Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thor was at the helm of the ship. His mind was drifting, he was there without really being there. He didn’t know how long he had been watching the stars in front of him—maybe thirty minutes had passed, or maybe several hours. The hum of the engines filled the cockpit. It filled his mind.

The sound of the automatic doors opening and closing behind him snapped Thor back to reality like a slap across the face.

It was Bruce.

"Hey" He cautiously stepped toward the seat to Thor’s left. Thor didn’t bother turning his head, still more or less staring straight ahead. "Hey." The weight of having been named King of Asgard earlier felt heavy in the cockpit. Thor could feel it pressing on his shoulders like a massive burden.

Bruce could feel it too. The air was thick.

So he stayed quiet, not wanting to push, waiting for Thor to open up on his own.

Thor took a long, bored breath after having sat in the same position for too long, still staring ahead. "It was Korg who carried you to your quarters when Hulk fell asleep and you changed back. I asked for new clothes for you too, Asgardian ones." It was a simple pair of wide brown pants made of Asgardian cloth, with a plain black long-sleeved shirt. Thor exhaled slowly. "I still can’t believe they made me king... I gave up the thron..."

The last sentence came out softer than he’d intended. It sounded tired, almost fragile.

It was both gentle and intimidating to see Thor like this. He was a god—literally. And yet, here he was. He looked so small, so powerless, so human in front of that vast ocean of emptiness.

Bruce didn’t know exactly what Thor’s Asgardian age translated to in Earth years, but he could guess the weight of all this wasn’t meant to be carried at such a likely young age. "I know it’s probably not what you wanted, but... I know you’ll make a great king. And thanks for the clothes." Bruce’s voice was hoarse from lack of use over the last few hours.

Thor turned his head toward Bruce and stood up, fully exposing the wound where his eye used to be. "...Oh my god, Thor... What happened? Are you alright?" The sight made Bruce’s stomach twist—not from disgust, but from the discomfort of seeing someone he was drawn to so seriously injured.

Thor paused at the question, his hand still resting on the top of his seat and his posture slightly bent to avoid hitting the ceiling, then continued on. "Lost it in battle. Hela’s fault. …I’m going to find Brunnhilde to take my place and check on my people."

Bruce looked worried and confused. "Thor, wait- No." He was surprised by his own sudden authority. "I don’t approve of that idea. You should go take a shower and clean that wound—it could get infected. And you should rest... Valkyrie... Bu-Brunnhilde is probably already taking care of your people. And the ship has autopilot, you don’t need to worry."

Thor seemed to hesitate. He couldn’t bring himself to ignore any danger that could make him lose even more than he already had. At least he hadn’t lost Loki this time.

Thor gave a thoughtful nod that seemed to say let me think, "You’re probably right, Banner. You should do the same." Then he gestured for Bruce to follow him.

Bruce got up to follow. "Um, actually, I don’t think I saw a shower in the bathroom of my room."

Thor looked at him and shrugged as they walked toward his quarters. "You can use mine, our rooms are close."

And just like that, the previously heavy atmosphere began to lift.

𑁍

Bruce walked around the room, examining Thor’s quarters while he showered. There was one large window to the left of the bed when facing it. The bathroom was opposite the window. A few shelves, a mirror above a dresser, and several piles of different clothes with little notes on them were scattered about. Gifts from Asgardians who had managed to salvage supplies from the now-destroyed realm.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made Bruce turn his head.

Thor had only a white towel wrapped around his waist, another towel in his hands as he dried his recently cut hair.

Bruce was a little disappointed. He had once hoped to run his hand through Thor’s long golden hair, even if he knew it was a pathetic dream. Still, he didn’t hate the new look—it gave him a new kind of charm. A very good kind of charm.

Bruce tried his best not to look at Thor’s torso—but god... Droplets of water still trickled down those perfectly sculpted abs, and Bruce couldn’t help but blush, a jolt of electricity fluttering in his stomach.

Bruce hated how ridiculous he felt, like a nervous teenager next to his first crush.

"The bathroom’s free, Banner," Thor said as he approached the clothing piles, looking for something comfortable. He liked to sleep in loose clothes. "Do you want me to lend you something? Or do you want to keep what you’re wearing? You only just put them on." "I’ll keep what I have on for tonight, but I assume the offer still stands if I ask you for clothes tomorrow?" And with that, he headed into the bathroom.

When Bruce finally emerged five minutes later, he saw him.

Thor was now dressed in wide black Asgardian pants and a white shirt tucked into them, the fabric hugging his muscular build. The seams of the shirt had light golden thread embroidery.

"It’s... kinda strange to see you without your armor for once." Bruce let out a nervous little laugh as he fixed his shirt and stepped closer to Thor. Bruce was shirtless, his damp curls falling over his face. Thor found that... No.

Bruce just watched him as Thor was tidying things on the bed and smiled, aware of his physique, then turned back to his things. "Korg came to tell me everyone’s gathered tables in the main area of the ship to eat together, have a feast. They found some snacks and pre-made dishes onboard, plus the few supplies they managed to bring from Asgard. So, how about joining me and the others to satisfy our appetites?"

Bruce was drying his hair with a towel. "Why not." He shrugged casually. "I’m starving, and the other guy sucked all my energy when he got to take over." Thor gathered the clothes from the bed and placed them in a corner. Bruce remained still at the edge of the bed. "You talk funny sometimes." Thor just sniffed with amusement.

Thor then walked to the mirror above the dresser and picked up an eyepatch, clearly unsure how to put it on.

"Do you want help?" Bruce stepped forward a bit, genuine curiosity and kindness in his expression.

Thor turned around. He looked at Bruce and nodded simply, stepping closer.

Thor was tall. Bruce was smaller in comparison.

Thor sat down on the edge of the bed, and Bruce stepped aside to let him pass, now standing in front of Thor, who was holding out his eye patch.
Something in the air had shifted. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was heavier.

Their fingers touched as Bruce took the eye patch, and in that moment, Bruce could've sworn his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

He stepped closer to place it over the spot where Thor's eye used to be. On the outside, Bruce appeared calm, focused, and composed. But on the inside, his heart was threatening to explode.
Thor felt something too, he didn't know what it was exactly. There was something tangible, something electric in the air. They both felt it.

Bruce had his left hand on the side of Thor's head where his eye was missing, while the other held the patch. Thor couldn't help but lean slightly into the soft, steady touch of Bruce's left hand. And with the utmost care, Bruce gently placed the eye patch where it needed to be.

He didn’t step away. Thor didn’t move either.

Bruce’s hand slowly slid away from Thor’s head, and then he cleared his throat and stepped back when he heard someone approaching. The tension in the room snapped like a stretched rubber band. It was stark.

Just as Thor stood, Brunnhilde entered the room. Bruce smiled awkwardly. "Hey, Valkyrie."

She had a half-full bottle of alcohol in hand. "Yeah, I was coming to check on you, to drag you both upstairs. If you don’t move your asses soon, they’ll have eaten everything." And just like that, she turned and walked out, taking a swig. Completely drunk and oblivious to the tension that had just filled the space.

The sound of the ship’s engines was now the only thing filling the room.

Thor grabbed Bruce’s wrist to pull him toward the automatic doors. "Come on, I’ve got a feeling this is going to be really good."

They walked through Thor’s quarters side by side, heading toward the main room of the ship. The smell of food grew stronger and more enticing. Chatter filled the air.

Some had just arrived. Others were leaving.

Korg saw them and called out, "Oh, Majesty and the stranger! I saved you spots! Don’t sit there, Miek’s already taken it!"

Thor and Bruce looked at each other. Bruce shrugged, and they went to sit down.

𑁍

Bruce estimated they’d been at the table for fifteen minutes, and unsurprisingly, he’d been exceptionally quiet.

Thor was lost in his stories of war, sharing with everyone around him, who offered their own stories in return.

Some might have thought that, after all that had happened, with the number of casualties and the destruction of Asgard, they shouldn’t be acting so joyful.

Thor thought it better to honor the dead joyfully and wish them well in Valhalla.

The approach of two young girls toward Thor caught Bruce’s attention. They looked about ten years old. Thor noticed them immediately. "Selyara! Thérynne! How are my favorite little warriors?" Thor grabbed them both, setting one on each of his legs, and kissed them on the cheek.

"Who are they?" Bruce asked. Thor looked at him with a gaze that could make anyone melt. "They’re girls from one of Asgard’s schools I used to visit. Ever since they first talked to me, they’ve never let go. The older one, Selyara, is eleven. Thérynne is ten."

Selyara had violet Asgardian eyes and long, curly brown hair tied in a ponytail, with shorter strands framing her face and two braids pulled into the ponytail.
Thérynne had green eyes, long platinum-blond wavy hair, pretty rosy skin, and a sprinkle of freckles. Both wore Asgardian dresses—Selyara’s was long, brown and green; Thérynne’s was shorter, white, beige, and gold.

"Majesty, who’s the grumpy man next to you?" Thérynne asked with the sweet innocence of a child. Thor replied calmly, "That’s Bruce Banner. He’s a brave companion I met on the planet Midgard, so he’s not Asgardian." Thor paused. “He’s one of my best friends. And he’s not grumpy—he’s just... not the type to seek the spotlight."

Bruce’s heart sped up at Thor’s words. One of my best friends. He blushed slightly. "Eh, hello girls." He gave one of his rare small smiles.

Then Selyara gently asked Bruce, "Can we braid your hair?" Bruce didn’t even have time to answer before Thérynne exclaimed, raising her arms and jumping down to move next to Bruce, "Ooooh yeah! You’re gonna look so good, Mister Bruce Banner!" And just like that, she was already on him, playing with his hair.

Bruce had no idea how she’d manage—his hair was short. He hadn’t noticed Thérynne carrying a small white crocheted pouch, from which she pulled a packet of colorful elastics. Selyara moved to his left, and they began braiding.

Bruce couldn’t help but ask, "Have they ever braided your hair?" He already knew the answer.

Thor ran a hand through his now too short hair. "Oh yes. Many times. In many styles. They’re talented."

Selyara couldn’t help but ask, a little heartbroken, "Majesty, what happened to your hair? And to your eye?" Some nearby had heard the question, and one of the Asgardian elders added, "That’s true, your long hair suited you so well—you’re still a charming young man, of course." A young warrior added, "And your eye—does it hurt? How did it happen?"
An ordinary person would probably have imploded under all those questions at once. Thor, on the other hand, dove back into his tales, gesturing theatrically through the air.

Meanwhile, Selyara and Thérynne had each finished braiding a small section on the left side of Bruce’s head. Selyara tied hers with a pale pink elastic; Thérynne used a green one.
"You look beautiful like that" Selyara said softly. And Thérynne added, "You look less grumpy like that, Mister Bruce Banner."

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh a little. "Thanks, I guess. You can just call me Bruce."

And just like that, they went off to bother Brunnhilde next. Bruce was already drifting back into his thoughts.

"And you, Bruce?" Bruce snapped back to the present, looking at Thor. "Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What did you ask?"

Thor flashed a wide smile. "I was telling stories about my battle scars. I was wondering if you had any to share with us."

Bruce immediately, almost urgently, pulled down the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt that he had rolled up earlier. He looked down at his plate to avoid eye contact. "No. Not really."

And then Thor saw them.

It was subtle, hidden beneath Bruce’s body hair. It was brief, because of how quickly Bruce had rolled up his sleeves.

But Thor had seen them.

Those weren’t the kind of scars you get in a fight, no. Those kinds of scars... They were the kind you make yourself.

In Asgard, that kind of practice was rare, but he had seen it there before, although back then Thor hadn’t fully understood it.
He’d really come to understand it during his time on Earth, when he was with Jane. He knew what it meant.

Thor was now watching Bruce, who still wouldn’t meet his eyes, with something softer in his gaze, something tangible, something protective. But he chose not to press the matter, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.
"Braids suit you."
Bruce crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, giving a small smile as he looked at him. "Thanks."

It seemed forced. Fake.

"I think I’m going to bed, thanks for... all this. It was nice." And Bruce stood up and headed to his room.

Thor felt the weight of something hanging in the air Bruce left behind.

Brunnhilde, who was sitting across from Thor, being cuddled by Selyara and Thérynne, asked, "Where did he go?" "He went to bed. He was tired."

Brunnhilde took a sip from a different bottle than earlier. "I kinda like him, he’s cute" clearly talking about Bruce. Then she glanced over behind Thor, noticing something. "Well, look at that, there he is. I thought he’d never come out."

Thor turned around and saw Loki, who approached with his usual calm and sat in the chair Bruce had been in two minutes earlier.
"Brother" Thor said with curiosity. Loki simply smiled.
"I saw Bruce, he didn’t look great."
"I know, he was tired, went to bed." Thor handed a roll to Loki. "I thought you wouldn’t come out until tomorrow, brother."
Loki took the bread and took a bite.
"Why’s that? I just came to see how my brother was doing."
Thor let out a small laugh, and they simply smiled at each other, a rare moment between them, a brotherly moment.

"Thor, son of Odin. You seem deeply troubled." Thor turned around and saw Heimdall, smiling.
"Heimdall, my friend! I’m doing great? I’m not troubled?"
Brunnhilde confirmed, "Actually, you are, Thor. You do that thing with your fingers when something’s on your mind."

And it was true. Thor had a habit of clenching and unclenching his fingers when he was worried. And right now, what worried him was Bruce.
"It’s just... I only hope we’ll be able to take refuge on Earth without problems."
And that wasn’t entirely a lie, though it wasn’t Thor’s main concern.

Brunnhilde, drunk, just accepted Thor’s excuse. But for Heimdall, one of his closest friends, and for Loki, God of Mischief and professional liar, it wouldn’t fly.
Heimdall and Loki exchanged a brief glance, and surprisingly, Loki spoke.
"Listen, Thor, I know you feel like the entire weight of others and of responsibility is yours to carry first, and that you completely ignore everything that troubles or hurts you, refusing outright to talk about it. Because you’re convinced everything’s fine when it isn’t. You joke around and stay perfectly cheerful even when you shouldn’t. I know you, Thor, I’m fully aware of that part of your personality. But you know, you’ve got friends, you can talk to us, you can talk to me. I know I don’t seem like it, but I do."

Thor looked up while keeping his head lowered. His eyes held something soft, and broken.
Loki’s words had struck something deep inside him.

He then looked up at Heimdall, still standing, then looked down again. He let out a trembling breath, his lower lip was shaking, his jaw clenched.
"I... I know. I know I’m well surrounded, that I can talk. ...Thank you, Loki."
He looked down again, fidgeting with his hands, then looked Loki straight in the eyes, then turned toward Heimdall.
"What’s on my mind right now isn’t about me, so I can’t tell you. And it’s not an excuse, brother, I swear."

"Whatever it is, we’re here for you. Don’t forget that," said Brunnhilde.

"MISTER LOKIIIIII!"

Thérynne reappeared and jumped on Loki.
"Let me guess, kid, you want to braid my hair." "Of course, Mister Loki."
Loki nodded at Thérynne and Selyara.

Thor raised an eyebrow and smiled at Loki and Thérynne.
"I must be dreaming, brother. Since when do you let anyone braid your hair? Wait... don’t tell me this isn’t the first time?"

Loki smiled back, still calm and regal.
"Well, when you visited their school and I was with you, they asked me. I obviously refused several times. But one day I gave in. It wasn’t so bad in the end."

"Loki... I can’t believe it. And to think that I, your brother, didn’t even know."
Everyone burst into laughter. And just like that, something wrapped itself around Thor’s heart like a blanket, something warm.
The weight of loss, the fear of a new threat, his concern for Bruce — Thor felt something lift within him, and he could allow himself to forget it all for a moment.

He could breathe, surrounded by laughter, surrounded by the remains of his family.

𑁍

Bruce was brushing his teeth with a toothbrush he’d found in the bathroom cabinet in his room.
He rinsed his mouth, and when he looked in the mirror in front of him, he could see the shadows of his past behind his eyes.

Bruce had been through a really dark time because of Hulk.
He’d tried to take his own life with a gun, but Hulk had spit the bullet back out.
Self-harm had been one of his only ways to cope.

He was ashamed of it. He disgusted himself. He was afraid of himself.

He looked down as tears began to well up. His breathing became uneven, his lower lip trembled. His chest hurt.

He closed his eyes and backed up until he hit the door behind him. He slid down against it, his hands gripping his hair, his arms hiding his face.

Usually, Bruce hated crying. Really hated it. He avoided it at all costs.
But this time, just this once, he allowed himself to let go and let his emotions flow freely.

His breathing was ragged.

He broke down.

He cried in silence, but it was still heavy and painful.
He could barely breathe between sobs.

He didn’t even know anymore why he was crying.
Because he had endured too much? Because he had bottled up everything? Because he was ashamed of himself? Because Thor would never love him the way he loved Thor? Because of something else?

Because of everything at once.

𑁍

Later that evening, Thor and Loki were in a kind of lounge on the ship, in front of a large window looking out over the vastness of the galaxy.

"Earth, huh?"
Loki hadn’t undone the braid Selyara and Thérynne had made earlier. It was a French braid, with two smaller braids from each side woven into the main one. Strands fell loosely across Loki’s face.
Thor replied, "It’s a good planet, we’ll find safe refuge there."

Loki looked down and spoke more softly, his voice weaker.
"I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring me, Thor... I mean, people aren’t going to accept me like this. I destroyed New York. I did a lot of harm."

