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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bruce snorted and looked a little incredulous at Tony's suggestion. He was grateful most of the time that his odd friend didn't treat him with the same fear and kid gloves that anyone else who knew his true identity did. But sometimes it went just a little bit far in the other direction, he was still a danger.

"Possibly not the best idea. I can follow in the car, you get visual from the air."

Bucky scrubbed his hand through his hair looking really uncomfortable.

"If this dog is, uh-- different, are we gonna be able to keep it securely in my apartment?"

It's not like his place is built for rabid animals.

“I don’t think you want it in your apartment. We’ll bring it to my dad’s house. Know your way around Long Island?” Tony is just going to spit an address at Bucky so either he makes sure to memorize it or write it down. Tony’s already packing up, extolling how cars are much more dangerous than aircraft, and will be out of the apartment in roughly two shakes.

He’s left behind that arm and the neural stimulator for Bucky because he never had any intention of doing more than dropping it off. He really wants to help the guy calibrate it but he has a feeling Bucky will be calling him in the near future to mess with it. At the very least.

For now, they have a dog to catch. And Bucky has a friend to wait for. Thankfully, he won’t be waiting too long. It doesn’t take more then twenty minute to run down the street for pizza.

Bucky was pretty mad at Steve for sneaking out to get pizza while Bucky was defending him to Tony, after he specifically told his friend not to go in case there was a risk to either himself or the people around him. But he didn't want to argue yet, he didn't want to risk a big blow out and Steve walking out.

So he settled on just shortly telling Steve they had to go to Long Island, to this particular house, and nothing much more.

It would be Bruce and Tony who had the more interesting time of it. With the instruments at their disposal, and Bruce's instinct for another predator, it would only take a short amount of time to locate the giant wolf in New Jersey. They cornered it down an alleyway, and Bruce realised as he looked at it that this was-- it couldn't be an earth wolf, it was almost three times the size.

And that was when the wolf spoke to them.

"So, I smell my kin on you. The mortal did not die. Surprising."

Tony is about ready to have a giggle fit the moment the dog opens his mouth and though he is wearing the Iron Man armor, the way it moves is almost fanglish. Given how much of a caraciture of himself that he sometimes is, Tony wouldn’t even been embarrassed to see himself like this. Bruce, however, might. “You talk!”

Sometimes there’s nothing to do about a situation except to do so and Tony ignores the irony about the self proclaimed smartest man in the world having to do so.

“First of all, amazing. Second of all, weird way to be a werewolf. He’s only sprouting muscles and a correct spinal lineation. Where’s the fur and claws?”

Fenris seemed to note that he was being laughed at, even if the one doing the laughing remained inside a strange metal container and didn't show his face. Amusing, that mortals felt the need for such encompassing armour, the mighty warriors of Jotunheim wore no armour and those of Asgard only ceremonial armour, but mortals were so fragile.

Perhaps not so his bastard pup now.

And not the mortal without armour, he smelled of challenge and predator, though Fenris did not fear him. He was secure in his lineage and his power.

"I do not know this term you use, this mortal is now of mixed blood. He may grow claws, may grow fur, but neither of these things is a definite."

He stood and shook himself, giving the impression that he was used to being of a much larger stature than even this.

"To create a bastardised pup was a mistake in a moment of passion, it will cause consternation with my mother and my grandsire when I return. Take me to it."

Every single thing said by this creature is disturbing and yet, Tony is utterly, utterly charmed. He’s had problems like this before, but they’ve always been terrestrial in nature, even if not so easily removed. He doesn’t know how the wolf’s family is, but he wants to meet them. He wants to know everything there is to know about him, about where he’s from. Tony can be, and often is, horribly obsessive.

It’s not different now.

And at least it doesn’t cloud his judgement.

“I have a feeling that your idea of fixing this mistake might be to kill someone important to a friend of mine. We really can’t let that happen. If you can think of a non-lethal way to fix him, we are all ears though.”

