[a/n: happy skies ahead]

WARNING: Slightly mature content ahead.

VICTORIA HAD, somehow, managed to stitch her boys up. Well enough to hold them, anyways, until they made it to Wakanda. Bucky had suffered a collapsed lung, 4 or so broken ribs, and burns on his side from where the blast hadn't wholly took off his arm.

Steve had twisted his ankle, accompanied by multiple tears and fractures. She, herself, hadn't wholly healed. The wings had only seemed to revive her to just passed the brink of life, which would work, for now. She sat in the pilot seat, thinking. She probably had to go get her dog, at one point or another, and fortunately, she wasn't about to die. Victoria still sharply remembered the warehouse, and it didn't take long for her to arrive in the middle of the room she had left Jelly in.

"Come on, come on, the plane's movin' fast!"

The dog leaped into her arms, but she didn't fall on the cement floor. With a thud, the Archangel landed on her back in the plane. Jelly immediately scrabbled her way to the back-room, practically falling out on the floor next to Steve's foot.

The plane was flying on autopilot, and so she went back to check up on Steve and Bucky. The two, despite her stern warnings, were sitting up, silent. Their eyes never left hers as she entered the room, sitting on the chair across from them. "This is my dog," she told them, motioning to the small beast curled up at her best friend's feet. Steve precariously reached down and scratched behind the dog's ears, blue eyes only just leaving her to look at the Shepherd.

"I'm going to start a petition for us to legally stay with you for every moment of the rest of your life," Bucky stated after a moment.

"I'm going to start a petition to legally allow me to slap you in the face with my wings."

Steve snorted, a small smile on his face. "Glad to know you two didn't change a damn bit." Victoria wheeled on him, smile growing. "Do you want me to slap you with my wings instead, Rogers?"

The Captain lifted his hands in defeat, and they all shared a quiet laugh. She risked spreading out her black, drying wings, touching them lightly. They were soft to the touch, but she could feel the muscles hidden. "That's so... Weird. Hydra gave me a back-up plan?" she murmured, mostly to herself. "Well, I'm glad. I can't lose you, either of you," Steve added, turning to the two dark haired people. Both nodded in response, otherwise quiet.

"Do they hurt?" Bucky questioned.

She shrugged. They didn't really hurt, as much as open her up to a world of sensations she would've very much liked to not have to experience. "Nah."

"They sprouted from your back, Peanut, you sure?" Bucky pressed, scooting forward. Victoria rested a hand on his knee, the fabric cool to the touch. "I'm sure." In the meanwhile, Steve was staring between them, smile forever growing. He had always some what been rooting for the two, even since before they had all left for the war, all 3 forever inseparable. Even during their downfalls, they had never left one another, their bond only growing by tenfold.

One part of the bond, however, had grown to differ.

The two had, unfortunately, taken years to finally admit their feelings to each other. The presence of Jack Rivers surely hadn't helped a bit.

"What're you starin' at, punk?"

"Nothin', what're you starin' at, jerk?"

"Both of you are absolute twats, you know that?"

--

Victoria had managed a landing, albeit shaky, in Wakanda.

Tightly folding her wings to her back, the trio were escorted to their rooms. After they had checked up on all three of them, of course. Victoria had been more thoroughly stitched up, and the Wakandan doctors had only bettered Bucky and Steve's stitches, amongst other things. Most of her predictions had been correct, unfortunately.

The boys were feeling better now, were more stable. There had been a change of clothes ready for them, Bucky and Steve's either too loose or too tight. None of the women present seemed to be complaining. Victoria's, however, had fitted perfectly. She didn't know whether to find it endearing or concerning T'Challa still remembered her shirt size.

Bucky hadn't changed yet, wanting to see her. One of the dark, obviously powerful women had asked for him to remove all weapons on his persona. Victoria, tiredly watching Bucky remove 3 knives, had requested everyone leave the room. "If you hear any yells or cries for help, just ignore them!"

