The aroma in the apartment was already delicious by the time Steve returned from the grocery store with onions. He was greeted by Sandy, the four-year-old pit bull terrier he'd adopted with Becca a few weeks back, who trotted out from the kitchen at the sound of the door closing. She hopped up on his leg, sniffing eagerly at the bag in his hand.

"Stay outta there," Steve admonished, lifting the bag higher. "These aren't for you." Rather than looking chastised, Sandy wagged her tail harder, happy for the attention. He patted her head, and Sandy followed him into the kitchen, nose held up in the air and still sniffing.

Bucky stood at the stove, watching over a skillet full of peppers and slices of steak which had been marinating in fajita sauce since after lunch. He was doing much better than when Steve had found him. Steve knew this not because Bucky was cooking – Bucky had been able to attend to his basic needs from beginning – but rather because he didn't flinch when Becca touched his arm, using him as a prop for keeping her balance as she reached for a high shelf. It made Steve glad to see that Bucky's original unease around Becca was fading. As the two most important people in his life, he wanted them to get along.

"Smells good."

Becca jumped about ten feet in the air and might have teetered over if she hadn't been holding onto Bucky, who didn't move at all.

"Jesus," Becca sighed. "Can't you make noise when you get home like a normal person?"

Steve argued, "I did. I had to keep Sandy out of your onions."

"Well, I didn't hear you."

"Sandy and Bucky both heard me."

"Sandy's a dog and Bucky has the same super-sonic hearing you do, and does not, therefore, count." Becca patted Bucky's arm. "Sorry." Bucky shrugged. "Also, I might have had my head in the fridge."

Steve folded his arms. "So the truth comes out."

"That doesn't mean you aren't freakishly quiet when you move."

Bucky suggested, "You could get him a collar. One of the ones with those little bells."

"Hmmm." Becca gave Steve a wicked look that made his body temperature rise a couple degrees. "What do you think?" she asked with all the innocence in the world, as though her eyes weren't fitting him into a collar by which she could tug him into the bedroom.

Instead of answering the question, Steve changed the subject. "I think I went all the way to Mercatto's for onions, and I haven't even gotten so much as a thank you."

Becca slipped him a wink as she said, "Thank you." She set down the pepper flakes she'd retrieved on the table beside a bowl of half-made guacamole and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, in that split second, Steve swore he looked amused.

"What can I help with?" Steve asked. "Cutting the onions?"

"Actually, I think Bucky and I can hold down the kitchen. But if you're looking for something to do, I know a furry someone who's gotten awful smelly."

Sandy had settled near the stove, resting her head on her paws, but watching Bucky's every move in the hopes of getting a slice of steak. And she no longer smelled quite so nice as she had coming from the shelter where they'd bathed her right around the time he and Becca had picked her out.

"I think I can handle that." Steve slapped the outside of his knee. "Come on, girl."

With a last hopeful look at the stove, Sandy got to her feet and padded across the kitchen floor. Steve took her into the bathroom, where he retrieved the shampoo and towel they'd bought for her from the closet.

"All right," Steve said, rolling up his sleeves. "Ready for your bath?"

Sandy's ears twitched. She knew some words, like "food" and "come," and Steve thought he might have found another.

"You know that word? Bath?"

Sandy's ears twitched again and she tilted her head. Steve grinned. They'd picked out the right dog for sure. His dog was smart.

"Well then, you'll know the routine."

Steve leaned down to pick Sandy up, but she skittered back a step. He considered that maybe she didn't like being picked up. She was on the larger side, so whoever had her before might've dropped her. She did have some scars from being mistreated.

"It's okay, girl," Steve soothed, getting down on his knees. He held out a hand, and Sandy sniffed at it. Thinking he had reassured her, Steve slowly moved his hand towards her body. "I'm just gonna put you in the bath."

Sandy promptly leapt backwards. Steve made to grab her, but she nosed the door open and was gone. He decided maybe it was baths she didn't like. As usual, he should've kept his trap shut.

