st_ormbreaker | (no subject)

(no subject)

Thor idly throws Mjölnir up in the air with a spin, then catches it easily in one hand. He always tends to play with his hammer whenever he's feeling restless and for some reason, he feels restless now. Going home suddenly feels incredibly important, even though the only thing waiting for them there is the festival and accompanying feast for Walpurgis. The holiday might have felt important when he was much younger, the same way Yule was important to him when he was very small, but 1500 years of celebrating and feasting had drained his excitement for it. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it (he did) -- at this point, it felt more ritual than anything else.

Still, there was something that felt important about it this time in ways it hadn't before. He couldn't help but think it was because Tony was accompanying him. None of the other Avengers had ever had the chance to visit his homeworld, and it was difficult for him not to feel excited and proud to show it all to someone.

"You will want to stay close," he says, before he lifts Mjölnir. "You do not want to fall off of it."

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That was it. The thing about the robots.

"You said that, too," he says. "Something about..."

Thor thinks hard, trying to draw back what he can remember of the good parts of the dream. Prince, robots, and...

"...a bed. I think something about flying in one? I thought it was cute."

Still, he's starting to find the truthfulness of the tale disconcerting, especially if this last detail was right. He thinks about the dreams about Ragnarok and the Nine Realms falling into chaos.

"Oh, yep, my space ship bed. Classic." Hit with a wave of nostalgia, Tony rolled carefully onto his back.

"Blame Star Trek. Captain Kirk was my everything as a wee lad. Boy with no friends but his butler, what else are you gonna do all day but retrofit your bed with rocket boosters made of modified hair dryers?"

Thor's chest clenches at that particular revelation, but he doesn't let it show.

"A nerd even when you were little," Thor says. He had a tendency to call Bruce a nerd, with great affection. He had learned it from the television.

"I wonder if we would have been friends as children," he says. "I was a bit of a brat." Another television word. "Always wanting to go out and fight something."

"Doubt it. Unless you picked up nerds instead of picking on." Squinting, Tony tapped the fingers of his injured arm to keep it awake.

"I was shy. Wasn't big on talking. Cried like a baby my fair share which for the record does not leave this room."

"You have my word," Thor says solemnly. Still, he can't imagine Tony as a quiet kid. Maybe because he himself had been loud as a child and was still loud as an adult. That and he still had a thing for combat.

"So when did you become wisecracking man I know today?"

"Adolescent moody blues hit." That, and his parents' passing when he was 17 and left with only Obadiah Stane for company.

Struck with a sudden thought on the topic of aging, Tony's body relaxed in a forced sigh. He tried to do that with tension build up.

"The age thing is...still surreal." His mind drifted to the fact that he was rapidly coming up on his 50's, followed by his 60's, and so on--and Thor would look virtually the same.

"I didn't think much of it until I came to Earth and met Jane," he says. "If you're surrounded by people who age at the same rate as you, it doesn't ever become an issue."

Thor runs a hand through Tony's hair.

"I'd still like you if you were old," he says.

"Thanks." Tony's mouth set apprehensively. "I can't help but feel like you'd get the short end on that one."

When Thor looks down at Tony, his confusion is palpable.

"Why would you say that?"

Tony shrugged--suddenly feeling rather trite about the whole sentiment at Thor's genuine confusion. "Well. I just like the idea of you getting to enjoy this," he gestured up and down at himself, "as long as possible."

The only thing Thor had really given thought to was that he was likely going to outlive his friends. That bothered him more than them aging. He wanted his friends to grow old because that was better than the alternative of them dying before their time.

Not that he would likely see Tony grow old. Not if what his suspected was true. At the thought, Thor abruptly moves his arm so it curls around Tony's body. He pulls him tight into the closest approximation he can to a hug while his partner is still recumbent.

He releases him before it can get too uncomfortable (though Thor knows his hugs often are). "If there was nothing to enjoy about you but your body, I would have slept with you and nothing more."

"Not that I'm much to look at these days." Tony settled back down with a wince, resting his good hand on his ribs, which were steadily growing more pronounced.

"I stopped trying. That's why I nearly got got. Alas, poor Tony." His pride was still smarting from the battle mere days ago. "That's gonna change."

Thor grimaces a little at Tony's little wince. It was hard, sometimes, to remember how slowly Midgardians healed up.

"You're plenty to look at," Thor says, and he wonders why Tony feels like he's inadequate. He's plenty adequate. "Do you think I have bad taste?"

Whether the question is rhetorical or not doesn't seem immediately apparent, as Thor continues on to address the rest of what Tony said:

"What can I do to help?"

"You gym, right? Do not take me with you. I'll go on my own time." Tony impatiently jostled his injured arm. Leg day every day for a week or two. "I'll get distracted and I know it."

Thor grins at that. It's the first time he's grinned since he's woken up.

"If you're going to build muscle, you're going to need to eat more than you are now," he says. He would drum his fingers against Tony's prominent ribs to signal that he's noticed he's still losing weight, but he's not entirely sure Tony's ribs are fully patched up now. And besides that, he's pretty sure he's inflicted enough damage on Tony's body for the day.

"If you do decide you want that distraction sometime, let me know. I'm happy to show you a few exercises. If you'd like, I can can benchpress you. Just like old times."

Tony glanced sideways between what sat two inches away from his place on the man's lap and his grinning face above. He kept a straight face.

"Well. I'm already here."

"When you say things like that, I can not tell if you are being serious or not."

He gives Tony's hair an affectionate scritch and Thor's grin eventually and naturally fades, even though his warm feelings do not.

"I am serious." Tony tightened his core and lifted his legs together a few times. "About getting back in shape. I'm no super soldier, but snapping in half in a stiff breeze is unacceptable."

Thor doesn't disagree, but he'd prefer that Tony weren't in a position to be snapped in half to begin with. He might have managed to push it away, but his dream is still hovering there in the back of his mind. It'll take some time for him to shrug it off completely.

"You remember that last chat we had the night before I left?" he asks.

"Mostly." Tony had to think for a moment on that one. Beyond the drink, the evening was colored by the regret of Thor making himself scarce in the aftermath of Sokovia. He suppressed it admirably enough on the spot, but he had gotten more than a few remarks about sulking afterwards.

Mostly. Tony had drunk a lot that night. Thor wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't remember everything they'd discussed.

"You give any real thought to retiring?"

"You mean before I decided not to? Yeah." Tony used his abdominal strength to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Thor's eyes narrow slightly as Tony pushes himself up; his arm, once draped over his partner shifts with his movement and lands right in Thor's lap.

"You actually retired?" he asks. He didn't quite expect for Tony to say he'd actually taken the advice. "Why did you change your mind?"

"Infinity Stones? Thanos?" Tony stood and rotated his shoulders, wandering to the window. "That convo went by quickly, but I didn't just forget."

Thor adds Tony's explanation to his mental checklist of reasons why he should have kept his brother's death to himself.

"It wasn't much of one," he says, feeling somewhat remorseful. He leans over his thighs, letting his forearms lay comfortably atop them as he leans slightly over. Thor looks at Tony, whose feet have drawn him comfortably to the windows' edge. "Sorry."