Thank you for giving my little (not-so-little) one shot a chance! I have been interested in some sort of brotherhood between Thor and Steve since they're sort of on the same boat in regards to trying to understand the twenty-first century United States, and thus a story came out of it. I'm sorry if I have any inaccuracies in regards to Steve; everything I know about him I learned from fanfiction. Thank you and enjoy~

A moment of peace for the Avengers was like a dash of saffron on a dish—rare, priceless, and to be savored. Of course, when Steve made that comparison, Tony gave a snort that signified he clearly did not understand, having a whole bottle of saffron in each of his kitchens in the Stark Tower and two more stocks being shipped this very moment to his home in Malibu, so Steve had to improvise another. A moment of peace for the Avengers was like a nap for an insomniac, or a gray cloud in the Gobi desert, and he could have kept going had Tony not promptly retorted for him to shut up and take his poetry outside so Steve wouldn't waste his precious free time.

It wasn't hard to oblige; Tony's idea of free time was making something explode in his lab with Bruce or binge on wine, women, and song, so Steve made a quick getaway to the lobby of Stark Tower. Natasha and Clint weren't so lucky and were up to their necks with SHIELD assignments. Thor, on the other hand, was pacing aimlessly by the elevators; he evidently was being shoved out as well. They stood side by side for a moment, watching the elegant recklessness of New York City through the glass spinning doors, before sharing a glance that said, Well, why not? and they departed together. And thus tradition began.

The first time they had a peaceful day off, the sun was bedazzling and goaded them to Central Park. Thor hadn't seen it in its entirety, considering the last several times he ventured there was to tackle both Steve and Tony and to send his shackled brother back to Asgard, and Steve hadn't been there since—frankly—the forties. The cobblestoned paths were streaming with joggers, leashed dogs (and the occasional leashed child), and baby carriages coming from all directions, and Steve was very glad that he and Thor were nearly unrecognizable without their world-saving attire. Casualness was perfect for anonymity.

"You know," said Steve, narrowly dodging a skateboarder, "when I was a kid, this place used to be so run-down."

"Truly?" said Thor, watching an Ultimate Frisbee game commence in one of the fields. The plastic Frisbee uncannily resembled Captain America's shield.

"Yep," said Steve. "Can you imagine? People hardly ever came here for fun like this. Well—until around the thirties and they started cleaning this place up for good. Used to be a Hooverville, too. I can barely recognize the place."

"What is a Hooverville?" said Thor.

"Oh—right, it's a place where a lot of people lived during the Depression. Er—that's when the country has a really bad economy and lots of people lost money and couldn't stay in their homes," said Steve. "I mean, that place over there? That huge lawn, with the turtle pond? Filled with all these tiny shacks and people just trying to survive."

Thor squinted as if he could focus his vision past time, decades before now to envision the dilapidated state of Central Park. "How long ago was this?"

"About eighty years ago, maybe?" said Steve. He tried not to count back using his birth year; it left a rather unsettling aftertaste once he finished the math.

"You Midgardians are so susceptible to change," said Thor, his voice low with a tinge of awe. "In one era, you would ride horses and battle with swords, and in the era right after that you would manipulate lightning and metal to your will."

"You mean electricity? Yeah," said Steve with a grin. "Trust me, what you see today is nothing like it was back in the day. All those gadgets Stark makes in his lab…I can never get my boots on about that."

"Don't tell me that another eighty years from now, your world will yet again change its ways into something entirely unrecognizable," said Thor.

"It's going to happen," said Steve. He gave a tired laugh. "And once we all get used to that, there will be something new to surprise us."

There was a jangle of a bicycle bell behind them. Steve looked over his shoulder before quickly jerking Thor out of the way as two cyclists wheeled by. Thor gaped at them as they passed as if he couldn't tell if he thought them a miracle or a freak of nature.

"How long did it take for your people to give up real horses for metal ones?" he said, his blue eyes round like coins.

"Eh, it took us a while," said Steve, unable to hide a smile. "Why? Is eighty years a short time for you uh, you Asgardians?"

"A babe would only just learn how to walk in that time," said Thor. "Mother said I took a mere seventy years to walk—Loki took longer."

Steve tried to imagine a bearded baby Thor, as long as a loaf of bread, wobbling on pudgy feet for eighty years, and he couldn't help but laugh at the thought.

"That's crazy," said Steve. "Eighty years? Most people would have already lived their entire lives in that time span."

"Do they really?" said Thor with a concerned frown.

"Eighty years is already considered a long life," said Steve.

Thor was quiet for a moment, letting the shouts of children and the dim boombox in the distance fill the silence. "You humans have such brief lives," he said.

