☀️ Dashingfrost One of them finding out the other isn’t dead?
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Loki, after Sakaar, is… Off. He moves about on the Ark, and he says little to anybody: he speaks only when spoken to, and avoids most of the people. For days on end, sometimes, Thor will not see him in the main hall or the mess; for days on end, at times, Loki will remain ensconced in his quarters.
And to what end? He has no books. He has naught to entertain him. Once or twice, when Thor has burst in unexpectedly, he has simply found Loki sat against the window, staring out into the void of space.
“What did he do to you?” Thor asks softly one night. Loki glances up from his meal, his eyebrows raising slightly.
“Nothing,” Loki says, as he always says. Brunnhilde scoffs, disbelieving, and Loki sets his jaw, but says nothing. Thor leans forward to say something else, but there is a crackle of thunder, and each of them whips their head around. A burst of hot light splits the air of the stationary ship, and Thor stares as Volstagg hits the ground hard, his fat belly cushioning the blow. Hogun skids across the floor and clatters into a table, grunting in pain, and Fandral lands on his arse, his eyes wide, his hair a mess about his head.
Between the three of them stands Amora, breathing heavily, her hands upon her knees, her head bowed, and then she looks up.
“They’re alive,” Thor whispers, and he is on his feet in a heartbeat, shifting across the room. He rushes to help Volstagg up, with Heimdall’s assistance, and he looks between his three friends, his heart swelling in desperate relief. “We thought you dead!”
“We thought us dead too,” Volstagg mutters, a little green about his edges, but he hugs Thor tightly, and–
Loki stands in the middle of the room, frozen, staring. He is staring at Fandral, who is shakily getting to his feet. Loki is staring at Fandral as if Fandral is the moon itself, and Thor frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but Loki lunges. He stiffens, ready to hold his brother back, but Fandral lets out an “oof!” as he is thrown to the ground once more, Loki in his lap.
Thor can’t make out a thing that Loki is saying, but he is saying it desperately, fervently, against Fandral’s mouth, clutching at his cheeks. “It’s alright,” Fandral is saying softly, his hands on Loki’s neck. “I’m fine, I’m fine–” And then Loki kisses him, kisses him hard.
The silence is the mess hall is palpable, and for once, it doesn’t seem like Loki cares.
“Amora,” Thor says, hoarsely, and he tries to draw attention elsewhere. “Explain.” Awkwardly, Amora begins to speak - it is plain to them all that neither Fandral nor Loki is listening.
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