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It was a Friday night when Antonia came into the world, her entrance unexpected and on her own terms, setting a precedent for the rest of her life. Though tiny and frail, her lungs were strong, her shrill cries loud and piercing, bringing everyone to attention around her.
Like every child born, she had beautiful white wings lying against her back, blank canvases that life would write upon, telling her story through colored feathers.
Wings were the windows to the soul, tapestries of life's lessons learned, both good and bad. Parents taught their children young how read a person’s feathers; each color and pattern had its own meaning. It was a universal language, spoken by all those with wings.
Within the first few moments of her life, it was clear Antonia would be burdened by hers, because as soon as the nurse told Howard that he had a daughter, deep blue feathers with flecks of black danced across the tops of her wings, following the lines of her lesser coverts—rejection settling over her like blanket she could never shed.
The nurses exchanged looks of concern, shielding the crying bundle from her father's hardened gaze as he stormed from the room.
Antonia Margaret Stark wasn’t going to let that stop her, though. She had determination in her soul, and it would soon show on her wings.
Rejected by her father, and with a mother that drank to cope, her care fell to the butler and his wife. Edwin and Ana Jarvis welcomed her with open arms, doing their best to guide her curious mind and give her the love she so desperately needed. It wasn't more than a day after meeting Toni that their devotion and love made itself known on her wings, the deepest of forest greens brushing against her father's rejection.
The shimmering gray of intelligence that crept across her plumage before she even learned to toddle came as no surprise. She may have been nothing like her father in spirit, but she had his mind.
She was four when she created her first circuit board, presenting it to her father only to be turned away—a few more feathers of rejection spread across her wings that day, but something else, too. A few yellow feathers of hope appeared as well. Because despite it all, she dreamed of her father's love and approval.
When she was seven, she built her first engine. She beamed with pride, so keen to impress her father that a few more brilliant yellow feathers weaved their way against the mass of rejection that already painted her wings.
She waited, watching timidly as he circled her creation. Her father's massive wings were on rare display, golden tipped black primaries shimmering in the light—a testimony to his narcissism.
Shaking his head, Howard nudged the spark plug wires, a biting smile twisting his face. "You should stick to your dolls—the placement of these is all wrong. You'll never be worth the Stark name."
She ran to her room, stretching her arms behind her, clawing at her wings, wanting to tear every last hopeful feather out.
Ana found her curled up on the floor of her room hours later, wings bloodied where she'd stripped the feathers. They'd regrow, but Toni would never let herself hope again. Around the raw wounds, feathers the color of blood, for righteous anger and resolve, spread outwards. Even when her wings healed, evidence of her misplaced hope would always remain.
The older woman knelt in front of her, ducking her head to try to see Toni's face. "Oh, sweet child, what have you done?"
Toni's tucked her chin to her chest and drew her wings tighter around herself, feathers twitching at the movement. "He'll never care, Ana—no matter what I do."
Ana rested a hand on Toni's head, thumb stroking her hair. "Your father isn't a kind man—life has hardened him. You can see it in his wings."
"Like the bad in mine?"
"Darling, your wings aren't bad."
Toni looked up through her lashes, meeting Ana's green eyes. "I don't want them. I hate my wings."
The woman sighed heavily and cupped Toni’s cheeks. “They are hard to look at sometimes, aren’t they? They show the truth—even if it’s painful to see. You know, I would pluck my feathers, too—during the war.”
Toni sniffed and looked up at her. “Really?”
Ana nodded. “Yes. It showed my sympathy for the oppressed, and that was a dangerous thing. I would rip them out in fear. Do you know what happened?”
Toni was silent for a moment before shaking her head.
“Nothing but pain. It hurts to pluck them, and doing so did nothing to stop the Nazis. It was a day much like today, my wings bleeding and stripped, tears on my face, that I decided to do something—to make a change, so I joined the war effort. What will you do?”
