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“Why are you staring at me like that?” Stiles asks, glancing over to catch Bucky watching him intently while he refreshes his wards. “It's not your ‘I’m trying to figure him out’ stare or your ‘I want to do naughty naughty things with him’ stare or even your ‘he’s an idiot but maybe he’s my idiot’ stare.”
Bucky’s lips twitch but he resists smiling. “I wasn’t aware that I had so many different types of stares,” he says dryly. “As for why I’m gazing at you in adoration, do I need a reason? It could just be that I’m struck by your beauty and need a moment to appreciate it, like one of the great masterpieces.”
“Yeah, right. A masterpiece like Munch’s The Scream, maybe,” he says, bringing his hands up to his face to imitate the painting. “Nope, that’s definitely more Home Alone than Munch, isn’t it?”
“While you are unique and iconic like that particular painting, I was thinking possibly something by, oh, Eugène Delacroix or maybe even Léon Bonnat,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes when Stiles makes an impressed noise. “Handsome and real, something special in the eyes.”
“Look at you name dropping those artists that I’ve never even heard of, Mr. Art Major,” Stiles teases. “I’d have been just as impressed with Van Gogh or Michelangelo.”
“I went to Auburndale Art School, Doc. Everyone there was an art major because it wasn’t like a normal college or anything,” he points out. “I wouldn’t have been a good student if I listed common artists. Besides, you’re anything but common.”
“What was your medium in school?” Stiles asks curiously. “I know that you mentioned Steve liked to draw, but what about you? You don’t necessarily strike me as the artistic type.”
“I was good with my hands,” Bucky says, leering slightly. “Still am, Doc. Want to find out just how good?”
“Tempting, but it’s Friday and I have a shift in a few hours so I’ll take a rain check on that offer,” he says. “You did sculpture or something like that?”
Bucky shrugs. “I was a boxer mostly. Three-time welterweight champion before I got pulled into the army,” he says with a tone of pride. “I had prospects, according to Goldie. He owned a gym I used for practice when I wasn’t in school. Boxing was my thing, and art was Steve’s. I went to Auburndale because I was pretty good at painting, especially landscapes. Steve was the one who could draw any person, but I wasn’t good at people. I could draw the city skyline instead.”
“You never got back into boxing after you got out of the Army?” Stiles asks. “Or painting? I didn’t see any personal looking artwork at your place, at least. Do you have any you can show me?”
“It wasn’t really something I had a chance to do,” Bucky says. “Besides, I learned that I’m even better with a gun than I am with my fists, so that sort of took over my passion for boxing. As for art, I really haven’t tried it. No idea how good I’d be anymore. Are you trying to get me to invite you to come see my etchings, Doc? How naughty of you.”
“Somehow, I doubt your unknown stare had anything to do with painting,” Stiles says, circling back because he’s curious. Bucky stares a lot, and he’s learning what quite a few of the stares mean, but the one today is different than usual.”
“I was watching you do your magic when you were working on your wards, and I started wondering why you don’t use a staff,” Bucky admits, smiling sheepishly. “I know you don’t need anything except your mind to do your magic, but you’d look nifty with one. I mean, Gandalf used one, and you’re possibly more powerful than he was.”
“I’d say more considering I’m real, and he’s a fictional character in a book,” Stiles says with a laugh. “I don’t have a staff because it would probably bring a lot of unnecessary attention my way, which would sort of negate the whole ‘keeping my magic secret from people’ thing I’ve got going on.”
Bucky nods. “Makes sense. Speaking of Gandalf, though, I’ve been thinking more since our last conversation about werewolves and vampires. I was curious and wanted to know if elves are real? Oh, what about hobbits? With their furry little feet and party animal personalities.”
Stiles shakes his head, biting back a laugh. “No, I don’t think that hobbits really exist. Please tell me you don’t have some kind of foot fetish, Buck. That’s definitely one of those ‘your kink is not my kink and that’s okay’ things.”
“No, feet aren’t my thing,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose. “No worries about that, Doc. By the way, I noticed that you didn’t answer about elves.”
