Chapter Text
“Stark.” He stopped in front of the other man and folded his arms over his chest. Immediately, he unfolded them, remembering their conversation on being less 'murder-y.'
“I’m coming; I’m coming. I just need to finish this one thing and then we can go,” Stark declared, waving distractedly at him from his perch on the couch.
“Why is there a squirrel eating a peanut in our bed?”
“Where else would he sleep?”
“Outside.”
“It’s cold outside.”
“That’s why they have fur.”
“He hurt his foot.”
“That’s why they have two feet.”
“You’re so uncaring. Little Bucky needs our help—he fell from the birdfeeder, you know!”
“Let me get this straight, I can’t get a dog but you can have a sq—wait, did you just say Bucky?!”
“That’s his name!”
“That cannot be his name!”
“He already agreed to it.”
“Squirrels cannot agree to names, Tony.”
“Bucky’s smart. He totally can.”
“You’re not naming him Bucky.”
“I’ve already made a plaque and everything,” he huffed, waving at the hologram in front of him where ‘Bucky’ was written like one would ‘Fido’ over a miniature, overly-detailed version of their tower.
“That’s what you’re working on?!”
“Well, how else will Bucky know where he lives?!”
“You’re not making him a house, we’re not keeping him, and his name is definitely not Bucky!”
“Fine. You tell Bucky he has to go back outside.”
“I will.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
God dammit. Squirrels better be able to learn how to fetch. (kill, don't tell Stark)