Archive of Our Own

It should have been a simple mission. In and out. The Hydra base wasn't even a base; it was a farm, the remnants of Hydra barely managing a hail as they tried to scrape together plans for world domination.

It would have been a simple mission if it wasn't for the rooster. The goddamned, hellspawn motherfucking rooster.

Bucky was still bleeding when they piled into the Quinjet.

"I told you the roof wasn't going to hold your weight," Wilson said.

Bucky just glared as Steve passed him the first aid kit.

"But oh no, you didn't want to listen to me." 

"How come the rooster didn't listen to you," he muttered. "Aren't you family?"

Wilson laughed. "You want me to do that for you?" he asked as Bucky started unpacking the first aid kit.

"I can manage." Bucky started dabbing at the wounds. Fucking rooster had gotten him good, deep scratches down his cheeks, punctures from its beak across his hand. It had been deeply satisfying when it had backed off, dazed and staggering, after trying to stab his metal hand.  

Hydra had probably turned it into some kind of super rooster. God knew what they were doing on that farm. Nothing wholesome, that's for sure. Nothing ever again, now. The thought made him smile in grim satisfaction, despite the rooster-inflicted injuries.

"Can I…" Steve asked.

He glanced up to find Steve watching him with a lopsided smile.

"You're kind of," he waved a hand in the general direction of Bucky's face, "missing bits."

"If they packed a mirror in the kits…" Bucky grumbled, but handed the packet of wipes to Steve and leaned forward.

"I'll get right on that," Steve promised and started working on Bucky's face. His touch was gentle but sure, and Bucky barely noticed the sting of the antiseptic. Barely managed to stop himself from leaning hard into Steve's touch.

It didn't get any easier when Steve finished. He leaned in, studying his face from far too close—Bucky could feel his breath—then smiled, satisfied. "That's as good as it's gonna get," he pronounced, and scooped up Bucky's right hand, cradling it carefully as his touch sent little electric shocks of longing though his veins.

It was hard, being in love with Steve, but he was almost one hundred percent sure he'd had a lot of practice. That loving Steve was indelibly inscribed on his bones and muscles and heart, something even Hydra hadn't been able to erase.

He watched Steve work on his hand, frowning in concentration as he cleaned the punctures from a rooster's beak—and it was hilarious, really, that a bird had hurt him when the Hydra goons hadn't managed, but then the bird had been competent.

This was what Steve did. He took care of him, had been taking care of him since he'd first stumbled back into Steve's life. Would keep taking care of him, no matter what Bucky needed. It was why Bucky had to keep how he felt tucked away in his bones and muscles and heart. Steve had given him enough, given him too much, really, pulled him up from the bottom of a deep hole where the light didn't reach, and Bucky sure as shit hadn't made it easy for him.

Bucky wouldn't put this on him, not when Bucky knew he was on his own with how he felt.

*   *   *

"Captain Rogers."

Steve snorted awake and wiped the drool off his chin. "Jarvis?" It was just past sunrise, if the numbers on the clock he was squinting at weren't lying to him. Normally he was all for early rising, but they'd hadn't gotten in until after midnight last night.

"There is a situation in Sergeant Barnes' room."

He was instantly alert, practically vibrating with worry. "What sort of situation are we talking about?" It could be anything, in the past it had been, but it shouldn’t be. Not now. Bucky had been doing so good for so long.

There was a thoughtful pause. "I believe this is something you'd do better to see for yourself."

Okay, nothing bad, then, even if Jarvis was acting squirrely. "I'm on my way." He pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and hurried down the hall. The door to Bucky's room wasn't locked—another sign of how well he was doing—but he knocked. "Bucky? Everything okay in there?"

There was no response. He slowly pushed the door open and went in.

It was dark, the blackout curtains pulled over the windows blocking even the faintest hint of light, but they both knew the layout of every room in the apartment, could walk it with their eyes closed. It was easy enough to make his way past Bucky's complete lack of stuff and twitch the curtain aside.

An ear-splitting crow shattered the peaceful silence.

"What the hell?"

Standing in the middle of the bed, head cocked, watching Steve balefully out of beady eyes, was a rooster. A great big rooster, nearly two foot tall, blond on top and black on the bottom, with an arching black tail and wicked looking spurs.

As Steve stared, open mouthed, the rooster tipped his head back and crowed again. A perfect cock-a-doodle-doo, wing flapping madly.

Wing. Not wings. The rooster only had one wing.

Steve had seen enough impossible things he made the leap fast enough, but he couldn’t. He literally could not make the words leave his mouth. He got as far as, "Is that…" and stopped.

"Yes, Captain. That is Sergeant Barnes."

His mouth moved but no sound came out until he swallowed and managed to ask, "Bucky?"

The rooster strutted to the edge of the bed and hopped off, landing with an ungraceful thump, and made his way to stand at Steve's feet. Glaring up at him.

"Bucky," he breathed, stunned, shocked, frozen in that space where nothing seemed real.

…until Bucky pecked his bare foot. Hard. "Ow, what the hell was that for?"

Bucky raised his one wing and twitched his head sideways, before glaring up at Steve again.

"Right. Right, you're a rooster."

No shit, Bucky's expression seemed to say. What are you going to do about it?

What was Steve going to do about it? Laughing hysterically didn't seem like an appropriate reaction, and it would definitely get him pecked again.

He crouched down, getting closer to Bucky's level.

Because he was a rooster.

Jesus fuck.

You're Captain America. Bucky needs you. Pull yourself together.

"This has gotta have something to do with that rooster that attacked you yesterday."

Steve got that no shit look again. It made something unwind inside him, because it was Bucky. That was Bucky's no shit look. It meant it was still him inside those feathers.

"We need to find out where they took it, and…" He knew Bucky wasn't going to like this. "And we need to talk to Tony."

