The tower is silent, but if Thor stretches his hearing out, he can hear the faint boom of rock music in Stark’s lab. If he strains even further, he can hear the rhythmic beat of Banner’s heart. Based on the mumblings underneath the half-man's breath, he’s talking to the Hulk while doing what humans call Yoga.
He pulls his hearing back when he is sure that everyone else is asleep. Relief floods his veins and then he looks towards the hammer impersonating Mjolnir that sits on the desk Stark crafted for his chambers.
“Brother.”
He speaks quietly, yet it unleashes in the room like the thunderclap of a storm. He watches the hammer but when it does not budge, he sighs.
“Brother, there are no cameras here.”
It was true. After the fourth time Thor had accidently shorted out the whole building, and thus accidently shut down JARVIS before Stark could reboot the computer servant, the man had taken everything electronic out of Thor’s chambers that could be taken out.
Including the cameras.
Besides, Stark had figured out that, whenever Thor entered the room, the cameras did not work anyway. The man had mumbled something about shorting out his creations by just existing, but Thor did not respond.
He simply smiled, pretended that he had no idea what Stark was talking about, and went on his way.
There was something to be said for living up to people’s expectations.
Of course, he could have told Stark the truth: That he could clamp down on the part of him that was lightning and storm and chaos andrain and electricity and destruction but then he wouldn’t be where he was right now.
With his brother right where he belonged: by Thor’s side.
Even though said brother was being exceedingly difficult right now.
“Loki, you can keep trying but that form brings you no comfort right now.”
The hammer glowed green around the edges, like it was considering what he was saying before it returned dormant once again.
Thor growled.
“Ástin mín, come here.”
The effect was instantaneous. The hammer rattled a little bit, like it was whining and wanted mercy, but Thor simply glared at it, electricity kissing the edges of his hands until green started to merge with the material of the hammer. He stared at it, waiting, until his brother finally changed shapes. There was a sharp sound in the air, like a muted pop, before his brother, in Æsir form, appeared in front of him.
Loki glared at him and set his mouth in a thin line like he wanted to sneer something back at Thor, but he stayed silent and did not renounce their brotherhood or reject the endearment Thor laid upon him.
Thor stayed seated on the side of the bed and continued to watch his brother. Loki’s green eyes glinted dangerously from the moon light that shined through the glass windows and Thor’s heart stuttered.
Yet, still, Thor did not move.
It was Loki’s move, now. He watched as his brother glanced around his chambers, like it was all new to him and was not something he saw at least twice a week. He watched as his brother straightened his spine until it was in a rigid line before relaxing and then starting the process over again. He watched as green wisps weaved around Loki’s hands like a lover and yet, Loki never left.
He watched all this and did not speak a word.
He did not move.
Seconds passed like hours and hours like minutes and then it happened. Something in Loki cracked and his eyes began to shine with something other than the moonlight. And then, without a word, he turned around and kneeled in front of Thor.
Thor sat up straight, let out a heavy sigh. He reached down, cradled the side and front of Loki’s neck with a hand and felt the pulse underneath his hand quicken.
“Thank you, Loki.”
And then, he took his hand away and reached into his nightstand. He took out his other half, Mjolnir, and placed her on top. He then reached back inside and took out a brush, oil, and a comb. He placed them on the edge, where he could have easy access, and then took Loki’s shoulders in his hands. He spread his knees and Loki scooted back until he was bracketed by them.
“If you are ready, tell me.”
There was only a slight moment of hesitation before Loki reached up and pulled his hair from the hair tie it was being held in. Then he curved his shoulders in.
“Yes.”
It was barely a whisper, but Thor kissed the top of Loki’s head in acceptance all the same.
Thor picked up the brush first.
At the first brush through Loki’s black curls, he was tugged into memories of the past. Of Loki’s fingers in his hair, strong and deft, while he softly unraveled golden knots. Of Thor’s own fingers cutting a piece of his own hair and braiding it into Loki’s hair. Of Loki doing the same.
When Loki began to cry, near silent except for the few sniffles that escaped him, Thor said nothing. He did nothing except continue to brush through Loki’s hair until very snag was gone and tempered. When Loki wrapped his hands into the shirt he was wearing for comfort, big enough to expose his collarbones and shoulder on the left side, he said nothing.
All he did was put the brush down and pick up the comb.
