Communal bathrooms were something that Loki would never be able to get over. It wasn't as though he had some horrible disfigurement to hide, but he had never been forced to share a bathroom with the general public before. However, it seemed that every public place he went to was filled with holes in the walls for men to relieve themselves at, and only the absurdly strange ones used to the toilet without a real reason to. Most of the campus bathrooms were fairly clean, but the one at the karaoke bar had such an incredibly awful smell to it that Loki struggled between the idea of waiting until they left or sneaking into the women's room to escape the stench. In the end, he decided to endure the horrors of the men's washroom another minute longer: the desperation of his bladder was difficult to ignore.

It seemed that, despite the fact that everyone was ridiculously busy, Max and her friends were going to make karaoke night a weekly affair. Fresh off her paintball domination, Max organized an outing with her friends that Thursday night, and seeing as he had very little else in his life to distract him, Loki was obviously hauled down to the bar for the affair. Although she seemed fine, something had been off with his lady ever since their pathetic spat over her leaving with Ben on Sunday. He hadn't meant to come across so confrontational, but something about her and Ben doing things together away from him made his insides burn. Max had proved to be a faithful lover ever since they committed to one another; never once had she given him reason to doubt her true feelings for him.

But something about her friendship with Ben made him angry. He knew precisely where the anger came from: jealousy. This stint on Earth had given him time to think—a lot of time—and he had spent who knows how many hours nitpicking himself as a person, hoping to find what had brought about his downfall. He had always been a jealous man. In fact, he had been an envious boy right from the start, and sought to punish those who invoked such feelings within him. Thor had been the person he was most jealous of and most jealous for; he hated when his former brother spent more time with the others when they were growing up. He knew he loved Thor desperately—more than anyone else did, anyway—and his jealousy did horrible things to their relationship.

And now it was flaring up with Max. He had broken his cell phone in a rage; angry at both Max and Ben, and himself, he had hurled the device at the wall in an effort to vent his frustration over the feelings he had yet to master. Afterward, he heard Max's door shut tentatively on the other side of his, and he realized she had been privy to his childish outburst. Although they hadn't discussed it, she still treaded lightly around him for a few days until he had proved he wouldn't lose his temper again. He regretted it. He disliked how attached he had come to the woman; it was to the point where he was too protective of their relationship, hoarding her away in his bedroom so that no one else had a chance to take her from him.

So, in a showing of goodwill toward the rest of her friends, Loki only pouted a little when Max refused to stay in for the night, opting for their bar instead. All of their usual companions, Max included, agreed that it would be an early night—they all had classes the following day—and ordered their pitchers accordingly. However, as each one succumbed to their drink, Loki sat back with a knowing smile: they would all be nursing hangovers in the morning. Loki offered to stay sober enough to drive Max home when she was finished, which she willingly agreed to when Tiffany showed up with a tray of shot glasses filled with different coloured liquids.

Before he had left for the bathroom, his woman was singing enthusiastically (and terribly) along to someone's horrible rendition of a rock classic, which Garret seemed to encourage. Out of all of them, Loki and Garret were certainly the least intoxicated, and Loki had a sinking suspicion the man would keep plying Tiffany and Max with alcohol in order to film their drunken exploits on his telephone.

Speaking of telephones…

Loki fished his new cellphone out of his pocket once he had zipped up, and then swiped his finger across the screen. As usual, there was nothing from anyone. He hadn't heard from Stark or any of the others in well over a fortnight now, and he was glad. Although he doubted that they had gotten a handle on the Pagurolid problem—they were tricky devils to master—that this realm had acquired, he was happy that they left him out of it. The issue wasn't his fight. Naturally, he would step up to defend the residents of this pathetic little town; he had grown rather fond of their dreary charm. Loki, however, had no desire to throw on a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform and give himself over to the impending war.

No, he planned to be long-gone by then, preferably with Max in tow.

Satisfied that his new phone had no missed calls or text messages, he stuffed it back into the pocket of his jeans and turned around, flinching when he came face-to-face with a man who seemed to be spinning in his head.

