Chapter Text
Steve got up with me and we walked back to the door, arm in arm, back down to the party. He looked around in wonder again as Loki’s room shifted back, and neither of us noticed something different in the room from when we entered. It wouldn’t be until the next afternoon that I would come back to see the small golden apple sitting on the side table beside my armchair with an envelope leaning on it addressed in Loki’s flowing script.
My Darling Nisse
This is the last golden apple of the goddess Iðunn. Her very life’s work and greatest love. It serves a purpose to none of us now. It is a piece of Asgard, one of the last. Iðunn begged us to preserve it, even if it meant allowing it to be eaten by a mortal, on the promise that the seeds will be saved and returned to her should she survive. My brother and I could think of no mortal more worthy than you, and I offer its safekeeping to you using what waning strength remains to me.
I wish I had energy to do more than send this to you. I miss you, darling. But you are the only reason I am able to do even this much. I am tired. The few people of Asgard who remain drift in the Void and I do not know if any hope remains. The Story is bleak. The world is ash and the brimstone of Hel, and here at the end of all things I find my mind drifting to you. I yearn to rest upon the warm pillow of your thighs. To hear your voice and see your smile, to feel your warm wit in my mind and your fingers in my hair.
To be home.
I want home to be there if I return. I want you to be there. Please consider, elskulig.
All my love,
Your Loki
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I closed the tome, leaning back from Loki’s desk, rubbing my face in frustration as I sprawled back in the chair. My head lolled to the side, eyes exhausted as they fell on the corner of the desk where Loki’s gift lived untouched. He could never say I didn’t consider it. I thought about it most days in one capacity or another.
The golden apple sat, shining and perfect as it was when I found it over six months ago, the day after my 40th birthday. Of course, I knew what it was, and the significance of it. Property of the goddess of youth and vitality, Iðunn’s golden fruits were the legendary root of Asgardian immortality. I hadn’t fully believed it when I noticed it the first time and read Loki’s note. I looked for every mention of it. Horticultural texts, magical treatises, historical references, any scrap of information leading to what it would mean for me to accept this gift. Wars were fought over a bite from it, men dying for a taste of immortality, the power inherent in ageless longevity. A priceless gift, now it sat on a stack of half open scrolls and notes while I contemplated its significance to me personally.
Both Steve and Bucky had seen it by now, but not the note. I dismissed it as a nice smelling paperweight I’d found lying around. Which wasn’t a lie as it held down my notes while I poured over tome after scroll after book in Loki’s library. I shut the alchemical dissertation I was deciphering, crossing my arms over the top and resting my chin on them as I contemplated the fruit shining softly in the warm light of the study.
I knew what they would want. I hadn’t told them the full truth or shown them the note, because I didn’t want their desires to color my choice. It was a personal one, and I would always regret my choice if I made it because of someone else.
_____________________________
I sat on my stool in front of the bathroom vanity, fingers working product through my curls. I pulled them away, the usual amount of strands clinging and woven between my digits. I smirked at the mix of colors.
I heard Steve coming in from his morning run alone, Bucky was out with the Dora Milage on a training exercise. “Something funny, darlin?”
“So much gray,” I chuckled, holding up my hands to the light to display the growing number of silver strands, “it’s like I’m getting old or something.” I looked up at Steve in the mirror, my voice teasing as he stepped behind me.
He reached out, pulling the strands away and tossing them in the trash. He started working the product through my wet curls himself, picking up where I was in my routine. Love, heavy and warm as a quilt wrapped around me.
“I’ve got it, honey, I didn’t mean to side track you. I know you have a full schedule today.”
His eyes were soft. “You’re not interrupting, beauty. You know I love this.”
“I know.” I smirked. “Dunno what you'd do if it all fell out.”
He looked confused for a second. “Why the hell would it…” Then, a stab of anxiety, and something almost haunted passed behind his eyes. Fear, almost a panic attack as his mind suddenly went racing. He bent, hiding his face from me as he pressed his lips to my temple and a wave of emotion too big for me to hold came up so strong I had to breathe deep for it to wash over me. Grief. The kind that hollows your chest because your heart is in your throat.
“Oh, Stevie…” I murmured with tears flooding my eyes.
He just shook his head, taking deep breaths.
I lifted a hand to cup his cheek, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, Cookie.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. So much it hurts sometimes.”
“I know…” Then he wrapped his arms around me like he was afraid I’d vanish and I let him hold me and feel my love for him until he felt safe that I wasn’t going anywhere. He wrapped my hair, and then texted Nat he wouldn’t be out for training today, making the rare choice to work from home.
