Chapter Text
Mobius liked his life in the ranch. Like clockwork, he’d get up every morning at 6:00 A.M on the dot to feed and check up on the animals. Then, he’d go back inside and make himself some breakfast. “Egg whites and bacon,” Mobius tells the ginger cat sprawled on the floor. “Doesn’t get better than this.”
It was a nice life, living and working on the ranch. It wasn’t quiet by any means, not with the horses neighing, the roosters crowing, pigs snorting, owls hooting and half a dozen or so other animals making a ruckus of things. There was always something making noise and keeping him busy, but he liked it.
“I’m going to have to go into town tomorrow, maybe.” He washes down his food with a cool glass of water. Whiskers blinks at him. “I took on enough horses for care that the hay and mix is running out mighty fast.”
Caring for horses was the easiest way he made his cash. Everyone wanted a horse around here, but had no place to store them. Either that or they needed a place to have them taken care of while they were busy. So Mobius built his stables and people would leave their horses with him. On today’s list: Wash and groom a stallion and two mares, check up on Doris, a pregnant cow, to see how she’s doing. Continue on building the fence around the ranch and cut down some wood.
The heat during the day might be able to loosen the bristles on a wild hog, but at night it was as cold as a frosted frog.
Whiskers stands up with a stretch before lifting his tail and promptly turning away from him, striding out of the room.
“Rude pussy cat,” he huffs out a laugh. The smile on his face lasts for a beat longer before it fades, and he’s alone in the room once more. Mobius likes his life in the ranch, really he wasn’t one to complain about living a comfortable life. But he was.. lonely. He had his animals with him, but the conversations tended to be one sided. If he was lucky, a customer would decide to make conversation or he’d have to wait till he went back into town.
He shakes his head at the thoughts, standing with a grunt, “No use in feeling sorry for myself when there’s work to be done.”
Doris is leaning into his gloved palm as he strokes her cheek, “You look so good, sweetheart.” He coos. Doris looks huge, twins maybe.
Mobius is murmuring soft compliments to her when he hears it. It sounds like a small thump. He’d chalk it up to the animals accidentally tipping something over if it weren’t for the loud skawks and barking that followed it right after.
“Crap,” he murmurs and with a last pet to Doris he jogs out of the barn. The chickens are flailing about, the old german shepherd barking at a hole in the ground. “Pluto!” He shouts, getting nearer, “C’mon, c’mon boy get back.”
Pluto woofs once, forgetting whatever’s in the hole to rush over to him.
“What’d you find, bud?” Mobius scratches the dog behind his ears, slowing his steps as he reaches the hole.
Mobius blinks.
There’s a sleeping man there.
A very oddly dressed man.
“Well, ain’t this something,” he murmurs to himself. Placing his hands on his hips, he looks at Pluto as if he’ll have any answers for him. Pluto pants up at him, tail wagging, a tongue hanging at the side of his mouth.
Mobius sighs before looking back at the man and crouches down to get a better look, eyes roaming over the eccentric clothing. They look like robes, lined with gold and green. “Maybe an ace-high, drunk fella,” he muses. The man’s skin is starkly pale, contrasting against his clothing and dark hair. So, not from around here either. The stranger's sharp face is littered with bruises, blood drying on his cheek and chin.
There isn’t much time to let his eyes wander because suddenly, blood red eyes are meeting his.
Mobius startles, heart picking up pace, "Woah-"
“Where am I?” The stranger rumbles,
The intensity of that voice sends shivers down his spine but he quirks a brow. This man was on his property. But damn if he doesn’t know how dangerous strangers are, especially outside of the city. He keeps his voice firm, “Fella, you’re in my ranch.”
The man frowns, sitting up quickly with a wince. The fast movement has Mobius tensing. “Your ranch? Am I on earth?”
What type of question was that? Jesus, he really must be out of it.
“Yes, you’re on earth,” he says slowly, making sure to punctuate each word. “You okay?” The man's bloodied face and eyes are alarming. Mobius prays those eyes are contacts. “Can you tell me your name?”
The man narrows his eyes at him, a sardonic grin stretching his mouth.
Oh, hell.
“I am Loki, the rightful ruler of Asgard and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”
“Christ, you really are drunk.”
