Chapter Text
Thor ends up spending a week in bed, and has to be kept away from contact with anything metal. Luckily, as god of thunder, he's apparently pretty resistant to lightning, and he's able to stay in the Avengers mansion, and his friends can visit whenever they please. He's allowed mug after mug of Clint's specially made hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and Tony shifts one of his TVs in so that Thor can watch an array of Disney movies and old fantasy flicks.
Steve makes sure to at least look in whenever he walks past, and he sits with Thor most evenings – it's harder during the day because they're on clean-up duty as well as keeping an eye on the villains who traditionally go after the Fantastic Four while they recover from their fight against Doom. There's an interesting afternoon where Steve meets Johnny Storm – the Human Torch – for the first time, and it's creepily like looking in a mirror. There's a lot of circling around each other and edging away before they shrug and laugh and Johnny invites Steve to a biking show.
Yes, Thor is mostly fine – but Loki, Loki is shaken to his core, Steve can see. He didn't leave Thor's bedside until hours after he awoke the first time, and even a week later he is spending hours on end sitting by his brother's bed. He's clearly frustrated at how much he cares though, going by how snappish he's become, but Steve finds that somehow it's easy to smile and let his irritation wash over him when he can picture the horror on Loki's face when they were tucking Thor into his bed and he still hadn't regained consciousness.
They're obviously taking this as an opportunity to work through a lot of their issues, and Steve is astonished to find that now that he's not caught in the middle of their tug of war, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He gets to spend time learning to cook from Clint – who makes a mean steak, it must be said – and carefully going through history books with Natasha; Tony is able to bombard him with film after film and band after band until he thinks he's going to drown in all the noise and colours; and he likes to sit in the lab that Bruce has claimed as his own, watching intrigued as he measures out test tubes and sets up complex patterns of pipes.
He even has time to draw again, and a delighted Pepper (flattered by his sketch of her as Joan of Arc) is only too happy to find him some canvases and paints to experiment with. He paints through his pain from the past, his memories of Bucky and Peggy and Howard, and then on into the modern world with its jarring buzz and too-bright colours. Tony doesn't seem particularly happy with his double portrait of the two Starks, but he does keep his grumbling to a minimum.
It's a strange sort of downtime, a limbo for Steve, and he didn't quite realise how much he'd fixed his existence around balancing Thor and Loki. It's soothing though, and probably much healthier than being quite so tied to two people.
When Thor is finally allowed out of bed again, and life returns to normal – apart from the odd time when Thor touches someone and all their hair stands on end – Loki disappears again. Thor still isn't happy, Steve can tell, but it's not the same unhappiness, the sadness that was tearing him apart.
He smiles. Breathes. They're going to be okay.
– ---
No one's exactly sure how Thor and Loki worked through their issues, or what sort of agreement they came to. They just know that Loki shows up even more now, and that the pair of them do anything and everything together. They go on walks, they watch TV (and Thor chuckles at Loki's disgust at every programme in existence) , they spar.
The whole thing is only brought to anyone's attention when Tony sprints up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, all the way up from the gym in the basement, gesturing madly and shouting about Thor and Loki and the balance beam. When he is met by blank looks from everyone – he has interrupted their communal watching of a David Attenborough documentary on the Amazon rainforests – he grabs Clint, who is nearest to him, and shakes him, looking more than a little bit insane.
“Thor and Loki are making out on the balance beam!” he grinds out in time to his shakes, and Natasha chokes on her red wine.
Tony looks rather dismayed when she starts to laugh at him, Clint sniggers, and Steve and Bruce raise their eyebrows.
“No! It's true!”
“We believe you, Tony,” Bruce explains patiently, looking back down at today's crossword. “The thing we're confused about is how it took you so long to catch on. What elephant did you think they were dancing around?”
Steve nods, unable to keep a straight face when Tony looks so forlorn. “Wait, so you all knew?” Everyone nods. “And no one thought to tell me?! What is wrong with you people?”
