Just another woofs AU

[nonfrangible]

Who: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
When: When Bucky is recruited
What: Giant werewolf is brow-beat by a fiesty little human best friend to bite on the full moon so that Steve can also join the war effort.
Warnings: TBA


[When he had been a puppy, he had been found cold, wet and abandoned by a pack on the run. The rain had been heavy the last few days, and he soft whining had attracted nothing in the way of help. Close to the orphanage and in a time when so many children were being left under government care, he had been found by a small blond boy. Inside that thread-bear jacket, against ribs that protruded too much and with a wheeze to he breath that was not his own, he had been made to feel welcome, to give up the crying whines of a pup and settle close to the new source of warmth.

Wolves of their specific kind learned to change early, usually be some mistake. He had learned with a particularly fierce sneeze, shifting from wolf pup to boy. He had no been rejected and instead had been taken to the orphanage where he learned to suppress some of his wolfish urges and take on the human ones. It was necessary for survival, but also it allowed him to be close to his best friend who needed constant minding or would be neck-deep in trouble at all hours of the day.

Steve Rogers was a fierce creature, all biting wit, knobby elbows and a cough that could bowl the other boy over. Years didn't put much in the way of weight or height on Steve, but that burning life could not be snuffed out despite many close calls. When Steve was confined to be alone, he had made certain to sneak into the room, pad over on four paws - immune to human disease - and settle in to keep his best friend warm. It was the wolf instinct, he supposed, as he needed to protect pack. Steve was as close as he thought to come.

There weren't many wolves in the big city, but their paths beyond it were clear. Once a month on the full moon, he was required to change and his dark coat gave him certain privileges when skirting the city streets and keen eyed strangers. A big dog they would say, and that was fine until he hit puberty and then big dog turned into a massive animal, long sleek black fur around his neck and the middle of his back. Always once a month he would run, and if Steve was well enough (and usually when the blond wasn't), he would take them from the city so that Steve could cling to his back as he loped through the lands beyond the press of the city. They had freedom there, a way to watch the stars, to hunt down rabbits in the bushes, to be nothing more or less than pack.

The years had been good to them. He learned to be a wolf. Steve learned to fight the limitations of body and society. It was good years filled with fighting in the streets, fighting in alleys and behind diners. Steve almost always started those fights, but he would never allow his friend to fight alone regardless of the odds.

The war came, and Steve wanted to join and it was the first fissure of their relationship. What was a human war to someone like him, one where the bullets of men couldn't hurt him, the political leans of people far beyond their station dictated who they would send overseas. It was the first time he had a distinct lack of interest in human affairs, but Steve was gamely and set on joining, on proving that all men had a right to serve. He couldn't help it; he was inspired. Steve always managed that in him.

He'd taught his best friend and human packmate how to punch, to box specifically. Teeth and claw were not fit for the trials of war, and Steve had none of those weapons. So they fought for a week, and while he said nothing of what the outcome would be, he followed Steve into the recruitment station. He, fit and able-bodied, James "Bucky" Barnes was taken for human war while Steve Rogers was rejected. It was survival of the fittest out there, and he expected to simply become a wolf and walk away from it all. Why should he fight when Steve was the one who had to go, to prove something to everyone and do right by the blond's own sense of justice?

Bucky hadn't thought about it much, thought about how he was much too big to be lounging on the narrow bed that Steve owned, how it creaked under his weight. He was on his back, all four paws in the air and rubbing his back on the blankets and listening to the springs protest with a simple sense of joy about it. His mouth hung open, tongue lapping at his lips as he wiggled and flicked his big tail. The bed was not made for him; he slept on the floor and Steve generally on top of him for warmth and comfort, but it was fun to mess the sheets.

The full moon was a few hours away, the dusk just coming about. He had no particular reason to be a wolf, but there was a simple pleasure in it within the confine space of Steve's apartment. Despite the rejection and their previous 'arguments' about him considering refusing to show up for base training, he had managed to badger Steve into agreeing to go for a long run beyond New York. It was easier to do with so many people focused on the war.

He growled playfully as he bit the pillow nearby and shook it as if killing a rabbit. His paws kicked in the air and he finally rolled off the bed, shaking out his massive body and settling the long hair around the back of his neck and down his spine. He yawned, wagging his tail and peered at the blond who was far too quiet and concentrating seriously. That usually meant trouble.

When did Steve Rogers NOT mean trouble?]

Hey pal, you've been awful quiet tonight. It's full moon! We always love the full moon, all that running! I plan on getting a fat coney tonight! Maybe it will put some meat on those ribs of yours.

[It literally took him two massive steps to come up behind Steve and rest his massive head on the back of the blond.]

Come on, cheer up! Rabbit stew!

Comments

[supershouldery]

[It was a wonder that the floor wasn't an indent on the spot next to the chair that Bucky sat himself down at. He ended up there frequently enough, wearing fur or just his human skin -- draped easy with his legs stretched out while Steve dominated the small table that doubled as his work desk. When the sun was up, he got the best light there. Bucky would sit, sometimes shoving his wolf-head into his lap to demand closeness or doing the same with the familiar press of a shoulder against his hip. Steve's hand went out automatically as soon as Bucky's settled, coaxing through fur until what he was asking for drove his best friend back up to his feet and off, pacing.

