Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-01-29 16:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, ₴ inactive: mobius m. mobius 2, → week 029 (michael) |
DAY 6 | MICHAEL
He’d added everything they’d learned to the file he was keeping on the TemPad and consistently backing up to the campus’s computers - though, honestly, the whole message of well, we’re just always going to be fucked was a little bit surprising but then again maybe not; an experiment that began the way it did was bound to carry a curse down to its roots. Still, the magic ritual (or whatever you want to call it) even working at all was a positive sign - it wasn’t something they could do on a constant basis, given how draining it was for everyone involved, but it was good to know that it was possible.
Also good to have been successful pinpointing coordinates - Mobius had relied on a lot of math to come up with those trajectories, but he got it right in the end and the tree that was the Derleth multiverse was slowly beginning to become more and more filled out, boughs twisting this way and that in close proximity with each other but not quite touching. They were on the verge of something, message of ‘gee, you’re fucked’ be damned, and it inspired him to keep going.
First he’d check on Loki, however. Mobius knew where he’d be - just as Loki knew where Mobius would be when he sought solitude. To the basement of the theatre he went, peeping in the various practice rooms meant for the dulcet-or-not-so-dulcet tones of musical instruments getting their daily scales in. There was none of that on this campus - often, the basement was as quiet as a church hall on a Monday morning. When he found the correct room, he pushed open the door.
“Hey you.”
Loki was glad that the mission was relatively successful. He was glad that they’d done it and that he’d been the one to go. Despite the somewhat depressing results, he felt like it was worth it. But it had left him a little winded. Not physically winded. Emotionally. For the most part, Loki tried not to form an emotional attachment to the other versions of himself he came into contact with across this vast and unexplainable multiverse. He was even cautious not to get too close to Sylvie, Baby Horns, and Alligator Loki. And they weren’t really him. Not exactly. But the last few experiences had really hit him hard.
Supreme Leader Loki who tried to take over Derleth with his martian horde. Vampire Loki with his ever present wealth of feelings. And Professor Odinson, a slightly humbled human version of himself but with all the same zest for life. There was something about each of them that Loki himself didn’t have. Something he envied or admired. Something that left him feeling incomplete when he was back in his own body.
The truth was he liked Professor Odinson. He could tell that beneath the clandestine lies and the trickery, he was a good person. He hadn’t felt that with the other Lokis. The others all fell on the spectrum of chaotic neutral. They were looking out for themselves, as most Lokis did. As Loki himself had always done. But Professor Odinson’s motivations, albeit complex, were, at their heart, more altruistic than selfish. And it pained Loki to think that this version of himself was going to die screaming in terror.
So, Loki did something that he didn’t tell Doctor Strange or Wanda or Mobius when he returned.
He told Professor Odinson about his fate. Then he crossed his fingers that fate didn’t exist. That timelines didn’t have to follow a single straight line. That this simple human could find a way to survive.
When Mobius entered, Loki was lying on his back with his legs up in the air against the wall of the practice room. He idly turned his upside down gaze towards the door. The practice rooms weren’t that large. Enough for two—maybe three people—so long as none of them had a tuba or an upright bass. Loki had claimed this practice room for himself and, as far as he could tell, he was the only one who used it. Not for music, of course. Although he occasionally hummed to himself. Mostly this was where he went to—cry, scream, break down—think.
Why did it not surprise him that Mobius would figure that out?
Mobius. Mobius. Mobius.
“Hello, Mobius,” he said.
Luckily, Mobius lacked a tuba or a bass - it was just him, actually, a different sweater (this one was more of a lighter blue that matched his eyes, that shade of the moon and the stars) but the same person beneath. He stepped further into the room and knelt to be more on level with Loki, chuckling fondly as his hands cradled the other man’s cheeks - it was an upside down kiss that Mobius gave him next, a gentle one. Gentle like those moments right after the rain ended, or a summer breeze - that sort of thing.
The way the tip of his tongue traced Loki’s lower lip was also gentle, but maybe a little shiver-inducing too. At least, it was for Mobius.
