Easy Come, Easy Go

Just got into the Avengers fandom not long ago, and immediately began to ship Steve/Loki like there was no tomorrow.

I like the idea of Loki coming back to Earth, somewhat helpless. I know it's an old idea, but hopefully I can do something new with it.

The title comes from Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, which, somehow, I think fits Loki so well.

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1: 21st Century

Steve spends his days integrating into the 21st century. Or at least that's what he's supposed to do.

When Fury gave him these orders with utmost formality, Steve thought it had been a joke, and had to quickly swallow his laughter in response to the director's humorless glare. Now that the Earth is safe and the damage to the city mostly repaired, the Avengers once again dispersed. Tony and Bruce had returned to their respective research, Natasha and Clint to their respective missions, and Thor to tend to Asgardian business. So naturally, Fury must assume that Steve has nothing better to do than to twiddle his thumbs until the next alien invasion.

Steve isn't exactly offended because it's true in a way. Before the invasion, he had hardly been optimizing his time. Lonely, lost, and haunted by memories of his former life, Steve did very little besides eating, sleeping, and destroying punching bags at the boxing gym. But things are different now after the Chitaurian war, after joining the Avengers, because he has found purpose again. Evil still threatens mankind, and innocent people still need to be protected, so in that sense, the world had stayed the same just as much as it has changed.

So Steve follows Fury's orders despite how ridiculous it had sounded and sets off each day with determination to understand. But no matter how hard he tries, he still finds modern technology baffling and pop culture unbearably boisterous. He figures it's okay though, because he doesn't haveto like same movies and music as Clint or Tony. There are still plenty people like him in the 21st century, who shy away from crowds, enjoy meals at a homely diner, and buy used books to read in Central Park.

Steve likes the park. Now that it's mid-April and the weather finally resembles something close to spring, he takes his sketchbook to the park almost everyday and spends a good portion of the afternoon just watching and learning. He likes drawing people the most. Sometimes he would spend hours on a portrait of Peggy or Bucky, drawing from memory to make sure that he still can. His room is full of portraits of them, his favorite ones framed and hung, almost as real as photos. But now that Steve is giving the 21st century an honest chance, he tries to find inspiration from new experiences rather than old memories. He fills his sketchbook with quick, rough contours of the life around him—of Tony falling asleep at the breakfast table, Clint perched high up on the roof of the tower, Natasha curled up in her armchair as she drank hot tea. He doesn't know why, but he always feels a strange warmth whenever he sees his teammates in a domestic setting.

Steve draws strangers when he is at the park, even though he gets embarrassed when people look over his shoulders. He's good, but not that good, and he could never accept compliments gracefully even if they were nothing but honest opinions. Sometimes children would sit with him—with or without realizing that he's Captain America—and he'd let them flip through the lead filled pages of an old couple holding hands, a young woman walking with her Dalmation, twin girls with ribbons in their hair, twirling and twirling by the fountain. He would let the kids keep their favorite. He doesn't think anything special of his half-hearted sketches, but if they were enough to make a child happy, he would gladly give them away.

He stays in the park later than usual one day because a young girl had asked him to draw a portrait of her. The mother soon came and shooed her away, apologizing if her daughter had been a bother. Steve smiled and politely told her that it was not the case. He was only half way done with the portrait, but the little girl loved it just the same. He signed it as Captain America, but wrote Steve Rogers in smaller letters below.

The sun is touching the skyline by the time Steve gathered his things. It's been months since the Chitauri attack, but vigils are still held in the park every night in memory of those who were lost. Candles are lit, flowers are laid, and tears are shed as loved ones gather. Steve sees a boy with his head held high, eyes brimming with tears as his father sets a bouquet of lilies by a photo of a young woman. Steve starts to sketch the scene before him and gets the basic contours down before realizing that he could not continue.

He frowns as he sets his pencil down.

He has dinner in his favorite sandwich shop, where the waitress always brings him more food than he had ordered. Steve had thanked her many times and told her it was not necessary, but the woman would have none of it. He had saved her son from a burning school bus that day, and she could think of no other way to express her undying gratitude. So Steve would smile politely and take what she offered, but he always tried to make up for it with tip. He gets a respectable salary from S.H.I.E.L.D, much more money than he can ever spend alone, so he doesn't mind being generous.

Steve reads an abandoned newspaper as he eats his sandwich, skimming through the articles on the war in the Middle East, advances in Stark Industries, and then a brief blurb on the Avengers. He comes across a discussion of the Chitauri invasion, and his heart feels heavy again.

Loki's name was never revealed to the public. Thor had returned to Earth soon after his brother's capture to bid—on behalf of Odin and Asgard—to keep the younger prince's name free from public condemnation. Steve, as well as the rest of the Avengers, thought the request was utterly ridiculous. After all the destruction Loki had caused—prince or not—the people of Earth deserved to know the truth, deserved to stare into the eyes of their wrongdoer, even if Loki would face Asgardian justice. But in order to preserve friendly regards with Asgard, Fury eventually gave in to Thor's requests. The accounts of the invasion were quickly rewritten before releasing to the public. The commander of the Chitauri army was no longer Loki, but an unnamed, faceless being from the same realm as the cyborg-like creatures, capable of magic and shape shifting. Loki's involvement and any relations he has to Asgard were completely purged except for in confidential files held by S.H.I.E.L.D.

