
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7906069.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Loki/Thor
  Character:
      Loki_(Marvel), Thor_(Marvel), Natasha_Romanov, Helblindi_(Marvel),
      Byleistr_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Spies_&_Secret_Agents, Alternate_Universe_-
      Criminals, Spies_&_Secret_Agents, Crimes_&_Criminals, Action/Adventure,
      Forced_Prostitution, Underage_Prostitution, Kidnapping, Rescue, Family
      Reunions, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Escape, Assassins_&_Hitmen,
      the_prostitution_is_brief_and_off_screen
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-29 Updated: 2016-08-30 Chapters: 2/4 Words: 5877
****** Man On A Wire ******
by thorduna
Summary
     Thor Odinson knows who he is and he has few regrets. The one that he
     has wasn't even his fault, but now he's ready to fix it anyway.
      
     Even from the distance, those three days of Thor's failure are
     written all over his target.
Notes
     This should be a 1+3 series, consisting of a short prologue and three
     longer parts.
     As always, read the tags. There will be violence and killings, as
     well as exploitation (by third parties) and later incest.
     I will post the first part very soon after the prologue, but if you
     happen to enjoy the prologue, please comment anyway and don't leave
     me hanging <3 I really thrive on your feedback, thank you.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Prologue *****
                              Like a man on a wire
                             I set myself on fire
                             Destroyer of a dream
                            Trying to find a spark
                              Desperate for love
                                        
                            Garbage, Man On a Wire
                                        
                                        
Thor's drink sits in front of him on the table, untouched. The ice in it is
melting rapidly in the heat of the club. He doesn't need to drink it, there's
already a burning deep in his belly; anger.
 
It would be unwise to ignite it further.
 
He watches his target through the dark haze of the club, only the years of
experience he has allowing him to unfailingly map all of his movements despite
the noise, smoke, flashing lights and constantly moving bodies.
 
He's three days late.
 
His intel was sound, but not only was he on the other side of the globe when
the tip came, but it was also already too late by the time the assigned agent
noticed.
 
Unpredictable circumstances.
 
Thor knew the name of that particular   unpredictable circumstance  . He was
rather hoping he would get to share his displeasure with him tonight.
 
Even from the distance, those three days of Thor's failure are written all over
his target. It's not just the badly concealed black eye, it's the ramrod
straight posture, the skittish movements. Most teenage boys don't sit or stand
like that, not unless their ribs are bruised or they're scared out of their
minds, trying and failing to keep in control of the situation.
 
The man leaning into him, hand on his waist, doesn't seem to be bothered by any
of it. And why would he be? He'll ask for a discount. If he doesn't get it, he
will give him a bruise to match.
 
Thor waits, not shying from watching as much as he can without arousing
suspicion. He takes it all in, the sweaty fingers sliding underneath his
target's short crop top, the leering gaze that keeps slipping over the tight
shorts.
 
Thor considers his target with as much detachment as he can muster. His legs
are mile long, white and coltish. Definitely attractive; an asset to show off.
The crop top is saying that he is very available, displaying flat belly and
sharp hipbones.
 
Today is Sunday and Thor is certain that his target has worked the entire
weekend, looking like this. Thor's hands curl into fists.
 
 Fuck  .
 
He wishes now that he'd gone against Odin's orders when it still mattered.
 
Across the room, the groping is escalating. They will seal the deal any moment
now, Thor is sure of it, and then he will finally be able to take action. He
needs to spot the handler before he makes his move.
 
Finally they rise and start weaving through the crowd, the john's hand
possessively wrapped around Thor's target's waist. Thor stops watching them
even though it makes his stomach churn briefly, which he immediately
suppresses. He's no amateur. He won't lose them.
 
They go towards the back and Thor scans the room. Come on,   come on  .
 
And there he is. Not even subtle. A tall man, black hair like his target's,
though cropped short, rises from the bar and starts following them.
 
Thor snatches up his drink and sloshes half of it into his mouth, the other
half all over the front of his shirt.
 
He goes after them, slowly, his gait unsteady, shoulders hunched forward.
 
There's a large exit door at the back, unguarded. Beyond it is a maze of
corridors and rooms. The whole place still carries over some of the atmosphere
of the club, an attempt has been made to make it look just as flashy and
suggestive, but everything is a little rough around the edges.
 
At the end of the first hall, he finds the three of them. His target stands a
pace or two away from his handler and his john, watching with blank expression
as money changes hands.
 
