Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, the Winter Soldier, or any Marvel characters.

May, 1933

The painted letters were mocking him.

They weren't even meant for him, yet Steve still took personal offense to the message. He dared not look at Bucky, not take the risk of seeing the hurt and disappointment on his friends face. That would just be too much. People passed around them on the street as they stood in front of the window. Newspapers wafted by their feet in the crisp wind that was almost painful to Steve's dry skin. In another time, the streets would have been cleaner, and Steve and Bucky, both being healthy and happy, would have walked into the cafe without a second thought. That day could have even been a week ago, when the sign wasn't there. But today they were both starving, just like everyone else, and trash littered the sidewalk - and the sign was there. Steve's shock hardened into disgust. This was the last place he expected to see a sign like that. But before Steve could barge through the front door and tear the sign to shreds, a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder.

"Forget it, hothead." Bucky said coolly. His face was expressionless, thankfully, but his eyes were still glued to the sign. "Let's just go somewhere else."

"This is bull, and you know it." Steve mumbled, leaning against Bucky's hold. "They didn't even use the correct adjective. It's just 'wings'. What, like only part of you isn't allowed? That's stupid."

"Probably didn't have a big enough sign." Bucky smirked. Steve yanked himself out of the taller man's grasp, annoyed with Bucky's feigned indifference.

"Bucky, this is the third sign we've seen." Steve hissed. He turned back to the cafe, pausing as he took in the sight of people eating peacefully through the front windows, as if nothing were wrong. "This is our favorite joint."

"People are just trying to get by. If my not doing business with them makes it easier for them, then I'm happy to oblige." Bucky's tone was nonchalant, but Steve could see the disappointment swimming in his friend's eyes. He allowed his unamusement to show on his face. Bucky dropped the smirk, matching Steve's seriousness. "Times are hard right now, Steve. I don't really want to make it any more difficult for other people than I have to."

Steve couldn't argue with that. The last few years had been nothing but declining wages, a crashing economy, and growing despair. He turned his head to the side, still angry.

"Seriously Buck. You're starting to look skinnier than me." Bucky laughed at that - obviously fake - with the slight sound of rustling feathers behind it.

"Won't that be the day, huh? Don't worry about me, pal." Bucky draped an arm over Steve as he turned away from the cafe and began walking, pulling him close so that the smaller man was hidden by one of Bucky's huge wings from behind. "Hey, I think I saw a pizza joint just down that alley. What say we share a slice… Steve?"

"That's not near enough food for you and you know it." He's annoyed Bucky with his persistence now. Bucky growls lightly as he pushes the asthmatic in front of him, getting ready to give a lecture. But before he can say more than "Now you listen here, Steve Rogers-", Steve interjects.

"Just let me go talk to the owner." Steve focused on Bucky's eyes. "Maybe I can get him to cut us a deal. He knows us."

Steve wasn't going to let this go. Bucky could tell. He sighed and let all of his limbs droop in defeat, hanging his head.

"And if you can't, then can we get pizza?" Bucky's stomach growled so loud just then, a couple people passing by turned their heads at the sound. The poor guy was famished. Steve had no idea when the last time Bucky had a complete meal was. Bucky probably didn't either.

Steve had burst through that door before Bucky realized he was gripping air. He scanned the room and bar quickly from the doorway. Finally, he saw the owner, a paunchy middle-aged man, through the order-pickup window. Steve was just barely tall enough to look through the opening as he walked over to it. Bucky crossed his arms and watched him through the window - half annoyed, but also too tired to really do anything.

"Evening, Pierre." Steve greeted cheerlessly.

The Frenchman looked up and plastered a smile on his tired face. "Stevie. Always good to see you, mon ami. I hope you are keeping well." As he talked, his hands didn't stop in their work, minding sauce pans and stirring soup pots. But the sauce was thin and the soup was watery.

