fossilised | It's AU time

Right here in this moment was why they worked well together, and why they had lasted beyond a mere few nights of passionate sex. It was an understanding that did not need to be spoken. Loren understood Anthony's need to both revile and surpass the ghost of his father, he did not question it, he merely accepted it. And Anthony understood that Loren detested pity above all things, yet craved affection in a thorny maze to navigate.

Thor did not manage so well, he would be all bluster and comfort and support. Meant well, but in a way that would surely put Loren's back up. Anthony only talked about tricking out his wheelchair, as if nothing had really changed.

"I am glad you left, then," he murmured, the soft look in his eyes and the way he squeezed Anthony's hand thanking him for being there, for his support and love, without saying as much. "I did not need to add nausea thanks to your stench to my impressive list of maladies. Tell me-- were you hurt? I recall looking up at you and seeing blood."

Tony shrugged with half his face. The new bandage on his forehead was hidden by hair he had not bothered to slick back anyway. “A little bit of smoke inhalation, a little bit of bleeding, but that’s my usual Saturday anyway so don’t worry about it.” He nudged the pudding cup that Loren had left idle on the moving bed table just a little closer. “If you don’t eat this, I will. It’s not pizza but pudding cups used to be my jam when I was a kid and I’ve never quite gotten over them. Even if they have a weird, no-need-to-be-refrigerated vibe to them that just don’t sit with adult me quite so nicely.”

At least Loren wasn’t in despair at the moment. Tony knew that would come later until he was strong enough to cope with his injury on his own and could take back his independence. And that might take a long time. He had scrawny arms, but a will that could not be broken. Not even by this.

Tony was going to have to install an internal elevator to the shop so that Loren could get up to the apartment. He’d have to lower countertops and electrical switches too. He’d have to modify the bathroom—

But honestly, there was no better person for Loren to be with during all of this. Tony was handy and had an aesthetic eye. Their place was going to look amazing.

Despair and anger probably wouldn't come until he recovered enough to start wanting to get out of bed, and then it would sink in that he could no longer do that without help. Could not do many things without help until he had learned how, until he had built up his upper body strength. For now, in the bed, it all seemed a little too surreal to take that seriously.

"That is because you have no taste."

Loren pushed the pudding cup back at Anthony, quite happy to get rid of it on someone else now that he had tasted what foulness lurked beneath the foil lid.

"Tell me what has happened out there, and what is being done now. I dislike being ignorant, and I am certain that if Thor arrives then it will only be to annoy me beyond reason."

This was a difficult thing to be true about because Tony had only seen snippets of the news and, for once, hadn’t tried to pry information out of everyone he was passing. He’d put the news on in the background as he showered and downed a cup of coffee, but there had only been speculation and replays of what everyone was starting to call New York Fright Night.

When he spoke to Loren, it was gently and without sugar coating. He knew that not having answers would likely drive Loren up the wall, but he could only offer his own experience in the matter and say that the rest of the world each had a different opinion.

“I saw footage on the news about weird crafts appearing all over the city on Friday just before dusk. It looked like something out of Star Wars actually, these little pods racing around the bigger ships. What caused all the mess was people, though. They rioted and planted bombs-- They tried to mass evacuate the city, and you can guess how that went. Manhattan went insane so I figured that I’d come to give you a lift and maybe cancel dinner. It took me until after midnight to find you at the convention center. We patched you up, me and Banner, and the military brought you here when they found us. A whole lot of people died. Most of Manhattan is shut down. It’s sort of nuts.”

He didn’t mention Bucky or Steve. He didn’t mention watching people die.

“And your brother will probably be back soon. He probably is getting some sleep. He looked like death warmed over earlier.”

It took Loren a little while longer than he might like to parse the story being told to him, but he was still him beneath the morphine and therefore absorbed the information like a sponge. Anthony was correct that he didn't like not having all the pieces, but that would give him something to do while he lounged around in bed like a fool. He would find the answers.

"I doubt he is sleeping, he has likely gone to fuck his woman to relieve stress instead, Thor does not understand the benefits of proper rest."

