I changed the rating on this fic from mature to explicit, so you’ve been warned.
Excerpt:
If his angel wasn’t by the stove, he would have thrown a pillow at his head. Instead, he grumbled from his spot, snuggling further into the blankets. He registered Bucky’s amused apology and waved it off. “Wise guy. Just ‘cause you can fly, you think you got a right to give me lip.”
“Mhm!” Steve jolted up, not expecting Bucky to be right behind him. “Here, eat.”
The blond took the bowl of chicken soup from the angel, tucking his legs up so Bucky could sit next to him on the couch. He did so with a grin, reaching over and tugging the blanket down to cover his ward’s feet. Steve made a grateful noise as he ate a spoonful of the soup. “Thanks. Mm! Got another question. How come angel wings all look different? You’re all angels, shouldn’t they all look similar, at least?”
Bucky picked up the still-damp cloth that he had been using earlier and went back to carefully getting the coating off of some new feathers. Every few seconds he would wince and move to a different feather before finally snarling and putting the cloth down. “We do look similar. All angels have golden wings.” He stretched the outermost part of his wing, inspecting his primaries. “There are a lot of different looking humans, right? You all look similar, but you’ve got different features. Same with our feather patterns. Rebecca got Father’s pattern, I got something between his and Mother’s. It’s just how it is.”
The Archery Range 