Determination set in his jaw. He pulled his hand back and rightened up as much as his crooked spine could go, watching Bucky pace their bedroom with a tug of regret on marring this night out of all of them. Full moons were sacred. Whatever was troubling them through the rest of the night was dropped. They didn't spend the time worrying about how much they had until Bucky's next paycheck or how long it'd be until Steve got his next set of commissions, if he should try looking for a steady job instead. They rarely fought honestly, but if any nagging annoyances were still hanging around, the night out and a good run chase the whole lot of them out. Bucky would come back light as a feather, smelling like pine-needles, like earth, like freedom. Steve might not have looked so imbued himself, but he always felt better too. Some of his best work happened in following days.

But this...this was important. This was worth jarring their tradition.]

I figured it'd hurt, Bucky. I'm not scared about that. I'm not scared about it killin' me either. Rather go out like that than some flu, if I get to have a say of it. But it's not like I'm planning on it, either. [He wet his lips, eyes dropping a moment before they came back strong.]

It ain't just enlisting. [No, not really. Though the drive to go and do something -- just anything -- was clamoring in him.] If it isn't the War then it's...it's gonna be something else one of these days. I just know there's going to be something and you're gonna have to go and I won't be able to go with you...

And I don't want that.

[Softer.]

You're all I've got, Buck.

[nonfrangible]

[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.

[supershouldery]

[Bucky dominated the space in their little bedroom even more when he turned himself like. Huge and powerful, definitely a foe even to Steve's human instincts. Yet he found himself only taking a deeper breath like he had much chest of puff up in response. Making himself seem any bigger was impossible but he could reinforce his argument with his body language just as much as Bucky did. He hardly had to think about it.]

'Probably land a few more punches than I've been doing lately.

[It was dry humor. He could hear the hundred thousand of times Bucky had pleaded for him to let something or the other go, to not slog his way right into a fight in his best friend's growling voice. Steve couldn't deny what he was saying as true, he wasn't happy about the state of the world but it felt right not letting it slide right by him unchecked. He was a fighter, all the old nuns said that whether in dismay with his tousled, muddy state coming back from a wild afternoon or checking in on his bedside while he fought another inevitable fever off.

He'd gotten Last Rights twice now and come back from the brink both times.]

You know you would be, Buck, even if that happened. It wouldn't break your promise -- I'm asking you, buddy.

[He sighed, standing up and crossing over the room, the plea etched between his brows.]

How bad is it gonna be? [If Bucky was worried about him rushing into this then he'd listen to everything it'd be.]

[nonfrangible]

[Even despite being in wolf form, he snorted and shook his great head. Of course Steve couldn't take this moment entirely serious because he suspected that deep down, Steve wanted the opportunity to prove them all wrong, to prove that a few more punches counted for more than the rejection at the recruiting station. It was the fact that Steve wanted to land more punches which concerned him, but a bite emphasized everything, not just the physical.

It was why he was so loyal. That was his main trait, enhanced with his wolfish nature. It just so happened that Steve was the one that his loyalty had locked onto, though he never refrained from assisting others in a tight spot either. What would Steve's main trait be? Probably an innate goodness to do the right thing. Or maybe it would be the inability to kick the bucket so to speak. The ever immortal Steve Rogers.

He eyed Steve for a long time, wary and sad because he knew this fight was over before it had even begun. He would do anything for Steve, even the things that Steve never asked for... like a damn good nagging for waging personal war when one wasn't necessary. His ears flicked forward and then laid flat against his head again, a whine leaving him as he turned around again as if searching for a spot to escape to.]

I don't know. I just know... I can, but the details haven't been taught to be. I imagine that the change is agony, that it takes considerable energy and mental fortitude. [He stepped forward as Steve approached, bumping his head into the smaller man's chest.] If you die... James Barnes will cease to exist. I want you to understand that.

[The human aspect of him would disappear, and he would allow himself to be a wolf only. It might be the only way to escape his pain at losing Steve.]

However, if you're going to do something so stupid, I should be there as both witness and so I can wade in to assist. You know you go right off the rails when you get all righteous!

[supershouldery]

[Steve was there, opening his arms and looping them both around Bucky's neck as he padded forward and butted against his chest. He folded him into a hug, gripping tight because he had a good feeling it really wasn't just an escape that Bucky was looking for -- but some sort of assurance. They were making a gamble here and one they both didn't fully understand. He was damn sure he had all the mental fortitude anyone could ask for but energy...

That lacked more often than he liked. But right now was the time to do it if there was any. Their training over the past week had him feeling hardier than he had in years. Steve scratched soothingly, pressing a kiss to one of Bucky's flat ears and then another.]

I understand. [And what Bucky was entrusting him with. He had a good life as a human, friends and work and a world he'd been in for most of his life. You could practically say he knew it better than anything else. He never tried to go and seek out other wolves. It'd be hard, it'd hurt and he didn't, he wouldn't cause Bucky any more pain after this.] I swear I'm going to give this my everything. I'm not gonna die on you. That'd be too easy, defeat the whole point of trying to change.

