Thor is hella depressed.
He imagined that's what Tony would say. Some drink in his hand leaning against Pepper. The room would be met with a wave of fond chuckles. It would be.
That's what should be happening.
He downed another bottle.
He could almost hear the cheers of his comrades. Loud and filled with joy. It was something he noticed both his worlds had in common. The quicker one could ingest fluids the more praise they got.
"It's moronic"
He could hear his brother's voice. Protesting any participation in any evening event.
His brother.
His beloved baby brother.
His dead baby brother.
He downed another bottle. The flashes of the game he was attempting to play merged with the image of something he wanted.
A reality in which Loki was alive. Eyes vibrant with mischief. Some stupid prank playing out. Clint nearly ruining it by bursting into giggles. Steve, their unsuspecting victim.
Another bottle. Slower this time. The sunglasses slipped and he barely had the energy to push them back up. The weight of reality settled in his gut. Maybe he could get blackout drunk this time.
He pondered the thought.
Interrupted by three short knocks.