Thor looked at him with a soft gaze, a brotherly gaze.
"You did, that’s true yes. But you were angry, you let the wrong people influence you, you made bad choices. I know you regret it, and it’s okay to make mistakes."
Thor placed his hand on Loki’s shoulder, a warm, comforting pressure.
"I’ll make sure you’re accepted. Don’t worry. You’re not that same person anymore."

Loki looked at him — really looked at him. He moved closer to give him a hug.
It may have been a little awkward, but it was sincere.

Loki wouldn’t admit it easily, but sometimes, hugs helped. Sometimes, he needed them.

Thor was a little surprised, but he didn’t move.
Then, in return, he wrapped his arms around Loki in a warm embrace.

It was warm, comforting.

It was brotherly, it was love, it was family.

Chapter Text

Bruce was slowly opening his eyes. He must have been dozing in bed for about an hour.

The curtains were drawn, though there wasn’t much to see anyway except space, which offered neither sunrise nor distant birds. Just that frozen darkness, that unmoving void pressing against the ship’s windows like a weightless silence. The same emptiness that pressed on Bruce.

The hum of the engines was still there, of course. In a way, it comforted him not to have to sleep in heavy silence—a silence that would probably be far too loud.

It would have made him anxious.

Over the years, he had developed a nearly vital need for background noise to fall asleep. More a necessity than a habit. A fan, for example. He could also make do with soft, measured conversations as background if he had to rest while others were outside his room.

That kind of sound, regular and predictable, had something almost maternal about it. It was like a presence. Without it, the silence would be absolute and overwhelming, and that, Bruce feared more than anything. It would be a silence too vast, too pure, echoing only what rumbled inside him.

One void facing another.

He finally got up to get dressed, his watch showing 8:53. Everyone had synced to the same clock, since in space, it was more complicated.

Last night still weighed on his chest. A sensation, an unpleasant heaviness. A feeling of shame. Maybe some poorly timed silences. He didn’t want to dive back into it.

A piece of paper slipped under his door, he didn’t know when, caught his attention.

I took the liberty of bringing you some extra clothes I had. I left them outside your door.
Thor

It was a simple note, a simple gesture. But that little note wrapped Bruce like a warm, soft blanket.

He pressed the button to unlock the automatic doors and retrieve them.

He picked one of the outfits: black pants and a deep purple shirt, with silver-thread embroidery along the seams. He put them on, walked to the bathroom, and in front of the mirror, fixed his hair still messy from sleep.

Then, with his usual calm, he headed out to the main room for breakfast when something caught his eye. It was Loki, walking with his usual grace, also heading toward the main hall.

That’s when Bruce realized that their rooms were closer than he thought—Thor’s room separated them.

Bruce didn’t like him much. Still, he played nice in front of him. His whole body tensed unconsciously at the sight of Loki. “Good morning.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, more defensively than anything. “Good morning, Bruce.”

They looked at each other, both tense, both more or less on guard.

Loki walked ahead, Bruce followed behind.

When they entered, Bruce spotted Thor eating with Brunnhilde and Heimdall at the same table. Loki and Bruce naturally joined them.

Bruce sat across from Thor, Loki took the seat beside his brother.

The chatter all around was gentler than the night before. Some were eating and slowly waking up.

“Did you sleep well, Bruce?” Brunnhilde asked. “I’m okay.”

Loki noted “You seem unusually quiet, Thor.” Thor looked at him while chewing an Asgardian pastry, then said with his mouth full before swallowing, “I know when to shut up, you know.”

Loki, despite trying not to, smiled and said ironically, “Oh yes, of course you do.” That line sparked laughter around the table—even Bruce laughed quietly. Thor laughed too, fully aware of how false his statement had been. It was a deep, rich laugh, and it wrapped around Bruce, it went through him, like it etched itself inside him.

It was a gentle warmth.

Thor’s laugh faded slowly, like a deep echo around them. A light silence, still filled with smiles. That’s when Heimdall, next to Thor, spoke for the first time since Bruce and Loki’s arrival. He turned to Thor, then glanced around the group with a glint of amusement in his amber eyes. “I do recall a day when your silence would’ve been appreciated, Thor.”

Thor frowned, his mouth half-full with a second pastry. “Huh? What day?”

Heimdall leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a faint smile floating on his lips. “The coronation of the Queen of Alfheim.”

Loki widened his eyes and buried his head in his hands, a smile breaking through despite himself. “ Oh no… not that story.”

Bruce leaned forward, curious. “What did he do?”

Heimdall continued, amused and unfazed. “Silence was required during the blessing ceremony of the Light Stones. Even the birds had been driven from the trees so nothing would disturb the ritual. And Thor, dear Thor, stood tall, solemn… until a priest recited something about the light that shines even on the proudest shadow .”

Thor let out a quiet, stifled chuckle, remembering the moment.

Heimdall paused, just for the suspense. “Thor burst out laughing. Loudly. One of those unstoppable laughs.”

Still chewing, Thor protested through laughter “It was such a ridiculous turn of phrase! Who talks like that?”

Heimdall raised an eyebrow. “You knocked over two sacred millennia-old vases trying not to laugh.”

Loki buried his face in one hand, torn between exasperation and hilarity. “The elves were outraged. We nearly lost the treaty.”

Brunnhilde looked around, amused. “The Queen had to apologize to the high dignitaries at least a dozen times.”

Bruce let out a sincere, restrained laugh. “No way, seriously? Honestly, I’m not even surprised.”

Thor swallowed the remains of his pastry and declared proudly, “And that’s why we love me.”

Everyone’s laughter echoed among them. Bruce felt a strange feeling—a sense of belonging. But he couldn’t help but think that maybe he was just an outsider among them. It was strange. But he let the warmth of the moment surround him, and it was comfortable.

The conversation resumed, light and lively, full of words and memories. More stories were shared. Loki recalled a time when Thor mistook a dwarven ambassador for a piece of decor. Heimdall barely raised an eyebrow but wore that small smile that, from him, meant a full laugh.

Bruce stayed a little on the sidelines. Not isolated, but… quiet. He watched and listened, like a scientist observing a rare and fragile experiment. He liked moments like these—suspended, warm, noisy but gentle, and funny.

The collective laughter slowly faded, like a campfire crackling in the night. Bruce glanced at Thor out of the corner of his eye. That laugh… he had felt it resonate in his chest like a wave. It was… simple. Alive.

Then Bruce and Thor’s eyes met.

Bruce looked away too quickly, as if he’d been burned by the light. It was always the same—a quiet, slightly painful admiration that he hid behind polite smiles, science, and silence.

Thor grabbed a third pastry. Loki sipped an amber drink, a smirk on his lips, satisfied to have sparked the atmosphere. Heimdall was silent again, as was Brunnhilde. Calm slowly settled in.

And then Bruce, almost without realizing it, said softly “It’s strange… I’d forgotten this could exist, what this kind of silence felt like.”

They all turned to him. Not abruptly. Just with attention. “What kind of silence?” Thor asked.

And Bruce felt something in his throat. He was afraid to answer. But he did, because it was Thor. Because it was that laugh, that warmth, that made him speak.

“The kind that doesn’t scare you. The kind where… you just feel okay. Whole. Not in danger.”

He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, especially not Thor. Yet he could feel his eyes on him, like a weight that warmed. “I think I’ve spent a lot of time in rooms where I was afraid to make noise. Or worse, afraid to exist.”

He smiled a little, a hint of bitterness on his face.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was soft, respectful. Thor, without a word, placed half of his pastry on the table in front of Bruce. A clumsy gesture, almost childlike, but sincere. “You’ve barely eaten anything. So eat. It’s better than words.”

Bruce smiled. He felt a strange warmth in his chest, a knot slowly loosening. It wasn’t pity. Just… friendship, raw sincerity. An offering from Thor. To him .

He shouldn’t have read anything more into the gesture. He knew that.

But he did anyway.

Then Loki, of course, couldn’t help but break the moment.

“Well, Thor is a philosopher now, giving life lessons with pastries. The universe is doomed.”

“And you’re still making sarcastic remarks just to avoid admitting you have empathy,” Thor replied, raising an eyebrow.

A brief pause. Then general laughter. Even Heimdall, this time, let out more than just a smile.

Bruce laughed too. But he barely dared to meet Thor’s eyes.

Sometimes, love doesn’t need to be spoken. All it takes is silence, a deep laugh, and half a shared pastry.

𑁍

Bruce had secluded himself in a slightly remote room of the ship, away from people and the constant hum of the engines.

The place looked like a lounge, or at least something close to it. The walls were smooth, matte grey, but bathed in a soft light from the neon fixtures, almost warm despite the cold atmosphere. There was something strangely peaceful about it. He had sat down on the floor, his back against a wall, right next to the large bay windows that overlooked the silent immensity of space.

Countless stars twinkled as far as the eye could see, some brighter, others barely visible, forming an infinite, mesmerizing tapestry.

Beside him, resting on the floor, was a blank notebook. He had found it earlier in a cupboard. Along with it, a simple pencil. He hadn’t planned anything specific. Just a sudden urge to do something with his hands, to draw. Even if he didn’t know how to draw, it was all he had to do.

So he opened the notebook and, slowly, started to draw without thinking, without a goal. Just to keep busy. Just to exist in a different way, away from protocols and calculations.

Simple lines began to form slowly on the paper. Flowers were gently taking shape. Without really meaning to, petals bloomed, delicate, as if under the tenderness of a breath or a breeze.

Why flowers? He didn’t know. Maybe because they were easy to draw. Or at least that’s what he told himself. But deep down, it wasn’t that simple. There was, in each curve, in each fragile stem, something alive, almost sacred.

A kind of beauty that reminded him of him.

His hand, his pencil, seemed to respond to a silent call, as if each flower reflected a feeling he couldn’t name. Daffodils that he knew were yellow, like the golden strands of hair that danced in the wind. Thin and strong stems, just like his powerful arms, always in motion.

He wasn’t thinking about him while drawing. Not consciously. But he was there, in every line. In that gentleness Bruce couldn’t explain. An incarnate divinity, whose mere presence made the world bloom around him. Maybe the flowers were Bruce’s way of bearing the beauty of someone who was impossible, almost forbidden.

So he drew him differently, unknowingly, with a mix of modesty and longing. And that weight in his chest remained. It weighed on him in an unpleasant way.

The click of the door brought Bruce back to the present moment, grounding him once again where he was.

Thor peeked his head through the door, hesitant. “May I come in?” Bruce nodded, and Thor entered, settling quietly, with a kind of royal grace he didn’t even seem aware of, beside Bruce. “What are you doing?”

Bruce looked at Thor with calm and softness, then at the notebook, more to avoid Thor’s piercing gaze than anything else. “There was nothing to do here, I just wanted to keep busy and found this notebook… So I drew. I’m not proud of it, I’m no artist.”

“I think it looks pretty good,” Thor said, pointing at the notebook. “May I?” Bruce could have cursed himself for imagining different circumstances in which that question might have been asked. He handed over the notebook and pencil.

Thor took them, then began drawing in turn. He added details around Bruce’s flowers, floral embellishments, purely aesthetic additions. These details expressed a certain grace and enhanced all the flowers around them.

Bruce watched the drawing grow in emotion, in detail, in beauty. Then his eyes fell on Thor’s hands. The way his bones moved gracefully and perfectly beneath his skin at the joints was mesmerizing to watch. Bruce looked up again to see Thor’s profile, still focused on the drawing.

Bruce met Thor’s eyes, which were so blue, too blue. “I didn’t know you could draw.” Thor looked at him, then smiled, glancing back down at the notebook as if he were seeing memories. “During my education years, I had art classes. I’m not a great artist, and I rarely draw. Only when I get the chance—usually during rather desperate occasions like this when there isn’t much else to do. But I kept some knowledge, and apparently a few skills.”

He continued the drawing and wrote something in Asgardian letters in the top left corner, letters Bruce obviously didn’t understand. He observed the strange and elegant curves Thor had just written. They looked like an ancient, almost sacred calligraphy, and yet he recognized nothing.

“What did you write?” he asked, eyes still on the letters. Thor raised his head slightly, something calm in his gaze. “I wrote Thor and Bruce ” he said softly.

Bruce looked up at him, surprised. “You… You wrote our names?” Thor nodded with a calm smile. “Yes. In Asgardian script. You started the drawing, I added my personal touch. So I wrote our names.”

Bruce looked back at the letters. “It’s beautiful… It almost looks like music, or constellations. Does that mean each symbol is a letter, like in our alphabet?”

Thor sat up a little straighter, holding the notebook differently in his hands, delicately. He turned a page and gently drew a new line. “Not quite. The Asgardian alphabet is made up of thirty-two base glyphs. Each one represents a sound, like on Earth, but also sometimes an idea, a concept.”

He drew the first symbol.

“For example, this is the th , like in Thor .” He smiled. “But this glyph also means protection in certain contexts. The language changes depending on the position of the letters, the way they combine.”

Bruce leaned in closer, fascinated. Their arms brushed slightly. He didn’t dare move. He felt Thor’s warmth spreading gently across his skin. A warmth that made him relax and feel safe.

“So, each letter can mean several things at once?”

“Exactly. A single sentence can have multiple meanings, depending on the writer’s intention. Asgardian poets love to play with that.” Thor wrote more symbols, explaining each like a patient teacher. Each time, his finger moved slowly across the page, as if he were awakening something ancient. Bruce followed his gestures, half-focused on the symbols, half-absorbed by Thor’s deep voice, by his close presence.

“And this, this is the glyph of your name, Bruce.” Thor slowly drew an upward spiral. “It’s a sound close to br , but in our language, this glyph is also linked to knowledge, to mastery. I think it fits you well.” Bruce smiled, lowering his gaze, a bit disoriented. “You always find the right words.” Thor shrugged. “Maybe because I mean them.”

A small silence followed. The stars shone beside them like a motionless sea.

Bruce ran his fingers over the glyphs Thor had just traced, barely brushing them. “Can I try writing something…?”

Thor handed him the pencil. “I can show you how to write your full name. That would be a good start.”

Bruce took the pencil, their fingers brushing. He felt a tiny jolt under his skin. Maybe static electricity. Or something else. He tried to copy the symbols, clumsily.

“See?” said Thor, watching. “Not bad. That glyph, though—you need to close it a bit more, or you’ll be writing Brume instead of Bruce .” Bruce laughed softly. “That’s almost poetic. I’m a blur in your language.”Thor looked at him for a moment, then murmured softly, “Not a blur. Just… hard to grasp. And I don’t mind that.”

Bruce didn’t reply. He simply stared at the notebook. His heart was beating too fast to speak.

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t heavy. There was a discreet warmth full of unspoken, but deeply felt, things. Bruce knew what it was. Thor would be incapable of naming that strange feeling coursing through his body.

The notebook rested on Bruce’s legs, filled with symbols, with flowers, and now, with meaning. The coldness of the room was no longer there. It had been replaced by something warmer, more comforting.

𑁍

Two hours had passed.

Bruce had gone off to explore the ship a little more, and he’d been wandering for maybe twenty minutes. He didn’t know where Thor was or what he was doing.

He had put the notebook away in his room before leaving to explore, but his thoughts were looping. Thor’s smile. The warmth of his arm. The shiver when their fingers brushed. The way his name sounded in the mouth of a god.

He had found a room not far from where his own was located, a room with a telescope and art supplies. It was both an observatory and an art room.

He was standing in front of a glass cabinet, looking at the scientific instruments inside.

He didn’t expect Loki to come in.

The door opened silently, without a sound. He was like a shadow, already there before anyone had time to notice.

“Touching” he said as he stepped into the room, his tone filled with irony. “The depressed scientist and the welcoming god, sitting side by side drawing flowers. It reads like a romantic tragedy.”

Bruce turned around cautiously, his body tensing slightly. He said nothing.

Loki approached, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze shining with cruelty.

“You know, Bruce…” he began, his voice almost gentle, falsely friendly “…I thought you were more clear-headed than this. More… rational. The irony, really—someone who lives with his head in equations, getting caught in such a grotesque illusion.”

Bruce kept watching him warily, staying directly in front of Loki. “What are you talking about, Loki?” But he already knew.

Loki raised an eyebrow, then slowly started to circle him like a predator. “I’m talking about what you feel for Thor. What you’re trying to suppress, that little storm in your chest. It’s obvious. You’re not good at hiding that kind of thing. Not from me . I see it all over your face.”

He stopped on Bruce’s right side, murmuring near his ear. “But let me save you some time: he will never love you .”

Bruce was tensing more and more. Loki still smiled, that expression of superiority etched onto his face.

Loki continued “He sees you as a friend. A distraction. Just something to pass the time. But love? No. Thor is light, spectacle, instinct. You… you’re silence, control, guilt. You’re just a pathetic melancholic shadow afraid of himself. Thor will never be interested in someone like you.”

He paused, savoring the tension that for Bruce was horrible, and for him—delicious.

“And you know what’s tragic in all this, Bruce? It’s that you believe he chose you in that moment earlier. That his gaze, his smile, that gentleness he gave you… meant something unique. When in reality, Thor is like that with everyone.”

He stepped closer. “He never says no. Never directly. That’s how he lives—radiating, pleasing. He gives warmth and smiles the way others give handshakes. What you’re taking for tenderness, he gives to the first person, hurting or not, who crosses his path. Yes, he’s warm. But not for you. Not because of you. It’s just who he is.”

Bruce couldn’t help looking away, but Loki didn’t let him escape.

“You think you’re special because he listens to you? Because he looks at you when you speak? He would do that for an enemy, Bruce. He already has. Thor wants to love everyone. He wants to save everyone. And most of all, he wants no one to feel rejected. Do you know what that means?”

