#thunder science

He certainly got a different impression when he was staring at the screen, angry men in suits debating about aliens and their right to even be on this planet. Offering slur after slur about who he was, where he was from, questioning if he was even trustworthy as a defender of earth.

"Because, what's the difference between him and the aliens that came in the wormhole?" One had said, gesturing to a photo of the Chitauri from the battle of New York.

"What's stopping him from doing what they did? From turning that hammer on us?"

Thor had tuned out after that, JARVIS taking the liberty of switching the TV off after 5 minutes of silent staring and lightning crackling from fists.

It felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, the wind forced out of his lungs.

Dangerous- is that how they viewed him? As a threat? As something to be contained, warned against, monitored?

Thor stood on shaky legs, making his way out to the balcony to try and make sense of what he'd seen, the reporters words burning in his ears.

Alien.

That's what they'd called him. And, to their credit, they were right. He wasn't from earth, and people knew that. He'd thought that was fine, some people even labelled it as 'cool', whatever that meant. But he'd never heard the word with such venom before. Because suddenly, alien didn't just mean from another planet or place.

It meant bad. It meant threatening.

And with his eyes ablaze with white lightning, mjolnir crashing through walls and tanks, Thor didn't even know if he could fault them.

He didn't sleep that night. Hours were spent, tossing and turning under blankets, trying to match his breathing to the gentle rolls of thunder outside, but nothing worked. His eyes kept drifting to his armour, stood against a mannequin in the corner of the room.

When he'd commissioned it from the blacksmith in Asgard, he'd regarded it was a work of beauty. The intricate metalwork, fibers twisted together and laid with silver and gold, the gentle fall of the crimson fabric of his cape - it was something to be admired, back home.

Here, it seemed, it was just another sign that he didn't belong.

Thor sat up, staring at the metal with a newly critical eye, a sudden clench of worry gripping his lungs. He'd worn that armour to every press conference the avengers had had. Every formal event, every charity gala, even the few birthday parties he'd been around for. At the time it had felt right. But now all he could see was his friends, dressed in sharp suits and dresses. And next to them, a fool bedecked in metal.

Like he wasn't even trying to be normal.

So when Tony Stark approached him the evening after their search for the sceptre and invited him to an evening of revelry, he'd almost said no. The prospect of facing cameras again brought an unusual feeling to the pit of his stomach. Dread. Nervousness. A feeling of tightness that crushed his lungs and stole his breath, the voice of the reporter echoing in his mind.

'You aren't like them. You never will be.'

"You know, formal, dress up in fancy clothes, have a few drinks." Stark's voice cut through his worries, the easy tones of his friend momentarily silencing the bad. Tony shrugged, tucking his sunglasses into his pocket with his trademark grin dancing across his features. "Just some harmless fun."

"I know what a party is." Thor arched an eyebrow, eyes briefly scanning the details on the small piece of card that had been folded into a paper plane and tossed at his head from the far corner of the common room.

"We have them all the time on Asgard. There's wine, dancing, feasts. It's common practise after a battle."

"Well, now I'm expecting you to bring your best moves to this shindig. Show us all how Asgard does it." He spoke with laughter in his voice, sidling up to Thor's left and digging an elbow into his ribs. Or at least, attempting to. Thor didn't really feel much through the thick plating of his armour, and judging by Starks wince the action had backfired considerably. "You could show Banner some of those moves as well, y'know."

Thor remembered the water he was trying to drink finding its way back up his throat at that, and a painful 5 second gap in the conversation where he'd spent equal parts coughing and scrambling for excuses.

"Subtle." Tony patted him on the back, the smirk evident in his voice.

"Forgive me. But whatever you imply, I assure you that you are mistaken on a grandiose scale." Thor finally straightened his back, trying to banish the red from his face. "Banner is my compatriot, a, uhm, a fellow team mate, as it were, who I am engaged in a friendship with."

"Are you sure?" Now it was Starks turn to raise the eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. "Because you're doing the Shakespeare talk, and you only do that when you're nervous."