“I won’t stay long if you want to be alone,” he assured. “But I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing after everything - which, that was probably tiring? Good though. You all did good.” He was proud - it was nice to see a positive bit of teamwork, since it seemed like not a lot of that happened. Not very often, anyway.
Loki watched Mobius approach with a cautious, curious eye. He still hadn’t quite had the time to process the Pandora’s box he’d opened by spending the night with him. Not that he had regrets. He didn’t. Loki enjoyed the time they’d spent together in Mobius’s office. But it hadn’t occurred to him until later, in the moments before Wanda and Strange were about to perform their magic, that his timing might have been incredibly difficult for Mobius. Natasha had been right, after all. That experiment hadn’t been without risks. Something bad could have happened to Loki. Loki could have found himself trapped in another universe. He could have died—for real this time. He could have been replaced permanently by another Loki. Or Derleth itself could have taken revenge and done something worse.
Were all of those thoughts going through Mobius’s mind while Loki nonchalantly allowed two other magic users to mess with his mind? Was that selfish? Inconsiderate? Unkind?
He’d mocked Bucky’s advice and his attempts to help him, but Loki knew in his heart that he spoke the truth. Loki had to be more conscious of the feelings of the people who cared about him. He had to be better about showing his concern. He had to learn to open up. Really open up.
Mobius kissed him. And Loki felt a flutter in his belly. Anticipatory desire. Did he have to speak his emotions? Couldn’t his lovers just sense his feelings? His intentions and his pleasures? Couldn’t they simply know?
“You can stay,” Loki said when Mobius pulled away from the kiss. He wanted another—wanted to feel that similar shiver electrify his spine and stir his soul—but he resisted the urge to drag Mobius down to the ground with him. Now was perhaps not the best time. “I’m fine. Just a little foggy in my thoughts.”
Loki carefully lowered his legs and sat normally, resting his back up against the wall. “I don’t often perform magic with others. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.”
Which was Loki’s subtle way of saying that he’d enjoyed the collaboration, but was afraid to admit it.
He settled next to Loki on the floor, a mirror image, back against the wall - though Mobius couldn’t seem to keep from touching him. Which was why he reached over and carded his fingers through Loki’s hair; Mobius was drawn to him. There was always this desire to be close - and they’d shared so many types of intimacy. It was in Mobius’s nature, he was discovering, to want to find it again.
To want to ignite fire in his veins. All this desire, this passion, it bubbled up the base of his spine; to feel the temperature gauge crawling toward rupture.
“It sure looked really impressive,” Mobius grinned. “I was definitely worried about you going in there - mentally, I mean. But you were right - it was a good idea even if it was risky. Sometimes risks need to be taken anyway, for payoff.” What he personally happened to be good at was analyzing those risk factors, which was important - and they’d done that. They’d prepared - that was why the shielding happened, the protective runes at the scene. No one had gone into this all willy-nilly.
His fingers slipped down, a swoop, scratching behind Loki’s ear and further where his neck and back ran together, that knot at the top of his spine. “How was the other you? He was doing okay?”
It was a little uncomfortable for Loki to receive this kind of physical affection. He liked it, of course, because Loki lived for attention. But it felt foreign. Unfamiliar. When he was younger his mother made sure to give him warmth and affection. Odin was unsurprisingly aloof. But as Loki got older a distance grew between himself and others. He was so focused on external successes. On one day being king. On sitting upon the throne. On proving himself worthy of being a son of Odin. Relationships got in the way of that. They were a distraction. And Loki didn’t know if it was because he was born a son of Jotunheim or if it was because there was something wrong with him on the inside, but he struggled to maintain connections with people.
Because people always left. Or Loki was made to feel like he wasn’t important. The runt. The second son. The boy with his nose in books, playing tricks on his brother and his friends. The one no one could trust.
But who made him untrustworthy? Surely Loki hadn’t been born that way.
Or had he?
