Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’ve just got to be patient.”

Loki gave Mobius an exasperated look.

“I don’t have patience,” Loki rolled his eyes, “I’m a god, you know. It’s part of the job description to be given whatever I demand, as soon as I demand it.”

Mobius chuckled to himself and took another bite of his apple, having removed it from Loki’s tray the moment they took a seat at the small, uneven table. They had decided to let the variant out of his cell, so long as Mobius kept him close with the collar on, and it seemed Loki had taken it upon himself to make that particular task irritatingly difficult.

The cafeteria was quiet, as it usually is. Only three other TVA members are seated inside the hall and neither pay any attention to the two men sitting together.

They made an unlikely pair, he mused- a bureaucrat, and a prisoner. One polished, the other unkempt. One composed, one openly frustrated. Peace and chaos.

“Well, maybe it’s about time you learnt to have some,” He winked at the scowling face.

Loki sniffed dramatically, leaning back in the plastic chair with his arms folded across his chest. He tugged at the metal collar around his neck, wincing as the constant weight bit deeper into his already tender skin.

Mobius looked away, a small flush of shame on his cheeks. He knew the importance of keeping Loki, the variant, contained, but even after the short amount of time they’ve spent together, he’s begun to pity the great god of mischief.

Mobius seemed to view him as utterly powerless. A tiger caged. A snake defanged.

But Loki had other strengths, not just his magic. That thought alone was just enough to keep the rage at bay. 

I don’t need his pity, Loki seethed internally, but I will relish the day he comes to realise how much he underestimates me.

“If we don’t figure out where the variant is hiding soon-”

“What are you gonna do? Are you going to use your powers and break out of here? Kill us all? I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going anywhere,” Mobius gestured to the device firmly secured around the variant’s throat.

Loki glowered, hands curling into fists.

“You’d be the first one I’d kill.”

An empty threat.

Mobius let out a soft chuckle.

“If you’re somehow able to escape,” he said, the mischievous glint in his eyes expressing how much he believes this to be an impossible feat, “I’d give you a free shot. Sound good?” 

His prisoner scoffed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re an arsehole.”

“It’s ass hole.”

And he snapped.

The boiling fury overflowed and drowned any voice of reason he had left.

Loki lunged forward over the table, shoving the stacks of files and food wrappers onto the tile floor. He reached for Mobius’ arms, digging in sharp nails and pressing their faces inches from each other.

A moment too slow, Mobius reached for the button to the shock-collar, only to be pinned to the floor, still sitting in his overturned chair. The god of mischief knelt over him and forced the bureaucrats’ arms above his head, a wicked grin spreading on his face. 

“Do you think I care?” He hissed between clenched teeth.

His hair brushed Mobius’ cheek, his scent of spices and berries intoxicating. He could feel the agent's breath ghosting the tip of his nose, his pulse a steady thrum under his fingers.

He looked up at the other TVA members, who were slowly approaching. One quivered in fear, clearly contemplating making a run for it.

He chuckled darkly, looking back at Mobius, expecting to see fear, or anger, or both. Instead he was met with a gaze that was mostly curious amusement, and an indecipherable emotion dark in his eyes. 

Loki growled in frustration. Does nothing I do shock this man? He huffed as Mobius smirked, before leaping off him to busy himself with peeling an orange that he plucked from the table beside them.

“Finished with your little temper tantrum now?” came the voice from behind him, the older man’s amusement barely concealed. 

Loki gazed steadily at the propaganda poster on the wall, long fingers peeling the fruit of its skin, before turning around with a breathy chuckle. He grinned down at the disheveled man on the floor before he replied. 

“A god does not have a temper tantrum, you clearly haven’t done as much research as you claim. No, I was merely testing your reflexes. You must be aware and ready at all times if you are to stay with me, for I am not powerless, though you have taken my magic and continue to restrain me like a dog,” he sniffed for dramatic effect before continuing, “you failed, by the way.” He finished by perching on the table and sucked loudly on an orange slice.

“You’re right.”

Loki’s head snapped back to Mobius at his words.

“No, no, you’re absolutely correct. I should have been more prepared, I won't underestimate you in the future. Thanks for picking me up on it.” 

Mobius got up from the floor, but he didn’t look sorry or scared.

“As for you being restrained like a dog, I think you’ve just proven why that’s necessary.” He picked up the remnants of his salad pot before walking towards the door, snapping his fingers at the shocked Loki to follow. 

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The razor bit into Mobius’ skin, the shallow cut bringing a smear of red across his cheek. He hissed, wiping the blood away with his hand. Shaving is unwise, it seems, when you are distracted.

He leaned on the counter and studied his appearance in the mirror. His hair, usually meticulously styled, was disarranged from running his fingers through it too many times. Stubble covered his cheeks and the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes were beginning to look more like bruises. 

He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Or fourty-three hours, which is precisely the time that he’d been kept awake by the incessant pestering of Loki. It seemed he never ran out of energy, always bouncing about, running ideas and schemes, hands moving faster when he got excited about a particular plan. As knackered as he made him, Mobius grudgingly thought there was something endearing about the Asgardian, a side to him that was hidden by the controlling persona he put up for the rest of the world. 

