A/N: Keep on the lookout for some new Peter Parker fics! I'm thinking of trying to reupload Shadow sometime soon. This one's a long one!!

Word count: 2K

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑽 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

✧.*༄ WE FACE THE PATH
OF TIME, AND YET I FIGHT

          The five years that you were given between loss and redemption were more than enough time to reform yourself. Although you were burdened with miserable guilt, you found new ways to cope and new magick to study. You hoped that Wiccan magick would help you and your uncle spiritually and emotionally, and maybe in some other ways, too...

          Sudden sputtering from the living room alarmed you only to a particular extent. You were fully aware of the repercussions of using this certain spell, but you figured you could attempt it at least once.

          Thor's voice was rough from disgust and forcibly kind. "Dear (Y/N), would you come over here for just a second?"

          "Yes, one moment." With a personal spell that you were in the process of perfecting, you summoned a green portal to appear in front of Thor. "What is it?"

          "What... What did you do to my beer?" he asked, a strained smile on his face.

          You, at first, tried to play it off. "What do you speak of?"

          "My beer tastes absolutely atrocious. I know you've done something to it."

          "Beer tastes awful to begin with, Uncle Thor."

          "Ah, but that's not addressing my accusation—"

          "Okay then. It's black salt."

          "Pardon?"

          "There's black salt in there," you said simply. Because your addiction is getting out of hand. Please, can't you see it? Can't you realize?

          Thor blinked. "If you touch my beer again, I'm confiscating your sorcerer's diary," he warned, taking a new bottle.

          You chuckled bitterly as you returned to your room. "My grimoire is not something that you can merely take."

          You've used this notebook as a documentation of all of your spells and history since your hundredth birthday. A sacred gift from your father. You read the note addressed to you from him in the cover practically every day. It was a reminder, a mnemonic, and an important one at that.

          It was also a container for various methods of self-improvement.

          You gathered Wiccan spells to use for emotional alleviation, both for your uncle and yourself. You were grateful for this new form of magick, given the opportunity to experiment, learn, and accustom yourself. Whenever Thor didn't catch you, you prepared small spells for his emotional benefits, too. That doesn't go to say that he approved of it, though.

          Amethyst is a healing stone that comes to be very useful at this time of grief, you had written in your grimoire. It brings about bodily, mental, and spiritual benefits as well as balance. It helps to dispel negative energies, negative influences, and stress. It is also used to ward off intoxication, as it is a symbol of sobriety, and protect against nightmares.

          This was a common choice of crystal for you to slip under Thor's pillow. You noticed that it was, over time, a valuable tool for recovery, but Thor also soon noticed the lump in his pillow as he slept. One night, he reached under and searched for it. He pulled out an amethyst crystal and a few other ones coupled with it. "Dear (Y/N)," he called, not minding the unconventional hour that he would wake you up at, "please keep your rock collection in your bedroom."

          He also had complaints when you set up candles across the house —mainly in the pair of pink and yellow to help his mood— saying that he didn't like the scent.

          "Well, it's certainly better than how the house would normally smell," you said. "You're a mess, you know. Have you noticed how unruly the living room is?"

          "Why are these candles everywhere around the house?"

          "It's to help us. To help you."

          "I'm sorry, Dear (Y/N), but I don't need your help."

          And so the war of refusal and denial versus growth and acceptance had officially sparked, lasting over the course of many years. Thor grew even more stubborn about your spells, which wasn't at all good for you when considering the ones that weren't Wiccan that you practiced. You grew even more agitated about his habits in return. However, deep down, you both knew that you were all you had left in terms of family. It was tough love.

          Five years since you resettled, meaning five years of bickering later, there were a couple of unexpected visitors that would ultimately bring you back together, though.

          There was a knock at the door, which was unusual regarding the fact that the Asgardians had practically given up on trying to contact their neglectful king. Even so, there was rarely ever a need for assistance. Confused but uplifted, you went to answer the door; since Miek and Korg were already over, you deemed it nice to have new company.

          "Coming, just a moment!" you yelled, making a portal to the front door so you could open it. You revealed two familiar faces, taken aback by who you saw. It was astonishing, to say the least. "Banner? R-Rocket? What are you...?"

          "Hey, (Y/N)," Bruce greeted solemnly.

          You let the reality of the situation sink in, pondering what they could possibly be here for so much time after the catastrophe. It's been so long. And, after you were permitted no contact with the Avengers on account of Thor's overprotectiveness, you were sure he wouldn't exactly be happy if they were here with important matters. You opened the door wider and stepped aside. "...Come in."

          Rocket entered first with Bruce ducking under the door frame after. You noticed them looking around a bit, and you instantly wished that you had cast an illusion beforehand. "What the... Woo! Something died in here," Rocket said, commenting on the smell.

          You sighed, "I'm terribly sorry about the condition of things... Believe me, my part of the house is much neater. Uncle Thor's not allowed to go there too often. But the bastard keeps blowing out my candles." You waved your hand and rekindled the wicks to freshen up the rooms, mentally cursing his recalcitrance.

          "Hello? Thor?" Rocket called. You winced upon realizing that whatever they were here for involved him, but you still began to lead them to the living room where he was situated.

