Loki (fiorvalr) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-03-03 16:25:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, marvel (tv/movies): loki laufeyson, ₴ inactive: mobius m. mobius 2, → week 032 (dungeons & dragons) |
D&D | DAY 1
Definitely no one Loki would tie himself to. Then again he was confused about where the entire wife story came from. Truth be told, he wasn’t holding his liquor well. It seemed his Jotunn abilities and powers were completely gone. Including, sadly, his body’s naturally speedy metabolism. Needless to say he was going to regret it in the morning.
Take that back—he regretted it now.
He wobbled on the cobblestone streets, hooves clip-clopping as he swayed from one side to the next. Loki wasn’t uncomfortable being in an animal form. He’d practiced numerous animal forms over the course of his lifetime—snakes, lizards, cats, horses—so this was nothing new. Hel, he’d spent almost a year in horse form once. Granted, that wasn’t something he was looking to experience again. But he could handle one week.
It would just be one week, right?
His stomach churned and his head spun. He wanted to gag, but he was an equine. He couldn’t vomit. All he could do was wobble unsteadily on his gangly legs.
And people were watching. Irkalla shopkeeps and residents peered out their windows to get a glimpse of this rare sight. Unicorns weren’t exactly an everyday occurrence. And that should have been Loki’s first indication that it probably wasn’t a good idea for him to be wandering about in the open. Had he not learned anything from his altercation in the alfalfa field? Apparently not. But he wasn’t alone now. He had Mobius. Right?
Loki turned his head from one side to the other. Where in the world was—
Oh! There he was!
Loki nudged his muzzle against Mobius’s shoulder. But then something strange happened. Just like when Loki had hiccuped in the tavern. Loki sneezed and—POOF!—they were in the Green.
Loki let out a shocked neigh. Then he stumbled and fell over into a patch of clover. “Mobiussss. It hurts.”
Holy hell.
It had taken a couple of doses of magic whatever up various sleeves to be able to find Loki - and some asking around, because apparently there was a door on campus and various dials corresponding to different locations in the city and, well, alright. Mobius could handle that part. But what he took issue with was waking up someplace entirely unfamiliar, scrambling to find his bearings, scrambling to check on the people he cared about, confused and disoriented and still feeling the electric shock of variant Loki’s dagger slipped between the keyboard of his ribcage -
Only to discover that Loki, a unicorn (Lokicorn?) was already completely shithammered and had somehow made his way to a tavern, alone, and was paling around with the locals by singing bawdy tunes.
It wasn’t too surprising, it was just - a lot. Mobius needed a minute, yet it didn’t seem like he was going to get one. All he could do was square his shoulders and figure out how many bells and whistles were on this sorcerer’s light armor before he was off to the tavern, apparently located on Alchemy Row. Loki (not his lover Loki, the other Loki) had given him some tips about the uses of magic so Mobius was confident he wouldn’t somehow accidentally light himself on fire - though his particular flavor of magic tasted metallic and had a certain luster to it behind his eyes; to be honest he was kind of excited to try it out, beyond the ring he’d managed to enchant for Loki to take on this little unicorn issue.
As soon as he felt a horse muzzle against his shoulder he turned, then was unceremoniously dropped into the Green - the clover looked like broccoli, or lumps of spinach, but at least they were outdoors. “Okay, can you just - hold still. Hold still, honey,” he was swaying too, but that’s because they’d gotten here via drunken unicorn farts and really, this would happen.
Loki continued to lie in the patchy clover grass, but he wasn’t exactly still. It had been a really long time since he’d been drunk enough to feel this level of drum beating in his brain. He barely had any sense of which way was up and which way was—Wait. This wasn’t the corridor. Or the tavern. How had he gotten there? And where was the city? Where was that funny halfling? And hadn’t Thor been there as well?
He reared his head up, legs running but going nowhere (because he was down on his side,) and then he slumped again. Even if he could stand, he’d probably just break his legs trying to walk. Maybe that’s why they’d magically arrived in the Green; someplace safe and familiar. No unsuspecting cracks in the cobblestones for his hooves to get caught on. No thieves or villains who might jump out from a dark alley and trap him with their tricks. That must have been the unicorn’s natural instinct. Self-protection. And bringing Mobius along for the ride? Also self-protection.
When Mobius instructed him to be still, Loki let out an exaggerated neigh. Like a child fighting against his bedtime. And every time he shook his head, that horn, which was covered in blood from the alfalfa encounter, came dangerously close to accidentally stabbing Mobius. Until eventually Loki was just too damn tired to make an effort.
And he stilled himself.
