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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!
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!
no subject
--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.]
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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!
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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.]
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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!
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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.]
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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?
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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.]
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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.]
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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.
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He kept his lope easy, letting Steve find footing on those long legs, and he was in no hurry to leave his packmate behind. Of course, he was still the competitive sort, and he tossed his head in faint challenge as Steve came up alongside him.] Still can't make a turn to catch the eye of a dame though.
[He laughed, his own eyes darting after the rabbit. Instantly, he twisted midstep and took off while Steve almost upended into a tree. His eyes swiveled and his large body ate the ground before he gave a practiced leap and landed right on the prey, snapping its back and then catching its head in his jaws and giving a quick shake to break its neck and end its suffering and fear. Trotting over, he went back to prancing as he presented his bounty to his packmate, an offering of the good times they would share.
Tonight, Steve would hunt with him. First, his friend needed fresh meat to regain energy and have a bit more time to learn how this new form worked.] The trick with hunting is not to drive up the fear; too much fear sours the meat. It's still edible but... just doesn't taste as good.
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Just as long as Bucky still turned to look at him -- that was all that mattered to him. And on the other side Steve could appreciate the way he hunted in a new light. He moved swiftly, a dark streak that was on it's intended prey before it could even cry out. The rabbit never had a chance. And while Steve rolled his eyes a bit at the way Bucky danced back to him, he leaned forward and gave into the instinct of licking at Bucky's muzzle in thanks.
Typically he'd have to gut, skin, clean and cook one of their kills before he could ever take a bite. Over the years he'd gotten quick at it, good with the knife he used. Now he followed the same path, nudging over the rabbit with his nose, putting one of his paws down to keep it in place as he ripped into the stomach. He didn't avoid the meat of its organs like he did before, when they'd be tossed over to Bucky. Those he wanted, grunting as he tore and shoved his nose into the warmth. It was good.
Steve resurfaced a minute later, licking at the mess around his lips. He nudged at the rabbit.] Do you want any?
[He wasn't the only one that'd had a trying night.]
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Steve happened to smell better than any woman that he had briefly courted. There was a sweet earthy smell about Steve, one that he figured was because the blond was now another wolf and all of his prancing and showing off was to indicate what Steve would soon enough be able to do with time and practice. He had no idea that it had everything to do with putting himself out there, to show his worthwhile status as a potential mate. He liked Steve's attention on him after all.
Watching Steve eat was an oddly rare pleasure, and he lay himself down on his belly to wait, transfixed by the sight. Steve often couldn't eat large amounts of meat, but the blond so delicately sunk that blond muzzle into the rabbit, and his tail immediately began to wag in approved pleasure.]
No, there will be plenty of conies for me. You made a major change and lost blood, so you need to make up the energy more than I do.
[Instead, he rose and padded over to Steve, leaning in so that he could lick the blood off of his friend's muzzle. Grooming was a way to solidify pack in his mind, and he made certain that Steve's muzzle and then forehead and ears were clean.]
You are so handsome, Rogers. No one can turn you down. Hurry up and finish up and we'll run!
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[It felt, for a moment, like they were back in the flat getting ready to step out. Bucky would invariably dart in to lick some fly-away back into place with his thumb and dance his way around all of Steve's grumblings about being mothered. But he'd fix Bucky's hair up, whenever it needed it and he was pretty good with a pair of scissors after all the years they saved a few dollars by doing that on their own.
Having fur instead of skin certainly softened the insistent drag of Bucky's tongue of him as he worked over him. He barely rumbled, enjoying the attention and bumped his nose under Bucky's chin when he was done before turning back to the rest of his small meal. The promise of running properly was like a force tugging on his legs, almost stronger than his hunger. He striped off all the meat he could get at and wolfed it done in quick order, huffing with his tag beating back and forth in the air.
A full warm belly made him feel even better, re-energized and steady in his new body. Steve eased back from the remains of the rabbit, licking at his lips again.]
There. Let's go! I'm catching you one before the night's over. That's a promise.
[And he took off, kicking up leaves as he pushed into pure movement before Bucky could start grooming him again.]
no subject
[He considered this a fair exchange, given he suspected that Steve would be grooming him right back when it was his turn to eat a kill. Grooming was a wolf social activity that built bonds, not that he and Steve needed any more, but it was definitely why he spent so long licking his thumbs and smoothing down Steve's hair, rubbed smudges from his face, and bandaged any scraped blooded knuckles. Steve with golden tawny fur only made this far more satisfying because he could lick his way across large swaths of Steve's head and muzzle.
Steve sure did have an appetite too. It was good to see his friend eat, even better to see the blond bounce up to strong legs and take off like a shot. He yipped as he pivoted on his hind paws and took off to follow, and they would have been more evenly matched if Steve had more experience running around on legs that wouldn't tire and lungs that wouldn't try to kill the blond with each sucking breath. His experience allowed him to catch up enough to run alongside Steve.
Then he pulled ahead enough that he could direct the flow of their long strides, forcing Steve into the inside track and using his weight to nudge towards turns so they didn't go headlong into the trees. He didn't think it was wise to do that until they had gone one full circuit of the open field, scaring any game that they came across, which was mostly roosting birds.
