Chapter 18
Apparently, the Fourth of July was a holiday of some sort, as well as Steve’s birthday.
Whether Bucky chose not to mention it or simply didn’t remember, Loki didn’t know.
Tony insisted on holding a barbecue in Central Park to celebrate.
“Was it really necessary to reserve the entire Central Park?” Steve asked, glancing around at the unsettlingly empty park, “How did you even do that?”
“I’m a billionaire,” Tony answered, flipping a burger, “I do whatever I want.”
“That’s reassuring to know,” Steve said, taking a seat at the picnic table to eat.
As the sun set over the city horizon, the Avengers started talking of something called fireworks, excitedly waiting for the show to start.
“Happy Birthday, Steve!” Natasha crowed as a bright burst of light flashed across the sky.
Beside him, Loki heard Steve let out an awe-inspired gasp.
A loud boom followed, and Loki tensed, suppressing a flinch as the boom faded into a crackling sound.
Steve must’ve caught it, glancing at Loki with an expression like he wanted to reassure him for a split second before Loki shook his head minutely.
More bursts of light shot into the sky, so bright that Loki could’ve sworn it was raining sparks and fire.
“How old even are you?” Clint asked from across the table, directing the question at Steve.
“27 or 94. Depends on how you look at it.”
“Ok, Grandpa.”
The fireworks stopped after a while, but they stayed at the park all night celebrating Steve’s birthday with stories, food, and music.
By the time they got back from the park, all Loki wanted to do was sleep.
Alone in his room, he attempted to shift into his cat form.
Nothing happened. Instead, his seidr backfired.
Like lightning in his veins, the magic bolted from his chest to his hands, and back down to a place low in his stomach.
No.
He staggered back, knocking his desk chair over with a loud clatter and nearly falling over in the process.
He’d tried so hard to forget.
And the Avengers . . . Bucky, Steve . . .
“Loki?” Steve’s voice was at his door in an instant.
“I’m alright,” Loki fought to keep his voice steady, “Just knocked over my chair.”
They had been such good distractions. Loki had almost grown comfortable around them.
But now?
Now what?
Should he flee? Hide in some distant realm until Thor no doubt tracked him down?
His throat felt tight, his heart pounded. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he tried to tell himself to just breathe.
He took a deep breath, and another.
Pregnant.
It’s fine. This is fine. He’s done this before—among enemies, no less.
But among enemies it didn’t matter what they thought of him. Why should it?
With the Avengers, something was different.
Now he was among, what? Allies? Coworkers?
Friends?
Whatever the case, he would need to find a way to get rid of this . . . thing before they found out. Which meant before he needed to bear it, something he hadn’t done before.
Plenty of time, right?
He’d just have to go through Frigga’s books for the answer.
This changes nothing, he soothed himself, finding the courage to pick his chair up and go to bed.
He laid in bed, but however much he tried to fall asleep, he just couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Finally, he decided he needed some fresh air, so he went up to the rooftop to look out at the night sky.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He heard someone say behind him.
“No,” Loki murmured. He turned to Steve, suddenly realizing how late it was, “Sorry if I woke you.”
He turned his gaze back towards the sky. Millions of stars shown above them. Loki never felt smaller, but somehow, it was peaceful. The Void had been silent and suffocating, but on this roof, the steady buzz of the city below and the sky above were oddly calming. Barely any stars managed to shine, but the ones that did shone brighter than Loki had ever seen them in Asgard.
“There used to be more, you know,” Steve spoke, suddenly right beside him. “But with all of the light pollution, you can’t see them any more.”
A silence fell for a while. Loki didn’t want to break it. He wanted to disappear.
“Stars are so strange,” Steve said finally, and his expression softened into something wistful as he looked back up at the sky, “One moment you look up and feel like you’re in a dream, the next you feel like you’re insignificant and unworthy.”
His eyes widened, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but seemed to visually pull himself together, shaking his head.
“You’re not,” Loki found himself saying, turning to look Steve in the eyes.
“What?”
“Insignificant. Unworthy. You’re not. You know that, right?”
Steve stared at Loki with an expression somewhat akin to a small child gazing in wonder at some small, but nonetheless awe-inspiring discovery.
Norns, why did children have to haunt his every thought tonight?
It didn’t look like Steve knew what to say next, so Loki cleared his throat and pushed on awkwardly, “It’s hardly any way to feel on your birthday.”
Steve gave a noncommittal hum at that, and looked back up at the stars. His hand moved to rub subconsciously at the tags around his neck.
Bucky.
A sharp pang of jealousy rushed through him, but he shoved it down, reprimanding himself. Of course he missed him. He had every right to miss his best friend.
“You miss him,” Loki said.
“Yeah . . . “ Steve trailed off. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided not to.
“Did you,” Loki picked his words carefully, “How did you celebrate your birthday before?”
“We didn’t really celebrate all that much, but Bucky would always bake a cake for me,” Steve smiled at the memory, “And every year, when the fireworks went off, he’d make me blow out the candles.”
“Candles?”
Midgardians still used candles?
“Yeah,” Steve explained, “It’s a birthday tradition. A candle for every year. It’s mostly for kids, though.”
Loki hummed noncommittally, even as a plan formed in his mind.
The next morning, Loki woke up early to bake Steve a birthday cake.
Midgard had a great many traditions that he didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to understand it to know that it had been something special to Steve.
He couldn’t tell Steve about Bucky, not yet, but perhaps he could give him this.
The oven timer chimed, and Loki took the cake out and set it on a potholder on the counter.
While it cooled off, Loki took out his phone. He pulled up google and typed in “Birthday candles.” There was a wide variety of options to choose from, so Loki went with what he thought Steve would like most, and summoned 27 red white and blue candles.
Halfway through sticking the candles into the cake, Steve walked into the kitchen.
Loki internally cursed.
He should’ve woken up earlier.
“What’s all this?” Steve asked, all the tiredness in his expression gone in an instant, replaced with one of surprised delight.
“It’s a birthday cake,” Loki answered, as if it wasn’t already obvious, “Tradition.”
He finished setting up the candles, and used magic to light them, a simple flame spell from the tip of his finger.
“We’ll have to forgo the fireworks, though,” Loki continued, “I would create some, but it would be a bit of a fire hazard.”
Steve laughed, glancing eagerly at the cake.
“C-can I?” He asked.
Loki nodded, “It’s your cake, Squirrelheart.”
Steve shot him a playfully annoyed glance a split second before blowing out the candles.