Chapter Text
I awoke as a tinder wolf
growling
a cut shawl man
dreaming of scarf’s
that left the world
drifting on infinite
dependency
I know I have
to wash
my human on
there are cigarettes
to be sung
could I be
a long shank man
a conqueror
or magician
No I am tinder wolf
howling,
hunting more
tobacco
Walking silent
forever
an assassin
Wolf by Bruce Ruston
His blood burns with fire, arms straining against the restraints and teeth clenched over a scream. The doctor - Zola, beady eyes in a round face, glasses, a twisted smile - watches him dispassionately, jotting down notes on a clipboard. Bucky feels like he's being ripped apart, every cell in his body screaming in exquisite agony from whatever the doctor had injected him with, and he thinks this is it, this is how I die. His last conscious thought is Steve, I'm so sorry before blackness swallows him up at last.
***
He opens his eyes to find he is still strapped down in the godforsaken lab, body aching and mind hazy. Some distant part of him wonders what had happened and why he isn't dead. How long has it been? He has lost count of the time he's spent strapped down to the table, being poked and prodded and tortured. It could have been days or weeks for all he knows. Strangely, he doesn't care. This is the end, he knows. He isn't getting off this table.
A noise sounds, loud and abrasive, and he flinches, wishing he had his hands free so he could cover them. A familiar form leans over him, a look of pride and twisted excitement on his face.
"Sergeant Barnes," he says in a thick accent, voice ringing in Bucky's ears. "You are awake. How do you feel?"
Bucky ignores him, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "James Barnes, Sergeant, 32557038," he intones. He studies the specks on the ceiling, seemingly clearer than before.
Zola sighs. "Very well. We shall do this - how do they say - the hard way, yes?"
Bucky swallows, steeling himself. Zola's questions meld into a stream of nonsensical words, his voice making Bucky's head pound and his hands drawing groans of pain from Bucky's lips as time blurs around them. He repeats his mantra, over and over and over until the world seems to become distant and sounds and sensations fade away into blissful nothingness.
"James Barnes, Sergeant, 32557038, James Barnes, Sergeant, 32557038, James Barnes, Sergeant, 32557038, James Barnes, Sergeant, 32557.."
"Bucky," a new voice breathes. He opens his eyes. "Oh my god."
Hands rip away the straps. Someone leans over him as he slowly comes back to awareness. The face is familiar. "Is tha-"
"It's me. It's Steve," the figure says, face the same but different; and everything wrong but it's Steve, he can smell him-
"Steve," Bucky slurs, his lips curving up.
"Come on." Strong hands pull him up - and that is wrong Steve isn't strong - and a warm palm claps the side of his face and Steve's face, Steve's expression is the same; his scent is the same but different and he says, "I thought you were dead," and his voice is Steve and it is Steve but not.
Bucky looks him up and down, convinced he is dreaming and numb with muted horror. "I thought you were smaller."
An explosion sounds, somewhere far away. "Come on," big-Steve says, and he slings Bucky's arm around him and grips his waist as he helps Bucky stumble away from the lab. More explosions rock the air, the scent of gunpowder and metal and fire stinging Bucky's nose.
"What happened to you?" Bucky asks, reality sharpening as his head clears.
"I joined the Army," Steve replies with a humorous lilt, and it is so Steve it hurts.
Strength is starting to come back to Bucky's limbs and he pushes Steve away to stumble on his own. A distant part of him whispers that he shouldn't be able to walk right now, shouldn't feel better than he has in weeks. "Did it hurt?" he asks, trying not to think of the red liquid that Zola had injected him with that made his blood boil and bones shift-
"A little," Steve responds distractedly. Bucky almost snorts. A little. That is Steve-speak for it hurt like hell.
"Is it permanent?"
"So far," Steve quips. The goddamned punk.
They reach a railing above the factory. It explodes just as they reach it, and they both fall back to hurry along the walkway towards where it stretches over the facility and to freedom. They've reached the bridge spanning the divide when a voice calls out.
"Captain America! How exciting!" Bucky thinks Captain America? Steve? What the hell? but then his gaze lands on Zola behind the man and he feels rage and fear pulse beneath his breastbone. Zola stares back, expression transfixed. "I am a great fan of your films," the other man continues - an officer judging by his uniform. He starts walking across the bridge and Steve strides to meet him, drawing away from Bucky. "So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement but still, impressive."
Steve throws a punch, hitting the man square in the face just as Bucky thinks Steve, you dumb punk. "You've got no idea," Steve says fiercely. The man staggers back, putting a hand to his face. Red rims his eye unnaturally.
