It wasn't about the kissing!

Hey Guys! so this is my first attempt at a Journey into mystery fic. I really hope that it works and that I kept the close to character! either way I had fun writing it! and i really really hope you guys have fun reading it!

as always nothing is mine. . . . . nothing is ever mine!

Loki couldn't decide what the lessor of two evils was. On the one hand he was a French street rat, hustling tourists out of money on the street, sleeping in the gutter, riddled with the nightmares of a past he never knew. On the other this, ostracised to a derelict tower on the further reaches of Asgardia, haunted and tormented by the guilt of a past that he only barely understood.

It wasn't all bad and some days where easier than others. Days with Thor, the all mothers, even Volstagg was starting to warm up to him, well he though. But there where so many reasons to never leave that derelict old tower. It seemed that no matter where he went there where disapproving eyes, glares, abuse and violence directed at him. And on those days, he wished he had been left on the streets. Thor, although he would claim to have meant well, only sought to elevate the burden of loneliness that weighed on him after the fall of Asgard. He had not spared a thought as to the reception his child brother would have among the Aesar. Although he would claim to defend him from any threat, he regrettably could not be there all the time. And that is how Loki found himself this night. The anger of the Aesar, it would seem, is only quelled by the dull and hollow sound of fist on flesh, of the smell of fresh blood. Loki sat alone in his well-fortified tower, nursing fresh bruises. At least out here no one would come looking for him, he was safe and lone. Painfully alone.
For it was really only at night that he thought of these things. How he was persecuted, how he would rather he was left. How he was hidden away on the furthest edge of the city, only he came here.

He sighed, there was no point dwelling on it, by tomorrow the all-mothers would have thought of some other sneaky mission for him to, and his mind would be taken thoroughly off of the matter. He would be out of the road of any Asgardians that may want to vent their frustrations. He would be able to hide most of his bruises, and life would carry on. He resigned himself to thinking this the bright side of the situation, and made himself ready for bed. Not that there was a bed in his tower, not like there would be in Thor's room in the palace, but there was a pile of furs between the ink bottles and waist high piles of books.

It was funny to him how it was never cold in Asgardia, but yet the warmth never seemed to penetrate his bones. He need sleep in no more than a long tunic and long pants on top of the furs, and although he never felt cold, something in this place never let him feel truly warm. The cold stone walls of his, all but abandoned, tower held a damp that he could never shake. He lay like that for what seemed like forever, on top of the furs, surrounded by the smell of damp and ink, and dusty desert air that swept through the open window. He found it hard to sleep tonight. Although he was exhausted from the day's works, his head refused to stop reeling with thoughts and woes.

He had stopped the fear lords, and in the process saved more than a few humans. Although, he doubted that many would know of the selfless deeds that he had performed, or thank him for facing his own demons and putting himself in mortal peril to save them. He smiled as he lay there thinking back on the last mission. Leah, she never sleeps. Always watching, was she watching now?

The thought of her calmed him, and chased away the most bitter edge of the chill. Friendship was a hard thing to forge, he knew that. But then again it was harder to hide ones true feeling, was it not? If she cared so little for him why did she go so eagerly to his aid? Why did she show such guarded concern for him in his sleepless state? Why did she . . . .

WHY was his mind thinking like this?! He sat bolt up right where he lay. This was starting to get ridiculous; he reached across over one of the mountains of books to fetch his Stark phone. If his head refused to turn itself off and bless him with sleep, then he would dull his senses and numb his thoughts on the internet. He was not letting his thoughts wonder onto Leah, and her feelings for him, like some helpless Midgardian adolescent. And that was final.

He lay like that for what could have been hours. Mindlessly scrolling through pages upon pages of memes, trolling people and in sighting flame wars, before, as the hours grew very late he finally fell into a troubled sleep. However, even in his dreams he was not safe. He was pursued by his imagination of a past he could not remember. That Ikol refused to tell, but that Asgardians where quick to punish him for.

In his dreams he takes credit for the fall of Asgard, delight in the death of Thor. He brings terror and violence and chaos. And he hates himself for it. But how could this not be true? Why else would Asgard treat him this way? It is the fear that deep down this is who he really is that haunts his guilt wracked dreams as he tosses in his restless sleep.