Bucky flapped his wing and let out a low noise, obviously unhappy.

"Bucky. You're a rooster. This isn't something we can figure out on our own. Unless you want to wait around and see if it wears off?"

He made the noise again, then strutted in a circle around Steve, pecking unhappily at his pants leg, then sighed.

"That's a yes?"

Another peck, this one gentler, with a little tug, which Steve decided was agreement.

"Jarvis, is Tony awake?"

"Sir did not go to sleep last night."

Steve winced. That could make this interesting. "Can you tell him I'm coming up?"

"Shall I inform him of the nature of your visit?"

"Could you keep it quiet for the moment? This is something I'd rather explain in person."

"Certainly."

"Thanks, Jarvis."

Steve looked at Bucky, who looked back. He really was…kind of pretty, with his shocks of blond feathers across his neck and back, flaring down over his wing, and there was green shining in the black of his tail and body.

Right. That's great Steve. Now you're ogling Bucky when he's a rooster.

The whole thing was surreal. If stick-legged melting elephants cantered past, he wouldn't even be surprised. "Can I carry you?"

Bucky drew back, affronted, and it was incredible how Bucky that was.

"You can walk, but it's going to take a lot longer."

Bucky scraped one clawed foot across the floor, and Steve couldn’t help noticing how long, how sharp, his talons were, and the spurs on the backs of his legs, then he tugged at Steve's pant leg with his beak.

Steve gently scooped him up, one hand under his chest, and lifted him as he stood. For a moment, Bucky struggled, then went still as Steve soothed him, rearranging him until he was secure.

"Okay?"

Bucky let his head drop against Steve's chest. Steve figured it was the best he was going to get and headed for the elevator.

Not too much later, Jarvis was letting him into Tony's main lab. Bruce was sitting on a stool, watching Tony poke at a mess of wires and lights. They both looked up as Steve came in, Bucky held close to his chest, and Tony's eyes widened briefly in surprise.

"Barefoot and carrying a chicken. Have you decided to become an 1890s housewife?" Tony asked. "Also, no animals in the lab unless they're dead and cooked. Preferably in a nice sauce."

Steve clutched Bucky tighter. "No," he snapped out, not realising he'd used his Captain America voice until it was too late not to.

Tony straightened and looked at Bruce.

Bruce shrugged. "I'm not sure why you're looking at me. I'm a vegetarian."

"What's with the Capness, Your Capness. Did you get a pet?"

Steve took a deep breath. "It's Bucky."

"Bucky got a pet?"

"No, this, the rooster. It's Bucky."

Silence greeted his announcement. Even the robots turned to stare at him. One of them, Steve thought it was Dum-E, gave an inquiring chirp.

"What he said," Tony said. "Are we looking at a new, improved, prankster Cap? Because I have to tell you, you can do better than this."

Instead of trying to argue or explain, Steve said, "Jarvis?"

"At approximately 6:09 this morning Sergeant Barnes transformed into a gallus gallus domesticus, also known as a rooster, cockerel, or cock." Jarvis paused, then went on, "Specifically, I believe he is a breed of game-cock but without genetic testing it's impossible to determine precisely."

"That's a lot of cock for this early in the morning," Tony muttered as Bruce came over to peer at Bucky. "Were there any unusual readings, signals, anything?"

"Nothing apart from the transformation itself."

"Yeah, that's probably unusual enough."

"Does he know who he is?" Bruce asked.

Bucky twitched his head around and eyed Bruce, then gave a low gurgling croak.

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a yes," Steve confirmed, smoothing a gentle hand down Bucky's feathers.

"Here's my question," Tony said. "I don't see a shiny, shiny wing, so: where's the arm?"

Steve had been wondering the same thing. "I don't know."

"Jarvis?"

"Sergeant Barnes' metal arm is not currently located in the tower."

"Huh." Tony stared into space, then shook himself and pointed at Steve. "Alright, Diogenes, put him down there and let me take a look at him." A spot in the floor opened and a metal plinth rose up. "Jarvis, get me everything you can from the Hydra raid yesterday and find out what they did with the animals. I want that rooster."

"How—" Steve began.

Tony interrupted him, deliberately casual as he said, "I get injury reports for every mission I'm not on. I know he got attacked by a rooster. Two and two equal that." He pointed at Bucky. "Now get him on the scanner, chop chop."

"You okay with that?" Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky turned his head and grabbed Steve's shirt, giving it a gentle tug. It had become the default for yes, so Steve set him on the plinth and stepped back.

A grid of blue lights filled the space around Bucky, sliding over him vertically and horizontally, before disappearing into nothing.  

"Well," Bruce said when a hologram of the scan appeared in the air, "he's a rooster."

*   *   *

The day passed. Slowly. Jarvis presented Tony with everything they'd pulled from Hydra's computers at the farm, and the rooster who'd attacked Bucky was secured and a sample of its blood arrived.

More equipment showed up. Tony and Bruce conferenced in Doctor Cho.

Steve took Bucky to the bathroom and hoped he wouldn't fall in. He didn't.

The internet gave him the dietary requirements for chickens, but also said they could eat table scraps, so he fed him part of his lunch. Steve knew they didn't have to stay here, in the lab, but if they found an answer, or needed Bucky, better if they were close by.

Bucky…wasn't happy. He wasn't happy about Steve having to tear his food into tiny pieces and feed it to him a bit at a time. He wasn't happy about being carried to the bathroom. He wasn't happy about being a rooster. From time to time he'd restlessly strut around the lab, flapping his wing and making unhappy noises, but he'd let Steve coax him back to his side. Let Steve run his fingers through his feathers. Let Steve soothe him.

As the sun set and darkness fell outside the lab, Bucky suddenly cocked his head, and, where there'd been a rooster, there was now a naked Bucky, looking equal parts pissed and panicked, metal arm intact.