The Archangel stared the Soldier down, his stance visibly becoming uneasy.

"Bucky."

"Victoria."

"We're with friends. Give up your weapons."

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about, doll," Bucky replied evenly, lifting his chin up. Victoria huffed, screwing her eyes closed. Her wings were tightly folded to her back, tunnels compared to the white shirt that T'Challa had gifted her. She didn't want to, especially considering how immature James could be, but she had to.

In the blink of an eye, before Bucky could prepare, she had him firmly pressed against the wall. Her brown eyes held a flicker of something predator like, impossibly dark, before they returned to their normal state. Bucky huffed, surprised.

"Geez, Victoria, I knew you were feisty but I didn't think you were into thi-" "Finish that sentence and I swear I'll go back to Siberia and find your arm just so I can shove it up your-" "I'll put your wings in the deep fryer-" "Try me, Barnes."

The two continued to stare each other down, Victoria's eyes now darkened by something not even Bucky could decipher. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Do you have a belt on?"

"Vic, first of all-"

"Answer. The. Question."

"No, I don't. Why-"

Victoria Scott had a hell of a nerve. She had been to hell and back, had endured torture and responded with a sharp tongue, and had dealt with more emotional turmoil than most could even imagine. However, as she quickly snaked her hand into James Buchanan Barnes's pants, she wanted to lay on the floor and laugh and/or cry.

Bucky bucked in response, violently, he actually got to knee her in the stomach, but she managed to hold him still as she fished out the blade of the sewn in pocket. She dangled the large blade in front of him, eyebrow raised, before gently discarding it in a plastic box.

"Unless you like being violated, Bucky-" "If you're the one doing it, well damn, Victoria-" "You're like 80 years old, grow up-""If we keep playing this game, I can throw in a maybe."

Victoria sighed, the woman giving one last pleading look, before she harshly tugged him closer by the collar of his jacket. There faces were centimeters away, Bucky's blue eyes seeming to shine as they stared into her own. Slowly, eyes not leaving his, she crept a hand over his shoulder, under the fabric of his shirt. The man shivered, only just noticeable, under her touch. He knew exactly where he has hidden the weapons, but, truly, he was enjoying this more than he should've.

--

After about 45 minutes of surprised shouts, yelps, slams, and objects falling to the ground, the two emerged from the room.

The two looked like they had been fighting, amongst other things, Bucky's hair messier and parts of his shirt and jacket torn. There were scratch marks on his shoulder as well, found upon closer investigation. Victoria's lip was swollen, from what, no one ever knew. Her hair was frizzy, shirt stretched out in other places. She had, however, provided a box filled to the brim with knives, wires, guns, brass knuckles, and other things.

T'Challa raised an eyebrow at her, the Archangel only directing her gaze away. Bucky immediately left to his room, everyone in the room choking back snickers as the very distant sound of a shower came on. Victoria flushed, wings moving slightly as she left. Steve thanked everyone in the room, before proceeding to run after the winged woman.

"What the hell was that?"

Victoria stopped, blowing away a piece of hair that had covered her face. "Probably inappropriate, for one. Definitely not PG rated."

Steve scoffed, Victoria only letting out a shaky laugh in response. "You two are really somethin', you know that?" he told her, walking again. She followed, wings twitching behind her. "What I did might have not been ethical," Steve distantly remembered a very.. Questionable yell from Bucky, "but I recovered all 24 weapons."

After turning a corner, Steve fell back to look at the black feathers.

"You think you can fly with those?"

"Maybe. The halls are too short in here for me to try," Victoria reasoned, lowering her wings so that she could see over her shoulder. Steve nodded, furrowing his brows as he thought.

"Do you like birds?"

"I'll snap this thing off and stab you with the bone, Rogers."

a/n
*breathes in deeply* 'tis the smell of happiness and imagination.

One chapter left.