“What are you going to do to me? Just get rid of the headache, Mobius. And my stomach. I think I’m dying. I can’t survive this! It was that barbarian! I just know it. He must have poisoned the ale!” He exhaled a grunting snort from his nostrils. “I don’t want to die again…”
Drama queen, through and through.
Honestly, it was like tripping acid - and Mobius had never actually done that (he couldn’t recall it, anyway) but he imagined that ingesting shrooms or rolling on ecstasy in a nightclub with the neon flash of UFO lights illuminating sweat-soaked skin really wouldn’t be much different than watching an actual unicorn roll around in a patch of grass. Definitely something one might hallucinate while under the influence.
“Maybe if you hadn’t imbibed a trough full of ale straight off,” he huffed, and while he wasn’t surprised he definitely wished they could have checked in with each other (because new rooms? And Eliot was with Loki? New rooms, new group bathing arrangements, new ‘how the fuck are we supposed to get in and out of these doors’ questions?) and figured out the nuances of this world together but apparently that was too much to ask.
He was just - real damn cranky about it. And still reeling from their adventure on the Desolation, both of them fighting their other selves in a knock-down, drag-out brawl to the death.
“You’re fine though. Here - “ Mobius wasn’t sure where to put this ring, but he settled for slipping it over the tippy top of Loki’s horn and sliding it down, before holding the glittery bloodstained mane and leaning in to plant a kiss on the tip of his lover’s nose. This idiot. “That ring should do it.”
“I was distraught!” Which, of course, was no excuse for not immediately seeking Mobius out and making sure he was okay, but Loki didn’t always process logic in a linear manner. Perhaps that, in a sense, nullified his reasoning as logic at all. But the truth of the matter, his matter anyway, was that those last few minutes before the reset had been traumatic for him as well. And not just traumatic. There was the overwhelming fear of what might happen to Mobius combined with what happened—what he saw—when he collided with his variant.
He didn’t know if he was going to wake up in his own body that week. Well, technically he didn’t. But he didn’t know if he was going to wake up as himself at all. There was a moment when they connected, a blinding flash, when Loki felt his soul being tugged from his body. Likewise, he felt something similar coming from his counterpart.
And then he woke up looking like this.
He woke up already feeling hungover. The memory of his death—Thanos’s fingers cracking his windpipe—woven alongside what he saw in that split second enchantment with the variant. If he could have, he would have thrown up on his bedroom floor. But he couldn’t. And then he saw what he was and he bolted.
The tavern just offered a coping mechanism that was more appealing to Loki than bawling his eyes out as a horse.
But now that he was lying in the grass, he did feel bad. Guilty. Like a horrible person. But that’s because Loki was afraid. Loki was always afraid. And it was easier to run away from fear than to face it straight on.
The magic took a moment to work. Thankfully it was a seamless process. No breaking of bones or contorting of limbs. Once the ring was slipped over his horn, a bright glow spread over him, and a few seconds later he was himself. Well, not exactly himself. He looked like Loki. Same face. Same features. Same physique. Even his hair was that same sable black. But there was something shimmery to his eyes and his skin. Cheeks speckled in what could best be described as glitter freckles. Irises were a much more vibrant shade of blue, like the reflection of the sky in a lagoon on a hot summer’s day. Even his lips had a rosier sheen to them. Like he was a much more ephemeral version of himself.
And he was also naked, but that was something else entirely.
Naked aside for the ring on his finger.
Loki blinked a few times and looked up at Mobius from the grass. He wanted to vomit, but he held back the urge. “You couldn’t have made it a necklace? People are going to talk.”
“You’re treading on thin ice, buddy.”
Mobius whooshed out a breath, falling to the grass to sit and finally, hopefully, get his brain to stop scrambling itself in his skull. The sudden unicorn teleportation hadn’t helped, let’s just say. Loki being stark raving naked didn’t phase him, nor was that the unexpected part (because, what, like he’d just turn back into a human-shaped form automatically wearing pants?) - but mostly he just struggled to keep a lid on his boiling-over pot of emotions and figure out a place to start in terms of how they were going to deal with all of this.
Maybe ‘all of this’ wouldn’t even be too catastrophic. He could hope - even if hope was always tremulous, fragile as a far-off dream.
Well. First things first. “Do you want me to grab you some clothes?” he asked. “Or...I don’t know. Everything’s different about our rooms and you’re a horse and I have magic and I’ve been sorcering for awhile, apparently, but it still feels new and weird.” Everything felt weird. He wasn’t sure if he had the mental fortitude for this week but then again, he doubted he had much choice in the matter.
