A/N: I would just like to take this time to thank my favouriters and followers. Though I might not be getting quite as much fanfare for this story as some people somehow get on their first chapter alone, it still warms my heart every time my e-mail inbox informs me that someone likes my story. Thank you all so much for your patience, and I hope you don't mind this chapter... :/
Chapter 12
Bitch Week
"Ah, fuck," I groan as I look at the state of my knickers from my place on the toilet. It's a mess. A horrible fucking mess. It's every woman's worst nightmare, the one thing that Loki forgot to prepare for, something which every man tries to purge from their mind.
"No fucking way am I pulling that up," I grumble to myself, staring at the cloth that's soaked in red.
A voice comes from the other side of the door.
"You have been in there for far too long, Shana," Loki warns from outside the bathroom. I glare at the door, feelings of frustration and anger suddenly welling up inside of me.
Fucking Loki, fucking kidnapping and all this shitting mess! Fuck!
"Piss off!" I snarl. "I'm fucking busy in here!" Silence comes from the other side of the door.
"You will not speak to me like that again, Shana," Loki says, danger bleeding into his tone.
Oh, don't you fucking fuck with me, you prick! I try to clean myself up, hoping that he doesn't come barging in, only to be faced with another problem. My pants aren't the only things that are red.
I groan, sounding almost like I'm in agony as I take in the state of my jeans. I had noticed earlier today that it looked like the ruby festival is in full swing, but I just thought it would be like any other, and I could then casually manipulate Loki into getting some much needed feminine hygiene products without ever having reveal that I am, in fact, female. However, unlike the usual slow start, it looks like this week, this little 'festival' decided to start with bang.
"Oh, no," I groan, looking mournfully at my well worn, only pair of trousers in this place.
"What's wrong?" Loki asks from the other end of the door, suddenly sounding quite worried.
"Nothing, I'm good," I say quickly.
Just go, please, go! But he doesn't.
"Shana, open this door," he says seriously, testing the knob on the door. Quickly and reluctantly, I draw my pants and jeans up.
Eeew... I think, grimacing at the unwelcome feeling as the god outside starts bashing against the door. I quickly snatch the towel, placing it protectively in front of me to shield my red stained jeans from sight. Loki crashes through only moments later, and I all but sigh in relief. He looks at the towel, a frown gracing his features.
"What are you hiding, Shana?" He almost growls. I roll my eyes at him, trying not to feel too pissed off at him barging in the way he did.
"If you had given me a second to explain myself rather than barging in like the Viking warrior god you try to pretend you aren't," I give him a glare, which he returns tenfold, "I would have told you." Kind of. It's never easy for us ladies to tell the gents that not everything about us is all flowers and roses, after all, and I'm not too sure if Asgardians get the same level of sex education as we do...
Loki continues to glare at me, but there is a hint of worry in his gaze, also...
"What's ailing you?" He asks softly, shifting his eyes to look accusingly at the towel that I stubbornly hold draped in front of me.
"Oh, nothing much," I say, kind of feeling an odd mixture of defeat and embarrassment. "Let's just say, it's that time of the month," Loki stares at me blankly.
Oh, don't fucking tell me that I'm going to have to spell it out for him... inside, I pray that Loki was told by some woman what us women have to go through each month.
"You know, The Blob?" I hint obscurely. Still blank. I can't help the mischievous urge I get to play on this confusion... "The Time of Reckoning? The Red Sea flowing? Bitch Week? My temporary alter ego of the evil Crimson Surfer, ready to purge the land of Knickerdale of all things clean and white?" I run out of spur-of-the-moment inspired phrases, and just stare at Loki, who's starting to look a little uncomfortable. I laugh at him; I just can't help it right now. I literally cannot resist laughing, especially when he looks even more confused and thrown at my attitude changes, as I'm sure he's noticed them...
Finally, I decide to take mercy on him, especially as he seems just about ready to impatiently tear the towel from my tight grasp so he can get a good look at the 'ailment'.
