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“Enjoy your damn pie!” Sylvie snarks. She storms off, but her venomous words ring in Mobius’s head long after she’s gone.
That was just mean, Mobius sighs.
Footsteps echo in the silence; each one hitting Mobius like a thundercrash as they approach. Loki. He’ll probably just go after Sylvie…
Mobius knows it wasn’t appropriate for him to say what he said. He’s just trying to get through another crazy TVA workday—things have been kind of insane lately. He always bottles everything up. He hasn’t even allowed himself to process what happened since Loki escaped from Roxxcart. Mobius thought he had lost Loki forever, only to find him again and realize that Loki was indeed never his. It was painful. Mobius felt so damn hurt. He let his heart be broken by a player and a liar… Mobius was to blame, but it was so much easier to take it out on Loki.
But then Loki was telling the truth for once, and suddenly, the whole TVA — Mobius’s whole life — had become a lie. And then someone who had been Mobius’s ‘friend’ for eons had just ordered for him to be pruned like Mobius and his friendship didn’t mean a damn thing. Maybe they really didn’t. Mobius didn’t.
Like a rollercoaster that can’t be stopped, nothing was the same after that. Mobius was just so damn tired. Maybe he really was a nowhere man.
Loki steps next to him now. Mobius wishes it just didn’t hurt so fucking much—rejection. It’s not even a real rejection. They’re friends. That’s more than Mobius could’ve ever hoped for from the God of Mischief; the person he’d been admiring for gods know how long. It’s kind of inappropriate. Madness.
Mobius is ridiculous.
He closes his eyes. He’s so tired of seeing Loki run and walk away.
Except, he doesn’t.
“Hey…” That familiar, deep voice sounds, reaching Mobius’s ear like a sweet caress. A hand appears on Mobius’s shoulder—a squeeze. Gentle, grounding.
Loki loves to talk, and Mobius loves to listen to him. It always gives him little chills, prickling underneath his skin. Making him feel so many things… So…alive. Now that Loki is so close, almost whispering in Mobius’s ear, and his hand is comfortingly resting on Mobius’s shoulder, those chills intensify. It’s a little bit harder to seem unaffected now.
Of course, Loki doesn’t continue until Mobius looks at him. Mobius both wants to and doesn’t want to. Loki is gorgeous — actual eye-candy, if Mobius allowed himself to sound a little unsophisticated and vulgar. Mobius can’t resist looking at him. When he does, Loki’s eyes glimmer with compassion. They’re so wonderful. Precious gemstones. Beautiful green sapphires.
Loki leans closer, “Let’s have some hot cocoa,” he offers.
Mobius just wanted a pie. As Loki said not so long ago, the real world was awful. People can’t always get what they want.
He supposes hot cocoa is the next best thing, as long as Loki is by his side.
“We should get back,” Mobius says. He drank his hot cocoa so fast it burned his tongue. At least, he can still feel something; proof he’s not just an emotionless, empty shell, going through his meticulous daily routine on autopilot as if nothing else matters. As if he doesn’t have a heart.
“We can have another drink,” Loki winks. “We’re still working.”
“You haven’t even drunk yours yet,” Mobius teases. It’s the easiest way to hide.
Truth is, everything matters to Mobius: the TVA… the timelines… the variants… even a friend-turned-enemy.
Most of all: Loki.
Mobius is too tired to resist.
They approached the vending machine, got their hot chocolates, and then found an empty room to sit down. Mobius won’t deny that it made him feel a little bit better. Giddy, even.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a hedonist?” Mobius taunts.
“Sometimes…it’s lovely to take things slow,” Loki speaks in such a low and gentle tone that it elicits goosebumps on Mobius's skin. Luckily, his suit can effectively hide it.
Mobius can’t reply. His heart is fluttering too much, and his precious words simply fail him. Loki’s leg keeps touching his underneath the table. Comforting. Arousing. Mobius is an idiot, indeed.
Still, he loves moments like these—alone together in their shared bubble as if nothing else exists. An extremely dark and selfish part of Mobius wants to stay with Loki like this forever. He enjoys Loki’s company in serene silence until Loki speaks up.
