Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The smile on the thin face is smeared with blood, but all the more beautiful for it. Thor returns the grin immediately, smiling at his unlikely rescuer. Not that Thor had truly needed saving, even without his usual powers, the three men who had cornered him were no match for his greater than human strength or his years of training, but he had been trying to keep the altercation peaceful. It would do no good to his quest to become arrested by the Midgardian police.

Hands raised in appeasement, Thor had been trying to talk them down from violence, willing to give in to their demands to avoid being noticed, when a small, blonde haired man had arrived on the scene, shouted at the men who’d backed Thor up to a wall, and started swinging when threatened with violence.

It was truly admirable, and Thor tried to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

“Come on, before they get up.” The man said, grabbing Thors hand and tugging him away from where two of the three men were on the ground, one the victim of the short blonds’ right hook, the other a vicious kick to the groin by some very heavy looking shoes. Thor looks back at the third, who seems to be contemplating whether to try and avenge his friends defeat, but hastily changes his mind when the god sends him a dark look.

“I’m Steve!” Is half shouted back at him, as they quickly walk away. Well, Thor is walking slightly faster than normal, while Steve seems to be just shy of jogging.

“I am Thor. If you inform me of where we are headed, I could assist you?” He offers, and the scowl that overtakes the thin face makes him smile reflexively. Though small in stature, his new friend has the heart and pride of a warrior.

“I ain’t an invalid, buddy.” He spits, but doesn't stop tugging Thor along.

“I only meant I have longer legs, and it would please me to carry you.” He gets a skeptical eyebrow in return, and a scoff.

“It would please you? Where are you from, to talk like that?” Steve grumbles, walking faster, and Thor rumbles a chuckle, before spinning out his cover story. An odd concept, to be sure, since he is known through the nine realms, especially as he is not in disguise, but his father had deemed it necessary for his quest on Midgard.

“Iceland. But my mother is from Norway.” Loki had told him that it’s the little details that help, when spinning a story and, having visited Norway many times, knows his mother would love it. Steve blushes a bit, turning to watch where they’re going again.

“Oh. Sorry for having a go at the way you talk, especially since English isn't your first language. That’s a shit thing to do.” Thor waved away his concerns and continues to smile at him. He’s not sure how Steve fits into his quest, but surely he must, for the feelings he evokes in Thors stomach must be magical.

“I think we’re far enough away, now.” Steve says, wheezing slightly as he breathes, dropping Thors hand to turn and face him.

“You have the soul of a true warrior, Steve. It was an honour to be defended by you.” Thor says solemnly, and Steve blushes a bit. The tips of his ears turn red, and it spreads across his cheeks.

“It was nothing.” Steve says, rubbing a hand over the shaved side of his head, before sliding his thin fingers through the hair remaining.

“Many other people saw what was happening but did nothing. It is an understandable course of action, but you could not walk past. I would be pleased to call you friend, Steve.” Thor grins, and Steves cheeks get redder, the red stain trailing down his neck now. The blond grins down at his new friend, waiting for a reply.

“You want to be my friend? Really?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? It’s just, that’s not the reaction most people have when they see me get into fights.” Thor concludes it must be a regular thing, for Steve to intervene in other peoples confrontations, and admires him all the more for it. With his stature, and apparent breathing difficulties, it is a feat of bravery such as he has rarely encountered before. Would that his Midgardian quest require him to find such a quality, meeting Steve would have ended it.

“Aye, friend Steve, we shall be friends from this moment on. Come, let us celebrate!” Thor declares, and holds his hand out for Steve. The younger man takes it, intending to shake Thors hand, but the god pulls him in for a hug just shy of painful. Thor releases Steve, but keeps a hold of his hand, and continues down the street. Steve trails slightly, bemused, before tugging his hand out of Thors. Thor barely has time to be disappointed before Steve’s slipping their hands back together so they can walk side by side.

“Where are we going?” Steve asks, and Thor beams down at him.

“To find a distributor of mead. You will like honey mead, I think.” Steve laughs, tugging on Thors hand to change their directions when they come to a set of lights.

“I can’t think of anywhere that sells mead, but my friend runs a micro-brewery you might like.” Thor thinks of the quest, and the vague deadline that has swiftly approached while he was scouring the vast libraries of Midgard for wisdom, before easily following Steve’s lead. Wisdom may be found anywhere, after all, and were this a quest to find conventional wisdom, surely his father would have shuffled him off the Asgardian library.

Thor never questioned the wisdom in following a man he’d just met, on a planet he was mostly unfamiliar with, and a country he’d never visited before, and as Steves smile grew bigger the longer they talked, Thor thought it might just be the wisest decision of his life.

-

Steve’s already running late to meet Bucky and Sam at Tonys’ bar when he sees a large, stunningly handsome, man being cornered by three thugs Steve’s run into less since moving in with Bucky and Sam. The guy should have it under control, standing at over six foot and as broad as two of them men accosting him put together, but as Steve watches, all the guy does is smile and hold up his hands in an obvious peaceful gesture. Steve knows that ain't gonna work, and, looking at his watch one last time, hurries over. He gets there in time to hear ‘though I have not much, I will gladly give you what you need,’ and doesn't waste any time getting in between the taller blond and the others.

“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if I saw you mugging anyone else?” He can’t help but shout, angry at the three men who’d accost someone who, from the sounds of it, would give them the shirt off his back if asked.

“Fuck off, Rogers.” Lahey snarls back, fist already moving to try and get the first hit in. Most people who Steve’s fought against more than a few times know not to let him get the first hit in. Frail though he looks, Bucky always joked he could punch a hole clear through someones chest if he was angry enough. If he gets a hit to the head first, though, he’s probably gonna lose the fight, as well as his hearing aids and glasses, if he’s wearing them.

