brandingproblem | au shenanigans for icasm

"Click my heels together and say 'there's no place like home' a couple times, huh?" Whether Loki understands the reference or not doesn't matter to him. Clint moves past him, carefully, to the strawberries. Munches on one, also carefully. Does it taste like a strawberry because Loki knows what they taste like? Or does it taste like a strawberry because that's what Clint believes it's supposed to taste like?

"Do you want to wake up?"

Is Loki going to ask Nate what that particular reference might mean once he's awake? Signs point to yes. As it is, Loki does shift himself out of Clint's way as he walks back to the tables and their offerings, turning in place and folding his hands behind his back.

He's not looking at Clint when the next question is asked. Of course the answer is 'no'. Of course Loki doesn't make that simple. "Is that important right now?"

He could always sleep at three in the afternoon. Some other unlikely time for Clint to also be sleeping. It's fine.

"Yeah. That's important." He leans on the table and looks at Loki. "It's your head, your dream, your sleep. What you want," and he says it slowly, because...it's difficult for him to say, and it might be difficult for Loki to hear, "is important."

Doesn't mean he has to get what he wants. But keeping it all a secret isn't going to do either of them any favors, right?

Why, petulant and demanding, rises to the top and is almost spoken between them before Loki swallows it down. He doesn't have to believe Clint is right; Clint believes that enough for the both of them right now anyway.

"I suppose." A shrug. His eyes slide to Clint's and then away again. "You know the answer, anyway."

It's a good thing he doesn't ask. The answer might not be a fully coherent one anyway. But Loki has already made it clear: he trusts Clint. Which means trusting that he believes what he says.

"Yeah. I do." Could have saved them the trouble by not asking, but what kind of example would that set if he just went around making assumptions about what someone like Loki does or does not want? "So. We're both asleep; it's not like we're not getting rest. Should I just go hang out unobtrusively in a corner, let this thing keep rolling, until one of us wakes up naturally?"

He knows the answer to that is also no, but that one is not really the point.

The expression Loki fixes Clint is fully unimpressed, to say the least. Does the other man really believe this is how anything works? That he could just sit in the corner of Loki's awareness and be ignored?

Seriously?

"Definitely not, don't be ridiculous." Besides the primary goal of the dream was fulfilled in the orgy and Loki's uncertain what else his mind would come up with if he were to allow it to 'keep rolling' all on its own. "Do you want to return to the library? Perhaps the garden."

His rooms are still an available locale, as well, but. He's not sure about offering that either.

"Aw, what, you don't want me to be an irritating, niggling thought in the back of your mind? Isn't that what I usually am?"

There's no heat to it. Honestly more amused than anything. He pops another strawberry in his mouth and considers his options. Loki could wake himself up, end the dream, go the hell back to sleep. That'd be easier. He doesn't actually want to needlessly interrupt the sleep, though. "Don't most dreams sort of end when they've reached a kind of narrative conclusion? Or, no, you're doing that lucid dreaming thing. You can dream up whatever you want. Sure, we could go to the garden. I was actually...trying to get there, before? And then your library shoved me here instead. Or if you wanted to dream of somewhere else... It's your headspace. What do you want to have happen besides me either fucking you or killing you?"

"I wouldn't know about most dreams," he points out, because sometimes it feels like Clint forgets he's not human and what that means. "I'm familir with my own, and more recently, yours. That encompasses the bulk of what I know on the subject."

This is his dreamscape; he knows that and is, briefly, annoyed that Clint feels the need to remind him. Like Loki isn't trying to... be considerate of the fact that Clint never intended to come here in the first place.

"Nothing in a dream," he says more tired than annoyed, suddenly, and starts walking toward the door that once led to the library. The garden, apparently. it is.

A frown, sharp. Clint doesn't flinch, but he does tighten the robe around himself as he follows. Worries for a moment about the temperature. It had been cold in the library. What of the garden?

"You're telling me you haven't done the dreamhopping thing before me? So this is all new shit to you, too." Loki the magician would still have a much better grasp on all of this than he would, obviously. But it's telling.

And wisely doesn't comment on the rest. Nothing in a dream. Doesn't want to wake up (and have Clint leave) but also only has a few things he really wants out of Clint--which doesn't seem right. That feels a little reductive. Hm.

Tuck that feeling away for later.

"You made a mind palace. That's what the library is, right, a safe place deep inside your mind where you can store a lot of information, arranged in a way that you can easily find it again." Or he's conflating aliens and humans again, whatever. "Why's it cold?"

"Once or twice but in very different circumstances." Less than a dozen times, all told; not nearly enough for Loki to feel that he has any sense of what he's doing, certainly.

There are a lot of things Loki could imagine doing with Clint, here. Sparring or cuddling or reading. Showing him places Clint has never been, places long removed from the fabric of Fate. The problem is that Loki is currently much too fixated on desires unspoken and unrealized. The problem is that it doesn't feel equivalent between the two of them.

