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Steve flipped the remote in his hands, an idle tick he’d picked up somewhere. It gave him something to do during the commercials every five minutes during the game. He gave it another flip before Bucky reached over and grabbed it, setting it down on Dodger snoring between them. Dodger perked his head up, probably hoping for more attention than a measly remote. He jumped off the couch with a boof when no more came, and went to the window, the remote clattering to the ground as he got up.
Dodger’s whines and yips at the window a few moments later pulled Steve from Penn State’s honestly garbage defense, “What is it, Dodge? Is that squirrel back?”
That made Bucky laugh, “Maybe Mrs. Donovan’s cat got out again, I haven’t seen him this riled up in a while.”
Steve heaved himself off the couch, Dodger’s dancing paws making him chuckle as he made his way over to the window.
Oh.
New neighbors. An attractive man in his mid-thirties stood in the yard, watching a young boy run around in circles. There was a moving truck parked in the street and boxes stacked in the driveway. Movers filed in and out of the house, the man stopped to talk to them before turning to watch the boy face-plant into a pile of leaves on Steve’s side of the grass.
Dodger let out another whine, paws clicking on the hardwood in a happy little wiggle. His face was pressed to the glass, now covered in fog and nose prints.
“Well?” Bucky asked, getting up himself and heading to the kitchen.
Steve looked back out to the yard, the little boy was busy tossing leaves at his dad, completely undoing the raking Bucky did. “Neighbors. They have a kid.” “Oh, that explains it, Dodge loves kids.”
Dodger dropped low on his front paws and let out a few barks, eager for playtime. Bucky walked back to the living room, last night’s chinese container in hand, and took his own look out the window.
“Oh, yeah you should go introduce yourself.” He popped a clump of cold lo mein into his mouth, “He’s your type.”
“I don’t have a type.” Bucky started counting on his fingers with his chopsticks. “Hmm... Bobby from college. That twink you brought back to the hotel during Spring break ‘09. What’s his face from O’Malley’s last year? I could go on.”
Steve tossed his hands in the air, “Alright, alright, I’ll get the leash.” Dodger continued to dance around while he got his coat on and unhooked the leash from the hanger by the door. Dodger stilled to a quiet vibration in that way that dogs do, when they know they need to sit still to get the thing they want, but the excitement shivers out anyway. “But I don’t see the point, there’s probably a Mrs. Handsome neighbor.” “You won’t know until you go over there, so out ya get,” Bucky said. He made a little shooing motion with his chopsticks.
Steve clipped the little container for bags to the lead and opened the door.
Dodger took off like a shot, the leash slipping between Steve’s fingers. He stood, numb, as Dodger practically levitated off the front steps and booked it towards the child in the next yard. A shout from the dad kicked Steve’s brain back online, he took his own leap over the steps.
“Dodger! No! Sit!”
Miraculously, Dodger skidded to a stop, his back legs flailed out under him around until he flopped into a full crouch, the lead tangled around him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth between playful barks and yips, tail wagging so hard his entire back half was swishing through the leaves.
“Daddy, a puppy!” The little boy didn’t seem afraid, thank God, as Steve caught up to him. The dad had a mix of emotions on his face as he gathered the boy into his arms.
“I see him, Petey, hopefully a nice puppy.” “I’m so so sorry, he’s never done anything like that before. He just really likes kids.” Steve grabbed Dodger’s leash and collar, getting a good grip in case he tried to bolt again, “Dodger, buddy, you’re making us look bad.” Steve got a loud woof! in reply.
Steve untangled the leash and straightened up, “Come on, pal, let’s not scare the neighbors.”
The boy, five maybe six years old, stuck out his hand, nearly unbalancing him from his dad’s arms. “I’m not scared! I’m Peter, nice to meet your dog.”
Steve shook his little hand, “Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Steve, and this is-” “Dodger! Can I pet him? Please? I’ll be gentle.”
“Peter…” his dad warned, adjusting him in his arms.
“It’s fine, if you’re ok with it, Mr. ?”
“Tony. No need to call me Mr.” He lowered Peter to the ground, shaking Steve’s hand once he was free. He gave Steve a smile. He was just as handsome up close. All brown eyes and thick lashes and a neatly trimmed goatee. Steve could see the family resemblance with Peter.
