You were, I felt, robbing me
Urges.
The day typically starts with urges.
To fuck himself and go back to sleep, drink until he’s sick, leave everything all over again, eat, rot in bed, it depends on the day. This morning it was unclear. His brain had too much fog. Distortion.
He tossed for a minute, still too asleep to realize why he was so uncomfortable. The 45 seconds before he’s completely lucid where the two mental planes attempt to exist as one and always ultimately fail. He reached his arm backwards and up under himself to grab his phone. That was it. His little old phone he’d had almost the entire time he had spent living on Midgard. It had gotten too hot under him in the middle of the night and died. He lightly tossed it onto his wooden bedside table, full of old beer bottles and wrappers. He really needed to fix this. It took a few minutes for him to raise himself out of bed and plug the phone into its charger. The concept was still so odd to him. He wound up sleeping in the clothes he’d worn yesterday at the hospital, so he quickly shed himself and slipped into some fresh, loose pajama pants. They were probably the only laundry he’d done all week, so he added that to the list of things he wanted to accomplish that day.
Laundry, the living room, and a shower so he could visit Bruce later.
He padded into the kitchen, looking around through the cupboards until he found a roll of garbage bags. He was so used to walking around with the lights off he had to remind himself to turn them on; another attempt at motivating himself to get it done. A deep breath, in and out. He quickly opened the bag and began tossing everything off of the counters into bag after big, black bag. The room quickly felt more open. Breathable. Spacious.
He worked on it for nearly 45 minutes before he began to get hungry. He walked back into his bedroom, turning his phone on and checking the time on the alarm clock Valkyrie had bought him when he moved in. He had no idea how she seemed to adapt to the culture faster than him. That alarm clock was, five years later, still the only clock in his cabin. It flashed at him with red digits, 12:37pm.
He really needed to move on with his tasks.
He ran around the house, gathering clothes. He hadn’t done any laundry in a while, much less folded the clothes he did clean. He had enough dirty clothes for an entire day of loads, but he really didn’t have the time. He tried his best to hurry, he really did. He was always bad at time management, Odin always had to have Loki next to him so he could move on, task to task. Thinking about it always made him upset. He never appreciated his little brother, at least not as much as he should have. After Loki “died” when they fought the dark elves, Jane helped him with what Loki used to. Taking care of himself, keeping track of time, any actual work he had to do he had to be constantly motivated and Jane helped him find methods that worked. Now, even thinking about the methods she taught him to use made him feel uneasy. He really screwed the pooch on that one.
He’d had countless lovers before her, sure, but she was something special. She helped him with his problem rather than telling him to tough it out or go fuck himself. And she was smart. Norns, she was smart. More intelligent than the healers on Asgard. She astounded him. After she left him, things were hard. He’d never quite grieved a relationship like this before. Every romantic partner he’d ever had either left him via note or died a horrible death, and he kinda hoped Jane would die before she would dump him. Which, thinking about it, sounded incredibly selfish.
The buzz of the end of the wash cycle snapped him out of his thoughts, so he tried to hurry and switch them over to the dryer and run into his bathroom for a shower. More or less what he’s seen mortal women call an ‘everything shower’. He started off by pulling his long blonde hair back into a loose ponytail. He stared for a few minutes in the mirror, debating on whether or not he should do it. The whole picture looked so wrong to him. His beard all over the place, the braids that used to decorate his long blonde hair had turned into loose tangles over the years. His mid-section was fairly.. disappointing. He had gained a good bit of weight in the last 5 years, and he still hadn’t really dealt with that. He had always been fairly lean, he was an active child and constantly had intense training. He never thought he would let himself just- fall apart like this. And he doesn't think he’s ready to figure out why. He stares into his own eyes in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Lifting his electric razor to his beard and shaving off nearly the entire length.