"This does not concern your mortal wishes any longer, for he is no longer mortal. I will be the one to examine him and see whether he merits petition for life to my mother and grandsire, or if he is not worth such risk."

Fenris was not a naturally cruel creature. He behaved as with the law of nature and strength, death was as acceptable as life, but he did not kill randomly or without purpose. If his blood had not killed this mortal then there was strength there, and that strength deserved recognition with a chance.

A slim chance.

"We have discussed enough, take me to him."

As far as negotiations go, Tony and Bruce are having a better time of it than Steve and Bucky. Mostly, that’s because Bucky caught him sitting outside the door with the box of pizza in his lap, looking like he might rip the clothing on his body to shreds. The smell of pizza don Penny whining brought Bucky to the door in the first place and now there’s just a weirdly hulking Steve and conflicted blue eyes.

“I don’t think I can come inside.”

Bucky might have once cracked a joke about the reason behind it being that Steve can’t fit anymore. The blond looks down at the pizza and hands the box to Bucky with just one hand. There’s not even a tremor in his arm from the weight, though there is one in his massive, chiseled jaw from emotion.

"Why not?"

Bucky takes the pizza more out of surprise of it being handed to him, than because he actually wants a box of pizza, and he immediately sets it down so that he has his hand free in case Steve does something stupid like run off.

He doesn't get what's happening to Steve at the moment and, quite honestly, it scares him how little like his best friend Steve has been acting since this happened. He's terrified that he's changing on the inside as well as the outside.

“Oh my god Buck, Jesus, why can’t you just—” Steve presses his face against his palm and pinches the bridge of his nose. His friend is an idiot. He’s told him that a few times now but Bucky never seems to really get it. He huffs, though it sounds like a growl, and sets his jaw in determination. It’s a lot more effective now than usual, given how well muscled his neck is, visible even in the hoodie. “I’m going to say this as normal as possible…”

That’s never a good way to start a sentence, but it’s not the first time Steve’s done so.

“But you smell—” Shit-- “Good!” he follows up quickly before the guy can get the wrong idea. “Real good. Like the best thing ever.” His eyes dilate, but his voice drifts off, almost far away. “I can’t even put it into words, Buck. It’s more than a smell, it’s a whole feeling…you know?”

"No, I don't know. You can't come in because I smell good? Is it-- is your sense of smell getting better? Super sensitive or something?"

He doesn't get that Steve is attracted to him, because he never considered that would be the case. He still remembers when Steve first came out to him, and Bucky had felt a soaring hope that maybe this might mean something for the dumb crush he'd had for years, but his friend had never given the faintest indication that he'd ever want to make a move.

So he had never said anything, and he definitely didn't put two and two together on this.

"Do you feel dizzy?"

He's so out of his depth it's not even funny.

"Well, yeah, but not in a bad way." Every time he thinks a conversation with Bucky is going to go south, it never does. He has to have more faith in their friendship. It's seen them through so much already, so why not this little thing more? Steve isn't going to fully admit what he feels, mostly because he's never had to. He's never wanted to put that on Bucky and he's seen the guy take out girls that confessed their feelings to him just because he's felt like he had to.

Going through that would crush Steve, though he's sure he could come back from it. He always does.

"I just think it's better if I wait out here for your friends to come back. You can have the pizza and... Uh, I'll take like two slices though, before you shut the door."

"You're kind of scaring me, Steve."

It's not an admission made lightly, and his voice is quiet enough that it's almost a mumble. He doesn't like whatever is happening here, he's scared about Steve isolating himself and it getting worse, and he has no idea why he seems to be the catalyst that keeps making Steve worse.

He picks up the pizza box and comes out of the door, holding the box out to Steve to take.

"We've gotta go to Long Island anyway, so please just-- stick with me for now, we'll figure it out, and then I'll leave you be if that'll help."

