The air is cold as Thor leaves his home to finally find someone again he had long since lost. It hits the patches of Thor's skin which are not covered with cloak or armour, making him shiver slightly as he focuses on keeping his steps steady as he continues his way down to the lake. There is a reason for his presence, and yet he wonders why Heimdall has picked this particular place when he has all the nine realms to choose from, for this is the middle of Nebraska and there is nothing of interest around. No towns or stores, no cafés, not even people, just a lake and seemingly endless stretches of land all around him.
He walks on, leaving the street he has travelled and steps into fresh fallen snow. It's soft and gives in easily, frozen blades of grass bending and breaking under his weight. Each step is accompanied with a satisfying crunch and Thor finds he is enjoying this, a soft smile grazing his lips and for the first time, he can see why the Gatekeeper has brought him here.
It is peaceful, raw and silent except for the noise he himself makes, and maybe this is what he needs. What both of them need.
He doesn't hurry, the numbers on the watch the Iron Man has given him indicating he has more than enough time left on his hands and he spends it looking around as he walks, carefully examining his surroundings for signs of life, but finds none. In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is Heimdalls doing somehow, to give them the privacy they will surely he eventually reaches a spot he deems suitable, there are only two minutes left and the snow has long since soaked through the leather of his shoes. It does not look any different to the rest of the land around him, covered in snow, but the ground is slightly raised, allowing him to overlook the scenery properly. The landscape surrounding him is as barren as it is beautiful; the sky tinted a metallic gray, matching the colour of the lake spread out in front of him, the layer of snow and ice blurring the edges between land and water.
It is only when he is finally standing still, nothing keeping his mind off what is to come anymore, that the god's fingers start tugging gently at his hammer's leather binds, nervous although it pains him to admit it even to himself. And yet his heartbeat quickens, making his breath come in little huffs, tiny droplets of liquid freezing instantly in the air and tinting it milky white. He grips Mjölnir harder and digs his feet into the ground, eyes searching for any sign of the storm he knows is to come in less than a minute.
And then the clouds break open, letting sunlight float through and making the water underneath shimmer and sparkle like molten silver. The wind picks up and there is snow, coming from all around him and suddenly it is hard for Thor to see where he needs to head as he raises his hammer and takes off into the middle of the hurricane.
It is a strange feeling, flying through a mess of frozen water which melts as soon as it comes in contact with his skin, and winds strong enough to whip him around at their will, but he grits his teeth and wills himself to spin Mjölnir even quicker, creating a barrier of air rushing by between him and the rest of the world. Blue eyes search frantically for any sign of the passenger the storm is bound to bring from Asgard and still he almost misses the lithe form falling from the sky, lifeless and pliant as it rushes downwards to meet the icy lake. Panic grips Thor's heart as he drops from the sky with breathtaking velocity, reaching the other just in time, barely three metres separating them from the ice covering the surface of the lake. Twirling his hammer once again, Thor changes their course, navigating them away from the storm and onto the safety of the ground, the other body still pressed so tightly against his own it would take only a bit more pressure to fuse them forever.
Thor lets go of Mjölnir, the hammer dropping down onto the ground and leaving a crater in the formerly untouched snow, before taking off his cape and spreading it onto the ground with some difficulty. One arm is still slung across the figure's waist and he cannot help but notice how good it feels to have the other so close to him again. Gingerly, he lays the unconscious man down, making sure not to let the snow touch him, before sitting back on his knees and allowing himself a moment to just look.
Loki's skin is even paler than usual, the contrast to the whiteness surrounding him worryingly small, thin, chapped lips barely pink anymore. His bright, emerald eyes are closed to the world, to Thor, and long, black lashes fan out over his high cheekbones, making him look almost ethereal in his perfection. And yet, the storm has left its traces on his brother's body, dark hair mussed in a way Thor has never seen before, soft locks framing his face, making him look younger than ever, more innocent and all over him, there is a sheen of ice crystals, thin and delicate, covering him like a veil to protect him from the rest of the world.
Thor does not dare to touch him; instead watches as the tiny shards of ice melt on his brother's face, his lips, his hair, tiny droplets coalescing into larger ones until they run down Loki's cheeks like the tears he would always try to hide from Thor. And suddenly, the god of thunder cannot stop himself from reaching down and destroying the other's peaceful state, wiping away the liquid in one, fluid motion.
Loki's skin is cool to his touch, but when his fingers brush over his brother's lips he can feel warm breath against his skin and when he allows them to travel further, down to his chin, over the sharp line of his jaw to cup his face as he has done so often when they were younger, he feels the other's heartbeat, soft and steady and oh so soothing.
There is another moment in which Thor does not dare to move, to breathe even, for Loki looks so perfect in his arms, so beautiful and calm he cannot help but wonder if this is not just a dream from which he is bound to wake again. But then the pulse beneath his flesh quickens and Loki's lips part ever so slightly, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to open his eyes and Thor's heart swells at the sight of it, straining against his chest in the most delicious way.
Another smile plays on his lips as he reaches out and trails a calloused thumb over the younger god's cheek, seeing how his brother's brow furrows in confusion at the touch. Rough fingertips still drawing symbols and runes from a language long forgotten onto the pale skin, he watches Loki's eyelids sliding open, pupils still blown wide and unfocused. For one second, he fears the other will try and force him away, but the moment passes and Thor can feel the tension leave his brother's body easily until he lies pliant in the thunderer's grasp. The tip of a pink tongue darts out and wets pale lips before Loki murmurs, Brother, the sound so soft it is but a breath, yet still enough to cause warmth washing all over Thor's body, as if there was fire, not blood inside his veins.
I am here, Loki, he whispers back and sees the hint of a smile spreading over the trickster's face, lightening up his eyes and curling the edges of his mouth sweetly.
And with the air still cold enough to make him shiver, Thor bends down and presses a kiss onto his brother's lips, soft and cool just like the snow surrounding them.