He doesn’t let the hit connect, and tries not to smirk when he feels Laheys nose crumple under his fist (again). The second guy, and Steve can’t ever remember his name, makes a split second decision to come at Steve from the left, and though his punch splits Steve lip, it gets him a foot to the balls. He goes a sickly green white, and drops like the sack of shit he is. Orthopaedics, gotta love ‘em, Steve thinks as he watches Carl, who he’d gone to high school with (and who isn’t such a bad guy, just a fucking idiot who’ll do almost whatever you tell him), putter around like he’s not sure what to do.

Knowing it could take a few minutes for Carl to decide on his own, and that Lahey would be getting up soon, bloody faced and mad as hell, he grabs the mans hand a jogs off as fast as he can, which isn’t very, with the crisp air freezing his lungs up to the point they’re almost useless.

He does, eventually, make it to meet Sam and Bucky, only the man (Thor, a weird name that, oddly, suits the foreign man) is still with him. They’ve been holding hands almost constantly since they met, and Steve thinks his blush might be permanent at this point. Hopefully it looks like he’s wind chapped, and not that he’s blushing because Thor is a seriously attractive man. Long-ish blond hair, the start of what looks like it could be a very full beard, beautiful blue eyes and a happy grin to match, he looks like he should be on a poster somewhere, even with the apparent lumberjack look he was sporting.

“Uh, my friends can be a bit much, sometimes, so…” Steve trails off, not sure what advice to give his new friend. Thor seems very outgoing himself, willing drawing Steve (who knew he was a crotchety bastard when he was cold and late and had a mouth full of blood) into a conversation, and announcing them friends soon after meeting, so maybe it won’t be too bad.

“Not to worry, Steve.” He says, smiling down at Steve in a way that makes Steve heart thud outside of its already off-beat rhythm.

“My friends can also be…” Thor trails off, frowning slightly as he tries to find words to explain his friends, and Steve laughs. He’s soon joined by Thor, who shakes his head, and squeezed Steves hand slightly

“Surely it is a good thing that our friends are so indescribable.” He says, as Steve decides to get it over with and just walk in. Maybe no one will notice they’re holding hands? Yeah, right, and maybe Steve will wake up tomorrow six foot and muscular. He can feel it already, and they’re barely passed the threshold. The rampant curiosity of his friends seeing him willingly bring someone new to a safe place without mentioning it first, joined hands swinging in between them. He doesn’t even consider the option of letting go, however, just braces for impact.

“We have some measure of plausible deniability that way.” Thor continues, and Steve can’t help but laugh. He sees Buckys head snap in his direction from the corner of his eyes, and knows that everyone in the bar who knows him (so, more than likely, everyone in the bar) are now watching them. Subtly or not, as their personalities dictated, but Thor didn’t seem to care.

“Which ones are your friends?” Thor asks, amicably, and Steve reluctantly turns to face to room.

“Yeah, Stevie, which ones are your friends?” Bucky jeers from where he’s seated next to Sam, whose arm is around Natasha. Steve must be really late if Natasha managed to beat him here from her work. Steve wants to shoot back something sarcastic, maybe referencing the fact that Bucky had kicked him out of the apartment two nights ago with barely five minutes warning before ‘they’re coming over, get out, I wanna get lucky maybe’, but looks at Thor out the corner of his eyes, before deciding to ignore him.

It makes Buckys eyes light up with unholy glee, eyes probably starting to bore a hole into Thor, but Steve is pretty sure he made the better option. He wants Thor to think he’s a really good person for as long as possible, which probably isn’t long, but he’ll take when he can get.

“That’s Phil and Maria, Phil helps Tony manage part of the bar. This is Thor.” He points out as they walk past. They both get up from their table, paper work devouring almost the entire surface bar where their drinks are sat, and shake hands with Thor. Thor, who beams back like he’s having the time of his life.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both. That paperwork looks truly fearsome, and I do not envy your battle.” Neither of them react to the odd turns of phrase that spill out of Thors, but Steve can see the mirth dancing behind their eyes. He doesn’t let Thor stop to chat further, tugging him along by his hand. As they move on, Steve risks a look back to see Maria smirking at him, and then turning her gaze to watch Thors ass as he walks. He can also feel Darcy leering from behind the bar, and decides to head there next. Pepper is leaning against the bar, talking to her, and Steve just knows Tony is waiting in the wings somewhere to pop out with a badly timed innuendo and probably a leer as well.

“Thor, that’s Darcy behind the bar and you’re standing next to Pepper.” Steve shakes both of their hands as well, and Darcy opens her mouth.

“Pepper owns part of the bar, with her partner Tony, and their friend Nick.” Darcy narrows her eyes at Steve, closing her mouth again. Steve knows she’ll get him back for cutting her off later, but right now he just kind of wants to introduce Thor to Bucky because he knows his friend is probably bursting at the seams right about now. A quick glance while Thor is talking to Pepper shows that, yep, Bucky’s fidgeting in his seat, though his gaze is zeroed in on Thors broad shoulders. Steve tries not to let his gaze linger on Thors shoulders as he turns back to the conversation, tries not to let his eyes linger on Thor as a whole, but Darcys smirk says she saw everything.

Steve tugs on Thors hand absentmindedly, and Thor gifts him with a smile. And it is a gift, because he’s radiant in his, well, everything! Steve feels himself getting flustered, but smiles back anyway. Thor gently squeezes his hand, and Steve wonders if it’s possible to fall in love with someone so quickly. They excuse themselves from Pepper and Darcy and move towards where Bucky, Sam and Nat are sitting. Steve’s just glad Tony didn’t pop up.

