Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bucky was deep in the forest and he was being hunted.

He strained every sense, head tilted, trying to track any errant noise.  A leaf rustled, a branch cracked. He could smell the faintest hint of...something. At the last second he threw himself sideways, using the extra weight of his metal arm to help him pivot, and felt something huge brush past him. Without pausing to look, he bolted, threw himself forward, sprinting as fast as he could.

It wasn't fast enough.

He was tackled, the ground hurtling up to meet him until they twisted in mid-air and he was suddenly staring at the sky. They landed hard, his impact cushioned by the naked body underneath him.

"Gotcha," Steve said, laughing in his ear. Bucky grinned up at the sky. He didn't even have the breath knocked out of him, had landed completely safe and unharmed, wrapped tight in Steve's arms. "What did I tell you about running," Steve continued. "You're better off standing your ground. Predators are hardwired to chase you if you run."

"Maybe that's what I was going for." Bucky planted one hand on the ground and turned himself over, so he was facing Steve, was sprawled across his body, and waggled his eyebrows.

"Really?" Steve attempted to look unimpressed, but he almost never managed it, especially not when Bucky did what he was doing now, leaning down to kiss him, and Steve was enthusiastically kissing him back.

"Definitely," he replied, lifting his head. He plucked a leaf out of Steve's hair and ran his fingers down Steve's cheek. 

Steve rubbed his face against Bucky's hand, almost unconsciously, eyes drifting half shut.  "You're supposed to be letting me teach you to think like a werewolf."

"And we'll keep doing that. Later." Steve raised his eyebrows in question. "Right now, I think you should use your werewolf abilities to make sure there's no one in hearing distance and then kiss the hell out of me." Bucky's grin was huge. "Among other things."

There was a chill in the air even though it was well into spring. Bucky got out of bed long enough to get coffee and the laptop then crawled back in next to Steve. Werewolves pumped out heat like a furnace and he pressed his cold feet against Steve's legs. Steve hissed then reached down to grab Bucky's feet and tuck them between his legs, so they'd warm up faster. Bucky combed his fingers through Steve's hair, ran one finger over the shell of his ear, and watched the smile spread across his face.

"Go back to sleep," Bucky said.

"I'm not sleepy, I just feel like lying here for a bit."

"Then do that."

Steve didn't reply, just rested his head on Bucky's hip and flung one arm over his thighs. It made using the computer a bit awkward, but Bucky twisted his body sideways, propped it on a pillow, and managed. 

He was left staring blankly at the screen a few minutes later. He hadn't felt Steve move, but he was suddenly crouched over Bucky's legs, looking into his face. "Hey. Hey, what's wrong?"

"We have to leave."

"What do you mean?"

Bucky turned the computer around so Steve could read it for himself: the email from the owners of the house he'd made the mistake of thinking of as their home.  They were coming back from Europe and they needed him to leave. He watched Steve's face, watched his eyes move as he read the message.

"It's not that bad. We don't have to leave forever. They just want the house back for a month. As long as there's nothing wrong with the place they're happy for you to keep looking after it when they go back to Europe."

"What?"

"See?" He turned the computer around again, pointing to the second half of the message. Bucky hadn't read past the part where they were losing their home.

"Oh, thank fuck." He slumped down, rubbed his face. Steve put the computer on the floor and pulled Bucky into a hug.

"Even if they did want their house back it wouldn't matter," he said, running his hands slowly down Bucky's back. "We’d be okay. We'd find somewhere else."

"But you need the forest," Bucky said. "Somewhere you can be a wolf."

"What I need," Steve said. "Is you. Everything else we can figure out."

Bucky smiled against Steve's shoulder. "It's too early in the morning for that much sap." 

"Deal with it." Steve kissed Bucky's temple then grabbed his coffee and held it out to him. Bucky took it automatically, drank some, then handed it back to Steve who took a sip.

"What are we going to do for a month?" Bucky asked.

They sat in silence, mulling over the possibilities, handing the coffee back and forth between them. "I've always wanted to see the Grand Canyon," Steve said once the coffee was gone.

"Are you suggesting we, what, take a road trip? For a month?"

"Why not?"

Bucky thought about it. "I can't drive in the rain. Or storms."

"Are you okay to be a passenger?"

"Probably."

"Then I can drive. Or we stop. We've got a month."

Bucky smiled slowly and Steve smiled back. "We're going to see the Grand Canyon."

"And everything in between."

They had three weeks before the house's owners returned and they were using it to get organised. Steve, it turned out, had a gift for organisation, like they were going to war and he was formulating battle plans.

Bucky's strength was ideas over execution. He wasn't sure how well this idea was going to go over. "I think we should register you."

Steve looked up from the list he was making to stare at Bucky. "Register me."

Bucky, who'd been working up to this conversation ever since he'd thought of it a few days ago, rubbed the back of his head. He didn't like how it sounded, but he didn't like the idea of something happening to Steve if he was a wolf, or of Steve being stuck as a human for the whole trip. "Um, yeah."

"Like a dog."

There was no emotion on Steve's face, which was so unusual Bucky kind of wanted to take it all back. Actually that, unlike this one, sounded like a great idea. "Never mind," he said. "It was just a thought. Forget about it."

Steve was studying him, his head tilted in a way Bucky had learned meant he was using his werewolf senses, listening to things Bucky couldn't hear, smelling things Bucky couldn't smell. Sometimes he thought it should bother him that Steve had such a pronounced advantage, but it didn't. He trusted Steve; whatever Steve knew about him, could discover about him, Bucky knew it would never be used to hurt him. 

"No," Steve said and walked over to stand next to Bucky at the computer. "Can you explain what you're thinking?"

"It would make you safer. It would mean you could be a wolf just about anywhere. This way, you wouldn't have to worry. If you want to be a wolf, you could be a wolf. If you want to be a human, you could be a human. You should be able to choose, the way you can here."

Steve's eyes were very blue as he looked down at Bucky. "You really don't see any difference, do you?"

"Well, I mean there's some difference," Bucky said, raking his eyes up and down Steve's body, and Steve swatted him.

"Not what I meant."

"I know," he said with a flashing smile. "And no, I don't. You're you. You're Steve." Bucky shrugged. "Two feet or four feet, it doesn't matter. You're always you." Steve's smile was like sunshine and he cupped Bucky's face in his warm hands and kissed him, long and slow. Bucky was breathless when he pulled back. "What was that for?"

