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it's way past midnight when bruce slides into his room.
it's not like thor's been sleeping, anyway; there's too much to do, too much to worry about, he's lucky if he gets a couple hours of solitude. and he appreciates his friend's presence. it's a constant, somehow, in a way not even loki had ever been, and thor needs a constant to keep him grounded nowadays.
(he doesn't know what that means. he doesn't know what any of it means. he doesn't know, loki should be king, he's more prepared, more capable, except he kinda isn't and thor knows it's his responsibility but all he truly wants to do is hide underneath a blanket and have bruce tell him it's alright and he doesn't know.)
bruce brings with him a cup of something (it doesn't smell like liquor, but who knows what the grandmaster made his liquor like) and sits on his bed. it's not comfortable enough, not like the one at the commodore, but thor just refused to sleep up there in the orgy ship. "i thought you might be awake," bruce says, "so i brought you some tea loki gave me. it might help."
tea? not with that smell. but thor accepts it regardless, smiling at banner. he appreciates the gesture. "thank you, but i don't think i could sleep anyway."
bruce hums, understanding. "i get that."
they just stay in silence for a while. thor eventually steps away from the window and sits next to his friend, a blanket draped over their shoulders. his heart flutters inside his chest; maybe this is too much, maybe he's overstepping his boundaries, midgardians have different relationship levels, but bruce doesn't seem to mind at all, resting his head on his shoulder.
the drink tastes, somehow, like that weird red drink steve had once given him. it's sweet, but has a dry aftertaste. he quite likes it, and bruce is right: he's relaxed a little.
he feels at home. like he's back in asgard, his mother healing his scraped knees while loki reads in the background. like he's on earth, in a party, the avengers making bets and playing around.
(it isn't because of bruce. it isn't because of him at all.)
the ship shakes. the lights, seemingly fluorescent but not quite, flicker off. the emergency lights turn on instead, bathing bruce's bedroom red.
a siren starts wailing and bruce jerks upright.
jesus christ, he thinks, rubbing his face, what did loki do this time?
turns out it wasn't loki, not at all, because moments later val bursts into the room. "get up," she says, and he obligues.
"what's going on?" he stumbles behind her, thor's hand-me-down (way too big for bruce) clothes making him trip as he tries to catch up.
"we're under attack," she says. the ground shakes once more, and bruce leans against the stark blue walls of the hallway. she steadies herself before helping bruce, holding his hand as they rush through the seas of refugees. "we're getting you out of here."
"who's attacking?"
"thanos." the name rings a bell. he knows from where before val tells him. "the purple weirdo that tortured loki into thinking ruling midgard was a solid idea."
"yikes." suddenly a thought crossed his mind. "wait, where's thor? and loki?"
the valkyrie didn't look at him. "we have to keep going."
"val, they're... please tell me they're not fighting him."
he stopped dead on his tracks. she looked at him with tired eyes. "they're stalling him so that we can escape." she tugged at his arm and sighed. "bruce. come on."
"no. i'm staying. i'm not leaving them."
"thor will never forgive me if you're not on that escape pod, please."
"well, we're a team and i'm never forgiving him if he thinks he can just— sacrifice himself," bruce replied. "we don't trade lives."
"if you go in there, that's exactly what you're going to do."
"val." he takes in a deep breath and tries to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes. "i'm gonna be okay. i just have to make sure thor will."
she regards him for a moment. slowly, she lets go of his wrist; her fingers linger against it for a second too long.
"if you die, i'm going to be so mad at you."
"i won't." he pulls her in for a hug and he's gone down the hallway before she can give it back.
"so," loki says, barely a whisper, as they hide behind steel bars and try not to get caught by thanos' children, "i have a plan."
"is it a good plan?" bruce's hands are shaking. actually, he's just shaking period. he hears the clashing of metal against metal, the screams of whatever asgardians were left on the ship.
"not really. it's not even a complete plan. you're not going to like it very much." loki peeks over the column; lightning breaks through the throne room, sending shivers down bruce's arms. "i'm going to distract thanos. wait for my signal, then you go and attack him. i get thor to safety and we all escape."
