Entry tags:
for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amelioraate
[ HYDRA, as it turned out, had been working on other biological projects, which Steve had discovered one night late in the war when he infiltrated a small outpost and found a number of wolves. At first, he'd thought they had just been exceptionally resilient animal specimens - he'd had to set the house on fire and trap them inside to escape after he'd run out of ammunition.
When the full moon came, he discovered that they hadn't just been wolves, they had been werewolves. He turned into a beast, ran through the forest, and when dawn came, he found himself miles from camp, naked on a bed of pine needles.
(That had been a little awkward.)
A few months later, he'd gone under the ice, and nothing mattered anymore.
Fast-forward a good few decades, and Steve's out of the ice and managing his furry little problem the best he can. Which is to say, he disappears once a month and hope nobody notices. That hasn't been a problem till now. He's ostensibly under house arrest in Stark Tower, and, okay, he knows Tony won't care if he leaves, won't tell the government that he's suddenly disappeared. But that doesn't mean he's not paranoid about it.
There's really nothing he can do, though. Sure, he could probably spend the full moon curled up in his room, but he knows Tony has cameras in there to monitor him (doesn't blame him for it), and that's obviously a problem. He'll just have to suck it up and sneak out.
He's pretty sure Tony's preoccupied with something - a meeting, genius Tony things, whatever - when he casually strolls out of the tower before sunset in a hoodie, baseball cap tucked under his arm. Once he's safely out of view, he puts the baseball cap on, pulls up the hood - he can't wear sunglasses right now, that would just look weird. It's not far to the park, but he can feel the tug of the moon in his bones, and it makes him walk a little faster.
Steve wishes he would've had a chance to scope out the park ahead of time; right now, he just has to strip down and hope to god nobody steals his clothes as he stashes them deep in a copse of trees. And then- then the change hits, twisting his bones, reforming his body. It feels like the serum did every time, hurts like hell, but soon enough he's on four legs.
The wolf in him misses the jungles of Wakanda; they'd been hot, but wild, full of animals to hunt. The city isn't the same, not when the park isn't big enough to really run through, not when the biggest animals in the bushes are squirrels and rabbits. It feels distinctly unsatisfying; he wants to hunt, to feel the exhilaration as he brings down his prey, the hot blood on his tongue. As he thinks about it, there's a rustle in the underbrush behind him, and without thinking, he tenses his muscles and leaps. ]
When the full moon came, he discovered that they hadn't just been wolves, they had been werewolves. He turned into a beast, ran through the forest, and when dawn came, he found himself miles from camp, naked on a bed of pine needles.
(That had been a little awkward.)
A few months later, he'd gone under the ice, and nothing mattered anymore.
Fast-forward a good few decades, and Steve's out of the ice and managing his furry little problem the best he can. Which is to say, he disappears once a month and hope nobody notices. That hasn't been a problem till now. He's ostensibly under house arrest in Stark Tower, and, okay, he knows Tony won't care if he leaves, won't tell the government that he's suddenly disappeared. But that doesn't mean he's not paranoid about it.
There's really nothing he can do, though. Sure, he could probably spend the full moon curled up in his room, but he knows Tony has cameras in there to monitor him (doesn't blame him for it), and that's obviously a problem. He'll just have to suck it up and sneak out.
He's pretty sure Tony's preoccupied with something - a meeting, genius Tony things, whatever - when he casually strolls out of the tower before sunset in a hoodie, baseball cap tucked under his arm. Once he's safely out of view, he puts the baseball cap on, pulls up the hood - he can't wear sunglasses right now, that would just look weird. It's not far to the park, but he can feel the tug of the moon in his bones, and it makes him walk a little faster.
Steve wishes he would've had a chance to scope out the park ahead of time; right now, he just has to strip down and hope to god nobody steals his clothes as he stashes them deep in a copse of trees. And then- then the change hits, twisting his bones, reforming his body. It feels like the serum did every time, hurts like hell, but soon enough he's on four legs.
The wolf in him misses the jungles of Wakanda; they'd been hot, but wild, full of animals to hunt. The city isn't the same, not when the park isn't big enough to really run through, not when the biggest animals in the bushes are squirrels and rabbits. It feels distinctly unsatisfying; he wants to hunt, to feel the exhilaration as he brings down his prey, the hot blood on his tongue. As he thinks about it, there's a rustle in the underbrush behind him, and without thinking, he tenses his muscles and leaps. ]
no subject
there is no doubting the honesty in the words, not with the bond on the way Tony can feel how much Steve means what he is saying. so he shakes for a moment in Steve's arms before he turns and moves so that he can be nose to nose with the blond, fingers threaded into his hair on either side of his head. for a moment, Tony just breathes, lets himself feel the truth through the bond (and he can notice it, if he pays attention), search Steve's eyes with his own as the smile grows on his face.
when he finally speaks, his lips brush against Steve's, words soft but true:] Love you too, Steve. God, it feels so good to say that...
[ his smile is lost as he kisses Steve, deep and happy and whole.]
no subject
So he melts into the kiss, reaches one hand up to run his fingers through Tony's hair. It's the happiest he's ever seen Tony, and Steve can't quite believe that he's the cause of it. For as long as he can remember, Tony's been burdened by one thing or another, but this is pure, without any complications.]
Can't say I feel too guilty about ripping your throat out anymore. [It's murmured against his lips when they finally break for air, punctuated by a soft laugh.]
no subject
Tony sinks into the feeling, hums at the hands in his hair and trembles with the weight of his feelings. when Steve pulls back, Tony nips at his lips and laughs.]
Seriously? That's what you have to say to this? I mean, not too upset about it either, but I haven't been for a while.
no subject
[But in the end, it's kind of fortuitous. Steve doesn't know if they ever would have come together without it, or if things would be as right as they are now. Maybe he would've been driven to find another werewolf to mate with, one who wasn't Tony. (He can't imagine being with anyone else now.)]
Maybe we oughta head back upstairs.
[You know, in the general direction of a bed. For better cuddling, and also because they're inevitably going to end up having sex. Not that Steve's averse to having sex right here - he'd already been thinking about it earlier - but since they aren't going to end up desperately humping each other, he'll opt for the comfort of a bed instead.
(Yeah, he's old.)]