It's not a scream, and maybe that's what troubles Thor the most. It's a moan, a gasp, maybe only a breath, but it's filled with all the pain and fear in the whole nine realms and so unlike Loki that at first he believes it to be nothing more than a dream. But then the same noise escapes the trickster's lips again and this time, it's slightly louder, too loud to still be considered a mere trick of the thunderer's overactive mind.
For a moment, Thor doesn't move, just lies on his bed and thinks. It's still Loki, Loki who is proud and somehow still undefeated, who hates to think himself as weak and in need for help, Loki who still renounces any bond which has ever existed between them, no matter what Thor does. Loki who is supposed to be his prisoner and yet still acts as if he was a prince with his head held high and his lips curled into a cruel smile.

But at the same time, it is Loki who he still refers to as a brother, uncaring that there is no drop of shared blood in their veins, Loki who he fought and laughed and cried with side by side, Loki who is still the one he thinks about when someone talks about love. And Loki lets out another whine and suddenly it is too much.
Even before he unlocks the cell and walks into it, he knows what the other will say once he has discovered that Thor still comes by sometimes, watching the trickster sleep, even if he has promised to let him rot alone and lonely for the rest of time the last time they have spoken. He will mock and jeer, try to get Thor to crack under his words and looks. Sometimes, he thinks that what the trickster actually wants is not to hurt him, but to lead him to hurt Loki himself.

He pushes the thought away because it hurts, taking the two, three steps it takes to reach the other's bed, not sitting down, only watching. Sleeping, Loki looks younger and more vulnerable than Thor has seen him in years but instead of the peaceful look one would expect, his eyes are screwed up in terror, his parted lips trembling, long fingers clenching around the thin covers. It takes all of Thor's self-control not to bend down and wrap his arms around the trickster, cradle him against his chest; instead he extends a hand, shaking Loki's slight form until he can feel his brother waking. There is a moment where green eyes open, still not focussed and so scared it frightens Thor himself because never before has he seen an emotion of this strength reflected in the other's features. He stays silent, giving Loki time to remember where he is and why, watching relief and realization flit over his face before it goes back to the emotionless, cold mask the god of mischief is so proud of.
'Come here to gloat?', Loki asks at least, his voice still shaky as he forces a smirk on his face which looks wrong after what Thor has just seen.

Maybe there is a right way to ask this, but even if Thor cannot think of it in this moment and patience and consideration have never been his strong points. 'What did you dream about?', he blurts out and sees how the colour drains from his brother's face, eyes widening in horror.
He knows it's wrong, but he can't help but feel at least a little proud for making Loki's mask crumble. It takes longer than Thor had expected for the other to collect himself, but he doesn't take his eyes from the trickster for one moment, still searching for a sign of what he is missing.
'Why would you care?', Loki finally replies, his eyes not meeting Thor's, 'Does it pain you so much that you can't lock my mind up as easily as you have done it with my body?'
Thor shakes his head even if it hardly necessary: They both know that the trickster's words hold no truth. 'You were scared', he states and there is no room left for discussion.
'I was dreaming of being locked up in here forever', Loki answers and Thor shakes his head. Sometimes it is hard to see a lie for what it is, but not this time.

'I was dreaming of being locked up in here forever with you', his brother tries again and this time, the thunderer doesn't even respond, only continues to look at Loki, waiting.
'I was dreaming of Volstagg mistaking my head for a cushion.'
'Your bunch of mortals breaking into the palace and demanding I was brought down to face what they call justice.'
'You looking down on me.'
'You.'
'You.'.
'You.'
'Always you.'
And Thor's heart breaks a little time with every answer, but they're not right, he can feel it, and so instead of trying to sooth his brother, he continues to stare at him, watching out for more cracks in the mask Loki wears so well. They appear, slowly, and it takes what feels like an eternity, the trickster drops his gaze to his hands, and answers with a voice so soft and broken that Thor has to strain to hear it. 'Falling.'

At first, the word makes no sense at all. Falling from where, for whom? He opens his mouth to ask when it hits him, making him feel at least as dumb as Loki thinks him to be and even more terrible, for in all the time, he has not once asked Loki about when he fell. He wants to sit down, but the trickster is looking at him with something in his eyes, that is as close to hate as one can get and so he only reaches out to steady himself against the wall.

They stay like this for a second or two, Thor silent because he can't think of anything to say, not with his brother looking at him like this, no matter how desperately he wants to.
'What is it? Has a little honesty shocked you so much it turned you mute?' Loki finally breaks the silence, already back to smirks and taunts, though his eyes still look hollowed out, empty.
'How was it?'. Thor asks without thinking for a second longer. He'll do it right this time, even if Loki is just staring at him as if he had gone mad.
'How it was?', the trickster repeats and laughs, the sound cruel and rough and somehow fitting. 'Oh, you couldn't imagine, even if you had half a brain.' His voice trails off and it is only now that Thor really realizes how terribly scared Loki has to be, for this was no insult worthy of the god with the silver tongue, the man who could bring warriors down to their knees with a few, well-chosen, cruel words. And yet, when the trickster continues it's not a taunt, it's an answer. It's the truth.
'How do you think something would feel if it makes me grateful for the help a race as uncivilized and revolting as the Chitauri were offering?' Again, Loki pauses, as if he doesn't know how to put into words what he wants to say, and Thor has never seen this side of him before. 'It's falling, endlessly, nothing around you, nothing beneath you, only you and your thoughts and nothing to distract you. Nothing happens and once you have been over thinking about everything that has ever happened in your life, you start again and again and again until there is nothing left of it anymore. And you just cling to that one little thing which a part of you still holds dear and wait… Because no matter what, one day you will find that it's twisting and changing until it is as hideous as the rest of you. ' Loki hasn't looked at him since he started talking, green eyes fixed on his hands which are still holding the covers tightly, and it makes Thor feel as if he was intruding the other's privacy. For this is a confession, and somehow it seems as if Loki has forgotten that he is even here.

