Bruce didn’t drive, as a general rule. There was too much danger of a shift; road rage was a very real problem for him. But the morning of Odin’s funeral, after another night spent sleeping separately, Bruce had found three mini bottles of vodka on the top of the kitchen garbage can that hadn’t been there the night before, and Thor was close to tripping over his own feet.
Sighing, Bruce went into the bedroom to grab his oil pen. He didnt often partake in the medicinal marijuana that had once kept the other guy at bay anymore; the whole idea of therapy was to integrate himself, which meant letting the other guy exist. But today he couldn’t take that chance. Today he would make that decision for all three of them.
“Share,” Thor insisted, thrusting his hand out when he saw Bruce emerge from the bedroom with the pen in his hand. Bruce frowned slightly, then crossed the room to re-tie Thor’s tie for him.
Bruce’s suit was considerably more ill-fitting than Thor’s, but the other guy’s sensory issues made it almost impossible to find workable dress clothes. Thor, somehow, looked like he just stepped out of a men’s magazine, even as lubricated as Bruce knows he already is this morning.
“It’s not for you,” he replied tightly. “And you didn’t hide your empties very well, I think you’re fine for now.”
Thor opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, lacing his fingers together and separating them a few times. “I -” he started to protest, but then looked down. “Sorry."
Bruce let out a long breath. Thor’s anxiety was generally well-controlled, but when his family was involved, it became almost impossible for Thor to control his compulsions. He held out the pen, a peace offering, a sign of understanding.
Thor took it gratefully, inhaling for a long several seconds before releasing a cloud of vapor that drifted around his head like a halo. Bruce took a hit as well once Thor handed it back, and then together they made their way to the truck, Bruce’s hand on Thor’s back the whole way.
Bruce realized halfway to the cemetery that letting Thor use his pen while he was stressed out was probably not the smartest thing he had ever done. With little else to do on the hour-long drive, Thor kept his head turned to the open window, silently chain-smoking and taking hits from the pen between finishing one cigarette and lighting another. By the time they arrived, Thor was sluggish and red-eyed, and Bruce winced when he slid a flask from inside his suit jacket and took a pull before getting out of the car.
"Thor,” Bruce said. He wasn’t exactly not-high himself, but he also knew exactly what level he needed to be at to function while still keeping the other guy under wraps. For Thor, more was always better, and functioning didn’t factor into it at all. “Don’t -”
Thor quickly recapped the flask and slipped it back into his pocket. “No more, I promise,” he said, looking up at the crowd gathered at the graveside. Bruce recognized Heimdall, Thor’s much older half-brother Balder, and, coming towards him, her long black hair unbound yet still somehow harsh-looking, was Hela.
“So he’s gone,” she said when she reached them. “A pity I wasn’t there to see it.” She gave Thor a critical once-over. “You’re not fat anymore."
"But you’re still a cunt, so I don’t know what you’re doing over here, Hela,” Thor responded tiredly.
Thor’s sister gave them both a sickly smile. “Oh, brother, you’re going to wish you were nicer to me.” With a flick of her blood-red fingernails, she turned on her heel and walked back to the assembly.
“What was that about?” Bruce asked. He knew Hela and Thor had never gotten along, that his sister and his father had made life a living hell for both Thor and Loki, the youngest. This might have just been more of her petty torments.
Thor shrugged and Bruce didn’t comment when he took out the flask for another quick swallow. “She’s just trying to be an asshole, like usual,” he said, then frowned. “I don’t see Loki."
Bruce glanced around and sure enough, the youngest of Odin’s sons was nowhere to be seen. "He’s probably just late,” Bruce assured him. “You know he likes to make an entrance."
Thor chuckled, but it was tight and humorless. "You’re probably right. Come on, let’s get this over with.” He started trudging towards the graveside group, Bruce jogging through the dewy grass to keep up.