"I'm on my period, you clueless arsehole!" I cry out, still cackling like the mad woman I most probably am. Loki's face immediately clears.
"Ah," he says shortly, somehow managing to look both relieved and pale in shock and fear at the same time.
"I see you know of this 'ailment'," I say in my poshest accent, grinning at his misfortune. He glares at me.
"As I have already told you, Shana," he says in his best better-than-thou voice. "I am quite familiar with the female form, and read several Midgardian books on your biology. While you menstrate far more regularly than most other humanoid beings I have encountered, it is most certainly not an unknown subject." He actually kind of seems a little offended that I thought he wouldn't know...
I shrug, "What can I say? I don't know what you guys do and don't know," I say smoothly. "I mean, look at Thor for example! From what I've seen of him with that lady friend of his, I'm sure he thinks us mortal ladies fart flowers and bleed liquid gold!" I exclaim. The dark look that had started to overcome Loki's features at the mention of Thor immediately dissipates as he grins and laughs at the thought.
"Yes, he most certainly does seem to act that way," he says, chuckling at what I can only assume is a memory. "But why do you cover yourself like that, if it is as simple as your menstrual cycle?" He asks with the delicacy of a doctor that's been asking the same personal questions for far too many years. That is to say, no delicacy at all. I immediately tighten my grip on the towel protectively and make sure that the thing is fully covering me from his inquisitive gaze.
"It, er..." I trail off a little, feeling myself getting unsettlingly warm in the face. "Well, you see, I've been a little... late with my period. Something which I entirely blame on you, by the way," I glare at him and all the stress he's put me through. Of course, though, it's most probably no one's fault but my own body's that I'm a couple or so weeks late, but he doesn't need to know that.
"But anyway," I say, trying to push my mind back on track. "I thought it would be a slow start, like it usually is, but... let's just say that I think my body's making up for lost time..." I trail off, watching intently as Loki tries to put the pieces together, not really wanting to tell him outright that I bled through my only clothing and now have a vivid red splodge in a very awkward location. He seems to get it though, judging by the light of understanding in his eyes, which shoot down to look at the towel, a grin slowly begins to stretch across his lips.
"I think I understand what you are trying to say," he says slowly, clearly trying to smother his grin, his body shaking from repressed laughter. I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly feeling a rush of anger and, of all things, utter betrayal.
"You fucking prick," I snarl at him. "You can see that I feel uncomfortable telling you about this, you know that I'm embarrassed! Yet you laugh! You're fucking laughing at me, you fucking evil pompous arse, you twat!" Tears start to well up in my eyes, only serving to make my anger and embarrassment even worse. All amusement Loki had originally felt has long since passed, he now seems more shocked than anything else, which for some reason just fills me with irritation.
"What? Run out of laughs, now? Had your fucking fun? Gonna run off and fetch your camera and take pictures of my fucking embarrassment to show all your little pricks my little accident? Well, fuck you, prick," I yell, throwing my towel at his face with as much emotional force as I can. I barge past him, race through the bathroom door and throw myself on the couch, waiting for myself to calm down as I curl up self consciously. The few tears that had been falling during my little fit in the bathroom almost immediately multiply until I'm sobbing into my arms, very aware of the mess that's open for the whole world to see.
I try to grab a hold of my rampant hormones, I try to stop the tears and try to keep at least a small scrap of my remaining dignity intact, but I just can't stop crying. I hear water running in the bathroom, coming from one of the taps. My tears slow down slightly as I try to focus on the sound, trying to figure out what Loki's doing.
Most probably washing his hands in disgust of having touched that towel, my mind traitorously supplies, pulling another choked sob from my throat as I try to curl in even tighter.
I don't hear his footsteps approaching me, which makes his sudden voice all the more startling.
"I'm filling the bath with water for you," he says, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. "Leave your clothes just outside of the door, I will use my Seidr to remove the stains for you." I hiccough at his kind words, peering at him through my dishevelled hair and over my shoulder. I give him a grateful watery smile (that's also a little apologetic).
"Thanks," I croak. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch," Loki grimaces.
