fossilised | werewolves

werewolves

Pumpkin Spice.

It hits the shelves the moment the temperature dips below eighty, before the summer officially ends and the leaves give hint at changing color. It's become an American way of life. Lattes might claim it to be proof of their success and staying power but it's expanded into hand soap and e-cigarettes now. You can't find anything, really, that hasn't been pumpkin spiced these days. Pumpkin pie is too humble to try and reclaim it anyway, and has quietly retreated to Thanksgiving where it waits to mark the end of the most beloved season in New York among straight white girls.

Steve Rogers, while neither straight nor a girl, has whole heartedly embraced the trend and the moment Starbucks announced that it had come back out for a Limited Time Only, Steve had rummaged in his sock drawer for a gift card he was sure had money left on it and stood in line with the masses to claim his holy grail.

It's a comfort. It's a promise that there's going to be something else to look forward to in the coming months when holidays rear their ugly and beautiful heads to remind you that your family is dead and most of the kids you lived with in foster care and group homes have disappeared out of your life. It makes Steve's day and he's already day dreaming about boots and puffy vests the moment he takes his first, iced sip. Steve isn't really a day dreamer, but his head can get stuck in the clouds on the best days and distraction comes easily in a city where you're never and always alone at the same time.

There's charcoal under his nails and a moment of joy in his heart from the iced latte he grasps so fiercely the day he sees Bucky across the street. He'd know him anywhere, even with that long fringe of hair he hasn't seen since before he went off to basic training. The light to cross the street between them is red but Steve ignores the risks. There are two lanes each direction, and all four are packed with yellow cabs and black Uber cars. No one can go fast enough to do him any damage.

The latte gets dropped along the way and Steve doesn't care. It's been over a year and a half since he's seen Bucky. It's been six months since he last heard anything from him actually. He hadn't even gotten a birthday card this year.

"Buck!" Steve is just a skinny guy, five foot four, maybe 100 pounds if he's got art supplies and an easel on him. He has fallen arches and a heart arrhythmia, but they aren't keeping him from shimmying between cars and nearly getting run over. He's out of breath when he makes it across the street and though he's lost his drink, he needs to bend over and cup his hands on his knees to steady himself anyway so it all works out. "Hey." It's smooth and followed by a smile. Something bright and cheery and all too Steve Rogers hopped up on artificial sugar and flavorings.

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Bucky thinks it might be optimistic to even aim for next fall to be in school, but maybe Steve is right. There isn't an expiration date on the army paying for him to go to college, and he damn well earned it, so there's no reason he can't take them up on it in a few years. His whole life doesn't have to be over.

"Oh man, you're right."

How is it, that even though nothing has changed, Steve has still managed to light a flicker of hope in his chest? Enough that he can let some of the tension bleed out of me.

"Maybe if I tell her that you knew all along, she'll be so mad at you that she'll forget to murder me."

Chewing thoughtfully, Steve takes a moment to answer. “Hey, if that’s what you want to try, I’m all right with letting you make your own mistakes.” It’s darker than Steve usually jokes considering Becca’s violent streak but it proves just how knowledge he is when it comes to Bucky and his more or less adoptive sisters.

There’s no need for Bucky to argue the point, not when Steve is so obviously right, and as Penny finishes cleaning up their mess, Steve relaxes back into the couch

“Hey. Did they send you the letters I mail while you were gone?” It’s easier to say that than what Bucky had been going through. “Because those are some gems. I’d hate for you to miss out.”

He’d been sending letter right up until the Tuesday before Bucky came back to him, and that was only because Bucky appeared on the corner before his next regularly scheduled letter had been due to go out.

“You owe me about a hundred replies. And I expect them to start coming soon.”

"You're crazy, I'm not mailing you letters when you live near enough for me to walk and tell you anything that I want to say. Besides, I don't have the letters you wrote, they-- they did give me a bundle of letters when I was in the hospital, but I didn't read 'em."

He had been too messed up at the time, and he had pushed them away with the intention of not needing to reply because he'd be able to go home and be okay and none of it would matter. And by the time he got home, he'd mislaid the bundle of unread letters somewhere along the route.

"Why don't you give me the highlights?"

He has a feeling that at least a few of them would have been Steve yelling at him in letter form for not writing back.

It’s nothing personal that Bucky hadn’t read his letters but Steve still makes a face about it. “Highlights? Oh just my whole heart and soul and creative talent,” he mutters. “And yes I do expect you to write me back. Based on those highlights. When did you get so lazy, Barnes?”

