Thank you to LeahMfkn'Clearwater, Mickey8142, pickynikki, Mere11, Babaksmiles, Radiant Celestial Aura, shika93, CatGal1701, bennettnasagirl, MGA-Middy, minstorai, War Charger, Leena2695, Yukinaru Suzumi, Devilishly Bipolar, birdy, MicaRoxyStar, InazumaNina, ANGEL FALLEN FROM HEAVEN, Angel-from-the-ashes, Amy Hanekom, LadyOfTheIsle, Okami Princess, dog1056, gryffon47, Tsuki no Yasha, MariMart, ro781727, I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven, followthebluebox, Apocalypse owner, Mr Popo, NuzzleBug13, shugokage, BetahimeTsukiko, Teflon Billy, Quyiken, Sinfully-Sweet-Demongirl, Guests, and anyone who faved/followed. I'm sorry if I forgot anyone, and I hope you know how much your reviews and responses mean to me! You guys are the best.

pickynikki: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the review!

birdy: HI! I kinda feel that we're good friends by now. Hope you enjoy!

Amy Hanekom: We shall see what we shall see! But I hope you enjoy it either way. And I think Leah did a good job effectively standing up for herself. You're right, they do deserve each other! Thank you!

I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven: Not necessarily... But Leah will be going on to bigger things, so don't worry too much! Thanks for the review!

Mr Popo: I legit had evil eye while writing that scene, ha! Thanks for the review!

LeahMfkn'Clearwater: agreed! They absolutely perfect for each other and I SHIP IT SO MUCH. Thanks for the review!


Steve had stuffed Bucky with as much food as he could find, (three full-sized chocolate bars, several apples and a litre of orange juice) then tucked him into his motel bed. Bucky had sniffed suspiciously the food, till Steve took a bite, which caused Bucky to frown- the same frown he used to give when Steve told him to get his bruises checked out in the infirmary after a battle. But this time, he didn't utter a word of complaint. Steve was so used to Bucky's reaction (stop mother hennin' me, punk) that he replied to words Bucky hadn't said.

"Pot, kettle, jerk," he grumbled, throwing his pillow at Bucky. Immediately, he winced at his action. Steve could feel the heat of unshed tears prickling at his eyes.

Bucky stared at the pillow grasped tight in his hands, his flesh fist clenching so tightly, the tendons on his hand looked as though they were about to burst. Then he blinked, his expression relaxing, and he nodded to himself.

"Sleep," he said, "The Asset-no. ...I, I haven't slept."

He didn't say how long ago his last break was, and Steve wasn't sure he'd get an answer if he asked. Not that he wanted to know. Not really.

"You can have my bed," Steve said, gesturing to the sagging motel mattress behind him.

Bucky stared at him from behind a curtain of hair, but slowly he rose to his feet, still clutching the pillow in his hands, and made his way over to the bed. Almost robotically, he slid between the sheets, lying on his side and closing his eyes.

Steve didn't miss how his flesh hand clenched around the pillow before going limp.

"I'll be right here," he promised quietly. I'm here. I'm not leaving. Not again.

"The girl," Bucky said, eyes opening just a crack.

"Yes?" Steve asked.

Bucky didn't answer, just frowned pensively at him. Then he turned around so he was facing the wall. His heart slowed, and his breath evened out.

Despite the dismissal, Steve smiled. Bucky had left himself open to attack by facing the wall, away from the door. Away from him.

Though Steve knew his friend was not asleep, despite his careful breaths and slow heart beat mimicked it perfectly, he smiled. It was a start. He stretched his legs out, resting deep in his chair.

But happiness didn't settle around him. Not completely. It was still there, in the corner of his mind. After all, he had Bucky back. Bucky was already getting better. He knew he could trust Steve. And Bucky was back.

Steve knew he should be happy. He should be giddy with joy. But he felt nearly as awful as when he had first arrived in the twenty first century. Tension had been running high within him all day. He though it would recede a bit-but now that he had time to himself, it sprung back up, the leak turning into a full out flood.

He found himself clenching and unclenching his back teeth unconsciously, and he stopped, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He'd forgotten to shave. Huffing at this, he stopped and shook his head.

