How could something as mundane as the common cold bring the Silvertongue so low?

Loki started to wheeze, badly. He slowed down and leaned against the corridor wall as a new wave of fatigue came over him. Not only was his body progressively feeling more like a rock golem, but his head was swimming and he was growing nauseous. He wanted to surrender to the exhaustion and lie down right here—in a public hallway of the palace—but no, he could hear Thor behind him in the crowds. Loki must hide, must get away to his chambers before his brother could see, or—

"Brother! The Lady Sif and I are going hunting, will you accompany—" the blond's booming voice trailed off as he took in Loki's posture and unusual pallor.

Damn it.

Loki shivered. Now a fever. Joy.

Loki felt his brother's hands on his body—one heavy, warm hand on his shoulder, the other encircling his ribs. Those big arms pulled Loki close and Loki could not help but sag against his brother's strong body. Then that insufferable, awful man's voice changed, becoming soft, sweet, and tender: "Sweetling, you are not well," Thor murmured into his ear.

Loki's curses and denials were many but silent. Really, truly: Thor would be weeping if only he could hear the vitriol in his head. Loki was not surrendering gratefully to the blond's stubborn habit of nursing him.

"Let us get you to bed, brother," Thor said. He lifted Loki into his arms, not caring who saw them. "I will postpone the hunt with the Lady Sif until you are well."

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeess. Nooooooooooooooo.

~

Thor carried him, bridal style, into Loki's chambers and deposited him on the full bed in the bedchamber. Thor left to get blankets and returned to find Loki standing, for he was trying to—oh, he couldn't remember, he was addle-brained and feeble from sickness. Thor dumped the blankets and pulled Loki back to bed.

"Pumpkin, you must rest. Lie back, now."

"I am not a squash and you will not address me in such an undignified—"

Thor shut him up with a sound kiss on the cheek.

Soft, warm, and so pleasantly tingly. He would not tell Thor—

"Brother, kiss me again," Loki crooned. Thor startled but happily gave it him again. Then he helped Loki out of his clothes and tucked him into bed.

"I will return swiftly with soup and potions for your symptoms," Thor said and kissed his hair.

Loki grumbled ineffectively and really at no one in particular. He was horizontal at last in his lovely, soft bed. His head dropped back onto the pillow and soon he was snuggled up with his cushions and covers, his long, black hair in waves about his shoulders.

~

Loki awoke from his nap in a pool of sweat. He pushed the covers off of his body. Even that effort left him huffing and puffing. This was no mere cold, surely?

Then Thor was standing beside the bed, pressing a cool, damp towel to his wan face. "How are you, lambkin?"

"I feel disgusting," Loki croaked. He also felt parched.

Thor brought him water, which he gulped down eagerly, and drew Loki a bath. With an arm about Loki's waist, Thor helped him to the bathtub, since he proved too woozy to be relied upon to keep himself upright.

Loki sat on the side of the tub, with his back to the water. Oh, how devoted Thor was when Loki was ill. Oh, how sweet and doting. What would he do if Loki were drowning in the bath the blond had drawn just for him?

Loki tilted backwards. Let's just see. Whee!

The water engulfed him with a splash. Then the water went up his nose and he was upside down and gravity wasn't there and he was already disoriented from being so sick. Panic rose in his chest and he spun and put his hands out, trying to find the floor from the walls and which way was up. Stupid, stupid, stupid idea!

Thor pulled him upright and against his chest. There, there, Thor murmured, I've got you, love. Thor rubbed soothing circles in Loki's back as he coughed his lungs clean. He kept rubbing his back long afterward, too.

Once he recovered, Loki wrenched himself—well, more like floated aggressively—away from his brother and proceeded to wash himself. The water was so hot and lovely and he was so fatigued, he soon gave not a fig about anything. So when Thor pulled him against his broad chest again, Loki welcomed it and allowed his lanky body to fall where it would, never mind how his big brother's erection was poking into his hip.

The water was at just the right temperature to ease away normal soreness, but Loki's muscles were aching from sickness. Loki whined. He tried to snuggle closer, to burrow deeper into Thor's comforting body. Thor chuckled, wrapped his arms more tightly around him, and kissed him on the forehead.

"Little dove," Thor crooned with a smirk. He saved this endearment solely for when illness made the trickster too weak to be wicked. "How is the little sick patient?" His lips and stubble brushed just so against Loki's third eye. It tickled in a particular way that sent shivers throughout Loki's body. He wanted that again. He would not tell Thor—

"Do that again," Loki said, and his elder brother did as he was asked. More shivers. Loki let out a soft sound and his lids fluttered shut. Thor's hand returned to another weak spot he had learned of years ago: he buried his callused fingers in the long hair streaming from Loki's scalp and began to lightly tease the hairs at the root. More pleasurable shivers cascaded down Loki's body and his eyes rolled behind his lids. Then Thor, damn him, attacked another weak spot as he ghosted the tip of his nose over the outermost bit of Loki's ears. Then the Silvertongue's namesake was not fit for forming words.

Thor smiled and chuckled at his responses. He continued his caresses for a long, long while, cradling Loki to his chest in the hot bath.

~

When the water cooled and they were toweling off, Loki whimpered I'm so cold, I'm so cold, fix it. Thor smiled and indulged him all the more. He sat Loki down with a bowl of warm soup and drinking chocolate while he changed Loki's bed sheets. Himself. He did not call a servant to do it (well, he had to call a servant to bring fresh sheets because he was still a prince and princes do not know where the fuck the linen closets are). He chose the silkiest, smoothest sheets and prepared the bed all on his own. Then he returned and drew Loki back to bed, where he proceeded to feed him the remainder of his soup and drinking chocolate.

"How is my little squash, now?" Thor asked, placing another kiss to Loki's third eye. Loki moaned softly and wrapped his arms more tightly around the blond's waist. He was too tired to care.

Loki stared sleepily at his big brother. Despite the sickness, he was comfortable: he was wrapped up and pillowed by a nice, warm body, he was toasty, the silken sheets were exquisite, and when Thor wasn't reading to him, he was massaging his arms. Thor always took special care of him when he fell ill. It was the only occasion in which Thor could rationalize these touches and fawning over his little brother. Loki had never permitted his brother to kiss him, but he was aware of Thor's wants.

Never before in Loki's life had he acknowledged his return of Thor's unbrotherly affections. But the want was there now, strong enough that Loki felt himself able to act upon it.

Loki pushed himself up on his arms and brought his lips to Thor's. Thor was still for a moment before Loki felt his brother's hand cupping the back of his head as he returned the kiss. One little, chaste kiss turned into two, three, four open-mouthed kisses, before Loki's exhausted body called it quits for the day and he fell dead asleep on his brother's chest.

Thor chuckled and patted Loki's long, black hair. He tucked his little brother's head beneath his chin and closed his eyes. Judging by today, Thor would be spending the rest of the week nursing Loki back to health.

"Sleep well, my malevolent, little squash."