Work Text:
The sound of the front door slamming forcefully shut drew Loki roughly from where his concentration had previously been trained on the reports spread out on the table before him, the numbers and letters having begun to blur together slightly as he fought to remain awake.
It had been a number of days, he considered somewhat blearily, since he had been capable of managing more than a few consecutive hours of uninterrupted sleep, after all.
Or, perhaps it was weeks. Loki frowned as the thought struck him, a little irritated by his own lapse in memory, though his attention was quickly drawn back to the beside the front door, where Thor was beginning to toe his boots off, a somewhat mullish expression creasing his features.
“Welcome home, brother.” Loki greeted, and raised an unimpressed brow as one of Thor’s filthy boots tumbled from the entryway to land in the living room beyond with a thud, mud already beginning to soak into the carpet.
“Tidy of you.” Loki commented with a derisive sniff, when it seemed that Thor was not going to return his greeting.
In fact, Loki noted, if anything Thor’s expression had only grown stormier at Loki’s words, his shoulders hunched and hands balled into tight fists at his sides.
Right. Loki swallowed, and fought the urge to shrink back into his seat in the face of his brother’s obvious ire.
There was no need to overreact, he reminded himself. A majority of Thor’s poor moods could usually be chalked up to the fact that he had been too busy to eat lunch, that day, and was likely ready to tear the house apart in an attempt to locate the first available snack worthy of his attention.
Which, of course, meant that Loki’s perch at the kitchen table left him right within the proverbial line of fire.
In spite of the apprehension Loki could feel beginning to tighten within the space between his ribs, however, Loki made an effort to square his shoulders, jutting his chin out slightly when Thor finally turned to face him with a scrutinizing look.
He remained silent, for a moment, merely watching as Thor seemed almost to hesitate, his gaze flickering over Loki’s face as if he was searching for something very specific.
Not, Loki thought as something like irritation flared to life at the back of his mind, that he could have begun to even guess at what such a look might have meant.
He wasn’t a mind reader, after all, and Thor’s increasingly closed-off expression was hardly helpful.
“Is there something you need?” Loki found himself snapping before he could quite stop himself, his hands beginning to twist together where they were hidden beneath the table. “Or are you just going to stand th--”
He broke off, then, and felt his eyes go wide as, without warning, Thor surged into the room, managing to get as far as rounding the table before Loki fully registered what was happening, and fell backward out of his seat in a haphazard effort toward self-defense.
Perhaps he was more tired than he had initially thought.
“Thor--” he began, backpedaling quickly and raising both hands to stretch out before himself in a placating gesture. “What--”
“Snake.” Thor hissed, and Loki swallowed thickly as he felt his back hit the wall behind him.
Out of room, his mind supplied, unhelpfully, alarm bells beginning to trill noisily at the back of his mind. Trapped.
Before Loki could fully register exactly what such a revelation meant, however, Thor was reaching forward to seize both of his upper arms in a vice-like grip.
“Thor,” Loki repeated, more firmly, and swallowed back a wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm him, instead forcing his features to contort into what he hoped was a convincingly stern expression. “We can talk about this. What did I--”
“Shut up!” Thor snapped, the words more a growl than anything, as the hold on Loki’s arms tightened to the point of near-unbearable pressure. “Shut up, Loki.”
Something almost like a pained (pitiful) whimper crawled up the back of Loki’s throat, though he grit his teeth against the sound even as Thor shook him with surprising force.
No, perhaps not surprising. Unexpected, maybe…
Which, wasn’t that just priceless? That Loki had allowed himself to grow complacent-- comfortable enough to drop his guard.
As if he could have avoided courting Thor’s fury forever.
(Nevermind the fact that he had hoped that, just this once, that he might…)
“I hardly know what I’ve done to warrant such a reception.” Loki continued, in spite of Thor’s very transparent warning, forcing his tone to remain both light and dismissive as he blinked at his brother in an attempt to appear as unimpressed as possible.
He knew, rationally, that the behavior would only serve to ignite Thor’s temper further. And yet…
Well, if all else failed, what other skill-set had he ever really excelled in quite so thoroughly?
As if to solidify the point, Thor’s expression twisted into one of undisguised disgust, and he pressed forward to slam Loki back against the wall with a low growl.
And, despite his efforts to swallow the reaction, Loki gasped as the back of his head struck the wall behind him, stars dancing unexpectedly across his vision as Thor shook him again.
(Surely he wasn’t that tired--)
“Th--Thor--” Loki croaked, hands reaching up to scrabble uselessly at his brother’s forearms.
What did I do? He wanted to demand.
Or, perhaps, Why now?
Instead, Loki could only shake his head, his eyes widening in shock as Thor released his grip on one of Loki’s arms--
Only to relocate his hand so that it could tighten threateningly around Loki’s throat.
