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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“Now? Try always,” Steve says with his usual defiance. He’s never let Bucky be better than him, though of course Bucky is and always has been in many of the ways that count. “It’s fine. I knew it going in. One of the stipulations of taking this class. You can pose however you want. Like... see Sandy up there?” He makes a gesture with a pencil and then nabs one of the fries. The cluster of drawn figures are all of the same girl, chunky but with a pretty face. She’s seated with her back to the room so that all of her private areas are faced away from any of the artists. Not every figure is like that. One of the guys early on just spread out on his back and slept the entire time. Some just sat on chairs and crossed their legs and arms.

Steve hasn’t decided on what to do with himself. He’s not sure it matters.

“Imperfect people are the best to draw. Lack of symmetry makes it fun. But... I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it.” That said, he won’t back down. This is a fight. And like every fight, Steve is going to win.

He’s just never been naked with the lights on before.

Not for a few years.

“I’m gonna pop some pain killers and listen to some podcasts. It’s fine. No, really. Promise. Have some pizza.”

Steve might say it's fine, but it's obviously not, he has to be nervous as hell to have even mentioned it. But of course he's going to do it, because the idiot has never backed down from a fight in his life, metaphorical or literal. Bucky's life would have been a hell of a lot easier if he had run away sometimes, he'd have had to patch up his dumb best friend less often for one.

"Do you wanna borrow Penny for the day?"

It would be good for the dog to get out of the house, and it was kind of what she was trained for, helping people deal with stressful situations. Okay, maybe not exactly what she was trained for, and Steve wasn't her assigned person, but she might be able to help anyway.

He grabs one of the pizza boxes and fumbles a slice out, still focused on Steve and his problem, which at least has the beneficial side effect of making his own frustration leak away a bit.

“Penny is for you— Why don’t you come? Penny can be here. You can be here. And if anyone says something dumb, you can both hold me back from kicking their mouths shut.” Ha. As if Steve could ever get his foot up that high! He just seems to have a penchant for desiring to kick people. Mostly Bucky, but he’s fine with spreading around the metaphorical wealth.

Bucky’s the only person who has seen him without his shirt on in the light. He’s fooled around with some people here or there but he’s mostly just given head and called it a day. Everyone gets something out of it and Steve gets to keep his clothing on. Win-win.

He’s got a feeling that, right now, Bucky’s pretty body conscious too. And maybe they can work through that together if he comes to class and sees Steve fighting through his anxiety?

Because yeah. Steve’s done a lot of research. He’s downloaded a lot of podcasts about PTSD suffers. He’s doing his homework, just as Bucky feared.

This could be one of a couple of things. Either Steve thinks that Bucky needs to get bullied into coming out and about and this is his way of making it happen, or he's genuinely terrified and this is his subtle way of asking for support. It could be either, it could be both together. Bucky can't risk that it's the second one and not do anything about it, he'll never not be there for Steve if he can help it.

But...

But a whole classroom full of people that he doesn't know, that's not exactly his idea of a good time, and he'll stick out because he's hardly one of the regular students is he? He feels way older than the average college student; which is dumb, because he's still only nineteen, the same as Steve, the same as most kids in college. He's just been through a lot in the last year and a half.

"Isn't class closed to students? Won't I get in trouble just being a random guy off the street in here?"

“Maybe.” That’s a good question and Steve doesn’t have a good answer for it. “Maybe you could sit outside then? Or wait down the hall.. nah. You’re right. It’s dumb, isn’t it? I can do this myself. How about we just get dinner tomorrow?” Steve is trying to be bright and to continue to make future plans with Bucky that aren’t obvious one way or another.

He doesn’t need his hand held. He’s gotten through some pretty tough situations alone, both purposefully and out of need. He’d all but shut Bucky out for the few days that followed his mother’s death until he had become a ward of the state and taken from the Barnes’ household.

And he hasn’t been honest with Bucky about his struggles since he went away. No one needs that. Bucky had had enough on his mind. And obviously, more in his life than Steve had known until last night.

He takes a slice of pizza for himself and tucks the drawing away for later. He doesn’t want to color it with tomato sauce after all.

Although he isn't always as smart as Steve when it comes to emotional stuff, Bucky is no slouch and he knows there's more here than meets the eye. He knows there's going to be more from the time he was away, nobody's life goes on hold, and just because he was going through stuff doesn't mean Steve wasn't too. It's just going to take some time for both of them to unpack what the other has gone through.