"Can I help you?" Loki snapped, eyes narrowing as the man blinked at him. For a brief moment, he thought he may have another Pagurolid foot soldier on his hands. However, when the fellow licked his lips and nodded pointedly down to the urinal that Loki had just vacated, he realized that it was just another horribly drunken patron—human, at that.

"I need'ta—"

"Yes, I'm sure you do," he muttered, smirking as he darted around the drunkard and made his way toward the sink. After a quick rinse, he was out the door, nose wrinkled when he heard the man moan noisily. Relief was always sweet, but dignity ought to be maintained in the process.

However, dignity was not a word that was associated with karaoke night, and when he spotted Max up on the stage, teetering in her high-heeled boots and leaning on Ben, he realized dignity had ceased to exist entirely. Eyes narrowed, he stalked across the bar as the music started, and then came an abrupt halt as the yowling commenced. Well, not yowling: Max didn't sound quite as terrible this time as she did before, but it was the words that were offensive to his ears. The song was a duet, sung back and forth between her and Ben, and the word "love" was mentioned less than ten seconds into the tune.

Hands clenched, he hurried back to the group's table, at which he only found Garret and Erica, and glared at the stage.

"I'm sorry, man," Garret laughed, arms folded across his chest, a beer in hand. "I know you said not to let her sing, but it's just too funny to pass up."

"What..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath to get the edge out of his tone. "What are they singing? I'm not familiar with the song."

"Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros," the man told him. "You can always tell Max is on the verge of belligerent when she tries to sound country."

"I think I'll get her some water," Loki remarked tersely. Garret shrugged, and Loki saw the man shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye. Even though he really ought to find her some water, he was rooted to the spot, forced to watch Max and Ben croon about moats and boats and waterfalls, and girl I've never loved one like you.

It took ever fibre in his being not to march up to that damn wooden makeshift stage and haul Max off it; didn't she realize how this made him look? His woman was there, drunkenly warbling some romantic duet with a man who clearly still had sentiment for her. Loki's eyes drifted over to Erica in an effort to gauge the woman's reaction, and he felt immediately vindicated when the seated woman folded her arms across her chest and stared pointedly at her drink.

There. He wasn't the only one to notice this foolishness, and he certainly wasn't going to let Max get away with such ridiculous behaviour. If she had gone up there and howled with Corey or Garret, Loki wouldn't bat an eye. However, this was Ben—the man who, based on the way he smiled at her, still cared very deeply for her. Damn his efforts to quell his jealousy: this was a justifiable situation for rage.


She was hammered. The only time Max let herself sing karaoke with a Southern twang was if she knew she could pretend that she didn't remember it the following morning. Okay, so maybe not hammered: one couldn't be hammered if they were being purposefully deceptive. However, she still needed to lean heavily on Ben's thin shoulders as she clambered off the stage, fresh from her hilarious rendition of "Home" and cursing the fact that she chose to wear her only pair of leather boots with ridiculously high heels on them.

Loki seemed to appreciate them when she showed them off for him earlier in the evening, so that sort of made it worth it. She winced when her left ankle twisted again, and Ben laughed by her side as he steadied her for the thousandth time in the last few minutes. Hell, most of her performance involved using him for support: she wanted to dance, but her legs definitely weren't capable of handling the movement, so she compromised with a willing participant. Ben rarely had the courage to do karaoke, so when he found one of his favourite songs in the big binder of song potentials, Max took up the offer to do it while he had still had the gumption.

Just as she remembered, Ben was equally terrible at karaoke, with absolutely no musical rhythm to speak of, but at least they had fun.

She barely noticed the way his hand lingered on her, the tips of his fingers pressing the loose fabric of her shirt against her slightly sweaty lower back. Somehow, they managed to make their way through the few tables that separated them from theirs without Max falling, though she was pleased to have a little support for the journey. Rather than going straight for her drink, as she wanted, Max picked Loki out in the darkened area of the bar. He was leaning back against a post behind their table, his arms folded across his chest.

