TB2020 – The Dog Father

Title: The Dog Father
Author: Saydria Wolfe
Fandom: MCU
Genre: AU
Relationships: pre-Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, background-Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Author’s Notes: Thanks to PN for inspiring the subversion of the typical trope. I love it and you are a genius. And look! It’s dude Clint! Aren’t you surprised?!? And thank you to my brother for helping me with the art. I love it. That is his doggo playing the part of Lucky!
Challenge: Just Write Trope Bingo, Square: Pregnancy
Beta: PN Ztivokreb
Word Count: 1,656
Summary: How did they end up getting together via text message at the Vet’s office, Bucky would never know, but he had the feeling he would always be grateful.


Banner by Fen


“Dude,” Bucky said as he watched Clint’s dog waddle his way across Stark’s penthouse. “I think your dog’s pregnant.”

“Lucky’s a boy,” Clint said without even looking away from his video game. “Boys don’t get pregnant.”

“Some boys do!” Tony called from the breakfast nook.

“Only boys with uteruses!” Clint countered, still not looking away from his game. “Dogs don’t work that way!”

“Clint, look.” Bucky took Clint’s head between his hands and gently turned it to face his dog. The dog’s stomach was big enough that he was sitting awkwardly. It did nothing to hide the growth in the dog’s tummy region.

“That’s…not too much pizza is it?” Clint tried.

“Not so much.”

“But the vet at the rescue said he was a boy!” Clint damn-near wailed.

“Who knows, Clint,” Steve smiled while keeping his focus on his sketch pad. “Maybe your dog is an alien?”

Clint just stared wide-eyed at his dog while his pixelated avatar got torn to pieces by a dinosaur. Bucky thought Clint had been playing some game about car theft, but he’d learned not to question these things. One time, Clint ended up the target of an Army manhunt in a fishing simulator.

“You need to take him to the vet,” Bucky told him firmly.

“I need to take him to the vet,” Clint repeated in a daze.

“You have an appointment at 10:30,” Tony volunteered between sips of coffee. “Bucky, take the Rover. The address is already programmed in the GPS.”

Bucky pushed on Clint and the archer rocked but turned to focus on him. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright,” Clint stood. “Lucky,” he whistled a few times. “Let’s go, Lucky.”

The dog barked and didn’t jump like he usually would, more like he just bobbed.

Bucky caught up to Clint and Lucky in the elevator and said, “Clint’s floor, please, JARVIS,” before Clint could speak up.

“Pretty sure the Rover isn’t in my room, Buck-o.”

“Pretty sure your pants are.” Bucky looked pointedly down Clint’s boxer shorts—light purple with darker purple hearts on them—bare legs and holey socks.

“My legs are great,” Clint defended himself.

“Your legs are great,” Bucky agreed. “But that hole on your ass could put you in jail for indecent exposure.”

“Is it really indecent exposure when you’ve got an ass like mine?” Clint teased. “I work out, you know.”

“Put on some fucking pants!” The elevator dinged and Bucky shooed Hawkeye towards his rooms.

“Alright, but only because you insist.”

“You fucking mook,” Bucky muttered as he leaned against the back wall of the lift car. Lucky settled against his leg with a huff that sounded like agreement.

Why was he attracted to this man again? Clearly, he had no fucking taste.

The GPS in the Rover took them through the drive thru of a Starbucks—proving clearly that Tony Stark was the best friend a pair of under-caffeinated marksmen could have—and still got them to the vet of choice on time. Bucky hadn’t known there was such a thing as an upscale veterinarian, but Stark had found them one.

Rather than the clutter and the excess of animal noises, they walked into a clean and quiet and gleaming and clean office. Where no one was waiting. It was nerve wracking.

“Hey,” Clint touched the back of Bucky’s clenched fist and Bucky realized it was balled into a fist. “If you want to wait in the car, that’s okay.”

“I—” he started to demure, but Clint shot him a look.


“Yeah, I— I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to talk about his past as an animal in a cage. As Hydra’s leashed dog. He didn’t and he knew Clint wouldn’t make him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Clint gave him a small smile. “I can see how this could remind you of bad things. Hell, it reminds me of SHIELD medical, so I expect you to text me every two minutes and if you don’t get a response at least every five, you better come rescue me.”

“I can do that,” Bucky agreed.

Clint glared like he wasn’t convinced. “Guns blazing and everything. I mean it.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “The Rover has a hidden weapons cache, that’s why Tony always pushes it on me. He keeps it stocked for me.”

“He doesn’t keep a car stocked for me!” Clint protested.

“A car? No. Your vehicle’s a Quinjet. Pretty sure I’m jealous.”

“Well, I am his favorite,” Cling grinned. “Baselines gotta stick together.”

“Pretty sure Rhodes is his favorite,” Bucky disagreed. “He got a fully armored, robotic suit.”

“Nah,” Clint shook his head. “I didn’t want a suit. Limited my vision too much.”

“He let you try one?” Bucky demanded.