"Thanks for rubbing it in," Steve said with a smile, but his good-natured humor sapped off when he realized how unhappy Thor looked. "What's the matter?"

"It is nothing," said Thor, quickening his pace.

"Thor, you're practically a mood ring. I can tell something's the matter," said Steve, catching up easily. "Is something bothering you?"

"I do not like to think that in a matter of decades I would think it just a bit of time passing, and all my friends here are gone," said Thor.

Steve pursed his lips. He knew all too well what Thor would inevitably face eight decades down the line from now, and an unsettling ache pulsed in his chest at the thought of it. Where he and Bruce would be eighty years from now, Super-Serum and radiation or not, he wasn't too certain, but it was only painfully obvious that Tony would rust in time even if his suit did not, and that Natasha and Clint would fade from top agents of SHIELD to another faceless, bodiless name, until even that was forgotten.

Thor must have caught on as well because he ducked his head shamefacedly. "I was tactless," he said.

"No, it's fine," said Steve. And it was the truth. To understand that his days with Peggy and Bucky were long gone and unsalvageable was always a twinge of pain, like an unexpected electric shock after rubbing his socks on wool for too long, but one could not mourn the loss of a sunrise. "I mean, I got to meet you, right? And Bruce, and Natasha, and I guess Tony, and everyone else. You might not always like Earth very much, but there's always a batch of nice people to be friends with whenever you come around. You know, even after us."

Thor chuckled, but his eyes still shone with an uncertain sadness. "They would not be all of you, though," said Thor. "Just because I am immortal does not mean I can so easily replace you all. It only means I have a very long, long time to miss all my friends."

His eyes wandered to a plaque on the ground. It was a circular mosaic, reminding Steve of a black and white sun, and people all around them seemed to avoid stepping upon its face as if it were a grave.

"'Imagine,'" Thor read aloud the word etched in the middle. "What is the meaning of this, son of Rogers? Is this a puzzle?"

"I don't really understand it myself," Steve said. "Clint said it was a reference about a Beatles' song or something, but I don't know anything more about that either."

"You Midgardians have strange pleasures if you commemorate the song of insects," said Thor.

"Beats me, it was after my time," said Steve. "Apparently it was all the rage—iconic, even—and considered history nowadays, but it was after my time and I still don't know anything about it." Some tourists were snapping photos of the singular word on the ground, evidently more excited about it than Steve could imagine. He must have missed out if these people of all ages and backgrounds seemed to salvage a deeper, personal meaning from several tiles.

"Are there parks on Asgard?" he asked.

"It is not needed," said Thor. "On the outskirts of the kingdom are great plains, vast woods and shores that are at the disposal for the people. Though," he risked a nostalgic smile, "my mother keeps a garden to herself in the castle grounds. I used to care not a second for it, but now I see why she frequents it so much. It has a calming effect, especially during difficult times." His smile saddened, as if it hurt. "She had to use it quite often lately. What is that piece of work?"

Steve looked up to see what Thor meant. A little way ahead was the black sculpture of voluminous mushrooms topped with a young girl and a distressed rabbit with a pocket watch. A rabbit out of time. He couldn't help but give a crooked smile at the thought.

"Monument for Lewis Carroll," he said, stepping closer to read the plaque. "You know, the writer of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?" He turned back to meet Thor's look of utter bemusement. "You never read it?"

"I have never met this young girl on Midgard before," said Thor, leaning closer to peer at the statue's face. Children were pulling themselves next to the frozen girl as their parents ushered them to smile wide while pictures snapped in different directions, unaware that the Norse god of thunder was photo-bombing their efforts.

"She's from a story. A fiction book," said Steve, gently tugging at Thor's sleeve to pull him out of the cameras' view. "Let me tell you about it. Once upon a time, a little girl named Alice was listening to her older sister read a book with no pictures or conversations in it, and she thought, `What is the use of a book, without pictures or conversation?' And as she thought this, she saw a rabbit with a pocket watch at its waistcoat…"

The second time Steve and Thor were able to take a day off together, the Avengers had just rose victoriously from defeating the forces of a certain doctor of doom. The fight had been so strenuous and the victory so sweet that Tony had ordered Steve and Thor to venture into the nearest FAO Schwarz and if there weren't already selling newest edition of Avengers toys, accessories, and merchandise, he was having Stark Industries buy the entire business.

It wasn't exactly the wisest thing to do, sending into a mission the two very Avengers that had the least idea of what they were doing in twenty-first century New York City. After getting hopelessly lost on the subway for about an hour (when the train came roaring out of the dark tunnel underground, Steve had to bodily pin Thor to the wall to keep him from leaping into the tracks and 'defeating the unruly and vile metal basilisk') the two of them finally emerged from the metro to the colossal toy store that rose as a shining beacon to all youthful hearts and cravings.