Steve had heard Sandy's nails clacking back towards the kitchen, so that's the direction he went. But she had passed right by the entryway because he spotted her in the living room. She sat in front of the coffee table, staring at him as though she had expected him to come after her, which she probably had. He tried holding out his hand again.

"Come."

Sandy stayed where she was. In the voice he used to give orders, Steve repeated the command. Sandy itched her side with a paw, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Steve took a step towards her. She lowered her paw, but otherwise didn't move. He took another step. She still didn't move, but her tail began to wag. He reached down quickly, the back of one hand brushing against her, but Sandy dashed off around the coffee table. He followed her around twice before stopping. Sandy stopped too, a safe distance away.

What could he do? Steve would like to run or jump over the coffee table, but there wasn't enough space in the living room and he could knock over or break some of the furniture.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Steve tried. Sandy's ears perked up. He went over to the front door and picked up her leash. "Let's go."

But Sandy remained planted in the middle of the living room. Steve sighed. He couldn't even lie convincingly to a dog. He needed to try another tactic.

"Hey, Buck?"

Sandy had taken a real liking to Bucky. Steve thought it might have to do with the fact that they slept on the couch together. She had a dog bed, of course, but she'd taken to curling up with Bucky since the very first night. Some mornings, Steve would find them still sleeping, Bucky's head poking out of one end of the blankets and Sandy's head poking out the other.

When Bucky appeared in the kitchen doorway, Steve asked, "Could you get a hold of her?"

Bucky gave Steve a confused look. Still, he crouched down and held out his hands. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Sandy took a hesitant step forward, but she must have decided it wasn't worth the risk because she didn't come any closer, even when Bucky called her name.

Bucky got up and asked, "What'd you do to her?"

"Nothing. I don't think she likes b-a-t-h-s," Steve confided.

"Huh." Bucky went into the kitchen and came out with a dog treat. "Here, sweetheart. Come." He held out the treat. Sandy sniffed, her tongue darting out to lick her nose. It was a good idea, but even a treat wasn't enough to lure her close.

Steve decided, "I don't think that's gonna work either. We'll have to trap her. You stay on her front. I'll try to get around back."

What should have been a flawless execution of a simple plan turned rapidly into pandemonium. Steve had been through battles that were more straightforward. As he and Bucky attempted to surround Sandy, she lowered her face onto her front paws, rump up in the air and tail wagging madly. To her, this was a game. She darted to the left as they enclosed on her. When they attempted to back her into a corner, Sandy outmaneuvered them, scooting around their legs with surprising speed. They chased her around the coffee table, and she jumped over the top. She hid beneath a chair, darting out at the last second to evade their hands. When she ran into the kitchen, they split up to cover both entrances, but she booked it straight under the table and out again.

Over and over, Steve found himself skidding to a halt to avoid crashing into Bucky, although they continually knocked into each other. Bucky accidently caught Steve in the jaw with his metal arm, which smarted something fierce. Steve grabbed Bucky's leg by mistake and nearly pulled him over. Meanwhile, Sandy was barking excitedly, resting when they stopped to come up with a different strategy, only to jump up at the first sign of movement. Steve was starting to think their dog was too smart.

Finally, they got her cornered between the end of the couch and the wall. Bucky got on the couch, holding out his arms so that Sandy couldn't jump up and use the couch as her escape route. Steve knelt in the opening.

"You gonna come quietly now?" he asked. Sandy stared at him. Her tail had gone still. Steve took that as a sign of surrender. "Good girl."

But as he reached for her, Sandy leapt. She pushed off his shoulder, trying to sail right over. Steve grabbed around her belly, his back hitting the floor. She wriggled in his grasp and her short fur was too slippery.

"No!"

Sandy slid free.

"I got her!" Bucky shouted, diving onto the floor. His fingers closed around one paw, but when Sandy yelped, he quickly let go.

