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It's in the way he presses his cheek against Steve's as they sway out of synch with the music. They both pretend it means nothing because they're still so unsure; Loki because he has grown used to working hard for his keep, Steve because he has grown used to being overlooked.
But there it is. His team had been invited to an event, and now, there is a dance. Loki might not have been on the guest list, but that doesn’t stop him from walking up to Steve and asking him for a dance. Steve is convinced the moment he sees Loki walk through a parting group, but the promise that Loki sarcastically makes about avoiding toes is an added bonus.
It's in the way Loki drags him outside, to Tony's landing pad, and sits them by the edge during restless nights. Loki points a finger at the sky; he connects the stars and describes battles and misdeeds done lifetimes away. Steve sketches the pictures in his head or on his sketchpad, when he opts to bring it with him.
(Once, it is Steve who points with his finger. He traces a jagged line, from the furthest corner and drags it all the way down to where he would have crashed decades ago, had he not averted the plane. Loki looks as weary as he feels when he finishes telling him the story of how he thought he had died; he knows it’s in there too.)
It's in the way he stays in the morning. Steve always wakes up before Loki, needing that jog to kick his mind awake. At five thirty every morning, Steve untangles his limbs from Loki’s and gets up. He changes his clothes, pulls on his socks, slips into his shoes, and zips away for blocks and blocks until the sun is glaring at him. When he comes back, Loki will still be there, curled up on Steve's side, buried under the blanket.
It's in the way Loki turns away and smiles. Steve has painted the fall of sunlight along his cheekbones, how he can barely see his lips from that angle and the lines that crinkle along his eyes-- he has painted all this in his mind, and at the back of his oldest sketchpad. He hides it at the very bottom of his drawer, where he keeps the others, bringing it out only when they have fought (about morality, about Thor, about how one or both of them could have died that day).
It's in the way Steve doesn't see or feel any of Director Fury's supply of spies tailing him, when he says he wants to be alone. He'll feed pigeons at Central Park, with little kids whose parents want his autograph. He'll venture to Coney Island. He’ll walk everywhere and nowhere. He'll try not to get teary eyed as he visits Brooklyn, and finds out that all the places he had gotten his ass whooped were gone.
Before coming back, he'll go to this small theater where movies cost a surprising three dollars. (Surprising for Steve, because it's still more than what he's used to. Surprising for others, because it's cheap.) He'll sit at the back row. Midway through the movie, Loki will sit next to him, and circle his fingers around Steve's wrist briefly. After the movie, Loki will just as quietly leave, but not before giving him a kiss.
(Steve turns quite red when he admits this to himself but: it's also in the way Loki calls him darling, the first syllable stretched out, when Steve runs his fingers along the bumps of Loki's spine.)
One morning, Steve comes back from his jog. Loki is there, curled on Steve's side of the bed, his sketchpad in hand. Steve holds his breath; already, he can tell which sketchpad that it. Already, he knows what Loki is looking at.
Finally, finally, after a split second, Loki looks up at him. He smiles but doesn’t turn away.
(Steve breathes.)
It's in there too.