Captain America the Army Dog
When Steve met Captain America he was filthy and looked close to starvation.
“He just started following us, sir.” A G.I. mentioned offhand as he scooped his rations into his mouth. “Somewhere a couple days back when we had heavy fire.”
The small puppy wagged its tail eagerly when a spoonful of beans plopped on the ground in front of it. “Of course since you’re new, you haven’t met him.” The same man, without looking from his plate, picked up the decrepit animal by the scruff of its neck and dropped it into the lap of his commanding officer.
“Since you’re both captains, I figure you’ll get along fine.”
As the grimy puppy whimpered on the wide lap, looking at the table and hoping for a couple more scraps, the newly shipped in officer from the Americas couldn’t stop his hand from running through matted fur.
It was love at first sight.
---
Later on, Captain Steve Rogers discovered that the dog might have been an attack dog if the troops hadn’t allowed it to follow them.
“It’s what usually happens to the animals, sir.” A lieutenant said, sweating from the heat blasting from the sands beneath their boots. He removed his helmet, fiddled with the chinstrap before plopping it back on his shaved head. “The insurgents usually end up training their dogs to attack us when on patrol.
“Often we have to kill the dogs.” A shrug of shoulders adjusted the rifle strapped across the young man’s chest. “Guess we’re just lucky that Captain America was young enough not to be trained yet.”
At the sound of his name, the adolescent dog, now groomed but still looking shabby due to the sand and heat, wagged its tail and leaned against the commanding officer’s leg. Steve allowed a gloved hand to land heavily on the dog’s head and drag through the rough fur. “Then it’s a good thing I came here in time!” He grinned, smiling at the wide mouth grin from the dog.
The dog who had become the friend of everyone in the camp, mascot to the soldiers, and personal friend and bosom buddy of the man who commanded all their lives.
---
“Warning! Enemy in area!”
Jerking himself from bed, ignoring the sand that was blowing through his open tent, Steve strapped on his outer gear and rushed into the hot noon sun. His men were already moving, having been alerted by the calm, yet urgent voice that automatically sounded when an opposition force was within the camp’s battle space.
“Warning! Enemy in area!”
“Sir, we need to move out! NOW!” A medic shouted; a gauze pad slapped against a shrapnel wound that spouted blood from his forehead. A man was slung against his back, since all the other stretchers were being used to move the more serious injuries.
“Report!” Steve responded automatically, cramming his camo-patterned helmet over his sweat soaked scalp. He looked down at the dog that used to be a mud-caked puppy that had turned into the strong canine that was barking at the noise and chaos.
“Firefight from the east!” The gauze was turning redder as the man continued, “RPG’s and a tank approaching quickly.” He shifted and a groan came from the injured man.
“Rogers! We’re leaving now!” The visiting major, who seemed struck by the damage and precision of the enemy interrupted the lower rank and moved closer to the other officer. The medic took this opportunity to run towards one of the helicopters that was starting, the blades slowly speeding up and kicking up more sand.
“Yes, sir!” Steve made to grab Captain America, who had run over and was leaning against the person it trusted, huddled from the bullets, noise and death. As his hands dug into the fur he heard the phrase he had been dreading:
“Get rid of the dog! We don’t have time to make a hoist and it’s not a IED scout!”
Steve glanced at the dog again before his handgun was lifted obediently to follow orders as he had been trained to do.
A single shot was what it took to finish the job and run towards the land vehicles that were now under fire.
His issued glare and shatter resistant sunglasses hid the moisture building up in his blue eyes, though the other soldiers might have thought it had to do with the sand. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking as the humvee bumped on a well-used and checked road, looking behind as the camp became smaller and smaller.
Sometimes he wished he had a better way to save those that meant something.
---
“Steve, I know it’s out of left field, but I wanted to get you something special for our second anniversary, mostly because I remembered it but partially because I love you very, very much.”
Steve laughed, his arm looped around Tony’s shoulders as he followed his husband into their home on the upper east side, “Everything from you is out of left field,” he commented, remembering the whirlwind romance between a retired-vet turned artist and a billionaire who just happened to buy the wrong painting at the right time.
