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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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[endsinafight]

It was what Bucky wanted, too, but the question signaled to him that it wasn't going to happen. Steve was going to head out so he could run as a wolf without fear of hurting Bucky or anyone else. He sighed almost inaudibly. "Dunno. Late, I guess," he answered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You gonna get going?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve tilted his head to take Bucky’s mouth in a slow, filthy kiss.

"Yeah," he said. "Starting something else would be a bad idea, unless you’re into me on four legs."

He kissed Bucky again, helplessly against the way he smelled, the feel of him. He didn’t want to leave.

"But god, you drive me crazy."

[endsinafight]

Bucky sighed into his mouth, returning the kiss without hesitation, enjoying the wet heat of it as he slid his hand up and down Steve's back. "Plan to drive you crazy for years to come, Rogers," he informed him. He gazed up at him with a small smile. "Plenty of time for more of this when you get back. Not going anywhere."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Every word Bucky said was hoarse and Steve was hyper aware that it was his cock that did it, that when he left Bucky here, he’d be covered in their come and with a giant bruise on his neck and bearing traces of Steve down his throat. It was intoxicating and Steve couldn’t help a slow grind down into Bucky.

"Fuck," he said, guttural, sounding downright angry. He pulled himself off of Bucky in a quick movement, ending up on his feet and staring down at him, debauched on the ground. "Don’t you dare go anywhere. I want to tell you not to wash, but that’s fucking gross and I know it."

[endsinafight]

Bucky pressed his right hand onto the floor, sitting up slowly and offering him a rueful smile. He was definitely going to wash, and he was glad that Steve didn't try and tell him he couldn't.

"Got nowhere to go, Steve," he reminded him. Not outside of Wakanda, anyway. Not without a hell of a lot of risk and hiding and -- just the thought of going back to that kind of life was exhausting to think about.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve leaned down and scooped Bucky up, settling him upright and on his feet. Another time he might have asked, but right now he felt ownership over every inch of him and a possessive urge to help—the thought of asking Bucky if he wanted to help was a little foreign.

"I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, if you want to go," Steve promised. "Just—wait for me to come back."

[endsinafight]

They're probably both kind of lucky that he'd been born without the same amount of pride that made him refuse help at every turn, the way Steve had been, even if he'd obviously come to trust a handful of people to help him when he truly needed it. He didn't mind being picked up -- and God, it was kind of hot that it was so easy for Steve to do just that.

"Promise," he told him sincerely, lifting his hand to cup Steve's cheek and then pressing a soft kiss against his jaw.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

They were extremely lucky Bucky had that basic even temper. Steve had started prideful and angry, and the werewolf thing had just ramped it up. This time of the month, he would not emotionally cope well with all that much pushback—even if he would try, because it was Bucky and he loved him.

He kissed Bucky one more time, a little desperate. He was almost vibrating with anxiety. He had been angry and snappish about going, but now that the moment was actually hear, he almost couldn’t bear it—the sex they’d just had made it harder, reminding the wolf in him that this was his mate and they belonged together. He took a long moment to consider if he should ask Bucky to come with him, so he could keep both eyes on I’m at all times—but. But. He was dangerous. His teeth had tasted the blood of innocents and he doubt Bucky would even do that much to protect himself.

Another kiss and then he forced himself away, taking two quick steps back, staring at Bucky.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he said, snatching the satchel he’d packed and all but running out of the door.

[endsinafight]

Bucky watched him go, feeling his mood begin to dip almost immediately once he'd left. He sat down on the bed for a few minutes, just forcing himself to breathe until his head felt clear enough to do anything else. He pulled out some clean clothes, making his way down to the lake and bathing for awhile. Then he got himself dressed in the clean clothes and headed back toward his hut and the goats, tending to them and to the garden for a few hours under the warmth of the Wakandan sun.

When evening fell, he managed to eat a few bites of stew, finding himself relatively unhungry, and unsettled without Steve around. It was stupid. He shouldn't be this level of co-dependent. He tucked himself into bed early with a book, reading most of it before finally conking out around Midnight, wondering if Steve was okay, if he was safe, and wondering what he was doing. He missed him with an ache that was in the vicinity of his heart.