Not exactly the end of the world, Rogers, he reminded himself. He crossed his legs. Just as the prickle in the corner of his eye turned into something more, someone knocked at the door.

Clearing his throat roughly, he called out softly, "Come in."

When the door opened, it wasn't Natasha, or Maria. Or even Clint, armed with his small repertoire of bad jokes, that only got worse the more he repeated them. Where's Leah? a surprisingly loud part of his mind whispered.

"Steve. I left you alone for two weeks. Two. Freaking. Weeks. And what do you do? You find Bucky, take down a group of HYDRA assassins, meet a group of killer werewolves, and fall in love with one of them!" Sam glared down at Steve.

Usually, Steve would find his friend's tirade amusing. But now, it just made him tired.

"Leah's not a killer. And I never said I fell in love," he grumbles.

"The way Natasha and Clint tell it, you have little hearts in your eyes like an anime character," Sam said, closing the door sharply behind him. Finally, his eyes travelled past Steve to the sleeping man behind him.

"Wha- For fucks sake Steve, why isn't he in hospital?" Sam demanded, "the guys been tortured for seventy years, and on the run for the past couple of months. He should be getting checked out by a doctor, not falling asleep in a shitty motel."

Steve noticed a change in Bucky's heart rate, imperceptible to anyone's ears but his own.

"When he wakes up, if he wants to go to the hospital, I'll take him. But why don't you just ask if you can have a look over anything he's worried about. You used to be a field medic, didn't you?" Steve said, voice venturing into begging territory.

Sam huffed at him.

"Damn superheroes," he muttered to himself, marching over to the only other piece of furniture in the room that could be used as a seat.

"Think they're fucking invincible," he sat on the small table with force, then jumped up when it let out a pathetic creak.

"Do you want...?" Steve began, raising out of his chair, but Sam just scowled at him.

"Shut up," he grumbled, flopping on the floor, sprawling out on the hard wooden floors.

Steve decided it was probably for the best if he kept his mouth shut. He took a deep breath, and listened for Bucky's heart beat- it had settled again, and it's beat was comfortably steady.

A minute later, Sam let out a groan.

"Even the floors here are damp and depressing," he muttered, sitting up.

"This is even worse than my break. You know, I had to go home and explain to my mother why I do not have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I thought you, at least, would be pretending to have fun somewhere warm and sunny. Why the hell did you pick to stay here for your break?"

Steve rolled his eyes, "They have beautiful scenery here."

Sam smirked at him, "You talkin' bout the greenery or the girl?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Steve smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You know, if the history books had said you were sassy little shit, I might actually have gotten an A in my exam," Sam smiled.

"But seriously. When this is all over, we are going somewhere nice and warm. With beaches. And happy dolphins. Like Hawaii. Or Australia. Just you, me, and Mr Man-Bun over there," Sam said.

Steve huffed out a laugh at Sam's nickname for Bucky. Unlike the last time he was mentioned, Bucky's heart rate didn't jump, and Steve wondered if he'd actually fallen asleep.

Sam was staring pensively at the ceiling.

"If your girlfriend comes, can we invite Maria?" he asked.

"Sure," Steve said, deciding not to argue with Sam's wording, "but she's way out of your league."

Biting down on his grin, Steve nearly choked when Sam pursed his lips and squinted at him.

"I regret teaching you modern lingo," he informed him, but Steve could hear the teasing tone under his grumbling complaint.

"You know, I get that a lot," Steve said frowning innocently at the ceiling, "but isn't that a good thing? Everyone's always telling me to catch up."

"If you looked back, I'm pretty sure you'd realise how annoying your cutesy little comments are," Sam glared, "as if you don't already," he muttered under his breath.

"I never look back, darling. It distracts from the now," Steve said seriously, not one twitch of his lips suggesting he wasn't serious.

Sam groaned, flopping back on the floor, "you do realise that next time we have a team meeting, you have an obligation to tell Thor, 'no capes'?"

"Only if Fury is there," Steve said, finally breaking into a smile. If it wasn't as cheerful as usual, he didn't notice. Sam, on the other hand, definitely did, his brow creasing slightly.

"Why did you stay in Forks?" Sam asked.