Thor wolf whistles and then laughs, pushing himself off the wall as to not
stumble into it.
 
“Wow,” he slurs loudly, approaching. “Fuck, I just needed to take a piss and
this is what I find. What's your name, doll?”
 
He's surprised to see who the handler is. It's the younger one, Byleistr.
Thor's not happy about that.
 
Meanwhile, the customer puffs up, indignant. Oh yeah, he definitely has a
temper. Thor is very glad he's going to cut his evening short.
 
“Fuck off. He's taken.”
 
Thor starts fumbling, reaching into his pockets, and lets several hundreds fly
to the floor. “Oopsie. Is he, really?”
 
“Wait in line,” Byleistr tells Thor. Out of the corner of his eye he can see
his target flinch; his first visible reaction since Thor got close.
 
“I don't wait,” Thor snorts. “I'm paying, so-”
 
“So am I, asshole,” the customer spits, but he's not the one Thor needs to
convince. He cocks his head at Byleistr, more bank notes twirling between his
fingers.
 
“Come on, man.”
 
He must have miscalculated something. He was certain that the money and the
drunk, pushy act would do the trick.
 
Instead he finds a gun aimed at his chest.
 
Thor reassess the situation.
 
He was ready for the older one, for Helblindi. This younger one is an unknown.
Sweat is beading on his forehead and his grip on the gun is shaky, but the
safety is off and at this range, it would be hard to miss.
 
“Oh fuck this shit, fuck you all,” the john murmurs and starts retreating down
the hallway. Thor doesn't have any time to waste.
 
Thor gets to it. The movement is like second nature to him – the push, the
grab, the muscles of his arms straining even though it's over within the
second, pushed to their limit by the shocking speed of his motion. Byleistr
stumbles back, cradling his hand to his chest. Thor probably broke some of his
fingers. He disarmed Byleistr in the blink of an eye.
 
He has the gun and it's time to make a choice.
 
His target – Loki – is flattened to the wall, mouth open in a scream.
 
He barely needs to glance down the hallway before pointing the gun sideways and
catching the would-be customer right in the back of the head.
 
Regrettable.
 
He swivels the gun back around and aims it at Byleistr.
 
“No, please-” It's not him beginning. He looks too shocked to form words. It's
Loki who is asking for his brother's life.
 
“Sorry, kid.”
 
Thor pulls the trigger.
 
***** Part 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you guys so much for the feedback on the prologue, you're the
     best! As promised, the first part is here. Hope you enjoy <3
“Rough night?”
 
Thor shrugs, stoic in the face of Natasha's smirk. “It got a bit messy.”
 
Of course, she already knows that. When she's in the city – any city, really –
there's very little happening there that escapes her notice. And Thor did kill
two men last night.
 
“We left it messy,” she tells him. “Just a deal gone wrong. It shouldn't muddy
the waters too much.”
 
No, it shouldn't. Thor has to wonder about Helblindi though. One brother dead,
another gone. His gut tells him that he might not let it go so easily.
 
Natasha hands over some necessities and then leaves. Thor rummages through what
she brought, taking stock of everything, and then he's left standing in the
hallway of a beautiful penthouse. Outside, the sky is dark with clouds and
heavy rain is pelting at the ceiling-high windows. Thor is used to all kinds of
accommodations but he has to admit that the living room here – a room larger
than life, half round and with completely open view, is something of a treat.
He loves the height and he loves the view of the sky.
 
Beyond, there is a bedroom. In a fit of what he assumes is designer
extravaganza, the bedroom is dark save for a ceiling window, all done in shades
of dark purple and magenta, every surface plush and inviting one to sink into
it, the bed most of all. It looks like a little burst of decadent darkness
compared to the ashy and white tones of the bright living room.
 
Thor knows this because he's been sitting in an armchair, the sounds of rain
soothing his mood, and staring across the room and into the smaller bedroom,
waiting.
 
Last night, he had to drug Loki to get him out of the club and to the safe
spot. To say he reacted badly to Thor killing his brother right in front of him
would be an understatement.
 
Originally, Thor had hoped to simply drag him out of there, quieting him down
with a threat or two, or perhaps a hand over his mouth, but the struggle Loki
put up was quickly getting out of hand. He could see Loki becoming overcome
with hysteria, brought on not only by the kill, but probably also by everything
that had to have happened to him in the previous days. Thor could have
overpowered him, of course, but probably not without hurting him.
 