His dreams were restless, violent images of things he'd done over the decades, a shooting in Dallas, then a familiar face on a dark road before he smashed it in, then facing off with Steve in the hellicarrier, nearly beating him to death -- and Steve had let him. He shifted around in his sleep, whimpering quietly, sweat breaking out across his brow.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Ward knew better than underestimate the Soldier. Tonight was his night because Rogers was gone, but even one armed and gone soft, the Soldier was a threat. Barnes was a threat. He had clawed back a little bit of agency, in this shit-hole full of goats in the asscrack of the world, and now he was trying to be a person. He should know better than to think that was sustainable—and Ward was going to help remind him what the mission was.

But, he was going to do it carefully. There was always some rigor mortis kicking and screaming at the death of a person, and when Barnes became the Soldier again, Barnes was going to die.

He slipped through the door, grateful for the normal nighttime rustling of the goats to cover his small noises. He moved quiet, small steps, barely breathing. But when he was close enough, he left, stealth abandoned to jab a big needle into Barnes’s jugular and depress it immediately. When that was done, he leapt back and aimed his side-arm.

[endsinafight]

The familiar prick of a needle woke him from the nightmares and he lashed out immediately, his unconscious aware of the danger, the pain that always came along with needles. His right arm came up swinging, anyone within a foot of it would be knocked out cold from the force. He rolled off the bed, spotting a figure a few feet away, hovering in the darkness, a shadow. A monster, come for him.

Again.

His vision was already blurring from whatever they'd injected him with. Surely the man hadn't come alone -- there had to be others nearby, knowing he'd put up a fight more than most. He'd let his guard drop too much here. He reached for the knife beneath his pillow, grasping onto it and growling. "Stay the fuck back," he warned.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

It was hard enough getting one man into Wakanda—he couldn’t manage a whole team. This was a dangerous mission, through and through, and he knew it. Luckily, he was a dangerous guy himself—if not quite on the level of the soldier at full strength.

Those tranqs would knock out an elephant, though, and so the soldier was nowhere near full strength.

"Don’t worry," Ward said. "I am more than happy to stay back."

He kept his distance, but he carefully aimed and fired his silenced gun at Bucky’s thigh. He was going to stay away from that knife, he was heavily armored, but a little more security was never a bad thing.

[endsinafight]

He didn't recognize the voice, which wasn't surprising. There were far more HYDRA operatives that he didn't know than he did. Not many had been allowed access to the Soldier. The shot to his thigh shouldn't have surprised him, probably, but it caught him off guard, the pain sharp and intense. He didn't cry out, falling immediately and subconsciously back into the old mindset that noise got him in more trouble than staying silent.

Still, he hit the ground hard, not quick enough to brace his fall with his hand and landing on his side. But he kept hold of the knife, knuckles pale white as he clutched it. He could tell the other was too well-armored to take him out by throwing it. If he wanted a chance to kill him, he'd have to be closer.

He opted to let his muscles go lax even as he fought through the haze of drugs to stay conscious.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"Playing possum, Soldier?" Ward said. He knew that the med would take longer to knock him out than that. The easy compliance did more to put him on guard than resistance would have. The Soldier was thinking like a trapped animal, looking for his escape.

Ward looked him over closely. He couldn’t shoot the knife out of his hand—too much risk of getting him in the chest and he didn’t want to accidentally kill the Soldier, if anything even could. But he needed to get out of here as fast as he could. It was a pickle.

He could wait a little longer, but Rogers could come back. He pulled the second tranq out of his pocket. This was a risk, but it was the best option.

"I’ll just wait here until you fall asleep," he said, mild. And after a breath, he pounced, needle out to get him in the neck again, sinking right into the bruise on his pulse-point.

