Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn

[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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[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.

[endsinafight]

Bucky closed his eyes, drawing in a couple of slow breaths. He didn't want to be the person who lashed out at the people he loved, regardless of how he felt. He'd never been that person before they'd turned him into the Winter Soldier. The only times he'd ever lashed out at Steve growing up was when Steve had done something dumb to put himself in danger.

"It's okay." His voice was quiet now, and he tugged at the root of the weed before flinging it over his shoulder. "It's not like I haven't give you plenty of reason to stay away." He didn't want to be mad at Steve. And really, it wasn't so much anger as hurt. When they'd come to Wakanda to begin with, it felt like things between them were going to be okay. Like maybe eventually --

And maybe that was the problem. Maybe he needed to let go of all of it. His wants and desires, his expectations -- he'd always based his life far too much on Steve, on what he was doing, what he wasn't doing, what he thought he'd be doing in the future. Maybe Steve was seeing just how codependent Bucky really was and maybe he'd finally realized it was unhealthy on a disturbing level.

He drew in a breath and looked over at him, expression softening at the sight of him staring at the hoe like it could tell him how to break it to Bucky that once he left Wakanda, he wasn't going to come back again. He'd find a way to live with that, because he wasn't going to have a choice. Steve had a life; had built a new life when he'd woke up out of the ice. He had friends, teammates (the ones that would still talk to him after Bucky had single-handedly wrecked the Avengers), people who loved and needed him. People who were probably nowhere as screwed up as Bucky.

"It's okay, Steve." He forced the words out, but they sounded quiet, calm. Sounded resigned to the inevitable conclusion of whatever it was they'd been dancing around for so, so long. "I get it."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

He snapped his gaze to Bucky, eyes an an intense and piercing blue, even bluer than they used to be. There was a lot of the wolf in that stare.

Steve wanted to push Bucky down in the dirt and rub his whole body against him, lick his skin until he washed off all of his sadness and replaced it with his own scent, fuck him until he was sobbing with pleasure, and then never let him go. He would prefer, instinctively, that Bucky never leave his sight—at least not now, not when he was sending off the sad sick scent of a wounded animal. All of that, and more, and Bucky thought he had given Steve a reason to stay away.

There was a soft noise in his throat, a rumble like a growl. He had to force it down and he swallowed hard enough his throat clicked.

“Bucky,” he said, low and sterner than he meant. “Look at me.”

Once a Bucky managed that, he said low and urgent, “I don’t think you get it. You have given me no reason to stay away. You’re wonderful. You’re a gift, being alive, recovering as well as you have.”

[endsinafight]

When Bucky managed to meet Steve's gaze, there was something in his eyes that he didn't remember ever seeing before. Something animal. Almost feral. The deep blue color was darker than he was used to seeing and for a moment he was thrown. And there was something in his voice, something maybe even more commanding, more powerful than the Captain America tone that he used.

Disregarding compliments and praise was easy due to seventy years without anything like it, and it took him a moment to even register what he'd said. He was physically better, that was true. Shuri had gotten the trigger words out of his head once and for all and that was good. But he wasn't sure recovering was even the right word.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, gaze lingering because now that he's started looking at Steve, he can't seem to stop himself.

"Then what is it?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve held Bucky’s eyes and battled with his roaring instincts. Part of him took the direct eye contact as a challenge from an another male, another man who was strong and could claim leadership of his pack. Part of him wanted to never look away, because this was his mate and it wasn’t challenge for him. Part of him wanted to roll over and show Bucky his belly, whine and whimper and sob about how much he’d missed him.

All of him wanted to sink his teeth into Bucky, make him a wolf, make him his. None of this was acceptable.

He didn’t take his gaze away—he couldn’t force himself to look away. But he couldn’t bare to admit the full crazy truth of what happened to him.

He gave a halfway, sideways answer instead. “Looking at you makes me want a lot of things, Buck. I’m not ever going to force you into anything and wouldn’t even want to—but. It’s hard. And I’m a coward, I guess.”

