Steve was having a very difficult time paying attention. He was usually not one to ignore a potential client, he couldn't afford to ignore clients and it was rude besides. Yet, his attention was stolen away from the man speaking to him by the woman that was waiting demurely by his side. The entire park was like a backdrop for her beauty.

She was beautiful and poised, standing slightly behind her companion on his right. She was dressed in red, a wide brimmed feathered hat was on her head, shading her eyes, jewels were embedded into her dress. She was more lavish than Steve was usually able to appreciate. The unnecessary flourish often bothered him, but this time it seemed... fitting. Her dark hair and pale skin were perfect in contrast and her eyes when they, fell on him, an oddly bright green for the shadows that her hat kept her in, were enchanting.

"Do you take commission or don't you?" The man snapped, finally taking Steve's attention.

"Oh! Yes!" Steve answered quickly. The man was dressed in red to match his lady, a gilded mask covering one half of his face for reasons that Steve could not distinguish from fashion and necessity. The rich were almost incomprehensible to Steve sometimes.

The woman placed a hand on the man's arm, calming him considerably. The man took a breath and regained his composure. "I want a series of portraits," The man went on. "I shall pay whatever you desire to have your time exclusively on these paintings. I'd rather not have to wait longer than necessary."

Steve would usually be bothered by such arrogance. It wasn't only money and time Steve sacrificed when he took exclusive clients, it was reputation. Availability was important for him until he made a proper name for himself. If people didn't see him, they wouldn't remember him. No one was talking about Steve after Steve gave him their paintings, he wasn't gaining notoriety. It was only the live demonstrations, the impulsivity of him being right in front of them, that made people come to him. That was the reason he came to this park with suck regularity, to paint those that were lured by demonstrations.

The frown must have showed on his face because the woman turned to her companion with a smile and he nodded to her, giving her leave to speak. "Young man, do you have a studio of your own? If not, and if you are not comfortable being at our disposal when you commission for us, we could obtain a location of your choosing."

The man bristled at this suggestion, but he held to his calm. "Yes," He agreed. "If you require."

And Steve... couldn't really say no to that offer.

"We will return here in three days time," the man went on. "Be ready with a place to purchase or to be at our disposal, whichever you prefer."

"Von Doom," The lady scolded lightly. "Do not bully the poor man."

The man scoffed, but turned quiet.

The lady smiled. "Please be ready for us," she said. Then she took her companion's arm and he led him off.

Steve was in a whirlwind of disbelief when, three days later, he was settling down in his own studio. It was a small place, barely a room large, but it was his. The lady, this time in blue, was settling down on a stool across from him, removing her hat and setting it on the table at her side. There were two windows in the room, one to her back and another to her right. Steve had his easel set up in the middle of the room with his back to the door.

"How would you like me?" She asked with a smile.

"How did you want to be painted?" Steve asked in turn. "Or what did your... companion desire for these portraits? He left without telling me much."

"Ah, yes." The woman nodded to herself, settling her hands in her lap as if she were already posing. "Von Doom is a brash man. His demeanor is not suited to interaction with regular people."

"What about you?" Steve questioned. "If he is so... brash... are you safe?"

She laughed. Her voice was beautiful in ways he was unable to describe. "Von Doom has no power to do me harm."

That was when Steve realized. "You haven't told me your name!"

"I have not," She agreed. "Would you like to call me Loki?"

"Um... sure," Steve agreed.

"Let's begin as we are, shall we?"

Loki was a very good model. She had the ability to remain uncannily still. Her smile never faltered, her posture never wavered. It would be alarming on most people, but Steve assumed from her demeanor and dress that she was an aristocrat, so such training was not altogether unusual. Painting her was entrancing, as well. Even more so than was normal for him. Painting Loki seemed to put him in a determined trance.

"Your name is Steven, am I correct?" Loki questioned.

