(A.N: this is very short and kind of trash because I’m mid exam season, but I wanted to post something to prove I’m not dead so here ya go!)
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay.” Thor kept his voice gentle, making quiet shushing noises as Hulk stomped his way onto the quinjet, clearly picking up on his somewhat less than agreeable mood. “It’s over, Hulk. We won.”
Hulk made a grunting noise, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew they’d won. They always won. But that didn’t make this any easier. ‘Cooling off’ from battle wasn’t something he was particularly good at, and these days that seemed to be becoming more and more of an issue. There was nothing left to smash, nothing on the jet that he could project his leftover adrenaline at without hurting someone. Fire coursed through his veins, relentless and furious, screaming for an outlet where there was none.
He gritted his teeth, kneeling down to accept the hand that Thor was holding out. Even if he was still angry, it was better to let the puny god think otherwise. Better to give him fake calm than to worry him further.
Thor’s face brightened in a smile, his two hands holding tightly onto Hulk’s own. It was something of a comfort whenever the demigod did this, although Hulk couldn’t really fathom why. Touching was still something he struggled with, but feeling Thor’s hands on his own, the delicate fingers tracing patterns onto green skin, it just felt…right. Grounding, maybe. Which Banner told him was ironic because of the electricity running through the God’s veins, and Hulk pretended to understand.
“It was a magnificent battle, my love. You did splendidly.” Thor’s soft tones, so different to his booming battle cry, brought him out of his thoughts. The demigod looked happy, at least. Bloodied, and a little bruised, but happy.
Hulk grunted his agreement, allowing Thor to lead him further into the bowels of the jet, away from the sounds of the onboard computer and the dissection of the battle, and towards the peaceful silence of what Thor told him was the cargo hold.
He didn’t really understand why Thor was praising him. He always did well in battle - smashing was his thing, after all. It had been no better, or no worse, than any other performance.
Yet Thor always complimented him. Whether it was through a smile, or words, or the friendly squeeze of a hand, he thanked him.
Hulk hadn’t really been thanked before.
“Are you alright?” Thor turned to him once the mechanical door shut behind them, brow creasing in an expression of worry that Hulk saw all too often.
Hulk sighed, a rough exhalation of air as he turned his face towards the floor. “Didn’t get hurt. Hulk never get hurt. Too strong.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. But I’m not talking about that kind of hurt.” Thor took a tentative step forward, carefully, he always moved so carefully, resting his hand against Hulk’s arm, lightly tracing the lines of muscle beneath thick skin. “You seem upset.”
Well, that certainly threw him. He was anger incarnate- of course he was upset. That was practically his job, to air the danger and emotions and do everything Banner couldn’t do.
Although Banner would be better at explaining it. He knew more words, knew the different letters and sounds to press together to make something that could explain all of this.
But he did his best. He didn’t want his friend to worry, after all.
“Hulk supposed to be angry. Blondie not worry about it.”
Thor, for all he liked to boast about having an excellent poker face, failed to mask the frown of disbelief that flitted across his face. He opened his mouth to say something, probably planning a lecture on honour or selecting an asgardian anecdote (something he seemed to have an endless supply of), but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he took Hulk by the hand, tugging him further towards the wall of the quinjet.
Hulk was definitely even more confused now, and this only increased when Thor sat down, and patted the space next to him expectantly.
“Come.” He offered another gentle smile, adjusting himself to lean against the wall. “Sit with me.”
But, then again, that wasn’t exactly unusual.
The tiny god was always a little bit strange. He supposed that’s why he liked him. If there was something that Hulk didn’t understand about the world around him, he could almost guarantee Thor didn’t either. They’d spent a whole week together trying to figure out the concept of a cell phone, and even after that Thor had ditched the idea entirely, declaring birds to be a better method of communication. Hulk had no idea what he was talking about. Birds weren’t for talking to. You looked at them, maybe sometimes threw bread.
In short, it would have been even more alarming if Thor has said something perfectly normal and rational.
With a heavy shrug of his shoulders, Hulk resigned himself to whatever scheme Thor had brewing in his puny head. The metal floor protested somewhat as Hulk dragged his feet over to the wall, settling down beside Thor with an exaggerated huff of annoyance.
“If it’s any consolation, I understand,” Thor offered after a few minutes of silence. “Battle is sometimes hard to leave. Controlling the thunder in my veins, reigning in a storm, it is no easy feat. I can imagine it’s very much the same for your rage.”
The wall creaked as Hulk turned his head, looking down at Thor with a curious expression. “What Thor do?”
“Hmm. Well, any number of things, really. I usually like to lay down somewhere quiet. Or train, but, we can’t exactly do that on the jet.”
“Jet stupid. Hulk could just walk home.”
“And that would be very economical of you.” Thor grinned a little, before beginning to make a move. He hummed to himself, unhooking the clasps from his shoulders and allowing the crimson fabric of his cape to fall to the ground.
“What Thor doing?” Hulk watched him carefully, as the God bundled the cape up into a ball, setting it in the crook of his lap.
“Giving you a place to rest.” Thor sat back, settling himself into a more comfortable position, stifling a yawn with the back of a chainmail sleeve. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep before Stark decides to throw another post-battle party.”
Hulk made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, lowering himself slowly into the demigods lap, rough skin feeling momentarily soothed by the soft fabric touching his face.
“Puny God make good pillow.”
A laugh, muted by tiredness, but with the exact level of warmth that he’d come to know followed. “Thank you.”
A small worry of his own began to bubble in his gut, although he expected it was more of Banner’s than his.
He turned his green eyes up to Thor briefly, watching the demigods face for any sign of discomfort.
“No, beloved. You’re fine.” The blue eyes fluttered shut as Thor adjusted himself, leaning back against the wall as his hands found their way to Hulk’s shoulders.
Fingers smaller than his own reached into his hair, making soothing motions against his skin. He barely suppressed a sigh of content as he turned his face further into the fabric, the sound of the thunder in Thor’s veins appearing as a gentle humming sound against his ears, a quiet contrast to the screaming force it had been on the battlefield.
It was warm, here. Safe. He felt the thick knot of anger begin to unwind itself as his mind finally started to catch up with reality.
He was safe. The fight was over. Everything truly was okay.
“Thor? Thor. Come on, wake up.”
The Thunder God in question groaned as the sound of his name poked through the veil of sleep, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sunlight that streamed through the bay doors.
A hand grabbed at his wrist, and Thor finally resigned himself to the gargantuan task of opening his eyes, the faint grin of Bruce Banner greeting him.
“There he is.” Bruce’s eyes wrinkled in a smile as Thor pushed himself up from the wall, feeling a large number of bones cry their distress at being cramped against metal for so long.
He blinked the blurriness of sleep out of his eyes, accepting Bruce’s hand up with a loud yawn. “You’re wearing my cape.”
“Yeah. Great pillow, even better blanket. Hulk says thank you, by the way.”
“He’s very welcome.” Thor wound his arm around Bruce’s shoulders, pressing a tired kiss onto the scientists forehead. “And so are you.”
“Aw, you’re cute when you’re sleep deprived.” Bruce chuckled, taking Thor by the hand and leading him towards the doors. “Doesn’t mean you’re getting this back anytime soon though.”
“I never do. You do suit it, though. You should wear it more often.”
“Well we can’t start wearing matching clothes. We’re supposed to be the cool couple.”
Thor snorted into his sleeve, reaching out to adjust Bruce’s glasses that had been slowly slipping down his nose since the conversation had started.
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