"I love you. Go ahead and register me. It's a good idea." 

It took Bucky three tries to get the website up, his ability to think having wandered off in the warm haze left behind whenever Steve kissed him. When he finally did there were some decisions that had to be made. "Captain," he said firmly.

"What?"

"That's your name."

"Pretty sure my name is Steve."

"No, for the wolfdog that doesn't exist that we're registering you as. Captain."

Steve thought it over then shrugged. "Sure, why not."

A few minutes later, Bucky said, "Poodle."

"What?"

Bucky forced down a smile. "You can't register a wolf, only a wolfdog. That means I need to list a dog breed to be the dog in wolfdog. So, poodle?"

Steve's expression clearly said no.

"Hmm." Bucky brought up a website of toy dog breeds. "Pekingese."

Steve's expression said hell no.

"Papillion?"

"Bucky..." he said warningly.

"Pug?" Bucky was laughing as he said it.

He sometimes forgot how much stronger Steve was. He was usually so gentle, so careful not to use it. And other times...

Steve lifted him out of the chair and carried him three steps to effortlessly pin him against the wall. "No." Steve's eyes were dark, Bucky could see amusement lurking in their depths, but his voice was low, his hands were wrapped around Bucky's hips, and Steve's body was pressed hard against his so Bucky couldn't get away. One word and Steve would let him go, he knew, and a thrill sparked down his spine, a surge of electricity.

He wrapped his legs around Steve's waist, threaded his hands into Steve's hair to pull his head down until their lips were just brushing, and whispered, "Shih Tzu."

Being gone for a month meant they'd need more than what they could get in town. That meant a three hour drive to the nearest city. Steve's incredible organisation meant if they avoided extra stops and unnecessary detours they should be able to get everything in one day, even with the six hour round trip. Neither of them were interested in shopping for its own sake and neither of them were overly fond of the city, so avoiding unnecessary detours and extra stops wasn't a problem.

Necessary detours, however, couldn't be avoided. When Bucky saw the store, his eyes lit up with unholy glee and he bodily dragged a protesting Steve inside.

"You're going to need something to hang your dog tags on."

"Bucky, no. I'm not wearing a collar."

"Come on, Steve. You're going to have to." Oh, there was the I'm disappointed in you look. It was kind of amazing, in a way. It implied that every life choice Bucky had made up to now had been solely designed to lead to this moment of disappointing Steve. "Maybe it'll be fun. How do you know? I mean, have you ever worn a collar?"

"No."

"Here, what about this one?" Bucky grabbed a truly hideous bright pink collar with purple rhinestones and held it up next to Steve's face.

"No."

"No, pink's not really your colour." He swapped it for another one equally as hideous, lime green with orange rhinestones. "This one?"

"Bucky..."

"Well, help me out here? If you're going to wear a collar for the first time, you should at least have a say in picking it out."

The corner of Steve's mouth ticked up and his eyes were suddenly amused. "I don't know. If you think I need a collar, shouldn't you be the one to choose it?"

"Suddenly you're on board with the whole collar thing?"

"I wouldn't want to argue with you." His eyes got brighter. Bucky was suddenly suspicious. "Do you think we need a leash to go with it?"

Bucky was suddenly very suspicious. "Yes," he said cautiously. "But you have to help me pick. I'm not taking the blame if I buy something you don't like."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll like whatever you buy me. Collar. Leash. Whatever you think is best." His eyes were gleaming. "Do you think I need to try it on?"

There was a noise Bucky could only describe as a squeak from behind him. He spun around to see a girl dressed in the pet store's uniform staring at them with huge eyes. He looked from her to Steve, whose face was suddenly all innocence, and back again. "How about you pretend you never heard any of this and we definitely don't need any help," he suggested and she flashed him a grateful look and scampered away.

"You're such an asshole," Bucky said, shaking his head, and Steve grinned at him.

They ended up picking a leather collar in dark blue with one subtle silver star and a matching leash. Bucky figured word had gotten around because the kid at the cash register wouldn't make eye contact and the woman restocking the cat food gave Bucky a thumbs up.

Steve wouldn't stop grinning. Bucky made him carry the bag.

They left before the house's owners came home, since avoiding unnecessary awkwardness was always high on Bucky's list of things to do.  It was early morning and they paused at the turn off onto the highway.

"Anything you want to say?" Bucky asked, looking over at Steve. "It's been your home longer than mine."

"Nothing jumps to mind."

"Then let's go."

"That looks like fun."

"Hmm?" Bucky wasn't really paying attention. The road was rolling out in front of them, music was playing softly in the background, the air was warm, he had Steve beside him. They'd been travelling for a few days, not really in a hurry. He was content. 

"That." Steve was pointing. Bucky followed his finger briefly, saw a dog with his head out the window, and started laughing. 

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"You want to give it a try?"

"I really kind of do."

Bucky was laughing again and he had to work hard to get himself under control enough to keep driving safely. "Next rest stop, let's make it happen."

It took a while before they found a suitable place, with enough scrub land two men could wander off into it and come back as a man and a wolf. Wolfdog, that is, should anyone ask, given that the animal in question was wearing a collar with a set of dog tags dangling from it.

Bucky put Steve's clothes into one of the lock boxes in the back of the truck then opened the passenger door and wound the window down, smiling fondly as Steve shifted around, getting comfortable. "I don't suppose you're going to let me put the seatbelt on you."

Steve gave him a look.

"I know you'd survive, but it would make me feel better."

The head tilt was exactly the same, regardless of what form Steve was in, and he leaned forward to press his head against Bucky's stomach. Bucky stroked both his ears, wrapping his hands around them. "You sure you don't mind?" He could feel Steve's low rumble in his bones. "Thanks."

It didn't take long to get the seatbelt buckled around Steve in a way that would be comfortable, and he kissed the top of his head before he closed the door.  

They pulled out onto the highway and Steve immediately shoved his head out the window, tilting his head into the breeze, eyes half closed in what seemed to be pure bliss. After a few minutes his mouth dropped open. Bucky kept glancing over and wished like hell he could take a picture. Steve's tongue was hanging out. 

"Are you drooling?"

