Loki knocks on the door, then clasps his hands behind his back while he waits for an answer.
"Hey." Steve's voice comes from the other side. He doesn't sound like he's in excruciating pain, so that's a good sign.
"I was going to attempt to make grilled cheese for dinner," Loki says. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me." Is that how a normal, social person invites someone to eat dinner? He doesn't usually do this.
Steve chuckles from inside his room. "Funny; usually I'm asking you."
Loki shrugs awkwardly, though there's no one around to see it. "Yes, well, I thought we could switch it around today." Given that – as far as he can tell, anyway – Steve hasn't left his room in a few hours, so he's doubtlessly not going to be the one to initiate it.
"You can come in," Steve tells him. "So we're not talking through a door."
Loki does just that, opening the door and taking a single step into the room. As he'd expected, Steve is flat in bed, head propped up on a single flimsy pillow. He folds it in half under his head so he can see Loki easier, but even that simple movement makes him grimace, so that doesn't bode well for their dinner date.
"How are you feeling?" Loki asks him. Better, he hopes, though he's certainly not convinced.
"Eh." Steve gives him a very small shrug. "I'll live."
"Have you gotten out of bed at all?" Loki asks him.
"I haven't," Steve says, "which I'm beginning to think was a bad idea because now when I do get up, everything is going to hurt more."
Loki frowns. "I'm sorry." He didn't mean to break his friend. Steve is the last person in this building he would want to break.
"It's fine," Steve assures him. "I asked for this – literally; I asked you to fight me. I probably should've known it wouldn't end well."
Loki shrugs awkwardly. He'd certainly known it wouldn't end well, but he'd been more concerned about his rather fragile ego than Steve's wellbeing. "I assume you don't want to get up for dinner, then."
"Not really," Steve admits, "but I've been putting off going to the bathroom for at least an hour, so I guess this is as good a reason as any to get up."
Loki cracks a smile. "I suppose so." He really didn't think that was going to work. He's pleased to see he was wrong.
Steve sits up with a groan and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He takes a moment to get himself together, eyes squeezed shut and face contorted in pain, but then he opens them and plasters on a friendly smile.
"Do you need more medication?" Loki asks. What is it that they called it? Advil? Maybe that would help.
But Steve shakes his head. "Nat brought me some earlier," he says. "I'm just waiting for it to kick in."
"I hope it does soon," Loki says. He wishes there was something he could do to speed up the process, but his magic can only do so much.
"You and me both," Steve mutters. He pushes himself to his feet, grimacing as he does. "I'm going to stop in the bathroom, but I'll meet you in the kitchen?"
"Alright," Loki says. "I'll start the grilled cheese."
"Have you ever made grilled cheese before?" Steve asks him.
"Once or twice," he says. More than that, really, but not enough that he's confident in his ability to make his poor, sore friend a good sandwich. He'd rather downplay his griddle-using skills so he has something to blame if he messes up.
The more he thinks about it, the more he feels he should have gone with pasta. It's hard to mess up pasta.
"Well, I guess that's better than 'no,'" Steve says.
"If you'd feel more comfortable making dinner..." He was kind of hoping that he could make it himself – a rare feat; he'll make himself easy meals, but he never cooks for other people – but if Steve doesn't trust his cooking, he'll give up his crappy "sorry for beating the shit out of you" apology meal.
"No, you can do it," Steve says. "I don't really want to do anything I don't have to today."
Loki gives him a small smile in understanding. He doesn't blame the guy at all.
So Steve heads to the bathroom, and Loki heads to the kitchen to get their grilled cheeses started.
Nobody's ever really shown him how to make grilled cheese. He's mostly learned by watching others – Steve especially – do it and trying to copy it from memory. He'll find out today, he's sure, if he's been doing something wrong all along. At least it's just Steve. He doesn't mind when Steve corrects his failed attempts at acting like a person. At least he does so nicely.
Unfortunately, Loki's only just finished setting his grilled cheese up when Clint, Nathasha, Wanda, and Pietro all file into the kitchen.
It's not just Steve, then.
Wonderful.
Natasha raises her brows when she sees him. "Oh, hey. Didn't realize you'd be in here."
"Well, it is dinner time and this is the only kitchen," Loki says. He's not sure why it's a surprise that he chose to use it.
"Yeah, but you're also outside twenty hours a day and you don't have a clock out there," she reminds him. "I feel like you never eat dinner at dinner when the sun's up unless Steve's here."
He must admit, she does make a fair point. "I will be eating with Rogers," Loki tells her. Although if they're here, they must be making dinner, too, so maybe... "Unless he'd rather eat with you."
Natasha shrugs. "We can all eat together."
Pietro furrows his brows. "No, we cannot," he says. "Mac n cheese takes much longer to cook than a grilled cheese sandwich."
Natasha rolls her eyes. "Then we can all cook together. I don't care."
Clint nods his head in Loki's direction. "How'd you get him out of bed?"
Loki shrugs awkwardly. "The promise of dinner."
Natasha clicks her tongue. "Food is a good motivator," she agrees. "Where is he now?"