"Fear not, Shana, for I have known far worse," the horror on his face is almost comical. I immediately brighten up, but don't dare to move in case I manage to dirty the couch with these jeans (or dirty it more so, that is...) Loki sees my interest and smirks.
"The warrior queen of Vanaheim," he says in explanation. Already I can tell from a name like that that her PMS must have been the stuff of legends!
"What was she like?" I ask, wiping away the remnants of my tears.
"She was fierce and noble; loyal to those she ruled over," he says, his eyes glazing over slightly as he's lost in memory.
"What happened to her?" I ask him, noting how he spoke in past tense. He scoffs as he replies.
"I fell in love with her when I was just an adolescent, but she grew to love another," he waves his hand flippantly, showing how it's all just ancient history, even to him. But still I sniff disdainfully at her actions.
"Fucking cougar don't know what she's missing," I announce, now feeling much more happy and cheerful than before.
Don't know why I acted like such a hormonal cow before...
Loki raises an amused eyebrow at my comment, "cougar?" He asks.
"Yep, it means she's an older woman who's into younger guys," I explain, smiling when Loki chuckles at the description.
"She was not a 'cougar,' as you call it, Shana," he says, grinning widely with something that looks like cheeky triumph in his eyes. "If anything, I was more the cougar than she," he says, sounding rather cocky and proud of himself.
"Oh! I see!" I exclaim, grinning back at him. "You sly thing, how old were the two of you? And was this before she became the 'warrior queen' or did she, I don't know, get elected young or something?" I ask him eagerly, barely noticing that I'm now leaning slightly towards him in interest.
"There was fifty years between us," he recalls over my whoop and crude comments. "I was a little over three hundred years old, and she was two and a half centuries."
"But, wait," I say, stopping him from further reminiscing his past flame. "How old would she have been in Midgardian standards?" I ask. After all, sounds like a bit of a gap if they were apparently teenagers. He looks thoughtful as he tries to calculate the ages.
"I would say that I would have been similar to a seventeen or eighteen year old Midgardian, and she would have been roughly similar to a fifteen year old adolescent," he finally decides. I tilt my head thoughtfully.
"That is quite young," I say slowly. "But some girls have dated older men in the past, so I guess it's not too bad..." Besides, I'm sure Asgard has different laws to us Earthlings, anyway...
"Your bath should be ready," Loki interrupts our conversation to say. I honestly had forgotten about the whole mess already, and though I feel embarrassed, I feel a whole lot better than I had before.
"I can tell that you have some experience with the ladies," I say appreciatively as I stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom. The tub is now full of steaming water, calling to me with the wisps that float around it.
"And why is that?" Loki asks from where he kneels beside the tub, checking the temperature of it.
"Because you know just how to treat a woman on her period," I say approvingly. I move to stand at the foot of the tub, testing the water to see if it's the right sort of temperature.
"Just a little cooler," I comment, and Loki turns the hot tap off in response.
"I'll leave you to prepare," he says, standing up from where he was kneeling. "Close the tap once the bath is at a satisfactory temperature," he instructs, before taking his leave out the door.
-BREAK-
After finishing my bath, I opening the door, keeping the towel wrapped tightly around me to prevent any... occurrences...
Lying on the floor, neatly folded in a way I'll never achieve, lies my freshly cleaned clothes, and something else. I pick up the bundle, scurrying back inside my sheltered little den, and check out the extra stuff that was lying on top of my clothes. It looks like he bought me a pack of sanitary pads and some deodorant while I was having my bath. I quickly dress, trying not to be too creeped out that the pads happen to be just the sort I need (being a bloke, I would have thought he'd get the first pack he finds, rather than the heavier duty kind). I leave the bathroom to find that Loki is, once more, missing from the cabin.
It's almost strange, knowing where he's going now. Knowing that when he goes out, it's to, assumingly, get used to his new form. Out of boredom, I wander through the cabin, not really in the mood to read.
I walk into the kitchen, staring at the food inside each of the cabinets. I could... I don't know... maybe make something nice and elaborate for dinner. How hard could it be?
