[for Kurt] the thunder god's clothes

[havenoplans]

After a thousand years of the same arguments and tricks, one would be forgiven for thinking that Thor ought to know by now to ignore his younger brother. but the longer they live, the more subtle Loki's manipulations become. It started as little more than a few choice words about how well Thor's acclimated to this new mortal realm, but that's all the care it took for the seed of an idea to grow in his mind. It was easier, without the constant presence of another Asgardian, to throw himself wholeheartedly into this strange and fascinating world, to adopt their customs, unusual though many seemed to him, but with Loki serving as a reminder of the home he left behind, Thor's begun to long for some familiar comforts.

He'd thought his brother vain before, trying to wheedle better clothing in the only he knows how, but now Thor has to admit that Loki might have been correct in this matter. The change of heart is what finds Thor crouched in the laundry area this afternoon, his frame comically large in front of the small, battered box. A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth as he pulls out yet another oversized plaid shirt, what was once his go-to attire in this realm, and with a quiet note of frustration, he tosses it aside, the buttons clattering against the opposite wall.

"This is hopeless."

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[likesboys]

Growing up, dressing well in spite of limited means never was much of an issue for Kurt Hummel. As the only child of a skilled mechanic, the Hummels never wanted for much in the household, always able to put food on the table and to keep a firm roof over their heads; while Kurt didn't believe in the grace of God, he knew full well how hard his father worked every day, and it didn't take belief in a divine force for him to be appreciative of that. For him to know how blessed he was with his father placing whatever extra money he had into college funds for Kurt, knowing full well how much tuition for an arts program could cost. Kurt didn't have the heart to ask for the latest designs, choosing instead to pool his allowance, saving it over time and purchasing lightly worn designer items to be matched with a versatile set of turtlenecks and belts. Occasionally, he splurged on a bolt of cloth for a scarf or two, a vest, something simple and classic— no brand needed for that.

The notion of a box with an endless quantity and range of clothing, no matter how supposedly tacky, is practically a dream come true. (Well, considering the tropical version of house arrest, at any rate.) Every morning, he finds himself in the basement, trying to weed his way through the latest fabrics and colors. Today, entrance to the room greets him with a soft hush of cotton against concrete and a clatter of buttons; with widened eyes, Kurt watches as a pale blue shirt, patterned in plaid, slips to the ground.

It looks a couple of sizes too big, but he bends down next to the shirt and gingerly picks it up regardless, lips parted with the disbelief that anyone on the island would throw such an innocuous (or even somewhat attractive) shirt away.

Only when he looks over his shoulder does he get it, blinking a few times in pleasant surprise.

"Looking for something specific, I assume?" he asks, watching in interest as he steps on over, shirt in hand.

[havenoplans]

Though his months as a mortal has stayed some of Thor's more drastic mood swings, there are times, still, when his more mercurial nature comes out in full force. Irritated at both himself for letting his brother's words poison his thoughts and at the accursed box for mocking him, the sound of a young voice catches him off-guard, causing him to startle. All at once, he stands, drawing himself up to his full height as he turns to face the boy.

"I am a prince," says Thor with no preamble, not caring that his present (and unexpected) company is a stranger. Where Loki is deceptive, Thor is open, candid -- an open book instead of a locked casket. "A warrior. The next in line for the throne. I should not have to prostrate myself before a magical box just to get something decent to wear."

[likesboys]

A difference in height alone, to Kurt, means nothing. Before the last couple of years granted him another surprising couple of inches, Kurt often found himself being shoved into the lockers of McKinley, frequent quips about his femininity easily dropping from the lips of jocks and flunkies alike. Without the hint of a threat aimed directly at his own person, Kurt is instead reminded of Finn's occasionally capricious temper, and his gaze holds firm, shirt still clutched in his hand even as he cranes his neck to make eye contact.

"Yes, well," he replies with a knowing arch of his brow, some part of him charmed in spite of himself, of this high and mighty prince being derailed by a mere cardboard box. "A prince, warrior or otherwise, should also show a little more aplomb in the face of a challenge, shouldn't he?" Holding out the plaid shirt, Kurt gives it only the briefest of glances before he folds the cloth, draping it over his arm.

"No matter how much it pains me to say, it's not necessarily the clothes that make the man."