[endsinafight]

Fear shot through him involuntarily as the man called him on his attempt to trick him. His brain was far too clouded to think straight, and when he felt the needle jab into his skin once more, he knew he had to act if he had any chance of getting out of this. He moved quickly, decades of deadly training kicking in as he aimed the blade of the knife directly at the lack of proper covering over his shoulder, sinking the steel into flesh and bone, twisting it as he gritted his teeth.

And then -- he dropped back onto the floor, fingers releasing his grip on the knife as the sedative started to take hold. He reached for the man's gun, pointing it directly at his own head and hoping the man would be pissed enough about his own injury to pull the goddamned trigger.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Ward was half-expecting a violent response, or at least he was very aware of the possibility, so he wasn’t surprised—he couldn’t totally restrain his shout of pain, though, a load ringing "fuck" as the knife dug into his bone. His left arm was limp and useless, dripping blood.

He was focused enough on that—his combat brain only aware that Barnes was down and no longer a threat—that it took him a moment to realize that the man had aimed the gun at himself. It actually made him snort a thick laugh.

"No, Soldier," he said, his voice almost kind. You aren’t getting out that easy."

He holstered his weapon and leaned down, grabbing Barnes's ankle with his good arm and starting to drag him out of the hut.

"You’re a heavy motherfucker, aren’t you?" he grumbled. He had a motor-bike he could strap Barnes to like so much cargo, but he had to get him there and on it with one arm, and that was going to be a bitch.

[endsinafight]

Death would not come for him, no matter how much he'd prefer it over the alternative here. He managed to suppress a pained cry as the motion of being dragged outside jostled the gunshot wound in his thigh and his ever-pained left shoulder. He twisted as much as he could, which frankly wasn't much, because the entire world was growing rapidly, steadily darker.

He dug his fingernails into the ground, breaking several into the quick as he made a last ditch effort at stopping himself from being taken back, dragged in like an animal to be used however HYDRA wanted to use him.

Tears trickled down his cheeks as he sent out a silent apology to Steve for breaking his promise.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

The air smelled sweet, like growing things, like dirt, and loam, and in the prey. When he first changed, he ran—he felt the agility of his legs, the singing hum of his blood and the crackling energy in all his muscles wanting nothing more than to move. There was anger there, and aggression, and his teeth were sharp could destroy—but with so much space, with so many sweet smells around him, he ran and felt joy instead.

He felt like he could run forever, and maybe he could, but there was a bright spot in his mind, anchoring him to the west side of the reserve. His mate wasn’t here and he didn’t run with him. Even as he tried to shake off the nerves, the simmer in his skin, he could feel it like a homing beacon, like a leash around his neck. He wanted it, though — it was love that bound him, and he kept his running to one side. That was easy enough to do.

The constraint meant it was longer than it usually was before he shook off the urgent need to move and started to think about food, the soft animal smells of prey on the wind. He put his nose to the wind and examined the world around him, his senses stretching far beyond what his weak human form could manage.

Blood, and his hunger grew in a sharp moment before a shock ran down his spine, making his hair stand on his end. His mate’s blood, he knew it, he could feel it—and then, rage erased everything in him and he ran, leaping giant bounds no normal wolf could make, chewing up the ground between them.

His mate. Bucky. He had to go, he had to—it wasn’t long before he was at the hut, the goats bleating in terror. Bucky was on the ground and he stank of blood, of despair, and there was a man—he was bleeding too. Good, his mate was fierce—but Steve was fiercer and his teeth were longer and he snarled with incandescent fury as he leapt on Ward to rip his throat out with his teeth.

[endsinafight]

On the edge of what remained of his conscious mind, he thought he saw a blur of movement approaching, but before he could really register it, the drugs he'd been injected with kicked in fully and the darkness overtook him entirely, completely dead weight being dragged along the ground like a slab of meat.

For his part of things, Ward didn't even see the movement before he was tackled to the ground by a heavy weight, eyes widening in terror at the sight of the giant wolf atop him right before those sharp teeth ripped into his flesh, efficiently cutting off any screaming he might have attempted to do. Blood gurgled in his throat, eyes frozen open in shock.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve made sure Ward was good and dead with another shake of his jaw, his golden muzzle dripping with blood, and then went right to Bucky’s side. He whined, quivering with the inability to help, and nudged Bucky’s face to no response. He licked him, over and over, whining steadily and begging him the only way he could to wake up.