When he began to comb through Loki’s hair, easing each knot into submission, he felt Loki relax against him. His hands were cramping from holding a small comb in big hands, and his hands were not nearly as smooth as Loki’s in combing, but it was worth it.
Loki was something he had to be gentle with, in this moment.
After the combing was done, wrists aching, but black hair free and unsnarled, he put the comb down.
“Would you like to move?”
Sometimes Loki liked to move around after Thor was done with this part. Other times he liked to stay still, and small, and underneath a familiar scent.
When Loki did not move except for gripping his shirt tighter, Thor nodded.
“Okay.”
Thor picked up the oil on the bedside and poured some into his hands. He smoothed the oil over Loki’s scalp and down to the ends of his hair. He combed oil with his fingers to Loki’s edges and the back of his nape.
And then, when the oil’s cap was placed back onto the bottle and Loki’s hair was shining and healthy, he began to braid.
It took time, but he hardly noticed the time changing from 2 A.M to 5 A.M. His thoughts were only on the relaxed breathing of his brother, on the way Loki held on to his ankles, on the way Loki seemed like the only thing grounding him was the hands in his hair.
When he was done braiding, his hands were oily and black hair fragments were plastered onto the back of his knuckles.
He sat up, ignored the way his back cracked from holding one position for a long time, and stretched his arms up to the ceiling.
When he dropped his arms gently to his lap, he pulled Loki’s head back until his newly formed braids were pressed against Thor’s misgardian Jeans. The sharp line of his neck was exposed and vulnerable and Thor bent down to place a kiss on his brother’s forehead. Loki did not budge, nor did he resist being placed in such an unguarded position.
Tears pricked his eyes as he thought of how long it took it took them to get here, on how they were still progressing because things were not perfect, but it was better.
It was better.
He breathed in the scent of Loki, something rich, heavenly, and dark, and the faint scent of lavender and vanilla from the oil.
It was an antagonizing blend.
“Do you wish to sleep, or do you wish to keep going?”
He looked down at Loki, happiness growing when he saw half-masted green eyes. When he saw a smooth forehead and eyebrows instead of furrowed ones. When he saw a relaxed pout instead of tense lips. When he saw the pink against his cheeks and damp eyelashes from his earlier tears that he had finally let go.
He resisted the urge to kiss his brother’s forehead again and waited for his answer.
Loki did not usually speak when he was like this, so Thor had to be patient.
He had had a plan for after their braiding session, but he doesn’t think Loki would be up to it. And he’s proven right when Loki yawns rather than answers verbally.
But that’s an answer in and of itself.
He smiles before pulling Loki up. He waits for his brother to lethargically twist himself so that his body is facing Thor before he places Loki in his place.
“I swear to you —I will be right back.”
He hurries because Loki does not like to be alone and quickly washes his hands of the oil and left behind pieces of hair. He washes his wrist and then takes his shirt and pants off. They both have oil on them, and he does not wish to make Loki greasy.
He leaves the bathroom clean and only in his draws, but he does not wish to leave Loki vulnerable by himself for any longer than he already has. He re-enters the bedroom and crosses over to the bed. Loki is still sitting there, but there is now a redness to his lips from where he was biting into them. His nails are jagged from him playing with them and Thor wants to curse.
He should have brought Loki with him, at least.
He berates himself for a second before steeling himself and dealing with the consequences: Loki once again being tortured by his own thoughts.
He takes Loki’s chin and pushes his head up so that he can stare into his eyes.
Thor hurts from what he sees in them.
“I am sorry, Elskan, for leaving, but I will never be gone for long. I swear it to you.”
Loki stares at him but he does not say a word. Thor takes it at face-value and gently pushes Loki onto his back. He quickly lays beside him and then gathers his brother in his arms. Loki goes where he pulls but the tension that Thor had spent so long combing and brushing away has returned.
Thor ignores it and wraps himself around his brother until they are pressed together from every angle, until Loki wouldn’t be able to move without using his magic.
Thor skates a hand under Loki’s shirt until his hand reaches over his brother’s beating heart. Loki moves then, tilting his neck until his face is pressed into Thor’s throat.
And then, curled into each other like brothers, friends, and lovers, they sleep.
(And if JARVIS deletes the audio from Thor Odinson’s floor, then he fails to see how that's anyone's business but his.)