"What the fuck. What the fucking fuck?"

"You gonna do something about that potty mouth, Cap?" Tony asked, but it was perfunctory, laden with exhaustion.

What Steve wanted to do was kiss it, then wrap Bucky up so tightly he couldn't move. He didn't. What he did was ignore Tony and move to stand between Bucky and the rest of the room.

Bucky was making no attempt to cover any part of himself and Steve got a good look at all of him, lean toned muscle and the scars ringing his metal arm, before deliberately focussing on his face. His eyes were wild.

"Are you okay?" He reached out but let his hand fall before he was halfway through the motion. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel? I was a fucking chicken."

"Rooster," Steve corrected.

"Were-cock," Tony said, without lifting his head from the notes he was studying.

"Tony." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose while he accepted the stretchy pants and black AC/DC t-shirt Bruce brought over and passed them to Bucky, who pulled them on, the shirt far too small.

"What? Someone changes into a wolf they're a werewolf. You heard Jarvis. He transformed into a cock, and that means he's a were-cock."

"Why?" Steve asked in a tone of longsuffering.

Tony just grinned at him.

"Tony," Bruce said. "That's not right." Steve gave Bruce a grateful smile, but it faded as Bruce continued, "He'd only be a were-cock if he turned into one at set intervals based on consistent stimuli. So far it was only once." There was pure mischief in Bruce's eyes as he glanced over at Steve.

Before Steve could say anything, Bucky started laughing quietly. Steve turned to him. He looked better, the wild look faded, replaced by tired amusement. "Were-cock. I like it. Sounds better than turning into a chicken, anyway."

"See?" Tony said triumphantly. "Were-cock."

Steve sighed, loudly, deliberately, because it was expected, because it helped cover the burbling warmth, the sheer relief, Bucky's laughter sent reeling through him.

"So," Tony went on, "you're you again, and that's great, but I still want to know why you weren't you, and where your arm went, and that's going to take some figuring out."

"Tomorrow," Bruce said.

"But—"

Tony looked ready to argue, but Bucky skewered him with a sharp look and said, "I'm the one it happened to, and I say it can wait."

Eyes narrowed, Tony said, "Fine. Then you can get out of my lab. Both of you."

Bucky snorted, and headed for the elevator, waving a hand when Tony called after him, "And I want that shirt back!"

Steve followed Bucky with his eyes, then turned back to Tony. "Get some sleep," Steve told him. "And Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks." He turned to Bruce. "Thank you both."

Bruce smiled, but Tony scowled. "None of that, go on, get out." Tony flapped his hands at him. "We didn't do anything. Your rooster turned back all on his own, nothing to do with us."

There was no point arguing with him, no point saying they'd spent the whole day working to try and reverse whatever had been done to Bucky—Tony on no sleep—so Steve gave him a quick nod and left.   

Bucky was waiting by the elevator.

"Can I ask a favour?" he said as Steve reached him.

Anything. You can ask for anything and it won't be a favour. I'll give you anything, Bucky. He didn't say it. Instead he said, "Of course."

"Think I could stay in your room tonight?"

Okay, his heart needed to stop doing that. Super soldier serum or not, that kind of wild leaping around was going to give him a heart-attack. "Of course," he said again. "Anytime you want."

"Thanks." Bucky ran his right hand through his hair. "Just feels like maybe if I stay in my room I'm gonna wake up a chicken—"

"Rooster."

"Were-cock," Bucky said, with a hint of a grin, "again."

Steve shook his head, trying to force a stern look on his face, knowing he was failing. "I'm not calling you that."

"Aw, Steve. Not even once?"

"Not even once."

Bucky laughed, long and loud, as they got into the elevator, and Steve breathed deep, like he could inhale Bucky's happiness.

After dinner, Bucky disappeared into his room. Steve washed the dishes, then caught up on some paperwork, trying to keep himself busy, trying to keep his mind off what had happened today.

He heard the shower start up and about twenty minutes later Bucky popped his head around the door to his office. "I'll meet you in your room when I'm ready for bed?"

"Sounds good, Bucky." Understatement of the year. "You can have the bed. I'll get set up on the floor."

There was a fine tension running through Bucky when he said, "If you're okay with it, we can share. It's big enough."

"You sure?"

"Sure enough." He was gone again before Steve could reply.  

He made his way down the hall to his room in something like a daze that lasted through his evening routine of getting ready for bed.

He was sitting on the end of it when Bucky tapped on the door. "Hey."  

"Hey."

"Left or right?" Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, so Steve took the left, leaving the right to Bucky. It was the side closest to the door. If Bucky decided he needed to leave, Steve wouldn't be in his way. By the knowing look Bucky gave him, he knew what Steve was doing.

Neither of them said anything. Not about that, and not as they climbed into bed. It was big enough that there was room for two super soldiers between them, and maybe a third normal person, if they were very friendly.

"Lights out?" Steve asked.

"Hard to sleep if you don't."

"Smart ass," Steve said and flicked out the lights.

"Yeah, I guess it could have been worse," Bucky mused.

Steve's eyes adjusted fast and he could see his outline in the light from the window. Unlike Bucky, he didn't use blackout curtains. "What?"

"I could have turned into an ass. Imagine being a were-donkey."

"You could have turned into an ass?"

"If I'd fallen into a stable instead of a chicken coop, sure."

"Bucky," Steve said seriously. "Who'd have noticed?"

Steve wasn't surprised Bucky hit him with the pillow. He snatched it out of Bucky's hands and shoved it under his head.

"See if I ever sleep with you again," Bucky muttered.

"Unless you're talking in your sleep, you're not sleeping with me now."

"You're a lousy host, Steve Rogers."

"Here." Steve offered him the pillow back. "Now get some sleep. It's been a long day."