He didn't want that, so he reached into his inner pocket to grab his little
failsafe, an epipen-like contraption, and shot the sedative to Loki's neck.
 
He should be waking up soon and for the first time in what feels like forever,
Thor is getting a bit nervous.
 
It's understandable. This is a job like no other – it's not even really a   job
, he only approached it that way because that's the only way he knows. No, this
is personal. This is sorting out his father's mess.
 
And opening a chapter in his own life that he's not sure he's quite ready for.
 
He hears the covers rustling briefly and then some sort of a thunk. He makes
himself sit and wait.
 
A short while later, Loki peeks out from the bedroom and stops short when he
spots Thor, eyes widening. They watch each other for long seconds.
 
Loki's feet and legs are bare and he tiptoed out of the bedroom so soundlessly
that it came as a brief surprise to Thor when he finally appeared. He's still
in his outfit from last night, the obscenely tiny shorts and a crop top. In
this light, Thor can see that the shorts are dark blue, made of cotton and
stretched so precariously that they barely hide anything. The crop top looks to
be cut quite clumsily from a regular tank top with some kind of a cartoon
picture on it.
 
Helblindi and Byleistr didn't put much effort into dolling Loki up, that much
is obvious. Then again, they didn't need to. He's still heart-stopping.
 
Even though his eyes are red and bloodshot, his hair a complete mess, and there
are coppery smears on his cheek from where a spray of Byleistr's blood hit him.
 
His eyes dart around the room before settling back on Thor. He licks his lips.
 
“Who are you?”
 
“My name's Thor Odinson.”
 
He watches carefully for any sign of recognition, but Loki's face remains
tensely blank.
 
“Why did you-” Loki forces out, halting. “Why did you kill him?”
 
“He pulled a gun on me,” Thor replies calmly. “For future reference, that's not
the best of ideas.”
 
“That other guy didn't.”
 
Thor raises his eyebrows, secretly a little impressed. “Are you gonna lose any
sleep over a piece of shit like that?”
 
Loki grimaces as if only just now remembering everything that transpired
before. Thor presses on; perhaps it's not the smartest move, but the words
won't be held back.
 
“Did he like you in that outfit?” he nods at Loki with his chin. “You look like
somebody stuffed you into the clothes of a five year old.”
 
“Shut up,” Loki spits back at him, crossing his arms over his chest and curling
in on himself. His face is red in embarrassment, two red splotches on his cheek
contrasting against his greenish paleness.
 
Thor exhales and looks away. He needs to calm down. Things have already gone
wrong, he shouldn't be mucking them up further.
 
“There's the bathroom.” He jerks his head towards the correct door. “Go get
cleaned up. Toss the clothes.”
 
He finds, when Loki carefully edges towards the bathroom and then locks himself
in, that his heart is beating wildly.
 
This is harder than he expected. He has no idea what Loki is thinking – he can
only guess the basics. Scared. Horrified. Wanting to get to safety.
 
But he   is   safe now. That's why Thor is here. Doing what his father should
have done years ago.
 
He gets up and walks to the glass paned wall, trying to shake off the nervous
energy from his limbs. He rehashes the plan for the next couple of days and
weeks in his mind, which calms him a bit. The rain is stopping and the sky
begins to lighten on the horizon, the dull gray giving way to very tentative
streaks of sunlight.
 
Tomorrow, he will meet a contact that will create Loki's new documentation. And
Thor's, too. A meeting with some of the higher-ups will probably be necessary.
This whole plan was in place since he joined the organization, but he knows
those slimy bastards. Odin's son or no, they will try to squeeze something
extra from the arrangement, he's sure. He will shut that down, or, at worst,
negotiate something acceptable.
 
Those steps are easy. It's the daily bread for a man of his profession. Covert
meetings. Secret briefs. Waiting. Taking on a new identity. But it's the stuff
between, in the cracks, that gets to him.
 
For the first time in a very long while, he won't be alone. He will need to
debrief Loki and the idea makes him huff quietly to himself.
 
The worst part of S.H.I.E.L.D. being closely involved in all this is that he
knows he has a very limited time window before they will insist he takes on a
mission. If he doesn't get a grip on the situation before that happens, he will
endanger himself, Loki and everyone who might come close to the task at hand.
 
He shuts down his worries and focuses on the present.
 
