Chapter Text
“Damn, it’s cold out here. Don’t you think it’s cold out here?”
Loki captured a snowflake in his palm. It didn’t melt. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mobius rolled his eyes and tugged his jacket up around his neck. “You know I know that. You could always just indulge me, for once.”
Loki bit back the mildly snarky response of another I know, and instead smiled sweetly with a far more snarky sentence on his tongue. “I indulge you with my very presence, my dearest Mobi. I could very well up and leave now that we’re outside of the TVA, but I choose not to for your sake. You should really be thanking me.”
Mobius took his attitude in stride. “Mhm. How come I feel like the bigger contributing factor is that B-15 is barely ten feet away, then?”
Loki shrugged. “I didn’t say that it was the only reason. And I’m still not hearing any gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” Mobius scoffed. “I know you’re a god and all, but you’re not getting any worship from me.”
“So says the mortal who’s obsessed over me to the point of becoming a so-called Loki-expert.”
“Would you two stop bickering?” B-15 barked. Her voice echoed eerily across the empty farmfield. “This mission is important. I was on edge about bringing you along anyways, and I can always change my mind.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mobius gave a halfhearted salute. Then he leaned in to whisper to Loki, “She doesn’t really mean that. She’s a real softie once you get to know her, or once you bribe her with homemade cookies.”
“I heard that!” called B-15. Mobius only laughed.
Loki eyed him from the side, trying to avoid seeming like he was staring. Mobius simply stood contentedly, staring out at the snowy field around them with his hands behind his back. He seemed to have near-complete trust in the Hunter, trust in everything. Trust in me. Loki brushed the thought off urgently. It was stupid to even be considering that. For all he knew, Mobius would abandon him as soon as he was no longer useful. Strangely, Loki found himself shivering when faced with the concept.
“You sure you aren’t cold?” Loki’s head snapped up to meet Mobius who had been watching him with his eyebrows knit together. “I mean, I get that you’re a different species and all, but it’s still pretty chilly outside.”
“I’m sure,” said Loki stiffly, too worked up to invent an elaborate response.
“Alright.” Mobius drawled the word so it was nearly cut in two. His mouth quirked into a sly smile. “That means you won’t be mad if I do this, then!”
Before he could register a thing, Loki was met with a faceful of snow. It slid down his neck, then his shirt, and dropped to the ground alongside Loki’s jaw. Mobius howled with laughter, slapping his knee and hooting at the god’s dumbfounded expression.
Vowing revenge, Loki scrambled against the ground and gathered armfuls of snow. He flung the clump at Mobius with a cry. “You dare challenge me?” The snow fell uselessly in front of Mobius’ boots. The agent cackled.
“Oh, Lokes.” He shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to make a snowball.”
Loki bristled. “I don’t need you to show me how to make a– a–”
“A snowball,” Mobius finished for him, eyes twinkling. “And I know you don’t, you’re a real smart guy. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help out.”
Loki didn’t understand. If he could learn something on his own, why waste energy teaching it to him? Specifically something that would work against Mobius, even if it was only for a sort of game or sport or whatever was being planned. Still, he watched Mobius pack snow between his gloves until it became a tough sphere. He mimicked it on his own, bare hands tickling with the snowflakes. “Like this?” he asked, presenting his creation in his palm.
“Perfect.” Mobius praised. “Very good, Loki.”
A sense of fluttering rushed through him at Mobius’ words, something like pride but sweeter. He chased it and asked eagerly, “What now?”
“Now we fight.”
“What?” Fight? Surely, Mobius couldn’t mean that. They were, well, friends. Right?
Mobius’ snowball hit Loki square in the chest and the god caught on quick. It’s like a fight meant for children! Mobius chuckled while Loki stood stunned. “Man. I would’a thought you’d have had snowball fights at least in some form, being from an ice planet and all.”
“Shut up,” Loki growled, and hurled his snowball at Mobius. He was trained in fighting, his reflexes were perfect, and so was his aim–
–The snowy weapon landed innocently on the ground where Mobius had been standing moments before.
