It was a miracle Darcy didn't injure herself in her rush to meet her friends in the campus restaurant. Although, she had almost twisted her ankle running out of the theatre, fleeing rehearsal the second it was over. For once, she had the scoop, and she was going to relish the moment.

"Oh, my god, you guys," she crooned the second she approached the table where Thor was eating and Jane and Tony had their heads buried in a science textbook.

Without looking up Tony muttered, "You can just call me Tony, Darce."

She rolled her blue eyes and shoved up her glasses. "Whatever," she tossed back, pulling out a chair and plopping down next to Thor. "Did you hear about that guy Bucky Barnes?"

Steve stepped up and set down a tray with a ham sandwich, a plastic bottle of milk, and a green apple on it. His ears perked up at Bucky's name. "My friend Bucky? What about him? Tony!"

"Thanks, man," Tony mumbled around his bite of apple.

"Get your own apple next time." Tony answered him with a grunt and focused on what Jane was pointing out to him.

"Hel-lo…" Darcy waited for anyone to look at her.

"I'm sorry, Darcy. So what happened to him?"

"He's gone."

Steve's brow wrinkled. "Gone? Gone where?"

Darcy's eyes scanned the table. All of them, except Tony, were looking at her now and she was really enjoying the spotlight. "Word is he went to rehab."

A soft gasp came from Jane and Tony's head shot up. He looked at Darcy first then Steve, who was staring slack-jawed at the young thespian. He stuttered briefly before finally managing to ask, "Wait, what's rehab?"

Tony couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Seriously? It's like you're from another era sometimes, Rogers. Rehab, rehabilitation, rehabilitate: to restore to health." He ignored the slightly offended look on Steve's face and returned his attention to Darcy. "Do you know what he went in for?"

Darcy shrugged. "People were saying he was getting into a lot of different stuff lately, but I'm pretty sure the main problem was his drinking."

"Drinking?" Thor spoke for the first time, sipping from his Mountain Dew. "Young Barnes suffered a dependency on alcohol?"

Darcy made a face, scoffing. "Well, yeah… Loki didn't tell you any of this? I figured if anyone knew all the details you would."

Thor shook his head, choosing not to point out once again how Loki avoided him like the plague. "How does this matter concern my brother, Mistress Darcy?"

With an anxious look on her face, Darcy glanced at Jane first, then everyone else. She wanted the attention but now she wasn't sure she wanted to be the one to spill the beans. "Um, well…Loki was the one who convinced him to go. And people are assuming it's because…you know…" She started to fidget under their frowns and intense gazes.

"Clearly, we don't, so spit it out already," Tony said, always the one willing to break the tension.

Darcy toyed with her hair, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, and avoided looking at Thor. "Uh, well, the story is that…whenever Bucky got drunk, which was pretty often…" Her blue eyes darted to Thor to Steve and finally landed on the table where her fingers toyed with the wire of her spiral notebook, "…um, h-he always ended up in Loki's room. It's been going on for a while now…," she added with a nervous shrug.

The table was suddenly very quiet. Tony's eyes shot to Steve first and he had no doubt that Steve had no idea what Darcy was implying. And judging by the blank look on the young man's face, Tony was pretty sure he was right. As usual, he thought with a smug grin that he quickly wiped away. He tapped Steve's arm and leaned toward him. "I'll explain later, okay?" Steve numbly nodded, but the relief that washed over his face was apparent. Tony then turned his eyes to Thor and noticed the way he was concentrating awfully hard on his forgotten hamburger.

Under the table, Jane laid a hand over Thor's, resting on his thigh, but the gesture only served to make him jump up. "Forgive me, friends. I have need to speak with my brother. Jane, I will call on you later." He was gone before she could respond.

"Well, that's gonna be a fun chat," Tony murmured under his breath.

"I don't understand."

Tony rolled his eyes toward Steve. "Color me surprised."

"Tony…" Jane chided softly.

He made a face at her—his way of apologizing to Steve—and stretched his arms, popped his back, and dropped one arm to the back of Jane's chair. "Which part confuses you, Cappy?"