Or at least he tries, turning back to the room in a burst of energy before
pausing and realizing he doesn't quite know what he should be doing.
 
Helpfully, his stomach reminds him.
 
Yes. Food.
 
Loki is probably feeling the aftereffects of the sedative and eating will help
with that. There's a slim laptop sitting on the coffee table and he flips it
open. It's heavily protected and he feels a little funny using that much
encryption for a simple waffle order, but that's just the way it goes. The
tiniest detail can give an operative away. He's reasonably sure nobody is after
him – after them – but it never hurts to be careful.
 
When the order is placed, he goes to the door and picks up the in-building
phone, informing the reception and asking the bellman to take it over from the
delivery.
 
He's killed at least five people while wearing a pizza house hat. He knows what
he's about.
 
The bathroom door clicks open and Thor turns. Loki emerges, wrapped in an
enormous fluffy white bathrobe. His wet hair is combed back, giving Thor the
first totally unobstructed look at his face. He's freshly scrubbed and still
pale with blotchy red cheeks, but his feature are delicate and handsome, with a
straight nose, an eyebrow arch that is familiar to Thor and bright green eyes.
 
“Sit down,” he tells Loki after a pause in which they consider each other
again. “I ordered breakfast.”
 
Loki slinks to one of the sofas and sits, tucking his feet underneath him.
 
“What do you want from me?”
 
Now, that's the question he has been expecting.
 
One would think that meant he has an answer prepared.
 
He opens his mouth, still unsure what he's going to say. Before he has a chance
to, the in-house phone rings. Seems he's literally saved by the bell – and
waffles – for the time being.
 
Loki eats, cautiously at first, ravenously soon enough, sliding down from the
sofa to sit on the door cross legged, taking from the many breakfast containers
that Thor has spread on the coffee table. Thor pops a few pieces to his own
mouth as well, just to give himself something other to do than stare. Without
the skimpy clothing and with his hair clean, Loki oddly enough looks older.
 
Or perhaps it's not about age. Rather he just looks normal. Like any boy. A
very pretty one, and still sporting a bruised eye, but normal nonetheless.
 
He can pinpoint the moment when the worst of Loki's hunger and nausea is
settled and he remembers where he is. He wipes his mouth and looks at Thor,
face twitching as he fights to control his expression. He settles on a cold
look.
 
“Thanks for the food. I'm going to leave now.”
 
Thor's lips quirk into a smile, he can't help it. He likes his spirit. It was
very inconvenient last night, with the fight he put up, but now that Thor has
things under control, it's endearing.
 
“You're not going anywhere. Forget your old life.”
 
“Forget- what the shit? Are you actually crazy?”
 
“Oh? Am I crazy? So it's been all fun and games at home with your brothers
since Laufey died?”
 
Loki jerks back as though slapped. Thor sighs, slightly ashamed in the face of
pale wide eyes staring at him. Thor should really lay off the brother comments.
Not only did he kill one of Loki's but-
 
His phone rings.
 
His phone should not be ringing.
 
Nobody should be calling him, the phone is only for emergencies. He pulls it
from the pocket of his jeans and accepts immediately.
 
“Get out of there.” It's Natasha on the other end, her voice clipped. Shit.
“You're compromised. Go west.”
 
The line goes dead but Thor is already moving.
 
He has a small bag with a change of clothes tossed on the floor of the living
and he goes to Loki, pulling him up by the arm and dragging him there.
 
“Get dressed. Now,” he barks. His clothing will hang on Loki ridiculously, but
the bathrobe alone is just not an option.
 
And Loki's old clothes are out of the question. He just won't have that.
 
Beyond that bag with mundane necessities, he needs to grab the laptop and the
documents Natasha brought along that morning. Both of these fit easily into a
leather messenger bag he has. He only has two guns – the one he took from
Byleistr and one of his own. That one he tucks into his belt, hiding it beneath
his shirt, the other he turns to toss into the larger bag, except he discovers
Loki, still in his bathrobe, staring at the contents.
 
“Fuck, kid, do you want to die?” he yells and strides across the room quickly,
yanking the bathrobe off Loki's shoulders and reaching in to find a pair of
black dress pants and a red shirt.
 
“I know you have questions, but I'm not trying to hurt you. There are people
coming for us, and they probably won't have the same reservations. Pants.
Immediately,” he orders, half running to the bathroom. Loki's crop top is in a
heap on the floor along with the shorts and he picks it up.
 
