Return to Midas, an avengers fanfic

They meet Loki nearly three weeks after the Chitauri Invasion.

The god is on a hill overlooking the busy streets of New York, different armor on him and black hair curlier than Steve remembers. No weapons on him, visible ones at least, and no sight of the Tesseract or the scepter.

He's sprawled on the grass, one hand on a raised knee and stance unconcerned, even with the Avengers armed and ready just a couple of feet away.

The air is thick with tension, and Steve readjusts the grip he has on his shield. He can feel Stark shift beside him, faceplate firmly in place. Barton has no vantage point to shoot from, much to his frustration, so he's waiting back at the helicarrier along with Banner just in case things turn violent.

"Loki! What is the meaning of this?" Thor growls out, stepping forward. Loki barely glances at him, mouth pursued as he stares at the many apartment complexes and streets below, ignoring the question entirely.

"I thought you said that big fella over there was behind bars in Asgard's prison? Should probably invest more in security," Stark says primly to Thor, who narrows his eyes at his brother.

"He was. And he should be, as I have no idea how he managed to break out." Thor glares at Loki. "How are you here Loki?"

"And what do you want?" Stark pipes up, then continues, "Because if you're planning another world conquering crazy mission let me tell you that-"

"What date is it?" Loki cuts him off, eyes still glued to the horizon. The team immediately shuts up, a slight rustling of the trees the only sound that can be heard.

Well, it's a pretty harmless question.

"May twenty fifth," he offers, and gets a sharp elbow courtesy of Romanov. He doesn't think it could do any harm telling Loki that, at least.

The black haired god nods in thanks, and in a languid move stands up, and disappears. No green magic after effects or particles, no fanfare and no warning. One moment he's a couple of feet in front of Steve and in the next the only trace of him is the patch of grass he was sitting on. It happened so fast that the Avengers were left in the dust, standing uselessly staring at where the god used to be.

Stark curses, and Thor yells out after him, but it's futile. Romanov rolls her shoulders, and gives him a narrow eyed glance that he shrugs at helplessly. They all begin to return back to the helicarrier, Stark's annoyed ramblings following them.

There was something strange about Loki, Steve thinks, hoisting himself up on the helicarrier. It had to do with the way he carried himself, he muses, watching as Barton swears and tugs at his hair when he hears that Loki escaped.

There were no sharp and boisterous movements, for one. He sits down on the uncomfortable bench, sandwiched in-between Romanov and Thor. The Loki he'd saw in the Battle of New York was an easily predictable lunatic, whose moves were more theatric than anything warrior like.

He secures his seatbelt, ignoring Romanov's raised eyebrow and whatever comment Stark is making about his goody two shoes nature.

This Loki, on the other hand, had moved silently, motions so smooth that it made it hard to know when one ended and the next began. And most curiously, he hadn't made eye contact once, in the entire encounter.

Steve remembers the eery blue of Loki's eyes when they fought in Stuttgart; they seemed to glow even in the darkness of night, like little pockets of ice-flame.

As they begin to ascend, Steve turns to subtly look at Thor who has his arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently in a way that says I can fly faster than this. The blond's eyes are blue, not that that says much, considering that Loki is apparently adopted.

"Are we there yet?" Thor's voice booms, cutting off his train of thought. Somewhere in the front, Hill replies negative and the god huffs. Steve shifts in his seat, and gets comfortable for the rest of the flight.

When they land, the Stark Tower has been turned upside down. Literally.

Stark nearly faints when he sees it. Steve thinks it's a bit funny.

It, thankfully, reverts back to its original state a day later. Just a little bit of mischief, probably to keep them on their toes and to remind them he isn't gone. Annoying, but harmless.

It's been two days since they've seen Loki, and Steve goes looking through the S.H.I.E.L.D archives. They're stationed in a big room underground, with stacks upon stacks of boxes, records and information packed wall to wall, all neatly organized in a way that says nothing to hide here!

Running his hands through the files in one of the brown cardboard boxes, he doesn't find anything of value, so he goes searching through the files stacked on the metal bookshelves.

Project, project, another project, weapons of mass destruction that he'll warn Fury not to use, project….aha!

Steve retrieves the thin file labeled simply Loki, eyes flicking over the information.

NAME: LOKI

ALIAS: GOD OF MISCHIEF

SEX: MALE (SHAPESHIFTER)

BIRTHPLACE: JOTUNHEIM

HEIGHT: 6'4

WEIGHT: 525

HAIR COLOR: BLACK

EYE COLOR: GREEN

Steve's breath hitches at the last one.

Thor was the one to give this information to S.H.I.E.L.D, surely he'd have noticed his brother's eyes changing color. He also claimed that Loki was a master tactician, and that he was surprised on the lackluster plan he presented in the Battle of New York.

Steve chews on his lips, a nervous tic he never truly got rid of. Blue eyes and behavior so different Loki's own brother could barely recognize him. That sounds too much of a coincidence not to be the Scepter.

Steve also frowns at the shapeshifter information, Thor didn't say anything about that. Is it only limited to humanoid shapes, or can Loki turn into animals? So many unanswered questions.

Bringing files out of the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters is forbidden. Taking pictures clumsily on his phone however, is not. Steve walks out of the archives, deep in thought.

Barton, unsurprisingly, is coldly furious.

"Oh, so that makes what he did to me all fine and dandy, right?" He growls out, mouth set in a firm line. Romanov brushes their shoulders together, and he barely relaxes, eyes steely.

Steve frowns, putting his too thin phone in his pocket. "I never said that, I only-"

"Only nothing," the archer interrupts, and turns on his heel, walking out of the common room. Romanov glances back and then looks at him, face unreadable.

"I mean, Rudolf threw me out of a window. Bit hard to forgive and forget after that, y'know?" Stark says offhandedly, messing with some mechanical device in his hands.

Steve glances at Thor, arms crossed and mouth twisted in what one might describe as a grimace.

"Did you know about this, Thor?" Romanov asks, and the blond sighs.

"I…I did think Loki's actions were strange, very uncharacteristic, and the Loki I knew would never act…"

"Like a diva? Or a supervillain straight out of a cartoon?" Stark offers, twisting a metal cog.

"Yes, that. I might have suspected that the Scepter had affected his mind, but I was hesitant to admit it, to you and even to myself, friends."

"But why?" Asks Banner, eyebrows furrowed.

Thor rolls his shoulder, like preparing for a blow.

"Because it would mean whatever he encountered in the Void had the power to undo all his mental shields, and render him but a puppet. Only the greatest sorcerer could achieve that, and before he─fell, nobody could claim that title except him and our father."

"It would mean I failed him." He adds quietly the last part, and the room descends into silence.

Steve plays with his hands, unsure of what to say to that. They had only known Loki as an enemy, but Thor had years of memories of a younger brother that was probably the complete opposite of what they'd seen.

Romanov stands up, nods at Steve, and goes after Barton. Steve takes it as an acknowledgment of his theory, and breathes a sigh.

"Do we know when the mind control stopped?" He asks, the direction is aimed at Thor but Banner speaks up.

"I think it might have happened when the Other Guy bruised him up. He seemed quieter, after that," he offers. Now that Banner has mentioned, Loki did seem much more civil when going back to Asgard. No barbs, or insults, instead he had an air of acceptance to him.

Steve frowns, mentally backtracking. Asgard.

"Thor, how harsh was Loki's sentence?" Thor blinks at the change of topic, but answers slowly.

"The All-Father thought to execute him, but our mother had begged him not to. He was condemned to imprisonment in Asgard's prison."

There was something off about that sentence, but Steve couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"How long do you guys even live for?" Stark questions, tearing his eyes from his gadget and looking at Thor.

"Around…five thousand Midgardian years. Why?" Ah. Steve feels his stomach twist, and Banner looks a bit too close to green for comfort.

"Was your father trying to drive him insane," Stark exclaims, eyes wide. Thor turns to him, confusion evident on his face.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Thor, that-" Stark closes his mouth, shakes his head then rushes to the kitchen for a drink.

Banner takes a deep breath, which reminds Steve to breathe as well. The fact that Thor doesn't see the inherent wrongness in that sentence makes Steve wonder just what kind of parenting Odin has been subjecting them to.

"Was Loki permitted visitors?" He asks, hopeful.

"Yes, he was. Our mother would sometimes talk to him with illusions, and send books to entertain him."

Steve feels a bit better at that, at least. Still, being locked up for four thousand years? Without any other company except for a mother he can't touch? Humans─and even gods Steve speculates─need skin on skin contact, and especially mental stimuli or their mind will turn onto itself. The thought that a king, a father would sentence his son to that is making him nauseous.

"What about you?" He manages to ask.

"I am ashamed to say that I did not have the time to visit," Thor says mournfully, "our father would send me on missions across the Nine, and of course I had an obligation to Midgard as well."

Stark comes into the common room, a glass in hand and the gadget in other. He points at Thor with the hand holding the glass, nearly tripping.

"You, Point Break, need some better parents. And also a lesson on treatment of criminals, with a dash of how to give proper and humane punishment. C'mon, follow me," he waves lazily towards the elevator, and Thor follows after a short moment of confusion.

Steve is left alone with Banner, who sighs after a moment, hand running through messy dark hair.

"I'll just uh, I have something to finish in the lab," he says awkwardly, and Steve nods as the other man leaves.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to will away a headache. What a mess.

It seems like the many supervillains of the world took Loki's attack as some sort of cue, because next thing Steve knows New York is getting assaulted left and right by enemies. Robots, aliens, magic users and monsters all seem to have awakened, and made it their number one mission to tear New York, and in turn the world, apart.

The Avengers don't get disbanded, mostly because every week there is a new villain just waiting to show off their plans of destruction and boast in the main square.

They station themselves in Stark Tower─now Avengers Tower─and wait for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cue when to dispatch. They each have their own floor, or multiple, and mostly mingle in the common room at the lower floors. They're not yet friends, Steve thinks, but friendly colleagues connected by a single thread─the will to protect others.

At one point it becomes routine, wake up, check his phone if any of world conquering megalomaniacs have decided to grace them this morning with an attack, and if not then go jogging.

They see no signs of Loki for the first month of his return.

When they do manage to catch a glimpse of him, he's stationed at one of the many apartment roofs, watching as they get their asses handed to them by Amora's minions. It seems like they aren't the only ones to notice however.

