fossilised | It's AU time

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.

“I can do the ADA upgrades myself,” Thor said with a definitive nod. He and his buddies did a lot of contracting work on the side when they weren’t at the firehouse on call. It was better than a gym membership and they had a little income on the side. Thor had always been a natural builder. He followed in their father’s footsteps there, as his family owned a large natural building company in Tromsø called ODIN. They did most woodwork in the more traditional sense, but Thor had never shied away from other forms of construction either.

Putting in a ramp would be easy. Lowering all of the countertops would be less so. Loren would have to hire some help now too, but considering all of the mess Manhattan was in, he figured that finding cheap labor would be easy now.

“Though… Telling our parents ought to be something we do together if you do not wish to tell them alone. Mother will be on a plane to America as soon as the international flights restrictions are lifted. I can not protect you from that, brother.”

Loren would not be hiring any help, his stubborn pride would not allow it, he would struggle on alone as he had always done. The shop was his, and if he had to have reduced hours in order to continue keeping it that way, then that's what he would do, but he wouldn't have additional people in there with him. He hadn't considered how he might cope doing the more physical things like stocking the shelves, or taking deliveries, or even cleaning the shop on a night.

"What use are you if you cannot even do this simple thing for me," Loren groused, he did not want to tell either of his parents that news. He didn't want Freja to come all the way to America to fuss over him, even if a tiny part of him actually wanted that more than anything.

"Fine, give me your phone, at least I'll do this while the drugs make it likely I will forget the conversation tomorrow."

Thor was going to regret this. His phone still wasn’t working properly as there were no active cell towers that weren’t military based in the city thanks to the EMP that took the grid down, but landlines were working just fine and Thor used the phone in Loren’s room to dial home. Yes, he agreed to the charges, yes, he’d accept a small hold while the other party was tried—

He was not expecting his mother to begin screaming at him the moment her end was connected, though. Evidently he ought to have attempted to call her days ago and let her know that her sons were all right. What was he thinking making her wait until New Years Eve? Didn’t he know how worried she’d been?

Thor actually dropped the phone, and when he scrambled to pick it up again, she was still yelling at him. It was terrifically terrifying and he stared at Loren with big, wide blue eyes as if begging for help.

Loren felt an ache in his chest when he heard his mother's voice, even tinny and through the phone screaming at Thor. He missed her, he was probably the epitome of what people considered a mother's boy and he would never apologise for it. She had always been the sole rock of affection in his life, and he would love her always for it.

He sighed at Thor's dramatics and reached out to take the phone from him, putting it to his own ear and slipping into smooth Norwegian.

"Mother, cease shouting, it makes it difficult to hold a conversation with you. Thor apologises for not contacting you before, the telephone system in New York has been unreliable and he cannot be blamed for that. But he is fine, hale and healthy as ever, most likely a hero from rescuing those who had become trapped during the incidents. And I have news of my own, Mother, I am engaged to Anthony."

Though she might never have met him, she had been the only one to whom Loren had confided that he had been in a relationship at all, telling her about his mechanic over letters and telephone calls for more than a year now. Hopefully this good news of both of them would soften her.

Edited 2017-04-20 11:43 (UTC)

Freja’s entire demeanor changed at the news and though she was a frightening woman when angered, she was intensely loving and proud of her sons in all that they did. That Thor was heroic was a given. Her son was strong and good hearted. He might not be clever, but he was an asset to humanity as a whole and how many mothers could say that about their children?

Loren’s news, however, made her happier still. “It is about time that man did right by you,” she said, since she was a mother first before all else and her boys ought to have the world handed to them on a platter if they demanded it. “And I am pleased that you agreed. You’ll bring him to Norway this summer. Your excuses are no longer valid. I must meet this man.”

She was making it harder for her son to tell her the true purpose of his call, but she could not stop herself brimming with an eager pride.

