First Person Reader/Loki/Bucky 'Winter Soldier' (WILL contain mature content in later chapters)

This is my first fanfic in this media, so please be gentle with me~

My less-than-likely Roommate problems

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Stranger

I stood there, unsure of what was happening. One minute I was alone in my apartment, the next I was experiencing the most horrifyingly exciting moments of my life.

I had just fed the cat and gone to change into my pajamas, when I heard a noise. Grabbing the bat I kept dutifully next to my bed, I crossed to the bedroom door and pressed an ear against it. Surely my cat had just gotten into something, but no, there it was again! And I could hear footsteps. They were heavy, like a man's. I slammed open the door, brandishing my bat with a vicious flourish, but the unknown intruder caught it effortlessly and it made a clanging noise when it hit his hand. His SILVER hand?!

The light from my bedroom gleamed on the intruder, shining up his arm and I nearly screamed, until his other hand was on my mouth. The man leaned in, his eyes narrowed. "Be quiet! I need to lay low a bit, and I'll do it here. I don't want to kill you, but unless you cooperate I will without hesitation." His voice was like sandpaper and velvet at the same time. He then dropped me, clutching his side with a grimace.

"You're hurt." I said, surprising myself with the calm, worried voice, as I leaned down and reached out to help him. He batted my arm away with a fierce look covering his eyes. His face was masked, but I could sense that he had a handsome face under it. "Don't touch me." He growled out.

"Look. You bust into my place, demanding refuge, and I'll be willing to give it but you're hurt and I don't want blood on my stuff. This is a rental." I glared back. I was shocking myself with what I was saying. Was I really just about to bend over backwards for this stranger who had the gall to just demand stuff of me?

He looked back at me with matched ferocity and we stayed like that for a moment, neither giving into the other. He finally grunted again, and allowed me to help him into the bathroom, where he slouched against the toilet while I dug through the medicine cabinet for my first aid kit. I wasn't a nurse, but I knew enough to perhaps do something for him. Kneeling to the floor I examined him. "Take off your shirt." I said, not looking at his face.

"Excuse me?" I glanced up and his eyebrows had gone up. "I can't help you if I can't see the wound." I snapped, irritated. He hesitantly lifted the blood-soaked shirt from his body, inhaling sharply. The rippling muscles of his stomach caused me to momentarily lose my train of thought. He kept his mask on, but with his shirt removed I could clearly see the gash in his side. "You must've really pissed someone off…" I muttered, regaining my senses and opening the medical kit next to me.

We fell into silence as I worked, rubbing the wound with a handful of alcohol pads, cleaning away the dried blood and debris. The stranger barely moved, but when the cold alcohol touched the large rip in his skin, I saw and felt the tight muscles ripple and knew it hurt. Taking pity I warmed the rest in my hands before applying them. "You're going to need this stitched up, otherwise you'll be bleeding for days." I muttered. "You should go to the hospital." I added, without looking up. He grabbed my hand with his not metal one quickly. "No. No hospitals." He said gruffly. "Stitch me up."

"I've never sewn anything in my life, much less a human." I snapped back. "Please." He said, his eyes conveying a sense of desperation. I felt he probably didn't say please very often. I sighed and stood up. "Wait here." I walked to my bedroom and pulled out a small case in my nightstand. Emergency sewing equipment. I kept it for those just in case moments, and I silently thanked my lucky stars I kept it.

Coming back to the bathroom, the intruder eyed me warily. "Relax. You asked me to stitch you up." I emphasized 'you'. Kneeling back down I pulled out the needle. I have seen enough movies, surely I can do this. I sanitized the needle and thread before threading the needle. "It will hurt." I muttered, looking into his eyes nervously. He silently nodded. "I have taken worse pain." He said quietly, and I believed him. Something in his face said he was truthful, and the scars that scattered across his skin were light testaments that this man has seen terrible things.

As I set to work sewing him up with a grim determination, I was painfully aware the silence was not helping. I decided to try and distract him while I stitched. "What do I call you?" I asked, not looking up. "If you're going to stay here, I can't just call you 'hey you'." He looked down at me.

"I was once called Bucky, I guess." He muttered. I felt my eyebrows raise up. What a strange name for such a masculine man. "Oh." I said, kind of surprised. He looked down again, a question in his eyes. "It's just not a name you really hear in this day and age." I forced a smile, before tying a knot in the thread. After putting some antibiotic ointment and a bandage over the stitches, I began cleaning up my mess. "That ought to do it." I muttered.

He went to shrug the shirt back on and I caught it before he got his head through the hole, ripping it out of his hands. I obviously surprised him as he stared down at me. "I'm going to wash this." I explained, blushing mildly. "You can't just lounge around in bloody clothing." I quipped before walking out of the bathroom.

He followed me into the hall, staring quizzically. I went to the bedroom to put the sewing kit away and began digging through my drawers. I pulled out an over sized white tee shirt and some of my spare pajama bottoms. I silently thanked God I had genderless pajamas. I returned and tossed the garments to him. "These won't fit well, but it's something to wear while I wash your clothes."

Bucky caught the clothes with ease, and stared at them. He began to take his boots off, slowly reaching for his belt and I felt my face catch fire. "NOT HERE. BATHROOM." I shoved him towards the bathroom, astonished that he was about to strip naked right there. I slammed the door shut and went to the sofa, sliding to the seat I put my face in my hands. The full effect of what was transpiring hit me like a brick launched from a catapult. I was taking in this stranger, who had no manners, and broke into my apartment and threatened to kill me. I just sewed him up. Gave him clothes.