The moment he hears Stark's cranky, "Oh great, Loki is here," he sees Thor flinch in the corner of his vision. Amora stills and glances at the flying Iron Man, seemingly having overheard the comment. She tracks where his head is pointed, and lets out a shriek when she notices the black and green combo above.

For a moment, Steve thinks she'll attack him as well, but Amora just waves excitedly, curly blond hair bouncing as she jumps to get the other god's attention.

"Loki! Loki, is that really you?" She grins, and promptly gets an arrow to the face. It blows up just before contact, and Amora harshly coughs in the ensuing smoke. Her face is left strangely empty of any burn marks or scratches, probably due to magic, Steve thinks. She levels a nasty glare at Barton, who's positioned himself somewhere at Steve's upper left.

"Eyes up here, Enchantress," Barton drawls, and Amora screams at him, a surge of golden magic enveloping her. Suddenly the minions triple, appearing out of nowhere and swarming the Avengers.

"Shit!" Stark exclaims, as the minions start to climb on one another like a crude ladder and make a grab for him. Thor is faring the best, as usual, blasting away entire rows of the buggers with a single slash of Mjolnir. His eyes however, are firmly on the rooftop Loki is on.

Steve slams his shield into one that gets a bit too close, and then throws it so it bounces off at least a dozen of them. Unfortunately, they don't stay down, so Steve punches one hard enough that it flies and hits a nearby building. But it gets back up as ten more appear, and then another ten, surrounding him. He grabs his shield, but the familiar sound of a helicopter alerts him so he glances up.

"Cap!" Romanov yells at him from above, in her free hand what appears to be a rope. She throws the rope down, and then rains down bullets at the surrounding minions. Steve grabs the rope, the helicopter moving towards where Barton is being attacked. They fly above the man, and Steve calls out to him.

"Barton!" And the archer immediately jumps from the complex; catching Steve's offered hand in a firm grip. "Stupid fucking-" he growls as a minion hangs off of him, and then kicks it down.

Steve hauls them both up quickly, moving from the entrance to make room for Stark, who flies in not a moment later. Banner is on board, picking at his fingers and probably waiting for his cue to Hulk out.

"Katniss, did you have to provoke blonde and angry down there?" Stark asks sarcastically, and Barton rolls his eyes.

"Oh, shut up, as if you haven't single handedly caused most of our collateral damage because you can't keep your mouth shut when an enemy is talking. A very armed and dangerous enemy, might I remind."

"I do it with style and purpose though," Stark protests, "and also that was that one time-" Steve really has no time for another pointless argument, especially in the middle of a battlefield where innocents can get hurt.

"Alright, not that this isn't incredibly important," he receives a glare from Barton, "but we do have a problem on our hands."

"Really, I thought we were all just here on a school trip," replies Stark and Steve can practically hear the eye roll leveled at him.

"Of course you would treat this as one," Barton snippily says, and Stark puffs up in indignation. He sighs, turning his back to their childish squabbling and looking outside.

Amora is no longer on the pavement, instead standing and chatting with Loki on the roof. She seems excited, waving her hands around and with a huge smile across her face. Loki's back is turned to the helicopter, so Steve isn't sure if this reunion is as lovely for him as is for her.

Thor lands on the helicopter, having cleaned out the worst of the minions. Steve feels a bit useless at leaving most of the work to him, but the minions only stay down when hit with a magical weapon and they only have one of those on board. Steve is glad that they even have that; otherwise the magical enemies would have completely overwhelmed them in the first week alone.

"I didn't know your brother was familiar with Amora," Romanov says, a question hidden beneath a simple statement. Thor rubs his neck awkwardly.

"Ah, yes. They were…friends, when times were simpler. They used to practice magic together." And Thor gets that look on his face every time he talks about before, when Loki was younger and less dangerous. It's usually a cue for them to not dig further, otherwise the big guy might go into a depressive episode.

Steve and Romanov share a look, before Hill's voice rings out, "We're above them, move out." Banner stands up, "Not you Dr. Banner." And sits back down. Steve can't read the look on his face, but it looks mildly relieved.

"I will go first," Thor declares, and then launches himself down at where the two sorcerers are.

"Yeah, yeah, don't wait for us mortals, whatever," Stark grumbles, going after him. Barton and Romanov both silently descend down the rope, and Steve follows a heartbeat after.

They all land, and Steve sees Loki's eyes, green, his mind thinks, flicker between them before returning back to Amora and their conversation. There doesn't seem to be any visible force field, but when Barton shoots an arrows straight at Loki's head, it disappears a foot from his face, the same way he disappeared a month ago on that hill. One moment there, the next, not.

Amora whips her head around, a snarl on her face and golden-green magic around her right hand, poised to strike. Steve hurriedly steps in front, pushing the others behind him, shield holstered so it meets the worst of the blow. But after a moment, when nothing happens, he lowers it hesitantly and blinks.

Loki has Amora's hand in his own, and he's looking at her with his mouth pursued. Amora seems as shocked as the rest of them, but gets over it faster than them.

"Don't tell me you would protect them?" She sounds disgruntled, nose flared and free hand on her hip. Loki hums, letting her hand go, putting his own hands behind his back.

Somewhere behind him, Steve hears someone choke. Probably Barton, or Stark.

"Not necessarily, I would just like the damage you cause not result in their death." Amora rolls her eyes, flipping her hair.

"Please, like I would actually permanently disfigure them. That's just a waste of magic and time."

Steve can feel that Stark is about to loudly object, so he steps on his foot. It doesn't actually do much, since he's in the suit, it does however stop him from making any unnecessary comment that would surely result in another million in collateral damage.

Loki doesn't answer, and Amora huffs, crossing her arms and turning to him, like they aren't there at all. "Come back to Asgard," she pleads, and Steve raises his eyebrows. This is a bit unexpected, and he sees Thor gape at Amora.

"Nobody has seen you for so long Loki, Lorelei would be overjoyed. And the court! Oh you must return, they've been inconsolable! And that idiot Volstagg-" She grabs his arm and he flinches, and Amora frowns, puzzled.

He gingerly puts his hand on hers, "I…" He sighs, and then seems to notice that the Avengers are still there. Probably looking very stupid just standing there like they're watching a drama act, now that Steve thinks about it.

"Perhaps we should continue this another time," he murmurs to her, and her frown deepens. She lets go of his arm, huffing.

"Fine, fine. But don't you dare ignore my calls, I'll send Fandral and his army of awful dwarfish poetry if you do." Loki cringes, but bends down and gives her cheek a kiss. She whispers something that not even Steve's enhanced hearing can figure out, and then Loki takes one step back, sharply turns to the left and─disappears.

Predictably, all hell breaks loose.

After, when the fight is finished and Amora has teleported herself to safety, when the minions have been cleaned up and moved out of the streets. After, when the casualties have been counted─none, and Steve lets out a sigh of relief when he hears that─and the construction workers have been called to repair the damage done to the buildings that were in the way of the attacks. After, when the team finally comes to the Tower, soot and sweat sticking to them like glue and fatigue slowing them down, Steve turns to Thor.

"Did Loki have many friends back in Asgard?" Thor blinks, shifting to look Steve in the eye. He frowns, tilting his head. The other Avengers are all ahead, Stark already out of his suit.

"I…don't know," he admits, shame evident in his voice. "At most, Amora and him were friends in early youth, before she ran away to pursue better teachers than the ones we had at Asgard." Steve can see him thinking, so he lets the silence stretch for a bit.

"Lorelei was always eager to talk to him, but Loki never seemed too interested in talk, probably because she was so much younger than even him.

And Sif, the Warriors Three…" Thor sighs, rubbing his shoulder on the spot where Amora managed to land a spell. "Loki had told me they were always more my friends than his, and that he never considered them as such."

Steve watches him, before asking, "Did you agree with him?"

"I didn't, when he first told me. I thought he was simply making it up, that there was no way that somebody wouldn't want his company as much as I," Thor muses, "but then he pointed out all the ways they never listened to him, or would make fun of him when I wasn't near. It…opened my eyes, and I felt ashamed I had not noticed sooner."

"And the court? Amora mentioned something about that."

Thor shakes his head. "You must realize, the court consisted of Asgard's greatest councilmen…politicians, you would call them. They liked to talk, and talk, and yet say nothing of meaning while also somehow implying you were inept and should keep at least three fields of distance from civilization, lest you infect them with your stupidity." Thor seemed to quote something, small smile on his face.

"Loki infuriated and delighted them in the same breath. He could see through all of their lies, and uncover them with ease. Yet he would do it in such a way that you could not accuse him of slander, nor could you deny the elegance with which he did it. There was no one quite like him. Silvertongue, they called him" Fondness intercepts his tone, a faraway look in his eyes.

Steve chews on that information mentally, thinking of a teenager with a too quick mouth and an even quicker mind, who wasn't trusted simply because he told the truth. Steve doesn't know much about Asgard, only the stories Thor has told them, but he thinks that Loki's side of the story would involve a more nuanced look at Realm Eternal, one that isn't just 'there was no sickness and everybody got along with each other'.

Steve likes Thor, of course, but he feels that he looks back on his home with all the nostalgia of somebody with privilege whose hardships were minimal or otherwise not world shattering. He is a prince, Steve can't forget.

Thor shakes himself, and then turns questioning eyes on him. "Where did this question come from, if I may ask, friend Steve?"

Steve blinks, and then remembers the way Loki looked at Amora. The apprehension in green eyes, and the way he seemed to be talked at more than with, like it was already decided he would come back. Amora sure seemed to take it for granted, Thor did as well.

He turns to meet Thor's earnest face.

"Just," Steve begins, lowering his eyes to his battered shield.

"He seemed a bit lonely, it's all."

It's another sleepless night; Steve can tell the moment he doesn't fall asleep in the first hour of lying down on the too soft bed. Apparently the five punching bags weren't enough to tire him out for tonight, or the previous two nights, he thinks while gingerly getting up.

He checks the time, the digital clock on the nightstand informing him it's past two in the morning. Maybe he should get some fresh air, he supposes, stretching. Hesitantly, he calls out, "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers?"

"Can you open the door to the balcony?" Stark put protective measures so you had to 'ask before risking a fall to your death', in his own words. It probably has more to do with him than with the others, but Steve doesn't feel like prying.

"Of course, Mr. Rogers." And just like that, the balcony door slides open smoothly, and Steve is hit with a wave of cold air. He walks outside, resting his arms on the railings.

He listens to cars below him, a cool breeze passing by. In moments like these, with all his defenses on low, the truth is still hard to comprehend, to accept.