Loki leaned in, his words sharper than ever “It means he’ll never push you away. Not out of cruelty, but out of weakness. Because he can’t. And you, poor naïve mortal, you’ll keep believing that his silence is an invitation.”

He stepped back slightly, his face colder now.

“But believe me. If he loved you, you’d know already. Thor has never been the type to keep things to himself. When he wants something, he takes it. When he loves, he says it. He hasn’t said a word about you, Bruce. Not one. Not a gesture.”

Loki crossed his arms. Bruce didn’t dare move, he was too tense. “So go on. Keep drawing flowers. It’s charming. Poetic. And utterly pathetic. Thor doesn’t care about you. You’re just one distraction among others.”

He turned toward the door, throwing one last sentence over his shoulder with that cruel calm that cut as sharply as any blade.

“You may have conquered the rage of a monster—your monster… but the heart of a god, Bruce, that’s far beyond your reach.”

And he disappeared, leaving Bruce alone, fists clenched, throat tight, the notebook almost painfully heavy in his pocket. The silence in the room felt frozen around him.

Bruce stayed there. Standing. Frozen.

The silence seemed to thicken, weighted by the words still hanging in the air. It felt loud. Far too loud.

Bruce didn’t move. Even breathing became an effort.

He stared at an invisible point in front of him. His hands were clenched. He hadn’t realized at first, but his nails were digging into his palms. Not enough to bleed. Just enough to leave a mark.

“He’ll never push you away. Not out of cruelty, but out of weakness.”

The phrase looped. It echoed far too loudly in his head.

He took a step, then another, until he reached a wall and braced himself against it, both hands pressed to the surface. His head lowered. His forehead touched the metal. Cold. Smooth. Real.

He wanted to believe it was just words. That Loki, as he knew him, was only trying to hurt him, to humiliate him. But what hurt wasn’t the cruelty. It was the precision. The clarity. The way it felt true. Unfairly true.

“Thor is like that with everyone… He never says no…”

He closed his eyes. He saw Thor in mundane moments. Thor laughing with Steve. Thor hugging Peter. Thor talking to Natasha, even Rocket. Thor, radiant. Thor, accessible. Thor, existing for everyone—but not just for him.

He felt something rise. Slowly. A familiar burn in his throat. He tried to inhale deeply. His breath was far too uneven. He instinctively turned, back to the wall, and simply slid down in silence.

He sat. Back against the wall. Head down.

His shoulders trembled, subtly.

Then the first tears came. Silent. Unexpected. He had lost control.

These weren’t the same tears, not the same sensations as the night before—none of that purity was there: this was the pain of a tiny hope that never really existed.

And he didn’t stop.

His fingers clutched his knees, reaching for something tangible, some kind of control. But there was none.

His arms shook. He curled into himself, elbows against his torso, forehead resting on his arms. And there, he let out a moan. Quiet. A strangled sound, coming from too deep to be held back.

The kind of sound people make when they don’t want to be heard. But already know they’ve collapsed.

His breathing broke apart. A series of short, painful gasps he tried to calm. But nothing helped. His throat was too tight. His lungs too full. He was suffocating from the inside.

His entire body was tense. Too tense. It hurt.

He pulled the notebook from his pocket, hands trembling. He stared at it. Opened it. The flowers were still there. The names. The Asgardian glyphs. His name.

He stared too long.

Nothing in that notebook meant the same thing anymore.

Then, in a nearly desperate motion, he hurled it across the room.

The notebook hit the opposite wall with a sharp sound and fell to the floor, landing open on a blank page.

And that’s when everything gave out. Whatever control he had left completely vanished.

Bruce broke down. He curled in on himself even tighter, arms over his head, fingers tangled in his hair like he wanted to pull himself away from his own body. The sobs were painful, loud, uncontrollable, hoarse.

He cried like a man emptied of everything. He cried like a child no one ever comforted.

Every ragged gasp, every shattered breath was a wave that crushed him more, proof that he couldn’t hold himself up inside anymore. He moaned again, no longer trying to suppress it, no longer hiding the pain. His arms muffled the sounds. He hurt everywhere. In his bones. His stomach. His throat. In that part of himself he’d always tried to protect.

His fists were still clenched in his hair, knuckles white.

The room was empty. Cold. Infinitely far from the discarded notebook on the floor. Bruce wasn’t holding onto anything anymore.

𑁍

In that part of the ship, where the corridors were lit by faint lights, a room with a high ceiling at the end of one of them echoed with muffled sounds. Short breaths. The scrape of boots on the floor. The clash of weapons.

Thor and Brunnhilde were sparring, like they sometimes did to kill boredom—or to silence thoughts that clung too tightly to the skin.

The metal of the weapon Thor had found in the training room clashed against Brunnhilde’s. Their movements were precise, controlled, choreographed.

Brunnhilde turned with grace, struck with care. Thor, focused, let power flow through his arms—but he was distracted. Just a little. A nearly invisible crack.

She noticed instantly. She struck toward Thor’s collarbone, which he narrowly dodged with a sidestep. “You’re leaving openings, Odinson.”

He smiled, slightly out of breath, adjusting his grip on the weapon. “Maybe I’m just generous, Valkyrie.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Or you’re thinking too much.”

Thor didn’t answer. She was right. He couldn’t stay fully present.

He kept seeing the glyphs he’d drawn. Bruce’s name in a spiral. The fragility in his voice when he’d said “I’m blurry in your language.”

Thor struck harder. Brunnhilde stepped back.

He wanted to chase the thought away. That strange pinch in his chest. He didn’t understand what it was.

It was… Bruce.

He couldn’t name it any other way. Just Bruce.

“You’re losing precision,” Brunnhilde said, almost teasing.

He shrugged, wiped sweat from his brow. “Maybe I am thinking too much,” he finally admitted with a small laugh.

Then the automatic doors opened.

Loki.

Not theatrical. Not majestic. Silent.

Brunnhilde lifted her chin, cautious, but said nothing.

Thor froze when he saw his brother. Something was wrong.

Loki wasn’t playing. He wasn’t smiling. His gaze was avoiding theirs, posture unsteady. He stared vaguely at the floor, as if trying to avoid every eye.

“Loki?” Thor asked, slowly lowering his weapon.

Loki didn’t move. “Thor.”

Silence.

Brunnhilde exchanged a discreet glance with Thor. He took a step toward Loki.

“What do you want?”

Loki briefly looked up, just enough for Thor to see—his eyes were bright. Not with tears. But too wide, too sincere. Almost fragile. “Nothing. Just passing by.”

Thor frowned. “You never just pass by. ”

“There’s a first time for everything” Loki said, but without his usual bite.

Brunnhilde quietly moved toward the weapons corner. She knew when to stay back.

Thor stepped closer. “Loki… what did you do?”

Loki stayed still. His hands trembled slightly, but Thor noticed. He’d learned to read him down to the smallest details since they were children.

“Someone’s not doing well,” Loki finally said, barely above a whisper.

A chill ran down Thor’s spine. His breath caught. “Who?”

Loki didn’t answer. He looked away. But everything in him screamed the answer. The kind of silence that betrays.

Thor felt something twist in his stomach. “What did you say to him?”

Measured, Loki replied slowly, “Truths. I didn’t think it would hit him that hard.”

Thor clenched his jaw. Tight.

It could only be one person.

“Bruce. It’s Bruce, isn’t it? You hurt him?” His voice was sharp, and it hit something in Loki. He turned his head, didn’t confirm—but it was obvious. He lowered it.

“I didn’t think it would go that far.” He paused, almost in pain. “Or that my words would matter that much.”

The silence that followed was almost brutal.

Brunnhilde, leaning quietly against a wall, said nothing.

Thor stepped back. Closed his eyes briefly to keep control—and immediately, something else appeared in his mind. A soft blade between his ribs.

Bruce. Sitting on the floor, in that quiet room, the notebook against his legs. He saw every detail again with new clarity. The way Bruce had shrunk himself even then. And how Loki’s “Someone’s not doing well” might not stop at what Loki said.

Thor looked at his brother, his jaw still clenched.

“I can’t stand the thought that he cried because of you.”

Loki slowly raised his eyes. “What kind of importance does he even have for you?” There was fear behind the question.

“He’s my friend.” Thor ran a hand over his face, exhaling. “Tell me you regret it.”

Loki looked at him. Really looked. Then turned his eyes away and murmured, “I thought I wasn’t capable of feeling that anymore. But now…”

Thor stared at him, then walked heavily toward the exit of the room. His heart was pounding. Too fast. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but his legs did.

Through the dim corridors, the silence of the ship stretched like a still ocean. He could hear chatter in the distant main hall.

Thor took a deep breath. His heart was beating so hard his ribs felt like they were shaking.

He had to find him.

Not to ask questions. Not to say anything grand.

Just to be there.

So he searched.

His first instinct was to look in the room where they had been drawing. When he reached it, he stepped in cautiously, looked around, but no one was there. “Shit.”

Then, he left and began mechanically checking all the nearby rooms.

Until he stumbled upon an observatory. He didn’t know why, but something about that room felt different.

The observation room was empty.

Or at least, that’s how it seemed at first glance.

A pale light bathed the space. It came from the vast viewport that took up an entire wall, revealing the slow drift of stars and the distant glow of a nebula.

Thor stepped inside quietly. He looked around.

And then he saw him.

Sitting against a wall in a corner, withdrawn, knees pulled to his chest. His head hidden in his arms. The sketchbook lay on the floor, abandoned just a few inches away.

Bruce.

He wasn’t moving. It almost looked like he wasn’t breathing anymore. Like his body had folded in on itself, trying to become as small as possible. To disappear.

Thor felt something slam into him, hard. A blow to the chest. It wasn’t sorrow. It was bigger than that. Sharper.

He approached gently. One step at a time. Until he sat down slowly on the floor, a short distance away.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just silence.

Like two hours earlier, in the other room.

Bruce hadn’t looked up or moved. But he knew he was there.

Thor waited. A long time. He didn’t count the minutes. He just stared at the stars.

And then Bruce spoke, his voice hoarse, drained. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Thor slowly turned his head. Bruce still hadn’t moved. “I know.”

He could have said more. He could have apologized—for what, he wasn’t even sure—or asked questions. But he knew it wasn’t the time.

Silence again. Bruce didn’t move. He seemed to melt into the wall. Curled in on himself so much it felt like he was trying to vanish. To stop existing.

Bruce hugged himself tighter. He wasn’t crying anymore. He was emptied. Nothing left to give. “I just want to be forgotten for a while. For everyone to leave me alone.”

Thor turned his head toward him. Gently. “You want me to forget you?”

A pause.

“I don’t want to be a problem. I thought that… maybe… what I was feeling… mattered. That it wasn’t just in my head.”

Thor didn’t know exactly what he meant, but he felt his throat tighten. He lowered his gaze.

Bruce continued, more softly. “I don’t know how to do it. How not to be too much. Or not enough. I thought maybe… you got it.”

Thor tilted his head slightly. He didn’t understand everything. But he knew one thing: he didn’t want Bruce to shut down. Not like this.

He slowly reached for the sketchbook. Closed it gently, soundlessly. And placed it next to him. “I didn’t come to understand. I came because I needed you to know you’re not alone. I see you. You’re not too much. You’re not not enough.”

Bruce didn’t reply.

Thor spoke even more softly. “I thought you were just being quiet. That you wanted to be alone. But I get it now—you were pulling back so you wouldn’t be a bother. And I hate that.” He paused, the words lining up in his throat before he spoke them. “I miss you even when you’re in the room, Bruce. And I don’t know what that means.”

Bruce slightly turned his head, still hidden in his arms—just enough for their eyes to meet.

It was the first time since the start of it all. And it broke something in Thor. Bruce’s gaze was shadowed. Clouded. Defeated. His eyes were still swollen and red.

Bruce spoke, almost whispering. “You’re only saying that… to make me feel better. Or because you…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t dare.

He looked away. Hid his face back in his arms.

Thor leaned in slightly. Not too close. Just enough to show he wasn’t leaving. “I’m saying it… because it’s the only thing that feels true right now.”

A heartbeat.

Then another.

A few seconds.

Bruce closed his eyes, though Thor could no longer see them. He finally let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaky.

And, slowly, almost with shame, he rested his head on Thor’s shoulder.

Not hard.

But it happened.

Thor didn’t move. He felt that fragile warmth against him. That tension. That fear of being too much, of being pushed away.

Honestly, it was the first time he had seen someone like this. And it threw him off—he didn’t know how to react.

But he wouldn’t run.

Bruce finally allowed himself to lean in a little more. He was relaxing.

And Thor stayed there. His heart pounding too fast and he didn’t know why.

Just… there. With him.

Bruce’s breathing slowed. Thor… wasn’t thinking about anything else anymore.

Then Brunnhilde’s voice echoed through the ship’s overhead speaker: “ Ladies and gents, food’s in the mess hall. If you’re not hungry, I’ll eat your share, and no, that’s not up for debate. I’m serious. ”

Bruce immediately pulled away. Not abruptly, not harshly—just… gently. As if not to disturb. As if he didn’t want to exist too loudly.

Thor let him. He didn’t try to hold him back. He just looked at him.

Bruce wiped a hand over his face and looked away. “You should go.”

But Thor didn’t move. His eyes still on Bruce. “Not without you.”

Bruce dropped his gaze a little. “I’m not very hungry. I… I’ll just stay here a bit. Just for a while.”

Thor wanted to say something. He opened his mouth. Then closed it.

So, he stood up slowly.

And instead of leaving right away, he turned around. “If you change your mind… I’ll save you a spot.”

Bruce just nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Thor walked away. He didn’t want to. He was afraid that if he left Bruce alone again, he might vanish—and this time, Thor wouldn’t be able to find him.

In the hallway, the light felt harsher.

When he arrived in the mess hall, Brunnhilde was already there, sitting at a table. He joined her. She didn’t say anything.

Brunnhilde pushed a bowl toward him. “Here. Eat. You look like you fought something worse than me.”

Thor smiled, despite himself. “Yeah. And I clearly lost.” He sat down slowly and started eating.

“How is he…?” Brunnhilde asked quietly, delicately.

Thor looked at her, worry still etched deep in his eyes. It said more than he realized. “I don’t know what Loki said to him—I didn’t dare ask, and if he doesn’t talk about it, I won’t force him. But whatever it was… it hit hard. Too hard.”

“That bad?” Brunnhilde grabbed a piece of bread.

“That bad.” Thor confirmed.

He swallowed his food. “Did Loki talk to you after I left?”

“No. I called him an idiot, then I left too, so I’ve no idea what he went off to do after that.”

“I see.” Then they said nothing more.

They just ate together, no pressure.

Thor was trying to understand Bruce better—his reactions, the things he’d said earlier.

It was too complicated.

Chapter Text

Night had fallen over the ship — or at least, something close to it.

It wasn’t late, but late enough for silence to have swallowed the corridors. The voices had vanished.

Near the top of the ship, there was a secondary observation room, more discreet, more intimate. A glass bay and a massive dome fused into one, offering a panoramic view where a few asteroids drifted by.

Brunnhilde was there, sitting on the edge of a metallic structure, legs dangling into the void, a bottle in her hand.

She heard the footsteps before seeing who it was. Heavy. Steady.

Thor.

She didn’t turn her head. She knew it was him.

“I figured you’d show up eventually” she said calmly.

He walked closer, slowly. “I’m not waking you?”

“Not at all.” She raised the bottle. “Sit down, if you want.” So he came and sat beside her. Silence. But not an unpleasant one.

Then she handed him the bottle. He took it, looked at the neck for a moment, then took a sip. He winced a little. “Burns going down.”

“You’re exaggerating” she replied with a half-smile.

Thor spoke softly. “It’s beautiful here. Like… really.”

“I know.”

Thor was staring at the stars. Then he lowered his gaze. “Did he talk to you this afternoon?” he asked directly.

Brunnhilde instantly knew who he meant. She slowly shook her head. “No. But I saw the look in his eyes earlier at dinner. Well- before Selyara and Thérynne kept him… otherwise occupied.”

Thor let out a short amused breath. “I didn’t think they’d end up liking him that much.” He paused. “He looked… switched off” he said finally. “Like… I don’t know. Like there was nobody left inside. He avoided interacting with me as much as he could.”

Brunnhilde slowly turned her head toward him. She said nothing. Not right away.

Thor continued. “I keep thinking about it. The way he fades away. Even when he speaks. It’s not shyness. It’s… deeper. Like he doesn’t believe he’s allowed to be here.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s called surviving. Some people do it by screaming. Others… by disappearing. Remember this morning, when he talked about that fear he sometimes has? That fear of making noise, of being noticed, of existing.”

Thor shrugged, exhaled, and put a hand to his face. “All it took was a few words from Loki, and it all fell apart.”

Brunnhilde looked at him, for a long time. Then said “It’s not you he’s running from.”

“I know.”

“He’s running from himself. And you… you remind him of something too big. Maybe too gentle. That’s scary, you know, when you’re not used to it.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“Last night, at dinner, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see” he said in a breath. Brunnhilde looked at him carefully. “His arms… There were scars on them. Self-inflicted. I know what that means. It’s not common in Asgard, you know that, but I know what it means. And with everything I understood today, with what he told me, with what I saw… I can’t help but see it all differently now. It hits different. I can’t stop wondering what he must have lived through, to try so hard to barely exist.”

Brunnhilde stared at him. Then lowered her head. “Wow. I… wow.”

A pause.

Then she said, quite simply “You care about him.”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then furrowed his brow. “Yeah. He’s my friend.”

