The Archangel (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter Nine

"How long has she been there like that?" Steve's voice intruded on the haze of my half-awake self. I was beginning to grow more aware and it irritated me, I had finally fallen back asleep after my night terror like two hours ago. Pure exhaustion was the only thing that seemed to keep me under for any period of time, but every time I woke up I had to start that process all over again. And these people kept waking me up!

I seriously couldn't tell you the last night that I had fallen asleep without help—aka getting knocked out—and woke up feeling refreshed. It had gotten to the point where I had resorted to this to give me as much peace as possible before I had a night terror. What's this? you might ask. Well, I was currently asleep, or should I say, was asleep in the rafters of the training room. Usually, Cap and Sam—and everyone else who started training at that ungodly hour—went for a run outside before breakfast, then business as usual, around noonish they came in to train and then used the room until dinner. So this room was usually open for a good eighteen hour stretch, that's why I liked it so much. The only person who came in at any other time was Bucky, but I didn't mind his presence so much after I stopped hating him and he was so quiet that if I happened to be asleep, he didn't wake me. He was also the only one who had actually noticed that I was sleeping there.

"Got no clue, Steve, she was this way when I found her." Sam, who I learned was the birdman from before, informed. Neither had had any clue about my little arrangement until now apparently, and neither one were hushing their voices. Which was seriously inconsiderate of them considering I got a total of three hours of sleep that night! "I mean, what is she doing?"

"Sleeping, you dumbasses." Ah, Bucky, my saving grace, about a minute too late. After lunch yesterday, we decided to just wing it with the getting-to-know-each-other thing, that was supposed to happen today at some point but I didn't foresee myself being in a good mood.

"Not anymore, but thanks, Buck, I do appreciate it." I shifted my wing so I could look down at them through my slightly blurred vision. I saw Sam open his mouth to ask a question but I stopped him, "yes, Sam, I really was sleeping, and yes, it's quite comfortable." He shut his mouth. "Buck, do you think the shrink will let us reschedule?"

"Not a chance."

I sighed loudly, "great, you'll get to know the sleep-deprived version of me, I apologize in advance for any harm that may come to you or any sarcasm you might endure, I'm far more careless when I'm tired." I yawned and rolled off the rafter beam. I didn't bother to slow my descent with my wings so I landed stomach first on the mats with a soft oomph. I lifted my head up long enough to say, "case in point," before dropping it back down, still dead tired and exhausted to the bone.

"You alright there, Archangel?" Steve asked.

I tensed, my wing flashed out and caught him in the stomach, sending him flying against the wall, which was luckily also padded. "I don't like that name," I muttered to myself as I got up, shaking my head to keep it from clouding over like it did with Bucky, "I really don't like that name." I guess making me irritated was a good way to wake me up some but I'm not sure which one was better to deal with, me tired or me angry?

"You need to calm down, Angel." Bucky said, quickly leading me away from the others before I could do something brash or worse, give in to the haze Hydra put in my head. "Breath evenly, put up mental barriers, you cannot lose control." I clutched the side of my head and thumbed my temples like I was trying to alleviate a headache. I felt my mind clearing and breathed out a thanks to him. "Don't mention it, I'll find you later for our thing, and if it's lunch again, then I get to choose what we're having."

"Oh, you think so?"

"I know so."

"What if we're not having lunch?"

"Then we can finish off Tony's dip." Bucky shrugged as he made his way back to the others.

I scratched the back of my neck and avoided looking Steve in the eye as I apologized, "I'm sorry about that, Steve, I overreacted."

I looked up to see him shrug and say, "Don't sweat it, Bucky did a lot worse to me, you just pushed me around a bit." I gave him a small smile as I turned for the door.

I peaked my head back into the training room and called with a massive grin on my face, "hey, Buck! One o'clock, don't be late!" With that, I ducked out of the room, knowing full well that Sam and Steve would grill him about what I meant until he left to meet up with me.

I had said the first time that had come to mind but looking at a clock, I realized they had started early. What the hell was I supposed to do for two hours!? I doubt I'd be able to fall asleep and doing any sort of training in my drowsy state would be reckless and stupid.

Walking into the kitchen, I balked when I spotted a new face, a teenager maybe . . . and what was he wearing!? "Who's the kid?" I asked Tony, startling the teenager, who whirled around at the sound of my voice. His eyes snagged on my wings and he looked instantly fascinated by them.

"How'd you do that?" The kid asked.

"Do what?" I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms.

"Sneak up on me, no one can do that."

I shrugged, walking soundlessly was just a thing I did, "I guess I'm just special."

"Introduce yourself spiderling." Tony coaxed, making a shooing motion towards me.

The kid nervously stood and held out a hand, "Peter, Peter Parker."

"Archangel." I said stiffly as I shook his hand.

"Oh, we're using our made up names. In that case, I'm Spider-Man!" I glanced from his face to the emblem on his chest and back, a little on the nose for my tastes.

"Spider-who?"

"Spider . . ." He looked like he was gonna deflate, "never mind." I shifted my wings and pulled them close so they wouldn't hit anything in the kitchen as I made my customary waffles. The motions seemed to catch his attention because he bombarded me with questions, "are your wings attached to you? Are they made of a biological substance or are they a machine? Can they actually fly? Wait, that's a dumb question. What's your wingspan? Does it affect the air drag on your body? What's your maximum velocity in the air? Do your wings impede your movement in any way?" Finally, he stopped to take a breath, then muttered, "maybe I should take notes."

It was odd having someone as young as Peter be so fascinated by science. But I was happy to answer any question he had about my wings—and me, to an extent—and I hadn't even shown him my metal form yet. Now I knew exactly how I would spend those two hours.