His shoulders stiffened a little until he got used to Mobius’s attention. Then he inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. It was just affection. This was caring. Concern. This was what Bucky was talking about. This was letting someone see his vulnerable side. Or, at least, part of it.
“Strange and Wanda are competent sorcerers. And they both owe me in a way. I might not trust them entirely, but I had no doubt they would make sure I returned in one piece.” Loki licked his lower lip. Then he placed a hand on Mobius’s thigh. Just touching. Thinking. Trying to understand this tumbleweed of emotions that rolled through his chest. “He was…”
That was a good question. How had he been? He wasn’t vastly different from Loki, but he wasn’t the same. And he processed information in a way Loki hadn’t anticipated. Like a human.
“He was more accepting than I anticipated. And he knew more about me than I expected. He was … a good person. I think. I think I’ll miss him. It would have been nice to have more time together.”
Reading Loki was sort of a tricky thing - it was like learning to read those runes that had been scribed as part of that magic ritual, sure as anything. A language unto its own, really, or like trying to walk a longer stretch with a bunch of books on your head and all of it precariously balanced there - the person Mobius cared about was a force of nature, he realized that. He’d probably have better luck reading a flood.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he knew what he was doing.
Not wanting to smother him, he simply dropped his hand to rest on Loki’s that he’d placed on Mobius’s thigh, loosely linking their fingers together. “No, they wouldn’t have let you get hurt there,” he agreed, referring to Stephen and Wanda. Mobius wouldn’t have let that happen either - he’d tear the place apart himself, honestly, before he let anything happen to Loki. He was only human, sure, but he was his own kind of force of nature.
“And he sounds interesting - I wouldn’t have guessed that there was a version of you out there who was a college professor. I bet if there was another me he would have been intrigued,” Mobius laughed a little. But - there was always another Mobius too, wasn’t there?
That was the point. The point of them.
“I really hope it gets better for us all here soon. I’m doing my best. And I got one of the TVA’s reset charges - figured comparing what it does to what the resets do here will be useful, even though it was revealed that the TVA’s reset charges just kind of transfer everything in the vicinity to the Void.” Nothing was actually reset, but it was a piece of tech that would prove to be a help so he’d take what he could get.
When Mobius placed his hand on Loki’s, Loki was quick to entwine their fingers. That was an easy start for him. That was a place he could comfortably show his affection without coming off as a man desperate for physical comfort. He was, of course. Perhaps not desperate, but the craving was still there. Midgardians didn’t always understand. But when someone lived as long as Loki did, behaviors were different. Philosophies on touch and pleasure and relationships were looser. Because time wasn’t the same for them. Because they understood on Asgard that the lives of friends—and strangers, for that matter—wove in and out. Most everyone at the Derleth assumed Loki was a bit of a gadabout. And perhaps that was true by Midgardian standards. But he saw it as fulfilling a need. Like waking up and wanting to eat cake. If the desire was strong enough, you did it. The same went for Loki and lovemaking. He would never regret eating cake. And he wouldn’t regret sharing his body. Even if it was just once. Even if there was never anything else behind it. Sometimes there wasn’t meant to be anything more. Sometimes two people were simply meant to share a brief moment of ecstasy together and then move on.
But Loki felt like it might be different with Mobius and so he didn’t want to come off as insincere or that he was only using Mobius for the obvious. Because he wasn’t. Which was mostly why he held his hand.
But also because he wanted to.
Because Loki was nothing if not complicated in his reasoning.
“Well, he wasn’t just a college professor,” Loki corrected. Professor Odinson had also been a clandestine agent. A spy. But Loki was fairly certain he would have been content as simply the former. “You probably would have liked him. Most people would. Most did in his world. He was very animated. Very passionate about his work. Both sides of his work. But he really was good at teaching. His students liked him. He was … quite endearing actually.”
Loki frowned. He hoped Odinson heeded his warning. He hoped he lived.
But if Loki gleaned anything about an alternate Mobius, he didn’t say.