The fights don't matter if you aren't there. Nothing matters. So you better be. I need you.

[Steve rubbed his cheek against Bucky's muzzle, pulling back to give him a tilted smile. His heart was beating hard, drumming fast because it seemed so impossible and reckless that there might finally be something that could help. What kind of wolf would he be? Would they still work if they were the same?

And honestly, if Bucky refused to go anywhere once they we done with this, if he wanted to meld into the woods and forget the human world, Steve would try for him. He couldn't imagine going off, even if it was to the war and doing it alone.] You think it would be better to head out to do this or stay here?

[nonfrangible]

[Regardless of how much Steve had trained and strengthened up in the last few weeks, he knew that he could force the blond over if he butted his head forward more. He didn't, just settled his great head into the feel of those slim bony arms curled around him, an offering of strength freely given by someone who, at times, seemed to need every bit of it just to remain standing. He drank in that support and the strength of that body, aware that he was already on the cusp of a yes.

His ears flicked as if annoyed by the kissing, but he understood that being strong and able-bodied, being taken seriously and possibly being able to make a different meant a lot to Steve. For all of his friend's efforts, Steve had not yet known the value of being a strong man before. That could change so much, but at the blond's base, Steve would always be Steve.

He issued a high-pitch growl and then sneezed, peering at Steve when there was a cheek rubbing on his muzzle. He shook himself free of Steve's grip, his tail tucking between his hind legs and his head drooping slightly.]

I'll do this with you, but I expect great things from you, Rogers. [He stepped away as he decided to take a risk on this.] We go to the forest where the earth smells moist and friendly. Bring an extra pair of clothing and some extra food if we have any.

[He stepped away to head to the door and flopping himself down there in a heap, mind still ticking its way through the pros and cons of doing this. He could gain another wolf or lose everything.] It's not too late to say no either. You can change your mind at any time. [He knew that Steve wouldn't though.]

[supershouldery]

I won't change my mind. [He made that decision. They were going to do this and it was going to work. Steve frowned at the mass of dejected wolf blocking the doorway and let out a deep noisy breath before he turned to go grab his bag and start stuffing another set of clothes in it. If there was anything in the world he couldn't stand it was Bucky looking sad when he was shifted like this. Even his ears would droop and the bright pale of his eyes made him want to do anything to get his tail thumping again.

It still reminded him of that day he pulled Bucky out of the rain, unable to just walk away -- especially after the way Bucky had looked at him.]

You remember the last time I had pneumonia real bad, right? Nobody, nobody, thought I was gonna pull through, they got the Father Coyle and everything but you said the whole time I wasn't gonna go, Buck. You believed in me. [He moved quick, like if he didn't Bucky would change mind for good. Once the clothes were in he stepped over the mass of Bucky's body, pushing into the main room of their flat to grab what bread they had left, two tuna cans and shoved the rest of the bag of jerky in there too. Things that would keep.

Then he went back to the doorway and Bucky.] You're laying around like I'm already gone and if you keep that up, we'll miss the next bus out of the city.

[He steps over again and a few seconds later there's Bucky's hastily shed pants and shirt pelted at his head. You can't take a wolf on the bus and the woods Bucky liked the best took half an hour to get to.]

[nonfrangible]

[Oh did he know that Steve's mind was made up and nothing short of the literal intervention of God would change it. Even then, it was a toss up on who could and would be more stubborn between the two: Steve or the Creator. He still would put his last dollar on Steve and not just because they happened to be best friends and pack mates.

His ears shifted to follow Steve around the room, then his eyes when the blond had to cross him to leave to collect some food. He listened intently to the words, feeling a nibble of shame that he was so concerned that Steve wouldn't pass yet another impossible test of survival. This was different; this was something that he would be causing rather than Steve's usual fight against nature itself and all the ways that it apparently was trying to kill his best friend.]

I'm laying around because you're taking your sweet time. [And okay, okay, he was shifting so that he could pull on clothes again, which seemed blasphemous given how close to the full moon it was. He was no longer small enough as a wolf to pass as a dog Steve was walking, so they had to take a bus. He was twitchy and eager even in his human form, his hair a little more wild than usual and his eyes almost with a glow to them.

He tugged on his trousers and regarded Steve pointedly even as he began to button up his shirt almost with the same motion of tucking it into his pants, which left the buttons lopsided. He cared not one bit about being one button off.]

If the bus comes and we aren't at the stop, I'm carrying you to it. Those spindly twigs you stand on had better be in working order, Rogers. [He put up a wall of his usual enthusiasm to hide his anxiety of all the other things they were apparently doing tonight. It would work. They tended to be more reckless than they needed to be and it hadn't gone too poorly before.

He headed for the door, not even bothering with a cap or jacket. It was just more items to lose when he was running around.]

