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What, up there?" Steve says, looking up and squinting against the sun. Carol follows his gaze, but it looks like a regular sky to her, the white fluffy clouds not at all resembling a camouflaged military base.
Even Tony, who is no stranger to ridiculous and implausible technology, looks dubious at the news. "Jan, are you serious? They're walking on clouds."
Janet shrugs her tiny shrug. "That's what it looked like to me. The actual base clearly had some kind of hover technology, so maybe they do too."
Bruce sighs and starts toeing off his shoes. "It's not so strange. It's not like we haven't all been on the helicarrier."
"The helicarrier does not rest feather-light on the clouds like a beautiful butterfly," Tony mutters.
"Might be difficult for the non-flyers," Jessica puts in. "At least until we can get to the base proper."
"You're just so proud of that flight power, aren't you," Peter grumbles. Jessica beams at him.
Bruce is down to just his pants, which he promptly shucks off to reveal the stretchy shorts Reed Richards made for him. He puts the clothes into his backpack, then takes off his glasses and slips them in on top.
"Who's with me?" he asks.
Everyone shuffles around and no one volunteers. Steve chuckles. "We ought to draw up a rota or something. This happens often enough."
"Okay, let's say Wasp takes Spider-Man, since they're both small," Carol says.
"Hey," Peter and Janet say together, but without much fire. Janet buzzes down to Peter's shoulder and gets ready to lift him up.
"I could lift three Spider-Mans. Uh. Spider-Men." Janet points out. "Spiders-man?"
Peter smiles up at her. "Luckily you don't have to."
"I'm with Big Green," Logan offers, tossing his cigar stub into the dry bushes. T'Challa pointedly crushes it out with his foot.
"I'm not sure that a forest fire is the best way to announce our presence to the well-organized cloud-faring military organization who have us vastly outnumbered," he drawls. Logan snorts.
Bruce kneels down and pats his own bare, pale, scientist shoulder. "Hop on, then!"
Logan glares at him. "Yeah, I'll wait till you transform, thanks."
Bruce shrugs and hulks out. Logan leaps up on to his now-green shoulders, looking way more dignified about it than Clint ever does.
"Panther, if you'll do me the honor?" Jessica asks, holding out her hand. T'Challa takes it like the gentleman he is.
"You'll have to teach us how you mastered flight, Spider-Woman. I wouldn't mind learning."
Jessica grins at him. "I know, right? It sucks being hauled around like a super-sack of potatoes."
"That leaves me with you, Captain," Steve says, turning to Carol. "If you don't mind carrying me again."
Carol smiles. "Of course not, Captain. You want piggyback, armpits, or bridal?"
"Lady's choice."
Tony shuffles his rocket boots. "What, no one wants to ride with me? Do I smell or something?"
Peter and Steve exchange a look. Logan chuckles, and T'Challa doesn't chuckle, but probably does on the inside.
"It's just you're kinda, uh, hot," Peter says. Logan's grin gets broader. Peter hastily adds, "You know, to the touch. You need a fan on that thing, it burned me last time. Is it a Mac Iron Man suit or something? Does it need more RAM?"
"It's been running a little hot lately," Tony grumbles.
"Well, you can let us know when you've got that sorted out," T'Challa says primly. Tony scowls at him.
"I don't see your tech giving you the capability for sustained flight, T'Challa," he says, flipping down his faceplate.
"You also don't see me painting myself a big red and gold target against the sky as a matter of course," T'Challa returns calmly.
"You wanna talk targets, boys, I think you gotta mention the one Captain America carries around on his back," Jessica puts in.
"T'Challa thinks my uniform is pretty," Steve says, shrugging his shield over his shoulders. It does look like a big target, now Carol thinks about it. "Don't you, T'Challa?"
"Very fetching."
"HULK WILL POINT OUT BAD GUYS STILL NEED SMASHING," the Hulk growls, and Logan, from his piggyback position on the Hulk's shoulders, nods his agreement.
"Let's go already," he growls.
Carol walks up to Steve and takes him up in a bridal carry, her arms under his back and knees. He laughs, sort of, a surprised involuntary puff of air as she takes him up in her arms.
"We did armpits last time," she explains. Steve smiles at her and wraps his arms around her neck. His shield kind of digs in to her bicep, but it's not too bad. There really aren't a lot of ways to comfortably carry another human being while flying through the air.
