Chapter Text
This was exactly the kind of home Steve had dreamed of: a simple brownstone in the middle of a good neighbourhood. It faced south, so there was plenty of sunlight. The corner lot gave them a little more room, and meant they only had one direct neighbour.
In this case, the neighbour happened to be his landlord. The elegant script on the lease agreement said his full name was Loki Odinson, but the dark-haired man had insisted they go by his first name. Steve had agreed to that. It made everything more casual, and easier too, in a sense. He couldn’t imagine the trouble if he’d introduced himself as Steve Barnes by mistake.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he and Bucky would be living together. Not in a tent with other soldiers - that was cold and impersonal. They had left the army. They could do what they wanted. Be who they wanted. Together.
Even if they had to pretend to be roommates during the day, they could be themselves at night.
Bucky was always the first out of bed in the mornings. Part of it was knowing Steve liked to sleep late if he could, and part of it was being able to enjoy the day before anyone else was up. After spending time as a prisoner of war, he liked starting his day in the open American air, making tea as the sun rose.
When the kettle was starting to boil, a clank and a thud came from the main hallway. Bucky padded through the kitchen in sock feet. There were a few pieces of mail today - mostly bills and flyers. Bucky paused on the last one. It was a slim pink envelope addressed to a “Miss Lokidottir”, and obviously intended for the house next to his.
As he walked up the steps to his neighbour’s apartment, he watched for signs a child lived there. The front of the home was free of crudely painted pots or plastic ride-on toys. She might be too old for those, or too young, but neither of those ideas made sense. Loki looked too young to have a teenager, and who sent mail to a baby?
He froze as a light flicked on. The glow illuminated a stranger in a bright blue bathrobe. His silver hair hung limply around his face. The man looked at Bucky with a pensive expression.
Bucky shoved the letter through the slot and returned to the safety of his own home. He waited tensely for a few minutes as his tea steeped, wondering if that man would come to investigate. When there was no response, he sipped his tea and relaxed into the morning.
“Hey, little miss. You’ve got a letter today.” En Dwi stated as he heard tiny feet run into the kitchen.
The girl had clearly dressed herself. It was going to rain, and she had school, but she’d picked out a fancy, ribbon-covered shirt and white pants that would show every mud stain. En Dwi had bought it for her in one of his impulsive fits. She loved it - of course she did. She loved everything her Dad brought home.
She wrestled with the glue holding the envelope together. When she finally got it open, she yanked the card out. A glittery cartoon bear grinned at her. Its speech bubble held the words “Some honey said you were five”. She sounded each word out carefully. En Dwi chuckled softly. She’d inherited Loki’s talent for language acquisition.
Loki entered the kitchen in his all-black suit. His hair was neatly slicked back, not in messy curls like his daughter’s. For a moment, he looks like he’s ready to correct a CEO’s behavior. Then, he dropped to his knee and into Dad Mode.
“What’ve you got there, sollys ?” Loki asked.
“Uncle Thor sent me a birthday card, Papa!” She grinned, full of giddy pride. “But my birthday isn’t until next week.”
Loki looked up. “Maybe it’s for some other little girl.”
“Nuh-uh. It says right there. Fre Ya Lokidottir. He even spelled it the right way this time.”
“I guess Uncle Thor got excited. He’s all the way on the other side of the country. Mail takes a while to get from there to here.”
Fre Ya nodded, satisfied. En Dwi started feeding her cereal while Loki searched through her closet to find something more appropriate for the school day. En Dwi was always theatrical. He lived for big flashy moments. There was something calmingly mundane about a child’s morning routine. He liked it.
Loki returned with a t-shirt covered in teddy bear designs and a pair of black pants. After some coaxing, he managed to convince the little girl to change into them. En Dwi braided her hair. Loki could never get it the way he wanted it.
When he took his daughter’s hand, he muttered, “Show-off.”
“And you’re not?” En Dwi replied.
Steve shuffled into the kitchen, blinking slowly. Bucky set breakfast for both of them on their kitchen table. The sausage, toast, tomatoes, mushrooms, and bacon filled the room with lovely, nostalgic smells. Bucky had cooked it the way his mother did. It made Steve’s stomach growl.
“You must have spent so long cooking,” Steve said, not wanting to admit how expensive it was.
Bucky looked at the plates. “It’s our first day here. I thought we should celebrate.”
Steve’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m not saying no.”
“Then eat up, or I’m giving your food to the landlord’s kid,” he said with the same gentle teasing their mothers had used.
“Our landlord has a kid?”
“A girl. And there’s someone else in the house too. Whoever he is, he gets up early.”
A bright child’s giggle came through the open window. Steve turned to see his landlord guiding a five-year-old girl into her car seat. He grinned. He’d picked this neighbourhood because there were always children playing in the street. Happy kids were part of civilian life.
When Loki pulled away, Steve tucked into his breakfast. Boy, was Bucky ever a well-trained cook. Good enough to open a restaurant if he wanted. But a restaurant would require feeding other people, and Steve didn’t want anybody else tasting what Bucky could make.
The first month in the brownstone was a blur as Steve and Bucky found their new routines. They both worked in civil service. Bucky worked in the veteran’s affairs office while Steve did public relations work with government agencies. Both of them enjoyed their work. They would go for runs in the morning, keeping up an army routine. Walks were part of their afternoons. They’d explore the neighbourhood, seeing all the other families nearby.
A secret developed between them. It was a hope they had grown up with, then abandoned as teenagers, when they had discovered who they were. Accepting one part of their identity meant forgoing an identity in the future. Nobody asked what their relationship was, and they weren’t going to tell. The assumption that they were roommates was enough. Roommates didn’t adopt kids together.
En Dwi was involved in Fre Ya’s life, but Fre Ya was Loki’s biological kid, as far as they could tell. The familial relationship made the situation different.
Still, both of the veterans knew that if someone left a baby on their doorstep, they would raise it together.
One evening, after they’d returned from their walk, there was a knock at their door. Steve rushed to answer it. Loki stood in the doorway in a dark green suit, with a scarf curled around his neck. Bucky recognised the reason for his visit. The post-dated cheques were on the table.
Bucky handed the cheques over. Loki counted them - there were eleven, enough for a year’s rent.
“I’m glad you’re staying,” Loki stated. “It’s nice to have a new family in the neighbourhood.”
“We’re roommates,” Steve said reflexively.
Loki looked over his shoulder, smirking. “So are En Dwi and I. But we’re raising Fre Ya together. If the custody arrangement goes through, she’ll be living with us full time.”
Bucky grunted. “You two are very lucky.”
Loki crossed his arms. “He works with local disenfranchised kids. You seem stable. Good heads on your shoulders. I was in the Norwegian army - I know how it is. But none of us are in the army now, and if you’re more than roommates, nobody will mind.”
Steve adjusted his posture. He exchanged a glance with Bucky. The admission made sense.
Loki handed Steve a flyer before leaving. Fre Ya darted out of the house to greet her father. Longing settled in Steve’s stomach.
Steve looked at the flyer. It advertised foster care programs. That seemed like a huge step, but, maybe…
“Put it on the fridge,” Bucky suggested. “We might call them later.”
We. Together. They'd do it together.