Requests are always open! However, I won't be doing any lemons, limes, or frisky times. Maybe. I might do a whopping total of 3. I'll do any character as long as they're in the Marvel universe. I'm sorry if your request doesn't come sooner, realize...
Premise: he stumbles into your house practically dead and luckily (being the best doctor ever, close to a certain Mr. Doctor) you helped him get back on his feet from the comforts of home. You call him Luke bc you misheard him when he tried to tell you his name. He never corrected you. Takes place after New York.
It's been about two months since "Luke" stumbled onto your doorstep. Technically, he was about ten feet away off the side of the road that morning and you dragged him inside, but who cares about technicalities? You called off work next few weeks, stating you'd be in California for your oldest sister's wedding. Since then, Luke had been nothing but irritable and annoying, but you still cleaned his wounds and rebound them when the bandages became too loose.
You'd even put him under anesthetics once just to get him to stop being a bitch. During that time, you gave him a haircut because his hair was a bit wild at this point. It's hard to say that it was worth it, considering the fact that he nearly tried to kill you with a couch cushion. That is, until he looked in the mirror and was okay with it.
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(Like that gif but y'know, no snow)
Once you deemed him ready to go home (aka after the two months), you asked if had any family. "I-I... have a brother, I was adopted into his family. His name is... Thomas, yeah. He doesn't have a phone, I don't think. I don't really keep in touch with him. I could call his friends, but I doubt very much that they'd even give me a passing glance," Luke said.
"Why do you say that?" You question in a dissatisfied tone.
Luke just scoffs. "Let's just say there's a very big, electrical fence between us, you can trust me on that."
You handed him a phone, "Do you know their phone numbers? You can call them if you want, just in case."
He held the phone and stared at it for a while. It was as though he didn't... "Do you... know their names at least? I have a phone book," you hesitantly stated.
"I don't- I... don't rem-remember," Luke stammered nervously, gripping the phone for his life.
You gently pried the phone from him before it broke under the pressure of his grip and coughed nervously. Going through the reasons he might've gotten amnesia, you made a guess that he had a lot of emotional stress surrounding how he had gotten hurt. You made another guess; it was probably his brother and friends that hurt him in the first place, to which you though to yourself: this guy needs a better family.
"I-It's okay," you tried to reassure him. "Mild amnesia is pretty common after experiencing traumatic situations-"
Luke slammed his fist down on the table, his other hand gripping his raven hair tightly. Violent behavior, too, you thought. You placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. He rubbed his face and took a few deep breaths.
