pirateangelbaby | Admitting You Have a Problem

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loki

Admitting You Have a Problem

He'd been doing so well before all this. Or at least he thought he had. He'd stopped stashing ale and mead in his living room by the barrel, spent less time drinking and more time going outside and actually trying to tackle the mountain of paperwork that's been building up in the administrative center, even if he hadn't gotten very far. Sure, he'd still drank, but more out of habit than the need to do something, anything with himself. He'd started to get his life back, little by little, struggling to find a new normal and establishing a new routine.

But then Loki left, and there's been no word since.

The children are a delight to have around, and there are times when he feels it's easier to rally himself for their sake, to make sure they're fed and bathed and cared for. As have the ravens, who are growing like mischievous little weeds, both reliant on him and yet also soothing him at times when he is feeling low, hopping into his lap and insisting on being stroked and pampered.

But he is making it up as he goes along. He doesn't know what he's doing, or how much longer he'll need to pretend that he does. And now that he's paying attention, he can tell that there is something still wrong with him, because he's going through his reserves much faster now than he was a few months ago. And he doesn't want to know what will happen if he runs out.

The children are safely under Solvi's watchful eye, under the pretense of helping her around the house while she cares for her baby. Huggan and Miskunn are napping atop a bookshelf, and Thor carefully closes the door behind him as quietly as he can when he leaves. If he's fortunate, maybe he'll be back before they awaken, and they won't scold him for venturing out without them.

By now, he knows his way to the Viper's Pit well. One of the only Nexus establishments to serve drinks strong enough for gods, it's been his primary companion on his descent into his illness, and the steps he's taken to struggle back up. Thor hopes that the other Loki hasn't noticed how many of those barrels have been being shipped to Asvera; he's tried to avoid being there at the same time as the young trickster. Not because he does not want to see him, but because he knows something is not right, and Loki is far too perceptive not to realize that Thor is trying to hide how little he knows what he's doing.

He shouldn't be there now, Thor hopes. He isn't usually, this time of day. The thunderer opens the door to the tavern, and heads inside to pick up the order he'd called ahead.

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"Loki!" Thor falters midstep, surprise flickering to guilt and back again. He hadn't expected this, hadn't planned ahead, had figured he could get in and out without anyone ever being the wiser. And yet he isn't doing anything wrong, is he? He's legally purchasing goods, that's all. Never mind what those goods are. Never mind what they're for.

Then why does it feel like being caught by his mother after sneaking out of bounds?

"I... didn't expect to see you here," Thor stammers, a beat or two too slow to be natural, and curses himself for his slowness. What is wrong with him? He should be able to improvise on the fly, as he has for hundreds of years. This is Loki. This should be easy.

It's not.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Normally I am away at this hour," Loki allowed, setting the dry glass and rag down with a shrug. Almost casual. Everything about him straddling that fine line of almost playing along. "It makes me almost think you were trying to avoid me!"

A little moue of noise as he blinked almost as if injured by the thought.

"But surely not, just a coincidence. Like Alex having to go run a few errands for me, such a helpful young man. But come, sit! I can help you as well as he can!"

You're not getting out of it that easily Thor, sorry.

Maybe he can still salvage this. Thor has never been the smoothtalker of the family, particularly when it comes to pulling the wool over his brother's eyes. But he's not doing anything wrong. He's not.

"Loki, don't be silly," Thor says, summoning up a smile that seems just a touch too nervous, a small laugh that's just a touch too off. "Of course I'm happy to see you. I always am. You're just not usually here when I come by."

Yes, this is the right tack to take, he's pretty sure. Play along, make nice, get his drinks and go home. Don't let Loki see that he's making it up as he goes, that he doesn't know what he's doing. Don't let him think that his other brother was wrong to trust him with the children in his absence.

He hesitates, not really wanting to sit down. That feels too much like settling in for a long visit when all he wants to do is leave. But Loki will be suspicious if he doesn't, right? After a long, long moment, Thor slowly reaches for a barstool and sits, worrying his hands against one another. "I called in an order to pick up," he says, as if Loki doesn't already know. "I wasn't planning to stay long; I have to get back soon. You know how ravens are if you leave them on their own," he adds, seizing upon the excuse with a relieved smile.

Surely not doing a thing wrong. No not at all. That squirming nervousness was just silliness right? Nothing to feel guilty about here!