"What is this madness?" Thor said, his jaw dropping at the gaudy decorations and the sheer amount of toys in the store. "Have we stumbled upon outrageous fortune?"

"It's the best toy store in the world," Steve said, not trying to hide the naïve excitement in his voice. Even during his childhood magnificence and grandness was shining from every inch of this store, but now its glamour had multiplied by tenfold. "Gee, I remember when I was a kid I used to press my nose against the glass windows just to take a good look at the place. This is unbelievable."

Thor seemed less impressed and more befuddled than Steve was. He reached out and squeezed a plush dog on the stuffed animal shelf.

"Careful, don't touch it!" said Steve. He lowered his voice, eyes darting side to side to make sure no workers were around. "What if we can't afford it?"

Thor let out a booming laugh. "Nonsense, Son of Rogers! If we cannot afford it, then surely the man of Iron will be happy to pay for us. Besides, I am merely admiring this creature's fur." He rubbed the dog's floppy ear between his thumb and finger. "But I'm afraid this store is not very efficient."

"What? What do you mean?" Steve said, his eyes bugging out at the sight of the ceiling lit up with a thousand multicolored lights, flashing stars down upon them.

"Look at this dull creature," said Thor, lifting the floppy dog from the shelf. It looked like a handkerchief in Thor's massive hands. "It is no longer alive. What can one do with a dead animal companion?"

"No longer…? No, no, no, these were never alive. They're toys," said Steve. "You—er—you know what a toy is, don't you?"

"Of course I do," said Thor, affronted. "In Asgard, we have playthings such as dolls, riding stick-horses, rolling hoops, and best of all, wooden swords."

"Well, here on Earth, these are called stuffed animals," said Steve. "People sort of play them like dolls, you see, like—leaping lizards! Is that Peter Rabbit?" Steve pulled a velvety stuffed rabbit from its nest of its fellow mates, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. "My Ma once made one for me when I was five, out of her own scraps, 'cept someone tore his head off later…but see? You can play with it like you can play with dolls." In a terrible falsetto, he spoke as he waved the rabbits paws in Thor's face. "Hey there, Thor! My name is Peter Rabbit! Want to be my friend?"

"But why would one play with animals that are not alive?" said Thor, his confusion evidently unsatisfied.

"Well, sometimes animals are kind of hard to take care of," said Steve.

"That is like eating stones shaped as food because you have none," said Thor, shaking his head. "I do not understand your form of entertainment, children or not."

Steve decided not to inform Thor that there was a plastic food and kitchen section a little ways off from them. Luckily, Thor was immediately distracted by something more eye-catching.

"Son of Rogers, come quickly!" He rushed forward, trying not to bowl over children fawning over the Lego sets. Steve followed, weaving his way through the colorful stands packed to the rim with toys he would have never imagined before. Just standing in the store, something he never dared to do in his youth in fear that his impoverished stature and hand-me-down clothes would send him flying out the door immediately, made his past self feel as rich as a king.

"What is it?" said Steve, catching up with Thor at the action figure shelves.

Thor lifted up a box, an incredibly wide smile on his face. "They have miniature versions of me. See here, there is you in your warrior attire."

Steve felt his cheeks warm when he saw his plastic version line an entire shelf. He felt like a stranger looking upon a completely separate identity; there was no way that he, Steve Rogers, had anything to do with the plastic, nine-inch action figure that children were pleading their mothers and fathers to buy for them.

"They do not seem to have captured my hair very accurately," said Thor, bringing his toy counterpart closer to his eyes to inspect carefully. "And my eyes do not seem to be in center. But nevertheless, you Midgardians have done a remarkable job."

"I'm going to go look for the piano floor mat," said Steve, trying to back away from the Avengers merchandise. It was far too surreal, if not awkward, to see racks upon racks of his face and shield flashing at every direction. Seeing the name 'Captain America' on newspaper headlines and on the television was enough to make him blush already. He had no idea how Tony could stand it with Stark Industries, if not bask in it.

"Who is this man of spiders that they sell so many toys of?" asked Thor, examining a red and blue-clad action figure.

"No idea," said Steve.

"I wonder if the children of Asgard would play with these," said Thor. "When I was young, I had little time to play."

"Did you?" said Steve. "I would think someone who lived as long as you would have some time to spare for fun."

"Ah, perhaps if I were not a prince," said Thor, setting the boxed figure back onto the shelf. "But it was no loss to me. Not really. I would train vigorously in my skills of fighting, and partake in many hours of studies. I loved to train, with all of the hands in Father's weaponry, and would spar with anyone willing and capable."

"All work and no play?" said Steve.

