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[endsinafight]

Sweat drips down the back of his neck as he makes his way out of his hut and into the heat of the Wakandan sun. It's later than he usually gets started on things these days, but today he just hadn't had the energy to make himself get out of bed early. He's still tired, even if he shouldn't be. His body doesn't require the kind of sleep that normal humans need, but the last couple of weeks...well. Since he'd woken up from cryofreeze, sleep's been practically non-existent. Between flat out insomnia and nightmares, he doesn't rest much.

But this isn't even that. He knows how he feels after a restless night, and this isn't it. No, his lack of desire to get out of bed or leave his hut or do anything these days has a lot more to do with a six foot blond who's been back in Wakanda since a few days after he'd woken up. He knows Steve's there, because he's picked up the language easily -- which apparently still a thing he can do thanks to HYDRA -- and he hears whispers about "The Nomad" almost every day. He knows exactly who they mean.

He just rarely sees Steve himself. It's not like he's come around. He's not staying with Bucky. He's either in a hotel or at the palace, and that's fine. Really. He gets it. He doesn't blame Steve.

Bucky's still trying to get used to functioning with one arm. Balance has been surprisingly difficult. He's fallen more than once, used to having to lean to the right to balance the excess weight of the arm that had been strapped to him for the last seventy some years. Shuri's offered to make him a new one and he's turned her down. He doesn't need it. Doesn't want it. He's done fighting, thank you very much.

He doesn't bother with shoes as he pads out into the grassy area near the goats, who are definitely acting a lot more jumpy these days. He'd assume it was him, but his presence actually seems to relax them, so he thinks maybe there's a predator on the prowl at night freaking them out. He walks to pick up his garden hoe, because that's another thing that he's doing -- likes it. Finds it soothing. Growing something and helping it thrive instead of ruining it like he has everything else for the majority of his life.

When he rounds the house, he jumps, startled at Steve's sudden appearance. "Jesus Christ,," he mutters, heart pounding hard.

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[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve hadn’t intended to be spotted. He’d been working hard to keep a close eye on Bucky, even though he had to keep a distance between them. Something about Bucky brought the animal out of him, a throbbing and primordial growl right out of his chest. Whenever he was close to Bucky, he wanted to grab him and never let him go. He had been having to restrain the urge to pee on Bucky’s hut—in wolf form, thank god, but still. It was clear he couldn’t be trusted. Bucky didn’t need his mess dropped in his lap, on top of everything.

But—he couldn’t help himself. He kept coming back to Bucky, over and over. He’d get as close as he could, sniff around for any details, carefully nose his way to see what he was doing. He was fascinated by every tiny detail of his life, from what he had for dinner to what his toothpaste smelled like. He was like a starving man and if he wasn’t careful, he’d devour Bucky whole.

It had only been getting harder to stay away, lately. Bucky reeked of sadness. His home was getting more and more drenched in it, permeating the walls. It was strong enough that it made Steve want to sneeze in wolf form. And it was getting worse. The horror of that made anxiety build in Steve’s chest and made him spend most of the day and night just beyond arms reach.

He hadn’t expected Bucky to turn that corner. He was just shifted out of wolf form in order to use his hands to undo the latch of Bucky’s window. He wasn’t actually going to go in. Just stick his head in, get a good lay of the land.

When Bucky was there, though, he dropped his hands guiltily away from the latch. He was grateful for the tight pants that T’Challa had given him—most clothing was destroyed by the change, but these were made of vibranium and managed to survive. It was still ridiculous to see a six foot hairy guy in what were essentially skin tight capris, but it was certainly better than nudity.

“Hey, Buck,” he said, weakly. He curled his hands together behind his back to prevent himself from reaching out and couldn’t help but take a deep breath through his nose. “I was just going for a run and thought I’d say hi.”

[endsinafight]

For a moment, Bucky just stares at him not sure what to think about the too-short pants that -- he's pretty sure are made from vibranium. They look like vibranium. Other than that, he was bare-chested and it's an effort on his part not to stare because, well fuck. He's only human, after all. Sort of.