It was dark outside, but Steve barely felt as if any time had passed. "Ah, yes." He shook himself out of his trance and placed his brush down. "I didn't realize so much time had gone by."

"Yes," Loki agreed. "But you've finished your painting."

Steve blinked, looking at the canvas in front of him, surprised to find that he had indeed completed his portrait. Which... how? It was so detailed, so elaborate, and there was no way that he could have had time to do this.

"My companion is here to retrieve me," Loki told him, standing.

Steve turned around to see Von Doom standing at the doorway. "Is that one finished?" The man questioned.

"It needs to dry," Steve answered quickly. His eyes were trained on Loki as she walked around him and his canvas and towards her companion.

Von Doom nodded, accepting that easily.

"Shall we continue on to the rest tomorrow?" Loki questioned.

"Y-yeah," Steve answered.

Loki smiled before turning her attention to Von Doom. She placed her hand on his cheek, on the exposed side of his face. "Oh dear, have you missed me terrible? You've begun to pale."

Von Doom did not labor under her attention long before moving away, leading her to the door. "Do not be gone so long and I will not feel this way."

When they got to the doorway, Loki turned back around and spoke to Steve. "Be certain to eat something, Steven. You'll need it."

Steve watched the two of them as they left, in something of a trance. As soon as they were out of sight, Steve crumbled to the ground, feeling an intense pain in his stomach. "What... what is this?"

"Steve? Where have you been?" Bucky asked as soon as Steve walked into their shared apartment.

"Painting. I told you," Steve answered.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I know that, but where else? Did you finally find a gal that wanted to take you home?"

Steve blushed. "No. I've been working the entire time."

"Three days straight?" Bucky asked, giving Steve a skeptical look.

"What?"

"Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but you don't have to lie," Bucky told him.

Steve watched as Bucky turned away. It wasn't possible that he was gone for three days, was it? He couldn't have spent three straight days painting...

The next day, Loki arrived in yellow. She was dressed like a sun, with red and orange gems patterned on her dress and ribbons hanging from her hair which she'd tied into a bun. She shined, smiling as she presented a basket to him.

"I've brought you something," Loki said. "It's wine."

Steve looked in the offered basket, taking out the bottle. "It's yellow," He said in surprise. The liquid looked thick like honey and nothing like any wine he'd ever seen.

"It's special," Loki promised. "This way you won't feel so... distressed as I imagine you did yesterday."

Steve looked at her sharply at that. "What do you mean?"

Loki sat down on the stool across from his canvas. "How would you like me today?" She asked with a smile.

Steve was cautious as he sat the basket and bottle down on the table, moving slowly to take his place in front of his canvas. He watched Loki warily. "What did Mister Von Doom want?" He asked. "He's the one paying for these, after all."

Loki leaned forward. "Are you curious about me, Steven?"

"I..." Steve was thrown off by her demeanor. Loki was a hard person to pin down.

Loki reached behind her back and Steve could hear the sound of a zipper. He rose quickly from his seat. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"Showing you something," Loki told him. Loki stood and the dress quickly slid off. Steve closed his eyes. "I'm certain you've been misunderstanding," Loki told him. "I'm not actually a woman."

"What?" Steve opened his eyes in surprise. True to word, the person standing before him was no woman. Steve's face still ended up flushed entirely red. Loki wasn't wearing anything beneath his dress. Steve had a difficult time turning away as Loki folded his dress and placed it on the table by Steve. The man smiled brightly as he went back to his place and posed. "Go on. Paint me."

"I... I mean..."

"Yes?" Loki questioned.

"Is this... really? Is this really alright?"

"Of course," Loki answered. "Why shouldn't it be?"

Steve hesitated a moment longer before he begun painting. It was just like last time, time seemed to fade and blur around the edges. Loki remained absolutely still, poise perfect as he remained posed. And yet, at some point Steve looked up and found a glass of the yellow wine at his side. He was entirely too parched, he realized. And he barely thought anything of it as he reached out and took a sip. The liquid was thick and warm, but he couldn't pin down the flavor.

