Thor's Week

“I appreciate this, my friends, but I’m really not feeling up to ‘team bonding’,” Thor said, dejected. He wandered to the kitchen. “I only came down for sustenance.”

Steve held up a few bottles of beer, giving Thor his signature half-smile. “That’s what this is for.”

Thor felt the corners of his lips turn up for the first time since he arrived. “Then I suppose I can stay down for a while,” he said, taking a seat next to Bruce on the couch.

“Oh, you’re staying up all night, actually,” Tony said matter-of-factly. He shook the movies at him. “See these? These are Earth culture. Midgardian fare.”

Thor peered at the DVD cases. “Are these the Star Wars? Jane has spoken highly of them.”

“Have you seen them?” Tony asked, hopping over the back of the couch and plopping down on the front, much to the concern of Thor.

“No,” Thor assured him, watching his friend closely to make sure he wasn’t injured. “We planned on it, but dealing with Asgard…m-my brother…”

Tony nodded, and seeing that his friend understood, Thor didn’t speak again.

“The movies are good,” Natasha said, changing the subject not so subtlety. She could tell Thor appreciated it.

“So do you want to watch these chronologically or the right way?” Tony asked, spreading out the DVD cases in a line on the coffee table.

Thor looked them over before turning back to Tony, his gaze confused. He arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t chronological…the right way?”

“Well, sort of,” Clint said with a shrug. “But these—“ Clint gestured to the prequels with a bit of disgust. “—came out after these.” He then pointed at the three three originals. “So, you can watch these first and then these, but most people watch these and then these. You feel me?”

Thor stared at his friend in utter confusion, his lips slightly parted in shock. “Uh…”

“We’ll watch these first. I like these better anyway,” Natasha said, picking up A New Hope and walking it to the player. He popped it in and told Jarvis to play.

“So…what are these Star Wars about?” Thor asked, his big blue eyes, eyes that soaked up everything around them like the ocean they shared their hue with, when Bruce returned to the couch.

Tony broke out in a grin. “There’s this guy named Luke…”

Three movies, too many questions, and twelve shared beers later, Thor was slumped against the back of the couch, his arm, slung over the cushioned top of the couch, his eyes still locked on the screen. Tony had passed out during Yoda’s death, and was now drooling on Thor’s thigh. Bruce was snoring on the arm of the couch, having dropped off sometime during The Empire Strikes Back. Steve’s snores had come during the last scenes of that same movie. Natasha was asleep on an equally unconscious Clint’s chest. They’d lasted the longest, and had only just nodded off during Vader and Luke’s last battle.

The final movie was coming to an end, with Luke standing in the Ewok forest amongst the ghosts of the friends and family he’d lost along the way. Thor couldn’t help but feel a pang of familiarity at that. He was jealous of Luke. At least the Skywalker could see visions of his loved ones. Frigga and Loki were simply gone.

Suddenly it all hit him. His mother was dead. His brother was dead. They weren’t coming back no matter how badly his heart ached for them to. They were gone. Silent tears rolled down the god’s cheeks like the rains he commanded. He tried to keep still; no one needed to wake for this, but he couldn’t. Sobs wracked his body, his shoulders shook. Thunder crackled outside, jolting the team awake.

“Thor?” Bruce mumbled, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child. It took him all of two seconds to realize Thor was sobbing. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Thor couldn’t speak. He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward. He hadn’t really meant to find himself in Tony’s arms, but Tony couldn’t let his friend cry alone. As Thor wept, Bruce rubbed circles into his back.

“They’re gone,” Thor managed, his deep voice broken. “They’re not coming back.”

No one had any words for Thor because Thor’s words hit hard, knocking him back to their own hardships after their parents’ deaths. Thor had lost his mother and his insufferable brother. Tony had lost his parents, along with Steve, Bruce and Natasha. They were the same, it seemed, in this.

“You know, and I have no authority to say this because I’ve done the same thing,” Tony said, making sure to clarify, “you don’t have to shut yourself off from everyone. We’re your team, Point Break.”

Thor pulled back, finally coherent enough to speak. He ran his fist across his nose and sniffed. “I know, Stark. Thank you.”

“I understand what you’re going through,” Bryce admitted quietly. “I get it. When my mom died, I had a hard time.”

