Hold Me Through the Darkness (джен)

“Brother,” Thor says, again, his voice drenched in worry, “you do not look well.”
“I’m fine, Thor,” Loki grits out. “Just tired.”
His migraine chooses that moment to grow even worse, the excruciating pound picking up like the raucous beat of a thousand drums. A pained whimper slips out before he can stop it.
“Oh, Loki.” The bed dips as Thor eases down onto it. A large, warm hand comes to rest gently upon Loki’s forehead, and he lacks the will to shove it off. “Banner was right, you are ill. Why did you not tell me?”
Loki cracks open an eye. “Evidently, I h-have people who will do that for me.”
 
Aboard the Statesman, Loki becomes dangerously ill.