"Good, good," Loki said. "That should give you a bit of strength. And there's fruit as well, in the basket."

The glass was empty before Steve realized it. "How did this even get here?"

"What do you mean, Steven? I bought it for you," Loki answered.

"I meant..." Steve began to shake his head as he set the glass down. "You haven't moved. Who poured this?"

"Steven." Loki's voice was an indulgent sigh. "You must finish your painting. There's no time for this."

"Why shouldn't there be?" Steve asked. "You never told me that I was working under a time limit."

Loki sighed and straightened up out of his position. "Are you really going to do this now?"

"Do what?" Steve asked. "I'm just-"

"Loki." Von Doom's voice spoke from the doorway. Steve turned around quickly to look behind him. This was the first that he had seen the man in attire that was not matched to Loki's. Von Doom was dressed in the darkest of blues, the color clashing and opposing with Loki's entirely.

"I'm ready," Loki said. When Steve faced Loki again he was dressed.

"What the hell is happening here?" Steve asked. Something was off. Steve had known it before, but it was too apparent now. He was losing time somehow. Hours, minutes, days... How?

Von Doom moved to Loki's side, taking his arm. Steve was having a hard time thinking of Loki as a man. He looked so natural in his feminine attire and his voice... Loki's voice was the perfect pitch for desire. The was no inflection towards masculine or feminine, though Steve hadn't noticed before. Loki had seemed feminine enough in the gown, masculine enough without it, neither overall.

"Maybe I was wrong," Loki said to his companion as he moved towards the door on Von Doom's arm. "I should place my fancy elsewhere."

"Your fancy should be with me," Von Doom insisted.

"My fancy is my own to command," Loki replied haughtily.

"Wait a minute!" Steve called.

Loki paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "I will be back tomorrow. Please be in a better mood by then."

Before Steve had a chance to respond, the two of them vanished.

Steve didn't feel as bad as he had previously, but that was all he could say. He still felt tired and weary, but he wasn't starving. He had only been gone two days this time, according to Bucky.

"What am I doing?" Steve asked himself. "What am I doing?"

The thought echoed the entire next day, as he returned to his studio and waited for Loki to arrive. The basket and wine were still on the table. He poured a glass, but didn't drink. He laid out the fruit in the basket, a golden apple and silver grapes.

"Will you eat them?" Loki's voice whispered in his ear.

Steve didn't hear him come in, but he was starting to understand that his senses were no match against Loki.

"What is this?" Steve asked. He only turned slightly, half expecting to see Von Doom hovering at Loki's side, but not at all surprised when he didn't see the other man.

"What does it look like?" Loki asked. He walked around Steve's side, dressed in a simple white dress today. Loki was entirely without flourish. The fabric of the dress was so thin as to be transparent and so short that it barely covered mid thigh. It would be entirely inappropriate on a lady. Steve wasn't certain what it was on Loki. "I want to know what type of picture you will be painting of me today."

"We won't be finishing-"

"No," Loki answered, cutting him off. "I don't think you're entirely comfortable with that painting."

"You care about my comfort?" Steve asked.

"I care very much about you, Steven," Loki answered. "That is why I brought you that wine."

"This wine that taste nothing like anything I've ever had before and doesn't look like real wine." Steve said.

"That's the one."

"And you won't explain any of this?" Steve asked him. It was clear that explanation was entirely out of Loki's plan, but Steve had to ask anyway.

Loki smiled. "If you eat that," he gestured to the fruit. "There will be no going back."

"And you don't plan to tell me what that means, either?"

"No."

"I don't want to play your games!" Steve yelled.

"You're already playing," Loki answered. "You've been playing. This is just a gamble to see who will be the winner."

Steve's expression was between a smile and a grimace. "There's actually an option where I win against you?"