There were times when she wished she could sleep. In the most silent hours of the night, when all was unnaturally quiet. When all the sound there was to comfort her was the crackle of the fires dying embers, and the soft muffled breathing of Thori. She sat at the entrance to her cave staring out towards Asgardia. There were times when she felt indignant at being housed in a dusty damp cave, with no company but a rabid mutt. But, as she looked towards the dark structure of Loki's tower, she felt almost grateful for the peace. He didn't have an easy time. He would never mention it to her, and she would never see it, but she knew. The people of Asgard had more respect for him dead than alive. But even at that, it was not by a large margin.

She had been well informed by her mistress as to the kind of man that Loki was. But the descriptions had not matched up with the reality. For all the time that she had now been with him, she had yet to see him be anything other than open with her. And although she would admit that his methods could seem dubious, his intentions where from the purest of places. And it was because of this that she now felt the sharp pain of pity for him. It was because of this that she now considered herself his friend. Although, she was never going to admit that to him. And she would never let him use the term BFF's to describe them.

She sat looking out towards Asgard for what seemed like the best part of the night, Loki wasn't sleeping. Out of the small window on his tower she could see the silhouette of him, fidgeting with what she would wager to be his stark phone. He was like that for hours before the shadows secede their flickering; due to what she could only assume was him finally falling asleep.

She knew his dreams where troubled. She had seen that for herself on their last mission. It seems like the only real time off he got was when he was with her on missions. He had given her some books to pass the time, books from Midgard that really held no interest or use to her whatsoever. Why Loki thought that she would be interested in a trashy teen romance, between mortals and vampires was beyond her. However, with little option of anything else to do she resigned herself to reading it. She would stop every now and then to look up to his window, weary of danger that could be lurking. It was after several checks in the direction of his tower, and more than 200 or so pages of the book, that when she looked she noticed something off. The shadows in the little window had changed, moved somehow. It was only the slightest of changes, but it didn't sit well with her. The last time it had only been the slightest of changes and it had lead Loki nearly to his death if she hadn't been there to save him. So she sat the book down and got to her feet. If she was honest this was mostly to elevate her own boredom. She though if she read any more pages of that book, she might turn out to be as useless as its heroine. She cringed at the thought.

She walked silently across the desert, and through the night, towards what was the furthest edge of Asgardia. She hadn't had any need to travel into Asgardia other than to check of Loki. As far as she was aware, both her presence and interaction, where being kept a secret from the Aesar, and she preferred it that way. So she travelled quickly and silently towards the tower, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the notice of any who might have still been awake at this hour. When finally she got to the tower, she opened it only a crack, to avoid the heavy wooden and brass structure from making to much of a noise, and slipped inside closing it silently behind her. The tower was tall with only one room in the attic of the structure. The 30 or so feet up to the open trap door that led into the room, was accessed only by a vertical rope. She sighed lightly at it, for someone who had to climb a 30 foot rope every time he wanted to go to his room he had surprisingly little upper body strength, she thought to herself.
She grabbed the rope with one hand then the other, pulling herself up and aiding with her feet, but gaining little purchase on the this flaxen rope. Slowly the pulled her body weight up, grateful that she didn't weigh as much as Volstagg. Finally she made it within reach of the ledge, grabbing it and pulling herself through the trap door.

