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storiesof2018 · 6 years

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For the umpteenth time, Bucky stared bearily in front of the glass sliding door leading the terrace against the modicum of heartache he stowed back. The ambiance of utter emptiness left him despondent while he remained in a motionless stupor, his pointed ears arched, twitching to the faint cooing of his infant pups snuggled within folds of lavender scented blankets. Grudgingly, the young alpha hated sulking, emitting squeaky whimpers that conveyed the scourging gravity of his despair. It was a cacophony of unbridled emotions he couldn’t restrain back.

His memories were relentless specters that gauged an icy wake of grief into his heart, making his veins throb until unshed tears dampened his furred muzzle. Everywhere he looked during his morning treks throughout the city with Steve guiding his paces on a tugging leash, he was barraged with heart-shaped decorations in store windows, boxes of chocolate and stuff animal teddy bears that hugged a scarlet heart with “I Love You” switched over the material.

Indignantly, Bucky would scrunch his muzzle up, and fix razor-edge intensity on those unbidden remainders, sometimes reining up the feral urge to rip the stuff animals to shreds. He wanted nothing to do with Valentines Day-the whole damn flaunting of artificial devotion, the depth of romance that felt impermanent-just a blissful ecstasy to stave off when midnight rushed through.

Nothing carried the unshakeable intent of a heart’s surrender-the infinite promise of everlasting love that left him utterly thunderstruck-breathless every time he dared to glance at Selina’s captured pearlescent, lethal beauty saved on his iPhone when he morphed back into a human. It only induced self-punishment, fueling the constant ache in his swollen girth to increase. He could only reach for his snarky kitten in his dreams, share a tantalizing embrace of her curvaceous and svelte form meld against him as pure elemental heat combusted ablaze through their warring veins. Nothing compared to that exquisite tenor of their joining, they fitted naturally like a blade into a sheath, a visceral resonance that would drive needs full throttle.

Right now against the stoke of tractability, Bucky felt the infectious fever of heartbreak infusing within his massive canine form-emanating soul- deep until he was paralyzed to extent of unleashing a torturous yelp. He couldn’t shake the intolerable compulsion of stalking aimlessly through Mid-Town, hoping to grapple the distractingly alluring scent that would lead him back to her. Doing his damnedest to hold back the onslaught of tears, Bucky cast a dismal gaze of his gleaming steel-aquamarine depths holding a lilt of heated menace back to the snowy hazed street below.

Fight against the diffusing hope, Bucky needed an outlet to escape the void, and his fussy and preciously adorable pups were fully dependent on him. He was a Daddy and a lethal predator that was a silent intimidation in Central Park. His and Selina vitality merged within their little pudgy forms, he wouldn’t allow his own unebbing misery keep them distant from him.

“What the hell are ya doin’, Barnes,” he grumbled out with a vexatious rasp while pinching out a prick of wetness in his eyes. He instinctively sensed the potent thrum of telltale hunger radiating from the drowsy babies that commanded his attention-seizing him back into a dormant thrall. Inexplicable calamity seared into his mind. Tilting his muzzle a fraction lower, he grimaced tautly a reactive, fanged sneer against the expansion of heaviness mounting in his furred girth. Holding down a snarl resonating deep, he stubbornly complied to maternal instincts. “Urgh, you gotta be there for em’, don’t be a damn idiot…Get back in the game.”

Quashing down the fierce urge bash against the glass, Bucky felt his ears pinning down, as he turned fluidly on his paws drive by automatic -elemental instinct, and tentatively advanced towards the heap of blankets, lowering his canine muzzle down as his jaws clamped delicately over one, and deftly yanked it off, exposing a pudgy lump of dark cinder fur that squeaked fussily at moment his intimating presence was detected. His gut twisted, knowing that he would be immobilized while his baby pups relentlessly supped, nipped and guzzled down his milk reserves.

