Title: Thunder

Summary: Thor sulks. It thunders. Loki comes by.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, k?

This is in response to the Slash Challenge on the forum from Misgiving Writer.
It doesn't really get all that slashy, actually... I guess I could call it preslash, in a loose definition.
Oh well.

Well, IDC if you don't like slash or something (this falls under the 'something' category). I'm rather proud of this, so you can keep your thoughts to yourself on the subject.

Or you could flame this story for this reason and give me a really good laugh. I mean, laughter is a gift, so I guess flaming would be, too.

So whatev.

Enjoy.

Thor sat upon the roof of a diner downtown. He didn't know why he had chosen to sit here, specifically, but he did know he didn't want to go back to the Mansion just yet.

A blue light of an 'open sign' was reflected off the puddles in the street, blinking up at Thor as he sat there, thinking about his brother.

His brother had caused them all much too much grief, trying to get revenge on him. It was his fault for all these attacks on the Avengers. Baron Zemo, Crimson Dynamo, Enchantress, Executioner, Abomination, Wonder Man- they were all working together to destroy them thanks to Thor's ignorance towards his brother.

Thor was so ashamed.

But not of Loki. He couldn't blame Loki for being jealous. He was ashamed of himself. He hadn't realized his brother's thoughts, hadn't cared enough to ask. He was a horrible older brother, and he owed it to Loki to fix this.

He stared down at the blue light and let his mind wander.

It was a half hour before the diner was closed and the open sign turned off, extinguishing the blue light. Thor was left with the boring white streets lights.

The rain came down. The sky was grey. Droplets ran down his face, down his neck, under his armor. His hair was drenched, but he couldn't bring himself to face his fellow Avengers.

Down the street from him was a flashy club, with a giant, winking pink sign, merrily attracting attention to itself. He turned to face the other way, unable to concentrate on being ashamed with that in his peripheral.

The other way down the street led to apartments, with only little squares of light pouring out the occupied rooms of the complexes.

A man leaned against a burnt out light post, smoking a cigarette. The benches by the bus stop sign were empty and wet. He could hear a babe crying through one of the open windows in the distance. It set the perfect atmosphere for his current mood.

He rested his elbows on his knees, and covered his face with his hands. How'd this even happen? Was he so self absorbed that he did not even notice his own little brother going insane?

And how did he not realize that he was a Frost Giant- not that it mattered- after all the human generations he spent growing up with the boy?

But he must remember, Loki was not a boy anymore. He was a man. He was fully grown and capable of his own decisions, how treacherous those decisions may be.

He clenched his eyes closed and looked up at the sky. The light of the moon pressed the pink and green color of his eye lid into his sight.

Wait. Green?

He opened his eyes, to find no one there.

"Oh Loki, if only I'd known. If only I had not gloated so, if I had paid more attention to thee, dear Brother," he spoke aloud, sorrow coloring his voice with luminescent green as they were taken away in the sudden wind, carried off to who knows where.

Lightening crackled overhead. An ambulance sounded.

The only joy in the world seemed to be found in the shadows below, stretched against the previously lit wall of the diner. Green eyes seemed to cackle and a Cheshire grin was all that was visible before it dissipated into a green wisp, which, too, was taken by the winds.

The rain poured harder, and thunder filled the city with noise.

Thor loved his thundering abilities, especially when he was upset- there was no way to tell if he was crying or not (which, of course, he wasn't! …).

Silently, a whirl of green smoke formed behind him, unaffected by the rain and wind. The eyes formed first, green and unforgiving. Then, there was a smile, cruel and perfect. Then six black lines, three on each side, starting just under the eyes and twisting their way over the cheek bone and to the hair line to each side, mysterious and intimidating. The body appeared next, clad in greens and yellows. The outfit that he wore, to an average Midgardian, would appear to be some kind of Medieval jester getup, but to one who knew better, it was obviously the ensemble of one Loki Odinson, God of Mischief.

Finally, the wicked pale face of the god appeared, smiling wickedly at the wreck known as Thor before him. The misery emanating off of him was delicious- like the warmth of the sun to a freezing child.

"I'm sorry, Brother, for whatever I have done to wrong thee so. I only wish I could say it to thy face," Thor told himself morosely.

"If one does not know what they have done, how is one sorry for it?" Loki asked. Thor jumped to his feet, spinning to face his brother.

"Loki!" he held his hammer tightly, ready for a fight.

"Thor," he stated, dipping his head in greeting. "Why do you expect a fight, Brother?" he sneered.

"I'm sorry, Brother, but are we not enemies now?"

"Depends. Do you hate me, Brother?" he asked innocently, but Thor could tell he was scheming something. He relaxed anyway. It was not as if he was going to be able to figure it out before it was too late, anyway. There was no use trying- it was a simple fact of life that Loki would outsmart him each and every time. He was too tired to bother himself.

"No. I do not hate you, Loki."

Loki smiled evilly.

"Loki, you are my Brother. I do not care that you are a Frost Giant. It does not matter."

"And yet, your father never considered me for King. It does matter, Thor. I am obviously not your equal."

"No Loki, you are. You were raised as my equal, and everyone saw it like that."

"Your puny brain does not even register what conspires around you. I may not be seen as equal to you by your fellow Asgardians, but mark my words, I will prove myself to the buffoon Odin. Mark my words." He drew himself up as if gathering his magic to teleport, but Thor grabbed his wrist before he could.

"Brother, you are my equal. I do not care if you disagree with me. You are my brother, my only sibling, and I love you. Being truly blood related or not, I love you as my brother. Please, do not make us enemies."

Loki shook him off. "Do not speak to me as if you know me, Odinson. You know not what I am."

"Loki, please."

Loki did not verbalize his response. Instead, he simply gathered the green magic around him as it poured from his spider-like hands, and disappeared, a look of hatred adorning his delicate looking features.

"Please…" Thor whispered to himself, and fell to his knees. He suddenly remembered it was raining.