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“Ah - !”
Thor turns, just in time to see Bruce flinch as the vase topples over from its pedestal, crashing to the floor and smashing into a dozen pieces. Without a thought he hurries back over, sweeping Bruce up into his arms and carrying away from the shards that would otherwise have cut through his thin shoes.
“I thought we were being quiet?” he whispers. He keeps his head lowered, nearer to Bruce’s, so as to be heard above the grinding of the shards that crunch with every booted step.
“We are.” Bruce says, deliberately looking away from both the mess and Thor’s teasing expression. “It’s not my fault you have so many damn fragile pots around here.”
That’s fair, Thor thinks, looking down the hall which, yes, is lined with a few dozen more identical vase pedestals. He shrugs, feeling Bruce automatically tighten his arms around his neck so as not to be unbalanced by the movement. “What else would you put in a palace?”
It takes a few seconds to reach end of the wreckage, where Thor is finally able to put Bruce down. He does so gently, making sure that Bruce has completely regained his balance before letting go.
“Now…” Thor holds a finger up between his and Bruce’s (very unimpressed-looking) face and draws it back to his own lips. “…shush.”
The returning blow is a light poke to the shoulder and a grumbled, “You shush.” He doesn’t need to look to know Bruce is smiling, in that falsely reluctant way he smiles when they tease each other.
Of all the times to be in a gaming mood, Thor thinks, it just had to be now. They’re supposed to escaping away together for the evening, but they won’t get far if someone catches them and questions why the Prince of Asgard isn’t at his own party.
A few minutes of sneaking along the hall brings them to a grand tapestry. It’s one of the newer ones decorating the palace, carefully crafted to depict one of his first battles after coming of age. But the tapestry isn’t what he’s here for. Instead he focuses on the wall next to it, running his hand along the stone until a section of it disappears, fading away to reveal a hidden corridor. Aha. He offers up a quick thanks to Loki for his youthful tricks, remembering how they’d used these very same passageways to prank their friends and nursemaid.
He turns to Bruce, expecting him to be marvelling at the sudden disappearance of the wall.
Instead he finds him in front of the tapestry, nose pressed up to it so close it’s almost touching. He’s squinting at something, scrutinising it. Clearly oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. (Thor makes a mental note to get Bruce a new pair of glasses tomorrow… it’s painfully clear that he still needs them.)
“Is this meant to be Sif?” Bruce asks.
Intrigued, Thor stands behind him and rests his chin on Bruce’s shoulder to grant himself a similar line of sight.
“No, that’s Loki. He was a woman for this particular battle.”
“Oh. Okay.” Satisfied, Bruce straightens up, turning his head as he finally notices the gap in the wall.
With barely a blink he steps into it. Thor huffs affectionately (of course - of course, Bruce isn’t surprised by anything nowadays) and follows after. The illusion of the wall fades back into place behind him as he gently sidles past Bruce, preferring to lead in case of any more trickery. (He doesn’t think there will be but then this is one of Loki’s creations.)
They manage to remain silent for all of a minute before Bruce breaks it again with another whispered question.
“What exactly is the point of these?”
“Huh?”
“Hidden passageways. Can’t Heimdall just see us anyway?”
Thor purses his lips, pondering the question. The thought has never occurred to him before. Now that Bruce brings it up, he suppose it must be true but…
Some of his previous escapades as a child suddenly seem a lot less cunning now.
“Yes. Although I doubt he is going to step in simply because of one missed party.”
There’s a beat of silence after that, but it’s heavier than before. Different.
Again, Thor feels he can gauge Bruce’s expression even as he walks with his back to him. It’s no longer bright or curious; it’s sullen.
Indeed, Bruce’s playful tone is noticeably mollified when he speaks, if still sincere.
“Thank you…for doing this for me. I’m not great in crowds.”
No more words are exchanged between them after this, for the remainder of the passageway.
Time seems to stretch little but eventually they come to the end of it and Thor plunges his hands into the second illusionary wall, allowing it to dissipate before he steps through.
The section of hallway they come out in is directly opposite to the stairway to his chambers, just as he’d known it would be. He lets Bruce go first, preferring to make sure that the passageway closes before he goes up (it wouldn’t do for just anyone to find it). When he reaches the open door he hears Bruce snort, obviously amused by what he sees. The mood becomes lighter once more as Thor steps in, closing the door and feeling very pleased with himself.
He’d prepared the room in advance, knowing that this is where they’d end up tonight. (Yes, even as he’d pretended to consider attending the party, if only for the sake of his father’s peace of mind, he had known.)
A hearty fire crackles in the enormous hearth on one side of the room, a cushioned two-seated lounger pulled up in front of it. He’d dragged the pillows and blankets from his bed as well, creating an entire area built purely for their comfort. The results are inviting, even if he does say so himself.
Courteously offering a hand, he guides Bruce over to it. They settle so that Thor is sat leaning comfortably at the end while Bruce puts his feet up and sits with his back slotted into Thor’s side. Thor then reaches to the side-table next to him for the two steaming goblets he’d set out.
“Would you like…” Slowly he brings the goblet round until its right in front of Bruce. “…some aged Asgardian wine?”
“Uh, no?” Bruce sounds understandably confused.
“Good. Because this isn’t that.”
Bruce’s expression morphs from mild concerned to fond exasperation and he accepts the drink.
“Well, in that case…cheers.”
Their goblets clink together happily, a gentle echo of the crashing goblets that are no doubt being used for a several toasts on the other side of the palace. After taking a long draught, Thor sets his drink back down on the table, using his now free arm to wrap Bruce in a snug embrace.
“Is this okay?”
He feels the expansion of Bruce’s chest as a happy sigh escapes him.
“Perfect.”
They stay this way for the remainder of the evening, talking in low voices and relishing each other’s company until the flames die down to a calm ember.