The Avengers were forced to keep their mouths shut during interviews. Phil Coulson (who is alive, and Steve is glad that he is, but this incident only adds to the mountain of grievances he has towards S.H.I.E.L.D) had prepped each of them on the lies they were to tell. And if all else failed, "I don't know" is always a satisfactory response. These public interviews always left Steve with a bitter taste in his mouth, but what else could he do?

He continues to flip through the newspaper before coming across some artist renditions of the Avengers as well as Loki, with the villain being pummeled to the ground. Steve wrinkles his nose at them.

While Loki's photo was never officially publicized (though some blurry cellphone pictures continue to circulate), enough people have seen him to know that he indeed has a face and is seemingly human despite his god-like abilities. And enough people have given consistent physical descriptions of him for artists to work with.

Steve turns to a blank page in his sketchbook and thinks of Loki—proud, elegant, and cruelly handsome, eyes glimmering in wild ambition, smile almost that of childish malice. How do you even begin to capture that on paper?

Drawing Loki is a challenge. Steve can't visualize the god the same way he can with Peggy or Bucky, capture their likeliness and spirit in only a few strokes. But he remembers him well enough from the few times they had fought, and he decides to make an honest attempt. He allows his pencil to wander, his mind devoid of everything but Loki.

Steve doesn't realize what he has created until an hour into the portrait, when the waitress is already clearing the tables next to him. He frowns as his rendition of Loki grins back at him—dark-eyed, thin-lipped, features sharp and attractive. Steve wonders if he had done the god too much justice.

Sometimes he wished people looked like their personalities, that beauty mirrored the kindness in one's heart. Maybe Loki would look rightfully hideous if that were true.

Steve brings the tip of his pencil to the edge of the god's chin before darkening the shadows there. He made Loki's angles even sharper, eyes more sunken, features more sinister and contorted, until the drawing looks nothing like the God of Mischief anymore. Steve studies at the portrait again, and something senseless and cruel and inhuman stares back at him, just like all the other sketches of Loki in the newspaper.

###

Steve visits the tower just as the sun dips behind the skyline. After the tower's near destruction, Tony had rebuffed the skyscraper to be bigger, taller, and uglier (although Steve had never dared to confess this out loud) than ever before. He and Pepper designed floors for each of the Avengers and insisted that they moved in, further implementing their association. Initially, no one accepted.

Tony whined for nearly three weeks about how they were the worst teammates ever to reject his absolutely brilliant and not to mention generousoffer. He had put so much thought into their personal living space and even designed gyms specifically tailored to each of their fighting styles. Steve was actually somewhat touched, although he didn't fail to point out that Tony never informed any of them before the construction had began and merely assumed that everyone would agree with his point of view.

Tony sulked for another week before offering access to his lab to anyone who can hold an intelligent conversation with him about the Higgs Boson. Of course, only Bruce took the bait, and within two days, the doctor caved in to Tony's persistency.

The next Avenger to join them was surprisingly Natasha. One night during a team dinner (minus Thor), Tony had once again bemoaned the choices they had made.

"Oh, not this again," Clint groaned before chugging down his can of beer, "For the last time, Stark, I don't want to live with you."

"I hate you guys, I really do," Tony slurred, already half-hammered, "You never appreciate anything. And this—this—" he waved wildly at the general space around him "—is all for the team. One hundred percent. Why am I suddenly the only one who cares about the team? And you guys call mearrogant, selfish, don't play well with others—"

Clint opened his mouth to object, but Natasha spoke before him. "I'll consider it if you change the name from Stark to Avengers."

"Absolutely not!" Tony choked, just as Pepper smiled brilliantly. "We have a deal."

Within a week, Stark tower became the Avengers tower, and Natasha moved in. Clint also moved in over the next few days without any further coercion from Tony. None of them dared to comment on it, fearing that the archer would shoot an arrow through their eye socket.

Thor visited Earth later that month, and Tony immediately grasped the opportunity. They discussed the possibility of the god calling the tower his home away from home over a bucket of KFC. The god was instantly sold.

The others' gradual integration into the Avengers tower has only fueled Tony's resolve. Steve is the only one left at this point, and he shudders every time he catches the gleam of insane fixation in Tony's eyes. And this time, it's no different.

"Live with me," Tony says with utmost solemnity as Steve steps through the automatic doors. "We're meant for each other, Rogers. You and me."

Steve puts both hands up. "I'm only here to return Pepper's book."

"You're such a tease, my good Captain," Tony sighs theatrically while Steve rolls his eyes, "Always coming and going as you please, yet rejecting me every time."

