Busy Head
Phil had many ideas of what he’d come home to but this wasn’t one of them…
Maria had called and said there would be a bit of a situation when he got back, but he had been expecting a broken window or a burnt dinner.
But no. Instead he came home to see Clint, sopping wet and smelling like a sewage drain pipe as he stood on the lawn. His head seemed to have been towel dried so he could put his hearing aids back in and Tony was still holding the neck of the hose when he walked around too. And then there was a soaking wet dog.
And Phil lost it right there.
He had accepted that life was just going to get crazier and at this rate, he better get prepared. He didn’t have much of a say in these weird situations anymore. Temporarily take in a kid who then proceeds to end up in the ER the next day? That was a bit crazy. Take in a different boy who was so quiet and scared and then exploded in overwhelming situations? Also new. And of course the whole thing with Bucky and Steve when the two boys had been in the same middle school and there had been the fight that involved snowballs, shields and a lot of marshmallows. Which sounds nice and cheery but it really wasn’t at all.
Now Phil just stood there, taking in the scene.
The dog was a golden retriever, its fur so soaked and heavy that it hung low, making it look like it was frowning. Phil noted how it stood on three legs, always keeping its left leg tucked safe towards its body. The tail didn’t wag and it looked scared of Phil. The goldie must have at least been a couple years old, and the most unique part was the fact that it was winking.
Literally.
At first Phil scrunched his face in confusion at the wink, but then realized that the dog only had one operating eye, and that’s why it appeared to be winking.
“His name's Lucky,” Clint informed Phil when he hadn’t said a word in too long.
“Clint, if you name him you’ll get attached,” Phil said as gently as he could. “But we can’t take care of a dog, and Lucky might already be someone else’s.”
“NO!” Clint yelled, startling Phil because usually Clint didn’t outright refuse things. He would be sneaky, tactful, use manipulation or maneuver and redirect to get things to go his way. But he rarely would flat out state no. it was as if he never believed he deserved or had the right to refuse things.
“Clint--”
“NO!” He screamed again, this time the dog growled a bit, watching Phil warrily and ready to intervene if needed. Blame it on a goldie to already be loyal to Clint. “Lucky doesn't belong to anyone else. He’s mine.”
“I understand that you feel he’s yours but--”
Clint shook his head, grabbing onto the dog and hugging him tight against his chest. “No, Phil. He’s mine,” he insisted, using the man's name for the first time in the month that Clint had been staying with them. “I--I stole him when he was younger because some asses were kicking him and well. I didn’t like it so I told them to go to hell and then they beat me up but well, he saved me,” Clint murmured, petting over Lucky's mane as he sniffled again and the dog seemed to know just how to comfort Clint. “So I.. I. I helped him out, tried to fix his eye as much as I could and well… he was there for me. Ya know? And we looked out for each other and he was a good boy. And his owners didn’t deserve such a great dog because they were stupid motherfuckers who didn’t appreciate Lucky like I did. So I kept him and we stayed and we were together and we were a team,” he whispered.
Phil was sitting on the lawn now, much more aware of the story and conscious of Clint opening up willingly for possibly the first time he’d been here.
“And well. Then the whole thing happened at the gas station so I had to run and I told Lucky to stay because he doesn't deserve to have to go on the run with me. And he’d never make it if we hopped buses and stuff. But I reached two days in and there he was. Standing at the side of the apartment complex.” he gave a tense smile at that, it was shaky and it was obvious Clint was reliving some bad memories but he had Lucky and so he knew it would be okay.
“So you brought him with you?”
Clint nodded. “I brought him with me and we made it to Queens, where we wanted to be because that’s where--that’s my safe house. But then a big ordeal happened with getting dragged in and then the station and you and well. I dunno… I left Lucky tied to a fire escape, I knew he could chew through it if he needed to, but just like. So nobody tries stealing my dog,” he murmured, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist. “Then I was brought in and I supposed he’d probably just.. Found someone else or maybe went to the shelter. Got a good home. Found someone he deserved.”
“But how did he get here? How did you find him?”
The boy sighed, resting his head against Lucky's spine. “I heard him crying on our walk back from the arcade. I always know what his crying sounds like. Because it’s just.. I would hear it all the time. He cried a lot. And I thought maybe we were similar and crying wasn’t bad. So when I heard him crying I went into the ditch and I found him in the sewers. I don’t know how he got there from Queens. He must have walked a lot.”
Phil chuckled a bit at the last sentence but nodded. “Wow, Clint. I’m sorry for jumping to assumptions and not hearing you out the first time.”