“Once,” Loki clears his throat, “you asked me what caused the Nexus event on Lamentis-1.”
Really? Mobius doesn’t want to talk about that. Ever. He grimaces before he can stop himself.
“I think we covered that back there,” Mobius shrugs. Loki shakes his head.
“No, I mean… You just sort of came to your own conclusions—”
Loki doesn’t sound like he’s judging or upset. It still upsets Mobius, even though Loki’s voice is insanely, infinitely tender.
“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” Mobius argues. After eons of diligent, relentless, and selfless service, he’s allowed a moment to be immature on a crazy day. Right?
“But I want to,” Loki presses. “I, uh… think we should.”
“Why don’t you just go after Sylvie instead of nagging me?”
A pause— Mobius’s cheeks feel hot, and his heart might stop beating…
“Is that what you want?” Loki challenges. His voice is quiet yet firm. “Should I leave you alone?”
Yes. No.
Mobius rubs his face with his left palm. He sighs.
“Look, today’s been A LOT… I’m just—”
“It’s alright,” Loki reassures, “you don’t have to be operating on one hundred percent all the time, Mobius.”
A snarky reply is at the tip of Mobius’s tongue. It desperately wants to come out. Make a silly joke of THE Loki Laufeyson comforting him. It’s kind of funny. Except Mobius knows it isn’t. Loki always had a huge, hidden heart. He just never got the chance to nurture it and open it up for the world. Now he’s opening it up for Mobius, showing compassion and quiet understanding. It’s one of those rarer moments between them, like the one they shared in the Automat before.
Mobius doesn’t want to mess this up just because he’s stupid, exhausted, and jealous.
In love.
“Thanks,” Mobius says, trying to offer a small but genuine smile.
Loki smiles back. Fond. “Any time.”
The thing is, Mobius doesn’t allow himself to look at Loki more than necessary. He can’t let his eyes linger a little bit longer. Loki would probably notice. It would be too awkward and uncomfortable. Mobius… he knows his place. It’s the TVA… if that’s where Loki is.
Maybe he’s careless and selfish. But how could Mobius care for a life on the timeline if he doesn’t have what he has with Loki here?
It’s enough for him to be beside Loki. (Even though it can be a little bit painful sometimes.)
Loki has grown so much, and Mobius is so fucking proud of him. He’s always been filled with pride to witness it from afar — in fact, Mobius could spend lifetimes watching him~
Experiencing Loki Laufeyson in real life, with his own two eyes, makes him want to do cartwheels, however insane that sounds. It’s Mobius’s miracle.
If the only thing Mobius can offer Loki is his friendship, then he’s happy.
But… Mobius keeps staring at Loki now, unable to tear his hungry little eyes away; the urge to drink up every pretty detail like the finest whiskey is too strong. Too irresistible. Loki is too damn perfect. Ethereal. Divine.
Loki maintains eye contact, head tilted to the side, and there are so many emotions in his eyes that they make Mobius feel a little bit dizzy.
Kindness. Care. Sadness. Nostalgia. Lo—
Yeah, Mobius thinks. I must be really tired.
“Why did you bring up Lamentis now?” Mobius finds himself asking. Apparently, he’s a damn masochist.
“I was just thinking about the things you told me.”
“I told you a lotta things…”
“I know,” Loki nods.
“Maybe some unnecessarily mean things…” Mobius whispers earnestly.
“Well, I think I needed to hear those things,” Loki shrugs. “Except the scared little boy part,” he adds, his handsome face morphing into a frown. He’s so cute. “I still think that was a bit too far.”
“Well,” Mobius drawls, “I called you an asshole once, but I can be a real ass too sometimes,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.
Loki chuckles. “Is that how you see me?” He asks then. “An immature child who can never grow up?”
“Of course not,” Mobius says. It’s probably the closest thing to a confession.
“Then…a villain?” Loki’s voice is barely above a whisper. It surprises Mobius. He thought they had already established that on the first day they met.
“I thought I told you that wasn’t how I saw you.”
“I was thinking about whether I deserved to be alone…” Loki changes the subject then. He’s kind of…sentimental today. Mobius doesn’t dislike it. It’s just making him uncomfortable to talk about his feelings and be vulnerable. Seen. At the same time, it comes as naturally as breathing with Loki. Safe.