Toni glanced at the bloodied feathers scattered on the floor. Unseen to her, a new color blossomed along the edges of Ana's love—a vibrant purple, marking her with the deepest of determinations.
"I'm going to get back up—like Aunt Peggy taught me to do."
After that, Toni threw herself into studying, not letting her father's refusal to teach her stand in the way.
As time went by, the feathers of hope she'd plucked were slowly replaced. The ones that grew in their place were smaller, a little misshapen, but the message they conveyed was clear. The acidic green edged by lines of black flashed to the world the spite that fueled her.
When she turned eight, she walked into her father's workshop with a small robotic dog. She left with pieces and a stinging handprint on her cheek. Her mother caught her in the hallway, her eyes falling to the reddened mark. The woman pursed her lips, hand making an aborted gesture before it dropped back to her side.
Toni set her jaw, and even though there were tears in her eyes, she held her mother's gaze. The woman blinked, looking away and hurrying down the hall. Toni stood there, staring at the spot her mother had just been. She felt more empty and alone than she had in a long time.
Toni didn't check her wings that night—or the next. She didn't care. She didn't need to check to know that the red and black feathers of her mother’s betrayal had found a home on her wings.
The house was quiet after that, her father continuing his search for Captain America, her mother drinking alone in her room.
Toni spent most of her father's absence alone. She'd considered sneaking into his workshop but didn't dare. Even though she knew he was gone, his presence still seemed to lurk in the empty space.
Jarvis found her early on a Sunday, two weeks after her father had left. She was outside, throwing rocks at her mother's roses, knocking the blossoms free.
"May I ask what the flowers have done to deserve this?"
Toni's brow wrinkled as she turned the jagged stone in her hand, feeling its rough edges. She squinted up at him. "It's not like she ever leaves her room to see them."
Jarvis hummed knowingly, hands clasped in front of him. "You're angry with her."
Toni shrugged then drew her arm back, taking aim at another one of her mother's prize flowers. It was a direct hit, a few petals falling to the ground, joining the corpses of her earlier victims in the grass.
Jarvis squatted down, picking up a stone and weighing it in his hand before offering it to her.
Toni eyed the rock then looked to Jarvis's face. "What are you giving me that? Aren't you mad that I've destroyed them?"
"I won't deny that the flowers are beautiful and deserve the chance to bloom, but if this helps you, then take the stone."
Frowning, she looked between the stone and the bushes before settling her gaze back on Jarvis. It felt like a trick, him offering the rock, she considered for a moment before shaking her head. If she really thought about it, she knew that the flowers weren't at fault. "Please don't tell my mom."
Jarvis nodded, his fingers closing around the stone. "Would never think of it."
He never told her mother the truth of the flowers, even when his livelihood was threatened. Toni had heard her mother screeching at him, demanding answers, as Jarvis calmly explained that the local wildlife must have developed a taste for roses. Trust found a place in her lesser primaries that day, delicate pinks with edges of blue. They were feathers she would wear with pride.
Weeks passed before her father came home, and when he did, Toni knew enough to hide. He was always angry when he came back from his searches empty-handed and quick to lash out.
Toni was sneaking past the entrance to his study when she heard him snarl her name. She froze in her tracks, turning to see him through the open door. His wings loomed over his back, primaries nearly touching the floor. They were full of anger and vengeance, of death and regret. The dark colors and massive size made it feel like he owned the very air you breathed.
Toni's heart slammed against her ribcage as she met her father's eyes. It took all her courage to keep from averting her gaze.
"How much more of an invitation do you need? Get in here."
She watched as he finished his drink, turning to grab another and set it on the desk. All she could see were his huge wings, the gold edging on his primaries catching the light. His left wing twitched, feathers ruffling as he reached for another glass, turning it over and placing it beside his own.
Hands tightly balled in fists, she nudged the door open with her elbow and stepped inside. She moved to the middle of the room, keeping her distance from her father.
