Unfettered (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 4 - Odinson

You pace your quarters anxiously, feet carrying you from the dresser, to the windows, back to the dresser. After your conversation in the kitchen, Tony had escorted you back to your room and told you to wait. That he'd be back. But that it might be a while, so get comfortable.

Get comfortable, you think, scoffing to yourself and letting your fingers drift over the decorative art books on the dresser. Phil would have hated this room.

A timid knock on the door catches your attention. Eager for a distraction, you all but run to it to slide it open, expecting Tony on the other side. Instead you find the purple-shirted man from earlier, mildly flustered.

"Uh, yeah, hi," he mumbles, staring up through thick-rimmed glasses. "I'm here to uh, fix that," he points to your left hand.

Confused, you hold out your hand to see that although it no longer oozes, the blood from earlier has still stained your palm. Tony must have sent a first aid request.

"Oh," you say, a smile tugging at the corner of your lip. "Okay. Come in."

The man follows you into your quarters and heads for the bed, setting his first aid kit down atop the covers flipping open the lid. "I'm Bruce," he says.

"Y/n," you say, introducing yourself.

He reaches for your hand, but you pull it away and gesture toward his kit. "Can you put those gloves on?" you ask, nodding toward the blue latex gloves stuffed in the side.

Bruce arches a brow, but doesn't say anything as he gloves up then takes your hand, poking and prodding at the center of it. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks, reaching into his box for a cotton pad.

"Kinda," you answer. "It's...something I do sometimes. On accident."

"With what?" he asks.

"My nail," you answer.

"But no glass, or anything?" he questions.

"Nope," you answer casually, glancing out the windows as he works, the twinkling city lights against the darkening twilight sky are mesmerizing. "When I get worked up, sometimes I-," you freeze, the words drying up on your tongue as the familiar scent of cleaning alcohol fills your nostrils. When the sting hits your palm, you jerk your hand away in panic.

"Woah, hey," Bruce says. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You okay?"

You're okay.

Phil's voice is in your head. Calm. Reassuring.

Our senses are powerful. They connect us to our past. Sometimes you'll hear something. Taste something. Smell something. And it'll put you right back there. But when that happens, take a breath. And remember that it's over. They can't hurt you anymore.

"I-I'm fine," you stammer, cheeks warming in embarassment as you meet Bruce's gaze. "Sorry."

Bruce seems skeptical, but reaches back into his kit for a thin, cloth bandage and wraps it tightly around the cut.

"So," you say, trying to break the awkward silence. "Are you an Avenger too? Like Tony?"

Bruce hums in laughter. "Kinda, I guess."

"What does that mean?" you question.

"I get big and green," he says. "Not exactly superhero material. But useful, I suppose. Sometimes. Because I can hit stuff pretty hard."

"Oh!" you say, growing excited as you realize who he is. "You're the Hulk!"

"Yep," he says bitterly.

You recognize that tone. "I don't like what they made me, either," you say quietly.