Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

Homecoming

There is no feeling like this; coming home and having this waiting for you...what else could a girl want?

Prompt: Coming home to an eager puppy

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Warnings: practically zero plot,maybe some bitching about work and then just fluff and more fluff

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Homecoming

You whimpered, muttering profanities as you finally reached the top of the stairs, dropping the suitcase on the floor with a thud, grateful that the wheels would be of use at last. You had climbed three floors up with that thing, because the elevator was out of service; because that was just your luck.

Your feet were aching just like your calves from wearing nothing but high heels for almost two days straight, your Converse doing nothing for you now as it was too late to make up for the time spent in the pumps. The conference few towns over was almost nice, but too luxurious as always; your boss had claim to need you there (he didn't) and had required you to look presentable and a head taller than him just so rich people could admire his choice of assistant (they didn't care and those who did made you nauseous).

You really needed to change jobs once an opportunity would rise, before you lost your sanity and missed out on too many things in your life.

You sighed and dragged your feet towards your apartment, a brief smile flashing on your lips as you passed 3A, the home of your acquaintance/friend Clint. A muffled bark greeted you from behind the closed door and you hummed a sleepy "Hi, Lucky" in that direction before continuing your path.

You were worn to a bone; your body felt like made of lead, sticky after travelling, your hair was probably a mess and your breathing was heavy after the almost-midnight workout consisting of walking the stairs while lifting weights.

Yet, contentment slowly lifted your spirits as you reached your door and slid the key to the lock. Furious scratching of nails and quick rhythmic tapping on a bamboo flooring welcomed you along with an enthusiastic bark and you were done for, the widest smile spreading on your lips when you were reminded just what was waiting for you in your home.

You barely managed to open the door for a slit when a pair paws – one tawny and one white, pushed through, raking with vigour to get to you. You chuckled as you carefully opened some more and slid in, your leg already being bounced on, barks echoing through the apartment as your 10-month-old furball couldn't but express his excitement.

"Shh, shh-" you whispered, though the giant grin stayed on your face as you manoeuvred your suitcase into the hall and closed the door and finally, finally crouched to give your favourite boy the greeting he deserved.

The moment you got your hands on him, your heart sang, fluttering in your chest. He was such a sweet baby and not for the first time, you wondered how his previous owners could give him up.

It probably had something to do with the fact that they wanted a damn guard dog – straight away, no less – and didn't appreciate the love the puppy, a tawny-coloured Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, had been showering them with.

They had called him Fury, for God's sake. Who does that? He was the cutest thing you had ever seen, a puppy so full of energy and affection that you had been helpless against his charm, falling in love instantly, secretly renaming him despite not changing a thing in his papers. No Fury. Furball. Your adorable loveable ball of fur, tawny, but with a line of white fur on his head and a patch on his chest and looking like he had lost a tiny white sock from his left back and right front leg.