heavy footfalls sound behind him, as familiar to loki as the back of his own hands.

it means that thor’s here.

the thunder god has the worst timing in the history of ever. ugh.

he doesn’t turn to  his brother until he  covers the spellbook  up with a spare shirt, casting him a disdainful glance with pursed lips.

     ”When did you get here?”

in other words: how did you find me.

    “Don’t you have other things to do?”

translation: go away, go away. i’m busy with stuff you don’t like to  see me doing. totally not  as important as saving the  world; go do that.

thor thudded towards loki's chambers, grinning merrily at those he passed, either oblivious or unheeding to the dark looks sent his way.

today had been a day of adventure mud in the hallway was of little consequence.

                    --- --- --- ---

thor walked through the open doorway to find loki's nose deep in a book. --  because of course it was.

ah well. the spell could wait. this was important.

the thunder god halfheartedly scrubbed at the grime covering his tunic when he caught sight of lokis frown - which meant he now had mud down his front and covering his palms.

thor knew a lost cause when he saw one - onto what mattered.

before loki could tell him to get his boots off the rug thor burst out "i have a surprise for you brother;" his proud grin mostly lost behind a mask of grime.

              “——-“ 

Thor is met with stunned silence and Loki’s eyes grow wet with tears. 

He does not let them fall. His voice shakes when he speaks and his fists clench in frustration.  When did Thor become so well-versed in words? It hits him, then, that Thor’s strength in speech comes from his honesty, whereas Loki must wrap himself up in lie upon lie to feel even slightly less brittle.  He has tried very hard to be strong for this conversation, but courage does not reside in him as strongly as it does in others. He would rather run far away and hide, be called weak and a coward. 

"So what if I am afraid? You terrify me. For all your kindness,    you possess might greater than anyone. What am I to do with    that? 

  I would rather face the whole of Asgardia spitting upon me than   know that you, too, share their views and ideals. You say you love   me, but for how long will that remain true? How long may I test you   before you decide that you have had enough? I fear the day your hammer   turns upon me. 

  I know I cannot change. I have tried and I will end up back where    I was. You fear that. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes, in the    glint that shows in the darkness. Thor, you alone have the power to   destroy me. None else could wound me deeper.

  You want me as I am, but I do not. I wish not to be this liar, this   blight upon the earth you hold so dearly. I wish to be more like you.”

The silence that reigns when Thor finishes speaking worries him more than Loki's words ever could. He remembers when they were both children then, looking at stubborn tears that refuse to fall.

He remembers and he regrets.

This is not what he wanted. It hardly ever is with Loki. Every time he thinks he does something right, he turns around and sees destruction in his wake. Thor is clumsy, and it turns out his brother needs to be handled with care.

He has hands that are meant for the weight of his weapon and a voice that's meant to answer prayers. He is built for grand gestures. The heat of battle, the revery of a feast; the sorrow in a storm.

His mouth is crafted for sincerity. Meant for direct designations that take the clearest path to their objective.

He is not equipped for his brother. He does not know how to choose different words, better words, which he will understand.

He does not know how to convince someone who does not want to believe him - but he will try anyways.

Because it is Loki, and because he would not be Thor if he did not try.

"I cannot help who I am." Thor says finally, trying to piece together the words that spill from his brothers lips. "But I your view seems clouded. I may be a god, but I am not infallible. We are as complex as mortals, sometimes more so. I make no claim to perfection.

Where do our differences lie? You say you want to be better. As do I.

Mjolnir has turned on you before, and you have survived her. If it is my strength you fear, maybe you should look upon your own. You have more power than you give yourself credit.

You say no one could wound you deeper, and yet I have wounded you. And you have survived. Just as you have wounded me, and I have survived.

You speak of fears -- let me voice mine. I fear losing you. I fear we will wind up as we were. I fear for all my might, I will ruin this.

I am no soothsayer, I do not look to the future. The only path I can walk is the one laid before me. All I can tell you is I will not lie to you, and I will try my best. I ask no more of you than I ask of myself.

