New Avenger (A Steve Rogers love story)

These Wings Were Made to Fly, Not Crash

After a month of falling soon after take off, I was finally able to fly. I had quickly accepted the wings and was used to them within a week. Sleeping with them wasn't even an issue anymore.

I flew around the room, my wings not touching a thing, while Bruce watched. I landed on the ground and folded my wings expertly. "How was that?" I asked Bruce. I put my hands on my hips, panting.

"That was perfect! Just like a bird. Or, a person with wings." Bruce replied.

I smiled and chugged two water bottles. Flying was fun, but tiring and it took quite a bit of energy. Bruce said that the more experience I had, I'd be able to do it effortlessly.

Tony walked into the room and looked around.

"Don't worry, Stark. I didn't break anything." I lowered my voice as I brought a third bottle of water to my lips. "This time."

"Good." Tony went to the table with his latest toy and started messing with it.

"By the way, do you think you can make me a suit? If I'm going to be an Avenger, I need a suit that can accommodate my wings and my fire. I can't burn through a suit every time I wear it." I though for a moment. "I'd also like something that could protect my wings. Can you do that?"

Tony scoffed. "Can I do that? Of course I can do that. I am Tony Stark!" 

"Thanks, Tony." I waved as I left the room.

I walked toward the gym. JARVIS told me that Steve was there, working out. When I entered the gym, Steve was by the punching bags, punching away. I sat on the bench next to him and started wrapping my hands, getting ready to join him. I didn't need to change, since I wore workout clothes when I practiced flying.

"How is your flying?" Steve asked, pausing from his punching.

"Great. I think I've finally mastered it." I smiled. I stood up and started to stretch.

"That's good." Steve punched.

"Yeah. I'll have to show you some time." I smiled when I saw Steve's shield next to the bench.

Steve was wearing a well-fitted, blue shirt and grey sweatpants. He looked amazing as he worked out, and it was hard keeping my eyes from wandering. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, his shirt soaked. He must have been going at it for a while.

"Are you okay, Steve?" I asked. He looked stressed.

"Fine." Steve grunted.

"You don't seem fine."

Steve ignored me and I couldn't help but think that maybe this was about Bucky. I sighed and went to the large track, deciding that Steve would need all of the punching bags. Getting into a running position, my legs tensed. We hadn't found anything about where Bucky might be. I even stayed at the tower this whole time, using all the technology to help me track him down. I knew Steve would need a few minutes to just punch it out. Well, a few more.

I was going to try running faster than I ever had before. I knew I could run fast, but I didn't know just how fast that was.

I jumped up and sprinted around the track, getting to the highest speed I'd ever run, which was about 60 mph, as fast as a cheetah. Once I reached that speed, I slowly started to go faster. I noticed Steve watching me and went even faster. I could feel that I was losing control. After all, I didn't have a tail to keep me from crashing, as a cheetah does.

I was going too fast. Pressing my feet against the ground, I tried to stop, my feet sliding. My legs stopped, but my body  didn't as I was suddenly thrown through the air toward a wall. I slowed time, unfolded my wings, trying to fly and land gently, but my panic made me flap my wings without rhythm, each flapping differently, making me lose control in the air, my body flipping around. I held my arms out in front of me, protecting my face.