Steve still held Dodger’s collar, keeping him from tackling Peter, his tail beating Steve’s leg with force, “Put your hand out, and let him sniff you.”
Peter’s outstretched hand was sniffed, then immediately licked and slobbered on, eliciting giggles from the boy, “Daddy, can I play with him?”
“I dunno, Peety-pie, you’ll have to ask Mr. Steve.”
“Honestly, we came out because I thought Dodge was going to wear a hole in the floor once he spotted you. We have some toys in the backyard. You can throw them and he’ll fetch. That sound fun?”
Peter’s wide brown eyes got even wider, “Yes! Please can we do that Mr. Steve?”
Steve looked up at Tony, “Is that ok with you and his mom? He doesn't have a dog allergy does he?”
Tony and Peter both looked a little sad suddenly. “No allergy. And mom and I are divorced, but I don’t think she’ll mind.”
“I can’t wait to tell her about Dodger on our call tonight. Maybe she will let me get a puppy for Christmas?” “I don’t know bud, but I’d love to see her face when you ask.”
“Ok Daddy,” Peter turned back to Steve and Dodger, who was doing his best to wiggle free of Steve’s hold on his collar, “I’m ready to go play now, Mr. Steve. Can I hold onto his leash?”
Steve looked at Dodger. He would probably take the kid’s arm off with his excitement. “How about we hold it together until he’s run off some energy?”
***
Bucky came out to snoop not long after they moved into the backyard, “Penn flubbed it. Couldn’t force enough turnovers.” Steve let out a strangled groan, “Clint isn’t gonna let me hear the end of it Monday.”
“Your phone was going off, so I’m betting he’s not letting you hear the end of it now.”
Peter ran up with the ball and Dodger nipping at his heels. He handed it to Steve for him to throw it again.
With Steve occupied, Bucky introduced himself to Tony, “Hi, I’m Bucky. Steve’s roommate.”
Tony looked at the two of them, probably wondering if ‘roommate’ was a polite term they were using in front of Peter. “Tony, new to the neighborhood,” he said, shaking Bucky’s hand.
“Hi, I’m Peter!”
Bucky crouched down to his level, “Hiya Peter, having fun with Dodger?”
“Yup! He’s really good at catching the ball.”
“Wait til you see him with the frisbee.”
Peter shot off to the beat up rubber tote that held Dodger’s toys and dug around until he found the frisbee. He held it up like a prize and the pair took off again.
“So what do you guys do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Steve leaned against the fence and stuck his hands in his pockets since Peter didn’t need him to throw anymore, “I run a physical therapy office over on 18th Street, and help Bucky out with the kids he coaches. Training and recovery, sports medicine, that kind of thing.”
Tony inclined his head at Bucky, “You coach?”
“Yeah, football up at the high school.”
“That sounds rewarding,” Tony replied.
“Yeah, got a couple incoming freshmen with talent this year, I’m hoping for a better season for my JVs,” He gathered a few of Dodger’s scattered toys while he talked. “Varsity needs some work this season. QB is a little hot headed. If he can dial it back and focus his passes, they stand a half decent chance at State this year.”
“I honestly have no idea what that means, but good luck,” Tony said, chuckling.
Peter and Dodger gravitated back to the toy bin, “Mr. Bucky, can you toss the ball for Dodger? I can’t get the frisbee to throw very far.”
“Sure kiddo, go long.”
As soon as Bucky got in throwing position, Dodger bolted for the back fence, easily outstripping Peter’s little legs. He launched the ball, landing it right at the edge of the property and into Dodger’s mouth.
“Wow, you have a hell of an arm,” Tony dropped his jaw a little in surprise.
Steve leaned close to Tony, “Meh, he’s ok. Couldn’t cut it in the pros.”
Bucky flipped him off before remembering the tiny human running around the yard and hid it. “Screw you dude, you know a torn ACL is a ticking clock.”
“Oh damn, did they do surgery?” Tony asked.
Steve patted Bucky on the back before stepping back to let him lob another ball for Dodger. “They did. His care team and I did a lot of rehab, but there were too many close calls to continue his season.”
“I enjoyed it while I could, but I’m kind of glad I had to sit and rethink my career. I never thought I could teach or coach, but,” He caught Peter running full speed and lifted him, flipping him upside down so Dodger could lick his face, “turns out I’m good with kids.”
