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Steve is angry.
He is not often angry, but tonight he is angry.
Because Loki nearly got himself killed during the mission and it isn’t the first time it happened either. It’s the third time, in fact, and Steve is fucking angry.
Loki has been an Avenger on probation for six months. That’s to say, he’s currently serving a life sentence to make amends for New York. An average human's life sentence of one hundred and seven years. Steve really isn’t sure who did the math.
In any case. When Loki isn’t going on missions with them, he’s consulting, reconnoitering, or explaining magic to Tony. He’s proud, arrogant, and makes it perfectly clear to anyone who is willing to listen that his potential is wasted here.
Steve reads between the lines.
His arrogance is a performance. And bad one, at that. Loki has been living inside the tower for six months and not made a single friend.
“Sir.”
“You don’t count, Jarvis,” he says when Jarvis weighs in on what is decidedly a private conversation between Steve and himself.
See, Steve actually likes Loki. He didn’t think he would. When Thor moved him into the apartment down the hall, Steve expected trouble. Sharing a floor with Loki means being Loki's unofficial chaperone. Loki wasn't too happy about it either. But Steve greeted him, gave him the standard how-are-yous when they passed each other in the hall. But Loki was prickly and rude, and Steve honestly prefers sunnier personalities to spend his time with.
But with every day Steve refused to entertain Loki’s frankly insulting holier-than-thou attitude, the fight began draining out of him, until one day, two months later, Loki’s shoulders dropped the moment he stepped out of the elevator. He looked at Steve, who had just arrived at his apartment too, and for some reason decided not to pull the armor up.
That was the first time Steve saw the exhausted, sad, and lonely man he shared a floor with. He asked that night if Loki wanted to watch a movie, and in the name of full disclosure Steve did so out of pity. He just felt bad for him, is all. Also in the name of full disclosure, when Steve asks these days, it’s not out of pity anymore.
Loki agrees to watch a movie with Steve one out of five times, and this time Steve is confident in the math because he did it himself. They watch a movie on Steve’s list or listen to an album start to finish. Sometimes they eat. Sometimes they drink. Sometimes they even talk.
Loki always leaves before Steve gets to any meaningful questions.
So tonight, when Loki threw himself in the line of fire, Steve saw red. Because for one impossible second, he saw a life moving forward without those nights during which they pretend they pretend they aren't friends.
Yeah. He’s angry.
So angry in fact that he reschedules the debrief before starting down to the forty-seventh floor to get some of the steam out, but somewhere between the heli deck and Loki’s apartment, his anger only coils tighter. He throws open the door to Loki’s apartment so hard there’s a hole in the wall afterwards.
“What the actual fuck was that?!”
Loki doesn’t even flinch. He glances up from where he's undoing his shin guards, first at Steve, then at the hole in the wall.
“You refer to the mission,” he says mildly, and wow, Steve’s about to put another hole into the wall.
“You didn't have a shield. You didn't have a spell. You didn't have a plan!”
“I had a plan.”
“You threw yourself in front of Natasha!”
“That was the plan.”
Steve feels his throat pulse. Loki continues to remove his armor, unbothered, and when the last of the leather falls away, he raises an eyebrow at Steve.
“Would you like to stay for the shower as well?”
Steve stares in absolute disbelief, but then Loki’s words register and he flushes, his anger turning instantly into embarrassment. “Don’t do that shit again,” he says, pointing.
Loki just smirks. “Language, Captain.”
Steve hears Loki laugh to himself until he slams the door shut behind him.
##
Steve starts to notice things in the following weeks.
Nobody makes any particular effort to include him. Not even his own brother. Loki’s armor is up constantly. It hardens when Clint calls him a liability. When Natasha asks if Loki can have a single conversation without trying to manipulate it. When Bruce falls silent every time Loki enters the room.
And when Thor forgets Loki is waiting for him in the lounge and leaves for Asgard alone, Loki doesn’t leave his apartment for the rest of the day.
Not that Loki wanted to go to Asgard in the first place, but that isn’t the point.
The point is that they’ve been treating Loki like an outcast for six months and wondering why he refuses to become a part of the team.
“This can’t go on,” Steve says. He's angry again.
“What, Cap?” Tony asks.
“We treat him like an asset—”
“He is an asset,” Tony says at the same time as Natasha asks, “Who?”
“Loki! Why isn’t he here? This is a team exercise?!”
Clint shrugs, shoving popcorn into his mouth. “This is movie night, Steve. That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
The explanation Clint comes up with is honestly a little embarrassing. “He doesn’t want to be here.”
Steve’s eyes narrow. “Did you ask him? Did anybody ask him?”
Nobody says anything but Steve knows the answer anyway.
“Jarvis, where is he?”
“Mr Odinson is in his apartment, sir. As always.”
As always.
