Prompt Post #1

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FILL: Shifted (14/?)

[(Anonymous)]

“Yes!” Peter shouted, pumping a fist in the air. The husky beside him barked happily, giving him a lopsided grin as his tail wagged.

“Rules!” Aunt May said sharply, cutting him off. “Listen to the rules before you celebrate!”

“Rules, right. Listening.”

Peter tried to tone down his smile as his aunt held up a hand, counting off on her fingers.

“You are responsible. That means you get to feed him, walk him, clean up after him, and pay for vet bills and food and any other supplies he needs-“

“Yep! Understood!”

“Training!” she snapped, pointing to the floor in front of her as Peter turned to walk away, and he slunk back with a sheepish smile. “I do not want him making a mess inside, or barking at all hours of the night, or tearing up the furniture. And there will be no begging for table scraps!”

“Yes, Aunt May.”

“Messes. You will bathe him if he gets dirty, you will brush him so he doesn’t shed on everything, you will not allow him to track mud into the house, and if I find any dead animals on he front doorstep, he’s out. Got it?”

“Got it, Aunt May.”

“Finally, I want to know a little bit about this dog if it’s going to be living here. First off, what’s with the metal leg?”

“Oh, he was…uh…attacked by a panther. In Germany. And lost a leg. Mr. Stark made him a new one. Isn’t it cool? It’s waterproof and everything!”

Aunt May raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief but let it slide.

“Is he a purebred?”

“Yep, Siberian Husky.”

“Has he gotten all of his shots? Has he been fixed?”

“Shots, yes. Fixed…uh…”

If he didn’t know better, Peter would have sword that Bucky raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m…uh…not allowed to fix him. Cause he’s purebred and all. Something about breeders needing him to…uh…father more pups.”

The husky at his side snorted, and Peter resisted prodding Bucky with a foot to shut him up.

“And what is his name?”

“His name…uh…his name is…Bucky.”

“…Bucky.” Aunt May repeated in a deadpan, one eyebrow raised. “Like the Winter Soldier?”

“Yes! Cause of the metal arm…leg…thing…Mr. Stark thought it was funny to…to name him…Bucky. It’ll be Buck for short,” Peter shrugged in sheepish defeat. Aunt May stared long and hard at Peter for another moment, and he smiled winningly up at her as Bucky wagged his tail.

“Fine,” she sighed, waving them out of the room. “Go figure out where Bucky is going to sleep.”

Peter let out a whoop, giving his aunt a big hug before running for his bedroom, shouting “come on, Bucky!”

The dog trailed after him, tail wagging and collar jingling merrily with each trotted step.