"I saw your sign." Steve cut to the chase, not in the mood for pleasantries - not this time. The old man's smile disappeared instantly. Pierre straightened and yelled in the back for Carlo, his partner and fellow chef, to watch the kitchen and disappeared. A few seconds later, he came out of the swinging doors, wiping his hands on his apron that probably hadn't been washed in a week. His eyes cast around and saw Bucky outside the windows looking in. Bucky just smiled and waved. Pierre didn't wave back.

"I know what you are going to say." Pierre began, his French-Cajun accent that he brought with him from New Orleans as heavy as ever. "But you know how it is. It is hard enough making a living without the homme ailé getting everything for free with their special 'discount'."

"He's willing to pay full, normal price." Steve looked up at the man, who cocked an eyebrow in skepticism. Of course, Bucky hadn't expressly said this, but Steve knew that he would agree to it, so he pressed on. "Pierre come on, they are having a hard enough time trying to get by as we are."

The Frenchman crossed an arm over his stomach and scratched his stubbly chin, leaning in close to Steve. "I know Bucky may be well on paying the lot, but what if other winged-folk see and think I am still offering the discount? I can't be giving away my services for practically free…you know that I care about you boys. I would hate to see something happen to you…but given the state of things, I just can't afford to take that chance."

"You've seen other winged-folk besides Bucky?" Steve eyes went wide, his anger momentarily forgotten. There were an estimated grand total of five winged-folk in the entire state of New York. How many of them were in Brooklyn? Steve didn't know. Honestly, he had thought that Bucky was the only one. Well, him and Old Ms. Turner, but even she lived just within the city limits. Pierre dropped his gaze.

"Well no, but-"

"Then one winged-folk willing to pay full price isn't going to hurt your business at all." Steve let his shoulders relax, changing tactics to try to appeal to the man's sense of charity that he hoped was still there. "He's starving Pierre, hasn't eaten more than a bite in days. Your food is the only thing that has enough nutrition and protein to sustain Bucky."

Pierre said nothing, his eyes betraying the thoughts in his head and the sense of duty Steve had planted there. Down in New Orleans, a new kind of gourmet sandwich had sprung up in the French Quarter. A giant wheel of bread cut in half, topped with ham, capicola, salami, portabella, and provolone, then piled high with onions, cheese, and a whole serving of olive salad. It was called a muffaletta, and it was a winged-folk's dream come true. Packed with so many carbs that Steve could only handle a few bites, it could satisfy even the hungriest of winged-folk, who had to eat two meals for every one meal that regular people had. The Killian Discount that had been put into effect by the Society of Avian Affairs was to help winged-folk from spending loads of money on loads of food that they couldn't help but eat. It didn't cut prices in half for them, not completely. But it had made the cost of living more manageable. It wasn't a problem, until the stock market crashed and prices got low. Then people started putting up signs.

Pierre looked like he was about to break. But then his face hardened again. "Even so, how are you guys going to pay for this? Do you even have the money to buy these sandwiches?"

Steve blinked at the man. "We've been saving our money so we could come here. I've been working two jobs. Bucky's been working overtime at the factory."

Pierre paused at that, a small amount of worry flickered across his face. "Which factory?"

"Silver Star." Steve mumbled.

Pierre's eyes widened. "I had no idea Bucky was working there…"

Steve sighed through his nose. "Yeah… dropped out of school when his dad lost his job."

Pierre looked back out the windows at Bucky again, now turned away from the window and sitting on the curb. His wings rested on either side of him against the sidewalk, as if the effort of holding them up was physically draining. Even from here, they could both see a spot of black on the back of Bucky's neck, something he had missed when trying to clean off all the grime. Pierre's face became sullen. He looked back at Steve, the decision wrestling behind his eyes. Steve wanted to say more, to continue to push his case for Bucky. But the Frenchman's tired eyes and trembling hands kept him quiet. Finally, Pierre huffed out a breath that could have also been a laugh.

"Bring him in." Pierre said as he slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head.

Steve felt like his smile was going to split his face in half. "Thank you so much, Pierre. You know what he likes." Steve turned toward the door.

"What about you?" Pierre called after him. Steve looked back over his shoulder.

"I'll just have a few bites of his." He said with a shrug.

