I did not mean

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I woke from my dream, I'd felt someone watching me, as I slept. I lifted my head, opening my eyes so that I could see the person watching me. My gaze fell on Loki, standing in the corner of my room, staring, almost nervously, at me. 

He was dressed in the outfit we first met him in, his armour gleaming in the moonlight. His helmet holding the blue haze of the Avengers logo, the one that lay before my window. There was not a scratch on his armour, polished to its max. The green leather, turning a sparkly silver at the edges. His cape was flapping lazily in the wind, tugging at the corners.

He was missing the 'glow stick', as I like to call it, meaning that he had not come for that, as it is held in this building, below me even.

His eyes shined, like a child looking at a new toy, yet was not sure that they were allowed.

He was fidgeting with his hand, like he was only a small boy, trying to ask someone, someone that towered over them a question.

The way he stood seemed different, he held no anger or hate, only calmness, though you can see he was trying to hide his fear, it was in his eyes.

The tesseract!

As he caught sight of me looking at him, a small, kind smile spread across his face, one that could melt of frozen heart.

But not this one!

"Why are you here!?" I growled at him.

"To see you." This took me back, he said it with such sincerity and softness, his voice barely above a whisper, something you would never think Loki would ever use.

He slowly walked up to me, brushing his hands across the wooden cabinet, that he was stood next to.

When he was almost at my bed, he brushed his hand across the blade, one I kept atop the cabinet. It was made so it would even punter through Thor's skin. He had agreed, just in case, it was needed at any point.

"Odin's beard! That's sharp!" He said, rather loudly, as I saw blood drop from his fingers. Three small cuts ran across his fingers, with a large one, don't know how he did this, ran across his palm, straight to his wrist.

Well, this proves that he's really here, but why does he come, why come so calm?

He was clutching his hand in his hand, mumbling under his breath, so I walked up to him, like you do, picking up the medical bag I have under my bed.

"You ok?" I asked him, touching his shoulder.

He must not have known I was there as he jumped, a startled expression on his face.

"Not many can walk up on me without me realising, though when it happens, it does tend to be a woman." He replied, snarly.

I reached out, slapping him across the face.

He only chuckled at this, a glint of mischief in his eyes, before holding out his hand.

I slowly started to wrap his hand up, making sure I caused him no more harm, I may be trained to kill, but I also have a heart.

It covered most of his hand, it was not the best, but it will do.

Once I had wrapped his hand, he stayed and talked, sitting on the end of my bed, together, though he seemed different, kind, gentle even.

"Why did you come, really?" I asked him, my curiosity getting the better of me.

He started to grow really nervous, looking everywhere but me, then he replied, "I don't want to fall in love," What is he talking about.

He then continued, his voice hardening, "Especially with a mortal, a hero."

Please don't say what I think you are about to say!

His voice lowered to a whisper, shaking at the words,

"But, it's too late, I have already fallen. Nat, I have fallen for you."

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