“I hope to convince you to have children. I miss babies and your father tells me he is much too old to have a toddler dashing about.”

He had never discussed the possibility of children with Anthony, but he was not the most paternal of people and he did not think that Anthony was either. Perhaps it was something that lay in their future, but he certainly would not be giving any promises to his mother. That he was getting married was enough, and it sent warmth through him to have her approval.

But he could see Thor sat off to one side, and he could not ignore or pretend that there was no other reason for his call. At least he wouldn't have to see the way her face crumpled, or if there was pity there where he would hate to see it.

"I do not know if I will be able to fly by this summer, I have much that needs doing here." He didn't know how long he had to be in hospital, and then there would be physical therapy and learning to use the chair, all the adaptions to his home and work... "I am in the hospital. Please do not panic, the danger has passed and I will be f-- I will live. The convention centre I had travelled to for the day in Manhatten did not escape the carnage that I know you have heard about, and I sustained injuries to my stomach and spine." He hated this, he hated it with every fibre of his being. "I will not walk again."

“You’ll get a second opinion,” Freja said immediately. “I don’t trust American doctors. There will be something to be done, and if there is not, we will have a European doctor attest to the fact.” Her voice was stern for that little speech before she sighed and seemed to verbally hug her youngest. “Loren, I’ll be out to see you as soon as we are allowed. I know you have your brother and your fiancé to help you through this difficult time, but I trust myself more than I trust either of them.”

Her husband did not need her to stay and though he would wish to come with her, she would tell him to stay behind. Her youngest and her husband did not always see eye to eye and Loren spent much of his life living in jealousy of Thor. During his convalescence, she only wanted Loren to concentrate on being healthy and not on being certain that Olaf saw him in the best light.

“Have they yet discovered who did the attacks, Loren? The news has been mostly speculation but I feel something more will come.” Call it’s a mother’s sense or woman’s intuition. Freja did not believe in the supernatural or precognition but she often knew when something was about to happen.

She believed that to be simply because she was well informed and logical, however.

"American doctors are perfectly legitimate, mother," replied Loren, with a small sigh. Though he loved her, and he appreciated that she was concerned and immediately looking out for him, he hated that her first thought was that this must be fixed for it would be unthinkable for him to be in a chair for the rest of his life. It prickled, and he was dangerously close to taking offence even from her, not a thing that happened often. "The doctor that operated on me saved my life, and I will not be poked and prodded for no reason."

He wasn't going to tell her not to come, however, even he knew that would be wasted breath. It seemed that Anthony may have to run the gamut of his mother before either of them had anticipated it being necessary.

"I do not wish to think ahead to attacks that may not come again, not until I have looked into these ones properly. Anthony is bringing me a laptop so that I may work, and Thor will be altering my shop to allow me to continue working."

Just putting that out there so that she knew he would not be amenable to any strong suggestions that he should move back to Norway.

Though Loren tended not to listen fully, Freja would have understood if her son grew angry with her. She was not trying to force health upon him, she just did not trust the doctors he had. Then again, one might argue that no one should ever take a first opinion. Checking and double checking, getting new eyes on the topic, were all important.

His mother held her tongue about her son’s loyality and where he would want to stay. For now. She would very likely press Anthony Stark to move her son home, subtly. She might be loud and fierce in her anger but her subterfuge was anything but.

Listening to the information that Loren had gleaned, she told him she loved him and asked him to put Thor back on the phone. She was less angry this time but she did threaten him mildly to take care of his brother. Thor sighed. “He will be well cared for until his stubbornness kicks in,” he added, glancing at Loren in hopes that his brother would not flare up at him. “I will keep you informed, Ma. I promise.”

Loren contented himself with a glare when his nature was brought up, but the rigours of being awake even such a short time and the morphine were sending him back to a slumber that he couldn't fight. He missed the end of Thor's conversation, deeply asleep by the time the phone was hung up. He missed Anthony returning from the cafeteria and being told that Mrs. Odinson was on her way to America just as soon as she could get a flight out, and he missed Anthony falling asleep beside him some time later.

