Work Text:
Words have never been Thor's strong suit, no matter how often Loki encourages him to practice, and although he's used to having no warning when it comes to his brother, he can't contain an indignant squawk when Thor grabs him and yanks him down onto the bed, wrapping more arms and legs around him than he properly should have.
Loki can barely move. "Although I know it to be a complete waste of my breath to remind you yet again, do try and use your words, dear Brother."
"Need," Thor grunts into his hair, and, unsurprisingly, doesn't elaborate.
Loki softens. Thor's not often like this: his body rock-hard and breathing shallowly, with a fine tremor he'll never admit to. Thor is far more complex than he lets on, though he refuses to learn how to express it. He is the King of Asgard and the Nine Realms, an immoveable mountain, and this is the only way he knows how to ask for help.
Loki strokes Thor's chest with what little room he has; draws sigils and runes and spells against his soft shirt until a cool breeze tugs at his hair.
The ocean is a stone's throw away. Gulls cry overhead and grasses whisper in the wind; the sun is warm, and Thor's breathing falls into rhythm with the crashing of the waves.
He holds Loki so tightly that there is only room to inhale when Thor exhales, and Loki isn't entirely sure if he's breathing or if Thor is breathing for him.
Not that it matters.
The peace is endless. There is nothing but here and now, and both stretch out infinitely.
Surrounded by the strength and love that is his brother, Loki dozes.
The colors in the sky build as the sun slips into the water - orange, red, purple, blue - and then to a blackness that feels like a velvet blanket falling around them.
A star is born with each shared heartbeat.
Loki wonders if this place is a branch of Valhalla: an offshoot made just for them.
The moons rise slowly: one close, one distant. They move across the sky in bursts as Loki dozes, safe in the warmth of the sand and Thor's embrace.
The grass-birds begin to sing as the sky begins to lighten. The stars fade gently into the morning light.
Thor stirs.
He runs a hand through Loki's wind-tangled hair, down his back, and follows his leg to where Loki's ankle is hooked over his thigh. He runs his fingers gently over the soft skin of Loki's foot and traces his long, elegant toes.
Thor buries a sigh and a kiss in Loki's hair. Loki runs a hand gently along Thor's side and draws sigils into his hip.
Their bed is soft and cool.
Loki tips his head back. Thor's eyes are soft, his breathing deep, the tremors gone. Thor smiles softly, gently, more expressive with his face than he'll ever be with his words.
He presses his forehead to Loki's and breathes him in, as though he hadn't just spent the entire night doing so.
Today will be better.