Icecold and Redhot

A melodic tinkling noise of water on metal came from the dark fireplace. It was raining outside. A soft rumbling in the distance told Ruby it wasn’t just going to rain tonight. She sighed as she folded her laundry. A mundane task, but she usually liked it. It didn’t occupy her mind, left it open for contemplating other things. It just so happened that today was one of those days that her mind turned to thoughts she’d rather avoid. She let out another annoyed sigh and looked around her small house. It wasn’t much, but then again, she didn’t need much. Just some peace of mind. At least, that is what she told herself, but really, she was lonely. And bored. Mostly bored. It wasn’t natural for a n eighteen-year-old to live alone in a tiny house somewhere in a forest. But, she reminded herself for the hundredth time, she wasn’t a natural eighteen-year-old. She abruptly stood up. Enough, she thought to herself. It was the same argument she’d had with herself over and over again. “Enough is enough,” she said to herself out loud as she took her coat and put on her rubber boots. “Time to cool off. Literally.”

The smell of wet, rotting leaves penetrated his nostrils. That was the first thing he noticed. The second, was the stinging sensation in his side when he tried to move. He then noticed he was lying face down in dead leaves. Hence the smell, he thought. He tried to get up, but immediately forfeit as the pain in his side grew worse. Carefully now, he tried to roll over. After a few moments of pain and effort, he was lying on his back, staring to the sky and… Trees? He was in a forest. That didn’t tell him much; every realm had forests. It was raining, he realized now, as ice cold drops fell on his face. Great, he thought. Here I am, lying alone in some forest in some realm, and I can’t even get up. The Allfather couldn’t have come up with a better punishment.
He lifted his hand and tried to wipe the dirt from his face as best as he could. Then he gingerly felt his side. It seemed that a branch had penetrated the thin green shirt he was wearing, not to mention his skin. A branch. He’d laughed if his situation hadn’t been so desperate. He’d come to Midgard a year ago to conquer it, and now he was laying here, presumably on Midgard (he’d noticed a flying vehicle in the sky), felled by a branch. A sharp branch, no doubt, very unlucky poised as he’d fallen on it, but still, a branch. He gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into the wound. “AAhh!” he exclaimed as he pulled out the branch in one yank. He closed his eyes and let the pain fade away. When he opened them, he was staring into blue eyes. He blinked. The blue eyes were part of a young, innocent face, surrounded by flames.
“Ah good, you’re not dead,” the mouth said dryly. He blinked again, slowly regaining his wits. A young girl was looking down at him. She had fiery red hair and blue eyes.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asked. She seemed genuinely concerned.
“Do I look like I am all right?” he snapped back.
“Well, if you don’t require any assistance...” she answered coldly, and she started to turn away.
“No…” he said weakly. His consciousness was fading. Must be losing more blood than he thought. Must be...

Great, Ruby thought. The Random Man in the woods has passed out. Just what I needed. Some guy passed out in MY woods. God dammit. She sighed and looked at the wound in his side. He was losing blood fast. That could be helped. She gently placed her hand on the wound and concentrated. After a few minutes the bleeding stopped. His face was still frighteningly pale. That’s the last thing she needed: a body to take care of. So, reluctantly, she lifted the man up and carried him to her little house. Thank god she hadn’t walked far; the man was huge, at least 6 feet tall, and though slender, not exactly thin. She dragged him the last part, from her front door all the way to her couch. His pants and shirt were drenched. She sighed. She really, really didn’t want to have to do this, but she felt even less for getting rid of the body if he died of hypothermia. So she gritted her teeth and took off his shirt and pants, leaving his underwear. There are worse people to undress, she thought as she bound his wound. Definitely, much worse people. His torso was an almost perfect triangle, with a pale, smooth skin covering his perfect muscles. She scolded herself for being a pervert and quickly tucked the dark-haired man in under all the blankets she could find. Then she made a fire in the small fireplace and hung his clothes on a chair to dry. Time to make soup, she thought, and she walked into the kitchen.

