A/N: This is like juggling. Good luck Paton and good luck me.

5

I pulled open the door and entered the room edgewise, careful not to knock anything off the coat-rack.

The familiar smell of burning food greeted me and I was immediately reminded of just how many things were wrong with my house and I didn't mean financially.

My father shuffled his feet unwillingly, squeezing into the small space before emerging into the living room with me. He didn't want to be hear any more than I wanted him to, but Pride that day seemed to steer clear of both me and my father, settling purring onto the feet of none other than -

"Loki," I hissed, trying to conjure and excuse for his existence on my couch.
"Whassat?" My father asked me, then catching sight of the man seated regally on my threadbare cushions, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Who's this?"
"Uh, this is my fr-boyfriend," I said unable to get the words out in the right order. Loki looked equally confused.
"What?" Greg McAllister said in his characteristic way.
"Don't pretend like you didn't hear me," I said more solidly now.
Loki didn't bother to rise to his feet, he just sat rather arrogantly at the centre of the room, sizing us up.
"You never mentioned-"
"Actually, my fiancee," I changed tracks. He was sure to give me hell for an unholy relationship. Olivia would never just sleep around like that, Paton. Why can't you be more like Olivia?

My first house guest did not at all like the sound of where this was headed at all and to be honest, I didn't either.
"Fiancee?" My father tried to understand just how his underachieving daughter had managed it. He looked him up and down and Loki returned this with an unblinking steely gaze. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, PATON.

"Yes," I said, looking Greg McAllister right in the eye, daring him to criticize.
"Well," he began then thought better of it. "That's a surprise. What's yer name, son?"
"His name's H-Hansen," I rushed between them. "H-he's not from here."
"Where's he from?" My father narrowed his eyes at Loki.
"Where's he from?" I repeated, trying to recall the name of the city I always went with. I tried another tactic, jabbing my thumb at Loki at saying, "look at him, isn't it obvious?"
"Svalbard," Loki offered, rolling his eyes.
"He speak any English?" My father asked, as if referring to a parakeet at the zoo. Loki seemed to notice.
"No, not much," I said, shooting my accomplice-by-default a significant look. "Hansen, my father."
I gesticulated wildly to sell my story. I could almost feel the waves of contempt rolling off both men. What a lovely situation to be stuck in.

"H-honey," I choked, "c-can I talk to you for a second?"
"No," Loki said bluntly.
My father turned to me brows raised.
"He's still learning English," I lied and then spoke more severely, "The bedroom, now."

I swore to myself I would actually strangle him if he didn't take my cues. To my great relief he did, pushing himself off the couch and meandering about the sparse furniture till he filled the whole door frame with his hesitation.
"I will have no part in this," he growled in a low voice.
"I freaked out okay!" I admitted, running my fingers through my hair multiple times.
"This greatly hinders our arrangements, Paton."
"You think I don't know that?" I all but yelled and then slapped a hand over my mouth. "Get in here."

I grabbed his elbow roughly and steered him into the room, poking my head out for a moment to tell my father we'd be with him shortly.

Slamming the door shut behind us, I took a long, deep breath and flexed my fingers.
"This is bad."
"Oh, really?" He said in mock concern.
"As if my life wasn't already complicated enough with you living here and driving me half-mad, but there are blasted aliens scurrying around the backyard and how am I supposed to explain this to my father?"
"Who says you have to?"
I drew back. Who says you have to? No one says that. No one ever did. You don't owe the man any explanations. He gives you years and years of self-loathing and dejection and the next time you see him he bears bad news. You owe him nothing. He should just be grateful to have a roof over his head for the night and he's welcome to leave any time he wants.

"Where is he going to sleep?" I began mumbling, holding my head like it was going to become unhinged any second.
"Paton, if you're quite done," Loki sighed.
"I can't turn him out now!"
He cracked his knuckles, "I could make this easier for you, I have a scep-"
He didn't quite finish his sentence as both our heads snapped in the direction of the door. Without a word, we flung it open and raced out into the living to find my father sitting on the sofa, picking at the loose sponge. The sceptre was well within reach of him but he hadn't noticed it yet, leaned against the side of the couch where Loki had left it.
"He must be blind as you are clumsy," Loki observed.
"I'll distract him, you get the sceptre into my room."

I tiptoed around the couch to my father and cleared my throat, "Dad, Loki and I have discussed things a bit."
I spoke slowly and deliberately, allowing my partner-in-crime to edge towards the sceptre silently. But my father turned around to survey him. Loki froze and nodded soberly at him till he turned around to me.
"We don't have a lot of room, Dad, but we'll try and set you up comfortably."
"That's fine, I'll take the couch." Greg McAllister had obviously thought this out in the little time I had given him. "Can't be worse than a mouldy mattress wet with who-wants-to-know-what, can it?"
"The couch?" I would have to sleep on the floor then. "Great, I'll pull out a few pillows and blankets."
He grunted, folding his arms. Loki was almost at the sceptre now.
"Hey Dad," I said, getting my father to turn completely to me once more as Loki made a grab at his most prized possession. "The trouble is, L-Hansen and I are going out for a few days and we-"
Lines began to crease my father's face - once again I came up short. "When do you leave?"
I glanced at Loki, who was standing in a corner, holding the sceptre behind his back.
"When did you say departure was?" I asked wearily.
"Tomorrow morning."
"You said he don't speak English."
"He's learning."
"This was a mistake," Greg McAllister was rising to his feet.
"No," I said quickly. Why not? Let him go! "You can stay."
Loki made a hollow sound and ducked away to my room.
"I don't think your boy wants me here."
"Well he's just going to have to suck it up for one day," I said, sounding more like my father than I was comfortable with.
"I'll be out of your hair tomorrow," came the dry response, and he added, as I walked away, "doesn't give me much pleasure being here anyway."

A/N: So? What do you think? I'm trying to make up for the long hiatus!