Sorry for the delay in postings—I just got a new job at Walmart, and the last few weeks have been crazy.

I'm all done with this fic, and I'm gonna post the rest of it, so get ready for a flood of chapters (some mature, some not)

I'm bumping up the rating to M for future chapters. *eyebrow waggle*

Jormungand was pacing the main living area the next time Erika saw him.

"Hey," she greeted. "You okay?"

Jormungand paused in his pacing. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm trying not to examine my feelings too closely."

Erika plopped down on the couch. "Why? What happened? Is Steve being an insensitive jerk again?" she demanded, making to stand up again. "I swear, if he said anything else to hurt you—"

Jormungand held up a hand, "Peace, Little Sister. Steven has not wronged me." He bit his lower lip.

Erika looked wary. Okayyyy . . . ?"

Jormungand took a deep breath. "He asked me to dine with him. I believe the word for it is a 'date.'"

Erika's jaw dropped, then snapped back up and she squealed. "Ohmygoodness that is amazing!" she shrieked, bouncing up and down. "I'm so happy for you right now!" she leapt from her spot and wrapped her arms around his tall frame. "You have to let me plan your wedding!"

Jormungand blushed. "Wedding?" he practically yelped. "We haven't even had dinner yet!"

Erika let go. "Right. You're right. Sorry." She was still bouncing. "Still, if you do decide to get married, I want to plan it!"

Jormungand let out an amused huff. "If there is a proposal, you will be the first to know."

Erika nodded. "Good." A beat of silence, then, "So, where's he taking you?"

Jormungand opened his mouth to reply, but closed it after a few seconds. "I have no idea."

Steve swallowed and fidgeted with the collar of his dress shirt for the thousandth time. He looked around, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the upscale restaurant he and Jormungand were at. "I'm starting to regret letting your sister set this up," he admitted.

"Would you rather we dine somewhere else?" Jormungand asked. "Erika won't take offense."

Steve bit his bottom lip. "Well, it would seem kinda silly to leave now that we're already seated," he said. "I'm fine, I'm just—"

Jormungand reached over the table and offered his hand.

Steve took it.

Dinner was good, if not filling (though to be fair, Steve had had to up his calorie intake drastically to keep up with his 'Super Soldier' metabolism). Steve hadn't really planned anything past dinner. He said as much, and Jormungand chuckled.

"Dinner was enough," he promised. "You need not keep me busy with meaningless activities." He paused. "Though, isn't dinner usually followed by coffee?" he asked, eyeing a small coffee shop on the other side of the street.

It was Steve's turn to laugh. "You've got a problem," he said good-naturedly.

"Asgard has no caffeine, and I've been banished to the oceans for as long as I can remember," Jormungand sniffed defensively. "There's no harm in indulging."

Steve laughed again. "Fine, just don't give yourself diabetes," he said with a soft smile.

He wasn't surprised at all when Jormungand ordered the sweetest drink on the menu. "So," he said once they had their coffee. "I'm a little rusty, but I think we're supposed to tell the other person about ourselves now, since there wasn't much talking during dinner."

Both of them had been too nervous to talk much, but sitting and drinking coffee together was familiar to them.

Jormungand snorted. "What's there to tell? You know of my past, and I know of yours."

"Yeah, but beyond that and the fact you're one hell of a cook, I know next to nothing about you." Which was sad, because he'd already been technically living with him for how long now?

Jormungand pursed his lips. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to say I like long walks on the beach under moonlight?" he asked dryly, smiling slightly.

Steve smiled and shook his head. "Here, I'll start—before the war, I wanted to be an artist."

"An artist?" asked Jormungand, a smirk on his lips. "Would you draw me like one of your French girls?"

Steve snorted into his coffee. "Jesus, Jormungand," he laughed. "Alright, your turn."

"Oh, very well," Jormungand sighed. "You already know of my passion for cooking, and my less-than superb relationship with my fellow Asgardians, my brother included. I trained hard to be a warrior, but trained even harder to be a mage. I spent more time in my Asgardian form, whereas my brother preferred the brute strength of the Wolf."

Steve swallowed and decided to ask something he'd been thinking about ever since the brothers' fight. "Who's Rannhal?"

Jormungand put down his coffee. He looked suddenly ill.

"You don't have to answer," Steve said quickly. I just . . . I was just curious."

Jormungand nodded slightly. "It's fine." He cleared his throat. "Rannhal was—is a warrior of Asgard and a member of Odin's army. In my younger days, he was . . . . polite to me, when nobody else was. I mistook it for something more, and I soon found myself in love. I gathered my courage to talk to him, to see if he felt the same . . ."

Jormungand was shaking slightly and Steve moved to gently grab his hand, as Jormungand had in the resteraunt. "Hey," he said quietly. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything else."

Jormungand offered him a shaky smile. "I believe it's your turn. Why did you wait until the Super-Soldier serum to join the military?"