He hopes they have that time.

But this is something he can do now. It's stupid, but he's got it into his head that if he can still look out for Steve then maybe he's still got a chance of being okay, so his jaw firms and he shakes his head.

"Not a dumb idea, I'll be here. If they try and throw me out, I'll make Penny growl at 'em. What time does it start?"

If it lets him miss another of these stupid sessions, he'll love Steve forever.

Then they are both in luck. Bucky can miss his session and Steve gets to be loved forever, which is the only thing he really wants from Bucky to begin with.

Lunch goes well. They don’t talk about Bucky at all. Steve insists on coming over for dinner too, but he only stays for an hour after his shift at the campus bookstore. He’s got a lot on his plate but his research into Bucky’s possible state of mind keeps everything on the up and up. He can safely ignore his own insecurities and instead try to help Bucky alleviate his own.

Being a vet with a dog gets him some pretty big points for Steve’s class. Ten students and a teacher are present as Steve sits in the corner in a black robe. The students are curious about Bucky, sure, but it’s Penny that really gets their attention. There’s a big wolf looking dog around campus the last few days, they all tell Bucky as they come over to say hello to his dog. “Kinda creepy, glad this one is normal sized!”

“Haven’t seen it myself but my roommate did!”

“All right, everyone,” the teacher finally interiors. “Please find a seat and Mr. Rogers?” That gets a snicker. “Whenever you’re ready?”

Steve is never going to be ready so he just stands up defiantly and takes off his robe. Just like that. He figures he’ll just stand for awhile and face forward, staring at the wall.

Bucky deflects most of the personal conversation that Steve directs his way over dinner, keeping his answers generic and the tone of the evening more pleasant. He does, however, figure out that Steve has more than one job, though he doesn't confront him about it yet, he just starts to work out ways that he might be able to help.

Penny keeps herself between her human and the crowding students, all of who get glowering scowls and no responses to their inane chatter about giant dogs. Honestly, how ridiculous is that? It's just another one of those stupid urban legends, like the alligators in the sewer system.

He's proud of the way Steve just disrobes as if it's nothing, though he can see the nerves beneath the determination, and he's ready to punch anyone who thinks about making a smart alec remark about Steve and the way his body isn't exactly conventionally perfect.

One of the students sitting nearest Steve, a girl with bright purple hair called Amy, leans in closer so she can talk while drawing. She quite likes Steve most of the time, he told off some jerks in the quad who were mocking her once, so she's determined not to laugh at him even if he looks pretty pathetic without his clothes on.

"Who's the hired muscle, Steve? He looks pretty scary. In a hot kind of way."

“He is pretty scary in a hot sort of way,” Steve says, maybe a little too loudly. He’s not trying to cause too much of a scene as he drops into a provided chair with a back. He’ll just sit normally, knees apart and hands resting on his thighs. He’s not trying to hide himself, there’s really nothing to hide. He’s pale. He’s scrawny. There’s a scar on his chest from an open heart surgery and his back shows signs that it wasn’t always straight.

He looks like a naked mole rat or one of those hairless cats and he’s already on the verge of shivering. He grits his teeth against it, but the teacher is already kindly upping the temperature.

“He’s my best friend. More like a brother. We’ve known each other for thirteen years.” Steve isn’t looking at Amy. And he’s absolutely not looking at Bucky. There’s already pink splotches on his cheeks and that’s enough.

"He's no way our age, he look older."

She craned around to look at Bucky for a moment in an assessing sort of way, before the teacher cleared his throat and she hurriedly went back to sketching in the slender hollow of Steve's chest, dipping to where his ribs could be seen on every exhale. Jesus, this guy was a mess.

"So, uh, what do you think of the big dog rumours? Think we've got a werewolf on our hands?"

She giggled, though it was forced. She was just trying to make this easier for Steve if she could, since she could already hear some of the others starting to mutter to themselves non too friendly statements.

Steve’s eyes had flickered towards Bucky when his age had been called into question. He’d been about to say that age has no hotness level. He’d been about to say anything at all to try not to look so terribly uncomfortable but at least Amy’s topic of conversation has shifted to something he can relax into. Werewolves? That’s a ridiculous topic and though his ribs are visible when he laughs, that laughter frowns out someone’s comment about him having legs like a concentration camp victim. He doesn’t, his bone structure isn’t that pronounced, but he is awfully skinny.

