The couple has officially taken over my life.

Song:

Let Go- Frou Frou

It's too late for things like this to happen.

I let the door fall open in front of me, and I stumble bleary eyed and tired into my dark room. The light that floods in from the hallway illuminates something, a figure crouched at the end of my bed and I freeze. My instincts immediately take over and my body goes stiff, but the muffled, pleading whimper that manages to escape the creature's lips stops me. The two of us are quiet and still, waiting for the other to make their move but neither does.

I recognize the figure immediately.

Loki.

But he looks far different than the last time I've seen him. His facial features are left hollow and gaunt looking, and red rims his eyes as if he's been sobbing. He's muzzled and chained like before, but his clothing is torn and ripped and there are cuts and bruises peeking through the slashes made at the cloth.

This is not the Loki we knew.

I move forward hesitantly with an outstretched hand as if I'm approaching a feral dog, and Loki scuttles backwards, scared. The muzzle appears to have been thrown on haphazardly, which makes sense as to why he was able to let the whimper escape from before. I move slower this time as I approach further, but he still just crawls away with wide eyes.

"Tony," I breathe out, unsure if the intercom has even picked it up.

Jarvis answers instead. "Hello, Mr. Rogers. Mr. Stark is asleep at the moment, would like for me to wake him?"

I nod, and then remember to speak. "Yes, Jarvis. Immediately."

"So you're telling me, that Loki here has no memories whatsoever?"

Bruce raises his hand as if pardoning himself before speaking. "From what I've asked him, he remembers his name."

"His name?" Fury looks enraged, and he illustrates it by slamming his fist into the meeting table. "Loki, the bane of each of our existences, is sitting in the other room with no memory except for his name?"

"Correct, sir."

"Does he still have his abilities?"

Bruce coughs into his fist. "I haven't checked for that yet. But from what I've gathered, my hypothesis is that after he was transferred to Asgard for punishment, his memory was erased and he was— ah, given his punishment. He's in a critical mental condition."

Fury chews on this for a bit. "He remembers none of us?"

Bruce nods.

"I still don't trust him." That's Clint, sitting on the other end of the table with a scowl on his face. "Whether he's lost his memory or not, he's still a threat. What if he's faking it? He's the God of Lies, this is probably some stupid trick so he can make friends with us and then stab us in the back when we're not looking."

"My brother would never do that," Thor speaks quietly. "Not in the condition he's in. Asgard has reports that he is missing, but I will not speak of his whereabouts to them."

"If he is faking it, and somehow deceiving us, he will be disposed of immediately," Fury responds. "But if he makes out to be friendly, then maybe we can put him to use."

"If he's a mortal, he'll be of no use to us," Natasha comments. "Then what will we do? Carry him around like the class pet? He'll be a led weight to us."

Fury holds a hand up. "We still have yet to determine whether or not he is still capable of what he's done before, and if he is we will use him to our greater advantage. If he turns out to be as useless as rock, I will deposit him myself onto the streets of New York and leave him there to figure it out himself. I am not fond of this man, even if he doesn't have his memory, and I won't hesitate to get rid of him. Understood?"

We all nod in silent agreement.

The medical unit that is currently set up in the Stark Tower reminds me of a hospital, all white and sterile and it makes me skin crawl. There are bags of fluids hanging that are connected to an IV that is placed inside Loki's elbow. He sits perched on the top of an examination table, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that looks borrowed and much too big for his skinny, underfed frame. He still has this gaunt look about him, but the majority of the cuts and bruises on his body are patched up. There are scars marring his skin like stitch work, and he seems to be feebly trying to hide them.

Bruce hooks up something else to the IV, and glances up to follow Loki's gaze that's pinned on me. I stand half out of the door, watching with quiet anxiety. I never liked hospitals much, and the scent of cleaners and antibiotics brings back too many memories.

"Oh, Steve," Bruce checks Loki's pulse, and the smaller man almost pulls away, but the scientist's firm grip holds him there. "Come in."

I take a few steps forward, and force a small smile as Loki stares at me with wide, curious blue eyes. He licks his chapped lips, and then attempts at a few words.

"Hi, Steve," if his voice shakes, neither Bruce nor I say anything.

"How are you doing? You look a little better." In truth, he almost looks worse, but the fact that he's talking is a good enough excuse for me.

Loki seems to have lost his Ye Old English speak, and he sounds more mundane with the modern speech. "I'm doing all right," he furrows his brow as Bruce jostles him a bit, checking more vitals. "St-still a bit shocked."

I can imagine. I can't relate directly, but I can empathize. Waking up seventy years later in a city that looks completely different was traumatizing, but the thought of not having any memories at all must be worse.

I swallow back the lump in my throat. "How's everything going, Bruce?"

He shares a look with me that says "not so good", and I understand. "He's getting better. These cuts and bruises will heal in a few days."

Loki shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I hate these needles," he mutters. "When will I be able to be rid of them?"

Bruce purses his lips. "When I'm done testing."

"What are you testing for?"