The problem is Loki wants, and is annoyed with himself for wanting. Still.

"Because I'm a Frost Giant," Loki explains. Does Clint actually know this? Nate does. Nate asked him once about what it meant to have lost everyone twice when he had to do an assignment about immigrant families for school. But Nate is very good at keeping Loki's secrets.

"Because I'm cold-hearted, perhaps." He glances over his shoulder at Clint before the throws the doors open.

The library, this time, is much more welcoming, much less a place of half-frozen and frightful things. Sure, they still exist there, but they aren't in stark focus at the moment.

"But you don't always need things cold. You don't crank the AC up and turn your place to an ice box." Hm. "But it's still more comfortable for you for things to be colder, huh. Wintertime must be a blast for you. Aside from the usual reasons."

The kids playing in the snow, making forts, throwing snowballs, making angels. Loki occasionally joining in the fun. In the air, from an indistinct Somewhere: children's laughter. It seems so natural a thing that Clint doesn't even find it strange or that he must have done that himself, smiling at the thought, the memory, the sound.

"You're not cold to me."

"I do enjoy it moreso than late summer." Which is when Loki's temper grows its shortest and he spends the most time isolated; being out in the heat in August or September is not his idea of a good time but often is the children's idea of a good time, so sometimes he just suffers through it all anyway.

He almost asks what Clint means by 'the usual reasons' before the laughter causes him to freeze, slightly. Clint is smiling; this is probably his doing, his own capability leaking out of him at the edges.

Loki's not sure if he's upset or excited at the prospect.

"There is an exception that proves every rule." Also, he's a contrary bitch, what do you expect?

"Give me your hand."

And yes, he's gonna come up beside Loki. Wiggles his fingers. Hand, give. Loki could make himself cold here, or as hot as an open flame.

And neither prospect seems to make him mind.

"I don't know that I could dream up anything like this."

Loki stops walking, then, now that Clint is at his side; with a small frown he offers his hand. A little cooler than usual, to the touch, but that's the only real difference.

Once again, why is wondered but unspoken.

"You could if you wanted to."

Nothing special. Just holding hands. Softness that he can offer.

Why? Because. It's a dream. Does there have to be a why?

Clint shakes his head. "I'm too down to earth. Sure, I've seen some wild shit for a human, but this is all...something way beyond me."

"Why do you insist on this falsehood that you're simple," which is not at all what he said, Loki, but it is how it was taken apparently. Loki's hand flexes in Clint's hold but he makes no move to try to let go or pull away; if anything, he's holding a little tighter. "Why does being a no one appeal to you so much when it goes directly against everything you're comfortable with?"

"I didn't say simple," explained simply. Calmly. "I said down to earth. Grounded, not stupid." He knows he's not stupid. Not in any of the ways that matter to what he is and what he does. He's never let a few pieces of official paper stop him from his goals, and he crafts his own trick arrows and gear even if the materials come from somewhere else.

"Once upon a time, I was a spy and an assassin, a covert agent. Being a no one appeals. I disappear. Get to have a cozy family life without worrying about safety. I don't get stopped on the street much more often, and I don't even wear a mask. What is it you think I'm comfortable with? Fame and fortune?"

"No," Loki sighs, shaking his head. They never understand one another in the first two statements, it seems. Or even the first two hundred. "But being 'grounded', down to Earth, merely human is not a thing that determines who and what you are. Instead of wearing these things like a jacket, protection from the elements that would otherwise run roughshod over you due to your past and involvements, you... cling to them as if they were a shield. A shelter. They aren't.

Is the idea of being more, something... different from your common man, on this planet, so very frightening?"

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't about dreams anymore?" It's a rhetorical question, Loki, please do not answer that.

"I'm not different." Is that true? Does he believe that? Clint looks up at the vast and beautiful ceiling, nostrils flaring. Counts to five in his head. "I don't have a suit of armor; I don't have super strength; I don't have an experimental serum running through my veins. I don't call lightning, don't control thunder. I don't fly or shoot magic from my fingers or any of that. I'm just a guy. I'm a common man only made uncommon through means that any other man would be able to accomplish if they put their mind and body to it."

But does that even answer Loki's question? No, it doesn't. At least he realizes this after a moment, centering himself again to Loki. "I don't know if it would be scary, to be something more. I don't think I would want it, though."

He isn't going to answer that, don't worry.

Loki thinks he understands what Clint is getting at, even if it doesn't answer his question immediately. There is something to be said for the person who does what they can merely through the strength of their own bodies, but that ignores the strengths that originate from elsewhere. Like community and resources and secret serums running through the veins.