He flexes his hands on the rail, the metal grounding him to now and not 1945. He licks his lips, trying to will the sound of Peggy's voice away.

Eight o' clock on the dot.

Beyond the noise of vehicles on a busy road, Steve can hear the engine of the plane, the alarms beeping insistently at him.

Don't you dare be late.

The wind seems to pick up, and the temperature drops, ice water in his lungs. It hurts to breathe.

Steve never got that dance, in the end. He wasn't there when Peggy founded S.H.I.E.L.D, when she married, had kids. There was a spark between them, not love, because Steve won't delude himself into thinking that, but a tiny spark that could have maybe blossomed into something more. She's still alive, he'd checked the S.H.I.E.L.D records after the Chitauri Invasion, but his heart isn't yet ready to visit. Or he's just stalling, who knows.

Thoughts of Peggy often lead him to thoughts of Bucky, and he puts his head in his hands, trying to breathe through the tightness in his throat.

A desperate face looking back, eyes wide but feet stubbornly planted. Waiting for him, always waiting for him.

Just get out!

Not without you.

Steve can smell the old wood The Whip and Fiddle is made out of, air tasting of beer and the bar vibrating with music and life. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, uniforms crinkling under the golden light. The contact simultaneously too much and not enough.

You gonna follow Captain America into the jaws of death?

Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight? I'm following him.

The train tracks bustle underneath him, gunfire like a victory song in his veins. A moment of miscalculation, a hand reaching for him.

Miles upon miles of distance between them, and his useless body unable to hold on to the most precious thing he has ever known. A fall. A promise.

I'm with you 'til the end of the line, pal.

They never found Bucky's body, in the end. There was war, and too many soldiers had disappeared for the army to go looking for a specific one. Steve doesn't know if he will ever forgive himself for that.

"Ah, Captain, thought I'd find you here," Steve freezes, hands grasping for a weapon that's not there. All his thoughts stutter to a halt, and he barely has the mind to glance at the unexpected visitor.

On the railing to his right is Loki, sitting with his legs dangling near Steve. He's in a different set of armor than the one a week ago, and the front of his hair is tied loosely as not to fall in his face. Once again, no visible weapons, if you don't count the magic.

Steve feels his heart hammering in his throat. Does he call for help? No, no reason to alert his sleeping colleagues. His shield is near the little nightstand next to his bed, all it would take is a distraction and two steps back, one step left-

"Peace, Captain, I do not come here wishing for a fight." That manages to catch his attention, and he stills, shooting a quizzing glance at the god.

Loki smiles, hands up in a calming manner as if approaching a spooked animal. When nothing else happens, Steve wills himself to relax. He exhales, and winces when he realizes how tightly he'd been holding onto the rail. He unclenches his fists, and realizes the rail has been bent.

Slightly embarrassed, he looks back at the god, whose eyes are twinkling in an unnerving manner.

"How'd you find me?" Steve winces, remembering that the Avengers' headquarters is public information. "Never mind that, why are you here?"

Loki hums, hands on either side of him while he balances on the rail. "The wind led me to you," he says, which makes zero sense and Steve opens his mouth to say so.

"As for your second question, I'm not the one inquiring about an enemy's lack of friends." He shuts his mouth with an audible snap. How does Loki know about that? The idea that Thor would tell him is possible, but not probable.

"As for how I know," was the question really that obvious on his face, "a little birdie told me."

Is it possible that Loki breached the security at the Tower? And if so, for how long?

Loki sighs, spreading his arms and ignoring the way Steve stiffens.

"What I have told you is the truth. I swear to you, if I wanted to get rid of America's greatest hero, I would have already done so."

That is… true, Steve supposes. He doesn't exactly know for how long Loki had been watching him, here in the middle of the night, alone and without his shield. He could have struck at any moment, and Steve would have been helpless.

"Alright," he concedes, running a nervous hand through his hair. Silence descends upon them, and he doesn't know if it's as awkward for Loki as it is for him.

Steve doesn't know what to do exactly, if he should ask Loki to come inside or just stay here in the night's embrace. Are they even enemies, at this moment?

"I have heard that you are a man out of time," Loki says, and Steve looks at him. Loki smiles, eyes glittering under the New York lights. "Tell me about it?"

He's curious, Steve realizes. About Steve, or about his history, how he came to be. This feels a bit like a dream, and he subtly pinches himself, but the god doesn't disappear, and the time doesn't reverse back seventy years.

"All of it, from the beginning, if you don't mind."

My brother loves stories. Steve remembers Thor telling him, last week when he'd gotten just a bit tipsy on Asgardian mead. He would spin tales of great heroics and amaze crowds of guests and visitors.

But if there was one thing he loved more than telling a story, it was hearing one, no matter how outlandish or boring. His eyes hungry, he would always ask for another one from our mother, back when we were youth and still listened to fairy tales before bed.

Loki's eyes hold that same hunger that Thor was talking about, an unblinking stare pinned on him. Steve licks his lips, moonlight slowly creeping up on the Tower, illuminating two strangers on a balcony.

There is no harm in it, Steve thinks, and Loki swore he had no ill intentions. And, as Steve glances back, recalling back to words of one of the specialists Fury had introduced him to, it may help talking about it.

Maybe it's the memory of Loki, face blank as Amora asks him to come back to Asgard, the way Thor said Loki had told me they were always more my friends than his, and the thought of a teenager ostracized from his peers simply on account of being too smart, that makes him cave in.

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, perhaps some combination of curiosity and desperation, or pure stupidity, but Steve opens his mouth, and talks.

"It was the beginning of July, 1918…"

"I was more sick than not for most of my life. Scarlet fever as a kid, asthma─which they thought was a result of some sort of mental illness at the time, bad eyesight, bad hearing, spine bent all weird, stomach problems…"

"So you managed to achieve the ultimate bingo of diseases and disabilities when you were barely of age? Impressive."

"You know what bingo is?"

"You learn some things when on secret adventures on an unfamiliar realm when young."

"Like playing bingo?"

"Like playing bingo."

"Bucky and I were glued to the hip ever since I could remember. He was there for the worst of it, when I was so sick I could barely stay conscious, when thugs would pick on me because of my size, my Ma dying…"

"A reliable shield-brother."

"I suppose you could call him that. Is that some sort of familial bond or?"

"A shield-brother is your warrior in arms, somebody you could trust to have your back and front. You do not need to be related to be one. In a way, they're like a part of you, always there when the world is not. Was your Barnes like that?"

"Yeah, yeah he was."

"Dr. Erskine sat me down while he explained it to me. Told me about Schmidt, his first experiment and how it went wrong. I worried what it might to do me, if it rendered Schmidt down to red flesh and bones.

But he told me not to worry. That the serum amplifies what's inside. Good becomes great, bad becomes worse. It sounds a bit preachy, but he told me he chose me for my compassion, told me I was a good man."

"Interesting, your doctor sounds like an incredible man to be able to control such magic."

"He was a scientist, not a sorcerer."

"The difference between the two is surprisingly little, you'll find. All science can become magic."

"Oh, how?"

"The secret lies in imagination, and a healthy dose of insanity. But continue, about your not-sorcerer and the magic ritual─apologies, experiment and how it went."

"Funny that, he died."

"Oh."

"The pain was something I had never felt before, like if somebody was pouring molten lava into my nervous system. It felt like forever, in that metal case. But I wasn't going to give up my chance─my only chance─to help save people, so I persisted."

"Admirable."

"Thank you. Anyway, the moment the procedure finished, and I walked out of the chamber, the world felt…different. It's like I was seeing it for the first time. I could hear the soldiers' feet shuffle outside of the lab, and smell every chemical in the room. I was taller as well and nearly towered over everyone. The body I had been born with, lived with for the past two decades, was gone."

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss it? No, I don't think so. It was a challenge sometimes to even get out of bed, I was always tired of just being. But. It was still mine, however bruised up. It's just another thing I lost, I suppose."

"They had me doing these stupid performances, to boost morale, make more money or some other excuse. I was their personal flying monkey for a while, and it led to no small amount of irritation."

"Do the videos of you performing in that uniform still exist?"

"God, I hope not."

"Shame."

"When I heard what happened to the 107th and that Colonel wasn't planning on a rescue mission, I knew I had to act. And so I did, with Peggy and Howard alongside me. I wasn't willing to abandon Bucky, even if it meant disobeying and going against the law."

"I don't think I've ever felt more joy or hope in my life than when I found Bucky on that bed. My heart could have flown out of my chest out of pure happiness. In that moment, I felt invincible, not even a building falling on us could damper my mood, I thought."

"Unfortunately, a building did nearly fall on us. "

"We barely made it out by the skin of our teeth. Bucky was stubborn, and refused to leave me there, the idiot. So I did what I could, and jumped, barely reaching onto the other side and escaping with him. We found the rest of the 107th outside, regrouped and prepared to go home."

"Bucky seemed hellbent on getting drunk, his eyes were already glazed over. I was a bit worried so I-"

"Oh by the Norns, if you don't move on from yours and Barnes' romance I will actually fall asleep."

"What? Romance? No, we didn't─that's─we never…"

"It wasn't like that? Humph, I asked for your story, but the more the night goes on I think I might have signed up for an inch by inch novel about Barnes' handsome face and mighty character. Of course I understand that love plays a great deal of importance in your story, but do we have to backtrack every time Barnes does something of no interest─are you blushing?"

"I was not. Blushing."

"Of course, those were simply the New York lights illuminating your face."

"Stop laughing at me."

"Are you ready to continue?"

"Just, gimme a moment."

"…do not tell me you are having an identity crisis."

"No, no, just. Thinking."

"…"

"Alright, maybe I am, but you're the one to blame, so hold on."

"Right, where was I?"

"Barnes' incredibly lovely and easy to lose yourself in eyes twinkled in the golden light-"

"You're insufferable."

"That's my best quality."

"And she turned around, coldly telling me I don't know anything about women. Maybe I don't, because I thought that she and Howard had a fondue going on. Guess I was wrong."

"It's not your fault that the other woman kissed you, Agent Carter just had the misfortune of being there to see it. Her conclusions are her own."

"Howard later told me fondue was just a term for lunch, cheese and bread. Would've been nice to know that earlier."

"Perhaps they thought you were allergic to it."

"My ears were ringing from the unexpected shots, problem with enhanced hearing you see, but nothing a shake of the head wouldn't solve-"

"Now wait a minute, Agent Carter nearly shot you and all you have to say about it is that it bothered your ears?"