Loki isn’t a prisoner in the literal sense. He is allowed to leave his apartment and the tower without supervision…
Steve feels sick. “This changes tonight,” he says as a final note and turns to leave.
To get Loki.
##
“Captain,” Loki says, blinking like this is the first time Steve knocked on his door.
(It is.)
“Hi. Uh. You wanna watch a movie?”
It’s a gamble and Steve fully expects a no, but he gives Loki the look that usually convinces even Tony to give him his way, and Loki sighs.
“Fine.”
Except, when Steve walks past his own apartment door and towards the elevator, Loki pauses.
“With the others,” Steve adds belatedly and tries very hard for it not to sound like a confession. Loki’s expression hardens. “That okay?”
“Of course.”
Except Loki’s of course sounds a lot like I would rather die.
“I thought it might be nice. But we can totally—”
“It’s fine, Captain. I can handle it.”
Steve doesn’t stop feeling like he betrayed Loki all evening, because when they get downstairs, Loki curls up on the armchair and doesn't move for the duration of the movie. He doesn’t laugh at the funny parts, doesn’t frown at the sad parts, doesn’t let go of the restraints he has pulled around himself. If this is what I can handle it looks like, Steve doesn't like it.
Later, when they walk back to their apartments, Steve pauses in front of Loki's door.
“I'm sorry," he says.
Loki turns slowly. “What for?”
“Tonight. You didn’t look like you enjoyed yourself.”
“I do not need you to look out for my wellbeing, Captain—”
“Steve. And I care about your wellbeing.”
Anything Loki could have said in response would have been a lie, or too revealing, so Steve isn't surprised when Loki chooses to say nothing. He just nods his goodnight and leaves Steve standing in the hallway.
How stupid to think Steve could fix all this in one night.
##
It’s the hottest day of the year and Loki does it again.
His magic burns like fire. Steve can feel it on his skin one block over. The fight is almost over, but the sun is blazing and Loki isn’t built for this.
Steve knows this for a fact because he’s been finding Loki near the air conditioning every day since the beginning of this heatwave. Steve metabolizes heat easily. Tony is used to fire. Thor is made out of lightning. Natasha isn’t bothered by anything and only Clint shows the first signs of sunburn.
Loki, though. He’s clammy and uncomfortable and refuses to wear a t-shirt.
One final burst of magic rolls over him like a furnace blast, and then the spot where Loki just stood is empty.
“Jarvis! Where’d he go?!”
“The tower, sir. I suspect he is in need of assistance.”
“Fuck.”
“Language, Captain,” Tony says over the coms.
Steve tears out his earpiece and runs.
There’s already a hole in the wall, so he doesn't bother entering quietly. He blows through the door, losing mask and shield on the way, then follows the sound of strained breathing through Loki's bedroom to the bathroom.
Loki is leaning against the side of the bathtub, head tipped back, his face flushed.
Steve doesn’t hesitate. He gets to his knees in front of him, starts removing Loki’s armor piece by piece, ignoring Loki’s weak sounds of protest. The black leather is hot to the touch, and Loki’s underthings are soaked with sweat. When Steve touches Loki's forehead, it's dry.
“For fuck's sake,” Steve mutters.
“Language,” Loki says weakly.
“Shut up.”
He takes a towel, wets it under the tap, then places it around Loki’s shoulders. With a second towel, he wipes Loki’s face, hands shaking. The fact that Loki lets him is all Steve needs to know about how bad this is. He didn't know gods could get heatstroke. Steve replaces the towel every five minutes. Occasionally he brushes Loki’s hair back behind his ear. Eventually he lets his hand rest at the base of Loki’s neck as a means of grounding, then waits for his breathing to slow.
Minutes go by. The moment shifts when Loki leans forward without realizing, his head tipping, hanging in the air. Steve scoots closer, shifting his arm around Loki so he can lean against it. With his eyes closed, Loki sighs quietly, and Steve’s chest tightens.
“That was stupid.” He says the words only accidentally directly into Loki's ear.
Loki has trouble stringing words together. "I ended the mission.”
“Yeah? At what cost?”
“What matters the cost?”
The worst part is that Loki sounds like he actually believes the cost doesn’t matter and Steve’s hold on him tightens instinctively. A small sound leaves Loki, but Steve can't tell what it means.
“We will talk about this later,” and this time he means to say it directly into Loki’s ear.
##
Steve dreads the next mission and remains acutely aware of Loki’s whereabouts without meaning to.
So much so the rest of the team almost notice.
“Focus, Captain,” Natasha snaps in passing.
Then something incredible happens.
For one terrifying moment Steve thinks it will happen again—Loki pushing too far, disregarding the cost, giving himself up for the sake of a mission. Then he hears Loki’s voice over the coms.
“Requesting assistance, Captain.”
Steve nearly collapses with relief. Instead, he jumps into action and plays into Loki’s cues like they’ve been practicing.
They haven’t.
It’s just.