Loki hadn’t intended to cause insult to injury, but negotiating close personal relationships wasn’t exactly on his list of positive attributes. He was getting better, yes. But just when it looked like he might finally cross over that wall he’d been climbing—the one that was a barrier to him being a better version of himself—something happened to knock him back down. To drop him back to square one. Like an evil, more confident version of himself coming into his world and threatening to destroy all of it. Just thinking about it caused something in the back of his head to hurt. Like he was being jabbed with the dull point of a normally sharp blade; aggravating and persistent. But maybe that was just the drink. Too much drink.
Glossy eyes looked down at the ring on his finger. It was a simple band. Nothing about it was very Loki. No frills. No ostentatious coloring. No garish stones. Plain. Simple. More like the Loki who had been buried beneath the lies and the illusions. More like Mobius. He mocked it out loud, but in truth he liked it. It gave him a strange tingling sensation in his chest. He appreciated it for more than its magical purpose. Even if it did feel like it crossed a level of intimacy that Loki hadn’t expected to cross.
Certainly not as a horse.
He rolled closer to Mobius and rested his head in his lap. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. Derleth already knew most of his deep, dark secrets. Why not lay the rest of himself bare for anyone passing by to see? His nakedness was the least shameful aspect of himself. In fact, Loki was always much more exposed with his clothes on. It was easier to see his weaknesses when he wore an illusion.
And so he ignored Mobius’s question. Or maybe he didn’t hear it. His thoughts were jumbled, crisscrossed in sorrow and grief and reprieve. Mobius was still here. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t left him. Derleth hadn’t taken him away.
Loki brought a lazy arm upward and tried to half wrap it around Mobius’s waist, but it fell limply over his leg instead.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you. I was so…” Afraid. “I failed you last week. I couldn’t protect you. And I don’t know what I would do if I…”
Loki closed his eyes, trying to ignore the spinning world around him. And when he spoke his words were slurred. “You deserve better. You deserve a better Loki. When I get my powers back I’m going to find him for you. And I will trade places with him… Then you’ll be happy. Then you won’t have to be disappointed in me anymore.”
If Loki wanted to lie naked in the grass, with his head in Mobius’s lap? Well, who was he to stop him? Mobius didn’t really feel like moving anyway - so he stayed, fingers tripping through that mess of dark hair, which definitely seemed to shimmer with its brand new sparkly sheen. Loki was a beautiful unicorn, but he was beautiful all the time - and the way Mobius affectionately stroked his hair hopefully conveyed that, even if he didn’t need red velvet cheeks or eyes bright as a garden of speedwell flowers to be considered as such either.
“Stop that,” he scolded gently. Sitting here still was good for the both of them, because Loki’s head was no doubt spinning and Mobius was already so damn exhausted. But give him a minute to catch his breath, he’d be fine. “I decide what I deserve. And last week was a failure, but not because of you. It was just really hard and that wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
His thumb stroked over the perfect rosiness of one of those cheeks; geez, Loki almost looked cherubic. It just figured. Mobius was a clod of a sorcerer and Loki was straight from a watercolor painting. “Jeg elsker deg. I know you think nothing matters here, but that matters to me.”
It was the only thing keeping him going on some weeks. “I don’t need another Loki either, so don’t get any more bright ideas about trading places.” God, he couldn’t even imagine - it was just drunken ramblings, sure, but the thought still made Mobius’s stomach turn upside down.
But Loki did feel like last week’s failure was his fault. Just as he felt like everything his variant had done was his fault as well. Because he was Loki. They were both Loki. They may not have been the same person, but they had the same tendencies. The same anger. The same hurt. And they both made the same bad choices. The other Loki, King of Space or whatever he called himself, was just a version of himself who didn’t get the opportunity to stop. Who didn’t get the chance to breathe and reflect and follow a different path. Loki could have easily become that same person. It could still be in his future. Because he was still making mistakes. And it shamed him to think that in so many different worlds and timelines he just couldn’t get his act together.
Like this week. Drowning himself in a trough of alcohol to avoid facing Mobius. To avoid dealing with his problems and accepting the consequences of his actions.
He sighed when he felt the fingers through his hair and the gentle brush of nails against his scalp. He still felt like the world was spinning, but if he focused on Mobius’s touch he could almost ignore that swirling nausea in his stomach and the queasy vertigo in his head.
“You’re wrong,” Loki whispered against Mobius’s thigh. “I do know that things matter here. I know that everything matters. Surviving matters. Not dying matters. Friendships matter. This—”
He held up his hand, his thumb rotating the ring on his finger. “—matters.”
Loki wanted to roll over onto his back so he could look up at Mobius, but he was afraid if he did that he’d be sick. So, he stayed where he was, curled up on his side. “That’s why everything is so difficult.”
