Title: On Your Woof
Fandom: Captain America (movies)
Rating: G
Length: 1,700 words
Content notes: AU, some of the characters are animals
Author notes: Huuuuuuge thanks to china_shop for excellent beta, and for suggesting a title when all I could come up with was "I love Sam so much I gave him a puppy!"
Summary: Sam Wilson gets an unexpected best friend.



On Your Woof


Sam was running his usual route one morning when a flash of gold shot past. He didn't think too much of it until it shot past him the third time, just a bit slower. He grinned, picking up his pace a little. "So you're lapping me, are you?"

The dog--a big yellow retriever, it looked like--slowed down and trotted back. It circled him and barked before dashing off again, making Sam laugh out loud. "Oh, it's on!" he shouted, and sprinted after the waving tail. He managed another lap before collapsing under a tree, trying to breathe and laugh at the same time as the big yellow dog ran up, barking and prancing.

"No way, man. You win. I got nothing left to chase you with."

The dog lay down next to him, panting. He nosed at Sam's shin and sniffed at the fingers Sam cautiously offered, then flopped over on his side and closed his eyes as Sam scratched him behind the ear. "I think there's a water fountain over there," Sam said, easing up to stand. "Do you want a drink?"

The dog was on his feet in a second, and he bounded off in the right direction, then paused to bark at Sam. "Okay, okay, wonder dog. I can see you don't run out of energy like us mere humans."

Wonderdog bounced around him as he walked over to the water fountain. It had a low metal tray at the bottom for dogs to drink from, and Sam filled it with fresh water. The dog shook his head, spraying drops everywhere, and then nudged Sam's hand.

"Time for me to head home, fella," Sam said reluctantly. He gave the dog a last pat. "It's been fun."

He left the park wondering if maybe he should get a dog, when he realized he still kind of had one. The big yellow doof kept following, despite Sam doing his best to ignore him. When they reached Sam's car, the dog sat expectantly by the passenger door.

"Don't you have a home to go to?" Sam had noticed the lack of a collar, but the dog didn't appear to be malnourished or injured. And while he'd gone up to other people in the park, he'd kept returning to Sam.

"Okay," said Sam, making a decision. "There's a vet not too far from my place. We can go there and see if you've got a chip in you, or if you're listed as missing." He took the answering bark for agreement and opened the rear door, and the dog shot into the car, leaping straight over into the front seat and nosing down into the footwell. Sam shook his head and slammed the door before getting in himself. "Those Dorito crumbs have got to be stale. Have to be pretty desperate to eat those."

The vet turned out to be a redhead with a stare that would wilt most of the NCOs Sam had ever met and a nametag that read Dr. Natasha Romanov. She listened to him fumble his way through the story and then helped him lift the dog onto the examining table and checked him out. Sam made sure to stand where Wonderdog could see him… and give him reproachful glances while the doc took his temperature. She ran a scanner over him but shook her head at the lack of a telltale beep.

"He's not chipped, and he doesn't match any description we have of missing dogs," she said. "We don't have room for him here, but I can give you the address of a shelter you can take him to."

Wonderdog, whom Sam had mentally started calling Steve, sprawled on the exam table and nosed at his hand. Sam scratched his ear gently, careful not to meet eyes; the thought of leaving his new buddy locked up in a cell for who knows how long made his stomach churn.

Dr. Romanov sighed. "Or we can take your details and give you a call if someone comes looking for him." She opened the door leading back to reception and called, "Sharon? Give Mr. Wilson the clueless do-gooder discount."

"Come on, handsome," she said, giving Steve a light smack on the rump, "get down off my table and get out of here. Take your new guy home and house-train him." She winked at Sam, and before he could protest or thank her, she'd disappeared through another door, setting off a cacophony of animal noises.

Steve followed Sam out into reception, where Sam gave Sharon his details and was grilled on the state of his fences (fine, he thought) and whether he'd ever owned a pet before (a goldfish back in grade school). She gave him a stack of pamphlets (Bringing Your New Dog Home, Basic Obedience, Fostering Dogs) and talked to him about food, water and exercise.