He gave Mobius’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve done more in the short time you’ve been here than most of us combined. It takes time getting used to this place. There’s a sweet spot between acceptance and fighting that works for me most of the time. I understand that most people want to leave. They have lives to return to. They have journeys unfinished. Stories yet to be told. Sometimes I wake up after the reset and wonder if everyone else is gone. If I’m the last one left.”
And then he’d hear Matt’s neighborly snores and breathe a sigh of relief.
That Loki wasn’t just a college professor? Huh, that was intriguing. Mobius lifted an eyebrow, trying to imagine what else had been happening there - he had been curious about the whole experience, but didn’t have the magic capabilities to join in on the mind-melding. No, he just stayed guard - a sentry, of sorts, ensuring that Loki and the others would be alright.
“I was just telling Stephen that I’m not trying to send people back or stop the whole experiment,” Mobius said, fingers of his opposite hand caressing over Loki’s knuckles. “I’m just - trying to help, I guess. It wears on you, all of this.” The whole general everything - the mind fuckery and the feeling of being caged in, snared in a trap, and the endless cycle of resetting and thriving and dying only to repeat the whole gamut of experiences once more.
Really made you feel as if nothing mattered - but that was a trap too. Mobius refused to let go of what actually did matter.
He leaned his head back against the wall, lashes fluttering closed for a moment. “I’d hate to wake up and be the only one left. Don’t want to lose you either.” They weren’t guaranteed anything, so he supposed all they could do was make the most of the time they did have.
“You won’t be the last one left. Not if there is any truth to the things Michael has been telling everyone this week.” Ah, there it was. There was the rub. Loki had been quick—almost from the very beginning actually—to dismiss Michael’s truths. But that didn’t mean they didn’t stick with him. That didn’t mean that Michael hadn’t succeeded in getting under his skin. He had and it irked Loki more than anything to admit that. Because he should have been made of stronger stuff. Michael wasn’t much different than him, after all. Not when everything was broken down to the basics. He was a trickster. He was mischief. He was here to upset the already delicate balance of things. He was here to cause unrest.
And he had. He’d been quite successful at that actually. And even though Loki saw through his game from the very beginning—or, at least, thought he did—he still fell victim to the man’s words. Because they did hurt. And they did strike deep.
“He confirmed that the dead would remain the longest.” Loki paused. “And he said that I would never see Valhalla.”
And that’s what stuck in Loki’s craw the most. Because his mother had promised him a seat in the Great Hall with his father. With her. With all of the warriors who’d fallen in battle. He belonged there like any other true Asgardian.
But Michael reminded him that Fandral had just returned from Valhalla. And Loki hadn’t been there. And if everyone’s stories still continued outside of Derleth, then, despite the fact that he had yet to experience it in his timeline, Loki should have been in Valhalla with Fandral. With his mother. With his father. But he wasn’t.
He was here. And only here.
The guy - demon, fire squid, whatever - said what now?
Oh, that made him mad. That fury burned like a whole forest fire.
“There’s no way he could know that’s true, Loki,” Mobius insisted. “He doesn’t know a darn thing about Valhalla.” That wasn’t even ‘Michael’s universe - his religion, his culture, his anything. Taking the word of some asshole who thought he was omnipotent - no one should think that was in any way advisable.
Mobius turned a little to be able to face Loki better, still holding his hand - Mobius held one of Loki’s in both of his, and his eyes were sincere; he didn’t know much, but he knew this. “I’m sure I can’t convince you - but Michael seems a little bit like He Who Remains. A being who has lived from the beginning of time up until the end - far too much power, a ruler who considers himself lording over it all but forgot what it’s like to live among his own kingdom. That’s not really living at all.”
And it didn’t make him any smarter than anyone else either, certainly not the peons he claimed to be above. “I’m not saying it to blow smoke up your backside or anything, or be fake and optimistic - just objectively. Maybe he also only said it because if you stay on this course you won’t ever think you deserve to see Valhalla, and that’s the key too - I don’t know. But don’t let someone who doesn’t know you here - “ He tapped Loki’s temple, “...or here,” A hand pressed to his heart, and Mobius’s fingers curled inward - as if he could take what beat within. Keep it safe. He would.