He shifted a little in the bed, trying to move his legs without success, and then focused on Anthony again, green eyes somehow managing to be sharper even in the few minutes since they had come together again.

"I require the following things, Anthony, if I am not to sink into death here. A laptop with a decent running speed, news on my bookshop, clothes that are not backless, and for you to turn down the morphine drip."

"I can get the laptop. I'll bring you one of mine with a sat card." Manhattan was still mostly a dead zone. Whatever EMP had taken out all electronics had still not yet been found. The source was unknown. The radius was massive. Tony was pretty sure that Loren would figure that out for himself. He obviously wanted to do a little research into the matter and Tony would let him enjoy that.

News about the bookshop was easy too since Tony passed it on the way home to the shop. Brooklyn had been left alone, unlooted, unmolested. Another day or panic or so might have changed that but the world outside of Manhattan was just fine.

People were already moving on.

But the morphine drip--

"You had a foot long spike of glass through your stomach. I kind of think you should have the pain killer you can safely get," Tony grunted, even as he reached for the IV to halve the drip.

"It dulls my thought processes, I would rather the discomfort than being unable to think." Loren found the greatest comfort in his intelligence, was rather arrogant about it, and prized it as what made him worthwhile as a person. He was not as strong nor handsome as his brother, not so honest or kind as Steve Rogers, not so effervescent as his boyfriend, and not so brave as a wounded soldier. But he was intelligent, more than mostly anyone he knew, and he could not bear to have that dulled.

He reached out to take hold of Anthony's hand once more, long pale fingers winding around tanned ones with callouses from working on engines all day.

"I meant what I said, Anthony, and I do not like repeating myself. If you are not to be running for the hills, then our names should be joined."

Apparently he had been serious about angling for a proposal, and was not subtle or romantic about it.

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled his hand out of Loren’s. “First of all, we aren’t going to join our names. I could never be an Odinson and you’re too proud of yourself to be a Stark.” He shooed his injured boyfriend over in bed and, kicking off his black and white converse sneakers, crawled into bed beside him. It wasn’t made for two, but Loren was skinny and Tony never listened to safety measures. Ever.

He immediately took Loren’s hand again, shoulder to shoulder, offering his own for the other man should he wish to lean his cheek upon it. That was an anyone’s guess sort of thing. Sometimes Loren let himself be vulnerable. Sometimes he refused to seem even one iota weak.

“Secondly, the word in English is getting married. You just moved in with me, you hate that I leave towels on the floor of the bathroom and you get mad if I put the pizza away still in the box instead of wrapped in foil. As if that matters. And now you want to marry me?”

He scoffed and then lifted his left side up before he fished out a green velvet box two shades darker than Loki’s eyes and set it on the rolly table in front him.

“I mean, if you want people to call you crazy…fine. I’m down for it.” He’d actually been carrying it around since Thanksgiving. He just hadn’t found the right time to hand it over and ask…and he really hadn’t wanted to be rejected.

Loren would never have demanded this of Anthony if he had not been so full of medication as for it to not seem like a bad idea. Of course he had thought of marriage before, he knew that Anthony was his and he had wanted to make certain that he remained his for the rest of their lives. But he had not brought it up for the same reason that Anthony had not asked yet-- he feared to be rejected.

They both projected such an air of confidence in themselves, and yet they were both desperately fearful of losing what little affection they had managed to cultivate that was theirs and theirs alone. To have been turned down would not be a blow that either would be able to recover from, and so seeing the small green box tilted Loki's lips up slightly.

"I can train you out of those habits, Anthony," he murmured in perfect confidence, reaching out to take the box and snap it open to look at what was within. "You do not have fault enough to keep me from accepting this ring and joining you in being married."

There, see, he knew the English word for it now, though he butchered the pronunciation slightly in his lilting Nordic accent.

“It’s a good thing that you’re adorable or I would be offended,” Tony snorted. He could not be trained. Good luck, Loren. That would be one of those points of contention between them. Tony would always have to be reminded to pick up after himself and Loren was going to have to let it go once in awhile or just do it himself. Or hire a cleaning service to pop over once a week seeing as how he was less mobile now.

