Hello Hopeless Blue Kiss here with a new story for you. I have always wanted to do a Sam x Steve x Bucky fic for the longest time. This story just kept growing the more I tried to finish it, but its my baby and I love a good supernatural story. I hope you like it and review. I really do like knowing how I'm doing with a fic.

Howl, Until Your Lungs Give Out

Prologue: The Prey

Steve ran his fingers through his hair a few times, trying—but failing to lay down his cowlick. It looked messier than usual, like he just got out of bed, fought with a tornado and got his ass handed to him. It was fucking frustrating because normally he didn't care about his appearance. He wore his grandad's old horn-rimmed glasses and whatever clothes looked the cleanest before he was forced to do his and his roommates' laundry.

He was scrawny and perpetually broke so most his shit was out of date and hung on his too thin frame. His best friend/roommate/crush James 'Bucky' Barnes more than once called him a wannabe hipster, because sadly that's what you look like when most your clothes came from the thrift store and the young men's section of Walmart. Nope, he wasn't joking. He was in his late twenties and had the body of a young, preteen, female gymnast. You know the ones that had had a huge growth spurt but had yet to truly hit puberty.

It was fucking sad how many times he had tried to go to the gym and gain muscles. He'd go for one or two months to the gym during the New Year's 'Sign up and get one month free' specials and try to work out on the machine. He choked down powdered shakes that guaranteed muscles; gorge on fatty foods and vowed many times to go out jogging. Unfortunately, the muscle shakes tasted like old diapers; he could hardly lift a damn thing at the gym without nearly injuring himself; he had the metabolism of the Gods; and because he still had a major asthma problem—any time he ran he'd start out strong; yet he would end up doubled over and wheezing before he did a full block.

No muscles, a lot of pain and in the end, it just wasn't worth it.

So, he mentally said, 'Fuck it' and accepted who he was.

He wasn't a hipster. He couldn't even grow facial hair to go 'full native' as his asshole of a best friend would have called it—because again he had the body and apparently, the youthful, unmarred, hairless skin of a preteen female gymnast before puberty hit. It was weird and frustrating, and awesome as hell—all at the same time. He wasn't trying to be ironic and rage against society; he just had the soul of someone from the 1940s and the birdlike legs of someone who had to rock skinny jeans because he had no ass and everything else looked weird.

Steve hated hipsters. No offense. He tried understanding them, but things that he was genuinely interested in like superheroes and bubble baths, they liked ironically. No one should diss a good bubble bath, even if you had to use dish soap because money was low and—priorities. It seemed dishonest, expensive, and too complicated to eat pretentious, gluten-free sandwiches and wheat grass smoothies at some butcher shop turned cafe and fiend boredom at things he might genuinely enjoy. Nope. Just hard pass.

It was a hard road, but he was happy with who he was. A somewhat struggling Brooklyn art student, with two-part time jobs and a rent-controlled apartment he inherited from his Grandpa Ernie and shared with his childhood best friend Bucky. He enjoyed bumming wi-fi from the Hispanic bodega across the street from his apartment and they allowed it if they agreed to buy most of his produce from them. It wasn't a real hardship. Steve would have anyway because Juan's mangos were a revelation in and of itself. Plus, Maria his wife was very much prepared to pour the best coffee and neighborhood gossip at a drop of a hat.

Sometimes when he was properly dressed, and he had some time between school, work and Bucky, he enjoyed sitting at one of their small tables and just people watch out their large store window while alternating between lazily and seriously drawing. Steve wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with his art degree once he got it. But when the world seemed like it was crashing in; it just seemed to slow down for just a beat as he conjured up worlds underneath the slightly sharp tip of his lead drawing pencils.

No, it wasn't that he wanted to make himself over into someone he didn't recognize. Steve loved his vintage superhero shirts and skinny jeans because you work with what you have and what you love. But he wanted to look just a little nicer for Sam because the guy deserved someone that didn't need to do a sniff test to make sure his clothes were fresh enough for human interaction.

