Warnings: nudity, self-injurious behavior not involving objects. future intimate moments….maybe.
Author’s Note: Major hurt comfort vibes. If you’ve ever not felt like yourself this is for you. Also, Thor post endgame but the Guardians work out because let’s be real, none of them cope either. ?/1
Everyone was still reeling from the recovery of Thor. His hair, usually lustrous and well-kempt, was now grimy and tangled.
“Hello, little kitten,” Thor said in his bathrobe while blending another “skinny” margarita.
“Hey, big guy,” your eye’s glancing at the sun coming up over the cityscape, 7am.
“Have you eaten yet?” You asked, putting down the yoga matt.
“This has….citrus!” Thor laughing at his own joke. It’s timber lacking his usual richness. The
“Yeah.” You said, moving around the kitchen weaving between the various appliances. Your hand was whipping at a rapid pace as he poured some more juice in with the tequila.
Just before he could press emulsify, the sizzling of eggs stopped him. “What’s that,” Thor moved to look over your shoulder, his hair mingling with yours. A silent prayer that the drool would stay in his mouth.
You gestured to the bar chairs, which he readily took. The toaster now fully loaded with a heaping slice of egg bread. Thor resting his hands on the counter shortly before his head followed suit. This morning you allowed him to sip his margarita before the food hit the plate.
As each morning got farther from the first. The booze got pushed back farther. Until you were weeks out, breakfast starting a little later. Thor’s ability to sleep increases.
“Eggs first, and then margarita,” the now mostly sober Asgardian staring you down unsuccessfully.
“I know small children who glare harder than that.” You said sassily plating the veggie pattie with his hash browns.
Thor ate most of it, only drinking ½ his usual quantity of liquor before the sunrise.
“Darling, how would you like a spa day?” You asked, twirling a grime encrusted lock between your fingertips.
Thor smiled with a mouth full of food. “Good, see you on Peppers floor.
You moved away to prep the space for the much larger person. Spinning, you walked back lightly, kissing his scruffy beard.
He stopped chewing a moment. His hand itching for the cup that had become accustomed to being at his side. If not for your presence, he might have given in.
Thor eventually wandered down to the obsidian tub, a much smaller cup in his hand. A host of bubbles waiting in the steaming water. A swirl of scents and memories flying at him.
His bathrobe was trailing after him as he wandered into the room. The bathtub the focal point of Pepper’s minimalist design.
His eyes falling on your figure bent over the tub to grab some offending item. Even through his buzz, his body stirred, the attraction was there.
Your body was leaning too far forward, Thor lunging while you eeped. His hands were firmly steadying your waist.
Your hand grasping his much larger one at your waist, righting yourself sitting on the tub’s edge. “Thanks, head trauma is not on my to-do list.” Thor staring at your face, you picked a stray bit of egg off his beard, sinking it into the wastebasket. Thor’s reaction time to slow to give you the hug his body craved.
“Alright, handsome, get in.” Thor smiling while he disrobed. It had been months since someone had complimented him.
“You can soak for a bit. Then I’ll be back.” The tips of your fingers caressing his crown while you walked his clothes to the washer on the other side of the door.
When you came back 20 minutes later. Thor was passed out. His head hanging over the tub water sloshed over the pristine marble floors.
“I’m gonna owe Pepper a week of therapy free for this mess.” In looking over the man in front of you, you knew it was worth it.
You grabbed the crystal pitcher a faucet with warm water pouring into the gallon container. You crouched pouring the water over his head, the blond hair drawn and matted.
You sat meticulously untangling each strand. Gobs of conditioner falling onto the floor. One might view it as a waste, but each attempt released more strands from the confines of the past grime, sweat, and particulates. Each strand was bringing you closer to the man in front of you.
When Thor awoke an hour later, the first left third of his face was untangled. He stared hazily at his own reflection. Milky white conditioner still clung to the golden locks, but it was always him: longer, a little damaged, but ever his.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” You whispered, fingers still meticulously working through a strand.
Thor wiped the condensation from his face. In the absence of liquor, he felt for the first time his new features. The once chiseled face was fleshy. While he was still distinguishable, the feel of the added flesh felt unnatural.
His hands were moving down his throat to his shoulders. The once pronounced deltoids now hidden but no less firm. His arms still sizable but lacking the definition. The urge to continue below the water halted by his conflicted feelings.
You stopped your ministration on his skull to sit back, fingers cramping. Thor staring at his own fingers as they curled and unfurled themselves. The same callouses from his youth yet so unlike his own.
“How have I fallen so far?” Thor whispered, swallowing loudly. While he understood that his body was no failure all served their purpose. He felt out of touch, like his body was not his own.
His hands grasping for the cup. Much of its contents sloshing on the floor in his haste.
His hands gripping the cup in a vice as he stood abruptly. His naked body on display while cup fractured into the cooling bath.