It took her a couple of minutes to fully get her breath back after the climb. She would be having words about how ridiculously difficult it was to get into his room. When she had finished panting she stood to look around the room. It was small there wasn't a lot in it, there was a desk and a chair, the one single window, and the various lamps and torches that lit the room. There where quills and ink bottles scattered in various places, and books, some piled waist high, littered almost every available inch of the floor. It took her a moment to finally acquire Loki's location amongst the mess. But the soft muffled groans, and shuffling of fabric, lead her to the middle of the room between the piles of books, on a bed of furs lay Loki. His tunic was soaked with sweat, and his hair was wild and messy from rolling around on the furs. He lay there groaning and tossing in his sleep, his arm covering his fac. Leah sighed, she had come all the way here, snuck into Asgardia, climbed a 30 foot rope, just to see Loki have a nightmare. She sighed this had been a waste, and she turned to the trap door, contemplating just how she was going to get back down the rope, when there was a dull thud behind her. The sudden noise made her jump slightly, and she turned round ready to fight whatever had made the noise. When she turned round it became evident that Loki in his restless sleep had knocked over some of the books with the hand that had been covering his face. She didn't know what possessed her to walk forward and look over the books at him, but the moment her eyes met his face she knew she had to do something. His face held none of the peace of normal people when they sleep; it was twisted with worry and fear and overwhelming sadness. And, for some reason, that nagging feeling of pity struck up within her again. So quietly she waved her way between the books to rest on her knees beside his sleeping form. Looking at his face it really was hard to associate the boy in front of her with all the horrible things that she had heard. Lost in these thoughts she found herself absentmindedly pushing some of the rouge hair off of his face. He groaned and flinched at her touch rolling away. His groans became a little more coherent the closer she was to him, and where now closer to mumbles. He rambled about "no" and "what did I do, it wasn't me", and at one point she was sure she heard him whisper Thor's name, pleading for help.
His tunic only had short sleeves, and they had ridden up over his shoulders in his sleep, exposing the top of his arms and the deep purple whelps that lay there. They were a stark contrast to the otherwise milky skin of his arms. She wasn't entirely sure of the feelings she was having upon seeing the bruises. She knew that this sort of thing happened to him, it should have come as no surprise to her, but seeing the extent of it shocked her more than she would have liked. He was always full of such energy to the point of being annoying; it pained her to think that this was under his cloths all that time. He covered almost every inch of his skin, to what extent did this go. There was sick curiosity in her thoughts now, as rage and disgust boiled in her stomach at the way he had been treated .She found herself incapable of stopping her hand as it reached forward to the hem of is tunic, to lift it up past the waist of his pants and expose his stomach. She instantly wished she hadn't. The marks on his stomach and ribs where worse than those on his arms. Her emotions where moving so fast that it was making her feel a little ill. Coupled with the disgustingly painful marks on Loki's skin, but she couldn't look away. She couldn't let go of the fabric until grumbling he tossed once again, pulling the fabric out of her reach and moving the marks out of view. He was tossing more now, and he was panting, hair sticking to his face with sweat, Leah could almost hear his heart beat from where she was. She couldn't watch him like this, whatever dream he was having she couldn't let him suffer through it. So she slowly leaned forward, grasping him gently by the shoulder, anxious not to hurt the bruised flesh, and shook him.
"Loki, psssst Loki! Wake up."

she coaxed him gently, and with a shudder and a start he came to. Groggy and disorientated he sat up slowly. After a long couple of seconds he came to his wits and turned to her.
"Leah? wh..what are you doing in my room?"

He looked at her, his face shrouded in sleep and confusion.

"Your lamp moved again I came to see you where ok, you . . you were having a bad dream."
She paused to look him in the eye suddenly shy, and painfully aware that she had indeed come into his room and disturbed his slumber for nothing.
"So I woke you up." she looked away and down, hiding the flush that was now creeping across her cheeks behind cascades of black hair. Loki squinted at her he couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about, but if his heart rate, sweat soaked cloths, and prior nights dreams where anything to go by he was pretty sure it had been a nightmare. He was grateful that she had woken him from such a dream, but just as he went to vocalise his gratitude another though sprung to his mind, and he spoke that instead.

"So you were watching my room all night again?" The words were out before he could stop himself. And he suddenly felt very aware of how close she was to him, in his room, in the middle of the night, and he was so . . . exposed. He quickly tilted his head away and to face the window, hiding the way his skin burned across his cheeks.

"I mean thank y-"
"I wasn't watching all ni-" she interrupted him and stopped when the words he was saying made it to her brain.
"You're welcome." She said quietly. "But I wasn't watching all night. Only between chapters of that awful book you gave me."
she stated, sounding a little more indignant. They both turned to face each other now. Blushes still present on both their faces, but neither caring to mention it. Her gaze was tender as it focused on him and her voice small when she questioned.
"Do you have them every night? . . . the nightmares?" She looked at him, not sure if she was going to get an answer. He dropped his head again, and there was a long silent pause before he spoke.

