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Ever since Stephen Strange’s accident, he’d gotten used to quite a bit of “looking the other way.” It kept the poor excuse of an apartment he had free from notices on the door anyway. He thought faces wouldn’t get familiar either for confidentiality sake or because most of the time whomever he saw wouldn’t make it through their next mistake and to his door.
He couldn’t really place how it started considering he made his name and career on innovation and people who would pay top dollar for it. He also didn’t make mistakes and the argument had been made - on more than one occasion - that it had been because he crafted situations where he knew he wouldn’t. They never took into account fear of failure.
It didn’t change after his accident, only seemed to get personal. He wasn’t as aloof or apathetic as he often seemed before, but it certainly felt worse to him now.
His neighbor, Wong - who Stephen at the time hadn’t even been sure cared enough to know his name let alone what he’d been doing prior to downsizing to a small studio with peeling paint - had brought someone nearly bleeding out to him. He said at the time he simply found them on the street, but Stephen had always suspected there was more to Wong ever since.
Still, Stephen stitched the person up despite his shaking hands and didn’t ask for a name even if his curiosity nearly got the better of him.
For his self restraint, he got a full wallet and a new pretty regular occurrence. He’d open his mouth to refuse each time, but then he said the money got too tempting. He felt more useful doing this than a guest lecture someone would reach out to him to do out of charity. The fact that this was in the grey area of laws made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he grew too used to the discomfort.
In this strange and stressful way of life, it was a miracle he knew Loki’s name and he wasn’t “long raven hair, green eyes.” It was only his first name and part of Stephen thought there was something familiar about him, but it never bothered him enough to look into it. Or, he could never quite place the why so even google was useless. It would make sense if it was a fake name too.
All the same, Loki had ended up in Stephen’s apartment with words for everything else under than the sun than what had got him a stab wound for more times than Stephen could count on his fingers. He’d been torn between wondering if Loki was actually terrible at whatever he did or too good.
And then Loki died. At least, that’s what had to have happened when Stephen hadn’t seen him in fourteen months. Stephen didn’t see a lot of people again, but ever the pessimist, he assumed the worst after six months of no return. For Loki, he finally lost hope after twelve. He didn’t even know where the hope came from and wished he could ignore the mourning and stages of grief that came with it.
Then fall started to turn cold towards the end of the fourteenth month of not seeing him and there he was in his doorway looking more haunted than he was actually haunting.
“I need an albuterol inhaler,” Loki murmured first before he brushed passed Stephen who still hadn’t managed to gather up all his senses back up off the floor.
Stephen didn’t turn to follow him, just stared at the blank doorway. He knew he wasn’t dreaming, but he also knew he had a lot of questions that were about to go unanswered. Where that would normally just irritate his curiosity, it would actually hurt his sentiment.
“Can you close the door?” Loki asked and it urged Stephen to skip the hurt right into upset.
With a huff, Stephen closed the door and turned to face Loki. He narrowed his eyes, discerning him. Despite the dark shade to the skin around his eyes and the pale pallor, nothing seemed physically wrong with him. “Your hair is shorter,” he observed without addressing anything else worth addressing.
“It’s uneven too,” Loki said, lifting a small clump from where it rested at the side of his neck. The ends an an awkward looking wave. “My haste didn’t allow anything professional. Apologies if it offends.” His tone sounded anything but apologetic. He dug into his coat pocket and held out an inhaler. “I know you should be able to secure one.”
Stephen took the older inhaler and looked over the label. Most of it was faded, but he was able to make out “STEVEN ROGERS” for the name.
“Did you run out of fake names?” he asked, pocketing the inhaler before he stepped into his kitchen. He opened a top drawer and pulled out his stethoscope.
“It’s not for me,” Loki said, eye-ing the stethoscope.
“I’ll need to check your breathing.” Stephen rounded the small counter and pulled out one of the two chairs he had at his table.
“I don’t have asthma.” Loki crossed his arms.
Stephen didn’t reply, simple patted the chair. He knew Loki didn’t already, but irritating him was balming his own irritation.
Sighing, Loki roughly undid the buttons on his jacket, throwing it to the floor. He took his shirt off and threw it to the floor. A thin chain with a squished piece of metal attached to it bounced against his chest. There was rough looking scar on his right that Stephen would have noticed before.
Loki sat down and leaned forward slightly. Stephen put the stethoscope to his back and Loki took deep breaths without prompting. As both of them knew, his lungs were clear.
“You really didn’t have to take off the shirt,” Stephen said, taking a step back.
Loki hummed and reached for the shirt as he stood again. “You wanted to know what happened to me,” he said and paused before he finished putting the shirt on. He turned and angled the scar closer to Stephen. “Do you want a closer look?”
Stephen set his jaw. “I could have done better,” he stated.
Loki laughed humorlessly and finished putting the shirt back on. “Albuterol inhaler, now. I have money for it and the time you’re not wasting.” He adjusted the chain of the slightly morbid necklace so the bullet fell in front of the shirt this time.
Stephen chose to ignore the request again even if he definitely felt like he was pushing it now. “I didn’t think you were sentimental.”
“I didn’t think you were either.” Loki scooped up his jacket and started to put it on. “Yet here you are, being purposely difficult because I didn’t drop a line.” He slid his arms through the sleeves roughly.
“I thought you died.”
