(Thor x Gender Neutral Reader)
Thor missed you. It was plain as day to anyone passing him by as he idled in the halls of Avengers Tower. He was listening with a lazily focused ear as Natasha worked through confused, and slightly bewildered explanation of faux plants... He’s been finding himself in similar scenarios with different Avengers throughout the week as he not-so-patiently awaited your return.
You were away on a business trip, and as it was, Thor hated being without you. He would never admit such loneliness directly, of course. So he found himself looking around at Midgardian inventions, poking at Bruce in his lab, and more recently.. asking Natasha why humans don’t just plant plants.
Just previously, he had halted her path, booming voice echoing off of the bare walls and smooth black marble to ask why Midgard was full of such feigned oddities. What is the use—better yet.. the beauty in a plant of plastic, fabric, and paper?
True, he had been genuinely interested in human culture since his first visit to Midgard; his interest only peaking upon falling desperately in love with your eyes. After watching you doodle in the margins of your notes during a standard briefing, it became his mission to do something—anything to peak into your world and unlock the tales behind the fleeting glances careful examinations you granted him, and other things that caught your attention. A tragic incident with some bees and a large handful of flowers taught him of your love for nature and life, as well as earning him a home in the warmth of your heart.
Now, as he is regarding Natasha’s mask of diplomacy, his focus eventually drifts to the imitation plant, and he considers its irony. He considers how it might inspire the two of you to run away. Not for long, of course. You would find the closest meadow, be it minutes or hours or years away. Sitting in the grass and amidst the gently ruffling breeze, two of you would let loose dreams of a place.. of a time that couldn’t exist on earth, the sweetness of which you could hardly fathom.
The domestic appeal in bed-sharing soon proved to stand as a challenge to your ever flowering and inexorable curiosity. Lying near him and even considering sleep was taking a nap in heaven’s archives or having a staring contest with a prophet. Despite this, forgetting his otherworldly experiences was shamefully simple when he was beside you. When the sun is up, and you are granted time to just live and love in the presence of one another.. it’s exactly what you do. There is no time to be silent.
As the heavy ocean of rest lulls you to sleep tonight though, you desperately want to give in. Yet you fight to stare at the light squares reflected on the darkening ceiling, wanting to absorb as much as is possible from the enchanting life of Thor Odinson. You want him to tell you everything he’s ever seen and all he’s ever been. Somehow, you might not be ready for the answers. But now is as good a time as any: His gentle breathing was beside you and your fingers laced together.. gently treading the new and impossibly complicated waters of intimacy. It’s now or never.
You first asked of Asgard, of the finest beauty in the life of one who seemed to live and love forever. One who saw through fire and flames, and war and peace to conserve the culture and identity of his people..He would tell you that despite a multitude of hardships, he mostly felt he was always growing from a boy: Consistently bearing new burdens brought by age, but never breaking even with wisdom. He had so much left to learn and would often say the most beauty he ever saw was the vaguely guarded wonder in your eyes.
After you dismiss his flattery in whispered entertainment.. You simply lie there. The bed suddenly feels too soft. A few seconds to answer suddenly seems too long.
“What do you love about Asgard?”
And as he does, he tells you he could never choose. Meadows as lovely as the ones you always found secluded, and hills of habitats were a couple of his favorite things. He loves the coolness of sea and stone.
He loves you—and suddenly his nostalgia is blended. His heart houses much too much to list. Of course, if he must list.. you will always be at the top. How can you separate anyone you deeply love from the things you want to show them, and all that came before?
He knows you don’t—you won’t believe his flattery. So he remains falsely indecisive.
So here he sits in the field. Your hair is blowing in the breeze. You half joke that it had been just the way you like. That the wind has spoiled it now. You tell him you’ll be home soon.
So here he stands. The hall is chilled with professional attention. Your hair had not been blowing. The room was still—aside from the waves of his desperation. The twisting of the too shiny palm leaf as Agent Romanoff turned it in her hand..
His heart twisted too. Loki had always said his fears of separation were a troubling sentiment, and that longing was a sign of the weak.
Thor’s focus shifts a bit farther into the distance as the agent slowly fades from her talk of the plant and he sees you bounding down the hall. Your slacks are worn and your hair graces your temples. Your tired frame regarding him with such love reminds him of how he’s been feeling, and he feels glad you’ve missed him too. It is not unlike the sun peaking through the clouds after ages of rain.
You are unlike any sea or sun or hill. He suddenly can’t see any trouble. But overwhelming sentiment. And he thinks he has found the most enchanting beauty in all the realms.
And it is grounding. And it is vulnerable.
He thinks that despite all you think he’s seen, he has never felt more displaced and at one with the universe.
All he loves about all he’s seen is whatever lead him to you.
