It wasn’t that Clint wasn’t used to nightmares.
It wasn’t even that Loki become a star attraction in those nightmares.
But even so, they weren’t often like this, the screams in the dark echoing in his head.
Burying his face in his hands, Clint crouched in the dark space of the dream, trying to convince himself despite the very linear and non-fuzzy feeling of this place, it was still a dream.
Because the screams sounded a lot like Loki’s voice.
When it was finally quiet, the sound no longer echoing around whatever dark space they were in, he slowly lifted his head and took his hands away.
Loki stared back at him, hair longer then Clint remembered and tangled around his face, blood around his mouth and most of him was still in shadow.
Even knowing it as a dream, Clint’s fingers itched and he wanted to run away.
“Of course,” Loki drawled and if seeing him had been bad, hearing his voice was a thousand times worse. “Of course my conscious would give me you.”
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