Steve turned around to laugh at him, eyes bright and blue.

"I am not cleaning that off the truck," Bucky told him, amused at how happy he was, reaching over to scratch his chest. "Wolf drool is where I draw the line."

When they left the motel that morning, the weather had been clear. The weather forecast had predicted sunny skies for the entire week.

The clouds had slipped in unnoticed, building throughout the day.

Bucky had been fine with the light rain. It was barely rain at all, more a persistent mist. As it started to get heavier his grip on the steering wheel got tighter.

Steve's hand covered his right one. "Bucky, pull over." His voice was steady and calm, his hand was warm and strong.

Bucky breathed deeply and did as he was told, grateful there was enough room on the shoulder. Steve reached past him, turned the key, grasped both of Bucky's hands and pulled them away from the steering wheel. Bucky hadn't realised how stiff his right hand had gotten; the knuckles were aching. "I'm fine."

"I know." Steve lifted his hands to kiss each palm, first the right and then the left. "I'm going to drive now, okay?"

Bucky nodded. He was fine to drive as long as it wasn't raining. As long as there wasn't a storm. This wasn't a storm, not yet, but the rain was heavy enough to drum against the windows. He still didn't remember the accident, but he knew it had happened in the rain and the thunder.

They switched sides, Steve running out into the rain while Bucky slid across to the passenger side with a shudder.  Even without driving, the wrongness of being in a vehicle in the rain, which was only getting heavier, was a weight on him, but Steve was here. Steve was driving. Steve had the reflexes and senses of a werewolf. If there was anyone he was safe with it was Steve.

"I'm going to stop at the first place we find. This looks like it's only going to get worse."

"Good plan." Steve wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, squeezed gently, and started the truck.

Bucky knew he went away for a while.

The next thing he was aware of, Steve was urging him out of the truck, backpack over his shoulder. They were at a motel. The rain was hammering down and the dark clouds were rolling with thunder.

"Come on," he said, hustling Bucky into the room.  Once they were inside, he dropped the pack on the floor and pulled Bucky into a hug, wrapping him up tight. Bucky did his best to burrow into him. "What do you want to do?"

"Not move."

"How about moving a little bit?"

Bucky grumbled but agreed and Steve walked them over to the bed. Bucky was happy to be manhandled and Steve got them settled, completely spooned around Bucky.

He felt the weight on him start to let go, felt it ease. Steve was warm and strong and there was no part of Bucky that wasn't completely engulfed by him. "I fucking hate storms," he muttered and pressed his arms against Steve's.

"I know," Steve said quietly, rubbing his nose against Bucky's neck. "I remember."  

"Steve?"

"Yes?"

"That night you showed up in my room? When I was having a nightmare? How did you know?"

Steve sounded embarrassed. "I was sleeping under the house and I could hear your heartbeat from down there. It went insane. I...reacted." Bucky huffed a quiet laugh. "You've got to remember. To you I was some strange guy you'd only met once but to me you were my friend. All I knew was that something was very wrong. I didn't stop and think that what I was doing was also very wrong until I was standing in your bedroom doorway. And by then..."

"What?"

"I could smell your fear."

There was a long silence as they both considered Steve's words. "You know, without context that could be really creepy," Bucky pointed out. 

"You see what I mean?" Steve sighed into Bucky's hair. "It was so wrong. But I couldn't leave you like that. Even if you hated me for it, I couldn't leave you."

Bucky wriggled to try and get closer to Steve. It wasn't actually possible, he knew, but he wanted to at least try. "Not sure I ever said thank you for that."

Steve pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. "You did. But you're welcome."

Outside, the storm raged on, the crash of thunder and the pouring rain and the flash of lightning. Inside, Bucky wasn't afraid, even after he drifted off to sleep. Steve was there, was keeping watch, and would never let him go.

It was days later, in a different motel in a different town. Steve was stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, one arm folded under his head, the other lying across Bucky's chest. Bucky's head was resting on Steve's stomach as he looked through the pile of brochures he'd acquired. "I know where we're going next."

"Where?"

"Palace of the Damned," Bucky read. "Home of America's only vampires and werewolves. Real life cryptids, chupacabras, and other terrors of legend have been brought forth into the modern age."

Steve didn't open his eyes. "Vampires are a myth."

"Says the werewolf." Bucky turned over so he could see Steve's face. 

Steve smiled. "Who'd know better?"

"I still say we should go."

"Sure, why not."

*          *          *

It was disappointing.

The walls were very beige. There were no cryptids, chupacabra, or other terrors of legend.

The werewolf was a man in a very hairy outfit Bucky was almost positive was a modified Chewbacca costume. The wolf he changed into was obviously a husky. A happy, healthy, really excited husky who seemed thrilled to see Steve on the other side of the glass and proceeded to ignore the trainer obviously standing out of sight of the audience.  Steve and Bucky finally took pity on them and left, the husky's disappointed howls following them down the hallway.

"Do you want to go see the vampire?" Steve asked, his arm around Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky sighed. "No, I guess not. I thought this would be funnier."

"Nice dog, though."

"She sure liked you."

"What can I say; dogs think I'm great."

"You're like a canine rock star."

Steve eyed him, looked both ways down the hallway, then crowded Bucky against the wall, grasped his face in both hands, and kissed him, slow and soft, thumbs brushing gently across his skin as Bucky pressed up into the kiss. When he moved back, Bucky was smiling. "Better?"

"Always."

"I feel like we should go see the vampire," Steve said.

"Yeah, all right. I'd hate it to be a wasted trip."

The purported vampire was the most over the top, Bela-Lugosi-aping, ridiculously dramatic individual either of them had ever seen, with a costume so elaborate it practically had a personality of its own. He was so obviously having the time of his life they were both in stitches before the show was over.

It was completely worth the trip.

When they pulled into a town for fuel and food and the local movie theatre was showing Young Frankenstein as a special feature they obviously had to stay.  It was late when it let out, they were laughing as they made their way to the truck, when Steve suddenly stopped.

"Werewolf."

"There wolf, there—" Bucky replied automatically, but Steve held up a hand.

"No, Bucky. There's a werewolf. I can smell her." It was the first time in the trip Steve had caught even a hint of another werewolf.

"What do you want to do?"

"She's close. Let's go find her."