Loki laughed, but it sounded more like a scoff. "There is no option where I do not win, Steven. I am not your opponent in this game. But they have already had their turn and all of this..." Loki gestured around them, between them, to them both. "This entire stage is your turn."

"Why should I believe anything you say?" Steve asked.

"Why shouldn't you?" Loki replied. Silence held between them a moment. Loki was meeting Steve's eyes with a guileless expression. Steve's own expression was hard and determined, unrelenting. He would not allow evasion here and Loki sighed once he realized it. "I cannot lie to you, you stubborn man."

"It doesn't seem like you're being very honest," Steve answered.

"No, honesty is not required," Loki replied. "Not the spirit of it, anyway. I simply cannot tell you lies. Cannot tell anyone lies, really, but I've a little less wiggle room when it comes to you."

"How do you make me lose time?" Steve demanded suddenly.

Loki turned his back to Steve, posing against the wall. "I'm ready for my portrait."

"Facing that way?"

"I think it best," Loki said.

Steve was quiet again for a long moment. "What are you?" He whispered.

"Will you eat?" Loki questioned just as softly. "The two questions are related, you see."

"Why me?" Steve asked.

"You are being unclear, Steven."

"Why are you doing... whatever this is with me?" Steve asked him.

"I wanted a portrait," Loki answered, turning to look at Steve with unguarded surprise. At least, it looked unguarded. Steve was not certain whether he should trust any look of innocence on Loki, even if it was in something as simple as sincerity. "You are an artist."

"That's why you're doing this?" Steve asked.

"No," Loki replied. "You asked why I chose you. That's why."

"So then why are you doing this?" Steve pressed.

"Because I like you, Steven." Loki let out a deep sigh as he took a few steps towards Steve, folding his arms and affecting a put upon stance. "I really cannot abide us wasting anymore time, Steven. If you want to talk, let us do so while you work. Unless you are choosing not to."

"No... I'll do it," Steve answered. He wasn't certain why. Loki was fascinating, he supposed, but that was about it. Loki intrigued him. He was beautiful and lithe, otherworldly. Steve wanted to paint him, wanted to immortalize him. He wasn't certain of much else, if there was anything else to his decision. If there should be anything else...

Loki sat down again with a smile. "How do you want me then, Steven?"

Despite Loki's offer to speak, Steve painted him in silence. He was between thinking and letting himself get lost in the haze that seemed to accompany Loki's presence. He could feel it when it encroached around the edges of his awareness now.

This time, Steve came out of it when Loki's hand fell upon his shoulder. Steve would never understand how these breaks in reality worked. "Think about it, Steven. I need to know whether you will eat them or not."

"Are these ones ready?" Von Doom asked, gesturing to a small group of painting that lined the side of the room. Steve had only met with Loki three times. There were five paintings. Steve didn't know when Von Doom had entered the room.

"Yeah..." Steve answered.

Von Doom nodded. "May I take them?" He asked. "I want to be certain that I have the chance to place them in my home."

"Oh darling," Loki sighed. "So sentimental."

"Perhaps it is only natural," Von Doom answered. "At the end, humans try to hold on tightly with both hands."

"What are you saying?" Loki replied coyly.

"Allow me," the man said. Loki released his arm as Von Doom gathered up the paintings.

"Wait!" Steve said, reaching for his work. "Let me-"

Loki grabbed Steve's hands before he could touch them. "No, you mustn't see!" Loki commanded sternly. "They are not for your eyes, not anymore. If you were meant to see them you would already remember."

"They're my paintings!"

"Not anymore," Loki told him sternly. "If you make a choice... but not until then." Loki released Steve's hand. Steve stumbled away in surprise. "You cannot comprehend what your hands have created."

"Loki," Von Doom called. "Shall we go?"

"Yes." Loki pulled a parasol from nowhere, lifting it and letting it rest on his shoulder. The white gown that he was dressed in became a dress befit his usual dazzle in between blinks. Steve watched Loki walk to the door, pause. Von Doom walked out the door way, Loki smiled back at him.

