Ordinary (A Marvel Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

"Who are you?" I gasped out, my eyes wide. Fear was still coursing through me, but I felt comforted by the fact that be stayed where he was, refusing to come closer.

"You can't be that bad, considering you just saved my life, but you also just broke into my apartment and killed a man, so I am not exactly sure where we stand on the whole moral scale." I rambled. I didn't appreciate the silence and I felt the urge to fill it. "Speaking of which, I sincerely hope you intend to take that body with you when you leave. I am not quite sure where to dispose of a body and I certainly cannot keep it in my apartment. My cat with have a panic attack."

I jumped up with the memory of Banjo. The man seemed to tense up, but didn't move as I raced through the apartment searching for my cat. When I found him, he was sleeping, curled up on the top of the fridge.

"You're absolutely useless." I told him, even as relief filled my body. He looked up to glare at me with sleepy eyes. I left him where he was and turned to look at the man, who was now crouched over the dead body, examining it.

He was definitely a handsome man. His long hair and sharp blue eyes gave him a dangerous look, but I felt safe around him. His metal arm shone in the moonlight, making him all the more surreal. I stood there, watching him, realizing more and more that the fear had left my body. Nico would be kicking my ass for letting a murderer just wander around my apartment. I cleared my throat, causing him to look over at me.

"Do you have a name?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. The more he stared at me, the more aware I became of my skimpy pajamas. I shuffled slightly, but he didn't respond.

"Do you know what the man was doing here? He obviously wasn't stealing anything."

No response.

I sighed, dropping my hands to my side. Abruptly, the man stood up, causing me to shy away slightly. He grimaced as he  stood, his metal hand reaching instinctively to hold his shoulder. I frowned.

"You're hurt." I observed, stepping closer. He glared at me, causing me to move back a little more. I abruptly turned, running into the bathroom to grab the medical kit. When I came out again, he was facing my bookshelf, looking at my books.

"I can help you." I murmured, careful not to provoke him. I stepped closer, my hand out as if he were a panicked animal. "I'm going to school to be a nurse. I can fix you up, if you would like."

He watched me, but didn't protest as I moved close enough to touch him. This close, I could smell the scents of gunpowder, metal, and mint that wafted from him. It was not altogether unpleasant. I slowly reached up to touch his shoulder. I pulled back the bloodied material to see the wound.

"This is a gunshot wound!" I exclaimed, shocked. I had never seen one of these in real life. I once again found myself wondering who exactly this man was. I couldn't believe he had been functioning so well while he had been shot. I told him to sit as I raced to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of rum Nico had given me for my 21st birthday. When I returned, I was pleased to see he had listened and was now sitting on the couch.

I plopped down next to him, handing over the bottle, and said, "Drink up! It'll help."

I turned to grab the supplies I would need, and when I turned back around, he hadn't even opened the bottle. He was watching me solemnly.

"You're going to want it when I start digging into your shoulder." I told him, raising an eyebrow. When he still didn't drink, I shrugged before opening it myself and taking a swig. He watched me and I could swear I saw the corner of his lips twitch for a second, as if he wanted to smile.

"It's been a long night, so forgive me." I told him, taking another sip.

Finally I set the bottle down and focused on his shoulder, the alcohol warming my insides. Oddly enough, the rum seemed to steady my hands more than anything. I took the tweezers and started to dig into his wound for the bullet. He cringed, the skin around his eyes tightening, but he didn't make a sound, surprising me. Even the most tough men in the world would've at least winced. I felt the tweezers hit metal and I quickly yanked out the bullet, slapping my hand over the wound when blood poured out.

"You want some rum now?" I asked, watching him clench his jaw. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. I shrugged and started sewing up the wound.

I went through the correct procedure in my mind as I did, making sure I didn't make any mistakes. My first real patient, and I had just watched him kill a man.

"I feel like I should be going into shock." I murmured as I worked. "That's what normal people would be doing right now. I mean, its not everyday men break into my apartment. I mean, I have a dead body sitting on my carpet right now. That's a good carpet too, so at least he's not bleeding. Thanks for saving me, by the way."

He opened his eyes to meet my gaze and nodded roughly, accepting my gratitude. I hummed slightly, knotting off the final stitch.

"And to think I was supposed to be in class." I said, laughing roughly. Banjo walked around the couch, woken by the sound of my voice, and froze immediately as he saw the man, hissing slightly. I rolled my eyes and gently kicked him away.

"Where were you when that guy was trying to kill me, huh?" I demanded from him, playfully, as he stalked away. "Useless!"

I sighed and focused back on my work, smoothing a bandage over the closed wound. I sighed, and turned to put my supplies away. The man's voice made me freeze.

"You're not afraid."

It was the first time he had spoken all night and I was stunned by his rough voice. I turned to look at him, my eyes meeting his. The piercing blue color mesmerized me.

"Should I be?" I asked softly.

"Yes."