“And these are three of my best friends in the entire world, Bucky, Sam and Nat.” Steve gestures to each of them, and Thor (easily) reaches over the table and shakes their hands.

“Thor? Interesting name.” Bucky starts, and Steve barely represses a groan. How is he going to tell Bucky not to interrogate Thor like he tried to interrogate Steve’s last date, Georges, with Thor sitting right next to him? Not that Thor was his date, they’ve only known each other for the twenty minutes it took to walk to the bar. Even though their hands are still intertwined, sitting on the table.

Steve knows he can’t reach far enough to kick him under the table, not with Thor in the way, but maybe Sam or Nat? As Bucky opens his mouth again, smirk stretching wider as he prepares to deliver what is, no doubt, something heinously embarrassing for Steve, Steve swings his foot out (gently, doesn’t want to bruise them with his thick soled shoes) and hits one of them in the leg. He thinks it’s Sam, since his friend is the one who jerks upon contact, but it’s Natasha who interrupts Bucky.

“Yes, where are you from, Thor?” She asks, sending a small smile to Steve, who returns it gratefully.

“Iceland.” He says, just as Darcy reaches the table, placing two beers (which Steve is 100% sure he didn’t order) in front of Thor and Steve. Thor thanks her gladly, grabbing out his wallet, when Natasha reaches across the table to stop him.

“Darcy’s put you on a tab, I think.” She says, and Darcy nods in confirmation.

“Haven’t been in America long?” She asks, and Thor shakes his head, putting his wallet away.

“Only a few days. Before arriving, I was in Mongolia, and Nepal before that.” He had been many places in the short few weeks he’d been upon Midgard; there was only time enough for a quick stop in at each place his brother had helped him map out in advance. He was supposed to be leaving the United States he was in and heading further south tomorrow, but, looking at Steve, Thor thought that maybe he could take a little time.

“That’s really interesting, man.” Sam said, and Thor nodded.

“Why so much travel? You running from something?” Bucky finally gets a word in, and Darcy sits down next to Thor. It’ll be pretty slow for another few hours, and with Pepper sitting at the bar, now talking on her phone, Darcy was able to sit down and take a break. Thor laughs at Buckys suspicious question, shaking his head.

“I am searching for wisdom.” He takes a drink, and makes an appreciative noise. “Though I must say, Steve is very wise for recommending this place.” He sends another golden smile towards Steve, who smiles wider in return, and Thor smiles wider in response and, soon enough, they’re grinning like loons at each other for almost no reason. They’re interrupted from ‘staring into each others eyes’, as Bucky will rib him later, by a small explosion in the back room, followed by Tony practically falling out the door, followed by a plume of smoke.

“Nothing to worry about!” He says loudly, mostly for Peppers benefit.

“I thought I told you no more experimenting in the back room! You have a day job for that!” She scolds, and Tony sends a winning smile her way, which promptly drops off his face when she continues.

“I’m speaking to Rhodey right now, actually, so clear out the smoke and I’ll follow you into the back room so I can put him on speaker and we’ll both scold you.” She says, and Tony sighs. Individually, he can normally charm his partners into forgiving the constant explosions and sparks that follow him around, but together their logic and sensible natures overcome even his most charming grin. Unless all three of them are in a room together, and then whatever discussion they’re having usually ends in sex. Steve would like to think that it’s because they’re utilizing every chance they get together when Rhodey’s stateside or on leave, but he’s pretty sure that’s just how their relationship works.

Steve is still traumatised by accidentally walking in on the three of them in college, and still blames Bucky for sending him in there. Bucky denies that it was purposeful, but his howling laughter (and the booming laugh of Dum Dum from around the corner) started before Steve was even fully in the room, so he knows the truth.

By the time he’s turned away from the commotion that is Tony Stark, Natasha has engaged Thor in a conversation Steve can’t make heads or tails of, mainly because it’s not in English. Steve assumes it’s Icelandic, but he can never be sure with Natasha. As a linguist, the amount of languages she knows is astounding to Steve, but she always replies that the way he can draw is amazing.

They've been at a stalemate for almost as long as they've known each other, but there’s not really a better type of stalemate than that.

Steve looks to Bucky, instead, glad to see that Darcy has diverted his attention. Kind of managed to divert his attention. He’s still looking at Steve and Thor from the corner of his eyes, sometimes being even less subtle than that, but he’s not trying to burn a hole into Thor with his eyes anymore, and that’s all that matters. Kind of. Steve turns back to his conversation with Sam, while Natasha says something quickly in Icelandic, and Thor practically roars with laughter. His hand clenches around Steves, and he almost tips sideways off his seat, leaning heavily into Steve to compensate. The art teacher doesn't mind too much, or at all, really.

Thor goes to the bathroom about forty five minutes after they arrive, and Steve can feel his shoulders creep up to his ears as the attention of all his friends snaps to him. This is what they’d been waiting for practically since he’d walked in hand in hand with the Adonis that was Thor. He wishes Thor were still sitting next to him, and not just because if he was here the interrogation wouldn't be happening.

“Seems nice.” Sam starts off, and Darcy comes over from back behind the bar. Phil and Maria are switching tables, moving so they’re at the next table, spreading their paperwork back out again, before settling and adding their stares to the mix.

“Yeah, he’s real nice. Very friendly.” Bucky said, looking at Steves hand, slightly chilled now that Thor was no longer cradling it in his larger ones. Steve can’t help his blush, but tries valiantly, anyway.

“Thor’s a great person.” He says, and Natasha nods.