"Haven't I?" he snarls, before throwing a punch at Steve's shield and denting the metal. Steve goes to draw a gun but he knocks it out of his hands, sending Steve sprawling as Bucky's heart jumps into his throat. Bucky wants to help him but he can't get his limbs to move. He clings to the railing weakly, head buzzing. Steve kicks out and strikes the man in the chest, throwing him back; Zola grabs a lever and suddenly the walkway is splitting in two, dragging Steve and the officer away as explosions blossom below them.
"No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see I was his greatest success," the officer says. He lifts a hand to his jaw and grips, pulling away his skin to reveal a red skull-like face underneath that strikes horror into Bucky's core.
"You don't have one of those, do you?" he asks Steve lowly, brain too stunned to comprehend what is happening. He wonders again if he is dreaming.
"You are deluded, Captain," the red-skulled man says. "You pretend to be a simple soldier-" he tosses his skin mask into the flames "-but in reality you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind!" He turns, walking towards the elevator. "Unlike you, I embrace it proudly, without fear!" Zola goes ahead of him into the elevator, his beady gaze retreating just out of sight and leaving Bucky's skin crawling.
"Then how come you're running?" Steve questions.
The man doesn't reply, and the elevator doors close smoothly, leaving Steve and Bucky alone. More explosions rock them from below, sending them staggering back, and Steve glances around before patting Bucky's arm and hurrying towards the stairs.
"Come on! Let's go. Up!"
Bucky lurches after him blindly, climbing up the stairs until they reach another railing where a narrow beam stretches across the space. Fire spits below, a yawning hellmouth that licks at their heels and fills their noses with the smell of ash and smoke.
"Let's go, one at a time," Steve says, voice full of tightly controlled panic. He helps Bucky over the railing and onto the beam, and Bucky begins the terrifying journey across. The tiny voice in his mind whispers again as he balances perfectly on the narrow surface, the beam shifting and breaking under his feet. He has almost reached the end when it gives out completely. Running along the beam he throws himself forwards, clinging to the railing on the other side. He pulls himself over, looking down in horror as he realizes Steve's escape route is gone. He looks up helplessly.
"There's gotta be a rope or something!" he yells across the gap.
"Just go! Get outta here!" Steve waves a hand.
Bucky clutches the railing, fire burning in his chest. "NO! Not without you!"
Steve looks around helplessly before turning to the bent railing and gripping it, bending it wider. He steps backwards as far as he can go as Bucky watches in horror. Steve pauses before taking running steps forwards, and launches himself across the gap.
***
There is fire, and explosions, and blue beams of light that vaporize enemy soldiers. The sights and sounds and smells overwhelm Bucky and he staggers blindly after Steve, head fuzzy and skin crawling oddly. Finally, they are out of the facility and running towards the woods, where men from Bucky's unit are grouped around a tank and truck. He sees Monty, Morita, Dum Dum, Gabe, and Dernier directing the men and feels a stab of relief that they are okay. He hurries towards them after Steve. At their arrival, the men spin around and point their guns at them before relaxing.
"Barnes!" Dum Dum shouts. "Damn is it good to see you." The rest of them look him up and down, faces splitting into wide smiles.
Bucky manages a grin. "Likewise."
"Alright, we need to get moving," Steve says seriously. "Get the most seriously injured into the truck and the rest will have to manage. We'll take the lead, the facility should be destroyed but these woods will be crawling with Hydra."
Dum Dum snaps him a salute. "Copy that, Cap." He turns and the others turn with him, beginning to spread out and relay the orders. Steve turns to Bucky, taking a moment to assess him.
"You okay?" he asks.
Bucky nods vaguely. "Fine."
Steve gives him a worried look before springing back into action, darting forward to help carry the wounded over to the truck. Bucky follows, lending a hand where he can but feeling distant and drained. In a matter of minutes they are loaded up and ready to move, Bucky taking his place at the front with Steve. They march forwards down the road, Bucky holding a gun someone had given him, the group of guys from his unit right behind him. Exhaustion dogs at his heels but he ignores it, making his mind blank of anything except putting one foot in front of the other. He doesn't know how long they march, but eventually word trickles up that men are lagging and Steve calls a halt, soldiers spreading out to secure the area.
Once they're secure, a few of the better-off ones, including Steve, take watch as the rest sprawl ungracefully against trees, too tired to care about appearances. Bucky slumps to the ground next to his small group of guys from the cells, all of them eying him with badly disguised concern.