"Well, she was hurt."

"So could have you been, if it weren't for reflexes granted by the serum or if you were holding a different shield."

"Look, Peggy didn't actually mean to hurt me. She was just, really mad."

"From what I heard, most normal people simply seethe quietly until they are calm enough to talk things out, keyword here being normal."

"You have no right to talk about her like that."

"Of course, my apologies, next time somebody tells me their fellow colleague shot at them because of a misunderstanding I shall simply shrug and tell them it was a sign of affection. How silly of me."

"Can we move on?"

"Go ahead."

"We spent years and months taking down HYDRA, blowing up their bases, stealing their supplies. Then came the damned month of January, 1945."

"…and he fell. I screamed after him, but all I could hear was the clatter of the train wheels, and my pounding heart. I wasn't fast enough to catch him. I stood there, for a moment, watching as he dropped further and further into the Russian mountains. I'll never forget his face."

"I am sorry for your loss. He was a good man."

"The damn best. He didn't deserve to go down like that. Maybe if I…hah, it doesn't really matter now, does it? It's all in the past, everything except me."

"Nothing could stop me, after Bucky's─death. If I had to personally go and tear Red Skull's head from his body, then so be it. Luckily, I did have a team of very capable misfits on my team, and we gave it our all in the ensuing fights. They could very well be our last."

"I was just about to jump on the plane when Peggy pulled me down, and kissed me."

"…"

"I'm not sure if you're waiting for some sort of congratulatory speech, but you're not getting it from me."

"Figures."

"Did the Colonel offer a goodbye kiss as well?"

"Loki."

"What? It's a genuine question."

"Just, shut up."

"I'll take that as a no."

"After hitting him with my flying shield, he got knocked into some sort of cube console, and then blue light began emitting from the damaged machinery."

"The Tesseract."

"Yes, the power source behind HYDRA's weapons."

"I never truly grasped why Odin would hide it on Midgard of all places. Maybe he thought you mortals would be too inept at controlling it. Shame he was wrong."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"One moment, he was staring into it like it held all the secrets of the universe, but then the next he's screaming No! NO! and then a flash, like an atomic bomb went off. He's vaporized in less than a second. But the plane is crashing, armed with more bombs than I can count and aimed for New York.

It descends down,

down,

down."

"The last thing I remember hearing is Peggy's voice over the radio. After that it's just. Cold. I've never felt as cold as I did in those last few moments, it felt like it seeped into my bones. Then darkness."

"Next thing I know I'm waking up in a room that looks wrong, listening to a game from 1941 and thinking wrong and the woman who greets me is dressed wrong. Something is very, very wrong. I break out, right in the middle of a traffic rush and just stare at everything, from the small pieces of too saturated candy paper littering on the pavement to the big digital screens around me. I wake up in the twenty first century, all of it wrong."

Steve doesn't remember falling asleep, but he wakes up in his bed all the same. The digital clock on his nightstand cheerfully tells him it's eleven in the morning, and that he's overslept.

Sitting up, he rubs the fog from his eyes, jaw cracked open to let out a yawn. He feels surprisingly refreshed, mind clearer for the first time in weeks.

Then he remembers what exactly transpired the night before, and nearly trips on the covers.

Right, Loki, and a very long talk that went deep into the night. He searches his memory, wondering if he revealed something other than what he'd intended to. He doesn't think so, he frowns as he scratches his head. He tries to recall what he told Loki.

There was life pre serum, Bucky, Peggy, the serum, war, Bucky, Peggy, the fall…and the last thing he remembers is telling the god something about how late it was, and then darkness.

Abruptly, he recalls Loki's words. Romance. About him, and Bucky.

He won't lie to himself and say there weren't…moments. They shared a bed many times, but that's because of the cold, nothing that intimate. They also shared secret glances, and Steve would always know what Bucky was thinking from just one look but that's usual best friend business.

There are the Bucky sketches Steve sometimes did whenever the other man would be too busy to notice but that's just because Bucky was there and Steve needed a subject, nothing more. They cooked together, but it wasn't like-like they were having dinner dates together. But they did have double dates, and Bucky would nearly talk more with him than the girls he'd bring with and Steve always felt a kind of burning hot feeling in his gut whenever Bucky would fully focus on him, eyes bright and sparkling, mouth redder than blood and, and that's. That's something he'll examine at a later time, it's too early right now.

Surprisingly, Steve feels lighter than he has ever since he came out of the ice. Simply talking to somebody about his life made it a bit easier to swallow that it was lost to time, even if the person listening was a god from another realm.

But Loki was a good listener, paying attention to every word Steve would say. He'd patiently wait when Steve's throat would tighten, and would always gently prompt him to continue when Steve had gathered himself back up.

After all the talking, Steve felt raw, open in a way he didn't know he could be, and incredibly tired. He remembers Loki telling him something in a soft voice, words that made his heart hurt.

Your story matters. The time you lost… it was taken unfairly from you. I hope one day you may look at the past with a grief that is manageable.

And the thing is, Loki gets it, in some abstract way that nobody has. Not even the therapists that Steve has talked to, who all not so subtly imply that he should be happy he's here and alive, and not dying of polio, of war.

It's the twenty first century, medicine and human rights have advanced exponentially, surely everything is better than it used to be, why can't you let the past go? They refuse to let him grieve, and he refuses to let go. Like a crude game of tug of war.

The past to them is only a few months for him, from a world of war to a supposed era of peace. Nothing is the same, yet everything is achingly familiar. Nostalgia embedded so deeply inside of him it's inseparable, like a living organ.

If you peel back the fresh coats of paint and break the walls so only the foundation remains, it looks like it did seventy years ago, right? Except it isn't like that at all, because the people that used to inhabit those houses are dead, and they took Steve's heart with them. Brooklyn is a ghost town waiting for her last soldier to be buried.

I am sorry you cannot go back home. Loki had said, words nearly swallowed in the wind. Such a simple sentence, with an ache behind it that said I know. I understand.

Steve had cried at that point, tiny hiccups too loud even with the streets bustling underneath, the loudness of New York threatening to swallow him whole.

It felt like he was on the very edge of the world.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts out, steeling himself. A new day is waiting for him, and he is in desperate need of some breakfast.

He starts to get up, but then notices a small piece of parchment on his nightstand, and surprisingly, a small mandarin orange next to it.

He picks up the paper first, reading the elegant yet sharp script.

Thank you for your hospitality, and your story.

You seemed quite tired, so I made sleep come quicker. Nothing but a simple spell for a more comfortable dream, I assure you.

I have told your friend in the walls not to report to Stark, since I would prefer not to be searched for like a mindless criminal on a run. You may tell him yourself, if you truly wish to. I look forward to our next meeting, Captain.

Vit sjáumst, Loki.

Steve frowns at the mention of a spell used on him. Maybe that's why he doesn't remember getting into bed. He shakes his head, he'll tell Loki about that when he meets him again.

He figures that the 'friend in the walls' as Loki put it is Jarvis, and that's all the confirmation Steve needs that Loki can breach the Tower's security, and do so quite nonchalantly, like it isn't a big deal.

The two words beside his name are probably some sort of goodbye, so he commits them to memory.

He glances at the mandarin, sitting innocuously and inviting him to take a bite. He ponders for a moment, decides that if Loki wanted him dead he could have done so many times, and picks the fruit up.

He peels the skin off carefully, then takes a bite. He grimaces immediately, nearly spitting the fruit out. He forces himself to swallow, and then squints at the mandarin.

It's…so sweet. If he didn't have the serum, he'd think his teeth would fall out upon even biting it. It's even sweeter than the snacks Stark sometimes leaves hanging around the kitchen, and Steve thought nothing could rival the absurdly artificial taste of strawberry candy.

He glares at the mandarin, and it seems to shrink back under his gaze. He blinks, then shakes his head. It was a gift, he reminds himself, swallowing another piece, and then another, trying not to think of the sour aftertaste on his tongue.

When he's finished, he picks up the paper again.

I look forward to our next meeting, Captain.

He smiles, folding the note neatly and storing it in the little drawer, under cases of CDs, graphite sketches and stray pencils. Until next time, huh?

"Steve, why is there a hand shaped dent on one of my railings?"

"Climate change."

The next time an army of monsters come from a wormhole thanks to another angry magic user that wants to take over the world, nothing happens.

Well, not nothing, monsters are still annoying to deal with and the collateral damage is through the roof as always, but.

The Avengers always do their best to get the civilians out of the range of damage, and they try, but.

But a monster that looks like a mix between a wolf and a five foot hawk with wings goes soaring through the air and aims its claws right at a little boy just barely out of range for the Avengers to reach. The kid screams and Steve's heart stops in his chest and he thinks, no, not like this-

The screaming abruptly stops, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, thinking of crimson blood and a small lifeless body. He forces them open and-

The monster squawks in confusion, swiping the empty place the child was in, but no sight of the kid can be seen. Steve whips his head around when he hears a small hiccup.

The brown haired boy is wide eyed, ten feet behind Steve and out of immediate danger. He looks as confused as Steve feels. A stocky woman rushes from behind a car and lifts him up in her arms, murmuring reassurances that Steve listens to.

Shh, it's all right, oh God you're okay aren't you? Come on, shh, Mama is here, let's go home.

He can see Romanov's furrowed brow from the corner of his eye, and he hears the telltale sound of Mjolnir crushing the monster's skull.

The kid disappeared in the blink of an eye, almost as if. It was like…

"Like magic." Romanov murmurs, and he blinks at her.

Magic. A late night talk with a god, and an untold story leaving his lips for the first time. Steve laughs, a quick high thing and then shuts his mouth, they're on a battlefield for God's sake.

Romanov turns towards him, a question on her lips. He shrugs, unsure of where to even begin to explain. They get back into the fray, shield and guns blazing.

Nobody dies that day.

Steve is standing in front of the big oak table in his room, tapping his pencil absentmindedly against it as he looks around the room for inspiration. His eyes flick from the finished graphite sketches hanged on the wall in front of him to his made bed, weighted blanket carefully folded on the end of it.

He continues his search, eyes passing over the entrance to his bathroom, the shoe compartment next to the window, the tall dark closet, Loki sitting on his red-blue-and-white beanbag, the plant next to it-

Wait.

Steve stares at Loki.

Loki stares back, beaming.

"When did you-how long have you been sitting there," he asks, a bit dumbfounded and off kilter.

"Long enough to see you rotate in your place like a poor imitation of a carousel."