He picked up the decanter and filled each glass halfway. Picking them up, he turned and faced her. There was a tension in his features that spoke to his anger. He offered one of the glasses to her, holding it out expectantly. When she didn't move to take it, his mouth twitched, pulling tight, and he narrowed his eyes.
"It's time you learn what it means to be a Stark," he said, nodding to the glass. "Take the damn drink."
She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was too dry. She eyed the drink then stepped forward, taking the glass from her father's hand. Drawing it close to her chest, she wrapped her fingers around beveled glass. The sharp and familiar smell made her nose twitch.
Her father kept his gaze on her as she held the glass. He raised a challenging brow, so she lifted it to her lips. The liquid burned her tongue as it entered her mouth, but she didn’t want to appear weak, so she suppressed a grimace and continued drinking, forcing it down. It made her stomach ache in a way she’d never felt before. It was warm but burned, too.
He nodded when she finished the glass. “Maybe there's hope for you yet.”
Jarvis found her later that night lying sick on her bed. When he'd gotten close enough to feel her head for fever, he'd drawn back, a frown on his face.
“Why don't you get under the covers, little miss. You'll feel better after some sleep," he said, helping her climb between the sheets.
She looked up at him with bleary eyes as she settled her head against the pillow. "Do you think he's proud of me?"
Jarvis brushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He smiled at her, but it didn't touch his eyes. He looked sad, and Toni didn't like it. She wondered what she’d done wrong.
He sighed. "I can’t speak for him, but I will always be proud of you, little miss.”
Toni's ninth birthday arrived, and with it, a ticket to boarding school. She finally had an escape, a place far away from her father's reach. Even Jarvis and Ana seemed relieved at the news, though it was clear they would miss her.
Time flew by quickly there, only occasionally coming home for visits. She was younger than the other students, but she thought of Ana and Jarvis and held her head high.
It wasn't until the crisp air of fall began to shift to the biting cold of winter a few years later that her world came crashing down.
The headmaster called her to the office. He was a portly man who took his job seriously. The conversation was short between them. Apparently, her mother had sent a message. Toni was to pack her things. She was coming home for a family emergency, but the message didn’t give any clue as to what the crisis was. It felt as though a dark shadow had wrapped around her, weighing her down with dread.
It didn’t take long to gather her things and arrive home. When she reached the door, her mother didn't greet her—Jarvis did. One look at his face and Toni knew something terrible had happened. Emotional, her control over her wings slipped, and they arched up, instinctively flexing as if warding off whatever awful thing was about to come.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “What’s happened?”
There were tears in Jarvis’s eyes as he knelt before her, hand brushing back her hair. "I wish I had better news, little miss, but it's Ana.” He paused. “She's passed."
The air felt too thin, and her chest heaved. It felt like great claws were tearing her ribcage apart. It couldn’t be true. Her head began to spin, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the dizziness. Ana promised to be there. She couldn’t be gone.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she furiously wiped away her tears. "No! No! She's not gone!"
Jarvis shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
Her hands balled into fists. "You're lying! You said you'd never lie to me!"
He reached out and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. I wish it wasn’t true."
As he held her, the grief and loss painted her wings in speckled gray feathers, a permanent reminder of the first person she’d ever lost.
Another year found her in college, accelerating through the grades. It was more isolating than high school had been, all her peers older by years. It wasn’t all bad, though. It was in the halls on her second day that she met someone who would become the best friend she never had. Toni was walking to a lecture when an older student cat-called her. It made her immediately stiffen and clench her fists, but before she could spin around and give him a piece of her mind, another voice intervened. “Watch your mouth!”
She turned and looked to see a man taller than her with dark skin pinning the guy to the wall.
“Chill, I was only having a little fun,” the guy said, struggling.
Her unknown knight tightened his hold and leaned in closer, eyes narrowing and face twisting in a snarl. “She’s just a kid, you fuck. I see you around her again, and you can kiss having your own kids goodbye.”
