I wish you would write a fic where Loki never succeeded in throwing himself off of the Bifrost (though he did attempt it). Steve, while on a diplomatic mission in Asgard, catches a glimpse of Thor's younger brother, (whom the courtiers gossip about, who Thor doesn't like to speak of, who isn't allowed near weapons and rarely comes out of his rooms)
Asgard was - overwhelming. Not necessarily in a bad way, it was just - a lot to absorb, and a lot going on, and everything was so bright. Steve was finding it all hard to absorb and even harder to process, not sure he was even past the stage of I’m a diplomat on an alien planet part. (If Bucky heard about this - Steve shut that thought down, ruthlessly.)
They were on their fifth feast in four nights and he’d managed to slip out, begging a need for fresh air and managing to fend off three offers (two women, one man) to accompany him. Steve exhaled in relief, safely outdoors, letting his feet wander without paying too much attention, watching the horizon. He did not realize until he took a deep breath and smelled a fragrance heavy enough to make his head spin that he’d wandered into a garden. ‘Garden’ seemed inadequate, though, for something like this - lush and half wild, but even Steve could tell that it was carefully tended, deliberately nurtured. A flower that shaded from purple at its center out to white closed as he brushed by it with a sound like wind-chimes; he could see one of the vines moving, curling tendrils around a trellis like a snake.