[supershouldery]

[Steve didn't normally watch Bucky shift because there was something about the flow from man to world that his human brain instinctively couldn't put together. He knew it was literally his body re-arranging itself but he also knew it didn't hurt Bucky much, if at all. This time he paused, watching and trying to make sense like if he absorbed more of the process that'd up his chances but what his eyes marked and what his brain processed wasn't much better translated than it had for years. Bucky stood up on two legs in no time but with the moon so close it was like the shadow of the his other form was painted right underneath his skin. The brightness of his eyes, the flash of his teeth that seemed sharper. He looked leaner and drawn tight, brimming with the sort of energy that acted like a magnet.

In the days before they'd take off for the full moon, Bucky was even more the most popular guy in the dance halls so Steve knew it wasn't just him that could pick up the difference.]

I'm just worried about you keeping up. [Steve threw back, giving a hopeless look at how Bucky's shirt was done up and how he didn't even try to fix himself up when he was usually pretty sharp with his appearance. But it was enough outside and late enough in the evening no one would question them too hard -- Bucky wore disheveled better than most anyway. Things slipped back towards normality for them as they tromped down the stairs and out onto the street. Steve with their bag slung over his shoulder and trotting right beside Bucky, pulling ahead more than once. He knocked against their shoulders, jostling to keep that air of optimism around and they make it there to the station just in time for the next 316 out of Brooklyn.

The bus wasn't much full. Steve slid onto a bench after Bucky and splits a piece of jerky out of their gear. He handed over the larger piece and tore off a bite of his own. Outside of the bus the sky was pressing more towards blues and purples, with the moon hanging low and promising just past the horizon.]

If you want to hunt before, you can hunt but I think it'd probably be better get to what we need to do sooner than later once we get there.

[He normally needed to set up what passed for 'camp' for them anyway.]

[nonfrangible]

[He had long ago stopped paying much attention to the fluidity of change, the alterations of limbs, muscles and fur so that he could go from one form to the other. All the legends spoke of a painful tearing and rearranging of self, all agony and fearsome howls. It wasn't like that at all; it was a beautiful dance of flesh, the glide and twist of flesh knowing its place from one from to the next. It was almost as if being splashed with water, to flow so clean and pure it was sensual and certainly not painful. He was used to it.

But with the full moon so close, there was almost a sense of wrongness being on two feet walking down the street to the bus stop. He walked with a grace that always served him in dancing, and he turned heads without doing anything more than running his fingers through his hair to settle the locks. People didn't even seem to notice his oddly placed clothing.

Steve knocking to him only returned them to the previous camaraderie than before the talk, and he took a seat next to Steve. He smiled at a dame and her husband, earning smiles from them both, especially as he tipped his head respectfully. They were soon on their way out of the city, a stop here and there to deposit transit users on their stops or picking a few more up. He assisted an elderly woman to a seat, jerky gripped on the side of his mouth and earned and t'sking chuckle from her.

Back to his seat next to Steve, curling an arm across the blond's shoulders because they were pals. Everyone had to see that, had to face facts that he and Steve were a packaged deal. The whole idea of hunting before the main event didn't concern him. Now that it had been decided, he was eager as the instincts kicked in, ones he had never particularly understood because there had never been someone that earned their express attentions. Now there was Steve - always Steve - and he was once more that puppy ready to play fight again.]

We will find the right spot and proceed. The newer the moon, the longer you have to make a change.

[Food, a camp, supplies... all could wait. The only other matter that was paramount to him was safety. He would first chase off all of the large predators and then they would proceed. He practically was vibrating next to Steve by the time they hit their stop, bounding from the bus with a wave to the driver and an eager sort of 'hurry up' antic towards Steve.]

[supershouldery]

[All that energy was contagious. Had to be with the way he felt like he was leaning against the hum of a street post when Bucky finally sat back down next to him once the whole bus was charmed. Steve barely cared about the consistently puzzled or patronizing slip in other people's expression as they took in the differences between him and Bucky once Buck made it clear they were traveling together, knew each other. He was long used to them and too caught up thinking about the plans they had in store.

Their stop was a the end of the line, north past the swell of Manhattan. The town was more a village and the bus stopped at the edge of even that. Steve was on Bucky's heels until he went and practically jumped off, he only clipped out a quick 'thanks' to the driver before he was hefting their bag over his shoulder and following suit. It's adjusted to sling across his chest while the bus trundles off.]

Not yet. [But he wanted to run straight off the road and into the woods probably as much as Bucky did. Steve's fingers were tight around the strap to the duffel but they had to wait until the tail lights were dimmer, at some distance, until the coast was clear and nobody would notice two young men making a beeline for the trees. They paced up the street in the same direction, dawdling towards the town proper without any real progress until it felt like presence of any other human soul was gone and they were being swallowed up by the woods.

Steve threw a look over, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.]

Ready when you are. [As if Bucky wasn't practically crawling out of his skin.]

[nonfrangible]

[And despite his eagerness to shed both clothing and skin, Bucky had practiced this very scenario every month for the last twenty. He allowed the driver to assume that he and Steve were this far from the heart of New York for visitations rather than because they may be off to do something untoward. Two young men hurrying to the seclusion of the woods would raise more than a few eyebrows, but waiting and meandering was part of the charm, the build of energies surrounding what it was they were going to do.