“That one is more complicated because there are people who argue that Tolkien was inspired by the fae to create the elves in his novels, which is the source I assume you’re using as reference,” Stiles says. “The fae do allegedly exist, though they’re even more secretive than the rest of the supernatural world and not particularly friendly.”
“Huh.” Bucky looks thoughtful. “So you’ve never seen one.”
“Nope,” Stiles says. “I read about them in the Argent Bestiary that Allison let me see when I was in high school.” He drifts into memories for a moment, his own this time, and he catches himself wondering what Allison would be up to these days if she hadn’t died.
“Allison’s the Juliet to Scott’s Romeo, right?” Bucky asks. He walks over and sits down beside Stiles, pulling him closer. “I haven’t asked much about your time back there because I know you don’t like talking about it.”
Stiles shifts around so Bucky’s leaning against the armrest of the sofa with Stiles between his legs. He leans against Bucky’s chest, accepting Bucky’s right hand in his when it’s offered. “I’ll tell you anything, Buck,” he says honestly. “It’s been years since everything happened, and I’m not going to be upset answering your questions. Yes, Allison was Scott’s true love, and she’s the one who was killed by the Nogitsune wearing my body as a meatsuit.”
“Enough about her then.” Bucky kisses the nape of his neck. “Tell me about Scott. He’s your former best friend and still like a brother to you, from what you’ve said before. You mentioned something the other day that him being a werewolf is your fault. What do you mean, Doc?”
“I told you then, kind of,” Stiles reminds him. “I wanted to go find a dead body, and Scott went along because I asked him to come with me. While we were out, my dad caught me, so I was busted. Scott managed to hide from my dad but ended up bitten by a werewolf.”
“How exactly is that your fault?” Bucky asks. “Did Scott ever tell you it was?”
“I got that impression a few times, mostly when we’d argue about something, but Scotty’s a good person. He wouldn’t outright blame me,” Stiles says, putting his hand against Bucky’s hand. His fingers are longer, his hands slightly larger than Bucky’s. He counts their fingers because it’s an unconscious thing he does.
“Then why do you blame yourself?” Bucky rests his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “If I get out of line or ask something you don’t want to talk about, just tell me to stop. I don’t want to accidentally bring up something bad.”
“Like a safe word but for a conversation instead of kink,” Stiles says, smiling slightly. “I like that. As for blaming myself, I know that Scott would never have been out in the preserve if it hadn’t been for my boredom and ghoulish curiosity.”
“That doesn’t mean he might not have ended up bitten at some other time or even killed by the thing.” Bucky points out. “How did he change when he was turned into a werewolf? Besides getting furry and having hunters after him.”
Stiles snorts. “Werewolves don’t get furry like in the movies. A rare few can do a full shift, but most just shift slightly and become a bit hairier. Their eyebrows also disappear somehow,” he says. “It’s weird. In Scott’s case, it cured his asthma and made him stronger. He got the accelerated healing, super sense of smell, better hearing, and more muscles.”
Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “So he followed you and ended up with superpowers, basically, plus the beautiful girl. Meanwhile, you end up possessed by a void Nogitsune creature and forced to kill people while being stuck with the guilt over that years later. That has an oddly familiar ring to it,” he murmurs, his left arm going around Stiles’ waist.
“That’s a rather basic summary of the situation, but it isn’t inaccurate,” he admits. “I also got magic out of the deal, though. Plus my own accelerated healing and decelerated aging, which is something he didn’t get.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I have no idea what becoming a werewolf would even be like, much less dealing with it as a teenager, but it isn't all that bad considering the perks he got,” Bucky says. “Yet you blame yourself for somehow making his life better—minus the hunters and dangerous shit, of course. Though the dangerous stuff still could have killed him in a collateral damage way because neither of you would have known it even existed.”
“I guess it might not be rational, but it’s still there,” he says. “Scott never wanted it, always wanted to just be a normal human, and he never got the choice because he followed me into the preserve that night. I kind of blame myself for that even if it’s not necessarily my fault.”
“What about that nurse you work with? Does she wish she could get rid of her wolf?” Bucky’s lips press against the area beneath his ear. “Do you know when Susie was bitten and how she handled it?”
