Jormungand looked around warily as he followed Steve down the halls of some sort of hospital. It looked friendlier than a regular hospital, but it still smelled like disinfectant and sickness.
"Where are we going?" Jormungand hissed quietly.
"There's someone I want you to meet," said Steve, not slowing down. They entered a patient's room where a frail looking old woman lay in a bed, gazing out the window. Her head snapped towards them as soon as they entered and her face lit up when she saw Steve.
Steve smiled at her and took her hand. "Hi, Peggy," he greeted.
Jormungand's throat closed up.
Peggy.
Peggy Carter.
"There's someone I want you to meet," Steve continued, turning to Jormungand and motioning for the taller man to come closer. He took Jormungand's hand in his and, never looking away from Jormungand, he said, "This is Jormungand."
Peggy's smile was radiant. "Hello, Jormungand," she said kindly. "Steven said he might be bringing you by. I trust you're treating him well?"
Jormungand heard the threat in her voice and knew not to underestimate her simply based on her age. "Yes, Ma'am," he replied.
"Good."
Steve squeezed Jormungand's hand. "Jor, this Is Peggy Carter—we served together."
Jormungand swallowed and nodded. "You've mentioned her," he said quietly.
One of Peggy's eyebrows rose. "All good things, I hope?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.
Jormungand nodded his head. "Steven has sung your praises since the day I met him," he said smoothly, willing the knot in his stomach to go away. This woman was old—he could smell Death on her; she would not take Steven away from him. He relaxed, realizing she was not a threat.
Steven Rogers was his, now and forever.
"I think I need to see a physician," Jormungand announced one morning over breakfast.
Nobody said anything.
"Okay, I'll bite," Bruce said warily. "Why do you need a doctor?"
The taller man hesitated. "I'm not sure, but I believe the television told me to seek medical help if I had an erection lasting more than four hours."
Clint choked on his coffee.
"Jeez. Um, okay," Bruce sighed—they were all used to hearing way TMI from Loki's second-eldest. "Are you having . . . problems?"
Jormungand frowmed.
"Do you need . . . . um, outside help, to, ah-"
"Oh, for Fuck's sake," sighed Erika. "Are you popping pills to help you keep a stiffie?"
It took a moment for Jormungand to translate that from 'Erika-ese into something he understood. "No, I am not 'popping pills.'"
Tony blinked. "You kept a hard-on for over four hours. Without pills. Jesus Christ, that's amazing. I think I'd die from lack of blood to my brain."
Loki snorted. "If one could die from that, you ought to be dead by now."
Tony winked at him and Loki rolled his eyes.
There were weird letters tattooed onto Jormungand's left shoulder blade.
They looked fairly new.
Steve placed his fingers right below them, careful not to touch the irritated skin. He traced the shapes on the skin below.
A weird capital S, a capital T with the top cross pointed like an arrow, a capital M, a pointed capital P, another M, and a lowercase t.
Jormungand woke up while Steve was tracing the letters. He rolled onto his back and gave Steve a sleepy smile, muttering, "Góðan daginn, elskaðir," which Steve had learned by now meant 'good morning.'
"Good morning," Steve said, watching the other man stretch.
Jormungand caught him staring. "Like what you see?"
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," Steve replied easily.
Before he had time to blink, Jormungand had moved and was now straddling him.
"We're gonna be late to breakfast," said Steve, running his hands up Jormungand's arms.
Jormungand kissed Steve's neck and moved down, planting lazy kisses down Steve's torso. "What a shame that would be," he murmured, travelling lower.
They ended up missing breakfast completely, going out to eat for an early lunch instead.
"I found a game you haven't played yet!" Erika cried triumphantly to Jormungand as she came barreling into the room, a game case in her hand.
"Jormungand looked up from his book and squinted at the case. "Dance Central 3?" he asked. "If that entails what I think it does, I refuse," he sniffed.
Erika rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! It's not like anyone's going to see!" she practically begged. "Please?"
Jormungand frowned. "I don't want any evidence," he said after a moment's hesitation.
"I'll have J.A.R.V.I.S delete the footage, I swear!"
Jormungand groaned. "Fine."
