The Revengers (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 52: Knee Deep In Love

Back in our room, me and Loki find ourselves wrapped up in a blanket of silence.
It was comfortable, though, disrupted only by the sound of breathing- cracked by every timid exhale.

He looked over at me from his bed, the silence unnerving him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, finally striking the peace with a swift jab.

"Mhm. Just thinking." I answer, looking back at him with a small smile.

"About what?"

"Hm. Just stuff." I shrug, smirking slightly at his nervous expression, "What did you think I was thinking about?"

"I don't know. Us. Maybe." He confessed, breaking eye contact to look down at his hands.

"You don't occupy my mind day and night, Loki."

"I know that." He scoffs, a façade of indifference faltering slightly.

"Only like... 70 percent of the time." I smile, hoping to ease his mind.

"Oh yeah?" He smirks, finally; I had missed that smirk for the few moments it had been missing. It etched perfectly onto his face, as though all other expression did not fit. His smirk was the picture of my beloved, the state in which I loved him most.

Because I did love him, and that he now knew. That vulnerability, however, seemed to cast an awkward cloud over our heads. Momentary, and in passing, yet still shy and unsteady.

"So, are we like... I dunno." I shrug, daring not to poke the bear that is the question entailing the answer I desire most.

"Are we what?" He urges, looking at me with sincerity.

"Courting." I cough out, my voice shaking, caught on my throat as though my own body wished for me not to confess it.

"Courting." He repeats, pondering, "I don't know. At what point is it considered courting?"

"I don't know." I shrug.

"Do you love me?" He asks.

"I do."

"And I you." He admits, "I just wished to hear you confirm it again." His smile was cheeky, not mischievous; it was clear he wished only to be endearing and sincere. God of Mischief or not.

"What will your mother think?" I smile at him, excitement building at the idea of sharing such news with our loved ones.

"She really likes you." He responds, "In fact she probably already knows. She knows everything."

"I feel like she knew the whole time."

"Me too." He nods, "Though ever since your siblings first arrived, I knew I felt something foreign for you."

"I always thought you were attractive." I confess, both of us laughing easily.

"Yes, well, you're okay." He shrugs, enjoying my mock horror.

"Okay?" I gasp, "I thought you loved me!"

"Yes but, most of the time my mind automatically blurs your face. Just to make things easier for myself." He jokes.

"Oh shut up."

He trespasses over to my bed, budging me over and settling himself beside me. The awkward cloud drifts back over us, the intimacy now having to be rethought and refigured. It meant something different now. It was confirmed, not just a hope or a wishful thought.

His eyes met mine, though, and the cloud above seemed to dissipate. The green of them spoke of beauty and art, as the expression they held manifested love in my direction.

The awkwardness no longer existed. Though, it could have been mistaken for tension. So much heart has been poured into one other for us to get to this moment. Blood, sweat, and tears all quite literally forged what I would consider the greatest bond I have ever managed in my lifetime.
And now it was all coming to a head.

The end of a friendship, yet the beginning of a lifelong partnership.

"I do love you. Everything about you. I love how you hate, I love how you love, I love how you grieve, I love how you care. I love you. Your eyes that bear my reflection. Your mouth that speaks of said love and hate. Your shoulders that carry the weight of your family's burden. Your hands that reach out and touch me at my soul." He hesitates, unsure of his newfound vulnerability, "I thought love would never find me. I thought it never could. Yet here I see you, and I know it has. And it will continue to find me for as long as I see you in my sight."

His words made my chest ache, heart racing. Against my own wishes, my eyes swell with tears and a sob escapes my lips, Loki's face dropping with regret.

"I'm sorry." I cry, covering my face as our bodies turn to one other, "God, you should be a poet."

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's just sad." I sob, "How much I really really love you, and how much I really really hate it. But I love it! I love loving you, but with loving you I risk losing you. And with loving you I now know that life without you does not measure up to life with you by any possible means."

The tension had swollen in my heart into hurt, aching in my chest and stinging at my eyes. His lips on mine allowed me to breathe again, still unfamiliar. I hope it never grows familiar, as to be familiar is to be taken for granted.

And I wish never to take his kiss for granted.