Steve was momentarily sidetracked. "Don't call me that." Tony didn't apologize even under Steve's direct gaze. Steve sighed and held out his hands, a gesture of confusion. "I, I haven't talked to Bucky since homecoming earlier this month. He seemed fine. I didn't realize he was having any problems. I guess I've been too busy."

"A pretty girl will do that to you," Tony pointed out, referring to Peggy, whom Steve had just started courting—as he termed it himself. Predictably, Steve blushed.

"But Bucky is my oldest friend, Tony. Why didn't he come to me?"

For probably the first time in his life, Tony Stark held his tongue. Even if he had made a sexually suggestive joke at Loki's expense, Steve wouldn't have understood and it would have only embarrassed him further. Feeling particularly friendly, Tony sat forward and wrapped an arm around Steve's incredibly broad shoulders. "You can't blame yourself for this one, Cap. Some people just don't know their limits."

The irony of this statement coming from Tony Stark was not lost on the other three people sitting at the table. Tony himself, of course, either didn't catch the irony or he chose to ignore it. Steve seemed to contemplate Tony's first statement for a minute, while Tony picked up his energy drink and took a long drink. The talk of alcohol suddenly made him wish he had some Jack Daniels to mix into it.

"Okay…well, then, can you explain the other part?"

Tony's mouth curved. "What other part?"

"Why are people are making a big deal about Bucky sleeping in Loki's room? We used to have sleepovers all the time when we were kids."

Tony turned his face away, covering his mouth with a fist trying not to laugh. How did it become his responsibility to give the "birds and the bees" speech to Steve? Tony cleared his throat, erasing away the laughter, and set his chocolate gaze directly on the tiny woman sitting next to him. "Jane, don't you have a class to get to right now?"

Quickly getting the hint, Jane began to gather her things. "Yes! Yes, I do actually. So, um, I'll catch up with you later on with this...stuff."

"Just come by my workshop," he replied. Jane chuckled at the name Tony used for his and Thor's dorm.

"Darcy."

"What?" she asked startled.

"Walk with me." Jane made an obviously strained face, jerking her head toward Steve than the door.

"But I haven't eaten yet."

"Darcy."

She scoffed, put out, but got to her feet anyway. "Fine. I'm starting my new diet today anyway. Bye, Cap. Later, Tony."

Tony waved them off and slammed his book shut, while Steve rose to see the ladies off, like a gentlemen would. As he sat back down, finally taking a bite of his sandwich, Tony held out his arms and glared at him. Steve swallowed and took another bite before he noticed Tony.

"What?" he asked through a full mouth.

"Why you gotta make me look bad? Men don't do that chivalry shit anymore, Cap. You're setting a bad example."

Steve sipped at his milk and shrugged. "Well, I do. Deal with it."

Tony's dark eyebrows shot up. "Well, well, well…someone learned a new phrase. And spoken like a true smart ass."

Steve smiled with his lips closed as he chewed. "I do spend most of my time with you."

"Ha, okay, easy there, Rogers. All right…listen to me." Tony leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "You are aware of…alternative lifestyles, right?"

Steve cocked a brow. "What, like hippies?"

Tony chortled but quickly cut himself off. "Yeah—well, no. Um…" He leaned conspiratorially toward Steve and lowered his voice. "You have heard of men having relationships with other men and women with other women right?" Tony's brow creased with concern as he waited for Steve's answer. He smiled dubiously back at Tony.

"I'm not completely naïve, Tony. I have several friends that are gay—" When he broke off suddenly, Tony sat back trying to smile through his grimace. Then Steve's jaw just about fell to the floor.

"Cap…?"

"Are you trying to tell me that…Bucky and Loki…were…?" And here he crossed his two index fingers in a weird finger puppet show. "Fondueing?"

Tony slapped a palm to his face. Steve had been using that word since his freshman year. Of high school. "Okay, first of all, I hope to the god you pray to that you and Peggy find a new word for that." Steve's face went tomato red and his blue eyes grew wider than Tony had ever seen them go. He waved his hands in front of his face and did the time out sign. "Joking! I'm joking! Okay…" He paused for a beat then placed his hand over his chest. "I, Tony Stark, am not saying that Bucky and Loki are…" He sighed, scoffed. "Fondueing, so let's get that straight."