“Okay-Okay, pal, Daddy hears ya,” Bucky grumbled in soothing timbre, nudging his little-hellbent son. Brennen was incarnate of himself, boyishly headstrong and utterly defiant. A true Brooklyn pup. He craved for stillness to breach his domain-a moment of relief. The spacious loft was hard to take in, and he felt like a damn intruder. Everything was restrictive. His daunting visage of canine menace wasn’t exactly approachable on the congested sidewalks; hostility was tempestuous aura radiating off his massive form, as he vented out his frustration. Every day was a test of adaptability to reach beyond his limits, he was becoming attuned to the rhythmic dissonance of traffic, klaxon sirens and the stench of burnt diesel. His babies squeaked in unison against every blaring strait that disturbed their tiny forms. He needed to isolate them.

“I hate to say it Buck, but he’s spitting image of you,” Steve’s warm voice carried from the kitchen with all the comfort and reassurance of a cozy fireplace. Outside remained an irreverent chill as the January weather cast a storm of flurries over the quiet neighborhood. The wilderness had a way of following Bucky and for once Steve wondered if his friend wished for the noise that could distract him from his own turbulent thoughts. At hearing a snort come from the massive and imposing direwolf sitting on the floor of his living room, the blonde man spared at glance over at him while he busily prepared an evening meal for his life-long friend. “Good looks and no patience. It’s a wonder he’s already got you teetering on the ropes after this mornin’.”

“Yeah…Um…He can sure pack in,” Bucky replied with a terse rasp, scrunching his muzzle as he forced a visage of a snarky grin, but the sharp point of his fanged incisors morphed his soured countenance, making him appear dauntingly menacing against the gleam of wintry light. His luminous glacial orbs remained unwavering on Steve, glinting tellingly with instinctual distrust that he couldn’t easily stave off.

Stiffening with his bushy tail lowered, Bucky tried to quash down a vibrating snarl cracking up his throat, as his bulked mass instantly seized up against the slightest detection of encroaching footsteps that his flattened ears registered. He automatically went into protective mode, hunching his shoulders and kept his long muzzle eclipsed over the basket securing his pudgy babies. His eyes slitten into a deadened cast of raw intensity. “Don’t come in here…” he warned with a bite, ghosting the urgency of his graveled undertone.“Can’t really trust what I’ve become, Steve…Don’t wanna hurt you again.”

Despite his greater inclination to be at his best friend’s side, Steve paused at the entry-way of the kitchen with a small plate of raw meat he recently bought from the local butcher. Though it had only been a few short weeks since he brought Bucky and his babies to Brooklyn, he had grown used to the wolf’s habits and routines. He slept well into the afternoon, and was wide awake through the darkened hours of the night when he was more attuned with nature. He had the appetite of a Hulk, and a temper shorter than any fuse if he sensed he was being provoked. There were times when the blonde felt as if his emotions could be treated the same way as a human’s, but the fact was Bucky was now a wolf. Wolves could not be tamed easily, and despite how fearless Steve felt of his friend, he knew it was right to tread cautiously; mostly for Bucky’s sake if not his own.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, Bucky. I’ve tackled hard-hitting opponents before; not all of em on two legs. I’d like to think I can handle myself…But if you want some space, that I can understand.” Steve said a soft smile as he brings the plate down until its rested on the floor and against the wall. Beside it was a doggy-bowl poured with fresh-water. Steve had always wanted a dog in his youth. The call of duty often kept him away from home that it made the responsibility seem impossible. Now that he no longer had a shield to carry, the opportunity to shelter an animal had come, but he never imagined it would turn out like this.

“No-No…I’ve been a big jerk lately,” Bucky whimpered back, the huskiness roughen drawl felt lessened to the squeaky resonance that emerged out of him, as his demeanor became passive when he gazed intensity at the offered plate of fresh beef. He nipped on his underlip, fighting against the wage of feral impulses and reeled back from the basket. He was aware of his dark shifting wolfish aggression and felt compelled to deliver some gravity of trust back to the stalwart First Avenger.