Loki pretends like he doesn't seem that nervousness. Lets Thor think that for now everything seems perfectly reasonable, like his unease wasn't broadcasted like it was on a neon sign for any observant enough to see. Smiles brightly as his brother takes a seat, nodding as he plucks up the clipboard from under the bartop where orders were logged.

"Oh yes, ravens can be tricky things," How badly was Thor still hurting? It made Loki ache just thinking about it, something he tried not to let bleed into his tone or smile. "But surely whoever you have watching the children while you're on this errand are more than capable of keeping the ravens entertained a few minutes extra. You've a little time to visit!"

Excuse denied!

The smile falters now too, and Thor frowns, continuing to fidget. "Well, I... suppose you're right." A few minutes. He can do that. Deflect, deny, ease Loki's worries and get back home. Simple.

Should he order a drink? That's a normal thing to do in a tavern, especially when you're socializing. It's not like it's something Thor hasn't done a thousand times before in better days, and it hadn't meant anything then. "A glass of ale, then?" he asks, trying to put the smile back, as if they were both youths celebrating after a successful hunt. That's all this is. Just hanging out with his brother. "How've you been?"

Simple!

Except totally not.

"Ale? Honestly Thor, you need to expand your horizons!" Loki tutted as he plucked up a pair of glasses, filling them with something a dark, rich purple shade that clearly wasn't ale, one being nudged his brother's way. "Try this. Blackberry cider, rather good if you ask me."

Non-alcoholic as well, he knew some brought their kids when they came around for meals so he figured it would be prudent to have some 'kid-friendly' options beyond sodas. Well, non-Asgardian kid-friendly anyways. He's not giving you any more booze Thor, gosh he's not gonna enable you!

"Busy!" How did you do it? Just blurt out that he knew? Demand to know why Thor hadn't reached out? Did he not trust him but then with things like this it wasn't... like that. Not that this stopped that anxious little barb from working in his heart, making his cheer seem a bit more strained. "But you know me, always lots of irons in the fire. What about you, what're you up to these days? How're you holding up?"

Would he luck out and hear Thor come clean? Probably not but he felt like he needed to give him every chance. Loki knew how it would hurt him if the roles were reversed and Thor didn't at least try to let him come clean himself even if he doubted he'd do so.

Thor's heart seems to sink into his stomach when Loki shoots him down, a strange chill spreading through him. It's strange, and uncomfortable, and he doesn't like the way it makes him feel as though he's lost some kind of battle before it even started. What's worse is he isn't sure why. He has no reason to fear a different drink, no reason to think that Loki is judging him for his choices. What is his problem?

A part of him knows it, but does not want to name it. In part because he doesn't have the words, and in part because acknowledging it out loud would make it real.

So he takes the cider and sips it, and it is quite good, if lacking that alcoholic tang to it. "This is delicious," he agrees, a little surprised. It's not what he wanted, but not every drink has to be able to get him drunk, right? He takes another drink, listening to his brother's chatter, casual and unassuming and utterly normal. Maybe he can still get through this all right. "Busy," he echoes with a wry sort of smile. "Looking after the kids while Loki's away," and oh he doesn't like the anxious twist in his gut when he thinks about how little he's heard from his other brother since his departure. "And the garden's growing well, I've started a bed of thyme that's growing like crazy."

Loki could feel that knot in his stomach like a cold pit of iron as Thor continues to dissemble. A faint smile for Thor's enjoyment of the cider, though it was a short-lived thing. Nothing for it. He would have to start the conversation, would have to confront Thor, and hope that the Thunderer didn't wind up hating him for it.

"Sounds like you've quite the green thumb," He settled his hands against the bar, his own drink untouched as his gaze fell to the clipboard, to the order written there almost like an accusation. Steeled his nerve. "There is... something else though. That I think we need to have a little talk about."

A small, almost boyishly apologetic smile turned Thor's way, something nervous in it. "I think... that I was hoping it would take care of itself. Things do that sometimes! But not this, I'm afraid."

Thor's grip on the glass tightens a little, and he's quick to set it down before he cracks it in his nervousness. Maybe this is something else? Maybe Loki has a problem that has nothing to do with Thor, something that he needs his brother's help with. Deep down, he knows that's not it, not with that look on his face like he's visiting a sick relative. "Whatever it is must be quite the problem," he says with a false laugh, feeling utterly slow in his deflection.

He used to be quicker than this. Quick enough to fool his clever brother, once in a while. But now it's like trying to wade through molasses, his own anxiety bogging down his thoughts and leaving his tongue too muddled to cover for him.