“Do you think I deserve to be alone?” Loki asks now.
“What do you think, Loki?”
“Oh, I know the answer, I think,” Loki smiles. “I’m just curious about your opinion.”
“I think,” Mobius says, “you deserve everything and anything you want.”
Loki hums. He looks away as if he can’t keep eye contact. Like, he’s kind of shy. That’s strange. He looks back at Mobius, deep into Mobius' eyes.
“What if I know what I want,” Loki elaborates, “but it’s like everything has conspired against me to have it?”
“I’d say that sounds a little bit pessimistic and paranoid,” Mobius chuckles. Right. He’s being a dick again. Because how is all this relevant to Lamentis if not for Sylvie? Mobius realizes he’s just a shoulder to cry on. He loves being the shoulder for Loki to cry on. (He loves being anything to Loki.) Except there’s no one whose shoulder Mobius could cry on. It’s exhausting. Bitter, green jealousy starts to coil in his gut. Again. Always.
“If you want her, go get her,” Mobius shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. If he were to be so dramatic, he’d say there’s a dagger — or two — piercing right through the center of his heart right now; the price you pay for raw, primal obsession and devotion that feels insane, primordial.
“Her?” Loki interrupts, but Mobius doesn’t stop talking.
“You’re a god, Loki. The God of Mischief. Who could stop you?”
It looks like Loki wants to say something. He shakes his head.
“You really think it’s Sylvie?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
“So…” Mobius breathes out. “If it’s not Sylvie, then who is it?”
Loki doesn’t reply. Not with words. He keeps staring into Mobius’s eyes. Mobius finds it quite difficult to stay where he is seated and not run away.
“I think you should know,” Loki says with a significant nod.
“Well, that’s tough then, ‘cause from my point of view, it’s evidently Sylvie.”
“Perhaps you should view it from a different angle.”
“Where are you going with this, Loki?” Mobius asks. Maybe he’s too frustrated. For someone who likes to talk so much, Loki is so quiet now. He’s just staring at Mobius, his beautiful eyes shimmering in earnestness. He opens his pretty lips.
“You are.”
Mobius’s heart skips a beat… Then it starts pounding, drumming an erratic cadence against his rib cage.
“I am…? I am what?” Mobius demands under his breath.
“Y’know,” Loki begins, speaking softly, “for a witty, incredibly intelligent analyst, you’re quite dense.” He appears rather amused. Simultaneously, he looks strangely affectionate—it doesn’t help to calm Mobius’s elevated heart rate, au contraire.
Agitated, Mobius arches an eyebrow; however, he can’t retort because suddenly, Loki’s hand is on his. Soft and gentle. Tender but firm. His fingers caress Mobius’s skin. Calming. Soothing. Careful. Testing the waters… Mobius can feel Loki’s gaze on him. It’s intense. It makes every cell in his body go crazy. Alight and alive.
However, he can’t meet Loki’s eyes; Mobius can’t tear his eyes away from their touching hands. It’s a damn lovely sight—Mobius can’t believe it.
Loki timidly turns his wrist, fingers in search of Mobius’s. A gasp escapes from Mobius’s mouth. He can’t feel bad about it; Loki’s touch feels so good.
Mobius lets Loki move his hand, flipping it around and intertwining their fingers until they’re locked and enveloped. It feels right, like they belong together.
When Mobius lifts his gaze to meet Loki’s, he finds Loki is crying; silent tears cascading down his cheeks. It breaks Mobius’s heart more than Loki leaving him. His own eyes are burning; tears begin pooling in them.
“I cannot deny that I just wanted to get to the Time-Keepers,” Loki says, his voice low and emotional. “That was my main objective,” he admits with a nod. He then chuckles, self-deprecating. “I was so foolish, wasn’t I?”
Mobius doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know whether Loki even wants a reaction. Mobius just watches and listens. Loki’s hand is so warm in his—unlike the cold, heartless monster that Loki thinks he is. Mobius will definitely need to tell him that he isn’t, as many times as it takes for Loki to finally believe it.
