Author's Note: Thank you so, so much for reading, reviewing, and following. You guys are the best!

I hope you enjoy the next chapter of Emerald Eyes and Arrows.

Chapter 2- (The God of) Mischief Ensues.

Clint instinctively reached for the throwing knife tucked secretly underneath his bed. All his years of S.H.I.E.L.D. training taught Clint to be agile and always ready to defend himself, so once he had acknowledged the presence of Loki in front of him, he didn't even stop to question the improbablity of the situation. He immediately threw the blade straight at the Norse god's chest. He saw an enemy and attacked- that's how Clint was taught.

The dagger sliced right through the god of mischief, who didn't even flinch, and lodged itself in the wall behind him. Loki looked unharmed, apart from a small hole where his heart should have been. If he even has a heart, Clint thought to himself.

Loki's entire outline flickered slightly, but then stabalized. He looked down at his wound just as the gap began to shrink. With a mischevious smile, he looked up at the archer and raised his eyebrows, as if questioning, "You really think you can kill me that easily?"

"It's not possible! What are you doing here? You were sent back to Asgard for punishment! I watched Thor take you back- you were chained and gagged!" Clint yelled at Loki. Loki replied with a sardonic smirk.

Clint watched on in wonder as Loki completely healed himself- totally unscathed by the knife that was just sent slicing through his chest.

And then the god of mischief, looking proud of his act of trickery, vanished just as quickly as he had appeared.

I've officially lost it, Clint thought. Now I'm seeing Loki while I'm awake.

He flicked on the lights in his room. There wasn't going to be any sleeping going on tonight anyways; he might as well have the upper hand of sight if the Norse god decided to show again.

Clint rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no way that had really been Loki- right? He tried to take deep, calming breaths, but now he was panicking. Should he tell the others? This seemed like a pretty big plot twist. Before it had just been nightmares, but now he was vulnerable in the waking world as well?

But what would he tell them that they would believe? That the god of mischief appeared in his room, even though Loki was still secure on Asgard, literally realms away? They would all assume Loki had gotten to him and he wasn't capable enough to continue his work for S.H.I.E.L.D.

But S.H.I.E.L.D. was all Clint had and he couldn't leave now.

A spy with a fiery red mess of bed hair snapped Clint out of his thoughts and back into reality. Cautiously, Natasha Romanoff entered the room, her gun at the ready. She scoured Clint's dorm for threats before sliding the weapon back in its holster and rushing to his side.

"What's going on, Clint?" she questioned, slightly groggily. Natasha looked as if she had just been woken out of a deep sleep. She still had a knife attached to her leg and a gun holster strapped around her waist, but Clint knew that was all a part of her normal sleeping attire. You never could catch the Black Widow off guard.

"I'm so sorry, Tasha. I didn't mean to wake you!" Clint replied, avoiding her question.

"You were yelling at-" Natasha checked the alarm clock on Clint's bedside table. "-two in the morning. What's wrong, Clint? You can tell me!"

Everything was wrong.

Clint truly considered confiding in her. After everything they had been through together, after Budapest, he trusted her with his life. So why couldn't he trust her with this?

She stared at him quizzically until he opened his mouth to vent, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't tell her the truth.

"No, everything is- uh, fine. It was just another nightmare. I didn't even know I was yelling. I'm sorry I woke you," Clint offered vaugely.

"Oh really? Just another nightmare? And I assume you were just sleep-knife throwing, right?" Natasha pointed her thumb accusingly at the knife stuck deep into the plaster of the wall. "Fury will kick your ass if he sees that." She shook her head slightly to clear these petty thoughts from her head, and returned her attention to the big problem.

"Please just let me help, Clint!" Natasha pleaded.

"You can't help me!" Clint answered, a little more harshly than he had anticipated. Between the tiredness, the guilt, and the confusion, Clint was done discussing the topic. The more she begged for information, the more he would have to lie or avoid her questions.

"Okay. Well, you know where to find me." The deadly Black Widow, who rarely showed emotion, allowed a hurt expression to pass over her face, but only for a moment. She recovered quickly and crossed the room in a few, graceful steps.

"Natasha, wait! I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I think I just need some rest and then I'll be good as new," Clint said weakly. He didn't even believe himself.

Natasha turned to face him just as she reached the doorway. "I sure hope so, Clint." She closed his bedroom door behind her and noiselessly stalked back to her own room, leaving Clint alone again with his thoughts.

And it was his thoughts that were the problem.