"Unfortunately so. And it's not one with an easy solution." Loki huffed a faint, uneasy sigh, fingers picking uncertainly at the page on the clipboard.

"I do the inventory. So... I know what people are ordering, how often, and... how much. And while my staff might not know, I'm keenly aware of how much is too much for an Asgardian..." He trailed off a moment, searching for some way to say things, some way that wasn't accusing, might not send Thor out the door. "You need help, brother. I might... not be an expert but I want to help you, if you'll let me."

He knew that much at least. That nothing would change, nothing would get better unless Thor realized he had a problem, wanted to make a change.

With every word, that stone that seems to be sitting in Thor's belly gets colder, and without the glass in his hands to keep them occupied he's fidgeting, worrying them against one another, a nervous wringing that he seems helpless to stop. Loki knows. He knows.

He knows that Thor is not capable of dealing with the kingship and the children and the waiting. He knows that Thor isn't getting better, not like he'd hoped, not like Eir thinks he is. He knows that Thor needs the drink as strongly as he needs water or air or sunshine. He knows that Thor is failing, that he doesn't know what to do, trapped in a cycle that seems to have no end.

"Help?" he repeats, attempting a laugh that comes out strangled and a little too high. "You're... you're mistaken. I'm fine. Maybe your numbers are wrong. These things happen, you know? I've always ordered this much." He hasn't. It's a terrible lie, a terrible excuse, but he's gripped by an anxiety that seems to seize his thoughts entirely. Loki knows. He knows.

"No, Thor."

He tries to strangle down the flash of hurt at the front, the lies that spill almost desperately from Thor. It wasn't personal. It wasn't because he was Loki. It was because Thor was hurting, and this was some desperate attempt to salve that.

"I checked more than once. Because I made that same excuse at first. That it wasn't that big a difference. And from one delivery to the next, it wasn't a large difference, but sitting down and looking at the whole trend..."

Loki saw that anxiety, reaching to take his brother's twitchy hands in his, giving them a squeeze.

"Please let me help you."

He should know better than try to lie to Loki. His brother has always been the far more talented liar, able to spot a falsehood at a thousand paces and outdo it a hundredfold. But it's neither reason nor rationality in charge of Thor's behavior, not when his truth has been exposed in one blow, like a bandage ripped from a raw wound in a single pull.

And the thought seizes him like a strike of lightning that Loki intends to take the drink away from him. To take away something he needs, even if he does not understand why.

He freezes under his brother's touch, still as a storm that's waiting to break. "It's... not that bad. I'm a grown man, a paying customer, can't I decide that for myself?"

"See, that's why I waited. I hesitated, dithered so very long, because you are indeed a man grown. I hoped that you would choose to ease back on your own."

His voice was soft, as he did the best he could to be honest here, gaze on the hands frozen in his own, as he tried to piece together what he could say here.

"But it has become that bad. And it would be a monstrous thing, to see my brother hurting, to see him on such a self-destructive path, and not want to try and help."

Choose? This has never been a choice, and Thor feels a twinge of desperate anger that Loki does not seem to understand. That he thinks this is something Thor is doing to himself, that this is something he wants to be happening, his own fault.

Is it?

It hurts all the more deeply that Loki's words could have come straight from Frigga herself, an echo of their mother who always saw through whatever tale they'd chosen to tell. What Heimdall had seen with eyes, Frigga had seen with heart, and she had done much the same the last time Thor ever saw her alive.

He jerks his hands back, choppy and disjointed, and runs them through his hair, pulling harshly on the strands as he tries to figure out how to get himself out of this. It's too late, too late to deflect, to lie, to get Loki to believe he's mistaken. But he doesn't know what to do.

"It's fine! It's... it's not as bad as it... looks. Don't I look okay?"

Loki would be distraught to know that Thor had taken it that way. But then he was good at saying things in the worst ways at times. There had been a time when Thor might have been able to choose to moderate himself, but through whatever was troubling him, it seemed he was a bit past that stage.

"It's not fine, though," Loki replied softly. "And... it's alright if it's not. Wasn't it you that told me that we're all works in progress? I understand that you don't want to show your troubles to all and sundry, I understand what it's like to turn to self-destructive ends to try and mask the truth of what's wrong. You're my brother, and I want to help, but you need to allow it, to let me help support you."

It's too much, too fast, and Thor is far too sober for this. He doesn't need much, just... just a little. Enough to calm down. Maybe one bottle. Or two. It's hard to keep track sometimes, once he's started. But that's not so bad, is it? Just one or two?