Bucky followed Steve as he tracked the scent down the street. It led them to a diner parking lot and a slender woman, girl really, Bucky thought, as they got closer, in what must have been the diner's uniform, standing in the diner's parking lot. 

They stopped at the edge of the parking lot. There were two men standing on the opposite side of the lot, putting the girl equal distance between them. All three of them were watching Steve.

Steve put a hand out. "They're wolves, too," he said pointing his chin at the two men. "And she's afraid. Stay here."

He stalked out to stand between the girl and the other werewolves, turning his head long enough to give her a brief smile, looking as much like his wolf as a human shape could manage. Bucky could see his blue eyes gleaming. His entire body was a threat, a warning.

They stood frozen: Steve, the two werewolves, the girl behind Steve. Bucky's eyes flicked from one to the other, until a tiny movement from the girl caught his eye. She'd shivered. Bucky's eyes narrowed as he studied her, the way she was standing, the way she was staring at Steve. The way she was curling in on herself.  Her eyes were huge, never leaving Steve, her arms wrapped tight around her body.

Steve, who was huge and strong, who dwarfed these other werewolves.

Fuck. She wasn't afraid of those two wolves, who were probably her pack. He was pretty sure she was afraid of Steve.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He walked over and wrapped both hands around Steve's arm. "Steve," he said gently, keeping his movements slow so he wouldn't spook the poor girl worse than she already was. "Steve, come on. Come on, you need to move."

"Bucky, no. I'm not letting them hurt her." He could see it in Steve's eyes, the same look when he'd told Bucky about his first pack, the ones who'd made him. The ones who wouldn't let him protect the weaker wolves. 

He looked back, trying to meet the girl's gaze, but hers shied away, like she was afraid to meet his eyes. "Steve, she's not afraid of them." He didn't want to say it, not to Steve, but he didn't see another way. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who's scaring her." Steve opened his mouth to protest, half turned to face the girl, and she flinched. Bucky's heart broke a little at the look of horror that flashed across Steve's face.

He let Bucky pull him away, walking backwards away from the girl, whose eyes were locked on the ground. "I'm sorry," Steve said softly, his whole body pulling in on itself, as if by force of will alone he could make himself smaller, less scary, less intimidating, and his voice was gentler than Bucky had ever heard it. "I never meant to scare you." 

When they were back at the edge of the parking lot, Steve moved behind Bucky, as if having Bucky as a barrier between them would somehow make them feel safer. The two werewolves who'd been standing on the opposite edge ran to the side of the girl, the younger pulling her into a hug while the older planted himself between them and Steve and Bucky.

"Hey," Bucky called. "It's okay. No one's going to hurt you. I promise. He thought she was in trouble. He wanted to help."

The older werewolf laughed bitterly. "Of course he did. Because that's what alphas like him do, they help wolves like us."

Bucky felt Steve flinch against his back and his eyes narrowed. "I know fuck all about alphas but yes, that's all he wanted to do. He knew she was afraid and he wanted to help. He would never hurt any of you."

"Bucky." Steve, tucked behind Bucky, trying to make himself small, touched the back of Bucky's right hand. "It's okay. He's right. I scared her. It doesn't matter what I thought I was doing. I scared her and that's not okay. Let's just go."

Bucky glared at the older werewolf and turned to face Steve, whose eyes were sad. He knew all three of the strange werewolves were watching and he didn't care. He pulled Steve into a hug, curled his right hand around the back of his neck, pressed the metal one against the small of his back. Steve breathed deeply, face tucked into the crook of his neck, and Bucky pressed a kiss to his hair. "All right, let's go."

Steve straightened and Bucky took his hand as they turned to walk away.

"Wait." It was the girl. They both turned, surprised.

"Megan, don't."

"Who are you?" The girl, Megan, was standing one step in front of the older werewolf, who had a hand wrapped around her arm, staring at them with a strange expression on her face.

Bucky exchanged a glance with Steve. "I'm Bucky. This is Steve."

"You're not a werewolf."

"No, just a human. Steve's the werewolf."

"Alphas don't act like you," she told Steve, shaking her head. "You don't, they don't. They don't walk away. You should be furious. And they would never. Not with a human, a human wouldn't survive. You don't. Who are you?"

"Not an alpha, for a start. I'm just a werewolf, just like you, just like all of you."

A snort of derisive laughter greeted that, from the older werewolf. "No, you're not. You could tear us in half and not break a sweat."

"Imagine what he could do to me," Bucky told him, raising an eyebrow. "Do I look worried?"

"You should be."

"I really, really shouldn't," Bucky told him and leaned into Steve's side.

Steve's brows were drawing down as he looked between the three werewolves. "Do you need help? Is there, do you have an alpha who's hurting you? I'll help you if you need it."

All three werewolves stared at him in something like shock, heads lifted slightly like they were scenting the air. "You mean that," the younger one said, speaking for the first time.

"Of course," Steve replied.

"Is there something wrong with him?" the older werewolf asked Bucky.

Bucky just smiled.

"No," the older werewolf told Steve when it was obvious Bucky wasn't going to say anything. "No, we're safe here. Or we thought we were."

"Until I showed up," Steve said.

All three nodded.

"You're still safe." Steve's voice was very gentle. "We're just passing through and I'm not going to tell anyone about you."

The three were exchanging glances, like they wanted to believe but couldn't quite bring themselves to trust, even though Bucky knew their senses would tell them Steve wasn't lying.

"Do you have a pen and paper?" Bucky asked Megan. She looked puzzled but pulled both out of her uniform pocket and stretched her arm out to hand them to him, keeping the maximum distance she could between them. Bucky wrote his phone number down and handed it back. "If you're ever not safe, call. We'll help you." Steve squeezed his shoulder and he knew he'd been right to do it.

All three werewolves looked shocked again, but Megan folded her fingers around the paper like it was something unexpectedly precious.

The older werewolf was shaking his head. "There's something wrong with both of you."

They were traveling by the backroads, which meant fewer people and fewer cars. It also meant fewer rest stops and the ones they found were just as likely to have no one else using them.

It was not the case with this one.

There was a VW van pulled up next to a picnic table, and two women, who he assumed were a couple what with the handholding and kissing, were sitting at the table. Bucky couldn't quite get a bead on them from looking, but the van and the flowy clothing did give a vaguely hippiesh feeling. "What do you think?" he asked Steve, who was currently a wolf.