          "Are you here about the cable?" Thor asked, having no idea who was really there as he selected another bottle of beer. "The Cinemax ran out two weeks ago, and the sports are all kinda fuzzy."

          "Ah, that was my doing," you whispered to your guests with a hidden grin. "As long as you don't tell him, he won't figure it out."

          As you rounded the corner, you figured that Bruce's and Rocket's initial thoughts on your uncle's changes would be very surprised. There was a beat of silence before Rocket said again, "Thor?"

          Thor turned around at the mention of his name, spotting a couple of his old friends. His eyes lit up. "Boys! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my god, it's so good to see you!" he exclaimed joyously, giving Bruce a hug and then Rocket. "Come here, you little rascal!"

          "No, no, I'm good. I'm good. That's not necessary," Rocket insisted. He eventually broke away from Thor's grip.

          "Hulk, you know, uh, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?"

          "Hey guys, long time no see," Bruce said with a wave.

          "Hey, boys! Beer's on the bucket. Feel free to log onto the wifi. No password, obviously," Korg greeted before returning to his game, where he noticed, "Thor, he's back."

          You immediately recognized where this conversation would go; you often heard your uncle yelling at the television on similar occasions. "For the love of mischief— I am so sorry that you have to witness this," you quickly said to Bruce and Rocket, trying your hardest to distract from Thor's lengthy threats. "He is in no condition at all to discuss professional matters, if that's what you're here for. I'd say it's best to leave this to me, and, honestly, if you can, just ignore him. If you need his help, I'm not quite sure if it's even attainable at this point. My sincerest apologies."

          "Let me know if he bothers you again, okay?" Thor finished. He handed Korg's headphones back to him.

          "Thank you very much. I will."

          "So, you guys want a drink? What are we drinking? We've got beer, tequila, all sorts of things."

          "We also have normal, healthy beverages if you'd like some," you mentioned before addressing your uncle, who had just used the Stormbreaker to pop the cap off of a beer bottle. "It amazes me how you manage to obtain such various kinds of poison even though I do the grocery shopping and you barely leave the house."

          Bruce walked up to Thor and put a hand on his shoulder. "Buddy, you all right?"

          "​​​​Yes, I'm fine! Why, don't I look all right?"

          "You look like melted ice cream," Rocket retorted, although his dry humor had underlying concern.

          Thor merely laughed off the remark. "So, what's up?"

          "We need your help," Bruce said, shooting a glance your way to include you. "There might be a chance we could fix everything."

          "What, like the cable?" Thor said with a burp before you could reply. You had no doubt that he didn't realize how serious the situation was. You had been considering their idea for five years, whereas Thor didn't even want to think remotely about it. "'Cause that's been driving me bananas for weeks."

          "Like Thanos."

          Thor's cheery demeanor faded away at the mention of that dreaded name. He placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder, pointing his other shaky hand at him. "Don't you say that name," he said dolefully.

          "Um, yeah. We don't actually say that name in here," Korg agreed, suddenly grave as he stood up from the couch and took off his headphones.

          "Please take your hand off me," Bruce said. He brushed off Thor's hand. "Now, I know that... guy might scare you."

          "Why would I be—? Why would— Why would I be scared of that guy? I'm the one who killed that guy, remember? Anyone else here kill that guy?" Thor asked. He received silence, affirming his statement. "Nope. Didn't think so. Dear (Y/N), why don't you tell everybody who chopped Thanos's big head off?"

          You sighed, not really wanting to advocate for him and his current lack of motivation. You decided to answer nonetheless. You knew he was more afraid of his own failure than the Mad Titan himself. "It... was your doing. Stormbreaker bore his blood that day," you recalled grimly.

          "I get it. You're in a rough spot, okay? I've been there myself. And you wanna know who helped me out of it?" Bruce asked.

          "I don't know. Is it... Natasha?" Thor snickered at his own answer, trying to relieve himself of the subject.

           "It was you. You helped me."

          Thor turned away from him and looked out the window, something you presumed he didn't do much or even at all. He still held his beer. "Why don't you ask the... Asgardians down there how much my help was worth," he said, pointing outside before dropping himself onto a chair. "The ones that are left, anyway."

          "I think we can bring them back," Bruce said, prompting you to perk up.

          "Really?" Your anticipation was short-lived, though, as Thor quickly cut him off.

          "Stop. Just stop, okay... I know you think I'm down here wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting to be rescued and— and saved—"

          "Wow, you've perfectly described these past five years. But you actually refused to be saved and refused to accept my offers of assistance," you commented snidely.

          "But I'm fine, okay?" Thor said, arguing against you for the umpteenth time about his health. "We're fine, aren't we?"

          "Nah, all good here, mate!" Korg assured.

          "So, whatever it is that you're offering, we're not into it, don't care, couldn't care less. Goodbye."

          You rolled your eyes. "You shouldn't speak for me, Uncle Thor, and surely you know that by now."

          "We need you, pal," Bruce insisted, only for Thor to shake his head.

          Rocket crossed his arms, knowing what was most likely to get him to budge. "There's beer on the ship."

          "Oh, no, no, no, don't tell him that," you tried saying. Thor was already intrigued, though. "He's not supposed to be—"

          "What kind?"