And no one would say it’s in an attractive way.

“Think he has an eating disorder?” Someone by Bucky asks his seat mate, only to be met with a shrug as Steve says he doesn’t believe in werewolves. Not this day and age at least with social media and smart phones all over the place.

“He’s got such a pretty face. If it is an eating disorder someone should get him some help.”

This is what Bucky had been afraid of, and he's sure it's what Steve would have been afraid of as well before this day. People are such assholes, doesn't it ever occur to them not to talk about someone who can hear them as if he's a piece of meat? Like he doesn't deserve basic respect? People have been pulling this shit on Steve for as long as Bucky can remember, something about the scrawny body makes people think they can talk over him.

He moves over to where the jerks are that are muttering about an eating disorder and leans down between them. He doesn't make any threatening moves, because he doesn't want to be thrown out of the classroom, but his voice is a low and deadly murmur that leaves both of them looking ever so slightly pale and clamping their lips shut.

Bucky straightens and gives Steve an exaggerated wink, that somehow terrifies everyone else in the class after seeing how pale the other two went, and everyone goes dead silent after that in a very uncomfortable way. Not even Amy feels like she can keep talking about werewolves, she doesn't want to draw Steve's friend's attention.

Steve doesn’t need anyone sticking up for him. He doesn’t need Bucky making threats. It makes Steve feel even more inadequate. His eyes lower from the fierce determined stare on the wall towards his hands. He even shifts them to let his fingers lace together in his lap. His shoulders droop and his knees tilt together. Steve isn’t feeling defeated, the guy wouldn’t know what that was like, but shame and guilt are some very Catholic ideologies instill in him by his mother that he hasn’t been able to let go of.

He can’t hide it. His emotions are as naked as he is and the silence in the room just puts him more on edge.

He can handle the murmurs. It’s the judging he can’t see that really does him in.

Break is called forty minutes later and Steve snatched up the robe before the instructor takes him aside to discuss, innocuously enough, a different pose and to really feel the way his body grows stiff and uncomfortable because that will tell him what muscles to really focus on in his own work. He appreciates her advice, accepts the water she gives him, and then sits down next to Penny.

The robe is huge on him, the smallest unisex robe they have. He’s not wearing those short women’s robes out here even if it would have fit.

His hand finds her fur and it’s soothing as he regards Bucky for a moment. “Maybe we could start training again?” Steve can’t pack on muscle. He’s tried. He eats like he doesn’t have a heart condition and tries to build muscle mass but it just doesn’t stick. That doesn’t make him any less determined though.

Idiot.

Steve has always been like this, acting as if someone helping him out makes him somehow lesser, or seen as weak. Bucky isn't fighting his battles for him, he's fighting with him, because Steve never has to face this stuff alone. It's only a moron that doesn't accept their friends sticking up for them.

But then... Steve is kind of a moron.

He huffs something creaky that's almost a laugh when Steve talks about training, giving a half shrug and settling on the dias next to Steve, away from the other students who are in a muttering huddle at the back of the room.

"Sure, but I think you'd kick my ass now, it's harder to box one handed." His phone goes off in his pocket and he silences it without answering, still focused on Steve. "You've got dumb again since I've been gone, forgotten what I told you. You're already fine the way you are, forget what anyone else says."

Fine the way he is? Steve tilts his head down and arches his eyebrow at Bucky as if that might be the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. He’s not fine. He’s anything but fine. He can make this work but he wants to be better. He can be better if he just works at it. “Firstly, I could have beaten you before too. No sweat. But you can stop sugar coating things for me.”

He sort of wants people to find him attractive when he’s naked, not some creepy-half skeleton. Maybe that’s too much to ask but a guy told him once that he feels weird to touch and now it’s all he can think about during times like these.

Bucky’s never had to go through anything like this. Steve talks a big talk but he’s hurting too. And there’s only so much he can toughen up. “And second, people that look the way you do can’t tell people that look the way I do to be body positive.”

He gives Bucky a little shove, which does exactly nothing to his solidly built friend.

Bucky thinks that Steve is attractive naked. Hell, he's had a bunch of wet dreams about that naked body and jerked himself off more than once growing up to the idea of being naked with that naked body. Not that he can ever tell Steve this, because then he'd have to hurl himself off a cliff for revealing embarrassing secrets to his best friend.

