When he’d first gotten his wings, in the bright desert sun of Afghanistan, they’d come with rules. It was to be expected, of course — everything in the Air Force came with rules. There were rules about how to act, rules about how to stand, rules about who to love. And Sam wasn’t always good at following those rules, but he was good at pretending to. He was good at standing straight when there were eyes on him, good at keeping his snarky comments to himself until his superior officers were out of earshot, good at loving Riley in a way that didn’t let anyone else see anything deeper than friendship. But some rules? Some rules, Sam wanted to follow.
Don’t go up alone. That was the first rule they’d gotten with the wings. There were two EXO-7 packs for a reason, after all. They were told to watch each other’s backs, commanded to keep each other safe, and they did. They would have done it anyway, of course, and maybe that was why they were chosen. Maybe their superiors had known without knowing that Sam and Riley would have died for each other, maybe they wanted to use it to their advantage. They told them not to go up alone, and Sam never would have wanted to anyway.
Until that RPG hit and he didn’t get much of a say.
There’d been something terrifying, back then, about being the only one in the air. For all that Sam had flown, he’d never flown alone, never been in the sky without Riley by his side. The sky felt so much emptier when you were the only one in it, so much more terrifying. Sam had always loved flying, but flying alone was rough. It took getting used to.
Of course, seeing someone unfamiliar in the skies after years of having them to himself was also jarring.
“I figured as much,” he quipped back, shrugging off the apology with a wave of his hand. If anyone got bad humor, it was Sam Wilson. “Falcon,” he replied. “Or Captain America. Or Sam. I answer to all three.” He shifted his position in the air, letting his pack keep him hovering almost lazily. “Not really from around here,” he admitted with a vague shrug. He’d grown up in Harlem, of course… just not this Harlem. “How about you?”
Warren has always been fond of flying. There was no better feeling than getting away from his responsibilities to just be among the clouds. The first years of being at the school were thrilling, somewhere he didn’t have to hide. He remembers sneaking out in the middle of class — not so much a secret though so maybe you shouldn’t refer to it as sneaking at all. Everyone saw him opening the windows and taking off. He felt his happiest out there, usually nobody to bother him except for some birds passing through.
Warren wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything. He regrets all that time spent binding them under his clothes. It did more harm than good back then by bending his limbs in such a confined way. Eventually enough is enough as he decided to live openly. If anyone had issues with his physical Mutation then that was their problem to sort out.
Flying is special but very little does Warren get to have company in the air. He craves it sometimes, anyone who could join him for a trip around the skies. There doesn’t even have to be a reason for it. This is a common bond that isn’t found easily but maybe he finally did if this all goes well.
Here was someone else, flying with ease. It doesn’t matter if someone’s wings were organic like his or machine like Sam’s. The awful joke something picked up from Bobby — his best friend always known for his sense of humor. Which not everyone finds funny, but it’s always something they needed to hear. Even if they didn’t realize it at the time.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sam. Also known as Falcon and Captain America.” His smile still on his face while his wings continue to flap to keep him hovering in place. “I grew up in New York, except for the time my parents tried sending me to this boring boarding school in New Hampshire. Which didn’t last very long since my wings grew in while I was there.“