His eyes were more sensitive than Steve's, and he kept pace with his friend as the loitered and meandered down the lane, keeping a little more out of the street light view so it would be easier to disappear. He sniffed the air hopefully, but it only enthused him how thick and wonderful the scent of the woods, the grass and moisture from a recent enough rain. It was distracted, but as always, he held his position until he heard the all clear from Steve. His friend had a knack for knowing when the way was open for them, and he never questioned it.

And even if he knew that a change was right there for him, he still left the safety of the city quietly and casually so as not to draw attention to a young man rushing off to the woods as if about to piss himself. He seemed to melt into the shadows as he headed off, leading the way into the comfort of the woods as the full silvery moon overhead cast light down beyond the canopy. He moved in further, searching for signs that the woods were occupied by more than them by way of human-like company, but it was barren here of life that could whistle blow upon them.

He sniffed at the air more, lifting his head towards the sky and searching for signs of predators. His fingers worked at his clothing with an energy of impatience, only then realizing how he had not buttoned his shirt properly in the first place. Stripped, he folded and forced himself to hand off his clothing to Steve for safe keeping and then stretched his arms above his head.

He changed back into the massive wolf form that was his own, a smooth transition from one flesh to the next. He issued a groan of contentment and stretched, his dark fur rippling over his body even as he turned his great head to regard Steve for a long moment, sniffing in the direction of his friend to memorize that scent all over again, aware that it would be changing tonight.]

Find a comfortable spot for us while I do a quick circuit to make certain there are no predators in the area. When I return, we will begin. [A pause as he butted his head against Steve's chest.] It would be best if you were unclothed for the change. [Puppyish, he licked a stripe right up Steve's cheek and then, wolf-laughing, he ran off into the woods to make his rounds.]

[supershouldery]

[His vision isn’t great to begin with and at night it was mostly terrible but the full moon was a boon to making it a little easier to get by. For the rest he relied on whatever invisible tether was forged between him and Bucky. He could listen for the rustle of Bucky’s steps when he wanted to be heard and while they were together in the woods he could practically sense where his best friend was. On other nights they play: hiding and seeking, rolling around in the grass and leaves. Bucky would hunt and bring back whatever game he’d chase out and they’d split it or Bucky would go find his own rabbit depending on how hungry he was. They’d run and run, he’d ride on Bucky’s back and finally when they were tired he’d curl up against Bucky’s fur and warmth and sleep.

He realized the month before was the last time for that right about when Bucky stopped. And for a second he almost wished to ask for one last run while he was still human, but a glance up at the rising moon gleaming through the trees reminded him of what Bucky had said about needing all the time they could get. Steve huffed in quiet amusement when Bucky finally realized his buttons weren’t done right. Then groaned as a whole ton of big over-affectionate wolf was on him, licking right over his face.

Steve tried to push him off, but Bucky was already darting away.] Ugh, all right. Don’t take too long.

[Bucky was gone like a shadow again and Steve picked through the area he’d decided on, stuffing his friend’s clothes in the bag for safe keeping. He settled in the most open patch of grass, figuring it’d be better if there weren’t a lot of things around. Ending up shirtless when it was warmer wasn’t too unusual for him, but usually he ran around in his undershirt and the same brown pants he was wearing now that were designated for getting dirty. He was slow unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off, tucking it away the same as Bucky’s clothes. When he pulled the thin threadbare cotton off next, he glanced down catching too-prominent ribs and the concave dip in the middle of his chest.

The grass was cool and ticklish under his feet once he took his shoes off. He knew Bucky didn’t give a damn about seeing him naked but he chose to keep his shorts on at least until they were ready to start. Their bag was tucked against a fallen tree a few yards away. Steve went back to the middle of the patch while he waited. Still for a handful of seconds before he started the stretch routing they did before his boxing lessons.]

Find anybody?[Steve called over once Bucky peeled himself out from the deep of the woods. There were bears sometimes. Foxes and a normal pack of wolves that didn’t care for either of them in the least.]

[nonfrangible]

[Bucky searched out the woods, chasing off a few coyotes and driving a fox and a few rabbits into their lairs. He found some bear scat, but it was at least two days old and now fresh trail to speak of. He circled the woods to be certain, checking the usual spots and taking extra care on the spots that he might not normally think of giving that he and Steve would normally be loping together and there was less danger with the blond clinging to his back.

At the mood swelled and rose higher, the urges and the ideas infiltrated his mind. The suggestion was enough to tip the scales in a direction he normally wouldn't consider; the making of a pack member was sacred, he thought. It could define them both, and it could bring unexpected joy, a truer sense of belonging and a bond that he thought he could name but couldn't quite fathom as he had never experienced it before. He was coming to understand how much he wanted it as he looped back to find Steve standing on shorts waiting for him. This was home; this was pack.

He melted from the treeline, walking forward and sniffing at the blond, ruffling blond hair with the puffing breaths and then shaking his head. There was no one; it was simply them and the urges slid through his veins, infecting every aspect of him. He shifted back to his human form as he thought this would be easier than if he stayed as a wolf. For one, he would do less damage to Steve in this form. For two, it wouldn't be a fight. It was a give and take, as they had always been when no one else could understand that principle. To them, Steve was less than him. To him, Steve was everything he ever wanted and needed in a best friend.