It really wasn’t a fancy ring, no. Just something that Mobius managed to enchant - he had enough gold to get it, and he was kind of frantically flipping through the mental pages of an instruction manual with all of the reckless abandon of someone yeeting themselves into the volcano or what have you. Though at least it worked - he had to give himself a little bit of credit there.
Some people were also introspective and really took the ‘downer’ part of the chemistry of alcohol to heart - apparently Loki was one of those people, when he didn’t have his super metabolism to sort of offset the effects of booze. Mobius scritched his scalp a little more, tucking hair behind his lover’s ear. “Just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean we should give up,” he pointed out, and he didn’t plan to. While he had hopes that they could enjoy a relatively relaxing week meant for recovering and soothing frayed nerves that felt raw from wind whiplash, that didn’t seem to be in the cards. At least not right now.
Not too late to turn it around.
“So what do you think we should do?”
Well, to be fair, Mobius had missed Loki’s upper moment with the alcohol. Apparently the high didn’t last as long for unicorns as it did for gods.
“What do you mean?” Loki didn’t understand the question. Or, more accurately, he didn’t understand the context of the question. But his brain was a mush of ale whooshing from one side of his head to the next and he was desperately trying to stay awake and maintain focus when all he really wanted to do was pass out. He didn’t even want to think about how he’d probably wake up with a splitting migraine capable of cutting a cavern through his skull.
He had no idea how humans did it. How did they even survive on a day-to-day basis?
Loki’s forehead scrunched in contemplation, lips pursing into a deep frown as he tried to link Mobius’s query back to some reference point in their conversation.
Everything matters. Don’t give up. This matters.
“What we should do? Like engagement?” And this time Loki did roll over onto his back despite his stomach’s pleas to the contrary. “Are you proposing to me? Is this a proposal?”
What?
No, really, what?
Mobius wheezed - sorry, just. He had to catch his breath because the ground suddenly dropped out from under him and he was falling about eighty stories. “I’m not proposing,” he assured and while he didn’t think that would be out of the realm of possibility entirely, the idea of it happening now when Loki was a literal hot mess, drunk, and a cauldron of bubbling emotions that weren’t being channeled in a healthy sort of way wasn’t exactly appealing.
He still didn’t even know how Loki really felt about him. Maybe there was some clue, given his last words to Mobius before being dragged through a portal by his variant on the Desolation, but that could also have been panic sinking its talons in too. Hard to really grasp for certain.
“You said everything’s difficult, so, what do you think we should do to lessen the difficulty?” he asked. “What can I do? Is this - a relationship where we talk about how we feel and check in with each other about things, or?” Should he even be asking these questions when Loki was three sheets to the wind?
This conversation took a serious turn that Loki wasn’t prepared for. Granted, that was his own damn fault, but he knew there was no way he could sober up quick enough to give Mobius a thoughtful answer. Still, he would try. Because despite his intoxication, he could still hear that instant-angst in Mobius in response to Loki’s question. He felt Mobius’s body tense under him. And he knew that he’d hit a soft spot. Or a nerve. Potentially both.
Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and then slowly sat up, out of Mobius’s lap. He gripped onto the grass to steady himself until he could sit up properly. His head was screaming at that point. It didn’t appreciate the movement, despite Loki’s care to not make any dramatic motions. But once he was sitting upright he crossed his legs, both to give his body more centralized balance and to hide any distracting parts of his naked physique that might minimize the point he wanted to make. Or the seriousness he wanted to convey.
Then he took a deep breath and looked Mobius directly in the eyes.
“This is a relationship where you can say whatever it is you need to say. Where you can talk about anything you need to talk about. You can always check in with me. Just because I’m … reticent to talk about my feelings, doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear yours.” But that wasn’t enough, was it? Not after last week. Last week had been traumatizing on various emotional levels. And simple reassurance wouldn’t cut it.
Loki placed a hand on Mobius’s knee. “I honestly don’t know what to do. I’ve never been in this position before. What would make it easier for you?”
A lot of people said that labels weren’t important, not in relationships, and things should just be all willy nilly and free so as not to impose restrictions - but Mobius wasn’t sure he agreed with that. He needed the label - because to him, a label meant clarity. It meant negotiation, whether it was the terms or boundaries of the relationship - expectations of fidelity or not fidelity, and if Loki wanted to be with someone else Mobius expected him to share that too (conversely, if Mobius wanted that he would also share - he didn’t think he would but he also wasn’t sure what he was wired for so it wasn’t fair to rule anything out). But even if Loki wanted to physically be with someone else, there were other key components of fidelity and Mobius still expected support of him as a person - loyalty to their relationship, whatever they had.