Steve finds that he's not completely comfortable with the question, like the chair he is sitting on suddenly has one leg too short.

"Did you come here just to complain?" Steve asked, forcing a grin.

"Did you come here just to mope?" Sam replied teasingly, "because I'm happy to help."

"For a therapist, you have a terrible bedside manner," Steve told him.

"Talk to me when I'm not sitting on a damp floor in Forks."

This time, that fact that Steve hadn't answered didn't escape either man.

The room had settled into a pensive quite when a sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Steve called quietly, Maria opening the door. She eyed Sam for second, who was scrambling to his feet, then fixed her stare on Steve.

"Pepper called. The Government is calling for a senate inquiry about the whole SHIELD/HYDRA fuck up."

Steve felt his teeth grinding away at the enamel. He wondered idly if it would grow back.

"When?" he asked sharply.

"Could be a week, to months. We've got no way of knowing, now. But they might call you to attend. Potts and I held them off your back those first few weeks, with you being in hospital. But when they get organised, I doubt you'll be able to avoid it. You too," she directed at Sam.

Steve could feel the dread building in his chest, a tangible weight. He was so stressed, so tired and worried, that he wasn't able to explain to himself the awful sick feeling.

"Steve, take my advice," Maria said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, "whatever the hell it is that's going on here, sort it out now. In a couple weeks, you might not be able to."

She shut the door sharply behind her, but in the sudden silence it sounded like a slam.


Leah's shirt was suck over her head, pulling painfully at her hair, and in her thrashing, she managed to step on a thorn in the forest floor and snarled. She couldn't deal with this right now.

When she finally managed to pull her shirt down, she came faced to face with Natalie. Except, that probably wasn't the red head's name. The woman was the Black Widow, after all. One of the only mere mortals on a team comprised of gods and super soldiers. Who had managed to sneak up on a werewolf.

Well aware the Black Widow had seen parts of her considered private, Leah crossed her arms under her chest. Perhaps she would have been embarrassed if everyone of her pack hadn't caught a look at least once. And kept looking. The hazards of being a shapeshifter in a pack of teenaged boys.

The red head didn't move her eyes from Leah's when she called out to the sandy haired man standing next to her.

"You can look now, Barton," she said sternly, and the man turned around.

"Thank god," he muttered, "If I'd had to stand still any longer I'd have had to pee."

Leah recognised his stern face, at odds with his cheerfully off-beat words, from the memories the pack had shared. Several times over. He was the man who had socked Jared in the face.

Despite being faced with two people who could probably beat the shit out of her, and were stopping her from getting to her goal, Leah was flattered. She couldn't remember the last time a man had tried not to get an eyeful. Maybe that was what made her stop, and pick her words, instead of plowing ahead.

"I'm not here for a fight. I just want to talk to Steve," she said calmly-or as calmly as she could, with her whole body shaking.

"And we're totally cool with that," the man called Barton said, "but we do need to have a little chit-chat."

His eyes flittered, watching her fists clench and unclench, limbs almost vibrating.

Leah squinted at him, not so much offended as still amazed at the contrast between his words and grumpy, slightly squashed face.

Natalie raised one perfect brow at the man, but let him continue.

"If you hurt one cell of Stevie's perfectly pure heart, I'll rip your perky little breasts off," he said cheerfully.

Apparently he expected the slap to the back of his head, because he flinched a second before the Black Widow's hand made contact. Leah, on the other hand, was pretty much stunned.

"You are too old to be watching A Very Potter Musical, much less be quoting from it," Natalie told him sternly. She turned back to Leah.

"I feel I should reintroduce myself," Natalie said.

"You gotta do that often?" Leah asked, an irrational anger bubbling inside her.

"My name is Natasha Romanov," the other woman ignored her question, "You may call me Natasha."

When Leah didn't reply, Barton frowned.

"You all right there?" he asked cautiously, eyeing her up and down.

"Yeah," Leah muttered, "you just... weren't what I expected."

Barton nodded in agreement, "I have a bitchy resting face," he explained wisely.

Natasha rolled her eyes. Leah got the feeling she did this a lot, yet it did not subtract from the fear factor. Not that Leah was scared. At all.

