Chapter 32
Apparently neither Steve nor Bucky knew just how in love they were with the other. After Loki had kissed Steve, he’d told Loki how worried he was about how Bucky might react to the idea of a relationship with a man, let alone one with an additional person.
Loki had assured him that, at the very least, he would never turn Steve away.
Loki, on the other hand . . .
He shoved down the sinking feeling of anxiety and sent Bucky a text.
“Steve wants to see you again. Are you ready?”
Bucky responded, “Not really.”
Then:
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Eight minutes later, Bucky appeared in Loki’s room, looking more nervous than he’d ever seen him.
“What the hell?” he asked, directing the question at Loki, “I thought we had a little more time?”
“They found out,” Loki answered simply.
“Is he . . . is he mad?”
“Why would he be mad at you?”
“I’m supposed to be dead. We haven’t seen each other in years.”
“And now that you’re here, he wants to see you again,” Loki said, “If he didn’t want to see you again, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this.”
“Okay,” Bucky drew in a deep breath, “So how are we going to do this?”
“He’s in the living room when you’re ready,” Loki said, then added hesitantly, “Should I—Do you want me to—?”
“Yes,” Bucky cut him off, “Please, come with me. I need you.”
Loki nodded, and followed Bucky when he made for the door.
Bucky let Loki lead him into the living room, where Steve had indeed been waiting, sitting on the farthest couch facing the hallway.
When he saw him, Steve stood up to meet him.
“Buck?” he said, his voice small and uncertain.
Bucky hesitated for a moment, before he smiled and rushed forward, drawing Steve in for a hug.
“Come ‘ere, you Punk.”
After they had separated, the two men stood across from each other, both suddenly uncertain of how to act in the other’s presence, like a rhythm had been thrown off.
Of course, Loki wasn’t sure how they were meant to interact with each other any more than they did, but he had heard Steve talk about dancing.
Bucky claimed that Steve had always been looking for the right partner.
While lying next to Steve one night before they fell asleep, when Loki asked about it, Steve had mumbled that he never needed to look. He did have to wait, though.
There had been so much regret in his voice, as he subconsciously thumbed the dog tags around his neck. The tags that Bucky had insisted they switch for good luck.
They were so obviously in love.
Loki wondered how they could both be so blind, but that was how the saying went, he supposed.
Love is blind.
Well, maybe they could try a different type of dance.
Loki smirked, and tapped his foot on the ground.
From the point he tapped, ice spread across the floor.
Steve shot him a confused look a split second before slipping and falling flat on his face.
Bucky’s reaction was more controlled, but he, too, struggled to keep his balance while Loki laughed. Bucky reached out a hand to help Steve up, but that only succeeded in making them both start struggling for balance again.
They ended up in a heap on the floor. Bucky, who had fallen on top of Steve, looked up at Steve, who blushed furiously.
“Sorry,” Bucky mumbled, scrambling to get off of him.
“Not your fault,” Steve replied breathily, then sternly, “Loki.”
Loki shrugged, “Sorry. Still getting used to the whole “frost giant” thing.”
To be fair, he was still getting used to it. He still wasn’t comfortable enough to lower Odin’s glamour around anyone besides Steve, and even then he didn’t want to lower it for long.
Heck, he’d only shown Bucky his Jotun form once(his reaction had just been to blink and comment “Cool.”).
The ice, though, he had found, had been a useful substitute for his magic in several situations already.
Like this one.
He tapped the floor again, as if he were trying to reverse the ice. “We should go ice-skating sometime, though,” he said flippantly, “You two are naturals.”
He glided over to them, and helped them both get up.
Steve clung to his right arm, while Bucky clung to his left.
“Here, let me help,” Loki took Steve’s hand and gave it to Bucky, and backed away.
“Back in Jotunheim, they had to teach me how to balance on ice,” He steadied them both with a few gentle pushes, and explained, “It’s a little like dancing. Move lightly on your feet and keep a steady pace, the constant momentum keeps you balanced.”
“Sounds like the East Coast Swing,” Bucky mumbled.
Steve closed his eyes, laughing mirthlessly, “I never learned how to dance.”
“I did,” Bucky offered, “I can help you.”
Loki smiled as Bucky moved to hold Steve’s other hand so they were facing each other. He went over to the old record player that they found at the antique store and took out an old song to play.
Music filled the room as Loki sat down on the couch and watched.
Bucky gave little hints and tricks for how to dance, and Steve followed them, if a little clumsily.
They started out slow, tentative, unsure, but as time moved on, they seemed to relax into the rhythm. By the time they made it to the couch for a break, out-of-breath and with stupid grins on their faces, they were chattering like a pair of some kind of Midgardian rodent Loki couldn’t think the name of.
A twinge of jealousy rushed through Loki at their closeness, but before he could dwell on it for too long, a pillow smacked him in the face.
Stunned, and a little hurt, Loki recovered fast enough to see Bucky breathe a sarcastic sigh of relief and complain, “I thought you were supposed to be helping me.”
“I did,” Loki shot back, picking up the pillow Bucky had thrown at him, “Even as we speak, I’m helping you, witless idiots.”
He chucked the pillow back at Bucky.
Chaos ensued.
Bucky lunged back at Loki with the pillow.
Steve grabbed another from the couch across from them to defend him.
Loki ripped the pillow from Bucky’s grip and turned it back on him, only for Bucky to grab a third pillow.
Which just so happened to be the fancy decorative pillow.