Dipping his head down, he conveyed brotherly radiance through a gleam of errant tears, as if his captive spirit was unhinging within.“S'it’s not fair to you or em’…This is your place, Steve, and I don’t mean to act like this, you’re my best friend and if anythin’, I..uh…gotta quit being so damn selfish…”

A remorseful sigh blew past Steve’s lips. Many times he sensed the turmoil waging through his best friend that began and ended with the burden of his identity; his past and present. Bucky Barnes was once just a kid from Brooklyn that loved to play ball and go out with pretty dames. He later became a soldier—one of the bravest and honorably remembered by his country before he was taken and unmade; like a mold of clay, reshaped into an instrument of terror as an assassin working for Hydra. What he was now was a myriad of his past identities fused into one new feral form. Despite the number of atrocities that his best friend was forced to contend with in memory, and his conflict of identity, Steve felt the biggest failure laid on his own two shoulders.

“C'mon, Buck. Stove that talk, you’re not here to feel like you can’t be yourself,” Steve tentatively made his way over. Wearing gray socks, his steps made no sound as he eased himself down to a sitting position beside the massive wolf who continued to stare listlessly into the basket containing his sleeping litter. “You’re here because this is where I want you to be. I want this to be a home for you too, Buck. Been a long time since you’ve had one… Can’t say for me its been any different.” Remorse glimmered in his eyes and for once Steve appeared every bit his age. His growing stubble itched as he brought his calloused digits up to scratch it.

A moment of silence passed as his blue eyes focused on the cinder-furred mammoth in front of him and conveyed a soulful look. “I can’t imagine what it is you’re growing through, I just want you to know that I’m still with ya, Buck. I’m not gonna let you go through this alone. These little guys…they’re family, just like you.”

“D'ya wanna help me feed em’…” Bucky murmured in deep timbre, unguardedly, as his muzzle curved into a half-simper that was a ghost cast of his boyish smile, and his reactive instincts mounted with a resurgence of calmness against the inevitability that loomed between them as he stared deeply into the unmistakable cool serenity fused with the oceanic azure of Steve’s passive depths, finding the pure, unshakeable promise of home again.

He felt a wash of heat raze increasingly through his veins, reining up his grounded trust, to convey that clashing sense, he slowly eased down his muzzle over the furry bundles that cooed in unison against his loving touch, his steel-aquamarine orbs alight with gracing light, measured assent, giving Steve a chance to grip onto this beautiful moment with him. It felt like daybreak. He would never be distant with Steve, not by a longshot. They had to recapture their brotherhood and salvage all resistance to put his curse on the ropes. He could sense that Steve was still hesitant about drawing a hand near the basket, to deliver a new stroke of reachable love over the baby pups.

Engaging this paramount and tamed moment, Bucky deftly moved toward’s his best friend with painstaking momentum with fluid predatory grace, holding onto echoes of his humanity, and with a lightning flash of motion, nudged his whiskered muzzle tentatively over Steve’s denim-clad thigh while the super-soldier braced himself. A bond was being forged-man and wolf.

“S'alright, I know the playing field is gonna be different now,” Bucky whispered shakily, a faint whinny squeak reduced the depth resonating in his graveled voice, nudging his muzzle against Steve’s muscled calf, aware of the usurp of the relentless bloodthirst that channeled through him, also conscious of the vital delivery infused in Steve’s anchoring promise. It was innoxious cadence he would follow. “..and I really don’t know where this damn curse is gonna take me, but my pups need you, and I think it’s time for you to really…Meet em’.”

Humbleness and gratitude moved through Steve, almost enough to overwhelm him with an outpouring of emotion at the gesture. Though the situation they now were in wasn’t ideal; Steve a fugitive Avenger living under a new identity and Bucky, no longer a human but a nursing wolf alpha, they had somehow still managed to come together and strengthened the bonds of their friendship into something unbreakable such as family. No further words were needed to exchange between them, he knew; not when all that was needed to be said had been finally outspoken. Instead, he graced the cinder-furred direwolf with a winning smile and an accepting nod.