Steve is very tempted to kick his best friend but Penny is never receptive to even perceived violence and this couch is pretty tiny. Besides, one spilled pizza really ought to be enough for the day.

He does give Bucky a look that could likely throw daggers though, and that should make good on everything. Especially after he viscously tears into his slice, making eyes at his friend the entire time to suggest that the pizza is mere stand in for something else.

Bucky feels that look like its intended, Steve has always been good at managing to make him feel guilty without even trying. But there's no way that he's actually going to write him letters when he lives down the street, even if he could write properly now that he's lost his damn dominant hand.

"Quit being such a baby, Rogers, you just want mail because nobody ever writes to you or calls you."

Which, of course, is exactly the moment that Steve's phone rings, with Becca's number flashing up on the screen.

Steve’s witty retort (about just trying to make sure that Bucky knows how to read and write more than just his name) dies on his lips. “Technically I’m still in class,” he says to Bucky, and to the phone itself, trying to persuade himself not to answer.

It doesn’t help. There’s virtually no way that Steve wouldn’t answer his phone for Becca and the girls. For the last year, they’ve been all he’s had of the person that’s always mattered the most in his life since his mom passed (and maybe before that too, though God won’t let him admit that).

Catholic guilt is strong in Steve and so he lifts a hand for Bucky to be quiet and puts the call on speaker. “Hey Bec. You missed me posing in naked in class today. It melted everyone’s faces, like the Ark in Indiana Jones. You okay?”

Bucky's face goes ashen in the space of a heartbeat and only keeping his fingers fisted in Penny's fur keeps him still and silent. His eyes are fixed on the screen of Steve's phone as if he could actually see his sister, or like she'd be able to tell that he was there with him.

Becca is in her last year of high school now, but she acts like she's much older. Since Bucky went into the army, it's been her and Steve looking out for the younger girls and keeping things ticking over. She's been worried about her big brother, and worried about stupid Steve and his body that keeps wanting to kill him. A lot of worry for someone who's still technically a kid.

"Aww man, you should've told me, I'd have come and recorded it. We could have got a bunch of money if we posted melting faces to youtube. I'm okay, I just-- can you come over some time soon? It's army stuff again, they still won't tell me anything about where Bucky is and I think it's because I'm a minor. Not only that, but I think there's some big dog on the loose in the neighbourhood. Beth thinks she saw it on the way home from school, so we've called animal control, but we could use more hands on deck hunting it down. There's dinner in it for you."

“Is dinner going to be that big dog we’re hunting down because that will be a hard pass,” Steve says because making light of a situation when Bucky looks about ready to vacate the apartment by jumping through the ceiling is the only thing Steve can think of doing. “It might take me awhile to sharpen my stick and sew a grass skirt, Bec. How about I just come over tonight after work and we can talk?”

He’s all for letting animal control do their thing, but he’s gotta admit, if everyone is talking about this massive dog, he’s pretty curious to see it himself.

Maybe it’s Sirius Black? Maybe Bucky really is Harry Potter and his long thought dead godfather has returned to help him fight the dark wizards? Steve looks thoughtfully at Bucky and then reaches out to touch his knee.

“Yeah, I don’t want to see you in a skirt Steve.”

“Hater,” Steve replies smoothly. “See you around 8?”

“Okay. Yeah. Thanks Steve.”

Steve makes extra sure that the phone is hung up before he looks and Bucky’s face again. “You okay?”

Bucky feels his stomach twist inside him at the sound of his sister's voice. God, he's missed her, the two younger ones as well. They've always been really good sisters to him, he never understood the other fellas in high school when they bitched about what a pain their younger siblings were. And he can hear the worry underneath the teasing tone of her voice, worry for him.

And he could stop that worry, but he doesn't speak up.

He looks so ashamed by the time Steve hangs up, face turned down and curtain of hair that's got way too long hiding part of his expression.

"I don't know, Steve. I know I have to tell them at some point, but-- I had it all planned out, you know? I was gonna do one of those dumb things like appear at their high school graduation or football game, and be a hero. Then I was gonna provide for them, properly."

Plans change. Steve doesn’t say that out loud because it’s something Bucky knows and doesn’t need to hear. “They just want to know you’re breathing. And maybe kick your ass but that doesn’t have to happen right away. They’re all together. Their foster family is really great. Really. They’re nice to me too, and they don’t have to be.”