A pillow, not made for pillow fights, apparently.
Feathers flew across the room, showering fluffy material everywhere, but no one seemed to notice in the frenzy.
“What the hell is the Winter Soldier doing in my living room?!” Tony’s voice finally broke up the pillow fight.
Bucky dropped the pillow he’d been holding, scratched the back of his neck, and shrugged sheepishly.
“Having a pillow fight?”
From that night on, Bucky spent the weekends at the Avengers’ tower, sleeping on an air mattress in the living room (He could’ve slept in Steve’s bed; he even suggested it, but Steve had gone red and politely declined).
None of the Avengers were upset, or surprised, for some reason, that Steve, Bucky and Loki had decided to try a polyamorous relationship.
“It took you a lot longer than I thought it would,” Tony had shrugged, “I mean, the Winter Soldier was a surprise, but not Loki.”
“It’s Bucky, actually,” Bucky had corrected him.
“It makes sense,” Natasha had hummed, and added quietly, “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t know the Winter Soldier was Bucky when he trained with me.”
Bruce and Clint had both been sitting on the living room couch, and Bruce had groaned before handing a smug-faced Clint a twenty dollar bill.
“I bet that you would start a relationship with Loki within the week,” Clint had explained, “But congrats on finding a third, I guess!”
No one blamed Wanda for holding a grudge, but after hearing about how Hydra had treated Bucky, even Wanda had eventually admitted that she couldn’t be mad with him forever. Even so, she was still working through her grief, often keeping a wary distance and avoiding Bucky in the process.
Bucky became a sort of unofficial Avengers ally virtually overnight, even going so far as to join in on their training sessions on certain days when he felt like it.
It had been one of those days.
Halfway through training, Bucky plucked the Shield off the ground and held it up.
He shook it with a smirk, “Ultimate Frisbee, anyone?”
Steve shot him a glare, but it quickly softened into a laugh.
“Clint, Nat?” Tony said, “What d’ya say? Team?”
Natasha shrugged.
“Sure,” Clint answered, and gestured to Steve, “but isn’t it unfair to have Captain America on your team?”
“I’ll be ref,” Steve offered.
"Maybe Natasha should be ref," Bruce suggested, "You have the baby to worry about, remember?"
Ever since Natasha had told him she was expecting, Bruce had been ecstatic, but he'd also started to constantly worry.
Natasha had been annoyed fairly quickly. She demanded again that Loki tell the rest of the team (they couldn't possibly pull this off), but Loki had cast a glamour on her, much like the one Odin had on him to appear Asgardian. It had cost a lot of seidr, and Loki had felt drained for days afterward, but it wouldn't take very much to maintain, only needing minor adjustments as time passed. "You're gonna regret this eventually," she had sighed.
Currently, she appeared to be around five or six months pregnant, but even so, Natasha didn't let it stop her from keeping up with all of her normal activities.
"I'll be fine," she insisted, "It's just a game."
“Okay, just be careful,” Bruce said, “So it’s me, Bucky, and Loki against you guys?”
Loki nodded; he had no idea how to play, but he could learn.
The concept of it seemed simple enough when Steve explained it. Get the frisbee to the other side of the court to score a point. You couldn’t run with the frisbee once you had it; it must be passed from player to player. First to three goals wins.
Cool. Cool. Easy.
Right?
Wrong.
For one thing, Loki had spent his entire life throwing daggers, not frisbees. The shield felt far too bulky in his hands, and as a result, his throws were clumsy at best.
It did not help that Bucky could not catch a frisbee to save his life, and Bruce couldn’t throw the frisbee without it going out of bounds.
If that wasn’t already bad enough, the team they were up against had apparently been training their entire lives for this game.
They lost the game within ten minutes.
“Rematch?” Bucky wheezed.
“New teams?” Bruce suggested sheepishly.
“Alright,” Steve said, “Nat, you switch teams with Loki.”
This time around, the teams were more fair, and Loki and Bucky had improved.
Somewhat.
When Bucky scored the first goal of the game, he beamed at Steve as he called the new score. 1-0. The smile turned to something akin to teasing when he turned to meet Loki’s gaze.
“Winner gets to give Steve a kiss,” Bucky whispered as he passed Loki.
Loki returned a one-sided smile.
Oh, it was on.
The next time the shield glided into his hands, he shot it across the field to Tony in the end zone to bring the score to 1-1.
Bruce passed the frisbee to Bucky to start the next round, and when Bucky threw it towards Natasha, Loki intercepted it.
He passed it to Clint, and caught it in the end zone when he threw it again.
“1-2,” Steve called.
Bucky leveled Loki with a glare, which he returned with a smug grin.
It disappeared once Natasha scored a goal less than five minutes later.
“2-2!” She cheered.
“Last point!” Steve announced.
Clint started it off, tossing the frisbee to Tony at the halfway point. Tony passed a short pass to Clint, and Clint paused a few yards from the end zone, where Loki waited.
He threw it, and Natasha intercepted it.
She passed it to Bruce, who tossed it to Bucky.
Already, Natasha stood in the end zone, but Bucky passed it on to Bruce again.
Tony ran to intercept it, but he was too late.
Bucky caught the shield in the end zone and waved it triumphantly.
Bruce and Nat gave each other a kiss, and Loki groaned when Bucky and Steve followed suit.
“Don’t worry, Loki,” Bucky teased, patting his arm as he walked past, “You’ll win next time.”