Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Aw, Lucky, gimme that foot – no, your other foot. Lucky, no!”

Clint let out an undignified yelp as Lucky planted one paw squarely in his abdomen and frantically licked his face, the retriever’s tail whipping furiously back and forth.

“That floor’s probably not very sanitary,” came Bucky’s amused voice from somewhere above him. “Why’re you tryin’ to get him into a shirt anyway? He ain’t one of those little yappy rat dogs.”

Sighing, Clint shoved Lucky off him and sat up, accepting the hand Bucky offered. He winced at the angry twinge in his lower back that had decided to rear its head again – lately a near constant reminder that he wasn’t as young as he liked to think.

“It’s a Captain America t-shirt, Buck,” Clint replied, frowning at Lucky’s leash as he attempted to untangle it from around the dog’s legs. “It’ll be perfect for Tony’s party; Steve’ll think it’s hilarious.”

“Steve will probably be wondering why you’re putting your dog in clothes.”

Jabbing a finger into the centre of Bucky’s chest, Clint scowled. “No one likes a fuckin’ party pooper, Barnes. No one.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and unclipped Lucky’s leash, holding him by the collar as he pulled the leash through the bunched-up t-shirt and out from around Lucky’s front legs. He leashed him back up and pointedly handed it back to Clint.

“Fine. It’s still too small.”

Yeah, it kind of was. Clint frowned at Lucky, who grinned up at him with that dopey retriever smile, the t-shirt still looped around his neck. He sighed and pulled the shirt off, blinking at the shirt and the hanger in his hand for a moment before very carefully setting both on top of the rack.

“Y’think they have an extra extra-large?”

One of these days Bucky was going to kill him in his sleep, Clint just knew it.

“You love me, remember?”

Bucky sighed, pressing a kiss to Clint’s cheek with a roll of his eyes. “On occasion, yes,” he grumbled.

Wagging his tail, Lucky knocked the hanger and shirt off the rack along with several other Official Avengers Merchandise. Whose idea had that been anyway? Clint was really the only one with a pet and he couldn’t really picture Tony selling out ‘their brand’ to pet stores.

As Clint bent to clean up the carnage Lucky was currently wreaking on the display, Bucky moved around to the other side, a frown on his face. “There isn’t any Winter Soldier merchandise.”

Was that… was that disappointment in Bucky’s voice?

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly in the public eye. You gotta schmooze with the press if you want to get on t-shirts and shit,” Clint said airily, snagging a shield shaped Frisbee and tucking it under one arm before Lucky saw and decided to murder him for it.

Bucky smirked over the top of the display at him. “No Hawkeye merch either,” he said with a smirk.

Those bastards.

“The fuck d’you mean ‘no Hawkeye merch?’ What the fuck? Are you serious?” Clint scrambled over to the other side of the display and searched it quickly, checking behind the larger dog toys and clothing. “This is bullshit!”

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky said, rubbing the top of Lucky’s head as the retriever gazed adoringly up at him.

Clint sighed, snagging a squeaky toy with the Widow symbol printed on it. “No biggie, I guess. I can deal with being left out with you.”

“I was talking to Lucky, but glad you’re not too heartbroken.”

Clint smacked Bucky’s chest. “Asshole. I’m leaving you home next time we need dog food.”

Lucky whined and pulled toward the buffet bar of dog treats, spinning in a circle as he hit the end of his leash. One of the employees was standing near the buffet and Lucky knew he could con them out of extra treats if he offered them his paw. He usually made his rounds to every single employee he could find when they went into the store.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky held out his hand for the leash. “I’ll take Lucky for his visits. Go ask the cashier if they have the next size up of that stupid shirt.”

Mentally pumping his fist, Clint spun on his heel and headed toward the registers, leaving his partner in the capable paws of Lucky.

~*~*~*~

Steve, in fact, loved the Captain America t-shirt.

Clint nudged Bucky with his elbow, grinning like a maniac as Steve rolled around on the floor of the Tower’s rec room with Lucky.

“I swear to God, Barton, if you say anything remotely resembling ‘I told you so,’ you’re sleeping on a dog bed for a month,” Bucky grumbled, sipping his gin and wrapping one arm around Clint’s waist.

“That supposed to be a threat? Lucky’s got a goddamn memory foam dog bed. It’s probably way more comfortable than ours and it doesn’t come with a pillow hog.”

On the floor, Lucky threw himself into a play bow and barked excitedly at Steve, almost daring him to grab the Widow-themed squeaky toy that lay in between them. He bounced forward, grabbing the toy and flipping it into the air and catching it with ease.

“I see you approve of the new product line?”

Clint turned to Tony as the other man approached with a glass of bourbon in his hand. “That was your idea? Since when did you become a dog guy?”

Tony shrugged. “I didn’t, it was Pepper’s idea. She said dog people will buy literally anything so why not stick a couple Avengers logos on doggie t-shirts, make Hulk into a big stuffed toy, Spider-Man web ropes, that kinda thing.” He took a swig of his drink. “You two obviously prove her point.”

“I did not – “

Clint elbowed Bucky in the ribs. “Lucky did really like that shield Frisbee,” he admitted, attention turning back to the wrestling match on the floor.

Steve had made the critical error of getting into a tug of war game with Lucky. Joke was on him – Lucky was a pro at tug with super soldiers and even Bucky’s metal arm tended to take a beating when the dog got into it.

“Why’d you leave out Hawkeye?” Bucky asked. “It’s not like the rest of you have pets. I’d have thought you’d wanna capitalize on Clint being a dog nut.”

“Way ahead of you, Terminator,” Tony replied with a grin. “Barton’s not so great at keeping his own secret identity – “

“Hypocrite.”

“Shut up. You have Hawkeye themed underwear for fuck’s sake. We were going to see if you wanted to have your mutt model all the new stuff at the press conference tomorrow, have Lucky be the spokesdog for the new line.”

Clint perked up, absently stepping back as Lucky bolted past him so he wouldn’t be taken out at the knees. “Spokesdog? Lucky?” He scratched at his chin thoughtfully, glancing over at Bucky who returned his amused gaze. “He kinda drives a hard bargain. Best dog in New York – I dunno if you can afford him, Stark.”

Tony downed the last of his drink and set it on the counter behind him, raising an eyebrow at Clint’s grin. “He gets a pizza at the press conference and one of the entire line. He’ll appear on the major advertising images and will get his own discount at most major pet retailers. Take it or leave it.”

Whistling for Lucky, Clint laughed as the golden blur barrelled past Tony, nearly knocking him off balance.

“We’ll have to ask his agent,” Clint said, hauling Lucky into his arms and spinning to face Bucky. “What d’ya think? Push for more or do we have a deal?”

Bucky’s usual eye roll was somewhat diminished as Lucky happily licked his face. He held up his hands to stop the onslaught, a smile twitching at his lips. “He’s gonna be impossible to live with after this. The fame’ll go to his head.”

“You already live with Barton,” Tony snorted. “I doubt Lucky’ll get more of an ego than his owner.”

“Again, hypocrite,” Clint pointed out, shifting Lucky’s weight in his arms. “How about it, Luck? You wanna be an Avenger too?”

Lucky’s excited bark and lick of his face was just the answer Clint was hoping for.