He moves closer slowly, waiting after each step for his brother to snap at him, to tell him off, but it doesn't happen, not until he is standing directly in front of the bed. Loki tenses up and he understands, stops but still asks what he wants to know most, 'What did you cling to?'
And Loki scoffs, long fingers starting to pick at the loose threads of the blanket. 'Wouldn't you like to know.'
Thor stays silent and waits, because yes, he would and they both know it. This time, it doesn't take as long for the other's resolve to crumble and the thunderer is not sure if that is a good or a bad sign.
'Revenge.' It's only one word and even if Loki's voice is steady and cold, Thor doesn't believe it for a second.
'The thought of seeing Midgard burn.'
'Magic.'
'The memory of Frigga reading us stories before bedtime.'
'Death.'
'Chaos.
There is a pause, unexpected and longer than Thor would consider comfortable if it was anyone else sitting in front of him, anyone except his brother who is still scared of a dream he had half an hour ago. So Thor waits, because there is nothing else left to do, watching Loki's face, pale and worn, the cuts and bruises from their fight not yet faded. And then Loki looks at him, really looks, not an emotion shown on his face, but his eyes are clear and strangely soft.
'You', he says and Thor's heart stops because it's the truth, 'Always you.'
Part of Thor warns him to keep his distance, but he ignores it, falling to his knees in front of his brother's bed, his eyes never leaving Loki's, needing to make sure this is still fine. His hands reach up to peel the other's long fingers from where they are still clutching the covers, not letting go, instead holding them tightly. There is something he needs to say, but he can't quite grasp what it is, the faint shadows of words burning away on the tip of his tongue as he searches for them in Loki's eyes, on his lips, his cheeks.

'I…' he starts, but stops again, because this isn't about him, this never was. 'There was not one day I did not think of you', he says instead. Loki doesn't reply, but his fingers curl ever so slightly around the thunderer's and it is all the answer he needs. He inches closer, slowly, because it feels as if it would only take one wrong word to shatter the fragile peace they have now.
Loki's eyes are still wide, a rest of fear lingering in their depths and Thor leans in because there isn't anything else to do, because he has to show his brother that he is here and that he will stay. That he loves him, even if they aren't kin and even if the other has done something which is so close to unforgivable. And most of all that, even if he walks away sometimes, angry enough that his thoughts are filled with the trickster's blood, he will always, always come back to him.
But Thor has never been good with words and so he does the next best thing; he kisses Loki, because he loves him, loves him in ways these mortals could never understand, because they have never spent an eternity at another's side. He will be pushed away, he knows that much, but it will be worth it, if it just gets the trickster to understand.

The shove never comes.

Neither does Loki respond, only sits there and allows Thor to put everything he never had the chance to say into the kiss as he pries the other's lips open with the tip of his tongue. It should feel wrong, and yet this is more like them than any other kiss could ever be. Because through all their life it's been like this, Thor always bolder, ready to act on feelings his brother didn't even admit to have yet; running after Loki, never catching up, never truly understanding what the other was trying to say. And there is nothing he can do but continue, continue and hope. And he does, but nothing helps and finally Thor pulls away, only an inch or two so that Loki's breath is still warm against his own lips. 'Please', he whispers and it's soft and broken and maybe he was wrong again, maybe it's neither about him nor about Loki, maybe it is about them.
A silent moment passes and Thor is so close to giving up that he can already taste the bitterness of defeat and resignation on his tongue when his brother's fingers tighten around his own and then, as if a spell has been broken, Loki is kissing him. It's not sweet and gentle and tentative like he had always imagined but a blur of lips and teeth and tongue, and it doesn't matter a bit. For this is Loki and however the trickster wants to kiss him is perfect.

When they break apart, they are both breathless and dishevelled, lips bitten and bruised and swollen and Thor hopes that he will be able to feel the sting tomorrow, hopes that every word and breath and sip will remind him of his brother. They stay close and it hurts every time Thor has to blink because this is a side of Loki he has never seen before and he doesn't want to miss a moment of it. And he wants to say something, but it's no use because he isn't good with words, never has been and probably never will, especially not when there is everything to be said. He opens his mouth nonetheless, because he needs his brother to know, needs to do this right at least once in his life. There are a thousand things flitting through his mind and Loki just looks at him, expression never changing, looks at him and whispers the only thing which fits this situation, and it shouldn't be a surprise because Loki has always had a silver tongue. 'I know.'