Hello! I have delved into the Thor fandom, or, more accurately, the Loki fandom.
Set during Ragnarok, sometime before the post-credit scene.
Disclaimer: I own nothing connected to this movie or the Marvel versions of these characters, nor do I earn any money.
Bed covers rustled, scratching against skin as the echo of a heart-stopping scream bounced throughout the enclosed room. A dark figure shot up, panting, blankets pooling at his waist. For a moment, all he saw was darkness—a flash of terror encompassing his soul—before he blinked, and the familiar outline of a small cabin came into view.
Loki stared, before his head drooped down towards his lap, heart thudding in his chest. He took an unsteady breath, then another, and flicked his eyes to the door, ears pricked, listening to see if he'd brought any attention to himself. He hadn't.
Letting out a harsh sigh, he drew a hand up to his face, and rubbed at the pounding in his temple.
He sat perched on a short, poorly constructed bunk. The frame was flimsy and cheap at best; the metal creaking as he moved. He was surprised it had not yet collapsed. He'd had to curl on his side and tuck in his legs just to fit into the cramped space without spilling over the edge or having a metal beam poking into his joints. It was best suited for a child, but as a relatively small Asgardian, and there being no way the bed would hold the weight of a bulky, fully grown male, he'd had to make do. There was also the matter of this being a lower class, single room, and Thor not trusting him enough to have him bunk with anyone else. Well...he couldn't exactly blame him for that.
Loki gripped the terribly scratchy, tattered blanket and pulled it up to his chest, lying down on his side. He'd learned to slow his breaths and calm his heart in these events, but it never made them any less unpleasant. Damn Thanos and his so called children.
Loki snarled, before turning over, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. The Grandmaster was overly flamboyant with many things, but if only he'd extended that flamboyance to his slaves and workers. It would have made his current situation just that bit more bearable.
A low flicker of distant starlight came through the tiny window set into the hull at the back of the room, and Loki lay staring at it as the minutes ticked by. The only sounds were the rattling vibration of the ship's engines beneath the deck as they trudged along, and the soft scuffle of movement in the hall from the odd passerby. It was the middle of ship's night, Asgardian—or what was Asgardian—time and, for the most part, the vessel lay quiet, still, all life currently aboard resting in sleep.
An hour or more passed. Loki was still awake.
Huffing in frustration, he threw back the blankets and rose for his feet, standing in the cramped room.
It was too dark, too silent. He was too alone. Memories danced at the edge of his vision.
Scowling at himself and his own weakness, Loki began to pace, his dark bed clothes concealing him in shadow. He walked the expanse of the room ten times before he stopped, fists clenched.
He knew what he needed—wanted. But he hated himself for needing it. His past self would have scoffed at the idea, but...
With a quick thought, a shimmer of gold travelled up his form, and he was quickly shrouded in a long, green cape, hood pulled concealingly over his head.
Creaking open his door, he slipped out.
The lights were on dimly in the halls to conserve power, and after noting no further presence, he began his trek.
He had to travel quite a way through the bending, winding turns before he reached his destination, and when he did, he paused before the door. "Captain's Quarters" was written in garishly loud colours upon the surface, and he cringed for a moment at the theatrics, before weaving a spell to unlock the mechanism, and pushing lightly. It opened with a click.
Gazing each way down the corridor, he widened it enough for a person to fit, and slipped inside.
The room within was spacious, filled with excess furniture and luxuries, containing its own private bathroom off to one side.
In the middle of the room, on a large, king sized bed, lay Thor.
Despite being shrouded in darkness, he could see it was fit for a king.
Loki snorted.
A soft shuffling came from the left of him, and Loki turned. Ah yes, the beast's alternate persona. Banner had been uncomfortable with the idea of bunking in a room with a bunch of strange aliens, and so it had been decided for everyone's best interest that he bunk with Thor, someone familiar, hence they have an unfortunate incident. Loki didn't protest to the idea. It had a sort of logic to it, and being sucked out into space was something he never fancied experiencing again.
Squaring his shoulders, he tiptoed past the beast, moving with an agility and stealth learnt from centuries of practice, before he came to a stop at the foot of Thor's bed. Frown creasing his brow at his brother's drooling form, he removed the cloak from his shoulders, and crept around the frame. Pulling back the bed covers—soft, oh the Norns—he slipped into the other side and burrowed into the pillow. If he closed his eyes, he could listen to his brother's breathing, smell the sweaty, meady tang of his scent, and imagine they were back on Asgard after a night of feasting—years before now, when recent events had yet happened—and pretend all was well.
Bruce groaned as the lights snapped on, marking it as ship's day, and rubbed his eyes.
The little cot they'd set up in Thor's room was quite comfortable, but everything was still so alien to him, and he hadn't yet caught up on the exhaustion from the last few days—or years, to be more exact. When did his life turn into some crazy, blockbuster movie? Probably when he performed that ill-advised experiment with gamma radiation.
Sitting up in his bed, he groaned again, stretching his shoulders with a few satisfying cracks, before glancing over towards the newly appointed Asgardian King.
Thor was splayed out over the mattress on his back, limbs spread out and sheets curled in a tangle, a large bundle of them conglomerated over his right side. His head leaned back on the pillow, and his mouth was open, producing an obnoxiously loud snore.
Bruce grimaced, the sound doing nothing for his already tired brain, and stood up. It still felt strange standing on an object he knew was constantly moving through space, but he shook the unease from his mind, and made his way over to a small bench containing various bottles of alcohol and a few foodstuffs to get himself a drink of water.