"You alright, Barnes?" Gabe asks. "We thought for sure you were gone. No one comes back from the isolation ward." Bucky appreciates his bluntness, that soldiers don't tiptoe their way around things.
He shrugs. "Lucky Steve got me when he did."
"You sound like you know him," Gabe says.
Bucky nods. "Grew up together. He was tiny then, though. No idea what the hell happened to make him into Captain America." He doesn't have the energy to consider those implications just yet.
Dum Dum snorts. "Didn't seem to have any idea what he was doing. Just said he punched Hitler over 200 times and then ran off to look for you."
Bucky rolls his eyes. "Sounds like Steve," he mutters.
As if summoned, Steve comes over, sinking down next to Bucky and pressing their shoulders together. His jacket is singed and torn, dirt smudging his face. Bucky doubts he looks better, his face scraped and eyes sunken, hair stringy with sweat.
"So, I don't think we've been properly introduced," Dum Dum says to Steve wryly. "Sergeant Timothy Dugan, but everyone calls me 'Dum Dum.'"
"Steve Rogers. Pleasure to meet you." He turns his gaze to the others.
"Private Gabe Jones."
"Private Jim Morita."
"Lietenant James Montgomery Falsworth, at your service. My friends call me 'Monty.'"
"Jacques Dernier. Résistance française."
"French resistance," Gabe clarifies.
"Pleasure to meet all of you," Steve says diplomatically, and Bucky is thrown by his easy self-assurance. "That was some good work back there."
Dum Dum scoffs. "You ain't seen nothing yet. So, Barnes says you guys grew up together?"
Steve smiles. "Yeah. He pulled me outta a lot of scrapes as a kid. Known each other since we were six years old."
Morita whistles. "That's a long time."
"Tell me about it," Bucky grumbles, and they laugh.
"So how do you guys know Bucky?" Steve questions. "Were you all in the same unit?"
Dum Dum shakes his head. "Nah. Me, Gabe, and him were all in the same unit, but Morita and Monty and Frenchie were just in the same cell as us. Morita's Niesi Squadron, Monty is British Armed Forces, and Frenchie is French Resistance. Got to know each other real well over the past few weeks stuck in that hellhole."
Steve nods, and Bucky watches the conversation absently. His head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool, skin still crawling uncomfortably. It feels too tight, like it's stretched over his bones, and it makes Bucky think of the skull-faced man. There's pressure behind his eyes and his teeth ache with a dull pulsing throb, a feeling like something is stuck in his throat making him swallow convulsively. He leans the back of his head against the tree, closing his eyes.
"You sure you're alright?" Gabe's voice cuts through his thoughts. "Last time we saw you you were sicker than hell."
Bucky opens his eyes to see Steve turn to him worriedly. "Sick?"
"Pneumonia," Dum Dum says. "Tried to keep it under wraps but eventually they found out and took him away. You know, I'm gettin' the feeling that the isolation ward wasn't what they said it was. Word was they did experiments on people there." He looks at Bucky significantly, a silent question on his face.
Bucky shrugs. "Yeah."
Bucky sees all the men turn towards him, identical expressions of wariness and alarm on their faces.
"How long?" Steve asks.
Bucky fiddles with a tear in his pants. "I don't know. A few days, I think." He glances up at the men questioningly.
"It's uh, it's been a week," Morita says.
"Oh," Bucky says. An uncomfortable silence falls.
"But you're not-you're not sick anymore?" Steve questions hesitantly.
Bucky shrugs. "Guess not."
He sees the men exchange glances with each other, and Steve watches him worriedly.
Finally Steve clears his throat after the silence has dragged on for a few minutes. "We should get moving," he says.
The men clamber to their feet, others nearby seeing them and copying their motions. Soon the whole group is ready to go, all of them tired and hungry and thirsty but determined to keep going. They start the long procession again, Bucky's mind going numb again as he marches forward endlessly.
***
They are greeted by cheers and applause as they march into camp days later, ragged and exhausted but still standing. Steve turns his head to look at Bucky and Bucky glances back; a moment passes between them and then Steve gives his arm a pat, a small smile quirking his lips. They finally come to a stop in front of a stern man in uniform and Steve snaps a salute.
"Some of these men need medical attention." He pauses. "I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action, sir."
The man's face stays impassive, but a small glint of pride shines in his eyes. "That won't be necessary."
Steve nods slightly. "Thank you sir."