"i attack as in hulk attacks," bruce says. "okay. i can manage that."
bruce doesn't point out the flaws in loki's plan, nor does he admit to himself that it is, indeed, barely a plan at all.
"good. wait for my signal. you'll know when to attack. hide here in the meantime." far away, thor groans; the thunder's growing weaker, sparse. "it has been a pleasure, banner."
"i didn't expect to ever say this, but— i hope we make it out of this. i really appreciate you."
loki looks at him for a moment, as if he'd never dreamed of hearing such words from him. but then he smirks, mischief painted on his porcelain face, and draws out his dagger.
"you know," he says, before stepping into the danger, "my brother loves you. thank you for making him happy."
this, bruce did not anticipate. but before he can say anything, loki's already headed into his probable death.
the plan, he reminds himself, anxiously. the plan.
he thinks of loki, how his breathing is irregular but hidden behind a glamour, how he's just so young despite being thousands of years old, how he's just trying to save his brother. he thinks of val, ushering the last surviving asgardians into the escape pods; he thinks of how he lied when he said he was planning on surviving the fight. he thinks of home, of the earth, of tony and steve and natasha and how he's not going to get to say goodbye to any of them.
he thinks of thor, and he looks over to see the mad titan grasping his skull, pressing the gauntlet against it as loki struggles to remain calm. and his heart twists and turns and threatens to break.
the statesman had been, for a while, his home.
(not thor. it couldn't possibly be thor. or his friends. nope.)
"okay, hulk," bruce whispers to himself, "follow the plan."
thor watches, barely awake, as hulk pushes thanos against the wall.
loki pulls him away from the titan's course of collision. the tesseract (goddammit loki) falls to the floor, forgotten for the moment; thanos' children rush towards it.
he watches, as loki checks his injuries in a panicked blur, how the hulk (not bruce, he tries to remind himself, not bruce, who shouldn't be here, who should be with valkyrie getting the hell out of here) strikes against the mad titan, how blow after blow doesn't seem to be affecting him that much. he watches, heart clenching, as thanos strikes back.
he tries to stand up. his knees wobble and his legs fail him and he stumbles back down. he tries to reach for loki, but loki's busy finding a way out that doesn't draw unwanted attention to them. he's gone from his sight in a moment, and in that moment he sees it: hulk falling to the ground, unconscious.
thor's scared shitless, but his eyes cross heimdall's in his panic and before he can realize what he's doing a rainbow light envelops hulk's body.
in an instant he's gone. and heimdall dies to thanos.
he screams. he cries. he curses thanos, makes a promise (you are going to die for that). and suddenly he can't move, he can't speak; he watches as ebony maw smirks and shuts him up with steel bars and humiliation.
and then loki returns, because loki is an idiot and who knows what he'd actually been doing back there, definitely not looking for a escape route, thor now realizes that. it's the way that he smiles, the way his eyes twinkle with mischief (and fear and regret and panic and, and, maybe resolve, maybe stupidity because god is his brother a fool); it's the way that he looks at him and says "odinson," that makes thor realize what's about to happen.
he loses his home. asgard is not a place, it's a people. home. asgard is not a place, odin had said, it's a people, and the planet had shattered into pieces, like his hammer, but their people had lived on. and asgard was not a place, it was a people, except the people are dead now, too. and home is not a place, it's a people; it's his brother's neck cracking within thanos' hands, it's a sword piercing right through heimdall's heart, it's the hulk falling down to thanos when bruce should've been out of harm's way.
later, when loki's body is all he has left, he sobs himself raw, until the statesman is no more and the void rips the oxygen from his lungs; until his brother's cold, pale remains blast away from his reach and he's ripped away from consciousness.
bruce wakes up in new york. thor wakes up in a spaceship.
both count their losses long before the war begins.
later, in wakanda, thor arrives.
bruce thought him dead. bruce thought asgard dead; at least, most of asgard, if not all. but thor arrives at their most desperate hour, all sleek blacks and sparking blues; there's a new axe on his hands and he's flanked by a raccoon and a walking tree (bruce's seen weirder).
thor glances at bruce, at the hulkbuster, and he smirks at him; his lost eye is now back, somehow, but it's a pretty honey shade now. the brown-blue duality fits him, bruce decides.