Scaring Bucky is exactly the thing that Steve is trying to avoid here but it's not working. Bucky's voice prick at his ears, as if nails on a chalkboard, though hardly that shrill. The sensation is causes is the same, though, and he can feel all of his hair standing on end. His eyes drop immediately to the floor as Bucky joins him in the corridor, maybe to avoid staring, sure, but also to psych himself up for this.

It's going to take a whole lot of time and effort here to get through this, more resolve than Steve's ever had before, but he's never backed down from a fight.

"Long Island? Right. Well, how long before we have to get there because I'm about to bust out of these clothes." He tries to laugh and it even sounds genuine, not like he's scared to death himself.

This is all just one big mess, they're both scared and both hurting and neither of them seem to be able to do anything to help the other one out. Bucky has no idea what's happening to his friend, what this weird-ass dog has done, and if it might be permanent. On top of that, he really doesn't want to go all the way out to Long Island when he's this stressed and without evening being able to bring Penny.

But Steve needs him. It's just another mission.

So he shrugs and projects an air of confidence as he starts off down the stairs and towards the door.

"They'll probably be back before us, they've got a car and a weird flying thing. Don't ask, Tony's like that. So we should get going, don't worry about your clothes. Listen, Steve, we're gonna get this sorted. Count on it."

"If I end up naked on Long Island Railroad, I'm going to be really, really mad at you," Steve says, but there's no way that Bucky can take the subway from Brooklyn to Manhattan and switch at Penn Station to the LIRR and head down to Suffolk County. It's a long ride, one filled with a ton of people that could and probably would trigger him.

And Tony knows that. It's why he's sent a car with a discrete driver, standing there at the bottom of the stairs to Bucky's building holding open the door.

Steve balks, of course. He does not want to be in an enclosed area with Bucky, but there's not going to be a choice here. He needs to power through. "Uh... You really do know weird people. Uh. So hang on. If we're not driving, I'm getting that pizza."

There were a lot of times when Bucky found Tony's overeager application of his money to be an annoyance, but then there were times like this where it was a godsend. He still didn't want to get in a strange car with a discrete driver, but compared to getting a multitude of trains packed with strangers, this was by far the better option.

"Okay, you get the pizza."

Bucky's response was mostly absent because he was already moving towards the car. Not to get in, he needed to check under the car and under the hood. He knew it was just the whisperings of paranoia, of past trauma, but he couldn't help it. He had to check for car bombs, and screw anyone who looked at him weirdly for doing it.

Pizza and Steve made it to the car a few moments before Bucky’s deemed it safe and so the blond waits awkwardly in too small clothes, feeling like he’s about to scratch off his skin. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like any of it, but he’s got absolutely no choice but to follow Bucky into the back seat.

The door is shut. The car starts moving. Steve hasn’t started to breathe, not yet, because he’s terrified if the way that Bucky is already making the enclosed space fill with everything that makes Steve want him.

It’s maddening.

Bucky has no idea.

“Pizza?” He mumbles as they head into traffic, shoving the box towards his friend.

What the hell is Steve's obsession with the pizza?

Bucky glances over at him in mild confusion, before it twigs that maybe it's a coping mechanism. God knows that he knows what it's like to fixate on something irrelevant and seemingly meaningless in order to keep the more pervasive thoughts at bay. Whatever was going on with Steve must be frightening, and maybe he was in pain or discomfort that he wasn't talking about.

"Steve..."

He reached out and put his hand on Steve's leg, gentle and careful.

"It's gonna be okay, I really mean that."

Steve feels his stomach give out and the rest of his body sink through the leather seats and onto the road jerking beneath them. His eyes leave the pizza to settle rigidly on the hand on his knee before they move up to Bucky. There’s nothing short of feral in the bright blue and he settles his fingertips very, very gently on the back of Bucky’s knuckles.

He has to be mindful of his strength. He crushed the last pizza box when the girl at the counter handed it to him and he’d had to wait for another. He blamed it on the grease and laughed. He hadn’t felt like laughing though.