“Don’t let them tell you what you’re destined for.”
Mobius spoke with such passion, such determination and veracity, that Loki almost couldn’t believe he was real. It seemed as though his every word and his every belief were made to support Loki. Like he was created for him. Like his entire existence was meant to force Loki to wake up and see the other side of the world he’d known to be true. The world he’d believed and accepted from the beginning. Mobius stepped in and cut a hole in that narrative, peeked through with his piercing eyes, and offered another perspective. A perspective that Loki had always been too blind to see; his vision tunneled by his selfishness and by the misdeeds done against him.
It was hard to accept that someone could feel so passionately for him. And not simply for his physique or his appearance or his power. But for his potential. Only one other person in his life—that Loki was aware of—had been able to see that deeply into his soul. Had been able to see what he was capable of. What he was holding back.
Accepting that people liked him was hard. Accepting that people wanted to be his friend was hard. Accepting that there were those who believed in him more than himself? It actually hurt Loki to think about. Because if someone else could put that much faith in him, why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he see what they saw? What Mobius saw.
Loki’s instinct was to argue with Mobius. That’s what he did. He always fought against everything. That’s what he was good at. Even if he knew something to be true, he sought out the flaw. The fallacy. The argument. But this time he didn’t want to. Because he didn’t want to entertain the possibility that Michael was right. That Loki’s fate was sealed in this existence as it was in the so-called Sacred Timeline. That there was nothing he could do.
“Mischief doesn’t make sense if fate exists,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “You can’t have true chaos in a universe of predictability. If you know the ending, if a person’s destiny is sealed, then chaos is formulaic. Then it’s planned. And if it’s planned then it’s not chaos. It’s not mischief. How can someone be the God of Mischief if everything is ordered? If there’s no room for uncertainty?”
Loki turned in towards Mobius, wrapping his free hand on the one Mobius had placed on his chest, just above his heart. He held it there, pressed it as close to his chest as the fabric of his shirt would allow. Close enough for Mobius to feel his heartbeat, slow but strong.
“You can’t be,” Loki answered his own question. “That’s why I know everything I’ve been told—by you, by the other Mobius, by Sylvie, by Michael—that’s only a small fragment of the truth. It’s not the be-all end-all. It can’t be. Because I am Loki. I am the God of Mischief. I am a harbinger of chaos. And if Michael is true, if the TVA is true, then I wouldn’t be. But I know I am. I may not know all of what I am, but that much I know. That much I feel.”
But Loki was a person who was always being put in boxes. Baby Horns said it that way when they first met and it had stuck with Loki ever since. People were always putting Lokis in boxes. Even Lokis were putting Lokis in boxes. The villain box. The Frost Giant box. The mischief box. The doomed-to-failure box. The necessary evil box. The unavoidable casualty box. The adopted son box. The never-good-enough box. The Sacred Timeline box. All these boxes were hard to escape. And even though Loki knew there was an element of fiction to Michael’s words, it was hard to escape how they made him feel.
Like that scared little boy who never belonged.
“But it’s arduous trying to break away from a life you’ve always believed to be true. Especially when it has been your truth for a thousand years.” And if anyone could understand that, it was Mobius.
Loki lifted Mobius’s hand from his chest and placed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Then Loki turned his gaze towards the floor, blinking away a burgeoning tear in his eye. And when that wasn’t enough, he let go of Mobius’s hand and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
And then seemingly out of nowhere. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about coffee.”
“Only a small fragment,” Mobius agreed. “And all of those fragments - I care about them, but you know that.” And he definitely understood how hard it was to break away from what you believed to be the truth - especially for so long, when it was ingrained in you. Even far past your own marrow, down to the very core of your own being - yeah, it was hard. For Mobius himself, he’d been convinced he was a creation of the Timekeepers - an inhuman meant for the sole purpose of office work. It was downright offensive when he thought of it, downright shameful that he’d believed these lies - but the TVA were really good at what they did. Mobius hadn’t been complicit in anything he did, not even in what he prided himself for - it wasn’t real.