Loki Laufeyson isn’t a bad person or a villain. He never was—he just never got the chance to be who he really is: so vibrant, so caring, so amazing. A Frost Giant with a heart of gold.
Those gorgeous green eyes never leave Mobius. Loki doesn’t even blink, as if he wants to commit every detail to memory. Mobius wants to kiss his tears away.
“I had tried to fight off any distraction that would possibly interfere with my goal,” he continues. “For what I believed was my glorious purpose…” he takes a brief pause. “I just thought it was only lust that I felt for you. But deep down, it was always more…” Loki squeezes Mobius’s hand. Mobius squeezes back.
“After Roxxcart, on Lamentis, I just wanted to prove myself to you. That your belief in me and your offer to give me another chance was worth it… That I was worth it.”
“I didn’t do it ‘cause of that,” Mobius explains. “I didn’t do it so you’d be indebted to me.”
“I know,” Loki says. “You never want anything in return. You’re just…kind.”
That’s not true, a voice in Mobius’s head argues. I want you. More than anything.
“I’m not a saint, Loki,” Mobius says. He’s been a little paralyzed until now. His fingers begin caressing Loki’s skin. “No one is.”
“You are good,” Loki argues softly. “You make me want to be better.”
“It was always in you, Loki.” Hearing Mobius’s reply, a choked sob erupts from Loki’s throat. Mobius’s body moves on its own: in the blink of an eye, he stands up and kneels beside Loki’s chair to draw him into an embrace. Loki just accepts it; his hands latch onto Mobius’s arm as if he’s afraid Mobius will evaporate.
“Ssh, it’s okay,” Mobius murmurs, but his own tears fall down his cheeks. Loki is shaking, crying in his arms. He’s so broken. So warm. So perfect and good. “You’re fine, sweetheart,” Mobius kisses the crown of Loki’s head. “You’re fine.”
They stay like that for a while, Mobius hugging Loki and comforting him with gentle, loving touches. All he ever wanted was to love Loki. Wholeheartedly, unconditionally—like Loki deserved. Mobius could’ve easily ruined it all because he was selfish and jealous. But he really doesn’t want to think of the ‘what ifs’ now. Mobius wants to be in the present moment with Loki; Mobius wants to be and do better for Loki, too.
Loki accepts it all: compassion and love, drinking it up like a dry sponge. He’s still grasping Mobius’s arm as if his life depends on it. Mobius keeps petting him, simultaneously allowing himself to breathe deeply of Loki’s scent. It’s calming him, too.
After a while, Loki starts shifting slightly so he can look up at Mobius.
“I want to tell you the full story, Mobius.” He rasps. Mobius caresses his hair. Loki melts into it, eyes closed.
“I’m listening.”
It appears Loki is trying to find the words. Mobius waits patiently, gently brushing his hair with his fingers.
“On Lamentis… Sylvie and I were sitting by the pond, just talking, waiting for our inevitable demise while the planet was crashing into the moon. Sylvie reached for my hand, and I connected with her. I felt sorry for her— and through that, I felt sorry for myself,” Loki explains. “But I was mostly thinking about you,” he admits.
“I was telling Sylvie that even if Lokis lost, we would always survive. But deep down, I didn’t believe it. I was thinking about everything you did for me—what we did together. Felt so much regret about missing out on what I truly wanted to do. That I would never see you again,” Loki’s breath hitches, more tears sliding down his cheek. Mobius wipes them away gently. “And then you showed up, and you were so disappointed in me…”
“That’s all in the past now,” Mobius says. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here in my arms. Where you belong.”
Loki begins sobbing harder.
“This isn’t real, Mobius.”
Mobius is confused. How could this not be real? Loki feels real under his touch. His body against his—real. So warm. Soft. If anything, Mobius is hyper-aware of not only Loki’s existence but his own as well. He feels alive. This is real.
“You remember the timeslipping?” Loki asks.
“Yeah,” Mobius courtly says. Heavy dread starts to loom in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t like it.
“I can control it now,” Loki explains. “I can control time, but it doesn’t matter since I always end up alone. I can’t save us, Mobius. I always lose. I always lose you.”