"Well, of course, every now and then Loki and I would sneak away from our responsibilities," said Thor with a fond smile. "We would play tricks on Father, or my friends the Warriors Three. Or sometimes we would take our horses for a ride and just bask in freedom. He was my greatest companion."

It was awkward, to say the least, to picture a child Thor, much less a child Loki, and even less a Thor and Loki that got along tolerably. But all it took was to see the look of past longing in Thor's face for Steve to know that Thor wasn't exaggerating, yet the golden days had long passed for the golden prince.

"What sort of tricks?" Steve asked.

Thor laughed. "Nothing very terrible. Loki is the god of mischief, after all…not evil. There were times he would change my father's helmet to a lacy bonnet in the middle of a banquet, or this one time he multiplied the ingredients in the cook's kitchens to make a mountain of honeyed buns instead of just a platter." He sighed at the almost lost memory. "We always expected pranks from him, and yet they always catch us by surprise. I guess the only thing we could know about him was that he was unpredictable."

Steve nodded without understanding. As callous as he knew it seemed, hearing about Loki as an innocent prankster was more or less like learning that Mengele had a fondness for Mickey Mouse, or Atilla the Hun enjoyed doting on his grandchildren, regardless of whether or not they were true. Not a shocking surprise, but one that left him thinking, 'Oh,' and he would wonder why he didn't expect it because it was all so realistic—they were people, after all—but a surprise nonetheless. Like Loki himself.

"What sort of childhood enjoyments did you have, Son or Rogers?" said Thor.

"Me?" said Steve with a small smile. "Nothing like this. I didn't—well, I can't say I played with other children a lot. I drew a lot, mostly. That's what I loved doing. I would draw little get well cards to my Ma when she got ill, and to my teachers when they helped me out, and to our elderly neighbors because they were nice to me. But then most of the time I was working—see, my dad died pretty early, and my Ma was sickly, so when I was older I had to do everything I can to make sure we had bread on the table. And it wasn't bad; I'd find odd jobs at the parks or the occasional soda fountain and we pulled through." He laughed abashedly, rubbing the back of his neck. "This probably sounds really silly to you, but—well, nowadays, when the team goes out to eat, or shopping for clothes, or even out for the movies, it still shocks me that we can afford to do all those things. I feel like I'm being completely spoiled, but nowadays that's considered normal."

Thor clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Perhaps in the end, although you may or may not have had the choice, you had the beginning to a better path."

"What?" said Steve. What would Thor, the man who grew up in regality, want anything to do with struggling to make ends meet?

"I think you are a great deal wise," said Thor. He let his hand fall from Steve's shoulder and he heaved a heavy exhale. "Living in near perpetual luxury, one forgets to treasure what they have."

Steve was about to ask what Thor meant before Thor gave a great shout that sent many people jumping out of their skins. Before Steve could ask what was wrong, Thor bounded up the escalators, nearly running over a shopping cart or five along the way. Steve immediately bolted towards him, frantically expecting another of Doctor Doom's cyborgs running amok or something equally dangerous. And to think he left without his shield! Perhaps those plastic Frisbees that looked like it would have to do.

But instead of facing any instrument of doom or destruction, Thor darted towards the extended stuffed animal section. Steve was utterly confused until he saw what the matter was, and would have let out a laugh if Thor wasn't trying to brandish a Nerf sword to attack.

"Thor, stop!" said Steve, steadying Thor's wrist before he could fling the foam sword anywhere. Several kids shrieked and dived out of the way.

"How can I stop when there is a mighty beast ready to ravage the Midgardians?" Thor said. "Stand back, Son of Rogers—this is a beast of another realm, and I will have the best chance to slay it."

"And the Chitauri weren't?" said Steve. "Thor, what did I tell you about stuffed animals?"

"This is no stuffed animal. It is a man-eating dragon," said Thor, pointing to the enormous plush dragon looming over the first floor. "It has come to destroy the realm that I love."

"Thor, it's a toy! If it was real, do you think it wouldn't have flown away by now?" said Steve. Somewhere a toddler was crying.

"It is waiting for its prey, like a bilgesnipe waiting to feast upon falcons," said Thor.

"Thor—look." Steve carefully pried the Nerf sword out of Thor's hand. He approached the plush dragon on its stand (Thor let out a cry of horror) and gently poked its hind leg with the blunt end. "See? It's not alive. It's a toy."

"Do you speak the truth?" Thor came beside Steve and took back the foam sword, poking the dragon's wing. Poke. Poke poke. Poke poke poke.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," said Steve as the look on Thor's face became progressively frustrated as he tried to awaken the dragon's plush senses. "Just a toy. Like the dog, and the Peter Rabbit. There aren't such things as dragons."

