#both an ic update and a starter because yeah. who else would drag his sorry ass home

[wariodemambo]

@queenshokora

❝ Ow. O—ow. OW— ❞

He can't even remember how he got home, and he had the sinking suspicion that his bike was stuck in the middle of nowhere... All he could recall was hitting the ground, and waking up on his couch with ice packs galore.

... He BETTER receive his money after that. If he didn't, he'd probably give that pizza weirdo a beating of similar proportions. How the HELL was he supposed to go against a guy who could swing him like a ragdoll? Pizzahead was a jerk for throwing him into the fire without any sort of preparation.

He pushed his body up to a couple more winces, forcing his body to depart from the couch. But everything hurt. So he just kind of. Face plants onto the ground instead. Remaining completely static.

❝ Pfffffbtbtbtbt. ❞ He 'spoke' into his apartment's carpet. He's just. Going to lie here a bit. Yeah. ❝ D'ooooh... ❞

[beccarooni]

Ice Planet - Chapter 2

(The full version of chapter 2 of ice planet! Sorry for the wait, trying to sort out uni life is tough but I hope you enjoy this full version. I’ll try to update a little more regularly now x) Somehow, they’d gotten onto the topic of stories.

It had come up somewhere between the end of Heimdall’s call and them settling in for the night, while the two had been raiding the ships cupboards for blankets and supplies to make their first night just a tad less dire. Thor had to hand it to them, they made a pretty good pair of vultures. Within a few hours of searching Thor had found some kind of Sakaarian tea, and with some experimenting that would make Bruce proud (or, more likely horrified, given that the experiment was “drink it and see what happens, blondie”) it had proven to be quite enjoyable. With their hands warmed by mugs, and their bodies pillowed by the copious amounts of blankets Hulk had dumped on the floor, they’d settled in for a night of rest. 

“Blondie know any stories?” 

Hulk’s voice dragged him forcefully out of the nap he’d been rapidly approaching, and he sat up with a small frown. 

“Why do you want to know?” He rubbed at a particularly tender spot on the back of his head, looking over to where Hulk’s eyes watched him from beneath a veritable mountain of blankets. 

The mound moved as Hulk shrugged his shoulders, burrowing slightly deeper out of sight. 

“Like stories before sleep. Angry girl told good ones before fights. Helps, sometimes.” 

“You…” Thor paused, quickly lifting his mug up to his face to hide the grin that was rapidly approaching. “You - the Hulk, Champion of Sakaar - would like me, Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, to read you a bedtime story?” 

“Yes.”

Thor pressed the cup firmer against his face, trying ever so valiantly to hide the onslaught of giggles that were rapidly trying to claw their way up his throat. 

“Why Thor laughing?” Hulk’s fist exploded from the blankets, swiping in Thor’s general direction. “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you, I promise.” Thor set his cup back down on the floor, wiping at the corner of his good eye as the last few chuckles escaped him in breathy gasps. 

“I just think it’s sweet, that’s all. You’re actually a big softie.”

“Hulk not soft! Thor soft!” 

“You are! You’re really just a big huggable green gentleman, aren’t you?” 

“Not talking to you anymore. Hulk go to sleep now.” Hulk huffed, twisting himself onto his side in a dramatic flourish of blankets and green, letting out a few exaggerated snores to let Thor know that he really wasn’t listening, and had definitely gone to sleep. 

“Oh, come on. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.” 

Nothing. Radio silence stared back at him, and okay, maybe Thor was feeling slightly guilty now. 

“I could tell you about Asgard?” Thor offered to the sullen pile of blankets that had moved themselves a considerable distance away - yet not so far that Hulk couldn’t hit him if he needed to. 

Hulk didn’t reply, but there was a slight twitch to his shoulders, a raising of the thick brows that clued Thor in to know his friend was listening. And wanted to know more. 

“You would’ve loved Asgard.” Thor sighed wistfully, staring up at the ceiling, as if a hard enough gaze could transform it into another world entirely. 

“I had these friends there, called the Warriors 3. They would’ve loved to meet you. You would’ve liked Volstagg the best - I can tell.” 

“Volstagg?” 

Hulk made an inquisitive noise, prodding Thor in the back with a large finger, as if he could dislodge more of the story that way. 

“Yes, Volstagg. Lets see, uh, well he was tall. And large. And he had this fantastic red beard, long - very long, all adorned with metal trinkets and the like.” 

Thor resigned himself to the role of the story teller, propping himself up onto his fist as he thought. Thought about that loud laughter, raucous and obnoxious but somehow so infectious that had hung over every feast on Asgard he’d ever had. About the red faces of him and his friends, staggering home late at night, the sound of drunkenly sung ballads filling the night air - at least until someone from the houses above had opened their windows to tell them kindly but firmly to shut it. 

He realised he’d been thinking a bit too long when Hulk’s finger poked into his back again, and he smiled his apologies, turning over to continue. 

“Volstagg liked to laugh. And to eat and cook hearty meals. And to fight, like the rest of us. Anything, really. As long as he was alongside his friends.” Thor reached out his hand, returning Hulk’s gesture with a light nudge to his shoulder. 