Thor nodded. “It gets better, doesn’t it? I won’t hurt forever, right?”

Tony couldn’t help but think that Thor reminded him of a child then. He asked it so hesitantly, so hopeful. He almost looked scared of the answer.

“Yeah. It gets better,” Tony said, clasping his friend on the back and grinning. “Now, come on, we’ve got three more movies to watch.”

Thor laughed and sniffed again. He leaned forward and picked up one of the DVD cases. He tilted his head. “You know,” he said, tapping at the image of Padme, “She reminds me of Jane.”

Clint leaned over, studied the image with a pensive expression, and shook his head. “No, I don’t see it.”

2 Natasha

The Widow was missing. It was concerning, if not uncommon. The Avengers hadn’t been sent in to look for her yet—it had only been a few days since she’d gone off the grid—but that hadn’t stopped them from worrying. (It also hadn’t stopped Clint from going after her.)

The mood of the common room was dreary. The crackling fireplace, the silly framed pictures lining the walls, and the Hallmark movie on the TV did nothing to boost morale. Steve sat, slumped back in his chair, staring through the TV. Bruce tapped on his computer, “coding”, he’d claimed. Tony, usually so energetic, could only sit and stare at wall, tapping anxious fingers against the arm of the couch.

Thor, however, paced by the window. Moving helped him think, and right now, he desperately needed to think. His blue eyes watched the sky grow cloudy as his mood grows even worse. The fact that he’d been the last one Natasha had talked to was not helping his mood either. He thought back on their last conversation, digging for clues that could lead him to her.

They’d been talking about something innocent, favorite breakfast cereals or the last movie they’d watched. But, she’d disappeared only an hour later, and he couldn’t help but think there was something more to their conversation.

Thunder shook the windows, and the team jumped. Thor just kept staring at the storm brewing outside, trying and failing to get it tamed.

“Thor…you’re not going to find her by flooding Manhattan,” Tony sighed, slinging an arm over the back of the couch and giving him a sympathetic look.

Thor groaned and dragged his hands over his face. Tearing his eyes away from the skyline, he looked back at the team. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just can’t help but think she left a clue or something.”

“Natasha is a trained spy,” Steve said, “If she wanted to be found, she would’ve been found. And since she hasn’t been found, she doesn’t want to be.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Wonderful,” he grumbled, “What if she’s at gunpoint right now, and you think she doesn’t want to be—“

The elevator dinged.

Everyone flew from their spots to rush to the corridor where the elevators let out, Thor leading the charge. They huddled around the doors, holding a collective breath. The doors slid open, revealing Natasha.

Her auburn hair was long and straight when before it had been short and curled, her makeup (which she normally kept simple) exaggerated her features and brought out her colored contacts. She started, stepping back from the crowd that greeted her with wide eyes.

“Uh, hey,” she said, her brows furrowed. She wrapped her black pea coat around her arms. “Can you move?”

The boys shuffled like a herd of sheep out of her way, and she stepped into the corridor. Four pairs of eyes locked on the spy as she casually made her way into the common room. She tossed a cross body onto the couch, kicked off snow boots, and slid her coat off. Just like she was coming home any other day.

“Stop crowding me,” she muttered, pulling up a stool to sit at the bar in the kitchen. She tousled her hair, and leaned back with folded arms. “I guess you’re all wondering where I went?”

“You could say that,” Bruce huffed, standing at the end of the line of concerned superheroes.

Natasha looked each one of them in the eyes before taking a slow breath. “I was fine, that’s all you need to know.”

And she wasn’t telling them anything more than that, or at least, that’s what she’d claimed before stalking up to her floor without another word. Thor, still a little shaken and concerned, wandered up to her a few hours later. He found her sitting on the floor her ballet studio, the one with the floor to ceiling windows.

She’d pulled her hair up in a bun and changed into a black tank top and tulle skirt. She didn’t seem to be dancing, so Thor crept in and sat beside her without a word.

Natasha’s lips pursed, and her eyes (blue once more) shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m sorry if I scared you guys,” she whispered, nodding to the view of the city. The lights of New York bathed them both in a flickering glow. “I saw the storm.”

“I just wanted to know you were safe,” Thor said gently. He took a breath. “Where did you go?”