Steve tried to take a deep, calming breath in hopes of not triggering his asthma or any heart troubles with his agitation. His thin, nimble fingers now moved unconsciously to smooth out the ever-present wrinkles in a well-worn Justice League t-shirt.

He had really hoped that a little bit of stolen mousse from his friend and a good wrestling with the hairbrush, could tame the flyaway, flaxen locks. However, even a stubborn person like Steve, knew a losing battle when he saw one. His blue eyes felt a bit itchy and watery wearing his new contacts, but he wanted to look good for his friend.

"Okay, we can do this Stevie. It's just Sam, we've talked hundreds of times," he breathed out shakily before clicking on Sam's Zoom invitation. "Hi!" He said a little too enthusiastically as soon as he could see Sam's camera screen.

"Hey Cap, there is no reason to be nervous. It's just me, Falcon, the same supernatural conspiracy nut as you," reassured Sam with a playful wink and a decadently rich chuckle. "We Zoomed a handful of times, but I must admit I almost didn't recognize you without those sexy librarian glasses of yours. What gives? You got a hot date later or something? Are you stepping out on me man?" he joked, flashing that gap tooth, pearly white smile of his.

"N… No, of course not, I… I just started to wear these contacts. I thought it'd be a nice change," Steve said nervously with a self-deprecating chuckle at the end. He was already regretting his choice, wondering if it would be too obvious if he excused himself to take out the contacts and put on his glasses.

"For our Zoom call?" Sam asked, his grin growing a little wider. His kind brown eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Not just for our Zoom call. Don't get full of yourself Samuel Thomas Wilson. I just… I thought I could go for a change," Steve insisted. He couldn't look his friend in the eye now, but he couldn't help a bashful smile at the rich chuckle that followed.

"So, that's how it is and I see you called me by my whole government name too. Okay… I'll change the subject. What's new in your neck of the woods? Finally tell that guy Bucky you've been crushing on him big time? Or have you wizened up and are considering giving me a chance?" Sam asked, wiggling his eyebrows, as his handsome face leaned closer to the camera screen.

"Why would you—" Steve began. He honestly didn't see what Sam saw in him. He was a scrawny, little thing with ugly 50s horn-rimmed glasses he inherited from his grandfather after he stepped on his last pair. He barely had an ass compared to Sam who cup runneth over in that department. He was an introverted comic book nerd and supernatural conspiracy nut. Steve spent half the time wondering if Sam was serious or was just humoring him because he was a natural flirt. "I haven't," he huffed out a bit put out.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I've been trying to ask you out several times and I haven't given up hope on you finally saying yes. So, if you really like this Bucky guy don't give up either. Who knows, we might have a wild threesome someday," Sam offered encouragingly, wagging his eyebrows again.

"I'm sure there was some good advice wrapped up in your horniness," Steve deadpanned, trying to fight back the blush that lit his ears a bright pink.

"Can't blame a guy for trying, now, can you? You're a fun guy to be around and the only one around that believes that there are things that go bump in the night, other than those vapid fangirls obsessing over Twilight and Teen Wolf," Sam insisted pulling back and trying not to look disappointed. "So you need to chill out on downplaying my favorite person."

"I thought I was your favorite person? Oh hey, is he the one you've been crushing on? Awww, look at him blush. He's adorable. I'm glad you're moving on," a redhead with a thick Russian accent and a nice rack, suddenly popped up on the screen. Her hands carelessly mashed Sam's face to one side to look at the laptop screen.

"I hate you Tasha!" Sam growled out in a way that made Steve's body hair stand up on end. He didn't know whether he should question Sam for how he managed that sound; or focus more on the Russian red bombshell before him that looked like she was made for the silver screen with her hourglass figure and classic features.