Penny pushes her nose against Steve's leg and gives a loud huff in warning that if Steve keeps pushing at her human and touching him when he hasn't given the okay, then she's going to have to take more drastic action.

"--Steve, I look like a horror show if we're talking about naked now. So shut the hell up, or I'll show you what people looking disgusted by a body look like."

Terrified as he is to show his body to doctors, he will strip naked right alongside Steve and show his scars off to everyone just to make a point to his best friend. It's the way he's always been, something about Steve effortlessly makes him able to push his boundaries.

“A few scars? You think that will make anyone want to stop looking at you?” How are they arguing about this? Steve doesn’t see how Bucky could be anything but amazing to look at. And maybe this isn’t the right thing to ever admit, especially not right now, but he’s curious about the wound, about how exotic it must make Bucky look.

That’s absolutely not an appropriate thing at all to say right now and Bucky would rightly sock him for it.

Thankfully, Penny is there acting like a chaperone and Steve snorts through his nose. “You have another jealous girlfriend,” Steve complains.

Most of Bucky’s girlfriends have been jealous of Steve and he’s too absorbed in everything else to really notice why. Most guys forsake all others when they get a girlfriend but Bucky’s always made sure there’s been time for him.

Steve would like to think that if he ever found someone, he’d be the same way. Family first.

“Five minutes!”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I think I’m just going to lay down. Draw in my head. So try not to smack anyone around for making comments, Buck? I want to do well in the class.”

Argh, God! How is Steve so aggravating? Bucky loves him like nobody else, but Steve is genuinely the most aggravating person on the planet, it's no wonder that so many people want to sock him in the jaw.

He should know by now, after long periods of friendship with him, that James Buchanan Barnes always keeps his word. Whether it's something serious like promising to drop by the hospital every day that Steve's stuck in there, or something dumb like eating a whole tube of toothpaste if he lost a bet. He never ever backs down on his word. It's his own type of dumb.

And he said he'd strip if Steve kept being a goddamn idiot and being down on himself. Now here he was talking about having to go face down and how Bucky was still the most attractive, so he was damn well going to show him the truth. Muttering to himself the whole time, just loud enough to be heard, very pointed remarks about idiots and stupid dumbass little punks, Bucky practically ripped his shirt and pants getting them off, leaving him in boxers, socks, and boots.

One of the arms of his shirt was still full, the straps of the prosthetic sticking out of the end where it had been wrenched off along with the clothing. His whole body was a mess, he hadn't been lying about that. There are burn scars all down his left side, taut and wrinkled and red. There are surgical scars all over his collarbone and along his left shoulder, which just ends abruptly. His back and midriff are a crisscross of torture scars, deep and numerous, overlaid on each from his chest right down to his upper thighs.

He glares defiantly at Steve the whole time, ignoring the way Penny is whining now as she senses an extremely bad situation coming when this crashes down on her human, and the gasps from the class beginning to assemble in position again. He really is a horror show now, he knows it.

Bucky might be a horror show, but he doesn’t look that way in Steve’s eyes. The smaller blond hadn’t even jumped as clothing started to come off. He’d just given Bucky a little look of amusement and curiosity as he kicked out of his pants like a child who has finally gone ahead and given into the fact that he does have to bathe on occasion.

There are more murmurings because the class hasn’t had two figured before and the teacher is hurriedly rushing up to push a waiver at Bucky so bi one gets in trouble for public nudity here.

Steve’s eyes flicker over Bucky as appreciatively as ever. He’s not envious of the other guy, but he can’t lie about being upset at seeing his friend like this. It is upsetting, that’s for sure, the way the people that held him marred his once aesthetically perfect body...

But he’s still just as perfect. To Steve.

“You’re going a little overboard trying to show me up, pal,” Steve says, much more calmly taking off his robe. They fall to the floor at his feet and he follows them, sitting cross legged as comfortably as he can. “Have a seat. They work in half hour increments. You’re gonna get tired.”

He’s trying to make this normal. He can cry about what they did to Bucky later. Alone.

Bad idea.

He can feel it beating like a drum at the back of his head, an insistent little niggle of panic that's trying to get in. But for the first few moments there's nothing except him and Steve, and the annoying little punk still trying to pretend like the sight of Bucky doesn't horrify him.