His gaze travels from Steve's hand to the latch on the window and there's a look on his face that says he clearly isn't buying it. He's torn between wanting to ask him to stay, to come in, to talk to him, and between the hurt and resentment that's been building up in his chest. And he knows he has no right to either, but it's still there and he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Sure," he says, flatly. He doesn't know what Steve's doing or why he's really there, but he's also too drained to ask questions when he's not sure the answers matter anyway. He picks up his garden hoe, looks at Steve again, then moves away without another word.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

God, Bucky stank. It was enough that when he turned away, Steve curled his bare toes in the dirt and clutched his hands together and dug his teeth into the side of his mouth, all in an effort to repress the deep chest whine that wanted to break free.

After a moment, he followed hesitantly after him. He was helpless not to.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said, softly. He stayed a good six feet away, for his own sanity. “I’ve never used a, um. Whatever that is. But I learn fast. “

[endsinafight]

For a moment, he's shocked that Steve's followed him. That he's uttered more than a single greeting before taking off. It's confusing. Kind of makes his head hurt.

"It's a garden hoe," he responds. He's not surprised Steve isn't familiar with it. He hadn't been either until someone had explained what it was and what it was used for. They're city boys through and through. But Bucky -- he thinks he can do this. Make a life here. Or what might pass as one. Staying to himself, on the far edge of the nearest village, with his goats and his garden and his guilt. "I'm getting rid of weeds. It's fine. I only have the one."

He doesn't look at him as he puts the metal of it in the ground, and to say that gardening one handed isn't an easy feat is...well. An understatement. But he's goddamned determined.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve watched Bucky. He’d been spending endless amount of time watching him, this last month, but this time—it was just after the moon. He was close enough to Bucky he could take four steps and be on him. He could smell him—his pheromones broadcasting sadness, his clean masculine sweat. It was a lot.

He sat down in the dirt on the edge of Bucky’s garden plot. He wanted to offer to help again, but he knew better. He’d been the guy whose body wasn’t cooperating.

“D’you... like gardening?” It was pathetic. But he was waffling around just blurting and out his big question, which is how can I help you be happy? Why aren’t you happy? He knew that wasn’t a reasonable question.

[endsinafight]

He's sure that the surprise registers on his face when Steve plops himself down in the dirt -- not in Bucky's way, not even close. But this is the closest they've been since T'Challa had agreed to bring him here in the first place. And the first time that Steve hasn't immediately run off after greeting him, like he smells bad or he just doesn't want to look at him. (And he can't blame him for that, now can he? After everything.)

Bucky eyes him momentarily, presses his lips together. He doesn't know what's going on or what the sudden change is about, but it almost feels like emotional whiplash.

"It's something to do," he tells him, driving the hoe into the ground again, this time at a different angle, trying to bust up the weeds that are already taking hold of his fragile little tomato plants, trying to strangle the life out of them.

The way toxic things are apt to do.

He would know.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve chewed his own mouth enough he broke the skin, tasted his own blood. It was rich and salty—it almost made him hungry. The immediate inhuman reaction was enough to remind him why he had been working so hard to give Bucky space, why this wasn’t safe.

And if he needed more reasons, Bucky seemed even more tense and unhappy than usual. He wasn’t looking at Steve. It made Steve’s heart clench and his whole body yearn to grab Bucky, steal him away to remind them both of who he belonged to.

“Do you want me to go away?” he asked. “It’s okay if you do.”

He kept his voice as even as he could. It hurt, to ask that. He knew he’d done harder things, but it was hard to think of any just right now.

[endsinafight]

Bucky's got no idea that Steve is just as engaged in his own internal war as he is at the moment. He's not looking at him, because looking at him makes him remember things from a long time ago, makes him want things he can't have because of how different things are even if his own feelings have never changed. Seventy years passed, though. And that's a hell of a long time.

But when Steve asks him if he wants him to go away, he grows still, staring in disbelief at the soil beneath his feet.

"Is that a fucking joke?" His own voice sounds more like a strangled whisper than anything.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve couldn’t keep his whine entirely in his head at that sharp response. He swallowed it down, though, until it’s just a soft sad noise from his throat. He shifted in the dirt, moving to wrap both arms around his knees. He was basically holding himself in place, every muscle locked tight.

“No,” he said. “All I want is for you to be happy. But—I mean. You don’t seem to be happy with me being here. So I’ll go. If you want me to.”

[endsinafight]

A laugh devoid of all humor escapes him. "You've been here for weeks and this is maybe the third time I've seen you. Don't try and turn this around on me so that when you take off you can tell yourself it's what Iwanted, Steve."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve swallowed, hard. He felt—well. He felt like an idiot. He didn’t have anything to say to that, not really. He didn’t have an explanation for Bucky. Not one that made any sense with the information he had.

