[Despite his resistance to the idea, Bucky could tell the exact moment he knew this would be a throw-down fight. Steve not only sat up straight, but set those narrow shoulders and wore the most determined stubborn expression that he had ever seen. He could appreciate its appearance as much in wolf form as he could in human, and his hackles rose in reply to the sight of it. His tail wagged slowly back and forth, turning himself so that he presented his massive side in an effort to instinctively appear bigger than he was. He outweighed Steve by double easily, and yet the blond was still the greater threat in his mind.
It wasn't that he hadn't entertained the idea after all. It had come and gone on more than one occasion when the blond's thin legs clung to his sides as he loped along game trails or through open fields. He often thought of how exhilarating it would be to have another wolf running alongside him, their shoulders bumping, paws raking up the grass, the world laid out around them as if for their taking.
He had almost suggested it, but a part of him knew the struggle that came with a change even for one who was able-bodied. He had read legends of werewolves, angry and vengeful at humans, who had turned their teeth on them for the simple purpose of killing them with the change. Their bodies literally ripped themselves apart, unable to handle the strain. He couldn't do that to Steve, wouldn't risk his packmate and best friend on that possibility. Steve was all that he had and without the blond, there was no reason to stay in the city, and he was old enough where he had no doubt that finding a pack would be difficult. Steve was his pack; he wanted no one else. They had been together too long for him to consider anyone else.
He curled his lips in another snarl. Steve could argue reasonably, but his friend so often discounted the danger. It wasn't because Steve had a death wish but because the other man had been through so much already.] You are never happy unless you're fighting something, pal. Disease, bullies, a war... have you even thought about what would happen if you were able-bodied like this?
[Despite himself, he kept his distance when normally he would be all up in Steve's face, headbutting and nudging his friend. Here, the conversation was too serious for that and he felt the urge to simply give in as an undercurrent. Steve might not be afraid, but Bucky was. Steve was all that he had.]
I promised you when I was a puppy and you took me that I would be with you until the very end. I don't plan on changing that.
[He whined and turned in a circle, which was awkward given how small a space he inhabited so far away from Steve.]
You are all I have, and if I lose you... especially because of something I did... God Steve, I don't know if I could live with it. You're my best friend, my pack.
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It wasn't that he hadn't entertained the idea after all. It had come and gone on more than one occasion when the blond's thin legs clung to his sides as he loped along game trails or through open fields. He often thought of how exhilarating it would be to have another wolf running alongside him, their shoulders bumping, paws raking up the grass, the world laid out around them as if for their taking.
He had almost suggested it, but a part of him knew the struggle that came with a change even for one who was able-bodied. He had read legends of werewolves, angry and vengeful at humans, who had turned their teeth on them for the simple purpose of killing them with the change. Their bodies literally ripped themselves apart, unable to handle the strain. He couldn't do that to Steve, wouldn't risk his packmate and best friend on that possibility. Steve was all that he had and without the blond, there was no reason to stay in the city, and he was old enough where he had no doubt that finding a pack would be difficult. Steve was his pack; he wanted no one else. They had been together too long for him to consider anyone else.
He curled his lips in another snarl. Steve could argue reasonably, but his friend so often discounted the danger. It wasn't because Steve had a death wish but because the other man had been through so much already.] You are never happy unless you're fighting something, pal. Disease, bullies, a war... have you even thought about what would happen if you were able-bodied like this?
[Despite himself, he kept his distance when normally he would be all up in Steve's face, headbutting and nudging his friend. Here, the conversation was too serious for that and he felt the urge to simply give in as an undercurrent. Steve might not be afraid, but Bucky was. Steve was all that he had.]
I promised you when I was a puppy and you took me that I would be with you until the very end. I don't plan on changing that.
[He whined and turned in a circle, which was awkward given how small a space he inhabited so far away from Steve.]
You are all I have, and if I lose you... especially because of something I did... God Steve, I don't know if I could live with it. You're my best friend, my pack.