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Sam knows he will never get used to seeing red and blue wings in the sky.
He should be used to it by now, he supposed. Sam hasn’t held the title of Captain America for years. Joaquín has proven time and time again how he deserves the shield, just as he did with the Falcon wings. Passing on the title was one of the easiest decisions Sam has ever made.
He still watches as the younger turns and dives, simulating moves they’d use when facing air strikes from behind. A smile graces his lips as he remembers a time when Joaquín could barely lift off the ground on his own. It seems like it was yesterday, back when multiverses didn’t exist and he had a good back. He reflects on those days fondly.
Now, though, it is no longer Sam and Joaquín, just as it once was no longer Sam and Steve. As time passes, he feels less melancholy about the exchanges. A pair of silver wings overtakes the red and blue, cheering as he completes the double twist he’d been working on for months. Sam shakes his head, but let's himself laugh along with the two in the air for a second.
“Cass,” Sam says over the comms a moment later, “we’re supposed to be training, not freestyling.”
“Sorry, Uncle Sam,” Falcon responds, though he doesn’t sound apologetic. “Just wanted to show Cap the new moves!”
It was by chance that his nephew was chosen for the Falcon program. He’d partially followed in Sam’s footsteps, graduating from the Air Force Academy and completing three tours as a pilot. Sam had no say in Joaquín's replacement, but after watching Cass in the air, he knows the right choice was made.
“C’mon, you guys know the drill, run number five again. Quit your groaning, Cass, your left wing still dips too low on the third turn.”
The two soar into position and begin the drill. Falcon still doesn’t quite get the turn, but Sam knows it will come with experience. At least he hasn’t run into any buildings yet.
Sam doesn’t turn around, but he knows who stands three steps behind. “I’m not crazy, right?” Sam asks, “is it only the third turn, or is it the fourth as well?” When he doesn’t hear a response, he looks over his shoulder. Predictably, the other isn’t paying any attention to the men in the sky. “Quit staring at my ass, Barnes, you know what it looks like.”
Bucky is smirking as he appears at Sam’s side. “You’re the expert, babe. Best I can do is tell you about the mechanics.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Why do I bring you to these things?”
“Well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do anything dumb.” Bucky catches his hand mid-air and gives it a kiss. “Besides, haven’t you heard? I’m Captain America’s trophy husband.”
“I- That article came out fifteen years ago. When are you going to let that go?”
Bucky shrugs, but doesn’t say anything else. He lets go of Sam’s hand and watches for a moment as Falcon and Captain America work on another drill.
“You’re doing great with them,” Bucky says softly. “They’re going to kick some serious ass together.”
“It’s a team effort, you know.”
Bucky turns to him, expression open and loving. “Yeah, but this is your legacy. Steve may have had the shield, but you’re the one who gave Captain America wings.”
Sam looks back up at the sky and watches as Joaquín adjusts Cass’s position. “That looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he asks, changing the topic.
“Huh? Oh,” Bucky lets out a laugh, “absolutely. You spent days trying to get the kid to even out his shoulders. I still catch him correcting them on his own sometimes.”
“Really?” Bucky frowns as Sam starts to chuckle. Despite his husband’s protest, Sam speaks through the comms again. “Cap, I hear you’re having some trouble with your shoulders. Take Falcon and run drill five again.” He shrugs at the unamused look he receives. “What? This was the only drill Riley and I were allowed to do for days. When Joaquín is the one doing the training, he can decide how to run it.” He turns from Bucky's shaking head and looks back up to watch red, blue and silver glide with the wind.
It’s a sight he will never get used to.