"No, Stop!"
Thor at least is enjoying himself. Getting his blood pumping with a good bar fight against clumsy, brutish goons, because of course he is. Loki will admit later that he did have a bit of fun. He lashes out with his daggers, striking precisely.
One of their clubs gets around his defenses and strikes its mark. Bone crunches and gives way and the joint falls out of alignment with a pop.
Loki grits his teeth against the pain. He stabs the one who struck him and falls back. The injury takes a moment and a touch of magic to heal enough for him to rejoin the fray.
“Having fun?” Thor cries, a smile on his face. “Let’s do ‘Get Help.’”
“Brother, no, stop-” But it’s too late, Thor is grabbing him and he has no choice but to tuck and roll as he strikes their remaining assailants. He hits the ground — and their bodies — hard and cannot contain his pained cry as his nearly healed shoulder dislocates again.
Thor has the good graces to wince. Their opponents defeated, Loki sits among their unconscious bodies and sullenly waits for his shoulder to stitch itself back together.
“I hate you,” He says. “I truly hate you, brother.” Thor smiles sheepishly and crouches before him.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t forgive you.”
“Fair.” They’re quiet for a second, Loki focusing on healing.
“No more ‘Get Help.’ And I mean it this time.”
“Of course.” But the way Thor says it suggests it’s not really the last time they’ll play this particular game. They’ve had this exact exchange a dozen or more times before.
“It’s humiliating.”
“It’s hilarious. Does your shoulder hurt terribly?”
Loki adopts a noble air, sniffing. “It’s bearable.”
“Oh, how will you endure?” Thor leans over and presses his lips to Loki’s shoulder, gently over the healing joint. “Better?”
Loki sighs dramatically. “I suppose I can be moved now.” Thor smiles.
“Come on. Let’s get back to the ship before they wake up and I have to throw you at them again.”