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“I thank you all for your help. Asgard thanks you for your services,” Thor says. He turns to Steve. “If ever you find yourself in need just give Heimdall a call.”
“Thanks for your help Thor. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
Thor smiles. Then before Steve can even see it happening, leans in and throws his arms around his shoulders in a crushing embrace. All the air is driven out his lungs and he lets out an embarrassing squeak. It’s a full five seconds before Thor lets him go, slapping him on the back so hard he sees stars. He can feel his ears reddening, and he firmly keeps himself from looking in the direction of Tony, who wolf-whistles.
“I’ll be going now. Loki, come along.” He grabs his brother, and in a flash of blue, he is gone.
Tony, of course, is the first to break the silence. “Well now, that was unexpected. Steve, how you holding up?”
“Shut up, Stark.” Steve’s cheeks still burn.
“The hell was that?”
“He was probably just being friendly, Clint.”
“A bit too friendly if you ask me.”
Bruce interjects. “You’re all overexaggerating. He comes from a world where horses are still the method of transportation. I wouldn’t think too much of it.”
Steve has to agree. It was probably just a spur of the moment thing. Likely, something like this won’t happen again.
-
It’s funny, Tony thinks, how Thor, the son of Odin, the alleged god of Thunder, the future king of Asgard himself, cannot stomach a scary movie.
The whole team is watching Coraline. They’ve gotten to the infamous spider web scene and Thor is trembling next to him like a newborn colt. Ordinarily Tony would think it hilarious, but the look on Thor’s face is that of a kicked puppy, which makes his heart ache ever-so-slightly.
He’s never prided himself on his ability to comfort, but now he nudges Thor’s shoulder with a quiet, “Hey Point-break. You doing okay?”
“I—yes.” His voice has gone up about three octaves. He is wrapped head-to-toe with blankets and covered in popcorn kernels. It’s a little pathetic. Tony places a hand on Thor’s knee for a quick pat of support, but out of nowhere Thor grabs it in a vice grip. Tony swears he can hear his bones cracking.
He lets out a yelp. “Thor! Je-sus Christ!”
Thor jerks back like he’s been burnt, eyes wild. “My apologies, I didn’t mean, I only thought—”
Heat shivers down the back of Tony’s neck. Now he knows what Steve felt like that one time Thor ambushed him with a hug. “N-no, I mean don’t take it the wrong way. It’s just that we humans, earth-ians, whatever, we don’t usually…” Great, now Clint has caught wind of their conversation. He blows a kiss in their direction. Tony flips him off. “…hold hands or anything unless we want to…er...”
“Mate?”
“Wow. Okay. That’s a bit much.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
And doesn’t that just tug at Tony’s heartstrings?
He sighs. “C’mon, man. Now I just feel a grade-A asshole.”
“I’m sor—”
Tony bends closer so that he’s basically leaning against his shoulder, cheeks aflame as he does so. “There. Better?”
Thor doesn’t say anything, but Tony notices that his posture has relaxed a bit. The new seating arrangement is a bit strange, but Tony has to admit that Thor’s shoulder makes a comfortable pillow.
Later when the movie is over, Steve says with a smile, “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”
Thor gives an affected little laugh. “Indeed, Captain. The film was not in the least frightening.”
Tony massages his hand from the corner. He decides to say nothing.
-
Sparring with Thor is like sparring with a brick wall.
Natasha attempts a strike at his chest again, and again Thor dodges, hitting her so hard in retaliation she flies across the room, slamming into the wall. Stars fill her vision and through the buzzing in her ears she can vaguely hear Thor asking if she’s okay.
“I’m fine,” she says once she’s regained control over her own tongue. “Seriously. No harm done.”
“I must disagree, Lady Romanoff. You’re bleeding. Here—”
In one fell swoop he scoops her up in his arms like she weighs nothing more than a ragdoll. Natasha squeals in surprise but doesn’t fight it. She almost forgot how touchy Thor is. It's nice though. She doesn't really need to be carried, but she's always wondered what Thor's arms feel like without being creepy about it.
“I apologize profusely. I keep forgetting to be gentler around humans, you have such fragile bodies. Am I holding you wrong? Does this hurt? Have you broken anything, do you think?”
“God, Thor. It’s just a cut. I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m so—”
“If you say sorry one more time I’m going to jump out the window.”
That shuts Thor up. Natasha forgets he doesn’t understand the concept of sarcasm.
“It’s just that—” he pauses, holding Natasha more protectively against his chest. “You and the rest of the Avengers have grown close to my heart. You are my friends, as well as shield mates. I have seen you fight in battles even the strongest Asgardian soldiers cannot hope to, and I tend to overestimate your physical strength. I’d hate for any of you to get hurt, especially if I am the one to do it.”
Natasha doesn’t quite know what to say to that. “We care about you too,” she finally decides on. “And you don’t need to worry. We know you’d never hurt us on purpose.”
They arrive at the lab. Thor places her down on the mat carefully and presses a cloth to her forehead. “If there’s anything you need—”
“I’ll let you know. I can take it from here.” She smiles at him. “Thanks for the ride.”
-
Ever since Thor came back from fighting the dark elves on Asgard, his aura seems to have…dimmed. He smiles less. His laughter is more subdued. The others have tried to confront him about it but it usually ends in a lightning storm shaking the foundations of Stark Tower.
Today is especially bad. There’s no storm this time, only a light drizzle, but there’s something more sorrowful about the rain. Like the weather cries in sympathy along with whatever depressing thought Thor is facing. Everyone in the tower knows better than to approach Thor’s room to ask him for the cause of his moody state, but Bruce, armed with all the pop tarts in the tower, has other ideas.
He knocks lightly. After a moment in which Bruce wonders if it’s better if he lets him have his alone time, Thor answers, “Come in.”
The room is a mess and Bruce can’t say he expected anything different. Thor is laying on his stomach on the bed, reading an old leather book. He smiles when he sees Bruce, but it’s the old, tired kind of smile people only use when they've been crying. His brightens considerably when he sees the pop tarts and makes a grab for the s’more-flavored ones.
“Thought you might want a treat,” Bruce says. “It’s pretty grey out there. You feeling okay, buddy?”
“I am well enough, Bruce. I’ve just been having a rough day, it’s nothing to worry about.”
Bruce thinks there is something to worry about. But the look in Thor’s eyes begs him not to push it.
They munch on pop tarts in silence. Thor has a pensive look on his face; it’s a bit jarring but it suits him well. Bruce glances at the book in his hands. “What’re you reading?”
“It’s…a journal. And old one, from a couple millennia ago.”
“Huh. You didn’t strike me as the ‘dear diary’ type.”
“It’s not mine.” He looks at his pop tart, intently ignoring Bruce’s gaze. “It’s one of Loki’s.”
Oh. The name still runs a chill down his spine to this very day. It would explain the mood. “How is he, by the way? Still locked up?”
He immediately knows he said the wrong thing. Thor looks away completely, facing the window. Droplets of rain run down the glass like tears on a cheek.
So Loki is dead. Bruce hates himself for it, but a part of him is relieved he’ll never have to see those wicked blue eyes or that razor-sharp smile ever again. For weeks after the Battle of New York, Loki was the fuel of his nightmares. He'd see Loki burning down America, trussing up the Avengers and slaughtering them one by one. Sometimes he would force the Hulk out to tear them to pieces. Bruce would watch, helpless to do anything but scream. And when he was done, Loki would slit his throat. He’d always wake up in a cold sweat, searching frantically for blood on his hands.
But Thor…Thor is mourning. As much as he detests Loki and the things he did, he can’t help but feel bad for his friend. Even after everything, Loki was still his brother and it must’ve been hard for him when Loki died.
“Bruce,” says Thor in a wobbly voice. “Do you believe in redemption?”
“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation. “Most of this team are examples of that. Tony used to make nuclear weapons for war and now he helps people. Nat used to be a deadly assassin and now she’s one of SHIELD’s best agents. Hell, I used to be a known as the big scary science disaster and now I’m a superhero. People change, sometimes for the better.” Bruce does not have to ask where this question is going.
“Loki, he—” Thor swallows. “He got killed by a dark elf. And he did it trying to save me. He died in my arms, a gaping wound in his chest. I could do nothing to save him.” He looks at his clenched hands. “Everyone on Asgard is saying that I should forget it, that one good act does not excuse all his horrendous ones and I agree but—”
“You loved him,” Bruce says.
“That little shit. I loved him so much.” His shoulders are shaking now. Bruce can tell tears are imminent. “That’s why I left Asgard. I tried to forget about him, I thought a break on Midgard would clear my mind but everything reminds me of him.”
Suddenly, he chuckles wetly, turning around. His eyes are wet and he scrubs at them furiously. “I apologize, Bruce. What am I doing, telling you these things you probably don’t even care to know?” He laughs again when tears begin to dribble down his cheeks. “And here I go blubbering like a sentimental idiot when I have no right to-to—”
Bruce decides he’s heard enough. He gets up and in three strides, throws his arms around Thor’s shoulders. He has to stand on his toes to reach that high, but he’ll gladly stand on pins and needles to give Thor the smallest semblance of comfort.
Thor responds immediately, placing his massive hands on Bruce’s sides, burying his face in his hair. Bruce can feel him sobbing. He clings tighter, closing his eyes.
After what seems like forever, Thor finally mutters against his head, “Thank you.”
“For what? Listening? That’s what any good friend will do.”
“For this.” Thor squeezes him. “I've found that most humans are averse touch. But this brings me great comfort.”
“I’m glad. I noticed how you’re always touching people—not in a creepy way. In the way that you prefer platonic intimacy. I thought a hug might help.” Thor nods, pulling back and sniffling. “And hey—if you ever need another hug you can always come to me. I don’t mind at all.”
“You are an excellent friend, Bruce.”
Bruce’s heart gives a traitorous little flutter. “Thanks. You too. And I’m sorry about Loki, I really am. I don’t know much about the guy but if he really gave his life for yours, he deserved a second chance. Everyone does.”
Thor smiles at him; a beautiful, beautiful thing. Behind him, the sun begins to shine through the clouds and the raindrops.
-
Clint wheezes through a broken nose, fighting for breath. Thanos is gone and the danger is dead but the battle is not over yet.
So much has happened in the past hour. The dusted have gotten back but with them came Thanos and his army. Then a bunch of people came to join the battle waving pointy weapons and screaming bloody murder, but thankfully they were on his side and charged the enemy. Everything was a blur after that. After a good deal of fighting the blue robot and her green sister finally managed to get a hold of the gauntlet and snapped. A flash of white shook the world; a callback to when everything first fell apart.
But this time the universe righted itself.
Thanos and his lackies drifted away in clumps of dust. The sisters fell to the ground, bodies covered in burns Clint knew they’d never recover from. The Avengers surrounded them, telling them to hold on, that it would be alright, when a face Clint had hoped to never see again appeared from the shadows.
He shoved everyone away with a burst of green and knelt at the sisters’ sides, saying something only they could hear. Tears cut through the blood and grime on his face. He closed his eyes, and magic enveloped the three. Clint screamed at him to get away from them but could do nothing against the force field that surrounded them, propelling anyone who came within a ten-foot radius into the air.
Then he was done and fell to his knees. The force field spluttered and died, and the Avengers came rushing forward.
Now Clint stands, a boot on Loki’s back, a dagger pressed against his throat. He does not care that there are bruises on Loki’s neck in the shape of a hand, he does not care that blood is streaming from his nose and eyes, he does not care that Nebula and Gamora are stirring on the ground, painstakingly, miraculously alive. “What the hell did you do to them,” he snarls. “The hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead.”
“I…s-suppose—didn’t take,” Loki gurgles. Clint knows if he were up to his full power he could make him explode into a million bloody pieces with the snap of his fingers, but as it is, he is too weak to do anything more than stir weakly. Tony powers up a repulsor and aims it in his face. Natasha cocks a handgun and shoves it to his head.
“You have three seconds to answer before I slit your throat,” Clint warns. But it’s no good. Loki is slipping away. He has obviously pushed beyond his limit. His skin has taken on a grey pallor. His breaths come in short, stuttering gasps, and he begins to go limp in Clint’s grip. His eyes, the light bleeding away from them slowly but surely, move around sluggishly, as if looking for someone. Clint distantly hears the sound of approaching footsteps through the roar in his ears that calls for Loki’s blood splattered on the floor—
“NO!”
Electricity courses through his veins. He vaguely tastes the metal of blood before being thrown back. He lands on his back, dazed but coherent enough to scramble back on his feet, snatching up his knife. He searches wildly for his attacker before noticing Thor, on his hands and knees in front of Loki. Tony and Natasha lie in a heap next to him, twitching faintly. Clint has just enough time to register that Thor just shocked them before he realizes he is talking.
“Loki,” he mutters, gathering Loki up in his arms. “Loki, how—I…” His eyes shine with disbelief. He touches the side of Loki’s neck with a trembling hand. Loki smiles at him, blooding dripping from his lips.
“Articulate as ever,” Loki whispers, leaning into his hand and closing his eyes. “Hm. Missed you.”
Thor barks out a sob, cradling his brother’s head against his shoulder. A lump appears in Clint’s throat. Unbeknownst to him, his knife drops from his hand. His eyes meet Nat’s. Her face darkens, and a mutual sympathy for Thor passes between them. They both know the inevitable.
Clint chuckles darkly. It’s a bit ironic, how even after getting rid of the threat that destroyed half the universe, death still claims more because of him.
And it’s not fair. He hates Loki’s guts, but it’s not fair. He’s seen Thor. The weight gain, the alcohol, his mental regression. He tried to hide it, but his brother’s death shook him bad to the point where he stopped caring about himself.
And now he’s gotten him back, only for God, or the universe, or whatever the hell is cruel enough, to tear him from his arms again.
“Stay with me,” Thor says, pulling back so he can face Loki completely. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay, you’re okay now. Stay with me.”
Loki is limp in his arms, eyes unseeing.
A look of anguished denial passes over Thor’s face. He begins to tremble, shaking his head like a little kid. “No. No. No, no, no—”
Clint can't stay quiet. “Thor—”
“No. Loki, please. Stay. I can’t, I need— I need—”
“Thor, it’s too late. He’s gone.”
“No he’s not.”
Nebula has spoken up. Her voice is cracked, and her skin sparks, but she stands up, a grim expression on her face. Her jaw set in determination, she stalks towards the ruins of the Infinity Gauntlet. Gamora realizes what she’s about to do. She gets up and follows her, helping her pry out the green gem.
The time stone.
As soon as they pick it up, the air around them thrums with energy. Green veins crawl up her skin but she has eyes only for Loki. When she takes a step towards where the brothers lay, however, Thor jerks back.
“I’m not going to hurt him,” Nebula says curtly. “He saved our lives. Will you not let us do the same?”
Thor does not move. The sisters point the stone in their direction. A soft glow encases Loki. Blood crawls back up his skin and into his wounds, and soon after, those close up too. Clint can feel it: the time shifting, bending to the sister’s wills.
Loki wakens with a strangled gasp. He’s seized in a coughing fit and Thor helps him turn over so he can cough out clumps of residue blood. When he’s done he turns to face Thor fully, wheezing slightly.
“Well,” he croaks. “That was unpleasant.”
Thor barks out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. He presses a kiss to Loki’s temple and pulls him closer to his chest.
“There—oof!—there,” Loki murmurs into Thor’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I’ve got you, you oaf.”
“I thought you were gone,” Thor wails. Something crumples in Loki’s face then, and he turns to hide in the side of Thor’s neck. “Years, Loki, years. And just when you’d decided to stay—”
“I’m staying now. I swear it.”
“Norns. You need to stop dying on me.”
Loki chuckles. Then he kisses Thor on the cheek, and ain’t that just the weirdest picture the universe has ever painted?
Clint looks to the others for help. Natasha looks at her pistol half-heartedly. Tony has already powered down his repulsor. He looks to his knife, which sits embedded in the ground.
On one hand, Loki is dangerous. This is the guy who blew up New York for the sake of attention. This is the guy who broke into his mind and rifled through his thoughts and memories like a dictionary. The guy who murdered hundreds of people and laughed.
The guy who just brought two women back to life at the risk of his own. The guy who lets Thor cry on his shoulder. The guy who is glaring at Clint like he is challenging him to try something in the face of Thor's vulnerability.
He decides to leave them alone for the time being. The sight of two fully-grown Norse gods cuddling it out on the ground feels too intimate for casual viewers.
Besides, Thor deserves a good old hug, even if it is from his shitty-ass little brother.