"Aren't such things as dragons?" Thor bellowed. "Let me tell you, son of Rogers, when my brother and I faced the terrible venomous dragon—"

The story did not finish until long after they returned to Stark Tower, and after Tony demanded that they bought him an Iron man cardboard cutout.

The third time Steve and Thor hung out on a day of their furlough didn't come until a lot later. SHIELD was dragging them right, left, and center, and the days of uncanny peace Thor would return to Asgard or call upon Jane Foster in the southwest region. Asgard business kept him from Earth for a while; something about Loki and Chitauri, but Steve couldn't catch the details fast enough before Thor whisked away in a flash of light.

In the end, both were desperately tired and they stumbled along together to a local coffee shop in the Big Apple. It was ten in the evening and caffeine was probably the worst idea at this hour, but New York City had twenty-four hour coffee shops for a reason. Sleep eluded the supersoldier and the Norse god as much as energy did.

The lattes were comforting for the late October chill, and the hearty slice of pound cake rejuvenated their energy a little more. Even at ten at night the coffee shop was far from deserted, with late-night patrons of the arts and teenagers taking refuge in the frothy coffee. The city lights still beamed upon the late hour, and Steve could almost believe that the city was happy to see them, regardless of their fame or their strengths—smiling nonetheless. Still, it was rather quiet, with only the sounds of murmured conversations and the clink of porcelain cups on plates to fill their ears.

"This coffee, it pleases me," said Thor, wiping the bubbled moustache on his upper lip with a napkin.

"We're not going to get any sleep tonight," quipped Steve. "That is—I don't know if caffeine works on you or not."

"I did not notice any significant difference upon drinking this, but the taste is more than acceptable," Thor said into his cup. "It reminds me of the drink I had with Jane."

"How is she doing, by the way?" said Steve. "You just visited her, didn't you?"

Thor nodded as he brushed the crumbs of his already devoured pound cake to the edge of his plate with his fork. "She is well. Very busy, though, and will not be able to see me often." He rested his chin in his hands. "I missed her dearly, and even though I was able to see her I feel like my heartache has not been quelled."

"You really like her, don't you?" Steve said, not bothering to hide a grin.

"Like? Is that what you Midgardians call it?" said Thor. "I use 'like' when I refer to these coffee drinks, or to sparring on a sunny day. No—I care for her more greatly than I care for honor or riches. I yearn to be with her. I want to hold her as she falls asleep. I want to—"

"Are all lovers on Asgard this flowery?" Steve said with a laugh. Thor bristled indignantly.

"It is a great art and effort," said Thor.

"Well, what sort of things did you do with her together this past weekend?" said Steve, taking a bite of pound cake.

"She took me horseback riding," said Thor. "It was a relief; for a moment I thought you Midgardians had no proper horses for riding."

"You don't give Earth enough credit," said Steve. "Have you thought of marrying her?"

Thor smiled. "I will not deny that the idea has come across my mind, but I think a little more time should pass by before I consider it deeply."

"What are Asgardian weddings like?" said Steve.

"With all your questions, it would be better if I just take you to Asgard for you to find out," said Thor with a chuckle. "My father would no doubt love to meet you. I have shared stories of all of you to my mother and father, and they consider you all to be noble warriors."

"Shucks, said Steve. "That's too much of them. We're just doing what we need to do."

"You are very modest, son of Rogers," said Thor.

"I wouldn't think humans were even allowed into Asgard," said Steve. "Are you ever going to bring Jane there?"

"Humans are allowed if they marry an AEsir, and thus have a taste of Idunn's apples," said Thor. "I would be greatly honored to bring Jane there, but that is for her to want and decide. Have you ever fallen in love, son of Rogers?"

Steve nearly choked on his coffee in mid-sip. Wiping his mouth with his napkin he stammered his way through. "Well, there was this one woman—back during my war days—her name was Peggy Carter. She was…she was really great."

"Is she?" Thor said with a devilish wink in his eye. Steve offered a smile.

"She was very strong," he said. "Very determined, I remember…but she was so accepting of me. See—most people then, before I became the Captain…well, they didn't like me so much. I was really weak, and had all these kind of health problems. I wasn't a fighter at all, so I got pushed around a lot. But she wasn't like that to me. She had confidence in me, and I cared for her. A lot."

"What happened in the end?" asked Thor.

Steve sighed. "I never made it to our date. Got frozen instead. I tried searching her up after I came to but she was already gone by then." He ran a hand through his hair. "Can't do much about it anymore."

A bang of the coffee shop door made the both of them jump; Steve spilled some coffee onto his lap in surprise. The bell at the top of the door nearly flew off from the impact. Immediately the other customers of the coffee shop muttered in surprise at the newcomer.