The guy nodded, and her rescuer let him go, eyeing him as he scurried down the hall. When he a distance away, the man turned to Toni and nodded, a small smile touching his lips. “Hey, sorry about that. Some guys can be jerks.”
Toni bit her lip, chewing it for a moment. She could have handled it, but it was nice that this guy had helped. No one other than Jarvis and Ana had looked after her before. “Thanks, so do you have a name, or would you rather something like Lancelot since you came in like a knight in shining armor to protect me?”
He snorted and walked up to her, extending a hand. “Name’s James Rhodes, and I know who you are. I think everyone does.”
The corner of her mouth tugged up in a smirk. “Nice to meet you, Rhodey.”
He raised a brow. “Rhodey?”
She shrugged, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “James is too formal, and you don’t look like a Jim. Rhodey seemed like a good compromise.”
He shook his head, scratching at the barely-there stubble on his cheek. “Okay,” he chuckled. “How about I walk you to class? Keep the fair maiden safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need any help keeping safe.”
It wasn’t long before their friendship grew, and soon it showed on her feathers. A few soft pink feathers touched by blue, like those she carried for Jarvis, peppered in amongst the other colors.
“Do you ever show your wings?” Rhodey asked one night as they took a break from studying. “I mean, you always keep them tight to your back like your ashamed or something.”
Toni tapped her pen against the open book in front of her and shrugged a shoulder.
“People already say a lot about me. I don’t need to give them more ammunition.”
Rhodey's brow wrinkled as he studied. “You know I wouldn’t care, right?”
She pressed her lips together, considering his words. “The first thing most people see is my father’s rejection. I can’t hide that.”
“Just means Howard’s a dick.”
She snorted. “I guess it does.”
They didn't talk anymore about wings again that night.
It wasn't until years later that death would touch her wings, just not in the way most would imagine. She was home, visiting Jarvis, when the call came. There had been an accident, and her parents were dead. Drunk driving. Like she ever expected anything different from her father.
Unlike when Ana passed, Toni's wings didn't gain the speckled gray feathers of loss. Instead, betrayal and anger flitted across the edges of her wings. The loss of her parents caused a storm of emotion that she couldn’t control. To ease the pain, she turned to the one thing she learned from her father—how to drink. She buried her twisted feelings under the numbing balm of alcohol.
The universe was cruel, and soon after her parent’s death, Jarvis passed in his sleep. It felt like her heart was torn from her ribcage, much like it had when Ana had died. New gray and black feathers fit in beside those of Ana's passing, nestled together, a reminder of those that had helped shape who she was. They were forever a reminder to be better.
Except she didn’t do better—not always.
The world was a blur after she lost Jarvis, drowned in alcohol and drugs. Obadiah guided her, putting her degrees to use. She created the weapons the world wanted and partied any chance she got. It was easiest to not connect, to pretend not to care. Other than Rhodey, no one got too close.
At twenty-one, she stood with Obadiah and took her place at Stark Industries. Some thought it would be a mistake, and their uncertainty showed in the stocks, but her genius proved them wrong. When it came to creating, she was unparalleled, creating weapons that left carnage in their wake, a true Merchant of Death.
Obadiah insisted she get an assistant. After many false starts, Toni met her match, a no-nonsense redhead that put her in her place. The woman’s wings shouted that she bowed to no man. Pepper took no bullshit and cut off all of her advances. The woman pushed when others would pull. It was precisely what Toni needed.
When Toni stood in the desert of Afghanistan, arms held high as the hills exploded behind her, something in her wings changed. As she demonstrated her weapons, a cocky smirk on her face, her primaries changed. Just like her father, gold-tipped black feathers of narcissism colored her wings.
The Fun-Vee didn’t turn out that fun, and she as she lay there on the ground, blood blossoming from wounds on her chest, she wasn’t afraid. Her thoughts went to Ana and Jarvis, and she smiled as she closed her eyes.