It took him a second to find where the non-alcoholic beverage was hidden, but when he did, he poured himself a glass, and went to sit back on his bed.
Sipping on his drink, chasing the remnants of sleep away, he watched the thunder god as he slept. His snore really was horrendously loud. He wondered how anyone in Asgard ever put up with it. Chuckling, he turned to face the view of space that lay past the large, round glass window decorating the far wall. It was impressive, to say the least, being in space. The stars looked so peaceful from here—a sterile, almost cold stillness about them. Their current location was, for the most part, surrounded by aeons of dead, empty black. They'd left any nearby nebulas and planets behind last night. It reminded him of just how far away from home he really was.
Righting the glass of water that had begun to tip in his slack hand before it spilt, he put it down on a nearby surface.
He pulled his attention away from the cold, desolate blackness, and into the here and now. To inside the colourful and life-filled room: within the walls of this ship, where was housed everything that currently mattered. The entire surviving people of Asgard, held inside layers of steel and metal. What a precious cargo this ship contained. He really should check with the engineers this morning, see how they were holding up. He may not have knowledge of the intricacies of space travel, but he was a scientist, and he'd promised Thor he'd do everything he could to assist their journey to Earth.
A shuffling sound reached his ears, and Bruce snapped out of his thoughts. The blankets to Thor's side had moved, and yet the Thunderer didn't appear to have shifted.
A small crease appeared between Bruce's eyebrows, and he stood up, quietly making his way next to the bed.
The pile of blankets looked different from this angle, more the shape of a person.
Gulping, suddenly nervous, Bruce flicked his eyes around the room, but there were no weapons to be seen. Grabbing the sturdiest looking hand-held item he could find—some bizarre thing he'd never have a hope of describing or determining the use of—he shuffled back to the bed. Trying to calm the bit of green he could feel tinging his skin, he fingered the corner of the blankets, gripped the object hard, and lifted them back. Jolting away, his eyes widened to the size of saucers.
Loki, for it had to be Loki—what with the dark tangle of black, slightly curly, shoulder-length hair—was lying on the right side of Thor, head rested on his shoulders, and an arm limply flung out over his chest. His eyes were closed, breaths coming in slow, steady puffs.
Bruce didn't move for several long moments, his expression changing radically between shock, confusion, alarm, and all manner of similar emotions. He was brought out of his stupor as Thor snorted, mumbling something undecipherable in his sleep, and shifted, an arm blindly feeling for Loki and tugging him closer to his chest. He smacked his tongue a few times, before settling back down, head now turned in Loki's direction.
Bruce clacked his mouth shut from where it had hung open, and shook his head to clear it.
Making as wider birth around the sleeping villain as possible, Bruce reached towards Thor's left shoulder, and shook it.
"Ah...Thor?"
Thor mumbled again, but otherwise remained still.
"Thor?"
When the Asgardian failed to respond a second time, Bruce raised his voice, one eye kept on Loki as he gave the large shoulder a strong shove.
"Thor!"
Thor jolted.
"Mhhw, Father? Hnnvnvnvmmm...Whaaa?"
Thor blinked his one remaining eye open. It appeared sleepy for a moment, before it cleared, and came to focus on Bruce.
"Friend Bruce! Why have you awoken me so early? There are still several hours left to sleep..."
Bruce flicked his eyes towards Loki, before settling them back on Thor. Thor looked puzzled for a second, before glancing down in the suggested direction. He stilled.
There was complete silence in the room for several minutes, before Bruce spoke up.
"Thor," he hissed, before stopping. There were shimmering, silent tears running down Thor's face from his one eye.
"He has not done this in years. Not since...not since..." The choking noise that left the Thunderer's throat had Bruce re-evaluating the situation.
He gazed between the two of them in quick succession with obvious confusion. What was he missing? Had he missed something? Why was the otherwise tough, untouchable Asgardian brought to tears like a small boy?
He lowered the would-be-weapon from his hand.
"We used to sleep like this as boys, on Asgard, even long after we'd grown into young men. I guess we never grew out of it. Mother didn't seem to mind. She made sure we had a bed spaced big enough for two and defended the practice against father, who believed we were too grown for such weak sentiments. I had forgotten what it was like."
He stroked a hand through the raven hair, parting it behind an ear and exposing more of Loki's face. He looked peaceful in sleep, in a way Bruce had never seen before. It had him doing a double take.
"I wonder what must have brought him to do this. To seek me out in this manner..." Thor hung his head towards his chest, a look of such heartbreak on his face that Bruce couldn't help but fidget at the weight of it.
"Per—perhaps after all that happened, he needed something familiar—comfortable . I mean, you did just lose your home, where you grew up."
Thor nodded absently.
"Perhaps. It is ironic that it would take losing so much, to finally bring us closer together and mend the hole in Loki's heart. But still, it is foolish to hope, friend Bruce. We do not know what motivated Loki to sneak into our chambers, and we may never do so." He stroked his hand through Loki's hair once more, before carefully disentangling himself from his brother, arranging him on the bed and pulling the blankets up to his chin. He then stood up with a large stretch, all traces of sadness gone.
"Come, friend Bruce. It is a new morn and I am famished. Let's go fetch the morning meal with the others and see what news Heimdall fares."
Together, they walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
When they returned several hours later, Loki was gone, the bed made perfectly in his absence.
As usual, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! If you have any feedback or questions, or would like to request a story, please leave a comment below. You can also contact me on my tumblr -aliciarosefantasy. Have a wonderful day :)