She tilted her head back slightly, looking at him. “Loki must’ve really hit where he shouldn’t have. Why do you think he did that?”

Thor looked at her, then back up at the stars. “Loki is… complicated, I know that. He’s always felt rejected and different. I don’t understand everything, but I think it’s connected.”

Brunnhilde took a sip from the bottle sitting between them.

Thor continued. “I’ve never experienced anything like this with anyone else, and honestly, I’m trying to follow Bruce. I saw how off he seemed at dinner earlier. I notice when something’s different. But all his reactions, the reasons behind them, Bruce himself — I’m trying to follow it all, but it’s still blurry.”

Brunnhilde simply said, softly, “Sometimes, you don’t need to understand everything, you know. Just do what you feel you need to do. The answers will come on their own, little by little.”

And then, nothing more. They just stayed there. Side by side.

Admiring the starry wash before them.

𑁍

The light was dim. Just a small lamp on the bedside table cast a warm, comforting glow on the metallic walls of the room.

The door was closed. Bruce was sitting on his bed. Cross-legged, back hunched, shoulders slumped.

In front of him, on his knees: the notebook. The one he had dropped earlier, the one Thor had gently closed and set back down.

He’d picked it up again without a word, after Thor had left.

He had held it close for a long time. Too long. Like a burning object in his hands, heavy with meaning—something that could soothe what Loki had torn open.

Then, finally, he opened it.

The pages still bore the marks of that moment. Creased pages.

He slowly flipped through the few pages where the flowers, and the Asgardian alphabet written by Thor, were still visible.

And then he stopped on the first blank page.

He picked up the pencil. Pressed the tip to the paper. And started writing. He scribbled words. Thoughts he couldn’t bear to say out loud.

I don’t understand why it’s so hard to exist gently.
I don’t want to take up too much space. I don’t want to bother anyone.
But sometimes I feel like even breathing is too much.
I don’t know how to live without feeling like I’m too much, or not enough.
I’m tired. So tired. And yet, I’m still trying.

His fingers began to slow.

He turned to the next page. He started drawing. Nothing elaborate. Just a shape. He traced a silhouette. Broad at first. Square. Strong. The shoulders, the hair, the jaw. He knew it all by heart. It wasn’t detailed. He wasn’t aiming for realism. He was drawing from memory. From feeling. The figure was sitting on the floor.

Then he added a second silhouette, tiny in comparison, curled up beside the first, back against the wall, head resting on the other’s shoulder.

He wrote something just beneath it:

You stay even when you don’t understand.
You stay even when I say nothing.
Even when I’m worth nothing.

And that’s when it began to tremble.

First just his fingers. Then his breathing. Then his whole torso.

He shut the notebook abruptly, as if that might contain what was rising up. He pressed it tightly to his chest.

But the tears came anyway.

No screams. No outbursts.

Just that heavy weight in his throat. That broken, uncontrollable breath.

He tried to hold it back. To fight it.

But the tears fell, silently, down his cheeks.

For a long time.

He slowly buried his face in the crook of his arms, the notebook still pressed against him. And the memories, they floated behind his eyelids, the false hopes. Loki’s cutting words.

He felt like he was living between two worlds: One where he existed too loudly, and one where he wasn’t even sure he existed at all.

𑁍

Thor knocked three heavy times on Bruce’s door.

He waited. He knew Bruce was asleep.

He was about to knock again when the automatic doors unlocked.

Bruce appeared in front of him, half-asleep, hair a mess of tangled chaos. He’d clearly just woken up.

“Thor? What… You- Is something wrong?” “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”

“Thor- !” But he was already walking away.

So, still half-asleep, Bruce quickly grabbed some clothes and threw them on. He brushed his hair hastily and stepped outside.

Thor was waiting at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, a faint smile on his face. He didn’t say anything. Bruce — and some sleepy part of him — followed without a word through the silence of the ship.

They walked for a few minutes, climbed catwalks, passed through long, seemingly forgotten corridors.

Little by little, Bruce began to wake up, curiosity taking over.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” he finally asked, voice still a little hoarse.

“Somewhere you haven’t seen yet” Thor replied with a tone that bordered on solemn. “I think you’ll like it.”

Then they stopped before two large doors. Thor pressed his hand to a sensor on the side. The doors opened silently, revealing a massive room bathed in a soft half-light, touched with blue, violet, and orange hues.

Bruce stepped in slowly, and froze.

The main observatory.

The room was enormous. A vast dome, nearly invisible, its walls entirely made of glass. It opened above them to the deepness of space.

As far as the eye could see, stars stretched in every direction. Instruments of advanced technology filled the space.

Bruce approached a wide device that appeared to be capturing live cosmic waves. He ran a hand over it, mesmerized. “This is… incredible.”

Thor, still by the doors, watched his reaction closely, silently.

“I found this place yesterday while looking for Brunnhilde — who found it herself,” he finally said. “And when I saw it, I thought of showing it to you. I had to show you.”

Bruce nodded, saying nothing. A small smile crossed his lips, like he was rediscovering a forgotten feeling.

Thor stepped up to a console, brushed a command. The dome’s glass darkened, plunging them into shadow. A live holographic projection filled the room: a star system, planets emerging from the void, complex orbits.

They could almost wander through that part of the galaxy.

“This too, I had to show you” Thor said. “Because it’s so beautiful.”

“No way you figured out this projection on your own” Bruce chuckled.

“Well… I may have activated it by tripping over something and falling into the console that runs it. That might have caused it to switch on. I admired it for a while, and when I tried to turn it off…”

Thor didn’t finish. He made another gesture, and the image shifted. A deep red nebula bloomed across the space around them, edged with violet and golden threads.

Bruce opened his mouth, ready to whisper something, but nothing came out.

“It’s called Eirhala ” Thor said. “A starstorm in the making.”

Bruce turned to him, looked him in the eyes. His own glowed with their usual blue, lit now with red, violet, and gold from the nebula. There was something different in his gaze — a mix of surprise, gratitude, and a strange calm. Bruce’s eyes were shining too.

Shining with the nebula’s light.

Shining with wonder.

And they gave off a quiet warmth that reached Thor.

“I don’t even know what to say. This is… so beautiful. And it’s all for me…?” he asked softly.

Thor gave a slight shrug. “I figured you’d like it. I really wanted you to see it. The scientist in you.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the nebula drift across the projection.

When Thor finally shut it off, Bruce had turned toward a scientific instrument Thor couldn’t name, but he’d seen it before. “What’s this thing for again? I saw you with something similar once, and you were like-” Thor mimicked Bruce with an exaggerated, clumsy gesture. “And you made this face, like this-” then he imitated an overdone serious expression with furrowed brows.

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh. Not a loud, nervous, or controlled laugh — but a real one.

Something free echoed in his voice.

“I think it’s a kind of cosmic wave receiver” Bruce explained, pointing at the consoles “to transfer the data and study it properly.”

He spoke with knowledge, and with fascination. Thor only half-listened — caught somewhere between Bruce’s technical explanation and the beauty of watching him come alive through it.

It warmed Thor’s heart more than he cared to admit.

𑁍

Bruce had just returned to his room after dinner. He was in a good mood and had talked more than usual, thanks to Thor.

Loki hadn’t been there. Not at breakfast either.

He was about to head into the bathroom to take a shower when someone knocked on the door.

Two timid knocks.

Bruce walked toward the button to open the door — and instantly stiffened.

Loki.

“Can I come in?” There was no venom in his words. No threat in his eyes. No violence or defensiveness in his posture.

Bruce didn’t even notice that. Loki was still Loki.

A faint green shimmer passed over Bruce’s skin. He stepped aside to let Loki in. And Loki entered, cautiously.

“What do you want, Loki?” Bruce’s words didn’t sound like a question. They sounded like a threat, an attack. Loki turned slowly to face him. Bruce hadn’t moved from near the door. He went on. “You think you can just show up like that, come in like this place belongs to you?”

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Bruce. I’m here to-”

Bruce didn’t let him finish.

“You don’t need to add anything to what you said yesterday. That’s why you’re here, right? Isn’t it? You came to twist the knife even deeper, right where you knew it would hurt! No one knows how I feel about your brother, and you had to be the one to notice!? It had to be the damn great Loki who figured it out.” Bruce was pacing, shooting deadly glares at Loki every chance he got. His eyes had started to shine, and the green on his neck was slowly spreading. It scared Loki.

“Seriously, I know what you said yesterday was true, but was that really the way to say it ? I know Thor will never feel the same way. But I had hope! That hope kept me going. It was like a light in the shadow I live in. And you snuffed it out with a few words. You came and ruined everything in a single damn morning. You came to extinguish that light proudly . AND YOU DARE COME BACK HERE, IN FRONT OF ME!? Let me laugh…”

Loki’s chest tightened. Too tight. His throat too. Breathing was difficult. His eyes shimmered. He did everything he could to hold back the storm raging inside. He stepped forward, slowly, cautiously, hands slightly raised to show he meant no harm.

He began to speak softly. “Bruce… please, listen to me-”

And Bruce began to transform.

“SHUT UP.”

Hulk.

It was already too late.

Loki was trapped in the room, powerless. Hulk stood between him and the door.

He didn’t waste time. Hulk charged at Loki, trying to hurl him across the room. Loki dodged just in time and used the opening to escape the room. He slipped into a corner and cast an illusion of himself as a decoy.

Behind him, Hulk could be heard smashing things, chasing the fake Loki.

Once Hulk was far enough, Loki ran to Thor’s room, panicked. He didn’t even knock. “Thor-” But he wasn’t there. “No no no… Damn.”

Loki turned around and nearly sprinted away, short of breath, heart pounding. He needed to find Thor to fix this, to stop anyone from getting hurt.

He still heard the distant roar of Hulk, walls collapsing, furniture flying.

He tried to breathe calmly. Impossible. But he knew where to go.

The training room.

So he ran. Fast. He had to talk to him — urgently.

The door was ajar. Artificial light spilled in a golden rectangle across the ship’s metallic floor. Loki slowed. His heart, which had barely calmed for a second, began racing again.

He gently pushed the door open.

Thor was there. Shirtless, sweating, hitting what looked like a punching bag with all his might. Again and again.

Loki froze in the doorway. He didn’t dare speak. But Thor had heard him. He’d stopped without turning around.

“Thor…”

A single word. Simple. But it held everything. Loki was panicked. Truly panicked. He was filled with guilt.

He stepped forward slowly. “Thor… I… I didn’t know where you were. I… I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to- I screwed up.”

Thor finally turned around. His face was tense, tired — but not angry. Just worried, and wary, worn out from Loki’s actions. But this time, he could sense something was wrong.

Thor spoke gently, stepping closer. “What did you do this time…”

Loki lowered his gaze, ashamed. He had never felt so… exposed. Defenseless. Unmasked. He began to speak fast. Too fast. “I… I went to see Bruce, and- he transformed. He… he was… angry. So angry…”

Thor moved closer to him, eyes locked on his. “Loki, calm down. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” Loki just nodded. “Seriously, Loki! What did you say to him this time? What were you thinking!?”

Silence fell. Long. Heavy.

Loki hesitated. He lifted his eyes. They were shining. Then, in a low voice, almost a whisper, he replied. “I just wanted to apologize.”

That look from Loki hit Thor hard. He stepped even closer, gently took his brother’s forearm to comfort him, softly running his thumb across it to keep him grounded in the moment.

He had only seen Loki like this a few rare times, and it always hurt.

Loki looked away again, staring at Thor’s hand on his arm. “Listen to me. I know that everything you say to people reflects a lot of pain inside you. Pain you still refuse to share. I don’t know exactly what you said to Bruce yesterday, but I know there was something heavy behind it. As always. And I’m glad you wanted to apologize. I don’t blame you for triggering Hulk, because it wasn’t on purpose. First, let’s go calm Hulk before he hurts someone, okay? Then we’ll talk it all through, calmly. You know you can talk to me. I’m not here to belittle your emotions, Loki, or to ignore you. I’m here to support you, and to stand by you when things go wrong. You’re my little brother, and I love you.”

Loki inhaled sharply. His breathing was shaky. What Thor had just said had violently shaken something deep inside him. He looked up at Thor, timidly. He pressed his lips together to avoid collapsing completely, but they only formed a thin line. A few tears still rolled silently down his cheeks.

He whispered, voice broken, “I’m really sorry… for being like this… For everything…”

Thor didn’t reply. He pulled him into a warm, comforting hug. They stayed like that for thirty seconds or so, letting a few tears fall. Then Thor pulled back, his hands slowly trailing down Loki’s arms.

“Let’s go calm him down. Then we’ll talk.” He gently kissed Loki’s forehead, then released him and headed to the door to find Hulk, grabbing his shirt on the way. Loki, wiping his eyes, followed. He felt a little lighter than before.

So they rushed to the main hall. Loki trailed just behind.

When they entered, they froze.

Overturned tables. Dented walls. Two injured Asgardians on the floor, surrounded by others trying to help them up quickly. A child crying, clinging to his mother’s leg.

At the center of the chaos: Hulk . Huge, trembling, furious, his muscles tense and his eyes filled with a deep, quiet pain. He growled, lashing out around him like a cornered animal.

Loki and Thor were horrified.

Heimdall was there too. Trying to protect the Asgardians from Hulk, panicked.

“Heimdall, evacuate the room.” Thor said, his voice strong but calm, authoritative. “Take them elsewhere, get them away from Hulk. No sudden movements.”

People scattered in organized chaos. Hulk roared, stumbling back against a wall, as if he didn’t understand what was happening. As if he was in pain and didn’t know where to go. He punched the ground, then ripped a section of the wall away with a powerful cry.

Thor slowly raised his hands as he approached. He remembered what Natasha used to do. Words. A calm tone. A soothing rhythm. “Hey… hey big guy. It’s okay. It’s me, it’s Thor.” He spoke softly, like to a wounded animal. He walked slowly, every step calculated, while Loki stayed back, ready to intervene if needed.

Hulk suddenly turned his head toward him. He growled.

Thor didn’t move.

“You’re safe now. You don’t have to fight anymore. You don’t have to be afraid.”

A long silence. Hulk’s heavy, ragged breathing filled the room.

“I’m here, Bruce.” Thor murmured, barely more than a breath. “I’m here… I know you're here...”

Thor was just a meter away from Hulk.

Then suddenly, with the wall panel he had ripped earlier, Hulk struck Thor hard from the side, shouting:

“GO AWAY. Thor bad! Loki bad! Bruce not happy…!”

Thor crashed violently to the side, the metal panel slicing deeply into his flank. Blood poured out.

Loki, panicked, took a step forward, ready to react.

But Thor looked at Loki with a look that made him freeze. He tried to stand, teeth clenched, muscles shaking with pain. “Don’t move, Loki… Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Hulk… Bruce… Bruce, listen to me.” He limped, his pain obvious. “You’re not a monster. You’ve never been a monster. Please… come back.”

Slowly. Very slowly. Hulk calmed. He stopped moving.

His expression changed. He stared at Thor heavily, as if he recognized him. As if some piece of consciousness, of clarity, was surfacing.

Thor, still calm, still with that warm, reassuring tone, kept speaking. “Come back… For me.”

Hulk struggled internally.

And suddenly, he let out a scream—a gut-wrenching roar of pain… and began to shrink.

Hulk slowly gave way to a trembling figure, covered in scraps of torn clothing. Thor caught him, dropping to his knees with him. Bruce held his arms around himself as if holding himself together.

Loki immediately stepped closer. He slid his long coat over Bruce’s shoulders, who was still trembling slightly. Thor rested his hand on his shoulder.

Bruce, concerned, asked, “Did I hurt anyone? Tell me I didn’t…”

“Only two people. But nothing serious, just surface wounds.”

Bruce lowered his eyes, guilt-ridden, then saw Thor’s injury. “Oh god- Thor- did I do that? Are you okay? It’s bleeding a lot I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Thor cut him off, helping him up. “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

Loki watched them a moment, saying nothing. His throat tightened again, for reasons he couldn’t explain. He lowered his eyes, ashamed once more, and just stood there. Present. Silent.

Thor tried to walk on his own, but eventually leaned on Bruce. “Let’s get to your room, find you some clothes.”

“And patch you up.” Bruce replied.

Loki watched them walk away. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

𑁍

Thor and Bruce were slowly making their way down the ship’s corridors toward Bruce’s quarters. Thor was still limping, his arm firmly draped over Bruce’s shoulder. Blood trickled softly between his fingers, but he downplayed the severity of the wound.

Bruce’s face was closed off, tense with worry.

They finally reached Bruce’s room. The doors opened silently, revealing a slightly messy space — no doubt from the earlier moment with Loki.

Bruce gently guided Thor toward the bed so he could sit. Then, without a word, he went to look for a first-aid kit, hoping to find one in the bathroom. His movements were mechanical, precise, but his heart was pounding.

Thor lay down on the bed, watching Bruce closely. He could see he was tense, blaming himself.

Bruce came back with gauze, a small bottle of antiseptic, thread, and a sterilized needle. He sat down next to Thor. “Take off your shirt so I can see.”

Thor obeyed without a word. He removed the hand that had been pressing against his wound, then pulled off the shirt. Bruce could tell it hurt. Thor downplayed it.

The wound was long and deep. Bruce gently placed his fingers just above it and poured some antiseptic. His fingers trembled slightly. The antiseptic stung. Thor winced.

“Sorry…” Bruce murmured. His voice was nearly inaudible. “It’s nothing” Thor said softly, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He took a piece of gauze and wiped away the blood that had flowed. He moved mechanically, as if those actions were the only things keeping him grounded.