I know I was desperate for something interesting to happen in my life, but this was not what I ordered! I looked up as the bathroom door cracked open and Bucky walked out, handing me his clothes. His mask still firmly in place. "Would you like me to wash that, too?" I asked, staring at it. He blinked, as though he forgot he was wearing the mask. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached up and pulled it off. I looked at his face as he handed it to me. He was really handsome! I caught my breath and took it from him. "I've never washed the kind of material your top and mask are made from before, but I will do what I can." I fingered the mask's black fabric, wondering where one gets this kind of outfit. He nodded, still standing in the hall, uncomfortable.

"Well, make yourself comfy…" I said, walking to the back of the apartment to the laundry. This man's presence filled the tiny apartment, making it feel even smaller. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him even in a different room. She let out a long breath, before setting to work cleaning the strange fabrics.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I muttered as I scrubbed the fabric and shrugged, dropping it into the washing machine and adding some light soap. Surely if I put it on gentle nothing will get ruined? I set the washer and came back to the living room.

"I need food." Bucky said, not looking at her. He had sat, stiffly on the sofa. I scowled. He looked over at me and ran a hand through his long hair with a sigh. What was this man's story? Who was he running from? I couldn't help but feel that the story was incredibly tragic, and I had a deep desire to help him.

I turned on my heel and stormed into the kitchen, determined to at least make him feel the inconvenience he imposed on me. Where did this man get his manners? I pondered this as I returned with a sandwich. "Here." I shoved it towards him.

He devoured it without a second thought. It was like he had never tasted food before. The rather generous sized sandwich gone in a matter of moments. He handed the plate back, "More." He muttered, "and something to drink."

"You could try asking." I glared. He looked genuinely surprised. "Seriously! Where did you learn to behave so crudely? Normally people are grateful!" He looked down at his hands, sitting on his knees. I realized he was clutching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

"I'm sorry. I guess it's been a really long time since I've been around anyone normal." He muttered. It obviously pained him to say. I couldn't tell if it was the apology, or the memories, or all of it. My glare softened.

"Well, I'll get you more, but perhaps you would explain to me what is going on?" I asked softly, turning with the plate to find him more food. I heard him shift uncomfortably.

"All you need to know is I'm a dangerous man, in a dangerous position." He replied finally. I swallowed. What have I gotten mixed up in? "I am hiding from some people until I understand the situation better, and am healed enough." His dark eyes were on me, making me shake slightly as I handed him another sandwich, with some chips I found in my cabinet, and a glass of iced tea I had freshly made earlier that day.

Something about this man made me incredibly unnerved, like the secrets were this shroud. While half of me wanted to turn and run, believing that it would be a futile attempt and he would, as he said, kill me easily, the other half of me wanted to know more. To touch those muscles again. Did I just think that? Sheesh what a time for my hormones to rear up.

I sat down in the chair across from him as he dug into the rest of the food. "Are you a villain?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. His head shot up and he stared at me, mid chew, with a look of disbelief. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"I've seen all of these creatures attack New York, I've seen these super heroes fighting them. If there are super heroes, there's also super villains, right?" I leaned forward, my chin in my hand as I took in his face. Surely this gorgeous specimen wasn't evil. Yet, the way he spoke, the way he dressed, those weapons, the wounds. That arm…

He lowered his eyes to the food in his hands, his face pained. "I don't know what I am." He said, after a moment. "That's why I needed a place to stay."

Obviously this was a topic he struggled with. It pained him. I could see it. Surely, even if he were a villain, there was something in him that didn't want to be. Why else would he be seeking answers? I always thought of good and bad as not being black and white, why would I assume it would be the same with super heroes and villains?

I took a breath and let it out. "Alright. I'll put you up. I'll feed you and I won't tell anyone you're here. I do have a few ground rules though." I said looking back up at him, his dark eyes looked into mine, with his surprise evident. "First." I held up a finger with determination. "No more bloody surprises." I shuddered a little. "I am not a big fan of it."

"Second!" I held up another finger. "You will be more polite. Don't just demand things, and expect them. You are a guest here. Third! No threatening to kill me. I'd prefer you not to kill me at all, since I'm being so very gracious here." I felt my lip twitch and had to force myself not to crack a smile. Let's face it, he could snap me like a twig if he wanted. "You will help out. Dishes, cleaning, whatever. You can stay here and eat my food but you will clean up after yourself. You sleep on the couch. Do not enter my room without my permission….And finally," I hesitated a little, "pants stay on in my presence." I felt I needed to clarify this because it obviously wasn't something he was familiar with. "Do you accept these conditions?" I tried to sound official and businessy.

I saw his lip quirk a fraction. He found this amusing! "I could just kill you, and do as I please." He reminded me. I saw his lip twitch again. "However, you have been kind. I could use you, too. So yes. I'll agree." He said with a nod. I exhaled the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Good. I'll get you a blanket and pillow, then." I stood and hunted down the materials. When I returned I was surprised to find he was already stretched out on the couch, snoring softly. Whatever happened before he got here, and all of the commotion afterwards, really must have taken a toll. He didn't let off at all that he was so exhausted. I instantly felt a twinge of sad affection and gently unfolded the blanket. As I reached over him to place it over him, his metal hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, almost painfully. I was so surprised I gasped. His dark eyes were open instantly as he looked at me, face only centimeters away, and released my hand. "Please, don't approach me when I'm resting. I might kill you without meaning to." He said, taking the pillow from beside my feet and putting it under his head, turning towards the wall and wrapping the blanket around himself. I noticed he had a weapons belt in his other hand, pressed against his chest.

I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me. "Well then, good night, Bucky." I said softly, locking the front door and turning off the side lamp. As I snuggled into my own bed, my cat sleeping soundly on the pillow next to my head, blissfully unaware of the evening's events (what a great guard cat), I stared at the ceiling, my head swimming. What on earth have I done?

That is how I got the first of my very unusual roommates.