Tony walked over, tickling Peter while he upside down, “One door closes and all that.”
“Yup,” Bucky set Peter down. “Want me to teach you how to throw a spiral?”
Peter and Tony stayed for several hours until both kid and dog seemed ready to collapse for a nap. Thankfully the chain link fence let Tony keep an eye on the movers and the goings on in the yard. Steve bid the pair goodnight, Peter looking like he might fall asleep before even getting inside the house.
***
Peter playdates with Dodger became a regular thing when he was with his Dad. As the weeks went on, as soon as Steve parked his SUV after work, he could see Peter in the window waving before disappearing to get his coat. Steve knew Tony worked at home for his tech business, so the pair were always ready to go.
As November stretched closer to December, and the chill and growing afternoon darkness took its toll, playtime moved to the weekends. It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving, still early when Peter and Tony knocked on the door.
“Hey there Starks,” Steve said. Dodger came barrelling out wherever he was taking his morning nap when he heard the door open, and nudged his way between Steve’s legs to lick what looked like pink donut frosting off Peter’s face.
Tony raised two takeaway coffees, “Sorry to bother you so early, but Peter’s mom is coming early to take him for the week. Can he borrow Dodger until she gets here?”
Bucky made a kissy noise from the couch, hopefully not loud enough for the duo on the steps to hear. Steve reached his hand on the other side of the door to flip him off, “Sure, let me change.”
Father and son let themselves into the yard by the time Steve was done putting on something more substantial than the joggers he had on for couch surfing the day’s college football offerings. Tony handed over the coffee as Peter took off after Dodger who was already playing keep away with the tug-of-war rope.
“So his mom has him for the week? What about Thanksgiving?”
“Uh, well, I guess it’ll be me and a Hungry Man this year. Pepper and I are still friends, but it’s still…” he trailed off.
“Fresh?”
“It wasn’t until she met this new guy.” Steve winced, “Ouch.”
Tony shrugged, “I knew she would move on. She’s a strong lady, and will always be one of my best friends. I want her to be happy.”
Steve hummed for a few beats, “No other family?”
“Not close by. My other best friend is Air Force, so he’s on base. I could drive down to his mom’s, but I wouldn’t make it back in time to pick Peter up.”
Steve nudged Tony’s arm, “Well, we do a friendsgiving thing every year. We’d love it if you joined us.”
“No, I couldn’t impose, Steve. I take up so much of your time as it is.” “I like spending time with you, Bucky too. We enjoy having you guys over. All of us don’t have anywhere else to be, except for Buck’s boyfriend Sam. They go to his parents early in the day.” A little ripple of what looked like shock filtered over Tony’s face before he spoke, “I admit, I’ve been curious about the roommate thing. You two aren’t a couple?” Steve laughed, “He’s practically my brother. He let me tag along with the other kids when I was just a shrimp-” “You?” Tony interrupted. “A shrimp? You could bench me and the kid.”
“Yeah, I was sick a lot. I couldn’t play sports, did a lot of physical therapy to strengthen my lungs and muscles. He stood by me. Then I shot up like a weed Junior year.”
“Wow,” Tony started, then trailed off. “So platonic life partner?”
“Pretty much. I don’t know how Wilson stands his hairy ass.”
That caused a burst of laughter to tumble out of Tony.
“He’s like a fuc-” Peter was suddenly on his way over, probably to see what made his dad double over in laughter,”-flipping werewolf. Anyway, please think about joining us? There’s always room at the table.”
“Dad, are you going to spend Thanksgiving with Mr. Steve?” Peter tugged on the bottom edge of Tony’s peacoat. It was too adorable for words. Steve had a feeling those big brown eyes had everyone wrapped around his little finger.
“Well, Peety, I-” “Dodger will be there. And Mr. Steve and Mr. Bucky and you told Momma that you wouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”
Steve tried his best to hide his snickering behind his fist.
Tony heaved a sigh, “Well, if Dodger is there, I guess I’ll go. What should I bring?”
***
Tony stretched and threw off the covers, silencing his alarm. Waking up without forty-plus pounds of child breaking down your door was still something he was getting used to. And especially on days like today, where Peter would be already dressed and trying to haul coats out of the closet so they could get on the road to Grandma Potts, breakfast be damned.
