Chapter Text
Loki flinched in on himself, shivering as his wound ached and throbbed. He cursed the habitual action as he curled around the bleeding stab wound, specifically upset by the shivering. He had picked up the habit as a child whenever he witnessed his brother particularly struggling from the effects of the weather, but it had grown to be a way of coping with any particularly distressing thing.
He held in a whimper of pain as he heard footsteps too close for comfort, considering holding his breath when it felt too loud. He had landed somewhere in Midgard in his escape, but where exactly he wasn’t certain. He didn’t remember much from his most recent journey to Midgard because of the-
He froze, his head snapping up painfully as he realized the presence standing near him. He felt the urge to grab the knife he kept cloaked on his person, but failed to as he took in the entirety of the presence. Specifically, the human child that was standing in front of him looking concerned.
“Are you hurt?” the child asked, pushing him from his defensive mindset to a confused one.
The defensive mindset was not that far away, as it was. He was much too aware of the injury he had received to not believe that this human child could still harm him if he wished. The fact that this child spoke with an American accent, however, and was still asking him if he was injured was simply too confusing for him at that moment.
“Yes,” he decided to answer honestly, if not cautiously.
“I have a first aid kit in my backpack,” the child explained, Loki himself just noticing it weighing down the small human. “Would it be okay if I helped you patch it up?”
Loki blinked curiously at the small - what he assumed was - boy. The boy looked very concerned for him, but had yet to make any movement. It was an action he had witnessed humans do with injured or stray animals centuries ago. The fact that the boy saw him as a stray that needed help was not helping his complete and utter confusion.
“Do you know who I am?” Loki asked, wincing as the wound chose that moment to flare in pain. He shivered particularly violently as the boy nodded.
“I do,” the boy confirmed, seeming to make a decision in the form of coming closer, kneeling, and carefully removing his backpack. “You were here two years ago. I never believed that was truly your decision though,” the boy explained simply, pulling out packets and cloth from his backpack. “That never really lined up with your myths.”
The boy moved closer despite his own words and Loki’s hesitance, and much to the god's own surprise, he let the boy have access to the wound sitting in his right shoulder. The boy was very gentle and calm as he inspected the wound before frowning and sitting back.
“I’ll need to cut off your shirt sleeve,” the boy explained, reaching for his backpack to perhaps grab a cutting instrument of some sort.
Loki’s eyebrows furrowed in wonder at the boy, before raising his left hand to his shoulder. His magic let him send away the sleeve, but it strangely stole a lot of energy from him. What had he been stabbed with?
The boy’s eyes widened in wonder as he turned back towards him with a miniature pair of shears, dropping them back in the bag without looking but with an exclamation of, “That’s so cool!”
Loki tried to hold in his panting as he considered the boy. It was simple magic, but it would make sense that to a human it would be astounding. It had also been a long time since anyone had praised his magic. The last person who had-
Loki was knocked from his pondering as the boy wiped a wet cloth over the wound, the liquid leaving behind a slight stinging sensation. Loki’s face wrinkled in pain, but no other reaction left him. The boy-
“You know who I am,” Loki started, the boy glancing up at him as he cleaned the wound. “May I know who you are?”
“I’m Peter,” the boy explained simply, looking intensely at the stab wound with confusion. “It’s not bleeding. It almost looks cauterized.”
Loki furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand what Peter said before giving up. “I am not sure I know what that means.”
“It looks like it burned as it went in,” he explained, Loki flinching a bit at the very apt description, “and since it burned the skin and muscle, the wound was sealed closed. It will need stitches to make sure that it heals properly, but I don’t carry a needle on me.”
Loki huffed in annoyance as he glanced down at the injury. “I would summon one for you, but I believe I may have been stabbed with something that is affecting my magic.”
Peter hummed, returning everything to his backpack as he asked, “Do you know what you were stabbed with?”
Loki shook his head, avoiding thinking of how he got the injury as much as he could. Peter simply nodded and finished zipping up his backpack. He stood before holding out a small hand to Loki.
“My apartment is right around the corner, and I have things to stitch up the wound there. Are you okay with that?”
Loki’s face was starting to ache from how much he was furrowing his eyebrows at the boy. This boy doesn’t have much self preservation, he decided.
“Would your parents even be permissive of that?” Loki questioned, staring at the offered hand as the boy shrugged.
“My parents are dead,” he explained simply, “and while my aunt and uncle would probably be very upset at me bringing you to the apartment, neither are home so it’s not like they would find out.”
Loki blinked before sighing and carefully taking the boy’s hand, using what little strength he had to push himself up without the boy’s assistance. Peter was a stick, one that Loki could probably blow over with a light breath. He didn’t want to harm the boy in any way.
“Alright,” Loki said, standing weakly as he looked down at Peter, who still held his left hand.
“Lead the way.”