The God of Mischief.

The very same god who jumped him at lunch, relatively unprovoked. He’d admit that he’d made some unnecessary remarks, but none that hadn’t been made before, and certainly none that warranted such a response. There must be something else-

Mobius shook his head, as though he could physically dislodge the thoughts within.

Loki's reasoning doesn't matter - his feelings don't matter. He is a prisoner. And as his keeper, I should let him be pruned for merely defying me, let alone assaulting me. I should be objective. Unbothered.

But I’m not.

I care.

Mobius continued to muse about the variant, pondering the discomfort that Loki must have felt from the heavy collar, from the thin and scratchy uniform, from the unease that he must have felt being at the mercy of the TVA. He thought about his breath on his cheek and his strong grip on his arms as the god knelt over him. He thought about the shine in his long dark hair, begging for him to run his fingers through-

His breath hitched and he flushed bright red at the intruding thoughts, splashing his face with cold water to bring himself to reality. Reality of the TVA. Reality of his job as an agent. Reality of the importance of finding the missing variant. People have lost their lives at the hands of this Loki, and he’s stood here over-analysing a small, inconsequential moment.

It seems that the god of mischief isn’t so powerless, after all.

Chapter Text

“I’ve received word from above that the variant has struck again.”

Mobius got up, sighing as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Where and when?” 

Loki jumped up from his seat opposite Mobius’, keen to show his usefulness. After spending a few weeks at the TVA (or what felt like weeks - time was a bit wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey here) he had begun to relax slightly, enjoying the smile his partner gave him after he did something helpful.

“Has anyone died? Can I come? I can be useful, I swear.”

B-15 narrowed her eyes at him. He poked his tongue at her. She scowled and looked away. Loki 1 - Hunter B-15 0. 

Mobius just smirked at Loki’s enthusiasm, 

“Woah, calm down, chipmunk, there might not be anything there for you to do.”

He felt his heart skip a beat, and he felt his ears go pink. Weird. 

“But you need me to find the variant, you said so yourself. I might notice something you mere mortals missed.” 

He hurried to catch up with Mobius’ strides.

“I don’t doubt you have a better understanding than us, but it’s probably a quick pit stop. You might get bored with us ‘mere mortals’”

Loki forced down a scoff. Nothing could be more boring than spending all day in the TVA archives. But he didn’t say that. He just kept silent, occasionally smirking at B-15.

Eventually, they arrived at the preparation room. A few soldiers stood to attention, already in their gear. Mobius picked up his pruning stick from his locker as B-15 began yelling the mission status. 

“We picked up traces of the variant in a coastal town of Southern California, 1987. It's likely they’ve already left the scene, but we gotta keep our guards up. This variant is more powerful than any we’ve come across before-”

At this Loki didn’t bother holding back a dramatic scoff, earning an amused glance from Mobius and a smug look from the commander. 

“- it will be quick, in and out. If you find the variant, shock them but DO NOT prune. Mobius’ orders.” She made it clear with her tone she wasn’t happy with the arrangement. 

Mobius just gave her a friendly grin and closed his locker, about to turn around when he came face to face with Loki.

“Do I not get a weapon?” 

He looked into the others eyes, taking in the bright blue imploring him to agree. 

“You look like a puppy,” he murmured, before he could stop himself.

He watched with fascination as the tips of Loki's ears turned pink and he dropped his gaze, a moment later standing up straight with his iconic smile.

“It will do you well to remember, Mobius, I am more dangerous than a puppy.”

They had gotten closer, Mobius’ back brushing the row of lockers, noses almost touching. His gaze flicked to Loki's lips and back again.

“And as you said, trust is for dogs,” he pressed the tip of a knife to Loki’s chest, before spinning it round and handing him the handle, “So use it wisely, Puppy.” 

And with a wink, he walked through the portal, leaving a slightly breathless God with a bemused expression, alone. 

Loki shook himself and followed after the others, appearing on a completely different scene. 

Stepping through he could feel the soft breeze, the heat warming his pale skin, the sound of the waves softly crashing on the shore. But what caught his attention was his partner. He stood looking at the sea with an almost wistful expression upon his features. The wind ruffled his silver hair. Loki stepped next to him, silent for a few moments. They both watched two men on jet skis race each other across the blue ocean. 

“Why don’t you have a quick go?”

He watched the corners of Mobius’ mouth quirk up.

“I don’t remember B-15 mentioning it in the brief.”

“She wouldn't know the meaning of fun if a massive sign was pointing at a playpark. She’d probably blow it up thinking some dangerous, less-great version of me was in it. Actually she’d blow it up if she thought I was in it. She hates me for some reason.” His pout died with the sound of Mobius’ surprised bark of laughter. 

“You should be flattered, I think it's because she’s intimidated by you.”

“As she should be,” he said proudly, “I am pretty terrifying.”

“You keep telling yourself that, tiger.” Mobius replied teasingly, turning and walking down the pier, not seeing Loki freeze for a moment, before grinning slyly.