Naked, he stood before his best friend, glancing pointedly at Steve's shorts.] Lose the shorts or potentially lose them for good, Rogers. [He lifted his right hand to his lips, chewing on a claw which had not reverted. His teeth was sharpened as well, the wolf lurking and pacing with excitement in his eyes. They glowed here, and his nostrils flared as if to drink in the entire scene.]

Last chance to turn this into a run and nothing more. Otherwise... I'm going to bite you, Stevie. Then, I'm going to bite myself and we'll share blood. Your body won't be able to help itself but to drink it in. Every person wants to be a wolf.

[supershouldery]

I just didn't want to stand around-- [Steve grumbled but he stripped off his shorts, tossing them the same direction as their bag was without as much concern to their fate as the rest of his clothing. Bucky could shift if he didn't want to be ass naked in the middle of the woods. Steve couldn't.

Yet.

He straightened up to full height once he was done, his bristling quelled by the sight of Bucky's claws and the bright shine in his eyes. A shiver skirted down his spine, human instincts that spooked at something so clearly not human and dangerous no matter how strangely beautiful he appeared. His heart was off racing again, thudding against the weak cage of his ribs. A small, closed-lipped smile pulled at his lips as he stepped closer, clapping Bucky on his arm. It was good to see anticipation in his eyes instead of dread.]

Can you blame us? You get to pee on just about anything. [He squeezes meaningfully before letting go and after a moment of consideration, tipping his neck back to show off his neck in an echo of the way Bucky did whenever he got the upper hand on their tussling.]

I'm--...I'm set. This is what I want. And I'm not gonna let you down, Buck.

[nonfrangible]

[Bucky laughed, warm and jovial at Steve's wit, throwing his head back even as he dragged his claws down his own throat lightly as his adam's apple bounced with his mirth. He smirked, and it was almost entirely predatory.] Always the smart ass, aren't you?

[He ducked his head, avoiding looking at the thin column of Steve's throat because it stirred his blood. It also stirred a foreign instinct that he had never given much attention to until now, and he knew what it meant. He knew what it would drive him to do. It would hurt, the whole process, but afterwards... they would be free to run. They could run all night with endless energy, doze in the grass in curled fur and muscle, nosing at each other, howling at the moon together. The Good Lord Above, what would that be like? He had never been around his own kind before, and now... God had Blessed him with Steve. The risk was still very much present, but he knew they both needed this opportunity for better or worse.

He reached out, grasping Steve's thin shoulders with his palms as he pulled his best friend up against him, unpreturbed by the sensation of their nudity. He leaned his head into the offered crook of Steve's neck, nuzzling with lips and then smooth cheek, sniffing and humming. It was an ancient tune meant to stir Steve's blood, one that he knew no words for but somehow understood each necessary change in beat. It rose around them as his palms stroked downwards, rising higher and more energetic and as if receiving God's blessing, the moon emerged from behind a cloud and bathed them in silvery light.

Bucky sunk his teeth into the crook of Steve's neck, quick like a strike that normally killed his chosen prey. He drove his teeth in, deep so that the blood would run thick and hot into his mouth. His hands tightened immediately on Steve's upper arms to refuse any motion to take them apart, and he snapped his head back, howling at the very moon that was overhead. His heart pounded in his chest, and the entire area around them seemed to become motionless.

Wordlessly, he offered his wrist to Steve's mouth, an honour unheard of but one he would follow anyway. It was his choice. He wanted it this way.]

Bite until I bleed.

[supershouldery]

[ Steve still reached up to thread his fingers through the back of his best friend's hair, despite Bucky's grasp. His body was wound tight at Bucky's closeness, the cellular choice between fight or fleeing swinging wildly towards the former and tusks locked with his conscious mind knowing that the creature breathing along his throat was someone trusted more than anyone else in the world. He stared up at the drift of the sky, waiting and waiting, only lulled when Bucky hummed and crooned in the same sort of aching melody as his howling songs. His heart clattered on, striving faster and faster to match something--

--and stuttering with a full-body seize when Bucky sunk wolf's teeth into his neck. Steve was no stranger to pain. He knew aches and cuts, bruises, coughs and fever-ridden agonies but this? This was sharp, fast, digging and ripping. Bucky's hands on his shoulders were all that kept him upright, he felt his legs go right out from under him as he struggled in a blind clamor to get away.

He didn't scream. Couldn't.

He choked wetly with eyes flying open.

In pure moonlight his blood looked black on Bucky's howling lips. It looked black on his own skin, his chest and Bucky's chest. The rush of his life smeared over them both. There was something hot and wrong spreading from the deep gouges of Bucky's bite created, something that tore at his muscles and started twisting to reform him heaping on a fresh new agony world's worse than the pain of the bite. Distantly, he realized this was what would kill him -- not bleeding out or any normal infection.

The bite was the curse.