Which - probably needed a label.
“I want to hear yours too though,” he said, fingertips tracing the perfect features of Loki’s face - perfect to Mobius, anyway. “That’s what would make it easier for me. I don’t want to guess about how you’re feeling. I don’t want us to be on the brink of death before you feel like you can tell me - good or bad, I want to know how you feel. Is this a partnership? You’re my partner,” he added, taking Loki’s hand and stroking over the ring.
It wasn’t a wedding ring, necessarily, but it was still a symbol of commitment in a sense. Something Mobius made for Loki, something that said we’re in this together - for better or worse, yes. Because it was them, navigating both the still waters and the storms.
“Are you my partner? Yes or no.”
Well, that sobered Loki up fast.
He tried his best not to allow his features to deceive him. He didn’t want to show uncertainty or fear or confusion—even if he was feeling exactly all of those things—but he didn’t have his illusions. He couldn’t hide behind his glamours or his smug self-satisfied smirks. Of all the weeks for Mobius to ask him to clarify his feelings, this was the one where Loki was the most vulnerable. Because Loki knew he couldn’t hide the fact that this was something that gave him an incredible amount of anxiety. Even if he did know how he felt. Even if he did know the answer to the question. That wasn’t the same as admitting it. Or accepting it.
That wasn’t the same as saying it out loud.
His instinct was to fight it. Why did he have to say how he felt? Why couldn’t Mobius just see it in his eyes? Why couldn’t he feel it in his touch? Or hear it in his tone—in the way his voice always lilted upwards with enthusiasm whenever he was around him. Why did Loki have to share his feelings so directly?
And why couldn’t a ring just be a ring?
A panicked flush swept over his features and he wished he were a horse again. Because then he would run away. Run and run and never stop running. Anything to not have to address the elephant in the room. That Loki knew perfectly well what his feelings were, but he was too afraid to share them. That he was too terrified to change the status quo.
“You do realize I’ve never done this before. What you’re asking is not easy.” Which, Loki assumed, was exactly why Mobius was asking him. It was a test and Loki was probably expected to fail.
Why did he have to ask him while his head was pounding like it was stuck inside a steel drum?
Of course, I am! That’s what Loki wanted to say. Aggravated. Annoyed. Petrified. That Mobius didn’t already know that was offensive. And Loki felt his cheeks warm with anger and frustration. Did no one understand him? The way Sylvie and Loki isolated him. The way Natasha gave him space, barely talking to him anymore. The way Julia kept her distance. The way Fandral had presumed in their relationship. Yes, he remembered. The way everyone seemed to hold him at bay. Had they truly not understood his feelings for them? His affection? His compassion? And, yes, in some cases, his love.
If Mobius, of all people, had to ask then it must have been true.
All this time Loki thought he’d been clear with people. Apparently he’d been anything but.
He frowned. “Yes.” A pause. And because Loki couldn’t help but show at least a glimmer of his annoyance. “Clearly.”
And now he truly did want to run away. At least they were back at Derleth. Maybe he could crawl his way back to his new room.
Basing a relationship on the look in someone’s eyes was how consent issues happened, and Mobius was distinctly trying to avoid those, as well as avoiding making assumptions about someone he cared about a lot because then they’d really end up having a nasty fight or several - they had to be able to communicate to make this work and though it was probably annoying to be asked outright, that wasn’t going to stop Mobius from clarifying. For both his sake and Loki’s sake.
But also, it was obvious no one had ever really asked Loki that before - no wonder he was so confused about it. No wonder it felt foreign and, out of all the masks Mobius had watched Loki try on through observing those time theater reels, never had one of those masks included something like this. Maybe that’s because no masks were required here at all.
“Yes,” he repeated, taking Loki’s hand and kissing the tips of his fingers. Eliot had referred to Loki as Mobius’s boyfriend, earlier, and it had sort of made him think - oh, right. Guess that could be a thing? And he was glad that it was. “Then I think we’ll be okay. Probably gonna get mad at you sometimes - “
Like when Lokicorn trotted off to stick his face into a trough of ale instead of at least saying good morning to Mobius. “And I’m sure you’ll get mad at me. But you also know how I feel about you - and you have a lot of good qualities that are a lot more important than the flaws like being a drunk horse.”