"All right…"

"But that is what is being implied in this situation. You understand that, right?"

Steve was quiet for a moment then he slowly nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."

After he went quiet again, Tony pursed his lips. "I'm guessing Bucky never revealed that side of himself to you, did he?"

Steve's eyes rose to Tony's and the worried look was suddenly gone. "He didn't have to. I have eyes, Tony," he said at the dark-haired man's furrowed brow. "And ears. Frankly, this isn't the first time I've heard about him with another man. He was just a little more discreet about it back at home. And I feel it's my duty to point out, to make sure it's known, that he likes to be with women just as much as he likes to be with men."

"Bucky's bi?" Tony blurted out.

"Bi…?"

"Bisexual, Steve!" At his raised voice, several students turned their heads. "What?" he said to them, making them turn away. "So, if you're not confused about Bucky possibly getting it on with Loki, what are you confused about?"

"Well, I was confused about that, so thanks for clearing it up. I guess I'm confused about Loki."

Tony opened his mouth then pressed his lips together, catching himself before he flippantly threw out join the club. Where did that come from? "What about him?" he said instead.

Steve let out a sigh and rose to his feet. "I don't know; I must need sleep. This whole thing is giving me a headache. I better go give Bucky's mom a phone call."

Tony stood as well and stacked his books, Steve's confusion about Loki still nagging at him. "Good idea." Together they walked outside and realized they needed to go in opposite directions. Tony spent a few minutes explaining to Steve why Pepper had not joined them for lunch—they were taking a break.

"That explains why you were in my building the other morning," Steve said with a small smile.

Tony smirked. "She didn't want to sleep at my place. What's a guy to do?"

"I will never understand your insatiable craving for everything, Tony Stark."

"I am not insatiable, Steve Rogers. And, seriously, you don't get to judge me for enjoying something you've never even tried. Give up your V-card and then we can talk."

"I'm not judging—wait, what's a V-card?"

Tony shook his head and lifted his eyes to the sky, a silent plea for patience. "Good-bye, Cap." Steve smiled and lifted a hand in mock salute before heading in the direction away from Tony. "Hey, you never said…" Tony waited for him to look at him. "What is it about Loki that confuses you?"

"Oh," Steve chuckled. "It's nothing. I just thought he was dating Maria Hill, one of the girls in his and Peggy's poetry study group. Hey, maybe he's—uh, bi?—too? See ya, Tony."

"See ya, Cap." Tony watched him leave wondering why the idea of Loki and Maria didn't settle so well in his stomach. He pressed a hand to his rolling belly. "Acid reflux," he decided, out loud; then went on his way toward the science labs.

Clint was sitting atop the backrest of the sofa in the communal area of his dorm, almost perching like a bird on the armrest, the window overlooking the street behind him, the entrance to the room before him. A plastic arrow was in his hands, one eye closed, the other narrowed in close inspection of the arrow head, making sure it was pinpoint sharp. When he was satisfied it was, he lifted his bow and inserted the arrow nock into the bow nock. Focusing all of his concentration on his target—the corkboard hanging on the wall opposite him—Clint drew the arrow back…then let it fly. He nodded once when the arrow pierced the center circle of the corkboard. He picked up another arrow and performed the same inspection.

Archery was a skill Clint Barton had honed since he was a child, thanks to his uncle, ever since he had watched the Disney version of Robin Hood. He had no interest in robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. But Robin—in
any rendition, be it animated, Flynn or Costner—never seemed to have a problem bagging the ladies, and neither did Clint.

He lifted and aimed the next arrow, tuning out the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall. His ocean blue eyes focused on the target and bid whoever knocked on his door to enter. He loosed the arrow, hitting the outer edge of the circle as Thor's head popped around the door. Thor jerked back, his eyes wide at the rush of air that hit him in the face as the arrow flew by his nose.

"Sorry, Thor." Clint lowered his bow, flicking the string, testing its elasticity. "My aim was a little off."

Thor stepped in further and half-heartedly grinned. "No worries, friend Clint. I am not harmed."

Clint gracefully removed himself from the sofa and sauntered to the cork, yanking the five arrows he had shot that day from it. "What can I do for you, man?"

