Frost
“Loki?” Steve says gently, brushing a hand along Loki’s jaw.
Fuschite, Steve thinks as Loki’s lashes flutter open. They’ve been Fuschite and Pale Cobalt Green more often lately, and it worries Steve. He tells himself it’s not unusual, that it’s Loki’s vision nowadays more than anything, that it doesn’t mean anything else.
“Here,” he says, picking up Loki’s glasses from his lap.
Loki hums as Steve sets them on his face, still waking up, and Steve pushes a few strands of silvery hair aside gently. Leaning into the touch, Loki’s eyes close again, and Steve rubs his finger along Loki’s cheekbone.
(It’s not the first time he’s thought how papery Loki feels now, like dream dust barely held together.)
“You want to go inside and sleep?” Steve asks.
“No,” Loki murmurs. “No, it’s a nice day. Warm.” He stirs again, pulling away from Steve’s hand, and Steve lets it drop back to Loki’s knee.
Loki’s eyes open, and he blinks lazily at the garden before focusing on Steve.
“We should go on a picnic,” he says.
“Are you sure?” Steve asks. Loki looks mildly annoyed at the question. “Of course you are.” He presses a kiss to Loki’s hands before standing, then helps Loki up. “Where?”
“Do you remember where you took me for my birthday that first year?”
“Of course,” Steve says with a smile. “Do you want something special?”
Loki shrugs, making his way back inside. Steve stays in the backyard a moment longer by the apple tree, looking over the garden. The lilies, he think, look a little ragged, and he makes a note to check them later.
XXXXXX
It’s warm for late fall, warm enough to be mistaken for early in the season. It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and Loki seems pleased by the trip away from the city. He doesn’t slouch or sulk in the car like he did that first time, but his hand still twines in Steve’s while he stares out the window.
(Steve knows so much of Loki’s pleasure is it being somewhere away from people, where no one will look at them oddly.)
“Do you remember,” Loki says idly after a bite of lemon meringue pie (something Loki made, because Loki still insists Steve has no idea what he’s doing even if Steve follows Loki’s notes exactly), “surprising me by bringing me here?”
Steve doesn’t say he’s already told Loki he remembers, that Loki had asked before they left. These days, it doesn’t even make him stiffen, nothing to give away the lapse of the short term. He just wraps his arms around Loki and buries his nose against Loki’s neck.
“I do,” he tells Loki.
Loki sinks back against him with a sigh, eyes closing, resting his arms on Steve’s.
“It was a very lovely gift.”
“I’m glad,” Steve says.
“What does it look like, today?” Loki asks.
Steve tells him. He knows Loki knows the gist, that it’s fall and not mid-spring, that the trees are reds and oranges and golds and starting to be mostly bare now, but those things are true of any autumn. What he says are all the details that Loki doesn’t see because Loki despises wearing his glasses for any length of time.
(Not for the first time he’s grateful that if one of Loki’s senses was going to go, it was his sight, because Loki was and is so focused around sound, and sometimes he almost thinks Loki likes how Steve talks about the world more than being able to see it.)
At some point, Loki dozes off. Steve waits a while to wake him, because he knows that soon it’ll be winter--the first frost is supposed to be soon, from what Loki’s told him--and he knows how much Loki enjoys idle naps in the heat.
That it gives him an excuse to hold Loki, well, it’s not like he really needs one.
XXXXXX
“Thor wants to know if he can come by for dinner.”
Loki pauses playing the piano for a moment, giving Steve a look like Steve should know what Loki thinks of that.
Steve waits, though, because Loki changes his mind on the acceptability of Thor's presence every few hours.
“Oh, fine,” Loki sniffs, “but tell him if he makes it rain I will throw him out myself. It's been lovely today and he’ll only make it damp and miserable.”
Steve smiles, cups Loki’s chin and tugs up, stealing a kiss. Loki leans into it slightly before drawing back, attention turning to whatever he's pulling out of the air.
XXXXXX
"Loki!"
"I am neither deaf nor glass, Thor," Loki complains as Thor hugs him carefully, but he's smiling, blinking and attempting to focus on his brother (Steve is ready to swear he just set Loki's glasses back on his face and wonders where they are now). "And don't you even think about rain."