A wolf can't shrug, but Steve tipped his head in a way that indicated he was good to stop.

Bucky pulled in and hopped out of the truck, giving the women a friendly smile and a nod. They returned it warily, eyeing him and his metal arm suspiciously, until he walked around to let Steve out. Then their eyes lit up.

"Goodness, he's beautiful," the blonde woman called.

"And so big," the brunette added.

"Yeah," Bucky called back, watching Steve stretch, trying to see him as a stranger would. It reminded him just how big he'd look to someone who wasn't used to him, his shoulder coming nearly to Bucky's hip.

"Is he friendly?"

Bucky looked at Steve questioningly. Steve ticked his tail back and forth once. "Sure. Do you want to meet him?"

They were looking at Steve with almost identical hopeful expressions, so Bucky took that as a yes and walked over to the picnic table, Steve walking by his side. "This is Captain," Bucky said, sharing an amused glance with Steve. It was the name on his tags so it was the name they gave to strangers.

"I'm Cheryl and this is Kerrie," the blonde woman said, directly to Steve, as if he could understand her, and held out her hand for him to sniff. Steve dutifully did. "May I pat him?"

"Sure."

She scratched Steve behind one ear, which he seemed to appreciate, then pulled her hand away and just gazed at him. Which was a little strange. She looked up at Bucky.  "He's a wolf, isn't he?"

Bucky exchanged another look with Steve. "Mostly. He's a wolfdog."

"No, he's a true wolf," she said, fixing Bucky with an intent gaze. "Not a wolfdog."

"Okay." It was not actually a look he wanted to argue with.

"I thought so," Kerrie said, speaking for the first time. "He has a radiant aura around him. Like a deep, wise mist. Only a true wolf would have an aura like that."

Bucky only noticed Steve's eyes go wide because he knew him so well, even in this shape. He kept his own face neutral and nodded. "I see."

"Wolves are more than animals. They're guides. They show people the way to their new paths in life. You should consider yourself honoured and blessed that one has chosen to journey with you," Cheryl told him.

"Oh, I do," Bucky assured her. "I do."

Steve stepped on his foot. Hard. Bucky ignored him.

"They're superior beings, so far above us humans," Kerrie added. "And you can tell by how blue his eyes are that he's very far along in his cycle of lives. He must have returned to the earth to convey a secret message of wisdom. You'll have to be alert or you may miss it."

"I'll remember that," Bucky promised.

"He is a beautiful ethereal spirit of kindness," Cheryl said. "I feel honoured to have had a chance to have met him." She smiled at Kerrie. "Oh, I know."

Kerrie smiled back. "Yes, I'll get it," she said and disappeared into the van. She came back holding a flower crown. "For you," she said to Steve.

"I think he'll love it," Bucky said, smiling down at Steve.

Steve's expression said I'm going to kill you.

Bucky's smile replied it's completely worth it.

"Go on, Captain, let her put it on," Bucky said to Steve and, ears tipped to the side, Steve held still while Kerrie firmly settled the flower crown on his head. A pink ribbon trailed down next to his eye.

"There, it's beautiful. Can we get a picture?"

Bucky's grin was so bright it could possibly be seen from space. "You can definitely get a picture. As many as you'd like."

They took several pictures, then explained that they had to be on the road or they wouldn't reach their celebration by moonrise. Bucky waved goodbye as they pulled out and Steve and Bucky watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, their clunky VW van having disappeared down the highway, Steve's head whipped around and a low growl rippled out of his throat.

Bucky burst out laughing and he took off running into the field next to the rest stop. Steve pelted after him, flower crown securely tucked over his ears.  Bucky was laughing so hard he tripped over his own feet to land in the grass, metal hand going out to catch himself, and he flipped over just as Steve reached him and sat firmly on top of him.  Bucky couldn't have budged him but he didn't even try.

"Aww, Steve, don't be angry. You're a beautiful ethereal spirit of kindness," he choked out.

The beautiful ethereal spirt of kindness shook his head until the flower crown slipped off, turned his head to snap it out of the air, dropped it onto Bucky's chest and proceed to tear it into pieces.

"Is that any way for a superior being to act?" Bucky asked, still laughing. Steve let a wad of drool-laden flowers drop onto Bucky. "Is that the secret message? I don't think I'm getting it."

Steve spat another piece of drool covered flower crown onto Bucky's chest.

"Oh come on, they were nice. Weird, but nice. And you know, you sort of are a beautiful ethereal spirit of kindness." He paused. "When you're not being an asshole."

Steve was holding up a colourful brochure. Even the picture looked cold. Bucky eyed it dubiously. "You want to swim in a glacier."

"It's not a glacier. It's just a lake," Steve clarified.

"Under a glacier."

"The glacier doesn't run into the lake. Only snowmelt from below the glacier. It's too cold for the glacier to melt."

"Oh, that's much better." Bucky rolled his eyes.

Steve grinned at him. "Trust me, it'll be fun."

Which was how Bucky found himself following Steve up a mountain. It was, admittedly, beautiful. The day was perfect and clear, the air crisp in a way he'd never before experienced, and they'd only seen two other people, both going down the trail, not up. 

The man they'd paid their entrance fee to had looked surprised when Steve had asked if they could swim in the lake. He'd shrugged and said they could; it'd be safe enough, just pretty cold still, but he couldn't figure out why they'd want to. 

When they reached the lake, Steve didn't hesitate, just dropped his backpack, stripped down and pulled on his swimsuit. Bucky, with a long suspicious look at the lake—it looked cold and black and his teeth wanted to chatter just standing next to it—did the same.  He didn't bother checking to see if anyone was around; Steve would know better than him.

Steve dove in first and Bucky followed him. He hit the water, went under, and shuddered at how chilly it was. He kicked up, broke the surface, shook his hair out of his eyes. "How was this a good idea?" he asked, treading water. It was hard work with the extra weight from his arm, but he could manage.

Steve was smiling as he swam closer. "Hold still for a second."

Bucky blinked at him. "Not holding still is an important part of not drowning."

"Trust me."

"You say that a lot," Bucky grumbled and stopped treading water. He briefly dipped down in the water before Steve had him pulled tight against him, easily keeping both of them afloat. Steve was so warm. It was like being wrapped in a blanket and Bucky was warmed right down to his toes. He let out a contented sigh and felt more than heard Steve's quiet laugh.