“Bruce” Thor repeated. This time, he placed a hand on his. “Talk to me.”

Bruce looked up. His eyes were bright. Wet. Filled with everything he kept buried. “Why are you like this with me…” Thor frowned. “Like what?”

“Kind. Always kind. Even after what I just did. Even after what Loki said to me.” Thor’s jaw tightened. “What did he say?”

Bruce looked away. “It doesn’t matter. He just… said what I already knew. What I have to accept.” Holding gauze over the wound, he picked up the needle to start stitching. Thor winced again when the needle entered. “Sorry…” Bruce said again “I know. You don’t have to say sorry every time.” A pause. Thor knew that this apology wasn’t just for the pain — it was for what had happened earlier. “It wasn’t your fault what happened. It was Loki who messed up, not you.”

Bruce pressed his lips together, his hands freezing for a second. The needle suspended mid-air, just above Thor’s skin. He didn’t look up.

“I messed up too… I let myself go. I let myself believe that…” He cut himself off and breathed in slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Never mind.”

Thor looked at him with quiet intensity. He could tell something was missing from the puzzle. But he also knew Bruce — and pushing him would only make things worse.

So he simply said “You have the right to break down sometimes. You’re human.”

Bruce let out a humorless laugh. “Human, sure. Until I turn a place into a ruin… Then I become the living nightmare.”

“You think you’re a nightmare?” Thor asked calmly, without judgment, eyes fixed on Bruce’s closed-off face.

“Sometimes. Yeah.” He placed the final stitch slowly. Then cut the thread with a quick motion. He still hadn’t looked up.

Thor gritted his teeth from the pain but didn’t flinch. Then, with all the gentleness he could muster, he murmured “You know what I see? Someone who keeps going, no matter what. Someone who could’ve run away a thousand times but stays. Someone who’s afraid of himself but still chooses to stay close to others.” Thor took a slow breath. “You’re not a nightmare, Bruce. You’re the bravest of us all.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. He looked at Thor now, still sitting beside him. “I know I’ve said this before… You always find the right words.”

Thor just let out a soft laugh, smiling slightly. He sat up. “I’m going to my room to grab a shirt, then I’ll check if everyone’s alright and get some rest.” Bruce only nodded. “Of course.”

They looked at each other quietly, saying nothing.

Thor looked at him intensely — too intensely. He didn’t even realize. “Thank you…”

Bruce simply smiled.

Thor left the room after one last look at Bruce. He walked slowly through the corridors, his side still aching, his mind buzzing. Bruce’s last words echoed in his head. But that wasn’t what occupied his thoughts now. It wasn’t Bruce.

It was Loki.

He had let himself go in his arms for a moment. Had murmured words Thor had never heard him speak so honestly. He knew what it meant. He knew something was happening with Loki.

He was in his room now. The gentle dimness. He grabbed a clean shirt from the back of a chair, slipped it on slowly, then headed toward Loki’s room.

Loki’s door was closed.

Thor knocked. Once. Then a second time. No answer. He frowned.

“Loki, it’s me. Please open…”

Still nothing. But he knew Loki was there. He could feel his presence, that unique aura, laced with magic, with loneliness. Then the door opened. Loki tried to appear calm and indifferent, but Thor knew it was only a mask.

Thor stepped forward, Loki stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. They looked at each other. Neither moved.

Silence.

Loki was shutting down already. Thor recognized that look — that mask that said I’m fine, I don’t need anyone. A lie he had told himself his entire life.

Thor quietly sat next to him. Loki stared at a spot in the distance; Thor stared at him. “Tell me what’s going on… Talk to me.”

Silence. Then a whisper, barely audible. “What does it matter anyway…” Thor looked at him fully, and it almost burned Loki. “It matters to me.” A pause. Thor wasn’t forcing anything. Loki inhaled—slowly, with difficulty. “All my life… I’ve felt like I didn’t belong. Like I was never in the right place. I mean, who wants to talk to Loki, the God of Mischief…”

Thor froze for a moment. “Loki…”

“I know I’m different. I always have been. And I’m tired of always spreading chaos around me.” His eyes were shining again. “You say you love me, that you’ll always be there. But how many times have I seen the looks change when I enter a room? How many times have I felt like I was too much? Like people put up with me out of pity? Out of obligation?”

Thor slowly shook his head, his eyes glistening too. “Loki, I’ve never looked at you with pity. Never.” Loki dug his nails into his palm to keep himself from breaking down. Thor noticed. His voice cracked. “Then why am I so afraid that you're gonna forget me?”

A deep silence fell. Thor gently reached out, placing his hand over Loki’s. Loki took it in return, their fingers intertwining. Thor had never seen his brother like this. So fragile. So open. So vulnerable. “Because you never learned what safety feels like. Because you still think you have to fight to exist without being a burden.”

Loki didn’t answer. He was looking at their joined hands.

“But you don’t have to fight with me.” Thor moved a little closer. “Bruce matters to me. Yes, that’s true. I care about him. He’s… special. But you, Loki, you’re my brother. You’re the most important person in my life. Nothing can change that.”

Loki closed his eyes. A single tear slid down his cheek. “Even if I keep making mistakes?” Thor let out a small amused breath, still perfectly serious. “ Especially if you keep making mistakes, idiot. That’s when you need love the most. And I’ll always be here.”

A long silence followed.

Then, in a hesitant, fragile movement, Loki leaned against Thor, resting his head on his shoulder. Thor wrapped his arms around him, this time without needing any words.

They stayed like that for a while.

The walls Loki had spent so long building, reinforcing, protecting — were slowly beginning to fall.

𑁍

Heimdall had returned to the main hall, telling the Asgardian people to evacuate to the secondary hall. He was discussing with Brunnhilde, who had just joined him. “Hulk looked really eaten away by what Bruce buried deep inside him”

Heimdall added. “He wasn’t at dinner yesterday, neither at noon nor in the evening,” Brunnhilde said in a bitter tone. “It’s still because of Loki. Yesterday, I was training with Thor in a gym we found, and Loki showed up. He seemed troubled. From what I gathered, he went and said atrocious things again. And this time, his target was Bruce.”

Heimdall chuckled, a reaction filled with bitterness. “People say Bruce is a threat on board the ship. The real threat is Loki.”

At that moment, Thor entered, heading towards them. “Is everyone okay?”

Heimdall replied “Everyone’s fine, yes. They were just scared. Only two people were hurt, but it’s just superficial.” An asgardian approached, followed by a small crowd behind. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, this Hulk is too big a threat.” A woman behind added. “How can we be safe if we have this kind of monstrosity with us?”

Thor replied, perplexed. “Bruce stays with us. It was just an accident, and I made sure it won’t happen again.”

There was nothing in his tone, but he was firm, protective in a way. Brunnhilde said, still behind Thor. “I hope you yelled at Loki good enough, I haven’t been back long and I’m already fed up with his crap.”

Thor replied, still firm. “Loki didn’t mean to do it. Give him some time.”

And then Thor left, giving orders to clean up the damage in the main hall.

𑁍

Bruce was in the immense observatory that Thor had shown him that morning. He sat on one of the desks, calm, his mind swirling with too many thoughts to think clearly — Loki’s words from the night before still echoed in his head, the wound he had inflicted on Thor, his reaction to Loki maybe too extreme? Or was he right and had nothing to blame himself for, having been so angry? His past, his present, and his future — all of it mingled together in his mind.

He was drawing in his notebook, again. Like he had done earlier. Bruce had never been a fan of drawing before, but since it was one of the few activities available on this ship, he found it rather soothing now. All his drawings were just vague sketches, unfinished—lacking details. Bruce liked them that way.

This time, a silhouette. Standing, head slightly turned, gaze lost in the distance. Tall. Broad. Long hair. Smiling. Warm. Radiant. Bright. Welcoming. Captivating.

Always Thor.

Flowers surrounded him. Bruce loved flowers. They were so beautiful, smelled so good. They seemed so cheerful, so warm, so radiant, so bright, so welcoming, so captivating too.

The door behind him opened, violently pulling Bruce back into the present moment. Then, a bad feeling.

He slowly turned around.

Loki.

Again.

Loki looked at Bruce. He didn’t move from the doorway. He didn’t dare. Another mistake would be unthinkable. “I'm sorry... I- I thought no one was here... I'll leave, sorry.” He was about to go when Bruce stopped him. “Loki. It's okay. You can stay.” Bruce didn’t even know why he said that. He moved over and made room for Loki. So Loki cautiously stepped forward and slowly sat down.

Bruce closed his notebook and grabbed something next to him. “Here, it’s your vest that you put over my shoulders earlier. I took it with me in case I ran into you when leaving my room.” Bruce looked at Loki, hesitant. Loki, who was looking at Bruce as well, took his vest calmly and then looked at his hands holding it. “Thank you.”

A pause.

Loki continued, in a low voice. “About this morning... I never meant to make you so angry. And I don’t blame you for losing your temper. I just wanted to apologize. Because you're right, that wasn’t the way to say it. Actually, it wasn’t something to say at all.” Loki inhaled deeply, though it was difficult. Bruce listened and watched him carefully, frozen.

“I don’t know how Thor feels about you. It was so stupid of me to say all that, but it’s always what I do when I feel threatened, I can’t help it- it’s stronger than me. And yet, really, I try to change... The thing is, my whole life, I’ve felt... different, apart. People looked at me strangely, they stared. I quickly developed a defensive and avoidant attitude. And that didn’t help me fit in. Today, people are afraid of me. They tolerate me only out of obligation and put on a good face, but honestly? Who really likes me?”

He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. He was still looking at his hands, gripping his vest firmly. “If I said all that to you... it's because I was afraid that your feelings were mutual, or that Thor just really liked you as a friend. I was afraid that Thor would forget me because of you, but that was just stupid. So I wanted to push you away from him. I know it doesn’t excuse anything. But I just wanted you to understand.” He closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears from falling. “I'm really sorry for saying all that to you.”

Bruce didn’t even know what to say. When Loki dared to raise his now-moist eyes, Bruce was looking at him too, wide-eyed. What Loki could see in his gaze was only surprise, understanding, pain, and gentleness.

Bruce lowered his eyes to the notebook he still held. “Did Thor force you to apologize? Does he know what you said to me?” Loki understood his worry. “No. Thor didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to because it was so unfair to you. I chose to open up to you and confide in you. And I didn’t tell him anything about what I said to you. I made sure he knows nothing about your feelings because I respect you, and I respect your feelings.”

Bruce ran his thumb over the notebook’s cover. He glanced at Loki slightly, then went back to the notebook. “Thank you... for apologizing. And for not saying anything to Thor. I understand why you did it. Damn, I understand too well why. And I don’t blame you at all.”

Loki didn’t respond. A silence settled between them — not a cold or awkward silence, but a charged one. Something human, almost fragile. He slowly breathed in, then resumed in a calmer, almost gentle voice. “You know... I see myself in what you said. This constant fear of messing up. Of being seen the wrong way. Of ruining everything without understanding how. I’ve always been a bit... on the outside. Even before Hulk. I was just... too much. Too shy, too smart, too strange. And then, afterward, I became... too dangerous.”

He lifted his eyes to Loki, who wasn’t looking away. “You say people tolerate you out of obligation, that they pretend... I know what that feels like. That feeling of never really being at home, even among people you know. You’re not the only one.”

Loki blinked. Another discreet tear. He briefly looked away to wipe it off with his sleeve. But Bruce didn’t comment. He didn’t need to.

“And then...” Bruce hesitated. He hesitated for a long time. “Thor will never forget you. He talks about you in a way... He loves you, Loki. He loves you more than you think. You could do anything, and he would always come back.”

Loki’s jaw tightened momentarily, trying to contain the emotion surging within him. His voice, rough, barely rose above a whisper. “That’s what scares me the most.”

Bruce understood. He slowly nodded in silence.

Then, in an unexpected, uncalculated moment — Loki asked calmly. “Can I see your drawings?”

Bruce hesitated. What was inside was precious, intimate. Despite everything, he handed it over, because Loki would understand. He knew he would understand the sketches, the little notes left inside.

Loki took the notebook carefully, as if it contained something fragile. It did.

He opened it slowly, then turned the pages with care. A few sketches of stellar landscapes. Barely outlined faces. Details of hands, eyes. Flowers. A lot of flowers. Thor. Thor again.

Then, on the last page.

Thor. Standing. Majestic. Smiling. Surrounded by flowers that seemed to bloom from him. Like light.

Loki froze before the image, then slowly raised his eyes to Bruce, who was watching him with a certain nervousness.

“You see him like this.” He murmured. It wasn’t a question. More of a realization.

Bruce simply looked away and nodded.

A brief silence followed. Then Loki gently closed the notebook and returned it to Bruce. He looked at him for a long moment before saying simply “He’s lucky.”

Bruce frowned slightly, confused. “Who?”

Loki smiled softly, tired, sincere. “Thor. To have someone who sees him like that.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He looked at the notebook still on his lap, slightly caught off guard by the remark. He felt something tighten in his chest — a mix of gratitude, pain, and that strange feeling he couldn’t name, but knew too well.

He gently placed the notebook beside him. His fingers remained resting on it, as if letting go now would cost him something. He glanced at Loki, who, for once, wasn’t hiding behind irony or superiority. He was just there. Human.

“You know” Bruce said after a moment “I think you need someone who sees you… differently too.”

Loki slowly turned his head towards him, surprised.

“Someone who doesn’t see you as the God of Mischief or as a threat. Just you. Someone who sees… what you’re trying to become, and not just what you’ve been. You could tell the truth to people, you know. I mean… the proof is, I see who you really are now.”

Loki wanted to respond, but no words came out. He seemed almost destabilized by such clarity, such disarming kindness. He didn’t deserve it.

Another silence settled, but it was different from before. Less heavy. Less tense. There was something fragile yet peaceful, like a delicate balance neither wanted to break.

And then Bruce, as if the thought had just struck him, added in a soft voice. “You know, you could talk to him too. To Thor. Really talk. He listens, you know. Even when you think he doesn’t.”

Loki sighed gently, the way someone burdened with an old, persistent exhaustion would. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him. It’s that I’m afraid of what I might hear if I do. And I really hate talking about how I feel.”

Bruce slowly nodded, understanding better than anyone. “Then we’re two.”

They exchanged a long, genuine look.

And for a moment, the immensity of the observatory, the stars, the ship — everything disappeared around them. There were only two fractured beings, connected despite themselves by an invisible thread woven from different pains but a similar solitude.

Bruce finally stood up slowly, without abruptness. “Come on. We’re not going to sit here brooding all night.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, almost mockingly, almost like himself. “Are you inviting me on a sentimental stroll?”

Bruce gave a tired half-smile. “I’m inviting you to take a walk. Just… breathe. Maybe afterward, things will be a little clearer.” Loki hesitated for a moment, then he stood up.

They left the observatory together, Loki with his hands in his pockets, silent at first, each lost in their thoughts. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the pristine corridors of the ship, a distant echo of their conversation — too intimate to be commented on further. But the atmosphere was no longer heavy. It was strange, floating, suspended — as if something had shifted between them.

After a few minutes, Bruce was the one to break the silence, his voice lighter, almost hesitant, unsure of what he was doing. “You know, I recently discovered that Thor doesn’t know how to use a microwave, even after I explained it to him countless times.”

Loki turned his head toward him, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

Bruce let out a small laugh. “No, really. One time, he put Mjolnir inside. I’ve never seen a god back away from an appliance so fast. Everything exploded. He told us he was trying to warm it up because it had been in the cold for too long.”

Loki blinked, then made a sound — a quick, surprised chuckle, but sincere. He shook his head. “That’s not true… Actually, that doesn’t surprise me. He’s always had this naive enthusiasm for Midgard’s objects… but never reads the manuals.”

Bruce smiled. “Once, he thought a soda vending machine was some kind of trap. He attacked it with Mjolnir, again. Just because the can got stuck.”

Loki put a hand over his mouth, this time unable to hold back a clearer laugh. “Oh, by all the realms, of course he did. I remember a banquet in Asgard where he mistook an enchanted mirror for a window into a parallel world. We were children — he spent two hours talking to his own reflection. He almost proposed to himself.”

Bruce laughed. “Seriously?”

Loki responded theatrically. “He probably would have said yes.” “Of course.”

They looked at each other, and this time, they both burst into laughter. A real laugh. Free of the previous weight. It was absurd, unexpected, but deeply necessary.

They resumed walking, more slowly now, as if simply existing side by side in this empty corridor had something healing about it.

“You know” Bruce said, slipping his hands into his pockets, “sometimes I forget how… human he is. Thor. Even though he’s technically not at all.”

Loki nodded slowly. “Yes. He is… full of light, and yet so simple, sometimes. That’s what makes him so infuriating. And so difficult to hate.”

Bruce smiled softly. “That’s what makes him so easy to love.”

Loki didn’t respond to that. He just kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead, calmer than he had been in days.

A moment later, as if wanting to prolong this truce, Loki said lightly, “When Thor was little, he called Mjolnir Mimi .”

Bruce chuckled. “Aww, that’s adorable.”

Loki continued, still theatrically. “But if you repeat that, Banner, I swear I’ll trap you in an illusion where you’re chased by a hundred singing Mjolnir for a week.”

Bruce was already laughing too much to take the threat seriously. He still protested. “Why did you tell me if I can’t repeat it! I can’t believe this… Fine, deal.”

They stayed like that for a few seconds, walking side by side in the silent corridor, almost at peace.