He continues to moan as he stomps off towards his room, and everyone else settles back in to catch the end of the show.
“Idiot,” Steve mutters affectionately, earning himself a murmur of agreement from the room at large, before Natasha throws her legs over his lap and they go silent again except for the scratch of Bruce's pen against the page.
–---
Eventually, of course, there comes the first time when Loki outright aids the Avengers in a fight. Dr Doom is causing havoc in New York once again, and the Fantastic Four are all off in different corners of the globe, taking a well-deserved break. Rather than have them come all the way back across the world to deal with their nemesis, the Avengers are happy to do Reed a favour when he calls – Sue in the background sounding irritable and almost as scary as Natasha.
It's not hugely difficult compared to some of the things they've seen, compared to Loki's power, for example. But it's a battle of endurance and the team have been there nearly all day, and although the city and its civilians have been protected and only three policemen have needed to be gotten to a hospital, the front line doesn't seem to have shifted much and there are still hordes of gremlin-like things and larger,two-headed snake robots being held at bay rather than being destroyed.
Steve is coordinating yet another offensive, going from Clint's surveillance from his position atop Grand Central Station, when an explosion rends the air and Steve is flattened by the shock waves.
“Tony!” he yells, pushing himself upright and spitting dirt left, right and centre. Luckily, his shield protected his eyes, but he still blinks furiously in the clouds of dust that are swirling gently. “I told you to wait for my word – Natasha isn't in position yet, and the Hulk--”
Tony's voice is indignant, if a little crackly, over the radio. “It wasn't me! I've been flying around in circles like a good boy, waiting for the rest of you to get on with your little manoeuvres. See?”
And sure enough, in the distance, the Iron Man suit rises above the debris as its occupant sends an unmistakeable gesture in Steve's direction. He rolls his eyes and shoves away the urge to apologise.
“Hulk, then?” he queries, addressing the team in general. “Did he throw something--”
“Bruce – the Hulk – is still down here in the park, shamelessly destroying public property to strengthen the barrier.” Natasha's voice comes in loud and clear, wryly amused the way she always is in battle. “And before you ask, I didn't do anything either.”
Steve smiles even though there's no one there to see, and levers himself to his feet. “Wouldn't dream of suggesting such a thing, Natasha. Clint? I'm assuming it wasn't you, since we were talking at the time, but I suppose--”
“Not me, Cap,” and Steve can hear the grin. “Wish I could take the credit – Doom must be down at least four of those monster robots, although I can't say for sure until the smoke clears – but none of my arrows could do that much damage at this distance.”
He's running out of possible explanations, and Steve frowns slightly as he dusts himself off and tries to get his bearings again. Nothing seems to have changed much this far from the centre of the blast (whatever the blast was) but his training had taught him that it never hurt to be prepared. There was some small chance that this was all a distraction set up by Doom himself.
“Thor? I didn't see any lightning, and your usual battle-cry was notable by its absence, but...” he trails off, but no one replies. The silence from the rest of the team sounds as though they're holding their collective breath, but maybe that's just Steve projecting. “Thor? Thor, come in. Come in.”
He's moving before he's really thought about it, leaping up the barrier at the end of the street, feeling it creak beneath his feet as the harsh odour of burning metal and rubber fills his nose. It's a smell he's got far too used to since he woke up – and even before that, when he and his old team had been blowing up tanks and Hydra bases – and although it gets filed away somewhere at the back of his mind, he doesn't pay it any real attention.
Instead, he's focused on the roads in front of him, eyes scanning the buildings efficiently but without success.
“Thor? Are you there? Report your position.”
Still no reply, and Steve's starting to worry. It's still hard to quell the instinct deep down that wants him to rush to his friend's aid, but he reins it in and focuses on being an officer, a leader. There is more than one soldier under his command, and he is responsible for all of them.