But Loki won't let him. He can tell that right now, his brother who denied him alcohol from the moment he stepped in the door, no matter how delicious the other drink was. Is.

He needs it.

He needs to get out of here, to find somewhere he can sit and think, to drink enough to settle his nerves and get his head on straight. That's what he needs. Just a moment. Just... make it all stop.

"I-I just remembered, there was something I was supposed to do," he blurts out, not meeting Loki's eye, trying to smooth back his hair and look like he's not losing it inside. "So if you'll... just... give me my order, I'll be on my way."

"Thor..."

Loki was fairly certain that Thor could end up hating him. Even if it was only until he'd gotten help, was in a better place. But wasn't it a risk he had to take? Thor needed his help, and if he enabled him in this because it was easier...

He came around the bar to approach his brother, to take his hands or settle hands on his arms, whichever was allowed.

"You know I can't. You're my brother and I love you, and I won't help you destroy yourself like this!"

He's not choking up, you are!

Thor stands up, nearly knocking the barstool over in his haste to take a step back, unsure what he's afraid Loki will do but unable to consider it rationally. Even the hands on his arms make him flinch, and the roughness of Loki's voice seem to cut him to the core.

He's done worse than he thought. He's made Loki upset.

He didn't mean to. Didn't want to. He'd wanted to keep this to himself, where it'd hurt no one but him. But then Loki had to dig and worry, and drag him out until he can't hide anymore. He feels cornered, and there isn't a way out, Loki shutting down every avenue of escape until he has to face the truth that's been staring him in the face for over a year.

"Half, then?" he asks, far more pleading than he'd intended. Surely they can compromise? Enough to delay needing to talk about it, enough that he can get away and fortify himself against his brother's words behind the shield of alcohol.

It wasn't just Thor who hurt. For all the man had been convincing himself it was, hiding behind the supposed safety of that wall of drink, those who cared for him noticed. Unsure what to do about it, with Asgardian culture being what it was, how to get Thor to accept the help he needed.

He wished he could. Just give Thor what he wanted, let him hide. But it wouldn't help. It would just put this off longer, Thor would hurt longer. It would be cruel, for all Thor would thank Loki for it, and he couldn't bear the thought.

"No Thor," He tried to keep his tone firm, but as kind as he could manage it, a faint, almost watery huff following. "Bor's Blood but of all the times for my famed silver tongue to have fled me."

No. Not even half? That's far less than he'd been drinking before, never mind that Thor would've had to supplement from somewhere else. No, if Loki is denying him even this, then he would deny it all.

Thor cannot articulate why that thought is so terrifying, even to himself.

"What would you have me do?" he demands, his good eye stinging with tears, wrenching himself free from his brother's grip and grasping his own arms tightly enough that his metal fingers will no doubt leave bruises.

Oh but those tears, and that yank free of his grip are like a knife to the heart, for all Loki knew to expect such a reaction.

"Seek assistance," He replied gently, wishing that this was something he had the immediate solution to. That he could simply wave a hand and magic it away. "Have you spoken with Eir about this? I would... think them best suited to help you figure out what to do. I could go with you if you wanted, let the others think you're dragging my troublesome ass in for a checkup."

Would it make it less harrowing, to have an excuse to go see Eir, to have support as he did? Loki hoped so, because it seemed the best option he could think of.

Go see someone else? Let Eir know that her king is failing worse than she'd thought, that he is still struggling despite her medicines? Word would get around, and get back to the other Loki, when he returns. And he'd know that Thor was not fit to watch over the children in his absence, that he'd made a mistake to trust his brother with this most important task.

Never mind that this Loki could tell him just as easily. In the depths of his distress, this doesn't occur to Thor.

Thor had thought that he was done seeking solitude, hiding away like an animal licking its wounds, but right now he wants nothing more. He'd been getting better, and now it feels like he's back at square one and he doesn't know what to do.

"No, no, there's no need for that," he says, looking anywhere but at Loki. "I... I have to go." He has to get out of here. Empty-handed, a growing knot of anxiety writhing in his chest, but he has to leave before Loki realizes what's really wrong. Thor does not wait to hear his brother's objections, leaving the half-finished cider behind on the counter and knocking the barstool over in his haste to make for the door. He has no idea where he's going, what else he can do, but it's Not Here.

Edited 2020-09-23 00:30 (UTC)

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Admitting You Have a Problem

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