Back in the living room, he pushes it into Loki's hands. He needs to fucking
check the hallway, not play dress up.
 
“Put this on, and the shirt too. Make it look decent. You have thirty seconds.”
 
That's as long as he can afford to put thought into it.
 
He can't remember the last time Natasha was that brisk when calling him with
information. She always knows exactly how much time there is before something
goes down, and that phone call? That was bad. If Thor was alone, he would be
inclined to take out whoever comes, but with Loki there it's just too
dangerous.
 
His phone pings with a text message as he looks from the peephole.
 
whole team. dont engage, go.
 
“I figured that out, Natasha,” he murmurs. Anyone who could be threat to him
would know not to send any fewer than ten men.
 
He turns to Loki, hoping to hell he's ready.
 
And he is. He is just putting on his old red converses – Thor vaguely remembers
tugging them off his feet last night when he brought him here. He has the suit
pants he is wearing rolled up at the ankles and pulled tightly around the waist
with a belt. He has his crop top again, but over it Thor's shirt, wide open
with the sleeves folded back. His hair is fluffed up by the sunglasses he found
in Thor's bag as well; the bag that he has over his shoulder now.
 
He looks like a hipster who went at it too hard, not a desperate runaway.
 
Perfect.
 
“Come on.”
 
The corridor is empty for now, Natasha's warning giving them ample time to slip
out. None of the ways down are safe though. Not the elevators, not the stairs.
It only takes Thor a second to make the decision.
 
They are at the last but one floor and he grips Loki's arm, just above the
wrist and starts pulling him to the staircase where they quickly jog up to the
remaining floor – floor and a half technically, because they pass the doors to
the corridor that leads to several more penthouse apartments and go up towards
the heavily locked roof door.
 
Thor reaches into his bag and pulls out his lock pick.
 
“What the hell is that?”
 
He smirks at Loki's incredulous tone even as he keeps his focus on the task at
hand and doesn't reply. It's a very impressive gadget indeed, but it requires
light fingers to operate.
 
Soon enough, the two secure locks on the roof exit door are falling open and he
pushes at the metal door. It opens with a loud creak that makes him wince. The
sound probably resonated several stories down and if someone was already there,
they have no time to waste.
 
“What's going on?” Loki demands as they step onto the roof, wind immediately
whipping into them. There are huge puddles pooling and they splash loudly as
they walk through them.
 
“No time for questions now, sorry. Stick with me and do as I say and you'll
live to hear to explanation.”
 
One hand on the gun at his belt, another at Loki's elbow, in case his words
didn't quite make it through, Thor navigates the roof to find what he is
looking for. At this point, there are two ways down this building, air vents –
which he'd rather not – or the scaffold. He can't risk any of the stairs or
elevators; the building might be large and the penthouse floors have their own
elevators separate from the rest, but he has to assume that every single of
those exits is secured.
 
Luck is on their side. Thor thinks it's about time too, considering how last
night went. Even as he scans the roof and focuses fully on getting away, he
can't help but wonder who it is that's coming after them.
 
It's too neat to be a coincidence. Thor hasn't had a hit – seemingly unprovoked
one too – like this on him in... perhaps ever. It's daunting, to feel like the
chased rabbit instead of doing the chasing. It has to do something with him
taking Loki, but the idea that Helblindi could put something like this together
is laughable. It's possible he doesn't even know yet that Byleistr is dead and
Loki gone.
 
That, unfortunately, leaves much bigger players in the picture and Thor is not
pleased.
 
He tugs Loki to the edge and finally locates a scaffold that is pulled almost
all the way to the roof.
 
“How do I know it's not cops coming for me? FBI, whatever?” Loki spits at him
as Thor measures the distance between them and the scaffold.
 
“You think you have a SWAT team coming for you because you weren't home for
breakfast after a night of child prostitution? Keep on dreaming, kid.”
 
He makes the mistake of glancing at Loki and sees the wide eyed hurt on his
face. He looks like he might cry and Thor curses himself.
 
He's not used to this. He's not used to having another person with him in tough
situations and the stress of it just made him needlessly cruel.
 
But there's no time for apologies – there was no time for engaging Loki in a
reply in the first place.
 
He taps at his wrist watch and the end of a steel wire pops up. He hooks it
around the closest air vent and wraps his arm around Loki's waist.
 
“Put your arms around me and hold tight.”
 
The scale down is short, barely two stories, but it's uncomfortable with Loki's
trembling frame hanging onto him.
 