"There you two are!" Tony Stark strode down the booths to Steve and Thor with such an authoritative manner as if he was parting the Red Sea. Steve groaned and bent low to dab the coffee off his pants. "I've been trying to call you and you never picked up. What's wrong with you?"

"You tried to call the two people that can't use a cell phone to save their lives?" Steve said.

"You'd think after a couple of months of returning to the living you'd be a little well-rounded with my products." He pulled a chair up from another table and sat down at their booth. "So this is where you two have your little play dates? And you didn't invite me?"

"Nay, we have ventured through the Central Park and the toy emporium of son of Schwarz," said Thor with an enthusiastic nod. "Had we known that you like to partake in more than just science and drunken festivities we would have taken you along."

"Hey. Those drunken festivities happen to be what I like to call business parties," said Tony. "Why didn't you tell me you were bored stiff? I could have hooked you up with something fun if you were that desperate."

"This kind of stuff is fun," Steve said.

"Buying coffee that tastes like tree piss, eating a sponge…yeah, you're having the time of your life."

"Were you trying to call us so you could make fun of us?"

"What? Oh, right," said Tony. "Fury's calling us in."

"At eleven at night?" said Steve.

"Yeah—super duper important. Something about an overreacting power source of some alien thingie. Sounds like it's more up your alley, Point Break."

"Should you really be talking about this so loudly?" said Steve, muttering into his cup to hide his face. Tony seemed oblivious of the gaping bystanders all around them, still digesting the fact that Tony Stark, Captain America, and the Norse god of thunder were munching on pound cake under the same roof as they were.

"I'll start talking louder if you don't move this instant," said Tony, his voice already reaching high levels with every word.

"Okay, okay," said Steve, quickly leaving money on the table. "I thought we were on a break, for goodness' sake."

"Please. Any vacation time we have is just whatever time we can sneak off from Fury before he catches us and whips us," said Tony. He tugged at Thor's arm. "Come on, big guy. I'm not having Fury bombarding my tower with any more wake-up calls because you guys are slugging along."

Thor and Steve half-heartedly followed Tony out of the coffee shop, leaving the half-full cups of coffee and half-remembered memories behind.

Thor returned to Asgard shortly afterward, and did not reappear for a long time. It wasn't unexpected; he was the crown prince of Asgard, after all, and had two realms to take care of. By the time he returned to New York City, it was almost New Year's Eve and blistering cold. Snow was gray and thick against the curb and scarves became bodily attached to every person that stepped outside. Tony couldn't shove Steve out of his tower no matter what he tried. The supersoldier would spend most of his free time in Tony's gym, abusing punching bags. SHIELD had been relatively quiet this winter and Steve let himself slip into that dangerously tempting state of contentment.

That was, until Thor returned. While the rest of the team were well-rested and in a relatively festive mood for the winter holidays, Thor was grave and silent. It disturbed everyone greatly; the Thor they knew and loved would have been curiously fascinated by the Midgardian traditions, trying to understand the meaning behind Christmas carols and indulging in the peppermint and gingerbread seasonal Pop Tarts at their local grocery store. But Thor was undeniably distressed, and it weighed upon all their hearts like a stone tied to a drowning person's ankle.

Steve finally asked Thor to take a walk with him, away from the business of Stark Tower and the entire foreignness of it all. Thor silently took his offer and they stepped out into the streets of Manhattan, bundled in thick fur coats and winter scarves that Natasha had given them for the holidays. Snow did not fall but it still collected in heaps at their feet, slushy and muddied from so many boots walking across it.

"How are you feeling?" asked Steve.

Thor gave Steve a brief smile. "I am still weary from my journey home. I apologize; I think I have concerned the others."

"No—no, don't be," said Steve. "We worry because we care about you, and we like caring about you. It's just that you aren't exactly—well—happy."

Thor pulled his scarf tighter against his chin as a gust of sharp wind blew against them, nipping the tips of their ears.

"I have been rather overwhelmed," said Thor. He was undoubtedly the worst liar in the universe. "But it is of personal matters."

"I can listen if you'd like," said Steve.

"Let us walk," said Thor. "I haven't just walked in a long while."

Steve opened his mouth, but settled with silence. He and Thor walked side by side, aiming for nowhere and seeing no one. Their feet took them to where they were drawn. Green man on sign, they can cross. Red hand, stay still and let their thoughts build mountains in their mind until an avalanche commenced.

"Do you humans face this winter every year?" asked Thor.

"Yeah," said Steve. "Why, does Asgard have no change of seasons?"