The man turns away and a beautiful brunette woman steps forward, edging into Steve's space as her eyes flick over him.
"You're late," she remarks in a crisp British accent, red lipstick forming the words.
Steve pulls out a crushed transponder from his belt. "Couldn't call my ride," he quips, and jealousy curls in Bucky's gut.
"Hey!" he yells. "Let's hear it for Captain America!"
Cheers go up, everyone turning to Steve as they applaud. Steve glances at him and Bucky raises his eyebrows with a small shrug. But the woman is still staring at Steve, and Bucky feels suddenly, decidedly out of place in this world where Steve doesn't need him anymore; hasn't for a while apparently.
Eventually the men filter off to tents and medical and showers, and Steve turns to him with that same worried expression. Bucky hates it, hates being on the other side of that expression. He was the one who always worried about Steve, he was the one who took care of him. He knows it's unfair, but he feels one thread away from snapping. His anger is the only thing keeping him going.
"You should go to medical," Steve says.
"I'm fine," Bucky replies. A voice whispers that this is a lie. Another wonders what they will find if they look at him too closely.
Steve looks pained. "Buck, you were just experimented on-"
"I said I'm fine," Bucky bites out harshly. "I just want a goddamned shower and some food."
Steve looks like he wants to protest, but he doesn't say anything, just sighs. "Alright Buck."
Relief floods Bucky at his acquiescence, and he realizes just how terrified he had been of going to medical. "Come on," he says, squeezing Steve's shoulder, "food, then shower. I swear to god I'd eat one a' old man Simmon's meat pies right now, that's how hungry I am."
Steve chuckles. "Those things were terrible." Just like that, the tension is broken.
They get their rations from mess and find a spot to eat them, the smells of food making Bucky's mouth water and stomach clench. He wolfs down the food, uncaring of manners, and when he finishes he's not even close to full.
Steve watches him as he chews his own rations at a more moderate pace. "When was the last time you ate?" he questions.
Bucky shrugs. "Dunno."
Steve's face twists, and he hesitates. "You know, you really should go-"
"No." Bucky cuts him off. He is not going to medical.
Steve looks frustrated. "Come on, Bucky-"
"No."
"You're always tellin' me to take care of myself, why can't you?"
"Leave it, Rogers," Bucky says flatly, but Steve is like a dog with a bone, and Bucky knows that this will not end well.
***
Showered and fed, and with his uniform pressed neatly, Bucky feels more human than he has in weeks. He sits at the bar, nursing his fourth drink. His head is still clear, not even a hint of intoxication, and the whispering voice grows louder. Steve is off recruiting the guys from his cell for the elite team he's putting together to go after Hydra. Bucky will join them, he knows that. Steve had told him everything that had happened while he'd been gone, from volunteering to let scientists experiment on him to becoming a dancing monkey for the war effort. It puts a sour taste in Bucky's mouth, and he promises himself never to leave Steve alone again. God knows what new stupidity he would throw himself into.
They had even tried to give Steve a medal of honor for his rescue of the men at Azzano, but Steve had blown off the ceremony in typical Steve fashion and embarrassed a United States Senator in front of a room full of reporters. Bucky agrees with Colonel Phillips - they should give him a medal just for that. If it weren't for Steve he'd be out of here so fast their heads would spin. He would take his honorable discharge and go home to his family the way he'd promised Becca, would forget all about war and mad scientists and the crawling feeling that hasn't left since Steve pulled him off that table in Zola's lab. He'd forget about the fact that four glasses of whisky don't touch him at all, and that he feels stronger than he ever has even half-starved and tortured.
But Steve is here, and he is Bucky's home. So he will follow him, even though a voice says that if he does, he may never come back from this war. That's alright, he thinks. As long as Steve is safe.
He smells him coming, even over the alcohol and cigarettes in the air and the crowded bar. There's a unique, healthy smell about him that Bucky can't pinpoint, but deep down there's still a faint undertone of Steve that reminds him of Brooklyn - sweat and soap and a hint of graphite. He hears his footsteps over the sounds of piano and singing, sure and steady now, and for a moment thinks he can even hear his heartbeat.
"See? I told you, they're all idiots," he drawls, as Steve slides onto the stool next to him. He takes another sip of whisky.
"How about you?" Steve asks. "Ready to follow 'Captain America' into the jaws of death?" he says it wryly, but there's a real question there. Bucky heard the way he said Captain America, like it's a curse.