In the heat of the moment, he’d broken away from all of it. Ripped off the bandaid and torn himself asunder - but he lacked the time (ironic that he needed it now more than ever) to really process what that meant or recognize how difficult it truly was. So he understood. That was why he knew it wasn’t too late to change, ever, but it didn’t have to happen overnight either. It couldn’t - that wouldn’t be real either.
He reached over to swipe his thumbs over Loki’s cheeks so he wouldn’t have to use his sleeves - a moment where he was vulnerable, fragile as the hazy wisps of some far-off dream you clung to in the last vestiges of sleep. But then Mobius mentally switched gears from that - he sounded amused when he finally spoke up. Coffee - they were talking about coffee. “Honey, what?”
Again, the little touches. The gentle brushing of thumbs over small glistening tears. It was like observing an unfamiliar ritual, recognizing its purpose, but not really understanding. It almost made Loki jealous which was ridiculous seeing as how he was the one on the receiving end of the affection. Jealous of anyone else who’d ever experienced this small kindness. And a little jealous of the Variant. Again. Because he too must have been a recipient of Mobius’s calm. His attention. His love. He must have been. And while Loki claimed he could share, he didn’t know if he could with himself. Even if it was absurd now. The Variant wasn’t here. It was just…
… him.
“After we—” Loki cut himself off because he didn’t know how to refer to that evening without sounding either crude or detached. Even ‘our night together’ felt a little too romantic for the emotions he was feeling. The ones he still hadn’t managed to decipher. “I asked someone for advice about what the next appropriate step on my part should be. I didn’t want to appear too demanding. But I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression either. I was told I was supposed to ask you if you wanted to get a coffee.”
Now that he said it out loud, Loki felt like a fool. He sounded like a lunatic.
“But I didn’t. Instead I allowed Doctor Bloody Strange and the Scarlet Witch to transport my consciousness across an inter dimensional plane and into the body of a Loki with no powers.” That definitely made him sound crazy. “Without thinking of how that action might have hurt those around me. And for that I apologize.”
Which reminded Loki that he needed to apologize to Natasha as well. But she already had the best coffee machine in Derleth. He’d have to come up with something else instead.
Mobius blinked. Loki really thought he needed to apologize for what they had spent a couple of days planning? For what they knew was going to happen?
“It wasn’t like you surprised me out of the blue with deciding to transfer your consciousness,” Mobius pointed out. “It was your idea and we talked about it beforehand and I was the one who suggested Stephen and Wanda to help too.” Honestly, it was kind of funny - adorable, really? Out of all the things to say ‘sorry’ for - this was what was happening right now. “While I appreciate you recognizing that people care about you and that communication is a good thing - I also recognize that you’re an intelligent adult who can make your own decisions.”
Not like he was a person who needed to be treated with kid gloves in that regard, and if anyone else did? Well, they were kind of ridiculous and probably not worth the brain cells and anguish anyway. Loki maybe should find a couple friends who didn’t require constant reassurances.
As for the other part of that, the coffee-after-sex part. Mobius would address that also. “I really - liked that?” he chuckled sheepishly, turning a little bit red; his cheeks flushed, and it was suddenly a lot warmer in here. “Spending the night with you, I mean. I’m also not sure what’s appropriate or who defines that, but - can’t go wrong with coffee.”
He leaned in, looking down through the curtain of his lashes. “You could kiss me too, if you want.”
Loki just stared at Mobius. Stunned into silence, really. Was this man real? Surely, he couldn’t be. He wasn’t upset? He wasn’t going to yell at Loki? He didn’t think an apology was necessary even though Loki might have eternally trapped his consciousness in some other dimension leaving his lifeless body behind, incapable of resetting?
It was almost a full minute before Loki blinked.
“Are you truly incapable of saying anything wrong?” And for a brief second Loki wondered if his mother was watching him from the meadows of Fólkvangr, laughing at him. Politely laughing, of course. Pleasantly. With that knowing mind of hers.
