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There was always an Avengers party the first week or so of December, or at least there had been until recently—Tony threw lavish parties anyway, but he seemed to like the chance for something a little smaller. Then came the Accords, and if there was a holiday party that year, Steve certainly wasn’t invited. The next year, after Thanos, there was a gathering that couldn’t be called a party by any stretch of the imagination, because nobody felt much like celebrating.
The first winter after Thanos’s final defeat, with everyone who turned to dust now back to life and more besides—well, rebuilding will still take a long time, but now there’s a lot to celebrate and an even bigger crowd of people to celebrate it with. (A few of them aren’t even from Earth, but the Guardians in particular are pretty much always ready for a party whether they know anything about the occasion or not, so it all works out fine.)
Tony’s gone all out this time, even more than usual, with decorations from every major winter holiday celebrated by anyone remotely connected to any Avengers, all mixed together in a way that shouldn’t work but kind of does anyway. The room even manages to feel cozy, despite being the biggest non-training space in the Avengers facility, with snow falling outside (Thor might or might not be responsible for that) and strings of lights hanging everywhere. And Steve can’t get drunk off even Tony’s excellent eggnog or cider, not unless Thor or maybe Rocket spices it up with something not meant for humans, but he feels warm enough just looking at everyone—Wanda and Vision dancing by the menorah, Tony and Bruce paying rapt attention to Shuri’s demonstration of her kimoyo beads, Sam and Rhodey comparing notes on holiday traditions with T’challa and Nakia, Groot playing his game while both Peters drape him in lights, Rocket challenging Valkyrie to a drinking contest despite both Gamora and Nebula telling him not to be an idiot, Drax repeatedly losing to Bucky at arm-wrestling. It’s the good kind of chaos.
Thor looks up and waves to the newest arrival, smiling broadly, and Steve turns to see Loki enter the room wearing a turtlenecked green sweater and…horns. Well, antlers, actually—specifically reindeer antlers, Steve realizes after staring for a second. Not cheap felt things from Walmart, either; these look completely real and they seem to be growing straight from Loki’s head.
“Technically,” Loki says into the sudden quiet, “the antlers were Stark’s idea in the first place, so feel free to blame him.”
“It’s not really Rudolph without the glowing red nose,” Tony counters.
Loki tilts his head, considering. “Maybe if your drinks are good enough.” His voice is casual, but his eyes are flicking around the room, marking exits, and it can’t be an accident he chose to wear something with a high neck to offer a little protection for his throat. “You never did give me that drink you promised.”
Clint narrows his eyes a little at that but doesn’t say anything, and Steve winces. He’s gotten to know Loki a bit since the battle, more than a lot of the others, and he can’t say he’s surprised to hear Loki drop a reference to the first New York battle right off the bat. If they’re not going to welcome him (like Gamora and Nebula were welcomed, despite working a lot more closely with Thanos for a lot longer, but nobody here had to see them leading an invasion), he wants to know it instead of spending effort on strained politeness. Steve can sympathize with that, even if he doesn’t think it’s a great idea.
Thor gives Loki an enthusiastic hug, which Loki returns, less energetically but no less heartfelt. “You look ridiculous,” he says, grinning.
“Why, thank you,” Loki says primly, his tone light even as his fingers twitch down by his side. Steve grabs another glass of mulled cider and heads over, in time to hear Loki add quietly, “Still think your friends are ready to forgive me?”
“Give it time,” Thor says, almost as quietly, as conversation begins to pick up again. “Everything is different now, and they understand better than you think.”
“And we all know you fought Thanos,” Steve says, holding out the cider. Loki has one hell of a sweet tooth, but Steve suspects eggnog might be a little much even for him. Cider, on the other hand, might feel a little more familiar. “That goes a long way.”
“Hmm,” Loki says, but he accepts the drink and takes a sip before new wariness enters his expression. “The spiderling is also from New York, isn’t he? He would have been…very, very young.”
Steve glances aside to see Peter Parker approaching (with Groot trailing behind, because Peter’s still holding the string of lights). He doesn’t look angry or traumatized, though; instead he’s staring openmouthed at Loki’s antlers.
“They look real,” Peter says. “Are they real? Your antlers? Is that magic or are you a shapeshifter? Or do you normally have antlers?”
Loki blinks at him, looking so thrown for a second that Steve has to hide a smile. “I am a shapeshifter, yes. This is magic, though.”
“Dude,” Lang says, coming up behind Groot. “That is so cool.”
Groot snorts without looking up from his game. “I am Groot.”
“Yes, but growing branches doesn’t come naturally for most of us,” Loki says.
“It’s super cool,” Peter says firmly. “Can I—?” He starts to reach up, then jerks his hand back, looking embarrassed.
“It’s fine.” Loki lowers his head and waits patiently as Peter runs his fingers along the antlers.
“So can you feel that? Are they like, just magic or do they have nerve endings? If you just kept wearing them, would you shed?”
“I…hadn’t thought to experiment that much, to be honest.”
Peter Quill looks less impressed. “How about twinkly lights in your branches? Groot can do that too.”
Loki raises one eyebrow, and multicolored lights appear all over the antlers. “Like this? Or—” He glances at Groot. “Perhaps more like this?” He flicks one hand upward and the room fills with tiny lights that drift from the ceiling like snowflakes and just keep coming. Steve catches one on his arm, and it sits there glinting for a few seconds, not hot or cold, before winking out.
“Okay, how are you doing that,” Shuri says.
Loki casts her a faintly uncertain look, but Bruce is smiling and Tony looks interested. “Seidr. Magic.”
“No no no,” Shuri says, “I want details,” and like that Loki’s attracting a small, attentive crowd for an impromptu demonstration of magic. Wanda pulls Vision over to watch, and even Clint and Natasha look mildly intrigued.
Steve exchanges a smile with Thor as Loki gradually relaxes, more lights and illusions growing from his hands. In a season of hope and new beginnings like this one, it’s easier to offer a fresh start, and easier to accept one. That’s not magic, maybe, but it’s something Steve’s always glad to see, especially now, and it’s a gift even Thanos couldn’t take away forever.
“Happy holidays,” Steve murmurs, raising his glass in Loki’s direction. He takes another sip and lets the cider warm him, watching the magical light-flakes flicker and dance. “And God bless us, every one.”