You stood strolling towards the shaking male. A human walking towards a frightened and injured animal. Grasping a large towel, you moved to wrap it around him. “Come on, careful.”
Just as you moved to cover him, he strode to the mirror. His hands griping at his own flesh. The tears finally falling as he pulled at his stomach, thick fingers pinching at his excess. Purple blossoming in his fingers wake.
You sprinted forward small delicate fingers wrapping around his left hand.
“No, Thor, stop, don’t hurt yourself.” Your arms wrapped around his one, face pressed against his bicep.
“No,” you repeated your lips, pressing on his slick skin. Thor dropping to one knee as he wept. His large frame shaking as he lent into you.
You falling somewhat gracefully onto the floor with Thor’s entire body weight on top of you.
Stroking his hair, his head resting on your clavicle.
“What happened to me?” Thor asked, gripping your wrist.
“Everyone fails at who there supposed to be.” Thor’s head whipping up blue eyes boring into y/e/c. Thoughts of his mother racing through his mind.
“There is NOTHING wrong with you. You’re going through some things. When everything is said and done, you’ll come out exactly as you should.” Thor pulling your hand to his lips like a beggar tasting food for the first time.
You used your free hand wrap him in the white towel. His large frame scarcely concealed within the layer of white.
Come, your actions said, tucking the towel around him while you moved to the closet.
One hand, always in his palm as you moved through the guest room’s choices.
The Guardians had been fun for Thor, but now he needed to heal, to deal with his trauma.
“We’ll need to go shopping for you.” Thor’s body visibly clenching at the thought. On Asgard clothing just appeared via a tailor, gifts, or his mother. Now he needed to fend as a mortal, no crown or kingdom. His figure wandering towards the bed, slowly dragging himself until he sat sloppily on the covers.
You sighed, smiling at the large man. Grabbing a spare towel, you placed it on his head, drying the one side while you worked the conditioner in and out of his locks.
“I’d rather not,” Thor laying his head on your chest through the towel.
“I know, but the alternative is walking around naked. Sadly that’s illegal.” You whispered the last part lightly.
“Midguardians.” He grumbled childlike in his anger over earth’s customs. There was a whole holiday in Asgardian culture about nudity. While it was an option to partake, it still existed.
“Why can I not have your information system simply send me things?” He flopped back onto the bed. The mania over for now.
You laughed, forcing yourself not to stare at his exposed waist and thighs. the well-endowed man unaware of his attractiveness.
“I think you’ll find our tailors undecided on what sizes actually are.” Thor was throwing the towel away, his hands itching to grab at himself. You sat down, handing him a pillow to grasp instead.
“No one will recognize me,” Thor said like a small child who’s prize had been taken.
“Not likely,” he side-eyed your comment while squeezing the pillow to his chest.
“On the bright side, it means rest.” You fingers gently grazing his bicep. Your face was hopeful that he would remain calm.
Thor turned over, flashing his still sizable backside. Even with less definition, you blushed.
“Very mature,” you stood moving back to the closet. Each time you would turn to hold something up, he would contract some muscle, making it dance. You were going to hurt Parker for showing him that vine.
You threw some baggy pants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt understanding his discomfort with his newly acquired abdomen. When you bloated once a month, you couldn’t be bribed out of certain clothes.
“Get dressed,” you said firmly, not wanting to allow him to wiggle out of the event.
Thor’s blue eye’s peaking from behind the pillow. Your legs moving quickly to gather up your keys and wallet. He could not lose what minimal motivation he had left.
Upon your return, Thor had swapped his baggy pants for sweats and was struggling with a shirt that didn’t quite fit. His still bulging biceps stretching the material. The frame that had saved worlds hulking through.
Thor ripping the shirt in half out of frustration, throwing it on the floor. HIs forearm covering his eye’s in frustration. The clothes on Asgard were made for him every inch gained or loss accounted for by tailors and magic, never himself.
“Hey,” your body swiftly closing the distance to stand between his splayed legs. Your hand not daring to grab the sweatshirt for fear of him revolting against that one as well.
His head flopping onto your person, fingers carding through his hair tenderly. The towel now long forgotten on the floor.
“How about, you wear one of my sleep hoodies.” Thor nodding while you walked hand in hand to your room.
His choices as you rummaged through your drawers were a pink hoodie that said Cadillac, Michigan, and a red one that resembled his cape with roses all over it.
Thor sliding the well worn Michigan hoodie over his broad shoulders. It fit just perfect, it was snug but not tight. The material felt like a hug that didn’t end.
“Alright, ready to go?” Your palm cupping his face sweetly. He nodded, following your lead like a child nervous about meeting the world.
End Note: Will Thor be okay shopping? Will he become sober enough to make a move? I don’t know! Like, Reblog, and send me your comments. Maybe this series will get somewhere XD