Between a Rock and a High Place (entire)
The wayward brother was, in fact, dangling from said manacles from the base of the “K” in the word “STARK”. He was hanging limply, defeat in every line of his long, lean body, and it appeared that the only way he had managed NOT to drop his phone was to literally encase it and his hand (now blue) in ice.
Thor was scanning the outside of Stark Tower as he circled, deep furrows in his broad forehead. The second time around he spotted Loki, and angled himself in that direction. He didn’t pause to assess the situation or ask questions— instead he barely slowed as he reached out to grasp the chain of Loki’s manacles, hauling them and the attached god of mischief into the air with him. He arced back around to his balcony, not offering his half-frozen brother so much as a word against the howling winds.
Loki yelped, jerked suddenly airborne.
"THOR!" he bellowed over the rush of the wind. "How many times have I had to tell you that you are terrible at carrying your brother?! Have a heart—my arms are nearly out of their sockets! I’ve been out there for—oof—!”
He had hit the balcony and gone sprawling as Thor released his hold on the manacles, and Loki rolled very much without his customary grace to come up rather hard against the wall. “—Three days,” he wheezed, the breath knocked out of him.
"Are you mad?" Thor asked in reply to this information. "What in the nine realms could you have been thinking? Were you trying to climb Stark Tower?” His words held an undercurrent of concern, but he couldn’t have said he didn’t find some satisfaction in watching Loki hit the balcony hard.
"And what if I was?!" Loki demanded, sitting up a little dizzily. "I was trying to get to you, you maudlin, maundering FOOL. You don’t answer your phone, you don’t answer your messages, and that thrice-damned Jarvis singed off a good three inches of hair when I tried to get inside.” Loki raised his wrists, shaking blue hands and ice-encrusted chains at Thor. “I can’t shape-shift in these,” he hissed. “All of my Asgardian magic is null. Tell me you didn’t know that when you slapped these abominable things on me!”
Thor’s expression remained far from remorseful. Not so long ago, a stab of guilt might have crossed his face— now, if such a thing was felt, Loki couldn’t see it in his brother’s face. ”Of course I knew.” He rumbled. ”Banner is finally stabilizing from when you antagonized him. I figured a few days without your tricks at your disposal would do us all some good. I did not expect you to try and scale Stark Tower with naught but your strength to guide you!” He looked like he would like nothing more but to shake Loki vigorously, but he turned away instead, setting Mjolnir on the ledge of the balcony and leaning his hands there as well. ”And now I suppose you hope I’ll remove them so you can extract some revenge on me?”
"I didn’t antagonise him!” Loki fairly exploded. “I asked him a question, and everyone took it wrong! And what else was I supposed to do, wait for you to come to me? Look at me Thor!”
He was scowling—and his eyes had a reddish tinge, his skin looking blue in the pale hollows of neck and cheeks. “I can barely keep my shape. If I were suddenly revealed as the monster that I am, what do you think would happen to me here?!”
His voice was sulky, but there was a note of genuine—or seemingly genuine—distress and fear in Loki’s voice.
"Here?" Thor asked, only glancing briefly over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to the New York skyline. He found it far easier to deal with Loki, at least emotionally, when he wasn’t looking at him. "The Midgardians don’t know a frost giant from a Bilgesnipe. In fact, I’ve heard of one or two humans born blue, themselves— I believe one of them is a crime-fighter. Even on Asgard, what would anyone say against Loki, who took Odin’s stead when it was needed, and did as he was bid as any good son should?"
He turned around finally, crossing to Loki and grasping both shackles with his large hands, unlocking them with a sharp twist. His blue eyes were as stormy as the sky around them, and they still didn’t meet Loki’s face. ”You would not come to any harm here, or even in Asgard,” He finished, his voice still gruff but pitched a little lower, maybe even a little gentler.
Loki’s eyes and skin immediately faded to their normal “human” shades and he rubbed his hands with a grimace.
"No harm? No harm?! Thor—Asgard hates and fears the Jötnar. I show my face at home and I will be slain on sight, or clapped again into a cell. Doubtless a less comfortable cell since it was Mother who ensured I was not manacled to a wall in some nightmare dungeon cell.” Loki settled against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and a bitter scowl on his face.
"And here—I am seen the way the mutants are treated. I watched a mob corner Kurt Wagner in an alley and beat him, Thor. I am no safer here than anywhere else.”
Thor frowned, glancing over at Loki. ”You are stronger than any Midgardian, even without your magic. And I wasn’t planning on leaving you thus for long, Loki. I apologize.” He turned away again, one of the high breezes that swept over the balcony catching his cloak. ”Did you help him?” He asked suddenly. ”Kurt Wagner?”