Becca is almost old enough to be on her own but the younger two will need to be in their care for awhile longer.

“You don’t have to provide for anyone. Not yet. When you’re a rich and famous actor or spokes model, fine. I’ll let you buy me a few cars. Until then... maybe we can work on just having a meal together instead of some big hub bub at graduation. Becca will never forgive you if you embarrass her anyway.”

"That was kind of the plan, what are big brothers for if not to embarrass their younger sisters?"

It's a weak sort of joke, but it's the best way that he has to move past this without bawling like a baby for the second time today. He doesn't enjoy crying and he'd rather stop being so overtly vulnerable, even around Steve who he trusts more than most people.

"Are you gonna be okay going around and not saying anything?"

He knows Steve, the man has honesty running through his veins instead of blood, he wouldn't be surprised if telling a direct lie would make him spontaneously combust or something.

That’s where Steve has everyone fooled. Right down to the core. That sweet smile and wholesome face of his has gotten him out of so much trouble before. No one can or wants to believe that he’s capable of some rotten things, even when those things lead to people being safer or happier.

“You can trust me. This isn’t my secret to tell,” Steve says, with the same voice that he used to tell the recruiters that his name was Ricky Gervais. No, not the famous one. And those eye sight tests are absolutely wrong! Did they pull the right file?

He’s not lying right now though. Becky isn’t going to know about Bucky until Bucky wants her to know. And Steve is just going over after work to have some ice cream and listen to her worries.

Simple as that.

And it would have been as simple as that too if Padfoot in the flesh hasn’t farted across the street just as he came out from the subway. Steve shouldn’t run but asthma has never stopped him before. He darts off after the incredibly massive, bear-like figure, waving scrawny arms. “Stop! Hey boy!” he calls and eventually the dog does stop. And that’s just because Steve has accidentally cornered it in an alley.

The blond smiles gently.

“It’s all right. Are you hungry? I have some... okay. It’s just an Orange in my pocket. Dogs don’t eat oranges. Are you lost?”

Fenris has been confused ever since he accidentally fell to Midgard, a painful and degrading stripping of his powers that left him only a fraction of what he used to be. Still larger than any mortal wolf, still with the ability to make others somewhat like him if he bit them and his power subsumed their petty mortal blood, but without the power to then enthral them to his will like he should be able to do.

He just wants a way home.

But he has been here for weeks, trapped and ever more hungry, ever more desperate. There are more mortals than he ever thought possible, and their world is covered in metal and concrete, lacking the magic that would take him back over the branches of Yggdrasil and to where he should be.

And now he's being cornered by some scrawny little thing, treating him as though he were a genuine stray. He is Fenris! Son of Loki! Demi-god! He howls in fury, and then bites without thinking, a furious snarling attack that leaves him with the taste of hot blood in his mouth.

...well... that may have been a mistake.

One should expect to get bitten when cornering a large animal and so Steve isn’t angry at the wolf-dog for doing exactly what it was supposed to do. He does, however, raise an arm to defend himself, pushing at the large, surprisingly soft shoulder of the creature that would dwarf him on hind legs. Steve falls back, half in shock, not quite feeling the pain of sharp teeth around his forearm, but the jaws do not continue to latch on and the dog bounds over him. It’s nails scrape the sidewalk.

Steve cranes his neck, mostly to make sure it doesn’t dart into the street where it can be hit by a car, and then rolls over. The pain finally hits him, and hits him hard. He presses his hand against the wound and groans, feeling warm wetness spread across his palm. Not good.

He doesn’t have time to call anyone. Lately, he’s used to not having anyone to rely on other then himself.

Steve Rogers stumbles into the Emergency Room of the hospital he’s spent every near death moment of his life in and let’s a big nurse shove him into a wheel chair and sprint him through double doors. After that, he blacks out.

It’s morning when he comes to, pale and with dark purple circles around his eye. The light hurts and he lays an arm across his eyes before he realizes that he’s stood Bucky’s sister up and that she must be worried sick. His phone is next to him and he reaches out blindly for it to text her.

Sorry. Went hunting alone. Stay away from it. Getting a series of rabies shots. Will be fine. Call you later.

Steve has a knack for neat texts. He just wishes he had Bucky’s number. Or that Bucky would have had a phone. He’s feeling like a pumpkin spice latte. Iced. His body feels like it’s on fire and he wonders if that’s because he hadn’t actually been lying about having to get rabies shots. He’s not pleased.