Who was she kidding, she was facing the Black Widow in the woods. She had a right to be slightly nervous.

"I meant, not everyone would have tried to not get an eyeful," Leah explained quickly. She just wanted to go- while the need to see Steve, and make sure there wasn't a scratch on him had abated while she ran, it was coming back in full force.

Was it just her imagination, or did the Black Widow's jaw tighten?

"Are you talking about the same people who gave you that blood nose?" Natasha asked softly.

Leah's shaking hand immediately raised to swipe under her nose- the blood was almost entirely dried now, apparently only her nerves keeping her from feeling the crusty layer that it had formed.

"Jared," she hissed to herself.

"Not exactly," she explained, wiping the blood on her shorts, "Sometimes, we can't control the change, or we have to do it really fast-and I'm sure you've noticed, clothes don't always manage to stay put."

"And the nose?" Natasha asked.

Leah smirked wickedly, "You should see the other guy."

Natasha looked at her, evaluating, then nodded her head, moving aside. Barton followed suit.

Carefully, Leah took a step forward, past her. A small hand on her shoulder made her stop abruptly, pulling on her nerves. The need to see Steve was almost at boiling point.

"As immature as Barton may have been, he was right about one thing," Natasha spoke softly into her ear. Then she stepped back, allowing Leah's imagination to fill in any gaps.

Leah didn't bother telling her it was useless. Hurting Steve would be akin to biting off her own limb. Limbs which were currently trembling with the effort not to phase and run to his side.

Walking forward, out of the trees towards his motel room, she could feel another force as well. A fist, slowly increasing it's clenching hold on her brain, telling her to stop. Go no further. Thou shalt not pass.

The closer she came to Steve's room, the stronger the fist came, till her headache was almost blinding. Just as it had been on the cliff.

She took a step forward. The old door swung open, framing Steve. He stood frozen, as if taking a step forward would spook her.

Leah felt her heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came out, like he wasn't quite sure exactly what he wanted to say. Leah couldn't blame him.

Steve grunted as someone pushed him forward, slamming the door shut behind him. He turned, glaring at the door for a second.

"Can, can I come closer?" he asked worriedly. Seeing the worry in his eyes just about broke her heart. And for once, should couldn't blame the imprint. At least not entirely.

Because he cared for her. Someone cared enough that they didn't want to cause her any pain. He wasn't family, he didn't have to. The imprint didn't feel the same strength of the bond unless they chose to. He chose to care. He chose her.

"Yes-No, wait!" Leah called and Steve paused. She wondered if his face was always so expressive, or if it was just because it was her that she could see the pain written so deeply on his face.

"Stay there," she instructed. Carefully, she took one step forward. The pain she'd been trying to suppress burst forward, and it took all her strength not to flinch back.

Slowly, steadily, she walked towards him. Only three meters away, she let out a painful hiss, and Steve leant forward, worry evident in his features.

Two more steps and she was there, limbs shaking. Spots of light interrupted her vision, but she could still make out his face. Taking a deep breath, it caught.

She leant forward and kissed him.

It was like the dam had broken. But rather than feeling numb from the pain, waves of bliss rolled over her. Relief, and excitement and want and love swirled around her. She smiled into the kiss, and put her arms around Steve's shoulders to draw him closer.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips.

She felt him smile, sliding his arms around her. He broke the kiss, and stared into her eyes, an uncontrollable smile on his face, despite the slow tears rolling down his red cheeks.

Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered hoarsely, "I love you."

Leah had never been happier that they were the same height-that it took no effort to simply look at each other.

A cheer rose up from behind Steve, and she looked over his shoulder to see two men in the window of his room-one whooping and laughing, giving her and Steve theatrically large applause, the other staring at her with deep-set eyes.

The man on the hill. James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve had buried his nose into the crook of her neck in embarrassment, but she could tell he was smiling. Warm salty tears gathered on her skin, but she didn't mention them. For all Steve had gone through, he needed to cry. He shook slightly, taking a deep breath.

"Is your friend going to be okay?" she asked him softly, watching out of the corner of her eye as the other man pulled the curtains across the window to give them privacy-or as much privacy as one could get, standing in the middle of a motel parking lot.