He should probably just tell Bucky the truth, that Steve was a monster in the most literal sense. That he was dangerous, like a rabid dog was dangerous. But there was some part of himself that wished he could be the man Bucky remembered. The guy he saw in the museum. Captain America.

He’d physically changed, after the bite. It was a giant scar on his thigh, the only one still on his body. He was hairier than he’d been and broader, taller—even more mass than he used to have. His teeth were sharper. He didn’t know if he smelled different or if it was just his nose. He was literally not human anymore.

“Okay,” he whispered. He cleared his throat, tried to put more strength in his voice. “I’m sorry. I—“ He cut himself off. He didn’t have an explanation.

He should just go—it was probably the only way to keep the truth from Bucky. But he didn’t want to let him think Steve didn’t want to see him. It—it was hurting him. He could read Bucky well enough to know that. It would be much harder to fight his instincts from up close. But he had to try. If this was what he had to do for Bucky, he would. Even if it meant Bucky finding out what he was and driving him away for good.

“Are you sure I can’t help with the gardening?” It was inadequate.

[endsinafight]

When Bucky ventured a glance at Steve, he could see the way his angry words had affected Steve and he closed his eyes, guilt flooding him. He had no right to lash out -- not at Steve or anyone else. Ever. He forced himself to take a deep breath, struggling to ignore the way his chest felt so painfully tight, the way his throat wanted to close.

His entire existence had revolved around this man for the only part of his life that was worth anything. Steve was the only good part of himself that was even left. The days that he wasn't sure he wanted to live or not -- he held on because of Steve. The years of brainwashing and programming he'd dealt with during his time with HYDRA -- Steve was the only reason he'd broken out of it. There were a thousand other examples.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, voice still rough. "Shouldn't of bit your head off like that." He tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. He exhaled, then tossed the hoe toward Steve before plopping himself down on the ground and grabbing at the weeds with his bare hand. It was probably more effective this way anyway, for him.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve watched as Bucky started digging in the dirt with his bare hand and he felt like one more time a fool. He was fucking this up on every front.

But one thing he was sure of: “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right.” His voice was firm.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like—like you weren’t important to me.”

He stared at the hoe, like it contained the secrets of the universe.

A Couple Weeks Later

[endsinafight]

Bucky could feel the change in Steve the closer it got to the full moon, which he was now tracking on an app on the phone that Shuri had given him. He makes a few notes there, too, regarding Steve's moods and reactions. He's not really surprised that he's snappier than usual, more easily annoyed, more restlesss. He doesn't know a ton about werewolves, but he knew enough to know that Steve's behavior was very susceptible to the changes in the moon and its cycles. It's something to get used to, and he will.

But there's an unhappy look on his face as Steve packs up a small bag, because apparently he's decided the best way to deal with tonight's full moon is by leaving.

"So, you're gonna run off by yourself?" He can't keep the skepticism out of his voice. "I think this is a terrible plan."

Re: A Couple Weeks Later

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"Yes," Steve said, flatly. His movements were quick and jerky, tension vibrating out of his frame. Most of what he packed in the bag were soft clothes he could change into tomorrow morning and medical supplies, for him to deal with the inevitable minor injuries he gave himself. Perhaps the best thing about Wakanda, other than Bucky's presence in it, was that T'Challa had given him access to a nature preserve that was specifically impossible for humans to access. There was a force-field around it, for the sake of the wildlife there. Steve could run around, red in tooth and claw, and there was no chance he would be able to kill a human.

Every single atom in his body wanted Bucky to stay around him. His wolf was furious at the idea of abandoning him, of changing without Bucky in his sight. This was going to be a really terrible moon. But there was no chance Steve was going to let it happen. He was too aggressive. He could effortlessly kill Bucky and he thinks Bucky would let him.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Steve said.

[endsinafight]

Bucky heaved a sigh, not liking the idea of being left behind, but also not liking the idea of Steve feeling like he had to do this alone. He was all too familiar with having to do things alone -- or feeling like you had to, anyway. It was what had kept him hiding and away from Steve for those two years. And he'd been miserable for most of it. Granted, this was only for a night, but something still felt wrong and unsettled within him over the entire situation.