"Better?"

"So much better."

Chilly mountain lakes were actually fun when you had a werewolf putting out heat like a small captive sun.  It was glorious. The lake was crystal clear and so deep Bucky couldn't find the bottom when he swam straight down. He could swim until he was too cold then plaster himself against Steve until he was warm again, letting Steve hold them both steady in the water.

They swam for an hour, with the whole lake to themselves. Eventually, Steve pulled himself up to sit on the rocky edge, legs dangling in the water. The bright sunlight caught the constellation of scars scattered above his left hip, making them stand out in stark relief against his skin.

Bucky swam over to touch them, pressing himself against Steve's leg for warmth.  The scars were as familiar to him as the rest of Steve's body but he'd never seen them like this, so bright and shiny, reflecting the light.

Steve watched his fingers move over the scars, then reached down to gently touch the back of Bucky's hand. "It's where I was bitten."

Bucky looked up in surprise.

"When you change, you lose all your scars. I was covered in them." Steve drew lines down his chest, over his heart. "From the surgeries. They all disappeared. You only keep the bite mark. Except mine doesn't look like a bite."

"Because you got bigger."

"Because I got bigger."

Bucky had his metal arm around Steve's thigh, holding himself in place while he ran his finger across the scars, trying to work out how they'd fit into the shape of a bite, trying to work out how small Steve must have been. He wasn't sure he meant to ask the question, but it slipped out anyway. "Would you ever bite me?"

Steve went still under Bucky's hand. "Would you want me to?"

"No." The answer came surprisingly easily. "No, I don't think so. Plus I don't know what would happen with this." He tapped his metal arm, making it ring, and felt Steve relax. "You don't want me to be a werewolf?"

"It's not that. I've never changed someone. What if I got it wrong?"

"I like being human," he said, smiling a little, still trying to see a bite in the scattered scars above Steve's hip. "So it's not something to worry about."

Steve reached down to cup Bucky's chin in his hand, gently urging him to look up. "Bucky? What if you were dying?"

"What do you mean?"

"It could save you, if you were dying. What if it was the only way to save you?"

Steve's eyes were the darkest blue he'd ever seen them. Bucky swallowed and his hand tightened around Steve's hip. "If that ever happens, do it. You've got my permission."

As was probably inevitable, the truck broke down. As was not so inevitable, and actually quite fortunate, it did so in a city with a population large enough it would only take a few days for the part to be ordered and for Steve and Bucky to be back on the road.

It was also a city large enough to have strict leash laws even more strictly enforced.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I definitely caught a whiff of something and I need to be a wolf if I'm going to find it. So, congratulations, you finally get to put a leash on me." Steve was grinning and dangling the leash between them.

Bucky snorted. "Just remember, this was your idea." He grabbed the leash and waved his hand at Steve, who stripped down and shifted.  It still felt strange putting a collar on him and it felt even stranger putting a leash on him.

Steve's size got some odd looks and no few concerned ones, with a few people crossing the street to avoid them, but even with a full day of wandering the city Steve was no closer to finding the elusive scent. 

Neither of them realised that, as they traversed the city, they were being observed. That the reason the scent stayed elusive was that it was remaining carefully downwind.

*          *          *

Bucky had ducked out to the store, leaving Steve peacefully reading in their hotel room. He was taking his time, preferring the longer way through the rambling nearby park, guaranteed to have fewer people.

"Hey man!" Okay, maybe not guaranteed. He turned around to see a scruffy guy waving a dog leash running up to him. "Have you seen my dog?"

"Maybe? What does he look like?"

"He's gold with floppy ears and he's only got one eye. He got off his leash when we stopped to get pizza and I can't find him."

Bucky had definitely spent way too much time with Steve, because his first reaction was to say, "I haven't seen him but I'll help you look."

A strange expression, something that looked a little bit like regret, passed over the guy's face. "That's really nice of you. And sorry about this."

The problem with werewolves who don't love you is that they don't care about how they use their strength against you. If they want to completely immobilise you and drag you deep into the wooded area of a park, where no one can see you, they can and there's not one damn thing you can about it.

An arm went around Bucky's waist and a hand went over his mouth and he was bodily lifted and moved at terrifying speed through the park. He wound up in a small clearing, where a scary looking redheaded woman was standing under a tree, looking at him like he was something she'd scraped off her shoe. The man who'd carried him here kept one hand around the back of his neck, fingers tight enough to be a warning. The guy with the dog leash wandered into view and flashed him an apologetic look. Bucky glared at him.

"You know what we are," the redhead said.

"Werewolves, right?"

"If you scream, if you try and get away, you know what we can do to you. If you stay quiet and don't cause any problems, you'll probably be fine," she said.

"Probably fine. That's so reassuring," Bucky replied. Never run from a predator, always stand your ground. He assumed that applied to everything to do with a predator, not just actual running.

"It's the best you're going to get," the man holding him said. "Take it or leave it."

"Take it, under protest," Bucky said. No one said anything in response. Bucky was definitely not feeling good about this. Couldn’t help the creeping edge of worry that was trickling down his spine.  There couldn't be anything good three strange werewolves would want with him. And these weren't sad, beaten down wolves like the last three. He was pretty sure these were the kind of wolves those wolves had been afraid of. "Have you got names or should I just call you scary wolf one, scary wolf two, and scruffy wolf?"

"Hey," said the scruffy guy.

"Brush your hair and we'll talk."

The redhead gave him an unimpressed look. "I can smell your fear, so there's—"

Bucky sighed. "That is creepy without context, so thanks for confirming that, and I know. You can smell my fear, you can hear my heartbeat, I know. But if you're expecting me to roll over and show my belly, it's not going to happen."

There were a few heartbeats of silence and then the werewolf with his fingers around his neck said, "Sam."

"I'd say nice to meet you but that would be a lie."

"Clint." Sam pointed over Bucky's shoulder at the scruffy guy, who waved, and then at the redhead, who looked like she was thinking of biting Sam's finger off, her lip curling up to show very white teeth. Finally Sam said, "And Natasha. We're going to ask you some questions," he continued. "And your life is going to be a hell of a lot easier if you answer them."

