Another shorter chapter. It will pick up a bit in time.

I do not own the Avengers.

It seemed that no one was interested in answering Bucky's question. They continued to eat, Natasha stealing Clint's roll from his plate and Thor flicking an olive out of the salad and towards Stark who scowled at him as the olive hit his pasta. Bucky turned to Steve who was staring at his plate in tense silence. Finally, Bucky chose to let the question go and began to eat. Soon all thoughts of Loki slipped his mind completely.

The next morning, Bucky went with Natasha and Steve for an early morning run through Central Park. The weather had begun to cool as fall approached. Natasha came out dressed snugly with a scowl on her face as Steve grinned at the pink scarf that was draped around her shoulders. They made their way down the sidewalk, Steve happily chatting with Natasha as they crossed the street.

Leaves crunched underfoot as they walked through the entrance of the park. Bucky lifted his eyes to watch the trees overhead, the leaves turning a lovely shade or red and yellow.

"Bucky?" Steve called out. "You coming?" Bucky blinked and tore his eyes from the trees to offer his friend a faint smile.

"Yeah."

Running was not Bucky's favorite past time. He wasn't bad, not by a long shot, yet he lacked the enthusiasm that easily wafted off his blond friend. He took an easier pace with Natasha who smiled cheekily at him, her cheeks flushed.

"Keeping up alright?" She puffed out. Bucky laughed, pushing his dark hair from his eyes at they took a corner.

"Of course!"

Ahead, Bucky could see Steve peek over his shoulder and smile at him. Bucky's smile widened as he returned the gesture. It was so easy to lose himself in Steve Roger's smile. It had nothing to do with lust or romantic attraction. It was just Steve. Months after the Winter Soldier fiasco, Steve had found Bucky working odd jobs living in a run down apartment. After some convincing, Bucky agreed to follow Steve and meet the Avengers.

And now...

Things couldn't be better.

He had a home.

He had Steve.

Quickly, running forward, Bucky caught up with Steve who beamed at him.

"Want to run another lap?" He suggested. Bucky swatted him on the back of his head.

That afternoon he and Steve ate at a Burger King. Nothing says completely screw up your work out than fast food. Bucky adored it. In fact he adored all fast food. It was awful for you but tasted amazing. The 1940's had been quite lacking it seemed. After they ate, they headed back to the tower. Bucky was once again reminded of the green eyed man he had met in Thor's home. He itched to ask Steve about it. Question him to why Loki was there. He had read up on him of course. He knew what he had done, and that he had been defeated. But that did not answer any of his questions. Why was Loki there? What had happened? Was Bucky not privy to this information?

"Pizza tonight?" Bucky suggested as they exited on their floor.

"Obviously we need to eat off all that workout from this morning." Steve snorted as he walked towards the kitchen.

"So that's a yes, right?" Bucky called earning laughter from Steve.

"Yeah, yeah. Invite Thor over. God knows he will be crushed if we don't invite him for pizza or movies."

On a separate floor in Avenger's tower, locked away in a small windowless room; perched on a single bed sat Loki. His eyes were closed, his legs crossed as he sat facing the wall. He did not open his eyes as he heard footsteps walk steadily down the hall. The footsteps stopped in front of his door for a moment, before fading off. His fingers traced the rough fabric of the bed spread. His fingers following the seam.

He could hear Thor's muffled voice through the door, a low chuckle rumbling from the God as he spoke. His voice and footsteps faded once more.

A stillness had fallen over his room and apartment. He knew Thor had left. Again. He never stayed for very long. Always quick to get away from his traitor brother. Loki's back hit the mattress as he lay down. He did not bother opening his eyes, instead drawing the blankets around his shoulders and stuffing his face into his pillow.

Maybe if he did not move for long enough, he would simply disappear.