The blood was the cure -- smelling healthy, strong, and familiar right under his nose. Steve opened his mouth, responding to the command pressed upon him and set his blunt teeth in gnawing frantically until the wrong searing pain crawled up his jaws and made them sharper. Blood burst onto his tongue, iron and wine and salt and earth. It filled up his mouth and he groaned, swallowing it down while dragging them both to the forest floor.]

[nonfrangible]

[It was telling of his trust in his own instincts and that of his desire to have Steve with him forever. Clamoring instinct and predatory nature demanded that he continued to bite, continued to tear flesh from bone, to feast on blood and break open bones to suck out the marrow. Greedy and hungry, he had never tasted human flesh before, and it suddenly seemed that a part of him was overjoyed by it overwhelming his senses. He wanted more; it was like a desperate need to be fulfilled in an ancient way.

But this was Steve. This was his best friend, the young tiny boy who had taken him in as a struggling thin pup. Steve who gave up parts of well-needed meals and took risk on his behalf so he grew, thrived and learned to become a boy himself. He owed Steve a debt of gratitude but more than that, he wanted Steve to not have to suffer through anything more than this night. For better or worse, Steve would live or die through the change.

Blood smeared over his lips, was thick on his tongue, but Steve responded with a spunky ferocity that he knew and loved so much. Human teeth were hardly made for biting flesh well, but Steve put every effort into it, and the discomfort awoke a challenge that he stamped down. Part of the difficulty of this process was overriding instinct to fight back, to let his bite be the only element. He didn't understand, but when his blood flowed and Steve drank it down greedily, it felt right.

He fell with his friend, pulling Steve hard against him even as he pulled his wrist back, bleeding and messy to which he pressed aggressively to the bite on the blond's neck. He rubbed their blood together, feeling the way that Steve's body was forced to response, forced to drink him into veins in order to drive the wolf-element through the blond's body quickly, flooding his friend's waning resources with some of his own. He licked his lips, tasting blood.

It was a thrill. It was like those nights of running around almost getting caught. It was those dangerous fights of wading in while Steve threw relatively ineffective punches, and he earned hard ones for his efforts to stand as pack. This was reckless and dangerous, and he and Steve had never been any other way with each other.]

You have to... surrender to it. If you fight this, it might kill you. Become a wolf, Steve... please, survive and become a wolf to be with me! Real pack!

[supershouldery]

[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.]

[nonfrangible]

[The night sounded off with Steve's screams and whimpers, and he silently worried that they weren't far enough away from the city. This was not the kind of attention that he was looking to deal with on a night that could make or break how he interacted with mankind in the very near future. Each shift of Steve's to mend and right itself, to bring about a strong change that at any moment could kill his friend, wore on him. All he could do was keep his hold, to rub more of his blood into Steve's wound until his own body clotted and refused to give more up unless he picked or chewed on the wound.

Instead, he held on, feeling the shift of flesh, the low tearing and popping of all those ailments that Steve had bore and fought with since birth were corrected. It was brutal and each sound of his best friend mounted the guilt that he had put this pain upon someone who he considered the most important. Even when he mentally told himself that it had been Steve's choice and perhaps even necessary, it was hollow.

Bucky couldn't remember his first shift. He was different too; as far as he knew, he had been born this way, so shifting was meant to be smooth, a blurring of lines between human and wolf. The sudden stop and start of Steve's heart, the gasping, gagging for breath had never been apart of the world that he lived in. Those were that of prey that he was hunting, but Steve rallied each time and that, perhaps, was worse. It was a long-term suffering, and he endured outside of but still apart of this decision. He had reduced Steve to this continual hourly agony.

Soon it became just breathing and whimpering and at any moment, he expected it to be Steve's last. A dog in town barked. A rabbit shifted in the grass some distance away. An owl hooted a warning. He whined softly, still holding his friend until there was a shove far more powerful than Steve had ever managed before, the bite of claws across his chest causing a yelp of surprise and pain as he relinquished his hold and rolled away.

And then there it was. The beautiful flow of change, the bulge and shift of muscles rearranging themselves, the contortion of bone, the sprouting of thick fur across the blurring lines of a body making a change. He had watched himself in a mirror once out of curiosity, but this was far more breathtaking, watching as his friend transform beyond the fear of death, disease and being picked on to a massive tawny blond wolf. Steve was at least as big as he was, perhaps even larger (he didn't exactly have a basis for comparison at his point).

Carefully, he approached, blood trailing down his chest from the clawing. He stared, his mouth dry as he drank in this unexpected success. He reached out, whining in his own throat as he lay his hands behind Steve's upright ears, scratching into the thick blond coat and then leaning down to bury his nose into the back of Steve's neck and just breathe in the scent. It was sweet and masculine, alluring as he found certain young females.]

You did it. You're such a punk scaring me like that!

[supershouldery]

[Oh. Oh. He understood why Bucky pretty much turned to liquid in his hands when he really got to scratching him. Steve squirmed, his tail beating against the ground steadily as Bucky came to him, fingers scratching and his face burying in the ruff of of fur around his neck. Moving was strange, but right, and so easy compared to anything he knew. He kicked all four of his legs and then huffed out a happy sound, staring at paws instead of hands.]