Yeah... I shut down that idea before it even has time to truly manifest.
I walk into the main living area and stroll towards one of the grand wardrobes lining the cabin. I try to open it, but only to find that it's locked. I squint at it accusingly after a good tug or two yields no response from it.
A challenge!
I search around, hoping to find a pin or something so I can try my hand at unlocking the wardrobe. I search throughout the cabin, finding all sorts of odd little nicknacks.
"Don't know what that is," I mutter, raising an odd little contraception up to my face. It kind of looks like miniature helicopter...
"What are you doing?" A voice asks from behind me. With a yelp, I jump a mile high, reflexively flinging the thingymabob at Loki, who's hand immediately whips out to catch it as it flies towards him.
"Fuck," I gasp, staring at the thing in his hand. "You've really got to stop doing that." He glares at me disapprovingly, gently placing the object back into it's previous location.
"I might," he says slowly. "But first, tell me what you were doing with this," he says, gesturing towards the item sitting comfortably inside a draw.
"Looking at it because I was bored?" I reply, though it sounds more like a question than an answer. He raises his eyebrow at me, looking very disapproving.
"And what entertainment would you derive from waste vessels?" He asks me slowly. Frowning, I narrow my eyes at the words.
"Waste vessels?" I ask him, equally slowly. "Why do I get the feeling that it's going to be something gross?" I ask him suspiciously. Loki smirks at me, increasing my urge to cover my ears.
"Waste vessels," Loki begins his explanation, picking the item of question up to showcase it to me. "Is what an Asgardian uses when he's hunting in the woods, or in the midst of battle." I'm quite reluctant to ask, but it's got to be done...
"And, er... why does he use it?" I ask him, staring at the helicopter type item warily. He gives a cheshire grin as he lifts the item higher.
"This, Shana," he declares, "is the Asgardian version if what you Midgardians call 'toilet paper'." I freeze, staring at the item lying innocently in his hand with horror.
"You're shitting me," I say in disbelief.
"No, but good choice of wording," he says, chuckling a little as he returns the object back into its draw.
"I wasn't holding your shit and piss, was I?" I ask him, horrified with the possibility.
"No," he says, much to my comfort. "I assure you that I actually wash my waste vessels." For some reason, there's something in that sentence that really makes my eye twitch.
"Wait," I say, lifting my hand a little, wanting to get my words out before I lose courage. "You've used that dick trap? And whilst you're at it, are you trying to tell me that some people actually don't wash their crap-catchers after going toilet?" I grimace at the thought.
I bet they don't wash their hands either... I shudder at the thought of what those warrior hands might look like under a microscope.
"And you call us uncivilized," I say, shuddering at the images rushing through my mind. Loki glares at me a little with the last comment, but actually doesn't try to argue it.
"Yes, I have used it," he says instead. "As I have already said, it's used during hunting or in the field of battle when it's the only option, aside from expelling our waste elsewhere like barbarians," he wrinkles his nose in disgust. I don't even bother mentioning that us humans usually have to resort to that very thing...
"Also, there are some Asgardians who never wash their waste vessels. Most usually renew theirs every other week," he continues explaining.
"My week or your week?" I ask him quickly.
"Asgardian week," he replies.
"Which is..." I prompt, hoping that it's not that big of a difference, though then we wouldn't have had to specify who's week we were talking about...
"An Asgardian week lasts for roughly two Midgardian months," Loki explains. My mouth drops open at the news.
"Ewwugh," I'm stuck between the two sounds of disgust. Four months of old and rancid waste? "Do you guys piss drips and shit rabbit droppings or something?" I ask him, my eyes drawn back to staring at the draw in disgust. The thingy had looked so small, as well...
"No, quite the opposite, in fact," Loki says with very obvious humour in his voice. "But I believe it's time for our meal now, Shana," he says with a pointed look.
"Right," I say faintly. "Yeah, dinner..."
He's pretty much killed my appetite with all that talk on shit.
I wonder if Thor washes his hands...
... Actually, I'd rather not know...