Thor is not about to object to the invitation, especially after three days away from him. It was strange; he had spent two years sequestered away from the man and endured it well enough. Now he found himself going a little crazy without his company after a day and a half.
Thor supposed that that should be disconcerting, but he found he was strangely okay with that. He'd always felt strongly about things, in ways that probably seemed disproportionate to other people. But Thor didn't really mind that, either. Sure, there were times where he wished he could keep his temper in check, but even that had improved over the past decade. The only thing that felt truly strange to him was how much he'd grown since he first arrived on Midgard ten years ago. It was as if he had achieved adulthood on Asgard and stagnated there for a good almost-1500 years. He was glad that he changed (for the better, he was certain), but he wished that it'd happened before now.
Thor naturally finds himself looking for things to do around the campsite: he organizes the food, straightens Tony's sleeping bag, fools around with the lights that don't really need fooling around with. To anyone who knew Thor when he was younger, the scene would come across as uncharacteristically domestic, but a few years with Jane had changed things. He found comfort in doing these small things -- small things he never had to do for anyone, let alone himself when he was back in Asgard.
Before long, he runs out of ways to keep himself busy, and excuses himself to gather more firewood, even though there's ample enough wood for the night. It should feel weird using Stormbreaker for something so ordinary. Birthed in the forges of Nidavellir, and here he was, using it to break down firewood.
Before long, the firewood is gathered, and Thor finds himself sitting at the fire, eating one of the Pop Tarts he'd left for Tony but had, with Tony's invitation, become Pop Tarts for the both of them.
"What were you doing out here?" he asks of Tony after he's devoured most of his strawberry-flavored Pop Tart. "Just practicing your aim?"
no subject
Thor supposed that that should be disconcerting, but he found he was strangely okay with that. He'd always felt strongly about things, in ways that probably seemed disproportionate to other people. But Thor didn't really mind that, either. Sure, there were times where he wished he could keep his temper in check, but even that had improved over the past decade. The only thing that felt truly strange to him was how much he'd grown since he first arrived on Midgard ten years ago. It was as if he had achieved adulthood on Asgard and stagnated there for a good almost-1500 years. He was glad that he changed (for the better, he was certain), but he wished that it'd happened before now.
Thor naturally finds himself looking for things to do around the campsite: he organizes the food, straightens Tony's sleeping bag, fools around with the lights that don't really need fooling around with. To anyone who knew Thor when he was younger, the scene would come across as uncharacteristically domestic, but a few years with Jane had changed things. He found comfort in doing these small things -- small things he never had to do for anyone, let alone himself when he was back in Asgard.
Before long, he runs out of ways to keep himself busy, and excuses himself to gather more firewood, even though there's ample enough wood for the night. It should feel weird using Stormbreaker for something so ordinary. Birthed in the forges of Nidavellir, and here he was, using it to break down firewood.
Before long, the firewood is gathered, and Thor finds himself sitting at the fire, eating one of the Pop Tarts he'd left for Tony but had, with Tony's invitation, become Pop Tarts for the both of them.
"What were you doing out here?" he asks of Tony after he's devoured most of his strawberry-flavored Pop Tart. "Just practicing your aim?"