Thor shook his head. "The only time we AEsir would ever see snow would be if we stepped upon Jotunheim." At the mention of the other realm (which Steve had no idea about), his voice faltered and he fixed his blue gaze onto an indefinable point before them, as if he could force out all other thoughts and worries aside if he filled his mind with only that one unreachable, unobtainable thing.

"Where do your woodland critters go when the snow falls?" said Thor. "Like the ducks in the lake at your Central Park?"

"Beats me," said Steve. "I guess they fly south, wouldn't they?"

Thor nodded, though he would have no idea if it were true or not.

"There was this one time," said Thor, "when Loki took the water from our goblets during dinner and fashioned beautiful swans of ice from them. They flew over our heads and as they melted rained snowflakes in our hair. Mother thought it amusing, but Father was distraught by this magic. He blasted the swans with Gugnir and demanded that Loki stop playing tricks in public—and to not use ice magic."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat before the cold could blister his reddening knuckles. "It wasn't until much later—until now—that I realized he could manipulate ice because of his Jotun heritage. I never suspected it, even though the greatest of sorcerers could not bend ice to their will. I never would have thought that a Frost Giant, whom we all thought of as brutal and monstrous, could create something so beautiful."

Steve remained silent. Thor craned his neck to face the gray clouds above their heads.

"Not a day goes by without me wondering if only I hadn't been so ignorant or so arrogant that perhaps I could have saved him," Thor said so quietly that Steve almost couldn't hear. "Maybe I could have comforted him, when he learned the truth and so wrongly thought himself a monster. Maybe I could have held him."

And Steve realized that no matter how many days off they had, no matter how many trips down Fifth Avenue or stops at the Lego store, there were some things that he could never understand about Thor. He could never relate to the heartache an immortal was cursed to have, or live long enough to see eternity end, or understand that even a Norse god was powerless when the ones he loved lost themselves in a void. As time crumbled Steve saw the golden godly walls that Thor built around him to peel away and reveal that they were gilded all along, and there was a heartache that even immortal beings were heir to. It was heartbreaking, really, to realize that nothing was immune to sorrow.

"What happened to him, Thor?" Steve asked softly.

Thor swallowed and closed his eyes. He knew Steve did not mean in recent events. "He once told me, before he let himself fall from the Bifröst, that he never wanted a throne. Only to be my equal. And I had failed him in that." Thor sighed, his breath forming clouds at his lips. "When I found out he was alive, I thought to be overjoyed—that I could redeem myself in his eyes, and shed this grief. But now I still grieve, and even more. Is it possible for someone to be far from saving?"

"No," said Steve without even realizing it. Thor turned desperately to Steve. "It's never too late for anything. There's always a second chance—and a third, and a fourth, a bunch of chances." He pursed his chapped lips and returned the gaze. "Thor…is he all right? Loki?"

Thor pressed his lips into a thin line. "The Chitauri have returned him," he said, and his voice was as brittle and cold as the winter. "My brother…he would not be the same."

Thor did not have to say it, but Steve knew that somewhere in that sentence Thor meant if he would wake up again. Thor truly did wear his heart and thoughts on his sleeve. A pang hit Steve in the stomach and out of somewhere Bucky came to his mind.

"The Asgardians say that he got what he deserved," said Thor, his voice hollow. "But how can they say that, when my little brother has suffered more than I can ever know? When I had failed to be there for him when he needed me most? But I'm not allowed to feel this—who would want a king who readily gives their mercy to their criminals?"

Sometimes it took time for anyone to remember that Thor was a man trying to make it through life before he was a king. The king of hearts must die. Long live the king.

"I'm sorry, Thor," Steve said, and he meant it. He saw Rockefeller Center just a little ways ahead of them and desperately grabbed at straws. "Have you—uh, have you ever went ice skating before?"

"What is that?" said Thor.

"It's when you put skates on your feet and then slide around the ice," said Steve. "Come on, try it out. It's one of the best parts about winter."

Thor frowned but obediently followed Steve to the Rockefeller Center. The ice was already teeming with colorfully coated people skidding across the ice, some making tentative laps while others unashamedly spun in figure eights in the middle. When Thor caught a sight of it all, he hung back apprehensively.

"What sort of activity is this?" he said.

"It's a sport," said Steve. "Come on. It takes quite a bit of physical prowess to manage it."

At the sound of the challenge, Thor immediately put on his face of determination and followed Steve to the rink. Steve rented two pairs of skates from the booth (it took a while to find a size that could accommodate Thor's feet because good grief, his feet were large) and taught Thor how to lace them tightly.

"Don't try to go super fast at your first time," he said. "Slow and steady wins the rest. When you fall—"

"I will not be so clumsy," Thor said with a huff. Steve cracked a smile and gave an innocent shrug.