Loki knew he shouldn’t have been so annoyed. He knew this was supposed to be one of those momentous experiences. It was probably even supposed to be some kind of revelation. This was no doubt an event that, if it had ever occurred on the Sacred Timeline, would have surely resulted in his immediate pruning. How dare a Loki form a real attachment. How dare he agree to being in a relationship. How dare he attempt to pursue happiness. And worse! How dare it be with someone from outside the timeline. From an ‘enemy’. From the same person who’d spent their entire life trying to regulate the lives of millions of people.
He shouldn’t have been annoyed, but he was. And while he did his best to channel his obvious vexation, to hold it back because he recognized that for Mobius this really was a moment, it was hard for him to pretend. Because Loki didn’t have anything to help him pretend. He only had his innate abilities to lie and deceive. And those weren’t useful in a situation where he’d just promised to be open and honest. Where he’d promised to share his feelings.
“Well, I’m already mad at you.” Of course, Loki knew he wasn’t really mad at Mobius. He was just frustrated that he had to answer a direct question. A question he’d been avoiding for quite some time. And not just with Mobius.
Mobius was merely the first to trap him into answering.
And sweet kisses to his fingers weren’t going to change the fact that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. Nor would it change how incredibly awkward he felt. Like he was suddenly even less worthy or desirable than he’d been a few days prior. Which was, of course, absurd. But Loki, while intelligent and sharp and witty, never claimed to be rational. Especially not with his emotions. Even less so with his self-image.
“So … What does this change?” Loki’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Mobius sighed. Figures that Loki would take a question about defining what they were to each other as an insult. But he also didn’t want to get bogged down in the label either - that’s not what this was about. “It doesn’t change much about what we do, really, but I just wanted to ask and have the conversation because it’s important to me,” he said. “I don’t - my entire life was a lie. Everything before the TVA made me their puppet was wiped and I don’t have anything for myself.”
Just an underlying sadness, a melancholy that he’d seen in the eyes of his space stone variant also, seconds before he burned up like paper caught in a flame. All of those in the TVA carried that weighty sorrow with them - an emptiness. From Mobius to hunters like C-20, to even Casey in admin. They had nothing for themselves, and Mobius could only claim a magazine called Wake - old and tattered, the magazine he kept at his desk was obviously a fragment of a life long gone. He was led to believe he was a creation of the Timekeepers who just, in fact, developed a fondness for jetskis because Earth culture was hilarious, but what he was really looking at was a piece of what he’d been missing without understanding the full intensity and significance of that longing.
“I’ve never done this before either so - after everything that happened last week, it just meant a lot to be able to say we’re together. And partners. That’s all.”
Mobius was right about Loki. He didn’t understand the need to put a label on things. Yes, perhaps in the long run, if they were going to solidify their relationship with something as drastic as marriage—if they were going to become kings of Asgard—then he supposed putting a label on it made sense. Not so much for them as a couple, but for other people. But Loki didn’t need a special name or word to explain his accord with Mobius. And putting a word to it worried him. Words came with meaning. Labels came with expectations. And Loki was afraid that he would fail to meet those expectations. He had a great fear of failure; one that went back to his childhood. And after centuries of being a disappointment, the last thing he wanted to do was prove once again that that was exactly what he was.
A mistake. A blunder. A letdown.
He didn’t even really know why Mobius liked him. Mobius had tried to explain it on a few occasions, but Loki had difficulty accepting his answers. Because Loki had trouble believing anyone could feel for him the way Mobius claimed to.
“I have always assumed we were together, Mobius.” Maybe not in the way that Mobius wanted them to be together. But Mobius was one of Loki’s closest confidants in Derleth. He was one of the few people Loki trusted. And, for Loki, that went further than a physical relationship. Because that was something he didn’t give to a lot of people. And he could count on one hand the number of people who’d managed to scale that wall with him in his entire life.
Loki’s frown deepened. Had he ruined this for Mobius by being ridiculously upset? Were they already setting off on the wrong foot? Loki, still half-drunk, temples throbbing, sitting naked in the grass while Mobius tried to have a serious discussion about commitment and partnership.
“And now that we’re officially partners, the least you could do is magic me a cloak before I freeze to death.”
Oh, now he wanted something for his naked butt? Not when Mobius asked ten minutes ago, but now? Such a stubborn ass, but by the gods, Mobius loved him. He’d spend the rest of his long life showing Loki that, too.
“I think I can do that for you,” Mobius chuckled, to his partner - it was important to him to define their relationship and sometimes you did things that were important to your partner if it meant something to them. Mobius was a very ‘shit or get off the pot’ kind of person, and once he’d crawled out of a thousand years of being lied and forced into eternal slavery he didn’t want to self-sabotage what could potentially be good for him after all of that nonsense.