"Your life, maybe," Bucky replied. "My life was nice and easy before you dragged me off into the woods."

Natasha came closer, studied him, eyed his metal arm. "What's the story with this?" she asked and tapped it once.

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "Let me show you," he said and used his metal hand to give her the finger. He could see Clint, leaning against a tree, hide a smile.

Natasha's eyes were hooded and she didn't react. "How do you know about werewolves?" she asked.

"I have great observational skills."

"Where did you observe a werewolf?"

"Right in front of me."

The corner of her lip pulled up in what Bucky was sure was a snarl. "We know you've got a werewolf."

Bucky remained silent. Of course this would be about Steve. They probably saw Steve as a threat, saw Bucky as an easy way to get an advantage over him.

"Tell us about him."

All expression dropped off Bucky's face and he went as still as he knew how, trying to control his body language to give away nothing. "No."

"You know what we can do to you."

Bucky was very aware of the fingers wrapped around his neck, but he wouldn't give them anything about Steve. "Yes."

"You've got a werewolf. We saw you walking him on a leash. That's not acceptable." Natasha's teeth were showing, very white and very sharp. "I don't know how you caught him or how you keep him, but you're going to tell us how you did it and how to set him free."

Stunned, Bucky reassessed. This was about Steve but they were trying to protect him? Fuck, they thought Bucky was...he didn't know, but they thought Steve needed to be saved from Bucky? "I think maybe there's been a misund—"

Before he could finish, all three werewolf heads snapped around. Steve stepped into the clearing. His eyes locked onto Sam. "Let him go." The three words held more menace than Bucky would have thought possible. Bucky felt Sam's hand lift away and felt him take a step back. "Bucky, come here." Bucky was more than happy to comply and he walked slowly, deliberately not hurrying, to Steve's side. Steve swept the three werewolves with a cold look. "If you ever touch him again, if you ever come near him again—"

"Steve," Bucky said, interrupting him. "Wait."  Sam and Clint looked surprised. Natasha didn't react at all. "Just wait." It was a measure of the trust Steve had in him that he waited, and Bucky knew it. "They saw you on the leash," he said and Steve's ear went pink. "They thought I, I have no fucking idea what they actually thought, but they thought you needed protecting from me."

"That's crazy."

"Yeah, but that's what they thought."

Steve lifted his head to stare at Natasha. "Is that true?"

She nodded once. "We watched both of you. He," she pointed at Bucky, "had you on a leash and made you lead him all over the city." Bucky watched the pink in Steve's ears get brighter. "We presumed, reasonably, that you needed help."

"Bucky would never hurt me."

"He's a human," she said, her tone clearly implying she thought Steve's words made him an idiot.

"I'm aware of that." Steve's mouth ticked up. "Intimately."

"We thought you were in trouble."

"So you grabbed Bucky."

"So we grabbed the human we thought was responsible. We didn't hurt him. We were trying to figure out how to help you."

"That doesn't make it okay."

Bucky sighed and held up his hand at Natasha in a wait gesture, getting a sharp glare in response.  He turned to face Steve. "Steve, talk to them. Yes, I'm pissed as hell that they grabbed me, but they didn't hurt me and they did it because they thought you needed help." He waited until Steve was completely focussed on him and grasped his face between both hands. "They're a pack that tried to protect a werewolf they didn't even know."

He didn't look convinced, but he looked slightly less stubborn.

"Talk to them." Bucky kissed him softly. "For me. Please?"

Steve tipped his forehead so it was resting against Bucky's. "Okay. For you."

Bucky watched Steve as he walked over to stand near Sam and Natasha, keeping a wary distance, but Bucky could see them talking. Clint sidled over. "Sorry about the whole grabbing you thing."

Bucky glared at him.

"Fair enough. I really do have a dog, though. Want to see some pictures?"

Bucky sighed. "Yeah, sure."

Clint pulled out his phone. "His name's Lucky. I rescued him from some Russian mobsters." There were about a million photos of a happy golden dog on Clint's phone but Lucky was cute, and Clint obviously loved him, so Bucky didn't mind.

And they were a distraction from just how long Steve ended up talking with Sam and Natasha.

*          *          *

"I'm not leaving Bucky behind."

"And we're not showing a human where the pack runs."

"Then I'm not coming."

"Blindfold me," Bucky said, rubbing his forehead because this had been going on for way too long. Natasha-the-terrifying, as Bucky had started referring to her in his head, looked at him with a flat gaze. "I don't have your freaky werewolf senses. So blindfold me and I won't know where the fuck we are. Easy."

Steve looked ready to protest, but Bucky put a hand on his arm. "I don't care that they don't trust me. You want to go. You know you do."

"I really do," he admitted, lips quirking in a smile.

Natasha was rolling her eyes so Bucky made a point of leaning in and kissing Steve, slow and soft. "And you know there's not much I wouldn't do for you."

"I know."

Which was how he found himself sitting blindfolded on Steve's lap. It was something that, under other circumstances, he could have enjoyed. But there was a dog sitting on the bench seat next to him, a dog that kept sticking his nose in Bucky's ear, and Clint was behind the wheel of his newly repaired truck, so it was definitely not the time.

"This'll be great," Clint was saying. "I usually have to leave Lucky at home, because he tries to keep up and gets exhausted. But he can stay with you. Lucky and Bucky. You'll take care of him, right?"

Bucky could hear the note of worry in Clint's voice. "Yeah, of course. He's a good dog. I won't let anything happen to him."

They didn't let him take his blindfold off until everyone had changed into a wolf except Steve. He waited for Steve to shift, scratched him behind the ears while the pack waited impatiently, then watched as they ran off into the trees.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Lucky." Lucky panted up at him. He had a long leash on, long enough Bucky could throw a ball for him and he could race after it, because Bucky wasn't going to take a chance on losing him.  They played fetch for half an hour until Lucky flopped down and refused to chase the ball anymore. Bucky poured him some water and flopped down next to him. "How long do you think they'll be gone for?" Lucky pricked his ears up. "I know, you can't answer."

It was another half an hour and suddenly there were wolves everywhere. Lucky was on his feet, tail waving madly, but Bucky held him back. The wolves were beautiful, wild, and moved almost as a single unit, leaping and playing and shoving at one another. Seeing Steve there, among his own kind for the first time, took his breath away. He was still huge, towering over all the others, but he fit. And he was happy, mouth open in a laugh, blue eyes gleaming bright, as he leapt and danced through the pack. 