He watched Loren look at the simple diamond band. Tony had contemplated going for something more Victorian or more Nordic, something old or antique, something with a different series of stones, but he had settled on some intricate scrollwork on the band itself and large oval diamonds fit in flush around the perimeter. It had been brushed to look antique without actually being antique and was about as unique as could be.

Tony designed it and paid a jeweler to make it happen.

“I hope it’s too flashy for you so that you get distracted and leave me alone from your constant nagging sometimes,” Tony said, before venturing a soft, “so you’ll marry me, then?”

It was beautiful, and seeing it struck Loren with how long Anthony must have been preparing for this moment. He had not simply wished up a ring when Loren decided they should marry, he had designed and carried one around with him in the hope of giving it to Loren one day, and that was touching.

He slipped it onto his left hand with a smile that said how much he loved Anthony, even if his words were a quiet tease.

"Only for a green card, I hope you understand." Though it only lasted a moment before he leaned over to kiss Anthony, voice even quieter for his fiance's ears alone. "I love you, I will apologise now for the monster I am sure to become soon enough, for I will not apologise then."

“As long as I can hold it against you, we’re good,” Tony grinned, crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he watched Loren admire the ring. He didn’t have to say that he appreciated the craftsmanship. Tony knew he did. Just like he knew that they would be going through hell and back for the next year or so. And that was all right. Tony was more resilient than a lot of people thought.

Loren would have dreams when he next allowed himself to sleep and Tony had gone off to fetch a laptop and take pictures on his phone of the things in Loren’s store that he needed to see to feel better about leaving it closed. Dreaming of his older brother probably was not the most appreciated thing for poor Loren to experience, but he looked different enough from the clean shaven fire fighter than perhaps he would forgive his subconscious.

Bearded, older seaming and with a thick mane filled with braids, Thor leaned in towards Loren with a frown on his lips and in the blue of his eyes. “Listen carefully.” Of course, that was followed by a fuzzing blur of sight and sound, Thor almost seeming as if he was made of static, waiving in and out like bad reception. “Rip…you must…reverse the effect…vig…Stark…and…away from the…trust so that…remember—“

Loren would wake to his brother messing around on his phone, hair pulled back in a low bun and eyes much more calm then in his dream.

Loren was used to unusual dreams, they happened to everyone once in a while, but this seemed different from most. It was vivid and broken all at the same time, like a television just out of tune, and he ached to bang the screen until both audio and picture aligned at they were meant to.

"Wait, Thor, say that again. I did not--"

--get to finish his sentence, for he awoke with a jolt to see Thor playing with his phone. A shudder of pain ripped through him and, for a moment, he greatly regretted telling Anthony to reduce his dose of morphine for the agony was much more than he had anticipated it being. But a moment or two of breathing deeply allowed it to ebb slightly into something just manageable.

"Thor," he reached out, urgent from the dream, speaking in rapid Norwegian for there was no need to use English when it was just the two of them. "I saw you, you were speaking to me, but I did not catch it. A rip, and something regarding Anthony."

Loren had actually spoken outloud, and in English, to the dream Thor which had made the actual Thor look up, startled, like he hadn’t expected his brother to say anything, much less something so strangely cryptic. His eyebrows shot up even higher when Loren started going on about-- Well, he wasn’t sure. “Stark? Calm yourself!” He, too, opted for Norwegian, but only because Loren was going on it in and he sometimes had trouble getting hs mind to snap from one language to the other. Norwegian had stopped being his ‘default’ some time ago.

He rose, slipping his phone into his pocket, before he took Loren’s hand and plopped into the chair left beside him.

“I am here now. There is no rip, though the damage to the city is extensive and there was a great loss of life. Stark is fine. I saw him in passing on the government and military controlled streets. He mentioned that he was going to take photos of the store—“ Thor’s thumb brushed over the ring. He frowned. Loren never wore jewelry. “Where did you find this?”