Death didn’t take her, though. Flashes of pain and glimpses of faces, the sound of someone screaming, it passed in a blur. When she awoke with a battery attached to her chest and a man named Yinsen at her side, she was angry, and it showed on her wings. Colors no one wanted blurred into her feathers, contrasting sharply with the love, faith, and determination.
“You will build us our missile,” said one of the men, a rifle on his shoulder.
Toni narrowed her eyes at him. Her mouth tasted like dirt and copper, and she spat on the ground. Ropes tied her wrists in front of her, and her wings were bound behind her back. Blood dripped from them, and the acrid smell of burnt feathers and flesh filled the air.
Most of the torture had taken place on her wings and back, burning away skin and feathers alike. Toni didn’t even want to imagine what they’d look like if she survived. The feathers would never regrow the same through the scars, and as for the colors—she didn’t want to think what her plumage would say now.
She gritted her teeth as they tore her primaries out, throwing them at the ground where she knelt. When her eyes caught the gold and black of narcissism, laughter bubbled up inside her. They didn’t know it, but they were doing her a favor. The last thing she wanted was to die with the same colors as her father.
She had almost given up, almost thrown in the towel and let the pain win, when something changed her mind. Maybe it was her determination that shone so bright or the righteous anger that covered her feathers, but when one of the men laughed, calling her a just another pretty face with no mind, something solidified in her. She might not be her father, and she didn’t want to be her mother, but she sure as hell was not some girl who was going to let them win.
Slamming her weight against the ropes that held her wings, she snapped at the men. “You want a weapon? I’ll build you your weapon.”
The men considered her for a moment before the leader nodded.
“Take her to the doctor, have him see to her wounds.” He turned to her, his face dirty and sweaty. His smell bit her nose. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
Toni blew her falling bangs from her face and smirked. “You have no idea.”
The took her back to Yinsen, who saw to her wounds. Each dab against the raw wounds made her grit her teeth. Thankfully, it didn’t take long, not because the damage was light, but because there was just little to do. The burns were severe and would leave scars behind. The worst of the damage was over the first color she ever gained. The speckled blue of her father’s rejection. Toni didn’t know how to feel about that. In a way, it made the ugly even worse to look at, but in another, at least the love of Ana and Jarvis had been spared.
“I have cleaned the burns, but they will scar,” Yinsen said. "The feathers—the feathers will never regrow the same.”
Toni’s face hardened. “That’s fine. It wasn’t like they were a reminder of good things.”
“Can I ask who?” Yinsen said, taking his supplies and putting them back on the table.
Toni knew what he meant. Everyone wondered how someone so young had wings like hers.
“My father mostly. There was never any doubt he didn’t want me.”
Yinsen was quiet as he wiped his hands on a dirty cloth. “I’m sorry to hear that. Family is a precious thing—or it should be.”
“I’ll get you back to your family,” Toni said. “I promise you I will.”
And amongst all the scars and pain, for the first time since she was a child, yellow bloomed across her wings, hope in the darkest of places.
Her wings were draped over her back when she fell to her knees in the desert, throwing up a peace sign to Rhodey. If he was shocked to see her wings so damaged, he never said. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
“Next time you ride with me, princess.”
She snorted, fingers clutching the fabric of his uniform, her head resting on his shoulder. “You always were my knight in shining armor.”
He pressed a kiss to her head and helped her to the chopper. After a whirlwind of doctors and nurses, Toni covered her wings with a shroud and went home, looking ahead as she remembered Yinsen’s dying words to not waste her life.
Obadiah turned on her, and she killed him. Betrayal clustered around the spite on her wings.
Despite not being recommended, the Avengers were formed, and Toni kept her wings shrouded, though curious eyes watched her. The Captain didn’t like her from the start, but she didn’t care. She’d met people like him before, people stuck in the past. It was clear what he thought of her. He could take his pristine wings and shove it.