Apparently Steve spent much more time observing Loki than he allowed himself to admit. He goes where Loki needs him, using the shield to redirect Loki's magic to where it needs to go. The battle ends with a lot less collateral damage than last time.
Loki meets Steve’s eyes across the quinjet, but looks away before Steve has a chance to give name to his expression.
Later, when Steve asks if he wants to watch a movie—“Just us, like usual,”—Loki agrees and that's the first time he breaks the pattern of one out of five.
##
The next few weeks are shift after shift. In tone and behavior.
Loki starts… being around. At first only when Steve is there too, joining breakfasts and dinners and team outings, leaving before or with Steve. His words soften around the edges. He doesn't try to antagonize (as much). When Tony asks a question about magic, Loki answers honestly. Occasionally he will catch Natasha smile in secret about something Loki said.
The others notice it, of course, but instead of pointing it out, they start mirroring Steve. Natasha asks him to spar. Tony brings him down to the workshop.
Eventually, Steve starts finding Loki already present, either in conversation with Natasha, banter with Tony, or diplomatic silence with Thor.
But Loki always finds him, and at some point Steve will have to figure out what that means to him.
##
The earth falls out underneath them and Loki’s stomach drops.
Steve stands at the edge of the crater, suspended for one awful second before tipping forward, into the gorge.
Loki has never moved faster in his life.
Already he knows it’s not fast enough. Gravity pulls on Steve harder than it should, and Loki, pulled apart by spacetime, misses the mark by a fraction.
Steve skids past him, further into the bowels of the earth, and Loki topples after him, fool that he is.
He should have never gotten attached. He should have never looked to Steve for safety. He should have never entertained the thought that he could be anything to Steve.
Too late now, and if he’s lucky Steve will be so angry with him afterwards that attachment isn’t even a matter of discussion anymore. Next time Steve bursts through his door, Loki is sure it will blow off the hinges.
Steve goes under. Rocks and rubble and silt. Loki can’t see, can't hear, and he narrows his senses to one focal point.
He finds Steve when all is silent. The dust is settling around them and Loki follows the sound of wheezing. Steve is bloody and black with soot. His hands are cut, his mask is missing. There's blood running from his eyebrow.
Loki falls to his knees beside him. “Captain.”
Steve coughs up blood and dirt. When he sees Loki, he blinks, disoriented, then panicked. “Loki. You okay?”
The question is so absurd, Loki almost doesn’t get it. “What?!”
“You’re bleeding,” Steve says. There is blood coming from his mouth, but he's still reaching out to tuck Loki’s hair behind his ear. Loki pulls back. He can’t afford being distracted.
“You’re injured. You fell.”
Steve looks sad when he pulls his hand back and Loki chooses not to look too closely at how that makes him feel. “I don’t remember,” Steve says, losing his train of thought three times before he gets the full sentence out.
That is a worry for later. Now his focus is elsewhere. Loki feels his magic fray at the edges, but teleporting is the only way. It might kill them, but if he doesn’t try they’re dead either way.
So he reaches out, wraps his arms around Steve, closes his eyes and pictures of the only safe place he can think of.
##
There isn’t a single bone in his body that doesn’t hurt.
That is the first thing Steve notices upon waking up.
He doesn’t know where he is, what time it is—doesn’t even know what happened. Only that it hurts.
The beeping of machines. The smell of disinfectant. The honestly eerie vibe of med bay at night once he becomes aware of it. He hates it.
And so it’s only natural that even though he still doesn’t know anything beyond his current whereabouts, that Steve peels himself out of his blankets—only to find himself pulled back by IV lines.
“Ah,” he complains when the needle tugs on his arm. “Fuck.”
“I fear Stark is a terrible influence on you.”
Loki’s voice from the window makes Steve freeze mid-movement. He’s in an armchair in the corner, looking out over the skyline. Steve blinks to convince himself he’s not actually dreaming.
“What are you doing here?” For some reason that is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.
Loki tilts his head. “You were in need of supervision. I volunteered.”
“Y—You volunteered?”
“Ensured you would not die in your sleep, in fact.”
Steve is too tired for this (or any) conversation, but fragments of what happened are starting to come back. He remembers falling. He remembers thinking this is it. And he remembers Loki’s arms around him before being pulled limb from limb in every direction.
“Did I teleport?”
In the dim light he can see Loki smirk. “You were a passenger, yes. How did it feel?”
“Weird.”
Somehow Loki looks pleased, and Steve watches Loki get up and brush out the wrinkles in his clothes. “I suggest you do not remove this on your own.”
Steve glances at the IV. “It itches.”
“However will you cope?”
Loki hands him the glass of water from the bedside table. Their fingers brush when Steve takes it from him, and he feels his cheek flush with heat.
“You will be pleased to know that Stark held the debrief in your stead.”
“Anyone else get hurt?”
“No. No one was as foolish as to get so close to the gorge.”