Steve puts his head into his hands, pencil nearly poking his eye out, and groans in embarrassment. Honestly, if this is going to be a regular occurrence he might have to put a bell on the god so Steve doesn't die of a heart attack.

He lifts his head up, sighing at the amused look in Loki's eyes.

"Alright, you've had your fun, did you want anything or are you just here to hang out?" Loki blinks, like the prospect of 'hanging out' is in and out of itself ridiculous, but shrugs elegantly.

"I had some business near the area you live in, so I decided to 'kill two birds with one stone' as you mortals put it." He then does something with his left hand, twisting an imaginary knob, an object appearing in his grip.

"I realized I did not sufficiently repay you for your story, so here I am," he says, opening his fist up to reveal a golden…thing, barely bigger than his fist. It's obviously magical, a small silver-blue light in the center surrounded by two series of interlocking golden rings with small engravings on them.

Steve's mind catches up to what Loki said and he frowns. "You don't need to repay me, I didn't do anything."

"On the contrary, such a story deserves some kind of gift," Loki replies, reaching out with the object in hand.

"But-"

"But nothing," the god interjects, a small smile on his lips. "If you refuse it, I will be very heart broken and will write to the American embassy complaining that the hero by the name of Captain America is actually a very cruel man unable to accept a simple present. What will the press say?"

"They'll claim you're just another insane fanboy and it won't even reach the headlines."

"Ouch."

Steve huffs out a laugh, finally accepting the gift with his free hand, noticing how light it feels on his palm. He puts his pencil down on the table, bringing the object closer to his face for examination.

The small white carvings are probably Asgardian or maybe Old Norse. He twists it so his eye is level with the small light inside of the globe. It seems to be pulsing rhythmically, like a little heart beat.

He straightens up to see Loki watching him with an intense look on his face. He fights down the urge to squirm, and instead remembers his manners.

"Thank you Loki, it's beautiful." The god snorts, languidly standing up and getting into Steve's personal space.

"You don't even know what it does yet you call it beautiful? By the Norns, dear Captain, let me show you," he says, and takes the gift from Steve's hands, moving so he's in the middle of the room.

He grabs one ring with his right hand, and the other with his left and sharply twists. The object gives out a little sound, almost like a bell, and then the light inside the globe grows brighter.

Loki flattens his palm, and the object begins to vibrate and tremble.

"A raven," he says to the whirring thing in his hand, and the silver light flashes once, twice. The golden rings unwind and twist, little branches of metal slowly coming outside of them and rearranging all around the light.

A sudden caw can be heard, and on Loki's palm is a golden raven, the small silver light burning bright inside of its chest.

"Do close your mouth if you don't wish for flies to come in," Loki says, sounding extremely proud and self-satisfied. Steve shuts his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from the bird.

"What is it?" Loki rolls his eyes and Steve already knows the answer is going to be sarcastic before it's out of the god's mouth.

"It's a bird, Captain. I'm sure they existed in 1940 as well." Steve half heartedly glares at him for the jab, but his eyes return once again to the raven.

"For Norns' sake─here," Loki grumbles impatiently, and Steve hurriedly cups his hands so the raven doesn't fall. The bird actually moves, preening itself and then pecking at Steve's hands when he squeezes it accidentally.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want to break it," he whispers, a finger delicately touching the bird's feathers, marveling at the fact that they feel so real. Loki crosses his arms, eyebrow raised.

"Please, it's made out of dwarfish metal embedded with the strongest protection runes in all the realms, not to mention enchanted by me. Even if all of your planet's nuclear weapons were to fire it would barely get scratched."

Steve's mouth feels a bit dry.

"I can't accept this. Loki, I'll never be able to repay you for this─it's too much for someone like me."

Loki scowls, clearly on the edge of patience.

"Captain you are being ridiculous, if I'd have known you would react like this I would have simply left it on your nightstand with a set of instructions."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Loki beats him to it.

"Gift giving is not about one party owing the party, or making the person you are giving the gift to feel inadequate. It's a simple gesture of good will, that you are making out to be much more complicated than it should be."

Whatever look is on his face makes Loki throws his hands up in frustration.

"Honestly, you. If I said that I am doing this because I want to and because I enjoy your company, will you finally stop acting like a child and accept it?" Loki's cheeks are a bit red at the admission that he likes Steve, something Steve snorts at, finally giving in.

"Yeah, all right. Thank you, again. This is amazing, can it change into any shape?"

Loki flops back onto Steve's bed, yawning before answering. "I suppose if you truly want to turn it into a toaster, you might as well. Any animal or inanimate object is fair game. I'd advise against attempting to make it shift into something too large, it consumes its power too quickly and it generally leaves a mess behind."

"Is there a word to revert it back into the original shape?"

The god arranges himself, messing up the blanket and sheets, languidly sitting back, hair in disarray. "You press and hold the orb inside its chest, I modeled it after your own machinery so it's easier to adjust to."

Steve hesitantly brings his finger to the bird's chest, and it stills while he presses the orb. After a moment, its wings revert back into themselves, and in a couple of moments it's back to its original shape.

He twists the sphere, watching as it catches and reflects the light from the window. Loki shuffles on the bed, and Steve glances at him to see him sitting cross legged on the mattress.

"How does it charge?"

Loki hums, obviously pleased he's asking questions. "By absorbing the ambient seidr from your realm."

"Seidr?" He questions, running his nails along the runes.

"Magic, in your own terms. Every realm is imbued with it, and Midgard especially has an abundance of it."

He stands up, hands behind his back. He seems a bit nervous, but Steve isn't sure what for.

"I have something else to give to you as well."

"Another gift?" Steve asks, a bit embarrassed at receiving two in one day. Loki glares at him in a we talked about this way, and brings out his hand in which lies a small orange fruit.

Steve tilts his head curiously, unable to determine if it's a tangerine or another citrus. He puts down the golden sphere on his table, and takes the fruit out of Loki's hand. This reminds him of the last fruit he ate, it seems Loki has a thing for giving out presents; he'll have to remember that.

Bemusedly, when no he receives no further instructions, he peels off the skin carefully and peeks at the inside which resembles a grapefruit more than anything. He picks up a piece, and pops it into his mouth.

He furrows his brow, chewing slowly. Loki bounces on the balls of his feet, his face expressionless when he asks, "Well?"

Steve swallows, and this time there is no sour aftertaste.

"It's interesting," he says, popping another into his mouth. "The taste is almost like a tangerine, but its texture is firm, like a mango." He looks curiously at the god when Loki clicks his tongue.

"Shame. Well, next time it'll be better I suppose." He brushes off nonexistent dust from his armor, sending a smirk Steve's way, eyes looking just a touch crazed.

"I'll see you around, Captain-"

"Please, call me Steve."

Loki blinks, and Steve can see a small flicker of delight before his mask is back in place.

"Steve, then."

He waves, walks back one step, two and falls down on the mattress─except the moment his back is about to hit the bed, he's disappeared.

Steve shakes his head in amusement, finishing the rest of the fruit and throwing the peel in the trash can to the left of his desk. He looks down at the little gadget on the desk. Now that he thinks about it, it's a bit tiring to just call it a thing or a sphere over and over again.

Steve picks it up, trying to find something on it that might clue him in as what to name it. After a minute of trying to decipher the intangible runes, he concedes defeat and goes to the big chest of drawers right to the balcony door to retrieve his laptop.

A couple of minutes searching on the internet, he thinks he found it.

"Lyra," he muses, turning to look at the golden sphere lying next to his pencil. "Lyra," he repeats, and the silver-blue light grows brighter. He smiles.

It's been a few days since Loki gifted him Lyra, and Steve is absolutely certain it's the best thing he's ever gotten as a present. For some reason, it's much easier to sleep when he has it next to him on the nightstand.

Brooklyn had always been absurdly loud, but now the only noise Steve can hear at night is the muffled sound of cars passing and his own too loud heartbeat. Of course, the nightmares don't help, but he's gotten used to them.

Somehow, by having Lyra next to him he can hear the soft rhythmic pulsing of the light and it helps him fall asleep faster by adjusting his own breathing pattern to it. It doesn't lessen the number of nightmares, but it's much easier to adjust to reality when he sees Lyra glowing softly in the darkness, the very presence of it is soothing.

But by far the coolest thing is the shapeshifting.

Steve picks Lyra up, gently twisting the rings and holding it in his palms. It starts to whir and buzz, and he thinks for a moment before opening his mouth.

"Black swallowtail."

The golden rings start to branch out, lengthening and creating intricate wings. They spread out, lighter shades of gold becoming the butterfly's familiar patterns. Steve holds a finger out towards it, and Lyra's antennae twitch before it climbs onto his fingernail. Steve smiles contently, petting the delicate wings with his other finger.

"Sir, there's been an emergency. Doombots are attacking New York." Steve startles at Jarvis' sudden voice, and covers Lyra with his hand. He doesn't know if Loki messed further with Jarvis' coding to ensure that the AI doesn't tell Stark, but he suspects it might be likely. Still, better to be cautious, he thinks while deactivating Lyra and putting it in his drawer.

"Tell the others I'll be down in a minute," he tells Jarvis, and prepares to suit up.

In hindsight, he blames it on and the eight hours he'd spent with the team gathering up doombots for his moment of misjudgment.

He goes to his room, mind numbingly tired from the fight. Steve cleans himself quickly in the bathroom right next to his bed and absentmindedly takes Lyra from where it's sitting inside of his drawer. He puts it on his bed, changes into more comfortable clothing and hangs his shield above the shoes compartment, while taking some slippers─Captain America themed, courtesy of Stark.

Steve grabs Lyra, twisting the rings while humming to himself, closing the door behind him and thinking of what to eat. He goes inside the elevator, telling Jarvis to take him to whichever common room the team has decided to inhabit tonight. Lyra rumbles from his hand and he considers what to tell it to turn into.

The elevator beeps, signaling that he's reached the floor the rest of the Avengers are at. He walks out, feet having already memorized every floor in the Tower.

Maybe something soft, like a squirrel? But he hasn't tried anything bigger than a raven, he doesn't want to experiment too much just yet. Oh, he knows!

"Hummingbird," he tells Lyra and the whirring and sound increase. He walks past the couches and sofas in the middle of the room, going to the kitchen.

The rings twist and turn, and he watches the transformation while grabbing himself a glass of water. The light flares for a beat, then settles comfortably where the hummingbird's chest is. Lyra chrips once, turning around in his hand.