Approximately twenty minutes later Erika was wiping the floor with Jormungand at Gangham Style. "Come on, Big Brother, let's see those moves I saw out in the training room!" she teased.
"I don't see the point of this," Jormungand grumbled, only dancing along half-heartedly.
After the song was over, Erika glared at him. "Come on, you didn't even try!"
He rolled his eyes. "At least pick something that's not completely ridiculous, and I might make an effort."
"Fine," she huffed, going through the song selection. "Ooh, how about—"
"No," he interrupted. "I'm picking, or I'm not playing."
Erika huffed. "Fine." She stood back and let him browse the song selection, and was only mildly surprised with his pick. "J-Lo. Nice."
Jennifer Lopez and Pitbull's "On the Floor" started playing, and Jormungand actually tried this time.
The difference was staggering.
"See, there you go!" Erika cheered, glancing at his score now and again—all flawless. "Lookit you, getting' perfect scores! You got moves!"
Jormungand rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. At the scoring screen, he smirked smugly and gave Erika a mock-bow. "What did you say to me the other day? 'K.O, Bitch?'"
Erika snorted out a giggle. "That sounds weird when you say it," she laughed, browsing through the songs again.
Someone cleared their throat behind them and both of them nearly jumped out of their skins.
An older woman in a gold dress with blonde curly hair was standing right inside the balcony doors, a beefy man in golden armor by her side. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm looking for Thor. Is this where he goes when visiting Midgard?"
Erika blinked.
More Asgardians.
Great.
"Um, yeah, he and the others are out kicking bad guy as—um, they're out right now, but they'll be back soon. You can crash on the couch and wait for them, if you want," she said, gesturing to the couch."
The woman smiled. "Thank you, Miss . . .?"
Erika's eyes widened. "Oh. Right. Um, Erika Stark, Ma'am," she said. ". . . . I'd curtsey, but I don't know how."
The woman looked like she was ready to laugh. "Ah, so you're my Loki's Erika. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Erika wasn't stupid; she connected the dots pretty quick. "You're Thor's mom. You're Frigga. Holy shi—the freaking Queen of Asgard is in my dad's tower. Can I get you something? Tea? Water? Whatever else you guys drink in Space Viking Land?"
This time Frigga laughed quietly, coming forward. "I'm fine, dear." She held out her hands for Erika to take. "I would like to simply look at my granddaughter, and how lovely she is."
Erika blushed. "Thanks," she muttered, taking Frigga's hand. She turned to Jormungand, ready to ask him to turn the Xbox off, but froze when she looked at her half-brother.
Jormungand stood, pale and shaking, staring wide-eyed at the soldier (who looked incredibly like Steve, holy shit) accompanying the queen. Again, it didn't take her long to put two and two together.
"Um, excuse me, please," said Erika, tugging her hands free and moving back towards Jormungand, placing a hand on his arm.
Jormungand seemed to snap out of it at her touch. He gave Frigga a quick bow and a muttered, "Excuse me," and then he practically bolted from the room.
Erika gave Frigga a nervous smile. "I'll be right back," she said, shooting the soldier a dirty look before taking off after her brother.
She found him in Steve's room, huddled in the corner.
"That's Rannhal, isn't it?" asked Erika.
Jormungand swallowed and nodded shakily.
"Hey," said Erika gently, putting a hand on Jormungand's shoulder. "It's okay, Jor. This is your home—he can't hurt you here. His words have no power here."
Jormungand swallowed thickly. "You don't understand," he said quietly. "Rannhel is the reason I was banished."
Erika wanted to run back into that room and scream at Rannhal until she was hoarse, but Jormungand persuaded her not to, stating the obvious—she was no match for a Warrior of Asgard.
"You wanna bet?" Erika had snarled. "I don't care how strong he is, I'm a fucking genius—I can make his life a living hell!"
That made Jormungand smile. "Peace, Little Sister. Your earlier words are true—he cannot hurt me here."
It took a few more minutes until they were able to rejoin the queen and her guard, and by that time the team was back from their mission and Thor was talking excitedly to his mother while the rest watched from a distance. Introductions had been made, and Frigga paid special attention to Tony.
