A/N: I wrote it! This part was awkward because I felt like I needed to tie every thing up, but I didn't want to just repeat all the dialogue from the last chapter of The Bird of Forgetfulness verbatim. Also I was having trouble putting together my thoughts into sentences that made sense. I'm going to blame it on Loki for being such a twisty little MF. So, I only kind of included everything I wanted D:

I've started to hate taunting "maybe I'll write I third story," but I've already wrote the first chunk, so I'll go ahead and say it. But I'm going to approach that story a little differently.

Also: Bonus deleted scene at the end. (Because I liked it, but they were too sober sounding, oops! Also, the transition was killing me.)

Part 4

When Loki came to the next morning, it did not take him long to decide he would have preferred to never wake up again. The pain in his head was all consuming, almost beyond sensation. Just when Loki thought it could not get any worse, it slowly dawned upon him: whatever was in his stomach right now was going to make a hasty exit at any moment.

Loki sat up with one thought in mind: he had to reach the toilet. There was no way he was going to do something as disgusting and undignified as vomit in bed.

As he emptied the contents of his stomach several times, a distant part of Loki's mind registered the fact that Thor was now up and moving about. And yes, with his unfailingly imperfect timing he was yelling things at Loki. The trickster replied as well as he was able, but was more focused on the desperate hope that Thor would leave him alone—unless, of course, the idiot had some mystical, as yet unknown means of relieving Loki's misery.

When if felt as if the wave of sickness was finally abating, Loki began to shiver, and he wondered how he went from being oppressively hot moments before to trembling with cold. He let his pounding head rest on the cool porcelain of the nearby tub in an awkward, uncomfortable way that nevertheless helped relieve the pain—if he ignored the cold and aches everywhere else.

Loki did not realize Thor was hovering until a large blanket was draped over his shoulders. After desperately clutching it around his shaking form, he looked up at his brother with growing apprehension. Somehow he knew what Thor was about to say.

"So… last night…"

"No. Do not tell me you forgot."

Thor's sheepish grin was all the answer he needed. The oaf kept speaking, but Loki was only half-listening. The whole evening was now replaying in his mind's eye, down to the last twisted emotion, and Loki felt as if he would be sick again, if only he had the energy.

He needed to be alone, to think about what had happened and what to do now he knew that Thor was oblivious, but he would never be able to concentrate with the fool's hovering. Attempting to marshal what wit he could through the headache and the nausea, he lighted on the perfect topic to get Thor distracted and out of his way. Throwing out a few cryptic comments about Sif and a few pathetic and sympathetic looks had Thor eating out of his hand.

Of course, then Thor had to look around and try to remember everything else. Lacking the energy to devise a new plan to distract Thor, he kept at the Sif subject until Thor finally grew concerned enough search her out. Even so, just before leaving he left a tempting, but terrifying glass of water behind. For while Loki felt thirsty enough to drink the sea, he was also equally certain he would throw it back up immediately after.

Some small part of Loki hoped the pain might be tolerable once Thor finally stopped pestering him. However, he soon changed his assessment when, after the second round, he began to dry-heave. With nothing left in his stomach to give, it felt like suffocation and he wondered why the norns could not be kinder and just let him die, rather than suffer this.

The glass stood on the bedside table as well meant, but inappropriate peace offering, like the presentation of a roast boar to a society of vegetarians.

Earlier, Loki was shocked when Thor actually returned and manhandled him into the bed, and demanded he drink the unwanted concoction the servants had left. He at least had the consolation of being offered the use of Thor's helmet as a bucket.

Thor then proceeded to stand awkwardly at the bedside until he got out the most bizarre apology Loki had yet heard from his brother—first: because it was an apology, and a reasonably sincere one at that; second: because he seemed completely unsure what he was apologizing for.

For a moment Loki had been terrified the oaf actually remembered what happened, and he would have to endure an awkward conversation he was entirely unprepared for. Thankfully it was only a product of the ridiculous ideas Thor's friends put in his head, and Loki could easily dismiss the whole thing.

Thor, of course, never knew when he'd overstayed his welcome, and proceeded to wonder about the room like a half-wit before flopping down on the bed with entirely too much force. After a final admonition to drink the restorative potion, he ignored Loki completely and immediately dropped off to sleep.

In the quiet that followed, Loki was struck by a realization more bitter than the lingering taste bile at the back of his throat. Here was Thor, out cold as if he had not a care in the world, while Loki remembered everything—every last word, every last touch, the way Thor had desperately clung to him and how some traitorous part of Loki wished to cling back.

Thor could go on as if nothing had happened while Loki would be forced to live with the lingering taste of the forbidden. He had suffered through all that inner turmoil the night before for nothing. It was another small drop in the cup of resentment Loki carried for his brother. Although it was mostly filled with little, foolish things, petty slights, but eventually even droplets would cause the cup to overflow.

It was not fair that Thor could sleep untroubled while Loki was plagued by guilt and shame. But then, life rarely was where his brother was concerned.

After collecting his thoughts, Loki made a resolution. Just because Thor did not remember what happened did not mean he must go unpunished. The oaf had been constantly going on about how much he missed spending time with Loki. Therefore, Loki would ensure just the opposite occurred. Besides thwarting Thor's wishes, spending some time in solitude would also give him an opportunity practice a few new spells he had not had a chance to try yet.

In his musings, Loki's eyes fell on the glass on the bedside table. With a plan formed and his thoughts at rest, his stomach finally felt settled enough to try a sip. While part of him wished to remain contrary and not drink it at all in protest, the promise of relief was too potent. The concoction tasted odd, but not unpleasantly so.

Loki let his gaze wander back to his sleeping brother. Thor's actions usually spoke more eloquently for his brother's motives than his words. His hovering, the mistimed healing brew, the misplaced concern, were in equal parts both annoying and endearing. And that, perhaps, was the thing about his brother Loki hated most: Thor's unerring ability to make him feel two conflicting emotions at once.

Looking at him now, Loki could not help but recall the strength of his hands, the softness of his lips. And though he hated the way it made him feel weak, vulnerable even, Loki could not help the warmth he felt at being so cherished, even if it was only for a short time. It hurt, to feel loved. Thor lay right beside him, but it felt like they had never been further apart.

He would finish what was in the glass, but he would not linger.

A/N: As always, I love to hear feedback! Thank you for all the amazing reviews and follows!

My cat's key contribution to the story:

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"Deleted Scene"

Loki watched in amusement as Thor's sorry attempt at a fort crashed around the blonde. He crawled from beneath the debris of blankets and cushions, hair a mess, scowling. "To Hel with the fort!" he growled while continuing to crawl directly for the goblet and bottle he had left sitting on the side table

Thor stayed seated wile he reached up to grab them, and then scooted with less than princely grace over to where Loki was seated on the bed. After polishing off the remainder in the goblet, Thor leaned back on the frame, and craned his neck to look up at his brother, "That… was not a success."

"Yes, it is rather shabby in comparison to the Fort-Tent of Doom."

Thor looked back and their handy work, and said, "To be fair, we were a lot smaller then."

"And less drunk."

"It was such a shame when father made us take it down."

"He made us do it because the servants complained of rats."

Thor looked up at his brother sharply, "There were no rats."

Loki shrugged, and said "It was a convenient excuse. After all, the servants were forced to run quite an obstacle course to get in and clean the bathroom."

Thor laughed low in his throat, "We threw quite a tantrum when they took it down."

"You threw a big enough tantrum for the both of us, brother; all I had to do was sit back and watch. How many hapless objects were destroyed in retribution for the razing of the Fort-Tent of Doom?"

"Not enough," said Thor, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.