Steve stayed awake as long as he could, listening to Bucky breathe only a few feet away from him. It wasn't the first time a man named Steve and a man named Bucky had shared a bed—winters had been cold in their tenement—but it was the first time for the people they were now. It felt like a gift and it felt like a cheat, Bucky asking for it like a favour when Steve'd be happy if he never left.  

Bucky was a relaxed stretch of muscle across the bed from him. If he just reached out he'd be able to run his fingers along his gleaming metal arm where it rested on the pillow next to his head, brush his hair back where it fell in a soft wave over his face.

He didn't. He wouldn't. Just like he wouldn't let Bucky know he loved him. Bucky had enough to carry, he didn't need the weight of Steve's feelings, but his determination couldn't stop the peace of Bucky's presence from lulling him into sleep.

*   *   *

Bucky hadn't had a good day. He'd challenge anyone to have a good day after they'd been turned into a rooster and if they claimed they'd enjoyed it, he'd call them a goddamned liar.

If he was going to get changed into something, why couldn’t it have been a…a wolf or a bear or something with some majesty. Not a motherfucking were-cock.

He didn't snicker, not out loud, because he didn't want to wake Steve, who was sleeping as peacefully as a baby, sprawled out over the bed, toes just nudging Bucky's calf. He resisted the temptation to hook his foot over Steve's.

Bucky was weirdly grateful to Stark. Not for everything he and Banner had done and were going to do to try and figure out what had been done to him; he was just plain old grateful for that. No, he was weirdly grateful for were-cock. It was one of the most immature, flat-out dumbest things he'd ever heard but it had helped.

It helped because he'd woken up as a one-winged rooster, his metal arm just gone, and they didn't know why. He'd woken up with his body changed, completely out of his control, and if he thought too hard about it he was going to freak out. Were-cock tamed it. Were-cock put it in its stupid place. You couldn’t be scared of something called a were-cock; all you could do was roll your eyes and laugh at it.

He wondered if Stark had known what he was doing. As obnoxious as he was, he was a genius. Deliberate or not, Bucky was taking it. Steve's reaction was just a bonus.

He let his eyes rest on Steve. He was so different when he was asleep, soft and relaxed in way that never happened when he was awake. He shifted closer, close enough that his nose was almost brushing Steve's. He knew Steve's breathing, could tell he was deep in REM sleep, so he took his chance. It might never come again. "I love you," he whispered. "You're an idiot half the time and reckless the other half, and you give me too much. You've given me too much. I'm not going to ask you for this, because I know you don't—" He stopped, shook his head. "But I love you."

As he moved away, he had to gently guide Steve's hand down as Steve reached for him in his sleep. Proximity and warmth, he guessed.  

When he finally slept, he slept deep and dreamless. Even asleep he'd been able to feel Steve's presence, feel the warmth that radiated from him like a solar flare.

Until he woke up with the urge to yell at the sun.

Motherfucker.

He was tangled in his shirt and he shoved at it with his head, keeping his wing tucked in close to his body, heard the rip of fabric as his spurs caught and tore. Goddammit, I liked this shirt. It was one of Steve's he'd stolen not long after he'd stopped running and come in, soft and worn, and Steve had never asked for it back.

There was a snort and a mumble that was Steve waking up. For a brief moment he thought about going still, pretending he wasn't here, wasn't the goddamn former Winter Solder stuck in a shirt, but Steve snorted again and rolled over and he realised how stupid that was. It was humiliating, but this was Steve.

He surrendered to the urge to yell and let loose a muffled crow.

Steve shot up so fast the blankets went flying. "Bucky?"

He croaked and flapped his wing.

"Hang on." Big hands came down on either side of him, and he was lifted up, shirt and all, and then Steve gently set him down on top of the blankets. Steve lifted the neck of the shirt and peered in. Bucky peered back at him. "I'm going to rip it. It's the easiest way to get you out."

Steve grabbed the edge of the shirt and tore it in two like it was made of paper, setting Bucky free.

He crowed again, because now that he could see the sun it was impossible to resist.

Steve winced, then said, "You're a rooster again, huh?"

Under the casual words, Bucky could hear Steve's worry, could hear the razor-edge of fear. It mirrored his own. Even were-cock couldn't banish it all. He bobbed his head, the closest he could get to nodding, and flapped his wing.

Then, unable to help himself, he pressed himself against Steve's stomach, all his feathers fluffing up. Steve folded his hands around him, holding him close, and Bucky shoved his head under Steve's arm.

"We'll figure it out," Steve said softly. "I promise we're gonna figure this out."

*   *   *

"I was afraid this might happen," Bruce said later when Steve brought Bucky up to the lab, Bucky snuggled close against his chest. "He changed when the sun came up?"

"Yeah," Steve said.

"Makes perfect sense," Tony said.

"How does any of this make sense?" Steve asked.

"Werewolves turn at the full moon, right?"

"Now we're accepting the existence of werewolves?"

"Bucky turned into a rooster," Bruce said. "I'm not sure we're in a position to be questioning anything at this point."

Tony pointed at Bruce and nodded emphatically. "Now roosters, roosters do their thing at sunrise, so if you're a were-cock." Tony grinned a little and waggled his eyebrows at Bucky, who let out a low-pitched squawk that sounded like laughter. "It makes sense that's when he'd change."

*   *   *

They'd been dismissed from the lab with orders to be back in time for sunset. Now, Steve watched Bucky strut through the apartment. Up the hall, down the hall, through the kitchen, the living room, disappearing into the bedrooms, the offices. There was a lot of apartment—they had most of the floor—and while Bucky might be large for a rooster, he was still small, but eventually he came and settled by Steve's side with a sigh.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Bucky grabbed Steve's shirt and tugged emphatically.