The boy gave a shrug. “S’fine you didn't know. But I just… can we keep him? I just.. I…”
The older man let out a sigh as he pulled the idea through his head. He was positive that if he said no, Clint would have quite a hard time coping with that. And even the dog would. If it had traveled from Queens to Brooklyn just to get back to Clint, it was nothing but dedicated.
“Alright, Clint. We can keep him. But he’s gotta stay out in the backyard. There's no space in the house.”
Clint’s face lit up with a huge grin, the biggest and most genuine Phil had ever seen on the boy. “Thanks! I’ll keep him out there, he’ll be good, he can behave!” he promised, practically bouncing with joy.
“But Clint, we’re gonna need to take him to the doctors to check out his paw and look for diseases. He needs his shots too.”
“Okay, that sounds good, thank you, Phil,” Clint rushed, holding on to his dog closely.
“Course, honey.”
Lucky was a very well behaved dog. He didn’t bite or shy away from things but he didn’t go after them either. He was always focused on Clint, watching him and staying near him and occasionally begging for pats too. Once the dog had his hair trimmed, cleaned, and the doctors cleared him of bugs, Lucky was much happier.
“He’s got such a short coat,” Clint noted to himself as he ran his fingers through Lucky's clean fur. “I’ve never seen it this short before.”
“Clint, his hair is at least an inch long, that’s like a normal short haired coat,” Tony pointed out as the boys sat on the steps of the porch.
“Well yeah but it's never been this short,” he insisted, grinning when Lucky flopped over for belly pats.
“I must admit, I am growing fond of the dog.”
Clint bumped his shoulder. “Everybody grows fond of Lucky. It’s impossible to not love him,” he responded, kissing the dog goodnight before checking that the leash was secure. “Night Tony.”
“Night, Clint,” Tony smiled, staying out on the porch a bit to watch the stars as Lucky laid down for sleep.
It was around 3 in the morning when Lucky started to howl and bark. Which was unusual because he’d been silent for the previous 2 nights. But tonight he was as rambunctious as Bruce when the boy got overwhelmed.
Lucky clawed at the door, chewed his leash and then ran around the house trying to find a way in. When there was no avail he kept on barking and howling, waking half the neighbors.
“Lucky!” Tony hissed, padding down the stairs to scold the dog.
But when he opened the front door the dog rushed in, the half chewed leash dragging along the steps as he rocketed through them, past Phil and to Clint and Bucky’s room. The dog was whining and pawing, scratching the door and finally his paw hit the knob and the door opened and Lucky bolted onto Clint’s bed.
Bucky had somehow slept through the whole ordeal because when Phil and Tony reached him he looked just as confused.
Then they noticed Clint’s shaking. There was a sickening crack when his wrist smacked the plaster wall during the spasms and Lucky whined, licking Clint’s face and waiting apprehensively.
This seizure was particularly bad because it seemed to last for too long. Phil had forgotten to keep track of the time and he didn’t know if it was over 5 minutes or not because of his stress. It had ended a bit ago but Clint was shaking and whimpering now, struggling to comprehend anything as he blinked dazedly.
Lucky kept trying to get to his boy but Bucky had his arms holding the dog back so Phil could help clint.
Finally the dog stopped struggling and Bucky loosened his grip microscopically, just enough that the dog wiggled his way out and quickly got to Clint, licking his boy’s face and arms as Clint murmured something unintelligible.
“Kee,” he recognized, reaching out to the dog.
Phil set them on the ground and Lucky nuzzled Clint’s neck and then laid down, letting Clint use him as a pillow.
“What’s the dog even doing in the house, Phil? I thought we said no dogs in the house?”
“Well he was making an absolute ruckus and then I went to open the door to make him stop and he beelined right to your room, opened the bedroom knob and just went to Clint,” Tony said exasperatedly, he looked a bit tense from the stress still, his heart was probably racing pretty fast.
“But why?”
“I think he knew,” Phil guessed, watching as Clint coughed a bit, rousing Lucky to make sure his boy was alright before he went back to laying his head on Clint's chest.
“But that’s impossible,” Bucky stated and Tony held out a hand.
“Well actually…” he said, thinking about it a bit more. “Dogs are great with their senses. It’s not uncommon to have medical alert dogs that tell you when your blood pressure drops, sugars are too high or low, that kinda stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if they can detect seizures too.”
“So he was warning us? Even with being all the way outside?” Bucky asked confusedly.
Tony nodded. “Yeah, I think he was warning us.”
“Okay there's still time to get some sleep in. Tony,” Phil suggested and the younger boy nodded before heading back to his room. Then Phil turned his attention to Clint, who looked comfortable on the floor and Phil didn't know what would happen if he tried moving him.
“Is Lucky staying here then?” Bucky asked from where he was sitting on his bed.
Phil sighed. “I don’t see how I’d convince him to leave. For tonight he’ll stay.”