**Disclaimer: I own nothing beyond the scenarios my twisted little brain spits out. All characters contained within belong to bigger and better entities than I. Please do not sue, as I own literally nothing beyond the clothes on my back. Also, grammar and tenses sometimes escape me, so please, be kind.**
Loki woke with a scream caught in his throat. Levering himself upright, the god pushed back against the headboard, wide eyes casting about the darkened bedroom before darting to the huddled shadow at his side. His trembling hands clutched at Clint's shrouded form, reassuring himself that this was real; he was awake and what had come before was no more than a figment of his masochistic mind. His fingers bit into his Hawk's warm flesh, shocking Clint awake.
"Wha…? Loki? What's going on," Clint mumbled, pushing himself up and scrubbing the heel of one hand over his eyes. "You okay?"
The god's only answer was to run his hands over Clint's upper body, feeling the thud of his heart; the movement of his breath. When he'd convinced himself that his archer was intact and unharmed, Loki gathered Clint against his chest in a frantic embrace, nearly sobbing in his relief.
"Whoa. What the…what happened," Clint demanded, an edge of panic in his voice.
"N-nightmare," Loki stuttered, pressing urgent kisses to the side of Clint's head as his hands continued to stroke over the smooth, unblemished skin of his Hawk's back. 'Not broken, not bloody,' Loki thought. 'Life within him still, and he is here, with me.'
"Jesus," Clint said quietly, slipping his arms around the trembling god. "Must've been a bad one, huh?"
Loki nodded mutely, and buried his face in Clint's shoulder, breathing deeply of his unique, sun-kissed scent. The god's heart was slowly beginning to calm, shuddering breaths evening out as Clint held him close.
"You want to talk about it," Clint asked hesitantly.
Loki's head snapped up, eyes brimming with unshed tears as he shook his head. "No," he said vehemently. "This is not something I wish to revisit."
And in that instant, Clint's suspicions about what Loki's dream had been about were confirmed. He had noticed the pensive looks the god had been giving him ever since he'd returned from his latest mission, cut, battered and concussed. They had argued, and Loki had broken down when Clint had pressed him about his eventual end, asking what Loki would do once he was gone.
It hadn't been pretty.
True, that conversation had been the impetus for Loki to finally admit his love for Clint, and they had ended the evening falling asleep in one another's arms, sated. But ever since, Loki had seemed restless, and there was an apprehension in those green eyes that Clint had never noticed before. And now this. Loki's subconscious was torturing him with that which so terrified him. It was showing him the myriad of ways that Clint might meet his end, in minute and excruciating detail.
Huffing out a deep sigh, Clint pulled Loki against him, twisting his body so that the god rested on his chest. He slid one hand into the inky silk of Loki's hair, the other stroking down his back as Clint murmured into his ear. "It's ok. You don't need to tell me anything. I'm here, Loki. I'm right here."
Loki molded himself against his Hawk, one hand laid firmly over that steadily beating heart, a constant reminder that Clint was alive and well and in his arms. The dream was slowly fading from the god's mind, but the sense of unrest remained behind. It had felt so real, so very painful. And when Loki had torn himself from sleep, he had been terrified to look beside him. Afraid that he would find Clint's side of the bed cold and empty.
But that had not come to pass. The dream was just that; a figment; nothing more than a bit of unresolved angst which had taken on a life of its own, and twisted itself in such a way as to cause Loki the maximum pain possible. The god knew that eventually he would be without his Hawk. That someday he would wake to find Clint gone from his side, never to return. Such was the way of mortals, and there was nothing Loki could do to halt the slow march of Time. Heaving a shuddering sigh, the god burrowed deeper into his archer's embrace, pressing his ear to Clint's chest to listen to the strong drumming of his heart.
Clint was at a loss. He knew exactly what Loki was thinking, but there was nothing he could do to soothe his fears. Not fully, anyway. Sure, he could hold him close, and whisper empty reassurances into the god's ear. And that might even help in the here and now. But someday Loki's worst fear would come true, and he would be left to face an eternity alone. The thought brought an ache to Clint's throat, and he slid his fingers around to cup the back of Loki's head, nails scratching lightly against the god's scalp. This wasn't what he wanted for Loki. He'd served his time in Hel, and had the misfortune to lose his heart to a mortal. The god seemed doomed to suffer no matter what course he took, and that galled Clint to no end.
And suddenly Clint knew exactly what he had to do, and it scared the living shit out of him.
"Loki," he murmured, giving a gentle tug to that ebony hair gripped in his fist. "Look at me."
The god raised his head, meeting his Hawk's direct stare. A flash of the dream came to Loki then, showing him those steel blue eyes lifeless and empty. He bit back a whimper, and banished that image from his mind, focusing instead on the serious cast to the archer's face.
"Remember the other night," Clint asked quietly. "When you said you wanted to love me for as long and as well as you were able?"
"I do," Loki answered.
"And you said I held your heart?"
"Yes. As none ever has before," the god whispered.
"Well, I didn't know how to…I mean, what I wanted to say was…-fuck-. I'm really bad at this," Clint remarked in an almost surprised tone.
Loki's brows drew together, and he gave Clint a curious look. He knew that his Hawk's strength lay not in his words, but actions. Now it seemed that he had something of great importance to say, and he was struggling to find the proper way to phrase it.
Clint's brow furrowed, and he huffed out an unamused breath before trying again. "You have my heart, too, Loki. All of it. And I wanted to tell you that the other night, but…I'm not so good with emotions." The archer paused then, his eyes searching those of the god caught in his embrace. "You understand what I'm trying to say, right?"
"I believe I do," Loki answered carefully, raising his hand to cup the side of his Hawk's face, thumb stroking over Clint's cheekbone. "You are professing your love for me."
"Yes," Clint answered quickly. "For so long I didn't know what to call this. What to call us. I knew that what I felt with you was…different from anything that came before. It went beyond comfort, beyond the physical. You're important to me, Loki. I guess it just took me a while to recognize that all that rolled together is…love."
A tiny smile rose on Loki's face and he leaned forward to brush his lips over Clint's. The archer returned the kiss fervently before pulling back the slightest bit and murmuring softly against the god's mouth, "Love you, Loki. I do. So much."
"I suspected," Loki returned. "I hoped. But it is a wonderful thing to finally hear it spoken aloud. You marked me as yours some time ago, but now your claim is complete. Thank you for that."
"I just…I needed you to know. I want you happy. As happy as you can be, for as long as you can manage. Don't focus on the bad, Loki. On what can't be changed. Just enjoy what we have now." Clint gave the god a pleading look. "Can you do that? For me?"
"I cannot promise that my mind will fully release me from that which I dread so deeply," the god answered quietly. "But I will try. For both our sake."
"That's all I ask," Clint said, and pressed another kiss to Loki's mouth before rolling to his side. He pulled his god in close, tucking that soft, dark head beneath his chin and threading the fingers of one hand through Loki's own. "Try and sleep now, okay? I'll be here when you wake up. "
Loki voiced a contented hum and placed his free hand on Clint's chest, allowing the rhythmic thump of his Hawk's heart, and the knowledge that he was loved, lull him back to slumber.