He is, however, confused when a nurse comes by half an hour later with his release papers. Becca hasn’t texted back, likely because she’s in class, so Steve only has to focus on the bearded man in the scrubs. He feels like shit. He also thinks this guy’s cologne is way too strong.

“Uh... don’t you guys have to stitch my arm back on?” Good thing Bucky isn’t here.

The nurse shakes his head. “The bits was shallow. We ran tests and your bloodwork looks good. You have a few stitches, and they’ll dissolve on their own. Do you have anyone you want us to call to get you?”

Steve frowns and then shake his head. “I’m good... thanks.”

It’s going to be slow going getting home. He still feels too warm and the smell in the subway today is overpowering. He almost throws up twice before he finds himself standing in front of Bucky’s building. It’s much closer than his own and his legs feel so heavy. Hopefully Bucky won’t mind if he crashes here.

Fenris retreats back to a dank hole and tries not to think about the awakening that he can feel on the edges of his consciousness. He hadn't been sure it would take, sometimes the effect of his blood can kill a mortal if their body isn't strong enough to withstand it and that human hadn't looked particularly hale. But apparently his spirit is more than strong enough, because Fenris can feel the changes beginning, feel the rise of a kindred spirit.

Poor human, he has no idea what the next few weeks have in store for him.

Bucky is still up when Steve makes it to his door in the early hours of the morning. He doesn't sleep much, and a nightmare that woke him a couple of hours before had put paid to the idea of any more sleep tonight. It was a blessing to have a distraction, it saved him from running yet another pointless sweep of his perimeter, though confusion turned immediately to concern when he opened the door and saw who it was.

"Steve? What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you look like-- is that blood on your clothes?"

This is bad. Really bad.

"Who have you been fighting this time?"

Steve gets exactly no where for answering because Penny’s growl hitches up to a rumble behind Bucky. Steve doesn’t step back, he doesn’t give up his space, but he does look just a little sad. “I thought I was a dog person, but I guess not,” he complains, crossing one arm in front of his chest, cupping his elbow with the other hand. “Your sister is going to kick my ass. But I’m fine. It looks like a lot of blood, but I didn’t even need stitches. Just some rabies shots.”

He rolls up his sleeve to prove that there are just scratches there now, angry scratches, but ones that didn’t look like they had bled at all. It doesn’t make sense, considering the amount of blood on him.

Or that he distinctly remembers watching his blood gush out of his arm.

Penny growls again, just on the verge of barking, and this time Steve does step back, looking a little confused.

Bucky's confused fear turns to slightly chargrined understanding. Of course Steve managed to tangle with the big dog that Becca had been talking about on the phone, and of course he'd managed to get himself bitten. Still, if he's talking about rabies shots and he's not an inpatient, then it must not have been too bad.

"Hey-- Penny, quit it. Sorry, Steve, she can probably just smell the other dog on you, and it sounds like it was pretty feral."

He hauls Penny out of the room by her collar and shuts her in the bedroom with an apologetic pat on the head before going back out to Steve.

"You feeling okay? Did they say there might be any side effects from the shot?"

They’d said a lot of things. He’d been given instructions, discharge papers, the usual print outs that hospitals do as they’re trying to keep you for only as long as needed. Steve just can’t remember what was said. At least he did stuff the print outs into his pocket, folded just about a hundred times. He goes fishing for it on the way to the couch, handing the wad of white and pink paper over to Bucky before he collapses into it.

All Steve wants to do is curl up and sleep. His head feels heavy and full of cotton. Even with Penny still whining and growling from behind the door, Steve finds himself drifting off.

There’s a comfort here, dog aside, a safety. Steve knows he can relax here, which is probably saying more to exhaustion than to anything else. “Just gimme an hour and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Steve must have lost more blood than he thought, or else he had been in shock and now that the adrenaline was wearing off it had left him exhausted. Or even maybe some of the stuff they had given Steve at the hospital was a soporific, but it was obvious that he wasn't in any state to be going anywhere.

"Shut up, idiot, just go to sleep."

Bucky can handle one night of having someone else in his place, he wants to prove to himself that he'll be able to have Steve as a roommate. He wouldn't wake him in an hour, he'd just get a blanket and cover him over, and leave him until he woke up naturally.

Steve does as he’s told. He sleeps through the entire day. School goes unattended and work goes missed, both his first and his second jobs. They’re used to this, though. Steve isn’t the healthiest of students or employees and so he misses from time to time. There are a few texts on the phone he’s left on the table but none inquire where he is, just that they hope he feels better.