He didn't for one second believe that Steve would hurt him, let alone kill him, wolf or not. He'd transformed in front of Bucky before and he'd let Bucky pet him, hug him. Admittedly, it hadn't been a full moon at the time.

"I just have a bad feeling, Steve. Like you shouldn't do this alone."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"I’ve been doing it alone for awhile," he said. His voice was probably too harsh. He did this alone for a full year, between getting bit and finding Bucky again. He did it alone for months while Bucky was in cryo. None of his friends know. He had to do this alone and he was used to it—part of him, the part of him that was fired up with the moon, took Bucky’s concern as a challenge.

"I can take care of myself. I’m a superpowered goddamned werewolf."

He set down the bag he was taking a little too hard and jerked the fridge open hard enough bottles rattled.

[endsinafight]

If Steve had been anyone else, Bucky likely would have instantly shut down at that tone. But it's one he'd heard plenty of times growing up when Steve was getting sick or when he'd been afraid of Steve getting sick. Steve had been so damned stubborn, taking Bucky's concern as pity far too often even if Bucky had never meant it that way.

Still. His eyes narrowed at the tone, feeling a hint of his own irritation rising even as he struggled to push it away. It wouldn't help anything. Getting annoyed at Steve for his defensiveness had never been helpful and he doubted that was different.

"No kidding, Pal." He eyed the fridge door.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve grabbed a package of lunchmeat and started eating it straight. He was ravenous and the meat was too thin to be satisfying—he wanted to dig his teeth into something and tear, he wanted to fuck something, he wanted to run. This was awful and glorious at the same time; he felt enormously powerful and like he was going to use all that power to tear off his own skin.

"No kidding what?" he snapped.

[endsinafight]

"No kidding you're a super-powered goddamn werewolf," he responded mildly. "There's leftover roast on the bottom shelf. Help yourself." He leaned back against the wall, watching him intently, hint of worry still present in his eyes.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve glared at Bucky and then realized he was glaring at his lover because he helpfully pointed out something that Steve wanted. He averted his eyes, a flush of shame settling in the base of his spine. This is why he shouldn’t be around Bucky.

He couldn’t bring himself to apologize and it made a bitter taste fill his mouth. He felt sorry, but the churning rage in him couldn’t even stand the words.

He leaned down to get the roast. He purposefully got a fork, even though he didn’t want it.

"I’m going to leave earlier next month."

[endsinafight]

Bucky closed his eyes momentarily. "You're gonna come back, right?" He can't help the quiet words that leave his mouth, even if he regrets them almost immediately. Steve, after all, isn't the one prone to running away from his problems. That was him. That's always been him.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Bucky’s quiet words hit him so hard he almost reeled. The horrible anger him tried to rise up, almost as if to get mad at Bucky for making him feel so strongly, for making him feel so bad—thank God he was able to push that down ruthlessly. He put the roast down, excruciatingly careful. It didn’t even clink. He could control himself.

He turned to Bucky and reached out for him, pulling him into a hug. His arms were like iron around Bucky.

"I am coming back. I will always come back. I never want to leave, honestly. But god—just look at me right now. I am not fit for company."

[endsinafight]

Bucky didn't even get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief before Steve had him wrapped up in a bear hug (wolf hug?). Nor did he mind how tightly Steve held onto him. He buried his face against his shoulder, nodding wordlessly.

He'd been good with words, once. But he doesn't know how to articulate that anytime they had to say goodbye to one another - no matter how briefly it was intended - it felt like it was going to be the last time. They'd said so many goodbyes over the years, and so damn many times he'd been sure each was the last. Each felt like the last. It chipped away at him. He knew it wasn't healthy, knew he probably ought to be talking to someone -- hell, Shuri had offered to set him up with a therapist. He just wasn't sure there was any therapist on earth prepared to handle the baggage that came with his life.

"Okay. Okay. I'll just...miss you."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve tucked his face into Bucky’s neck, nuzzling. It was an attempt to comfort, something instinctual in him wanting to give Bucky some of his scent—Bucky didn’t have a good enough nose for it to matter, but this close to the moon, Steve couldn’t help rub himself all over Bucky. The soft hair of his beard scratched against Bucky’s skin and it made Steve feel very much like he did when Bucky’s hand went through his fur.

"Not gonna be long," he murmured, voice rough. "You’ll close your eyes to fall asleep and blink, then I’ll be back."