“Everyone that comes to see you dies. Not by your hand or anything you can help, but you know what you sign for every time you open your door.” Loki pointed to the door behind himself.
Stephen swallowed, setting the stethoscope on the table. “But I don’t know everyone’s name.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t have had an obituary to look for, but I still tried.”
Loki stared at Stephen for a long time before his stance softened. “There would have been,” he said. “They would have made sure of it.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Steven - who the inhaler is truly for - and James - our other partner - would have made one.” The way Loki said partner didn’t quite make it seem like they were working together, but something more.
Stephen felt warmed by the idea. He spent so much time imagining how Loki died alone, discarded somewhere. He imagined all the ways it possible happened and how may of the ways he could have saved his life were he there. Instead, this whole time he’d been with people that cared about him. He knew he was making assumptions, but he didn’t know what else to conclude.
“I can’t get the inhaler until the morning,” Stephen said.
Loki’s jaw stiffened before he turned to look behind him at what Stephen assumed was the time on the microwave. “They don’t know I’m here,” he said. “It’s easier for me to take the risk and Steven needs it. They’re not particularly fond of my line of thinking.” Loki huffed a humorless laugh. “All three of us are a little keen on self-sacrifice even if I used to try to make it less obvious.” He leaned against the back side of the counter though he didn’t look particularly relaxed. “I didn’t want to put you at risk staying longer than necessary.”
Stephen realized that when the statement didn’t bother him he may have been helping people out of his apartment for too long.
“I assume that has something to do with you being shot,” he said.
Loki nodded. “We quit and I wish I could say it was before they tried to kill us.”
Stephen pursed his lips together briefly. “That’s the reason for the haircut?”
Loki scrunched his nose and played with an uneven strand of his hair again. “A little dramatic and impulsive on my part but this is where we were living when the incident happened. Perhaps it will make James laugh when he’s done being angry I left.”
Stephen smirked a little before he shook his head. “The sofa’s not too bad.” He motioned to it behind him from his place beyond the end of the bed. “I wish I could get it sooner, but I know seven is the earliest.”
Loki eyed the sofa before he nodded. “Steven is fine for now,” he said, pushing up from the counter. Stephen noticed that he didn’t really hide the concern on his features by faking a smile or loosening his stance again. “Which is why I went now.” He swallowed. “So other plans could be made if I failed.”
Stephen knew he would’ve caught on to that reasoning eventually even if Loki hadn’t said it outright. It was simply better now than while they were both wide awake until the morning.It was too much to expect either of them would get any sleep. Stephen’s sleep was abysmal on most nights.
He nodded and walked over to the end of his bed and picked up the extra cotton blanket. He pulled back his covers and scooped up his additional pillow too. Loki was already behind him to take the items to the sofa.
“Thank you,” Loki murmured and something about the words felt like they held more weight than for Stephen giving him a place to sleep for the night.
Loki really hadn’t said “thank you” before and it didn’t really offend Stephen. Most didn’t thank him. He decided it was because neither party really wanted to acknowledge the fact he was necessary.
They both settled and Stephen turned out the lights and neither slept. They were both content to silence - Loki had already told Stephen more about his personal life than he ever had before - as there was so much on their minds. It nearly filled the air thick like heat in the summer when it was nearly winter beyond the single window the studio had.
The trouble was that now Stephen has more names to look for in the paper.
The dim light from the lights outside turned to the dim light of morning that happened before the sun broke the horizon. Stephen rose from bed, changed into something a bit warmer than his plaid pajama pants and made a pot of the cheapest coffee that did the job. He offered it to Loki - who was no longer pretending to sleep - and headed out.
He had two contacts at the pharmacy seven blocks away, but it was Marcus who he reached out to today. It was easier than more times considering Marcus could actually find a prescription to fill for “STEVEN ROGERS” and without asking any questions on why it was Stephen picking it up, the doctor was headed back to his far less than glamorous “office” in record time.
Loki had his hands around the mug when he returned and it looked like he hadn’t drank any of it. Stephen didn’t particularly blame him for more reasons than one.
Loki took the inhaler as soon as it was handed to him without saying much more. “There is a train I will take before taking a bus the rest of the way,” he said before he paused and sighed. “That was probably still too much to tell you.”
Stephen busied himself with getting a mug of coffee for himself which was a bit more of a task than usual. He didn’t notice how much worse his hands were shaking until the coffee sloshed a little over the rim of the mug. “I’ll take what I can get,” he admitted. He gave up worrying about danger the first time he decided to help someone. He accepted whatever Loki brought with him when he told him he could stay the night while knowing the risks.
He turned and watched while Loki hastily put on his coat, tucked the inhaler into an inner coat pocket, buttoned the buttons, and scooped up the scarf he had. Loki paused before wrapping the scarf around his face again and smiled at Stephen. It wasn’t a sad smile, but one that held the weight of understanding. “I will survive,” he promised. “It’s simply all I’m capable of.”
Loki wrapped the scarf, covering the bottom part of his face, looking entirely inconspicuous despite his height and brilliant green eyes. He exited the apartment and the door clicked behind him.
Stephen took a drink from his mug, staring at the folded blanket with his pillow and a folded wad of bills on top on the sofa. He realized he would likely never see Loki again, but this time it would be without mourning. He was sadder than he should have been all the same.