"Of course not, brother," Thor promises. "Steve, it is good to see you once more."
Steve grins, meeting Thor's embrace.
"Good to have you."
Steve enjoys having Thor to dinner--for all his snark, Loki always seems to take pleasure in his brother's visits, a little of Thor's excess energy managing to rub off and making Loki a little more animated, a little more lightning and a little less hearth fire. Steve loves Loki no matter what, but sometimes he misses how sharp Loki's tongue was, and maybe it's because they're brothers, but Loki picks it back up like an old coat whenever he's exposed to Thor for any length of time. Steve suspects it's the only way Loki knows to talk to Thor.
"We should play a board game," Thor announces after dinner. "I brought one with me!"
"You and your board games," Loki says. "And where did you put it? You weren't carrying anything when you."
"He gave it to me before you came in," Steve says. "The better question is where did you put your glasses?"
Loki looks momentarily guilty. Well, for a second, which is a second longer than usual when Steve asks.
"How do you expect to play if you cannot see?" Thor asks.
"Fine, fine, I'll fetch them. And only one of these silly games," Loki says as he stands, swatting Thor's hand away as his brother reaches to help. "No, I don't need help, I know exactly where I left them, stop hovering Thor, have you turned into one of your rain clouds that you need hover so?"
"Sorry," Thor says, but Loki is not listening, grousing to himself as he leaves the dining room.
"I have tried to keep my emotions in check this year," Thor tells Steve while Steve grabs the board game.
"I know," Steve assures him, pulling out pieces. "Ghost Stories again?"
"He seemed to enjoy it last time. I like the chance to play at fighting by his side once more."
"He does. He talked about it after you left, retelling what he remembered."
"How has he been?" Thor asks softly after a few moments of quiet; listening for Loki, Steve knows.
“Well as he can be. A little more forgetful, enjoying the last bit of warmth. It not raining has helped, so thanks for that.”
Thor nods, swallowing, laying out the last few pieces.
“Of course,” he says. “Has he mentioned--”
Steve shakes his head.
“No. I don’t think he will.”
“No,” Thor agrees and thunder rumbles.
“Thor!” Loki shouts.
“It is not raining!” Thor calls back, forcing himself to grin before leaving Steve at the dining room table. Steve listens as Thor talks to Loki, to Loki’s quiet replies, and waits a few moments.
(He has no idea what he thinks of Thor’s offer of one of Indunn’s apples to Loki nearly two decades ago, no idea why Loki had turned it down, except he thinks he does know. Loki is content, happy, and no matter what Thor might wish and hope, it will begin to tear down the wall Loki has kept firmly in place between himself and Asgard.)
“Steve,” Loki says at the doorway, almost on cue, frown tugging his lips into a tight line, eyes vaguely annoyed. “Where did I place my glasses?”
Steve offers a smile to Loki as he looks up, reassuring to Loki’s tension. This is better, he knows, than normal; normally Loki will entirely forget he was even looking for something if interrupted. It does not change how it distresses Loki to be caught in half-remembrance.
“Here,” Steve says, waving Loki over. He tugs the glasses out of Loki’s pants pocket and settles them on his face in a practiced motion, brushing his fingertips over the tops of Loki’s ears and running them down the back of Loki’s neck, soothing touch to let Loki know This is okay. I love you. Loki relaxes with a chuckle and lopsided grin, blinking at the sudden shift in focus, and while he’s still sorting out being able to see Steve leans in and catches his lips in a kiss.
Loki hums, low and warm and content, relaxing the rest of the way.
“What’s this?” Loki asks when he finally pulls away, noting the game set out on the table. “Oh, this is that one, isn’t it, that Thor brought last time, what was it--”
“Ghost Stories,” Thor says from the door.
“Ah yes. Yes, I remember now. But why did you set it up in here? The living room is far more comfortable.”
“I am glad to see you are still as demanding as ever,” Thor teases and helps Steve gather everything and follow Loki into the living room.
XXXXXX
“Thanks again,” Steve says as he shows Thor out. “Even if he complains, he does like having you over for dinner.”
