Thor stood, covered in grime and muck and possibly blood, outside a door, arms folded across his chest and a look of utter impatience on his face. Tapping his fingers on his arms, he shouted, "Loki, get OUT of the BATHROOM."
From inside the door (probably locked), a quieter voice insisted, "I'll be done when I'm done, brother."
He growled in an accusatory manner, "You're perfecting your hair again, aren't you?"
"I am not. I am brushing my teeth." The God of Mischief was most definitely fixing his hair. Hey, it takes a LOT of work, both magical and mundane, to get hair to stay THAT slick all day long.
". . . No one takes TWO HOURS to brush their TEETH, Loki."
"One can't be careful enough with oral hygiene," came the gently chiding reply, much too chipper in tone for the Thunder God's tastes. "Just wait a century for one of us to be toothless. Then we'll see who was in the right."
Thor was nearing the very end of his wits' end. "I've been keeping the same dental management habits for the last nine centuries. I think I'm good."
"We'll see, Thor. We'll see."
There was silence for a while on both sides of the door. Then, some shuffling of things, footsteps, and the sudden rush of running water.
"You- . . . YOU'RE GETTING IN THE SHOWER AGAIN, AREN'T YOU?"
"Not at all!" He totally was. And smirking the whole time.
"I will KILL you when you get out of there, brother!" Thor vowed, face dark with fury.
"Well, that's not much incentive to leave, then, is it?"
Thor growled and wrung an invisible neck with his hands for a while, then paced back and forth before the door, sulking.
Suddenly . . . he stopped. Then he gave a shifty smirk. Lifting a hand, he summoned Mjolnir, which flew to his hand from across the hall. Lifting it on high, he waited for a few moments.
A low roll of thunder echoed from outside the grand Halls of Asgard.
Inside the shower, Loki cracked an eye under the flow of water and looked up, confused. "What the . . . ?"
Kk-kk-KK-KRACKA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A SCREAM from inside the bathroom, followed by the door being nearly blown off its hinges as a streak of pink with a green towel went ZOOMING out of the room and down the hall.
Thor admired his handiwork for a few moments, lowered Mjolnir, and chirped, "My turn, then." He strode into the bathroom and locked the door.
From down the hall boomed an indignant yell: "YOU'RE A BASTARD, THOR."
From inside the bathroom floated a cheeky reply: "I know, I know."