"You're too nice to hate on people, so why start now? You'll love him by the way… Steve, right? I'm Natasha Ramanov by the way. I hear he's an amazing kis—" Natasha said, seemingly to sit on Sam's lap before all hell broke loose.

"NATASHA RAMONAV IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF MY DAMN ROOM NOW! LEAVE BEFORE I PUT YOU OVER MY KNEE AND SPANK YOU!" Sam practically howled, standing up with the redhead in his arms to bodily remove her.

"In front of your internet date. That's very kinky of you Samuel," she drawled out dryly. Then she turned her head to give a wink and a wave to Steve. "You should really watch out for this one. Don't let that sweet face fool you, cutie pie. He's a real biter. Bye," Natasha smoothly said, leaving a loud smacking kiss on Sam's cheek before wiggling free of his arms. She then let out a squeal when what look like a pillow came careening towards him, but it was hard for Steve to tell from the laptop camera.

Sam waited until Natasha had sashayed her way out of his room. A fond roll of his eyes to the extra wiggle she gave just to drive up his crush's possible suspicion that something more might be going on between him and her. He then quickly got up once the door was closed and locked it, knowing that that wouldn't be a deterrent for the likes of Natasha. But it got his point across well enough.

"I'm sorry about that." Sam sighed out, reentering the laptop camera's view. He vigorously wiped at his cheek, smearing the kiss print there. "She's a menace, but I still love the girl. Not… Not like that. No, she's like the annoying, little sister that I didn't know I needed." The black man quickly amended when it felt like Steve wasn't going to speak up anytime soon.

Steve was having a hard time keeping himself from bending over and wheezing with laughter after the initial shock wore off. He didn't want to poke at the jealously that tickled at his conscious at their intimate exchange. Just focused stubbornly on how Sam's face was screwed up like his mother had kissed him in front of the school, the way he scrubbed and wrinkled his nose at the mess he was making.

"Hey, you're hurting my male pride here," Sam huffed. He tried to look offended, but it was hard when the apples of his cheeks showed he was going to flash him another gap tooth smile.

"Aw, you poor baby. Want me to come over there and kiss it better?" Steve said jokingly. He honestly didn't know why he had been nervous to Zoom call Sam when the older man had made things feel so natural from the first moment they started online chatting. He was just as easy to talk to on a keyboard as he was on a videocall. It was like he knew this guy all his life instead of the few months that they had been chatting back and forth about supernatural conspiracy theories.

"Is it like that?" Sam sounded hopeful even as he raised a brow in question as if knowing that Steve didn't realize what he was offering to him.

"Wait…. What?" Steve squeaked out. He wasn't much for flirting, but he didn't realize that Sam would call his bluff so quickly. Not with him stammering like an idiot the moment the black man took the bait.

"I said is it like that? Are you willing to come over and kiss my hurt pride?" Sam made sure to pronounce each word clearly, so it left no doubt in the blonde's head. He wanted to make sure he fully understood that he was serious in his pursuit.

"I… I didn't mean it like that..." Steve stuttered out, flustered.

Sam let out a comically loud sigh and pulled away from the camera, as if to reign himself back in. "It's okay Cap. I know you're still carrying a torch for your best friend," he said. More as if to remind himself and not to state the same thing he had said earlier when the online conversation began. His smile wasn't as bright, but it was still present to reassure his friend. "You don't have to be anything, but who you are around me."

"I do love talking to you Sam. I—" Steve wanted to reassure him. His friendship came as easily as breathing to him. It wasn't his intention to mislead. He'd honestly be lucky to have a love interest like Sam and he couldn't deny part of the reason he loved talking to this man was the way he stroked his ego with his flirting. 'He's really a looker. Why is he bothering with me?' Steve couldn't help thinking to himself again with his self-doubt. He both admired and envied the immaculate facial hair that Sam had managed to grow with his goatee. He loved how his dark brown eyes lit up anytime they talked about something interesting or how his plump lips parted in that adorable gap tooth smile. How Sam laughed with his whole body and how mature he was with his few years on him even when being jovial. There were a lot of things that could make anyone fall for him. So, why was he fighting so hard against it?