“Surprise!” A loud voice shouted from behind, and Loki sprang into the air to meet a pummel of snow.
“That’s not fair,” he sputtered. “I’m not using my powers, so you can’t use your TemPad.”
Mobius snorted. “You’re complaining about playing fair? Of all people?”
Loki couldn’t exactly argue with that, but if Mobius wasn’t playing by the rules then he wouldn’t either. A devilish grin spread across his face and Mobius had barely enough time to realize what he had done before a steep pile of snow was falling from overhead.
Emphasis on barely enough. Mobius swiped at his TemPad and the snow plummeted onto Loki instead, knocking him off his feet.
Loki’s head spun when he hit the ground. A blanket of white covered his vision until Mobius’ colorful gloves appeared to swipe it away. He coughed. Mobius smiled and said, nonsensically, “You looked like that witch from the Wizard of Oz right then, bud. You know, the one who got trapped under the house?” Loki didn’t know. He shook his dazed head and snarled.
“Cheater.”
“Pot calling the kettle black.” Mobius’ smirk was taunting, sure, but it was also kind. He leaned in close to brush snow out of Loki’s hair, a futile task but tender nonetheless, and Loki discovered that the shivery feeling had returned, though different this time. More forgiving and warm, a sort of buzz like a hive of bees was trapped in his chest. He also discovered something else new about it, too. It made him want to be closer to Mobius, to never let him leave, to be held, to touch his lips–
No, no– I don’t feel that way. That’s stupid, useless, disasterous. I don’t–
“Magic!” B-15 scolded from somewhere and Loki strained to lift his neck up to see. It was then that he realized he was trapped under the weight of not only snow, but Mobius as well. B-15 seemed to pay their awkward stance no mind. “There is a strict rule about Loki and his magic on missions and you know that, Mobius. This will be reported to the Judge.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Loki purred, though paying little attention. Mobius spoke over him.
“Yes, I’m sorry about that, Bee. I’ll watch over him better from now on.”
B-15 hummed skeptically. Loki hissed, “Watch over me? What am I, your pet?”
“Yep,” Mobius replied and patted him twice on the cheek. Loki held his breath and prayed to whatever gods ruled the lands they were in that his blush didn’t show. “Come on, kitten.” Loki found himself being hauled to his feet and brushed off. “Yeah, this snow is pretty frozen. It’s gonna have to melt to be removed. How’d you get so much in your hair?”
Loki glared. Mobius tilted his head then feigned recollection.
“Oh, yeah! That’s right, I–”
B-15’s order cut him off. “No signs of variant activity. Everyone, back to the TVA.”
Then why were we even here? Loki sighed. Mobius patted his back and he leaned into the touch before stepping through the portal. Maybe the mission had been worth it, even though he’d lost. Loki was never one to lose, at least not in the conventional way–he hadn’t ever been able to simply accept failures. And despite it all, he felt more or less light. Happy.
And it was awful. Dangerous. (Vulnerable.) He shrugged the tutting Mobius off of him as soon as he could. “Let me go, I’m tired.”
Mobius’ forehead creased with concern, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty pooped, too. Make sure you change out of those wet clothes. I can bring you some dry ones, if you need them.”
“I don’t need your help,” Loki snapped, turning to leave.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Loki said nothing. He hid his face behind his water-dripping hair and stormed away. He knew perfectly well what Mobius meant and the truth of it terrified him. He didn’t need any kindness and yet he longed for it with every breath. Obviously, there was something wrong with him.
Snowmelt dampened his clothes, sticking them to his skin and weighing them down heavily. Mobius did have a point, he could use a change of clothes. Just as he neared his room, however, he spun on his heel in an about-face. Something about the place repelled him. It was more of a prison than anything, though he was no longer so strictly monitored. A Hunter watched him from around the corner. Scratch that, he was no longer so obviously monitored.