But alright, magic - he squinted, shifting to sit up and let his hands touch a particularly soft patch of clover. The greenery was soft and there was a brassy sort of glow to his skin and to the magic that he reached down into his being and called upon, following the tips given to him - he relaxed and let it happen, letting it unfurl, and the chiming of the clock in the distance was a sound that was comforting to him. It meant permanence. Time ticking on, as it always did - as it inevitably would.
The clover transmuted into a cloak - green, Loki’s favorite shade. A deep emerald shade. “How’s that, elskan mín?”
Ten minutes ago Loki was one breath away from a drunken stupor. Now he was shocked into sobriety and felt as though he’d been stripped emotionally bare. True, he hadn’t really admitted anything of his feelings to Mobius. Not really. Not in so many descriptive words. Nothing flowery or poignant. Nothing more than he had already alluded to in the time they’d spent together. Loki—he of the bold expressions and the broad soliloquies—had very little to say when it came to the actual depth of his feeling. Which, perhaps, in its own way said more about how much he felt than any combination of words could properly convey.
But just because they had a word to describe their relationship did not mean Loki’s fear of failure went away. Or his nervousness about expressing himself. Of laying his truth out in the open. If anything, this clarification with Mobius—this intimate pact—made those things worse for Loki. And he only hoped he didn’t ruin things simply by trying too hard not to ruin things.
He watched closely as Mobius centered himself and conjured his magic. It was a very moving thing to see after months of knowing the man as human. Not plain and simple, by any means, but not significant on the list of incredible abilities. On a team of superheroes, Mobius probably would have been picked last by sheer fact that he didn’t have super strength or the ability to turn into giant green monster or a natural inclination for archery. And now, two weeks in a row, Loki had the opportunity to witness Mobius (or a version thereof) perform an astounding bit of magic. Beautiful magic, really.
When the cloak was finished, Loki wrapped it around himself. The color draped over his light, slightly shimmery skin in perfect complimenting contrast. His color.
“I love it,” he said, his tone dropped to a coy whisper. And he did love it. Just as he loved the ring. Both simple. Both nondescript. But both made for him by someone special. Someone incomparable. “Thank you.”
Loki leaned forward and placed a tentative, almost shy kiss to Mobius’s cheek. “Sadly I have nothing I can give you in return. But perhaps I can find something suitable this week. As long as no one else tries to kill me.”
Mobius grinned a bit, easygoing and crooked - like maybe he’d smiled that way once upon a time before, with beach breeze ruffing his (probably blonde) hair. Breeze that tasted of coconut and salt and freedom - he wished he could remember what it was like, but this would have to do for now, when he turned his head and captured Loki’s lips. The kiss was gentle and sweet, and he wanted it to be the first of many kisses he gave Loki this week.
Loki, who was a unicorn and tasted a little like sour candy and sparkles and party confetti - but maybe that was Mobius’s imagination.
“Let’s hope not,” he agreed about the killing. “Though I guess I’ll be beside you fighting should that happen and if you find something suitable, I’m right here too.” Not here-here - he knew what Mobius meant though.
It was odd suddenly being on a more self-conscious side of this relationship. Which was not to say that Loki couldn’t be submissive. He could be. And he very often was if the relationship called for it. But he was usually submissive in a very dominant way. Whenever he gave someone else control it was purposeful. Intentful. And he was never completely obedient or passive, because so much of Loki was an illusion. So much of it was an act. And as such when he did give himself physically to another person, it rarely included a glimpse into who he was intimately. Into the kind of person he was on the inside. The real Loki. The one who was capable of feeling hurt or sadness or joy. But in this moment, Loki found himself truly deferential. It was as though the act of legitimizing this accord with Mobius evened the scales of power between them. Because while Loki almost always had the upper hand in strength and magic, Mobius clearly had the lead in emotional intellect and self-awareness. Loki had dropped the act for this conversation. That wasn’t easy for him to do. In fact, it was almost painful. His ego still shivered in response to honesty. But while he felt uncomfortable now, he knew it was the right choice. It was the choice he wanted. The choice he was afraid to bring up himself.
A choice he might not have been able to make if he hadn’t gone through the torment of the last few weeks.
He was surprised when Mobius turned his head and brought Loki’s kiss to his lips instead of his cheek. He blinked, a blip of unexpected shock, before he gave into the kiss. Was it supposed to feel different? It didn’t, but it did have an extra weightiness to it that last week’s kisses didn’t have. Or maybe they were all substantial moments of intimacy and Loki merely hadn’t recognized that.
Or maybe it was just the unicorn in him. That would be an easier explanation, wouldn’t it?