He broke off as they passed what was left of Steve's meal, heading for the trees and only slowing enough to allow his eyes to adjust. He yipped again, howling into the night as he bounded along the trails and between trees, over bushes.]
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His ears perked straight up when Bucky's howl pierced the air. All of the fur on his body went on end, the ripple of Bucky's voice shivering through to the tip of his tail. Steve felt the response rumbling up his throat before he was tilting his head up, clearing over the same bush Bucky had with room to spare and perching his front paws on top of a large rock and letting the howl burst ouf his throat.
He always loved Bucky's songs when he'd been human. They'd never sounded lonely to him because he knew Bucky wasn't alone but hearing his own voice pitch up to match was a very different thing than anything else he'd ever heard. The quick howl they shared sounded like a declaration, something achingly howl.
Steve pushed off the rock and started off again, darting right in front of Bucky to wap him on the nose with his tail.
Tag.]
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He had so much energy that it ran along his skin and bunched it in places, brought a new bounce to his step as he bounded on the trail, scaring game and birds without a single care in the world about it. His ears swiveled back to listen to Steve bounding along the trail, all big soft paws and lumbering body still not entirely used to moving at this rate he knew. That too was a joyous sound!
Then Steve was shouldering passed him, and he laughed until that tawny tail hit him right on the nose. He blinked and then playfully growled as he picked up his pace, using his greater experience on legs to knock his shoulder again Steve's hind end and then made the attempt to jump on his friend's back to knock Steve over so that they would wrestle as only wolves knew how.]
You will be the worst kind of trouble for the rest of our lives! I'm going to have to push a leash on you like old Mrs. Dodgers does that strange low walking beast she calls a dog.
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[Steve went down, rolling onto his back with a clipped yip before he dissolved into nothing but fur, kicking legs and playful squirming growls. He caught Bucky's sides with his feet and part of the massive scruff around one of his shoulders with his teeth. Steve shook his head, worrying that bit of easy loose skin before he let go, shoving Bucky off of him with strong pushes before he was rolling onto his feet and barreling forward to pounce right on top of Bucky's back from the side. Playing? Playing came easy. It was a lot like their wrestling before but Bucky didn't have to worry about hurting him and he didn't have to worry about Bucky being too gentle with him.
And this was payback for all those times Bucky all but sat on him to keep him still.]
I'm no 'Brownie'.
[That poor dog. Steve nipped at one of Bucky's ears.] But she could probably be your cousin!
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[More like triple the work for him, what with the way that Steve managed to twist around and kick and bite at him like that. This had never happened before, and he was momentarily taken aback by the strength and speed under him. Then he drove head first into these new possibilities, of the lack of limitations as before; this was the first full moon he growled and bit at Steve playfully rather than just shoving his body at the blond aware that it would overcome his friend.
Now he had to scramble with paws to the forest floor, digging up dirt as he rose and crow-hopped on Steve pounced him. He twisted his head around to growl and nip at legs and the underside of Steve's jaw, having so much fun. Not that he didn't have fun before, but this was different; they were even in strength and size now.
He huffed a laugh and bucked Steve on his back before flopping over and rolling onto his back, kicking all four feet at the blond.]
Brownie wouldn't even make a good snack that thing is so small! I'm not related to rabbits in the form of dogs!
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Instead of getting up immediately he gave a huge huff while his tail started to sweep the ground once more with a mind of its own.
Steve kicked a little with his hind legs towards Bucky's chest, glancing down the sheer bulk of his of fur and the sliver of disintegrating leaves underneath them.]
If you say so, Buck. [He laughed, rolling over and hauling himself back to his feet.]
She probably won't like me much anymore, huh? [Other normal wolves kept their distance from Bucky. Dogs went either way from what they've seen. They either loved him in a sort of confused affection or were frankly terrified. Mrs. Dodger's tiny pet ranged towards shaking even more intensely than normal with a feverish pitch of whining no matter how harmless Bucky tried to make himself seem.]
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After batting away Steve's kicking hind legs, he rolled back to his feet to shook the leaves and twigs and dirt off of his fur. His tongue lolled from his mouth in a happy wolf grin before he trotted in a neat circle around Steve as if lining his friend up for a new pounce attempt.]
Yeah but you will still like me, and I'm ten times the size of that shaking weasel! [He never took offense to the antics of dogs, finding them to be interest and sometimes odd creatures. And more than ever, they didn't matter because Steve was his pack in all ways now. Maybe that was why he moved to shoulder into his friend before taking off down the trail again, bounding with giant steps before leaving to literally crash through the brush at high speeds to get them back out onto the open field.
Golly did he love running free like this!]
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But they definitely scared away all the potential prey that could have successfully hunted and probably raised no few hairs with the people awake in the town but he could make himself care that much. They wandered back to the camp at some point when Bucky's stomach rumbling away got too loud and dragged out the rest of the jerky which Steve insisted on letting Bucky have the most of.