"Where's Erica?" Max inquired as she left Ben's side, only vaguely noticing that the woman's chair was empty. When she glanced back at Ben, she saw the man staring down at his phone, frowning with furrowed eyebrows. A quick look to Garret told her not to ask, and she licked her lips as she teetered in her heels.

"She left." It was Loki who answered her inquiry, though he certainly sounded more serious than she expected. After all, she had just made a fool of herself on stage: she fully expected him to take that opportunity to mock her relentlessly. However, when he stared down the tip of his nose at her, she saw no mirth in his eyes—none of the lightness she had become accustomed to.

"Apparently," she muttered, leaning against him once she was close enough. The fact that he didn't wrap his arms around her in return, but rather kept them folded across her chest, threw her, and she cleared her throat as she straightened up. "Why did she leave?"

"Perhaps it was for the same reason I wish to leave," he told her tightly, lips barely parting as he spoke. Max's eyebrows creased as she stared up at him, and then shoved her hands in her pockets.

"I'm sorry… Have I missed something?"

"Oh, no, you were a part of it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" She looked over her shoulder to see if their exchange had caught the interest of her friends, but it seemed they all had better things to focus on suddenly. Ben was seated in Erica's discarded chair, texting furiously, while Garret was in the process of pouring the remaining beer from various bottles into his glass. Pleased that no one was eavesdropping (not that they could, mind you, as there was a new singer on the stage), she turned her attention back to Loki. "Are you mad at me?"

"How can you ask me that after what you've just done?"

Groaning, she tried to blink away the drunken haze; this called for more focus than she was capable of giving, but she had to try. Heat rushed to her cheeks as he glared down at her, and she could feel an anxious knot starting in the pit of her stomach: had she actually done something? In the silence that followed, she ran through everything she did that day, and while the details were a little vague, she couldn't think of a single thing she had done that would have offended him like this.

"I repeat," she said finally, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You stood up there," he pointed toward the stage, "in front of everyone and sang that song with him—"

"What's wrong with the song?!"

"It wasn't just the song," he hissed, ducking down so that they were at eye-level. "It was that you chose to sing it with him in front of everyone. Do you realize how foolish that makes me look?"

She stared at him for a moment, completely dumbstruck, and shook her head. "You're a crazy person."

"Excuse me?"

"First of all," she snapped, stepping closer and lowering her voice. "Ben chose that song, not me, and I agreed to do it because no one else would—"

"A likely story." Her eyes narrowed when he scoffed. "I'm sure you were the only one he asked."

"It was just a bit of fun—"

"Don't be so naïve, Max," he said, each word more patronizing than the last. "It's unbecoming."

"Yeah?" She nearly stabbed him in the chest with a finger, but then thought better of it. "Well, so is being a jealous dick."

He straightened up sharply, and Max noticed the way his hands balled into fists. However, she managed to hold her ground, keeping her place in front of him as she watched him clench and unclench his jaw. Finally, he nodded pointedly at her coat.

"Get dressed," he told her. "We're leaving."

"Nope," she said, stepping in his way as he tried to move around her, probably going for his coat on the back of his chair. "I'm having a good time. If you want to go, you can leave."

Once he managed to get around her, she realized she was literally shaking with anger. So she had embarrassed him by singing some stupid song with Ben? His issues with her friend were beyond the point of ridiculousness, and had she been less drunk, she would have found an intelligent way to articulate that. However, she thought she was handling herself pretty well considering how much she had to drink earlier.

As soon as she turned around, she spotted her man marching toward the exit, nudging people out of the way without a care, and in that moment, Max decided he wasn't allowed to say what he said and just walk away. Grabbing her coat and purse from her chair, she rammed an arm into each sleeve, eyes fixed on Loki's back, and made for the exit.

"Max, wait." It was Garret who stopped her, grabbing her by the arm suddenly and holding her back. "Maybe let him cool off first?"

"It's fine, Garret," she told him flatly as she shook him off. He looked as though he had something more to say, but she wasn't about to stick around to listen to it. She passed Tiffany on the way out, who was probably the only person in their group drunker than she was, but she bypassed her friend's grabby hands as deftly as she could, a singular goal on her mind.