"I love talking to you too Cap," Sam reassured him. Then gently guided the conversation in the Sasquatch sighting that was said to be seen in Minnesota. The awkwardness easing away as Steve enthusiastically went into his theory of why he thinks that it may be real this time.

xXx

TWO HOURS LATER

"Hey Stevie, you in here?!" called out a muffled male voice, that could only be one person.

"I.. I gotta go, my roommate he's… he's coming," Steve stumbled out, flustered. He gave Sam a half-hearted goodbye before slamming down the lid of his laptop. He was so lame. He wanted Bucky. Right? So, why was he so torn between the two when he should be having one person in his heart. How greedy could he be?

"What were you doing? Where you looking at dirty websites or something?" piped up a teasing voice behind the perplexed blonde.

"I was talking to Falcon… Um… Sam," Steve said, correcting himself. They had been using Marvel comic superhero names until they gave their real names a month ago. They had graduated from chatting in supernatural chat rooms, to talking on the phone, to video calls.

"God! You and that conspiracy website again. Here I was hoping you were going to make time with someone, if not get your rocks off like a proper guy. But nope, werewolves and glittery vampires with probably some simple pimpled face asshole that lives in the basement of his mother's home. Or some MILF simping over fictional characters/tv stars half their age," Bucky said with a disappointed shake of his head.

"He's not that bad looking. Kind of hot. We uh… we've been doing Zoom calls lately and we share quite a few of the same interests," Steve admitted meekly. His ears couldn't help but pinken at the thought of one of Sam's gap-toothed smiles and how he was more interested in scrawny ole him instead of the red vixen that had practically been in his lap.

"I'm happy for you," Bucky said with a pat on Steve's shoulder.

"It's not like that!" Steve quickly protested. He didn't want his crush to think that he had an interest in some other guy, even though he didn't know it's because he was in love with his roommate.

"Any guy would be deaf, dumb and blind not to give you a shot Stevie," Bucky reassured him confidently. His broad shoulder bumping up against Steve's bony one. "If you ever need a wingman, just let me know and I'll set 'em up so you can knock them down," the Brunette encouraged. He really wanted his friend to experience life and not be shut in with his laptop and sketchbook. So, if this guy or any guy could pull Stevie kicking and screaming out of his shell, he was all for it.

"Yep, deaf, dumb, and blind," Steve sighed up, getting up and walking past his childhood best friend. "And if that guy was you?" he asked softly.

"What do you say Stevie?" Bucky asked, his attention focused on sneakily opening Steve's laptop to see how hot the guy, who Steve had been talking to, was.

"Nothing. I'll go make us some lunch. Get your greasy hands off my laptop," Steve ordered, smacking Bucky's hands aways and hugging his laptop to his chest. His heart was thundering in his ears at his boldness as he quickly marched out the door, not noticing the blue eyes that followed him.

xXx

"Why am I feeding you again?" Steve asked begrudgingly as he sat a homemade sub with plenty of provolone cheese and sauce down in front of Bucky. He had been trying his hand at cooking and with their tight budget they needed to eat indoors more than out.

"Hands," Bucky explained, showing off his greasy palms caked with motor oil. The same hands that had touched both his shoulder and his laptop.

"Couldn't you just wash them?" Steve asked even as he lifted the sandwich closer to Bucky to take a healthy bite.

"Fuck that's good," Bucky moaned over his mouthful. "It's too much a hassle. Cause it takes a good fifteen minutes to get all the gook out enough that their clean enough to eat with. Then when I'm finished, I'm going to go back downstairs to my garage there and that's just a waste of good soap," he tried to reasoned after finishing his mouthful. He then opened his mouth for another bite, his lush brown hair pulled up in a messy topknot

Steve chuckled to himself; it made sense. Sort of. He held the sandwich closer for him to take another bite, used to the messy heaven in front of him. His hands automatically reached for a napkin for him to wipe the sauce that clung to his lips.