"I tried," Loki said bitterly. "But even physically I am no match for 30 or so angry Midgardians who are out for blood. They didn’t kill him, at least, and I took him home and cleaned him up and let him pass out on my couch for a day or so. Best I could do."
Loki’s voice was calm, but his eyes flashed with genuine anger as he continued to rub his wrists. “If I’d had my magic, he wouldn’t have ended up with a broken nose, a broken collar bone and a half dozen ribs bending in ways they SHOULDN’T.”
Thor’s frown remained as he leaned on the balcony again, eyes trailing down to the city below. ”That is unfortunate,” He murmured, and the words weren’t simply placating, but genuinely troubled. ”I’m glad he was seen home safely.” That was all he said for a long moment, however, not continuing to give any excuses or defenses for his actions.
"The human mutants are not as strong as they should be," Loki muttered. "And Kurt Wagner is hampered by an excessive amount of kindness and religious guilt, the fool.” The last word lacked Loki’s usual venom. “They could use a guiding hand, even with Charles Xavier at their head.” He laughed a little hoarsely.
"A problem for another day, perhaps." He turned back toward Loki, though he didn’t approach. "Are you otherwise injured?"
Loki wordlessly held up his hands. They were chafed and bleeding rather badly, but he remained impassive.
Thor nodded a little, eying his wrists before finally glancing up at Loki’s face— expression not hard or remorseless, but not overflowing with sympathy or worry either. ”I can help you bandage them, if you need.” With Loki, such things were always a matter of treading a fine line— offer too much help and his pride bit back scornfully. Offer nothing, and one way or another the hurt of neglect would bite just as hard.
Loki’s mouth tightened for just a moment—and then he nodded. “It would be awkward to do alone,” he said in a rather flat voice.
Thor nodded in return, turning. ”Come inside, then.” The door slid open for Thor, and thankfully remained open for Loki, despite any prejudices JARVIS might have had. Thor set Mjolnir on his dresser, pulling open the top drawer to reveal a stock of medical supplies of both Midgardian and Asgardian origin.
Loki peered—or tried to—over Thor’s shoulder.
"You’re well prepared, I see." his tone neutral and yet utterly dry. "Do you need to patch yourself up often after battles on Midgard? After watching Captain Roger’s shield bounce off your skull, I would have thought you wouldn’t need much."
He straightened and glanced about the room. “…I admit, I expected to see more of Jane Foster’s things in your chambers.”
He couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face, at both comments— sly digs as they might have been. ”Jane Foster has charmed her way into having a space of her own here at Stark Tower. And I admit my chambers lack much life— with time split between here and the other realms, I don’t often take anything I don’t need with me.” He turned to Loki, a bandage long enough to wrap around his wrists in his hands. ”As for these supplies, in my experience, one can never be too prepared. Not when one lives in the same building as Tony Stark and can name the god of Mischief as a brother.”
Loki raised his eyes—now fully green and no longer tinged with red—and gave Thor a cautious smile.
"I don’t usually cause that much damage—at least not to you. I mostly specialise in property damage, you know. Turning street signs into geese, and all that.”
"Foul creatures, geese." Thor answered, half-serious. "Very dangerous.” He grasped Loki’s arm in his large hand as they talked, positioning it so he could wind the bandage around his beleaguered wrist.
Loki snickered—and let Thor do his work. His phone flashed briefly and he glanced down at it, smiling a little. He schooled his face as he looked back up again, eyeing his brother closely.
"…Have you spoken to Odin of late?"
Thor shook his head, eyes on his work. “I admit I have not. Is there news I should be aware of?”
Loki’s phone buzzed again, and he shoved it in the pocket of his fashionable light grey jeans. “No.” he said a little shortly. “I just have not been back since I was granted my pardon, that’s all.”
"Mm," Thor answered, tying off the bandage on one wrist and moving to the other. "You prefer it here on Midgard, then? It seems you’ve made some friends." The buzzing phone hadn’t gone unnoticed.
"I don’t prefer it anywhere," Loki said darkly, letting Thor work. "And friends? Hardly." His mouth tightened, and he said no more.
He eyed Loki, considering pursuing the subject briefly. He decided against it, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. ”Enemies?” He asked lightly.
"No," Loki said with a very faint smile. "Not particularly, though the lady in 12B doesn’t seem to care much for me. She called me a ‘gigolo’ the other day."
Thor’s brow furrowed. ”A— what?”
Loki shook his head. “Apparently a gigolo is a beautiful young man who escorts older women—and he accepts expensive gifts and bestows sexual favours.” Loki shook his head.
Thor blinked a few times, tying the bandage on Loki’s other wrist and dropping his hands. ”…well. That is something.”
Loki let out a rather startled bark of laughter. “Yes—yes it is, isn’t it. I don’t know what could have given her the idea, considering I have never brought a man or woman back with my to my chambers.”
