Chapter Eleven

Loki appeared a while later, picking at his t-shirt. "It feels strange," he commented. It seems like my clothes hunting had been accurate. They fit him well, maybe a little too well- his green shirt showed the outline of every muscle on his stomach and chest.

No. Not thinking like that.

"You'll get used to it. I'm guessing you're hungry?" As if answering my question, his stomach rumbled. He'd been living off what I was able to scrap from the mess hall, but it wasn't much. I knew that, judging by his size and seeing how he wasn't human, he probably needed a lot more than what he was getting.

"A bit," he admitted, following me to the kitchen. I opened the fridge door, thinking. I had bought basic groceries when I was out shopping, and for once the fridge actually looked full.

Pulling out the carton of eggs, I showed it to him. "You're going to have to survive on your own right away. I go back to training in three weeks, and you're going to need to feed yourself. So I'm going to show you how to cook."

He handed me the carton back, watching attentively as I showed him the simple process of making eggs. When I had made three scrambled eggs, I handed the spatula to him. "Your turn."

For someone who was rapped to be a stone cold brute, he was surprisingly good with cooking. Tipping his eggs onto a plate, he carried them over to the table. Sitting down, he picked up his utensils. I looked around, not really hungry. Eventually I just ended up watching him eat.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked quietly, picking up another piece of his eggs.

"No," I sighed, pushing my untouched plate towards him. "Here, might as well not waste."

He tipped my eggs onto his plate without question. I watched him eat. He was very careful with his movements. Here, dressed in human clothes with his hair slicked from his recent shower, eating eggs quietly, I wondered how he could ever have killed anyone. I refused to believe that he enjoyed killing.

"Why did you do it?" I asked at last, heart beating sluggishly. Time seemed to drag by. He raised his eyes to me, expression hard.

He knew what I meant.

"I..." he stopped eating, laying his fork down. "I don't blame you for hating me. If I were you, I would have turned me in by now."

"I'm not sure if I hate you yet. You're going to need to give me time to figure that out."

He smiled crookedly, but it was a sad smile. "I don't deserve your pity, Sam."

"I don't pity you," I defended, crossing my arms.

"But you do. You know how my er, father, treated me. You had daddy issues too. You feel like you can connect with me on that level."

I glowered at him. "I don't want to be connecting with you on any level."

He smirked. "Fair enough. But tell me this. You know what I did. So why do you keep me a secret? What makes you feel for the man who caused you so much grief?"

My mind blanked. He had just posed the question I was asking myself. For once, I didn't have an answer. "Maybe...maybe because I think everyone deserves a second chance."

He looked pained. "I am sorry for your father. He shouldn't have died."

"Little late now," I said dryly, standing up. He watched me go, a sad expression in his pale eyes. Then they hardened, his jaw tight. He turned back to his eggs, not watching me walk away. I shook my head as I walked down the hall, shutting the bathroom door behind me.

What was I doing? Why was I hiding him here? Why was I even bothering?

I didn't have an answer for any of these questions, and it irritated me to no end.

There was a knock on the door the next morning, not long after the sun had risen. Panicking, I bolted out of my bed, racing down the hall in my pajama pants and holey top, eyes blurry.

Loki was already on his feet as I burst into the living room, his chest bare, pants hanging low on his hips. His hair was tousled from sleep, and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes were slowly starting to fade. "Come on!" I hissed, grabbing his wrist. Towing him, I stumbled through my apartment. He sat on my bed, stiff. "Wait here. Do not come out, do you hear me?"

He nodded.

I retreated back through my apartment, opening the door slowly. My heart was in my throat as I imagined all the possibilities. Had they finally found him? Was this going to be the end for me? I hoped with everything in me that it wasn't Fury.

"Ben," I breathed in relief, stepping back from the door. "Oh, you had me scared half to death! Come in," I stepped to the side, letting him in. His black hair was fluffy, haloing his face. I supposed that if I didn't see him as just friends that he would be cute.

He smiled, rubbing my shoulders. "What are you scared for? Nothing's going to hurt you here,"

His fingers held up my wrist, which had just been taken out of it's cast. It was still a little tender, but in working order. My ribs were a faint aching every now and then, but for the majority they were healed. "I was worried about you," he commented, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

"I was worried about you too," it was easier to admit than I had expected. I had worried about the kind boy and his gentle words. It was a relief to see him here.

A smile crept along his face. His eyes roamed the room, settling on the couch. A look of confusion puddled on his innocent features. "Camping out?"

"My room was too hot," I lied, shivering at how easily the lie came to me. I hated lying. Especially to people I cared about.

A small jolt rippled through my stomach. I care about Ben. The idea seemed strange to me. He shook his head, smiling. "You're a piece of gear, Sam." His look of confidence faded a little, but he charged on. "I came to tell you that the squad's having a get together this weekend. A night out. We're gonna go watch some crappy bands and drink cheap beer. You in?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah I am!" It sounded like just what I needed.

He grinned. "Great! I'll text you, then. Micheal wants to go for breakfast, and I'm late already. See you around, Green," he hugged me, then jog-ran out the door.

I felt better after he had left, filled with a bubbly satisfaction. Returning to my room, I was jolted back to reality when I seen the god sitting there, his eyes alive with a teasing look.

"You like that boy," he commented, tipping his head to the side.

I felt myself go red. "No, I do not like that boy! Ben is one of my best friends, thank you very much. Nothing more."

He smiled crookedly. I had begun to get used to that crooked smile. "Oh, but isn't there? You seem quite happy about his visit."

"Get. Out!" I snapped, pushing him as best as I could when he stood. He laughed, dancing out of my reach. Turning away from him, I heard him gently close the door. He softly walked down the hall, the couch springs squeaking lightly as he settled back down.

I thought about his teasing as I curled back up in my blankets. Was he right? Did I like Ben?

I didn't know for sure yet, but maybe it would do me some good. Ben was like an anchor, solid and strong. Loki was the exact opposite- a burning flame that was unpredictable and capable of hurting you if you got too close. Ben was all the light things. Loki was all the dark.

As I drifted off, I resolved to spend some more time around Ben. He was good for me. And maybe he could finally clear up my clouded emotions.