The frigid night air sucked the breath from her lungs as she shoved through the front exit, and Max hastily zipped her coat up; it might have been March, but it seemed like they were in for another bout of winter weather. Loki wasn't particularly difficult to spot across the icy parking lot: he was the only person out there aside from Max. The music grew dimmer as she trekked across the snow and ice, her breath blowing hotly against her cheeks.

"What are you going to do?" she demanded, her voice echoing across the nearly vacant lot. "Walk home?"

"Isn't that what you told me to do?" he spat, barely glancing over his shoulder as he spoke. She glared when he slowed only slightly, but she managed to catch up with one or two near-slips.

"Well, it's almost midnight—"

"And this town is barely a blip on the map," Loki all but shouted, whirling back and glaring at her. "If I needed to walk to the other side of it, I'm sure I could manage before the hour is up!"

"What the fuck, man?" She slammed her hand against his arm, which made his eyes widen. "What is with you?"

She noticed a slight tremble in his jaw as he glowered down at her, and he seemed to take a few deep breaths before responding. "Ben—"

"And there it is," she said dramatically, throwing her arms up and rolling her eyes. "The fucking truth at last!"

"Do not talk to me like I'm some simpering idiot," Loki snarled as he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "The man is so clearly still in love with you that it's nauseating."

"You're so full of shit," she scoffed, shaking her head and shifting her weight back and forth between her feet. "Full of it."

"It wouldn't surprise me if he was dating his trollop to cover up the affection he has for you—"

"Oh my god, why can't you ever say things like a normal person?" she groaned, her teeth chattering noisily as she adjusted to the cold. "This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous—"

"I certainly am not."

"There's nothing happening between Ben and me!" She wanted to scream it from the rooftops. "He is my friend… That's all I will ever see him as!"

"Oh, no, he's whittling away at your resolve," Loki told her. "He's manipulating you, Max—"

She huffed noisily. "Jealousy is ugly on you."

"Ugly on me?" he repeated. "Do you recall that week you spent punishing me for fooling around with Erica?" Her jaw dropped as he nodded. "Yes, now, are you trying to tell me that your behaviour was not fuelled by jealousy? That your hatred of that woman is from something beyond jealousy?"

"Fuck you—"

"Ah, you see," he said with a cold laugh. "Jealousy is ugly on all of us."

Breathing heavily, Max could no longer find the words to fight with him. Propelled by alcohol and pent-up frustration, she knew she had let this carry on for longer than it ought to. The fact that he had brought up something from their past that still, in some ways, ripped at raw feelings (even if it shouldn't) had been the endpoint for her, and she turned away, slipping a little on an ice patch. Teeth gritted, she wrenched open her purse and fished around for her keys; there was no fucking way she was walking home in this cold.

"What are you doing?" Loki demanded, and a quick glance over her shoulder showed her that he was following her.

"I'm going home," she snapped, yanking her keys free once she finally found them. "You can fucking walk."

"You certainly aren't driving."

"Yes, I am—"

"Give me those," he ordered. Max grunted when she felt his hand on her forearm, and in the heat of the moment, she had every obstacle working against her: intoxication, heels on ice, and inferior physical strength. "Stop being a child, Max."

"You stop being a child." She twisted away just enough to get some distance between them, but he dragged her back so quickly that she lost her balance, falling against his chest. He caught her with a hand around her waist and then wrestled her keychain from her hand. She put up a valiant effort to hold onto her keys, even resorting to her nails to fend him off, but he still managed to get them loose. Once he had them, he shoved her in the direction of her car.

"Get in."

"You aren't driving," she sneered. "You don't even have a license—"

"Get in the car, Max," he repeated, this time taking a step toward her. She flinched away, momentarily worried that he might actually hoist her up and shove her into the beat-up vehicle. He seemed to notice the way she recoiled, and backed off just enough to make her feel comfortable again. "Get in the car, Max. You are not walking home, and you are certainly not driving… We will deal with this mess when you've sobered."

"I'm fine," she spat, turning on her heel and stalking toward the door. She tugged on the handle, glaring at her frazzled reflection in the window. "Maybe if you fucking unlocked it, I could actually get in."