"Bucky is this really going to be your life? Fixing cars and your love life decided by a random swipe on Grindr?" Steve softly complained, setting the napkin down so he could take a bite of his own sub. "Never thought about settling down and finding the one?" he coaxed gently. Steve didn't want to risk their friendship if it meant he was just going to be another notch on Bucky's belt. It was no use forcing someone to be into monotony if they weren't ready for it themselves.

"It's not random. I carefully look through my options before I swipe left for the bangable ones. It's mutual destruction," Bucky said. Then leaned his head forward for another bite.

"But don't you want something more?" Steve insisted, pulling the sub just out of reach to see his friends words.

"What more can I want? I'm not looking for someone to put a ring on it, Stevie. I'm not Beyonce. I just need someone to occasionally scratch an itch and that's it. Otherwise, I'm happy with my life. I have you, I have my cars to fix, and I have beer. Don't tell me you aren't happy with us like this?" He questioned, focusing his steel blue gaze on his childhood friend, askance.

Steve squirmed on his kitchen seat, unable to look at the brunette. The blonde wanted to kiss those pouty lips and let Bucky know that he could have so much more. That he could have him. But he knew to hold his tongue. He was too afraid to lose what he had as much as he was too afraid to give up on Bucky when thoughts of Sam entered his head.

"God, don't look at me like that Bucky!" Steve groaned, turning his head away, only for Bucky to grab his wrist with his greasy hands and bring the sandwich closer to bite. "You're the worst," he yelped as he felt those greasy hands holding tight, Bucky's blue gaze daring him to look away now that he had his attention.

"Punk, look me in the eye and tell me you aren't happy!" Bucky said seriously after chewing another mouthful. That pink tongue lazily ran along his bottom lip, gathering up the fallen sauce into his pink mouth.

"I'm not. But not in the way you think. I'm just not happy that you don't think you deserve more than… well this? I thought you wanted to be an engineer, not some car mechanic at a second-rate auto shop," Steve practically whined out. He would always cherish their friendship, but they couldn't stay stagnant like this forever. One or both of the friends would eventually move on.

"Things changed. Ma passed and Becca needed a wedding dress, and you needed that medicine," Bucky said softly, voice a little regretful. "Growing up is making those sacrifices and who says I don't like what I'm doing now?" he asked defensively.

"I know your trying to be the big brother here. But I can watch myself Buck. Also, Rebecca's happily married and expecting. Now when are you just going to do something just for you? It doesn't have to be going back to college. Just think about what you honestly want to do and I'll one-hundred percent support you," Steve offered kindly, his blue eyes softening. He wanted all the best things for his favorite person and if it meant it not being him right now, so be it.

Steve offered his best friend the last bite of his sandwich, offering to open a snack bag of chips so he could stuff his face with on his leisure.

"I'll think about it Stevie. Really, I will. After I finish work and go on my date tonight, I'm going to have a long hard think and figure out what I want to be in a few years," Bucky said sincerely, his smile soft and genuine.

xXx

A FEW NIGHTS LATER

was a fucking lie. Apparently, it wasn't just #1 site in dates, relationships and marriages. It was also #1 site in psycho killers, because why else would Bucky be running for his life. He prayed to God he had remembered to pay his phone bill so he could call for help.

This was supposed to be simple. Easy.

Brock Rumlow and he were supposed to do a movie and a dinner, maybe a little groping if Brock didn't turn out to be a complete asshole. That was off the table now. He didn't put out for serial killers, especially if he was going to be one of the ones being killed. But still... He used special soap for this.