“Aren’t you supposed be waiting in the car?” Clint asked innocently.

“Clint,” Bucky said sharply, “do not fuck with me. He let you try a suit?”

“Bucky, I’m going to be late.” The archer smirked and turned away from him.


“Have fun in the car!” Clint called as he bellied up to the reception desk.

“Goddammit,” Bucky muttered to himself and turned to the door. He could not believe—! No, of course Stark had tried to suit up the other baseline. Of course, he did. The mechanic had to be aware of how much more fragile he and Clint were than the rest of them, especially since he started dating Steve.

He’d just gotten comfortable in his driver’s seat when his text notification went off.

This place has a maternity ward. Clint’s text said. What kind of vet clinic has a freaking maternity ward?

Before he could tap in a response another message came.

I feel like I just jumped into a Pepto-Bismol lake. Holy pinkness, Batman.

Bucky had barely responded with a Lol when another message came through. So much for two minutes/five minutes.

The vet tech thinks Lucky isn’t completely Golden Retriever. She says he’s maybe part Husky.

What made her say that? He sent back.

Something about his fur? I don’t know what’s different.

We can find a breeder and pet some puppies? Bucky offered.

Fuck yeah, dogs! Was Clint’s articulate reply.

That was why he was interested in Clint, though. His pure, honest enthusiasm. His endearing adoration of dogs was so…compelling. Bucky wanted to see if it transferred to other interests.

She just asked me if I ever saw a dog mount Lucky. Clint sent.

I told her I thought being the bottom ran in the family. Followed quickly and Bucky’s metal hand nearly crushed the Venti Caramel Frap no whip that Clint had ordered for him.

I can hear her laughing through the wall. It’s not that funny.

Not funny, really, but interesting. Bucky sent. As soon as he hit the little paper airplane button, dread coiled in his gut.

My dog being a bottom is interesting?

Bucky nearly facepalmed. Not your dog, no.

The little text at the top of the app said “Hawkguy is typing…” and cleared several times before he finally received a message from Clint. Is this you finally making a move?

Was I being subtle? Bucky squeezed his eyes closed, not sure he wanted an answer to that question. God knew the Winter Soldier was by no means subtle, but Bucky was trying not to be him anymore.

I’m kinda surprised you can spell that word.

Fuck you, Hawkguy. Was his immediate response.

Then. If I’m so not subtle, why didn’t you do something about it?

Momma said a lady never chases her man.

Bucky snorted. You’re not a lady.

Good point! Beer and Wings? The Bartender at Jake’s lets me bring Lucky inside.

Bucky blinked down at his phone. Was…was it really that easy to get a date with another man?

Sure? he tried.

…is this just a sex thing? Not a dating thing? Clint asked in one message. Then in the next, he said, Not that I’m opposed to a sex thing. I’d just like to know up front.

No, not just a sex thing, Bucky admitted.


I didn’t think it would be that easy to ask someone out? Bucky offered. A fella, I mean.

Oh. Clint sent. Yeah, it’s easy AF.

There’s even an app just for gay hookups. I haven’t tried it. With my luck I’d end up with a psycho.

Considering Clint had managed to find a T-Rex in Grand Theft Auto just that morning, Bucky was pretty sure that was a good idea.

I’ll start Googling breeders and see if one will let us swing by. Bucky offered.

Good call! Clint agreed. Tomorrow though. It can be date number two.

Just to be clear, I don’t put out until the fifth date. Bucky teased, knowing full well that if Clint wanted him, Clint had him.

Ooooh, a proper lady! Clint sent back. Don’t worry, I’m up for your barbaric 1940s courting. I heard all about it from Tony.

Bucky groaned. Do not tell me anything about that. Sheesh.

Why not? Tony’s hot AF.

Steve is my brother! Bucky objected.

Valid. Clint conceded. Makes it easier to surprise you if you don’t know my playbook, anyway.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Like I’m that hard to get anyway.

You are very hard to get, I’ll have to know.

Very hard.

Very, very hard.

Bucky had to laugh. He was back to wondering why he found this man attractive, seriously.

If you say anything along the lines of “hard like me” I’m taking the car and going home.

Dammit. Clint sent. Then. Come on, man, who would do that to a knocked-up dog? Making him walk home? That’s messed up!

Well, if it’s for the dog…

You’re the best! Clint sent with a gif of an awkward little man doing a fist-pump. Ultrasound time!

Yeah, yeah. You still owe me chicken wings.

Oh, I’ll give you some chicken alright.

Bucky put a hand over his face and laughed. At least whatever this was would never be boring.

Back to Bingo Page.


  1. OMFG!!!!! *cackle* I did NOT need to be thinking about Bucky… Clint… and the term chicken hawk! Bwaaaahaaahaaa. Thank you for the Thursday afternoon laugh!!! *Hugs* You’re the bestest!

  2. OMG adorable. I laughed out loud and annoyed the cat, who promptly bit me and flounced off in a huff.

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