Thor had promptly shooed Tony out of his room, but his words remained in his head as he turned in front of a mirror, looking at his armour clad body with a critical gaze.

He'd been to parties. He'd thrown parties, some of the best in all the nine realms.

He could easily blend in with the likes of Stark- and why would he be nervous? Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, Prince of Asgard, and probably some other titles that he'd forgotten did not get nervous about other people's opinions of him.

The fabric of his cape brushed around his knuckles, and Thor nibbled at his bottom lip, staring at his reflection.

His shoulders slumped somewhat in a sigh, and he turned, taking a seat onto the sofa, thankful for the small mercy that he was the only one in the room. JARVIS wouldn't say anything if he lowered his head into his hands and frantically fought for his breath back. He'd suggest, but the request was always denied. Thor didn't need help, he didn't want it. He didn't want his friends seeing him like this, and besides, he could calm down on his own.

'What if that's what they think, too?' The voice stung at the back of his mind.

'You can't even dress human, let alone act it. You're a party favour to them, an oddity, and you alwa-'

"Thor?"

A different voice cut through his thoughts, one from just inside the doorway, tinged with worry.

"Bruce!" Thor was quick to plaster on a smile, wiping roughly at the sides of his eyes at the tears that definitely hadn't been shed, standing to his feet to greet the man in the doorway. "Apologies, my friend. I did not hear you come in. Is there something I can assist you with?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes, venturing further into the room, footsteps filled with a sense of urgency that Thor hadn't seen all that often. He definitely hadn't seen this before, because within a matter of moments, Bruce was standing in front of him, his hands brushing Thor's arms, pushing him back slightly and holding him at a distance, looking at him through furrowed brows as if he was trying to decipher a complex equation.

"You're freaking out. Why are you freaking out?"

"Freaking out? I am not freaking out. I'm perfectly calm, actually." Thor tilted his head, trying not to focus too much on the grounding feeling Banner was giving him. He was calm, because he was a God. Definitely not because Banner was rubbing small circles into his arms, the feeling of warmth from the other man's fingertips forcing away the icy cold panic of before.

"Shakespeare talk. You only ever do that if you're freaking out about something."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Thor rolled his eyes slightly, lifting his hands to rest against his hips. "Maybe it's just the way I speak sometimes?"

Bruce glanced at the sofa, his skeptical gaze softening into sympathy, brown eyes warming behind rectangular glasses.

"You know you can talk to me, right? About anything? Because it kind of seemed like you were in the middle of a breakdown when I walked in here, and I don't want you to feel that you can-"

"It's the party." Thor blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt about cutting Bruce off mid sentence, but it was his own fault, really.

Damn that Bruce Banner and his wonderful brown eyes, making him bare his soul like that.

"The...the party? Tony's thing?" Bruce raised an eyebrow, his hands wandering back into the pockets of his lab coat. "I thought you liked that sort of thing?"

"It's not the party itself that I'm worried about." Thor had to force himself to turn away, then, because he knew that if he met Banner's eyes one more time then he'd be compelled to spill everything. To bare his soul to the scientist in a way that was definitely more than compatriots.

He didn't want Banner to think he was weird, too. Maybe that led him to tiptoe around the scientist, somewhat. A fault on his part, he was sure. But Banner- Bruce, was one of the few people who spoke to him like he was a person. When he asked about pop culture, or some slang confused him, he could always rely on Bruce to take him through it without any hidden laughter or mockery. His smiles, his beautiful, beautiful smiles, were sincere. But this issue was beyond that. Because if he brought up everything, asked the questions about the man on the news, he might not like the answer.

"It's...my clothes. I don't have anything suitable for the affair, I fear. All I have is my armour."

"Well, I'm sure that's fine." Bruce frowned slightly, poking Thor's chainmail wrapped shoulder for emphasis. "You suit it. It's...it's you."

"No, no, it's not fine. It'll look stupid, I'll look stupid. I just-" Thor made the mistake of looking into Bruce's eyes, and he fought to just keep even the slightest wobble from his voice. "I just want to look normal."