Though it took a few moments for him to wake up fully, Loren felt foolish for having spouted about his dream to Thor as though it were of any consequence. It was a dream, what should it matter whether a bearded and braided version of his brother said something about Anthony?

"I did not find it," he said, twisting his hand so that Thor may better see the ring on display. "Anthony and I became engaged to wed earlier today, he has given me this ring as a symbol of that pledge."

Thor had, at least, met Anthony a few more times since that first dinner. He had assisted in the move for them to live in the same apartment, though Loren had taken care that Thor did not get to spend too much time with Anthony, still somewhat afraid of losing him to the usually more popular Odinson.

"He is not afraid of the disfigured and useless creature that I have become."

It wasn’t Thor’s plan to look at Loren as if he had two heads, but the blond could not help himself. He’s known Tony for all of four days now. He’d been brought to Christmas dinner, then Thor had helped to move Loren into his apartment the following day and two days after that, the whole world went insane. It hadn’t even hit New Years Day yet. That little spot on the calendar was still one day away. “Are you certain this is not being done in haste?”

He had to ask. He worried over his brother. Stark had seemed independently wealthy, but Thor did not want his little brother taken advantage of in any way. And this was the first time he’d ever gotten to protect him, too, from another person in this way. He’d never once thought that Loren had any interest in any human being! How could he be denied a little reservation over some man whom he had just met suddenly whisking him away?

Thor seemed to forget that engagements did not signal that a wedding was happening on the marrow, however.

“You should rest before you tie yourself to anyone!”

Loren could not help the swell of annoyance at Thor for his thoughtlessness. Not only did he not argue that Loki had become a thing with no use to him, but he had not offered his congratulations on something that Loren had not thought would ever happen for him. He took his hand away sharply, voice a biting hiss.

"It is not done in haste, we have known one another for a long time and have been together for over a year. That you have only just met him is of no consequence to our relationship, or do you perhaps believe that your relationship of taking a woman to bed and declaring yourself in love with her after mere weeks is what I should be aiming for instead?"

The one sure fire way to get Loren to dig in his heels about anything was to suggest he may have made a rash or wrong decision, Thor perhaps should have known that by now.

Confused as to why Loren was angry with him, Thor frowned, head tilted like a great puppy. “No-- You misunderstand. I want the best for you. Stark seems pleasant with a means to care for you properly-- This is difficult for me, Loren. Too much is happening all at once and it is as if the end of the world is indeed on the horizon. I wish you to only think carefully—“

Thor found himself and his frustration hard to manage and he stood up from his seat. He was unaware that Loren was focused on the perceived slight of not being told he was deformed (he was not, Thor was not going to even acknowledge that he had said such a disgusting thing). He paced for a moment and then headed to the door.

“I will return when I am not angry. It is not directed towards you. I wish to share in your joy-- And I will. As soon as I am able to quell whatever fire is in my belly.” Thor might have been a little jealous. He felt himself a failure at being a brother so intensely at times. And this was one of those times.

Loren was too quick to see a slight, especially so when he was already angry, and so he saw another in the way that Thor assumed that he might marry only to have someone care for him. For he surely could not care for himself now, pathetic and weak and broken as he was, those were the meanings he took from his poor brother's innocent words, and twisted them to meet the expectations of his own mind.

"Do not return at all," he spat, fury only rising. "If you cannot congratulate me, or even look at me without seeing something broken, then get out and stay gone, I do not want you near me."

Poor Thor often took the brunt of Loren's temper, though he was in truth the one person that Loren loved above all others. Perhaps even more than Anthony, he could not truly imagine his life without his older brother. They simply had a difficult relationship, love and jealousy too tightly entwined to untangle.

Stay and fight and make things worse or leave and fester and make things worse. Those were his options. Thor felt his jaw tighten "I will be back tomorrow. You can not keep me out," he said, menacing. He didn't mean to be but he was so angry that he had to punctuate his statement with a point of the finger stabbed to the air. "I love you, Loren," he barked, voice harsh. "But you drive me mad. I have work to do."