“Now, you have to promise to tell me if you hate it,” Tony said before he pulled the front door closed behind them and led Steve by the arm to the ‘important company’-living room that branched off the first floor, “It was a pain to get him, anything for you, darling, but if you really don’t like him I’ll find someone else to take him.”
Steve pulled them to a stop, “It’s not a prostitute, is it?”
Tony laughed, pinned his husband to the wall and kissed him on the nose, “No, it is not a prostitute, silly man. Though if I knew I could get you one of those, I would have, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”
“It does give me ideas for your birthday in a couple months,” Steve murmured into the proper kiss Tony decided to give him in lieu of a cheeky one-liner.
“Yes, well, yes,” Tony licked his lips as he backed up, tugging on his shirt to straighten the newly acquired wrinkles, “That’s good, but you will not distract me from giving you the best anniversary gift!” He opened the French doors with a flourish and left Steve behind as he hurried into the heavily decorated area, plopping onto the floor with a muted ‘oof’. “Happy anniversary, honey!”
It was simultaneously the best and worst gift Steve had ever received.
Sitting in the middle of the carpet, next to a broadly smiling Tony, was a fat, golden puppy with a large red bow.
The puppy was nothing like Captain America; chubby where the other dog had been stick-thin. Fur thick with a healthy sheen, whereas Captain had always had a bad case of mange due to a crappy, but steady, diet of military rations. Even their expressions were different; the puppy in Tony’s lap looked around the room with an air of happy confusion while Steve could only remember the expression of pain and confusion as he pulled the trigger and-
“-eve? Steve, honey, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. Are you okay? Are you here? It’s Friday, June 23rd. You’re back home in New York. You’ve been retired for three years. Steve, I just need you to respond. Do you need your medication? Do you need to talk to Dr. Banner?”
Steve realized he was on the ground the moment Tony’s voice was heard, blindsided by one of the panic attacks that he thought he had under control. He blindly fumbled his hand out, taking in a huge breath when Tony automatically grabbed it, giving the silent okay for his husband to come nearer without fear of being physically injured while Steve was trying to come back to himself. Steve pulled Tony closer, eternally grateful when his husband said nothing and allowed himself to be manhandled so he was lying with Steve on the carpeted floor.
“I, just, there used to be a dog. When I was fighting.” Steve’s throat clicked as he dry-swallowed, turning his head so he could bury his nose into Tony’s hair. “The boys sort of gave him to me as a welcoming gift when I came over. We called him Captain America. Best dog in the world.” He knew the noises near his feet were the puppy exploring the room, but he shied away from looking down his body. “I ki-he didn’t make it back.”
Tony snuggled closer, his body a band of warmth against Steve’s side, and his other arm came up to cross Steve’s chest in a loose embrace. “We don’t have to keep him,” he said into Steve’s neck, “If it’s too hard for you, I can send him back to the breeder and she can find another owner for him. I just wanted to make you happy. You know that’s all I want, right?”
Steve nodded and bussed a kiss against Tony’s hairline. “I know, and I love you for that.” Steve stiffened when he felt the puppy sniffing at his uncovered ankle, so similar to how Captain America would lick his sock-covered feet to wake him up.
“I want to try, honey,” Steve said, finally looking down at the wriggly puppy that was now inspecting a nearby table, “I want to try for both of us. I want to keep his memory alive. I want to give this guy the life that Captain could have never had. The life that I should have given him…”
“You want to name him Captain America?” Tony asked quietly, craning his head back so he could make sure his husband was really okay with this.
Steve barked out a hoarse laugh, which made the puppy give a yip in reply, and hugged Tony closer. “We can call him ‘Cap’ for short,” he said, not fighting the tears that trickled past his cheeks to the floor.
They continued to lay on the floor for a couple more minutes before Tony sighed into Steve’s ear, “I’ll be living with a pair of captains. I’m a pretty lucky guy.”
Steve shakily smiled at the ceiling, “I’m the lucky one. I love you, Tony.”
“I love you too.”