Chapter Text
“Steve. You need to go.”
“What if I didn’t?”
“Changed your mind already? And after only one dance. I’m not sure if I should be self-congratulatory or deeply worried.”
“I can stay another day.”
“And then what? Another, and another? You’d be trapped in a time bound by strict rules of non-interference and complete anonymity. How long would you be willing to abide by such rules? Because I’ll tell you now, I have loved you with all of my heart, but I don’t think even I would have the fortitude to simply sit back if I had the leverage present in your situation.”
“Well, maybe I want something more than that leverage.”
“I believe you. The way you felt, pressed against me…you’ve waited so long for this. Tell me it would not kill you to stand back and watch others fight the battles that you already know the endings to.”
Silence.
“You’re smart enough not to lie to me, at least.”
“Two weeks isn’t going to make a difference. I left the world in good hands. Just like I left this one in good hands.”
“Two weeks? A moment ago you said a day.”
“It won’t be that long on the other side.”
A sigh. “All right. I won’t pretend that I’m not willing to enjoy this gift just as much as you are.”
In the end, Peggy was right. He couldn’t stay.
----------
The bathtub was draining.
Steve could hear water rushing, gurgling as it made its way out. The rest of the pipes in the wall stayed silent, signaling that the tub wasn’t going to be refilled.
Loki and Bucky were finally finishing up.
They’d been talking for a while; their voices were too muffled for him to make out any of the words. Loki spoke softly, and Bucky’s responses were even fainter. Neither of them seemed angry. There’d been a moment of tension at one point, maybe an hour before, but it hadn’t escalated or even lasted beyond a few seconds.
Whatever was going on, it sounded like the two of them were really getting along.
Steve had drawn, and drawn, and kept drawing as the time had ticked on. In the time Loki and Bucky had been in the bathroom he’d gone through multiple pages in his sketchbook, forcing himself to keep busy even as his mind perpetually wandered. They might have been closer to coming out, but even then he kept working, eyes on the page as he filled in the lines of a closed treasure chest with rapid strokes of his pencil.
As soon as the bathroom doorknob clicked, he stopped everything he was doing to look up.
The door swung open, releasing a rush of floral fragrance. Then Bucky stepped out. He was still in the clothes he’d slept in, nearly head to toe in black fabric. His hair was still tied back, though it looked like the humidity in the bathroom had loosened some extra stray strands. There was some kind of flush to his face, too - maybe from all the hot water, maybe from the sunlight that had to have been coming in at full strength through the window above the tub. Or maybe it was the effort it must have taken to spend that long doing such sensitive work with Loki.
It almost made him look…different. When Bucky met Steve’s gaze directly, that impression only deepened.
Whatever it was, he looked good. A heaviness around his eyes had been lessened, the lack of the shadows cast by his usual frown accentuating the blue in his irises. It was a little like what Steve sometimes saw when he managed to catch him working in his garden. Bucky gave Steve a small smile, which faded completely as Loki stepped forward, drawing his focus away.
Not that it looked like Loki really needed the help; he’d seemed stronger before the bath, but now there was an energy to him. He moved with confidence, somehow giving off the image of deliberate swaggering steps, almost taking the lead in traversing across the house even as he leaned into the support Bucky offered. He was dressed in new clothes - an olive green long-sleeved shirt and black pants, and his hair was hanging in loose curls over his shoulders. It was also, Steve noted, nearly completely dry.
Which meant a lot of their time in the bathroom had been spent doing something else. He wondered if Loki’s plan to talk things out with Bucky had led anywhere. It would explain Bucky’s appearance.
He very firmly only wondered about that and that alone. Whatever had happened, it had been good for both of them.
They’d reached the cushions. Bucky kept his prosthetic out, giving Loki something to balance on as he lowered himself down with a grace that spoke of returning muscle control. Once Loki was down, he sat back with a satisfied sigh, steadying himself upright with his legs curled close to his body.
“Thank you,” he said, a polite ease in his voice. He squeezed at Bucky’s wrist, releasing him with a quick but gentle sliding movement down towards his palm that sharply drew Steve’s gaze and made Bucky uncurl his hand.
That was new.
Bucky nodded distractedly, eyes on Loki’s hand, before he seemed to belatedly realize that Steve was still there and watching them. Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining the heaviness that returned to Bucky’s gaze when he looked at him.
“Looks like everything worked out,” Steve said, a little surprised that he managed to get the words out without too much of a sign of the dozens of questions he had.
Loki laughed, soft and bright. “Yes.” His grin held, lips stretched in a show of honest delight. “It was very informative.”
“He can’t do anything,” Bucky said bluntly.
“We have a way forward,” Loki said, plowing insistently over Bucky’s disagreement. “Once I have rested a while longer.”
Bucky gave Loki a long-suffering narrow-eyed look, his face pinching like he was actively pained. “God,” he said, eyes going to Steve in resignation. “I was right. Now there’s two of you.”