Steve smiles softly at it, taking a generous gulp of water. He puts the glass down on the counter he's leaning against, and his neck prickles uncomfortably. Frowning, he looks up.

Thor stares at him from across the small dinner table, shell shocked.

Which is when he remembers, that oh, he did not tell Thor he was being visited by Loki. And oh, he did not tell anyone, judging by the shocked looks on Barton's and Romanov's faces. They also don't know about Lyra.

Thor looks at him, then down to the hummingbird in his palms, then up again.

"Friend Steve─what─where did you find that?"

"Uh, a friend gave it to me. As a gift."

Thor's face shutters at the word friend, and he looks a cross between hurt and bewildered.

"Dude, what is that?" Barton asks, pushing Thor aside to try and get a better look. Steve attempts to hide Lyra from his gaze, but it's too late.

"Is it some sort of mechanical device? Can it shoot lasers from its chest? It just changed shape, didn't it?"

Well, cat's out of the bag already, might as well fess up.

"It's more magical than mechanical, I don't think so and yeah, it can do that."

"What's magical?" Asks Stark, coming inside the kitchen with Banner on his heels. He takes one look at the golden hummingbird in his hands and his face goes slack.

"What the hell is that?" And then Steve is getting nearly toppled when Stark comes running to see Lyra.

"Oh what in the name of science-" he mutters, poking at Lyra and letting out a squeak when it pecks him.

"What─is that real?" he asks, shocked.

Steve sighs, and prepares for a long explanation, and an even longer night than what he bargained for.

"Are my hearing aids going askew or did you just say you and Loki are friends?" Questions Barton, and Steve nods, too tired to answer verbally. They've been going at it for a half hour now, Steve just wants to eat some terrible takeout and go to sleep.

He shortened the story so the team would leave him alone, but they just kept asking more questions and he was beginning to get a headache. It's way past midnight, but that doesn't seem to deter the others.

"Can't believe you've been buddy-buddy with Loki all this time and you didn't tell us," Stark complains, stuffing his mouth with some chips that he got from God knows where. The only ones who actually look upset are Thor and Barton, thought the latter covers it up with annoyance.

Steve shrugs, Lyra ruffling its feathers in his palm. "I didn't exactly mean to keep it a secret, it just kind of, happened."

"You're a horrible liar, Cap," Barton says, rolling his eyes when Steve winces. "Are you sure he hasn't got you under some mind control spell?"

"No," Steve says harshly, almost before Barton has finished talking. The archer raises his hands in a peace gesture. "And I think we've already established that the world conquering plan wasn't of his own volition."

"Whatever, I'm gonna go sleep if there aren't any other secrets you'd like to share with the class?" Steve considers telling him that Loki is most likely listening on this conversation via magic, but then bites his tongue. No reason to brew more animosity, and he's better than that. Barton walks away a beat later when nothing happens. Romanov watches him go, before turning back around, arms crossed.

Steve doesn't know if Loki eavesdrops on everything that goes around in the Tower. He doubts it, it seems like the god only truly listens in when something interesting is going on.

"Wait, so Loki just gave you that super cool shiny thing as a gift? Can you ask him to give me one as well?" Stark asks, smirking.

"No," Steve replies simply, adjusting his grip so Lyra begins to walk up his forearm.

"What do you mean 'no'? I bet he has a ton of those stacked up in his supervillain lair, c'monn," Stark whines, and Steve wonders if Loki would get a cursed one that would shut Stark up.

"I'm afraid he can't do that, friend Tony," Thor interjects, hands cupped in his lap, leaning on the big red sofa. He looks longingly at Lyra, tone soft. "Loki is extremely picky to whom he offers his gifts. The only ones who have gotten them in the past millennia can be counted on one hand."

Thor looks up from Lyra to stare into Steve's eyes, his stance casual but his eyes containing some emotion Steve can't pinpoint.

"Friend Steve is extremely lucky to be granted one and after such a short time as well."

"Thanks," he replies, a bit unsure. He'd like to give some sort of reassurance to Thor about Loki, but he doesn't exactly know how. Loki hasn't mentioned his brother even once in all their conversations, which is either because he's avoiding the topic entirely or because he simply doesn't care enough to bring it up. Both of those situations are a bit problematic.

"Can it change into anything?" Asks Romanov, coming around the couch and standing next to where Steve is sitting.

"Into any animal or inanimate object," he quotes Loki, gently grabbing Lyra and pressing the orb in the middle of its chest. Slowly, it reverts back to its original shape and he can see Banner and Stark gape in the background.

"Here, just say whatever you want it to turn into," he tells Romanov, bringing Lyra up closer to her. She beds down, thinking for a moment.

"Ginger kitten," she says to Lyra and in a couple of seconds later, there's Lyra purring on Steve's palm.

"You can hold it," he says, and Romanov glances at him for a moment before taking the kitten in her hands. Lyra rolls over on its belly, paw swiping at Romanov's finger when she tries to pet its belly.

"That─physical objects just don't do that what the hell?!"

Tony practically throws himself over the small coffee table to get a closer look, Banner slightly more dignified when he circles around.

"How can it bend so much of itself without losing any material? Can it just stretch indefinitely?" Asks the doctor, glasses high on his nose as he stares at the kitten.

Romanov boops Lyra's nose, and Stark lets out a short, high pitched sound that he covers up with a cough. Romanov gives him an unimpressed look. He straightens, a crazed look on his face.

"I need that thing on my workplace table ASAP-"

"Absolutely not," Steve interrupts. No way he's letting Stark just steal Lyra like that and do whatever he wants with it.

"Stevie boy, I promise to take good care of it and only do safe and sound radioactive tests on it," Stark says, hand reaching out as if to take the kitten.

Steve is about to slap his hand away, but Romanov beats him to it. Literally.

"OW! Natashalie, that hurt," Stark complains, holding his hand limply. Romanov rolls her eyes hard enough that Steve is sure must have been painful.

"It's Steve's gift, he can do whatever he wants with it, and I wouldn't trust you with a pet rock in the first place." Stark pouts in mock hurt while Banner huffs out a laugh.

"May I hold her?" Asks Thor, somehow having creeped up on Steve when he wasn't paying attention. Damn, he's really tired it seems.

"Her?" He frowns, gently grabbing Lyra from Romanov's grip. He thinks he sees a flash of longing on her face before she's back to giving irritated glares at Stark.

"Your gift has a soul of her own, it seems a bit unethical to keep calling her it like you would any other object," Thor says, taking Lyra in his hands. "Besides, most of Loki's gifts have a personality of their own. This one seems like a spirited young teenage girl, though that might be only my own interpretation."

"I suppose, it even fits with her name."

"You named the shiny thing?" Stark asks, unsubtly mocking him. Steve flushes, crossing his arms for comfort. "Wait, backtrack, did Loki trap a teenage girl inside that thing?"

"What's her name then?" Romanov asks, ignoring the obvious bait in Stark's second question. Steve should get Romanov something nice after all this, she's been the only person who hasn't made him feel like he's getting interrogated, which is weird, since she's a spy. Maybe a nice bottle of wine? He'll think about it.

"Lyra," he says, embarrassed but bearing through it. Romanov nods in approval, and Thor gets a faraway look on his face.

"Like the stars?" He asks Steve, and Steve nods, wanting the ground to swallow him up. It's a bit cheesy, he knows, but it seemed fitting. They thought Loki and Thor were aliens at first, and not to mention that Lyra looks like something out of space.

"It's a wonderful name," Thor says after a moment, voice soft.

"Yeah, yeah congratulations on the baby," Stark says, waving his hand flippantly and then stills. "Hold on, Loki was here, in the Tower, multiple times, and Jarvis didn't alert any of us?"

He turns towards the ceiling. "Jarvis? Why's that buddy?"

"I am afraid I cannot disclose any information about Mr. Silvertongue's whereabouts or actions. That might be because I literally do not have the code to do so, as it has been removed."

Stark swears, pulling at his hair. "He hacked Jarvis! And I didn't even notice! Unbelievable, stupid gods and their 'magic', which we all know is a cover up-"

"And there he goes," drawls Romanov, as they all watch Stark yell at and gesticulate at the ceiling. Banner shakes his head, bemused. Stark's tirade is broken when he yawns, and suddenly all the fight is drained out of him. Steve jumps on the only chance he has of getting out of here.

"I think it's time we all retire to bed," Steve offers, standing up. Romanov gives him a knowing look he pretends to ignore. He goes to Thor, and pries Lyra out of his hands when the god doesn't give her to him immediately. He's about to turn around when Thor grabs his hand.

"Friend Steve…When my brother arrives next time, will you alert me?"

And Thor has such a sad look on his face Steve actually considers it, for a moment. Then his senses come to him, and he shakes his head.

"Sorry, I can't promise that. I think he'll talk to you when he's ready, just put your trust in him," he says, trying not to feel too guilty at the way Thor's face fell at the rejection. The big guy sighs, rubbing a hand across his face.

"Yes, I…I'll try and do that, thank you, friend Steve."

Steve nods awkwardly. "Anytime. Uh, good night guys, I'll see you tomorrow." He makes a very strategic retreat back to the elevator and up to his room. And if it looks a little like running away, he can grant himself that just this once.

The next day, Stark comes to the unfortunate realization that magic in fact, exists, and that the god that wields it cheerfully turned his AI into a parrot.

"I'm going to go insane," Stark says, head in hands while in front of him around twenty digital screens blink red, all with a single, taunting message on them: Error! Your security has been breached by Loki, good luck fixing it!

"I'm going to go insane," repeats Jarvis, voice frustrated. Stark's head thumps on the table, a muffled groan leaving his mouth.

Steve slowly closes the door to the workshop, figuring he'll ask him where to get some cooking utensils later. He seems a bit busy, after all.

"Have you ever thought about making an actual profit from these, or are they simply a way to pass the time?" Loki asks, leaning on his hand from where he's lying on Steve's bed.

It's around noon, a week or so since the last time they've hung out, and around two weeks since the team found out about their friendship. Steve is currently sketching the interior of The Whip and Fiddle, outlining the bar with his pencil and then blending with a charcoal stick. The paper is on a canvas in front of him, the wood a gift from Natasha after he'd bought her some Pinot Noir and a box of chocolates, cherry flavored, as a thank you gift for not bombarding him with questions like the other members of the Tower.

"Are you attempting to court me, Rogers?" She'd asked when opening the gift, and he'd flushed a deep red.