He would leave his brother to stew for awhile while he went out to hit walls apart with sledge hammers. It was a very manly way to get his mind off of his poor brother.

One whom no one told him was paralyzed.

Loren did not have the luxury of hitting walls with sledgehammers, or hitting anything for that matter, and so he had to content himself with giving all the nurses who came to his bedside a tongue lashing. He reduced one of them to tears, and then another to declare she would not treat him any longer, it was not one of his finest afternoons as a person.

By the time Thor came back the next day, he would be significantly mellowed because the doctor had come around and fixed his morphine drip back to the correct dosage. It still didn't stop him from scowling at Thor when he entered, determined to get his back up even as he walked in.

"Come to tell me further how I need someone to care for me now that I have become crippled, my brother?"

Poor Thor, that's probably not how he wanted to find out.

Thor too was in a less likely to anger mood, his fuse lengthening with rest he was forced into by the fire chief. Having slept for nearly twelve hours, he was much more refreshed to return to speaking with his brother. It would not do him too good, however.

Stark was in the cafeteria, the two had passed each other in the hall now that Loren was no longer in the intensive care unit, and Thor had nearly crushed his hand in a congratulatory shake. Tony was still recovering and balancing his tray on his single good hand while trying to figure out how to pay with bruised fingers.

"Don't hide your stupidity behind a hospital stay," Thor muttered to Loren before it occurred to him that his brother wasn't just being dramatic. The big, dumb oaf blinked at Loren before he seemed to shrink back. "What-- what do you mean-- what have the doctors told you?!"

Thor had not known? No, of course he hadn't, he was incapable of this sort of deception and the horror on his face could not be faked. Which meant that the slights he had given yesterday were either lesser, for he had not meant anything by his words, or greater, for he thought that Loren needed caring for even if his body had been sound. He wavered between greater and lesser offence for a few moments, before finally sighing and letting his anger drain away.

"The doctors did not tell you? There is permanent injury to my spine, I shall not walk again in this lifetime. My legs are all but useless, I cannot feel nor move them of my own volition."

Was it any wonder that he had become touchy about thinking himself disfigured and useless?

Thor crossed the distance in two great strides, hand falling to his brother's cheek in that touchy way he had had since they were in their teens. His thumb stroked the length of a snowy white jaw before he settled down in the space Stark had been. "I did not know," he said softly, in their native tongue. There was sorrow in his eyes, less for the injury and more for his insensitivity. "But all is not lost. Your shop still stands intact, as does your home, and most importantly, the gods did not rip you from me."

Norwegians weren't exactly the religious sort. Some might have been Christian and maybe some even pagan, but the old gods of their ancestors were strong enough in their cultural memory to invoke them sometimes. And obviously, their parents named him after one, as did thousands of other parents each year. It was still a popular name in Scandenavia.

"Tell me any and all things that you need and I will have them here or perform the task immediately." Loren forever had his heart. He might share his body with others but none would he ever love more than his brother.

There had been a time when affection had been the province of Thor and Freja alone, only to his adopted mother and brother had he given the more vulnerable sides of him. Now that circle had extended to add another, Anthony, and yet it was still Thor who could wipe away the prickly walls with the right touch and right words. If anyone else had said these things, he would have flared up, but he knew Thor said them from a place of love and so he simply tilted his cheek slightly into that touch.

"There is a step into my shop, that will need to be replaced with a ramp. The counter and coffee making areas will need to be lowered so that I may still use them with ease, I do not know if the bookcases will need to be placed further apart."

He refused to give up the little bookshop that he loved so dearly. It did not make him a fortune, but it was his and he would run it with or without the use of his legs.

"...and you shall need to call our parents and tell them of this."

He could not bear to speak to their mother, she could tear down his defences with ease and would have him sobbing when he did not wish to. Nor could he bear to speak to their father, he feared earning only disappointment there. There had been a rift between them ever since Loki had hit his teenage years and demanded to find his birth family, something that they tried to keep from him because of the abusive nature of his early life, but he had been determined and many fights had been the result.

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