He said nothing as he wedged the key into the lock on the other side, his expression stern, and Max plopped into the front seat once she was able to. The car's insides were almost as cold as the outside, and once he had the key in the ignition, she turned the heat up as much as she could. She caught him shooting her a look in the overhead mirror, and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Don't look at me like I'm being unreasonable," she said shakily. "I may be drunk, but I'm not the one who is completely out of line."

"Hmm."

The car lurched forward under Loki's heavy foot, and Max turned a teary—angrily teary, mind you—gaze out the window, her jacket's hood enveloping her as the heater blared. Her head was starting to hurt, and as Loki took each and every turn with unnecessary sharpness, she was starting to feel dizzy. Bed was probably the only cure for it, and she definitely wasn't going to be sharing one with Loki—not tonight, not for the rest of the week.

Not until he apologized for making a stupid scene out of nothing.

They remained in a tense silence all the way home, and when he finally settled into a spot in their apartment's parking lot, Max practically fell out of the car. He too jumped out, slamming the door noisily behind him. She handled her door with a little more tenderness: she wasn't going to damage something to prove a point. However, as soon as she turned away from the vehicle, the ground slipped out from under her.

One moment she was upright, steady and balanced, and in the next her feet slid on a patch of black ice. She turned halfway through the fall, squealing in the process, and ended up landing on her wrist, which crunched noisily beneath her. Her forehead also slammed into the ground before she could stop it.

Fucking phenomenal.

"Max?"

Loki's voice was nearby, and seconds later she felt his hands tenderly help her sit up, bracing her by her upper arms. Her trembling hands lay in her lap, and she looked down at the one she had fallen on, her vision a little hazy. She drew a strained breath when he repeated her name, and before she could stop herself, she started to cry: tears of pain, frustration, anger, embarrassment.

"Look at me," he ordered, falling to his knees in front of her. It was difficult to focus on anything aside from his voice: her vision wasn't cooperating as well as it should. His hands were warm on her cheeks as he tilted her head up. "There… There, you're alright. It's just a little blood—"

"I'm bleeding?" she whimpered, her breath stuttering out as she reached for her forehead. Sure enough, her fingers touched something slick, and when she saw that they were red, her breathing started to quicken. "What—"

"It probably feels worse than it looks, not to worry," he murmured, taking her fingers and wiping them on his jacket. She cried out when he touched her other wrist, which was far too sensitive for even the slightest bit of movement. "This, on the other hand…"

"C-Can you take me to the hospital?" she managed, her eyes opening and closing slowly as a heaviness started to sink in. "Loki…"

"Yes, yes, of course I'll take you." She wrapped her undamaged arm around his neck when he scooped her up, their previous argument forgotten. They somehow managed to get the passenger door open, and she ducked her throbbing head as he set her inside. He shut the door much softer this time. When Max closed her eyes, he was in front of the car, and when she opened them, he was suddenly at her side, shaking her a little. "Don't close your eyes."

"I think it's broken," she muttered, tears rolling down her cheeks as she studied her wounded wrist. She had broken her right index finger when she was eleven, and this felt about four times worse, even with the alcohol in her system; it was definitely broken.

"Hush now," Loki said absently, a hand on her leg. When she looked at him, she saw that he was on his phone. "It will be easy to fix, I'm sure."

"What are you doing?"

"Finding the nearest hospital and the fastest route," he told her. He glanced up at her a moment later, and then made a face before reaching into the back seat. When he straightened, he pressed a clump of tissues into her hand. "Hold that on your forehead."

"No," she sighed, shifting down in her seat and closing her eyes. "I'm fine—"

"Max." His tone was sharp once more, but there were no traces of anger. She whimpered when he placed her hand on her forehead himself, pushing it against her wound. "Open your eyes and keep holding that there. Do you understand?"

She inhaled sharply when he pinched her, and she felt as though she had just awoken from a lengthy nap. When he repeated the question, she nodded, but that only seemed to make the pain worse. Loki reached across her and buckled her in, careful to avoid her quickly swelling wrist, and then brought the car to life as his phone's GPS application barked out directions.