He shook his head. ”Well— if that is the worst someone has said, then that’s very lucky.”
Loki laughed again, but the sound was weary. “Believe it or not, Thor, I have a truly uncanny skill to blend in.”
"I don’t doubt that," Thor answered, a little surprised that Loki would think otherwise.
Loki gave him a long look. “And how have you fared on Midgard? Is your mortal love giving you enough reason to neglect your duties back home?”
His expression flattened, and he turned away for a moment to put the remainder of the supplies away. ”I have fared well here, I neglect nothing, and if you wish to know anything about Jane, you’ll have to find a better way to ask.”
Loki sneered—but his heart wasn’t in it, and it quickly faded.
"You’ve told her that I am back on Midgard, then."
"I tell her most things," Thor answered succinctly.
"…Odin always told Mother everything," Loki said after a very long pause. And then, brilliant green eyes fixed suddenly on Thor’s face. "Are you going to wed her?"
Thor’s stormy gaze lifted to meet Loki’s, considering his brother carefully. ”Perhaps. She is no summertime fling, Jane.”
"Tell me more, tell me more," Loki mocked in a sing-song voice. "Did you get very far?" He sighed, though, slipping back into rather dark reflection. "…She’s going to die, Thor. You know that."
The god looked utterly befuddled for a moment, but his expression sobered at Loki’s words. ”So everyone keeps reminding me.” He gave Loki an unreadable look. ”Forgetting themselves that they, too, will die— that everyone does.”
Loki leaned forward, face sober and intent. “Yes, but—you and I will live ten millennia more. Jane Foster will die within a hundred years, Thor. How will you bear it?”
Thor frowned, eyes not looking away from Loki at all now, despite their earlier aversion. ”The same way I bear mother’s death— and the same way I bore yours. Both deaths of yours.”
Loki flushed a rather odd mauve colour and looked away.
"…I meant what I said, you know." He said slowly. "The second time. I truly did not know if I would see you again, and so I said what I could not theretofore." His eyes again flashed up to Thor. "And on the Bifrost—I did not expect to live. I did not intend to live. Do not put that on me."
"I’m not putting anything on you," Thor answered heavily. "I could see your face clearly— both times. I know you meant it." He looked away, leaning against the dresser and crossing his arms over his armored chest. "In a way, that made it harder. But no one can deny you were genuine."
Loki smiled faintly. “I was rather under the impression that you never took anything I say or do as genuine. But truly, Thor—” he leaned forward, eyes intent. “What if she could be made to be as one of us? I am no Asgardian, and yet my lifespan rivals yours.”
Thor gave Loki a confused, perhaps suspicious, frown. ”What are you talking about?”
Loki waved an impatient hand. “All the wonders you’ve seen, Thor, and you cannot find in your mind some way to make this a reality?”
His expression didn’t change. ”Such a thing isn’t possible, Loki. Why even ask after it?”
"It Is though!” Loki said urgently. “Sure you do not think that in all the NIne there is no way through this?
"Why would I have cause to think otherwise?" Thor asked, exasperated.
"Oh yes," Loki said with withering sarcasm. "We can skip lightly between worlds and change our shapes, but that—that is impossible.”
"Do you know of a way to extend a human’s life?" Thor asked doubtfully.
Loki was silent for a long moment, brooding.
"…There are the Three who live at the heart of the World Tree." he said softly.
His expression grew stern. ”No,” he answered without hesitation. ”I won’t appeal to the Norms for such a thing.”
Loki’s voice was a hiss.
"Why not? You love her, do you not? Can you truly stand to send her to the stars in a mere six or seven decades? A blink of an eye to a god!”
"And why do you care?" Thor’s voice finally took on some actual heat.
"Is it so strange that I would want to spare you any more grief?" Loki snapped. "You have lost your mother, and as you have pointed out, I have died twice.”
"It is strange,” Thor replied, “for you to mind what grief I come to, before I come to it.”
Loki gave Thor a long look.
"…It appears that I am not the only one who has forgotten what we were—-before.”
"I remember," Thor answered sternly. "But it holds little weight now. Things have changed, and I won’t be burdened by sentiment from the past any longer."
"Look who is so above sentiment now,” Loki sneered. “The Mighty Thor has at last come to his senses, I suppose.”
Loki rose, taking a significant sort of step away from Thor, one clearly meant to put distance between them. “I’ll be on my way.”
The furrow in his brow deepened, but not in anger. He took a breath, as if to say something, but let it go in a sigh instead. ”As you like.”
"I always do as I like," Loki’s voice cut like a knife—but it was hard to tell at whom the blade was really aimed. In a flash he was gone, replaced by the graceful shape of a magpie as it winged its way out the balcony doors and into the sky beyond.