She flew the nuke into the wormhole, proving them all wrong.
The suit covered her wings, so there was no chance anyone would see them. Even if she left her suit, she still kept them wrapped and shrouded. It wasn’t that she was ashamed. She just didn’t want the pitying looks. Though the world had come a long way, people still read your feathers and made snap judgments. She didn’t want to think what someone would think after reading hers. There was so much betrayal and rejection, so much anger. And the scars from Afghanistan littered her wings. Highlighting what a mess she was.
The Avengers had settled into the tower after Loki was returned to Asgard with Thor. She wasn’t sure why she offered them a place to live, maybe deep down she felt alone.
Bruce, with his massive onyx wings, settled into the room he gave him and thanked her for the lab. If there was anyone she could relate to, it was Bruce. His wings shouted death. Ever since the accident that turned him into the Hulk, his wings had been black as night. It set most people on edge, but it didn’t bother Toni. She knew what it was like to have wings you wanted to hide.
Clint and Natasha both accepted their rooms but made themselves scarce. Clint’s wings were a picture of rejection, anger, and pain, not that different than her own. Natasha’s were hard to look at it. It was clear that from a young age, she never felt the love of a family.
Then there was Steve, and his enormous wings, wings painted with warmth and love, except for the grief that laid like a blanket over them, dripping down the feathers. The grief wasn’t there in his early pictures from the war. It was new, something that had changed after he was thawed from the ice. Toni supposed she could understand. He’d lost everything he knew, but that didn’t give him an excuse for being such a dick.
Toni was in her workshop, working on calibrating the suit, when the door to her lab opened. The music dimmed, and she looked up, huffing when she saw it was Steve.
His wings twitched, arching up slightly before settling back down.
Shaking her head, Toni returned to her calibrations.
“Toni, can we talk?” Steve asked.
Toni slapped her hands onto the workbench, dropping her head as she sighed. A few stray strands of hair fell into her eyes, and she blew them out of the way. Turning, she leaned against the workbench and appraised Steve.
“What’s up, Capsicle?”
Steve face soured at the nickname, and his wings ruffled. “I feel like we should clear the air. It’s been months since we all moved in, but we rarely see you. Is it something I’ve done? Something we’ve done?”
Toni rolled her eyes, turning back to her project. She waved a hand at him. “Everything’s peachy keen, Cap. I’m just a busy woman. Got a lot on my plate.”
“Oh, so it’s not—I mean, I know we didn’t start off on the best of terms.”
Toni thought back to their confrontation on the carrier and snorted. Maybe she was bitter about things. Her father had spent his life searching for Steve. She lived in his shadow. It almost seemed fitting in some cruel way that Steve wouldn’t judge her worthy.
“Water under the bridge,” Toni said.
Steve left soon after, and Toni slumped against the workbench. What was she doing, letting them all move in with her? Pepper had warned her it wasn’t a good idea, but Toni was feeling magnanimous, and maybe the brush with death had changed something in her, though it didn’t show on her wings.
Over the next few weeks, Steve stopped by her workshop a few times, each time bringing something with him, usually a snack, and once dinner. It was nice, but she didn’t know what to make of it. It was easier when people kept their distance. She had enough people in her circle, and she didn’t want to add more. But over the weeks, she found herself softening to his approach. Instead of greeting with a grunt and a scowl, she offered a small smile. Steve’s face seemed to light up at the gesture, and Toni found herself chasing that little high.
They’d just gotten back from a rough mission, fighting some terrorist cell, and Toni had spent way too long in the suit. Her wings itched, needing to be stretched and preened. She retreated down to her workshop and unwrapped her wings, letting them stretch. A few stray feathers fell to the floor. Rhodey was the only one that Toni trusted to preen her wings, but he was busy, so she was just going to have to do it herself.
Sitting on one of the stools with her back to the door, she reached around and tried to pull her wing out. She worked on the left one first, where most of the damage from Afghanistan lay. She ran her fingers through the downy under feathers, trying to unknot them. They were tangled and damp with sweat from being wrapped for so long.