But then someone pushes a waiver at him and the rest of the world comes crashing in like a tidal wave. And even if Steve still sees beauty in Bucky, the rest of the class obviously don't, their expressions ranging from a morbid curiosity to outright disgust, and even fear as if what happened to him would be somehow contagious. With the rest of the world intruding, so too does the beat of panic manage to get a foothold. He's stood nearly naked in the middle of Steve's classroom, and it's only now dawning on him what a big mistake that is.

Fear spasms over his face as he grabs for his clothes and tries to put them back on, but he's shaking so hard that it's difficult. Penny is whining, face pushed against him, circling him to keep anyone from getting close.

"St-Steve," it's a mutter past slightly chattering teeth. God, what did he just do? "Steve? Fuck. Fuck."

Steve Rogers doesn’t panic. He’s never been programmed to, it doesn’t even come naturally. He just springs into action, which requires him, still naked, to grab the robe from the ground and toss it over Bucky. “I need everyone out!” he demands of his classmates and the teacher, thankfully, follows suit and ushers everyone out.

Penny growls at Steve, but he ignores her. Satisfying her issue right now isn’t as important as making Bucky come back down from his panic.

He takes Bucky’s hand in both of his own and tugs until the taller man is looking at him. “Right here, pal. Just me and you and your girlfriend.”

Some of the students almost don't obey Steve; after all, he's just another pupil like they are and he's hardly the most commanding sort of guy. But the rest of them, and the teacher, make sure everyone is gone. They're the smarter ones, who have figured out that there's something bigger going on here, and staying won't be helpful to anyone.

Bucky is shaking like a leaf in high winds and his eyes are half unfocused, as if panic is driving him out of the here and now and into somewhere else. He made himself vulnerable, separated himself from his weapons and showed his weaknesses and--- He lets out something halfway between a sob and another plea of Steve's name.

Penny decides enough is enough and lunges to bite Steve on his wrist to try and make him let go. Not a hard bite, she's trained not to break skin or injure, just a sharp shock. It's seeing his dog go for Steve that helps to pull Bucky towards reality again, and he mumbles the command for her to stand down before he basically collapses on Steve's shoulders, sobbing as if he might break.

If Penny had bitten him, Steve would have understood. He knows very well that she’s just doing her job and it would be his fault if he managed to get snapped at. Thankfully, there’s no need for a trip to the hospital today and little Steve is able to devote himself entirely to Bucky. He might not have the strength to hold him up but he doesn’t need to. Bucky is just unsteady on his feet and Steve can counter balance that as he pulls that black robe more closely around him.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he says soothingly. It’s the first time this has ever happened to him. Usually Bucky is the one carrying him around. Strangely, it’s nice to be in the position. It gives him perspective. Bucky had never seemed to mind caring for him and Steve can finally understand why.

Caring for someone is rewarding in its own way... when you’re not literally watching them die in front of you.

He helps Bucky to sit down and he kneels at his feet, keeping hold of his hand.

“Thank you for the solidarity,” he whispers. “It means so much to me.”

Bucky can count on his one remaining hand the number of times that he's actually cried in front of someone since he hit puberty. It's just not something he does, he likes to see himself as stronger than that, even though he tells anyone else that needs to cry that there's no shame or weakness in it.

But he can't stop now, not for anything.

He clutches at Steve as though his friend is the only line holding him down, and lets it wash over him in shuddering waves. He feels Penny press herself against his back with all her weight, something she's trained to do in flashback moments to anchor him, and he just gives into it.

It's a good twenty minutes later when he finally peters out, his forehead resting on Steve's shoulder and his eyes swollen red, head thudding and embarrassment starting to sneak in alongside exhaustion.

"--sorry." That had been a dumb move, he should have known better. "Jesus, Steve, I'm sorry."

Steve is all smiles, soft, sweet ones. Understanding ones. Bucky hasn’t spent his whole life knowing hardship but Steve has. He might not be able to relate to what it’s like to lose a limb but he does understand torture.

He’s spent his whole like in some form of chronic pain. If there’s anyone that can understand even some of the emotion and the tragedy that Bucky is dealing with right now, it might be Steve. Of course, it doesn’t substitute properly for a therapist but at least he has someone human to lean on when he needs it.

“For what? Getting me out of life drawing?” Steve makes a small, non-commital snort as he sits back on his heels, shifting his weight. His back is screaming, but it’s all for a good cause.

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