“You would’ve been thick as thieves.” 

Hulk seemed happy with that, at least. Leaf- coloured features twisted themselves into a face of pure concentration, as he evidently tried to imagine the scene for himself. To conjure up memories that he didn’t have. 

Thor wondered how many times Hulk had had to do that. Fill in the blanks of a life he shared, but didn’t lead. Trust people and places and things, not because he’d experienced them for himself, but for the simple fact that Bruce had chosen to do so before him. Bruce had made the call on their friendship, after all. The only one that had been Hulk’s first was Valkyrie. 

It was a privilege, Thor decided. A luxury, to be shared and treasured by both Bruce and Hulk. To be trusted by two people who had been given so many reasons not to trust. 

“Hulk not see Volstagg on ship.” 

Hulk’s low tones disrupted him this time, the grumble tinted with slight confusion - and caution. A question to be asked that Hulk perhaps thought he knew the answer to already, but didn’t want to say. Didn’t want to assume. 

“Thor’s friends in space?” 

“No, no. Volstagg’s…”

Dead, said the voice inside his head. 

The unfamiliar one, that wasn’t Heimdall or Loki or Odin or Frigga, but him. More akin to his own twisted words that were forced out of his mouth in the Waters of Sight, when the Norns had used him as their puppet. The voice of the universe, echoing through his conscience, that spoke of his failures. A constant, like gravity, pounding against his skull in the hours of night telling him again and again that he was wrong.

Dead, he’s dead, they’re all dead and they’re not coming back. 

“Volstagg passed on, I’m afraid. As did Fandral and Hogun.” He finally decided on vague condolences, tailoring the words carefully. If he threw up a barricade of eloquence, he was okay. Politeness and civility could mask the gaping hole inside his heart, for now. Just to answer Hulk’s questions. 

“Sif is probably still out there though, somewhere. I’m sure we’ll see her again.”

A quiet settled between the two, broken by the creaking of metal and the howling blizzard outside. His fingers clenched around the metal bars below him, tight enough to hurt. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He cursed himself quietly, forcing his gaze to the dark corners of the ship. Hulk had asked for a story, something quiet and calm, something to take his mind off of the isolation and panic. He hadn’t asked for an obituary, a counting call for all of Thor’s dead. He hadn’t wanted that. But of course, Thor had given it to him. Because he was selfish and cruel and stupid-

Hulk’s breath was hot against his ear as the giant turned over, nose just grazing the skin of Thor’s neck in a way that made his heart jump. 

“Hulk sorry.” A green hand was placed against his back - warmth, spreading over him like a heavy blanket. 

His heart definitely jumped then. 

“It’s…it’s fine.” Thor reached behind him, patting at Hulk’s chest. “It’s not as if I’ve lost everyone. I’ve still got you, for starters. And Heimdall, Loki, and we both met Valkyrie. Plus all of the avengers back at home, waiting for us. I’ve still got people.” 

“Still hurts, though.”

Thor swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling rather tight. But Hulk’s hand was warm, and his words were soft, and it was all filling Thor with a sudden urge to speak honestly. Truthfully. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, releasing his hold against the floor, flexing his cramped fingers against the cool evening air. 

“Still hurts.”

The silence that settled then was heavy and unpleasant, tainted by the sorrow that seems to be spreading from Thor’s memories, steeped in blood and fire. But it wasn’t awkward. It never really was, not with Hulk. After all, they were both like fire - loud, expressive, and confident enough in themselves to be able to face tragedy with chins held high. 

At least, that was what Thor was supposed to be. That’s what the people, Asgardian and midgardian alike, had told him he was. He wasn’t allowed to be awkward, or quiet, or shy. That was never his role to play. 

It was his job to fill the silence, no matter how much he wanted to fade into it. 

“Well, now it’s your turn. What stories does the champion of Sakaar have in that big brain of yours?” Thor leant on his elbows, dragging himself up and away from any possibility of falling asleep. 

Hulk grumbled, pulling one of the blankets up closer to his chin. 

“No stories.“ 

"Oh, come on. Not even one?" 

"Blondie was there! Saw Sakaar, saw fight. Lost fight.” Large hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, hot puffs of breath coming to life in the air, white against the dark blue shadows. 

“What about before me? You were there for two years, you must have something else.” Thor tapped the edge of his chin, wracking his own brain for a possible answer. 

“What about Brunnhilde?”

Hulk’s face brightened considerably at the mention of the Valkyrie. A toothy grin peeked out from the sea of blankets, muscles twitching slightly with the memories of sparring matches and play-fighting that echoed back across the two years. 

A deep rumble resounded in his chest as he got more comfortable, face scrunching up as Hulk meticulously chose the words he wanted to use for this. Because this was important to him. This was angry girl, his first friend that he’d found on his own. He didn’t have Banners extensive vocabulary to back him up on this, so he tried to make up for it in tone. And gesture. 

“Angry girl take Hulk to Sakaar party, after first year. Had to wear weird clothes, and paint.” He screwed up his eyebrows, expression wrinkling with disgust. 

“Looked like grandmaster." 