He doesn't answer, and instead proceeds with switching out one of the IV bags. Loki gets the message, and just sits quietly until Bruce finishes. The taller man pulls his glasses off his face, and looks towards me.

"I'll be back in a minute," he says, stress pulling his face taut. "You two can chitchat."

He leaves, and I teeter backwards on my heels before coming closer to where Loki sits on the examination table. He seems content with playing with a loose string at the hem of his shirt, and I move to sit next to him. He jolts a bit at the contact of our knees brushing.

"When you're feeling better," I start. "Maybe I could show you some things? I could show you around Stark Tower, and I have a pretty sweet comic book collection… It's nothing, but I know you're feeling pretty down, with what's been happening."

Loki swallows, and seems to be digesting what I've just said. For a moment I actually think he's going to reject me, and I can't explain the feeling of disappointment that settles in my chest. But he finally looks up at me with a smile on his face and nods. I move to hop off the examination table, but Loki's hand grabs and tangles in the fabric of my long sleeve shirt, effectively stopping me.

"Thank you," he whispers. "For being so nice to me. The others have all been so cold." He lowers his voice even more, if that's even possible. "No one's told me yet about who I am."

I don't want to tell him, because I'm afraid he'll do something reckless. So instead, I settle on giving his arm a tight squeeze before leaving the lab.

I awake that night to a soft knocking at my door.

I drag myself sluggishly out of bed and clamber over to the door, rubbing at sleep-laden eyes. The drowsy fog starts to lift though as I open my door to find Loki standing there, a pillow clutched in one hand and a blanket in the other. His eyes are wide and he's shivering, and I immediately feel bad for him.

"How did you find my room?" this is the first thing that pops into my head, and it takes me a moment before I realize I've actually said it aloud.

"I asked Jarvis," he replies guiltily. He's seen the others speak to Jarvis before, so it doesn't surprise me that he's already figured it out. "I'm sorry, I just woke up scared and cold and I didn't want to be alone. Can I stay here with you? I'll sleep on the floor, I don't care—"

I touch his arm. "Loki, you're freezing. You can't sleep on the floor." I instinctually pull him closer, trying to warm him up. He shivers, from the contact or my warmth I'm not sure.

I pull him into my room and shut the door behind him. He moves over towards the bed, and casts me a second glance before climbing in and burying himself among the pillows and comforter. He looks surprised as I climb in beside him, pulling him closer to me so he can warm up. He scoots himself closer so I'm able to rest my chin on his head, and I wrap my arms around him.

In only moments he's sleeping soundly in my arms.

I wake up in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

Loki has turned himself over so he's facing me, and has buried his head in my chest. Our legs are tangled together and the sheets are all twisted up around us. He's still sleeping soundly, and through the windows I can see the sun is almost up. It's still quite early.

Loki shifts in my arms, and I look down to see him opening up his eyes.

"Steve?" he mumbles. "Steve what time is it?"

"Probably about six."

Loki shifts again and he grimaces, letting out a soft whine.

"What? Are you all right?" he moves away, clutching at his abdomen. I sit up and move to help him, but he pushes me away. When he pulls his hands away, there's a red blotch on his shirt and I suck in a breath.

"What happened?"

Loki pulls up the shirt, and the gauze bandage that had been covering the cut is crimson. He moves to pull his shirt back down, but I stop him.

"We have to go show Bruce. Something's wrong."

Loki whines again. "It hurts though. It hurts really bad."

"Then I'll carry you there," I don't even hesitate a bit when I say this, and I almost scare myself at how willing I am.

Tears prick at Loki's eyes. "It feels like there's a piece of glass lodged in there or something."

"You're going to be fine," I whisper, pulling him up to rest one hand underneath his knees and the other at his back. Loki hisses out another whine, and I carry him all the way to the lab, where I'm sure Bruce is.

"How did you get him here this fast? How did you even know about the wound?"

Bruce speaks in a low, calm voice as he patches Loki up. There was no sign of infection or anything, only that the cut had opened back up.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, not quite sure how to answer the question. Loki looks at me with clear blue eyes as if willing me to just answer with the truth, and I suddenly just give in.

"Loki stayed in my room last night," I say quietly, avoiding Bruce's gaze. When I look back at him he's quirked an eyebrow, an odd amused look on his face.

"Don't tell Tony that," he applies another piece of tape to the gauze. "You know the trouble he'll make of something as simple as that."

I'm surprised that that's all he has to say.

Right that moment Tony decides to walk in, a newspaper and coffee cup in hand. He furrows his brow for only moment before continuing on to what Bruce calls his "desk", and flips open to one of the file reports on Loki.

Bruce and I exchange a look before he excuses Loki. The darker haired man jumps off the metal examination table, and he glances at me as if he's about to say something when Tony interrupts.

"Hey Bruce, have you read this yet?"

He puts his glasses back on. "What?"

Tony gestures to the file, and nods his head in my direction only enough for me to catch it and guide Loki out of the lab.

"I'm sorry about last night, and this morning," Loki says. "I'm just so weak."

"You're not weak," I counter. "You're just recovering."

Recovering.

This word tastes bitter on my tongue.

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