Pierre was about to protest, but waved it away and shouted to Carlo in the back. The Italian grinned out from the pickup window, a look of I told you so twinkled in his eyes.

"Bucky, come on!" Steve shouted from the door.

Bucky turned to look at Steve from his seat on the curb, an incredulous look on his face.

"Really?" Bucky stood up. With one small stroke of his wings he leapt the width of the sidewalk in one step, making a short of spectacle himself for the other people walking by. "He's gonna let me in?"

"Just be glad it was payday today, pal." Steve held the door open for Bucky. "We're paying full price."

"That is absolutely fine with me." Bucky sauntered over to the table that Pierre was setting up, the usual table that he and Steve always sat at. Steve couldn't help but notice that what few other patrons that were in the joint were giving him and Bucky confused and angry looks, glancing between them and the sign in the window. Bucky clasped Pierre on the shoulder, his face brimming with gratitude.

"We owe you one, Pierre." Bucky's stomach grumbled again, and he chuckled in embarrassment. "Seriously."

Pierre's own smile didn't reach his eyes. "Bucky, mon fils… I didn't know you were working in the factory."

Bucky's smile faltered for a split second, making Steve think for a second that it hadn't happened. He looked to Pierre, and was taken aback by his expression. Steve imagined the picture that Pierre probably had in his head; Bucky in a dark place, goggles over his eyes and a scarf over his mouth with smoke curling around his body and collecting on his skin, clothes, and hair, a broom clutched in his hand, his wings and arms working tirelessly. It was the same picture Steve had, and it made his heart lurch as well. But Bucky simply brushed it off. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't fully aware just how bad it was.

"Well, it's good pay." Bucky said as he sat down. "And they keep telling me 'it's a job only I can do', so I'm not worried about being out of work anytime soon."

As Steve sat down, Carlo came out of the back kitchen as well, carrying one plate with the massive sandwich on it. He shouted a massive greeting to the two of them, causing everyone to turn their heads once more. Steve couldn't help but notice he was looking a little on the skinny side, and so was Pierre. So was everybody.

"Here you go, Jimmy." Carlo placed the large sandwich in front of Bucky. "Always the best for my favorite pigeon."

Bucky was too captivated by the plate in front of him to take notice of the tease, like he'd never seen something so beautiful in his life. Steve could almost see the drool at the edge of his mouth. But he swallowed it away as he picked up one part of the sandwich that had been cut into quarters. Steve laughed as Bucky had to practically unhinge his jaw to take a bite. When he did, his feathers stood on end. Steve, Pierre, and Carlo watched him, waiting for his reaction. His wings relaxed and he closed his eyes with pure contentment as he chewed. Steve smiled.

"Where's yours?" Bucky asked as he took another bite without swallowing the one he already had in his mouth.

"I get part of yours." Steve picked up another quarter. "This is supposed to feed a family of four, you know."

"I hate to be rigoureux," Pierre chimed in. "But you can pay for this, right?"

Carlo slapped the man on the arm, an annoyed expression on his face. But Bucky put down his sandwich and stood up, fishing his hand into his trouser pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he had a small stack of bills in his curled fingers. Counting carefully, Bucky pulled five dollars out of the stack. Steve knew the meal would only cost about two. He knows Bucky is trying to be kind, but his family's rent isn't going to pay itself. But it's not Steve's money to spend, so he says nothing. He'll give Bucky a dollar after they've had their fill.

Bucky handed the money to Pierre, who took the bills with a shocked expression. He looked up at Bucky, a questioning look on his face. Bucky just shrugged, still chewing.

"Overtime at the factory. I told you it pays good." Bucky smiled tightly around his food, but it was a tired gesture.

Pierre was motionless for a second as the three other men watched him. Bucky finished chewing and swallowed as he contemplated whether he might have just offended the cook, and was about to utter an apology. Pierre embraced Bucky in a tight hug before he could, his arms carefully placed so as not to squish the boys wings. Bucky chuckled as he gently patted the older man's back. Pierre released Bucky and looked him in the eye.

