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Loki frowned critically at the mess of black and blue spattered across his milky torso. In the heat of the battle, he had not felt any pain from the blows, but now that the adrenaline had faded, his body ached something fierce. Loki narrowed his eyes at the roll of gauze sitting innocently on the desk. Heimdall had discretely pressed it into his palm when they brushed past one another after Thor’s hurried coronation. He had winced briefly when Brunnhilde accidentally elbowed him in her excitement, but apparently, nothing escaped the all-seeing gaze of Heimdall.
Loki could summon his magic to speed up the healing, but there was something oddly soothing about the process of dressing the wounds himself. His fingers were inching toward the healing balm when a sharp intake of breath signaled the arrival of their new king. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Loki quickly snatched his hand back, fingers curling into fists.
“Why did I have to learn from Heimdall that you were injured, brother?” Predictably, Thor closed the space between them in three long strides, his one good blue eye shining with worry and concern.
“This is nothing. I’ve been through worse,” Loki tried to brush past him to grab his shirt, but Thor’s hand wrapped around his wrist in an unyielding grip, stopping him in his tracks.
“Let me return the favor from earlier,” He said.
“You do not owe me anything,” Loki yanked his arm free.
“But I want to,” Thor’s expression was so earnest Loki didn’t have the energy to refuse. Muttering under his breath about stubborn idiots, the God of Mischief eased himself onto the desk and parted his thighs in silent consent. Thor smiled, pleased by Loki’s muted response when he stepped into his brother’s personal space. Loki watched lazily as he scooped a dollop of the medicinal balm onto his fingers. Thor warmed the cold ointment in his palm and began to gently smooth the oily substance over Loki’s bruised skin.
“Remember when we used to dress each other’s ‘imaginary wounds?’” He asked, soft breath caressing Loki’s bare chest when he bent closer.
“Hmm.”
“And then you started stabbing me for real,” Pausing to aim a baleful glare at his younger sibling, Thor continued, chuckling a little at the old memories, “and when we met Sif, the three of us started that make-belief family. Remember, Loki? With the endless tea parties and fancy doilies we nicked from Mother's room.”
“How could I forget? You kept insisting on making me the wife when Sif was clearly the only girl in the group,” Loki shot back, yanking on a tuft of Thor’s dark blond hair in retaliation. Here near the roots, the color was almost brown.
“Well, you were the prettiest of our lot, brother,” Thor teased, reaching for more ointment, "and she was obviously more suited for the role of the son.”
Loki flexed the thighs bracketing his brother’s hips, “do not make me stab you, oaf. You’ve barely been named king for an hour-”
“And it’s already gone to my big fat head,” Thor finished for him cheerfully, standing back to admire his work.
Loki heaved a dramatic sigh, “you know me too well, Thor.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Thor asked, snatching the roll of gauze off the table before Loki could grab it. His smile was far too eager to be good.
“I’m starting to think not,” Loki replied, eyeing him wearily.
“Come now, I would never do anything to hurt you,” Thor aimed another one of his dazzling smiles at Loki.
“Oh my, a passable lie. You can learn after all,” Lifting his arms with a sarcastic smile, Loki allowed Thor to wrap his injured torso with the bandages. His brother’s hands were as steady as ever. Large and calloused from battle, they could almost circle the circumference of Loki’s waist. He stared at the back of Thor’s bent head, the shorn hair stuck up in a mess at the nape of his neck. He found himself reaching out and carding soft fingers through the short spikes. Thor’s breath hitched, his hands pausing to settle around Loki’s hips, their warmth burning through the layers of gauze and setting Loki’s heart alight.
“I’m sorry you never had the chance to say a proper farewell to your friends,” Loki said quietly, feeling the fingers tighten around his waist.
“Our friends, Loki,” Thor insisted after a pause, voice low. Loki merely hummed contemplatively. They both knew that the Warriors Three only tolerated Loki because of Thor, but he was too tired and too drained to lash out at Thor tonight. They had lost so much in the past few hours. So Loki kept silent, his fingers continuing to pet the soft tufts of hair on the back of Thor’s head. A drop of something hot landed on his skin. Thor cleared his throat, face still hidden as he finished the last of the bindings.
“I believe it is time for you to retire to bed, Sparkles,” Loki whispered into his hair, slipping off the desk and out of Thor's grasp. His brother chuckled wetly and hurriedly wiped the moisture off his face while Loki busied himself with putting on a shirt over the bandages.
“Come on, door’s this way, king of Asgard,” He snapped his fingers to catch Thor’s attention when his brother veered off in the direction of the bathroom. Loki caught his arm when he almost stumbled into the doorframe.
“Do not call me that,” Thor rubbed at his eye, stifling a yawn into the back of his hand.
“It is what you are now,” Loki pulled him along the empty corridors. He was relieved they didn’t meet anyone along the way.
“I do not feel like a king,” Thor muttered when they arrived at his quarters. He peered at the empty room with a forlorn expression. “I miss them terribly, Loki. I miss Mother and Father.”
Loki swallowed past the tightness in his throat, “I do, too.”
“Can you stay with me tonight?” Thor asked him suddenly, turning his hopeful gaze on Loki. “We could share the bed like when we were young.”
They could, but-
Loki eyed their linked hands, Thor’s wrist clutched tightly in his long pale fingers. Too many unnamed emotions were swirling inside Loki’s chest, ready to burst forth at the lightest touch. He loosened his fingers and let go, Thor’s electrifying warmth still lingering on his skin.
“Not tonight,” Loki replied, gifting his crestfallen brother with a wan smile. “Sweet dreams, my king.”
“Night, Loki,” came the soft reply.
He felt the weight of Thor’s gaze on him all the way back to his room.