You say you cannot change, yet I know if that were so we would not be talking thus.

My eyes are open. If I see good in you brother, it is because it is there. I do not want another Thor. I want Loki. For better or worse."

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The whole actual god of thunder thing was something Claire was still trying to wrap her head around. It was hard enough coming to terms with the fact that she not only heals from just about everything, but that her ability granted her immortality, more or less. But to learn that Earth was far from alone in the universe? Still a work in progress.

She watched him command the lightning and even she wouldn’t deny how awesome it was—awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. But, more impressive than his power was the way he carried himself. He genuinely wanted to help, and that was something she couldn’t help but feed off of.

"Right, uh, that way." Claire waved a hand towards the spot that needed to be jump started, though her eyes were glued to him. This would work, definitely. Probably.

Thor nodded silently and moved forward, unable to help the small but joyous grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth as he felt Mjolnir’s song pound through his body. He was at home in the storm. It had always been so. Rarely did he feel the discord of it’s swirling edges. Instead he was the center, the eye. A deceptively calm channel of which destruction lashed out from.

He raised his hammer high before swinging her down again with a loud crack. He could see licks of electricity sparking along the generator, but he couldn’t tell if his strike had done any good. With a mental shrug Thor let the storm above them dissipate and tempered the power in his blood to a dull roar. Either it worked or it didn’t. Hitting the metal box again would do no good.

He continued to gaze at the singed generator with a small frown, unsure what he was looking for. “Did we accomplish what you hoped?” he asked, some what hesitantly.

     Thor had told Steve to meet up here at the coffee shop at this      precise time, and man — when he told Thor he was going to be      on time; he meant it. But he has been sitting here for at least      thirty minutes now, and honestly… it’s starting to piss him off a      bit. Cool, this guy wanted to get him coffee as an apology, but in      order to do that he was going to have to show up.      He’s really starting to think that this guy was just pulling his leg      and trying to mess with him. It would make sense. The only thing      they ever do is throw punches at each other in the ring. They’re      not even friends. So why should he trust him to even show up?      A heavy sigh passes his lips and he slumps forward, putting his      elbow up on the table and covering up his eyes with his hand.

Thor drummed his fingers against his steering wheel in frustration; an unhappy frown wrinkling his eyebrows as he looked at the wall of traffic before him. This had not been how he planned this day.

Because yes, Thor had planned for this. He had planned this quite a lot actually. And in all of those plans he would have arrived at his destination at least fifteen minutes early, there would have been a distinct lack of blood on his shirt, and the bouquet of flowers placed carefully in the seat next to him would have been cheerful and crisp rather than sad and crumpled.

At least the dog was alright he thought with no small amount of anger as he glanced into his side seat and saw a long pink tongue lolling happily back out at him. Sighing, Thor gently ran his hand over the short fur of the pitbulls head and let his rage fade to a dull simmer. It would be of little help now. All he could do was hope Steve understood.

Pulling into the parking lot of the coffee shop and rolling the windows of his down down Thor glanced indecisively at the front door, wondering if it would just be better to call Steve and ask to reschedule. He hated doing things over the phone though, it felt impersonal. And he wasn’t sure he’d get a second chance at this. It had been a miracle that his opponent had agreed to meet him in the first place.

Thor looked at the flowers next to him and let out a small sigh, deciding to leave them where they were. Somehow he didn’t think they would be as appreciated as he hoped. Straightening his shoulders and hurriedly brushing off the worst of the grime on his hands Thor gently patted the animal trying to stuff her entire nose out of the window and gave her a fond look before hopping down to the pavement.

As soon as he entered the coffee shop he made a beeline for the corner booth where he had spotted bond hair, standing awkwardly over it for a moment before sitting carefully down, not wanting to disturb the man sprawled across the table. “I’m sorry I’m late Steven,” he said after a moment, apology written across his face. “and I’m sorry to say this after forcing you to wait on me, but I cannot remain for long. I came because I wanted you to know I deeply regret not getting to spend time with you, and would very much like to do this again under better circumstances. -- If you will allow me, of course.”