The words weren’t as furious or stonewalling as they once would have been, instead replaced with a kind of tired acceptance. Bucky didn’t look happy, exactly, but Steve was becoming more and more certain that whatever Loki could do for them would be the best way to go.
He set his sketchbook aside, leaning forward so he was more at eye level with Loki. “What kind of way forward?”
Bucky reacted first, his chin dipping down before he angled his face away. Steve felt his forehead crease at the avoidance response. It looked like he hadn’t been imagining that heaviness.
On the ground beside Bucky, Loki noticed it, too. He glanced between Bucky and Steve, and Steve could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He spoke in a reserved tone. “If…when my magic replenishes itself, it’s very possible I could extract the remnants of the energy within Barnes and put them to use within my own body.”
“Really?” Steve looked from Loki to Bucky’s continuing less than enthused reaction. “I’m guessing there’s some kind of a problem that’s going to make that less easy than it sounds.”
“As it stands, the energies are far too interlocked,” Loki said, his expression still guarded. “Even though they are remnants, they are as much a part of Barnes now as his own limbs.” He looked pointedly at Bucky’s prosthetic, reaching his hand up to brush his fingertips over the metal wrist. “Well, three of his limbs.”
“We don’t even know if it’d work,” Bucky said, criticizing without much heat. His eyes were drawn back by Loki’s contact, and Steve felt a flare of something sharp in his chest. “You screwed yourself up by just looking before.”
Steve glanced down at his own forearm, where his own shirtsleeves were pulled up to the elbow. He felt an idea begin to take root.
Loki dropped his hand, shaking his head. “Barnes, this is not something I’ve said often in my life, so I would be grateful if you take heed. This has little to do with me, and everything to do with this war you seem insistent on weathering alone. Do you want them gone or not?”
Bucky’s shoulders rose and fell heavily with his breath, his throat working on a swallow. “Yeah,” he said.
“Loki,” Steve said. “If you were able to extract the power, you’d be able to use it to help yourself?”
Bucky raised his eyes, looking at Steve with an unreadable expression.
“Theoretically,” Loki said. “My magic is adaptable. It can pair with many sources of power if I exercise the proper control to absorb them - and they’re not being used in a deliberate attack against me.” He gestured at his own body. “I’m limited, of course, by my current lack of strength. And if I press too hard too soon, then it will be as attempting to walk on broken legs. Painful, tiring, and eventually resulting in further damage and complete collapse.” Loki slid back onto the cushions until he was in a lounging position, giving an idle wave of his hand. “But unless you have reconsidered your plans and intend to starve and beat me from here on out, the remainder of my recovery will only continue to move swiftly.”
Loki said it like it was a joke. Bucky didn’t find it funny. Steve wasn’t really on board with the humor, either.
He twisted his forearm, presenting it. “What if you took mine first?”
Loki blinked repeatedly at the ceiling, then pushed himself up onto his elbows. “What?”
Bucky hadn’t let up the stare he’d been directing at Steve yet, but Steve thought he could see a change in his gaze - concern, questions. Maybe reproach.
“The energy you said I didn’t have to worry about,” Steve said. “From the Space Stone. It’s the only energy you sensed that was actually in me, right?”
Loki looked thoughtful. “Yes, it was.”
Bucky frowned at Loki. “You told us you showed up because you could tell he was the most recent person to handle the stones.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “But that’s different, because I didn’t use them, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Loki agreed, his eyes now locked to Steve’s arm.
“So whenever you’re ready,” Steve said, leaning back. “If it helps you, it’ll help Bucky.”
Bucky looked even more hesitant, his hands curling at his sides. But he didn’t blurt out any arguments.
Loki’s lips stretched. “I would estimate, if things proceed similarly, that time will come in the next few days.” He looked downright giddy. “Well, Barnes, it seems you need worry less about me overexerting myself.”
Bucky, who’d since they’d come out of the bathroom been acting like Loki wasn’t so much of a problem, suddenly narrowed his eyes at him with a severity that had Steve instinctively going still, not sure what he should be preparing for.
Instead of his past wariness, or any of the cringing that had followed so much as a too fast movement from Bucky or Steve, Loki just tilted his head back casually. “That is a good thing, is it not?”
Bucky kept staring, the awkward silence stretching between them, before he finally sighed and broke eye contact. He didn’t answer Loki’s question, his gaze flicking around the room as he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Where’s Sam?”
“He turned in for a few hours,” Steve said, feeling very much like there was another conversation happening that he wasn’t a part of. “He said he wanted you to get a pound of red potatoes from the garden.”
The wrinkles that had formed on Bucky’s forehead deepened. He distractedly handed his phone to Loki. “Here,” he said, eyes darting to Steve again before he quickly headed to his bedroom without another word. Probably to change.
Steve frowned as he watched him go, feeling a little unbalanced by those responses.
“You appear concerned, Rogers,” Loki said, already settled back down, idly holding the phone over his face and tapping at it.
He shook his head. “Bucky gave you his phone.”
