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Steve sighed. "Tony, why do you keep asking me who everyone is?"
Loki smirked. "Because I lie."
"Not about anything serious," added Darcy, to Steve's suddenly alert face. "Just enough to get the heat off me." She leaned towards Tony from Loki's knee. "Thanks Tony."
Tony grinned and punched her arm. "Hey, the look on that windbag's face when I asked for a refill was its own reward."
"And the rest of us think that if Tony won't read a briefing before he goes to an alien wedding, he doesn't deserve to know." The smile left Tony's face and he glared at Pepper. She smiled sweetly back.
"Anyway, why are you sitting here? You should be mingling." Natasha leaned her head against Peppers, and they nodded in unison at Steve.
He held up his hands. "Sorry ladies. I'm not ready."
"We're not asking you to find true love, just go and practice talking to beautiful women," said Pepper, joining Natasha's attack.
"I thought I was managing that quite well." His gaze was direct, his voice sincere and his smile held a hint of flirtation. Pepper's cheeks grew a little pink and she smiled.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Say, why not practice on someone not around this table."
Steve stood up. "If it means I get time off from being your tourguide, sure."
"Ten-spot says he's gone to lurk in a corner", Clint muttered to Natasha as Steve left the table.
"No bet."
He only noticed her when he heard the loud slap. It was the first time he had seen her alone, away from the collective listed in the briefing as The Warriors Three and Sif. She was pushing an unknown warrior against the wall, arm across his chest and a knife directed to just beneath his chin. Her eyes blazed and her face was furious. "Eat your words," she hissed.
The warrior gaped, stupid with ale, one cheek reddened. Steve stepped out of the shadows as the drunk gathered his wits and all but spat his words into Sif's face.
"And what is it to you, warrior woman?" The derision in his words was cut short by the knife, which rose, pricking his jowls. He slowly rose with it until he was on tip-toe, while Sif leaned forward to speak clearly into his face.
"Eat your words, or I will stick you like the pig you are. And know that the only blame I will receive will be from Loki." The tone in her voice hinted that Loki would not blame her for her want of mercy but quite the opposite.
The man shuddered and then stood still, as high and close to the wall as he could. He swallowed twice before stammering out his excuses. "It was a jest, I meant no harm to the lady. I eat my words gladly."
"Good. And mind you do not speak so again, or I shall deal with you with less gentleness and patience."
She backed away, the knife came down, and the warrior scuttled away with what little dignity he could muster. Sif paused, wiped her face with faint distaste, then swung to where Steve was watching.
"I needed no aid", and Steve could hear the warning in her voice, born of long experience of other's assumptions.
"It didn't look like you did. What did he do? "
"Insulted Darcy. She deserves better than the slanders of sots." Her voice softened a little. "And she is a friend."
Steve nodded in understanding, then stuck out a hand. "I'm Steve."
She contemplated his hand for a moment, then took it in warrior fashion; her elbow in his hand, their forearms parallel, her hand about his arm.
"Well met Steve. I am Sif."
He looked into her eyes and forgot to compare her to Peggy, forgot that he was busy, that the life of a SHIELD agent was not conducive to romance or a stable life, forgot that he was not ready.
As she walked away, hair swinging, he knew. He loved her.
The second time they met was at Thor's coronation. He sought her dark head, and found it where she formed an honor guard with the Warriors Three. The scene was a riot of pageantry, exotic faces and glorious color, but his attention was bounded by a single face, serious, a little sad.
Later he sought her out, wanting to talk, remembering Natasha's training, meant for a different context. "People want to talk. Let them." "Offer something of yourself and your interlocutor will wish to reciprocate."
When he finally looked into her eyes again, all the advice left his head. But it didn't matter. Her first answers were clipped, but something in her expression when she spoke of Thor led him to tell her about Peggy, and suddenly the conversation was natural, a flow of words about women and war and determination and old friends. But all too soon her answers grew shorter, her eyes searched the people around them, and common humanity demanded that he end the conversation and let her go.
Later he saw her, back stiff among a group of warriors. As he left he heard the group laugh uproariously and caught a glimpse of her face, closed and still.
He knew the Avengers had noticed the conversation too, though none said anything. The only change was that Natasha's stream of suggestions about people he should ask out trailed off almost imperceptibly into nothing.
The third time they met he was called in to act as liaison from SHIELD with her. Darcy was missing and Loki had sent his requests for aid via Asgard. He suspected Stark's hand in the assignment of the task to him, but went anyway.