“But you don’t,” Mobius argues. “I’m right here.”
“I’ve been stuck in a time loop…for centuries,” Loki says, unable to meet Mobius’s eyes. Mobius needs a few moments to wrap his head around it. (And silly ol’ him thought he could have one relatively nice day with Loki.) But Loki is clearly hurting. And the most important thing he can do right now is: how to assure an actual god of his relentless belief in him and that he isn't alone.
“This is messed up, and I hate that you have to go through this by yourself,” Mobius says. “At the same time, you’re incredibly strong, and I’m so fucking proud of you, Loki! You can do it. You’ll be fine. We will be fine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” Mobius breathes. It’s time for him to confess, too. “I believe in you. I believe that meeting you was my destiny. Our destiny.”
Loki smiles. “That sounds maudlin even for you,” he teases. Mobius chuckles. If Loki can poke fun at him, it means he feels better now. That’s good. Mobius doesn’t know how much time he’s got in this godforsaken time loop. He just wants to make Loki feel better.
“What can I say?” His lips curve in a smile. “I’m a hopeless romantic.”
Loki just stares at him—so fond, so in love. Mobius wants that kiss. (It’s long overdue, actually.) But he doesn’t think it’s the ideal time. He supposes true love is worth all that trouble. All that waiting.
Mobius lifts both arms and caresses Loki’s face. Loki lets him, eyes closed and panting softly. It’s so incredibly nice to be with Loki like this. Loki simply remains there and accepts the pure affection. Mobius could pet him for eons… He wants to breathe featherlight kisses all over that pretty, sad face. To make all that hurt go away. He just wants to love Loki like he always deserved.
Mobius decides a forehead kiss is his best option now. Loki melts into it and gasps softly. Mobius pours all of his feelings into tender, loving touches, caressing Loki’s tear-streaked face. Admiring a god most delicately. Reverently. Mobius’s devotion to Loki has always been limitless. It opened up so many emotions in him—a wide and diverse prismatic spectrum.
Shades of green.
For Mobius, time lost all meaning and sense when he was around Loki. A man of mundane routine and pristine efficiency, simply drawn to the present moment instead of staying within the comfort of his logic. It’s not different now; he just enjoys the moment. It was curious how time would stand still when they were around each other, like light nearing an event horizon… or it would speed up, passing in a blink.
It reminded Mobius that working for the TVA — the sole purpose of his existence — might have desensitized him; how fragile precious things actually were.
The one thing Mobius was always sure about was…
…he could never possibly get enough of Loki Laufeyson. Especially having him in his arms.
Loki opens his eyes. An endless sea of feelings is what Mobius sees in them; hope and fear clash in them like waves. Mobius is tired of seeing his Loki so broken. He deserves a damn happy ending for once. They both do.
“It’s kind of…frightening and comforting at the same time,” Loki muses. “How we weren’t even meant to exist.”
“And yet here we are…” Mobius says, thumb drawing circles against Loki’s cheek. Figure eights. “I just cannot get rid of you, can I?”
“Perhaps you should try harder,” Loki says.
There is my mischievous scamp, Mobius thinks. Gosh, he really, really wants to kiss his Loki. Instead, he relies on his words.
“The truth is,” he smiles. “I’ve been waiting for you since you timeslipped to me in the past.”
Loki stares at him with his lips parted, eyes blown wide. He looks kind of adorable.
“Bloody Hel,” he grumbles. “You never told me a damn thing!” He looks so upset that Mobius feels a little bit bad for chuckling.
“I had no idea when you would do it,” Mobius says. “And I didn’t know it was the timeslipping. Plus, it happened so long ago, I almost managed to convince myself that it wasn’t even real.”
Loki is silent, which is really something. He seems to be contemplating, tongue tracing the inside of his cheek.
“But why didn’t you recognise me then?”
“Because I didn’t know you then,” Mobius explains. “Your little stunt in the past was what made me research you.”
Loki is nonplussed. Unbelieving. His eyes are glistening with what resembles relief and happiness. He whispers, “Ouroboros.”
Tears glide down his cheeks. Mobius gently wipes them. “Still doesn’t sound like destiny?”