"Most nights. But some are worse than others." He looked up at her; she hadn't removed her gaze from him the whole time.
"Sometimes I think you're lucky, that you can't sleep" a smile ghosted over his lips as he shrugged trying to shake off the tension that had built between them, but the smile never reached his eyes. And she never removed her intense gaze until it moved from his face to his shoulder.
"And those?" she motioned towards it. "How often do you have to hide those?"

He cringed away and folded his arms in an attempt to cover what skin he had showing. Thinking she had pushed her luck she made to apologise, and claim it to be none of her business, which in fairness it wasn't, when he interrupted her.
"More often than I would care to admit" he sighed softly and let his arms fall to his sides. There was no point trying to hide them if she had already seen them. She didn't say a word, but moved closer to him and rolled up his sleeve, placing her palms flat on the tarnished skin. He flinched away but she steadied him.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice a bit of key with shock at her touching him.
"Healing them. They look painful." he felt like he should be macho and claim they didn't hurt, but he didn't think that that would stop her, so why lie. It didn't take her long to heal him with her magic. The bruised flesh now back to its pristine porcelain candour. And as she took her hand away he rubbed it with his own hand to check it no longer hurt.
"Wow. Remember when I told you you were the best Leah, you know I meant it right." his usual bravado and cheshire grin however, was quickly removed by her next statement.
"Take off you tunic." he stared at her blankly mouth agape slightly.
"w. .wh . What?" he finally managed to choke out.
"You have other bruises on your stomach and ribs right? So take of your tunic and I'll heal those too." She spoke matter-of-factly and crossed her arms looking at him waiting.
All he could do was blink at her.
"How do you know I have bruises there?" Seemed to be the most pressing thought on his mind. However, she didn't answer, she didn't have to the scarlet tone of her face told him everything he needed to know. And upon realisation of this, he couldn't beat the blush that came over him as well. Well he had done his fair share of blushing tonight, and he was starting to question his own masculinity. If she had seen it already, then he had nothing worth hiding. So tilting forward he pulled his tunic over his head and let it drop at the side of him, exposing his lean torso. Her blush deepened, and he could practically feel the heat coming off of her. But upon seeing the bruises again it faded, as the familiar turbulence of disgust and pity welled up in her stomach. She sat up on her knees and leaned forward hesitantly, and softly placed her hands on the most prominent bruise on his stomach, and began to heal it. It didn't take her long to heal the marks that where on his torso, and she seemed rather proud of herself once she was done. Loki shyly thanked her as he put his tunic back on over his head.
"Is that all of them?"
He looked at her and nodded "yea"
"Are you sure?" She pressured.
"Yes." Was all he could manage but it sounded a little week. There where dark circles forming under his eyes, but Leah was sure that these where to lack of sleep. Her suspicion was only confirmed when he slumped himself down on the furs staring up at the celling.
"Well if that's all of them then. . "
She stood up and turned to the trap door but his voice stopped her.
"Leah if you don't sleep anyway, would you, . . well just for tonight I mean but . . . could you . . you know. Keep an eye on me?"
He didn't look at her, he kept his gaze straight on the celling. Not wanting her to know that he felt as vulnerable as he sounded.
"What do u think I've been doing every night?" Was her reply she didn't ever turn around to look at him.
"Yea I know, but for tonight I mean could you . . . well since you're here now, you know stay maybe?" Now she turned to look at him, and he felt her gaze burn on his skin.
"You know, to wake me up if the dreams go bad again?" It was a struggle not to look round at her, but her didn't want to seem any more needy than her already did. She didn't reply, instead she turned and slowly walked back to where he was lying. She sat down on the edge of the furs, and he shuffled over a bit to make room for her. They sat like that for a few awkwardly silent minutes, until Loki, ever needing to break the silence whispered "thank you"
"Don't mention it, no but really never mention this. Ever. Now sleep for what little there is of the night left and you can repay me in the morrow with shaken milk."
He chuckled slightly and rolled onto his side, back facing her. "Not a problem."
His bravado was back and she could practically hear the grin on his face.
"Oh and Leah in future if you want to see me with my top off, all you have to do is ask. You don't need to take advantage of me in my slumber."
This bruise she could forgive, she thought as she punched him with little restraint in the back of the shoulder blade, but any groan of pain was well hidden in his manic chuckling.