[Steve was thinking about sleeping in their forms more than shifting back. He followed Bucky for one more round after his packmate (his packmate, honest to God) had finished with the jerky and had all his fur smoothed back down into place by Steve's tongue. At the declaration that he'd have to shift back, Steve sat down on his back legs. His head dipped.
He didn't whine loudly but he made a little sound, staring at the ground while he listened to Bucky's instructions. He remembered all those times he woke up with a cold nose against his cheek or Bucky already gone ahead with shifting back. He'd jostle him awake with his hands -- usually in the middle of getting dressed again. They went along with blending into the herd of men heading into the city for a long day's work in the predawn. Few raised interest past a glancing look. Everyone dozed.]
Feels like I just got done changing.
[The desire to simply stay and sleep through the day until the could play again all night again was plain in his eyes when he looked back up. He wanted to just keep running, to wait until what prey they forest could offer finally came back out under the false security of them no longer making a racket. He wanted to find somewhere earthen, hollowed that he could curl up with Bucky within. His human concerns were there. There was war there was needing to serve that helped push him to make Bucky give him that bite.
He wasn't sure how he'd look once he was human again. None of the creeks they drank from were placid or clear enough to show his reflect. All he had to go on was his size against Bucky's and how big his shadow was in the moonlight. Would he still be the same height as before? Would the shift fix his lungs when he was human, not just a wolf? It'd be his luck to get stuck with that.
Steve stared down at his paws and thought about hands as much as he hoped shifting back wouldn't hurt as much as the first change had. Nothing budged.
He snorted, ears flicking. The next attempt didn't go much better, causing Steve to peel off and pace down the width of the clearing before coming back and shutting his eyes. Fingers and toes His hands holding paintbrushes, pulling up the slip of his suspenders. He thought about sitting with book in his lap. He thought I wouldn't complain about being a little taller-
He got close to the point of feeling that skin-prickling potential for change more times that he'd like. It took swallowing his impatience at having Bucky watch him down and throw everything into that fleeting moment before it disappeared to make it take. It hurt. Briefly. A wash of agony, like ten-thousand bee stings there and then gone in a hot flash.
Goosebumps rippled over his bare skin, no longer protected from the wind with fur. Steve panted, trying to shake off the alarmed echo of his mind at the sudden change in form. His fingers tightened into the plush of grass and crushed under his knees. He opened one eye then the other, staring down at his hands.
His hands that'd always been too big for his body but now there was dirt under his nails and his palms spread a lot more than they'd ever-]
no subject
He didn't whine loudly but he made a little sound, staring at the ground while he listened to Bucky's instructions. He remembered all those times he woke up with a cold nose against his cheek or Bucky already gone ahead with shifting back. He'd jostle him awake with his hands -- usually in the middle of getting dressed again. They went along with blending into the herd of men heading into the city for a long day's work in the predawn. Few raised interest past a glancing look. Everyone dozed.]
Feels like I just got done changing.
[The desire to simply stay and sleep through the day until the could play again all night again was plain in his eyes when he looked back up. He wanted to just keep running, to wait until what prey they forest could offer finally came back out under the false security of them no longer making a racket. He wanted to find somewhere earthen, hollowed that he could curl up with Bucky within. His human concerns were there. There was war there was needing to serve that helped push him to make Bucky give him that bite.
He wasn't sure how he'd look once he was human again. None of the creeks they drank from were placid or clear enough to show his reflect. All he had to go on was his size against Bucky's and how big his shadow was in the moonlight. Would he still be the same height as before? Would the shift fix his lungs when he was human, not just a wolf? It'd be his luck to get stuck with that.
Steve stared down at his paws and thought about hands as much as he hoped shifting back wouldn't hurt as much as the first change had. Nothing budged.
He snorted, ears flicking. The next attempt didn't go much better, causing Steve to peel off and pace down the width of the clearing before coming back and shutting his eyes. Fingers and toes His hands holding paintbrushes, pulling up the slip of his suspenders. He thought about sitting with book in his lap. He thought I wouldn't complain about being a little taller-
He got close to the point of feeling that skin-prickling potential for change more times that he'd like. It took swallowing his impatience at having Bucky watch him down and throw everything into that fleeting moment before it disappeared to make it take. It hurt. Briefly. A wash of agony, like ten-thousand bee stings there and then gone in a hot flash.
Goosebumps rippled over his bare skin, no longer protected from the wind with fur. Steve panted, trying to shake off the alarmed echo of his mind at the sudden change in form. His fingers tightened into the plush of grass and crushed under his knees. He opened one eye then the other, staring down at his hands.
His hands that'd always been too big for his body but now there was dirt under his nails and his palms spread a lot more than they'd ever-]
Bucky? Am I seeing this right?