The meeting room was mundane, white walls with pale wooden furniture. She looked out of place, gloriously so, but yet more at ease than at the ceremonies where they had met before. Sif handed him a piece of parchment covered with Loki's neat writing. Steve assured her that SHIELD would co-operate. Little more was required. As she rose, he did too, and put his hands on the back of his chair.
"Last time we met..." and she turned, her face emotionless, and he lost his train of thought. "Last time, I just wanted to get to know you better."
"I am a warrior. There is little else to know."
"I didn't mean to make things more difficult for you."
"You did not make anything more difficult."
He remembered Peggy's words. It's not easy being a woman in the military. He straightened and became formal once again. "Thank you, Lady Sif. I look forward to working with you in the future."
She took his proffered hand in conventional human fashion.
"And I you, Captain."
After she left he stood in silence, head bowed, until the phone rang.
"So?"
"You are completely transparent, Stark." That only triggered a chuckle at the other end of the phone.
"I'm devious only when I need to be. She's perfect for you."
For an instant he could see the data matching as Stark might see it, matching against Peggy, matching against him. Dark, beautiful, military, a lone woman in a man's world. Dedicated to defence of the weak and battling evil, struggling against the odds to be allowed to serve in that battle. Strong, long lived, isolated except for a select few comrades. Alone.
He sighed. "Don't, Tony. Just...don't."
Darcy's safe return from the Otherworld saw closer ties between Asgard and Midgard. The testing of Jane's Einstein-Rosen bridge began out in the desert, with both Avengers and warriors of Asgard on hand in case of trouble. Inside the observation building on the top floor Hawkeye sat on top of a cupboard, checking the fletching of his arrows. He returned Steve's nod as the Captain came into the room, as did Fandral sprawled elegantly on the ground, sharpening his sword. Sif stood facing the windows that ran the length of the room, eyes fixed on the test area outside. Steve paused, but she did not turn. He looked for a moment as if he would speak, but instead nodded at the back of her head and quietly went into the office beyond.
It was not what he wanted, but he would respect her need to be distant.
Hawkeye and Fandral exchanged glances, so did not see the slight turn of Sif's head, the tug of her eyes towards to the door by which Steve had left. An instant, and she was back looking out the window.
The prior tests had been tedious for the waiting warriors, but not this one. The scientists and engineers scattered as a slime monster waded from the mouth of the wormhole, protected by a swarm of hard, metallic, buzzing drones. The SHIELD agents formed a perimeter and then the specialists got to work.
Hawkeye was on the roof, picking off drones in the swarm, trying to find an opening to fire explosives at the central oozing creature. Fandral, Sif and Steve battled on the ground, clearing the drones, dodging painful darts of light. Sif got close enough to strike at the slime but the cut she made closed, and the creatures retaliation sucked away her shield.
"We must clear a path for the archer," Fandral shouted. "Nothing else will serve." Sif exchanged nods with him and the battle on the swarm intensified.
Steve hurled his shield, splitting six metal drones in half. As the shield returned he blocked the beam from two more, and from under his arm Sif swooped out and struck them down. Their eyes met and they fought side-by-side, her sword flashing and his shield coming up to block then flying from his hand as she parried. They fought as one, spinning around each other as if they had seen battle together many times, controlled as dancers, and Fandral, who had an eye for beauty even in the midst of fighting, paused an instant to watch.
The lead alternated between them, communicated by nods and eyes, and between them they cleared a gap in the swarm long enough for the archer to strike. Two arrows struck home, a loud cry of "Fire in the hole" and Fandral hugged the earth, while Steve and Sif crouched with Steve's shield raised over them both. A muffled report and suddenly lumps of ichor were raining down around them and the drones fell to earth.
He was staring at the ooze sliding down the edge of his shield in disgust and suddenly she was laughing, half in reaction to the battle and half at the look on his face. She laughed and her damp hair curled about her face and there was nothing that could stop him laughing too. Fandral's ringing laugh joined theirs from beyond the pile of slime and Hawkeye's slow chuckle drifted from his perch above.
They laughed and leaned against each other and then Sif's face was close and Steve leaned across and kissed her. A swift kiss, delicate and gentle, entirely on impulse, and then he remembered himself. He drew back and paused for a moment, their noses almost touching, their lips the smallest possible distance apart.
Then he ducked his head. He was unwilling to see her laughter die, or to see her reproach which he richly deserved. Yet in another way he felt unrepentant. He loved her. What point was there in hiding it? What good had waiting ever done him? A touch on his arm, and he looked up to see the laughter was gone, but a different look shone in her face. She smiled, her eyes soft, and then she closed the gap between them and kissed him back.