An incredulous expression crosses ‘Loki’s’ face.
Mobius sighs, “Look, do you have anyone to call? I got a phone you can borrow if you need it.” Man, he hadn’t really accounted for dealing with a drunk. The fence will have to wait till tomorrow it seems.
“I don’t have time for this, mortal,” Loki hisses and rises to a stand. Mobius’ eyes widen when he sees Loki’s tall form sway. “I have important matters to attend to. Where is the tes- UNHAND ME!”
“Woah, woah.” Mobius keeps his voice gentle as he tries to steady the trembling man, gripping Loki’s elbows to keep him from collapsing. “You look like you’re about to pass ou-“ Loki’s legs give out and Mobius curses, quickly shooting his hands forward to grab the man by the armpits. “Christ, you’re heavier than you look.”
Loki snarls, “Do.. you.. have any idea of who I am? What I am.. capable of? I can kill.. you at any given moment if I so.. wish it. With a snap.. of my fingers I can-“
“Talkie, talkie talk.” Mobius huffs out a laugh, unaffected by the threats. The red eyes glaring at him are a bit intimidating though. “If looks could kill. C’mon let’s get you on the couch and see if you have any wounds-"
“I cannot be wounded!”
“I’m sure you can’t tough guy,” he tries to placate. Loki’s trembling awfully against him and it’s making him nervous. Sure he can tend the wounds for his animals but to care for another human- a drunk- or drugged one at that? With a frown, he leans back to take a look at Loki and freezes at the sight. Loki’s face is turning blue.
“Un..hand me..this very.. instant,” Loki pants, the glare on his face softening as if just doing that is exhausting him.
Mobius’ heart starts pounding in his chest, “Hey, hey, stay with me. Can you tell me what hurts? What happened to you?”
Loki goes limp.
“Oh, crap!” Mobius yelps when Loki’s weight threatens to topple them both over. He tightens his hold with one hand, bringing the man close, and places two fingers against Loki’s neck. The feeling of a steady heartbeat greets him and he sighs in relief, shoulders dropping slightly from their tense state.
Another look at Loki shows that light blue hue slowly covering the rest of his skin. “Crap, crap, crap.” He doesn’t know what the hell is happening, but the twisting in his gut tells him it’s nothing good.
“Alright,” he murmurs to himself, trying to keep his breathing under control. It wouldn’t do him any good to panic. “Let’s get you-“ He wheezes when he stands, turning Loki’s body around and keeping his hold firm, “-inside.” Steadying himself, he starts dragging Loki’s body back to the house.
Pluto comes near, sniffing Loki curiously.
“Hey, Pluto none of that!” He reprimands and Pluto woofs. “Shoosh, we don’t know where he’s been and he’s a guest- well kind of.” With a last snort, Pluto flops down onto the ground.
Mobius huffs and makes a quick job of dragging Loki’s limp form inside the house and onto the couch. In a quick movement he takes off his gloves, crouching and pressing a palm against Loki’s sweaty and alarmingly blue forehead. “Cold,” he notes with a bit of confusion. It’s a good 85 degrees out, the sun is still high up on the sky.
He feels completely out of his element, he doesn’t even think it's possible for people to get this blue. Alright, time to call an ambulance. He stands, ready to do just that right when Loki’s arm shoots forward and takes a hold of his wrist in a steel grip.
Mobius’ eyes widen, holding back a gasp of pain, those red blood eyes looking directly at him, “H-Hey, it’s alright partner. I’m just going to call for help-”
“Do not call for anyone.” Loki grits out, baring sharp teeth, “I’m perfectly well. My body is simply undergoing a transition.”
Mobius breathes in and out once, then twice, before he says, “I’d rather you not die on my couch-”
“I am perfectly well,” Loki repeats, and as if to prove it, the blue of his skin starts to recede back to its normal paleness. Mobius watches it all with a bit of unease, biting his lower lip, still aware of the tight hold the other has on him. “Now let me rest. I’m afraid my magic has been drained, I should be fine within a few hours.” Loki’s eyes fall shut and his grip loosens, arm falling and dangling off the side of the couch.