"We could go to the park?" Steve had seen people walking cats, ferrets, parrots and once a large, pink pig. A rooster was nothing next to a pig. He didn't have a leash, and even if he did he wouldn't put it on Bucky, but he could carry him.

It wasn't far to the little park Steve had in mind, a gift from some huge corporation to demonstrate that they were 'of the people'. Normally Steve avoided it out of pure cynicism, but today it was handy, and he settled with Bucky under a tree. Midmorning in the middle of the week meant there weren't many people around, but the pigeons seemed happy to make up the numbers. They descended from the sky and advanced on Steve like a miniature battalion scouting for food.

Bucky lowered his head, scraping the ground with his talons, grass flying up behind him. As the first one got close to Steve's feet, he charged, wing flapping, and drove them off, sending them tumbling in terror back into the sky.

Steve tipped his head back and laughed. Bucky puffed his chest out and strutted in a half-circle around Steve, head cocked like he was watching the sky in case they decided to try again. "Pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

Bucky crowed.

The not-many-people suddenly seemed like a lot more as they all turned to look at him, the man with the rooster. He had his hat pulled low over his eyes, but it wasn't the best disguise. Bucky, he quickly realised, was. Only a weirdo would bring a rooster to the park and everyone knew Captain America wasn't a weirdo. That meant the big guy under the tree couldn't be Captain America.

God bless logic.

"Quit that," Steve told him.

Bucky gave a low call and nestled next to Steve's thigh. The sun was shining down on him, making his feathers gleam, and Steve ran his fingers from the top of his head to the base of his tail, scratching gently. Bucky stretched out his wing, rested his head on Steve's leg, and closed his eyes. For a minute, Steve let himself imagine Bucky as himself, stretched out under the tree, his head resting on Steve's thigh as Steve ran his fingers through his hair. Bucky smiling as Steve leaned down to kiss him. Bucky wanting Steve to lean down and kiss him.

He shook his head to clear the images away.

Having Bucky back was more than he'd ever dreamed of, more than he'd ever thought possible. He didn't need anything more than what they had.

*   *   *

Jarvis was displaying a holographic countdown to sunset in the corner of the lab, low enough Bucky could see it from his place on the floor.

There was new equipment, stuff he didn't recognise, stuff that looked too organic to belong in Stark's lab: wood and leather and some kind of…he didn't know. Maybe a dried plant? It looked out of place next to the gleaming metal and lights.

Banner and Stark wanted readings of him when he changed. Apparently that would give them the missing piece of the puzzle, which they were going to get right…now.

"Motherfucker."

Steve was there instantly, handing him clothes, and he snatched the sweats out of his hands and pulled them on, accepted the shirt and did the same, then let Steve pull him to his feet. He didn't keep going, didn't walk straight into Steve and stay there, plastered against him, even though he desperately wanted to.

"She was right," Banner said.

"Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever," Stark grumbled and Banner grinned.

"Who was right about what?" Steve asked.

"Who…is not something we can share, but she's reliable. What she was right about is that it's not just science, it's magic. Which was what she told you this morning, Tony."

"Excuse me for wanting to make sure before we start waving wands around and chanting."

"What are you two talking about?" Bucky asked.

"Whatever Hydra was trying to do, they were using magic to do it. Honestly, Tony might not have been too far off with the whole were-cock thing. It looks they were using some strange mix of magic they didn't understand and science they didn't understand to try and to give animal characteristics to humans."

"Why?"

"They don't say, but most likely to make them into stronger fighters."

Bucky didn't look at Steve, and he could feel Steve not looking at him. Knock-off super soldier serum but with animal parts. Fantastic. Banner didn't look happy about it, either.

The moment passed, and Steve said, "But roosters?"

"Hey," Bucky said. "That little bastard was tough. If he'd been human-sized he'd have given you a run for your money."

"Sure he would have," Steve said, and his voice was so soft, so fond, so, god, he wanted to call it loving, but it wasn't. He knew it wasn't, it was just Steve, who gave him so much, but it made it hard to breathe. Steve looked away. "What does all that mean for Bucky?"

"Right." Stark rubbed his hands together, disturbingly gleeful. "The bad news is we need to make a few calls, but the good news is we'll be able to fix him."

"No more were-cock?" Bucky asked.

"No more were-cock," Stark replied. For a second, he held Bucky's eyes like a promise, then he grinned, all flash again, Steve was shaking his head and they were being shooed out of the lab.

*   *   *

At sunrise tomorrow, Bucky knew he was going to turn into a rooster. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse knowing it was coming.

What he did know was that it didn't matter where he slept: his room, Steve's room, Stark's lab—it was going to happen. The curse of the were-cock had struck and there was no escaping.

As the elevator carried them back down to their floor, he started chuckling.

Steve gave him a concerned look.

Bucky waved it away. "Just thinking. Curse of the Were-cock'd probably make a lousy movie."

Steve snorted, then said thoughtfully, "I don't know. Maybe it depends on what sort of movie you're making."

It set Bucky off again, and he leaned against the side of the elevator, laughing while Steve grinned at him.

"Feel better?" he asked when Bucky finally stopped, ushering him into the hallway.

"A little, yeah."

"Dinner?"

"I could eat."

"Want to stay with me again tonight?"

He stopped. "I—" Yes, he did, but he didn't need to. He just wanted to.

Steve turned to face him. "We both know what's going to happen in the morning. You don't have to be alone."

Steve was too good to him.

"You should stay," Steve said before he could answer.

"Giving me orders?"

"Don't I outrank you?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Bucky said and led the way out of the elevator. "And I'll stay. Thanks."

That night he fell asleep with his feet pressed against Steve's shins.

He woke up under Steve's arm, its heavy weight holding him in place, his back pressed against Steve's chest, Steve's chin resting on top of his head. He had maybe thirty seconds to enjoy it, to enjoy Steve's breath on his neck, the feel of his heart beating, and then…

He was a rooster.