“The rest of you, are you still here? Report in.” His voice is curt, but there's no censure in the prompt replies. “Can any of you see Thor? He was meant to be up on--”
“He's not on the roof any more, Cap. And there's no sign of him anywhere else, not that I can see. Tony?”
“My sensors aren't picking anything up from here. D'you want me to go over there and check it out?”
Steve swears under his breath, but clamps down on his emotions. “No. If something's happened to him, we can't afford to lose anyone else. There's still Doom to worry about. Clint, has he moved at all?”
There's a pause in which Clint presumably turns his attention to the centre of the carnage. A few beats of silence, and it's all Steve's mind needs to start conjuring images of Clint being taken – quietly, undetectably – by whatever had got Thor, but then his drawl is coming back over the line, still professional despite the tension underlying his tone.
“Doom's location hasn't changed, and if I'm not mistaken, he's as surprised by that explosion as we are. He's sending reinforcements out, weakening his primary guard to plug the gap.”
Decisively, Steve nods. “Fine, then we'll--”
“Shield brothers!” comes the completely unexpected, booming exclamation. Thor's voice is as unmistakeable as ever. “I have good tidings!”
The radio is suddenly filled with sighs of relief, deep breaths, and nervous chuckles.
“Geez, big guy!” Tony yelps, “Give us a bit of warning, won't you?”
Thor gives a single bark of laughter, but is clearly unwilling to be distracted. “My apologies, comrades. But I have news the likes of which can only cheer your weary hearts.”
Steve grins, can't stop grinning, and he's pretty sure it's obvious in his voice when he replies. “Thor, we were worried. What's your position?”
“My position is of little importance, as I am on my way to you, Captain.”
“What? Thor--!”
“It is vital that I do so, for I bring news that will surely change our strategy.”
Steve sighs. “Thor, that's great, but couldn't you tell me over the radio? Without you blocking that side, Doom and his creatures have a free route out into the rest of the city.”
Another laugh, although Steve doesn't understand what Thor could find so funny. “Never fear, Steve. Precautions have been taken, for--”
The rest of his sentence was swallowed by the roar in Steve's ears as Thor, carried by an extremely localised gale-force wind, appeared over his head and slowly set himself down. Shielding his eyes from the swirling air currents, Steve yelled over the radio.
“Sorry? Thor, I can't hear you over the wind! I could have sworn you said--”
He removes his hand from his eyes as he speaks, and is suddenly brought up short by the sight of Thor and--
“--Loki?”
Shooting him a smirk worthy of the Norse god of mischief, and patting Thor's breastplate familiarly as he steps away out of the embrace that had held him aloft, Loki himself looks around at the make-do barricade on which Steve perches, and the heaps of rubble from the buildings to either side.
“Lovely battle you've got going here,” he quips, and from the bizarre buzzing from the radio wired into his suit, Steve assumes that he's using his powers to patch himself into the comm link between the Avengers. “Hope you don't mind me dropping in.”
His response is a combination of indignant squawks and ominous silences. Steve rolls his eyes at Loki, ignoring the discomfort of a team who have not quite come to accept such a drastic change of heart from their former enemy. It's not surprising, considering how he was trying to kill them before, but they haven't been in Steve's shoes more recently. He grips Loki's arm tight in greeting, smiles warmly.
“Still like to make an entrance, I see. Did you just happen to arrive in the neighbourhood, or were you hiding out somewhere, watching and waiting for the opportune moment?”
Loki gives a slightly rueful grin, tilts his head to the side, and keeps his eyes deceptively wide and innocent. “I was just on my way to visit my dear brother.”
There is a strangled cough over the radio, and Steve may not know who it was from, but he knows exactly why. The 'brothers' are right in front of him, after all. He can see the way Thor melts at that, the soft look on Loki's face even as he refuses to turn around and meet Thor's eyes but allows himself to reach one hand back and tuck a couple of fingers his brother's belt, to tug gently.