He puttered around the house, did some work that he knew Pep would yell at him for on Monday when she got the reports and saw the timestamps. But being a workaholic and having your spouse as a CEO was the reason they were where they were now. Tony pushed those thoughts aside. Handsome neighbor Steve, who wasn’t secretly dating his roommate and Tony’s first crush since Pep in years, was expecting him and the pies at 3 P.M.
He couldn’t lie to himself that he wasn’t a little bit curious about Steve and if the little signals he was sending was just neighborly friendliness or something more. He was kind, and generous with his time to Peter. Which, talk about a huge plus in the divorced dad dating game. But he never gave out any hints about which way he leaned in terms of dating.
Tony had run the last couple of errands needed before everyone closed up shop yesterday, picking up the pies and a bottle of wine because years of high society party training mandated you can’t show up without one. Supplies in hand and sport coat on, he trekked across the yard to the Rogers’ and Barnes’ house.
It was a truly beautiful fall day, dusk getting on it’s way so early in the afternoon. November was special in the way that everything was golden, the shadows long no matter the time of day. The last of the leaves had fallen finally, dusting the yards in their colors and crunching under Tony’s feet. A few neighbors had their lights up for Christmas already, twinkling in the dimming light. Another thing to add to the new house to-do list, since all the other decorations stayed with Pep.
He knocked on the door. It was odd not having Peter to do it, or be a buffer between him and Steve when the conversation trailed off because Tony was too busy staring at his neighbor. The man that answered was one he’d seen coming and going, but never introduced to.
“Hey, welcome! You must be Tony? Sam Wilson,” He said, reaching his hand out to take the pies. “Come in, Steve said you’d be joining us.”
Tony stepped over the threshold. It was like walking into a hug. The warmth of the house from the crush of people and cooking drew him in. Everything was lit in the bright glow of twinkling lights, and it smelled like sage and turkey and every memory of the holidays.
Bucky stepped up to grab the pies from Sam and gave a flurry of introductions to the others in the living room, Natasha and Clint. Dodger greeted him as well, sniffing and looking for Peter.
“Sorry, bud, he’s not with me.” Tony gave him some more pets and got licked in return.
Bucky dropped the pies on a side table, “Steve! Your boy is here!”
A flustered looking Steve popped out of the kitchen, hissing something to Bucky before fixing a smile Tony’s way, “Tony, so glad you can make it.”
Tony handed over the bottle of wine, “It’s my pleasure. Please accept this socially acceptable host gift.”
Steve laughed, “Thank you, It’ll be great with dinner. It should be too much longer. Help yourself to some punch and take a seat.”
“Punch? I haven’t had punch since middle school.” “I know it’s old fashioned, but it’s more boozy than you had in high school, I can guarantee that.”
The man introduced as Clint wandered over, waving a glass and handing it to Tony, “And since Steve put Nat in charge of it, I’m guessing it’s about eighty proof.”
Tony could smell it before he took a sip, so he made it a small one. It was like rocket fuel. More like 150 proof. “It’s lovely, thank you,” He croaked out, coughing a little on the burn.
Clint patted him on the back, “We have some soda to cut it for everyone who’s not Russian.” He led Tony over to the bar so he could fix it to his liking.
Despite nearly killing him with vodka, he found great conversation with Natasha and Clint as Steve hustled and bustled in and out of the kitchen for the better part of an hour. Finally, Bucky seemed to push him out, snatching the kitchen towel off his shoulder and pointing in Tony’s direction. He got his own punch and joined Tony at the couch, looking a little sheepish. Nat and Clint excused themselves with a wink. Well, now this is interesting.
“The bird is out and resting. Buck and Sam are gonna put the stuffing and mac and cheese in to warm, then it’ll all be ready to go.” Steve took a big sip, “You having a good time?” Tony leaned back, “Yeah, this is great. Thank you again so much for inviting me.” Tony watched over Steve’s shoulder as Bucky and Sam came out of the kitchen and joined Nat and Clint at the table.
Clint shuffled a deck of cards, showing off a few fancy tricks and dealing out what looked like poker. Nat passed out some pretzels from a big bowl on the sideboard as chips. Tony felt himself relaxing, or maybe Natasha’s punch was finally kicking in.
