Avengers One-Shots

(Thor) Lightning and Thunder

You are lightning and I am thunder.

You crack, and I come tumbling after.

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Loki and Thor.

Specifically named after the Lightning and the Thunder.

Known as Gods to the mortals of Midgard.

Enemies to some of the Nine Realms—allies to others.

Living legends.

But in reality, they feel far from that.

Far from home.

Thor, on Midgard, fighting for a planet he wishes to call his second home. A place where he is welcome with open arms.

Loki, falling through the cosmos and among the stars that delve deep and dark in the never ending void. Alone and scared with no place to go to.

Have they failed their parents? Possibly. Have they failed the Nine Realms? The pair cannot even decide that for themselves.

A distant duo they are no more, for they have parted. With emotions flooding their features one held on stubbornly to his thin string of sanity and the other allowed his string to snap.

The Norns can only judge when they meet again... if they do.

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Thor Odinson was currently aiding the Midgardians with the damage of their beloved city.

Anthony Stark flew around with his energy blasts, helping here and there.

Agent Romanoff and Barton worked as a team, in perfect sync they hauled large objects together and assisted the terrified citizens.

Steve Rogers scurried around, calling out and throwing things carefully over his broad shoulders whilst Bruce Banner strayed far away, preferring to help medically than physically.

Thor feels one of his vambraces tear loudly, shocked, he drops the large piece of debris he was holding on his feet and snatches it from the air before it can hit the ground.

It's his last one.

His brother's helm style is imprinted on it, to honor his death.

Thor likes to believe the stars guided him to the glorious halls of Valhalla, but one can only imagine...

The thunderer lost the other vambrace before he had bashed in the unusual head of Earth's attacker, whose name he had not bothered to learn.

The being had clawed at Thor, finally deciding to settle from his arms, grabbed the strip and whispered...

"Loki."

Blood splattered.

Everywhere.

Thor inspected the piece of pathetic armor. It was worn and beat, stained with who knows whose blood and falling apart. He'd need new ones, but for now he'd like to keep his brother's memory in high regard.

If he is able to.

The thoughts are painful but they linger like autumn leaves.

Holding on.

Falling away.

Blossoming once again.

Thriving.