The lights were off. Moonlight drifted in from the window, painting the room in silver and grey. The lights were off, but he was the last one home.

Eyes drifted over to the kitchen, and there, hunched over the island, was Steve. He ventured closer to the blond, and the scent of copper hit him before he could reach out.

"What did you do?" It was nothing more than a shaky whisper, for that was all he could manage.

The shoulders drew further in on themselves. Glass scraped against stone, a small Mason jar pushed towards him, filled to the brim with fresh honey.

"Steve," He hissed, shaking with the effort of forcing himself not to take the offering. "What did you do?"

Steve sighs through his nose. He turns pleading eyes up at him.

He shakes his head and clenches his jaw, tears gathering in his eyes. "Please, Steve."

Steve lowers his eyes to the marble counter and for a second, Bucky doesn't think he will answer.

"I fucked up."

Bucky clenches his eyes shut, shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want it spoken because then it would be true.

"Please." He doesn't know what he's asking for. He can't breathe, can't fucking think.

Steve's hands twitch, revealing blood-coated fingers. He pulls down his bottom lip and reveals strands of flesh still embedded between his teeth.

Bucky shakes off his fear and sets his jaw. "They're going to kill you," he says in a smooth, even voice.

Steve is silent for a moment. He slides the jar of honey closer to himself. He pops the lid off and swirls two of his blood-soaked fingers in the thick liquid.

"Only if they catch me."

He whimpers from the pain in his chest, like a vice, tightening with each passing second.

Steve licks his sticky-sweet fingers, tongue curling tightly around the digits. A smear of honey clings to his bottom lip, swirls of blood tarnishing it. A pink tongue swipes it away.

Bucky swallows.

Silver eyes glow in the low light of the apartment, shameful and guilty. Steve clenches his jaw. Saliva-coated fingers slide the jar towards him.

"Come with me," Steve whispers.

He shook his head. He was unsure if it was in disbelief or denial.

The honey was sat there. An offering. A promise.

Bucky, while strong-willed and stubborn, was still half-fae. Honey and the blood of a dead man, an impossible offer to refuse. He brought the jar of honey closer to him, tranced a finger around the rim of the jar.

His eyes flick up and lock with Steve's. Silver that drowns sky blue, slick grey against stark white. Blood and honey shining on plush lips.

"Why?" He askes, fingers curling into the viscous fluid.

The blond curls his shoulders. "I... I can't leave you." He hangs his head. "I'm too selfish."

"... Is it selfish if I don't want you to leave me?" He asks in a whisper.

Sliver eyes lock with blue. "No," the wolf murmurs. "I don't think so."

He raises honey-coated fingers to his lips, draws them in and hollowed his cheeks, gently sucking the sweet liquid off.

Steve averted his gaze, staring intently at the countertop.

Bucky sighed as he pulled his fingers from his mouth, licking away the last of the honey.

He taps his nails against the glass jar, contemplating. "Where will we go?"

"Somewhere..." Steve sighs. "Somewhere untamed. Somewhere they'll never find us.

"Did you have somewhere in mind?"

Steve hums, tapping his fingers against the hard stone of the island. "The Wilds."

Bucky nods, once. Nods again. "Alright."

"We need to leave soon."

He nods, once more. Wanders closer to the wolf. "We will. But first..." He drapes himself against Steve's back. "Go take a shower. You're covered in blood."

Steve curls in on himself further. Tears run down his cheeks. "I'm sorry." He breathes.

Bucky shakes his head, rubbing comfort into the wolf's chest. The question had been too long delayed. "How'd it happen."

Steve huffs out a wet laugh. "Some guy was bothering a girl at the bar. She asked him to leave but he just... He didn't fucking listen," Steve growled, his shaking hands clenching into fists. "I was on my break, so I told the guy to fuck off. One thing led to another, and the next thing I know, we're beating the shit out of each other in the alley. I just... I was so fuckin' angry. I bit him. And I... I kept biting, and scratching, and biting. I was so angry, and it was like I hadn't eaten in weeks, and eventually, the biting turned to tearing, and the scratching into carving and I... I come to and there's blood everywhere and on me and I... I ran home."

Steve sobbed, loud and broken. Bucky pulled him tight against his chest and swayed them gently. The floodgates had broken, and now Steve was crying uncontrollably.

As soon as Steve calmed down, Bucky pulled him to his feet and led him to the bathroom.

"Shower," he murmurs. "I'll pack our stuff. Meet me in the living room in half an hour."

Steve nodded, a short, jerky movement.

Bucky reluctantly left to do as he had promised. The shower started quietly behind him.

They took the car and drove.

Steve watched the rolling fields and fluffy clouds with distant recognition. Bucky tried his best to watch the road rather than Steve.


They drove, taking turns between driving and sleeping in the backseat.

While Steve watched the road, Bucky watched Steve.

With every passing mile, they grew closer and closer to the Wilds.

The vast forest, spanning over eleven hundred miles of land, was completely untouched by infrastructure. The trees, the rocks, the river, and the very soil itself was guarded by nymphs. Thousands of them.

It was a good place to disappear.

"A good place to chain a feral werewolf," Steve joked.

Bucky pretended not to hear the venerability in his voice. He forced himself to forget about the life they'd lead in the city and focus on the future, uncertain though it was.

"A good place to run," Bucky said.

Steve smiled but his eyes remained blank. Bucky didn't miss the way he picked at his teeth, or the way his eyes shone with the light of the moon.

The road stretched out before them and disappeared behind them. The only way out was forwards. The nymphs would protect them, as a child of the moon and a child of the fae, they would be considered denizens of the forest, returning home after a perilous journey.

Perhaps it was where they were always meant to end up.