Chapter Text
“Would you like to make a deal?” Loki began with a smirk evident on his face. That look could mean only one thing, and it couldn’t possibly be anything good, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Swallowing hard, Bucky turned to look at the bartender, raising a brow. “What did you have in mind, Laufeyson?” he practically growled out.
“Well… I do think that something as difficult to craft as a shift regulating artefact needs something equally valuable in exchange, don’t you?” Oh no, Bucky didn’t like where this was going. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust frost demons, he had no problem with them, but Loki in particular was a notorious trickster, well-known for his shady ‘deals’ that never quite were what they seemed to be. Bucky had to ask Steve later how the hell this man even became the bartender, what if he slipped something in someone’s drink?
“Get to the point already,” Bucky insisted, the other man holding up his hands in mock surrender.
“You’ve heard of the abandoned house, located deep within the forest, right?” Loki questioned, but before Bucky could even answer him, he continued, “Well, there’s a particularly interesting item there, something I’ve been dying to get my hands on. A wooden staff to be precise, though to a simple creature such as you, it probably looks like a stick. If you retrieve it for me, maybe I’ll even let you play fetch with it.”
Bucky rubbed his temple, aware that getting mad at the man before him would do him no favours. Instead he thought it over within his head. Alright, so the reason he was here was because he heard Loki would be able to make him something that would keep his rather irregular shifts in check. Bucky had been a werewolf for as long as he could remember, but… certain things happened, and now that he was finally free again, he found himself randomly shifting due to his unstable state. It made it difficult for him to integrate in human society once again, and he felt bad that he couldn’t contribute to anything unlike the rest of his pack. He felt particularly guilty towards Steve, and even if he wouldn’t admit it, Sam. The two had allowed him to live on the couch of their apartment for as long as he needed to recover, but so far, progress was painfully slow.
And that’s why he just had to do this. Bucky was frustrated with how slow things were going, so he decided to take matters into his own hands, returning to the bar his friends had introduced him to some time back, carefully hidden from humans by way of special enchantments. Seems like some kind of wizard must’ve owed the owner a favour or two.
“…What’s the catch?” he questioned.
“Catch?” Loki said, a hint of mischief clear in his eyes, “there is no catch. If you bring it to me, I’ll aid you.”
It sounded too good to be true, and Bucky should’ve known better than to make shady deals with a strange bartender at 3 AM, but he was desperate.
Taking a deep breath, Bucky straightened himself.
“Deal.”