“As far as I can tell, he’s not lying about being Icelandic. His accent’s spot on; not even the tongue twisters got him.” She said, stealing some of Sams drink, and getting a loving smile in return.

“Why would he lie about where he’s from?” Darcy asked, and Steve fist bumped at the show of solidarity.

“Who cares. Where’d you meet him?” Steve tries hard not to squirm under Buckys direct stare, but decides to get it over with quickly. If he doesn’t answer, Thor probably will, so there’s no use trying to hide it.

“I stopped him from being mugged.” Steve said, and Sam and Bucky high fived, gladly accepting the cash reluctantly thrown at them by the rest of their friends.

“Once, just once, I want to answer to be something different.” Darcy grumbled. “It’s not fair that they always win.” She sighs as she watches the money disappear into Sams wallet, and turns her eyes to Bucky, who smirks back.

“Don’t worry, Doll, I’ll buy you something nice.” Darcy laughs, shaking her head.

“You better.” She moves to go back to the bar as the door opens again, only to sit back down when Clint walks through the door.

“God, Phil, leave the paperwork at the office. It’s blinding me.” Clint gripes as he walks past, dodging out of the way when Phil swats at him with a thick booklet of unfilled out forms. Clint forms a cross with his fingers as he backs away.

“The power of Christ compels you!” He says, before reaching the main table. He leans down to kiss Darcy, before sliding into the seat between Darcy and Steve. He doesn’t even get time to field the normal ‘how’ve you been?’ questions, even though they’re mostly redundant with the amount of time they all spend together, before the topic de jour is brought up.

“Should probably find another seat.” Sam says, smirking, and Clint turns to look at Steve and his returning blush, before sighing.

“Let me guess, you met whoever because you stopped them getting mugged or beaten up.” He said, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s a conspiracy, is what it is. They bagsed that option before most of us even knew you. We should do a redraw; put options into a hat, stick with whatever we pull out.” Steve rolls his eyes. He’s not that bad, but the flair for the dramatic runs strong in their group. Darcy stands up from her seat and Clint rolls his eyes, resettling himself in her seat, and she sits in his lap. He grabs the closest drink (Buckys) and takes a sip, sticking his tongue out at their friend when he makes to complain.

“So, who did our fair knight bring home this ti- Holy shit.” Darcy shuts his mouth gently as Thor returns from the bathroom, wiping his hands absentmindedly on his worn denim jeans, which only accentuates the way the material grips his strong thighs.

“Is it weird that shitty 70’s porn music started playing in my head?” He asked. Steve smiled up at Thor, who rested a large had on Steves shoulder briefly, before sitting down. He placed his hands on the table again, knuckles brushing against Steves, and Steve could practically hear his friends holding their breaths as Steve decided whether to hold Thors hand again. He looked up at Thor, who looked back, and Steve slowly slipped his hand into Thors again. Steve was going to need his inhaler if Thors smile got any more breathtaking, and when they turned back his friends at least had the decency to pretend to be doing something other than watching them.

“This is Clint, by the way. Clint this is Thor. Oh, I should probably give a run down on how we all know each other, shouldn’t I?” He asks, because this way he can explain how he and Thor met, so Bucky can stop tapping his finger on the table impatiently.

“I grew up with Bucky, and met Sam in high school and met Nat and Phil and Tony in college. I know Pepper through Tony, and Maria through Phil.” Thor looked at each person as Steve went through the list, smiling genially at everybody, who couldn’t help but smile back. Steve knew the feeling.

“Bucky and Nat are technically related I think?” He says, and they nod. Steve thinks maybe their aunts or uncles got married, he’s not sure, just that they shout at each other in Russian sometimes.

“And Nat and Clint have been best friends forever, and Clint works at the gym and also went to the Olympics for archery. Clint actually met Bucky at the gym before Nat introduced them, and we met Darcy because she works here.” Steve nodded, pretty sure that was all of it.

“And I work here because I have connections.” Darcy pronounced, and they all dissolved into chatter again, leaving Steve to talk quietly to Thor.

“Her best friend, Jane, works with Tony, who owns the bar.” Thor nods.

“What does he do?”

“He’s an engineer, I think. Works for his dads company, where they do all sorts of things. Lots of technology and science. That’s how Tony met Jane, and also Bruce, and therefore Betty, and… nevermind.” Steve looked away, knowing he was getting carried away.

“Do not be embarrassed by your enthusiasm for your friends Steve. I find it admirable.” He looked away from his drink, and Thor was lounging against the table, looking at him with an undefinable look on his face. Looking at Thor was intoxicating, and holding his hand made Steves’ sweaty, and he’d be perfectly content to just sit here and smile at him instead of talk. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want to let go. Thor would probably have to go soon, get back to his life, his search for wisdom, or whatever, but Steve didn’t want him to go.

“What are you doing tonight, Thor?” Steve asked, seized by a momentary boldness that normally deserted him outside of fights.

“I have nothing planned, though I would spend it with you, if you are amiable.” Steve knew he’d just gone bright red, not sure whether Thor meant dinner or whether he meant spending the night, but Steve didn’t mind too much either way. Just past Thors head, he could see Bucky clearly torn between being Steves best friend and his big brother, a role that he’d filled admirably over the years.

“I’d like that. We could go for dinner in about…” Steve checked his phone, looking at the time, “an hour? There’s a nice diner near here that has great milkshakes.” Thor rubbed his thumb over the back of Steves hand, nodding.

“You could ask me to join you to partake in the raw flesh of a Bilgesnipe in Jötunheimr and I would join you.” Steve beamed, unsure about the exact comparison but getting the point anyway.