Goddammit.

He was still nestled in the curve of Steve's arm, but it wasn't the same. He wriggled until he could poke his head out of his shirt, and he was so close to Steve's ear he grabbed hold of the near-irresistible urge to let loose and crow and tugged gently on Steve's hair instead.

Steve twitched, twitched again, opened his eyes and said, "I know it was stupid, but I really hoped it wasn't going to happen."

You and me both.

Steve sighed and gently hugged him, then put his hands over his ears. "Go ahead."

Gratefully, Bucky stood up and crowed, once, twice, three times, then settled back down.

"You just can't help it, can you?"

He twitched his head sideways, then lifted his wing. Steve didn't rip his shirt this time, and with some careful manoeuvring soon had him free.

They didn't get up. Bucky cuddled up against Steve's chest, Steve folded his arms around him, one big hand cradling him close, and they stayed that way until the sun was high in the sky.

*   *   *

The last thing Steve wanted was a call-out, but bad guys rarely scheduled things based on Steve's convenience. When the alarm went off, half way through the morning, Steve called for Jarvis to throw it up on the main screen as he shoved his comm in and started pulling on his uniform. "What are those?"

"Don't know, Steve." Sam's voice came over the comms. "Alert came in about ten minutes ago, couple of kids spotted them crawling out of an abandoned mine. Don't think there's anything natural about them, though."

Steve took in the three tentacle legs, the slime trails, the saucer-like eyes, the mouths full of fangs. "Agreed. Are they—" He frowned at the screen as he sealed the front of his uniform. "How big are we talking?"

"The little ones are a few feet high. The big ones are hitting ten-twelve feet."

"Numbers?"

"Up to thirty at this point, but they're still coming."

Steve slipped the shield on his back and headed for the elevator. He made it about a foot and had to stop.  

Bucky was blocking his path, wing out-stretched, glaring hard.

"Sam, I've got to go off comms."

"Okay? Natasha and Clint are back, they're meeting us at the Quinjet."

"Tony's buried in something he can't leave unless we need him, but if they're back, we should be fine without. I won't be long," he promised and flicked his comm off. "Bucky, I have to go."

Bucky brought his wing down hard and sank his talons into the carpet. Steve heard it tear. The message was clear enough. He'd seen it enough times back when Bucky had still been recovering and Steve had tried to leave him behind.

You are not leaving without me.

They'd fought about it, about Steve making Bucky's choices for him. Whatever Steve had thought, Bucky could decide for himself what he was ready for, decide what he could and couldn’t do.

This was different. Wasn't it? As afraid as Steve had sometimes been for him in those days, he'd still been Bucky, still been the former Sergeant Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, deadlier than anyone Steve had ever met.

He was still all those things, but he was stuck in the body of a rooster.

Steve stared down at him and as Bucky stared back he understood that, whatever Bucky currently looked like, Steve didn't get to make his choices for him. Steve could love him, Steve could protect him, but Steve didn't get to choose.

Steve crouched down. "If you come, everyone's going to know."

Bucky straightened and stretched up and Steve, with a heart full of lead, scooped him up and flipped his comm back on. "I'm on my way."

When he leapt into the Quinjet, Bucky tucked against his chest, and swung into a seat, saying, "Sorry, got held up," Natasha was the first to spot Bucky.

"I'm sorry," she said dryly, "this airline is no longer accepting emotional support animals in the cabin."

"Ha," Steve said, trying to figure out if there was some way he could strap Bucky in.

"New mascot?" Clint asked. "Because we can do better."

"Why do you have a rooster?" Sam asked bluntly.

He looked down at Bucky. Bucky looked pained.

"You insisted on coming," Steve told him. "Now you have to deal with the consequences."

Bucky tried to grab his uniform, but his beak just slid off, and he pecked the front of it in irritation. Steve tried not to smile, because it was adorable, and scratched his neck. Bucky settled down in his arms, feathers fluffing out in contentment.

When Steve lifted his head, they were all staring at him. "It's Bucky."

"It's…" Sam said, trailing off.

"Bucky, yeah."

"Was it the rooster?"

"Yup."

"Huh."

"Why is Bucky a rooster?" Natasha asked.

"Short answer, he got attacked by a Hydra rooster. Long answer, Hydra was screwing around with stuff they didn't understand, and Bucky copped the consequences." He didn't mean for it to come out as bitter as it sounded. "Bruce and Tony are working on it, they think they'll have a solution soon."

"Hydra's recruiting roosters now?" Clint asked.

"Experimenting with them. World domination through better farming."

"Suddenly that shithole we got sent to's looking pretty good," Clint said. "Strap in, we need to get this show on the road."

*   *   *

Barton had put the Quinjet down on a jutting rock overlooking the dirt field that surrounded the entrance to the mine. Steve had set up the display before they'd left, so Bucky could watch, but it wasn't made for a rooster's eyes, and he had to keep twitching his head his head back and forth.

He eventually gave up, slammed his beak down on the door button, and went and watched from there. The tentacle-things were pale, standing out against the brown dirt, and hideous, the little ones slippery and fast, the big ones absorbing a ton of damage before they'd keel over dead.

Barton was taking them out, arrows slicing through eyes, and Bucky fought back a surge of jealousy. If they'd attacked at night… Wilson was looping the perimeter, keeping them contained, Romanoff working through them with Steve, who had three big ones locked down, hammering them with his shield.

He didn't see the small one sliding up behind him.

Bucky had been a sniper before he'd been the Winter Soldier. He knew how to watch for threats. How to see things others might miss. He was currently a rooster, and the point of a rooster, apart from make more chickens, was protect the flock.

