When you opened your eyes, you weren't expecting much. You already thought you were going to skip breakfast like normal, shower, get dressed, like you do every morning. Than live and ignore the rest the world as much as it ignored you, like always. So one can say you were mildly surprised to see the bathroom lights on, you lived alone and you never left the lights on. You rarely turned them on in fact. Especially not all nightlong. A little curious when you heard someone in there, then mortified. It's mom, she came to 'spend quality time' with you while telling you that you should move back up home, or at least decorate the apartment so people would believe someone was actually living here. That was silly though, impossible, mom didn't even know if you were alive. So you opened the door only to find a dark haired man pressing your favorite black towel to the red flowing from his abdomen. "Oh." You said that one little word, forcing your eyes to not widen and you face to stay neutral. You needed to stay calm. "Hello, can I help you?" The dark hair man stayed sitting on your not-so-white-now toilet, no response. Maybe he doesn't speak English? You move closer, he dressed strangely. "Hola, puedo ayudarte?"

"I heard you the first time you foolish, midgardian wench." You couldn't stop the frown from turn the corners of your mouth down, ruining your perfectly blank expression just a bit. You don't care that he has a beautiful voice, his words are pure venom.

"Are you drunk? Or drugged?" You allowed your hatred for those abominations to fill your words.

The man just coughs red spittle, shaking his head no. A little bit of concern enters you, okay, a lot. But he doesn't know that. You pull his long black hair back, securing it with a scrungy you pulled from your (h/l) (h/c) hair. He glares at you. You walk briskly to the kitchen to grab a knife, which the man eyes warily when he sees you holding it. You set it on the bathroom vanity as you pull out a first aid kit. You move to dial 911, but the man rasps out a no.

You shrug in response, then proceed to pull him off the toilet, forcing him to lay down on the floor, he protests a little. You position his knees up, so they are flexed, then pulled the towel away from his feeble grasp. There's only one wound, it slashes from his left hip upwards towards the right, ending a little after were you imagined the belly button would be. You ran your hand under him, feeling his back for an exit wound.

No exit, good. You take the knife, pushing away the green overcoat, proceeding to cut away at the black leather material hiding the wound from you, you leave one piece, it's dried into the wound. If you take it away he'll bleed even more. Thankfully the man doesn't make any more noise than his labored and pained breaths of air already do, no crying, no screaming.

You don't see anything in the wound. You frown. Not because you're disappointed, you're rather glad there are no organs to deal with, frowning's just more natural to you than smiling. But he was coughing blood... You clean up, put some disinfectants on the injury and wrap it up. You make him drink some lukewarm water and take ibuprofen.

Then you sit there, watching him watch you. He gets sick of the staring, or perhaps he cannot handle the gaze of your eyes. He looks around the bathroom as you try to decide whether or not to move him.

He can't stay here. The couch? But it was made of wood… Your bed? No-Actually that was a good idea, he wasn't going anywhere soon and you'd need to be able to keep an eye on him...at all times.

Fine, the bed. "Can you move?" You whisper, he turns back to you slowly. He gives a little shrug of the shoulders. "Ready?"

-(0)-

Oh, he was not ready. He cursed and screamed like a crazed thing, curling up like a caterpillar. After putting him on the bed as gently as possible you then check the bandages, no blood leaked through them. That was good. "Hungry?" He hissed at you. "Okay." You huffed, he could go hungry.

-(0)-

Which was not why you were currently in the grocery store, stocking up on saltines, soups, and other easy to eat foods. Plus a little more. Vitamins, more supplies for the injury. You headed to the check out only to stare at the cashier. The one that always flirted with you, trying to make a conversation.

What is his name? Bryce? No... It didn't start with a B. An E, you thought it was an E. You piled your purchase on the conveyor belt, slyly checking his nametag, Kaleb. Not an E. It was his friend who name was Bryce. Maybe... "Hey Name, haven't seen you for a while." He gives you an easy smile. You nod mutely. "Someone visiting you? Normally you don't get much of anything."

"No." You hand him the credit card.

"Special occasion?" He takes your cash with a bright smile.

"Not really." You take back your card, picking up the groceries as fast as humanly possible. "Bye."

"See you." He gives you that stupid, silly, hopeful smile again. Stupid child. Actually he looks older than you. Maybe by three years? You would think he'd learn by now.

-(0)-

The man is crumpled on the floor when you get back. Not even a foot from the bed. "Did you try to leave or just roll over?" You haul him back up, not caring if it hurts. He shouldn't have moved. "No moving for a while. Your cut is going to take some time, I'd guess a month or two." You prop him up on some pillows, handing him more water. "Don't move, you'll only hurts yourself."

Obvious information? Yes. Necessary warning? Apparently.

Then you warm up a little soup for him. He simply stares at it when you give it to him. "What did you do to it?" He sounds so very tired.

"Nothing, if I wanted you gone you'd be gone already. Your name?" You can't refer to him as 'dark haired man' forever.

He gives a crooked smile. "I think I'm going to like you. I am Loki. Loki of Asgard."

"Name." He nods and then takes a bite of soup, he is famished after all. And you are confused, Asgard is not a Country you've heard of, are you that out of it?

-(0)-

Loki looked at you with confusion as you slipped into bed that night. Thank goodness you just had to get a ridiculously huge bed. Thank goodness you wore your clothes to sleep, thank goodness you never got rid of those old habits. "What are you doing?"

You roll over to face him. "This is my bed."

"Sleep somewhere else. Please." You can tell that one word was a great gift to you.

"My couch is made of wood." You mutter tiredly, "You sleep on it."

"What in Odin's name convinced you to get a wood couch?" He hissed back.

You smile, Odin, Loki. Norse mythology "So my guests would be encouraged to leave early."

"You don't like people?" Loki says it as if it all is making more sense now.

"The less people around me the better. Makes less of a mess... When stuff happens. Besides I feel better when no ones around." You roll back over, facing away from him.

"What 'stuff?'"

"You, now don't come onto my side of the bed." You yawn for good measure. "Or your little cut well be the least of your problems." You pretend to sleep so he won't talk anymore. You won't fall asleep for real for another couple hours. You find it hard to sleep. You always have. It's a habit.

Thank you for reading this, reviews are always appreciated :)