“She’s a born wolf. That means she comes from a family with lycanthropy running through it,” Stiles says. “She’s never been bitten. I don’t know if she’s wondered what being human is like, maybe so, but she’s never lived without her wolf, so there’s nothing for her to compare it with.”
“So there’s a difference between being born and being bitten.” Bucky makes a thoughtful noise. “Does Scott still want to be normal?”
“He’s a true alpha,” Stiles says, “which isn’t exactly common according to a Druid we know, but it means he’s the leader of a pack and takes care of his territory. It didn’t start out good, but I don’t think he’d change how things have turned out. He’s a little too black and white with his pack, which is why Lydia and I sort of made our own little pack that lives in the shades of gray that comprise our lives. ”
“You’re blaming yourself for something he wouldn’t change now if given the chance,” Bucky says, his lips barely brushing against the shell of Stiles’ ear. “It sounds like you’re holding on to the guilt when Scott doesn’t even blame you, Doc. You have to let guilt free so it doesn’t eat you up from the inside.”
Stiles frowns at the ceiling as he considers Bucky’s words. “Lydia says I take too much responsibility for things that I shouldn’t,” he admits. “It’s hard to reconcile an adult Scott who has come into his own with the dorky kid who got bitten because I’m a curious asshole. I’ve talked to him since I moved here, but I haven’t seen him since the summer after graduation.”
“You and Lydia can be a pack without a wolf?” Bucky moves his left hand to rest on Stiles’ belly, just a comforting weight. “Don’t you need an alpha? That’s what you call it, isn’t it?”
“Alpha, beta, omega,” Stiles repeats, feeling for a moment like he’s channeling Derek. “Alpha is the pack leader. They have red eyes. Betas are part of a pack, usually with golden eyes and sometimes blue. Blue is for guilt over causing a death from what I could find out. Omegas aren’t part of any pack, and they can often go feral if they don’t have some type of connection to ground them. Lydia and I were part of Scott’s pack, so we just formed our own when we moved for school. Normally, a shifter is part of a pack, but I’ve met different kinds.”
“So humans can be part of a pack. I mean, you said you were part of it even before the Nogitsune and Lydia’s part of your pack now,” Bucky says, sounding curious. “And a pack doesn’t need a shifter.”
Stiles licks his lips. “Um, actually, Lydia isn’t just a human,” he admits quietly. “She’s a banshee, which is why she understands the darkness so well.” He hesitates for a moment before he sighs. “Before she knew what she was, she was unwillingly connected with the alpha who bit Scott. When we killed the alpha, she started having visions of a stranger.”
“So banshees are real,” Bucky says slowly. “And your sister is one of them. I don’t know much about banshees, other than some jokes about wailing women that were made when I was in England during the war. I’m assuming those visions weren’t good?”
“Banshees are harbingers of death. She can get a feeling that makes her scream for someone dying, and she also has a habit of finding dead bodies. Her screams can actually be deadly, too,” Stiles says. “As for the visions she had, it was rough. Basically, the alpha manipulated her into subduing the current alpha in order for him to be able to come back to life. It was a big mess, but she understands what it’s like to be controlled and made to do things against her will.”
“Guess it’s nice to know other people with memberships in that club,” Bucky mutters, moving his thumb in circles on Stiles’ belly, making his t-shirt ride up. “It makes sense why she’s so supportive of you, though. It’s way easier to be accepting when you’ve been through a bunch of shit yourself.”
Stiles moves his left hand to cover Bucky’s, making him stop the slow teasing circles that are causing his shirt to bare his skin. “So you’ve definitely got a card for that club, huh? Remind me to tell you back Jackson sometime because he’s also a member.”
“Yeah,” Bucky admits, his tone changing slightly. “I’ll explain more tomorrow, Doc. I have everything arranged for your days off. You’re still planning to be off around 7:30 in the morning, right?”
It makes sense that Bucky doesn’t want to get started telling him about his past when he’s being so particular about how he’s explaining it. Just knowing that Bucky’s had some kind of experience with being controlled is enough for Stiles to understand why they fit so damn well.
“My shift ends at seven, but I usually have some final things to get done before I can leave,” Stiles says, moving his pointer finger along the metal of Bucky’s fingers. “It’s Friday, so it’ll probably be very busy, but I’ll try to get out as close to seven as I can.”