I told you. [Bucky's scratching felt positively divine but he couldn't stay still. Steve twisted, rolling over and shoving himself up against Bucky, sniffing him all over. He smelled amazing -- strong and musky, like moss and bricks. Yipping excitedly before he was licking all over Bucky's face, darting down to investigate the fresh spill of blood with a apologetic whine before jumping back up again, lest Bucky get to clean off his face.] I told you! I promised, Buck!

[Running, well. Running was a mess of limbs and too much bulk asking for immediate locomotion. Unused to be thing this much at all, Steve scrambled away and then back, deciding it was much better to just jump on top of Bucky and clean him up. All the pain was gone. He felt...

He felt fantastic.]

[nonfrangible]

[He buried his face further into Steve's ruff, drinking it all in, almost disbelieving that they had done something so reckless and stupid. Steve could have died, but here and now... this tawny blond wolf was the closest to his own kind that he had ever experienced. Normal wolves found wary interest but always kept their distance as human body language bled into wolf and vice versa. This though... God, this was amazing.

Steve smelled like morning dew and that dust that came with fresh sunlight after a long string of cold weather. He huffed a laugh, ignoring the sting of his chest as it would heal and then... the way that Steve moved. It was amazing and awkward at the same time. He squirmed away from the tongue and sat back, wiping at his face with the heel of his hand and just watched - overjoyed - at the newest attempt to run.

It was like watching a baby deer stand for the first time, all limbs, no balance and a mass which seemed intent on going in opposite directions to legs. It left him laughing again, huffing musical notes until there was this wide bulk of blond furry body landing on him. Steve clearly had no idea how much bulk as had been gained in this, as Bucky found himself flattened to the ground and completely covered in wolf-bulk.]

So rude! When was the last time I jumped all over you? Golly jeez, Rogers, you need to learn manners and how to run!

[Still, he jammed his fingers into thick fur and let Steve lick him, tension bleeding into pleasure as Steve's scent tantalized him in a way no other smell ever had. He didn't know what it meant, but he assumed it had to do with them being pack.]

You're as big as I am. Never thought you'd see that, now did you?

[supershouldery]

I haven't been a wolf for even ten minutes, Buck. [Steve protested with all sorts of grumbling whines as he helped Bucky heal up. Bucky's blood didn't have the same ominous weight on his tongue as it had before he'd shifted, though it still tasted just as brilliant and precious. Something that ought not to be wasted.

He nosed up against Bucky's chin when he was done, disbelief a clear expression on even on his new features. He backed up so he wasn't right on top of his packmate, circling around to try and get a good look at himself. It was hard to judge. He didn't feel much shorter than he was normally standing and he did feel bigger but Bucky was huge. There wasn't enough of him to make up a wolf that size.]

Show me? And show me how to run if you're the real expert here! [The moon was high overhead, beckoning them both. After everything with tonight Bucky deserved a good run. They both did.]

[nonfrangible]

You're usually such a fast learner. [He squirmed under the wet tongue lapping at his chest, which had stopped bleeding even if the claw marks were still present. They were healing fast enough, and their damage was more a result of it being wolf on wolf rather than the usual means of injury he tended to suffer.

His fingers scrapped through the fur above Steve's eyebrows, back to scratch behind those big upright ears. He sat up and then rolled forward as he watched Steve's antics and despite the energy requirements for changing on the body, he made the shift from human to wolf in a matter of a minute.

His black tail wagged as he stepped up and butted his nose against Steve, all his senses in hyperdrive. Human noses really just weren't up for the fine mixture of scents that were required of a wolf, even if his senses were enhanced by the other side. He rubbed the length of his body along Steve's before setting off. He didn't run; he pranced, all high-stepped and looking plainly elegant. Showing off to his packmate.]

Let's test out those lungs of yours, Rogers. [From prance to lope, Bucky lead the way across the open field between the patches of trees. They would start here he decided before he thought to throw any obstacles in Steve's way.]

[supershouldery]

[Hyperdrive was a perfect word for it. Everything was more than before, despite the bar being so low it might as well rest on the ground. He was hearing everything around them from the subtle flow of Bucky's body shifting to the distant rumble of a truck passing by the road they'd left behind. He could smell everything, see in the dark without squinting and with his mind translating the entire spectrum of color from what his eyes were taking in. The mere brush of Bucky's fur along his was so mesmerizing he barely remembered to compare how their backs ran even.

He might actually be bigger than Bucky was.

Though if he thought that, or just being a wolf himself would make Bucky less impressive, he was wrong. He appreciated all that showing off in a new way he couldn't muster up the words for. Proud, at least, that this wolf was his pack.

Steve pushed off, following after Bucky's lope with increasing confidence with each step. If he didn't think about it too hard, his body moved on its own, bounding along with every breath free and clear. Not a wheeze in sight. He brushed close to Bucky as he caught up.] Still a fast learner. Let's go, there's that pond--

[Which was east, wasn't it? He turned sharply, still new enough on four legs that it was too sharp to do while being instantly distracted at the flash of grey fur and preyfear of a rabbit trying to dart out of sight. He didn't crash straight into the base of a tree, but it was a near thing. Steve righted himself sheepishly and took off again.] I think I'm starving.