"Oh." Bruce glanced down, his frown turning from confusion to sympathy in the span of a few seconds. He let the room go silent, for a moment at least, before continuing. "Is that what was bothering you, before? When I first came in?"

"A little. It's nothing, really. I'm just being silly."

"Is there anything I can do to help? Because, honestly, I know how this kind of thing feels, and when I went through that I had to do it pretty much by myself." For a moment, Bruce's eyes wandered. His gaze went to the wall, and for a minute, it was like he wasn't even there.

Thor could almost see the memories flittering across the frames of glass, before Bruce pulled himself back to the present with a sharpness that made Thor wince in sympathy.

Thor wanted to send Bruce away. He wanted to retreat back into his room, plaster on his armour, grab his hammer and run all the way back to Asgard. Where the light of the rainbow bridge would burn the inadequacy away, and the man on the news could be forgotten under layers of gold.

But Bruce was staring at him, and he wanted to help. His hand was outstretched, and by the Norns Thor wanted to take it.

Thor steadied himself, gently taking Banners hand in his with what he hoped was a brave-ish smile. "Help me choose some clothes?"

Bruce grinned, curly hair falling in his face as he nodded. "I'd be happy to. But you're sure you don't want Stark for this? That guy is kind of the go-to about style."

"No." Thor interjected, perhaps, a little too eagerly. He grimaced, waving his hand in way of an apology. "No, sorry. I'd like you to come. If you want to."

"And I do." Bruce wrapped his fingers around Thor's, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "Now, come on. Let's get you something nice."

***

Midgardian shopping malls were one of Thor's favourite things, although he'd never admit it. The stores, the food, the people, it was all just so perfectly them. And, if he was being perfectly honest, the towering silver spires reminded him of Asgard.

The wide array of floral shirts Bruce kept pulling out and showing to him, less so.

Thor shook his head at another offered combination, turning back to the rail to flick idly through the rack.

"Yeah, I wasn't so sure about that one either. I guess purple is more my colour than yours?" Bruce chuckled softly, leaning against a pillar to idly watch Thor shift through the clothes.

"You certainly wear the colour well, Bruce. I wouldn't like to impose upon it." Thor replied, stepping back from the rail to straighten his shoulders, wincing slightly at the cracking sound that echoed through the mall from being hunched over for far too long. "I did not think Midgardian fashion to be this complicated."

"They're a complicated bunch, that's for sure." Bruce shrugged, one hand reaching up to fidget with his glasses, eyes narrowing at some imperceptible smudge of dirt on the frames.

"You say that like you're not one of them."

Bruce paused, tensing, as he set the glasses carefully back on the bridge of his nose, although his hands never ceased their fidgeting, moving instead to the sleeve of his shirt. "Yeah, well, when you've got a big green man inside of you, a lot of people tend to forget the human part." He shook his head, trying to dismiss it with a wave of his hand. "It's something I've learned to accept, I guess."

Thor met his eyes briefly, trying to convey something that he didn't know how to say. 'I understand' felt so trivial, the comparison so unworthy. He hadn't been hunted like an animal, hadn't been subjected to half of the things that Bruce had. At least, not yet, anyway. But the feeling of otherness, he knew.

He reached forward, tentatively, resting his hand on Bruce's shoulder as softly as he could manage.

"Midgardians truly are complicated creatures." He paused, trying for the smile that Bruce gave so willingly- the one without mockery, with understanding, the small lilt of the face that said that everything truly would be alright. "They are lucky to have you, Bruce Banner. More so than I think they'll ever know. But truly, I hope they discover you, one day. The real you. The man I know you to be, noble of heart and of spirit."

Bruce looked at him then - a long, careful gaze, eyes flitting around Thor's face as if trying to decipher any hidden meaning beneath the words.

The tight hug that followed told Thor that he hadn't found any. It was a simple thing, a quick hold from the side, short enough to be mistaken for a passing show of comradery from afar. But the tightness, the feeling of Bruce's fingers gripping his jacket with a newfound intensity, that was something else. Something different, and entirely, completely welcome.

"Thanks, Thor."