Mobius places his hands on his hips, letting a few seconds pass by before sighing and looking up at the ceiling. There’s an ugly crack there, he’ll have to fix it. “Well, ain’t this just a goddamn bitch in an unsatisfactory situation.”
The soup is brewing, carrots, onion, meat and sliced potatoes floating on the surface. Mobius twists the knob of the stove, letting the fire extinguish. He’s made more than he usually does, but Loki still hasn’t woken. A look outside the window shows the sun already setting, casting pink and orange rays in the sky. Less than an hour of sunlight left.
Casting his gaze to the side, he sees Loki, sleeping peacefully on the couch. His face is clean after he wiped it with a wet towel, a bandage on the man’s chin and cheek. He'd refrained from taking the man's clothing off to see if he had any more injuries, he was certain Loki was fine under them.
There’s a bandage around his own wrist, Loki’s hold had been tight enough to bruise.
He’s not sure if he’s either handling this very well or in shock. Loki, the bastard, turned blue and then went back to normal in an instant. And lord have mercy, he doesn’t think those red eyes are contacts.
His mind is swirling with questions and theories. Magic, Loki had said. Now, Mobius wasn’t an extremely religious type, only went to church as a young boy because he was made to but given recent events- well he thinks it’s fair for him to have a bit of a crisis.
“No, no.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. He still needed to get some wood while sunlight was still out. With a last look to the man- if he’s even a man- on the couch, he picks up his hat from the counter and makes his way outside.
Mobius is riding back home, having taken longer than he expected when the house comes back into view. It makes him pause. The lights are out.
“Oh, hell,” he murmurs before tapping against the horse's side with a shoe and clicking his tongue. Manny automatically speeds up to a run and Mobius grips the reins just a bit tighter.
Why were the lights out? Why oh mighty were they out? He left the kitchen and living room light on before he left. Did Loki wake? Did something bad happen? Or did the power go out? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Whoa, whoa,” he says when they get nearer and the horse slowly comes to a stop. It’s eerily quiet and the silence is putting him on edge. Silence isn’t something he’s used to. Mobius dismounts the horse and quickly fastens Manny to a post, not bothering to properly unload him yet.
He bites his lip as he takes a few steps closer to the house, shrouded in darkness. Whistling softly earns him a woof from inside the barn, easing his nerves slightly. Pluto wasn’t on alert at all so that had to count for something.
With more confidence he enters his home.
A look at the couch shows it empty. Loki’s gone.
“Well- OOF!” Rough hands are shoving him back against the wall, the small shelf there digging painfully against his lower back.
“Who are you?” Loki’s familiar voice hisses lowly, just inches away from his face. It's dark enough that he can’t see Loki’s features properly. There’s really no light for him to block out, but Mobius feels as if he’s been cast into a particularly dark shadow.
A tremor weaves through his body horribly, fear beginning to make his heart race. The arms digging into his throat and chest are holding him perfectly in place, making it hard to breathe.
Mobius swallows heavily, “I’m M-Mobius,” he curses mentally and tries to gather himself. He’s certain Loki can feel the quick thumping of his heart.
“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” The ice cold tone feels like a slap to the face. “To rid of you and any future inconveniences you might pose to me.”
Loki leans close, far too close.
Shakily, he responds, “I made you soup.”
Loki falters for a moment, “I beg your pardon?”
I beg your pardon.
The sudden politeness makes him shake with effort and then he’s laughing. Loki remains still, most likely confused by his change of demeanor.
“I made.. you soup,” he repeats between small bouts of laughter. “While you rested. It’s chicken soup with carrots and potatoes. Ain't you famished? You’ve been sleeping all day.”
“I-“ Loki hesitates, and Mobius can practically see the gears turning.
“I also bandaged you up here instead of letting you stay in that hole. C’mon,” he murmurs and tips his head towards the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”
The taller man stays still and for a horrible moment Mobius thinks Loki isn't going to let up, is going to hurt him. But then the pressure against his neck and chest lessens, and he can breathe better once more.
Loki’s voice is a hiss, serpentine, “Be sure to remember that I can kill you at any given moment.”
Mobius raises his brows, then why haven’t you? Instead, he says, “Of course you can, just let me eat my dinner first.”