Sixteen hours pass and it’s dark again when his eyes open. Steve stretches, forehead a little wet from sweat, but he feels pretty damned good. He flexes all of his muscles, toes to fingertips, and adjusts the waistband of his jeans. He feels uncomfortable, like what he’s wearing is just a little too small.

Likely, it’s because he slept in them and he pays it no attention.

“Buck!” It’s probably not normal for most people to lay on a friend’s couch and demand them to be present, but that’s what Steve does, eyes closing as he rolls onto his back. “What are you cooking? It smells amazing!”

Bucky hadn’t slept at all that night. He alternated between prowling the apartment with a restless energy that couldn’t be quelled, in his room attempting to comfort Penny who really did seem like she thought Steve was a threat now, and watching over Steve to make sure that he was okay. Only the fact that there didn’t seem to be any evidence of fever, and that Steve’s breathing was as unobstructed and steady as it ever got, made him not panic when his friend showed no sign of waking.

He had decided that if Steve hadn’t woken up by nightfall that evening then he’d take him into the emergency room and take the consequence of Steve being irritated at him for being overly cautious. Thankfully that didn’t end up happening and he was at Steve’s side the second he heard his name.

“...Jesus, Steve, you scared the hell out of me and that’s all you can say?”

“Sorry...?” Steve pulls his knees up as he sits, bracing himself on one elbow. Bucky doesn’t look good. He looks stressed and exhausted. He smells a little like sweat, like worry. It bothers Steve, it makes him feel like his gut is turning. The last thing that Bucky needs is to worry about him. “I’m fine, look!”

And he really is fine. He feels a little achy, maybe a little feverish, but he also feels good, like he’s been breathing all wrong for years and is now just noticing how much better it can be if he does it properly.

“I’ve been— Shit, it’s dark?! Did I sleep all day?! Oh my God, I missed work...” It’s just too late to call now. Everywhere is closed. That doesn’t stop him from sending furious texts.

"Yeah, you slept nearly 24 hours, if it went on any more then I was gonna take you to the hospital. You didn't wake up no matter what I did, Steve."

Bucky's eyes were ringed in dark smudges showing how concerned he had been, and a whining from the bedroom said that poor Penny was still shut up in there. He had taken her out twice in the middle of the day as far as the sidewalk so she could relieve herself, otherwise she'd been denied her duty as Bucky sat beside Steve.

"You sure you're feeling okay? Think I've got a thermometer around here somewhere, we should take your temperature."

Because sleeping for that long isn't normal. Ever. Especially not for Steve, unless he's really sick.

The idea of some random, forgotten thermometer being shoved into his mouth is not one that Steve Rogers honestly wants to contemplate right now. He gives Bucky the side eye, though a particularly poignant whine from behind the bedroom door does draw his attention. He feels badly and vindicated at the same time. He’s always been like that, though, guilty as it makes him feel, whenever Bucky’d choose him over a girlfriend. Being Bucky’s number one is a matter of pride, and also part of the reason Steve’s never minded being a loner. How can you be a loner when the coolest guy you know likes you better than everyone else?

“Forget the thermometer. I want to know what you were doing to me to wake me up,” he teases, a brighter, bluer shine to his eyes than there ought to normally be. “And I want to know if there’s photographic evidence that you’re going to upload to Twitter so that I can prepare myself for the onslaught of social media trolls.”

He also wants to mention, again, that he’s hungry. That he could probably eat Penny up right now. And that it’s perfectly reasonable for him to do so. He just props his elbow on the back of the couch and drops his temple to it, smirking.

Bucky had never understood why people thought of him as the cooler one, when it should have been evident to pretty much everybody that Steve was the coolest guy on the planet. Not that everyone else's ignorance bothered him that much, because it meant that he had never needed to fight for Steve's attention growing up. Though he had been in more than one fist fight with some jerk who had genuinely wanted to know why Bucky was "wasting his time with a loser like Rogers".

"It ain't funny, Steve," Bucky frowned at him, though his concern was thawing now that it was obvious that Steve really was okay. "You took another year off my life, you're gonna be the reason I'm grey by the time I'm thirty."

A spitting from the stove tells him that the bacon is done, bacon he had forgotten that he was even cooking when Steve woke up.

"Aww crap. Well-- Penny won't mind it burned."

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You were missed!

<3