First in the fandom. Sorry for mistakes..
"I am cold, brother."
Thor looked to his side, but his brother did not look the least like what he'd just said. Hands clasped, resting on open knees, 'cold' was the last word that came to mind. 'Confident', perhaps.
Thor looked at his thumbs, fiddling them. He thought of how to phrase his doubts. Thor was blunt and straightforward; he didn't really mind what people said. But Loki was sensitive and proud; he'd mind. Anthony had told him once to be subtle, that Loki preferred glass to stones. Thor hadn't really known what he'd meant. Subtle… Subtle?
"The roaring fire is hot."
Thor's face nearly reddened beneath his brother's scrutiny. No matter how many times it happened, he'd never fully get used to that sharp, intense gaze. He swallowed; had he said something wrong? He'd been trying to imply that the fire would have kept his brother warm, but…
Loki's look suddenly turned speculative. "Roaring fire, brother?"
"Well, yes," Thor spoke before he could think, "because – "
But Loki interrupted him, a small smirk forming with his thin bow lips. "It's but sticks and stones, brother."
Stones! Thor grasped at the straw. "Would you prefer glass, then?"
Loki looked at him. And looked at him. And looked at him, before bursting out into what may have been a laugh of the past Loki, but instead coming out in quiet chuckles.
"I will never understand you, brother."
Loki stood up to leave.
Thor kept quiet, looking at his thumbs again. He felt something small – a seed, perhaps – of sadness and disappointment well up within him. He was at a loss as to what to do. He felt stupid. He shouldn't have listened to advice he hadn't understood. As a last ditch effort, perhaps to regain some dignity, he murmured something.
"I could keep you warm, brother."
The night was quiet, after that.