“Oh god, oh god, you're crazy,” Loki murmurs over and over as Thor slowly
inches them over the edge and they begin sliding down towards the rocky
platform beneath them.
 
“Shh,” Thor hisses, jaw straining.
 
A couple of breathless seconds later, his feet hit the floor of the scaffold
and he releases the wire, crouching and pulling Loki down with him. He twists
around, locating the operation panel and flips the safety switch before pushing
one of the buttons, sending the scaffold down. It goes slowly, so fucking
slowly, and creaks and swings in the wind a little, but it keeps on going and
Thor holds Loki in place almost without a thought. He keeps looking up, ready
to return fire should they be found out, but it never happens.
 
It's a little awkward, getting out of the scaffold once it arrives to the
ground. The side of the skyscraper they slid down on faces a little square with
outdoor cafés where the business people who work in the many offices or shops
in the building get their caffeine fixes and they're seen by quite a lot of
people.
 
He ignores them but he opts to release his hold on Loki, instead telling him
quietly to follow.
 
It's only years and years of training and experience that keep his heart-rate
moderately even.
 
They need to get onto the main street and get lost in the crowd. Thor strides
with purpose, forcing his expression and posture into an illusion of calm and
confidence. It's just a couple of feet now, he can see the people rushing,
tourists, workers, everyone. All minding their own business.
 
Half a step behind him, Loki yelps.
 
Thor turns around and a part of him goes cold.
 
There's a man holding Loki, an arm wound around his shoulders, the other
pressing a gun into Loki's ribs.
 
Thor doesn't know him.
 
“Odinson,” the man smiles. He's almost as tall as Thor, with ashy blond hair
and wide nose. “Are you ready to have your toy taken away?”
 
“You know my name,” Thor says. “That means you should also know that's not
going to happen.”
 
“Please take me away,” Loki speaks up. Thor's eyes snap to him, which is a
beginner mistake; he should always keep an eye on your opponent. “He's crazy,
he killed my brother.”
 
“He killed your brother?” the man holding Loki repeats the words with sarcastic
shock in his tone and Loki tries to twist around to look at him, earning
himself a jab with the barrel of the gun.
 
“My, my,” the man clicks his tongue. “How nasty of you, Odinson, you rid this
poor boy of a brother.”
 
He knows, clearly. This man knows why Thor took Loki, but Thor is in the dark.
He doesn't know who he is, who is coming after them.
 
He'd like nothing more than to beat it out of him, but he's outnumbered. The
team can't be further along after this man.
 
Thor raises his hands, palms out, making a pacifying motion. “Alright, alright-
”
 
A burst of shock erupts from his wristwatch and hits the man in the face. He
stiffens and his arms drop, then he wavers on his feet and he's about to hit
the ground, but at that point Thor has already grabbed Loki and pulled them
both onto the busy street.
 
===============================================================================
 
Loki has stayed awake throughout the entire journey, even though they are now
about to hit hour ten since they slid into the little compact and started
driving. He looks pale, and they both could use something to eat. They had to
stop for gas and toilet, and to get some water and Thor did toss some
sandwiches onto the counter, but it was hardly enough.
 
He also knows they will need to stop soon. He got no sleep last night and it's
getting late and the dark highway is beginning to blur before his eyes.
 
He calls Natasha.
 
“Hey.”
 
“You good?”
 
“Yeah.” Thor glances to the side. “We got out.”
 
“Have everything you need? The documents?”
 
“And cash. No problems so far. Will you...”
 
“Look into it for you? Who do you think I am?”
 
“I'll consider it done.”
 
He smiles as he hangs up, but the warm feeling that comes from knowing his
friends have his back doesn't last long.
 
It's time to break the silence.
 
“I loved my father, but he was short-sighted in a lot of things,” he says. He
can feel more than see Loki startling and turning to look at him. “He was in
the same business as I am, only much higher up. Little field work, all politics
and scheming.”
 
“What business is that?” Loki whispers.
 
“The kind that gets shit done. The kind that makes and breaks nations? I don't
know. We don't call it anything. But the higher-ups like to spout a lot of
bullshit.” Thor sighs. He needs to get this over with. “I grew up somewhat
normally, had a normal childhood, if you think that childhood ends when you are
twelve anyway. Then it started. Then I learned.
 
