Title: you scout the road ahead and I will watch your back
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Richard Siken
Warnings: slight AU to a flashback scene in WS, both because I can't quite remember all the lines and because werewolves; canon character death; grief
Pairings: barely pre-Steve/Bucky
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 410
Point of view: third
Prompt: MCU, any/any, sometimes any just wants a cuddle
Wolves are tactile; Steve's figured out, over the years, that Bucky really likes touching, likes flopping down real close, or leaning in to share warmth, or letting their hands brush across the table. It's not romantic, really, just a pack thing. Bucky's mom does it, too, though his sisters don't, really, 'cause they're human.
Bucky's mom. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, clenching his hands into fists, and tries with all his might not to cry. It's been a long walk back to the apartment, and he can't – Ma isn't there anymore. And he wants, with everything in him, to crawl into her lap, to be little enough for her arms to go all the way around him, for her to hum a lullaby and call him her baby boy, but Ma –
Ma's gone. She's gone.
"Steve!"
He pauses at the foot of the stairs, head hanging down. Of course Bucky's caught up to him; probably didn't even take a cab or borrow his parents' car. Wolves can move fast, even if they're not shifted.
"Please, Bucky," he says tiredly. "I just want to be alone."
Bucky just looks at him. "Do you really?" he asks softly, not stopping till he's next to Steve, close enough that Steve can hear him breathing.
Steve feels the sob building and he tries so hard to keep it down, but Bucky reaches out to grab his shoulder. "I'm with you to the end, Stevie," he says. "You don't gotta be alone."
Steve nods, biting down on his lip to keep the sobs from overwhelming him, and then he follows Bucky up the stairs.
It's a tiny little apartment, barely big enough for two people, but Ma's gone. Steve's not sure he can keep the place, not on his meager salary, and not with all the memories. He doesn't want to do anything except sleep, even if it is the middle of the day, and Bucky just stays out of his way, watching him as Steve decides what to do.
He buried his mother today. He's barely eighteen and he's alone –
He finally sags down on the bed, head in his hands, and lets the sobs out. Bucky whines and shifts, coming over to wrap around him, and he just cries into Bucky's fur.
In the morning, he wakes up to Bucky holding him, and he watches Bucky's face until Bucky wakes up, too. "'til the end?" he asks.
Bucky nods. "And even after."