[havenoplans]

Thor's temper is fleeting in the face of the boy's more reasoned points, but he does not dwell in the embarrassment of his tantrum. When one has lived as long as he, such matters seem trivial; shame is best served for bigger mistakes and missteps. Deflating, Thor lets out a deep, heavy sigh, and folds his arms across his chest, though he keeps his shoulders squared. He's never been one to slouch, and the boy is right; he ought to be showing more aplomb in the face of a challenge, even one as deceptively simple a magical box that's otherwise treated him well besides this day. Were it not for Loki's interference, he might not be upset at all.

"You might do well to speak to my brother, then."

[likesboys]

Regal seems to be the best word to describe the man's behavior. The room itself is commanded by his very presence, whether or not the blond realizes it or not, but what Kurt finds especially interesting is the fact that there's no amount of disdain coming from the man. It makes standing there easier, without a doubt, Kurt's smile never waning as he watches the temper practically bleed away and fade into nothing more than a firm line of his jaw. "Well, just lead the way and I could give it a shot," Kurt concedes with a light laugh. "But frankly, I think you'd have better luck getting me to wrestle with that clothes box right there."

Without pause, he turns to kneel next to the box, pulling it off the ground and resting it against his lap. "As an only child, I imagine that the insight I have on sibling rivalries runs rather thin."

[havenoplans]

Most would have better luck with the box than with his brother, Thor thinks. Loki is a talented liar, a master of manipulation. Though there are others upon this island who might claim the same tendencies, no one could surpass the God of Mischief in skill. This boy could talk to his brother and come away thinking he'd done some good, while all the while unwittingly becoming a pawn in Loki's forever shifting machinations.

Yes, the boy is certainly better off taking on a box than a god.

"Brothers are a double-edged sword," says Thor. "I would not trade mine for all the Nine Realms, but he can be... Trying, at times."

[likesboys]

"Tell me about it," Kurt decides with a pat on his thigh, still crouched by the box and starting to rifle through its contents after carefully returning the plaid shirt, carefully folded— he's not a religious guy, he only puts so much stock in the idea of karma or a divine hand, but what Kurt does believe in is the possibility that there is something out there more powerful or aware than humans themselves, and who is he to rub his nose in its face? "I mean it. I may not be able to have the most experience off which to offer insightful advice, at least when it comes to brothers, but I do know people. Or I'd like to think I do." He shrugs with a small grin, a look of modesty and full awareness of the fact that he's tooting his horn, just a bit.

"Besides," he adds, gaze lowering as he turns back to face the box. "It'll be easier for me to picture how the clothes might look on you if you're seated next to me. We can also check for size."

He raises a dark gray waistcoat and gives it a thoughtful glance, before raising it in the man's general direction.

[havenoplans]

Whether or not the boy knows people better than any other mortal is of no consequence, given that it's not particularly difficult to know people better than Thor. Though he understands enough to inspire and lead and even, at times, comfort, the intricacies of another individual's motivations are often lost on him. In his defense, however, it's a weakness that's only ever been exploited recently. He has room to grow, to learn.

Kneeling back down beside the boy, Thor eyes the waistcoat, and shakes his head, once. It looks too reminiscent of something Loki might wear in one of his mortal guises, too confining for Thor's purposes.

"I have to be able to move," he explains, one brow lifting. After a moment's pause, however, he adds, "Forgive my rudeness. I don't even know your name."

[likesboys]

Brows furrowing in light confusion and consideration of the waistcoat, Kurt shakes his head, incapable of quite processing what about a waistcoat might somehow limit movement. Certainly, he can see an argument for how it limits posture, depending on how tailored the piece is and how much it's made to fit the wearer, but if anything, good posture is something that Kurt believes more of the world should be striving towards anyway, in the very least to protect their backs and prevent needless aches and arthritis. Still, he presses his lips together with a soft exhale, half-disappointed that the waistcoat hadn't come out in his size, before dropping it into the cardboard box and peeking further within.

He stops at the man's slight addendum. "Kurt Hummel," he greets with a smile, holding a careful hand out to the blond. "Just call me Kurt. If anything, I'm the rude one for not being able to place a name for you, Your Highness. I do hope you can forgive me for that."

A brief brush of his eyes over the box reveals a shirt that Kurt's all too eager to fish out, but he abides by his manners and sense of etiquette regardless, smile warm and, ultimately, glad for the company.

[havenoplans]

"I am Thor Odinson," he introduces himself with a slight bow of his head, oblivious to the hand being offered until about a beat too late. There are mortal practices that still give him pause, and the habit of shaking hands is among them. After a moment, however, he lets out a quiet breath of laughter, and with a distinct lack of ease, he clasps the boy's hand and gives it a single, firm shake.

"Like this, yes?"