“I like to think that I made my own name, but he was always there, in the
background, pulling the strings. Except he died a couple of months ago and some
of the stuff I learned when he was still alive... well, it became my problem to
deal with. And it looks like now that he's dead, there are some people who
would like to take advantage. Or get revenge.”
 
It feels oddly good to get it all out, the way he really feels it. Oh, he's
talked about Odin, and about his own past a couple of times, but never quite
like this. He's being honest, first of all, but even though he's telling this
story to Loki on purpose, he wants it to mean more. He wants to really be
heard.
 
“You said your name was Thor,” Loki says in a thin voice, interrupting Thor's
thought.
 
“Yeah.”
 
“I... do I know you? Should I know you?”
 
Thor looks away from the road to squint at Loki. It's hard, illuminated as he
is only by the lights on the dashboard and the passing cars.
 
“Do you?”
 
“I don't know. There was a man once, but... that was before my mom was gone.”
 
“Your mom.” Thor's words come out as a sigh. He's getting to the core of it
now. “She, uh, knew my dad.”
 
“Oh god, stop,” Loki says, loud all of a sudden. Thor is almost startled. “Oh
fuck, I know where this is going.”
 
“And are you upset because you don't believe me or because you know it's the
truth?”
 
“I don't want to hear it.”
 
Ah. The latter, then. Thor supposes it's okay to wait for a while. In less than
an hour, he will actively start looking for motels otherwise he's going to kill
them both when he falls asleep at the wheel.
 
“Okay, alright. We'll talk later. But stick with me, will you? We'll find some
place to sleep. And when you're ready, we can talk.”
 
He gets no answer to that.
 
There are fewer and fewer cars on the highway and he concentrates on the tiny
red lights in front of him, marking the odd car going in the same direction,
and the bright, blinding bulbs of light going in the opposite direction.
Mercifully soon, a purple and green billboard pops up, promising accommodation.
 
“There's not much to talk about, is there,” Loki says all of a sudden, picking
up from their conversation as though only twenty seconds have passed, not
twenty minutes. Thor bites his lip and puts all of his energy into forcing his
eyes to focus on his back mirror to see if he can safely pass to the right and
take the exit towards the motel. The lights are swimming and hurting his eyes.
 
Just a couple of minutes more, than he can close them.
 
But Loki isn't done.
 
“One brother replacing the other, right?”
 
Thor pulls up at the motel parking lot, carefully going through the motions.
Then he flips on the overhead light and turns to Loki.
 
“Yes.” Loki is starkly pale in the bright light. “My father, Odin, is also your
father. That's why I came for you as soon as I learned what your- what
Helblindi and Byleistr started doing to you.”
 
He gets no reply. Loki simply looks away, seemingly pulling himself away from
Thor.
 
“You were always watched. Odin made plans for possible extraction years ago,
but for some reason claimed you should be staying with what you thought was
your family. I disagreed.”
 
“It was... I was fine when my dad was still alive.” His dad. He means Laufey,
of course. Thor listens closely, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He needs
this kid to open up to him. He needs them to find an understanding. “Helblindi
was an asshole, he always was, and he tried to put dad's business back
together, but... it was fine when dad was alive.”
 
“I know,” Thor says quietly. “I'm sorry I didn't get there in time. Trust me,
heads will roll for that.”
 
Loki's head snaps up and he stares, open-mouthed. Thor clears his throat.
“Not... literally.”
 
“Oh. Good.” Loki wraps his arms around himself, cheeks pink. “But what about
that man?”
 
It takes Thor a moment to realize that Loki is referring to their escape from
the city. He supposes that to Loki, the only visible threat was when he was
briefly held hostage, while Thor has a very real vision of the large hit team
that they never saw, but Thor knows was there.
 
“I'm sorry,” he repeats. “I don't know who came after us, but it must be
someone with a grudge against Odin.”
 
“Or you.”
 
It's a sharp insight. Thor watches Loki, thinking. In the end, he agrees. Odin
is not the only person who cared about Loki, and he's dead now anyway. Could
this really be on him? Was someone waiting for him to become vulnerable? To
have a soft spot, a way to get to him?
 
He still thinks about it when they enter the surprisingly spacious – an
unsurprisingly ugly – motel room.
 
He thinks about it when he puts his gun under his pillow and lies on his side,
watching the dark bundle that is his little brother on the bed across from his.
 
Whoever wants to hurt him isn't wrong.
 
He does have a soft spot now.
 
 
 
End Notes
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