He worked on meeting prep at the table in the kitchen while I made breakfast, and insisted I come down to the basement work area with him after. I worked on curriculum plans and answered correspondence concerning the school, sitting just out of frame while Steve took virtual meetings. His knee stayed pressed to mine, or his hand on my thigh if he had one free, turning to me between meetings to pull me close and press soft kisses full of adoration to my forehead and down my neck until I melted into the feeling of him surrounding me. Then he would pull back with that smug little smile that said he loved how he affected me as much as I did and schooled his expression back to something professional before clicking ‘Join’.
When the last meeting of the day ended, I was sitting beside him doing some research on pyrokinesis and sleeping arrangements. Steve closed his laptop, then turned to close mine. I turned to him with a knowing look as I pulled my hands out of the way, his desire heavy in the air between us. He pulled me into his lap where his mouth covered mine and his fingers pleasured me until I was panting and quivering in his arms. Then he took me to bed and made love to me like he could drink me through his skin, no amount of skin contact enough, buried inside me body and soul until I gave myself to him and the feedback loop took us. We rode wave after wave of ecstasy like one body until he finally collapsed over me exhausted and heavy and empty of anything but his love that he panted like a prayer into my hair as he held me and waited for our brains to start working our bodies again. Words barely audible but so heavy I felt them echo in my mind.
You’re my home. I love you. Don’t know what I would do without you. I love you. I need you. I love you. I never want to let you go. I love you. You’re part of my soul. I love you.
He stayed home the next day, too. To take care of me because he felt guilty that I could barely get out of bed and to the bathroom under my own power.
______________________________
I wasn’t having a good day. Looking at a screen felt like a chore. I didn’t have a lot of energy either, but I managed to convince Bucky to take me out on Steve’s motorcycle to run a couple of errands. At one point, Bucky bristled beside me as we walked through the open air market in a way that made me look up at him. “What’s wrong, Buck?”
“Nothin.” His hand slid over my own holding the crook of his elbow. “We still need to hit that spice shop you like before we head back, right?”
“Yeah, Mekih’s is my last stop.”
The owner smiled brightly at us as we ducked inside. “AH! You brought him with you this time!” She clasped my hands with a wink. “Your handsome young soldier.”
“Good morning, Mekih! I hope your family is well.” I grinned. She was a plump older woman, fully silver braids that were wrapped today.
“Yes, my friend! Tise and Aba are growing so fat! I must show you pictures! Come, I’ll get your regular order together and make coffee.” Mekih was boisterous in that way you knew came from a full life and a daring spirit. The kind of person who once you got on her good side you were her favorite grandchild every time she saw you.
I chuckled as the older woman led me to a cushion, Bucky following behind with a little amusement quirking the corner of his mouth as the older woman showed me pictures of her first great-grandchildren. Twins and a couple of the chubbiest, happiest babies I’d ever seen. “Sit, sit. I’ll make the coffee.”
She bustled off and Bucky settled beside me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close into his side. His eyes were still toward the entry. I leaned in and kissed his jaw. “Buck?”
He looked down at me. “I’m okay.”
I gave him a look. He started to retort and then looked up as a trio of women came in, glanced at us and started talking quietly in Xhosa. I knew they were talking about us from the occasional furtive glances as they went about their shopping. Bucky’s face darkened the longer they talked. Even with the smattering of words I could pick up, I got the gist.
“-thought that was her son.” He took my hand, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles.
“Do you think she’s rich?”
“Did you see she could barely walk?”
“I bet- him- trapped-” He wrapped an arm around my waist and dragged me across his lap.
“-think she has on him?”
“Has to- moves like a half dead catfish-” Rage, possessiveness. He wrapped his arms around my waist, giving them a death glare as cold as I’d ever seen.
“Man that beautiful deserves better than a woman going to die soon.” He buried his face against my neck, and I felt this strange wash of fear and something else, quick and sharp.
“When she does I’m more than happy to take care of him.” He just… turned off. Like a switch was flipped. Like he went Winter Soldier.
“Buck?” I said, quiet concern filling my voice.
“How DARE you!” Mekih came back in like a whirlwind, hot and angry as a sandstorm. “You dare come into MY shop and insult my favored customers?! I should beat you! AND your mothers too for raising such garbage!” My Swahili was better than my Xhosa and I could follow Mekhi’s tirade a bit better.
He just held me tighter, refusing to look at me as Mekhi tore into the women. “Mekih, I will live,” I said over my shoulder. The women looked mortified, the old woman herding them out, and I wasn’t sure if it was that I said it in Xhosa, or how badly I did it. Of course she ignored me.
“Ignorant hippos! Insulting a Friend of Wakanda and the White Wolf’s woman! She is a Good Woman with more honor and integrity in her one bad leg than your entire family!" I bit down a smile as I stroked Bucky’s hair in worry.