“Yes,” Loki said, waving the screen in Steve’s direction. There was a virtual clothing catalog displayed on it. “Changing with magic will be a needless expenditure I should avoid for the time being. Barnes thought to give me the chance to peruse items for a new wardrobe, since I am to be remaining here during my continued rehabilitation until Thor arrives.”
It was the first time Steve had heard Loki word it that way, without any of the usual hopelessness or obvious suspicion that they were going to lock him up without warning. He guessed it was better late than never.
Steve picked his sketchbook back up, putting it on his lap. He didn’t open it right away, instead watching as Loki continued to manipulate the touchscreen of the phone with his brow furrowed. Bucky must have already explained how to use it, or else Loki had prior knowledge. Or he was just that good at figuring things out.
“Your hair came out nice,” he offered, because he hadn’t said anything about it before and figured it would be polite.
Loki looked startled, his hand coming up to the edge of a curl. “Thank you,” he said. Then, with a hint of his smile returning, “Barnes has a gentler touch than he realizes.”
Steve meant to agree with Loki, he really did, but the image those words sprung up made it feel like every muscle in his body suddenly forgot how to function.
Loki continued swiping his finger over the phone, oblivious to the response.
Steve swallowed, opening his sketchbook, trying and failing to start the movement that would end in the pencil back on paper.
One thing was for sure; it didn’t feel like toning it down was going to end up being a very viable option for him.
And especially not when Bucky returned from his bedroom, dressed in a grey shirt and jeans and jacket, and instead of bolting straight for the garden, came to a stop beside the couch.
Steve looked up, surprised at the proximity. He still couldn’t quite read Bucky’s expression.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Bucky asked.
Steve glanced instinctively towards Loki, who waved them off without even looking their way.
“Yeah,” Steve said, shutting his sketchbook and standing up.
Bucky didn’t head for his garden. Instead, he took Steve past it, until they were a few hundred yards from the house, where the trees grew denser and the plant life grew wild, weeds and dead leaves crunching underfoot.
Only then did Bucky stop walking, on ground dappled with the shadows of branches and leaves. He squared his stance and stared at Steve, completely reverted to a readied posture. Like he’d bolt if Steve so much as breathed too loudly.
Steve thought of how Bucky had let Loki touch him just minutes ago, and felt a bloom of pain start. It was clear now that without Loki around, for whatever reason, Bucky was straining to stay put.
As if he could hear Steve’s thoughts, Bucky shook his head. “I can’t do it.”
Steve felt that bloom of pain expand. He was bracing for it, ready to meet it head on. “Do what?”
“Let you keep looking at me like you’ve been looking at me since you got back. Like I deserve anything that you and Loki are doing for me.”
It hadn’t been what Steve had been expecting Bucky to say. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected that Bucky would still be bogged down by what HYDRA had made him do, but it had been a while since he’d given voice to the negative image of his own self worth that all that suffering had led to.
“Buck, if this is about what HYDRA made you do-”
“It wasn’t HYDRA,” Bucky said sharply. “This happened after the Wakandans took the triggers from my head. I swore to myself I’d never ever hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it, and I couldn’t even keep that promise.”
“You can tell me,” Steve urged, taking a step forward, like the physical action could help whatever mental divide stood between them.
“I don’t want to,” Bucky said. He licked his lips, turning his face away. “But if you’re going to keep throwing yourself into the fire for me, you should know what you’re helping.”
Steve felt his expression set solemnly, wondering what it was that was bad enough to really make Bucky doubt that Steve would be on his side. After everything. “I’m listening.”
Bucky breathed out, deeply, his exhale hitching in his chest. He opened his mouth, then shut it, a scowl forming over his face. Steve waited, impatient but wanting to give him the time he needed, very aware of how bad things could go if he pushed.
But then Bucky went rigid, his eyes widening, and Steve belatedly realized that he wasn’t just looking away, but looking at something. “What the fuck?”
Before Steve could ask what was going on, Bucky was rushing back the way they'd came. Steve was a step behind him without a thought, his body slipping into high alert as easy as breathing, ready to help or defend against whatever had set him off.
Four seconds later, Bucky had already come to a stop, mouth parted as he took labored breaths, staring towards the garden with squinting eyes.
Steve came to a stop alongside him, and blinked in surprise.
Standing inside the fenceline, head bent and casually nibbling on salad greens, was a huge, white horse. It was beautiful, its coat over hardy muscle practically glowing with a silver reflective sheen, its mane and tail gently blowing in the breeze. The most striking feature, though, was folded across its back - a pair of large, feathered wings. The same wings Steve had seen in the midst of the Battle for Earth, plowing towards Chitauri Leviathans with wild ferocity.
Which meant that New Asgard had arrived.
"Shit," Bucky said faintly. "I'm not ready for this."
Steve started walking towards the house, knowing the lack of a visible rider could probably only mean one thing about their location. The front door had been left unlocked. "Let's hope Loki is."