[endsinafight]

He didn't know how much time had passed between the time he'd passed out and the time he woke up, but he remembered immediately the danger at hand. Even if he hadn't, the sharp pain in his thigh would have been enough to tell him of trouble, and the way his head was still muzzy, vision still blurred as he opened his eyes just enough to try and see where he was, see if there was a way out.

He registered something warm and wet pressing against his face, like someone was licking him --

Because someone was. The relief that washed over him at the sight of Steve, wolfed out and at his side was almost enough to make him curl up and start crying. His hand shook as he lifted it to touch him.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve recognized when Bucky returned to consciousness instantly and whined, leaning in so that Bucky wouldn’t have to reach so far to touch him. He gently, carefully moved his body to curl around Bucky, giving Bucky his warm fur to rest in, but still keeping their faces close.

He couldn’t help but lick at the corner of Bucky’s mouth—not like a human kiss, but in the way that a puppy does to their mother, for comfort and in fear, not caring that there was blood all over his muzzle. He kept making soft unhappy noises. Part of him was screaming against the bars of his mind, desperate to be human again and to help Bucky as a human—but he couldn’t, not for a few more hours yet.

[endsinafight]

Bucky's fingers sank into the warm fur and he exhaled as Steve curled around him, trying to focus on the small whines and whimpers that the wolf was making, on the warmth from the large body beside him and not on the pain, not on the cold that was settling into his bones, from shock and blood loss. "Might be more," he murmured, voice drugged, sluggish. Because if someone from HYDRA had gotten in, there could be more. There was always more.

And if he wasn't safe here in Wakanda, he wasn't safe anywhere. He would never be safe anywhere, and he should have known that before he even settled in here, but he'd allowed the warm sun and the beautiful landscape and the serenity of the place drop his guard. He should have known. He was so, so tired and for one moment, he wished with everything in him that the man had just taken the shot when he'd had it. But death would have been the easy way out, and nothing in his life had ever been easy.

And it would have meant leaving Steve behind, again. He buried his face in Steve's furry neck to hide the tears that he couldn't stop from coming.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve tried to be solid for Bucky, a warm weight around him, that he could hold on tight to and would never let him go.

The mention of others made Steve snarl, his lip curling up and showing flashes of white teeth. He wasn’t afraid of more. It would take an army battalion for them to have a chance against Steve and even then, maybe not. Steve, as a super-soldier, couldn’t match a werewolf—now he had both his serum and the strength of the moon behind him.

He’d die before he’d let them at Bucky. In this moment, in the headspace of the wolf, he’d kill Bucky himself before he let them have him again. It was the strange possessive ownership of this mindset combined with the human knowledge of how much Bucky suffered, how desperately he didn’t want to be captured again.

He couldn’t do anything now more than let Bucky cry into his fur and whine his desperate love.

[endsinafight]

Bucky woke hours later, feeling the familiar warmth of the sun peeking out over the horizon, exhaling slowly and almost feeling surprised to find that they were still in the same place they'd been the previous night. His thigh ached, but he sat up slowly, reluctantly pulling away from Steve and his fur so that he could look down at the wound -- mostly healed now, which wasn't unusual. But it did mean he was going to have to dig the bullet out and that was never a pleasant experience.

He caught sight of the body on the ground a few feet away, at the blood that was pooled around and drying, and knew they were going to have to talk to T'Challa. He closed his eyes, imagining how well that was going to go. With any luck, he could at least have a chance to say goodbye to Shuri before having to find a new place to stay. He reached out, stroking Steve's fur absently as the grim situation started to weigh on his shoulders in fun, new ways.

"Sorry I ruined your run, Pal," he murmured, voice tired. He didn't expect Steve to respond, considering he can't talk like this, but he needed to say the words at least.