Then Loki sighed, with a small ironic but not cruel smile. “You know, you and me… we’re terribly mismatched.”

Bruce looked at him, hands in his pockets, a thoughtful expression. “And yet… it works, doesn’t it?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That’s real chaos.”

Bruce smiled. “I’ve seen worse.”

And without another word, they kept walking. Away from the stars, the responsibilities, the regrets. Just two battered souls who, for once, didn’t need to explain themselves.

Just exist. Together.

At some point, they reached the corridor where their rooms were. Loki said calmly, “Nice nighttime walk. Good night, Bruce.”

Bruce simply smiled. He slipped into his room and, looking at Loki, slowly closed the door. Loki, calmer than before, did the same.

Both of them went to sleep, more at peace than before — thanks to this truce, these apologies, and these ridiculous but warming anecdotes.

Chapter Text

The dimmed light bathed the main hall in a gentle warmth, filtered through the transparent walls that opened onto the vastness of space. Around the tables, the scent of toasted bread, coffee, and a few Asgardian dishes floated in the air.

Thor was already at the table, as usual one of the first to rise, filled with an energy almost offensive at such an early hour. His clear laughter echoed through the room. Brunnhilde was there too, to Thor’s right, leaning back against the wall behind her, slowly rocking with a steaming bowl in her hands — half-awake, but faintly amused. Heimdall, seated across from Brunnhilde, ate in silence, his gaze — as always — fixed somewhere else, on something no one else could see.

Korg seemed to be in a good mood, sitting at the end of the table, talking about things that made no sense at all.

Loki sat to Thor’s left, unusually quiet, fingers resting on a cup of what might have passed for black tea. He hadn’t spoken yet, but his gaze flicked from face to face — and discreetly, to Bruce.

Bruce had just entered, a closed notebook in his hand, which he slipped into his pocket, visibly not quite awake. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed a restless night. And yet, a faint calm seemed to hang around him. He sat quietly across from Thor without saying a word.

Silence had no time to settle before Thor spoke up. “You’re a bit slow, Bruce. I saved your portion — Korg wanted to eat it. You should thank me!”

Korg raised both hands. “Confirmed. He threatened me with a fork. I was scared.”

They all laughed. A warm envelope of comfort gently settled around the table.

But Thor didn’t give anyone a chance to enjoy it. “Isn’t it crazy how space air makes you hungry?”

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow. “Space air? Thor, we’re on a ship. There is no air out there. There is no ‘out there.’”

Thor shrugged. “It’s the idea that counts. Space is vast. Vast equals appetite.”

Bruce leaned in slightly. “As a scientist, I struggle with what you just said.”

Thor looked at him, eyebrows mock-furrowed — though clearly amused. “You should know that no rule stands against the grandeur of the cosmos.”

Bruce almost replied, but instead, he smiled. A real one — small, but genuine.

Thor returned the smile, beaming, as if he’d been waiting for it for hours.

Thor continued. “Mmh! By the way, you’ll never guess what I found last night in one of the ship’s cupboards, in a totally random room!” he announced proudly, his mouth half-full, the rest of a slice of bread in one hand.

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow without much enthusiasm. “I’m betting on something stupid.”

“A banana costume. Well, it looked like a banana,” Thor said, as if he were revealing some ancient treasure. “With a zipper and holes for the arms and everything.”

Bruce nearly spat out his drink. He let out a low, genuine laugh that left a strange, heavy feeling in Thor’s stomach without him knowing why.

“You mean… a costume? Like… for dressing up?”

Thor nodded vigorously, radiant. “Yes! I don’t know where it came from, but I think it’s a sign. Maybe the universe is telling me to try it on?”

Bruce smiled. “Or maybe the universe is telling you to stop putting on everything you find.”

“You say that every time I find something,” Thor shot back, feigning offense. “You said the same thing when I wore that sequined coat from the Midgardian merchant — Mjolnir sprinkled with pink glitter to match. And look how dashing I was.”

“Thor,” Bruce replied, setting down his hot drink, “you looked like a disco ball on highly questionable substances.”

Laughter burst out across the room, loud and immediate. Thor himself laughed, his big, comforting laugh. Bruce laughed too, eyes shining with sincere amusement.

Then their eyes met.

One of those moments when a gaze lingers a bit too long, a bit too gently.

Loki, silent beside Thor, watched the scene with sharp eyes. He said nothing, but the faintest smile appeared on his lips. A nearly tender smile, a knowing smile.

He watched Bruce and Thor glow, watched Bruce calmer than usual, his cheeks just barely flushed, his posture less tense, less guarded. Bruce glanced at Loki, and Loki gave the faintest nod, a slight smile on his lips. A tiny gesture, nearly imperceptible. But in his eyes, something was clear: I see what you feel. And it’s okay. Don’t be afraid.

Bruce looked down briefly, as if caught. But he smiled — another kind of smile.

Not at Thor this time. At Loki.

And as if to keep the moment from getting too heavy, Thor loudly cut in, arms raised. “I propose a democratic vote! Who’s in favor of me wearing the banana costume for dinner tonight?”

A collective sigh rose.

Brunnhilde lazily raised her hand. “Honestly, just to see everyone’s reaction, I say yes.”

Heimdall, without pausing his spoon, raised an eyebrow. “If he does, I’m leaving this ship.”

Loki, at last, gracefully raised a hand. “I’m in favor. A useful reminder of his true nature.”

Thor shot his brother a mock-scandalized look. “I see jealousy speaking, little sibling. None of you could wear yellow as well as I do.”

Bruce laughed again. And this time, there was something else in that laugh.

Something light. A promise of quieter days—or at least, simpler bonds.

Breakfast went on in a joyful cacophony. And between the laughter, teasing, food, and absurd stories, something slowly began to mend.

Like a quiet morning after a storm.

𑁍

The morning had drifted by slowly — it was the third day aboard the ship, and it was getting increasingly dull.

The morning passed in complete calm, and so did noon. Early afternoon was already well underway. Thor, Loki, Bruce, Brunnhilde, and Heimdall were all tucked in a corner of the main hall.

Thor sat cross-legged on the floor, one arm draped over his massive knees, the other drawn close to his body. He had closed his eyes — not to sleep, but as if to capture something. A memory, perhaps. Or a fragile peace, almost within reach. Or simply to kill time.

Loki had leaned back against a nearby pillar, looking detached. His fingers played gently with a floating illusion — a tiny golden constellation swirling between his palms like a miniature solar system. It pulsated softly, to the rhythm of a music only he could hear.

Brunnhilde lay sprawled on the floor, legs up against the wall, hands clasped, utterly at ease. Every so often she hummed something — a slow, almost forgotten Asgardian song.

Heimdall sat perched on a nearby table, legs crossed, always straight, always alert. He gazed far into the room, his mind completely elsewhere. As if he were just… there, anchored, witness to the silence.

And Bruce, silent, leaned against the wall in a corner. He was drawing in his notebook—quick but precise lines forming silhouettes that echoed the moment: Thor seated, solid as a rock; Brunnhilde, improbably balanced; Heimdall, absent; Loki, light dancing between his fingers.

“Do you draw often?” Loki asked without lifting his head, eyes fixed on his dancing stars.

Bruce barely shrugged, still focused, and spoke in a whisper: “I only started yesterday. There’s nothing to do on this damned ship. But it helps, actually.”

“With what?” Heimdall asked calmly.

Bruce hesitated for a second. “To silence what’s spinning too loud in here.” He tapped his temple lightly.

A silence followed — heavier this time, more respectful.

Thor opened one eye and turned his head toward Bruce. “You should draw me too, in the banana costume. For posterity.”

Loki sighed. “For the decline of art, you mean.”

“Those two seldom go hand in hand, with Thor,” Brunnhilde murmured, stifling a yawn. Her tone was the least enthusiastic, even slightly grumbling. “Remind me — where’s Korg, already?”

Heimdall replied: “He said he wanted to stay with children, probably Thérynne and Selyara.”

Bruce smiled softly, but his gaze stayed fixed on Loki, as if he were watching something invisible.

“You look at me as if I’m going to vanish,” Loki said softly, almost too softly.

Bruce answered without looking up: “Not vanish. Slip.”

A silence. Then Loki murmured, in a breath: “I do my best to stay.”

And Bruce lifted his eyes, his gaze steady, clear. “I know.”

Thor stood up, breaking the boring calm. “Alright, I propose a constructive activity for the afternoon.”

Brunnhilde, still with closed eyes, muttered, “If you say ‘space karaoke’, I’ll hurl myself into interstellar void.”

“No!” Thor exclaimed, outraged. “Not at all. I was thinking of an orbit-launching contest — throwing useless things into orbit.”

Loki blinked. “You want to pollute space. Literally.”

“No. I want to test gravity’s limits by flinging objects. It’s scientific.”

Bruce laughed. “It’s absolutely not scientific.”

“It’s emotionally scientific,” Thor answered instantly.

Heimdall shook his head slowly. “By Odin…”

But everyone knew they were getting up. They would laugh again. They would do anything — together.

Bruce tucked his notebook away and stood up. “Alright, let’s go fling useless stuff into space. I know you’re all bored anyway.”

Everyone nodded in a collective “yeah”.

Brunnhilde half-grunted as she righted herself, then, nonchalantly, pointed toward the ceiling. “There’s a room somewhere on this ship that serves as a kind of trash dump. Or a junkyard where you can toss whatever you want to get rid of. That’s probably where I dumped my rusty battle helmet… or my ex, I forget.”

Thor jumped up immediately, thrilled. “Perfect! En route to the Junk of Destiny!”

Loki rolled his eyes. “They really should forbid you symbolic names.”

Heimdall folded his arms, motionless. “I’ll leave you to your absurd activities.”

“Thanks, Dad” Brunnhilde muttered as she passed him.

Within minutes, they were all standing, wandering through the cold corridors of the ship like a band of bored teenagers.

“So, where’s this dump?” Bruce asked.

Brunnhilde frowned. “Somewhere near the secondary engine. Behind the spare parts room… or maybe the one with things that explode if you touch them. Anyway. We’ll find it. To be honest, I don’t know.”

“Fantastic,” Loki grumbled. “We’ll suffocate in a maintenance bay just to satisfy Thor’s space ego.”

“Stop it, my ideas are brilliant!” Thor exclaimed.

They roamed for a few more minutes down long corridors, passing dubious rooms: a warehouse of disassembled seats, another filled with indeterminate stuff, and another completely mirrored — where Loki spent slightly too long gazing at his reflection.

Finally, Brunnhilde stopped before a large metal door labeled EJECTION PROCEDURE ROOM . “Here. We’re here.” They entered — left door missing, right one broken — revealing an almost-empty room, with a heap of improbable objects piled in a designated corner.

Thor strode forward as though entering a sanctuary. Hands on his hips: “Behold the ultimate testing ground.”

Bruce looked around, half-skeptical, half-fascinated. “It’s… surprisingly clean for a trash room.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “Which means either these people are incredibly organized — or everything here naturally self-destructed.”

Brunnhilde answered: “Objects must have been bored.” She spotted a small control panel labeled with launch options and read them aloud: “Partial ejection, full ejection, dramatic ejection…” She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Dramatic ejection?”

Thor clapped his hands. “That one. We need that one.”

Bruce folded his arms. “We don’t even know what it does.”

“Even better,” Loki smiled.

Brunnhilde pressed the button.

A long BONG echoed through the room, like a celestial gong. Lights turned deep red. A gravelly voice boomed:

“DRAMATIC EJECTION IMMINENT. PLEASE REMAIN STYLISH.”

They burst into laughter. A panel slid open behind protective glass, revealing the endless space beyond a translucent force-field. The red light faded. An artificial wind surged into the room, tousling their hair and clothes.

Thor grabbed a completely rusty, unidentifiable object and dropped it into the chute. It whooshed away with a satisfying fwooshp , causing everyone to laugh again.

Brunnhilde picked up an old “Best of Earth ‘80s” cassette and tossed it in. “What’s an Earth object doing in such a random ship? Too bad for you, Rick Astley!”

Loki then selected a glowing orange thing. “I swear this could explode at any moment.” He dropped it in too.

Bruce lingered a bit, then tore a page from his notebook — brickrolled doodle scrawled during a sleepless night. He balled it up, and silently sent it down too.

Then Loki laughed. “That was perfectly stupid. I loved it.”

Brunnhilde stretched her arms. “We should do this once a week. Let’s call it The Great Drop. One hour a week so we don’t get bored — or eject everything off the ship.”

Bruce laughed. “The winner is whoever flings the silliest item?”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen where I left the banana costume?”

They all answered in unison: “NO.”

Thor laughed, already plotting the next absurdity. “Okay, I’m off to fetch my banana costume. While Bruce and I gather more improbable objects we spotted along the way!”

Thor took off down the corridor, Bruce caught up after a few steps, their shoulders brushing in the narrow hallway, and the silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.

They walked side by side, footsteps echoing on metal. The hum of ventilation broke the silence. A strange hush settled, almost… nervous. Bruce, hands in his pockets, stole quick glances at Thor without wanting to be noticed. Thor stared straight ahead, but his half-smile betrayed something undefined.

“So… banana costume?” Bruce finally asked with a half-smile.

Thor shrugged, almost theatrically. “It wasn’t supposed to be a banana costume. I mean, I don’t know, it’s more pinkish-orange than yellow.”

Bruce stared for a moment, trying to tell if he was joking. They kept walking.

At one point, Bruce’s gaze met his. A moment too long. Something churning passed between them — amusement, embarrassment, electricity.

Bruce lowered his eyes, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “You’re unbearable sometimes.”

“And is that a problem?” Thor stepped instinctively closer, still walking. “No. On the contrary.” Thor’s chest warmed, though he didn’t know why. “You want me to wear it, huh?”

“No.” Bruce replied too fast, then added, quieter and laughing a little: “…Maybe a little.”

Thor burst into a belly laugh — deep, infectious, the kind that lifts the mood.

After what felt like a minute, they stopped in front of a small storage room, a forgotten closet. Thor swung the door wide with his usual enthusiasm.

And there, on a warped mannequin, proudly perched… the costume.

Thor froze, hands on hips, admiring it like a sacred relic.

“By the Nine Realms, it’s more magnificent than in my memories.”

In truth, it was even worse than he remembered. The fabric shimmered an odd pink-orange, the zipper broken. The top sleeve had a small burn mark.

It was perfect.

Bruce bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “You’re really going to put that on?”

Thor looked at him, deadly serious. “Bruce, there are times in life when you don’t choose to be a banana. You become the banana.”

Bruce laughed. A real, unguarded laugh. The kind he hadn’t had in ages. He leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing. Thor smiled too — but never broke eye contact.

And in that look, there was still a shadow of that earlier moment. That almost. That too-close.

That unspoken.

He stepped towards the costume to put it on. Bruce watched as he slipped into the ridiculous suit without shame. It fit him surprisingly well — which in itself was a problem.

“You know you’re way too comfortable in that thing, right?” Bruce said.

Thor laughed. “Okay, it’s really ridiculous, I admit it.” “Oh yes, it is.”

“I never shy from ridiculousness,” Thor replied with panache. Then, lowering his voice slightly, he added: “Especially if it makes you smile.”

Bruce hesitated briefly. He met his gaze, and the smile vanished almost as quickly — replaced by a softer grin and a strange warmth in his chest.

He cleared his throat. “Come on, Banana. The Great Drop awaits us.”

They turned and carried with them a dusty box filled with objects — a feathered helmet, an hourglass turned upside down, and a board painted with a single word. An indecipherable word.

When they arrived at the ejection room, a bit quieter than before, Brunnhilde spotted them and burst into laughter at the sight of Thor in his outfit.

“Oh by all the gods… you really dared.”

Thor threw his arms up. “I’m magnificent, admit it. I could charm you, you know!”

And Bruce, despite himself, smiled again. Though a bittersweet flutter settled in his chest because of Thor’s last remark.

𑁍

Everyone was seated at the table for dinner. The room buzzed with conversation — it was lively.

Brunnhilde, sitting to Thor’s left, leaned in and whispered discreetly, “Hey, about Loki and Bruce — you know, the whole mess from yesterday — do you have any more info?”

Thor swallowed his bite. “No. We haven’t talked about it again. I figure if someone’s going to bring it up with me, it should be Bruce, not Loki. And I think that’s why Loki hasn’t said anything — because he knows that too. Plus Bruce hasn’t told me anything, and I don’t want to press him. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to force him, you know?” He paused. “When I went to see him the day before yesterday, he opened up a little — it was vague though, I didn’t always know what he was talking about. I didn’t want to push.”

Brunnhilde nodded. “You know… just because he’s not saying anything doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to talk. Sometimes people do want to talk, they just need a little nudge to open up. You’re the one he trusts most on this ship, in case you didn’t know.”

Thor just looked at her. He didn’t reply — he was letting her words sink in.

Brunnhilde continued. “Don’t you think the tension from yesterday is, like… totally gone? Between Bruce and Loki, I mean.”

Thor nodded. “Yeah. I noticed it this morning.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, their eyes saying what words didn’t: That’s weird.

Chapter Text

The ship moved silently through the starry currents. Most people were asleep. Thor wasn’t.

He had wandered through the corridors, his hair still damp from the quick shower he’d taken to try and wash away the memories.

Eventually, he pushed open the large doors of the observatory. He’d gone there to clear his mind. That’s what he told himself. He was hoping to find something. Someone.

The room was empty. Or so he thought at first.