Bucky's instincts lined up with his current body's and he leapt out of the Quinjet to race across the dirt, easily weaving through the fight, to launch himself at it just as it launched itself at Steve's head. He hit it with feet extended, spurs sinking in, and raked down viciously, green blood spurting. It hit the ground squealing, tentacles flailing, but he dodged and went for its eyes.

His spurs were basically knives strapped to his feet and he drove them deep, raking and clawing, and the thing flopped down dead, green blood oozing from its eye sockets. Bucky wanted to crow in triumph, but he didn't. He bristled, silent, looking for another enemy, only to find himself scooped up in a gloved hand.

Steve. And he was furious. 

"You…" he ground out, too angry to talk, and ripped open the front of his uniform to shove Bucky inside.

The fight didn't last long after that. The tentacle-things had stopped coming out of the mine and Steve's anger had the ones that were left trying to get away from him, sending them right into Wilson's guns.

Soon enough, there were no more tentacle-things.

They secured the site and discovered, deep inside the mine, the remains of a man whose motives would forever remain a mystery, given how little was left of him, and his home-built 3D printers, loaded with mutated biological slurry, that had been spurting out the tentacle-things. Once a clean-up team arrived, and a team to secure the printers and what was left of the slurry, they were free to climb back in the Quinjet and leave.

Once he was settled, Steve pulled Bucky out of his uniform. It wasn't easy. The blood had dried, and he was partly stuck. Steve had to carefully pull his feathers free where they were attached to his undershirt, and he knew blood must be smeared all over the inside of Steve's uniform.

It was certainly smeared all over Bucky.

Wilson cleared his throat. "Guy's still got skills under all those feathers."

Damn right, I do. He gave a little head bob of approval.

Steve glowered. "He's barely two foot tall. He's only got one wing. He'd could've been stepped on. He could've been eaten. He could've been killed." He switched his glower to Bucky. "You could've been dead, and I wouldn't have known until I came back and you weren't here." 

Steve's fingers sank into his stiff, bloody feathers. Bucky could feel them shaking.

"Easy, Steve," Wilson said. "He's okay. And next time he's gonna stay put. Right?"

Bucky bobbed his head once, then stretched it up to, to, he didn't know, he didn't know what to do with Steve's shaking hands. Didn't know how to make this better. He ended up pressing his head against Steve's chin. Steve tilted his head down, his nose brushing Bucky's feathers, and let out a long breath.

"Right," he said after a bit. "Thanks, Sam."  

*   *   *

The rest of the ride back to the tower had mostly been silent. At least for Steve. He'd spent it trying not to think about how easily Bucky could have died. He could hear the others talking, but they let him be.

When they arrived, Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you get him cleaned up before you have to pluck him. I can take care of the debrief."

"Are you sure?"

"I think I can handle it. We killed a bunch of tentacle beasts some idiot cooked up in his 3D printer and got eaten for his trouble. This one was pretty simple."

"I know you can, but it's not—"

"If you're about to say it's not my job, you can just stop." Sam gave him a little shove. "Go clean your bird."  

*   *   *

Steve had Bucky sitting in the bathtub, warm water swirling around his feet as Steve gently rubbed his feathers with soapy water, when he sighed and said, "I shouldn't have gotten so angry at you."

Bucky cocked his head.

"I was scared, but that's not—" He shook his head and picked at a tough bit of blood. The water was turning pale green. "That doesn't give me the right to get mad at you."

Bucky lifted one foot and put it down, splashing the water, and grabbed Steve's shirt in his beak, tugging gently.

Steve's mouth quirked. "I know that usually means yes, but I'm having trouble picking up the context here," he said. "Hang on, let me rinse you." He drained the tub and ran the tap, filling his cupped hands and pouring water over Bucky until he was soap free. He looked like a drowned…like a drowned rooster, but at least he wasn't covered in green blood anymore.

"There." He turned away to get a towel and turned back to get a face full of water as Bucky shook himself. "That's great, Buck, thanks," he said as he dried his face.  

Bucky made a low sound and scrambled up the side of the tub until he was perched on the edge, almost eye-level with Steve, who was kneeling on the floor. He watched Bucky with a little frown as he shuffled down closer to him, then spread out his wing. When Steve didn't move, he tapped it impatiently on the tub then lifted it again.

Slowly, Steve turned around and sat, leaning back against the tub, sliding down low, and Bucky folded his wing over him. It was damp, and it smelled like damp feathers, but he leaned against Steve, he was warm, and it felt like a hug. Strange as it was, it felt good. It helped chase away the last of the fear that had spiked through him when he'd turned and seen Bucky standing there, small and fragile and covered in blood.

"I'll be glad when this is over," Steve said. "I miss you when you're not you. I can't imagine life without you."

Bucky rubbed his head against Steve's temple, then hopped down onto the floor and tugged on the towel.  

"Sure, I can do that." He rubbed him dry, until his feathers fluffed up like he'd stuck his toe in an electric socket. "That's a good look on you."

Bucky eyed him suspiciously.

"Here, I'll show you," he said and scooped him up to hold him in front of the mirror.

Bucky stared at himself, head twitching this way and that, made a half-hearted attempt to flatten his feathers, then bobbed his head in satisfaction.

"Yeah, I'll admit it. You're pretty handsome…apart from the fluff."

Bucky gave him a dirty look, and Steve started laughing.

It cut off abruptly when Jarvis said, "Captain. I'm sorry to interrupt, but yours and Sergeant Barnes' presence has been requested in the lab."

"Jarvis? Are they done?"

"I believe so, sir."

Steve didn't hesitate, just tucked Bucky more securely against him and headed for the elevator.

He was practically running when he hit the lab door.

"Ta da," Tony said. "No, wait, hang on. Abracadabra and presto, that's what you say for magic crap, right?"