"Don't worry about buying any fancy stuff," Sharon said. "He can eat out of any shallow bowl. And if someone claims him, you can bring back any unused food. I do recommend you get a collar and leash, though." She put a rubber chew toy with a rope through it on his growing pile of purchases and pointed him toward a rack filled with a rainbow assortment of harnesses.

Steve seemed to like the blue collar with the reflective silver stars on it, so Sam got the matching leash, even if the idea of making Steve walk neatly alongside of him felt a little weird. They both jumped at a sudden high-pitched grinding noise and turned to see Sharon at a machine in the corner. She shut it down and handed Sam a small silver disc with "Steve" engraved on one side and his mobile number on the other. Sam closed his hand tightly around the disc for a moment, then attached it to the collar.

The bill was... actually a lot less than he'd expected, due to the first item being "Consultation... $0.00."

Sharon just shrugged. "He was a stray when you brought him in. Nat does a lot of pro bono work for the local shelters anyway." She waved off his protests, saying, "You'll have to bring him back in a couple of weeks for vaccinations, and you should get him micro-chipped as well." She knelt down on the floor to fasten the collar round Steve's neck and gave him a big hug, cooing in his ear. Steve bore the attention stoically, and then bounced happily out to the car on the end of his new leash.

And that's how it was.


2.

Sam had kind of accepted he'd be on his own for a while. He knew he had issues, and one of those issues was dealing with stuff by himself rather than laying it on friends or family. But now, unexpectedly, in the best way, he had Steve.

They went running in the mornings. In the evenings they watched TV sprawled out on the couch together, with Steve's head resting on his thigh. Sometimes Steve came into work with him and lay under his desk or hung around meetings, begging for and treats from the vets.

Natasha would appear at their door from time to time with a pig's ear for Steve and a six-pack and DVD to share with Sam. She kept prodding Sam to register the two of them as a therapy animal team, when she wasn't trying to set him up with one of her other clients.

The months passed until Sam couldn't remember a time when Steve hadn't been around, with his doggy breath and endlessly upbeat attitude, eating him out of house and home. It was good to have a friend again, someone who meshed with you while at the same time opening your horizons. Sam had maybe gotten lazy about pushing himself, but with Steve there, he ran further every day; and Steve was so friendly that Sam found himself talking to people outside of work--dog stuff mainly, but that was cool, too. His life it was so much better with Steve in it.


3.

They were running one of the jogging paths along the Potomac one morning when Steve shot into the bushes, barking wildly. Sam thought he'd flushed out a rabbit, but then he heard a strange growl. Not a rabbit.

"Steve, get out of there," he shouted, and Steve shot out, still barking, circled Sam like a mad thing and then dashed back into the bushes, eliciting another growl from whatever he'd found. He reappeared a moment later, and behind him, hovering at the edge of the bushes, was a large, dark-colored dog that looked a lot like a military working dog.

"Who've you found there?" Sam asked. Steve barked, lowering the front of his body with his haunches high in the air, tail waving. The strange dog edged forward, eyeing them both cautiously and then retreating into the bushes as Steve bounced forward to sniff him excitedly.

"Easy, fella." Sam said to the strange dog, keeping his voice quiet and his movements slow. "Looks like your welcome is a bit more than he's used to, buddy." Steve whined and trotted back to sit at Sam’s feet. The stranger edged forward again. Its hips stuck out, and its fur was matted. It seemed to be favoring its left leg.

Steve whined again, and Sam stroked him reassuringly, before crouching to hold out his hand for the stranger to sniff. The stranger backed off again with a funny kind of half-growl that sounded for all the world like a question.

"It's okay, fella. You can trust us." Sam stood slowly, and took a few steps back along the path. Steve stood waiting, but trotted to his side at Sam's quiet urging. A sideways glance showed the new dog was shadowing them.

"Okay, buddy, we can see if he'll come visit Natasha with us. But don't get any ideas about getting a new roommate, and no more picking up strays."

Steve wuffed, obviously confident of his ability to win Sam over, and promising nothing of the kind.