But that's getting pedantic, perhaps; either way, Loki doesn't say anything about it, despite his clear desire to pontificate on his opinions of Clint's feelings. As per semi-usual.

To ask him what he would do if it happened to him, the way things happen to people all the time, people who don't choose but are chosen by something else, someone else, some other if not necessarily higher power... well that would be showing Loki's hand a little too much, wouldn't it?

Whenever Clint realizes he's different from the rest of humanity, well. Loki will deal with the fallout. Not a moment before.

He realizes they're meandering a little in his thoughts; a problem of traveling in dreams, he knows, and so the demigod takes a breath in, out. The door to outside, to the frozen former gardens of Asgard and several other places Loki has seen in his long life appears before them, swings out and open.

Things are still frozen, but a little less bitingly cold. Clint will know it's cold, but it poses no real risk to him now. "Here we are." That is where they were headed, right?

It won't be too much longer before the realization hits, probably. Better bask in the bliss of not knowing in the time they have.

Loki's silence is...interesting. It's not often that the god chooses not to speak. Because it seems like he disagrees with several of Clint's notions. Maybe he's holding himself back in this dreamscape, or simply doesn't want another argument.

When they step into the garden, yes, he feels the cold, through the robe tied around him, but he also doesn't actually feel it. As dreams do.

"Why?"

Not why are they here. Clint wanted to see it, to be on the other side of the glass that turned to ice. Why this. Why is it this.

One day he will beg and beseech this man to ask detailed questions of him.

Apparently, it is not this day.

As it is, Loki sighs a little at the question; he has not let go of Clint's hand and shows no particular desire to do so. Why here? Clint had wanted to see it, and does Loki know why that is? No.

Why does it exist? Well, that is a 'why' he can imagine being asked by Clint, so that will be the presupposition he runs on at this moment.

"I'm an ice giant; I enjoy when things are cold. I don't like myself; things aren't inclined to grow in hateful soil, I've found. Plus this is a collection of places that are gone, or that I can no longer reach. I like to remember them."

It's true that not much grows but there are still winter flowers and fruits in bloom in this cold garden, with it's snowed over hedges and frozen leaves. They're just tucked away, hidden in the shadows of weeping blood statues and stone benches scattered here and there.

"It seems sad." Which, true, Loki does hate himself. And if this is a collection of mental mementos from places that no longer exist, there would be an air of melancholy. The statues are creepy, but beautiful all the same.

Loki has allowed him here, welcomed him here, so he doesn't feel in any danger. Still, it feels like he shouldn't disturb the peace here.

So he'll be polite. He's learning, bit by bit. "Am I allowed to touch anything?"

"I am often sad, I suppose," Loki admits as though he's never considered the possibility with any certainty (a Lie, if ever there was one). His hold on Clint's hand loosens, a bit, as he considers the request but it's only a heartbeat longer before he lets go completely with a nod.

"Touch whatever you like."

The problem, if a problem exists, is that in the span of not!time it's taken them to get outside Loki has accepted and come to desire even just the idea of Clint rifling through his brain, callused hands touching the spines of the books in the library, etcetera. He could let it become erotic, that sort of desire, and instinctually he wants to, but he's afraid it will bleed through in some uncomfortable way (for Clint) and so instead he allows it just to remain the wanting of a thing, for no particular reason or endgame in sight.

"Nothing will hurt you here."

He has to bite his tongue. It might become clear, through the connection that they share on a subconscious level, and from the look on his face, that he's deeply considering something.

And it's not the wanting. It's that nothing will hurt him, and he's trying to figure out why, exactly, even as he moves with care.

Maybe that's a stupid question. Loki might want and desire pain for himself, has wrapped up the idea of desire in pain, so intrinsically connected to his own self-worth, but he cares about Clint. Who is a little bit more disinclined to pain. (But maybe only a little bit. There is eroticism inherent to violence, especially in situations where things are so emotionally muddled that he barely knows which way is up. What's a little stabbing in the side between partner-enemy-lovers?)

But at the same time, why shouldn't Loki have dangerous things tucked away in his mind and in his dreams, things to protect himself? Why not show off who's in control, or threaten some punishment for the downright childish way Clint had acted before? Why not offer up pain as pleasure in its own right? Where the hell are the boundaries in a place like this?

He brushes a hand overtop the sharply flat cut of a hedge, disturbing the dusting of snow from atop. Toes a looping design on the ground in the white, just to disturb the pristine blanket. Twists off some berries, gives them a squeeze between his fingers, looks at them as though he could possibly identify alien fruit though doesn't dare to eat them just yet. That's what pockets are for, things for later. He approaches a statue and stops before it. Considers keeping his hands to himself, but the distress in the image begs investigation. Reaches a hand up to touch the edge of a jaw, side of a face, a thumb brushing as though to wipe away tears.

"Do you ever let yourself be happy in your dreams?"

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