"Are there pictures of this?”

“Shut up." 

"I’m sure you looked very handsome. Made all the Sakaarian maidens go ‘ooooh’.”

“Blondie.” Hulk let out a warning growl, shooting him a glare from across the room. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Thor settled further into the blankets, setting aside his tea that had somehow gone cold. 

The material wasn’t all that warm, now that he thought about it. It was some strange fabric that felt eerily similar to the grandmasters robes, shiny and silken with not much heat to it. The most heat in the room had come from Hulk’s hand against his back - something he was really starting to miss now. 

Regardless, he didn’t want to upset Hulk too much tonight. Not when he sensed he might need to get a little bit closer if he was going to avoid freezing to death. 

“Go on with the story. I’m listening.” Thor rested his chin against his hand, trying to force some heat into his veins with a faint crackle of lightning, the room lighting up an eerie blue. 

“Hmph.” Hulk snorted contemptuously but his frown gradually began to smoothen out, eyes following the patterns of falling sparks as he tried to pick up where his tale left off. 

“Had drinks with angry girl. Got kiss from weird golden lady." 

"Hold on, hold on.” Thor barricaded a smile behind the back of his hand, scooting a little further to Hulk with eyes that were definitely far from tired, now. 

“You got a kiss?”

Hulk seemed to weigh his words before answering, green eyes following Thor’s every gesture. But when he decided that Thor evidently wasn’t trying to make fun of him, and maybe even sounded a little proud, his own face began to crease in a grin. 

“First kiss. Here.” He reached out, one green finger poking into the soft flesh of Thor’s right cheek, hovering with an almost gentle apprehension over the scarred line that crawled its way up his face, disappearing beneath his patch. 

“There.” Thor echoed, lowering his voice to match an atmosphere that suddenly seemed so much more quiet than it had been. 

Hulk’s hand seemed to linger, just for a moment, heat radiating off of the emerald skin and warming his face that was so, so cold without it. 

He cleared his throat roughly, when the warmth retreated, and the biting cold was left to etch its way back into his skin. 

“Hulk, that’s amazing! Look at you, champion of Sakaar, a melody of fans in your wake, hanging off of your every word. I bet that was fun.”

Hulk shrugged, eyes flickering back out to the stars and snow. 

“Sometimes. But…missed some things. Friends.”

“Ah. Like Tony? Or perhaps Natasha?”

“Mm." 

Hulk paused, and if his chest wasn’t so large Thor would probably have missed the sharp intake of air, the gap of uncertainty between words, the few milliseconds of silence that meant should I say this? 

"And Thor.”

“Oh." 

Thor felt his face begin to warm with something that was decidedly not Asgardian tea. Luckily, he had about 10 blankets to stifle his rapidly approaching blush with. 

Still, what was he supposed to say to that? It was flattering, wasn’t it? And he and Hulk were friends, or at least Thor considered them to be friends. It wasn’t strange to miss a friend when you were stranded on an alien planet. It was just…normal. Normal behaviour. 

"Well, thank you. I missed you too." 

Thor cleared his throat, edging a little closer to the Hulk, until his shoulder brushed against a large and surprisingly (or, not really surprisingly if you actually knew Hulk) soft elbow. 

"We were all really worried about you, y'know. When you left in the Quinjet. Thought we’d scared you off for good and that was that - you were done with us. Done with the team." 

Hulk shook his head, turning until he was laying eye to eye with Thor, looking at him with an expression that was mostly confusion - and a little something that looked a lot like hope. 

"Quinjet accident.” His voice, usually so loud and domineering, was a quiet whisper, barely audible against the howling of wind outside. 

“Wouldn’t leave. Not forever." 

"I’m thankful.” Thor considered leaving it at that. But his hand, treacherous little thing it was, reached out from under the battlement of blankets, brushing gently against Hulk’s cheek. 

“I’m thankful for you coming back with me. Leaving Sakaar, it can’t have been easy. But you did, and you saved me and my people.”

“Wasn’t so hard." 

"What, saving my people? Don’t downplay your talents, my friend. It was a grand feat of-”

“Leaving Sakaar.” A large green hand covered his own, squeezing gently. 

“Wasn’t so hard. Just followed you." 

"Oh." 

Thor blinked, his fingers tightening around what little grip he was able to get on Hulk’s hand. Part of him said this was ridiculous. He was stranded on a planet, and he should’ve been planning a daring escape, or a dramatic exit, or something. But here he was, holding Hulk’s hand, laying shoulder to shoulder with the other strongest avenger. 

Friends didn’t do this. 

But maybe his friend did. Hulk was warm, so warm, warmer than he perhaps should have been. And Thor was cold. Hulk was offering a place of refuge, a shelter from the storm, and Thor was too tired to decline or pretend like he didn’t need this, once in a while. Didn’t need helping, or saving, or anything. 

So when Hulk suggested that they share the blankets, for the purpose of keeping each other warm, Thor had wholeheartedly agreed. And somehow, sheltered beneath one large arm, the stars above peeked out through the storm, and shone a little bit brighter. 

Here, Thor could sleep. 

Here, he could rest.