Steve makes a face. “It literally opened underneath me?”
“Hm.”
Somehow that says nothing and everything. Loki returns to the armchair, curls up in it with his feet folded underneath him, and in the darkness (or because of it) Steve allows himself to think of how incredibly soft he looks.
“Go back to sleep, Captain. Dr Banner will check on you in the morning.”
##
Steve asks for a tablet.
“What?” Bruce asks, hovering with the vital scan directly in front of Steve’s face.
“I want a tablet. Or a book. I’m bored out of my fucking mind.”
“Loki is a terrible influence on you.”
The vital scan beeps faster just as Steve feels his face flush and Bruce smiles like he knows more than he lets on.
“I’ll get you a tablet once I’m done with this. If you want to know what happened, Nat’s body cam got a pretty good picture.”
The traitorous device speeds up again and Steve doesn’t feel relief until he’s alone again, with a tablet in his hands.
##
Loki screams.
It’s haunting, even through the noise. He dives after Steve, no hesitation. A flash of green, there and then not. Steve watches himself fall, and as if his body remembers, he feels his stomach drop in real time.
There he pauses the footage to take a breath, to fight the nausea down, to prepare himself mentally for what his body already knows.
Loki cuts through rubble with a frightening focus that Steve has never seen before. It's panic, his mind supplies. Nat’s body cam loses them after a few seconds, and for one moment Steve debates if he wants to see his own body cam footage at all.
He hits play before he can convince himself not to.
Steve doesn’t remember the fall. Just remembers falling. He doesn’t remember Loki screaming his name. Doesn’t remember being shaken. Doesn’t remember Loki begging him to wake up. He’s almost glad there is only sound, that the silt and the rubble blur out the image. He doesn’t know if he could handle seeing Loki’s face.
The screen darkens, but the motion blur only makes the nausea worse. Steve closes his eyes and listens instead.
“Tell me what’s going on, Reindeer Games,” says Tony’s tinny voice over the coms.
“Steve went down with the gorge, Loki went after him,” Nat says.
“They’ll never make it out!” Clint shouts. “It’s collapsing!”
Loki doesn’t participate in the exchange, and as Steve is listening to Loki try and wake him, he remembers hands on his cheeks, in his hair, gentle at first, then urgent, then—
“Captain.”
And finally Steve’s own voice: “Loki. You okay?”
Steve hits pause again, then calls the nurse and asks for the IV to be removed before discharging himself from med bay.
##
Steve doesn’t remember the last time he actually knocked on Loki’s door. Movie night some weeks ago, maybe. The fact that he has to wait a whole of five seconds is enough to make him shift on his feet.
But then Loki opens the door, and he looks so fucking exhausted, Steve reaches for him before his brain has a chance to catch up.
He takes Loki’s face, thumbs brushing over Loki’s cheekbones, almost as if to convince himself that Loki is alive. That last night really happened.
Loki sucks in a surprised breath, and only when Steve feels Loki’s cheeks warm under his palms does he withdraw his hands, embarrassed by where he let his instincts lead him.
“Uh. You’re okay.”
Loki stares at him. “Yes.”
“I—Uh. I discharged myself.”
“A very unwise decision.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, dispelling some of the awkwardness he has caused. Loki’s cheeks are still red, and if last night he thought soft, now he thinks cute.
And then he thinks fuck.
“I came to thank you. I saw the footage.”
Loki nods politely. “Agent Romanoff recorded it all.”
It didn’t record the parts that really matter, but Steve doesn’t say that. Instead, he buys himself time by nodding, considering, then—
“The hospital food was terrible. Any chance I can take you out to a proper lunch?”
For one terrifying moment Steve is afraid Loki will deny him, because he’s still just staring and Steve is starting to feel like a medical specimen.
But then he says, “I’ll get my coat,” and Steve feels himself deflate with relief.
##
Loki is… different.
Curious. Distracted. He stops in front of a store that has a dozen televisions in the window.
“What is wrong with books?” he asks. The question is genuine, which is what makes it endearing.
Steve joins him. “Beats me. We didn’t have that when I grew up.”
It’s with some regret, as they stand here watching cartoons through the shop window, that Steve realizes he never took Loki anywhere outside of the tower. And if Steve didn’t take Loki anywhere, neither did anyone else.
Something heavy settles in his gut, and it isn’t hunger. Still he says, “Come on. I know a place.”
It’s a small coffee shop, tucked away in a side street. It offers brunch and pastries and it’s really all Steve can ask for the day after a mission gone wrong.
Loki narrows his eyes at the menu, and if that alone wasn’t enough to make Steve smile he asks, “What in the nine is Açaí?”
Steve takes a sip of his coffee to hide his smile. “It’s a superfood.”
Loki glances over the edge of the menu. “A what?”
“A superfood. Rich in antioxidants, healthy fats, and—It’s good for you.”