[endsinafight]

Bucky sat silently in the dirt, absently rubbing his dirty fingers over his pants back and forth. Unconsciously nervous and not entirely sure why, except that Steve was looking at him, too, now, and there was a lot about him that had changed since the last time they'd been anywhere near this kind of conversation. Back then he'd been confident in his body, in his looks in general. Now, he was scarred up and down his body in so many places he couldn't even count all the badly healed injuries. He knew he'd gotten a different version of the formula than Steve had been given, and Shuri thought he didn't heal fully because instead of allowing him time to recover between missions, they simply stuck him on ice, slowing his metabolism down far enough that truly healing had never even been an option.

And yes. Steve sat there, admitting he wanted him, even if the words he used were less direct than what he'd been expecting.

"Bullshit," he muttered. "You've never been a coward a day in your life." His heart was beating a little more quickly in his chest. He licked his lips absently. "What do you think you want that you'd have to force me into?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve huffed a bitter little laugh. All sorts of weird shit that he wouldn’t admit to. Bucky always saw the best in him, always acted like he was some kinda shining icon of courage and virtue. He never was, and he certainly isn’t now. The sort of urges he feels right now have no place in any kind of captain America mythos. If figures if he was still having to fight with the avengers, he’d be regularly ripping enemies apart with his teeth.

He could see Bucky’s anxiety, as subtle as it was, in the repetitive movements of his hand. He could smell the sour nerves, but, also—he sniffed quick, through his nose. He could smell, very faint, a touch of excitement.

His own blood rose to meet it and he had to look away or he’d push it, he’d do something he regret.

“All kinda things, Buck,” he said, his voice rough. “Everything you’ll give me. You don’t need any kinda pressure.”

[endsinafight]

Bucky felt his chest tighten the moment Steve broke their eye contact and looked away. He looked down at the ground once more, taking in a slow, deep breath. "Seems to me like maybe you oughta let me decide what I want and if it's pressure or not." The words felt sort of hollow because it's more complicated than that, for a lot of reasons. There was a large part of him that would be relieved to just do whatever it was that Steve wanted him to do. It would certainly be familiar, simply going along with things and not having to make his own choices. And wasn't that fucked up beyond all fucking?

But it wasn't like Steve would hurt him. He might be the only person who wouldn't, if given the chance.

He shifted positions, stretching his legs out in front of him and giving up the idea of doing any gardening at the moment. He was far too distracted for that now.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve licked his lips and studied Bucky in his peripheral vision. He was hyper aware of every inch of his body and he felt like a dog examining a treat while pretending he wasn’t. He figured that wasn’t too far off from just being entirely accurate, really.

“I don’t know how detailed your memories are,” Steve said, softly. “What do you remember from just before the train?”

Because Steve remembered every second of it. He remembered Bucky snapping at him and he remembered, for the first time, admitting that they had something, that they wanted something. They’d gone into the mission fluttering with nerves. Only one of them had walked away.

“Neither of us are the same people. But—I’m yours. Still. Heart and soul.”

[endsinafight]

Bucky stiffened just a little, shoulders tensing at the memory of the conversation they'd had the night before he'd fallen. The day had been long, and Steve had been going on about Peggy and how great she was and his nerves were just shot at that point. He remembered snapping at him, mostly trying to get him to shut up for a change, and he remembered being unsurprised when he hadn't.

Because when did Steve Rogers ever do anything he didn't want to do?

"I remember it well enough," he admitted, chest tightening at Steve's words. He closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. Things were different now -- that was for sure. Society had done a hell of a lot of changing in the last seventy years. For the better, even if there was still a lot of room for improvement. It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it was better.

"And you think I can't handle you?" There was the barest hint of a challenge in his tone.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

That tone in Bucky’s voice got Steve’s blood hot and his temper high. He wanted to growl and knock Bucky into the dirt, climb on top of him and prove that Bucky couldn’t handle him, couldn’t handle his teeth or his cock or his knot—Christ he was a monster.

The reminder was enough he almost choked, the soft possessive noise that had been building in his throat cutting off suddenly.

He closed his eyes, trying to get himself together. People hated themselves for being monsters all the time, but he was extremely literal about it. He wasn’t human anymore. Bucky didn’t know. This wasn’t fair to him.