"Just trying to give you some pointers," he said, hobbling to the rink. Thor rose to his feet, swaying slightly from being unused to balancing himself on two blades, but he followed Steve into the ice. Steve pushed off across the ice smoothly enough, slipping just a mite on the ice. He was just about to make his way down the side of the rink when Thor toppled immediately after he set his foot on the ice, a heap of tangled limbs upon the glassy sheen.

"Great Scott!" Steve immediately backtracked and helped Thor back onto his feet, keeping a grip on the edge. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" Thor said, a little flustered. "I just—I did not expect the ice to be so slick."

"Well, that's ice for you," said Steve, a twitch of a smile on his lips. "You sure you can handle it, old sport?"

"Of course," Thor said with a lofty huff.

"Then you better catch up." With that, Steve took off again, gliding freely across the ice. Thor puffed his cheeks in concentration as he slowly let go of the edge, trying to walk on the ice like a penguin. His arms were held aloft to try to keep his balance and were in immediate danger of any unsuspecting skater coming too close to his flailing hands. He might have made it about three feet before falling flat on his face again. Steve chuckled and shook his head, returning to Thor's side.

"Here, watch me," he said after he pulled Thor back up. He slowly demonstrated the sliding movements of his feet. "Don't walk like normal. You sort of make a V pattern where you put your feet. A very narrow V pattern." He kept a hand on Thor's elbow. "I've got you. Now just follow my feet."

Thor submitted to Steve's guidance and mimicked Steve's movements. He was a little better this time, albeit wobbling precariously.

"I do not understand how this can be so difficult," Thor said. "I have been trained in every way. I have physical prowess. Don't I?"

"Don't worry about it, bud," said Steve as they slowly skated to the other end of the rink. "Sometimes it takes eighty years to learn."

Thor's movements improved, and finally Steve backed away to let him stand on his own feet. When Thor saw himself skating successfully and independently, a look of surprised joy bloomed on his face.

"Look upon me, son of Rogers!" said Thor. "I have mastered this art of yours."

"You haven't even finished a full lap yet," Steve said with a laugh.

"And that I shall. You watch, son of Rogers, I shall—" Whatever Thor planned to do was abruptly halted when he mistook a step and crashed into the ice again. Steve skated by, unable to hold back his laughter before Thore grabbed onto Steve's coat and yanked until Steve came toppling down next to him.

"You cheater!" said Steve.

"I didn't realize we were competing," Thor said with a cheeky grin.

"You're going to have to pay for that," said Steve.

"Only if you are able to catch me!" And with that, Thor clambered back onto his feet and skated off, his arms flying all around him like windmills and his feet awkwardly skating as fast and far away as possible, making him resemble a duck with two left feet upon ice. Steve darted after him, hooting with laughter as other skaters immediately dashed out of the way to avoid the cumbering klutz that was the Norse god.

When they reemerged from the ice, covered with fresh bruises and ice down their socks, sleeves, and probably their underwear at this point, they felt as if they saved something they almost lost for a long time. They found their chance to be human again—not a god, not a supersoldier, but Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers, chasing each other in the ice, salvaging themselves from the bitter winter.

Tony had purchased Broadway tickets for all the Avengers the next time they had time off. They had finished saving Washington D.C. from robotic-esque monsters set on dousing everything in their path with gasoline and a flamethrower, and before Steve and Thor could set off on another adventure to wherever New York would take them, Tony shoved tickets to Wicked into everyone's hands for that very night at one of the biggest theatres in the city.

"If you've got to have time off, at least have some refined taste," he had said as the hellicarrier landed.

They were dressed to the nines by five o'clock and all went out for dinner ("Shawarma, Stark? Really? What happened to refined taste?" "If you had it your way, you'd make us all eat bird feed.") before the eight o'clock show. They were ushered graciously, being automatically recognized as Earth's mightiest heroes bestowing their presence in the rich theatre, and paparazzi swarmed not only the stage but them as well. The music was lovely, and the show itself was spectacular (though Steve noticed that Thor step out every now and then when it hit too close to home), but after about fifteen minutes straight of applause after the grand finale, Steve felt the room become very stuffy with suits and sound, and his head aching from the intensity and glamour, especially with lights flashing and microphones in his face as he tried walking out after the show.

"Mr. Stark, how did your suit uphold all that pressure from the attack of—?"

"Mr. Banner, how difficult is it to maintain control over—?"

"Ms. Romanoff, is it true that you defeated—?"

Thor and Steve managed to catch each other side by side, and exchanged the same worn, humorously exasperated glance.

"How do you feel about some coffee?" said Steve.

Thor grinned. "Why not?"

They slipped away into the velvety night adorned with carefree city lights, and melted into the reckless elegance of New York City. Just men, finding their peace in the world.