Monitoring Max's condition on the half-hour drive to the nearest hospital was an absolute nightmare. Not only was she falling in and out of consciousness every few minutes, it was absolutely gut-wrenching to listen to her whimpers and cries whenever something jostled her wrist. When he finally had the car pulled into an empty space in the lot across the road from a bright sign that read "emergency room", Loki almost flew out of the car.

The night had not gone as he expected. Firstly, he hadn't expected either of their explosive reactions to his annoyance with her duet; all of it seemed so petty now. Secondly, he had never anticipated feeling so terrible when he saw Max in pain, and it was difficult to think of anything else except for how awful he felt at the end of all this. He had pushed her. He had shouted at her. He had intimidated her with his size. He had behaved like a brute, and there was nothing he could do now to express how deeply disgusted he was with his actions. However, he thought that taking care of her after her slip was a decent enough start, and he fully intended to remain by her side until a doctor had seen to her wounds.

The handful of tissues he had found in the backseat was absolutely soaked with her blood, and that certainly did not help with her wooziness. He suspected she was on the verge of a concussion, though he hadn't seen how hard she knocked her head against the ground. Although Asgardians—and Loki—were built of strong stuff, they were not completely immune to injuries. He had seen broken bones (that were easily mended, mind you) and concussed skulls in the training arena as a boy, but he knew that Max, as a human, probably felt the pain much stronger than he ever had.

"I can walk," she protested when he reached down to scoop her out of the vehicle.

"I'll not risk you falling again," he told her. She was easy to lift, but he tried to do so slowly in order to spare her some agony. After he kicked the door shut, he hurried across the road toward the brightly lit hospital building. It was in the middle of nowhere, nestled between two tiny towns in the countryside, and as Loki approached, he was pleased to see that it appeared relatively quiet.

The glass doors slid open for him as he raced through, and he soon found himself in a very bright white room. There were three rows of empty chairs lined up in front of a desk, behind which sat an elderly woman in a purple nurse's uniform. She looked up as Loki hurried forward, and he saw her grab a nearby telephone and speak into it—hopefully to call for reinforcements.

"She slipped on some ice," Loki said before the woman could get a word in. Max groaned as he readjusted his grip around her, almost holding her out for the woman to view. "We think her wrist is broken, and she knocked her head when she fell."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance?" the woman snapped as she approached. "She shouldn't be moving this much—"

"She's here now, isn't she?" He tried to keep the aggression out of his tone, but it was difficult to do so when the woman seemed bent on chastising him rather than looking at Max. Suddenly, a set of double-doors to the far left of the desk burst open, and Loki let out a relieved sigh when a pair of men rushed forth with a bed on wheels between them.

"I haven't gotten her vitals yet," the woman told them as one helped Loki set Max down gently, "but she'll need a full work-up."

"Thanks, Glenda."

One of them pushed Loki back by the chest, though not harshly, and before he could stop them, they wheeled Max out of sight beyond the heavy doors. He tried to follow, but he was blocked instantly by the judgemental woman in purple—Glenda—and he vaguely heard the doors seal shut moments later.

"You have paperwork to do," she told him. He continued to stare at the doors, jaw clenched, and when she spoke again, her tone was softer. "They'll take good care of her."

He nodded weakly. "Yes, see that they do."

"Are you her husband?"

His eyebrows shot up at the question, and he tried to find the right wording on the spot. Not lover. "Boyfriend."

"Okay, then just fill out the forms the best you can." She was already behind her desk when he turned around, pulling out a stack of papers that were quickly snapped in to a clipboard. "We'll get the rest from her once she's stable."

His legs refused to move for a moment, but he eventually got them going again. Loki accepted the sturdy clipboard and pen, and then took a seat in a nearby chair. Everything felt heavy: limbs, body, and mind. He tried to fill in all of the blank spots the best he could. There was no trouble with her name, date of birth, and address, but he hadn't any idea about her medical history. He knew she took little pills to keep from becoming pregnant, and managed to write something similar to the brand name in the section that required her medications.