Then it was his turn to do the grooming and Steve with at it with gusto, laughing whenever he pulled back enough to survey his work. He kept wanting reach out and take a hold of Bucky's fur like he did when he used to tug burrs off him but it didn't work the same without thumbs.]
'm almost done. Do you want to keep running after this? [He swore he could practically feel the way the moon was hanging low again, this time to disappear in the drown of dawn. He wasn't tired in any way he was familiar with but could feel the exertion of the night's antics like a pleasant ache of exertion.]
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When they returned to their little camp, he ate the jerky slowly to savour the companionship but also to not make Steve think that he was impatient with the grooming. It was extremely enjoyable, his ears flicking and his forehead bunching with each pass of that tongue over his dark fur. He lay sternal and relaxed, chewing and only growling when Steve decided to laugh at him, at the way his fur stuck up in all manner of odd wet angles, but his tolerance with his blond friend had always been high. This was no different, even as he held a piece of jerky between his paws.
He belonged. Why hadn't he done this earlier? That would be because of the high risk of being torn apart from the inside with the change. Yes, this had been a decision that Steve had to make with understanding the consequences and now that it had happened, he was content with the world at large for once.]
We can do one more lap, see if any of the rabbits have returned for you to chase, but we will have to be getting back before the moon is much lower. Normally you're asleep at this point. [He licked his paws for any remaining evidence of jerky and then rose to his feet, shaking out his fur before taking them on another round in the forest.
No rabbits. They were all avoiding the night right now. Probably too much excited howling and playing.
When he came to going back to town, he returned them to their supplies and seated himself, peering at the blond. Now to change back, which he considered the hardest part when the moon's influence was still somewhat pressing on them. It was necessary all the same, and Steve might need some time and practice to be able to accomplish it.]
You have to become human again, sorry. What I find allows me the best chance is remembering what it's like to have fingers and toes, clever and versatile. I think of all the things that I can do with my fingers especially and then I build what my body should feel like and sort of... push myself in that direction. It might take you a few tries, so let's start now, okay?
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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?
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It was a lot harder than it looked in small areas. He had years of practice, but he figured that the more that Steve was exposed to early, the faster his friend could learn to enjoy the bigger wolf form. There was no shame in being small or nimble, but this close to the city and with all the racket that they had made, it was better that they were not here come the full light.
He settled down next to their pack and clothes, not about to change until after Steve had managed it. It wouldn't do for him to make it look so easy when he knew that it was a difficult process and especially tiring. He personally expected Steve's human form to remain much the same, though all those ailments corrected. That would be something to explain, but they would have to come up with an excuse at some point. Maybe Steve finally would have the depth perception to punch some bully for real this time?
He waited, offering only little hums of encouragement as Steve tried and tried, and his ears pricked forward when he smelled a change in the air. It was followed by a transition of Steve from massive wolf to... Oh sweet Jesus.
Steve was big, probably bigger than he was, all muscle and peek physical maleness. There were layers of muscles, wide shoulders and not a single crooked bit of spine anywhere close. Tall too even though Steve was not standing, and after his brain stopped being stalled on what he was seeing, he felt his stomach drop out as he immediately thought, 'how are we going to explain this?' No one would believe that the runty Steve Rogers that lived in that apartment was this beast of a man, and yet, he also felt water stinging his eyes as well.
Why hadn't they done this earlier? So much pain and suffering Steve had fought against with physical conditions and the perceptions of society? All of that seemed to be gone now; Steve smelled healthy and earthy, like a forest after rain. It was unbelievable and yet... he felt wronged by having delayed in this even if before Steve had suggested it, he had never considered it as an option. Why would he? Instinct told him not to with this pack.
Rising, he padded over, sniffing at Steve's thighs and ass and then lifting his great head to rest it on that broad strong back. He rubbed his furry chin there.]
I'm sorry we waited so long... if I had known you would be fixed, you would survive... gosh, Stevie, I would have done this years ago. I'm so sorry.
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These huge hands. The flow of smooth, sculpted skin that made up his forearms. The down of pale hair was his but nothing else. It didn't feel like him and he twitched at the brush of Bucky's breath across his bare skin as he sniffed him. Steve waited, forgetting to breathe though his heart was beating steadily as it did as a wolf, ready for some adverse reaction which never came.
The weight of Bucky's great head made him drop his head. His hair was still blonde, no longer than before and dipping into his clear, vibrant vision as he carefully started to breathe again. A second later he was shaking his head at Bucky's words, rearing back to sit on his ass and grab Bucky before that line of thought could even continue.
Sitting, just sitting, he was higher up than he'd ever been before. Christ-
He hitched short in surprise before he was able to shake it off and get back to what he meant to do. Get some fur well in hand so Bucky knew he was serious and hold him fast.]
What's all this about being sorry? You're the one that kept me alive all this time. And we had no idea this would happen. I'm not even...sure what happened. [A glance down provided him with the impressive swell of a smooth chest. His chest? Hesitant, he dared to ask:] Do I...even look like me?
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using a big steve icon feels so weird oh my god
Hunka hunka mcjustice pants
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fin?