“Great.” Steve looked at Sam, and then Bucky, who both nodded, before looking back to Thor. At least he’d given them more warning than Bucky had.

-

The sex was mind blowing.

Thors hands can almost circle his entire waist, is able to pick Steve up by the thighs and carry him from the front door to the bedroom, stripping clothes along the way until he places Steve, still in his pants, gently on the bed. Steve reaches out and tugs down Thors underwear, the only thing he’d managed to keep in the evidently too long trip to the bedroom.

He’s uncut, and completely proportional; long and thick and starting to weep at the head when Steve runs his hands over the cut of Thors hips. Steve licks his lips and briefly looks up at Thor who, for once, isn’t smiling. He’s staring intently down at Steve, brings one large hand up cup Steves face gently, and leans down to kiss him.

“I want you to fuck me til I scream.” Steve mumbles against his lips, and Thor groans in return.

“Gladly, but first –” Thor pulls Steve gently to his feet, mindful of the health concerns that Steve had broached over desert, making sure that Thor knew what he was getting into (bad heart, bad lungs, bad hearing, bad circulation, bad spine, Steve had said, an abbreviated list of his health concerns, avoiding looking Thor in the eye because Thor was gorgeous, all firm muscle, golden skin and hair, compared to Steves skinny, anaemic form). His large hands skim down Steves body, before tucking his fingers into the waistband of Steves undone jeans and pushing until gravity took hold and they pooled at Steves feet.

He bodily picks Steve up again, something he’d usually hate, but Thor’s so good natured about it that just seems natural to let Thor place him on the bed – Thor would have thrown him, he’s that eager, but he doesn’t know Steve’s limits yet, or how soft or rough he likes it.

He’ll find out, soon, and he smiles down at Steve, hoping it’s not as predatory as he thinks it is. Steve just hooks a leg around Thors hip and presses up against him, shooting his own devilish smile up at Thor. The god isn’t sure what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded with the vision that is Steve Rogers sprawled underneath him, thrusting their hips together is desperate, aborted motions. He slowly presses his weight down onto Steve, trusting the other man to let him know if it’s too much, and lowers himself to his elbows. His face is only inches from Steve, easy to watch and kiss, and Thor decides that this is how they will fuck for the first time.

The intimacy is overwhelming, and as Thor slowly fucks into Steve, all urgency from earlier replaced with languid, exploring movements, he thinks that he might have been missing out in the previous centuries of his life. Men, women, those who aren’t defined by such arbitrary distinctions, they all pale in comparison with Steve. Beautiful, wonderful Steve.

He wonders how he can let Steve go. How can he leave Steve once his quest is complete, go back to Asgard?

The answer is in the way Steves fingers tangle in Thors long hair, pulling tight as he whines in Thors ear, how he moans the gods name.

-

A few hours later, sweat cooling on their skins once more, Steve rolls off Thor, hissing slightly as the movement shifts his sore ass. He reaches for his phone, in his jeans pocket, before giving up. He looks at Thor, who’s reclined gracefully, with one hand behind his head.

“Can you grab my phone?” He asks, reluctantly, but Thor is eager to roll out of bed and grab the phone, settling back into his spot, Steve easily rolling into his side, snuggling into the warmth Thor gives out.

He texts Bucky and Sam to let them know they get to spend the weekend at Darcy and Nats apartments, respectively. Or wherever he wants to spend the weekend, Steve sends, winky face at the end. Hopefully Bucky will let him know who he’s seeing soon. Darcy texts him back,

If I have to put up w/ both these lugs, I want compensation.

She’s attached a picture of Clint and Bucky, asleep and curled around each other on Darcys small sofa. Steve checks the time on his phone, a little sheepish to see that it’s a bit too late to be texting Darcy, but decides it’s a moot point since she texted him back. Steve pulls the sheet up from around their ankles, draping it artfully over Thor so he wasn’t exposed, barely managing to resist palming at Thors cock as he did so. The smug look on Thors face says he can read Steve like a book, and he runs a hand up Steves side.

It’s too soon to be thinking about fucking Thor again, they’d literally just finished, but he kind of wants to anyway.

He takes a picture of Thor, perfectly sculpted chest, smug grin and bedroom eyes included, and sends it off. He laughs at her reply, of 11/10, would compensate again, showing it to Thor, who chuckles also as he pulls Steve closer to the smaller man can rest his head of Thors broad chest.

-

“You should have completed your quest by now, brother.” Thors head jerks up from where it’d been nestled in a book, one of Bruces’ recommendations, and he blinks in shock at his brother, standing on the footpath outside Steves apartment building in a crisp suit.

“Brother! What are you doing here?” He asks, happy to see his brother. He was waiting for Steve, who’d forgotten something and had told Thor to wait outside while Steve ran (well, used the elevator) back up to his apartment. Thor marked his page and drew his brother into a bear hug, practically lifting him off the ground. He received the customary grumbling in return, along with a brief hug.

“As for what I’m doing here, brother, I already said. You’ve fallen behind on your quest. You only have one Midgardian week left to complete it. What have you been doing? Clearly not following the plan we plotted out before you left.” Loki raised an eyebrow when Thor only shrugged sheepishly at his brother.

“I’m glad you came, brother, I wanted to speak with you about that.” Thor tapped the book against his leg, and Loki raised his other eyebrow.

“Was there something wrong with our plan?” Thor shook his head quickly, laughing.

“Of course not, Loki. Your plans always work, usually better if I don’t know about them.” Thor teased, and Loki chuckled.

“That is true. So, if my plan isn’t the problem then, by the established pattern, what have you done?”

“It’s more what I haven’t done, actually. I haven’t completed the quest, as you know. And I don’t plan on it.”

