A/N: This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but I decided to divide it up into bite-size pieces. It would have made quite a long one-shot O_o Since this is still a work-in-progress, I would love to have some constructive crit. Like: am I being to vague? Some encouragement would be much appreciated too ;)

The Bird of Forgetfulness

"Over beer the bird of forgetfulness broods, And steals the minds of men." –Norse Proverb (this is straight from Odin's mouth, guys.)

Chapter 1

The first sensation Thor could really distinguish upon waking was his all encompassing headache. Without opening his eyes, he let out a long groan, hoping he would simply fall back asleep until the pain subsided. Unfortunately, wakefulness tugged at him until he slid one eye open, sluggishly followed by the second. Thankfully the room was only dimly lit; thick red curtains shielded it from the sunlight. With his vision came the realization that one side of him was quite cold, while the other was just the opposite. When he looked down he saw it was because one side was total bare with only a sheet tangled round his legs, while his left side was warmed by body heat of another. He was relieved to recognize his dark-headed bedfellow was only Loki and he let his head fall back on the pillow. The next instant his head snapped back up, the relief quickly banished as the reality crept in.

What in the Nine Worlds was his brother doing in bed with him? Thor began to wrack his aching brain for an answer. As he looked at Loki's sleeping form, head resting on the larger man's shoulder and curled snugly against his side, he wondered how the trickster had manage to twist up a blanket so much that it barely covered him; Thor had a huge bed, and blankets to match! The blonde consoled himself with the thought that at least his brother still had on a shirt, so things couldn't have been that strange, could they? Not that it altered the fact that had Thor woke up hungover and cuddling his brother. That was the only way to describe it, he decided when Loki moaned and Thor found himself tightening his arm around the smaller man's slender shoulders. He hadn't even known he was holding on until that moment, though he decided to blame it on the fact that his arm was half asleep from being trapped under Loki's head.

It was a rather unusual outcome for a serious night of merry-making, mused the Thor. It wasn't uncommon for him to end up with a bedfellow, but they were usually less prickly tempered and more on the curvy side. Surprisingly, at least to his own mind, Thor was not particularly upset by the switch. It was odd, strange, and worrisome, but it had felt as if Loki was drifting away for the past few years, and he relished the opportunity to keep him anchored by his side, if only superficially.

He was, however, upset by the fact that he could not remember most of last night—especially what had lead to this particular morning position. The night before they had been celebrating a recent triumph in battle, and Sif had particularly demonstrated her prowess as a warrior. He'd begun the evening talking mostly with her, if he remembered correctly. Thor tried to track what had happened as the night went on. They'd all played a drinking game early on before splitting off into smaller groups and pairs. He'd been chatting with Sif and slamming back the cups of mead heartily, and it was around there things became fuzzy. At some point they'd all gathered together again, and Thor remembered laughing almost constantly and feeling really good, but the exact events after that escaped him. He was just contemplating asking Loki what happened when, as if on cue, his brother suddenly sat up. But before Thor could even form the question his brother darted off and stumbled towards the bathroom. From where he lay Thor could hear the distinct sounds of heaving, and his stomach gave a sympathetic roll, but he managed to hold it in.

While his brother continued to empty the contents of his stomach in the bathroom, Thor slowly sat up and began gazing around in search of his pants. Loki had managed to deposit most of his things, including boots, near the side of the bed he chose. Thor, however, had strewn his clothing all about the room. Taking frequent stops to rest his head, the golden haired man managed to find his shirt—draped over the back of a chair, and his pants—lost beneath the abandoned feather comforter. He was beginning to feel very worried about what may have happened the night before, and nothing was triggering a memory at all!

"Loki!" Thor called out, the sounds of vomiting had stopped and he thought he might get a reply, "Do you know where my other boot is?"

"You kicked it under the bed," said Loki in a rather pitiful treble.

Sure enough, that was exactly where it was. After wrestling the pair on, Thor went to the door of the bathroom to check on his brother. Loki was curled nearly in the fetal position next to the toilet, his head resting against the porcelain rim of the adjacent bathtub. He was also shivering and looked as if moments before he had been sweating profusely. Thor went back into the bedroom, swiped the comforter off the floor and draped it over his brother. Loki half-heartedly pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders.