Loki pulled away from the kiss, glossy gaze admiring the color in Mobius’s mustache while he talked about fighting beside him. Loki was only half listening. This day had taken too many unexpected twists and turns. It was draining. Not to mention the fact that his body wasn’t as strong as it normally was. The alcohol and the fight with the strangers in the alfalfa field had taken their toll. He didn’t have the physical strength to handle this roller coaster of events—from unicorn to human, from drunken horse to head-splitting fool, from friend to lover to partner.
Loki’s fingers clenched around the fabric of Mobius’s top, using it to balance himself from falling backwards into the grass. “Take me to your room, Mobius. Take me there and then take me and then say those words you said earlier. The ones you think don’t matter to me.”
Mobius kissed him again - kissed him until he saw burning stars and space debris behind his eyelids, and he was pretty sure he could give Loki what he asked. “Okay, I will,” he promised, holding Loki’s chin and kissing him again - but Mobius had to pull away in order to stand, hands clenched in Loki’s and helping him to his feet. “Let’s go, elskan mín.”
He unfortunately didn’t have that teleporting trick up his sleeve, using the power of unicorn sneezes, but maybe the walk would do Loki good and help at working those human muscles now that he was back in that form and not so equine, with hooves trying to navigate cobblestone - the ladder was also an issue (how he wished he could just fly, or maybe parkour up the wall of doors) but they’d get it done.
And also get it done - which was also going to be a challenge because the beds were narrow, even more so than the twin beds in their previous Butler Hall dorm rooms had been. But maybe Mobius could be the one to magically figure something out this time, or transfigure a surface that was a bit more accommodating - he was determined enough. They both were.
Hopefully Allison was also out exploring. He’d hate for her to walk in on something scarring.
Mobius wasn’t wrong. The walk back to Butler Hall was good for Loki. Fresh air. A little exercise. Granted, a little cold when he only had a cloak to wrap around him, but nothing as chilling as Hoth. But by the time they reached the building, he was feeling woozy again. As expected, the ladder did prove to be a problem and Loki almost fell on at least three different occasions. He even slipped down an entire floor at one point, but thankfully he had some reflexes left. Or were those Mobius’s reflexes? Or his magic? It was hard to tell. Needless to say, it was a journey. An adventure. And by the time they actually reached Mobius’s room, Loki was completely spent.
He also needed a bath, but that was another issue entirely.
The new Butler Hall setup wasn’t conducive to anyone who’d lived during the modern age, but Loki was so tired by the time he stepped into the room that he couldn’t even remember what the rooms used to look like. He’d also completely forgotten what it was he’d enticed Mobius to do to him. He just saw the beds and responded accordingly.
He crawled into one.
Except that wasn’t Mobius’s bed. That was Allison’s.
“You’re lucky you’re short,” Loki mumbled into the pillow. “My legs are too long for this bed.”
Which would have been true if Loki had been lying straight, but he was curled up like a cat, kicking at the sheets to get his legs under the blanket. And after about thirty seconds, he gave up and passed out, feet twisted in the comforter.
And he was out out. No force in Derleth would have been able to wake him from this sudden state of unconsciousness. Not even True Love’s Kiss would have nudged him out of his slumber. But a bit of magic might have been useful in ceasing those exhausted horse-like snores. Especially if Mobius’s roommate came back.
To be honest, Mobius was dubious about these plans of Loki’s actually coming to fruition - mostly because he was drunk as hell, and while he may have used the walk over to their new living facilities and the puzzle of the ladder as a way to sober up, Mobius wanting to give him a sobriety check to make sure he wasn’t drunk enough to consent was very much a thing.
Though apparently it wouldn’t need to be a thing - because Loki had already flopped onto Allison’s bed (which was now going to smell like a drunk unicorn, how fabulous - what did a drunk unicorn smell like anyway? Cotton candy vodka? Definitely that).
“I’m not that short,” he huffed and, hell, he’d turned around for two seconds. Then turned back - and all of a sudden he had an immovable mountain, a dainty five-hundred pound (or however much Loki weighed - it was a lot even if he didn’t look it, thanks to the dense physicality of his likely-Asgardian genes, they never knew who his biological mother was) person to deal with. “Loki, really - you couldn’t have picked my bed, at least?”
Mobius groaned under his breath - nevermind. He’d just give Allison his bed for the time being, and find someplace else to sleep. Probably the very edge of the tiny mattress, where Loki wasn’t hopefully going to decide to starfish . But that didn’t stop him from taking his pillow and thwapping Loki on the head with it. “Jeg elsker deg,” he said, even if the dumbass was practically in a coma - but, well, Loki asked him to say it so he did. Too bad he wasn’t awake to actually hear it.