Loki cocks his head and Mobius bites back another laugh. The motion reminds him of Whiskers.
“Follow me then,” he says and pushes forward slightly, bumping into Loki’s arms. Loki relents and steps back. "Thank you," he sighs and then makes his way over to the kitchen. He flicks the light switch on and goes to the sink, washing his hands. “Make sure you wash your hands too.”
“Why?”
Mobius startles, not having heard the others footsteps, looking up to find the man already beside him. Once again far too close. Loki’s eyes are still red, staring at him with enough intensity that it makes it difficult to look away. “Can't eat with dirty hands. Germs and all that,” he quirks his lips and finishes, directing the faucet in Loki’s direction. “Go on, I’ll serve us.”
Loki remains oddly silent but does as told.
He lets his mind race as he takes out the utensils and bowls before serving them. If he were being truly honest with himself, he has no idea what to do. Calling the police seemed like the wisest option but damn him if he wasn’t curious. To find out how the man’s skin color changed, his eyes and the flash of sharp teeth he had seen. If Loki truly wanted to kill him, he would have done it by now. Unless he’s playing for time- which seemed to be the most obvious case.
“Here we go,” Mobius says and sets their food down, fetching them a few napkins to lay their spoons on. The sight makes him smile, he actually doesn’t remember the last time he had anyone for dinner over. “Do you want anything to drink?” He looks up to find Loki already gazing at him, studying him. “Uh- don’t be shy partner, pull out a chair and get to digging.”
Loki frowns, “We aren’t partners.”
Mobius feels his ears warm, “That ain’t what I meant.” He ducks his head and takes off his hat, setting it on the counter behind him. Loki hadn’t answered but he gets them both a glass of water nonetheless.
He looks back up at Loki, who still hasn’t stopped staring. “Not hungry?”
Loki finally looks at the food before nodding and cautiously taking a seat, “Very well, then.”
He can’t help but huff at that, taking off his vest as well and putting it over the chair. Loki still looks a bit on edge, scrutinizing the food in front of him. So he makes a show of eating first, only taking a few spoonfulls before Loki begins to eat.
Finally.
They eat in relative silence, and it’s a comfortable one. Well, to him. A glance at Loki shows the others shoulders still a bit tense, but better than before at least.
A few more moments pass before he breaks the silence, “So where you from, friend?” Loki pauses to meet his gaze. “Not from around these parts, I presume.” He lets his eyes roam over the odd clothing and pale skin. Usually, folks from around here had a bit of a tan- but Loki’s skin looks like it hasn’t seen the sun in a long while.
Loki leans back against the chair lazily but it has an odd elegance to it that Mobius isn’t quite familiar with. Yeah, definitely not from around here. “I am from Asgard.”
Mobius frowns at that, “Asgard? Never heard of it before.”
A scowl settles on Loki’s features. “Surely you must have, it’s only one of the largest of the nine realms.” At the confused look Mobius gives him, Loki scoffs, “Jotunheim? No? Well what about my lovely father Odin?”
The last few words are spit out and Mobius raises his brows. But the name is familiar and he smiles. “Oh, was he named after the norse god?”
Loki bristles, “Named after? He is the Norse God. As am I a God along with my foolish brother.”
“'Course you are.”
“You dare mock me.”
Mobius raises his palms in a placating manner, “Hey, I’m not-” He doesn't get to finish because then- then there’s a small flash of light, and Loki is growing golden horns.
That sardonic grin is back and Loki stands, stretching his arms outwards, “Now mortal, do you-” He hesitates, grin faltering, “Do you see-” The horns disappear and Loki’s face falls before he collapses on the ground.
Mobius gapes before scurrying out of his seat, rushing over and crouching beside the fallen man, “Oh damn.” He quickly lifts Loki’s head off the floor and onto his lap, checking for any bumps or injuries, “Loki, you alright?”
Loki doesn’t respond.
Mobius curses under his breath, pressing two fingers against Loki’s neck once again. Relief floods him when that steady pulse meets his fingers. That small hue of blue is coming back- but just barely enough to be noticeable. He sighs and looks up, as if the heavens will have some answers for him. Instead, all he sees is an ugly crack on the ceiling.