Bucky kisses the side of his neck. “I’ve got things set up around the later time, so don’t feel like you have to rush on my account.”
“Tell me more about your art school experience,” Stiles says, tilting his head slightly so Bucky has better access. “What were your classes like? What was your favorite class?”
“They were different art classes,” Bucky says with a laugh. “It wasn’t a college, so we didn’t have the required classes like math and English. I was sort of a jack of all trades because I did well in every medium, but I wasn’t a master at any particular one. I know my least favorite class was life drawing because I was never able to get faces right.”
“You said you liked painting landscapes,” Stiles says. “Was painting your favorite class or was it something else?”
“Probably,” Bucky says, his words muffled against Stiles’ neck. “It’s been too long for me to remember all of the classes I took. Watercolor was a fun class. My oil painting class was the best. I also liked sculpture because I got to use my hands.” He sounds smug as he adds, “Like I said earlier, I’m really good with my hands, Doc.”
Stiles snorts. “I bet you are, Buck,” he says, smiling slightly. “Maybe one day you can show me.”
“There’s no maybe about that ,” Bucky says confidently. He moves slightly, causing Stiles to shift against his chest. Bucky kisses his neck before he whispers, “I’m looking forward to the day when I make you beg me to touch you. Make you so desperate just using my hands and my mouth.”
“Bucky,” Stiles warns, an all too familiar warmth beginning to build in his gut. “I have to be at work in a few hours. Besides, we aren’t ready for that level of intimacy yet.”
“I’m not doing anything, Doc,” Bucky says in a casual tone that doesn’t fool Stiles at all. “Just talking. That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? Talking and getting to know each other?”
“It isn’t ‘just talking’ when it’s dirty talk said in a sexy voice,” Stiles points out.
“Not my fault that my voice is always sexy,” Bucky says smugly. He grunts when Stiles elbows him in the belly. “Out of bounds, Doctor Stilinski.”
“Is anything out of bounds for us, Bucky?” he asks curiously. “We talked about orgasms before we even introduced ourselves, and you tried to pick me up in the IHOP.”
“Considering where I am now, I think I was more successful with picking you up than you want to admit,” Bucky says confidently. “I’ve got you in my arms letting me kiss you and touch you, Doc.”
“Keep being smug and I might have to spank you,” Stiles mutters. He hears Bucky make a thoughtful noise and starts to smile. “Oh really? That gets you hot, Buck? The thought of being bent over my knees, bare skin just waiting for my hand, opening up to my fingers as I spank you deep inside after I pinken that pretty ass.”
“Fuck, Doc,” Bucky growls softly, rolling his hips slightly. Stiles can feel him against the small of his back, his arousal becoming evident. “Yeah, that’s good. I’ll let you do that.”
“You think you can be a good boy for me, Buck?” Stiles murmurs, moving his fingers to grip Bucky’s right hand a bit more firmly.
“Nah, I’ve never been a good boy,” Bucky says, voice low and husky. “Don’t see that changing anytime soon. You’re gonna have to deal with a bad boy, Doc.”
Stiles laughs. “Well, at least you’re honest,” he says, clearing his throat as he loosens his grip on Bucky’s hand. “I’m not very good, either, but I’m not into being spanked. Been there, tried it, wasn’t a fan. I’m more the type to give spankings.”
“I can do either,” Bucky admits, his fingers again casually drawing Stiles’ shirt up. “But only with someone I completely trust.”
“Wait, are you talking about…” Stiles trails off and bites his lip when he hears Bucky huff a laugh. “Yeah, okay, in that case, I, um, I do both, too. But agreed on the trust thing. It’s too vulnerable a thing to do without that.”
Bucky kisses Stiles’ jaw before he quietly admits, “I’ve never found anyone I trust to do it to me, but I’m looking forward to being under you someday soon, Doc.”
“Really? Never?” Stiles blinks at that revelation because Bucky’s a year older than he is and was also an art major. Stiles got to know several art majors in undergrad, and they were pretty wild. “I have twice, just to see if I liked it. The first time wasn’t good at all, but the second time taught me that it has to be someone I like and trust for it to be enjoyable.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Bucky mutters, nipping at Stiles’ neck playfully. “I told you before that being queer wasn’t something we could be open about, not like dating girls. If I found a like-minded fella, it was usually a quick thing with my hands or mouth.”
