Part 20: trouble in velvet

The boys pov .

The tower had been too quiet the moment the girls left.It wasn't the usual kind of quiet—the peaceful kind after a mission or when the building hummed with soft background chatter. No. This was a kind of tension-laced silence—like a string pulled tight, ready to snap.

Bucky sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, jaw locked so tight Steve could see the tension ripple through his cheek. The TV played a game—something with loud cheers and bright lights—but no one was watching it.

He hadn't spoken much since she'd walked through the kitchen earlier in that dress. Short, tight, dangerous. And the moment she'd passed, Loki had leaned against the wall like a panther, eyes devouring the sway of her hips as if they were crafted for sin.

Thor had froze , eyebrows arched, his grin slow and unfiltered. Even Tony had paused and muttered a near-whispered "absolutely not" like a father watching his daughter leave prom.

"I'm just saying," Clint said from where he lounged, trying and failing to lighten the mood, "y'all are acting like she went out with a Hydra agent."

"She might as well have," Bucky growled.

"She went out with Wanda and Nat," Steve added, clearly trying to be the rational one even as his eyes flicked to the elevator. "She's safe."

"She looked..." Bucky trailed off, eyes still fixed on the now-empty hallway.

Loki stepped into view from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a lowball glass in hand. "Irresistible?" he offered with a sharp grin.

"You're not helping," Steve muttered.

"I'm not trying to."

Tony finally strolled in, sipping scotch and sighing like an overburdened teacher. "I swear to God, you guys. She's a grown-ass woman. You think this is the first time she's ever worn a dress or danced with someone who isn't you?"

Bucky didn't answer. He couldn't. The memory of her skirt riding up while she crossed her legs during that dumb party game was still burned into his brain.

And then there was the garden. The talk. The almost. The way she leaned in, lips barely apart, eyes challenging—teasing. He hadn't been able to sleep properly since.

"She knows what she's doing," Tony added, more to himself than anyone. "And she knows how to handle herself. Don't make me use the dad voice."

"She didn't say where she was going," Bucky said quietly.

"She doesn't have to," Steve countered, although the worry on his face betrayed him.

Loki paced near the bar now, pouring himself another drink, sharp gaze flickering toward the glass elevator. "Shall we go find them?" he asked, voice velvet-drenched with mischief. "It would only take a portal. Two minutes, perhaps?"

"No," Tony cut in. "Absolutely not. The last thing I need is Thor tossing frat boys across the bar while you two compete for her attention like golden retrievers with knives."

"Wouldn't be a competition," Bucky muttered.

"Wouldn't be wise," Steve added, narrowing his eyes at both Loki and Bucky. "She deserves space."

"Sure," Tony said, already bracing himself for chaos. "Space. That'll work great when she comes back at three in the morning smelling like club smoke and some guy's cologne."

The room went silent again.

Bucky stood.

No one stopped him.

He didn't say where he was going—but Loki's eyes followed him, sharp and unreadable.

"Mark my words," Loki murmured as the door slid closed behind the soldier, "the chaos is only beginning."