"Hell no," Bucky replies. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight." He turns to look at Steve. "I'm following him." He takes another drink as Steve signals the bartender, and leans in, Steve's scent heady and intoxicating the way his whisky isn't. "But you're keeping the outfit, right?" he teases lowly.
Steve sighs, eyes flicking to him in response before looking back at the poster still stuck to the wall, 'tour canceled' pasted across the front. "You know what, it's kinda growin' on me."
Suddenly the singing falters as heeled footsteps echo across the floor, and Steve and Bucky turn to look in unison as Agent Carter walks towards them. They get up as she approaches, standing in the doorway.
"Captain."
"Agent Carter."
She walks forward, stopping in front of Steve and throwing a brief glance in Bucky's direction. "Ma'm," he says with a nod and a tight smile.
She ignores him, turning back to Steve. "Howard has some equipment for you to try. Want in?"
"Sounds good," Steve replies.
Agent Carter turns to look over the bar, where the guys are singing loudly and drinking. "I see your top squad is prepping for duty," she says wryly, and Bucky grins slightly, though it's forced.
"You don't like music?" he asks.
Agent Carter's gaze is sultry as she looks at Steve. "I do, actually. I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing."
Bucky chuckles. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Agent Carter looks softly at Steve. "The right partner." They stare at each other for a moment, tension between them. "0800," Agent Carter says, and then she is turning to leave.
"Yes ma'm, I'll be there," Steve calls after her.
Bucky shakes his head. "So, Agent Carter?" he says, and it comes out bitter.
Steve looks stricken. "No, it's not like that, Bucky-"
Bucky waves a hand. "It's alright. I understand. She's beautiful, and obviously smart as hell. I'd be shocked if you didn't like her, pal." He sighs, trying to put on a brave face. "Besides, we gotta settle down eventually, right?" He can't say it out loud, here in this crowded bar, but Steve knows what he means. There's no room in the world for two men to be together. Eventually, they'll have to keep up appearances, and each find wives. It's just, a selfish part of Bucky wants Steve for himself.
Steve looks pained. "Bucky-"
"Not here," Bucky says quietly.
Steve nods, and they head out of the bar into the crisp fall air, slowly turning to winter. They're silent as they make their way to Steve's room in the inn, the only one that's truly private. They've barely gotten in the room and closed the door before Steve grabs Bucky and pushes him against the wall, kissing him greedily.
"I'll always love you, Buck," Steve says breathlessly. "You're it for me. I don't care what anyone says."
Bucky ignores the platitudes, knowing they can't ever be true. He focuses on drinking in as much of Steve as he can, in case this is the last time they ever do this.
It's strange, Steve being so big. Bucky doesn't know what to do, how they fit together anymore. He can tell Steve feels the same way, as he seems to hold back as if scared he might hurt Bucky with his newfound strength. But Bucky needs it, needs Steve to take control the way he always had. Was this what Steve always felt like, he wonders, everyone treating him like he was made of glass?
He pulls Steve closer. "I'm not made of glass, Rogers," he growls, knowing Steve will understand. He grips his wrist, swallowing. "Please," he murmurs.
Steve pulls back just enough to look at Bucky, eyes unreadable before he grabs Bucky's wrists, pinning them to the wall. Bucky sighs in relief.
"I thought you were dead," Steve growls.
Bucky pushes back against Steve, wrists straining against his hold. "You went and let goddamned scientists experiment on you," Bucky bites back. "Goddamned punk."
"Jerk," Steve says breathily, and kisses Bucky. It's a battle, the way it's always been, Steve and Bucky pushing and grabbing and ripping clothes off with biting words. Steve's new body doesn't seem so bad now, both of them settling into familiar patterns. Bucky is able to appreciate the health and vitality that has been granted Steve. He no longer has to worry about Steve having an asthma attack, or a weak heart, or any of his long list of health ailments. Steve is finally safe from his own health, even though now he's more unsafe than he's ever been. He has simply exchanged one war for another, and isn't that just Steve? The man would pick a fight with a brick wall if it was the only thing in reach, Bucky thinks.
Bucky lets all his fears wash away as his world narrows to nothing but Steve. He ignores how both of them seem almost evenly matched in strength, Steve not noticing because he is used to Bucky being stronger. He ignores the way Steve's scent intoxicates him, and the way he can hear Steve's heart beat in his chest, steady and sure. He ignores everything about this goddamned war and how they've both changed, and how they may die tomorrow. Tonight, the world doesn't matter, and it is only Bucky and Steve. Whatever tomorrow brings, at least they have this one moment in time, just two Brooklyn boys at the edge of the world.