"This is the mortal who holds my son's heart," she murmured quietly, running a hand down Tony's cheek.
Tony blushed. "Um, it's complicated," he muttered, looking at Loki out of the corner of his eye.
Thor cleared his throat. "Mother, what brings you to Midgard?" he asked loudly, hoping to deter the conversation and draw Frigga's attention back to him.
It worked.
Frigga turned and smiled gently, reaching for one of Thor's hand's while holding her other hand out for Loki to take. "I missed my boys," she said, smiling at them both. "I know you were home recently, Thor, but I wished to see my younger son—it's been such a long time."
Loki looked startled—it had been a long time since he had seen his mother (and no matter what he thought of Odin, Frigga would always be his mother). "I'm sure you can understand why I haven't visited," he said dryly, trying to make it sound like a joke.
Frigga 'tsk'd. "You could have at least written and sent your letters back with your brother," she chided.
"He's not—" Loki choked down the protested 'he's not my brother!' because he knew it would upset Frigga. Instead, he offered her a quiet "apologies," and continued to hold her hand.
Throughout this whole exchange, Erika stood with Jormungand to the side of the room, both of them watching the queen and her guard.
Rannhal looked like Steve so much it was spooky.
"Why did you go for Steve when they look so much alike?" she asked quietly.
Jormungand shook his head. "Not now," he murmured back.
Later, when Frigga and Rannhal were set up in guest rooms, Erika sat on the couch with her brother.
"Rannhal is not a bad man," Jormungand insisted.
"Bullshit," Erika snorted. "The fucker got you banished, how is he not the bad guy here?"
Jormungand shook his head. "Everyone was on edge with me—he just gave them a push."
"What?"
Erika and Jormungand looked up, startled.
Steve was standing in the doorway, looking none too happy. "That was Rannhal?" he asked, coming into the room.
Jormungand hesitated.
"Jormungand."
Jormungand cringed and nodded.
Steve's jaw tightened. "Can you leave us alone, please?" he asked Erika, who huffed but nodded, already in on the story. She gave her brother a quick hug goodnight, then left the room.
Steve sat down beside Jormungand. "What did he do to you?"
". . . . I'd rather not talk about it."
Steve sighed. "Jormungand, I'm serious—if this guy's a threat to you, then I need to know—"
"Why?" Jormungand snapped, leaping to his feet. "So you can protect me? Because I'm such a weakling without my magic?" he spat.
"I didn't say that!" Steve snapped back.
Jormungand fumed for a few seconds, then slumped boneless back on the couch. "I'm sorry," he murmured, curling into Steve's side. "That was unfair."
Steve wrapped an arm around Jormungand and held him close. "Do I need to break this guy's face?" he asked, kissing the top of Jormungand's head.
Jormungand shook his head. "It happened so long ago, but I still remember the disgust on his face when I . . . when I tried to . . . ." He swallowed, shaking.
"Hey," said Steve gently. "It's okay. "You don't need to tell me anything—I just need to know you'll be safe around the guy."
Jormungand sighed and pulled away. "You deserve to know," he said quietly. "I told you Rannhal was polite to me. I took it for something else, and when I acted on it, he . . . became violent. They found me in my room, tied up and injured, the words 'freak' and 'faggot' carved into my skin. It healed quickly, and there was no scarring."
Steve swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. "Did he . . . . Violate you?"
Jormungand shook his head. "No—he beat me to within an inch of my life, then told Odin I had attacked him. The old fool took his word over mine, of course, and I was cast out."
Steve felt like he was going to be sick. "I don't want you alone with him," he said firmly."
"I can take care of myself," Jormungand growled.
Steve hugged him closer. "I never said you couldn't—I just want to be sure you're okay." He kissed the top of Jormungand's head again. "Just humor an old man, okay?"
Jormungand snorted. "You're a babe compared to me," he mumbled.
Steve smiled into Jormungand's hair. "Yeah, but compared to the humans here I'm practically a relic."
"Ughh, now I feel old," Jormungand groaned, which made Steve laugh.
"Imagine how your dad and uncle must feel," he said with a small laugh, which made Jormungand chuckle.
A/N: Jormungand's tattoo is Steve's name in Nordic Runes