"On his way," Loki replies. He's not going to discuss anyone's bathroom habits with the Avengers. That's just weird. That would be like him telling them how his cell in Asgard didn't have a toilet, and he'd never do that.
A pot floats out of one the kitchen draws and makes its way to the sink, where it rests as the faucet turns on to fill it up. The faint scarlet hue that surrounds it says exactly whose doing it is.
Clint looks at Wanda, amused. "You know, I was going to do that in a minute."
Wanda shrugs sheepishly. "It's easier like this."
Loki cracks a smile in spite of himself. This sounds familiar. If he had a dollar for every time somebody in Asgard questioned his decision to use magic, he could buy...
How does Midgardian currency work?
Well, he's sure he could buy something, and that's what matters.
Wanda notices his smile, and it gets a slight smile from her, too. Whether she's reading his thoughts or just appreciates that she could make him smile instead of scowl the way she frequently does, he doesn't know, and he's sure he doesn't want to.
The sink turns off, and the pot floats its way over to the stove, settling on top of a burner in the back that promptly turns itself on to the highest heat.
Before anything more can be said – about Steve, dinner, or the magical way that Wanda's chosen to make it – there are voices from down the hall. The Captain's found a friend along the way, it seems. The kitchen grows more crowded by the day.
Except it's not Steve that steps into the room; it's Tony and Bruce, in the midst of some scientific conversation that involves too many Midgardian technological terms for Loki to even pretend to understand. They both pause when they see everybody gathered in here.
Tony scoffs. "What, you're throwing a party and you didn't invite me?"
"'Course we didn't," Natasha says teasingly. "Kinda defeats the purpose of an anti-Tony party, you know?"
Tony slaps a hand over his heart, playing up his offense.
"What do you mean?" Clint asks. "Nobody hates Tony more than Tony does."
Tony slaps the other hand over his heart.
Pietro raises his hand. "I do."
Tony scoffs once more. "God, all I wanted was a beer. I didn't ask to be attacked like this."
That earns a laugh from the others, which puts him back in good spirits. He heads to the fridge and, as promised, pulls out a beer, then turns to look at them. "Anything exciting happening? What's the big get-together about?"
"Dinner," Clint says.
Tony makes a face at that. "Boring."
Bruce stands on his toes, trying to peer over everybody blocking his view of the stovetop. "What're you guys making?"
"Mac n cheese," Natasha says. "And Loki's making grilled cheese for him and Steve."
Bruce's face scrunches distastefully. "What's with all the cheese?"
Natasha shrugs. "I dunno. It's cheese."
Clint raises a brow. "Are you sure mac n cheese cheese is actually cheese?"
Natasha ponders that for a few moments. "I think it says it is on the box."
"Does it?" Clint heads to the closet and rifles through the mess until he finds the mac n cheese, then pulls out a box. He looks it over, then looks back to her. "You are correct."
"Of course I am," Natasha says. "When have I ever been wrong?"
Clint lets out a low whistle. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he asks teasingly.
Tony perks up at that. "I do!"
Bruce clears his throat, hands awkwardly stuffed in his jeans pockets, and everyone looks at him expectantly. "Is there enough mac n cheese for one more?"
"There's always enough mac n cheese for one more," Pietro tells him.
"We might need the very big pot, though," Wanda remarks.
In the blink of an eye, the pots on the stove have been switched out – and, suspiciously, Pietro's hair is a windblown mess. Those two things seem like they may be related.
Loki looks in the new pot. "That is not going to be enough water." They're more likely to burn down the compound than make edible mac n cheese – and he certainly hopes they don't burn down the compound, because he can't leave the property the way they can and he doesn't want to sleep outside tonight.
Pietro rolls his eyes. "Must I do everything?"
Wanda shakes her head to herself, and the sink turns itself on. The water glows a faint red as it slowly makes its way over to the pot, settling inside to heat up.
Tony blinks a few times. "This is getting too weird for me."
He heads out, and only moments later, Steve walks – or, more accurately, limps – in. They were so close to having everyone in the same room at the same time. He looks around, making note of who's here – and his eyes skip right over Wanda and Pietro with very little enthusiasm.
Natasha answers his unspoken question with, "We're making mac n cheese."
Loki is about to tell him that he's welcome to have it instead if he'd rather have it, but Steve beats him to it.
"I'd ask if you'd make me some, but I have a grilled cheese sandwich on the way that I'm very excited to eat."
Loki cracks a smile. He's glad his cooking doesn't terrify him. (Though Steve's hardly the greatest chef, so it would be rather hypocritical if it did.)
"Someone has to make real food soon," Bruce says.
Steve raises a brow inquisitively. "Are you saying you don't consider Loki's grilled cheese 'real food'?"
Bruce rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. "No, I'm saying someone should make something that has more than three ingredients."
"Ah!" Clint holds up the box of mac n cheese with a smug smile. "This has four!"
"I don't think that's the 'gotcha' moment you think it is," Pietro tells him.
"And I don't think I asked for your opinion," Clint replies, shooting him a playful glare.
Bruce sighs and takes off his glasses, cleaning them with his shirt. "This whole team is a trainwreck."
Pietro smiles. "Thank you!"