Across town it had been two days since Bucky returned home and had that serious conversation with Steve, since he had promised to do something about his PTSD and not ignore it any more, and things had been... better. It was amazing how fast the world was moving on, fixing things, and forcing life to go back to normal. The subways had finally been repaired enough for a basic service to resume, and Steve had been frantically called in because apparently the tattoo studio was rammed with young and rich people who wanted tattoos to 'remind themselves that every day was precious' or in 'memory of this tragedy', when none of them had even been anywhere near it. Simply appropriating it for their own sense of self worth.

It would be getting fairly late when his boss poked her head in the room where he would be doing a consultation with a twenty year old girl who wanted a shooting star with the words 'never 4get' in cursive underneath, and who was resisting any advice to maybe get the lettering done a bit thinner, or that 'forget' was usually not spelled '4get'.

"Steve? You've got six more before I can let you go home, you okay with that? Your next one is a real dish, shame he's come here."

She wasn't under any illusions of the sort of people her parlour attracted. Handsome, but usually vapid and annoying.

Steve was exhausted. He hadn’t wanted to come in, mostly because Bucky was so adamant about it, but he found that he didn’t fear the subway like he thought he might and the strange quiet of military occupied streets didn’t bother him as much as he thought it might. New York had never looked worse…or felt safer.

When Mickey poked her head in, Steve sighed. He smiled at the girl across from him and mentioned that her session had been over ten minutes ago. “I’ll have to charge you for another hour of consultation if we don’t wrap this up.” He ultimately let her take her badly spelled and typeset tattoo out to the main room for the ‘artists’ to trace and then ink on her about three minutes later.

Steve shook out his hands, spun his chair around twice, and set out a fresh set of papers. His pencils were sharpened and he stood up with an ache in his legs to poke his head out from the curtain and smile towards the row of seats.

“Happy New Year, you can come in now. I’m Steve Rogers…”

Bucky still wasn't good about leaving the house, but something about knowing he could if he felt it was truly necessary had given him a bit more backbone about it. Besides, the streets and the subway were quiet, easier for him to navigate, which was how he found himself actually sat in the waiting room of Steve's tattoo parlour.

Despite the slight nervous creases around his eyes, his smile was genuine as he stood up and followed Steve into the room.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers," he murmured, hint of a tease in his voice. "I'm James Barnes, and I'm here for an initial consultation? I have some scar tissue that I want covering up, and there's only one artist I'd trust to do it."

He was serious about this whole moving on crap, and he could barely bear to look at himself in the mirror some days with the scars and the stump. Maybe if he concealed what he could with art then it would become beautiful to him again. Assuming they could even tattoo over the scars safely.

Steve just blinked up at Bucky before his face lit up and he squeezed the offered hand too tightly. In his blue collared shirt and neatly parted hair, Steve looked more like the IT guy than the resident artist of the shop, but his office was certainly more like a studio than even his studio at home. He made sure to tie the curtains closed behind Bucky, not that it would really keep anyone out, but he double knotted it just the same.

“That so? Can I see what I’m working with?”

He didn’t mind being a little cheeky here at all, the corners of his lips tilting up as he offered Bucky a seat and got him a glass of ice water with lemon and limes in it. How refreshing1 Nevermind that it was still freezing out. Mickey was particular about her client experience.

Bucky stared at the glass of water and then up at Steve with a raised eyebrow as if to ask what sort of place this was, before he just grabbed the front of that blue collared shirt and pulled him down to kiss him, briefly but passionately.

"What the hell is this supposed to be, Steve? Do your normal clients really want lemon and lime water? Seriously?"

He might be trying to pull Steve down onto his lap in an entirely unprofessional way, not even coming close to taking off his hoodie, shirt, or prosthetic.

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