“I’ve definitely been waiting for this,” he said with excitement in his tone. Scooching on his knees closer towards the dire-wolf’s side, he gives him a questioning look of permission before the wolf bobbed his head in encouragement. It almost felt like unwrapping a gift, and Steve could think of no better feeling of anticipation as he unraveled the blanket and stared in awe at the three tiny little balls of fur that laid bundled close to each other in concealed warmth. “Wow, Bucky. They’re so small.” Steve said with a glint of mirth in his sparkling blue eyes, taking in the fascinating sight of cinder-colored fur and tiny little faces with closed eyes.

“Except for this little guy. Looks like he’s chugged a few too many times with no signs of stoppin’,” Steve joked at the sight of the larger of the three pups. While the two she-wolves’ size could be compared to tennis-balls, the male would have to be closer to that of a volleyball at the rate he was growing. He briefly wondered if it had anything to do with genetics and if Bucky carried on a certain serum in his blood to his children. Strong kids meant stronger appetites after all.

Feeling a sense of ease rush over him, Bucky quirked his mouth into a half-slanted grin, listening to his baby pups squeak out a cadence of faint coos against the deft caress of Steve’s gracing hand tentatively lowering to their pudgy forms. It was an indescribable moment to absorb as phantom treks of unassailed heartache felt derailed by the encompassing warmth of brotherhood. His glacial depths held a soulful light, as his pointed ears twitched when Steve drew out a breathless, hearty chuckle. He was falling deeper into a jovial stupor.“You can pick em’ up, Steve, these little guys kinda like being held,” he murmured throatily, lowering back down on his hind legs in front of the wakeful basket with subtle tenderness. “They can’t really see yet, not until five weeks at least, so until they do, my voice is what they respond to, kinda make’s em’ feel safe, I guess…” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“I know that feeling, Buck. There was a time when it made me feel safe,” Steve responded easily while reflecting on the many instances in his troubled childhood where he felt like a sheep in a land of wolves. His mother couldn’t always protect him, and his father died when he was too little to even remember him. All he had to make him feel safe was Bucky. It was no surprise his children could feel that connection as well. But the blonde resolved to help the tiny little furballs realize they didn’t only have their daddy to look out for them; but their big generous uncle Steve as well.

“These little guys look ready to wake up, especially this fella; Brennen?” Steve asked, sparing a confirming glance at Bucky to which the direwolf nodded with an amusing grunt. Yeah, Steve didn’t pity what this feisty little guy would put Bucky through. “Brennen…” Steve tasted the name of his tongue, finding it suited a first-son. “Guess James Jr. would’ve been too on the nose, but I’m glad he doesn’t have to compete with his dad. That wouldn’t be pretty.” A growl of warning nipped at his shoulder and Steve found himself bubbling with a hearty chuckle. “Kidding, ya big jerk.”

Steve distinctly heard Bucky mutter some that vaguely sounded like “once a punk, always a punk” beneath his growling breath, which made the blonde’s smile grow ever brighter as he scooped up the large squirming wolfling.

“Well, how ‘bout that,” Bucky lightly chuckled with a faint snort, teasingly arching his brows up while he registered the pitched gnarl generating from his tubby little guy, and intensely fixed his steel-blue orbs unwaveringly at Brennen who was cozily secured within the cradle of Steve’s arms.

The hellbent cinder furball was nipping at Steve’s flexing knuckles as if blindingly seeking dominance, the young alpha knew each of the telltale signs that his ravenous son was conveying-shaking his head, Bucky released a disgruntled huff, vehemently feeling his rounded girth pulsate with the expanse of heated milk that needed to be extracted out. It evoked a gut- sloshing sensation, racking through his canine form, sometimes he felt achingly nauseous to comply with his instincts, but nursing his pups was vital and he wouldn’t reject their constant throes of hunger pangs.

“Y'know it’s still hard to get things into full swing with em’,” Bucky quipped out a husky drawl, stubbornly feigning a taut wince that scrunched up his muzzle, and bowed his head down, akin to a deflated sulk. He deep, guttural exhalation gusted out of him, followed by a feigning groan. He didn’t have enough recovery time to nap without feeling tiny snouts aggressively nudging against his girth and draining out a quart of milk until his lower regions pulsated against the ravenous wake of unquenched thirst.