“Please--” Loki gasped, as loudly as he could manage past the rapidly increasing pressure around his windpipe, and forced himself to ignore the hot tears now beginning to streak down his face from the corners of his hot and itchy eyes.
Don’t…
“This,” Thor muttered darkly, leaning in so that his nose was nearly brushing Loki’s own. “Was long overdue.”
“N--No--” Loki choked out.
(Yes).
“Monster,” Thor spat, only--
Only, for a moment, it wasn’t Thor’s hand around Loki’s throat, at all, but one that was much larger, veins popping out obscenely near the very surface of a layer of pale purple skin--
Before he could stop the noise from rising, a sharp yelp clawed its way out of Loki’s throat, and he began to thrash wildly, his free hand rising up to claw at the hand still around his neck with enough force to draw blood.
The voice that shouted its fury at the assault, however, did not belong to--to the Titan.
And, when Loki opened his eyes again, it was Thor’s own that he met, bright with fury and something almost unidentifiable, sparking behind his gaze.
Dimly, Loki registered the faint smell of ozone that had begun to cling to the air around them, and felt something within his chest spike in panic.
“Thor,” he grit out, and swallowed thickly past the hold on his throat as his brother’s eye began to glow, white-hot. “Brother, please--”
With a roar, Thor threw him back against the wall, and Loki had only a moment to inhale raggedly before he was seizing with the force of several jolts of charged electricity surging out from beneath Thor’s hold, his vision already beginning to grey out at the edges--
---
A ragged shout tore itself from Loki’s throat before he could stop the sound, and not a moment later he felt himself toppling forward into a terrifyingly dark patch of nothing, the side of his head striking against the side of something firm and unyielding before he could quite manage to thrust his hands out to stop his fall.
For a moment, he floundered, one hand coming up to scratch frantically at the phantom hand he could still feel gripped around his throat as the other scrambled for purchase along the rough fabric on the floor beneath him--
Wait. Loki paused, and forced himself to suck in a sharp, steadying inhale through his nose as he ran the very tips of his fingers over the fabric beneath his knees.
No, he corrected himself mentally. Not fabric. Carpet.
Abruptly, a wave of desperate, near-overwhelming familiarity washed over him, and Loki allowed his eyes to flutter closed beneath the weight of the sensation.
Carpet. The scratchy, slate grey carpet that had been haphazardly stapled down on the floor of nearly every room of the small house before he and Thor had moved into their shared home--
Home. Loki could not have stopped the small, almost desperate sob that bubbled up within his chest and out his throat as the thought fully settled within his mind. He was home. He was--Thor wasn’t--
Suddenly, though not necessarily unexpectedly, Loki’s limbs began to quiver uncontrollably, his knees knocking and jaw trembling with an almost alarming force.
Unable to do much more than release a hiss of mingled discomfort and displeasure, Loki shifted to tuck his legs against his chest with agonizingly slow movements, his head falling forward to rest against the top of his knees almost immediately.
Breathe, he reminded himself, even as his next inhale caught painfully within the base of his tight lungs.
He was alright, he knew. He was home. In New Asgard. He’d been there nearly three years, already, and Thor--
Loki felt his breath hitch before he could stop it. Thor--
(Monster--)
He needed to see Thor.
Without allowing himself a moment to rethink the (pitiful) (no--) impulse, Loki surged to his feet, and wavered only a moment before he was turning toward the door, the side of his leg striking his bed frame sharply as he staggered forward, his hands jittering before him as his arms stretched out into the dark.
(Pitiful, his mind reminded him as his sweat-slicked hands began to paw uselessly at the doorknob. Useless, juvenile--)
(Thor--)
With a ragged exhale, Loki finally managed to turn the doorknob beneath his grip, and nearly fell through the open doorway, his breaths beginning to leave him in sharp, uneven pants as his gaze skittered uncertainly over the darkened hall beyond.
The silence of the hall - and the remainder of the house - threatened to overwhelm him, and for a moment Loki could only stand motionless, his eyes held tightly closed and jaw rigid as he attempted to breathe through a sudden surge of uncertainty.
(Liar--)
He knew where Thor was--
(Monster--)
Thor wouldn’t rebuke him. Not now. Not after all they had--
(Monster--)
“Thor,” Loki breathed, his chest hitching with the force of an aborted sob, and found himself turning toward the door to Thor’s bedroom before he had quite registered the urge to do so.
His hand was on the cool knob, suddenly, and Loki could only manage a short, sharp swallow before he was fairly falling through the door that was swinging open before him.
Inside the bedroom was cool - far cooler than Loki had been expecting - and almost frighteningly dark.
It was clear that the window at the opposite end of the room was open, though a thick curtain had been drawn over it, leaving only a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the space.
Despite this, Loki’s gaze was immediately drawn to the figure on the bed--
The figure that was, currently, stirring to life, one hand rising to rub wearily at the corner of his good eye as his gaze zeroed in on where Loki was still stood, still frozen in the doorway.
