brandingproblem | au shenanigans for icasm

"Waltzing is good." Loki's mouth raises in a half-smile and he shrugs. "The folk dances were mostly lost to the atrocities that were courtly dances by the time Ragnarok rolled around, but waltzing is a perennial favorite. Tango might be fun, actually. It's up close fast dancing. I have memory dream books on dancing because I love dancing and because I'm obsessed with knowing and learning things."

"Well, you definitely know...a lot of things." Given the size of the library and all. From there, he kind of fades off. Because he doesn't know shit for shit about any formal dancing, so he doesn't feel like he can comment on it other than waltzing is constantly counting 'one two three, one two three' in your head. Flips a few more pages, shelves the music book. Tries not to suddenly feel very small in the shadow of a millennium and change of knowledge. "Never seen you dance."

"Your children have." Clubbing, parties, that kind of thing. Loki's smile is soft, fond. The music changes; a tune that seems ever fluid, the sort of thing you absolutely love but won't be able to quite remember the next morning.

Loki pushes himself off from the bookcase behind him, extending a hand out toward Clint. "Will you dance with me? I promise you won't have to count."

"Sounds like we should be going to parties more often then."

It's a joke. Kind of. Sometimes he wonders if it's maybe, maybe time he just let Loki into his life more fully. Not like he'll be getting rid of the god anytime soon. Or ever. They belong to each other, and there's no fixing or changing that.

He eyes the hand. This doesn't seem like a joke or any attempt at humiliation. Loki looks, feels, like this might be a genuine good time. Considers it a moment longer before finally taking the offer. "Show me what you've got."

"I would like that." Not much reason to be coy about it; he enjoys spending time with the Bartons, he is connected to Clint, he loves parties. Dancing, dressing up, showing out. What's not to like?

The music swells. The bookcases move to make room. It's just them and Loki more or less likes it that way, for now. In the waking world, things are different.

He'll take every moment he can steal with abandon.

There's no leading or following in this dance. It's not slow but not so fast as to end up out of breath too fast. The music teaches the steps; this is dream logic, yes, but also the truth of this particular trip of composition.

Loki has always loved this dance. It changes every time. And Clint doesn't step on his toes even once.

The kind of dance where he might remember the moves on hearing the music again or when his mind is far away but not necessarily when he tries to pluck out the memory specifically. As dreams do. Though naturally one as deft as he would make sure not to step on toes even if he doesn't dance with any formality. Too mindful of his own body for that.

His outfit, too, changes. Out of the robe offered as cover and into jeans, a tee, both tighter and dipping lower on his body than he normally wears casually, looking a little more ready to pick up some attention at a club than work on another addition to the house.

It's fun, is the thing he thinks he's surprised about the most. Not that dancing is fun, of course it is, but it's Loki. In his odd mindspace with the moving shelves, the air having enough of a chill to keep from getting too warm from the moving, and the music feels like it's going through him rather than hanging around overhead. It feels good, better than a room of fake orgiastic glory for how much more real this feels. Which is going to feel silly on waking, but how else could he describe it rather than Real and Not Real?

Loki isn't so caught up in the magic of dancing in his own dream that he doesn't notice the costume change, or how tight and low both articles of clothing are. At some point he, too, had changed, from the ice giant in robes back to his more or less Asgardian-appearing self, wearing jeans and a button-up with short sleeves and a collar that isn't done.

If things were perfect... if things could be perfect, even if only in a dream, Loki would kiss Clint as the song ends and they'd both wake up after that moment and life would go on. But Loki doesn't really believe in perfect. Not for him and not for his dreams. So when the music ends and it's clear he wants to kiss Clint, he doesn't. Just offers the man a smile and lets go of his hand.

"That was a lot of fun." A gesture towards Clint's torso. "I like the outfit."

Things can't be perfect, won't be perfect, not in either of their lifetimes. Then that would, truly, make this a dream rather than reality.

But here, this is fun, a good time that they both know is constantly under threat of being ruined, but it isn't ruined yet. He can tell that Loki wants him, wants more--not just because he always does, and not just through the thrum of want that stretches between the expanse of their connection. It would be easy for Clint to take the offer of letting it drop, never acknowledging. Loki is being considerate.

He glances down at himself, shrugs, smiles in such an easy and casually lopsided way that he looks nearly a decade younger for it. Nearly says something, but instead:

The music kicks up again, with a decidedly Latino type of flair to it, and he retakes Loki's hand, surges forward, a hand to his waist. Does Clint actually know how to tango? He does not. But he's seen movies. Occasional videos on youtube. Maybe even seen a dance or two himself out on missions. In a dream, he can cobble together the idea of the dance, and also supplement in whatever Loki might happen to know himself. The footwork is precise, as is the legwork, close and intimate. A spin here, and a dip as well. Loki might be taller and more knowledgeable about dance as a whole, but that doesn't apparently keep Clint from leading.

There's a startled sort of amusement on Loki's face that replaces the fond, wanting smile he'd had, as Clint surges forward in time with the music and grabs his hand. Does Loki know tango? Yes, and between dream!logic and desire and the fact that Loki would pour at least a third of the things he knows directly into Clint's brain if he wasn't sure it would hurt the other man somehow, the execution is flawless.

