Chapter Twelve
It was well past dinnertime when Sharon, Bucky and Steve arrived home Saturday night with their newest teammate.
Steve parked his truck next to Sharon's car and locked eyes with her, the two sharing a smile at the sleeping Bucky and Rocky in the backseat. The Winter Soldier had his dark-eyed beauty cradled in his arm, her nose nuzzled under his chin as they both snored softly.
"I think you found the right match," Steve said, giving Sharon's hand a light squeeze.
Sharon nodded. It had been love at first sight for Bucky and for Rocky. While there had been other dogs up for adoption, there had only been one for Bucky. She was young for retirement but an injury in the line of duty had robbed her of most of her hearing, making her essentially deaf in the left ear.
While Bucky's unique circumstances had Sharon technically listed as Rocky Balboa's new owner on her adoption papers and new tags, the three-year-old German Shepherd was one-hundred percent Bucky's in every other way.
As far as the Social Security Administration was concerned, James Buchanan Barnes had been dead for more than seventy years. Unlike Steve's situation, spending that time getting his frozen beauty sleep in the Arctic, Bucky had spent decades as a top-secret Russian assassin responsible for nearly fifty deaths.
They had all agreed that drawing unwanted attention to that fact by trying to reinstate Bucky's original identity was kind of a bad idea.
So, though Bucky had plenty of fake IDs at his disposal when he needed them, he was still very much a ghost. Though he earned a wage through the funding Sharon had secured for Team America, he didn't have a credit card, checking account or driver's license.
What he did have was a bank card Sharon had set up under their corporate account, one that accessed his "allowance," as Sam termed it.
On the way back to DC, Bucky put a good-sized dent in that allowance at the pet store in Arlington. By the time they were done, Rocky had a bed for Bucky's apartment and the command center, a set of bowls for each and a set of travel bowls, a new collar and matching leash, spare leashes, grooming brushes and shampoo, food, treats and a variety of toys - chew, squeak and tug.
Steve didn't know if the store employees worked on commission but, if they did, he figured the young man who'd helped them fill three shopping carts was set for the year by the time Bucky and Rocky were done.
For now, man and dog seemed content where they were in the truck so Sharon and Steve left them there and headed upstairs with their many purchases from the back of the truck.
They stopped off in the command center and, while Steve moved the desks around to create space for one of Rocky's beds near Bucky's usual spot, Sharon washed a set of bowls and filled them with food and water in the kitchenette.
Done there, they took the rest up to Bucky's apartment on the same floor as Sam's. Bucky never locked his door so they took the liberty of placing the bed in the living room and setting up the dishes in the kitchen.
"What should I do with all of these?" Steve asked, indicating the remaining shopping bags of canine merchandise.
"I didn't think to buy a couple of tubs to keep all of Rocky's toys in," Sharon said as she wondered what to do with the collection.
As they deliberated, Steve heard Bucky's voice on the landing as he gave Rocky the tour of the warehouse.
"This is Sam's apartment. You'll meet him later," he was saying as they walked past Sam's door, Bucky walking and talking on Rocky's right side as she cocked her head at him as though listening to him.
When he walked into his own apartment, Bucky said, "And this is our apartment. You already know Sharon and Steve who apparently think they can just come in whenever they want."
While there was no heat behind his words, Steve explained, "We wanted to help you get settled."
"But we're not sure what to do with all of Rocky's new stuff," Sharon added.
Bucky seemed unconcerned as he unhooked Rocky's leash. He picked up the nearest bag of toys and walked it into the living room, Rocky at his heels. He up-ended the first bag onto the floor near Rocky's bed and said, "Take your pick, Rocky."
Rocky looked up at Bucky, then at a the pile of toys. She nosed through until she came across a plush hedgehog. She picked the toy up and carried it to her bed, settling in.
"We can pick up some tubs to keep her toys organized," Sharon said, bending to put the toys back in the bag.
"This will work," Bucky said, grabbing one of the laundry baskets he seldom used.
He emptied one of the other bags of toys into the basket while Sharon took care of the toys on the floor. He hung the spare leashes on one of the hooks by the front door and carried the grooming supplies back to his bathroom where he unceremoniously dumped his own contents from one drawer into another and then filled the now-empty drawer with Rocky's brush, comb, shampoo and nail clippers.
"I put Rocky's food and treats in your pantry and left the smaller bag of food downstairs in the command center," Sharon informed him when he came back into the living area. "We're going to order pizza and watch a movie in Steve's apartment if you two are interested, otherwise we'll see you in the morning for breakfast."
Bucky looked over at Rocky. "I think we'll stay here but we'd take pizza if you want to order an extra pie."
Author's Note: We actually had a sick pet most of this weekend which made writing this chapter very difficult. The good news is that our rabbit, Gordon Whitefoot, is doing just fine now but his illness did break up the momentum I had going for this story and, like I said, made writing Bucky's first day with his new pet difficult to wrap my head (and heart) around. Hopefully we're back on track to still finish before Christmas.