He was burning hot. They had thrown him in a burning pit. Odin, Frigg, Thor, Heimdall… All of them were standing around it, looking at him in disgust or amusement. He couldn’t breathe. “Mother,” he panted, “Mother, please…”
But she shook her head and said: “I am not your mother; you said it yourself.”
“Please… Anything but this…” he pleaded as his skin started to melt.
“Come on, my soup isn’t that bad,” a mocking voice said. He looked around, but he couldn’t find the source.
“What?” he called.
“Wake up, dude, I’ve got soup,” the voice called jestingly. He felt his reality destabilize, and suddenly he was awake on a couch, looking at the woman he’d seen in the forest, holding a bowl of soup. He was still bathing in sweat, partly because of the nightmare, but partly because he had a pile of blankets on top of him. He threw them off of him in irritation, only to realize he was almost completely naked, save the black boxers he was wearing. He directed a furious glare to the redhead, who’d carefully placed the bowl of soup out of his reach.
“You dare undress me?” he asked, too enraged to raise his voice.
“You know, for someone who owes me his life, you sure seem awfully ungrateful,” she said dryly, unmoved by his words or look. “Trust me, I didn’t do it for my own pleasure. If I had, I’d at least wanted to know your name first.”
He stared at her in disbelief. A smile was tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I had to remove your clothes; they were drenched. You would’ve died of hypothermia if I hadn’t.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he said angrily. “You didn’t have to help me.”
“Yes, well, call it my sense of moral responsibility. Look, let’s start again,” she said finally. “My name’s Ruby, Ruby Daniels. And your name is…?”
“Loki,” he answered. “Loki of Asgard.”
Ruby nodded. If she recognized his name, she hid it well. Strange, Loki thought. He’d thought that by now, all Midgardians would’ve known his name, after what happened in New York. Of course, he didn’t know how news was spread in Midgard. Perhaps not everyone could communicate as quickly as SHIELD and the Avengers had done when he was here. The Avengers. The word alone brought back many unwelcome memories. He scowled.
“Want soup?” Ruby asked, handing him the bowl. He nodded and took the bowl from her. He needed to think before he could start answering questions. Eating would be a good excuse for silence.

So, now she had a strange man named Loki in her house, from a place called Asgard. She’d never heard of the place. But then again, how much could she know of a world she hadn’t been in of nearly a year? Not much, though she had seen more places than most at her age. She’s lived in Belgium for 8 years, and in New York 8 years. After that… She didn’t want to think about that. To distract her thoughts, she studied her visitor. He seemed to be concentrating on the soup. He ate slowly, his brow furrowed. Collecting his thoughts. She didn’t know his last name, she realized.
“You didn’t give me a last name,” she said promptly.
Loki looked up, disturbed. “What?” he asked, slightly annoyed.
“Your last name. You didn’t tell me what it was,” Ruby repeated.
“Indeed, I did not.”
Ruby clenched her jaw in frustration. Fine. She didn’t need to know. He’d be out of her hair soon enough. She just had to keep herself from losing her temper.
“Happy thoughts, happy thoughts,” she murmured to herself as she rose to get back to her laundry. Loki followed her with his eyes. A strange girl, she was. Very young to be alone, even to Midgardian standards, he believed. She wasn’t as curious as he would have expected. He’d expected that she would ask an avalanche of questions, but instead it had just been the one, and had been easily diverted. It seemed she was just about as interested in him as he’d been in her, which made him wonder what it was exactly that she had to hide. People who don’t want questions asked usually don’t ask them themselves. But, then again, what interesting secret could a mere mortal hold? No, his main focus should be getting back to Asgard and making Odin reverse this stupid punishment of his. To live as a mortal! The thought alone was unacceptable. Besides, if SHIELD or the Avengers got wind of this… He had no doubt whatsoever that they wouldn’t let him live as a free mortal, perhaps not even live at all. The Allfather was counting on that, no doubt. That thought made him even more angry. He gulped the last of the soup down and stood up. He winced and pressed his hand on the bandages on his side. Then he took his pants from the chair in front of the fire and put them on. He picked up the bowl from the table and walked into the kitchen. The red-haired mortal was there, folding laundry at the dinner table.
“The soup was… fine,” Loki said awkwardly.
“Oh wow,” she answered sarcastically, without looking up, “thank you. Such praise, I can barely handle it.”
Loki glared at her. So much for starting over, she thought. But she simply couldn’t help it. His arrogance was too much. He was like a real life Mr. Darcy, but worse, since she couldn’t help but feel that she was a better judge of character than Elizabeth Bennet. She sighed.
“So… there’s a bus stop a few miles from here; only a half an hour walk. You can take a bus to the town there, and from there, well…” she said hesitatingly, looking up at him.
He sat down and gave a slight nod.
“I mean, you don’t have to go right now, not before the wound is healed and the storm has passed, but I-”
“Storm?” Loki interrupted her, looking outside. He’d been caught up in his thoughts so much he hadn’t heard the wind howling.
“Yes, storm,” Ruby said, lifting an eyebrow. “It might take a while to clear up, and you don’t want to try to make your way to the village in this weather. The mud has surprised many careless drivers around here.”
Loki sighed. No hope of a quick escape then. Even if he managed to steal a vehicle (preferably the redhead’s, since she was so tiresome), he wouldn’t be able to leave the house until it stopped raining and blowing. Fine, he thought. I need to heal anyway. Let the little redhead take care of me.