It's been decades since Loki has done anything this intricate, and more years than he'd like to bother counting since he's let anyone lead him across a dance floor, no matter who or what he looks like. This? This is better than nice, this gets his heart racing and blood pumping and part of him wishes it was happening in the waking world just so that someone could take a photo or a video of it. Permanence, in a digital sense; Loki fears his memory might never do this justice.

One of the things he'd forgotten about tango is how much of the dance moves involve the following partner being softly and sensually dragged across the dancefloor by the lead. The library is nothing if not accommodating to this detail, and while, since it's a dream, there's not much point to Loki being breathless and aching pressed against Clint's leg at the end of the dance...

Some things are just true, it would seem.

Catching his breath takes a few long moments, where he has his eyes closed and is remembering deep in and then slow, deep out. He's not sure what he expects to see when he opens his eyes to look at Clint again, but. He can only forestall it so long.

In the waking world, he would not be allowed this for the most part. Loki looks like someone Clint could lift if he needed to, but the reality of Asgardian (or Jotun or whatever) physiology actually would make it impossible. At least without the help of a lot of magic. Huh. So it's effortless, now, the way they drift together, the way he slides Loki across the floor.

Effortless the way it feels good to do this, to let everything that hangs between them fall away for at least a short time. He knows better, now, about these dreams. That they are not as removed from reality as he once thought. There are, can be, consequences.

He knows this, but it's not what he's thinking about if he's thinking at all. There's a bookshelf pressed hard to his back, or rather, a shelf is there close behind him suddenly as he presses himself hard to it, dragging Loki with him, pulled close against him. Certainly close enough to kiss. Which he might want to do, the way he breathes heavily against Loki's mouth.

Loki goes when Clint pulls him with absolutely no resistance. It doesn't even cross his mind to pull away or give them any time to consider what they're doing. What Clint has started.

There's a brief... Something. Not of hesitation exactly but of savoring the moment.

And then Loki has moved forward, pressing his lips against Clint's. It's not at all violent, not from him, not yet anyway, but it is passionate. Full of heady longing and rough desire. Loki's hands are fisted in the material of Clint's shirt and it's going to be very difficult to convince him to let go, at this rate.

There's no surprise when the kiss happens properly. Heated and needing. Feeling good. One hand in Loki's hair, tight enough to sting but not distract, and one on his hip, to keep him pressed in close and tight.

Is it only in dreams that he can let himself have? He'd been accused before of denying himself to spite Loki, denying himself out of some sense of self-punishment as well. Undeserving of it, afraid of it.

That might all be true. But he's not trying to think about it, or to overthink about it. Clint is trying to live in the moment without regret or revulsion or pesky thoughts cloud him up. And dream logic, well, that still is in play. If Clint's smile had made him seem younger, now he does look it, some lines on his face smoothed back, some invisible weight lifting. If only for a few dreamy, illusory moments.

Through the power of it being his own damned dream, Loki is aware of it. Aware of what it might mean. Perhaps this is a Clint before Loki met him, or just as. One without the shared baggage of what he'd done, been driven to do, between them.

He's not drawing attention to it. He's not asking questions. He's just matching the intensity of the kisses long enough to up the ante, to graduate to deeper kisses and biting teeth and pressing the palms of his hands against Clint's chest beneath his shirt.

There is, in his mind, a sense of impending doom. But it's not at a level of anxiety, yet, and so Loki ignores it, or at least notes it and moves on. The impending doom could be anything, and there are no guarantees he'll get this opportunity again.

He can bite. They know he can bite. And Clint's been thinking of the length of Loki's neck every time he's been dipped back toward the floor. So the kissing and biting moves, from mouth to the sharp line of his jaw to his neck. There is none of that animal-hunter-predator-prey sensation now, no bloody urge to sink his teeth into throat and rip and tear. Just being in the moment as he tugs Loki's hair to encourage baring of neck a little more.

There's the first real wonder he acknowledges of if he should be doing this. Encouraging Loki, dipping into the obvious wants and desires, even in the wake of what happened in dreams before. This won't help them. This will only complicate matters.

(Will it? Are they not complicated enough that, perhaps, this will actually simplify things? Is chasing an impulsive high in a dreamscape comparable to needs met in reality? He doesn't know anymore.)

But to his credit, he tries to push the doubt aside. Not shove away, not cause violence. Stay right here, indulging them both.

Loki should ask if Clint is certain about this (he won't) or if they should stop (he doesn't) long before he considers the possibility of dropping to his knees in front of his man, whose consciousness is present in Loki's own dreams, where things have an effect on the real-world.

Surely.

Well. Does any of that sound like Loki?

He does drop to his knees and here he hesitates, mostly to look up at Clint's face and see what kind of an effect this is having on the other man. If there's hesitation or revulsion in Clint's expression, he'll pivot, but otherwise?

Despite the now constant chiming of warning bells in the back of his mind, he will get this man's cock in his mouth.