Steve blinked. Loki was gone.

Steve didn't return to his studio the next day. There were things he couldn't remember, time he'd lost... what had happened in that lost time?

There were impressions of Loki he couldn't remember. Why today had he been so sure that Loki was something greater than human? That he was the type to twist words and expressions? Why was he sure about anything involving Loki? Why was he so drawn to him?

Steve had dreams for everyday that he stayed away from Loki. Dreams of Loki pouring him drinks, water and champagne, served in glasses produced from places that Steve couldn't see. Loki offering him food that he instinctively didn't take, sensing somehow that he shouldn't trust it or shouldn't trust Loki offering it to him. And... talking. He had so many memories of speaking to Loki, silent memories where he watched Loki's lips moving devoid of any sound.

"What do you choose?"

The question echoed in Steve's mind as he woke. He couldn't discern whether the words had been spoken in the dream or a catalyst to him waking him. He wasn't certain that it mattered.

These dreams were not likely to end just by staying away. He had to choose, as Loki had said. He didn't know what either decision meant. It wasn't a fair choice. He had to choose.

Loki was waiting for him when he arrived at his studio. He was dressed like a man in the first pair of pants Steve had ever seen from on him, a bitterly disappointed expression on his face, and pipe in his hand. He looked as dapper as ever, one leg crossed over the other, one hand in his pocket while the other held his pipe. He was blowing smoke into the air when he cut his eyes to the door to look at Steve.

"Well?" Loki asked him. Steve felt it was the first honest picture of Loki he'd ever seen. Impatient, ill tempered, commanding. It was so masculine a picture, Steve couldn't understand how he'd ever mistaken Loki for a woman. Maybe that was the trick. Loki was too good at either to truly be one or the other.

Steve didn't answer. If he had to use words, he wasn't certain he could say what he was choosing. It wasn't so easy as Loki pretended it to be. It wasn't so easy as yes or no, do or do not. But Steve walked to the table, the basket and bottle perfectly where he left it. The wine still in it's glass untouched by condensation or evaporation, the fruit perfectly whole and ripe. No change to the color or texture, as firm as ever it was.

Steve lifted a grape, the silver glinting in the light. He looked to Loki, met the man's eyes, took the bite.

Loki didn't smile. Loki didn't even move, at first. He made the smallest of nods with his head, gesturing to Steve's seat. "Don't just stand there. Paint."

No playful words this time. No goading or leading. A command and the expectation that it would be followed.

Steve sat. He reached for his paints. This is the first that he realized these paints weren't his own. They were... different. The color, the texture, none of it was what Steve was used to working with or seeing. None it looked... natural. The shades seemed off, as did the consistency.

Steve chose to ignore all that. Steve lifted his brush to paint.

"I didn't think you'd be back."

Steve was almost entirely sure that he did not see Loki's lips move when he spoke, but maybe that was only because his attention was elsewhere.

"Why were you waiting here if you didn't think I'd show?" Steve asked him.

"I'm obligated to offer you choice," Loki explained. "If I do, I have to wait for you to choose one way or the other."

"If I never chose?" Steve asked.

"I'd make you," Loki answered easily. "But I hate when I have to force it. At least, for this. The rules are always different, but they are always the same."

"You're not making sense," Steve told him.

"I aspire not to."

As Steve painted, he took notice of when Loki began to change and look different. Pale skin bled into blue, green eyes transformed into red, his nails turned black, and slowest of all long, opulent looking horns rose out of his head. Loki was somehow more beautiful this way. Steve thought that maybe he couldn't breathe, but his hands never stopped moving.

"How are you doing this to me?" Steve questioned.

"I'm not. You're doing it to you." Loki uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, leaving the pipe hanging from his mouth. "Your eye can't find the trick, so hand paints what your body remembers seeing. You can't remember me this way. It's happening outside your reality. Or... it was. Now you're on the edge of perception. You just have to go that little bit further."