Loki frowns suspiciously and Steve is trying very hard to keep a straight face. “I will have this avocado,” Loki declares and closes the menu.
Steve decides not to tell him that avocado is also a superfood. “Try the poached eggs and the hummus bread too. You’ll love it.”
Loki opens the menu again.
They eat, they drink coffee, they talk—and Steve finds it’s surprisingly easy to talk to Loki when there isn’t a crisis between them. He wasn’t worried. They spent many an evening chatting between movies, but this is different. This is somewhere Loki doesn’t feel comfortable yet. He picks at his avocado, sniffs the caramel latte, and by the end Steve is so full of fondness he doesn’t think he has room for pastries.
Except.
“This is why we’re really here.”
Loki glances at the pastries, his hands wrapped around a caramel latte to-go. “Sugar?”
Steve grins. “Sugar.”
He’s not surprised when Loki chooses the red velvet cupcake.
##
Loki doesn’t drop the glamor around them until after they have returned to the tower.
If later Steve realizes that nobody recognized him, that no one stopped to talk or take his picture, Loki will only shrug and say it was probably a coincidence.
In truth, it was selfish.
Steve had offered him his company, of course Loki would not share it with anyone else. So he pulled a glamor around them to keep everyone’s eyes where they belonged. If Steve enjoyed an outing without fanfare, that’s only an added bonus. If Loki didn't have to stand by and watch a pretty woman flirt with Captain America, that's also only a bonus.
“Let me walk you to your apartment,” Steve says and calls the elevator.
Loki raises an eyebrow. “We share a floor.”
“Same difference.”
Hardly, but Loki doesn’t comment on it.
They don’t make it to the apartment anyway.
##
Steve just wants one day without action.
One.
Is that really too much to ask for?
He literally just took Loki out on what could objectively be called a first date and he would have liked one day to dwell on it like a teenager sick with feelings—
“Be grateful we didn’t call during your date,” Natasha says.
Steve frowns. “What?”
Natasha looks at him in a way that makes him squirm on the inside. “You honestly think we don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“That you’re making heart eyes at Loki literally every time you see him?”
“I do not!”
“Do too,” Clint adds helpfully.
Steve thinks he might quit the team after this.
“Doombots incoming,” Loki says over the coms. “I suggest you postpone this conversation.”
Actually, perhaps there is a tactical advantage to not surviving this mission at all—but before Steve can reach a definitive conclusion, the bots swarm in.
Nobody dies. Not even Steve.
In fact, it turns out to be the smoothest mission they’ve had all year. The one time Steve would have appreciated an extensive debriefing afterwards, everything goes according to plan.
Which means that less than an hour later, he finds himself back inside the elevator with Loki.
In silence.
They watch the number climb, and by floor twenty-two Steve has reached his limit.
“About what Nat—” he says at the same time as Loki says, “That was a—”
It’s even worse afterwards. Loki takes in a breath and Steve clears his throat. They continue climbing.
“I do not make heart eyes,” he says on floor thirty-nine.
Loki shakes his head. “Definitely not."
“So. Did you like the red velvet cupcake?”
“I did. I would not mind a repeat experience.”
The elevator dings on floor forty-seven and Loki steps out first. It takes Steve approximately thirty seconds after that to realize Loki probably didn’t mean the cupcake.
##
It starts raining on Monday and doesn’t stop until Thursday.
Loki has curled up by the window, a book in his lap, a cup of tea going cold beside him.
Steve tries to not make it obvious. It isn't the first time he's sketched Loki, but it is the first time he isn't working from memory.
Loki turns a page. Steve corrects the slope of his nose for a third time. For some reason it matters to him that he gets it right.
“Heart eyes,” Natasha says in passing.
Steve just glares.
Maybe the common lounge isn’t the best place to indulge in his new hobby, but Loki is so unguarded, so absorbed in his book—how can Steve not put pencil to paper and try to capture it. If only for proof that Loki can exist without layers of emotional armor when the moment permits.
When Steve is satisfied with the angle of Loki’s jaw, he quietly moves to the kitchen to replace Loki’s cold cup of tea with a new one. Without disturbing him, he switches out the mugs.
Loki glances up, startled, and in those two seconds before the armor comes up, he looks so soft Steve nearly does a double take.
“Herbal blend,” he says, voice rougher than intended.
Loki just stares, and Steve returns to his sketchbook with his own mug of tea, very pointedly ignoring Natasha's knowing look from the other side of the room.
##
Steve is quieter than usual and Loki doesn’t know why.
He didn’t ask if he wanted to watch a movie last night. He didn’t show up to breakfast this morning. He excused himself from the recon briefing five minutes before it was supposed to start.
“Very un-Cap-like,” Stark says, and although Loki would have found a more elegant way to say it, he agrees. It is very un-Cap-like.
Afterwards, he takes the notes to Steve’s apartments. Purely in the name of business, of course.