"Oh God, I didn't even think about that implication, uh, no, sorry, but uhm. I've got someone else in mind," he'd answered, hands rubbing together nervously.

"Guy or girl?" She'd questioned absentmindedly, popping a chocolate in her mouth and letting out a pleased noise. Steve blinked, mind processing the question.

"…guy, though I-I like both," he'd admitted, feeling his heart race. This is the first time he'd said it out loud, to somebody other than his reflection in the mirror. She blinked at him, slow smile starting to appear on her face.

"What a coincidence, I suppose we have that in common as well." Steve had been so caught off guard he'd gaped. She smirked at him, and he closed his mouth in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I just. I didn't know there were─others, like me," he'd finished lamely, a bit amazed and she hummed.

"We've been here for a long time, people just didn't have the words to describe our experience. I guess the term wasn't invented yet in your time." She chewed on another piece of chocolate before answering.

"Bisexuality, attraction to all genders. You can search it up later, if you'd like. There are even books on it, and some videos should be on YouTube as well."

He nodded, a bit overwhelmed, quickly getting out his notebook and jotting it down.

"Thanks, Romanov."

"Call me Natasha, I think we're past the surnames."

He huffed, amusement and giddiness nearly leaking out of his chest.

"Alright then, Natasha."

"I'll see you later, Steve," she'd said, waving the bottle of wine in goodbye and retreating back to her own room.

Steve had spent a lot of time then, figuring stuff out. Turns out there were even groups made specifically to help others like them who were in need of shelter because of homelessness, so he placed a couple of anonymous donations while researching.

Steve shakes his head, backtracking to Loki's question. He hums, detailing the glass of beer in Dum Dum's hand. It's a familiar scene, the Howling Commandos all drinking and joking after another won battle, and Steve tries to push down the grief attempting to swallow him.

"I actually planned on being an artist because they wouldn't accept me into the army, weak as I was," he replies, making sure to outline Jones' smile carefully.

"You do have a certain knack for it, I suppose," Loki mutters, eyes looking over the many sketches hung on the wall. It's peacefully quiet after that, Steve continuing on with his drawing and Loki observing.

They both still when the door opens, and Steve strangely feels like he got caught committing a crime, when he's just hanging out with his friend. He steels himself, turning slowly around, pencil tightly held like a sword.

Instead of Thor, who he thought would have snuffed out that Loki was in the Tower, in comes Natasha, dressed casually in a black shirt and baggy pants, under her hand a-

"Is that a chessboard?" He abruptly asks, and she raises an eyebrow at him, closing the door behind her. She stops, and then looks at Loki, who's unblinkingly staring at her.

After a few moments, when nothing happens, Steve is planning to intervene when─

"You called me a mewling quim," Natasha says calmly and Loki smiles, wryness softening his smirk.

"I hope you forgive me for that little quip, I was not in the best of places, I'm sure you know," he replies dazzlingly, not bothering to straighten up from his place on the bed.

"Hm," Natasha grunts, and then plops herself down next to him, nearly knocking the god over. He shoots her an irritated look that slowly morphs into one of delight when he notices that she's unpacking the chessboard.

"My, my, Romanov you are truly a woman after my own heart," he purrs, finally sitting up. His smile turns genuine when she offers him a black king, and they get to putting down the pieces.

Steve watches, a bit curious to see if they'll fall off the board, when he realizes that they're magnetic, which he thinks is pretty nifty.

"Ah, this takes me back to Chosroes' court, a marvelous game indeed," Loki reminisces, moving one of his pieces with long black nails. Natasha blinks suspiciously at him.

"Wasn't that in the eleventh century?" She asks, and Steve feels like someone swiped his legs from underneath him. Right, Loki is older than a thousand years, but it still feels surreal whenever he references something that's more than a century ago, let alone a millennia.

"It was. Bozorgmehr truly showed a masterful intellect, I was delighted to see him succeed," he says fondly, taking one of Natasha's pieces, and then smiling when she takes one in return, a spark of competitiveness in both of their eyes.

Steve shakes his head amusedly, returning back to his own thing. He'll let them bond in their own way, he muses while shading Morita's hair.

Natasha looks up from the game, narrowed eyes looking at Loki.

"One more," she demands, and Loki shrugs, delight evident in his every move.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure."

At the end of the afternoon, Steve has to practically drag them apart from the board because a giant bat has appeared, wrecking buildings and causing havoc, and the Avengers have been called to help. He can't help but laugh at Natasha and Loki's identical expressions of annoyance at their interrupted game.

He checks the recipe one more time before nodding, eyes flying over the ingredients in front of him. The cooled filling for the pie consists of cherries, sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, vanilla, and almond extract, a recipe Steve found on the internet. The pie dough is nice and chilled, so he grabs a wooden rolling pin from one of the many kitchen drawers and takes some flour from the big bag next to the pie dough. He dusts the counter, rolling his sleeves up.

Humming to himself, he starts to slowly roll it out, mind entirely focused on the task in front of him. Press, but not too harshly, and roll. Press and roll. It's a methodical, and repetitive process that Steve finds especially calming.

When he has a circle with a diameter of around twelve inches, he grabs the nine by two pie dish, and carefully places the dough inside. Frowning, he wonders where the spoon might've gone. Which is when he hears a familiar amused voice behind him.

"Looking for this?"

Steve turns around; about to say something along the lines of 'You know you can just text ahead, right?' But then he stops, frozen.

Loki looks…a bit different. The armor looks even more layered for one thing, but with less gold detailing. Loki's curly hair is longer, down to his─her?─back , falling in cascades like a waterfall, and her chest looks...more prominent. Her face also looks a bit softer; though the high cheekbones and the mischievous look in her eyes is still unmistakably Loki.

"Um, you look nice, I like the hair," he says dumbly, not sure how to proceed with the situation. Loki snorts, handing him the spoon and then peering curiously at the small mountain of things on the counter.

"To be honest, I expected a bit more shock, did you read my file?" Loki asks, grabbing a cherry from the bowl and popping it into her mouth.

Steve rubs the back of his neck, accidentally getting flour all over his hair.

"Ah, yeah, it's back when we weren't sure if you got mind controlled as well, so I looked through S.H.I.E.L.D's files." He frowns, smacking her hand away when she tries to nab another cherry. She sends him a hurt, obviously faked look.

"Steve, is that how you treat a lady?"

"Is that what you are?" He asks, ignoring the bait. "Uh, do I refer to you as she or?" He's still a bit new to this, and he doesn't want to offend a friend.

"What did the file have listed as my gender?" She asks, tapping long nails on the marble surface.

"Male, but with shapeshifter in parentheses," he answers and she rolls her eyes.

"I'm assuming Thor gave that information?" She hums at Steve's nod, leaning against the counter.

"I suppose it's a fair assumption, since I do present male for most of time. It varies from moment to moment, I'll inform you in advance if you wish," she flips her hair, smirking. "But to answer your question 'she' is fine right now. You'll be able to tell if I want to be referred to as male quite easily," she drawls, pushing up her chest and giggling when Steve slaps his forehead, embarrassed.

"Sometimes it's so easy to see the fact that you're a younger sister," he grumbles at her, pressing the dough into the pie dish with the spoon. On the topic of siblings…

"Do you…I mean, I understand if you don't want to, it's your life and all but─"

"Spit it out, Steve, I haven't got all the time in the world," she replies brazenly, plopping herself on the counter unabashedly but far away enough to allow Steve space to work.

"I was just wondering if you'd talk to Thor any time soon," he says, smoothing the bottom of the dough. Loki is quiet, so he continues.

"I know you eavesdrop on some of our conversations, but you don't have to do that." He turns around and places the bowl with the filling next to the stove. "He misses you, and I think he's a bit hurt and jealous that you've been in the Tower only to hang out with me." Slowly, he starts to scoop the cherries into a smaller bowl, grabbing a sauce pan from a hanging compartment.

Silence fills the room, broken only by the sound of Steve bustling around the kitchen. He thinks he might have overstepped and begins to open his mouth to apologize, but Loki beats him to it.

"The first time I had given Thor a gift, it was when we were the equivalent of fifteen and thirteen Midgardian years," she begins, and Steve can't discern the tone of her voice, but he nods to show he's listening.

"I had worked tirelessly for many weeks to insure a good deal with the dwarves, making sure that the weapon's weight was proper, that the enchantments were in place and that the other gifts I had planned to give to others were in perfect shape."

Steve puts the cherries in the fridge, pouring the leftover juice into the saucepan and stirring.

"Finally, the day came when the gifts were done. I delivered the weapon to Thor and Odin, gave Frigga a golden loom and offered Sif a wig that would grow to become her real hair as an apology for a prank I pulled on her."

Steve lightly taps the spatula on the saucepan, turning off the heat and letting the liquid cool.

"I thought I had done everything perfectly, you see, but I had made a bet with the dwarves who forged the gifts. I told them that I didn't believe they could make the items in a timely manner, since dwarfish enchantments sometimes take weeks to simply take effect."

He grabs the cherries from the fridge and then pours in the liquid, gently tossing them with the spatula.

"They told me I was wrong, and that they could do it, so I decided to place a wager. My head. If the gifts weren't delivered and made in time properly, they would be shamed and would only be paid half the price. But if they succeeded, they would receive all the gold they ask for, and a prince's head on a platter. It was a bit risky, I know, but I couldn't resist in a little mischief. It was to balance my good deed, you understand."

Steve snorts, bending down to preheat the oven to 400 Fahrenheit, and then pouring the filling inside the pie dough.

"The time had arrived and they had done the work. Only, the weapon I had requested be made with the best materials they had to offer was very much unbalanced in terms of power, and the enchantments weren't properly settled in─like I suspected─and would make the user's seidr lash out wildly."

He retrieves the rest of the refrigerated dough, cutting it into lattice and slowly forming a geometrical pattern on top of the filling.

"The dwarves demanded their gold and my head, and I told them that our deal had quite clearly been broken since the magic wasn't working properly. They had known it too, but they were a bit more cunning than I had given them credit for. You see, the general Aesir population has little to no knowledge of how seidr works, and those who do are mostly women who the warriors do not take seriously."

The lattice work is finished, so Steve melts some butter in a pot, stirring so it doesn't burn.

"They had requested a private audience with Odin, and told him that I was a liar, and that I cheated them out of fair payment. The All-Father didn't question them, because of course Loki couldn't do anything fairly, so he decided to punish me."

Steve brushes the dough with the butter, and then checks the oven if it's finished pre heating.