It's a little ways from the clearing they were standing in to the edge of the trees, so Carol ends up walking the distance with Steve in her arms. In front of her Jan is riding on Peter's shoulder, ready to grab him up; Hulk and Logan are ahead of them, trying not to make too much noise as they crash through the bushes. Tony is already hovering in the sky, waiting for Janet to lead the way.
"Sorry, you probably could've walked this part," Carol says, feeling silly.
"No, no, I don't mind," Steve returns. "It gives me a nice break. I should make you carry me to all the battles."
"I'm beginning to think that you make me catch you all the time out of sheer laziness," Carol says, and Steve grins.
"I just like seeing a Chair Force Colonel doing some real work for a change."
Carol rolls her eyes – not that Steve can see it behind her mask – and gives him a little jostle. Steve chuckles.
At the edge of the trees Janet grabs a fistful of Peter's costume and gets them airborne, leading the way; a moment later the Hulk pushes off the ground in one of his big leaps and follows their trajectory.
"My mother used to carry me like this," Steve murmurs. It's a weird time to get introspective, right before a battle, but then on the other hand it's not. "When I was little, and sick. She'd put me to bed."
"I bet you were super cute as a kid," Carol says softly.
"I was delicate," Steve corrects. His body is hot against hers: his hands against her neck, his side pressed to her breasts and belly, his thick, muscled thigh resting in her arms. He feels delicate now, to her, his weight a responsibility.
She meets his eyes. "I bet your mom liked to carry you."
They're at the edge of the trees now. Beside her, Jessica hops up into the air and then grabs T'Challa under the armpits. Carol follows her, letting go of her tie to the earth and soaring upwards, letting her flight suit wrap over her face and neck.
"I always felt safe with her," Steve says, his voice still soft and almost carried away by the wind. Carol figures that the five minutes right before they fight a bunch of cloud-based bad guys is probably not the best time to get weepy over her friendship with Captain America, so she blinks a couple times and tries to focus on their flight path.
-
During the battle, Steve of course finds an excuse to throw himself off of the giant military base and down towards the clouds, but Carol's there to catch him.
"Now you're just being silly about this," she says, after he thunks solidly back into her arms.
"Thanks for the pickup," Steve pants. He'd been pinned down on the roof by what had looked like a small army; he's bloody and singed, his uniform torn in a couple places.
"I got you, Cap," Carol says. She can't help but think about what he said earlier, about his mom; Carol imagines her holding little five-year-old Steve and feels a shiver of identification. Steve in her arms is light, precious, irreplaceable; she holds him a little tighter.
"I know," Steve says easily, like he never had any doubt that she would catch him, that she would always catch him. Carol swallows against a lump in her throat.
Once she's clear of the roof she turns in midair and looks back at the battle; Hulk's taking care of the group that had Steve pinned down, and she can see Tony and T'Challa mopping up stragglers, working in perfect unison.
"Avengers, check in," Steve says, touching a hand to his earpiece, and one by one they all mutter their whereabouts. Most of them are back on the ground already. Peter and Jessica start bickering, something about the color of the bad guys' uniforms, and Steve has to tell them to keep it off the comm.
"I could wish for a little more discipline on the radio," Steve says to her, sighing.
"You love them the way they are." It's meant as a joke, but it comes out sounding more serious. Steve doesn't answer for a few seconds.
"That's true, I do," he says, eventually. "They look after each other."
Up ahead, Janet is putting Peter back down safely on the ground; behind them somewhere, T'Challa is perched on Tony's back and complaining about his heat sink.
"Ready to go back down?" she asks.
"Yup. Looks like everything's under control. Iron Man's going to try to land the thing remotely."
"Yikes. Then by all means let's get clear." Carol puts on a little speed. The ground below them rushes past in a green blur, and the wind in her hair feels good, cold, free. Jessica and Peter start bickering over the comms again, and before too long Janet and Tony have joined in too. It's not how a military unit would run, but she wouldn't have it any other way, and she knows Steve wouldn't either.
Steve leans his head back a little, pushing his face into the wind and smiling against the sunshine, eyes closed.
Carol makes an extra loop before landing, just to feel that way a little longer, the rough rush of the wind, the clear freedom of the air, and Steve's warm trusting body cradled against hers.