Natasha’s eyes flickered down to her hands, folded delicately in her lap. They cupped something Thor hadn’t noticed before. She unfurled her fists and revealed a crumpled photograph. A man and a woman, the latter with bright red hair. Thor knew it immediately; her parents.

A single tear rolled down Natasha’s cheek, like raindrops down a window. “They’re dead, like I thought,” she choked out, her voice no longer wanting to work.

Thor didn’t hesitate, wrapping her tight in his arms. A broken sob worked its way from her throat, the first of many. The dam broke, spilling all over Thor. His hands rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

“Why am I sad?” she asked him. He was older, surely that made him wiser? “I knew they were dead. I’ve always known.”

Thor shrugged. “Knowing and believing are two different things,” he explained, “When my mother died, I watched it happen. I knew she was gone, but it was weeks before I believed it.”

Natasha leaned back just enough for her head to rest on Thor’s shoulder. “You never talk about that,” she prompted, clearly wanting to steer the conversation back to him.

Thor understood, so, as hard as it was to talk about, he gave her that distraction. He took a shaky breath. He hadn’t had the heart or maybe the guts to say it out loud yet. “I’m the reason she’s dead.”

Natasha pulled back, immediately shaking her head. “That’s not true.”

Thor nodded, his face growing hot. “I didn’t figure out Malekith’s plan quickly enough,” he insisted, “I was too late to save her. I should’ve gone straight to her, not the prison.”

“You didn’t know,” Natasha gripped Thor’s wrist, her brows folded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. “I wish that were true,” he murmured.

Natasha didn’t try any more to convince him. Self hatred was an old friend, one she knew well. It would take more than her words to shake it loose of Thor. “We’re a pretty messed up bunch, aren’t we?” she asked.

“Me and you?”

“Us,” she repeated, “The Avengers.”

“You think of us as family, do you?” Thor asked, a bemused smirk on his lips. “The elusive Black Widow, part of a family.”

Natasha laughed once. She turned her eyes back to the city. “Well, if I’m part of a family, I’m glad it’s this one,” she said. There was a beat. Her words settled over the two of them, their implications growing roots. “It’s nice.”

Thor nodded. “New York is indeed very nice,” he agreed, looking out over the city.

“No, our family. It’s nice.”

Thor patted the soft tulle that covered Natasha’s knee. “It is.”

3 Tony

The lab was never quiet, so when Thor entered it to find it completely silent, he was understandably concerned. Weaving through the discarded supplies and haphazard tables strewn around the floor space, Thor searched for Tony. He’d been down in the lab for hours on end, and according to Jarvis, he hadn’t eaten since the morning before. The bite of déja vu gnawed at Thor. Loki used to do the same thing, holing up in his study for longer than he should have without sustenance.

“Stark?” he called, peering around the shelves, “You in…”

The words died on his lips and were replaced by an amused grin. He came closer to the mechanic, who lied on his table, covered by blue print paper and pencil. Quiet snores filled the air. Tony wore an old sweatshirt and pants, and was covered in oil and grease. His always impeccable hair was tousled and messy, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes.

The image knocked another memory loose in Thor’s mind. When Loki was younger and just beginning his studies, Thor would often find him in a similar position to Stark’s. Covered in ink, snoring, and utterly exhausted.

A soft smile tinged with grief on his face, Thor gently lifted Tony into his arms. He was unsurprisingly light and easy to carry, just like Loki had been. The genius didn’t stir. His head slumped over and rested on Thor’s chest. Thor chuckled under his breath, careful to keep quiet.

Thor maneuvered the two of them back to the elevator, and Jarvis opened the doors for them. The AI took them up to Tony’s floor. Thor stepped out into the corridor that housed the elevators.

Tony’s floor was just as messy as his lab, littered with sketches of ideas for new armors and food wrappers. But Thor didn’t notice that, he saw the pictures along the walls. There were so many, in big and small frames, lining every wall in the place. There were pictures of Tony and Pepper, Tony and Rhodey, Tony and the team. Thor laughed at a few of the shots that looked like they’d been taken by Jarvis. Game nights and sushi lunches, a beautiful image of Clint crying over Marley and Me.

Warmth spread through Thor’s chest. He thought back to what he and Natasha had discussed a few weeks earlier. About the Avengers being a family. Those pictures were testament to that. The snoring man in Thor’s arms was testament to that. Had he not been comparing him to his brother only minutes earlier?