"I don't know if he actually decided to execute me for that transgression, or if he simply decided the weapon I had gifted him wasn't of good enough quality, but next thing I know I am being called to the palace's main chambers, a room full of people looking at me like some sort of animal. Imagine my shock when the All-Father told me that I was here to receive punishment for my deeds, and not a feast."

Steve grabs an oven mitt, opening the oven door with his free hand and putting the pie inside.

"I did not die, as I'm sure you can see. The dwarves kept arguing with me about which part of my body was the head and which part was the neck, and where to cut. Odin had apparently had enough of our talk, and demanded they sew my mouth shut, so I could utter 'no more lies'. The dwarves obliged, giddy that the prince was going to be put in his place. What do you think Thor did, in that moment?"

Steve looks at Loki, her eyes like shrapnel, cutting into his.

"Do you think he perhaps begged for me to be spared, that I receive a lesser punishment? Frigga wasn't present there, because Odin rightfully assumed she would have objected to this live performance, but he was, watching silently. Until he wasn't. Until the man who calls himself my brother, walked forward from the crowd and announced: 'I will keep him down while you do your work.' Like I was some sort of beast that had to be contained."

Loki brings long fingers to touch her lips, eyes shut.

"And he did exactly that. I begged, I pleaded, I screamed for him to please let me go, that I did not do any of the things I was accused of, but I received no reply. He was restraining me from behind while the dwarves cut enchanted thread into my lips, one stitch after another, until the begging, pleading and screamed stopped. Until my robes were as bloody as a battlefield, and until all you could hear were muffled cries of pain."

Loki opens her eyes, a faraway look in them. She leans her head back, black locks of hair touching the counter.

"I learned that day, that no matter how righteous, how honor bound I acted, all of Asgard would only see me as a Liesmith, a cheater, an ergi, somebody to torment simply for the fun of it. Even the man who calls himself my brother was no exception, because I think, if you ask him, to this day, he will have you believe he did the right thing."

She looks at him finally, mouth pursued.

"So no, I do not think I will talk to Thor soon, perhaps when I see proof that he has changed into a better man, only then will I allow myself hope that the man I called brother in youth is within him somewhere."

Steve can tell that Loki truly wishes for that, for Thor to be a better man so they can reconcile. He wants to hug her, offer some kind of reassurance, but his mouth is dry and his words would feel more like pity than anything else.

"Oh, don't look so down," she snaps, flicking him on the arm. "That little incident happened ages ago, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I can sock Thor in the jaw, if you'd like."

Loki lets out a delighted laugh, leaning over. "Why, you are such a charmer Steve Rogers, I wonder how you survived with all the ladies that were surely falling off their feet for you."

"Pretty sure I was the one who fell off my feet more, but thanks," he says wryly, turning down the heat of the oven and letting the pie continue baking. He looks at Loki sitting on the counter, at his already flour coated pants, shrugs and decides to sit down next to her.

"Don't blame Thor too much," she says after a moment, and Steve figures the anger must have shown on his face. "As much as I criticize his intelligence, he probably knew Odin wouldn't lighten the sentence no matter how much he pleaded. The All-Father could only be swayed by his wife, and even then it was difficult. We both learned to accept our punishments without a word of complaint at a young age."

She picks at her leather armor, scratching it while deep in thought.

"Maybe he was also trying to shut out all the noises of the room which is why he didn't reply. Me, screaming, the dwarves and the court laughing and spitting insults at me."

She pushes a piece of stray hair behind her ear.

"Possibly, in his mind, with his eyes tightly shut, we were still children without any worries, playing together and rough housing. Perhaps he imagined himself hugging me after a nightmare, and not holding me down so I could be tortured."

And Steve has no words for that, nothing to say. What could he say, to the heartbreaking thought that Thor was imagining himself hugging Loki when instead he was participating in his pain? To him it sounds absurd, but Loki has a look of thoughtful certainty on her face, so he sighs.

"I don't know Thor well enough as you do, clearly, but I'd like to think the man I'm working with could at least have a civil talk with his sister, if the sister was willing of course," he adds, nudging Loki's shoulder with his arm.

The Thor he knows is one that looked so desperate when he saw Loki on that roof, months ago, whose look of hurt and jealousy is still clear in Steve's mind. A brother who grew up with Loki for millennia, who hunted with her and teased her and loved her, being abandoned for a puny mortal. Steve would laugh at the absurdity if it wasn't so sad.

She sighs, sprawling on the kitchen counter.

"I suppose it has been more than a century since we had an emotional check up, the one we had after his coronation doesn't really count," she concedes.

"You have emotional checkups?" Steve asks, eyebrows raised. Loki waves her hand flippantly.

"He does something stupid, I call him out for it, he gets mad that I keep butting into 'warrior's business', I tell him he's acting like an immature child, he tackles me to the floor, I kick him in the stomach, and then we have a fight that spans at least a couple of months."

"I don't think that's healthy," Steve wryly says.

"Maybe not, but after the fight we become glued to the hip once more. He says that he overreacted and he's sorry, I bring him a trinket from Vanaheim and we go on a quest, just the two of us."

"Cute," he says, just to watch Loki roll her eyes. "If you have one of those emotional checkups sometime soon, you can come visit me again, maybe I'll get to try another one of your orange fruits," he says, finger brushing the surface of the counter.

Loki wrinkles her nose, from where she's leaning on her elbows.

"I don't understand how Idunn does it so easily, her apples are always the talk of the party yet she claims she uses minimum seidr for the growing process. No matter how many I steal I still cannot recreate the feeling of satisfaction they give."

"You mean that the immortal apples of Idunn are real?" Steve asks, surprise coloring his face.

"Yes, and they're delicious but boring. I wanted to try and make a fruit myself you see, but it keeps resembling something different than what I want it to."

She huffs, gesticulating with her right hand.

"When I try and create it as a tree, I have to wait for it blossom and hope for the best, which his tedious and annoying. Instead, I simply condense seidr into my fist and imagine the taste and texture, and after a few moments it's created, but it's always off."

She clenches her right hand, then looks at Steve. "Come on, give me some adjectives."

"Uh, something sweet, with the firmness of a peach but um, slightly tangy?" He replies after a moment of thought.

Loki closes her eyes, and Steve expects some sort of light, or anything really to appear from her hand but instead it's simple. One moment her hand is empty, the next she is holding an orange fruit the size of her fist. She hands it to him, and he peels off the rough skin.

He bites into it like an apple, and hums at the taste. Chewing, he looks at Loki.

"It tastes exactly like I described," he tells her, watching as her face lights up.

"Wonderful!" She claps her hands.

"That one is a success then. I should have you describe the taste to me more often, perhaps that's why it worked. Maybe I should have you as my assistant," she tells him slyly, and he laughs, the smell of fruit and baked goods lingering in the air.

Steve jolts awake at the loud thunder, the nightmare he was having leaving him sweating and shaken. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing shakily. He looks out towards the balcony door, rain crashing on the glass. It's been like this nonstop for a couple of days, and Thor has been suspiciously missing as well.

Another loud lightning strike illuminates the room, which is when Steve catches a flash of green in the corner of his vision.

"Loki?" He calls out to the darkness, wincing at his voice crack. When nothing happens, he turns towards the ceiling.

"Jarvis, can you turn the lights on please?" They do so after a moment, and Steve turns around to his right.

Loki is leaning against his bathroom door, one hand holding her arm close. Her usually pristine leather armor is torn at the edges, mud and blood all over it. Her face looks unusually pale, soot over her forehead and cheeks. Her hair is a messy rough thing instead of its usual elegant curls.

Her eyes are red rimmed, and there are tears on her lashes, mouth a trembling line.

Steve is out of the bed before he can process it, slowly coming towards her.

"Loki? Oh God, what happened to you? Was it Thor? Are you bleeding anywhere?"

She shakes her head numbly, mouth opening as if to speak but the only thing that comes out is a choked off noise.

"Do you need medical attention?" He asks, body nearly shaking with worry. She shakes her head negative. She clears her throat, coughing for a second.

"I'm fine, Steve, the blood isn't mine," she tells him, but goes along when he steers her gently so she sits on his bed. The fact that what she said doesn't alarm him truly tells him how much they've grown closer, because all Steve can think is good.

"What happened, Loki?" He asks, holding her hands and brushing his fingers over the torn up knuckles. She sighs, leaning against him, which makes him nervous because Loki never initiates contact.

"We had an emotional check up," she answers wryly.

"If he hurt you I swear-"

"Peace, Captain, no need to defend my honor. We both hurt each other, it's practically the way we communicate these days." She hums, working her jaw.

"I gave him an invitation to fight in one of your world's deserts, so that we wouldn't destroy anything nearby. Unfortunately, things turned a bit messy and he chased me across the world, quite literally."

Steve retreats one hand and rubs her back, nodding and waiting for her to continue.

"In between all the screaming and thunder, we managed to yell out our feelings. The fight turned physical at one point, maybe in Missouri."

"Is that why the news reported a big crater in the ground appearing suddenly overnight with no explanation?" He asks, and Loki huffs in amusement. Silence descends upon them, before Loki breaks it.

"I guess I just realized that things will never be as they truly were, all those years ago," she admits to him, voice barely heard above the crashes of lightning. The confession makes him ache for her. She shifts, leaning more against him.

"Tell me more about Barnes, and of your not-romance," she says, a silent plea not to talk about it. Steve sighs, knowing they'll have to address it one of these days, but letting it go.

"Have I told you about that time when we decided to go stargazing? No? Well, okay, it was eleven o clock, clouds were gathering on the horizon and we were dying at the summer heat─"

Loki disappears, and Thor comes back, relatively bruised up but his feet carrying a lightness they didn't before.

Steve doesn't see Loki for a long time, after the fight between her and Thor. He tries to squash the worry every week he doesn't hear a word from her, but doubts he's successful. He just hopes she's alright.

The doorbell rings, and Stark yells out from the kitchen.

"Rogers, can you grab that? It's probably my pizza," he says. Steve gets up from the couch he was sitting on, answering back.

"Yeah, I'll get it."

He's looking at the wall next to him when he opens the door, scratching at his neck.

"Thank you, please wait here for a moment-"

"I'm afraid that I can't do that," replies a smooth and achingly familiar voice. There, on the front doorstep is Loki, looking better than the last time Steve has seen her, but still dirty and tired.

And there, leaning on her shoulders, face older but not by a lot, with a metal arm and passed out, is Bucky.

"May we come in?" She asks, green eyes bright and full of magic.