Not sure if he understands, Steve rubs his palms on the tops of his thighs anxiously. “What am I supposed to do now? I don’t know how I feel, it’s just a whole lot of everything.” For Steve, meeting a talking wolf isn’t strange. He’d expected the creature to talk to him, it’s why he spoke first. Bucky and Bruce might be having heart palpitations and Tony might be having a childish moment of utter delight, but Steve is focused on answers. He takes even the craziness of this situation in stride. He has to. Right now, he’s built like a super hero, muscles bulging in clothing that, three days ago, would have hung off of his tiny frame. A talking wolf is almost normal compared to that now.

Normal, sure, but also welcoming. Steve wants to press himself against thick fur, but he fights that tactile, puppyish desire for connection with a parent. Fenris isn’t entirely family, but family after the fact. Kind of like Bucky, in a way, though he and Bucky don’t share the same blood like Steve knows he does with the wolf.

“I’m having...control issues,” he confesses, softly, though it’s not true. So far he’s hurt no one with his strength and he’s even more or less kept himself from jumping on Bucky. His control is incredible.