“What.” It’s not even a question. Thor isn’t sure what, exactly, his brother is feeling, face devoid of almost all expression, but he’s pretty sure it’s negative.

“I don’t intend on completing the quest and returning to Asgard.” Thor announced. He’d had over a month to think on it, blissful weeks with Steve, and he didn’t think he could leave. Hadn’t been able to leave since the first night, his intent only strengthened by the time they’d spent together.

“What do you mean you’re not coming home?” Loki hissed, just as Steve stepped out of the building. Thor turned to Steve instantly, beaming at him and Steve grinned back.

“Steve, this is my brother Loki. Loki, this is my boyfriend, Steve.” Loki blinked in shock, before quickly regaining control of himself and extending his hand to shake Steves.

“A pleasure.” He said, and Thor could see him inspecting Steve very closely, from his half shaved head and floppy fringe, his over large sweater that hides beautifully talented hands, down to his skinny jeans and black orthopaedic shoes.

“Thor speaks very well of you, so I’m glad I get to meet you also.” Steve says, moving to hold Thors hands and he can see his brothers gaze soften slightly, and he gives a smile in return.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your afternoon.” He says, nodding to them both, stepping backwards slightly.

“I’ll see you later, Thor.” Steve swings their hands slightly, calls out,

“You could come with us, if you want? We’re going to see a movie, and then get dinner later.” Loki smiles, but shakes his head.

“Maybe next time, I actually have somewhere to be. I saw Thor from across the street, wanted to let him know I’m in town.” Steve smiles and waved as Loki leaves, and then the pair of them head to the cinemas.

Loki turns to watch them go, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes calculating.

Chapter Text

Loki knew his brother hadn’t been ready for the throne of Asgard, knew it just by looking at his brother. Saw it in the way he walked, the way he held himself, the way he talked to others. He was running short of time to do something, however, and though he normally thrived under pressure, Loki did not want to make any hasty decisions. After all, until the official coronation, either one of them could be named King. Oh, he knew that the odds were stacked far in his brothers favour, but Loki was not the type of Asgardian to give in to something so inconsequential as odds.

As the days to the announcement creeped closer, Loki could feel his plans grow more and more desperate within the confines of his own head. He would have to execute a plan, soon, or live with the fact that he’d allowed Thor to become a useless king. Soon enough, the rose coloured glasses that all Asgard saw his brother through would fall away and they would have to deal with the reality that their king was unfit to rule. Or, possibly worse, they’d ignore everything and bow and simper to his brother, and they all really would be in trouble.

Loki does not wish such things to happen to his brother, and he knows his brother is a good man, and every one says that he has the potential to become one of the greatest men, surpassing even Odin (a feat that was not hard, Loki was sure), but he was not there yet. But their father would be retiring soon, and needed to name a successor. And, to be frank, Loki wanted to be named. He wanted to be king of Asgard in his fathers stead and maybe, then, he would get the respect and love absent from his fathers gaze for too many years to think of.

Even if he was just appointed regent, until Thor proved himself worthy, he could show their father that he had more than one son worthy of greatness.

It was then, time running short and desperation creeping like ice through his veins, that Loki thought of something that could potentially - hopefully - change the outcome of the decision. Something that would appeal to the old men and women of the council, who loved to hear of the trials and tribulations that people underwent to arrive at greatness, and liked to talk about their own even more.

He would convince them that Thor needed to undertake a quest to prove he was worthy of the throne. It would be easy to manipulate them to his way of thinking, easier still to rig it so that the quest was one that Thor would not only struggle at, but fail - he knew his brothers strengths and weaknesses better than any other, after all - so all could see he was not yet ready.

And Odin could not say no, not when faced with an unanimous decision by his councilors.

(Well, he could, Loki could very well envision him ignoring their advice, but hopefully he would show some of the good sense he was renowned for and agree. If not, Loki had other paths he could walk, however reluctantly.)

It was as perfect and fool proof as a plan involving both Thor and the Allfather could be. Which is probably why Loki was blindsided when it was announced that both Loki and Thor would undertake nine individual quests, on each of the nine realms, in order to prove their worthiness to the people of Asgard.

There were, after all, two people in contention for the throne, he was reminded later, and he could do nothing but gape after his mother.

Of course he wanted to be king, he just … hadn’t thought he had a chance.

--

The quests seemed easy upon first glance, though the wording of them could be tricky. Loki had helped his brother understand the true meaning behind one or two of the earlier quests, before he’d learnt to look at the problems from a different angle.

Thor, Loki was stunned to note, was actually taking the lessons learned to heart. Nothing seemed to change after the first two quests, when they met back up on Asgard to present their answer to the riddle or question that had been posed to them before they took the Bifrost to the appointed realm. Thor was still loud and boisterous, capable of drinking entire barrels of mead on his own, seemingly without breath or thought, and still willing to rain praise upon his own past escapades, but then, that particular fault could be attributed to most of Asgard.

It was after their third quest, on Vanaheim, that Loki noticed it. Perhaps something had changed about the way his brother held himself, or maybe he noticed a difference in his eyes first, but there was no denying it. Thor was, finally, growing up. By the looks thrown around the feasting hall by the council members, it was clear that they saw it also.

It is never a pleasing thing, to be wrong, and Loki finds the mead tastes like ash in his mouth.

After the quest to Vanaheim, where everything changed (and Loki still does not know what, for Thor will not tell him or, rather, he does not know himself, perhaps he doesn’t recognise how he has changed and, as such, cannot enlighten his brother), they stop arriving back at roughly the same time. Now, there is a difference as large as half a week between their calls for Heimdall. Sometimes Thor arrives first, triumphant and golden as he always is, other times it is Loki striding out of the Bifrost before his brother, and he cannot help the pleased smile that spreads across his face.

