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It is sadly fortunate that his brother had never been terribly bright in the first place, decides Loki, as it makes the recent and total loss of all his wits a little less tragic than if Thor had ever been truly blessed with any intellect to speak of.
He watches Thor now with quiet resignation. His brother is lying on his belly on the floor with his bright red cloak folded up and covering his head. Loki is tempted to use magic to nail the fabric to the ground, just to see Thor flail, but he holds off for now.
“Ah-ha!” cries Thor, flipping the end of the cloak back over his head, emerging with the silliest grin Loki has yet seen him wear. He looks ridiculous, thinks Loki firmly, looking quickly away before a smile can betray him. Thor is not looking at Loki anyway – all his attention is on the squirming infant before him, propped up by a pile of soft blankets and giggling at her father's absurd antics. Thor hides himself again until Valdis begins make soft noises of confusion, then appears again with a quiet cry, provoking his daughter to happy laughter once more.
Loki dearly hopes the All-father is sat upon Hlidskialf mourning how far his golden heir has fallen; from the greatest warrior of the Nine Realms and Lord of the thunder and the storm to a babbling fool crawling besotted at the foot of Loki's child.
Thor continues to play hide-and-seek for some time, neither he nor Valdis seeming to tire of the game. Loki pretends to read a book, sitting cross-legged on the bed and not noticed by either his husband or child. He tolerates this for now, because he is tired, and not because watching the pair of them giggling at each other is remotely agreeable or pleasing. He feels nothing whatsoever when Thor moves forward and covers Valdis with the cloak as well, no warm glow at the sight of his family so merry and playful and without fear or shadows, and no smiles tug at his lips when Thor starts to loudly count Valdis' toes with kisses.
He feels nothing whatsoever, except a little irritation that his reading is so disturbed.
“Loki?”
“What is it, Thor?” he asks, voice laced with lazy exasperation.
“Valdis has a new trick to show you, brother,” says Thor happily, rising to his feet and scooping the child into his arms in one easy movement, and then carrying her over to the bed. Valdis shrieks happily and grabs a handful of his hair to chew on for the short journey.
Loki puts down his book, a careful look of scepticism on his face. “Thor, Valdis cannot yet speak her own name.”
Thor ignores him, and settles on the bed in front of Loki, Valdis held carefully in his lap. With a quick grin to his brother, he draws the cloak back over his head, dragging it far enough down to conceal the child as well. There is a brief pause, Loki sighing quietly in despair of his brother's wits, before Valdis suddenly bats the red material away and stuck her head out with a burbling cry. She reaches for Loki, and Loki answers as naturally as he breathes, lifting his daughter and holding her against his chest.
“Ahhaa,” says Valdis happily, snuggling against him with an air of triumph. He cups her head and strokes her dark hair, eyeing Thor with misgiving. The thunder god is unmoving, his head still hooded by his cloak.
“Thor-” Loki starts to say, but he is cut off by Thor erupting from beneath the cloak, darting forward and pressing a soft kiss on Loki's mouth.
Loki silently thanks the Norns that he, at least, has retained his wits in the wake of their daughter's birth, and returns the kiss, leaning closer to his simple-minded dolt of a husband. Thor lifts his hands, one to cup the back of Loki's neck, the other to touch their daughter's hair, his fingers covering Loki's when they meet.
Valdis allows them a brief moment before squirming and trying to wriggle between them, demanding their attention and their affection with chubby, grasping fingers and annoyed grunts. They part obediently and both move to settle comfortably against the pillows, a small hollow between them for Valdis to nestle in. Thor takes possession of one of her hands and begins kissing her fingertips one by one, Valdis squawking at the feel of his rough beard on her soft skin.
Loki tucks his arm beneath Valdis and begins to watch them again, for lack of anything to do. His book is out of reach, and he is feeling rather dozy, content to drift off to sleep while watching Thor coo over their child like the lovesick fool that he is. He still doesn't feel anything though – except perhaps a lingering sense of satisfaction at a job well done.