"I need to speak to Loki. Is he in his chambers?"

Clint chuckled. He didn't think he would ever get used to the proper and old fashioned way Thor and Loki spoke. "Nah, man, he's not here. He had an early class this morning, a break and then two more classes today. I think he said he'd be spending most of his time in the library working on that short story he needs to turn in at the end of the week." He had returned to the other side of the room to drop the arrows into the black leather quiver he kept them stored in. "Do you want to leave him a message?"

Thor's jaw worked as he considered. "No. No, I will seek him out at the house of books."

"Okay," he said on another laugh.

Thor closed the door and stepped further into the room. "Barton, may I have words with you?"

Clint halted as he was folding up his bow to store it as well and glanced up at Thor. "Uh, sure…"

"You are familiar with one Bucky Barnes, are you not?"

Clint could already see where this conversation was headed. And he was sure he didn't like it. "Yeah…yeah I know Bucky." He locked the box containing his bow and stored it in his bedroom with his arrows and closed the door behind him. "You want something to drink?"

"No, thank you. Are you aware that Bucky has entered a rehabilitation facility at the behest of Loki?"

It took the archer a moment to decipher what Thor was asking. "Y…yes, yes!" he exclaimed when he figured it out. "I knew that Loki convinced Bucky to go to rehab."

Thor stood before Clint, his legs spread, his hands on his hips, and a very serious expression on his face. "Friend Clint, are you informed of the extent of their friendship?"

Clint's eyebrows drew together. "What?"

The large blond man let out a sigh. "Are they…very close?"

His face relaxed and he lifted a hand to scratch his thumb along his nose. "Look, Thor, you want to know about that you have to ask Loki. It's none of my business what he does with anybody that isn't me." He got to his feet and approached the taller man. "What I do know is that Bucky should consider himself to be extremely lucky to have had someone like Loki in his life, especially while he was going through whatever it is he's been going through."

Thor studied Clint quietly. "I have upset you."

"No," Clint answered on a laugh. "You're his brother, Thor. You should know him better than anyone. You said it yourself: he keeps his cards close to his chest. If you have questions he's the only one who can answer them for you." With that, Clint stepped around Thor and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I've got to run. Got class in a few minutes."

Thor swallowed down the embarrassment of Clint's light reprimand. He started past the shorter man, pausing in the hallway. "Loki may be at the hall of books, you said?"

Clint nodded. "Try the back corner off to the right. There's an Of Mice and Men poster on the wall; he sits at the table under it," he added when Thor started to leave.

"Thank you, Clint Barton. You are a worthy friend."

Thor left Loki's dorm and started walking—wandering, really. He took the path that would take him to the library, going over the questions he wished to ask Loki in his mind. He felt as if he was sixteen again, back in Switzerland, back in the halls of the dormitory, in the classrooms, in the cafeteria, hearing the whispers. He never bothered to question Loki about what the other boys said; he simply did his duty as his brother and defended him, often with his fists. He fought well enough that the boys who dared to spread vicious rumors about Loki only ever did so once. And their fear was palpable enough to keep them from reporting Thor to the headmaster. He smirked to himself, wondering if the leaders of the institution wondered about the rise in "falling down the stairs" accidents while Thor was a student.

It made no difference to Thor that he and Loki didn't share the same blood. They were raised together. They played together. They fought together. He would defend Loki with every last breath, until the day he died, no matter what.

He wondered, then, why it felt like coming to Loki's defense this time might not be the right action. Something wasn't right with his younger brother; something was not the same. The two brothers, who had once been very close, had been back in each other's lives for nearly two months, yet they lived as virtual strangers. Thor's patience was beginning to run as thin as the younger man. He often suffered through sleepless nights brooding over their relationship, wondering where he had taken a misstep. He realized, as he came to a stop in front of the building that housed the library, that perhaps he wasn't the problem.

And perhaps Loki was not the man he should speak to. Pulling his phone from his jeans pocket, Thor turned away from the stone and brick building, and quickly punched in a familiar number. He growled softly when he was transferred immediately to voicemail.

"Father, it is Thor. I must speak with you. Urgently."