Ruby descended into the small basement under her house. She really hadn’t planned on company. Now she’d have to get groceries before the month was over and she was already struggling as it was. She could barely get enough money together with the paintings she sold and the little electrician jobs she got around town. Her one constellation being that she enjoyed painting more than anything. Though of course she couldn’t really paint what she wanted if she wanted to sell them. Her own paintings were too ‘modern’. No, she was better off painting landscapes and other boring things. Oh well, she thought, at least now I have an excuse to cook something nice.
And with that thought she set out to cook some risotto for them, her favorite meal. The man, Loki, was still standing in the kitchen when she came back with her supplies. He was staring out the window thoughtfully, without really seeing anything, it seemed.
“You like risotto?” she asked.
“What?” he said, as if it was an impertinence she asked him a question.
“Do you like risotto?” she repeated slowly.
“I would not know, I’ve never had it. But anything will do for sustenance.”
“…Right. And does Mr. Shakespeare like cheese with his risotto?”
“I do not know, ask Mr. Shakespeare.”
“Fine!” Ruby said irritably, “Grate your own cheese then.”
She took an onion and proceeded to cut it in small pieces.
“I swear to God,” she grumbled to herself as she cut the union with exceeding violence and dedication, “Next time I see a stranger bleeding out in the woods, I’ll leave them there.”

Loki smiled quietly to himself for this small victory and walked out of the kitchen to explore the small cottage. There was a cozy living room with a roaring fire in the fire place, which he’d laid in front of. On his left was a door that led to a little bedroom where the girl slept, and an adjoining bathroom. After exploring these thoroughly, as much as these small rooms could be explored, he entered the room to the right of the kitchen door. It had a sharp smell about it, the smell of turpentine. The first thing he saw was a large easel with a painting on it of an unremarkable landscape, half-finished. Loki looked around the room, intrigued. He studied the painting. She paints well, he thought. Sure enough, all the trees and clouds were very lifelike. But also very boring. Against the walls of the room there were countless of other paintings just like it, all a little different, all of them equally mundane. Then he noticed another door. He walked over and opened it. It was a closet, and in it were a few dozen paintings. He picked one up and looked at it. There was a man depicted on it, with dark, black eyes and a stare that made him shiver. Blood was dripping from the man’s fingers, of which one was pointing directly at Loki, as if to accuse him of something. His mouth was opened in a silent yell, and at his feet lay another man, his head bleeding, his eyes staring emptily up at his murderer.
“What are you doing?” a cold voice said from behind.
Loki almost dropped the painting. “I was just-”
“-putting your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Ruby finished coldly.
“I don’t think I can emphasize this enough: don’t ever come in here without my permission again. You got that?”
Loki puffed up at the thought of having to follow orders from her. “I don’t think I-”
“Ever,” she said, her eyes full of cold hate. She slowly lifted up the knife she’d been using to cut the union. Loki quickly backed away and lifted his hands.
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to… Look, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough…” he stammered, still backing away. Ruby looked at him in surprise, and then at her hand even more surprised, as though she hadn’t noticed her lifting it. She quickly lowered the knife and steadied her breathing while closing the closet with the paintings.
“C’mon, dinner is served. Still had some risotto left in the freezer,” she said, and she spun around and quickly walked to the kitchen. Loki followed her somewhat hesitantly.

Ruby stared at her plate. She wasn’t particularly hungry anymore. It had been some time since she’d seen that painting. It wasn’t the painting that had made her lose her appetite. She’d worked on it for months after all. But she didn’t like other people looking at it. She didn’t like him looking at it. He had no right. She looked at him carefully from across the table. He was quietly eating his meal, again lost in his thoughts. She shouldn’t have taken him in, she now realized. A man bleeding out in the woods couldn’t mean anything but trouble. And trouble was the one thing she’d been trying to avoid. The one thing that made this exile bearable was that she’d succeeded so far in avoiding it. He needed to leave, as fast as possible.
“The storm will clear up tomorrow, I think. Then you can be on your way.”
“Yes,” he said, and I will not leave any witnesses behind, he added in thought.