For his part, Steve grins broadly.
He only realises how long they've been quiet when Clint's stage-whisper comes over the line.
“They're doing it, aren't they? I can't bring myself to look. What if my eyes are burned right out of my head?”
“But Steve's there too. Does that mean he's just watching them, or joining in?” Natasha murmurs back, wicked glee in her tone.
Tony's snort of laughter is unmistakeable. “My bet's on joining in, even if that's mostly because the image is ridiculously pretty. Can you imagine?”
Thor looks sort of scandalised, and Steve's on the verge of laughing out loud and thus ruining their play, even as he can feel his ears burn with embarrassment under his mask. Loki, on the other hand, appears completely unfazed, and the curve of his lips is teasing as he moans, long and low.
“Oh, Thor. Steve, Steve.”
He's so convincing that even Steve feels his breath catch, feels the need to step away even though he's right there. Now it's Thor who is almost laughing, looking at Loki fondly. The radio is a crackling mess of silence – horrified silence. Loki indulges in some heavy breathing, milking the moment for all it's worth, and it's only when a distant screech of steel on concrete brings them all back to reality that their hold on their laughter is broken.
Thor is first to crack, booming away at who knows how many decibels. Steve goes next, leaning on a fallen pillar as he bends over and wheezes, he's laughing so hard. Loki is quieter, but loud enough that the rest of the Avengers catch on, and Steve would swear that at that moment he could tell you what the sound of three people rolling their eyes as hard as they could is.
“All right, all right, we'll leave it be,” grumbles Natasha.
“Uh, guys,” Clint interrupts, “you might like to know that Doom seems to be on the move again. Not to butt in on your touching reunion, but I thought Thor said he'd done something about leaving them a route into the city?”
His voice is tight, and Steve snaps immediately back into Captain America mode, straightening up and raising his shield. He looks towards Thor, questioningly.
“Loki left images of ourselves there, lifelike enough to keep the enemy from believing that they could escape that way.”
Clint's voice is grim. “Well, I'm afraid it seems that they've worked it out. They're advancing on your former position in force. Any ideas, people?”
Steve sets his mouth in a firm line, brain frantically running through potential plans and discarding them one after another. That is, until Loki presses a hand to the middle of his back, eyes warm and dark.
“I said I was here to help, did I not?” he says, still with that proud undertone that so aggravated people. “They will be rather surprised by the 'images' over there, I think.”
And sure enough, almost before he's finished speaking, there are two more explosions in quick succession, and even from this distance Steve can see tiny creatures being flung into the air, squealing in terror.
“Jesus Christ,” mutters Tony, and Steve wonders whether he's thinking about how, under different circumstances, it would be them feeling the brunt of that attack.
Loki just laughs, and something else explodes.
Steve shrugs, sets his feet, grips his shield. “Avengers, assemble!” he yells, before leaping over the barricade and running towards the fray, shouting orders over the radio as he goes. Thor is at his left shoulder, roaring in a language that has been dead on Earth for hundreds of years, and swinging Mjölnir in an ever-widening circle. At Steve's right, Loki runs, sometimes shadow, sometimes projection, sometimes real and solid – but always cackling, beaming brightly, and tossing vicious blasts of magic all around them. Overhead, Tony careens carelessly, drawing fire even as he takes out monster after monster with direct hits. In front of them is the deafening carnage that comes with the Hulk, and all around them arrows are flying with deadly accuracy and shot after shot is being fired into the oncoming foes.
It's bizarre, to say the least, but the battle is over a lot quicker with Loki on their side.
Afterwards, once all the clean-up and rescue missions are done, the Avengers return to the mansion, just about ready to collapse after a long day saving the world. Loki declines Steve's invitation to join them, probably taking in the uncertainty on his team-mates faces and giving a little with good grace. Thor looks between his brother and his friends, faltering, but Loki leans in and whispers something, grips his shoulder and brushes a chaste kiss to his cheek, before departing alone.