A scruffy wolf Bucky immediately knew was Clint made a low rumbling noise, looking pointedly at Bucky, and he let Lucky go, watching him bound into the pack. 

Steve trotted over and shoved his head into Bucky's chest. Bucky wrapped his arms around him and pressed his forehead between his ears. "Have fun?" Steve huffed out a breath. "Good." They sat like that for a few minutes, then Steve pressed his nose against Bucky's neck, making Bucky yelp. "Hey, that's cold!" Steve jumped back and his eyes were laughing.  "Such an asshole." 

The air around Steve shimmered, the faint moment of in-between when Steve was neither one thing nor the other and Bucky couldn’t really focus on him. "Yeah, but I'm your asshole," Steve said, grinning as he stretched to his feet, and Bucky chucked his clothes at him. His chest felt tight and he wasn't sure why.

*          *          *

They didn't leave the next day or the next. Steve met with Sam and Natasha several times, and with other members of the pack, meetings at which Bucky was not welcome because he was human. Steve had bristled at the insult, but Bucky had convinced him to go.

He ended up spending a lot of time with Clint and Lucky, neither of whom seemed to have any problems with him. Clint, while he was kind of a disaster, turned out to be a good guy who was willing to talk about the pack, at least in general terms. It was Natasha's, as much as it was anyone's, with Sam her second in command. There were no alphas, no lesser wolves, no violence, just the pack, a family, watching each other's backs and taking care of each other.

Everything Steve had said a pack was supposed to be.

Clint told him they were all impressed with Steve, with his strength, his size, his attitude, with how fast he could shift. "Your boy's a hell of a werewolf," he said, scratching Lucky's ears.

Bucky managed a smile in reply.

*          *          *

Bucky had been awake most of the night, thinking, while Steve slept deeply beside him.  He'd been thinking while they had breakfast. Thinking while he brushed his teeth. Thinking while he sat down on the couch in their hotel room and looked at Steve, who was sitting at the desk, writing in his notebook.

Thinking that he could sometimes be a selfish asshole. Thinking that maybe it was time for him not to be one.  "Can I talk to you about something?"

Steve looked up in surprise, but spun his chair around so he was facing Bucky. "Of course."

Bucky took a deep breath. "Natasha's pack, they're not like any other pack, are they?"

"No, they're not." Steve shook his head, and a hint of wonder crept into his voice. "They're what a pack is supposed to be. What I always knew it was supposed to be when that first pack was so wrong."

His heart hurt. "Steve. If you wanted to stay with them, I'd understand."

Steve looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Natasha's pack. Like you said, they're what a pack is supposed to be. You were happy running with them. When you came back, you looked so natural, you fit with them. They'd never accept me being around, they really don't like humans, but they'd love to have you. If you want to stay with them—" He had to stop, just for a second. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. But maybe the most important. "I'd understand." He made himself smile. "I want you to be happy, whatever that takes. Whatever that means."

He watched as Steve's confusion turned to understanding. Watched as all expression fell off his face.  He hated seeing Steve like that, hated seeing that blankness. "You're saying if I want to stay and join Natasha's pack you'll, what, just walk away. Go back to the house in the forest and leave me here."

Bucky winced. "No, I couldn't go back there. Not without you. But yes, I'll walk away. If that's what you need to be happy." His heart wasn't beating anymore. He didn't think it was still beating. That was strange. It should be beating. He was pretty sure he needed it to live.

"You wouldn't fight for me."

"I'd fight the whole world for you, Steve. I would burn down the whole fucking world for you if that's what it took to make you happy." Steve was getting blurry. Bucky wasn't sure why. "Of course I'd fight for you. But I won't fight you."

The blankness was disappearing from Steve's face, replaced by something too bright to look at. "Bucky." Steve stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of Bucky, nudging his legs apart so he could kneel between them. "I love you, you idiot." He caught Bucky's face between his hands. "You're my pack. You're my home. There's nothing and no one I'd trade you for."

He couldn’t break Steve's gaze, his eyes were so blue and so clear. His heart was beating again, was hammering in his chest. "Oh. I guess that makes everything I just said kind of stupid."

Steve's smile was slow and amused and full of love. "Little bit, yeah," he agreed and kissed him, just once.

"Can we pretend I didn't say it, then?" He threaded his fingers into Steve's hair and pulled him closer, because one kiss wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough, and he surged up to kiss him, long and slow, like he was never going to stop.  

Steve was breathless, grinning, when Bucky finally let him go. "Sure."

It was dark and the path was rocky, but Bucky had Steve to lead the way, Steve who could practically see in the dark. Their fingers were laced together as they made their way towards the edge of the Grand Canyon. Technically they probably weren't supposed to be here, were supposed to be at one of the fenced and cemented lookouts, but they were here anyway. 

Steve stopped and Bucky stopped beside him. There was a deep pool of blackness in front of them, stretching out forever, that he knew must be the canyon.

"It won't be long now." Steve's voice was quiet, something about the air making it seem like a place for hushed respectful voices.

A delicate breeze swirled around them, almost playful, as they waited. It didn't take long.

The sun broke over the horizon into a perfectly clear sky and painted it red, the black cracking into a dozen shades of purple and orange and yellow, framed by deep blue.  As the sun rose higher, light crept down the walls of the canyon, turning the pool of shadow into deep red rocks.

"Beautiful," Steve said.

"Glad we came?"

"So glad. I've never seen anything like it."

He frowned, because there'd been something in Steve's voice. "But?"

"It's nothing," Steve replied, clearly amused at himself. "This is incredible, it's amazing, but everything I read said seeing it would be a life-changing experience. That you'd come out the other side of it and nothing would be the same."

"I think you only get one of those per lifetime," he said, smiling faintly as leaned into Steve's side. "And I've already had mine. So I was just expecting amazing."

Steve looked at him curiously. "What was yours?"

Eyebrows raised, Bucky looked at him pointedly. After a minute, Steve slowly smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." There on the edge of the Grand Canyon, the newly risen sun shining down on them, Bucky slipped one hand around the back of Steve's neck and kissed him. "And for the record? You're my home, too."