Steve sighed, a warm gust of breath ghosting over her bare skin, then straightened.

"Life hasn't been easy for him. He-we were friends from before the war, but HYDRA took him, and performed all sorts of experiments," Steve swallowed, "then they brainwashed him. It's gonna take a lot for him to get better, but he will," Steve said.

Leah wondered who the promise was to, him, herself, or James Barnes.

"Of course he will," Leah told him, "Now he's got you."

Steve hugged so tightly, if she'd been anyone else it would have hurt. As it was, she felt so safe in his arms. From the way he clung to her, he felt exactly the same.

She laughed. Not a cutesy giggle, but full on laughter, the kind that makes you feel your ribs are about to break.

Steve snorted at her, holding her tight, and cocked his head.

"You all right?" he asked, still grinning.

"As rain," she told him, returning his smile.

His smile dropped, worry returning, and he gently placed a hand on her cheek. Instinctively, she curled into it. If it was anyone else, she may have been embarrassed at her reaction, but as it was she barely noticed it.

"Has your nose been bleeding?" he asked, carefully tracing over her lip with one calloused thumb.

Leah groaned. Apparently she hand't managed to wipe away all the dried blood.

"I promise, I'm fine. I just didn't think it was fair that you were the only one allowed to beat up Sam."

A spilt second of confusion coloured Steve's face before it cleared.

"Sam was the black wolf," he realised.

"Yeah," Leah said, grinning, "You didn't wonder why you hated him so much?"

At Steve's look, she laughed again, before sobering slightly.

"Sam is our pack's alpha. So when he says jump, we whine a lot and he rolls his eyes. But sometimes, when he thinks it's a really big deal, he'll give us an alpha order- and we have no choice but to follow it. We physically cannot disobey."

Steve's brow creased, "He ordered you to stay away from me."

For a second, Leah thought of the words Sam had told her - 'imprint trumps alpha orders', but she brushed it aside. That particular explanation could wait.

"I'm a rebel," she told him wickedly.

"Mmm, I know. It's very attractive," Steve assured her. He took a step back, and Leah missed the warmth of his body, but he took her hand and lead her to the small grassy area behind his cabin.

Tired, Leah quickly sat down on the dewy grass, pulling Steve down after her. He nearly sat on her, but managed to maneuver himself to an empty patch of grass, his hand still in hers.

They sat in silence for a while, simply taking in the peace, and each other.

"A werewolf and a super soldier," Steve mused, "all we need is a bar."

"Technically, not a werewolf," Leah said, putting her arms on her knees so that she could rest her head to look at him. At his curious look, she elaborated.

"We're spirit wolves. Like in the story of Taha Aki that Billy Black told at the campfire. No full moon required, and it's passed down through the family. All a bite from us is gonna do is bleed, and silver does jack shit."

"Okay, but you have the ability to 'shape shift'," he looked at Leah for approval, and she nodded, "into wolves, why not just call yourselves werewolves?"

Leah simply looked at him, raising her brow. She could feel his brain working away, coming to it's own conclusion without her having to say a word.

"Because there are actual werewolves out there," Steve answered his own question. He groaned, laying back on the grass.

"Well, Barton'll be happy," he told the sky.

Leah grinned, "Back to the whole super soldier thing..." she asked.

"Is that... okay?" Steve asked worriedly.

"Course. I know you told me you had a secret but I was imagining more along the lines of... well, nothing normal. Who the hell can do so much damage to a freaking punching bag?"

As Steve winced and opened his mouth, Leah rolled her eyes and whacked him on the shoulder.

"They're fine. Except for the whole hero-worship thing they've got going on, which is not fine. They thought you were an android."

"Bucky has a metal arm," Steve offered helpfully, trying not to laugh.

"At least you're not a vampire," Leah told him, mouth quirking as she waited for his reaction.

"... the normal people on this planet are screwed," he told her.

Smiling, she lay down next to him, closing her eyes. The sunlight lay over them like a soft, warm blanket.

Quietly, as if saying too loud would make it true, Steve said, "I can't stay here."


I'M SO MEAN!

ahem.

Please review. A second of your time makes my day.