He was a car mechanic and it was normal for him that even when he washed for the day, he had a little motor oil or car gunk behind his ear, in his hair, and somewhere else on his person because it came with the trade. But he had scrubbed himself for a good hour and did that word 'exfoliate'. He even got a haircut because Steve was complaining he looked like he could be a missing member of Duck Dynasty. So, he fucking invested time and money into this, shaved and slicked his freshly cut hair back and now he was going to make a sexy ass corpse if that asshole managed to get ahold of him.

AAAARRRWWWWWWWWOOOOOOO

'Is that wolf? I have to deal with psycho killers and wolves too. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is why I live in the city. The only wildlife I deal with are the rats, pigeons (sky rats) and bums,' he thought, trying to run in his date shoes. It wasn't that Bucky hated nature, he just preferred it from a distance like a nice screensaver or something. 'Should have worn my favorite sneakers, but no, Steven Grant Rogers, dating guru to no one thinks I should go all out for this because his life can't just be Grindr and dick pics.'

Bucky nearly dropped his phone as he fumbled to get it out of his pants to call up his best friend. "Hey Stevie!" the brunette gasped out.

"Why do you sound out of breath? Geeze don't tell me you called right after you two did it," Steve sounded disgusted on the other end of the call.

"Not even fucking close, Punk. This guy is crazy. I'm somewhere in fucking Black Creek State Forest running for my life. I lost my shoes a mile back. Use that find my iphone app or something in get your scrawny ass down here," he whispered screamed as loudly as he dared into the phone.

He could barely see what was in front of his face, it was so dark out. Brock and he had been hanging out in Brock's jeep, parking somewhere remote so they could do some romantic shit like stargaze and talk about themselves before heading out to dinner. They had started a light make-out session, nothing below the waist. Bucky had really wanted to see what the whole fuss was about not just having a one-night stand and playfully discouraged Brock not to go any further than a little teasing. Brock Rumlow's grin was downright ferocious as he showed gleaming white fanged teeth and glowing yellow eyes that suddenly appeared on Brock, had him vaulting from the car in a perfect need to fight or flight.

'What the fuck was he?' he had thought.

He was in the fucking zone. His thighs and calves burning from all his running as he crunched through the dead autumn leaves on the ground. That was until he tripped on a tree root and fell face first into a creek.

Bucky was cold, wet, scared, and a little pissed after having played extreme hide and go seek with Brock for what seemed like hours. He hunched his shoulders debating on whether he should take off his shirt or not. Bucky was soaked to the bone, but the fear and the thankfulness he had that the cell phone still was intact for him to make the call before he was out of bars.

Steve was who Bucky thought of the moment his life began to flash before his eyes. Steve was a knock-kneed, painfully thin, mother hen. The way he clucked around his best friend, picking up after him while telling him that he was the 'worse' could put a smile on any guy's face, especially Bucky's. If he had traded this dating thing with someone as sweet and thoughtful as Steve then he wouldn't be running for his life.

No, he was sure they would have cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie on television and feel comfort in each other's presence. The regret that clung to Bucky was palpable, wanting to say more to Steve. Needing to say more, but unable because there was no service any longer in the middle of the wooded area.

xXx

A FEW MINUTES LATER

"You're going after him?" Sam questioned Steve, concerned.

"He called. I gotta go. He's my best friend, but you don't have to come…" He knew Sam was in the area. The man had been heavily suggesting they should take things to the next level and meet up in person. But he had been too nervous to take such a bold step. Just seeing him on videocam set butterflies knocking around in his stomach. He wasn't sure what stupid thing he might say or do if he met the man in person. He was such a coward, but he needed to be brave for Bucky now.

"I know. When do we go? Just text me the coordinates and I'll meet up with you," Sam said firmly, broaching no room to protest.

Steve really wanted to smile at Sam right now, but couldn't since he was on the phone, shoving his feet into his worn Nike shoes. He grabbed the motorcycle keys, a backpack jammed with granola bars, a first aid kit, water bottles, and a handgun before he hurried out the door and hopped up on his motorcycle.