Sitting in front of the viewing window, curled up, a lukewarm mug between his hands, Bruce was staring into space. He hadn’t moved when Thor entered. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was him.

Thor didn’t say anything. He came to sit beside Bruce.

“Can’t sleep either?” Bruce finally asked, his voice soft and tired.

“No. Not tonight.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

A quiet vibration shook the floor, followed by a brief electronic buzz. Thor raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The doors behind them shut with a loud, heavy thud. Then came the sound of a metallic lock clicking into place.

“Great!” Bruce sighed, taking a sip from his mug. “I think we just got locked in.”

Thor immediately stood up and pressed the open button. Nothing.

“We might have a problem here…”

“Nothing serious, I think,” Bruce replied. “Probably a bug in the secondary system. The failsafes should open up in… an hour? Two, maybe?”

Thor looked at him, then sat back down. He shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s not the worst room on the ship.”

Bruce gave a faint smile.

A strange, amused silence fell between them. The blue light cast gentle reflections across Bruce’s face, softening his usually tense features. Thor looked at him. “You’ve got the same expression as when you’re doing one of your complicated calculations.”

Bruce let out a short breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. Everything carried a weight neither of them wanted to name. Then Bruce slightly turned his head to glance at Thor, who was looking straight ahead, before focusing on the mug in his hands, as if trying to make the question seem light, casual. It wasn’t.

“Are you… are you in love with someone right now?”

Thor frowned, caught off guard. He seemed to search for an answer among the constellations in front of them.

“No… no, I don’t think so. I mean… I don’t know. It’s complicated. After Jane… I feel like I don’t really know how to… feel that way anymore.”

Bruce nodded gently. “Yeah. I get it.” Thor turned toward him. “What about you?”

Bruce hesitated, his gaze drifting out into the stars. He gripped his mug a little tighter. “Me neither.”

A pause.

“You know, sometimes… I wonder if it’s not better this way. Being alone. Less risk of losing everything. That’s what scares me, really. I tend to push people away to avoid getting hurt, but sometimes I feel so empty. And I know that’s not what I should be doing. I don’t want to keep doing that.”

“I understand. I did exactly the same thing with… Natasha. Before.”

They understood each other too well. Bruce kept staring out ahead.

Thor, meanwhile, kept looking at him. And it took him a few minutes before he finally spoke. “Bruce?”

He said nothing, just stared into space, waiting for what came next — whatever it was that seemed to weigh so heavily on Bruce.

“The other evening…” Thor said softly. “At dinner… you had your sleeves rolled up.”

Bruce remained still. His heart gave a small but violent jolt. He tensed — subtly — but Thor noticed.

“I saw them…”

Bruce didn’t move. He wished Thor had brought up something else. Hulk. Even Jane, if it came to that. Anything else.

“You weren’t supposed to…” he murmured. “It wasn’t… I hoped you hadn’t noticed.”

Thor didn’t take his eyes off him. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head. “Don’t-… Don’t apologize.”

A moment passed. Bruce inhaled slowly, then closed his eyes. He hadn’t talked about this in years.

But here, in this sealed room, with only the stars to witness… he didn’t feel like he could lie. He couldn’t run.

“It was a long time ago. Sometimes I forget they’re even there.” His fingers brushed the spot under his sleeve where the scars lay, while he kept his gaze fixed ahead. “At the beginning. When Hulk… when he first showed up, it was really complicated. I didn’t know what was happening to me, and I wasn’t just scaring other people. I was scared of myself, of what Hulk could do. I was ashamed. Disgusted with myself.” He swallowed hard. “Doing that to my arms… it was like a release, like maybe it would make the feelings disappear. Like maybe he would disappear.”

He lowered his eyes to his forearms, instinctively crossing them over his chest. “I didn’t necessarily want my life to end. I just wanted to silence everything around me. Everything in my head. I thought I was a burden to everyone around me.”

Thor stayed still, but the lightness had vanished from his face. He had seen a lot of pain over the centuries, but this kind — silent, subtle, and rooted so deep — it hit him differently.

“And now? Do you still think about it? About… being that?”

Bruce shook his head slowly. “No. The self-harm… that’s over. As for the rest… I guess it depends. I don’t really know. Everything feels blurry sometimes.”

Thor leaned toward him slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. There was no pity in his eyes. Only a rare kind of respect. And something else. Softer. More fragile.

“No matter what you think, Bruce. You were never a burden. Not to the Avengers. Not to Natasha. Not to me.”

Bruce let out a small amused breath, glancing briefly at Thor before looking straight ahead again. He didn’t know what to say anymore.

Then he felt something. A soft, calm pressure. Thor’s hand, resting on his forearm. It didn’t move. It didn’t demand anything. It was just there. Present. Warm.

Bruce inhaled slowly, still staring ahead. He didn’t move, as if he were afraid that the slightest shift might break the contact.

Thor didn’t move either. He was also looking straight ahead. His heart was beating a little faster, and he had no idea what he was doing, or why.

But Thor didn’t pull away. On the contrary, his fingers slowly traced up Bruce’s forearm, brushing his skin beneath the fabric, over the scars. Then he took Bruce’s hand in his own, their fingers intertwining.

Neither of them dared to move or speak again.


𑁍


A steady, insistent noise was gradually breaking the perfect silence of the observatory.

Then a prolonged, irritated beep. Followed by an audible sigh that Bruce only half-heard in his dreams.
“Come on… open up, you old thing…”

Bruce was slowly emerging from sleep, his eyes still heavy. He first felt the temperature: warm, comforting.
Then the texture of a thick fabric under his cheek.
And most of all, a slow, steady rhythm against his ear.

Breathing.

It wasn’t his.

He finally opened his eyes… and understood.

He was literally lying on Thor’s arm. One of Thor’s arms was loosely draped around his waist.
The god’s chest was right there beside his face, his left pectoral just inches away.

He could smell his calming, intoxicating scent — a mix of leather, with woody notes and orange blossom.

He tensed.

Thor, on his side, opened one eye as well, roused by the constant noise, still in a waking haze.
He turned his head slightly… and saw Bruce.

Then they both remembered the night before: holding hands.

They looked at each other for barely a fraction of a second before pulling apart like opposing magnets.
Thor sat up with an awkward throat-clearing, Bruce quickly scooted back, carefully avoiding his gaze.
“Sorry, I don’t even know when we fell asleep and… Sorry,” Bruce murmured.

“No, it’s… it’s nothing.” Thor’s voice was still rough from sleep.

A strange silence hung between them.

And then the door opened with a loud mechanical hiss, as if it had never been jammed.
At the entrance, a figure burst in like a tornado.

“Ah! I knew I’d manage it. Heimdall can roll his eyes all he wants, but even if these systems are unfamiliar, it’s child’s play once you know the secondary lines…”

The newcomer was a young woman — unmistakably Asgardian.
She wore a flowing salmon-pink dress, almost glowing, draped with elegance and adorned with metallic accessories — a golden belt, and multiple pieces of jewelry.
A curious blend of softness and precision.

She radiated presence.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted Thor.
“Thor! By all the ancient winds, you really are here! Heimdall sent me because I stood up to him — clever as I am — and he thought you might’ve dozed off in a cell or a maintenance bay… He was right, just look at this.”

She glanced around the room, then briefly paused on Bruce — only mildly surprised — before turning back to Thor with a smile that was anything but innocent.
“I see you had company. Interesting.”

Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line and lowered his eyes.

“Astrid,” Thor said as he stood. “This is Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

“Charmed,” she said with fake cheer.

Bruce gave a half-smile. “Likewise.”

Astrid quickly redirected all her attention to Thor, as if Bruce had just been ticked off on a mental checklist.
“Heimdall detected a temporary malfunction in the door sub-network. Apparently, some of them locked themselves due to an energy conflict. I went in and reactivated them manually. You can thank my legendary curiosity.”

Thor responded with a polite smile, but kept sneaking glances at Bruce, who was still carefully avoiding eye contact.
“Thank you, Astrid. Really. You’re always… resourceful.”

“And available!” she added with mischief.
“Actually, if you’re free tonight… I could show you the new systems I’ve added to the ship. In private.”

Bruce looked away, pretending to adjust his sleeve. The one that hid the scars.
His stomach twisted at the suggestion. Because everyone knew what she really meant.

Thor blinked, caught off guard.
“Uh… Yeah, maybe. Sure. We’ll see.”

Astrid raised an amused eyebrow. She stepped closer to Thor and tapped his chest with her index finger, looking him straight in the eye.
“You know where to find me,” she said playfully, finishing with a wink.

She turned once more to Bruce, her expression appraising.

And then she left the room as swiftly as she had entered, her dress trailing behind her like a soft flame.

Silence fell again instantly.

Bruce stood up, still not meeting Thor’s eyes.

“I’m gonna… take a shower. Sorry again, I was asleep, I… I didn’t realize I’d ended up like that.”

Thor remained in the middle of the room, watching him.

“It wasn’t unpleasant.” he murmured.

Bruce froze mid-step, not turning around. He stood there for a moment, suspended.
His breath quickened before he finally left the room.

And Thor was left alone, staring at the closed door.
Wondering why Bruce’s absence suddenly made the room feel so empty — and so heavy.


𑁍


A day had passed without Thor and Bruce crossing paths again.

The common room was a blur of noise, breakfast laid out on every table.

When Bruce walked through the doors, he headed toward their usual table. But an unfamiliar presence made him stop in his tracks. He felt his stomach turn over again.

Astrid.

Sitting next to Thor — very close.

Too close.

She was laughing freely, her head tilted slightly back, one hand resting casually on Thor’s left arm. As if it was her place. As if it had always been. Thor didn’t seem bothered by it. He was smiling, nodding along to what she was saying, clearly at ease. Maybe flattered. Maybe just happy not to have to think.

Bruce felt a burn rise in his throat. He looked away for half a second, but the image was burned into his mind.

He resumed walking, slower, more measured. As if nothing was wrong.

“Hey” he said upon arriving, his voice calmer than he felt. He moved toward an empty seat on the opposite side of Thor, between Korg and Loki.

Astrid looked up, delighted. “Bruce! Perfect timing, I was just telling Thor about my new temperature stabilizers in the rest quarters. He’s very interested, did you know?”

Bruce sat down slowly, forcing a smile onto his lips. “Fascinating.”

Thor, a little surprised by his tone, turned his head toward him. “Are you okay?”

Bruce shrugged, feigning indifference. “Perfectly. And you? Sleep well?”

A subtle flicker passed through Thor’s eyes. “Better than I expected.” he admitted.

Bruce looked away. He felt like throwing up.

Astrid, oblivious to the tension, grabbed a piece of fruit from Thor’s plate — without asking — and bit into it nonchalantly.

Loki, meanwhile, was watching everything. The tension, the invisible distance between Thor and Bruce hit him hard.

Brunnhilde and Korg were chatting with each other, Heimdall was talking with Thor and Astrid. Loki took advantage of the noise around them to speak to Bruce without being overheard.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes still on the bread he was tearing into small pieces. “Something happen between you two, or do you just hate Astrid?” A pause. Bruce and Loki looked at each other at the same time, and Loki could see in Bruce’s eyes what he wasn’t saying. It made his chest tighten. “Both, then. I can’t stand her either.”

Bruce stared at Loki’s profile. He still wasn’t used to the fact that there was no venom in his questions or his voice. Only kindness — maybe more. “Have they known each other long?” Loki shook his head as he chewed a bit of bread. “They’ve only talked a few times since we got here, but every time they do, she’s always glued to him like that, and it’s unbearable.”

They both looked at Thor and Astrid from afar, then turned back to one another. Loki continued. “So, what happened between you two?” Bruce looked at him, awkward, then glanced down at his food. “The night before last, he came to find me in the big observatory he’d shown me. And after a while, the doors locked themselves. He used the opportunity to bring up… a topic. He took my hand and didn’t let go, and I guess we fell asleep without realizing it, because when I woke up, I was lying on top of Thor. We- we must’ve ended up like that in our sleep. Then it all happened so fast, he woke up too, and Astrid showed up, and I left. I ignored him all day. And clearly, he’s still with her anyway.”

Loki didn’t reply, but Bruce could feel his gaze on him. He turned his head to see Loki staring at him with an intense look — and smiling. Bruce blushed a little and got defensive, pouting visibly. “What?”

Loki turned back to his bread, still smiling. “I’d honestly much rather see you in Thor’s arms than that actual snake. I feel like she’s doing it on purpose.”

Bruce fiddled with his food to keep his hands busy and let out an amused breath. “You’re being ridiculous. Thor and I would be a terrible match.”

“But you want to be with him.” Loki watched him from the corner of his eye; Bruce didn’t look up. He didn’t answer. So Loki continued. “Look, I’ve got your back. And just so you know, nothing happened between Astrid and Thor last night that would ruin your chances. They just drank, and Thor passed out from the fatigue and alcohol. And knowing Thor, I think the reason he drank so much was because of what happened in the observatory — and because you ignored him.”

Bruce looked at him, skeptical. “You’ve lost me. Why would he even care?”

Loki gave him a pointed look while chewing a piece of bread. “Because I truly think he feels something for you. He just doesn’t understand it yet. And I want to help you.”

Bruce laughed. “Loki, seriously, what are you saying? Are you dumb or something- Thor will never love me. And honestly, I can’t even picture you helping out a straight couple, let alone a gay one. That’s gotta be above your magical pay grade.” He waved his fingers mockingly as if casting a spell, smiling again as he looked back down at his food. Then toward Thor at the other end of the table, before glancing sideways at Loki.
“Bruce, I’m bisexual.”

Bruce stared at him for a few seconds as the information sank in. His mouth slowly fell open in shock.

“Don’t say- no, don’t shout, thank you.” “No no, of course not, it’s just… the news of the year, but don’t worry.”

They exchanged a knowing look, then burst out laughing together.


𑁍


Later that morning, the ship was quiet. Boredom was beginning to take up more and more space.

Thor had gone off to train for a bit. Bruce had gone to his room to draw — and to keep ignoring Thor.

Brunnhilde and Korg were looking after Selyara and Thérynne. Heimdall was busy checking every door to make sure they were all unlocked.

Loki was sitting on a ledge, gazing at the stars through a window in the main room. His mind, however, was elsewhere.

A light touch on his back made him jump. He turned his head. Instantly, a wave of discomfort rose in his chest.

Astrid.

“I hope I’m not bothering you? I just wanted to talk a little.” Translation according to Loki, I want to wring information out of you about Thor and, incidentally, show off a bit because I think I’m everybody’s darling.

“No, not at all. Can I help you? Is there something you want in particular?” Astrid smiled — purely for show — and sat down across from Loki. In other words, an awful sight — according to him.

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask Thor but haven’t dared. Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

Astrid was observing and taking in everything. Loki could see it clearly. He held back a grimace and put on a carefully indifferent expression instead.

The perfect mask.

“No. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. Not officially… But I think he might be interested in someone.”

Astrid’s face lit up. “Oh, I’m guessing that’s me. I mean, it’s obvious, right? I’m not going to beat around the bush. You’re his brother, so you’re close to him! And I have a crush on Thor. Can you help me go out with him?”

The information came too fast. Deep down, Loki had already known. But he hadn’t really processed it. Hearing her say it out loud felt like a slap.

“You what-? Huh- yeah, yeah, whatever, sure.”

“Aww thank you, we’re gonna be so cute together.”

Loki had only one thought.

Do the opposite.


𑁍


The steady thwack against a punching bag echoed through the open space of the training room. Thor was hitting it frantically, muscles tight, jaw clenched.

He wasn’t fighting an object.

He was fighting something within himself.

Breath short, skin glistening with sweat, he unleashed a series of blows without any real aim. A kind of physical punishment, a substitute for dealing with what was weighing on his mind.

“Wow. It’s that bad?” said a voice behind him.

Thor stopped abruptly, arms still raised. He turned around and saw Brunnhilde leaning against the entrance, a bottle in hand, looking both unimpressed and attentive.

“How long have you been watching me?” he asked, wiping his forehead.

“Since you started punching that thing like it was personal.” A pause. “Kidding. I’d say… two minutes?”

She walked toward him, swirling the liquid in her bottle as she approached.

“You look like you want to hit something other than a sandbag.”

Thor shrugged, his breathing beginning to slow. “Just need to clear my head.”

“Hmm.”

She grabbed a training staff and spun it between her fingers slowly, then planted it upright in the floor. “You two had a fight?”

Thor frowned. “Who?”

Brunnhilde gave him a skeptical look. “Seriously, big idiot? No one’s buying the act.”

Thor pressed his lips into a tight line. “No, we didn’t fight. Why would you say that?”

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re acting like two teenagers who circled around each other, brushed shoulders by accident, and are now ignoring each other out of pure denial.”

Thor clenched his jaw.

“It’s not… like that. We’re friends.”

“Of course you are.”

With an irritated sigh, Thor threw a towel to the ground.

“Thor, you’re very good friends and you care about him. Fine, I get it. But hitting something lifeless won’t fix anything. Talk to him.”

Brunnhilde watched Thor turn toward her, and there was a flicker of something painful in his eyes — however faint. “I don’t know how to deal with him. We’re ignoring each other, yeah, but it makes no sense and I don’t even know what the heart of the issue is, so I can’t bring it up.”

“Bring it up anyway. The longer you wait, the harder it gets — trust me.”

Thor’s voice rose. “I just told you, I don’t know how to deal with him! I feel like- like if I say something he doesn’t want to hear, or if I go straight to the heart of the issue, he’ll just shut down even more. It feels like… when you take a step toward him, he takes ten back.” His voice broke on the last words. He sat down against the wall.