“No,” Steve said, quiet, incredibly tender. He loved Bucky more than anything. There was something sad and sweet in his voice. “I know you could handle anything that’s thrown at you.”

[endsinafight]

Something in his own nerves calmed at that incredibly quiet, incredibly honest reassurance. Somewhere inside him, Bucky knew Steve was right. What he'd been through with HYDRA -- he was pretty sure it didn't get worse than that. Except for one thing. One thing that he knew would wreck him. Ruin him.

One thing that would make him put an end to all of his own nightmares and panic attacks and morbid thoughts. It's the one thing he can't let himself think about. Won't let himself dwell on.

"But you've still been avoiding me."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I’m not the guy you knew,” Steve said. That was true even before the bite and now it was a whole fucking universe of truth. “I know you aren’t exactly who you used to be, either. I knew from the very first moment I saw your face that I wanted—well. I wanted. I knew you. I know you. I want you. And now—“

He couldn’t say this. He didn’t even know how to begin to say what he wanted, what he’d become. It was pretty fucking ironic, all told, that they’d found Bucky in Romania. He’d gotten bit in Ukraine, not far from the Romanian border. They’d never managed to follow up the lead, since Steve had damn well near died. Maybe it’d have taken him to Bucky a year earlier.

It had been blood and pain. He’d been wracked with fever, scaring the shit out of Natasha and Sam with how his body had seized and contorted. In a few days, he was well again and entirely different. Not himself anymore, not human. It had taken a few more weeks for him to really put the pieces together.

He thought of the terror of that first moon and just the echo of it in his gut was enough to strengthen his shaky resolve. He pushed himself to his feet, not quite able to look at Bucky.

“Maybe I should go.”

[endsinafight]

If there was a degree in sending mixed messages, Steve would have a Ph.D. in it. He had no idea what he was talking about, no idea how he could possibly have changed so damned much that he was afraid it would push Bucky in some way against his will. Didn't Steve realize there wasn't much he wouldn't do for him? With him? It had always been that way, since they were kids. It was the thing that had sent him diving into the Potomac two and a half years ago to save his life even when he didn't know why he was doing it. Just that his mind was screaming at him not to let the blond man drown.

"And now what?" he pressed, anxiety making his stomach do a flip flop as Steve got up, because he was going to leave again, was going to keep avoiding him, and he didn't know how to stop that from happening. Didn't know if he even could. This was Steve. And once he made his mind up about something, he rarely changed it.

It was a struggle, but Bucky managed to scramble to his feet, as well, off-balance, staggering a couple steps and almost landing on his face but managing to catch his gut on a post. It hurt, but his pain tolerance was sky-high. It barely registered in his brain at all.

"Why? What's so goddamn different about you now that I can't possibly understand?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve couldn’t help himself. He saw Bucky fall, he saw the way he slammed into the fencepost, and he was at Bucky’s side before he could blink, his hands reaching out to support Bucky, hold him steady.

This was as close as he’d been since they’d been in Wakanda and Bucky’s smell hit him hard, his heart pounding. Steve was so focused on Bucky’s body this close to him that he could barely understand the words. He could feel his eyes dare and grow sharp. He honest-to-god started salivating, like a panting fucking dog, and he tore himself away, taking a quick step back and closing his eyes. He was not holding it together the slightest bit.

“Bucky,” he said. His voice was torn out of his throat. “I don’t— I can’t.”

I can’t have you hate me. I don’t want to be a monster. Being this close to you makes me want horrible things.

[endsinafight]

Steve moved so quickly that Bucky didn't even see him approaching. His own breathing is a little more ragged than usual, from anxiety, from frustration, from the simple nearness of the other man's body to his own, hands burning into his skin where they rested against his hips. But Steve stepped back and away just as quickly as he'd moved to try and catch him, and Bucky's hand gripped the post tightly, probably digging splinters into his skin and not really caring.

And that was that.

Because even though Steve had said he didn't want to push or pressure Bucky, right now it felt like the opposite, with Steve saying he can't. There was more going on than he knew, he could feel that much in the tension between them. Maybe it wasn't so much that Steve didn't want him. It was that he didn't trust him. He wasn't sure which was more painful, but he did his best to clamp down on the way his chest tightened. On the way his stomach turned. He'd throw up later.

