches forward to catch a chip and dip it in guacamole "Yeah, doesn't look too good to kick your own dog out the door," he says before throwing the chip into his mouth.
"Not my dog." Steve repeats.
Clint ignores him and turns to Peggy "You got a name yet?"
"I think something patriotic is in order," she says, "Haven't decided on which nationality yet."
"Oh, come on, he's an american dog" Steve whines. They've had this conversation before.
"I thought the dog wasn't yours, Rogers" Nat says with an accusing eyebrow raised.
"Excellent point," Peggy agrees before stealing the yogurt spoon away from Natasha "Stop spoiling your lunch."
Nat can't roll her eyes far enough so she tips her chair back too for good measure "Grandma."
"I like, George." Peggy says, ignoring her.
"After the baby?" Clint asks.
"Only if it ends in Washington." Says Steve, pouring the sauce over the spaghetti.
Peggy purses her lips in discontentment "Don't you think we have enough Uncle Sam in our lives as it is, Captain America."
"No such thing."
Peggy throws a chip at him. It bounces off his back and lands on the floor "Of course you would say that, Mr. Born on the Fourth of July."
"I didn't pick the date I was born." Steve says defensively peering at her over his shoulder.
"Honestly, good heart be damned, Erskine might've selected you after seeing that damn date on your enlistment form."
"Dude, you were born on the Fourth of July for real?" Clint asks suddenly and they all turn to him questioningly.
"You've been to more than one of my birthdays" Steve points out.
"Yeah, and I thought those were jokes" Clint explains as if that's reasonable.
"Three years in a row?" Nat asks.
Clint shrugs, "I thought we were all committing to the joke."
Nat opens her mouth to say something but the dog comes running underneath her chair, still being carefully balanced on its back legs. She has to stand and let it fall to avoid hurting him. The movement is smooth and she catches the chair before it hits the floor, but forgets what she was about to say.
Peggy sighs, exasperated, distracted by the dog eating the chip she'd thrown at Steve "He needs training."
Steve pours the finished pasta back into the pan, "His owners will take care of that," he says, licking an excess of sauce off his thumb and then wiping his hands down his apron while Clint throws his arms in the air indignantly.
"I'm on the final touches, can someone set the table." Steve asks.
Peggy stands and moves to open the cabinet next to his head. He's grating cheese over the spaghetti while a few basil leaves sit to the side. His arms are tensed slightly, enough that she can make out the shape of the muscles underneath his skin and he still smells fresh from the shower he'd taken right before Clint and Nat had arrived despite one or two drops of sweat sliding down his forehead. His apron is plain white (though there are red stains now) and she thinks it matches the light blue shirt he has underneath that brings out his eyes. He's frowning, really focused on making this meal work and it's a look.
She stops mid-action, one plate in hand hovering over her head just off the pile and… Stares.
Nat elbows Clint while he's got a chip halfway to his mouth. He shifts to look at what she's seeing and lets out a long whistle.
"I think we gotta take this to go, Nat, director Carter looks like she's hungry for something else."
That breaks Peggy out of her thoughts and she rolls her eyes "Thanks for disturbing my planning, Barton" She finishes picking up the plates and walks the other way around to flick his ear. He whines and Natasha laughs.
"I could go to HR about this," Clint says, massaging his ear.
"You could try." Peggy replies, taking away the chips and dip while he pretends someone is stealing his firstborn.
"You're heartless. She's heartless Cap." Clint says, and Steve just hums in response, busy carefully distributing basil over the dish.
The dog waits until Peggy's finished to nestle at her feet once she sits down. His long ears wrap around his face. Adorable. "I believe he's definitely a George."
"Washington" Steve adds and Peggy wishes she was close enough to flick his ear too.
Steve turns, hands in polka dot mittens holding the steaming pot and sets it on the table, "I hope it's edible," he says frowning at his creation.
"I'm sure it's good, darling" Peggy encourages, "George seems to like it," she says looking at the dog who's woken up from his brief nap at her feet to balance on his back paws and scratch at her leg, tongue hanging out of his mouth and a pleading look in his eyes.
Steve fishes out a single string of spaghetti and gives it to him.
"You really shouldn't do that. Makes them think they're entitled." Nat comments reaching for the pasta tong and serving herself a small portion, "Lucky isn't far from sitting with us at the table."
"Okay, he lived there before you, if anyone has the right to a seat, it's him." Clint says, looking at her disapprovingly.
Peggy serves next, still looking at the dog "Nat's right, Steve. We shouldn't indulge him."
"Just once won't hurt." Steve replies.
"Does that mean you're admitting the dog is staying?" Nat asks before taking her first bite, "This is good, by the way."
Steve gives her a small smile for the compliment and bites his bottom lip briefly, considering the long ears and yellow fur set, once again sleeping at Peggy's feet. "I guess."
"Told you it was your dog." Clint says, going into the pan for the third time.