Brunnhilde just looked at him. “Did you talk to him about… his arms?”

Thor nodded. “The night before last, when the doors locked themselves. I jumped on the opportunity.”

“And he took ten steps back?”

Thor watched Brunnhilde sit down beside him. He hesitated. He saw Bruce again, beside him. Confident enough to open up. The warmth of his hand in his own. A bitter taste rose in his throat, a knot formed in his stomach. And a feeling he couldn’t name ran through his entire body. “No. We held hands that night. He fell asleep in my arms without either of us realizing…” he said quietly.

“And the time you went to see him after whatever Loki said to him — which we still don’t know what it was?” Brunnhilde understood everything. She was giving Thor time to understand for himself. The biggest part had to come from him.

“He opened up and leaned against my shoulder.” he whispered.

“So what happened that made Bruce pull away and start avoiding you?”

“He’s trying not to bother me because he thinks there’s something between her and me.” he concluded.

The ship’s engines hummed around them, neither saying anything.

After a moment, Brunnhilde offered him her bottle. “Want some?”

Thor looked at the bottle, then at her. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Thor?” Thor took a sip. “Yeah?”

“It’s almost dinner time. I’m hungry.” “Same.” They both stood up. As they stepped through the doorway into the hallway, Loki was approaching.

“Loki? What are you doing here?” Thor asked, taking another sip before handing the bottle back to Brunnhilde.

“I was bored, and I really didn’t feel like hanging around your new girlfriend. So I figured being bored with my brother was better than being bored alone.” Thor and Brunnhilde started walking again, passing Loki who followed behind.

“Loki, she’s not my girlfriend. Quit it.” Brunnhilde took a swig. “But he’s right about one thing, Thor — it’s getting way too boring on this ship.”

“So what, we party every night and problem solved?”

Brunnhilde gave him a strange look. “Dude, are you serious… That’s actually a great idea!”

“I know, I know, I have the best ideas in the world.”

Laughter echoed between them as they walked down the corridor.

Loki, behind them, looked both annoyed and amused by their nonsense. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a few parties. We’re so bored here it’s unbearable. I’m in.”

Brunnhilde and Thor turned to look at him. Thor spoke first. “Brother, you, up for partying? You must really be dying of boredom.”

Brunnhilde responded. “Thor, you’re the only one not bored to death — probably because you’re too busy being emotionally tortured about Bruce.”

Loki’s next line came with the obviousness of a punchline. “You could dance with Bruce at this party. That might clear up some of that torment.”

Brunnhilde clapped Thor on the back. “Talk to him first. Then we’ll see about dancing.”

“Why do you want me to dance with him so badly? I care about him, a lot, he’s my friend. That’s it.”

Brunnhilde and Loki both laughed. She continued, “So, when are we throwing this party?”

Thor replied, “Let’s eat first. We’ll plan it after. But yeah — we’re throwing this party.”

And the three of them headed off — in a warm, family-like atmosphere — toward the main hall for dinner.

Chapter Text

It was in a cheerful atmosphere that Thor, Brunnhilde, and Loki joined Bruce, Korg, and Heimdall at their usual table.

Thor had been thinking about what Loki had told him a few minutes earlier, when Brunnhilde had been too far to hear them as they headed toward the main hall. “Thor, about Bruce — you seem more relaxed since you two started talking again. And honestly, I know Astrid is a friend, but it’s obvious you’d rather spend time with him. You should talk to him, so he stops avoiding you and you can make things right.”

But the moment Thor laid eyes on Bruce, the world seemed to stop. His stomach clenched violently. The voices around him faded — all that existed was Bruce.

Thor didn’t hesitate for a second. He strode purposefully toward the empty chair to Bruce’s left — the one that, by habit, was practically his.

Their shoulders brushed as Thor sat down. Bruce leaned in ever so slightly toward the contact, as if his skin was aching to be touched by him.

Brunnhilde followed, taking the seat beside Heimdall across from them, with Loki as well.

“Guys.” Brunnhilde began with surprising seriousness. “Thor and I had the idea of the century. We’re bored, we’re going in circles, and I think we all agree on that. Soooo, we thought — why not have some kind of party? Music — if we can find some on this damn ship — fun, dancing, talking, playing, whatever. What do you think?”

Korg nodded enthusiastically. “That’s brilliant. I’m in.”

Heimdall added, “Do what you want, as long as you don’t wreck the whole ship.”

“Fan-tastic! Brunnhilde, let’s finish eating and plan everything after.” Thor replied. “Of course.”

Different conversations began to spring up around the table. But with a tight knot in his stomach, Thor turned to Bruce, who was staring at the food in front of him. He started the conversation. “Bruce, we need to talk about that night. And about Astrid.”

Without turning his head, Bruce shifted his eyes toward him. Thor took a deep breath, then spoke faster than he expected.

“Astrid isn’t my girlfriend. I don’t love her. She’s… just a friend. And I hate that we’re not talking just because you’re giving me space with her — when I’d much rather be spending time with you. Because I really enjoy being with you.” A spike of nervousness shot through him. He didn’t know why he was saying all this. “And that night, no matter what you think or how sorry you are about what happened — to me, whether it was us sleeping next to each other or my hand in yours, it wasn’t nothing. It meant something.” He took a breath, his voice trembling. His eyes searched Bruce’s, who still wasn’t looking at him. “I like to be with you…”

Bruce stared at him, eyes wide, almost frozen. Something flickered in his gaze — surprise, emotion, maybe even… a trace of relief.

He opened his mouth, ready to respond — but didn’t get the chance.

A shrill voice cut through the air. “Hellooooo! I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Astrid. Again.

She walked over cheerfully, though a bit intrusively, and sat at the end of the table, not far from Thor. Conversations continued around them. “I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all doing! Thor, do you want to do something later? I was thinking-”

“Sorry, Astrid,” Thor cut in, more sharply than he intended. He tried to soften his tone, but his voice still came out firm. “I’ve already made plans.”

Astrid froze. Her smile faltered slightly. She shot Loki a sharp, pointed look, then turned her gaze back to Thor with a stiff, almost mechanical smile. “Well.” she said through clenched teeth. “Another time, then!”

And without another word, she turned on her heel, leaving behind a bitter trace in the air she’d just occupied.

Thor let out a long sigh, avoiding Bruce’s gaze for a moment. He was afraid of seeing embarrassment, anger, or — worse — indifference.

But when he finally dared to look up… Bruce was still watching him quietly, head turned straight ahead.

And this time, he gave him a faint smile.

Bruce spoke softly in response. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Thor looked at him. Under the table, his hand reached for Bruce’s, gently lacing their fingers together. Bruce didn’t pull away — on the contrary, his cold hand gripped Thor’s warmer one a little tighter.

Thor wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the universe.

𑁍

Later on, while everyone scattered to prepare for the improvised party or to go about other tasks, Bruce had slipped away into one of the ship’s hallways where the walls were transparent, offering a vast view of space.

He had barely taken three steps when footsteps echoed behind him.

Loki.

Bruce turned around to face him.

“Planning to run away again, or is this just a digestion walk?” Loki asked casually, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce sighed, but a tired smile escaped him despite himself. “I’m not running away,” he said, somewhat defensively. Then, after a pause, pinching his lips and nodding. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Loki moved forward to walk slowly beside him. They walked in silence for a few seconds, as if both were waiting for the other to speak first.

Then Loki broke the silence. “You know, I saw you earlier. When he spoke to you.” He turned his head slightly toward him. “I didn’t hear what he said, but judging by your face, it wasn’t hard to guess. You were practically shaking.”

Bruce winced. “I know.” He inhaled deeply, eyes fixed straight ahead. “I don’t even know why I…” He shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for that for two days. Or maybe I was scared he’d never say it. Or worse, that he would say it, and I’d be completely unable to react.”

Loki looked at him with rare gentleness. “You love him,” he said — not as a statement or a question, but as if offering an explanation.

Bruce tensed. Saying it out loud made it all feel too real, too overwhelming. “It’s complicated, Loki. I’m… me. And he’s him. I’ve always felt like things like that belonged to other people. Not to me. Not after what I’ve lived through. And yet, with him, I forget all of that. It’s just… simple. Peaceful.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And that scares me.”

Loki nodded slowly. “What scares us is often worth it. Sometimes, it’s worth stepping blindly into the unknown.” Bruce looked at him, a bit surprised. “Are you being serious?”

“You think I spend my days making jokes?” Loki replied, rolling his eyes. Then he smiled softly. “I’ve seen my brother in many states. But I’ve never seen him so… radiant as when he looks at you. Since he’s been with you. Even when he tries to pretend otherwise. Even when he struggles to stay rational. And if you do decide to step blindly into the unknown — I promise you, Thor won’t let you crash when you land.”

Bruce lowered his head, his throat tight. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

Loki stopped walking, forcing Bruce to do the same. “You don’t have to be perfect to be loved, Bruce. You just have to be honest. And present.” He tilted his head slightly. “That’s all he’ll ever ask of you.”

A quiet, emotional silence settled between them, then they resumed walking. “Thanks, Loki.”

𑁍

Later that night — somewhere in the quiet upper levels of the ship.

Up there, in the large observatory, the lights were dimmed, and the infinite sky stretched beyond the glass like an ocean of shifting constellations.

Thor was alone.

Sitting cross-legged where he usually sat, he held in his large hands a slightly worn notebook, found earlier in one of the ship’s storage cabinets. He had torn out the first page, which had something written on it — as if to give himself permission to make the notebook his own.

And he was drawing.

He was drawing flowers.

Small ones, big ones, clumsy ones, awkward ones. Some looked like failed suns or splashes of fire, others like abstract spirals — despite the compulsory art education he’d received when he was younger. But he kept going.

Page after page.

All because of Bruce.

Ever since Bruce had started drawing to pass the time, Thor had felt an unexpected urge to do the same. Watching Bruce draw every time — it disarmed him, that quiet vulnerability.

Something Thor envied.

And maybe, deep down, desired.

He was scribbling a slightly crooked flower when a soft sound came from behind him.

He didn’t even need to turn around. He could feel it in the measured footsteps.

Bruce.

Thor turned, still seated, just to make sure it really was him — as if he might vanish at any second.

He stood up without a word and stepped closer.

Not a word. But with purpose.

He hugged him. A hug unlike any he’d ever given before. It didn’t carry the same intent or will as other embraces. There was fear and longing buried in it.

Bruce froze for a second. This kind of physical contact wasn’t natural for him. He had learned to protect himself with distance, with silence. But there, in that soft embrace, in those broad arms — something gave way.

His arms wrapped around Thor.

He buried his face in his shoulder. Breathed deeply. He recognized the familiar scent he remembered from sleeping against him — that mix of leather, warm woods, and orange blossom.

Thor felt like his heart was beating slowly — at peace in that embrace. And yet, it was pounding so loudly. He said nothing. He didn’t move. He was simply there. Trying to say everything he hadn’t, and everything — Thor knew — Bruce could feel.

I’m sorry.
I’m here.
I don’t want you to drift away.
I don’t want you to keep avoiding me.
You’re more than a friend.

More…

They stayed like that for a long time, suspended in a moment out of time, the stars bearing witness.

Eventually, Bruce was the first to slightly ease the embrace when he noticed the pencil and notebook — but he didn’t move away. He looked up at Thor, their faces only inches apart.

“You were drawing?” he asked softly, his voice small and warm.

Thor nodded, a smile forming on his lips. “That’s your fault,” he said, amused.

Bruce gave a tired smile. “I’m proud of myself, then. Were you drawing flowers?”

Thor let out a breath of laughter. “Of course not.” A slight grimace passed over his face. “…Maybe.”

Bruce chuckled, a quiet, calm laugh.

Their faces were still so close.

Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, warm and calm. Thor, still just as close, hadn’t moved an inch — not even to pull away.

His eyes lowered, landing on Bruce’s lips — almost involuntarily — then quickly lifted again to meet his dark irises.

Bruce didn’t look away. He stayed right there, locked into Thor’s gaze. He didn’t move either. That was perhaps the strangest thing: the absence of retreat.

Everything was soft — the closeness, their slow breathing, their scents, the shared body heat. So rare for Bruce. And something Thor, at times, no longer felt worthy of.

Thor opened his arms a little wider, silently, and wrapped him into the embrace again. His cheek pressed gently against Bruce’s hair. He let himself sink into the brown strands, curled in places, tangled in others. That simple gesture was worth a thousand unspoken words. Words he had never managed to say. Words he had never fully recognized. Words that scared him.

A longing.

A need to protect.

A need to claim.

And Bruce let it happen. He didn’t pull back. He didn’t stiffen like he might have before — out of reflex, out of fear of what it might awaken. He let himself be held. He let himself rest there. His fingers, tentative at first, rose along Thor’s back to brush his shoulder blade, then settled there with more certainty.

Thor tightened the embrace slightly, gently, almost imperceptibly. His mind was so calm and spinning all at once.

What he felt couldn’t possibly be this.

He murmured — barely aware of it — so softly it was nearly inaudible, but Bruce heard it.

“Stay.”

𑁍

Thor and Bruce were face to face, bathed in golden light, soft, almost unreal. They were outside, in the grass near a river, under a large, magnificent weeping willow, bathed in sunlight and warm shadows.

Bruce was smiling. Not his usual shy smile. No. A real smile. Open. Peaceful.

There was a silence between them — only the sound of flowing water, rustling leaves, and birds filled the space — but it wasn’t the silence of awkwardness. It was a silence of waiting, like a suspended moment.

Bruce’s gaze held Thor’s, steady. There was no fear, no anger — just… patient tenderness. Their faces were close.

Bruce leaned in, and Thor responded instinctively. His large hand gently cupped Bruce’s cheek.

Their foreheads brushed.

And slowly, with no rush, like it was the most natural thing in the world… their lips drew closer.

They were about to touch.

Thor could almost feel the warmth of his breath, the taste about to come, the softness of that barely-there contact—

Thor jolted awake, gasping, the sheets clinging to his damp skin. The ceiling felt too low — or too high. His heart pounded wildly, like after a fall. He sat up suddenly, his hand pressed against his chest.

Since when did the mighty Thor — God of Thunder, Odin son — panic?

“No no no no no-”

He jumped out of bed, completely lost, and ran down the hallway in the dark without even bothering to put on a shirt. It was early morning.

He knocked frantically at Loki’s door, then barged in without waiting.

“Loki! Loki, wake up. Wake up, I-”

Loki groaned, barely lifting his eyelids.

“Oh for the love of- Thor, it’s early. Are you being attacked by an invisible dragon or something?” He turned on a small lamp, bathing the room in a dim glow.

But Thor was already pacing at the foot of his brother’s bed, arms crossed.

“I had a dream! A horrible dream. Or… no! Not horrible. Well, yes. I don’t know! Bruce was there. And me. And we were about to- I don’t know, it’s blurry now, but something was going to happen. We were going to…” Thor pinched his lips into a tight line.

Loki slowly sat up, hair a mess, eyes half-closed, one hand pressed to his temple.

“So let me get this straight — you woke me up because you had a dream where you were about to kiss with Bruce in a field of flowers? Is that it?”

“This isn’t funny, Loki!” Thor cried out, almost pleading. “I’m heterosexual. You know that. Everyone knows that.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Are you trying to convince me… or yourself? And remind me, why exactly did you come to me?”

Thor shot him a glare, then let himself fall at the end of the bed with a panicked sigh, hands in his hair.

“Because: number one, you’re my brother. Number two, you’re bisexual.” Thor let out a deep breath. “That dream felt real, Loki. I felt something. And I shouldn’t have. It’s Bruce. He’s my friend. This… this isn’t supposed to happen.”

Loki watched him silently for a moment. “You want to know what I think that dream means?”

Thor looked at him, desperation in his eyes. “Yes. Tell me it means nothing. Tell me it was just a stupid dream. A glitch in the subconscious. A random story to kill boredom on this damn ship.”

Loki sighed. “I could. I could also tell you that dreaming about someone isn’t betrayal. It’s not a label. It’s not a sentence. You don’t have to redefine your entire existence because of a dream. But Thor… do you want the truth?”

Thor didn’t answer, his jaw clenched.

“You’re feeling something. You’re just not ready to admit it to yourself. You haven’t understood what you were feeling — until now.”

Silence.

Thor lowered his head, hands clenched on his knees. “And if it’s true… If I really do feel something… what does that mean? That I’m becoming someone else? That I’ve lied to everyone?”

Loki shrugged gently, almost tender for once. “You never lied. You’re just discovering a part of yourself you refused to see. There’s no shame in loving someone, Thor. No matter who.”

He hesitated a second. Then added in a more grounded, almost serious tone. “And Bruce… like you more than you realize.”

Thor’s eyes snapped up. “What?!”

Loki gave a sly little smile, then lay back down again. “You didn’t notice? You’re blind, brother. And the only one who is.”

Thor remained there, speechless. He stood slowly, unable to stay still, his thoughts in flames. He gave Loki one last glance — who had already half-closed his eyes again.

“You think I should talk to him?”

Loki looked at him intently. “Not now, idiot. You just barged into my room yelling about an imaginary kiss. Take a shower. Breathe. And when you’re ready to listen and accept what you’re feeling — then talk to him.”

Everything was spinning in Thor’s head. He replayed all their moments from the past week.

He saw Bruce, sitting and drawing. Bruce, tormented and resting against his shoulder. Bruce here. Bruce there.

All those unexplained feelings. All those moments when Thor felt like he was about to burst.

He was seeing everything in a new light.