"Okay."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

It wasn’t okay for Bucky, clear as anything to Steve’s nose. He could smell the upsurge of sadness when Bucky agreed that it was okay. He instantly knew that Bucky thought it was about him, thought he was wrong somehow—it was in the echo of the words he still remembered, the quiet way Bucky had told Steve he wasn’t worth it.

Steve couldn’t live with the thought of Bucky thinking Steve with a monster, but by the way his chest ached this might be worse. If it was a choice between that and Bucky thinking Bucky was monstrous? He’d take that hit any time.

“Fuck,” Steve cursed. He rubbed his still closed eyes with his hand, covering them both for a moment. “Is there anything I could say to persuade you that I’m the problem here?”

[endsinafight]

Bucky didn't think he was monstrous. He knew he was. He had enough red in his ledger that he knew there was no way to get rid of it all no matter how long and hard he tried to wipe it out. He was trying to make peace with that. Trying to give up on the idea that atonement was possible, because it very clearly wasn't. Not in his eyes. Not in the eyes of most of the world, probably.

He leaned heavily on the post, tired. Distantly he felt a headache nudging at the back of his skull. Shuri had told him that the headaches he kept getting were likely from the skull fracture he'd gotten when he'd fallen from the train, only to keep getting concussions over the years during various missions. Brought on by stress, which he had no shortage of, she'd been troubled when she told him they weren't likely to go away anytime soon.

"You said you didn't want to pressure me. I don't wanna do that to you either, Steve." His voice was quiet, distant to his own ears, and his stomach was rolling even though he hadn't eaten today. "Do what you need to do. Okay?" And if that meant staying away from him, then -- so be it. He wouldn't like it. But he'd deal, the same way he'd been dealing with everything else he didn't like for years.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Bucky’s pain was ramping up, like a building thundercloud. It was hard to tell how much of it was physical, at least by scent alone hormones didn’t distinguish much and in Steve’s experience, that was right. There were words that hurt as much as knives.

“You’re not pressuring me,” Steve said, his voice low and intent. He tried to keep the growl out of it, but only partly succeeded. “I just asked you a question. I’m worried about me. Totally about me. Do you believe me?”

[endsinafight]

Bucky finds himself staring at Steve, mostly because of that partial growl he'd given. A shiver ran down his spine, a whisper of something flickering through his mind that he can't quite recall. But it wasn't just that. There was something else, too, something -- it dawned on him that Steve looked bigger than when he'd last seen him. Not just more muscle, which wouldn't have been surprising given all the fighting and working out.

No, he was actually taller, too. By at least an inch or two. It was such a small amount that he wondered if anyone else even noticed the change.

That was what made him answer in the affirmative. "Yes," he responded, voice quiet as he continued to study him. His eyes were darker blue now. It hadn't just been his imagination. But he'd dreamed of those eyes most of his life and if anyone was going to notice the subtle differences, it was Bucky.

"What happened to you?" It was an echo of the question he'd asked Steve after the other had rescued him from a weapon's factory a lifetime ago. What the hell did he do now?

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve took a deep, shuddering breath. He closed his eyes again and his shoulders slumped a little. Bucky noticed. He didn’t know the details, but of course he noticed. The difference was not as profound, but Steve used to be smaller. He’d changed, again. Steve probably should just tell him.

It was hard, though. He didn’t really know if he wanted to see Bucky recoil in horror.

“Something bad,” he said, very quiet. “I didn’t sign up for it this time.”

His voice was rueful. How many different bodies would he have before the universe let him die?

[endsinafight]

Bucky watched Steve close his eyes and slump and all of the hurt he'd been feeling shifted into something else, something old and familiar and all wrapped up in Steve Rogers and worry. But the moment that Steve admitted something bad happened to him that had changed him, he moved toward him instinctively, reaching out and resting his hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Tell me," he said softly.

But beneath that was already a lick of something else, something akin to fiery rage, the desire to protect, even if Steve definitely didn't need him for protection.