Sue him for wanting personal space. He considered going to Mobius’ apartment but quickly negated the idea. Instead, he headed towards the library.
As much as he was a god of chaos, Loki appreciated his peace and quiet. On his own terms, of course. The dreadful librarian at the front desk had glared at his sopping footprints and shushed nearly each squelching step he took. Loki took the high road and only stuck his tongue out at her, promising to save his crueler antics for a better time.
Sitting down with his back against a shelf, Loki realized that he genuinely wasn’t lying when he had told Mobius that he was tired. How strange of him. He couldn’t bring himself to care as his lead-heavy eyelids fluttered shut.
Something was thumping repetitively, thundering straight through his head. Between each beat, Loki caught broken words.
“Hey–” and “Are you oh–” followed by “–sleep?”
“Huh?” mumbled Loki blearily. He sniffed and blinked a few times, Mobius’ face appearing before him.
“There’s my sunshine!” Mobius cheered. “Did you sleep well or sneak into my desk for some liquor? Actually, don’t answer that.”
“I’m not hungover,” Loki grumbled.
“Then why are you napping in the library like this floor’s the most comfortable place you’ve seen?”
Truthfully, the floor wasn’t all that bad. It was the aching and the thumping-thundering migraine that were uncomfortable. Loki, the liar that he was, answered, “I woke up early and must have fallen asleep here. Why does that bother you so much?”
Mobius shrugged. “It doesn’t.” The dismissal stung and Loki couldn’t entirely tell why. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You feel like coffee?”
“What?”
“Wow, you really are out of it. Coffee, caffeine, wakes you up and all that.”
Loki obliged. The coffee didn’t help all that much, but he pretended that it did. In actuality, he was feeling worse. The headache wasn’t so bad anymore but the achiness of his muscles had redoubled its efforts. To top it off, rather than gaining energy as one should after a night’s rest, Loki found his exhaustion gathering and gathering like how Mobius had packed snow together. It was absolutely dreadful.
He wiped at his nose. It seemed intent on running and Loki soon discovered why the archivists all kept boxes of tissues at their desks. He lined his coat pockets with them. At least his clothes were dry by now.
“How much progress have you made?” Mobius interrupted his train of thought, or– what was he thinking about again? Was he even thinking about anything? Loki attempted to shake the befuddlement away with a toss of his hair.
“I, um.” Loki looked down at the desk. He had taken no notes, and his coffee had long grown cold. He chewed his lip, not wanting to let the agent down yet not knowing what exactly to say. Mobius seemed to catch on.
“Yeah, it’s been a slow day for me, too.” He patted Loki’s back. “What d’you say we grab some lunch, huh? Fuel our minds or whatever.”
“I’m alright.”
Loki could practically hear the way Mobius’ expression transformed into soft worry. “Are you sure? I could bring you something back.”
“Screw off!” Loki didn’t mean to shout, but that’s exactly what he did. He flinched as Mobius’ eyes hardened.
“Suit yourself,” the man said stiffly, and left. Loki began trembling.
He just ruined it. Ruined his entire friendship with the one person who had managed to stand him, or even to perhaps like him. Loki didn’t need Mobius, though, he didn’t– Gods, he needed him. His mind spun, the edges of his thoughts growing fuzzy like they had molded. He felt terrible. He was shaking and shaking and–
–Loki was cold.
Loki was never cold, or at least hardly ever. He couldn’t be. But he was. He was broken and foul and falling apart. The lights suddenly seemed very bright as another wave of chills washed over him. He longed to be in someone’s arms but had just ruined the chances of that.
Briefly, a part of him said that he wasn’t thinking clearly and Mobius still cared. That part was quickly swept away with another bout of shaking.
Loki staggered to his feet. He was in the hallway. Lights were flashing. Paisley patterns decorated the walls somewhere–or maybe the floor. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had to move.
His fingers found the hard ridge of a keycard in his pocket and he didn’t remember making a decision to use it.
He was just so cold.