"Promise me you will leave that place." Pierre was dead serious. "I don't care how well they pay, it's no place for a young man to waste his life away."

Bucky became serious too. He looked at Steve, long and hard. Steve lifted an eyebrow at him, wondering what was going through friend's his mind.

"We'll see, Pierre." Bucky said, looking back at the older man. "But you see, I'm not there because I need to be. I'm there because others need me to be."

Pierre nodded and let Bucky sit back down. Carlo put a hand on his partner's shoulder and looked at the two boys.

"We love seeing you boys, and we really appreciate your generosity," Carlo's tone was sad. "But after you leave, we must ask that you don't come back here. At least, not till things get better."

Steve and Bucky nodded, understanding the financial risk the two men are taking by letting Bucky use their services. It's nothing personal. The two men headed back to the kitchen without another word.

Bucky ate the whole thing in a matter of minutes. Steve only got a couple of bites in before the carbs set in, and he suddenly felt full. His stomach had gotten so used to scarce amounts of food, it didn't know what to do with the extra sustenance. Bucky tried to coax him into eating more, but Steve was adamant about letting Bucky get his fill. "You'll use it better than I will," Steve said. Bucky eventually ate the rest of Steve's piece as well, and he already looked much better by the time they were done. There was a little more color in his cheeks, a little more strength in his wings. Bucky leaned back and put his hands over his stomach, letting out a content sigh. He looked like he was about to slip into the best food-coma of his life.

"Better?" Steve asked with an amused grin.

"Much better." Bucky laughed. "There's only so much that Ms. Turner's cookies can do."

"We should get going." Steve stood, seeing that the other patrons were still giving Bucky and him looks. Bucky waved at Steve, motioning for him to sit back down so he could digest a little. Steve remained standing, monitoring the joint. Everybody he made eye contact with quickly looked away. Bucky watched him, slightly entertained. A sly grin crept on his face, as he decided this would be the perfect time to mess with Steve.

Clasping his hands over his head, Bucky stretched. His wings spread apart slowly, all twelve feet taking up all the room in the small café. They quivered with his rippling muscles, making the feathers shimmer in brown and white waves. The longest of his flight feathers touched the floor. Steve started at the sight, knowing that Bucky was doing this on purpose. He heard people giving small gasps of wonder and awe. Annoyed, Steve cleared his throat loudly. Bucky just arched his back against the chair he was sitting in, making his spine crack. He shifted his wings up and out, displaying them fully for all to see.

"Bucky." Steve said flatly.

Bucky snapped his wings shut, sending little gusts of wind in either direction. He leaned forward and stood out of his chair. He headed for the door, eyes straight forward. The grin on his face was barely concealed. Steve followed in a huff, but the damage had been done. Everybody in the café was watching them leave, and the quiet that Bucky had caused was almost too loud. When Steve got outside, Bucky was standing by the curb, a huge smile on his face. Steve stood beside him sighed, crossing his arms. His stomach ached a little, but it was a good ache.

"You know you look stupid when you do that." Steve grumbled.

"I think those nice people in there would disagree." Bucky was so pleased with himself. "Now they've seen something they might never see again, thanks to me."

Steve rolled his eyes. Winged-folk are rare, but it's not like they're endangered. Steve was just one of the few lucky people that had the curse of calling one his best friend. True, some people live their whole lives without seeing one in real life. That was without the idea that it was not uncommon for them to fly away from society - to disappear completely and never be seen again. But Steve couldn't really blame them. When there was no one around, there were no signs saying they weren't welcome. As for Bucky, he loved people and Brooklyn too much to fly away, though Steve knew that he had definitely thought about it.

"It's harmless fun, lighten up." Bucky started walking down the sidewalk. "Now come on, I've got a long day of cleaning the smoke-chute at the factory tomorrow, and we still have enough money to get a slice of pizza, and you're actually going to eat some of it this time."

A/N: Hello!

You guys will learn more about the wing!verse as we go along, but feel free to ask me any questions. Oh, and if you've never had muffaleta, you're missing out.

As always, read, review, and enjoy!