Thor kept going, taking Tony straight to his bed. Guided by Jarvis’ gentle instructions, Thor found the bedroom. It was surprisingly simple. Just a big bed in the center of the room, a dresser and a nightstand, a closet. Thor placed Tony in the bed and tucked the covers around him. Tony, to Thor’s surprise, never even stopped snoring.

Thor left and came back with an apple from Tony’s half kitchen. He left it on the nightstand, along with a note. “Sleep well, Stark. If this apple isn’t eaten when you come back down, I swear on Valhalla, I will strike every car you own with lightning.”

(When he woke, Tony didn’t know whether or not to take the note seriously, so he presented a satisfied Thor with an apple core a few hours later.)

4 Steve

One of Thor’s favorite places on Midgard was the training room in the tower. It was sleek and modern, but worn enough to make it seem like home. He came down there often to clear his head or just get in a quick work out.

It was three in the morning when Thor entered the training center. He gently shut the door behind him, keeping quiet even though he was sure the room was empty. He crept to the dumbbells, and lifted the heaviest one he could find. It wasn’t hard, but it gave him something to do.

Thor fiddled with the weights for a little longer, but he nearly dropped one when he heard the door slam. Arching an eyebrow, he peered around the side of the shelves of weights. Steve marched straight to the punching bags, a scowl on his face. Thor watched him for another few moments, frowning slightly. The Captain didn’t even bother wrapping his knuckles before he slugged the canvas bag.

Thor tiptoed out, planning to let him have his privacy, but a sound caught his attention. Steve was crying.

Thor turned around on his toes, looking at Steve’s hunched shoulders with pity. He bit his lip, considering. “Steve?”

The sniffles and the smacks stopped. Steve’s shoulders straightened immediately, and he turned to look at Thor with a forced smile. “Hey, man. Why are you up so early?”

Thor gave him an unamused look, raised eyebrows and flat lips. “Drop the act, Rogers. What’s wrong?”

Steve’s lips trembled ever so slightly. “Nothing.”

“Steve.”

“Thor.”

Thor crossed his arms like Heimdall used to do to him when he was a rebellious teenager trying to sneak off-world. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he pointed out.

Thor wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to snap something in the soldier. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he let out a choked cry. “It’s nightmares,” he wept, “It’s always the war.”

Thor closed the gap between him with quick, sure steps. He clasped his hands on Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. Steve stood still in Thor’s arms, resting his forehead on his chest. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Thor held Steve at arm’s length. “Come with me. There’s better ways to work out your issues than ruining your hands.”

Thor led him up to the rooftop. The air was shockingly cold, and it cut right through the thin layers Steve and Thor were wearing. They walked over to the edge and sat with their legs hanging over the side.

“New York looked nothing like this when I knew it,” Steve said, his artist’s eyes drinking up every glittering detail of the city. “The buildings were nowhere near this tall.”

Thor listened patiently while Steve described the New York that had been his home. He shut his eyes, trying to imagine it. Steve could paint a picture with his words as easily as he could with ink and paper.

“When I left, I knew there was a possibility of me never coming back,” he said, his voice growing thicker with each word, “I never considered coming back…but to a different home.”

Thor patted Steve’s shoulder. “I wish I had some words of wisdom, my friend,” he said, “All I can suggest is to try and find some semblance of familiarity in this world. Find home.”

Steve was silent for a moment. “I didn’t have much family left when I went in the ice,” he whispered, “I have that now.”

Thor smiled. “Natasha told me that same thing once,” he revealed, “I believe you’re both right. This team is special.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “You can say that again. I’m sitting seventy years in the future with a god. This team is more than special.”

Thor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. What’d you say we head down to the training center? I’m feeling up for a spar.” Thor threw his legs back over the side of the building, and Steve did the same.

“When aren’t you up for a spar?” he joked, but he nodded anyway. “I think tonight I might finally beat you.”

“I don’t think you could come close, Captain.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

5 Bruce

Thor sat at the window of the Statesman, his eyes mapping out the constellations, trying desperately to find one he recognized. They’d been lost for a total of two days, which was coincidentally the same amount of time they’d been off Asgard. Food was running low, water even lower. Morale among the refugees was dismal.