There are not enough quests for a pattern to emerge in either of their favours, but even Sif admits that she’s impressed with his performance. Which, given she has yet to fully forgive him for her hair, says a lot. And Loki is quite proud of his own efforts, as well. He had not expected to do so well, in so many different areas. He thinks, for a moment or two, he could really win. He thinks on it one night, camped in a tree on Alfheim, and it inspires him to beam at his brother, situated in his own tree, across from Loki. Usually they would have long since split up, seeking their own (usually vastly different) answers to the quest, but the wording of this riddle had been harder than either of them had been expecting, and neither could make heads or tails of it.

Between the two of them, they should be able to unravel the mystery of it before their allotted time for the quest ends.

Thor beams back at him, always and forever pleased to see his brother happy, and Loki feels his own smile start to slip because no matter how well he’s performing, how well he’s proved himself over the course of the past six quests…

Thor is doing better.

His plan has backfired on him because now, not only is Thor quickly growing into someone who was more than fit to rule the nine realms, but all of Asgard is watching. No matter how well Loki himself is doing, no matter the overall result of the quests, he has lost to Thor.

His brother truly is destined for greatness - to be a great king.

And maybe he is more impacted by the quests than he’d thought, but Loki does not feel as bitter about the foregone conclusion as he was once. He is disappointed in himself, for failing to measure up to Thor again, and bitter at the knowledge that he’ll now never get the chance to exceed his brother in anything important, but mostly he is … accepting, oddly enough.

If Thor continues on this path (one that, technically, Loki started him on, which is something to be proud of, at least), then it will be an honour to serve him.

(They return to Asgard on the last allowable day, still confused over the intent of the quest, having survived a fortnight of inhospitable terrain and attempts to negotiate safe passage with both dark and light elves, together, only to find that - inadvertently - they’d succeeded at the quest.

Neither of them had gotten co-operation from the riddle but, looking back, it was obvious. Thor laughed at their foolishness, and Loki could not help but join.)

--

The last quest, logically, would be the hardest (though he’s certain that they’d both argue heartily that finding warmth of Jotunheim was the hardest), and was made even harder by the announcement that they would, essentially, be mortals for the duration of the quest upon Midgard.

They had both wanted to argue, but in what their mother would call an unprecedented display of adult behaviour, neither did. Instead, they allowed Odin to bind their powers and they stepped off the Bifrost and started the last quest armed only with knowledge, and an undisguised curiosity at what wisdom they’d find on Midgard. And the plans they’d made, alternately holed up in the large library or Lokis chambers, trying to plot out where they could possibly find wisdom on Midgard, trying to plan for their quest in a way they hadn’t since the first. They’d based their knowledge on what Midgard used to be, however, and they were both stunned on their arrival.

It’s easy to forget, living in the seemingly ever unchanging Asgard, that change is inherent among Midgardians, and they embrace it readily.

Without his magic to smooth the way the transition to life on Midgard, Earth as he’d quickly learnt to call it, was … not quite rough, but not smooth sailing, either. He had to use all his charm and wit to escape quite a few tricky situations but, slowly, Loki managed to find wisdom in numerous parts of the world. He spent a few days in learning institutions and libraries, running into his brother more than once, before abandoning that path.

It was too predictable and it was likely that, like the other quests, he had to approach it from a different angle than straightforward. So he sought high and low, searched the globe until he came to a realisation.

While wisdom is something you learn, it cannot be taught. Regardless of how many pieces of wisdom he listens to, how many conversations he has with the denizens of Midgard, it will not make him any wiser. He is young, inexperienced, and will probably still be in a hundred years time.

It is not much of an answer, especially not in comparison to his previous offerings, but it will have to do. Time is running out, after all, and it would not surprise him to learn that his brother has been home for weeks, at this point. With all the recent change in Thor, it’s a possibility.

Walking out of the Bifrost, however, he finds practically everyone in Asgard apart from Thor. He receives the expected embrace from his mother, and the usual dismissal from his father, and even a warm welcome from Sif and the Warriors Three, and is almost out of the gate, when Heimdall catches his eye. Loki gives him a slight nod before leaving with the cheering crowd. They were surely expecting Thor, but don’t turn down a chance to celebrate their more mischievous prince.

For all his tricks, he’s still well liked, if not as universally loved as his brother is. Apart from a few of his longer lasting pranks, most find the humour in what he does.

He manages to return to the start of the Bifrost later, joining Heimdall at his post, and they are silent for a few moments, simply appreciating the view.

“There may be a problem.” He says, voice rumbling through the chamber, and Loki, in a pleasant way. Loki cannot help but quirk his eyebrow at the guardian, gesturing for him to continue. After all, it is not Loki he should be approaching with his problems.

“Thor seems to be having a few…” There is a curious pause, before he continues, and Loki is instantly intrigued. “... problems.”

“Is he? And why would you come to me with this, surely I could only benefit from this knowledge.” He says, mostly teasing, but Heimdall remains stoic.

“Without intervention, he will fail this quest. If he continues on the path he now walks… I am not sure how your father will react.” His lips are pressed together tightly, which tells them both that Heimdall knows exactly how Odin will respond to whatever it is he has seen, and it will not be pleasant.

Loki cannot help his grimace at the thought, having experienced his fathers less than favourable reactions numerous times in the past.

“So you’re asking me to, what? Go make sure Thor completes the quest so that he can become king?” Loki perhaps still feels more bitterness at everyones assumption that Thor will become king than he’d thought.