Steve stares at him and Loki immediately notices a few things. He obviously hasn’t slept. His hair is messy, his eyes are dark and red from crying. He still wearing yesterday’s t-shirt and—
“It’s okay if I occasionally miss a meeting, you know,” he says.
And suddenly Loki feels like he made a mistake. He looks down at the notes, then back at Steve, and yes. Big mistake.
“My apologies. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s—Come in. I just… don’t wanna hear about the meeting.”
That, more than anything, tells Loki that something is genuinely wrong. Steve Rogers has never missed a meeting before. Steve Rogers is the meeting.
Loki leaves the notes on the decorative table outside the front door. Not knowing what’s going on, he’s walking on eggshells following Steve inside the apartment.
Fortunately, Steve doesn’t let him hang in uncertainty long.
“It’s Bucky’s birthday,” he says conversationally and pull two mugs from the shelf.
Loki stops breathing. “Your… friend.”
“My brother. Yeah. I know it’s been decades—”
“Not for you.”
Steve pauses and for the first time this morning he actually looks at Loki. And Loki is acutely aware of the lack of notes in his hands and a reason to be here other than that he wants to.
“No,” Steve says finally. “Not for me.”
“Will you tell me about him?”
“Bucky?”
Loki already regrets his question. “Yes.”
Steve seems to consider this only very briefly before gesturing to the couch. It is different, being here without a movie, without the night as a cover. Without a bowl of popcorn to keep the space between them. Loki still sits where he always sits. Steve brings him tea, then starts talking.
For months Loki has collected evidence that Steve considers him a friend. And as a friend Loki listens, for hours. When Steve trails off a few memories before they get to the bad ones and doesn’t speak for a while, Loki studies his side profile the same way he’s noticed Steve study his when he draws.
Steve thinks it’s his secret, but Loki knows when he’s being watched.
With his finger tracing the rim of his mug Loki says, “Do you want to try that place again? I think I would have this açaí today.”
There is a pause and Loki can watch Steve work through his question. Then, unexpectedly, Steve laughs, and Loki tries not to read too much into how that makes him feel.
“You know what. I actually do.”
When Steve holds out his hand, Loki undermines his own uncertainty and takes it. Warm and solid and softer than Loki would have imagined.
Steve pulls him to his feet and half an hour later they’re cramped into a tiny corner inside the coffee shop.
##
It doesn’t end there. Steve doesn’t want it to end there.
They had a late lunch, too much coffee than is good for either of them, and good conversation. Steve can’t bear the thought of returning to his apartment with so many hours left in the day.
Not because of Bucky. Loki found a way to turn the subject of Bucky into a positive one. Steve tested it occasionally these last two hours. Poking the bruise of Bucky’s death and feeling… glad. Glad to have known him. Glad to have fought with him. Glad to be here with Loki now.
When Loki turns back towards the tower, Steve grasps his sleeve. “I want to show you something. Come on.”
Loki hesitates, which is fair, but Steve thinks he’s got a good track record of choosing places Loki likes, and he’s confident about this one.
A bookstore in Soho. Three floors. Cramped to the ceiling. A fire hazard, Steve is sure. But Loki lets out a small “Oh,” when he sees it and the rest doesn’t matter. Steve likes books, but he soon finds he’s not particularly interested in them today. He’s interested in something else.
Loki is wandering through the aisles at a leisurely pace, long, elegant fingers tracing the spines of books, head tilting sideways to read them. Steve is not surprised to find him linger in the history section. Then in the mythology section. Then in the art section.
“I have seen you draw,” Loki says, low enough so only Steve can hear.
“Yeah. Calms my mind.”
“Perhaps you will show me your work one day.”
Steve is glad Loki is occupied with a book about Gogh and doesn’t see Steve’s cheeks flush with heat. He has a notebook somewhere that does not contain drawings of Loki. He can show him that.
“Do you enjoy art?” he asks, absolutely not in an attempt to deflect.
“Occasionally. I prefer the theater. What is this?”
Steve looks over Loki’s shoulder and blames the close proximity entirely on the aisle that is barely wide enough for the both of them. Still, he can feel Loki go still.
“Uh. Frieda Kahlo. That is her most famous painting.”
“Hm. I like it.”
“You should read her biography. She’s a fascinating woman.”
“Do you think they have it here?”
“I got a copy somewhere. You can have it.”
Loki glances up, and it’s only then that Steve realizes just how close he is. Steve swallows hard, then takes a small step back.
“Uh. Sorry.”
Loki’s expression shifts. “No need to apologize, Captain.”
“Steve.”
Loki inclines his head. “Steve.”
##
Loki disappears.
Not intentionally. They're way past that.
But either way, he's gone. Out of sight. Out of reach. Somewhere in the mayhem that is New York City on a random Thursday morning. Steve shouts his name over the coms, but Loki doesn't answer.
"Anyone got eyes on Loki?"