“Loki?” Thor’s voice, when it finally stretched across the space, was gravelly and heavy with lingering sleep.
And, for the life of him, Loki could not quite determine why his eyes began to sting almost immediately at the sound of it.
Somewhere, at the back of Loki’s mind, a memory of an almost identical scenario flared to life--
(Himself, stood unmoving in a much larger, stone doorway, his gaze locked on where his brother was rousing blearily within the comfort of his bed, his eyes narrowed and expression confused, though his tone had been ever, soothingly gentle as he had inquired, “Loki? What is it?”)
Then, Loki might have immediately fallen forward with a wordless cry to bury himself beneath the covers beside his brother, immediately seeking out warmth and familiarity and comfort--
Now, however, Loki found that he could only waver slightly in place, a small, (needy) (pitiful) sound creeping up the back of his throat, unbidden.
Something of his emotion must have shown on his face, however, for not a moment later Thor’s own expression smoothed out in something almost like understanding, and he sat up fully, shuffling so that he was pressed against the far wall and leaving a large space on the bed open beside him.
“Loki,” he repeated, his tone still thick with weariness, but no less present, for it. “Are you alright?”
Suddenly, it was all too much. The uncertainty still clinging incessantly at the back of Loki’s mind, the oppressive darkness of the room--
The sharp, stinging pain of the gouges Loki had scratched into his own neck in his panic--
(Thor’s fury…)
“I--” Was all that Loki managed, before he had to swallow thickly, blinking rapidly as the burning behind his eyes threatened to cloud his vision, entirely. “I--I don’t--”
“Hey,” Thor interrupted, the pale moonlight just enough to illuminate the small frown creasing his features.
He hesitated, then. And, though it was only a moment - half a minute, at most - Loki found his already shallow breaths beginning to speed alarmingly, in the expanding silence.
This had been a mistake, he realized. He wasn’t a child, after all. He didn’t--didn’t need--
(didn’t he?)
“--ki.” Loki blinked, and swallowed back the bile threatening to rise up from the pit of his stomach as his rapidly narrowing gaze snapped back to Thor.
Thor, who was studying him with an entirely unexpected, almost woeful expression.
(Stupid--)
“Come here.”
Loki blinked, then blinked again.
Surely he hadn’t--
They weren’t children, anymore. They--He shouldn’t--
Nevertheless, Thor’s expression remained unwavering, almost seeming to soften around the edges as Loki continued to hesitate.
“Loki,” he whispered, his tone almost inaudible, in the dark. “It’s alright.”
And, as it turned out, that was enough.
Only just barely managing to bite back something that bordered almost embarrassingly on a whimper, Loki stumbled forward into the room until he was stood at the side of the bed, his every limb shuddering and tongue clenched so tightly between his teeth he tasted blood.
Almost immediately, Thor surged forward, and locked both arms firmly around Loki’s shoulders before tugging with just enough force to tuck him tightly against his side on the bed.
Unable to help himself, Loki did release a small, breathless whimper, then, and moved to burrow against his brother’s shoulder, his arms coming up to encircle Thor’s waist tightly.
“Shh.” Thor soothed, immediately beginning to rock the both of them when Loki barked a sharp, weary sob against his shoulder. “You’re alright.”
“I--” Loki gasped, only to choke on another sob, his throat tightening painfully, when he felt one of Thor’s hands come up to cradle the back of his head gently. “I’m--”
“I know,” Thor whispered, and turned to press a firm kiss to Loki’s temple. “Just breathe, Lo. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
You’re safe.
(This was long overdue--)
Safe.
Loki’s breath hitched once, twice, before he fell forward to muffle a long, miserable wail against Thor’s shoulder, something within his chest fairly fracturing as his brother continued to run his fingers gently through his hair.
“Shush.” Thor commanded, the hand at the back of Loki’s head moving so that he could swipe at a few of the tears streaking down the side of Loki’s face with the pad of his thumb. “Hush, Loki. We’re alright.”
Gritting his teeth, Loki forced himself to nod, the movement jerking and clumsy, before he exhaled a tremulous breath and moved to rest his forehead against the side of Thor’s neck, once more.
“We’re alright.” Thor repeated, before he leaned back to settle the both of them against the pillows at his back. “We’re gonna be okay.”
At that, Loki found that he could not offer more than a weary hum, though his hiccuping breaths eventually began to even out as Thor’s hand moved to cup the back of his head again, the other beginning to rub slow, soothing circles along his spine.
“I’m here.” Thor whispered, and placed another, firm kiss to the side of Loki’s head before he relaxed almost entirely, his arms continuing to hold Loki securely to his side. “I’ve got you.”
And, as Loki finally allowed himself to follow his brother’s lead - his shoulders beginning to loosen in very slow, very small increments - he found, to his surprise, that the words were not at all difficult to believe.
Not in that moment, at the very least.