Loki gasps—he looks like he wants to say something. He closes his brilliant eyes then, a small shake of his head…
…and he kisses Mobius.
The kiss is so soft, tentative, that to Mobius, it feels like it’s one of the many delicate dreams he had. Loki’s lips tremble against his own as if he himself can barely believe this is finally happening. Like he’s one moment away from breaking: both the kiss and himself. Urgency and hesitation radiate off of Loki in waves—Mobius drinks it all up, like he’s both starved and a safe harbor that’s been waiting for the ship to arrive for centuries. He gently lifts an arm and places his hand on the back of Loki’s head, keeping him close, where he belongs, as if to say:
I’m here. I choose you back. We deserve this.
Mobius knew many languages, and yet he still couldn’t find any word from across all realms and timelines to express the depths of his love and devotion for Loki Laufeyson.
So instead, he tried to show it: pour all of his overflowing heart into reciprocating that kiss.
I love you so fucking much~
Always have. Always will.
“There are so many things I want to tell you,” Loki breathes, clinging to Mobius like he’s his lifeline.
“You will,” Mobius reassures. Loki shakes his head.
“I want to be with you.”
“I want to be with you, too.”
“But—” Mobius places his pointer finger on Loki’s lips to hush him. Loki’s eyes go round, glimmering. He’s panting, his hot breath hitting Mobius’s finger lightly. Mobius moves his hand to cup and caress Loki’s cheek, never breaking eye contact.
“Everything will be fine,” Mobius says. “It has to be. Because if it isn’t, I will fight that ‘He Who Remains’ guy or even the Norns themselves.”
Loki smiles. Smitten. “You are a terrible fighter.”
“I will still fight for you, Loki Laufeyson.” Mobius kisses him: lips… cheeks… temples… eyelids… Tender and slow. Loki is trembling and gasping. Mobius wants to soothe him, swallow all of those sweet noises. He kisses Loki on the lips and only stops when they are short of breath.
“Is it selfish of me to ask you to keep fighting for me, too?” Mobius smiles, head tilted and caressing Loki’s face.
Mobius can’t even fully comprehend how exhausted Loki must be. And yet Loki promises, “I won't stop,” without missing a beat.
After a while, they move to the floor to get cozy—well, as cozy as the hard ground in an ugly TVA office can offer. (Mobius did his best: he took off his suit jacket and laid it underneath Loki. Loki did the same for Mobius.) Loki is seated with his back against Mobius’s chest so Mobius can cradle him as they just…are. Like they’re in their own special bubble; a peaceful paradise. Mobius can’t help leaving featherlight kisses on Loki’s crown—Loki just hums, peaceful, quiet. It reminds Mobius of a purring kitten.
Suddenly, a small chuckle escapes Mobius—he can’t help it.
“What?” Loki lulls, eyes closed, lips curving into a doting smile.
“I just can’t believe I actually landed a Prince and a god,” Mobius snickers.
Loki momentarily freezes—Mobius never tires of seeing how he reacts to genuine affection. Loki practically melts into Mobius on autopilot… Like molten gold. He then moves and turns around to look at Mobius with a mischievous smirk.
“Perhaps you should treat me as such, then.”
“Oh, I want to… The problem is I probably won't be able to hold myself back any longer if I do.” Mobius’s biggest issue is that once the dam breaks, he has no filter. The surprise on Loki’s face—eyes wide, glimmering, and round; cheeks dusted pink—is too delicious.
“Then don’t,” Loki breathes.
“Honey, as much as I’d love to, now’s not the appropriate time,” Mobius teases. “Because when I get my grabby lil hands on ya, I wanna take it slow and savor every inch…”
Loki seems to short-circuit for a whole five seconds, blush blooming as high as the tip of his ears, and Mobius enjoys the sight, maybe a little too much. Loki looks away briefly, moves around a bit like it’s physically impossible for him to stay still. Mobius just watches him, up close, as he licks his pretty, perfect, kissable pink lips.
“Err… Actually…” Loki stutters, “We have spent some… umm, timeloops on exploring our…desire for each other, but you never told me such a brazen thing…”
“I’m happy to keep ya on your toes, Mischief Maker~”