"Negative, Cap," Tony says.
“Saw him with Thor ten minutes ago,” Nat says.
And suddenly the mission becomes secondary. Not in actuality. Steve still performs. But he looks for Loki in every shadow, in every speck of green, in every corner of the battlefield.
It isn’t until afterwards, when Loki emerges from the rubble with Thor—black and blue and bloody and laughing—that Steve can breathe again. And suddenly he feels incredibly stupid. Worrying about Loki, who hadn't been able to get himself killed when he'd actually been trying to… Surely a mid-tier mission wasn't going to be the end of him—
“You good?” Natasha asks, though there’s another question inside the question.
Steve wipes the sweat from his brow. “Yeah. Just not my day.”
“Hm.”
Yeah. Hm.
Whatever that means.
##
“I’m going to ask him to dance," Steve says, and that's that.
Natasha looks at him with a questioning raise of her eyebrow, but Steve is sure.
Loki hovers at the far end of the party, watching, calculating. Steve thinks that if you put him in the middle of the dance floor he'd still find way to make himself apart. You can't force belonging. But you can coax it out, gently, patiently, with a million dollar smile.
Natasha knows about his feelings for Loki, and honestly, Steve is not even trying to hide them anymore. Because. Look at him. All dark hair and sad eyes, pale skin and limbs that go on for days. A fine suit and shiny boots and a pin in the shape of tiny gold horns.
Steve made up his mind. He hands his flute to Natasha and strides across the room with the confidence of someone who will not be denied.
Loki sees him coming and perks up, eyes flitting behind and around him as if to calculate whether this is an attack, and that's fair. It is a little like an attack.
Steve holds out his hand. "Dance with me."
Loki’s expression morphs into one of confusion. Surprise. Anxiety. Like he thinks Steve is setting him up to be the bud of a joke. And, okay, that’s not fair, but he can’t blame him either. Steve is patient, and his smile is soft, and finally, once Loki decides that this is not a threat, he takes Steve’s hand.
It’s warm and soft and Steve wants to kiss it. Instead, he pulls Loki towards him and gently leads them onto the dance floor.
Incredibly, Loki lets him lead. And as Steve suspected, he’s a fine dancer. He feels compact and sturdy under Steve’s hand, his waist curved slightly, muscles moving with every step. His breath hot on Steve's cheek. Three dances in, and finally Steve manages to get a smile out of Loki. He said something sweet and stupid and made him blush, but Loki never once falters in his steps.
It’s the first time in a long time Steve thinks, yes, I prefer this century. This is what I fought for. Freedom. To dance with whomever he wants.
At the end of the night, Steve leads Loki back to the bar with his hand still at the small of Loki’s back, reluctant to let him go. Loki allows it, and takes a seat next to him.
“You made the night worthwhile,” he says, his eyes on a spot on the bar top. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” Steve says, and realizes belatedly how 1940s that sounded.
Oh, but Loki blushes, and Steve wants to touch his face, but he refrains. Instead, he orders them drinks and leans in a little as they talk. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?”
“I was the second prince of Asgard,” Loki says, somehow sounding shy and haughty all at the same time. “Asgard was looking for occasions to celebrate as much as it was looking for occasion to fight. Every feast was accompanied by a dance.”
“Ah. And you were expected to deliver?”
Loki smiles, “And I had to be better than everybody else of course.”
Of course.
“But you let me lead today,” Steve notes, almost like an afterthought.
Loki doesn’t look at him when he says, “You have never led me anywhere I did not wish to go.”
Steve smiles, starts to nod—
—then stills.
Because he suddenly realizes Loki isn’t talking about dancing.
Loki’s gaze is fixed on the polished wood of the bar like he’s waiting. Waiting for Steve to laugh. Or change his mind. Or pretend not to understand.
Steve can't stand it.
That after all this time, Loki is still so afraid.
They're close enough that their knees bump beneath the bar, and somehow it still feels like they’re miles apart. Their drinks have been placed in front one them and Loki turns his glass, fingers wet with condensation.
“Loki…” He doesn't know what else to say. He just needs Loki to look at him.
It’s been a long time since Steve saw Loki hesitate, but now he turns to him slowly, like he’s still bracing for the joke.
But there isn’t one.
There is only this: Steve reaching out to tuck one stray curl behind Loki’s ear.
Loki stills, but doesn’t pull away. His eyes dart across Steve’s face, searching, but for one traitorous second they drop to his lips—and Steve knows.
Knows what he has to do.
What he has been doing for months.
With his hand still gentle on Loki’s cheek, he brings him closer, and Loki follows the same way he has followed him all night. Steve leans in—
—and stops.
Close enough that he can feel Loki’s breath. Close enough that there is no room left for misunderstanding. Close enough to still give Loki a choice.
And Loki makes a choice. He tilts his head up. Just slightly. And closes the remaining distance.