One good thing had happened, though, and that was the return of Banner. Thor guessed the Hulk just wasn’t a fan of cramped space ships and had decided to let Bruce deal with it. Whatever the big guy’s reasoning was, Thor was glad to have the scientist back. They could use one more mind to help them figure out the mess they were in.

Speak of the devil. Thor heard the unmistakable shuffling footsteps of Bruce and turned to face him. He gave him a tired smile. “Hello, Banner. Trouble sleeping?”

Bruce shrugged. “You can say that,” he said, crossing the bay to stand above Thor. “Whatcha working on?”

Thor gestured lamely at the scattered maps and papers forming a halo around him. “Trying to find a way home. I could use some help, if you’re up for it.”

Bruce took a seat beside the king and picked up the paper nearest to him. He lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Are these supposed to be Earth’s stars?”

Thor glanced over at the map in Bruce’s hands. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “That’s the stars around Nidavellir.”

Bruce blew out a breath. “Do you have an idea of where we are?”

Thor looked back over to the stars outside the window. He held up his map, comparing its stars to the ones in front of him. “I believe we’re still in Asgard. But, the outskirts. We need to be in Midgard.”

“How far are we from Midgard?”

Thor tilted his head. “About 60 jumps, if my math is right.”

“That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Bruce sighed. The two men were silent for a moment. What could they say? They were hurtling through space in a ship with too many people and not enough food. They didn’t know where they were or how to get home. Really, Thor didn’t have a home and neither did the people on that ship.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Bruce said finally, picking at the hem of some Sakaarian pants they’d found in a closet. “I know that must be hard for you.”

Thor took a shaky breath and gave Bruce a tight lipped smile. “Thank you, Banner,” he said, “I haven’t had much time to mourn, I’m afraid.”

“Take it from the king of repressed feelings,” Bruce joked without humor, “You need to work through that. Five stages of grief, and all.”

Thor nodded. “I know. I think I should get my people somewhere safe before I do that, though.”

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe. If you ever need to talk, though…I’m here. And a break would do you good.”

Shoulders slumping, Thor let his maps fall to the floor. “You’re right,” he admitted. He paused, gathering his thoughts before he spoke again, “Am I wrong to be angry? My father…he did horrible things. He hid things from me, including my own powers. I used to want to be just like him, but now? Now I live in fear of doing just that.”

Bruce’s eyes were wide when Thor finished. He’d expected “I miss my dad”, not the emotional roller coaster Thor was going through.

“That’s…really…” he started awkwardly. When his words fell flat, he simply patted Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to say to that, man. Other than, it’s totally normal to not want to end up like your dad. The last thing I want to be like my father.”

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I idolized him,” he said, shaking his head, “I idolized a murderer.”

“Hey, you didn’t know,” Bruce said. “Maybe he’s not the best role model, but I’m sure he loved you.”

“He held me back because he was scared of what I could do,” he muttered, rolling a spark over his fingers with a frown, “Just like Hela. You know, when I was a child…my powers terrified me. And frankly, they still do. Now, to learn that my father was just as afraid as I am? It…Bruce, I’m so lost.”

Bruce watched as Thor sniffed and wiped a tear away from his eye. He took a breath. “You’ll get through it,” he said gently, “I know that it sucks right now. And you’re confused. But, you’ll figure it out. And you’ve got your family, remember? The Avengers, and Loki and Brunnhilde and Heimdall. You’re not alone.”

Thor smiled. “That’s true. No matter what happens…I’ll always have my family.”

+1

Thor was angrier than he should’ve been. They’d all been through so much that he didn’t really have the right to be angry. But, the heart wants what it wants, and right then, Thor’s heart wanted to be angry.

He struggled to keep a lid on it as he sat around the table with what was left of the team. What was left, since Tony was missing and even if he wasn’t, they weren’t a team anymore. They’d broken that news to him a few hours ago. That was the source of his anger.

And oh, was he angry.

“I think,” Steve was saying. Thor hadn’t been listening, caught up in an internal rant against all of them. They’d called themselves a family. Did Midgardians know nothing? “I think we should lay low for a while. The public isn’t going to like us very much.”

“I disagree,” Rhodes said, shaking his head, “They’re scared. They don’t know what’s going on. They’ll want an explanation.”