Turns out, Steve had a terrible poker face once Natasha convinced him and Tony to deal in. Bucky’s wasn’t any better honestly, and Sam had a couple obvious tells after a few hands. Nat was impossible to crack. But Clint. Clint was 100 percent cheating somehow, Tony just needed a little more time to catch him. Tony folded early, being dealt absolutely nothing, and if the way Sam was rubbing his bicep, he was sitting on a good hand anyway.
That was when he first smelled smoke. Just enough to get him to sniff again a little firmer. Tony checked his watch and noticed it had been almost another hour. “Um, guys, how long has the stuffing been in the oven?”
Three chairs screeched back and tipped over as Steve, Sam, and Bucky bolted to the kitchen. Steve threw the oven door open and thick gray smoke billowed out. Sam started waving a towel to disperse it, but all it did was waft it into the smoke alarm.
It was chaos. The alarm made Dodger howl. Nat and Clint scrambled to open every window they could find. Everyone had to yell to be heard over the din. Tony saw Bucky dump water on whatever blackened mess was pulled from the oven as he picked up the toppled chairs.
Admitting defeat, the trio in the kitchen came back into the dining room. “I thought you had it, I mean come on. You’re a teacher,” Sam said, crossing his arms and dropping into his chair at the table. He flipped his cards over, “I had a full house too.” Bucky crossed his own arms and leaned against the wall, “I teach gym, not home ec.”
“But you still know how to set a damn timer.”
Steve picked up the last fallen chair before pressing his hand to his head and let loose a bone weary sigh. “I’m sorry, Tony. Dinner is ruined and,” he trailed off for a few seconds before looking at Tony, “I understand if you want to go. Things aren’t normally so…”
“Chaotic?” Tony answered.
“Yes. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Listen, don’t be. I haven’t had this much fun at a Thanksgiving in years. I didn’t have to wear a tie or use three different forks. I will take rocket fuel punch and charred mac and cheese and a dog eating the turkey over listening to somebody’s cousin’s mayoral candidacy plans any time.” Steve laughed, “Well I’m glad you - wait, dog eating the turkey?” He spun around. Dodger stood on his back legs, front paws on the counter and his little criminal face was smeared with grease and a wayward bit of turkey skin. The damage was done.
“I’ll handle it,” Bucky pushed past them. “Dodger, no, bad doggie. Come ‘mere.”
Nat pressed fresh cups of punch into everyone’s hands as Clint gathered up dropped cards and loose pretzels, tossing them into his mouth as he went.
“And to your other point, I don’t want to go. I am going to beat Clint at cards after dinner, and I will figure out how he fleeced me out of all my pretzels,” he said, patting Steve on the shoulder a bit. “Let’s order a pizza, I know someone has to be open to fix Butterball related emergencies today.”
Sam looked back at the smoking crater that used to be mac and cheese and sighed. “Yeah, I’ll make some calls, Steve, just go sit. We got this.”
Tony grabbed Steve’s hand, leading him to the couch. Steve flopped down, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling, “I just wanted to impress you.”
“Color me impressed then.” That got a chuckle and smile out of Steve. “Seriously. The only thing I’m disappointed in is that there is no wishbone for us to break. I had my wish all picked out.”
“Oh? What would you have wished for?”
“A kiss.”
Steve turned to look at Tony once again, “Oh? From who.”
Tony tugged on Steve’s hand that he was still holding, “I don’t know, Sam is pretty cute. Think Bucky’d be jealous?” Steve’s face fell a little at that, so Tony pressed on, “Of course from you, you ding dong. So how about it?”
Steve leaned over. He squeezed the hand Tony was holding and used the other to draw Tony’s face closer to his, until his words were spoken against Tony’s lips. “Well, allow me to make your wish come true.” He pressed close, the kiss soft and sweet and over too soon. They pulled back, Steve gave a soft chuckle and leaned his forehead on Tony’s at the sounds of his friends hooting and hollering behind them.
Bucky plopped his forearms down on the back of the couch between them. “Peter’s gonna be so mad he missed that, He asked me about two weeks ago on how to help his daddy and Mr. Steve be together.”
“Well, if Steve wants to join me on my call to him later, we can make his night. Although, I’m sure he’ll want to speak to Dodger more than us anyway,” Tony said.
He leaned in for another quick peck before getting up off the couch, pulling Steve up with him, “But first, let’s dig into some pie before the pizza gets here.” Tony grabbed a punch glass and raised it in a toast, “To new Thanksgiving traditions.”