Collection of One-Shots

》rodger

"Mulțumesc. Mulțumesc," you repeat over and over, hoping that your limited knowledge of Romanian was sufficient to thank the man who had ran out in the intersection, in front of traffic, and scooped up the eighty-pound golden retriever-labrador, returning him safely to you.

It takes a moment before you see the plastic bag he had dropped in the middle of the street, small ripe plums were rolling into the street, some of which had already been run over. "Lasă- mă să-ți cumpăr ceva mai multe..." you pause not knowing the right word for plums.

"It's fine," came his quick reply in your native tongue. Rodger was licking at the man's gloved hand, nudging his arm affectionately. He looks down at the dog and you followed his gaze. Rodger had always been a skittish puppy, the runt of his litter, his skepticism and timidness faded with age until your brother and his owner, asked you to care for him while he went to New York. That had been four years ago. The vet had said he was depressed but that faded within the year and he became fiercely protective of you, wary of both strangers and other dogs.

"He's never taken to anybody this quickly," you state in awe, though there's a deeply rooted sort of jealousy in your voice.

"What's his name?" The stranger asks as he pets the dog's head with a gloved hand, smiling in a way that made you question if he had ever had a dog before.

"Rodger," you reply, slipping the dog's blue collar back on over his head that still had the leash attached.

"Bucky," he supplements you with his name and you smile at how familiar it is. It reminds you of New York, of the place you had called home before college, before aliens, before the Avengers. You clutch Rodger's leash with a newfound fierceness.

You flush as you catch yourself staring at the stranger. His dark brown hair is shorn off at his shoulders and there is scruff on his jaw and neck that says he hasn't shaved in quite some time. "Are you sure about the plums?" You ask again, "I can buy you some more."

Bucky shakes his head and scratches Rodger's head again, "Don't worry about those. I'd like to see him again, though." For some reason, you already trust time, if only for the way Rodger has taken to him so quickly. They say dogs are a good judge of character and if that's the case then there is nothing to worry about.

"I'm in the Amista Gardens, 403," you blurt out, almost too quickly but the man smiles, "We're usually around after four." He gives Rodger one last pat on the neck and tucks his hands away in the pockets of his jeans. "Thank you, again." You look down at the dog and tug on his leash a little, letting him know that it was time to go, "Come on, buddy, let's go home."

︽︽︽

You had been able to leave the clinic early that day and take Rodger for a walk around the apartment compound before starting up supper. The soup had only just begun to simmer and the griddle smoke when a knock resonated through the flat. Out of the peephole, you see that it's Bucky. He takes a step back when the door opens wide, but the tension he had felt for the moment fades in an instant at your smile and the sight of Rodger with a chew-toy hanging from his mouth. "You're in time for supper."

You ladle three scoops of the creamy tomato bisque into a bowl and flip the remaining two grilled cheese sandwiches onto a serving platter, cutting them in half diagonally. He sits at the table, still wearing both his coat and gloves, but you don't press him for questions or insist that the garments be removed.

Bucky slips nearly half a sandwich under the table to Rodger while he thinks you weren't looking and behind your cup of tea, you smile.

After dropping the dishes in the kitchen sink to be taken care of at a later time you see the sight on your living room floor and laugh. Bucky is laying on his back, a piece of bone hidden behind him. Rodger is nudging him and whining, pawing Bucky's stomach and arm, it doesn't faze him, though. After a few more moments he relents and sits up as you come and sit on the sofa, legs crossed and holding out a steaming mug of hot chocolate for him to take.