Loki wished she had been more specific about what she saw in his future. Then it would have been much easier for him to accept these confusing feelings he had. And he could also be more certain that he was making the right decisions.
Then Mobius expressed his contentment over their night together and while Loki wasn’t surprised—of course not, he was an accomplished lover!—there was something in the tone of Mobius’s voice and in the rosy chagrin of his features which told Loki it was more than just the obvious that Mobius had enjoyed. Granted, when Loki thought back to that night he was met with all the insipid little slip-ups he made. The hesitations. The over caution. The internal worry. Those could have been enough to ruin an evening. But they hadn’t.
Mobius leaned in. And Loki kissed him before he could finish his sentence. He clasped his hands on either side of Mobius’s face and held him still while he brought their lips together. Impatient and impassioned. And when he finally did let go he remained close, lips moving against Mobius’s as he spoke. “I liked it too.”
Loki kissed him again. Quicker this time. A playful peck. Then he pulled back, a smug grin on his face. “Would you like to get a coffee with me sometime?”
He sighed into that kiss, into Loki’s mouth - not like Mobius had any other experience that he could recall, but kissing Loki specifically was an experience unto its own. The temperature of his skin, maybe, had something to do with it - the way it generated heat, like stepping into a tub of warm water and yet Mobius still felt the chill, cooler air moving over the surface of the water. It was a dichotomy he was really coming to appreciate.
His fingers stroked through Loki’s hair again, and Mobius added another kiss - this one lighter than snowflakes. “I would like that,” he said, returning the grin. “Maybe we could go now? It’s coffee time a little late in the day, but...”
There wasn’t really a bad time for it. Something sorta peaceful. He liked being lost to the dregs of a fiery inferno, the grinding together, the two-into-one duality that was all diamond fire, but simpler moments were nice too.
That was easier than Loki had anticipated. It embarrassed him then to think that he’d been worried about how Mobius would respond. Of course Loki wouldn’t have insulted him by messaging too much or too quickly. Of course he wouldn’t have been upset if it took Loki three days to talk to him. Because Mobius understood Loki better than Loki probably understood himself. Mobius had dedicated most of his life at the TVA to knowing the ins and outs of the God of Mischief. He’d seen Loki’s pain, watched his sorrow, reviewed his successes and his losses. And he’d come into contact with so many versions of himself. He’d seen all the permutations, all the differing versions, all the choices.
So it stood to reason that Mobius would know that the day after would be challenging for Loki. He knew that Loki would struggle with what to do and how he felt. Because Mobius knew Lokis. And he knew this one most of all.
Loki’s smile changed as Mobius’s fingers stroked through his hair. He lost that infuriating smirk, his expression calming to something softer. Smoother. Almost adoring. He turned his head to the side, leaning into the touch in order to feel those fingertips against his scalp. Loki didn’t want coffee. He didn’t want tea or green beans or anything. He just wanted Mobius to keep touching him. To make him feel alive.
But Loki knew his possessive nature. And he knew how easily he could fall into the trappings of his own mind. He didn’t want to ruin this. He wanted to be a Loki who could appreciate happiness and not turn into something dark and obsessive.
“We can go now. And maybe if we’re lucky we can find something to go with it.” Loki shrugged. “Something other than shrimp and beans, that is.”
“Please,” Mobius groaned hopefully - it was amazing how long the week felt when you only had, technically, one thing to eat. At least other weeks, there happened to be more choices involved. You could wander into the cafeteria and cook up all the stress cheeseburgers your intestines could handle.
But it was just another thing to fork with them - so he couldn’t be too surprised. Apparently there was talk of a communal dinner or something, where everyone could share what they had, but he was certain Michael would find a way to ruin that as well.
Moving to stand, he held out his hand for Loki to take - not like he needed any help getting up, but oh well. It was basically an unconscious gesture on Mobius’s part. “If I never see a shrimp again it will be too soon.”