“Quick can be fun, but I can’t wait to show you how good slow can be when I take my time learning every single inch of you,” Stiles says, leaning forward to kiss Bucky’s knuckles. He hears Bucky make a sexy noise, which does things to him. They need to cool this off, so he can’t resist adding, “Some inches a little more intimately than others.”
“That was ridiculously sexy up until that last part,” Bucky says with a laugh, pressing his face against Stiles’ shoulder as his body shakes with laughter. “Were you making that silly face with your eyebrows when you said that? It sounded like that face.”
Stiles grins. “How can something sound like a face? That doesn’t make any sense, Buck.”
“Trust me, it makes sense when it comes to you,” Bucky says. “You probably did that on purpose because things were getting heated. I’m on to your tricks, Doc.”
“Tricks? Me?” Stiles uses his best innocent voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you don’t,” Bucky says with amusement. “Now that the mood is ruined, what do you want to do for dinner? I’m kind of tired of delivery.”
“I’ve got stuff to make chicken and pasta,” he says, trying to remember everything they bought the other day. “Oh, there’s also some ground beef that I could use instead of chicken. If you want to run down to the bodega to get tortillas, I could make us tacos. Ms. McCall taught me how to make the best tacos after my mom died because my dad was drinking a lot, and I was missing meals.”
“Tacos, huh?” Bucky makes a thoughtful noise. “That does sound better than pasta. Do you need anything else from the store?”
“A tomato and some cilantro if they have it,” he says, thinking about what he already has in the kitchen. “I’ve got grated cheese and beef and there’s lettuce I can cut up. So, yeah, the tortillas and a tomato are the main things.”
“What time is it? Do I need to go now?” Bucky asks, shifting so that he’s sitting up instead of leaning against the sofa arm.
“It can wait another hour,” Stiles says, taking a look at the clock. “That’ll give me time to cook, eat, get changed for work, and walk to the hospital.”
“Oh good,” Bucky says, leaning against the pillow and tugging Stiles back against his chest. “I want to know more about your secret world. Elves might exist but hobbits definitely don’t. You don’t use a staff like Gandalf or fly on a broom like the Wicked Witch of the West. I know your magic is different from the known magic users, but I’m still trying to understand how it works.”
“It’s hard to explain,” Stiles says. “I don’t even understand how it works because I’m not sure how much of my magic is from my actual spark and how much might be influenced by remnants’ power. I can focus on something and will it to happen, then the magic just works somehow.” He’s silent for a moment. “Lydia is scared that someone could try to force me to use it for negative reasons, which is another reason I keep it private. I mean, trying to force me wouldn’t work anyway, but it’s just a situation we’d rather avoid.”
“I didn’t realize it was that powerful,” Bucky admits. “I haven’t told anyone about your magic, and I won’t ever mention it to anyone unless you specially tell me to. I knew it was something you kept hidden for a reason, but I assumed it was because of the supernatural world being secret.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Stiles says, before deciding to be completely honest. “I use my magic to ensure that no one is able to share exactly what I can do magically without my permission. Shifters can smell magic in general and can sometimes suspect power, but they don’t usually know exactly what type of magic someone has without being told.”
“You used the magic on me then?” Bucky asks. Stiles nods, and he says, “Good. I’d rather know that there’s no way I can accidentally slip up because I want you protected. I’d have rather you asked first because I have some major issues with people doing things to me without my knowledge, though.”
“It was back when I was still trying to convince myself that what we had was friendship only, and I didn’t know that you had a similar history to me,” Stiles says. “I know now, and I promise I won’t ever use magic on you unless it’s a last resort to save you from some bad guys or something.”
“It’s a deal.” Bucky leans forward as Stiles looks back at him. He kisses him gently, resting their foreheads together for a moment before he pulls back. “We’ve still got time, so tell me more. What about dragons? Are those real? Please tell me they are, Doc. I’ve always wanted to pet a dragon.”