"Thanks Sammie," he said. He Blushed when he realized he let such a silly nickname slip from his mouth.

"No problems Cap. Can't leave you hanging without a wingman and if this also means I get to see the 'Steve Rogers' up close and personal, damn right I'm coming," Sam said warmly. There was rustling heard on his end of the line as if in preparation to leave.

"You're the worse," Steve huffed out, His face burning with his embarrassment, as he shut off his laptop to the flirtatious wink of Sam 'The Falcon' Wilson.

xXx

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Steve swore under his breath as he pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas of his motorcycle. He glanced down occasionally at his phone to make sure the coordinates coming from Bucky's iphone with where he was. It was kind of ironic that the graphic t-shirt he wore as he drove carefully through the wooded area was a blue Captain America vintage shirt. He didn't feel like a superhero as he occasionally called out to his best friend in the dark.

"Bucky, where are you? This is not the time to become another horror movie statistic!" shouted out Steve, blinking blurrily through his riding goggles. He needed them when wearing his glasses so they wouldn't blow off when driving.

"Screw you, you punk," gasped out a wet voice, from behind a tree, Steve nearly rolled by. Bucky stumbled as he tried to limp close to his best friend that had pulled to a full on stop, cell phone light nearly blinding him in the eerie darkness. "We gotta go fast," he murmured urgently, holding onto his torn, limp arm, trying to staunch the blood oozing from his arm. He was so grateful to see a familiar face as he gingerly got on behind Steve. His uninjured arm holding tightly onto that narrow waist as he leaned heavily onto him.

"Fuck Bucky. I'm not going to lie… You don't look great. More like the opposite of it," Steve said shakily, trying to sniffle back the tears that had started to form. He quickly drove backwards a few paces and made an awkward U-turn in the trees, his headlight helping to show him the trees he couldn't hit. "I mean you win for life. No matter how many times I managed to scrounge up a date… a werewolf? No, you win," Steve mumbled, revving up his motorcycle before taking off like a shot, just as he heard a nearby howl and a cry from Bucky behind him.

Steve narrowed his blue eyes in concentration, weaving through the foliage, hearing something big and scary behind him. He let out a cry of relief when he found an opening that would allow him to drive just a bit faster. But it was clear in the moonlight that was able to shine down now that trees weren't blocking the way, that something big was barreling closer to them. He one handedly pulled out his gun from his waistband, face screwed up in determination as he let a shot ring out. But the thing charging at them didn't slow down, big grey and angry. No matter how many times he shot at him before trying to swerve away from it. It was the stuff of nightmares with its yellow eyes and gleaning white fanged maw open wide and ready to take a juicy bite or tear with the sharp wickedly curved nails.

"Fuck Bucky, I'm so stupid for not telling you I'm in love with you sooner. We would have never been in this situation if I told you I wanted to date you. Not for you to find a stranger to make a commitment to," Steve began to rant. His gun aimed at the beasts legs, hoping to hobble it before he revved up his bike and turned. Except just when he thought he gained distance, the creature leaped and knocked them both off with a pained cry from both. Claws cutting through his skin like a hot knife through butter. He wasn't worthy of being a hero, he thought bitterly looking at his unconscious friend sprawled out in the field. His vision was already spotting with darkness as hot tears poured down the side of his face. He hoped to God Sam didn't find them so he wouldn't meet the same fate.

He let out a wet gasp as a chocolate brown werewolf body slammed into the grey wolf, just as the predator moved its' hot mouth closer to take a bite from his throat. He blinked blurrily up, eyes unable to focus and compute that the current fret wasn't weighing it's more than 200 pounds of weight on him and he could move. Steve tried. He really tried to clumsily roll over, fingers grasping at grass in hopes of tugging himself closer to his best friend and crush. But he blacked out from pain before he could move an inch, his Captain America t shirt slashed open and soaked with his blood. Unaware that the brown wolf returned moments later, whining lightly as it nuzzled softy at his blonde head.