Maybe it was in one of them, or maybe both, but the warning feels like it bounces back and forth between them, felt deeply and with certainty.

But just as deeply, or deeper, is the desperate want. Ignoring all the flashing warning signs and ringing bells of alarm, when Loki sinks, Clint exhales a shivery breath out, head leaned back on the shelf. Hooded eyes focused on Loki, on his eager mouth. If there's revulsion in this moment, it isn't present on his face. It might simply be a background feeling set aside along with every warning, something that mingles with everything else the archer feels, all the conflict and confusion.

But he's here. In this moment. Opens up his pants with one hand, keeps the other fisted in Loki's hair.

He is aware, distantly, of the shifting shelves, coming closer, closing rank. Not trapping them, but certainly decreasing the space now that they're not using it for dancing. And while the orgy had been great in a way that was only distantly satisfying but not so much on his real level, Loki's full attention and heat and desire and need and eager slickness feels much more solid, much more satisfying already. Like it could actually be happening.

It isn't. Probably. Not really. But really enough that maybe he'll feel it on waking. He doesn't know how it works just yet. But it's not important in this moment, not now, not as he's enjoying himself with a pleased noise.

Which is when several books from a shelf above them come clattering down on them.

This perhaps might only be an annoyance rather than a problem, except for the very thick, solid tome that smacks Clint right in the head, making him see stars, woozy for a weird few moments--

--and starts to fall--

--and vanishes from the dream entirely. Wakes with a start and a hiss in bed. Headachy and ragingly hard.

When Clint pitches forward Loki panics, centering his emotions on the need for the other man to wake up without head trauma; whatever he does works, either in spite of or in combination with the blow to the head (it's a book about Clint, he realizes, one that focuses on all the physical aspects of him, of fucking course). Clint vanishes and the bookcase continues to tilt forward, raining other Clint Barton-related texts onto Loki's head as he laughs.

He wakes up laughing (also with a sore head), and while it takes him a few moments to pull himself together, Loki does decide to go against his better instincts and texts Clint instead of waiting for a text to be headed his way. Or an impromptu visit. However the man might decide to reach out anywhere between an hour and a month from now.

I hope your head doesn't hurt too much.

He does not respond right away. Because he is not in the mood for it. He's in the mood for something different entirely, but he feels like he has to sort himself out again first, and that's just a weird feeling all around.

(He doesn't tell Laura about it, about the specifics of the dreams that he has. Just that he has weird dreams, that they're connected to Loki, that it's probably magic. She doesn't have to know that some very thoroughly enjoyed morning sex is because Loki was going to dream-blow him.)

Does his head also hurt, yes, but he isn't concussed. He's had plenty of those in his life. It's just a general 'whacked in the head with something heavy' kind of pain to take something with breakfast and go about his day and ignore the text.

He does realize that the longer he goes without answering, the more worried Loki might become. But their open window, open door, open everything at this point connection might have enough leeway to feel that he's fine, honestly, without ever having to say anything.

It takes a week. A full week. Before he finally replies to the damn text that's been sitting on his phone like some kind of guilty specter sitting on his chest: I think your library hates us.

Loki would become worried if not for the window and the lack of cryptic or less than cryptic texts from the Barton's children. So he's not worried.

Annoyed. Pressed. Frustrated. All of the above, but not worried.

Clint is left on read for several hours. Just three, or four. Until dinner, or maybe a little after that.

Perhaps a little.

The kids are traitors all whether they text updates to Loki or not.

Being left on read doesn't bother him, given the treatment he just offered up. Especially for something that seems so minor in comparison. Let Loki be frustrated. What did he expect in the waking world, immediate open honest conversation?

He debates even bothering to reply. Is there much point?

No hanky panky around the books, got it. Might as well say something.

Somehow I honestly doubt it is on the table as it stands, books or no.

He sighs, sets the phone down. That was unfairly handled, but. What did he expect?

What did Loki expect?

Something else, something different, something that matched how he'd felt inside after learning how Clint might taste, without violence, in more than one sense of the word.

I suppose there's a chance I'm wrong.

Ugh. Ok he should really. Get a drink, or something

Clint was expecting more from Loki. A conversation? Something regarding feelings? Something needling and pointed and jabbing? Instead of this whatever this is. Because he's not sure what this is. Is this passive aggression or...

He frowns at his phone. They don't talk well in text, in verbal communication, not even in dreams when that shit should probably be easiest. Is that always going to be a barrier between them?

Do we need to talk?

This answer is timely, at least. And Loki is... Trying. He's just also still annoyed.

Only if you want to.

You know me. I can always talk.

About the shit we aren't talking about.

Now it's Clint who's annoyed, because once again Loki damn well knows what he means, and Loki never thinks he's specific enough. So, fine, whatever. If Loki actually wants/needs to talk things out, it'll happen one stupid way or another, and if not, then they just won't.

I'm well aware of what we'd need to talk about. But if you don't feel that it is necessary for your own well-being I'm hesitant to bother with it for the sake of only my own.

We aren't good at it besides.

Edited (Words. Phone tagging) 2022-11-15 04:46 (UTC)

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