[The bite and blood found the twisted vertebrae that made up his spine and snapped them into the sort of alignment no doctor had ever been seen the worth in trying to accomplished. Steve screamed, ragged, angry and frustrated because he couldn't. He scrambled at Bucky's chest, blunt nails scratching ineffectively raking down and trying to find something to hold as Bucky forced more blood into him. His body took it greedily, spreading down to his heart and lungs which both heaved. The high-pitched noises coming from his throat stuttering out as the change started taking over more of him.
It was trying to fix what was weakest but Steve struggled against it, a lifetime of fighting to keep breathing warring against what Bucky was telling him to do. If he didn't will his heart to keep beating it'd take the excuse and never start again. If he didn't force his lungs to keep drawing in air, they'd just give up. What kept him around was an iron-will wrapping into a shoestring compromise. There was too much for it to fix-- He wouldn't--
Steve felt his heart stop more than once and he lost track of time, lying there trapped in his own body with Bucky's arms keeping him still. He wheezed and choked, his chest struggling through the worst attack he could ever remember having. It was like all of Bucky in his wolf form was sitting on his chest. He kept trying until his mind latched back onto Bucky's urging and confirmed wordlessly that he really was dying. He was dying and he was going to leave Bucky alone, break what he swore to him.
That was scarier than any of the pain.
Giving in to the change took all of his strength. He let himself stop trying to force another breath or keep pushing blood through his lungs. He let Bucky's blood sweep through after sear of the bite. Steve went quiet, lolling against his best friend's chest pleading over and over in his head until his organs turned over and he coughed, sucking in air.
He shoved himself away from Bucky moments later, leaving a blooming red swipe from suddenly sharp-tipped fingers in his efforts. His eyes flashed blue, sharper and glowing. It needed space. He needed room. Everything was pushing out but it all hurt in a different way than before. He couldn't keep from crying out when his bones snapped or his muscles swelled. He shuddered at the ripple of fur flowing over his skin, everything in his entire being pushing over to become different.
The end result was a pale tawny-blonde wolf at least the same size as Bucky's panting heavily on the ground, twitching at the sudden overload of dirtsweatpainwoodsgrassBuckypackhomeairsweet hitting his mind.
He whined, calling out for the packmate he knew was nearby.]
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It was trying to fix what was weakest but Steve struggled against it, a lifetime of fighting to keep breathing warring against what Bucky was telling him to do. If he didn't will his heart to keep beating it'd take the excuse and never start again. If he didn't force his lungs to keep drawing in air, they'd just give up. What kept him around was an iron-will wrapping into a shoestring compromise. There was too much for it to fix-- He wouldn't--
Steve felt his heart stop more than once and he lost track of time, lying there trapped in his own body with Bucky's arms keeping him still. He wheezed and choked, his chest struggling through the worst attack he could ever remember having. It was like all of Bucky in his wolf form was sitting on his chest. He kept trying until his mind latched back onto Bucky's urging and confirmed wordlessly that he really was dying. He was dying and he was going to leave Bucky alone, break what he swore to him.
That was scarier than any of the pain.
Giving in to the change took all of his strength. He let himself stop trying to force another breath or keep pushing blood through his lungs. He let Bucky's blood sweep through after sear of the bite. Steve went quiet, lolling against his best friend's chest pleading over and over in his head until his organs turned over and he coughed, sucking in air.
He shoved himself away from Bucky moments later, leaving a blooming red swipe from suddenly sharp-tipped fingers in his efforts. His eyes flashed blue, sharper and glowing. It needed space. He needed room. Everything was pushing out but it all hurt in a different way than before. He couldn't keep from crying out when his bones snapped or his muscles swelled. He shuddered at the ripple of fur flowing over his skin, everything in his entire being pushing over to become different.
The end result was a pale tawny-blonde wolf at least the same size as Bucky's panting heavily on the ground, twitching at the sudden overload of dirtsweatpainwoodsgrassBuckypackhomeairsweet hitting his mind.
He whined, calling out for the packmate he knew was nearby.]