Steve rolled onto his hands and knees, pitching himself forward over Bucky in an attempt to catch Sandy before she got too far. "Damn it, dog," he growled. It was too late. Sandy was once again out of reach.

That's when Steve heard a sound he hadn't noticed until now. He thought Becca was choking at first. She was making these barely audible gasping noises, one hand over her mouth, the other wrapped around her stomach. She leaned against the kitchen doorframe like she needed it to support her, and her eyes were watering. Then, he realized she was laughing. She laughed so hard that, as he watched, she sunk down to the floor shaking with each spasm of mirth as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Steve stood up, sheepish and irritated. She could've helped instead of laughing at them. He offered Bucky a hand up, noting that Bucky appeared no more amused than he was.

"H-how many," Becca giggled, "super sol-soldiers does it take to – to catch one – freaking dog?" She made another noise like she was going to say more, but was overtaken by another bout of laughter.

When she put it like that, Steve realized the situation was kind of funny. Besides, he couldn't stay that annoyed when Becca was all but rolling on the floor. He grinned at Bucky, who gave him a rare grin in return.

"Oh god. Oh god, I hurt," Becca gasped. Sandy approached her cautiously, probably wondering if this was a ploy or a different game or her owner acting oddly. "I can't even." When Becca made no move to grab her, Sandy stuck her face up next to Becca's, licking the tears from her cheeks. Becca darted out a hand and, with exasperating ease, grabbed the scruff of Sandy's neck. She got to her feet, wiping her eyes. "You boys go finish up dinner. I've got this." With their dog firmly in hand, Becca walked off towards the bathroom still giggling. The last thing Steve heard her say before she shut the door was, "Years of academy training wasted," which sent her into another burst of hysterical, but muffled, laughter.

As he retied his messy ponytail, Bucky noted, "Guess we don't work so well together with a non-human target."

"Not yet," Steve corrected. "But I've got a feeling we'll be getting plenty of practice."

In the kitchen, Steve found out there wasn't much left to do. The onions had been chopped up and added in with the steak and peppers. Becca had finished the guacamole and a bean salad. He threw the tortillas onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave while Bucky resumed his station over the frying pan. After that, he set the table and, having nothing else, he turned the radio onto the news – he could practically hear Becca's teasing, "you're such an old man" – and took a seat.

Bucky didn't say a thing about the radio. Steve found it was nice sometimes to be around someone who didn't find his old habits strange. Sure, he knew he could watch or read the news on his phone like most everyone else, but he preferred listening to the radio. Bucky understood this, although he was far more likely to pick up on the latest trends. But then, he'd been awake for many of the years when Steve had been under the ice.

A story on the radio spurred them into a conversation about iPhones. Well, Steve did most of the talking, while Bucky listened and made the occasional comment. Becca's voice calling from the bathroom interrupted him mid-tangent about the waste of constant, unnecessary upgrades.

"Could one of you get my hairdryer? It's in the bedroom."

"You go ahead," Bucky insisted. "Get Sandy dried off. I'll keep the food warm."

Steve found the hairdryer resting against a box of tissues on their bureau. He brought it into the bathroom where Becca had her arms clasped tightly around Sandy, who had been wrapped in a towel. It looked like their dog wasn't the only one who'd had a bath. Becca's shirt was soaked, and patches of her pants were also wet. Water droplets beaded her hair, which had become as frazzled as Becca's expression.

She quickly instructed, "Leave it on the sink and shut the door."

Steve did shut the door, but stayed in the bathroom. "Decided a bath looked so fun you thought you'd join?"

Becca snorted. "Yeah. This was so much fun." She let go of Sandy, who bolted immediately for the exit, the towel sliding off her. She pawed at the door and looked up at Steve expectantly.

"Sorry, girl." Steve tipped his head towards Becca. "She's the one in charge around here. I can't let you go until she says so."

"Oh sure," Becca grumbled, using her own towel to mop up water from the floor. His towel and Bucky's were also on the ground, having been used either to soak up more water or dry off Sandy. "Make me the bad guy."