"I wasn't in the best health," Steve admitted. "I was barely over five feet and had a ton of health problems—asthma, scoliosis, heart arrhythmia, partial deafness, stomach ulcers—you name it, I probably had it. The army kept turning me down, but I kept trying. My best friend called me a dumb kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run from a fight." His smile turned sad. "I wish you could've met him. He was a good guy." He cleared his throat. "There, your turn."

They went back and forth like that for a while, until Steve noticed how late it was getting. They left the coffee shop and opted to walk instead of taking a cab, still talking back and forth until they got back to the Tower.

"So," said Steve once they were in front of the elevator. "That was . . . okay."

Jormungand 'hmm'd, waiting for the elevator—Steve preferred the stairs, but Jormungand decided he'd like to use the closest thing to teleportation Stark Tower had.

"I'm as new to the whole 'date' thing as you are, and I know kissing your date goodnight is a thing that's supposed to happen, but—"

"Do not do anything that makes you uncomfortable," Jormungand said, turning his head slightly to look at the shorter man. "On this, Steven, you have my word—I will not push you."

Steve looked mildly irritated and amused at the same time. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say I'm a little out of practice, so any kissing we do isn't going to wind up on anyone's Top Ten list." He reached for Jormungand's hand again. "I actually had fun tonight, and I'd like to say goodnight to you—properly."

Steve was right—the kiss wasn't really that great. Still, Jormungand came away from it short of breath.

The elevator dinged.

"That's your ride," said Steve with a small smile, turning towards the stairs. "Night."

Jormungand let out a strangled 'goodnight' and boarded the elevator. Once the doors closed, he leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes, biting his lower lip and smiling like a complete idiot.

"Ooh, someone's in lo-o-ve," Erika sing-songed when she saw Jormungand the morning after his and Steve's date. "How'd it go, Casanova?" She looked him up and down. "Waiting until the third date to bone him?"

Jormungand frowned. "I don't remember you being quite so crass when we first met."

Erika shrugged. "Shit happens. So, when's the second date? And don't say 'there's not going to be a second date,' because that is the dopiest smile I've ever seen on you."

Jormungand huffed and said nothing.

"Did you at least get a goodnight kiss?" she pushed.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, but yes, Steven kissed me goodnight," he said quietly into his coffee mug.

"That is awesome!" she squealed.

"Well, someone's chipper this morning," said Tony as he entered the kitchen. "What's got you so excited, Kiddo?"

Erika opened her mouth, the snapped it shut again and looked at Jormungand, who huffed and said, "Tell him if you must."

Erika beamed. "Jor had a da-a-te," she sing-songed.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "No kiddin'? Well, good for you, Bean Pole," he said, grabbing himself a mug of coffee. "Who's the lucky girl?"

Jormungand opened his mouth to snap back, "None of your business," but stopped when Steve came into the kitchen.

"Hey," said the super soldier to Jormungand. "I didn't see you this morning—you okay?"

Jormungand nodded. "I felt like sleeping in."

"Oh. Okay." Silence, then, "So, I was wondering . . . . If you're up for it, maybe we could grab lunch? Bruce showed me this really good Thai place . . ."

Jormungand smiled gently. "That sounds wonderful. Just give me a moment to get ready."

"Right. Okay. I'll just, um, go get ready." He finally noticed they weren't alone and blushed slightly. "Hey, Tony, hey, Erika."

Both Starks waved, and Steve left.

"Holy shit," said Tony. "I thought he'd been kidding."

They decided to take it slow. Steve was still adjusting to the fact that he was attracted to another man.

"I will gladly take whatever you are willing to give," Jormungand assured him. "I will wait for as long as you need me to."

Steve smiled. "The world needs more guys like you."

Jormungand was about to respond when the alarm went off.

Jormungand glared at the ceiling, as if it were J.A.R.V.I.S's fault that there was an Avengers emergency.

They were in Steve's room, cuddling in his bed. Jormungand stayed and watched him suit up, which made Steve blush slightly. Jormungand smirked and gracefully stood from the bed. He took Steve's mask from the soldier's hands and slipped it onto Steve's head before leaning forward for a lingering kiss. "Be safe," he said quietly.

Steve smiled and returned the kiss. "I always am," he replied.

"Liar."

One more kiss, then Steve really had to go.

Jormungand could do nothing but wait for his Captain to return.

The fight was brutal.

The Avengers almost lost.

When they returned to the Tower, bloody and beaten, Erika ran right for Tony and latched onto him, holding him tight.

Jormungand went straight to Steve, who was favoring his right leg.

"I told you to be careful," Jormungand growled.

"I was," said Steve, still a little breathless.

"Liar."

Jormungand pulled Steve in for a kiss. Neither one of them cared that they had an audience.

Both of them decided that 'taking it slow' could take a flying leap, and Jormungand came to breakfast the next morning in one of Steve's shirts and a pair of Captain America boxers, looking like the happiest man in the world.

If it seemed like he was having trouble sitting comfortably, nobody said anything.

A/N: Heh, heh, giggity.