"Tony…"

"Uh uh, don't Tony me. Look." He pointed and Bruce held up a slim glass tube. It was filled with red liquid that shimmered and shone. "Magic and science, goes together like peanut butter and chocolate, only no one's going to be marketing it anytime soon. We only have it because Bruce knows a guy."

"You know a guy?" Steve asked.

"I know a guy," Bruce said, not making eye contact with anyone as he gently swirled the sealed tube. It glimmered under the lights. "You're stuck turning into a giant green rage monster, you get a little less picky about the things you're willing to try to get rid of it."

Tony stepped between Bruce and the rest of them. "Aaand what didn't work for him is going to work for you," he told Bucky, reaching behind him. Bruce put the tube in his hand and he held it out. "All you have to do is drink it."

"Should I ask what's in it?" Steve said.

"You probably don't want to know."

Steve stared at it. "Should I ask what happened to the rooster?"

"Let's just say he's in a better place."

Steve grimaced.

In the end, Steve had to hold Bucky's head back and basically pour it down his throat, since roosters weren't equipped for efficient drinking. He sneezed afterwards, sneezed again, looked down at himself, then up at Tony and Bruce.

"Give it an hour, maybe a bit more, then," Tony pressed his hands together, then brought them apart in an expansive gesture, like he was throwing something away, "no more were-cock."

*   *   *

It didn't take an hour.

Steve had brought him back to their floor, making a brief detour into Bucky's room to grab clothes before settling onto the couch with Bucky nestled in his lap.

Steve's fingers were buried in his feathers, scratching gently, his other hand cradling Bucky's body when Bucky felt it.

He didn't have time to do more that open his beak and let out a harsh call that turned into a heartfelt, "Fuck."

He was too big to fit on Steve's lap. By all rights, he should have tumbled right off, but Steve caught him and held him and kept him there. Bucky clung to him and buried his face in Steve's shoulder. Steve was warm and solid and holding onto him, his big hands soothing as they ran up and down his back.

"You're not a rooster anymore," Steve said, soft-voiced, breath ruffling Bucky's hair.

"No."

"You're also naked." If Steve had sounded like he'd cared, Bucky would have moved, but he didn't.

Bucky didn't either. Modesty was something neither of them had much of anymore; what little they had didn't exist between them. "Just let me stay here a minute." He held Steve tighter. "Please."

"Anything, Bucky." Steve's voice rolled over him like a wave. "Anything you want."

This was selfish. It was so damn selfish, but he didn't know if he'd ever have a chance like this again, and he cuddled close, hands tangled in Steve's shirt, and Steve tucked Bucky's head under his chin, one hand stroking through his hair. Bucky breathed him in, eyes closed and let himself fall into it. There was a soft brush against his temple, like Steve had kissed him, but he knew he hadn't. He was imagining things.

It was enough to make him sit back. "Sorry," he said, pulling himself away from Steve.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Buck," Steve said softly while Bucky turned his back and pulled on the sweats Steve had thrown over the back of the couch. "Anytime you want to do it again, you just let me know."

Bucky froze, falling into a sniper's stillness, because there'd been something in Steve's voice… Nothing he'd ever heard before, but it was so damn familiar. Familiar, because he felt it every day.

Maybe he hadn't imagined it. He took a deep breath. "Now?"

Steve didn't answer, just held out his arms, and the light in Steve's eyes flowed through him like a warm breeze. He sat down and Steve pulled him in, engulfing him like he had when Bucky had been a small, scared rooster, and Bucky shoved himself as close as he could get, tugging Steve forward a little so he could get his arms around him.

"Always, Bucky. You can have it always," Steve said against his hair, and Bucky leaned back a little to look at him.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"You didn't. I scared myself."

"How's that?" Steve's hands were drawing lines up and down his back; forget the rooster, Bucky wanted to arch into it like a cat.

"I suddenly saw a future that didn't have you in it and…" Steve swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and tipped his forehead to rest against Bucky's.

"And it was the worst damn thing you could imagine," Bucky finished.

"Yeah, Buck. It was." Steve opened his eyes and Bucky was caught in his gaze. "Can I tell you something? Just tell you. I don't expect anything from you. I don't want it to be a burden. But," his hands curled against his back, "if something happens—"

"You want to have told me."

He saw the answer in Steve's eyes, and he knew. He knew.

"How about I tell you first." He slid his hands up until he was cradling Steve's face, careful, so careful with his metal hand, knowing it could crush bone. "I love you. I've loved you for, I don't know, ever. It's part of who I am, whoever that is, whoever it's going to end up being."

The shock in Steve's eyes made him grin. The joy that flared to life made his heart start to rabbit.

"You just had to go first," Steve muttered, but he turned his head and kissed Bucky's metal fingers.

"What can I say. You're slow."

"Guess I'd better catch up, then." A shiver ran down Bucky's spine at the intensity in Steve's voice, in his eyes, as he said, "I love you, Bucky. I love the man you were. I love the man you are. I love the man you're going to be."

Steve curled a hand around the back of his neck, fingers sliding up into his hair, and pulled him in to kiss him. Bucky closed his eyes at the feeling, at kissing Steve, finally kissing Steve, Steve's hands on him, Steve loved him. He couldn’t help thinking about how stupid they'd both been, but it wasn't the first time they'd been stupid and it wouldn't be the last and all that mattered was that they were here, now, Steve holding him close and kissing him.

"I love all of you," Steve said as they both pulled back enough to breathe, and then he smiled, eyes gleaming. "I'd love you even if you were a were-cock."

Bucky snorted in surprised laughter, dropping his forehead onto Steve's shoulder. "You said you'd never say it!"

"This is a special occasion."

"You're an idiot." He turned his head to kiss Steve's neck and grin up at him. "I love you."

Steve gathered him up and held him tight, like he was never going to let go, and that worked for Bucky, since there was nowhere else he wanted to be. "Me, too, Buck," he said softly. "Me too."