“The repercussions that could stem from your brothers decisions are much larger than who will become king. If the only outcome of his failure were that you become king, I would have kept my silence.” Loki can’t help the way his eyes snap to the larger mans, because surely Heimdall couldn’t be implying he’d accept Loki as king? No one (not even himself, some days) is ready to accept Loki as king, a fact which had initially made him angry and bitter at his father, when he’d first found out, years ago.

“Though young yet, you could be a good king. A bit mischevious, but fair.” There is the hint of a smile in the corners of Heimdalls mouth, and Loki thinks he might be remembering some of the more amusing pranks Loki had pulled over the years. He’d planned several of them in the gilded room he now stands in, and used it to hide from several more, as no one came to the Bifrost without cause, and there were enough hidden spaces in the room that he was able to hide from almost anyone.

“I’d certainly liven the place up a bit.” Loki joked, happy with the praise even though he’d already resigned himself to never wearing the crown.

“You must go to your brother soon. You will likely need as much time as possible, and the aid of your silver tongue, to sway him from his course.” Back to business, but it didn’t erase the warmth that few could ignite in his chest.

“I take it I won’t be taking the Bifrost?” Any use of the Bifrost would alert the Allfather, as he would want to know why his younger son was heading to Midgard. Heimdall wouldn’t lie, which would undermine the entire plot to keep Odin out of the loop.

“However will I get to Midgard, then?” Loki teased, and this time Heimdalls stoic face had a definite tinge of humour. He had long since confronted Loki over how he could disappear from his sight, only to occasionally reappear on other realms, without the use of the Bifrost. Had Loki been more practiced at his magic, he possibly could have gotten away with evading the older mans sight. His magic had slipped through his fingers a few times, basic mistakes he soon learnt how to avoid, but the damage had already been done. Heimdall had seen him, and he spoke to Loki about it, next time he came in to hide from the fallout of a prank.

‘Why hide in here, when you can conceal yourself from even my eyes?’ It had been the first time that Loki had thought of Heimdall as anything other than a simple gatekeeper. In that moment, he’d looked every inch the warrior spoken about in the old tales, galaxies in his eyes as he stared into Lokis soul. Or, so it had felt at the time.

‘I thought it would be a relief to you, to have one less thing to watch.’ Loki had bluffed, badly, from the look on Heimdalls face.

‘Were it almost anyone else in the universe, you would be right.’

‘Why?’ Loki could imagine a multitude of reasons, none of them comforting. Perhaps Heimdall reported his every move to an ever more distant father, told him of all the wrongs Loki did. Maybe there was something wrong with Loki, and that’s why Odin was slowly but surely removing himself from Lokis life; something sinister that not even a parent could overlook, and he had Heimdall on guard, just in case.

It would have to be something truly horrific for Heimdall to want to watch him all the time.

‘I enjoy watching your tricks. There are few in the galaxy who can match you when you put your all into it.’ He was back to being the Heimdall who Loki was familiar with.

‘Really?’

‘How else am I able to grade the pranks you pull on your brother, if I do not compare them to similar ones?’ A reluctant grin spread across Loki's face.

‘You really think I’m good?’

‘I would not lie. You are getting better at magic, to be able to walk outside of my sight. I am sure your mother is proud.’ The teenager really did grin, then, before ducking into an alcove as heavy boots approached, following by jingling bells and Fandral's hearty laughter.

“I am sure you will find a way, Loki.” He spoke of more than just wandering the paths between worlds, and the smaller god nodded resolutely.

“I will.”

-

Loki hadn’t thought too hard on what problem Thor could be having, knowing that walking into the situation with preconceived ideas could hinder his attempts to process the problem. But, even at the most abstract, he hadn’t even considered … this.

This being … love.

Or, at the very least, infatuation.

And he he had not been prepared, in any way, for his brother to not want to return home, at all. He knew Thors stubbornness well, and Loki could see it, clear as day in his eyes. He would not be easily swayed from his path. The only people who stood a chance at moving him from his chosen path now were Loki and their mother. Heimdall had been correct; had Odin gotten involved, it would have ended very badly.

It could still end badly, if Loki couldn’t find a way to get Thor to leave his latest love and return. Under any other circumstance, Loki would just leave Thor to tire of his blond companion on his own. It had happened before, Thor apparently falling head over heels for someone, spending every waking moment at their side, and stumbling home in the early hours of the morning, a few weeks later, never to see them again.

They had a deadline this time, however, and no time for Thor to work it out of his system.

(From the way Thor had looked, however, Loki wasn’t sure if Thor would work little Steven Rogers out of his system. Ever.)

Loki barely reigned in the urge to scowl after his brother as he walked down the street, arm slung casually, possessively, around the smaller mans shoulders. Just after he'd had resigned himself to never becoming king, Thor tries to give up his crown. Typical. Thor was lucky that Loki loved him so much, otherwise he’d just let Thor go and ruin his future. Had Thor attempted this even a few short months ago, Loki would have returned to Asgard and awaited his own coronation.

Unfortunately, they had both changed, and now Loki had the unenviable task of trying to pry Thor away from his Steve.

“A small warning would have been nice, Heimdall.” Loki murmured before he gathered his magic around him and followed his brother. He would find some way to drive them apart, for his brothers future.

He couldn’t see a readily exploitable angle from his short reconnaissance, and time was running fearfully short. He would talk to Thor once more before he returned to Asgard to seek advice if he could not manage to change anything.

(All Loki found out from following the pair of them was that his brother was happy. Ridiculously happy.

An unpleasant feeling welled in his chest when he thought about ruining that but … it was for Thors future. Surely, it was the right thing. Right?)