"Has she been drinking?"

Loki glanced up and saw that the woman had the phone in her hands again, and he nodded. "Yes."

"Have you?"

"A drink," he emphasized. "Nothing serious."

She returned to speaking in hushed tones on her telephone, and Loki tried to fill out the remainder of the forms. When he could no longer provide anything useful, he returned them to the woman. She thanked him, but refused to let him go beyond the doors; he would have to wait. He paced the length of the room dozens of times before he shed his coat, leaving it to the side when he realized how warm he had become. The better part of two hours passed before anyone told him anything. In that time, a young family had come in with a child screaming of an earache, and an elderly couple (who were apparently frequent visitors) wanted the husband admitted for stomach pains.

Loki watched the hospital staff handle both situations in the same professional manner that they had seen to Max, and he had to commend them for their patience. The child of the frazzled young parents wouldn't stop screaming, and yet the woman behind the desk took his vital signs with care. The elderly woman was incredibly rude to begin with, and never once did the nurse bat an eye to it. He could only hope that those tending to Max were as careful with her.

He should have felt tired. After all, he had been up since nine that morning, and it was nearly ten minutes to two the following morning, and yet he hadn't the slightest urge to sleep. No, he was wide awake, waiting and watching those damn doors for some news—any news.

"Loki?"

He turned sharply on his umpteenth loop around the rows of chairs when he heard his name, and quickly stalked across the room toward the young woman in a green hospital uniform. He grabbed his jacket along the way, and nearly plowed into the woman in his eagerness to get beyond those doors.

"How is she?"

"She'll be fine," Helen—according to her nametag—told him. She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands, and then returned her gaze to his, speaking in patient tones. "Her wrist is fractured, and she has a moderate concussion. Her head didn't need any stitches, but it'll be sore for a while."

"I suspect everything will be," Loki sighed, relieved that there appeared to be no permanent damage. "May I see her? I'd like to take her home."

"We're going to keep her overnight," she told him. "We've set her up in a room… Would you like to stay? The doctor needs to make sure her head is fine before she goes to sleep."

"Yes, yes, I would," Loki said quickly, eager to get around her and find Max. However, he had to fill out more paperwork before he was issued a visitor's badge, which he was forced to wear around his neck like a piece of fine jewelry. None of it mattered, however, once he was beyond the double-doors and following Helen through a maze of taupe hallways. While the waiting room hadn't been particularly busy, the rest of the hospital was abuzz with activity and noise.

Max's room was at the very end of a hallway on the third floor, and when Loki saw her in bed, changed into a fresh pale blue gown and a plastic tube in her arm, he all but fell upon her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and gently touching her leg. She sighed.

"Like shit."

He heard Helen chuckle in the doorway, and her laugh brought about a smile of his own. While she might have felt terrible, Max certainly looked better than he anticipated. Now that the blood had been cleaned from her face and the wound on her head had been covered, it almost looked as though nothing was wrong. However, there was a wrap around her wrist, and he was careful to avoid it.

"We'll handle her pain medications while she's here," Helen told him after a moment of silence, during which he spent busily checking Max for injuries that they might have missed. "I'm going to give you a list that you should get from the hospital pharmacy for her to take when she gets home."

"Yes, please do," he muttered, stroking the top of Max's hand when he took it in his.

"We don't have any extra cots tonight," the nurse continued, "but I can bring you some chairs to sleep on?"

He nodded as he turned back to face her. "Please."

"She also needs to be up for another hour," Helen told him, tucking her pen back into her sloppy blonde bun. "The doctor will assess her then, so you need to keep her awake." Loki nodded: he could do that. "Do you want a coffee?"

Touched by her concern, he offered her a small smile. "Would it be too much trouble for a tea?"

"Not at all. Green?"

"Yes." He glanced back at Max. "And perhaps water for her?"

"The IV will make sure she isn't too hung-over in the morning," the nurse informed him. "She should be fine… Just keep her talking and alert."

"I will."

The woman gave them each a once-over before disappearing into the hall, and Loki faced Max once more with hesitation.