Steve plugged in the hairdryer and settled down beside Sandy. "Well, I've already had my turn. It's not something I'd like to try again." He flipped the hairdryer on and changed it to the lowest setting. When he turned the hot stream of air towards Sandy, she stared at him balefully. He almost apologized for the betrayal.

"That's not funny," Becca said.

"It's a little funny."

"No. It's really not."

Occasionally when Becca got frustrated or angry, she didn't respond well to his usual remarks. Steve had learned to rein in his dry humor when this happened rather than upset her further. Besides, she had a point. There was nothing funny about those months. In fact, he tried to avoid thinking about that time when he could.

"You're right," Steve agreed. "It's not. I'm sorry."

Becca didn't respond, continuing to rub the floor with a ferocity that wouldn't actually help get the water up any faster.

"Dinner's done, so we can eat once Sandy's all set."

"Mmm."

"It's a miracle Bucky and I didn't knock anything over chasing this one around the living room, huh?" Steve hoped the memory would at least make Becca smile considering how much she'd laughed, but her lips didn't so much as twitch.

"Mmm."

"Is that a new shirt? It looks good on you." Becca lifted an eyebrow, which so far, was the most encouraging reaction he'd gotten, so Steve went on. "Have I told you lately how pretty you are?" Becca rolled her eyes, but there, he definitely saw her lips twitch. "'Cause you're beautiful. I mean, you are one swell dame."

For all she teased him about being old, Becca liked when he used old slang. She had never told him directly, but Steve had noticed over time how her expression got rather soft and dreamy when he did. Now, she shook her head, biting her bottom lip with a barely restrained smile.

"It's true, doll. You're the sweetest dish in town. Just looking at you makes me dizzy."

Becca finally paused in cleaning and looked up at him. "You're impossible."

"What's impossible are those peepers of yours." Steve found that jamming all the slang possible into these compliments was kind of fun. "Golly, they're as cute as a bug's ear."

"That might be the weirdest thing you've ever said to me, which is saying something," Becca laughed. She nudged a towel out of the way and shifted closer to him. "Okay you big lug, how about a smooch from your best girl and then we go have dinner?"

Steve grinned. "That'd be aces."

Becca kissed him. Steve wrapped an arm around her waist, the hairdryer lowering in his other hand, nearly forgotten. When she leaned against him, he couldn't imagine ever getting tired of holding her like this, his body responding to the insistent pressure of her lips.

Until an equally insistent, cool, wet nose pressed into his neck. Sandy was looking at them, her tail wagging.

Becca giggled. "I think she thinks it's a game. Like a kid. 'Mommy and daddy are wrestling! I want to play, too!'"

"Mommy and daddy?"

"Oh, does that not work for you? Too weird sounding?"

Steve thought about it. The whole reason getting a dog had even come up was Becca asking if he'd ever want to have kids. If everything went according to plan, Sandy was the closest they'd get. And dealing with Sandy already felt similar to how he imagined he'd feel about raising a kid.

"It works."

"Good because she's my kind of kid. All of the love without any of the labor pains." Becca moved to get up, so Steve stood to help her. She pulled open the door. "Go on," she told Sandy. "Go tell Uncle Bucky we're coming."

Sandy didn't need to be told twice. With a happy bark, she ran into the freedom of the open apartment.

From the kitchen, Steve heard Bucky's shell-shocked, "Uncle?!" They had better hurry up in there before Bucky got ideas about an actual child running around the apartment.

Steve turned off the hairdryer and scooped Becca up. "Can't have you dripping on the floor." She huffed indignantly, but didn't offer the usual protest, choosing instead to wrap her arms around his neck.

They might not be the perfect magazine-worthy couple with the white-picket fence and the gaggle of well-behaved kids, but Steve couldn't imagine living that life anymore. What he had now was enough, more than enough. He kissed Becca on the bridge of her nose, and she smiled. What he had now was perfect.