A Very Unlikely Tale // Loki

Chapter 3

   {edited}

   I force myself out of tale of Sleeping Beauty and cast a sideways glance at the little clock on my nightstand.  Forty-five minutes seem to have passed in the span of a second.

Somewhat reluctantly, I get up from my comfortable position and open a drawer of my small vanity.  Inside, the tiny shears shine just as much as they did when I bought them.  I run my fingers along the delicate designs as I make my way down the hall, grabbing a cup of water and a cloth before I reach my destination.

Raising my knuckles in the air, I give the door a few sharp knocks. "Loki?" I call, "If you're decent knock twice."

As I wait for a response, I hear a bit of shuffling behind the door. 

Shortly, I hear two quick raps on what I assume is the headboard of the bed.

Suddenly feeling quite nervous, I take a reassuring breath and push open the door.  He's sitting on his bed rubbing a wash rag gingerly over the painful looking stitches. I notice he had changed into a pair of John's old dress pants, but still dons the same shirt he arrived in.

I mentally slap myself when I remember the obstruction of his shackles.

He does not look at me, even when I move to where I'm standing right in front of him. 

"Hey, Loki?" I say timidly.

Nothing.

"....Loki?"  I ask a little louder.

Not even a glance.

I chuckle a little as he blocks me out. He's going to learn very quickly that messing around is not a good idea.

I clear my throat, "I can see you're busy. I was going to do you a favor but if you're going to ignore me regardless then I suppose there's no point," I pause, snipping the scissors in my hand for emphasis. At the sound, his head snaps up and he looks at me incredulously. 

I smirk at the god and begin to make my way back out of his room, "I'll just leave you alone."

The moment I take a step, however, he catches my arm and a muffled, almost strangled noise escapes from his sealed lips. In that instant, as he spins me around to face him, I feel an overwhelming amount of pity for him. I know I can not show it. He doesn't want pity. I wouldn't either.

Instead, I roll my eyes and meet his, "It's gonna be awfully boring if I'm stuck with you for any amount of time and you can't say anything-" I break off, remembering something, "Loki, would you kindly let go of my arm?"

At the request, he drops my elbow, his brow furrowing as I continue, "There's a phrase here on Earth. 'Silence is Golden.' Well, let me tell you that I've been here long enough to know that's not necessarily true." I grin at the confused Loki, "Something tells me you agree."

I gesture back to the bed, "So is there any way you want to do this? Sitting down, laying down, standing, whatever makes it easier." I look at him expectantly.

His head tilts in a what-are-you-talking-about kind of way and I realize I should clarify.

"Oh! Stitches. Sorry."

With a slight shake of the head, he sits down on the side of the bed, gesturing to the spot next to him. I sit down, and he turns to face me.  Reaching for the cup, I dampen the rag and begin to try and soften the blood that had crusted around the thread.  When it is clear that I have done what I can in that area, I reach for the scissors.

I cup his chin in my free hand to keep his head steady and begin to work the tiny shears through the tight stitching between his lips.  As I cut the last thread, Loki tries to move his jaw.

"Not yet.  I'm sure it's gotta feel great to be free of it and all, but I still have to get the thread out of there.  I'm sorry.  Just a little longer."

He nods a little.

"Deep breath. This is gonna hurt."

He rolls his eyes at me, imitating my actions earlier.

I glare at him for a split second before I start the painstaking process of removing the thread, wincing when he does, but not apologizing. 

Finally, I pull out the last thread and Loki lets out an audible sigh of relief. 

With nothing left to do, I begin to feel a little uncomfortable, "Can you clean up by yourself?"

He takes the rag and water from me.

As he starts to collect the tiny pieces of thread, I remember that this man hasn't eaten in who-knows-when, " Oh! My room is two doors down on the right.  Knock when you're ready for something to eat." 

He nods at me and I see him glancing around the room, as if he's just now noticing he's inside a living treehouse.

I grin at him, "I hope you like green, Loki. There's a lot of it here."

As I reach for the door, ready to get back to my book, I hear,

"I like green."

I smile in spite of myself.

"I like green too."