Work Text:
Thor had seen a lot, in all his years of living. Countless landscapes in countless colours had etched themselves into his memory, sights that many saw once in a lifetime were…well, not commonplace. Not quite. They were still special, still held a place in his heart, no matter if he could reach them with a flick of a wrist. He’d seen stars and moons, curling nebulas, explosions of colour stretching out across the vast plains of the universe.
Maybe all of this seeing ought to have made him wiser, as so many liked to point out.
But, it was in his own humble opinion that seeing things just made the universe more fun. More good memories to balance the bad, because what was the point of living so long if you didn’t get to see good things once in a while? If you didn’t get to experience enough wonder to fill several lifetimes?
He usually had a pretty good intuition for this kind of thing. For when something was placed in front of him, it only took a few moments for it to be confirmed as one of those special moments. There were a few criteria that it had to meet, however. Thor wasn’t going to give out a lifelong memory for just about anything - he wasn’t that frivolous.
The thing had to be grand, first of all. Splendorous, a sight that was truly a privilege to behold. Something special, sacred, even.
It had to be unique - one of a kind, something he couldn’t see anywhere else in all of the Nine Realms.
It had to steal his very breath from his body. To make his heart ache and his eyes burn from the wonder of it all.
It had to be good. It had to be.
Sometimes these criteria manifested themselves in burning supernovas, in palaces of materials from the far-flung corners of the galaxy, in parades and spectacles and sometimes even just the empty quiet between stars.
Right now, however, it was something else.
Thor lingered at the doorway to the control room, and surely someone had shut off the gravity, because he had never felt as light as this, even in the outreaches of space, tethered only by a cord and the faint crackling of an intercom. Light, as though he could float away at the meerest of touches.
Bruce was working, and it was beautiful.
Dark curls falling just above his eyes - those damned eyes, a firey focus, framed by glass as though it was a painting in need of displaying.
Blinking lights of green and red cast a soft glow off of his skin, patterns and shadows chasing a slow and careful dance across the scientists forehead, his cheeks, his nose.
Silhouetted by the light of the stars, Bruce Banner shone as bright as any nebula he had seen.
Thor’s chest still rose and fell, but the breath within it wasn’t worth noticing. His heart ached, and his eyes burned, and he smiled.
And then the star was speaking, the image followed by tones, as soft and gentle as fine fabric, the words cast over a turned shoulder and a bemused grin.
“What are you doing all the way over there?”
Bruce turned fully as he spoke, shifting his arms that much wider in a silent invitation to come here, come to me, stay by my side and never let go.
“Just…” Thor cleared his throat, smiling behind his hand, feeling the edges of his ears burn with the love of it all.
“Just watching you work, is all.”
“You can come closer than that. I don’t bite.” Bruce grinned, patting a space just to the left of him.
Thor found himself moving, even as his mind was telling him no. Because sights like this, you didn’t touch. You didn’t touch the temples of gold, the nebulas of space, the tapestries and the sculptures. You observed, and held your hands back.
Maybe that’s what made Bruce better than all of that, though. His arms closed around Thor’s shoulder the second he was able to reach, and he was being pulled into an embrace that was as warm as any solar flare he’d born witness to.
Thor’s hands cradled the face below him, thumb moving in gentle circles above the cheekbone, touching, remembering.
This wasn’t a sight he’d forget soon. He couldn’t, he saw Bruce every day after all.
But it was a sight worth savouring. It always was.
Chances are it always would be.