“Bucky…” Most of my attention was on the man holding me like I might disappear, but felt cold and empty under the surface. “What’s wrong? I promise I’m okay.”
“I would make you all apologize on your knees if I didn’t think it would be more insulting for her to have to look at your hideous faces that match your hearts! Never come in my shop again you disgusting hyenas!”
“James,” I whispered soft against his ear, “I need you to talk to me, love.” His fingers just tightened, almost bruising in my sides.
I heard Mekih turn back to us from the doorway. “I am so sorry, Cookie. I cannot believe such ill-mannered girls.” Then she really looked at us. She set the tray down on the low table quietly. “I will close the shop and give you a moment.”
“No, I don’t want to inconvenience you. We’ve already cost you three customers today.”
“Nonsense. I won-”
“Mekih. Please.” I pulled my card from my back pocket. I met her eyes and whatever argument she was going to make died on her lips as I took her hand. “You defended me, and I am honored by your friendship. Please just wrap my order so we can go home.”
“Fine.” She nodded, giving my hand a firm squeeze, leaving the card in my hand as she pulled away. “But your money is no good in my shop today.”
“Fine.” She moved to gather up my order and I turned to press my lips to Bucky’s temple. He still wasn’t responding and I was fighting down the waves of worry. “I’ve got you, love,” I said quietly. I let him feel my love, my trust, my calm in his arms. “I’m gonna take over for you now, Sarge.” My voice was soft, but firm, and I felt that relief at his core that told me more than any words that he needed me to drive so he could process whatever it was he was trying not to feel. “I need you to answer me, James.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered against my skin.
“That’s better. Time to take me home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He let me go and I had to fight down that worry again as he helped me up and got to his feet. I took the package from Mekhi and hugged her quickly before taking Bucky’s right arm again and leading him out of the shop.
He walked us back to where we parked the bike and it was like the world parted around us. People took one look at Buck’s cold scowl and melted away from our path. The whole trip home he was silent, locked down. It felt like the first time I’d felt him disassociate, the night Ultron attacked the Tower. He parked the bike, helped me down and into the house with our shopping. By the time we were setting things on the kitchen counter, I was nearly ready to call Shuri, thinking he was having a full relapse. Then he gave a huge shuddering breath, spun and pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight.
“C’mon, Sarge. Let’s go upstairs.” I coaxed him to the lift and up to our bedroom. By the time the lift opened to the bedroom, he had a hand under my shirt, splayed over my bare skin. I led him to sit on the end of the bed and climbed astride his lap before stripping both our shirts off and pressing my bare skin to his.
It took minutes that felt like an hour, but I gradually felt him coming back, grounding himself with my touch. “There you are,” I soothed. “There’s my guy.”
“M’sorry…”
“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Buck. So much.”
“What they said…”
“I heard. And I felt how angry you were for me.” I pressed my lips to his forehead.
“It’s not just that.”
“I know.”
“When one of them said she’d…” he pushed down a shudder. “I don’t want to think about a world without you, Cookie. I can’t.”
“I know.”
I held him and petted and kissed him until he fully came back to himself, then we finished getting undressed and into bed. He wrapped himself around me like I was the only solid thing in the world, a desperate need in him I hadn’t felt in years. When I buried my hands in his hair and my lips found his pulse he sighed in relief. When I sucked and bit down he melted into the bed, begging for me without words. I didn’t need them and he wanted me to show him I didn’t. That I knew him so well we didn’t need them, that he was mine.
I gave him what he wanted, taking him, marking him with tooth and claw, demanding the worship of his tongue, then devouring him body and soul. First with my mouth, then the hot, wet clutch of my body. I possessed him every way he loved.
I played him like a favorite song, my melody in the sounds I pulled from him, the harmony in the lines of his body, and the percussion of skin meeting and the pounding of hearts. Beautiful and strong, he gave me everything. He willingly lost himself in the pained edge of pleasure and the way my love and my voice held him, tight and secure and unwaveringly present, until he crescendoed screaming and sobbing his adoration as he shattered beneath me and went limp and still in his body and mind.
Then I held him tenderly and pieced him back together. Gentle in all the ways I’d been firm, taking care of him until he rested soft and secure, loved and sated and deeply asleep in my arms.
My own restless thoughts eventually got the better of me. I left Bucky a note next to the glass of water, so if he woke before I was back he wouldn’t spiral again, letting him know I went to Lo’s to refill my battery, but I ordered his favorite dinner for Steve to pick up on the way home.
I sat in Loki's study, sipping the mulled drink that always made itself when I came in, my eyes on the apple sitting atop a stack of notes and theories about what it might do to me if I ate it.