For once, however, Thor doesn't look distraught at Loki's leaving, and claps Steve firmly on the back in excitement from the fight, knocking what little wind he had regained post-battle out of him.
– ---
It takes quite a while for the Avengers to get used to Loki joining them. He does so regularly, particularly when they are in more trouble than usual, but he rarely sees them outside fights. Steve sees him sometimes when he is out of the house, and he drops round occasionally for a quiet breakfast like before, but not much changes. Thor presumably see him more often, but no one likes to bring it up for fear of what they might hear. Thor's not very good at discreet, after all.
Steve is actually ridiculously happy, happier than he's been since he woke up.
Life's not perfect, and he still doesn't understand cell phones, and Bucky's grave and Peggy's last words still haunt his dreams sometimes. But he's stopped confusing Tony and Howard, he no longer flinches at bright colours and special effects on the television, and the world doesn't seem quite so wrong any more.
– ---
“Come on, Steve,” Loki laughs, tugging him away from his journal. “Thor is being terribly annoying, and he has no taste in furniture.”
Steve laughs, and sets aside his pen. He might be fitting better into the twenty-first century, but that doesn't mean he needs a computer for everything like Tony keeps trying to convince him. A simple, leather-bound journal and an ink pen are quite all right by him, thank you very much.
“What's Thor doing now?” He lets himself be pulled indoors, off the balcony, and through the kitchen where Bruce is drinking tea and filling in another crossword puzzle. He smiles up at them absent-mindedly, raises his mug in greeting, but is distracted by what appears to be 14-down.
Loki pulls him through the TV room, where Tony is sitting on the floor and tinkering with the DVD-player and Clint and Natasha are playing chess and teasing each other while half-watching some type of action movie. “I'm trying to redecorate the bedroom, but Thor – of course – disagrees about the bed. He wants some horrendous four-poster thing. Positively medieval.”
Apparently hearing them approach, Thor sticks his head out the doorway of the room he and Loki have been sharing for the past five-and-a-half months. He grins broadly, seeing Steve, and shakes his head at Loki. His expression could only be called soppy.
“I hear you don't like Loki's choice of bed, Thor.” Steve rubs his ink-stained fingers on his sleeve, smudging the blue-and-white-checked fabric.
Thor pouts, and Loki murmurs something unintelligible but generally unimpressed from Steve's left.
“All I am requesting is that our bedroom might remind us of home in some small way. Loki is convinced that this--” he gestures at the sleek black model with its crisp white sheets “--is homely enough. I do not see why we could not have something more impressive, more--”
Loki makes a strangled sound as Thor waves his hand in the air, apparently searching for the right word.
“I think the term you're looking for, dear brother of mine, is ugly.”
Thor looks at Loki again, and Steve tries not to laugh. They're arguing, yes, but Thor still looks well and truly besotted every time he looks at his brother, and there is something more relaxed about Loki than there used to be, more at ease with the world and with himself. He still has days when he hates everyone, when he's angry at Thor, at life, at the very clothes on his back – and on those days he'll rant and rage and push Thor away, and Steve will let Loki talk at him, let him work through the madness and get back to them, even as he lets Thor lean on his shoulder and mope as he waits for his brother to calm down.
They've had a few near-disasters, but between Thor and Loki and Steve between them, they're still here.
Loki waves a hand at the bed, turning it into some over-stuffed monstrosity heaped with pillows and shrouded in heavy drapes, and exclaims, shrill, “How is that in any way preferable!”
Steve can't help it, he laughs. And he's still laughing an hour later, as he pushes and pulls furniture this way and that to his friends' demands, every piece occasionally changing with the whim of one or the other of them.
Life isn't perfect, no, and he's still not entirely sure that he's where he's meant to be – but he does know, he's certain, that this is where he's meant to be.