“M’ not use to feeding these furballs like a wolf dame, hell, I feel like a damn cow, probably even be fat as one, no thanks to that little furry butterball you’re holdin’…” he chuckled throatily in a noncommittal, derisive snort, as snuggling his baby boy squeaked akin to a fussy response, while Steve curved his lips into a smug grin. “Yeah, you heard me, little kiddo…” Once he gained a steeled resolve, he paced close to a quilt spread out in front of a gray cushioned fort that he utilized as a makeshift den.

Vestiges of bone-deep exhaustion gripped him to relent, as Bucky straightened out the crumpled wool fabric with a tug of his incisor fangs, against the nauseous pressure of sloshing milk expanding rapidly in his bloated girth-he needed to nurse his adorable, sightless babies. He glanced back at Steve with a soulful cast; believing in the depth of that brotherly promise mirroring his own, he needed to cut threads of resistance, and be the father his baby pups depended on.

'Breathe Barnes…Just breathe…You can do this…’ Feeling a mantra throb against his heart, Bucky pinched his eyes shut for a tense moment, quashing down the incessant urges to vomit against the sudden feverish-roiling wake of queasiness. Damn, he demurred that sickening churn with a blaze retaliation anew. “Um…Okay, punk, let’s get this over with, uh…” he drawled raggedly, as his massive canine form eased down with the barest intent to rest vertically.“D'ya mind bringing em’ over here?” he sheepishly urged with a rasping shutter. “Kinda can’t move…”

Understanding clicked as Steve watched his friend visibly stiffen and struggle from his hunched over posture. He might not know much about animals and how they bore their off-spring, but could tell when someone was in obvious discomfort or pain. To his credit, Steve maintained his composure and discipline in the face of an unknown situation he’d never dealt with before. “Sure thing, Buck. Just lay down and try and get comfortable,” Steve encouraged with warm look. Once he was sure that Brennen was secure in the crook of his arm against his chest, the bearded blonde carried him over to the nest of blankets that Bucky had made as his bed. Already he could see the massive alpha laying on his side, head resting against a stack of pillows with the swell of his rounded gut sticking out.

“Okay, here he comes,” Steve gently rested the tiny bundle beside the resting alpha, holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Smirking dozily with a throated chuckle, the young alpha tentatively urged the pudgiest of his precious litter with a gentled invested nudge, steering the sightless pup closer to the bloated expanse of his girth, as Brennen’’s stubby pinkish muzzle greedily cinched onto him and started guzzling down a heated wash of milk. The pooling sensation was instant ease against the mounting pressure receding with every ravenous suckle as his undercoat was becoming drenched. Bucky graced his infant son’s plump form with a loving stroke of his tongue, soothingly bringing a sense of contentment over his suckling, messy pup. “Boy, he can sure pack it in, huh, Steve,” he murmured tiredly, shifting the glacial intensity of his steel-aquamarine orbs at the adamant First Avenger who looked genuinely out of place. “If you want, punk, you can feed one my little darlins’, there’s uh…a full bottle stacked in the fridge…”

For the second time in the day, Steve felt humbled with surprise as he took in the gravity of Bucky’s request. The effect was as empowering as invited into a special bond that he never envisioned having for himself at this point in his life. Since losing a life with Peggy to the ravages of time, and then his duty as Captain America to the Sokovia Accords; there was little else for Steve Rogers to cling to in his life other than what few friends he could still hold onto. That Bucky trusted him to not only provide him and his pups with safe shelter, but also feed them as well was a humbling feeling Steve felt almost too timid to accept. “B-Bucky, I’m not sure if…” He began to voice his uncertainty, until the room was filled with tiny little squeaks of distress emanating from the blanket where the other two babies were nestled comfortably.

One of them had awoken, and was no doubt calling for her daddy to come and nurse her.