I knew I didn’t want to live forever. I’d watched death around me enough, watched it take people from me, brought it to others myself, felt it beside me in my darkest moments. It didn’t frighten me. Some days it sounded like freedom from a body that just seemed to crawl onward out of spite. A friend bringing a chance to rest, knowing I’d spent my life without regret, doing everything I could for those I loved.
The warm buzz of seiðr glided along my skin and my mind drifted to how much I’d come to rely on the magic, just to keep up. To keep going. The thought made me tired, even as I thought about Steve and Bucky, how I’d seen the effect that thought of me being gone had on them both. If my body wouldn’t heal to something at least liveable in the process, I absolutely would never willingly extend my life trapped in it.
They knew someday I would leave my beloved supersoldiers behind. I’d seen how acutely they felt it when the thought crossed their minds. My mortality. That if something or someone didn’t get me first, I had, at a stretch, 60 more painful years to grow old before I’d eventually die while the serum extended their lives for what would likely be hundreds of years.
At least they would according to Hank when I casually asked him over coffee a few weeks ago. Then he gave me the saddest expression I may have ever seen on his face, knowing he himself could grow equally ancient. He buried himself in work, avoiding me for three days after that, until I ambushed him in his lab with Indian food, a very short skirt, and a mind set on menace. Afterward, astride his lap in his office chair he finally said he loved me as he continued nervously scenting me with his chin along my bare shoulder. Because he finally “had been reminded that not everything can wait”. My death was a pain I didn’t want to give any of them, but it was natural in a way they no longer were. Warm and wonderful and human as they were, most of the people I loved weren’t normal.
Yes, they saw death often, sometimes every day. Faced it and had managed to walk away who knew how many times by now. I had myself at this point. But it wasn’t something they lived with. My boys had memories of deaths more or less natural, from illness or age. Sarah Rogers, Peggy Carter, other people they had known back before they were sent to war. But mostly for people in my circle, death was violent and messy, either avoidable or a choice made. Death wasn’t an inevitability or gentle release in their world, it was a failure. They moved in circles of superhumans and deities and alien entities that never need contemplate their mortality as something inevitable, at least not in a way more immediate than that of the sun’s or the heat death of the universe.
I’d seen what that did over time. Logan’s tired smile, the aching loneliness that lived in him. I had asked him once, all the way back at the Xavier school, if he would ever consider giving up being a mutant if he had the chance. He’d gruffly told me that was a “pointless damn question”, and he wouldn’t do it unless whatever did it was available to other mutants with harder things to live with than him. But, later that night, when we sat alone in the dark of the common room, the kids all gone to bed after movie night was over, he offered me one of those rare moments of himself.
I lay curled into his side, head resting on his chest, fingers scratching into the scruff of hair above the V- neck of his white tee, more relaxed than I ever saw him around people. He told me if there’s something he could give up it would be how he just keeps going. Keeps having to let people go. He said he would always decide to keep people away, but then he figured as long as he kept “plodding on forever”, long as there were “other people t’run inta on this mudball”, every so often someone would find a way in. Then his fingers tightened where they rested around me and his face buried in my hair, breathing me in. In a rumble so low I wasn’t sure he meant me to hear, he said “t’get close enough t’make it hurt when they’re gone”.
I’d learned how immortality changed perspective over centuries and millennia. Until humanity and joy was an active choice because life had become a thing as much outside of oneself as death until you had to be reminded of your own personhood and vulnerability, like Thor when he first came to earth. How it stagnated minds and spirits, seeming to lock them into a single mode of being, until one became more a collection of ideas, all connection lost outside relation to one’s own concept of Self, like Khonshu. How it made death a game or punchline, the lives of others inconsequential to your own importance, like Loki had been.
Steve and Bucky were already older in body than most people ever would be, despite still appearing in their late 20s, but much of that time had been lost rather than lived by both of them. They were both in their mid-30s mentally and experientially. But how long before the years changed them? Until they were no longer my beloved Stevie and Buck but were only Captain America and the White Wolf? How long would it take them to lose themselves or to become something completely other?
How long would my memory matter to them before I was a dim reminder of days when they were still human? How long before even their eidetic memories left me in some dim corner of their mind only dredged up with a recalled fondness for a particular scent or flavor?
If I knew eating the apple would make my body something I could live with, something better, would I consider it then? Would it matter if I was still there for them? How long before those indeterminate decades changed me? Would they still love me if forever really was on the table? How long can love actually last, and would I want to outlive it again?
I was determined to fully understand the choice before me, what it could do to me, first. Even then, as much as I didn’t want to break any of their hearts, I couldn’t decide because of them. I had to choose for me.