Tell me your thoughts on Steve and pets? XD

portraitoftheoddity:

Steve always wanted a pet, but couldn’t have any growing up; his mother said it was because their dander aggravated his asthma, but he suspected it was because they really couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. Still, he was the sort of boy who would sneak scraps to neighborhood strays, and probably got in more than one fight trying to stop boys on his block from tormenting feral cats. 

He and Bucky joked that the rats in their apartment where they lived together in their 20s were practically family. They didn’t need to feed them; they pretty much helped themselves. But when Steve was bedridden for days with Bucky out of the apartment and working, he found himself talking to the scratching in the walls more than once.

During the war, the Howlies accidentally adopted a dog at one point. A mangy, scrappy looking thing in a bombed out city near the Belgian border that Dum Dum made the mistake of feeding, and which became their unofficial mascot for a few weeks as it tagged along after them (“He’s cuter than you, Rogers, sorry,” Bucky would tease). Only then the Howlies had to go into combat behind enemy lines, and when the poor dog tried to follow, they had to resort to throwing dirt clods and rocks at it until it ran off in the other direction. They all agreed it was necessary – the poor damn thing would get shot and killed where they were going – but more than a few of them had lumps in their throats as they silently trekked on, occasionally glancing over their shoulders.

Steve avoided anything close to a pet for a while after that.

He doesn’t get a pet in the 21st century, dismissing the idea when Natasha suggests it. He keep telling himself there’s no point in adding yet another presence in his life that he’s going to outlive and lose and be heartbroken by.

But when one day, he hears a pitiful, whining whimper coming from an alleyway, well. 

Steve Rogers can’t really help himself, can he?

The puppy is scruffy and underfed and probably has fleas. Steve pulls off his hoodie and wraps it up in it anyway, taking it to a local animal clinic. When they tell him the puppy has no tags and no microchip and needs a home once it has all its shots, he’s on the verge of leaving them to it. But then it looks up at him with big dark eyes, and something inside him crumples.

Steve has outlived everyone and everything he’s ever cared about. But that doesn’t mean he’d trade away a second he had with them. They helped make him into the person he is. And that’s someone who doesn’t turn his back on those who need him.

–

He names the puppy Scout.