"So…" said Thor, trailing off, "last night..."

Loki gave him a look that may have been a glare, but the effect was completely ruined by how pathetic he appeared. "No. Do not tell me you forgot."

Thor gave his brother a half grin and pressed on, "Perhaps you could refresh my memory?"

With a long groan Loki turned his forehead back to the porcelain and muttered, "Please, norns, not right now."

"You look like frost giant feces," said Thor.

The younger man had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin had gone a shade paler than normal making him nearly as white as the bathtub he was leaning on, "Do you want to me to get you anything?"

"Thor, please," moaned Loki, sinking down to the floor with the comforter in tow.

"Because the healers make a very good—"

"No…NO! … I will tell you, just… let me think," Loki had moved back into a sitting position, this time with his head in his hands, "And about the drink, I would not be able keep it down anyway."

Thor was starting to feel very sorry for his brother, and just a bit guilty that it was probably his fault he was in this state.

"Last night," said Loki, "you were very drunk."

"Yes I know," said Thor impatiently.

"And you spent most of the first part of the night talking with Sif."

"I remember that part, move on."

"Brother," said Loki, the exasperation clear in his voice, "do you want to know what happened of not?"

Loki gave Thor the look and the blonde immediately cut off what he was going to say, clamping his open mouth shut with a snap. If he knew nothing else about his brother, Thor was certain Loki would jump at any excuse to withhold information.

After letting his head loll and carelessly leaning his elbow on the toilet bowl, Loki continued, "Well, you were not talking with Sif so much as flirting… at least she was flirting. Then there were a few more rounds of mead and you two became… friendlier. I did not see exactly what happened because Voldstagg insisted on demonstrating his repertoire of mixed drinks to me, but…" he trailed off, allowing Thor's mind to fill in the blank.

"What happened, Loki," demanded Thor, his voice dropping in volume threateningly; he did not at all like where this conversation was going.

"It seems you made a move she found… offensive" as Loki spoke the timbre of his voice darkened and Thor found himself mirroring his brother's frown.

"How offensive."

Loki's only response was a most pathetic and sympathetic look.

"That bad?"

"That bad."

Thor groaned and dropped his head in his hand, things were worse than he imagined—and he could imagine quite a few ways he may have offended Sif, none of them easily mended. However, "That sill does not explain… this morning," he said, turning a frown towards Loki.

His younger brother shifted lackadaisically and continued in his lighter tone, "You soon realized your mistake, but it was too late: Sif had already left," Loki squirmed again, interrupting his tale with something like a stifled burp, "You were inconsolable, so I took you back to your rooms. We may have had a bit more to drink."

"Yes, but what happened?" Thor demanded, brow wrinkled with deep concern.

The reply he received was a groan as Loki leaned both elbows on the toilet and cradled his head in his hands. Thor's brother was looking decidedly green and the blanket had carelessly slipped from his shoulders.

"Brother, are you sure you do not need anything?"

"Yes, leave me be," was the snappish reply, "and if I were you, I—" Loki interrupted his statement with an ominous swallow, "would be more concerned about how Sif feels about last night."

What Loki said had the blonde seriously worried, and now he wanted to find the sword maiden immediately and ask for her forgiveness. However, there was one thing he had to do before he left on his self-appointed task. A quick search about the room yielded a goblet—the first he spied had been smashed to pieces against the wall, and after a quick rinse Thor filled it with water and set it beside his brother. As soon as the younger man noticed the goblet, he looked up with a glare, "Thor, I am only going to vomi—"

"It is just to rinse your mouth out after, at least, so the taste will not linger."

Loki's expression shifted to one of honest confusion, as if he was not entirely sure how to show gratitude. Thor smiled.

But just as quickly as the moment came, it was gone and Loki was retching once more into the toilet. Thor decided to leave him in peace for the time being, both for his brother's comfort and his own stomach's well being.