She didn’t hear the door to her workshop open, but she heard the suck of breath behind her.
She nearly toppled out of the chair as she got to her feet, turning to hide her wings.
It was Steve. Of course, it was.
Her jaw tightened, and her wings arched up against her will. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“Your wings.” He seemed to be struggling for words. “Who—who did that to you?”
“The scars? Those were courtesy of my stay in the cave. I’m sure you’ve read my file.”
Steve shook his head. “Not the scars, everything else.”
Toni ruffled her wings, and she looked away. “I wasn’t Howard’s favorite. Guess you could say he never wanted a daughter.”
She heard Steve let out a controlled breath, and she glanced over. His hands were flexing in and out of fists. “I’m sorry—I know people can change, but he wasn’t like that when I knew him.”
“Lucky you.”
Steve nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes fell to the feathers on the floor and then flicked back to Toni. He was quiet from a moment while he seemed to consider something. “Do you have anyone to help you? Pepper maybe?”
Toni frowned. “No—I mean, I have Rhodey, but he’s busy. It’s not a big deal.”
“No offense, Toni, but I saw your wings.”
“Unless you’re offering, there isn’t any else for us to talk about. You know the way out.”
Steve’s head tilted just a hair. “Maybe I am offering.”
Toni drew back a bit, not expecting the reply. “To be clear we're talking about the same thing, what exactly are you saying?”
Steve's expression softened. “I want to help you, Toni. I’m offering to preen your wings.”
Toni nodded a few times, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Right, I guess you’ve already seen them and haven’t run for the hills.”
“I would never.”
“They’re even worse up close. The scarring is nasty.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
Tony nodded again. “Right, yeah, well, I’ll just sit then.”
Steve smiled, and it unfurled something in her heart. She sat back down on the stool and turned, so her wings were facing him. A moment later, Toni heard a chair being dragged across the floor, and she felt someone brush her wings, making her jump.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “Can I start?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—do this kind of thing all the time. Perfectly normal. Doing great.”
“Breathe, Toni. I won’t start until you’re ready.”
She adjusted her wings, letting the tension drop from her shoulders. Taking a steadying breath, she said, “I’m good, really, go ahead. Just be careful around the left wing. You can probably see—the scarring is bad. The feathers grow wrong and get sore.”
“I’ll be careful.”
And then Toni felt the first light touch, up high near the rejection from her father. Wasn’t that something? The man that her father had spent his life searching for was preening the wings of the daughter he’d loathed.
Toni waited for Steve to ask questions, to comment on her feathers, but he stayed quiet, fingers slowly working over her plumage. She could feel the light tug as he zipped the feathers between his fingers, sealing them back up. He got a sore spot on her left wing, and she winced as he tugged a feather free, rubbing the spot after.
“Sorry, it needed to come out,” Steve explained. “It looked infected. When was the last time someone preened your wings?”
Toni shrugged, keeping her gaze on the floor. “Rhodey’s been busy. I didn’t have anyone else.”
“Well, you do now.”
Steve smoothed the feathers, and then his hands came to a stop, resting near the lesser coverts. Toni frowned, wondering why he’d pause over the rejection that rested there. Her wings twitched up as she felt his fingers tracing down.
“I’ve never seen it happen before,” Steve said in awe.
Toni sat up straighter, turning to look over her shoulder but unable to see what Steve saw. “What?”
Steve was smiling, his fingers still tracing the feathers. “They just appeared.” He pressed so she could feel it. “They’re the softest blue and pink I’ve ever seen.”
Trust. Tony sucked in a breath, realizing that somewhere along the line, she’d grown to trust Steve. She’d let another person into her small circle.
“They’re yours,” Toni said, then cleared her throat. “I mean, I trust you.”
Steve’s fingers traced over the feathers again. “I’m glad.”