"My face hurts," she mumbled, reaching directly for the bandaged spot on her head. Loki caught her hand gently and held it to his chest.

"I know."

"So does my wrist."

"I'm sorry, Max," he said, which made her sigh.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," he told her earnestly. "We'll make things right in the morning."

She nodded, and then winced shortly after. Helen returned within fifteen minutes with his tea, and Loki managed to keep Max focused on a deck of cards he found in her purse for the remainder of the hour. Although she would have rather gone to sleep, he forced her to teach him to play a game about a fish and pairs of like cards, and he gently shook her awake whenever she seemed to start to drift off.

The doctor arrived a little later than Helen had promised, but when Loki heard a knock at the door, he was actually pleased to see the man. Tall, middle-aged, dressed in a white coat and clean slacks, he looked quite professional indeed.

"Hello, Max," he greeted as Loki gathered up their cards and stepped away from the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I want to go to bed," she whined, which made Loki grin again.

"Well, if you pass my tests, you're in the clear," he told her warmly. Loki watched from a safe distance as the man checked her reflexes and flashed a light in her eyes, and then patted her good arm when he was through. "Sleep tight, kid."

He could almost see the tension leave her face when she was given the go-ahead, and Loki followed the doctor out to spare her the noise of their conversation.

"She's going to be hurting tomorrow," the man told him, hands on his hips, "and the concussion is going to make everything worse… She needs to wear the splint for the next three weeks, even in the shower."

"Yes," Loki nodded a few times. "How shall I—"

"I'm having a nurse get a package ready for you to take home," he was told. "It'll go over all the care you need to give her once she's ready to go. I don't see why she'll need to be here any later than nine or ten tomorrow morning. I'll have someone evaluate her again, and then you can take her home."

Loki stared at the man for a moment. He was roughly Loki's height, though he surely lacked the physical and mental strength to match wits with him. And yet… And yet Loki looked to him to keep Max safe, to make her well. He needed him, and he took every word the man said as though it were canonical.

"Thank you." And he meant it—deeply and truly.

"No problem."

The doctor disappeared shortly after, and when Loki stepped back into the room, he saw that Max had already fallen asleep. With eyes now ready to close himself, he dragged his chair toward her bed and settled down into it. He then kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up, knitting his fingers together as he tried to get comfortable.

"Here."

The voice made him jump, but he smiled when he saw Helen had returned with a pillow. She had him lean forward in order to set it in behind him, and once he was situated, she turned the light off. Before long, Loki joined Max in a peaceful slumber, all remnants of his anger completely dissipated for the time being.


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I had originally planned for this to be done later in the week. However, I started writing their fight earlier tonight, and then it was over: I couldn't stop. This is the beginning of the end, dearies. Five chapters plus an epilogue to go. And YES, I know you're all keen and eager for the big reveal, but I did warn you it would be toward the end of the story. So. We're getting there.

I liked the character development for both Loki and Max here. Mostly Max. I realize that she swears a lot when she fights, which points to a bit of immaturity in her character. I also had a lame writer moment: when Max started to cry, I started to cry. I'm so bloody invested in this story, and writing fights and things are something that I do after I sort of have those scenes play out over and over in my head and I talk them through to make sure dialogue works well… So when she broke, I did a bit too.

Ahem. Anywhooo. I'm so excited for the remainder of the chapters. LIKE SO EXCITED. I've played them out so many times in my head, and I'm keen to get started. I put a different Loki fic of mine on hold while I work on this and another, so updates will be more frequent.

The title of this song comes from Gotye's "Heart's a Mess", and it basically PREACHES Max and Loki's romance at various points between now and the future, and Loki's brokenness when it comes to love, and just… unf feels. Music is a huge inspiration for me, and when I was listening to "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes, I knew that was the perfect song for Max and Ben to do that would really set Loki off. Fun.

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR LOVELY REVIEWS! I can't believe there are over 900 collective reviews, and I'm unbelievably flattered by how many of you take the time to talk to me after each chapter. It melts my heart. My heart's a mess, amirite?