Sing Me to Sleep: Three
“There you are,” Thor rumbled, letting himself in the bathroom where you were toweling your hair and took over the task gently. “Bruce was afraid you’d fallen asleep standing up.”
You smile a little and turn your head to kiss his bicep. “Not quite. It was close though.”
Thor my a soft sound, almost like a grunt and picked up a dry towel to wrap you in, “This can’t continue, love,” he rumbled. “You’re a mortal woman… You’re going to get very sick.”
“There isn’t much choice,” you sigh.
“Except their is-”
“The lesser of two evils is still evil,” you murmur. “I’m not a hero. I just want to be better than I was.”
“Sweetheart,” Thor protested, “Who you were-”
You hold up a hand and pick a shirt off the laundry basket. You aren’t sure if it’s Thor’s or Bruce’s but it doesn’t really matter. “Thor,” you sigh, “Who I was was a criminal. Who I was should be in jail. The only reason I’m NOT is because I happened to be… talented.”
Thor exhaled slowly, “How long are you going to allow yourself to be punished?”
“Whether you like it or not,” you tell him softly, “This is where I can do the most good.”
“At what cost?” he countered, handing you a clean pair of panties with a frown.
“At no cost I’m not willing to pay,” you answer, taking them from him.
Thor folds his arms across his chest and watches you critically for a moment. You look pale still. Exhausted. Your eyes are glassy. And he knows. Of course, that part of it is that you really are tired. But what worries him is the weight you’ve lost. That you’re slower to smile. More withdrawn when you are at home.
“Y/N,” he murmured, “Please.”
You stop and look up at him, “What would you have me do?”
“Just- Why can’t we talk to Stark?”
“So I can be an experiment? Or an Agent?”
Thor pulled you closer and picked up a hairbrush, “Sweetheart. My darling Girl. You’re one of the best parts of a very long life. And I do not enjoy watching you break yourself a part. You are lighting yourself on fire trying to keep the world warm… and We. Are we just to be without you?”
“I worked so hard, Thor,” you murmur. “I tried so hard… All I want is to make good.”
Thor tilted your chin up gently and brushed a kiss over your lips, “And you are… You do wondrous things. But you are one person doing the work of dozens.”
“Maybe not dozens,” you snort.
Thor smiled a little, “No, perhaps not,” he sighed, “But. You do more than you should.”
“Maybe no one else does as much as they should,” you shrug.
And Thor lets you go, following behind you with a hairbrush, mulling over your words. You were right, of course. You did work no one else wanted to do. That at BEST people applauded from a safe distance and at worse, actively derided and tried to get your programs defunded.
He was still thinking in the living room, as Bruce fussed and took your vitals again. You evidently had a low grade fever that he wanted to keep an eye on. Thor watched, smiling a little as Bruce plied you with food and some sort of medicine for the fever, largely ignoring your protests and gently reminding you that you were never sick. And when you were, you tended to do it like you did everything. Overboard.
Bruce stood over you and waited while you took the medication and then promptly rewarded you with kisses and a brownie. “I’m not a baby,” you grouse fondly, between kisses.
“No,” Bruce said, refilling your glass of juice, “But you came home and fainted. And now you have a fever. You’re gearing up to get very sick. And things being what they are… If Thor and I have to leave, there won’t be anyone to look after you.”
“Indeed,” Thor echoed, taking his own seat at the table and helping himself from the containers of food he ordered.
“You two know that I AM in fact, really capable of looking after myself?” you ask, taking a bite of mashed potatoes.
“Yes,” They answer together as Bruce takes a seat.
“But we don’t want you to have to,” Bruce said softly. He and Thor both remembered how they had even met you to start with. You were trapped. Pinned down by Hydra agents that seemed intent on getting a hold of you dead or alive. They didn’t know what you could do. Or what you were. But. You’d made a stand. Looked imminent death in the face and helped their actual target, A little boy with big green eyes and the ability to start fires with his mind, escape with his mother. You were battered and broken and still trying to fight back. In his minds eye, Thor saw you as a butterfly bound to a board by a pin. The life. The will to fight, draining out of you slowly.
And Bruce? He saw a terrier trying to face down a wolf pack. Trying valiantly but doomed to fail. And when your shouts and screams suddenly, heart breakingly became a whimper as you hit your knees in a puddle of your own blood, still resolutely silent. Refusing to give up his location. They knew that there was no way they could leave you be.
Thor, instead of echoing Bruce, put more on your plate and kissed the side of your head. “You’re ours,” he said after a moment. “And that comes with specific obligations.”
“But what about me taking care of you?” you counter, taking a sip of juice.
“You do,” Thor said, smiling a little. “You give us balance… And pancakes on Sundays.”
You smile a little, “That seems a little uneven compared with all this.”
“We don’t get sick,” Bruce reminds you gently. “And I only fight as the Hulk, who’s mostly indestructible. And Thor has a healing factor… And you take care of us when we get home regardless.”
“Still-”
“Still nothing,” Thor rumbled, “You’re ours and that’s all that matters.”