He laughs now too, with much the same emotion, though it’s twinged in nervousness. “Okay?”

Now that’s a little shrill and nasal.

“Y-Yeah! Sure is. Totally will be.” Steve turns towards the window and worries his lips with his teeth just as the merge into traffic on the bridge. So much traffic. He groans and tries to put down the windows but they’re all locked.

He's not helping.

He comes to that realisation like sinking into a bath of ice water. He doesn't blame Steve for still being scared, and for not wanting to even look at him, he knows what it's like for the fear to take hold and for even friends to look like foe. He wants to curl up himself somewhere, but he won't, because he has to be strong for Steve now. It's his job to watch Steve's back, to protect him, just like always.

So he takes his hand back and tries to project a facade of confidence and calm, like he isn't eating himself from the inside out, as the car moves on slowly. And he keeps silent, because forcing conversation clearly isn't helping.

Please let this be an easy fix when Tony and that doctor find the dog.

Steve is hoping for the same thing. Years of being all right with Bucky never ever being even remotely into him are about to be flushed down the toilet otherwise and oh does it even scare him. What if the feeling never does go away? What if he’s always going to remember this particular lust?

The skin on the backs of his arms turn to goose flesh as Bucky pulls away and silence (and diesel fumes) surround them. Steve sets his head half out of the window until the car picks up speed, making the half hour longer journey to the tip of Long Island. As the driver opens up, the wind pressure bothers Steve enough to get him to sit back inside and shut the tinted window.

He’s miserable next to Bucky, not because of anything Bucky’s done but because he’s right on the verge of being dumb. Thankfully, he doesn’t quite plummet as they pull into the long driveway, leading to a massive brownstone house. Steve rolls down the window again, this time to get a good look at the place.

The car from before is already parked there. So is a crazy looking helicopter. Inside the mansion, Tony laughs. “Banner. Come here. He’s got his head sticking out of the window!”

Bruce was still a little too shell shocked about meeting a talking giant wolf to share Tony's casual excitement, so he didn't bother to tell Tony off for being insensitive and just meandered out of the front door with a blank expression.

The first thing that would greet Steve and Bucky would be Fenris on the front lawn, and Bucky softly swore under his breath. "That-- that's the thing that bit you? Jesus, Steve, that's not a dog."

And even the physical aside, Steve would be able to feel that. From one predator to another, one wolf to another, he would feel kin. He would know he should be subservient to the alpha, which was clearly Fenris in this situation, a kin that doesn't exist in the human realm.

Fenris stood and shook his coat, bright burnished golden eyes fixed on where his new bastard pup approached.

What Steve felt most of all was a sort of relief, as if, upon seeing the wolf, he knew he’d be understood. It’s the only thing he’s wanted since this whole thing began. He doesn’t care that anyone is watching as he approaches first in two feet and then on hands and knees, shifting fluidly, and coming to rest back on his heels a few paces away from the wolf.

“I need help,” Steve says and Tony joins Bruce at the front door and Bucky is left to follow his friend out of the backseat of the car. It’s harder to do with only one arm than most people think.

Steve makes a huffing sigh and tilts his head, half smirk on his face as he watches Fenris from beneath dark lashes.

“I know I’m an accident. I feel like one. I guess you’re in a bad position too, huh?” It’s familiar because they are familiar. Steve doesn’t know why it is, just that it is.

It's deeply unnerving for Bucky to see Steve drop to all fours as if he belongs that way, and he has to resist the urge to tackle him out of the way of the giant wolf that looks as if it could literally bite him in half on a whim. Whatever this is, it's way beyond his understanding.

Fenris observes the mortal and sees the changes wrought in him already, but he makes no outward judgement as to whether what he sees pleases or displeases him.

"A mistake, not an accident. A hasty judgement in a moment of frustration, one that I expected to cause a death and not the growth of a pup."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject