Unto Death (4)
Sorry for the delay, guys! This chapter decided to fight me tooth and nail. I blame the insanely hot weather followed by TORNADOES!
Wtf, New England? We're not Kansas; we don't get flippin' tornadoes!
Anyway.
Warnings: Loki dropping f-bombs and throwing a tantrum. Oh, and a teeny bit of man-on-man action. -waggles eyebrows-
Previous Next
Fires and Embers
Thor followed Tony to the quinjet, his expression grim. Tony's sigh echoed strangely from within his helmet.
“You know all Hell's gonna break loose when he finds out, right?”
Thor nodded, his lips pursed in a thin line. “I shall deal with my brother,” he said. “You do what you have to do.”
Tony nodded and followed Steve into the jet, leaving Thor behind.
Loki groaned, grateful for the coolness of the bathroom tile against his cheek and temple. It helped to ease the pounding in his skull, though it still felt like his brain was trying to hammer its way through his forehead.
As he retched for the third time, Loki vowed that he would never drink again.
“Urrgh,” he gurgled, grimacing at down at the toilet bowl. “It's like being pregnant again.”
Not the best of memories, really. He had never exactly been “glowing” while carrying Sleipnir. Somehow, he felt, the extra limbs just made it worse.
Minutes later, a familiar shape blocked the light streaming through the door. Thor was trying to be quiet, which meant that he now walked with the subtlety of only one herd of elephants.
Loki sat back on his heels and tried to compose himself with as much dignity as one could kneeling on the bathroom floor. “Come to gloat?” he grumbled. Gods knew it was what he would do.
“Of course not,” Thor said even as he gave his brother a look that all but said, yeah, a little. He leaned against the door frame and scratched the stubble on his cheek, which Loki recognized as a nervous gesture. Sure, his pose was casual - too casual - but Loki knew his brother.
A million possibilities flit through Loki's mind, but his pulsing headache sent them skittering out of reach. Grimacing at the sour taste of bile in his mouth, Loki slid until he was sitting with his back to the wall, relieved, at least, that his stomach was starting to settle.
Thor dropped to a sit at his side, and the two stared at the opposite wall as though it held the meaning of life. The silence stretched uncomfortably long.
It occurred to Loki that he should probably ask why Thor was there, but he didn't. Even after all that had passed between them, Loki couldn't envision his brother being anywhere else.
Thor was unusually fidgety, though, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against his arm. Loki rolled his head to the side to consider his brother, and Thor returned the glance but only sheepishly. He's hiding something, Loki realized, and he smirked. He was impressed despite himself that his brother was trying so hard to be devious, even if, as always, he failed rather miserably at it.
He did not ask what was plaguing Thor's conscience. It was far more interesting to watch him squirm.
Normally the prolonged silence would be grating on Loki's nerves by now, but the Trickster was far too tired to care one way or the other. Drinking himself into oblivion was the only way he could shut off the nightmares long enough to sleep.
Loki was considering slinking into the kitchen to hunt for the Salvation of Midgard - coffee - when Thor finally spoke.
“We found another lab that was producing Ultimi,” he said, his tone casual but his words uncharacteristically hurried. “And a warehouse with the last of the previous batch.”
It was like someone had tightened a vise around Loki's lungs.
“Where?” he asked. He cleared his throat when his voice sounded oddly strangled.
“The lab is nearby,” Thor answered, looking down at his callused hands. “The warehouse... does not matter.”
Loki's eyes narrowed. “Meaning?” he prompted, syllables clipped.
Thor's gaze met his before skittering away again. Loki resisted the urge to throttle him.
“It means you don't need to worry about it,” he answered. “The others are taking care of it as we speak.” Thor finally returned Loki's stare fully, his gaze hardened in a warning.
Loki blinked once, twice as he processed those words, feeling white-hot rage itching just under his skin. “And what,” he asked, his voice threateningly soft, “does that mean, exactly?” His lips quirked in a smile that did not reach his eyes.
Thor bristled at the dangerous edge skirting Loki's words. “It means that they are destroying it as we speak,” he answered, blue eyes hard as ice. “I thought it for the best that you keep your distance this time. These... vivid reminders are only hindering your recovery.”
Loki looked away, nodded and bit his lip until he felt a spike of pain. “I see,” he said, still with that manic grin. “Because coddling me like an invalid is far more conducive to my... 'recovery'.”
He all but spat that last word in Thor's face before pulling himself to his feet, and Thor stared after him warily, standing as well. Loki clenched his shaking hands into fists, the edge of his vision burning red with anger. He was too furious to think clearly, his usually calm mask falling to pieces in the wake of this... this betrayal!
“Loki,” Thor said, softly, warily, holding his hands palm out as though to calm a skittish animal. “I'm just trying to help.”
Loki scoffed and turned to storm out, but Thor caught him by the elbow. Loki spun on his brother, throwing off his hand with a snarl. “Fuck you, Thor!” he shouted, the words bouncing tinnily off the ceramic-tiled walls. “FUCK. YOU!”
Magic burned in Loki's veins, and the ground shook as he shouted, pipes groaning and bursting, spraying Thor with fetid water. Loki stormed out shaking with rage, his breathing loud and ragged in his ears as he stalked through the halls, obliterating windows and furniture in his wake.
Thor sputtered and grimaced at the foul-tasting water. “Loki!” he called, shaking the droplets from his face and hands. His only response was the distant sound of glass shattering. “Odin help me.” Thor blew out an exasperated sigh, wading through the now-flooded bathroom, stumbling into the hall and following the trail of destruction. He cringed at the sound of more glass shattering.
“Tony is going to kill me,” he groaned as he broke into a run, hoping to catch Loki before he started to blow up the staff.
The house's sleek, modern lines looked considerably less sleek when littered with giant, smoldering holes and debris. After dodging a couch careening towards his head, Thor roared and tackled his brother to the ground, getting rug-burn on his elbows in the process. Loki shrieked, clawed, and kicked like an angry cat, but Thor held him down, staring back into a pair of very wide, very angry green eyes.
“You need to calm down,” Thor said, careful to keep his voice soft but firm. He felt like he was dealing with a recalcitrant child.
“Get. Off.”
Loki kneed his brother in the crotch and rolled away when Thor instinctively curled up into himself, face red and voice squeaking in a rather unmanly soprano. Loki smirked wen he saw his brother's eyes bulging wide in pain. Seeing the great Thor so diminished, if only for a second, sent a thrill of power up Loki's spine, and something vicious clicked into place.
Loki kicked Thor in the ribs and watched him curl into a tighter ball. “Fight me, then, if I'm so helpless,” Loki hissed through clenched teeth. “Since I can't even defend myself.” This time he kicked at Thor's face, watching, fascinated, as his head snapped back and his nose crunched inward with a spray of blood. Thor grunted and pulled back, glaring at Loki through blackening eyes.
Loki wanted to hurt something, hit something, break something. He couldn't stop.
… he was no better than Abaddon.
“Fight me,” Loki echoed, praying Thor did not hear his voice tremble.
Stop me.
Please.
Loki brought his foot back to kick Thor again, but his brother roared and pushed himself forward and up into Loki, until his back hit the wall with a painful crack. Through the sparks of pain, Loki felt a large, battle-scarred hand curl around his throat.
Thor growled and tightened his grip on Loki's windpipe, pressing him against the wall and squeezing, watching his face flush red and the veins on his forehead bulge out in stark relief. The Trickster could not draw in the breath to cast a spell or say anything snarky, but it took Thor a long moment to realize that Loki was grinning like a madman anyway. He had been baited on purpose.
Thor wrestled his temper back under control and let Loki fall to the ground in a coughing, sputtering heap. Why had Thor stopped? Loki wondered. It was no less than he deserved.
“You are enjoying this?” Thor hissed. “Why must you goad me so?”
Loki staggered to his feet, rubbing at his bruised throat and wheezing, his eyes still shining with that crazed light. “Because you are pathetic,” he rasped. He spat into Thor's face.
Thor grimaced and wiped away the spittle but forced his rising anger back down. His brother was not well, and he would not rise to the bait again.
“I will not hurt you, Loki,” he said. His brother gritted his teeth and snarled in frustration.
“Why not?” Loki growled. He drew his arm back to backhand Thor across the face, but the Thunderer caught his narrow wrist in a grip of steel and held it in the air between them. Loki's eyes widened in rage as he tried to jerk his arm free. “Punish me!” he shouted, pressing his face within inches of his brother's. “Hate me! Hurt me!”
Loki swung wildly with the other hand, but Thor caught that one as well. Thor pushed Loki back against the wall and pinned him there as the Trickster continued to struggle, kicking at Thor's shins and biting at his wrists.
“Enough!” Thor growled, pulling Loki forward before pushing him back against the wall, winding him. That manic fire returned to Loki's eyes as Thor pinned him with his weight. He struggled a bit more, and Thor tightened his grip automatically, knowing that Loki's wrists would have finger-shaped bruises to match the ones blooming on his throat.
Adrenaline set Thor's blood afire, and his heart pounded in his ears as he returned his brother's defiant stare. Loki's eyes looked unnaturally bright, unnaturally green, and they filled Thor's vision.
Cold lips mashed against his the next moment, and, without pausing to think, Thor reciprocated with all the fury of a thunderstorm. Mouths opened, and their teeth clashed like weapons on a different kind of battle field. Loki's tongue tasted like ice water against his.
They devoured each other, Thor pouring all the frustration and anger he harbored against his bother into the act, digging his fingers into Loki's wrists when the Trickster growled and bit his lip. The blood from Thor's broken nose smeared between them and painted their lips red, adding a metallic tang to Loki's taste.
Somewhere in the back of Thor's mind, something clicked into place. He would not realize it until later, but he knew now why Loki liked to goad and insult him; he had wanted his brother to lose control.
And he seemed to relish the pain, biting and clawing, tugging at clothes and hair just enough to sting, which, as Thor would not realize again until much, much later, was probably not a ringing endorsement for Loki's state of mind, considering the hideous torture he had been through recently. He would not make this connection until later, to his chagrin, but it was likely that Loki was aware of it even then.
Loki had spurned Thor's attempts at gentleness, at kindness, but this - this chaotic, dangerous thing - in a twisted way left him open and vulnerable.
Thor was always much slower than his brother in reaching these sort of profound conclusions, however, and, in the moment, all he could register was the raw and physical feel of the younger god pressed up against him, the cooler skin against his fevered flesh, and the growls rumbling in Loki's chest.
Thor's lungs began to burn, and he pulled away to gulp in air, dodging Loki's lips and holding him at enough of a distance to think clearly. Something close to guilt churned in his gut, though he was not sure why. Then he caught sight of the purple-black bruises encircling his brother's wrists and throat, the line of blood dripping from his bottom lip, and Thor drew back as though slapped, releasing Loki.
The green fire in Loki's eyes ebbed to embers, and there was something hollow about his expression as he slumped against the wall, keeping the distance between them. He shot a glare at Thor, but his heart did not seem in it.
Thor mentally kicked himself, feeling like no less of a monster than the Abaddon creature that had used and tormented Loki all those weeks ago.
“Loki,” Thor said softly, trying to convey everything he thought and felt in that moment through those two, familiar and cherished syllables. They had crossed some line, and he did not know what to say.
He reached up hesitantly to wipe the blood from his brother's chin, but Loki slapped his hand away before scowling and pushing past Thor, walking stiffly but briskly towards the exit.
Thor watched him go.
Sometime later - minutes or hours, he was not sure - the sound of heavy footsteps approached and stuttered to a halt just outside the room. Thor turned listlessly to regard the wide-eyed stares of his friends.
“Whaaa-?” Tony shrieked, jaw flapping uselessly as he gestured about him in cutting gestures. “What the Hell happened in here?”
Thor blinked and looked down at the debris, the bits of glass, and the huge Loki-shaped dent in the wall. He cringed and sighed.
“My brother and I... had a disagreement.” Thor gingerly pressed a hand to his swollen but healing nose as though to illustrate the point.
“I suspect he found out,” Steve said, eyeing Tony warily as he continued gesturing wildly. “Were you really expecting a less violent reaction?”
“To my furniture? Yes!” Tony ran a hand through his hair and frowned at the mess, shoulders slumping. “You,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger in Thor's direction, “are never baby-sitting again!”
“Speaking of baby-sitting,” Steve murmured, “where is Loki?”
“I'll go find him,” Thor sighed.
He turned to walk away from the others, hearing Tony curse and grumble, “Now would be a good time to conscript a hero with super-cleaning abilities.”
After hours of searching for Loki, scouring every last bit of the mansion he could think off, Thor gave up and returned to the chambers assigned to him, trying not to worry about his missing brother. Loki could make himself all but impossible to find when he wanted to. It was why he and Sif had always refused to play hide-and-seek with the Trickster.
And then Thor peeked into his closet and saw a thin, black cat with a familiar pair of green eyes curled up on top of Thor's red cloak. Thor chuckled lightly and crouched to be at eye-level with the cat. Green eyes regarded him listlessly before the cat turned away, curling into a tighter ball with its tail covering its face. Thor smiled and gently stroked back the sleek fur with the fingertips of one hand. The cat let out a soft sound, a cross between a growl and a whine.
“Don't growl at me, Loki,” Thor sighed, reaching up to scratch behind the cat's ears. “You're the one getting fur all over my cape.”
Thor settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, trying to remember the words he had rehearsed those hours he had spent looking for his brother. He decided to just focus on the important ones.
“Look, Loki,” he said. “I'm sorry.”
He ran his hand over the cat's soft fur again, and he could feel every rib and vertebra under his palm. Loki did not growl this time but neither did he acknowledge Thor in any way.
“No one can do everything alone, Loki,” Thor murmured. “It's why I joined the Avengers. I think you already know that or you wouldn't have asked for our help in the first place.”
Somehow this was easier to say to a cat, without Loki's expressive features making bored faces or his voice making snide comments. Instead, Thor had to guess at Loki's reaction.
“I've... never been good at this part,” Thor sighed. “At talking or reassuring. I didn't mean to imply that you are helpless; guarding you physically is the only thing I have to offer you. Tell me how to help you.”
A cat face disengaged from the ball of black fur and turned to look at him with sad, green eyes. Thor cupped Loki's cheek, and the cat nuzzled his hand before standing and slinking out of the closet, crawling into Thor's lap and staring up at him as if to say, “Why do you care so much?” Thor could read his brother's face in any form.
“Because I love you too much, you stubborn git,” Thor murmured.
Loki - the bastard - chose that moment to revert back to his usual form. Thor found his little brother sitting in his lap, long legs straddling his waist and their faces inches apart. Those green eyes twinkled with mischief at Thor's wide-eyed expression.
“I think I preferred you as a cat,” Thor sighed. Loki made a fake purring sound and nuzzled Thor's stubbly cheek until the Thunderer chuckled.
Thor wrapped his arms around his little brother, face buried in the crook of his neck, and he could feel every rib and vertebra in this form too. Loki had not been eating well, he realized. Or sleeping.
“You need to let this go,” Thor said softly at his brother's ear, “before it consumes you.”
Loki pulled away at those words, cringing, and he drew himself to his feet. Thor followed, regretting his words and the new distance between them. He held his breath, fearing Loki would begin ranting and raving again, but instead Loki sighed.
“I can't,” he said, staring down at Thor's feet. “I just... I can't.” His green eyes were bright with the threat of tears as his voice faded off into a tremulous whisper.
Thor put his hands on Loki's shoulders and watched, terrified, fascinated, as his brother crumbled before his eyes. Loki was not supposed to unravel like this. He may be small but he was tough, with a mind like a blade and a will like iron.
Loki bowed his head, breathing in harsh, sobbing gulps of air. Thor could not see his face but felt him shaking.
He was not so much made of iron, Thor realized then, as he was made of ice, all hard, sharp edges, but brittle and so, so fragile. Thor tightened his grip as though that alone were holding his brother together.
“Loki,” he said softly. Thor's arms encircled his brother, and he cursed Abaddon for leaving Loki so raw and broken. He was a frustrating, smart-mouthed, selfish little prat, but - by Odin - he was Thor's frustrating, smart-mouthed, selfish little prat.
He was surprised but relieved when, instead of snarling and pushing away, Loki leaned into his touch and pressed his face to Thor's chest, clinging to him with all his strength.
Made of ice, Thor mused. Perhaps he had thawed a little?
* * * * *
Previous Next
A/N: because my cat was curled up next to me, purring and trying to get my attention the entire time I was writing this.
Wtf, New England? We're not Kansas; we don't get flippin' tornadoes!
Anyway.
Warnings: Loki dropping f-bombs and throwing a tantrum. Oh, and a teeny bit of man-on-man action. -waggles eyebrows-
Previous Next
Fires and Embers
Thor followed Tony to the quinjet, his expression grim. Tony's sigh echoed strangely from within his helmet.
“You know all Hell's gonna break loose when he finds out, right?”
Thor nodded, his lips pursed in a thin line. “I shall deal with my brother,” he said. “You do what you have to do.”
Tony nodded and followed Steve into the jet, leaving Thor behind.
Loki groaned, grateful for the coolness of the bathroom tile against his cheek and temple. It helped to ease the pounding in his skull, though it still felt like his brain was trying to hammer its way through his forehead.
As he retched for the third time, Loki vowed that he would never drink again.
“Urrgh,” he gurgled, grimacing at down at the toilet bowl. “It's like being pregnant again.”
Not the best of memories, really. He had never exactly been “glowing” while carrying Sleipnir. Somehow, he felt, the extra limbs just made it worse.
Minutes later, a familiar shape blocked the light streaming through the door. Thor was trying to be quiet, which meant that he now walked with the subtlety of only one herd of elephants.
Loki sat back on his heels and tried to compose himself with as much dignity as one could kneeling on the bathroom floor. “Come to gloat?” he grumbled. Gods knew it was what he would do.
“Of course not,” Thor said even as he gave his brother a look that all but said, yeah, a little. He leaned against the door frame and scratched the stubble on his cheek, which Loki recognized as a nervous gesture. Sure, his pose was casual - too casual - but Loki knew his brother.
A million possibilities flit through Loki's mind, but his pulsing headache sent them skittering out of reach. Grimacing at the sour taste of bile in his mouth, Loki slid until he was sitting with his back to the wall, relieved, at least, that his stomach was starting to settle.
Thor dropped to a sit at his side, and the two stared at the opposite wall as though it held the meaning of life. The silence stretched uncomfortably long.
It occurred to Loki that he should probably ask why Thor was there, but he didn't. Even after all that had passed between them, Loki couldn't envision his brother being anywhere else.
Thor was unusually fidgety, though, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against his arm. Loki rolled his head to the side to consider his brother, and Thor returned the glance but only sheepishly. He's hiding something, Loki realized, and he smirked. He was impressed despite himself that his brother was trying so hard to be devious, even if, as always, he failed rather miserably at it.
He did not ask what was plaguing Thor's conscience. It was far more interesting to watch him squirm.
Normally the prolonged silence would be grating on Loki's nerves by now, but the Trickster was far too tired to care one way or the other. Drinking himself into oblivion was the only way he could shut off the nightmares long enough to sleep.
Loki was considering slinking into the kitchen to hunt for the Salvation of Midgard - coffee - when Thor finally spoke.
“We found another lab that was producing Ultimi,” he said, his tone casual but his words uncharacteristically hurried. “And a warehouse with the last of the previous batch.”
It was like someone had tightened a vise around Loki's lungs.
“Where?” he asked. He cleared his throat when his voice sounded oddly strangled.
“The lab is nearby,” Thor answered, looking down at his callused hands. “The warehouse... does not matter.”
Loki's eyes narrowed. “Meaning?” he prompted, syllables clipped.
Thor's gaze met his before skittering away again. Loki resisted the urge to throttle him.
“It means you don't need to worry about it,” he answered. “The others are taking care of it as we speak.” Thor finally returned Loki's stare fully, his gaze hardened in a warning.
Loki blinked once, twice as he processed those words, feeling white-hot rage itching just under his skin. “And what,” he asked, his voice threateningly soft, “does that mean, exactly?” His lips quirked in a smile that did not reach his eyes.
Thor bristled at the dangerous edge skirting Loki's words. “It means that they are destroying it as we speak,” he answered, blue eyes hard as ice. “I thought it for the best that you keep your distance this time. These... vivid reminders are only hindering your recovery.”
Loki looked away, nodded and bit his lip until he felt a spike of pain. “I see,” he said, still with that manic grin. “Because coddling me like an invalid is far more conducive to my... 'recovery'.”
He all but spat that last word in Thor's face before pulling himself to his feet, and Thor stared after him warily, standing as well. Loki clenched his shaking hands into fists, the edge of his vision burning red with anger. He was too furious to think clearly, his usually calm mask falling to pieces in the wake of this... this betrayal!
“Loki,” Thor said, softly, warily, holding his hands palm out as though to calm a skittish animal. “I'm just trying to help.”
Loki scoffed and turned to storm out, but Thor caught him by the elbow. Loki spun on his brother, throwing off his hand with a snarl. “Fuck you, Thor!” he shouted, the words bouncing tinnily off the ceramic-tiled walls. “FUCK. YOU!”
Magic burned in Loki's veins, and the ground shook as he shouted, pipes groaning and bursting, spraying Thor with fetid water. Loki stormed out shaking with rage, his breathing loud and ragged in his ears as he stalked through the halls, obliterating windows and furniture in his wake.
Thor sputtered and grimaced at the foul-tasting water. “Loki!” he called, shaking the droplets from his face and hands. His only response was the distant sound of glass shattering. “Odin help me.” Thor blew out an exasperated sigh, wading through the now-flooded bathroom, stumbling into the hall and following the trail of destruction. He cringed at the sound of more glass shattering.
“Tony is going to kill me,” he groaned as he broke into a run, hoping to catch Loki before he started to blow up the staff.
The house's sleek, modern lines looked considerably less sleek when littered with giant, smoldering holes and debris. After dodging a couch careening towards his head, Thor roared and tackled his brother to the ground, getting rug-burn on his elbows in the process. Loki shrieked, clawed, and kicked like an angry cat, but Thor held him down, staring back into a pair of very wide, very angry green eyes.
“You need to calm down,” Thor said, careful to keep his voice soft but firm. He felt like he was dealing with a recalcitrant child.
“Get. Off.”
Loki kneed his brother in the crotch and rolled away when Thor instinctively curled up into himself, face red and voice squeaking in a rather unmanly soprano. Loki smirked wen he saw his brother's eyes bulging wide in pain. Seeing the great Thor so diminished, if only for a second, sent a thrill of power up Loki's spine, and something vicious clicked into place.
Loki kicked Thor in the ribs and watched him curl into a tighter ball. “Fight me, then, if I'm so helpless,” Loki hissed through clenched teeth. “Since I can't even defend myself.” This time he kicked at Thor's face, watching, fascinated, as his head snapped back and his nose crunched inward with a spray of blood. Thor grunted and pulled back, glaring at Loki through blackening eyes.
Loki wanted to hurt something, hit something, break something. He couldn't stop.
… he was no better than Abaddon.
“Fight me,” Loki echoed, praying Thor did not hear his voice tremble.
Stop me.
Please.
Loki brought his foot back to kick Thor again, but his brother roared and pushed himself forward and up into Loki, until his back hit the wall with a painful crack. Through the sparks of pain, Loki felt a large, battle-scarred hand curl around his throat.
Thor growled and tightened his grip on Loki's windpipe, pressing him against the wall and squeezing, watching his face flush red and the veins on his forehead bulge out in stark relief. The Trickster could not draw in the breath to cast a spell or say anything snarky, but it took Thor a long moment to realize that Loki was grinning like a madman anyway. He had been baited on purpose.
Thor wrestled his temper back under control and let Loki fall to the ground in a coughing, sputtering heap. Why had Thor stopped? Loki wondered. It was no less than he deserved.
“You are enjoying this?” Thor hissed. “Why must you goad me so?”
Loki staggered to his feet, rubbing at his bruised throat and wheezing, his eyes still shining with that crazed light. “Because you are pathetic,” he rasped. He spat into Thor's face.
Thor grimaced and wiped away the spittle but forced his rising anger back down. His brother was not well, and he would not rise to the bait again.
“I will not hurt you, Loki,” he said. His brother gritted his teeth and snarled in frustration.
“Why not?” Loki growled. He drew his arm back to backhand Thor across the face, but the Thunderer caught his narrow wrist in a grip of steel and held it in the air between them. Loki's eyes widened in rage as he tried to jerk his arm free. “Punish me!” he shouted, pressing his face within inches of his brother's. “Hate me! Hurt me!”
Loki swung wildly with the other hand, but Thor caught that one as well. Thor pushed Loki back against the wall and pinned him there as the Trickster continued to struggle, kicking at Thor's shins and biting at his wrists.
“Enough!” Thor growled, pulling Loki forward before pushing him back against the wall, winding him. That manic fire returned to Loki's eyes as Thor pinned him with his weight. He struggled a bit more, and Thor tightened his grip automatically, knowing that Loki's wrists would have finger-shaped bruises to match the ones blooming on his throat.
Adrenaline set Thor's blood afire, and his heart pounded in his ears as he returned his brother's defiant stare. Loki's eyes looked unnaturally bright, unnaturally green, and they filled Thor's vision.
Cold lips mashed against his the next moment, and, without pausing to think, Thor reciprocated with all the fury of a thunderstorm. Mouths opened, and their teeth clashed like weapons on a different kind of battle field. Loki's tongue tasted like ice water against his.
They devoured each other, Thor pouring all the frustration and anger he harbored against his bother into the act, digging his fingers into Loki's wrists when the Trickster growled and bit his lip. The blood from Thor's broken nose smeared between them and painted their lips red, adding a metallic tang to Loki's taste.
Somewhere in the back of Thor's mind, something clicked into place. He would not realize it until later, but he knew now why Loki liked to goad and insult him; he had wanted his brother to lose control.
And he seemed to relish the pain, biting and clawing, tugging at clothes and hair just enough to sting, which, as Thor would not realize again until much, much later, was probably not a ringing endorsement for Loki's state of mind, considering the hideous torture he had been through recently. He would not make this connection until later, to his chagrin, but it was likely that Loki was aware of it even then.
Loki had spurned Thor's attempts at gentleness, at kindness, but this - this chaotic, dangerous thing - in a twisted way left him open and vulnerable.
Thor was always much slower than his brother in reaching these sort of profound conclusions, however, and, in the moment, all he could register was the raw and physical feel of the younger god pressed up against him, the cooler skin against his fevered flesh, and the growls rumbling in Loki's chest.
Thor's lungs began to burn, and he pulled away to gulp in air, dodging Loki's lips and holding him at enough of a distance to think clearly. Something close to guilt churned in his gut, though he was not sure why. Then he caught sight of the purple-black bruises encircling his brother's wrists and throat, the line of blood dripping from his bottom lip, and Thor drew back as though slapped, releasing Loki.
The green fire in Loki's eyes ebbed to embers, and there was something hollow about his expression as he slumped against the wall, keeping the distance between them. He shot a glare at Thor, but his heart did not seem in it.
Thor mentally kicked himself, feeling like no less of a monster than the Abaddon creature that had used and tormented Loki all those weeks ago.
“Loki,” Thor said softly, trying to convey everything he thought and felt in that moment through those two, familiar and cherished syllables. They had crossed some line, and he did not know what to say.
He reached up hesitantly to wipe the blood from his brother's chin, but Loki slapped his hand away before scowling and pushing past Thor, walking stiffly but briskly towards the exit.
Thor watched him go.
Sometime later - minutes or hours, he was not sure - the sound of heavy footsteps approached and stuttered to a halt just outside the room. Thor turned listlessly to regard the wide-eyed stares of his friends.
“Whaaa-?” Tony shrieked, jaw flapping uselessly as he gestured about him in cutting gestures. “What the Hell happened in here?”
Thor blinked and looked down at the debris, the bits of glass, and the huge Loki-shaped dent in the wall. He cringed and sighed.
“My brother and I... had a disagreement.” Thor gingerly pressed a hand to his swollen but healing nose as though to illustrate the point.
“I suspect he found out,” Steve said, eyeing Tony warily as he continued gesturing wildly. “Were you really expecting a less violent reaction?”
“To my furniture? Yes!” Tony ran a hand through his hair and frowned at the mess, shoulders slumping. “You,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger in Thor's direction, “are never baby-sitting again!”
“Speaking of baby-sitting,” Steve murmured, “where is Loki?”
“I'll go find him,” Thor sighed.
He turned to walk away from the others, hearing Tony curse and grumble, “Now would be a good time to conscript a hero with super-cleaning abilities.”
After hours of searching for Loki, scouring every last bit of the mansion he could think off, Thor gave up and returned to the chambers assigned to him, trying not to worry about his missing brother. Loki could make himself all but impossible to find when he wanted to. It was why he and Sif had always refused to play hide-and-seek with the Trickster.
And then Thor peeked into his closet and saw a thin, black cat with a familiar pair of green eyes curled up on top of Thor's red cloak. Thor chuckled lightly and crouched to be at eye-level with the cat. Green eyes regarded him listlessly before the cat turned away, curling into a tighter ball with its tail covering its face. Thor smiled and gently stroked back the sleek fur with the fingertips of one hand. The cat let out a soft sound, a cross between a growl and a whine.
“Don't growl at me, Loki,” Thor sighed, reaching up to scratch behind the cat's ears. “You're the one getting fur all over my cape.”
Thor settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, trying to remember the words he had rehearsed those hours he had spent looking for his brother. He decided to just focus on the important ones.
“Look, Loki,” he said. “I'm sorry.”
He ran his hand over the cat's soft fur again, and he could feel every rib and vertebra under his palm. Loki did not growl this time but neither did he acknowledge Thor in any way.
“No one can do everything alone, Loki,” Thor murmured. “It's why I joined the Avengers. I think you already know that or you wouldn't have asked for our help in the first place.”
Somehow this was easier to say to a cat, without Loki's expressive features making bored faces or his voice making snide comments. Instead, Thor had to guess at Loki's reaction.
“I've... never been good at this part,” Thor sighed. “At talking or reassuring. I didn't mean to imply that you are helpless; guarding you physically is the only thing I have to offer you. Tell me how to help you.”
A cat face disengaged from the ball of black fur and turned to look at him with sad, green eyes. Thor cupped Loki's cheek, and the cat nuzzled his hand before standing and slinking out of the closet, crawling into Thor's lap and staring up at him as if to say, “Why do you care so much?” Thor could read his brother's face in any form.
“Because I love you too much, you stubborn git,” Thor murmured.
Loki - the bastard - chose that moment to revert back to his usual form. Thor found his little brother sitting in his lap, long legs straddling his waist and their faces inches apart. Those green eyes twinkled with mischief at Thor's wide-eyed expression.
“I think I preferred you as a cat,” Thor sighed. Loki made a fake purring sound and nuzzled Thor's stubbly cheek until the Thunderer chuckled.
Thor wrapped his arms around his little brother, face buried in the crook of his neck, and he could feel every rib and vertebra in this form too. Loki had not been eating well, he realized. Or sleeping.
“You need to let this go,” Thor said softly at his brother's ear, “before it consumes you.”
Loki pulled away at those words, cringing, and he drew himself to his feet. Thor followed, regretting his words and the new distance between them. He held his breath, fearing Loki would begin ranting and raving again, but instead Loki sighed.
“I can't,” he said, staring down at Thor's feet. “I just... I can't.” His green eyes were bright with the threat of tears as his voice faded off into a tremulous whisper.
Thor put his hands on Loki's shoulders and watched, terrified, fascinated, as his brother crumbled before his eyes. Loki was not supposed to unravel like this. He may be small but he was tough, with a mind like a blade and a will like iron.
Loki bowed his head, breathing in harsh, sobbing gulps of air. Thor could not see his face but felt him shaking.
He was not so much made of iron, Thor realized then, as he was made of ice, all hard, sharp edges, but brittle and so, so fragile. Thor tightened his grip as though that alone were holding his brother together.
“Loki,” he said softly. Thor's arms encircled his brother, and he cursed Abaddon for leaving Loki so raw and broken. He was a frustrating, smart-mouthed, selfish little prat, but - by Odin - he was Thor's frustrating, smart-mouthed, selfish little prat.
He was surprised but relieved when, instead of snarling and pushing away, Loki leaned into his touch and pressed his face to Thor's chest, clinging to him with all his strength.
Made of ice, Thor mused. Perhaps he had thawed a little?
* * * * *
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A/N: because my cat was curled up next to me, purring and trying to get my attention the entire time I was writing this.