"Oh, stop it, Tony," Pepper laughs as she smacks the scientist on the arm, "You're making our guest uncomfortable."

"Well, he's not supposed to be a guest." Tony crosses his arms.

"Did you enjoy it?" Pepper ignores the scientist before returning her attention to Steve.

"Yes, I did." Steve takes out the novel from his bag, a collection of the more unknown short stories of Kurt Vonnegut. "He has a great sense of humor and irony."

"I knew you would." Pepper smiles. "He's one of my favorite. Feel free to borrow any book you'd like."

"Okay, thank you," Steve says as he closes his bag. He frowns when his gaze falls to the window. The weather has been strange lately, pleasantly warm one moment, freezing the next, as if every week is a new season. The sky looks eerily beautiful right as dark purple clouds engulfs it whole. Only a strip of orange sunset remains at the brim of the horizon, and Steve can tell that the sky can fall any minute. Steve bids a quick farewell, opting to leave before it's too late.

"But it's about to rain." Tony hastily cuts in. "You can't go outside when it's raining."

"He's right, Steve," Pepper frowns, "The weather looks really bad. You're welcome to stay."

"Yeah," Tony quips again, "You already leave stuff here all the time. It's almost as if you—oh, I don't know—live here."

Steve sighs. It's true that he had left some things here during the few times he stayed over, but he highly suspects that Tony deliberately hid them so he would forget.

"Thank you, both of you," Steve says sheepishly, "But I really can't. I promised the old woman next door that I'd feed her cat when she's away."

Pepper smiles at him as if that was the nicest thing she has ever heard. Tony looks far from impressed. He eventually agrees to let Steve go though, while Pepper insists that he borrows an umbrella. Steve reluctantly agrees, knowing this means he will have to return the umbrella eventually and be forced to confront Tony sooner than he originally planned.

"It's just a little rain," he reassures them, "I'll be back before it even comes down. I'll be fine."

Of course, he was wrong. It was not just a little rain, but a full-fledged thunderstorm (he probably would have known if he had paid any attention at all to the weather broadcast). By the time he emerges from the subway station, the sky is pouring all of its content onto the city below. Steve doesn't even use the umbrella because it would only break under the pressure of the wind. By the time he makes it to his apartment, he is soaked to the bone.

He tosses his clothes into the hamper, showers, and feeds the neighbor's cat, before finally sinking into the living room couch. He rummages through his bag to find that most of his stuff has survived, with the exception of a few sketches. He flips through the wet paper until he finds the portrait of Loki he had ruined long before water even touched it. Loki looks even more monstrous now, smeared in a pool of black and gray as if he's decaying. Steve crumbles up the paper and tosses it into the trash bin.

He lives on the top floor of an old apartment building in SoHo. It's small but it has two floors. Steve keeps his bed on the second floor just below the skylight (which had been the only reason he even considered such a small, expensive apartment). He's almost never home during the day to enjoy the natural light, but at night, he likes to look up at the stars before falling asleep. Although the city is too bright for most stars to shine, there are still a few stubbornly bright ones, refusing to be reduced to darkness.

He thinks of his old life when he was a kid, when he and Bucky used to sneak up to the roof of his old apartment in Brooklyn with a few bottles of beer and dreams for the future. The skylight brings back old memories, but it's a good kind of ache, a gentle reminder that his past life is just as important and real. Everyone he has known and everything he has experienced make up a little bit of who he is now, and he never, ever wants to forget.

Tonight, of course, there are no stars. Rain beats on the panels in violent, sporadic rhythms as purple lightning tears across the sky. Steve waits for the thunder that never comes and falls asleep believing the worst of the storm must still be far away.

###

He jerks awake sometime during the middle of the night to the sound of glass shattering. He instinctively shields himself as the broken shards rain down, but couldn't contain an undignified "oof" as something solid and heavy hands on his stomach. It doesn't take long for him to realize it's a person, screaming and kicking and digging razor sharp glass deeper into both of them.

"You fools!" Steve hears a hysterical cry, nearly muffled by the rolling thunder. "Take me back! I know you can hear me! Take me back! Take me back!"

The voice is too familiar in its desperation, brokenness, and insanity. Steve thinks it can't be, as he gropes blindly through the darkness, ignoring his cuts and bruises until he grips something that resembles two shoulders.

"Loki?" He gasps as lighting splits the sky in half, and suddenly he can see.

The body in his arms stiffens. The former Asgardian prince stares back at Steve in equal shock and horror, eyes brimmed red and long dark hair plastered across his cheek.

Steve exhales a shaky breath as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

Loki—the same Loki who had lead the Chitauri army to Earth months ago—is in his apartment—on his bed—after crashing through the skylight he loves so much.

Well, hope you all enjoyed the first chapter :)

Feedback is always welcome. I tend to miss awful typos and grammar mistakes no matter how many times I proof-read, so feel free to point that out as well.

Thanks for reading!