“It is nothing,” Thor says. “I should be the one to thank you. You are a good man, Steve, and I am eternally grateful that my brother found you. I could never have dreamt a better match for him.”
“You say that every time.”
“And it is no less true.”
Steve shakes his head. He can’t understand the idea of not doing these things for Loki; he loves him, and none of the changes that have happened have made him any less the man he loves. If perhaps Loki needs a little more help, a reminder from time to time, a hand to steady him, someone to find his glasses he always abandons and detail what the world looks like, well, it’s no less than anything Loki would do and has done in the past for Steve.
“Have a good night, Thor,” Steve tells him.
“And you, brother.”
They hug again, and Steve closes the door softly, padding back into the living room. Loki is where Steve left him on the couch, a knit blanket over his shoulders, dozing. Steve scoops him into his arms, shushing Loki when Loki stirs a little.
(He doesn’t think about how light Loki is.)
“Not a maiden,” Loki mumbles, rubbing his face against Steve’s chest to knock his glasses off. They rest on his stomach as Steve carries him to bed, and Steve’s grateful--last time, he nearly stepped on them when they fell in the floor. Loki wouldn’t consider it a loss right up until he needed to read something, but then Steve knows he’d never hear the end of it.
“I know,” Steve tells him, but Loki is already asleep again.
It’s not terribly difficult to change Loki without fully waking him, not anymore, and once he’s settled in bed, Steve trades out for his own pajama bottoms before slipping into bed (Loki enjoys the feel of skin, the heat of it, and once Steve realized--because of course Loki didn’t tell him that, too much ache from when Loki first struggled with aging and Steve with not--he started finding little excuses and reasons to indulge Loki’s love). Loki presses into his side and Steve wraps an arm around him, burying his face in Loki’s hair before drifting to sleep.
XXXXXX
“Steve,” Loki slurs sleepily. “Steve.”
Steve rubs his face against the pillow, tightening his grip on Loki.
“Steve, wake up,” Loki says, insistent, a little less asleep, and the hint of urgency in his voice makes Steve start awake the rest of the way.
“Loki? What’s wrong, love?” Steve asks, realizing Loki has twisted around, is facing him, eyes heavy-lidded.
Loki grabs hold of Steve’s neck, tugs him down, and kisses Steve. There’s heat to it, passion and fire and hint of a bite; Loki kisses him like they’re both in their twenties again, everything all edges and and breathless falls as they stumbled, and it leaves Steve dizzy when Loki pushes him back. His thumb strokes along Steve’s cheekbone as Steve stares at him, utterly bewildered.
“Loki?”
“I love you,” Loki tells him. “That’s all. I love you.”
“And I love you,” Steve says, rubbing Loki’s arm. “Is everything okay, love?”
“Yes,” Loki says with a smile as he curls closer to Steve, eyes closing. “It is.”
Steve swallows, uncertain, confused, but pulls the blankets closer around them both because he knows how Loki loves blanket warmth mixing with skin heat. Loki feels fine in his arms, breath already evening out again. No tremble, no fever, no flutter pulse, nothing unusual, and Loki doesn’t lie about feeling unwell or pain.
The brush of Loki’s breath against his chest is soothing, and eventually he falls asleep again. Lighter, though. Just in case.
XXXXXX
Steve isn’t sure what wakes him the second time. It can’t have been long--perhaps an hour, maybe two. It’s quiet--only a few birds awake, the weird spot when there’s so little traffic outside it might not exist. But there’s something off, and he doesn’t have the ear to place noise the way Loki does.
He runs a hand through Loki’s hair, about to settle down again, when he looks down and realizes he should be able to feel Loki’s breath.
“Loki?” he says, voice tight in his chest, heart twisting. Then louder, “Loki.”
He shakes Loki’s shoulder gently, but Loki doesn’t stir.
“Loki, love, come on,” Steve says, fumbling, stroking Loki’s hair, “wake up, love.”
He chokes on a sob, hands unsteady, rubbing Loki’s arm, other feeling for a breath, a pulse, something.
“Loki,” he sobs. “Loki, love, wake up, please, love, Loki, Loki, please, please, please love, wake up, come on, wake up, it’s morning, love, wake up, please.”