Author's Note: Because a friend wanted some hair-pulling, and in exchange, wrote me a fic about braiding hair.

Great. Thor was ignoring him. If there was one thing Loki couldn't stand, it was being ignored. It made him feel forgotten, like a shadow nobody noticed. Even if the trickster had deserved it, he felt it was rather immature, especially coming from the man whom was meant to be Asgard's future king.

Anger bubbling inside him and coming out as almost a hiss, Loki reached out and quickly knotted his fingers in golden hair, tugging roughly until Thor was bent backwards, head right below his brother's. The God of Thunder had previously been standing with his back to the dark-haired man, arms crossed in silent defiance, but at the harsh tug to his locks, he couldn't help but groan in part agony, part annoyance, bright eyes flashing threateningly up into equally cold ones.

"Have some maturity, brother." Loki growled, face a mere inch or so from Thor's, spit glistening on thin lips.

"Says the man resulting to hair pulling." The future-king's response was flat, albeit a tad challenging. In his eyes, his brother had stooped just as low.

For a moment, neither of the men moved, two very different pairs of eyes holding a stare-off, the only sound that of their heavy breathing. Then, something flickered in teal eyes, just for a moment, and deciding it was a futile battle, the god of mischief gave one more painful tug to his sibling's hair before pressing Thor's head up just enough to place a forceful, quick kiss to gold-knitted eyebrows, most likely furrowed in agony.

It was chaste, laced with negativity, and the same flicker of something that'd been in his eyes, and it only lasted for a few second before Loki all-together let go of the God of Thunder, backing away slowly with a look of indifference. Thor, though, was still bent backwards, eyes watching his brother leave before suddenly, gravity decided to take over, and his muscles could no longer handle the odd angle, the blond fell with a dull thud to the floor.

His forehead tingled, almost chilly where Loki had kissed him, and Thor couldn't help but want to chase after whatever that had been, find it, question it, and hold onto it with an iron fist.