Rearing his canine head off the cushion in a sluggish effort, Bucky glanced at the fastidious movement within the folds of blankets, his pointed ears twitched back as he registered the faint squeaky pitches of his baby girls in active unison while his chubby little guy hungrily supped at his girth. A delicate rosy snout wriggled out, sniffing for his pacifying virile scent; Bucky knew undoubtingly it was his firstborn-Aurora Barnes. His maternal instincts to seize her into his jaws were growing fervent to discard against the warring clash of unabated grogginess that was dragging him into submission. Being detached from his little darlins’ generated a hollow ache, as he increasingly listened to the distressed whimpers of the eldest of his sightless litter. “C'mon, punk, my baby girl needs you, she’s not gonna bite your hand off,” he quipped snarkily, with a fanged smirk, giving Steve a tilt of an encouraging nod. “You s'just gotta make her feel safe in your hands…” he whispered breathily.

With that nudge of encouragement, Steve rose to his feet and retrieved the cool baby-bottle of milk from the fridge. Instinct told him to gentle shake it as he made his way back into the living room, anticipation building inside of him as he stood in front of the bundle of blankets where he could see brown fur shifting beneath the comfortable warm folds. “Okay…Gotta say, this is about as intimidating as my first rope climb back at Camp Leigh,” he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought while the alpha snorted in what he thought was amusement. “Oh that’s funny?” He shook his head good-naturedly.

“What I’d give to see that, punk,” Bucky quipped back with a groggy cadence, attempting to flash a cocky smirk, teasingly as blazing mischief grew alight in his steel-aquamarine orbs, knowingly watching Steve unabashedly rein back his boyish shyness as faint grimace subtly tampered over his stern lips. Bucky throatily chuckled, as the soulful cast of his glacial irises intently drifted over the pudgy forms wiggling under raveled blankets. “I can assure you, Stevie, my little darlins’, aren’t gonna throw ya around, once they feel your trust it’s pretty damn cool…”

“Okay, here we go…” Though Steve was eager to assure his timidness had nothing to do with his own safety, truth was a part of him felt afraid of getting too attached. His life had always been a war that took until he was left with nothing. But somehow, he had was able to hold onto his best friend. There wasn’t a night that went by where Steve didn’t thank the Big Man upstairs for that in his prayers. Prickling nervousness flushed across his skin as he knelt down and gently began to undo the blankets until the little she-wolfling was reveled to his softened gaze.

Within moments, he was sitting on the floor in a lotus position, carrying little Aurora in the crook of his elbow with the nozzle of the baby-bottled tucked between her tiny muzzle. Mattie slept soundly beside him while Aurora’s eyes were closed, and her little paws were curled up against her soft tummy. Her light breathing was a good indicator of how relaxed and comfortable she was in Steve’s arms as she suckled the milk with tiny noises that made the super-soldier’s heart swell. She was so small, so innocent and too adorable for words. Steve couldn’t repress the emotional smile on his lips.

“How bout’ that…She’s so calm, almost as if she knows I can be trusted.” He says, almost to himself as he held the bottle steady. There was a pureness to this moment that Steve hadn’t felt in so long, he couldn’t help but feel shockingly unburdened and light. “It’s a humble feeling…”

The definite tension receded through the Brooklyn loft, the young alpha gently eased his long muzzle with conscious-instinctive effort towards the chubby male pup ravenously wedged against the deflating swell of his bloated girth; a telltale pinch of needle-edged puppy fangs elicited Bucky to quell down a throated yelp as he felt the pulsating flow being drained with every tugging suckle followed surprisingly in a wake of an unsated-tiny belch.

Listening to the low pitched snarl aggressively emitting from his supping pup, Bucky’s pointed ears speared upward at the instant he registered that one male defining noise that breached the contented silence around them. He gazed beamingly down at Brennen, who stubbornly was tucked under his curved hind paw, leaving a splash of milk to drench his bushy tail.