"bring me thanos!," thor shouts, voice laced with anger and confidence and pain and somehow hope, as he leaps into the air. lightning envelops him, and he looks as terrifying as he does stunning.
bruce follows him into death's hands, without hesitation.
rain starts to fall on the battlefield.
bruce stumbles out of the hulkbuster. he had to do it manually; friday had vanished suddenly, along with half the army and bruce's streak of days without panicking (which was, admittedly, zero). he can't understand what's happening, deep inside the forest; steve is on the ground, weeping, and everyone is shouting and/or crying, but thor is just staring into the void, his expression as pained as if he'd just seen a ghost.
"what happened?," he asks. no one tells him. "what— what happened?," he asks again, anyways.
thor falls to his knees abruptly and everyone turns to look at him. above them, thunder rumbles. the raindrops fall heavier, uncomfortable pats of water on bruce's head.
"thor?," nat asks, voice barely wavering, because she's strong like that even though she shouldn't have to be. bruce steps towards thor and feels the electricity crackling on the air seconds before lightning strikes right before his feet.
"i'm sorry," thor sobs, wiping at his face without success; another thunderbolt lands nearby and bruce realizes this is no ordinary storm, neither is it one caused by the snap, somehow. he sees thor crackling live with electricity, and his breath catches inside his throat. "i should have— i had to kill him, i've— ruined it—"
everyone takes a step back or hesitates, unsure. but bruce doesn't think as he moves forward, even when his own feet stumble because of his wrecked nerves, even when his body isn't listening to his terrified brain and he should be escaping hiding running away
he pulls thor into his embrace and lets him unravel against him. no one questions them, even as the raindrops fall heavier and drenches them all in its quiet.
that night, thor sleeps in bruce's room.
they don't talk. they don't have anything to say. when thor slides into the room, bruce isn't sleeping, instead sitting by the window, drowning in moonlight. thor flops on the small cushion next to him, draped in blankets. he looks so small; loki would've made fun of his appearance.
(loki, breathing irregular but hidden behind a glamour, so young despite being thousands of years old, just trying to save his brother; odinson, broken neck, bloody lips)
his head rests on bruce's shoulder and he sniffs. bruce wraps his arm around him.
"i thought you dead," thor says; his words are muffled by bruce's shirt.
"i thought you were dead, too," mutters bruce after a while. "i was so scared."
"i'm an idiot." he shuffles slightly, so that he can stare into the void as he so much desires. "i doomed my people and couldn't even avenge them."
(odinson, broken neck, bloody lips. alcohol and tired eyes; a sword through the heart.)
"you can still avenge them. that's our thing. we're the avengers. we'll find him, and we'll kick his ass until he brings everyone back."
thor doesn't reply, and bruce doesn't miss the way he shakes as he bawls.
if he sheds a tear or two or a thousand, well, thor doesn't have to know.
he just grips onto his hand and doesn't let go.
asgard is not a place, it's a people.
home. asgard is not a place, odin had said, it's a people. there's no people now, no one to shelter, no one to defend against the darkness.
(there's ten escape pods drifting through space. they weren't full to begin with. they're barely occupied now. the valkyrie leads the way, hands covered in glass, covered in ash, covered in all her friends; she leads the way towards midgard and hopes there's still a king to rule her people.)
and asgard was not a place, it was a people. and home is not a place, it's a people. it's bruce's hands grounding him, keeping him safe from the nightmares that haunt him. it's the rabbit's haunted eyes, it's the captain's broken smile. it's the way natasha speaks; it's the little queen of wakanda, the way she reminds him of loki. it's when tony arrives, broken and empty, and still somehow manages to crack a joke before crumbling into a mourning mess.
it's the way bruce talks him down. it's the way bruce lightens his worries. it's the way bruce defends loki's honor, it's the way bruce cries, the way he smiles, it's the way he knows, with absolute certainty, that they'll conquer.
it's, perhaps, the way thor's lips graze bruce's and the way he feels the sparks bursting through his own veins.
bruce, he thinks. bruce, his constant.
asgard is not a place, not anymore.
bruce is asgard to him.