##
There is no way Loki can go back to before.
Not when he still tastes Steve on his lips long after he has gone. Alone in his apartment he considers the hole in the wall. The day it all started.
The day Loki first entertained the notion that somebody in this forsaken tower might actually care about what happened to him.
He didn’t believe it. For months he thought Steve felt sorry for him and Loki was desperate enough to pretend. For months he had convinced himself and realized too late that what he thought was a game was no longer a game.
Steve kissed him.
Rather, Loki kissed Steve. Because Steve never crowds, never corners. Just makes offers. Holds out his hand and leaves it up to Loki to take it.
And Loki takes it.
Every time.
The movies. The breakfasts. The coffee shops. The bookstores.
Loki has been saying yes to Steve for far longer than either of them realized.
##
“Did you take Loki home last night?” Natasha asks over breakfast the next morning.
Steve looks into his coffee. “We share a floor.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Steve’s ears go a little red. “Then yes. I took him home.”
Natasha hums like she’s filing the information away for later. Across the table, Clint snorts. Steve doesn’t look at either of them. Because he did take Loki home last night. Walked him all the way to his apartment, kissed his cheek, wished him a good night, then left before he could say something stupid.
“I didn’t realize we had an audience,” he mutters.
Natasha shrugs. “You didn’t. But there were two hundred people at the party.”
Steve wants to sink into his coffee. “Great.”
“I think you handled it pretty smoothly overall, Cap,” Tony says on his way to the coffee machine. “First kiss in, what? Six decades?”
“Or ever?” Clint gasps.
Steve wonders if he could convince Loki to teleport them to another planet.
“Where is he anyway?” Tony asks. “Or did you tie him to the—”
The elevator dings and Loki steps out, making a bee line for the coffee machine. Steve tries very hard to act like all of this is normal. (Fails.)
“I was informed,” Loki says mildly, “that Sunday is for sleeping in. I need not be tied to a bed to enjoy it.”
Tony laughs out loud.
Natasha leans back in her chair, visibly amused.
Steve is mortified.
Loki ignores all of it. He just takes his coffee, then a seat next to Steve like he does every morning. He lets his knee bump against Steve’s under the table, a facsimile of last night, and Steve feels his blood pressure go down. Loki’s presence is immediate calm. A moment ago he wanted to sink into the ground. Now he feels like showing off.
Because whatever happened last night, whatever Loki thought about their kiss and everything that followed, he’s here, this morning, solidifying it by choosing to sit next to Steve.
Always choosing Steve.
There is only one single mistake Steve could make in the moment and that is not choosing Loki back. So he lets his hand fall on Loki’s knee under the table. It’s discreet enough to not fire up the others, but clear enough in its intent to leave no room for doubt.
And when he feels Loki lean into him, Steve knows he made the right call.
##
They don’t actually talk about it.
They just… adjust.
One evening Loki joins Steve for a movie and never leaves. And slowly, over the next few weeks, Steve starts finding evidence of Loki everywhere.
Books stacked around the coffee table. Tea in the cupboard Steve doesn’t remember buying. Trinkets from museum gift shops. Theater tickets as bookmarks. A suspicious decline in the number of Steve's t-shirts.
Green tucked between red and blue.
Steve has a side now (left, closest to the door) because Loki doesn’t sleep much and likes to watch the city at night.
But Loki doesn’t just occupy his space, he occupies his mind too. Because now that Steve has stopped questioning what they are to each other, he's started questioning something else.
The official story.
Loki the villain. Loki the wannabe-conqueror. The second prince of Asgard. None of it resembles the Loki who slips back to bed when he notices Steve waking up in the middle of the night.
Steve brushes his hair back, lets his fingers trace the landscape of Loki’s face in the dark. He knows it so intimately now, Loki’s face. Knows every other part of him too. Knows his heart most of all.
Steve has been revisiting the conditions of Loki’s sentence. Reviewing video footage, reading reports. Speaking with Tony about where what they know to be true no longer aligns with the facts.
Things they never thought to question before.
“I love the green of your eyes,” Steve says into the darkness between them.
He feels the flush in Loki’s cheeks, but he doesn’t deflect the compliment the way he used to, when Steve would tell him he was beautiful and Loki would dismiss it like second nature. Steve isn’t sure whether Loki believes him now, but he can be patient.
If proving his love for Loki is his life’s work, he’ll do it proudly.
“You should sleep, Captain,” Loki whispers, and Steve no longer feels the need to correct him.
Because Loki says Captain the same way Steve says love, darling, sweetheart.
“Come here,” Steve says and opens his arms.
Now, when Loki pauses, it isn’t hesitation. It’s admiration.
Maybe even love.
Loki fits against him so well. Steve holds him a little closer, and Loki sighs contently.
One day he will ask Loki his questions. He will hold out his hand, as always, and let Loki decide how much of the truth he wants to tell him.
But that day is not today.