"How?"

Loki stood, tossing his pipe to the side. He held out his hand. "Do you want to become mine, human?"

Something in the phrase seemed to unlock a memory in Steve. He imagined a set of double doors opening behind Loki, doors that appeared out of nowhere and connected to nothing. He imagined a word with a bleeding sky, blue rolling hills, black spires rising in the distance.

Steve blacked out.

He woke on the ground with a sprawl of paintings surrounding him. All of them featured Loki. Loki in his suit, Loki in blue, Loki before those double doors, Loki one step on the others side.

"Beautiful, isn't he?"

Steve jumped, turning to see Von Doom sitting at his table. That chair wasn't here when Steve had passed out. He was beginning to understand that such things had never mattered.

"Like a jewel," Von Doom went on. "Beguiling and alluring, a trap and a trick by it's very nature. Men will fight and bleed over him, dying for him, prostrate themselves and sin for him. They don't ask if he's worth it, they know. Without being told, they think that they know." Von Doom had a glass of wine in hand, drinking from it deeply before he set it down and turned to face Steve.

Steve didn't care for this man, but he'd never done anything wrong. Not that Steve knew. Maybe it was just that he had Loki on his arm that made Steve... brittle towards the man. Maybe it was Loki's first words. 'Brash,' Loki had said. 'Not suited to regular people.' Loki wasn't that, though. He had been trying to tell Steve all along.

Von Doom placed his hand over his mask, hovering. "I have bleed for this creature. Bared my shame and scars for him. My face..." The man paused, hesitated. "I priced my face to have him. It is a banner and a brand. They look at me and they know, so they do not look more than once. Not those above mortals and not men. It amused me when I was younger and I hid it when that was no longer my pride."

"Why are you telling me this?" Steve asked.

"Loki won't tell you," Von Doom said. "It's the apple that's the key. If you want to truly choose Loki, you have to eat the apple. Even impatient, Loki wants too badly to play his game. I am not apart of it, so I may say what I wish."

"You..." Steve shook his head, stood up. "You're giving him to me?"

"I'm old now," The man said. "You won't know it to look at me, but I'm old. To you I merely look not young, I'm sure. He would never let me get... not while he wants to make use of me." The man took another deep sip of his glass. "Loki cannot be owned. I could no more give him to you than I could keep him away if I desired. No, this decision is entirely Loki's regardless of what you do. Your actions only change how he does it."

"What does he want from me?"

Von Doom shrugged his shoulders. "Everything, perhaps. Nothing. It makes little difference." The man made to move out of the chair. "You're young and attractive. He collects us like wine. To be tasted and savored, but ultimately used up in one way or another. To the last drop. Is it better than what would have been in store for us had we not?" He posed the question seemingly to air, as his gaze was so far beyond looking to Steve or even the room itself. The man rose. Steve wondered where Loki went, why he wasn't here now, and Von Doom left the room.

Steve didn't bother returning to his apartment that night. The grapes relieved him of any hunger, the wine cured him of any thirst. It didn't even take much of them to keep him going for hours. He sat and stared at the apple, at the paintings. He thought of things he dreamed between him and Loki that he didn't remember.

"This is a courtship," Steve said aloud.

"Correct," Loki answered. He was playing the dapper gentleman still, standing before the closed doorway.

"You have a funny way of showing it," Steve grumbled.

"I have a funny way," Loki corrected.

"Why would you want to court me?" Steve asked. "You don't even know me?"

"Yes, I do," Loki told him. He turned to face Steve, slowly walking towards him and cupping Steve's face. "I've known you, silly boy. It is you that does not know me, but that's what this is about, isn't it? I meet you here and you make a choice. Will you have me?" Loki leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve's. Loki was cold yet soft, and his lips left a longing feeling inside Steve's chest. "You stall me, Steven. Choose." The hands vanished from his skin and so to, did Loki.