Groaning irritably, with a clench of disgust on his whiskered muzzle, Bucky felt incapable of recovering his virile dignity.“Nghh…Wanna trade,” he enticed huskily to the broadly smiling First Avenger who became trapped within the adorable thrall of his baby girl; smirking, his suave timbre was becoming croaky from a rack of nursing-induced exhaustion. Fussy whimpers arrested his drowsy focus, as Brennen guzzled another flow down in a heartbeat. “I-I bet this little butterball can down three bottles without messin’ your shirt…”

Steve chuckled heartily as he watched his friend’s open revulsion towards being stained with his own milk. He knew Bucky would have his hands full with his little guy. Brennen in many ways was a spitting image of his father which made him both stubborn and feisty. Boys will be boys, his mom used to say. They can be cute and endearing one moment and unbearably reckless in the next. They just needed more time to acclimate and trust. Whether he was the same as a boy, Steve couldn’t remember, but one thing was for sure, he knew Brennen Barnes would keep Bucky on his toes and it would be for the better. Gazing down at the now dozing she-wolf pup, Steve gave his friend a considering nod.

“Just as long as it’s the shirt, I don’t think there should be a problem. This cute little dame I think is ready to snuggle against her daddy. You look like you could use rest too, Buck.” Gently, Steve laid the sleeping Aurora beside Bucky then gingerly began to lift the still fussy Brennen up into his arms. The size difference between the boy and his two sisters was noticeable but Steve couldn’t help but feel it gave the wolf-boy more character. His little paws instinctively wiggled as if attempting to thrash the offending hands that now held him, but once Steve brought him against his chest, he was delighted to see Brennen begin to relax.

For a long moment, Bucky stared into the cool steadiness of his best friend’s azure irises, welcoming the ease as coiled tension in his throbbing underbelly receded against the nestled warmth of his dozy baby girl tucked cozily within the protective embrace of his curved paws. Exhaustion was grappling him down at stilted pace-just the presence of Steve made him feel stable against the feral instincts teaming to override his restraint. With the measured effort of his bulked mass, the young alpha shifted on the cushion, lowering his canine muzzle a breadth to Aurora’s slacken back, lovingly gracing her dark chestnut fur with a featherlight caress with unerring delicateness. He was innately aware of Steve’s firmed lips playing off a dopey smirk while Brennen demandingly squeaked for another guzzle-relentless hunger was manifesting to be a potent force not to reckon with. “Yeah, I think that chubby furball is definitely goin’ into a milk coma,” he drawled, snarkily.“He kinda doesn’t know when to quit…”

“That’s the spirit of a kid from Brooklyn. Too stubborn to quit, just like his old man…and uncle.” Somehow, it felt nice to say that, Steve realized. Family was something he hadn’t appreciated since his mother left this world. The word invoked remorse and dormant pain in his body as he had long since come to believe that family was something he would never have again. Having Bucky was what kept him from tipping over the edge and into an abyss of cold loneliness. Steve felt more than grateful to be receiving this second chance. It was something he would protect and make the most of in this unnatural life of his. He said nothing else as he watched Brennen succumb to his weariness and fall into a comfortable sleep, listening to the beating of his heart against his chest.

Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that Bucky had also fallen into a comfortable slumber. His baby girls curled beside him and relishing the warm safety of his loving presence. Steve had decided to set Brennen down with his sisters. Family was important and the three siblings would grow to appreciate that ideal and each other. The bearded blonde fell back against his seat on the couch, staring into space as he watched the family of wolves sleep soundly, peacefully. It was a picture that he would think back on fondly in the times to come and he wished he hadn’t just left his low-battery phone to charge. He couldn’t take a photo with his camera.

BUT, that didn’t mean this wasn’t a moment he couldn’t capture.

Moments later, he sat with a calm focus as he gently scribbled and stroked lead lines onto his sketch-pad. His azure eyes glinted in the light of day behind blonde bangs at his temple. The inner-teenager within glowed with life, as his latent talent was revived and enabled him to draw a moment he’ll be sure to always remember.

{Completed: August 23rd 2018}

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