The words alone were nothing special, they'd been said to him from matters of passing cereal to the demolishing of Chitauri vessels, but here, they gleamed a new meaning. One that brought a fluttering feeling into Thor's heart that he could only express with a smile, and an unsuccessful attempt to banish the red from his face.

Bruce's eyes clouded momentarily, and Thor swore he could have seen a flicker of green, although it was gone too quickly to be sure. "Come on. I think I saw something."

Thor didn't have any time to respond before he was being pulled in another direction, Bruce's hand tight around his wrist.

Maybe he was afraid that Thor would wander off, and didn't want to spend the time looking for him. Or maybe, just maybe, Bruce wanted his hand there. Just for the feeling of Thor's skin under his.

Thor slowed to a halt as Bruce began rifling through the jacket section, staring blankly at the scientist in front of him. Somehow, Stark was right. Of course Stark was right. Bruce wasn't just a compatriot, not to him.

Thor had well and truly fallen for him.

He didn't think he could fall any further until a bundle of red velvet material was pushed into his arms, and he was faced by the scientists rare smile, tinged with something akin to shyness as he moved from foot to foot.

"This one. Try this one."

Thor turned to the mirror he was being all but thrown at, shrugging the jacket onto his shoulders.

Red material, adorned with black embroidery. Elegant, but not otherworldly. At least, not completely.

Thor's fingers brushed against the fabric, against the welcoming weight of it across his shoulders and back, and he breathed out a smile.

"It's you. It's just...it's you." Bruce's reflexion appeared next to his, calloused fingers tugging the collar of the jacket into position with a reaffirming nod.

"I can't take all the credit. The big guy said it reminded him of your cape, and I just thought-"

"It's wonderful, Bruce. Truly." Thor smiled at himself, then down at Bruce, tucking the jacket back into the basket with a sigh that was finally one of content. "You are wonderful. I'm just sorry not everyone seems to realise it."

Bruce glanced downwards briefly, a soft laugh escaping his lips. A touch cynical, perhaps, but warm. Kind. Real.

"I guess I'm just one of those complex midgardians?"

"That, and so much more." Thor's hands found Bruce's shoulders, blue eyes staring down into brown. "Thank you, for this. It...it means more than you could know."

"I can't promise that it'll solve everything. It's just a jacket. But, y'know, if it's a step in the right direction?"

"It is."

"Then I'd gladly do it again." Bruce took a tentative step forward, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair out of Thor's eyeline. "If it can make this place feel more like home for you, I think I'd do just about anything."

Thor's breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.

His voice died down to a whisper, although he couldn't quite keep the small bite of challenge out of it. Something to fall back on, in case he'd misread, and this was truly all just a joke. If he kept a smile, he could laugh it off. Just in case.

"Care to prove that?" His voice shook as his hands found Bruce's, which were somehow on the side of his face now, and by the Norns he was close. Close enough for Thor to see the spattering of hazel in Bruce's eyes, like stars spread across the blues and greens of the galaxy that he knew like the back of his hand.

Bruce nodded. His feet pushed up, and his lips touched Thor's, and the world around them fell away.

***

"So, if he comes up to you, just tell him he looks nice." Bruce glanced around the room, the loud sounds of the party echoing just a little too closely in his ears. "I mean, I get that you'd do it anyway, but just this time-"

"Relax, Bruce. I'll be sure to tell your godly space boyfriend that he looks perfectly ravishing." Tony shook his head, eyes crinkling in a smile as he covered his laugh with his glass.

"What?" Bruce raised an eyebrow quizzically, nudging Tony in the shoulder to try and prompt a response outside of smirking.

"Nothing, just..." He took a drink, setting the glass down onto the counter. "You didn't correct me when I said boyfriend."

Loud laughter brought Bruce's attention to halfway across the room, where Thor was standing, sharing a drink with Steve. He was smiling, gestures wild enough to only be a retelling of some story or other. No doubt embellished to hell and back with the amount of sound effects the large man seemed to be doing.

Bruce smiled fondly when Thor caught his eye, raising his hand in a wave.