Loki arrived the next day at morning's light. He was dressed like a lavish woman once more, a veil covering her face, dressed in all black. Von Doom was in her arms, dressed in a mourner's white. Steve didn't have to wonder why that was. Loki carried her burden to the stool, holding him draped over her lap once she'd sat. The mask was very firmly set upon the man's face, one of Loki's hand's near caressing it. Loki's face could not be discerned beneath the veil.

"Paint," Loki commanded.

It was a slow realization of what he's known since Loki walked through the door. Von Doom was dead. Steve was sitting here painting Loki cradle a dead man's body. Why? Did Loki kill him? Did something else fell the man? Why would Loki bring him here for this? Why would Loki do any of this?

"I took this role as a curtisy to him," Loki said softly. "In his youth he would strut with impunity. He would fight with all the viciousness of a thing scorned. But eventually he tired of the scorn of the people. I pretended a death and returned to him as a lady would and I took his arm forevermore." Loki was quiet a moment, gently lifting the mask from Von Doom's face. It was a terrible sight to see flesh so badly burned annd rent. That was what battle scars looked like. "I shall hang this one above the mantle in his favored room. I shall lay him to rest in his bed."

"You won't keep it?" Steve questioned. There were so many other questions that Steve wanted to ask. 'Did you do this? Did you kill him?'

Loki shook his head slowly. "This picture is for him, not for myself. It was his request when this eventuality came. I will have my memories. He will not."

"He wont have anything," Steve said. "Leas of all the painting."

"Do you think I leave my lovers lost to the dark? His home shall be his tomb, his shrine. He will not be touched by any artifice or decay. He will rest." Loki took a deep breath. "Let us not speak on morbid eventualities, shall we?"

Steve swallowed. He continued painting. He watched his hand moving rather than the canvas. Watched it until the edges began to blur, until he could feel the slipping of time. He got lost in his thoughts as though they could answer any of his questions.

He painted until he saw Loki rise from his seat. Loki walked to the door with his burden, spoke quietly once, "I'll return for your canvas."

Loki left.

That night, Steve ate the apple.

Steve didn't know any truth about Loki. Loki could have killed a man ad brought his body for painting. Loki could have been a demon trying to spirit him off to hell. Steve didn't think he had killed Von Doom or that he was a demon, but he could have been. But the truth remained that Steve wanted to. Steve wanted to know.

Von Doom had spoken true. Without being told, Steve felt that he knew Loki, felt that he knew Loki was worth having, worth fighting for. Because he wasn't told, he wanted to know more fiercely than almost anything. What was Loki? Who? And who could they be together?

The apple was more succulent than anything Steve had ever tasted. It tasted like liquid gold to his senses. Smooth and hot and beautiful. He experienced it with senses other than taste. And he felt different afterwards.

Steve wondered if it meant something that there was only one apple when Loki had brought so many grapes.

"I'm choosing," Steve said aloud. Just to say it. Loki didn't appear as he imagined he might, so Steve simply waited until morning, hoping the man would show up.

"You chose," Loki breathed in relief when he appeared. He wasn't lavish or dapper this day, he just was. Blue skinned and red eyed, he smiled at Steve. "I thought you wouldn't choose me."

Steve smiled. "I'm not sure that was ever an option."

Loki grinned. "One thing you need to know," Loki said. "Where we are going, names have power. You must never give yours lightly. Pick another way to name yourself when the time Comes. Von Doom... His name was Victor."

"And you?"

Loki moved closer. "You must never say it unless it is an emergency."

"I won't," Steve promised.

"Loptr," He whispered. "And for your information, I'm not a demon as you humans are inclined to think. I'm fae."

"What does that mean?" Steve questioned.

Loki held out his hand, the door appeared and opened behind him. "That's what you're about to find out." Loki grinned and waited.

Steve smiled and took his hand.