He could feel the weight lift off of his neck. There was maybe an inch left off of his chin. He lifts his hand up to feel of his jaw, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. It felt fresh. A new start and a semi-new look to represent it. He then set the razor down and began undressing, reaching into the shower to start the water. He looked back in the mirror a few times as he waited for the water to heat up. His face felt so odd. He felt a little bit like himself again.
————
After his shower he detangled his hair (the best he could) and wrapped a bath sheet around his waist to walk to the laundry room at the other end of the cottage for his clothes. The fresh feeling made him feel so relieved. He grabbed a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans that appeared very loved. Holes at the knees from overuse and permanent grass stains at the cuffs. He felt so clean.
As he left the house he ran to a local diner to grab sandwiches and canned drinks for him and Bruce before using Stormbreaker to access the Bifrost. Of course, he had to leave his ax with front desk security, but he still happily made the short venture up elevators and hallways to visit his small friend. He knocked on the door for a second before walking in with the small tote of food. Bruce looked at his face wide eyed, but not into his eyes. “You shaved your beard?” It looked so jarring. A mixture of the who he was before and who he is now. Thor just smiled at him, bright eyed. “I also detangled and rebraided my hair. Feel-“ he walked right up to the bed and leaned down, really wanting Bruce to feel. He was so proud of himself. He had done two or three small braids here and there, one closer to his face using some of Loki’s hair that he had saved.
Bruce hesitated at first, looking back and forth from the blonde hair to his friend’s face. Now that his facial hair was shorter you could see the changes his new weight had caused for his face. It wasn’t necessarily bad, not at all. His cheeks looked a little fuller, and you could see the softness of his jawline and up under his chin. They’d been at such distance lately, even when they were together, that he hadn’t noticed it before. He softly felt of his hair for a moment, smiling up at him rather patronizing. “That’s great, pal.” Thor was so giddy.
He backed away and set his bag on the chair in Bruce’s room, pulling out the food he had brought them. Club melts and canned soda, he also got Bruce a bag of chips and a snickers from the vending machine in the hallway for snacks later. Bruce sat up and eagerly awaited. He really didn’t like hospital food. He was beginning to look frail, from refusal to eat most of what they gave him. Everyone supposed it was part of his Hulk half seeping through. Hulk tended to be very spiteful, often refusing what was good for him out of pure resentment and willpower. But that hurt Bruce more than it would’ve ever hurt Hulk. Thor handed him his food, setting it up nice on his tray table. “You really didn’t have to do all this. Thank you.” He felt pitiful. Like a child that needed to be cared for. He was a grown man, God damnit.
Thor situated himself and began eating his own lunch. “Nonsense, eat. And tomorrow I’ll take you somewhere nice when you’re let out.” He smiled back at him. They mostly ate in silence, all but for Thor excusing himself to the restroom, leaving his things in the chair as he temporarily left the room. As soon as he exited the door, Bruce reached over to grab Thor’s phone off of the table and opened it. He didn’t even have a password on it. He hated seeing his friend so alone. He’d talked to Val about it a great bit. How much he missed Jane, his fall into destructive alcoholism to the point of almost dying one time a year back. He opened the only form of social media Thor even had, Facebook, and quickly found Jane Foster’s all but dead account and liked one or two posts before clearing the app and setting back down before Thor came back.
Was it petty and a bit controlling? Yeah, sure, but it was worth a shot. It wasn’t like he sent her any messages or anything, but he half understood the psychology behind the likes on an internet post. Just to.. put him in her mind. Whether something happens or not, he has no control. Thor came back, sitting down and finishing his lunch. “So what time can you go home tomorrow?” He asked, big puppy dog eyes staring back. Bruce immediately felt guilty. How dare he try to take any kind of control in Thor’s life. He doesn't even know if Jane would be attracted to him anymore. A cold chill of shame went down his body.
“Bruce? Is something wrong?” Thor leaned back. “Oh- it’s fine uh, i think the physician said around 1pm tomorrow. Jen is picking me up, you can come if you want. We could go out as a group.” Thor smiled again. “That sounds wonderful.”