“They’ll want someone to blame,” Natasha countered, “The governments of the world are already working to explain what happened. We just fight the battles.”

“So, we leave them alone? To take what the government says as word and go on with their lives?” Bruce asked. “Uh-uh. They might not like you guys, but at the end of the day, they trust you. We were the last line of defense, and we failed. At the very least we should apologize.”

Thor felt himself nod, but perhaps his emotions were clouding his judgement. They were clouding the sky, too. He could feel a storm pulling at him outside, brewing in response to his own fury.

Steve clenched his jaw and looked at Thor. “What do you think?”

“I’m with Bruce and Rhodes,” Thor replied, “They deserve an explanation. People just watched their loved ones turn to ash, and they don’t want condolences. They want to feel vindicated.”

“And if they want revenge?” Natasha asked, tilting her head.

“We all want revenge,” Thor said, “Thanos took everything from me. Thanos took everything from you, and you, and you, and you. Everyone is angry. They want someone to be angry with, not at.”

Steve shook his head almost subconsciously. “I disagree—“

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” Thor snapped, unable to stop his bitterness from turning to words. He set his jaw. “All of you…you love to fight with each other, don’t you?”

Natasha huffed. “That has nothing to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with this,” Thor insisted, “We were a team, a family. Now look at us. This wouldn’t have happened if we were together. You said it yourself, Rogers. If we lose, we lose together, but it wasn’t true.”

Thunder cracked across the sky, loud enough to make the table shake. Thor couldn’t do anything to stop it, try as he may. He pushed back from the table, scowling. “I have nothing left,” he tried to snarl, but it came out broken instead. Rain fell to the ground outside, gentle and melancholy. “You know what I thought, when I realized that my family was gone? I thought, at least I have the team. But now…I don’t even have that.”

No one said anything. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Their gazes trained on anything but Thor.

“Let me know what you decide,” he muttered, turning on his heel and marching towards the elevator, “Don’t come after me.”

The storm didn’t stop. Violent and furious, destructive and heartbreaking. The argument downstairs had turned into awkward silence as everyone weighed Thor’s words. Deep down, everyone knew he was right. What happened two years earlier never should have. No matter which side they were on. It was a painfully long hour before Bruce spoke.

“I’m going to get him,” he announced, looking at his friends, “Who’s coming with me?”

Steve didn’t look up from his lap. “I think we have to.”

Natasha just stood, expecting the rest of them to do the same, which they did. “Where is he, Friday?” she asked, turning her eyes to face the ceiling.

“The training center, Miss Romanov.”

The training was on the bottom floor. It was a large glass walled room with every piece of work out equipment available. To the remaining rogue’s surprise, it was still fitted to their own tastes. With batons and ballet equipment for Natasha, old canvas punching bags for Steve.

They shared a look. Thor was growing more and more right by the second.

Rhodes led the way, heading straight for the high impact stuff. Thor was there, as expected, pounding out on some poor dummy. Lighting was wrapped around his fists, and no one could tell if it was on purpose.

Bruce shivered. If he had to guess, he’d say Thor’s powers were making the room colder. He stepped in pace with Rhodes, but they had all stopped a few feet away from Thor. Bruce looked back at Steve and Natasha.

“Should I?” he mouthed.

They both nodded.

The scientist took a deep breath. “Thor?” he asked, wringing his hands together.

The steady thud of his fists hitting the cotton and leather stopped. Shoulders heaving, Thor turned to face the visitors with a scowl. “I told you not to follow me.”

“You’re right,” Steve said, standing a little straighter. “We’re a family, and what happened…it wasn’t right. We were all—I was at fault.”

Thor shook his hands at his sides, to clear the lightning or to ease the pain no one could tell. “It’s just…your lives are so short. Why do you fill them with fighting?”

Steve glanced at his boots. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

Thor unraveled the messy tape on his knuckles. “It’s just not worth it.” He tossed a balled up piece of tape over to the side, then gave the four of them a half smile. “But, you can’t change what happened, can you? And I know…what happened was a mutual thing. But, promise me something, okay?”

Natasha nodded before he’d even finished. “What?”

“Promise me we’ll always be a family,” Thor said, his voice breaking slightly, “I know it’s childish, but I can’t lose anything else.”