He had a plan. A mischievous plan. With a flick of his hand he created a duplicate of himself, casting a critical eye over it to check for any out of place details.

Perfect as usual, he thought, and, with a quick hop, he scampered down the pier towards the town.

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“There is no sign of variant energy, ma’am.”

B-15 glared around the beach, “Report back then,” she barked, turning on her heels before stopping sharply at the beeping coming from her device. “Variant energy detected, down by the seafront! All soldiers down there, now, now, now!”

Mobius watched the troops run along the pier, and he cast a quick eye to find Loki. There he was, still looking at the sea. 

Useful my ass. 

He shook his head and ran over to him.

“Come on, Loki of Asgard, you’ve yet to show us mortals your magnificent skills,” he went to place a hand on his back, freezing as it went right through the man. 

His heart hammered in his chest as he realised what had happened. 

“Oh shit.”

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During this time, Loki was grinning mischievously, bouncing through the empty linoleum aisles with the energy he gets only when going rogue. The thrill of doing something of your own free will. He skipped gleefully out the shop- mission complete. In the distance he could see his agent (his? Since when was he his?) and he called out to him, waving to get his attention.

As Mobius turned, he noticed a tension about the mortal. His mouth was a tight line and his eyes blazed as he got closer. 

“What's happened? Did you catch them? I thought you could do it without me seeing as they’re obviously inferior to-”

“Be quiet.” Mobius’ voice was low and strained. He grabbed Loki tightly by his arm and dragged him, stumbling, to the portal.

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked, teeth gritted with the pain from Mobius’ grip. 

Mobius didn’t reply, just continued marching back to the TVA. Something about his tone of voice kept Loki quiet.

When they got through the portal, Mobius continued his march until he threw Loki into his office, watching the god crash into the desk and turn around to face him, confusion and annoyance clear on his face. 

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Mobius, are you annoyed at me?”

He watched the older man pace around before he stopped at his desk, gripping the back of the seat. Eventually, he met eyes with him, and Loki was made momentarily speechless at the emotion there; anger, mostly, but also disappointment. Betrayal. 

He felt his heart drop. He’d made Mobius disappointed. If it was anyone else he wouldn’t care, the betrayals too numerous to count, but the way he was looking at him made him want to fall to the floor and beg for forgiveness. Only to benefit his long term plan of course.

Finally, Mobius spoke.

“You ran away. You tricked me. I trusted you, and you turned that back on me.”

His voice was steady, but Loki could see the amount of hurt on his face. He felt small.

“I didn’t realise- I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to, what? Didn’t mean to cast an exact replica of yourself? Didn't mean to run off doing god-knows what at god-knows where? Didn’t mean to leave me without any hint as to where you were going? The variant could have been out there, B-15 was ready to prune you, you were messing up the timeline without a care in the world.”

At this Loki snapped. 

“Oh , I’m sorry for messing up your precious timeline just by existing, I’m sorry for trying to do something nice for you, i'm sorry for-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mobius held up his hands to silence him. “What do you mean ‘for me’?”

He huffed, and sat down, crossing his arms and pouted.

“It was going to be a surprise. I might not give it to you now.”

Mobius put his hands on his waist and raised his eyebrows. Like a moody toddler, Loki picked up a bag on the floor and made a fuss of slowly pulling out a magazine, before handing it over. He studied his face as he read the title, watched his eyes go wide, and mouth drop open in disbelief, then change to a smile of astonished amusement. 

“You ran away from us to buy a… jet ski magazine?”

“Well I needed to go to the shops to get some hair products anyway, I don’t think I can cope with your 3-in-1 gloop any longer,” he sneered at Mobius’ smirking face. “And I obviously didn’t buy it, I just saw it and realised I couldn't spend another day watching you read the same one for the 3,000th time.”

There was silence after this with Mobius chuckling at his speech. He felt a warm glow in his heart. 

He wanted to make him laugh.  

Before, he would have killed anyone who laughed at him, but with Mobius, it seemed as though he was laughing because he accepted him, rather than mocked him. He cleared his throat to stop his thoughts progressing anywhere else. 

“Well, I accept that as an excuse, but if anything like this happens again I won’t be able to stop B-15s actions against you. Also, this is against all TVA rules, which you would know if you paid attention to the lessons-” 

Loki was about to protest, but was silenced once more by Mobius.

“- but it was your first outing and I shouldn't have expected the God of Mischief to be an expert on the rules. To make up for it though, you can fill in the paperwork. Ravonna wants some old files to cross-check something, this is your chance to prove you can be trusted. Okay?”

Loki perked up at the chance to prove himself trustworthy, and nodded, deciding not to mention the dress and nail polish he had also “bought” from his little expedition. He quickly followed Mobius down the hall.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here we are,” Mobius rapped his knuckles on a thick, steel door.

The hollow clang echoed loudly through the empty hallway. The light above them swung gently on a faint breeze, the amber glow brightening and dimming as it moved back and forth. 

Dust covered the floor like a thin grey blanket. It was obvious that visits to this hallway were minimal, and it occurred to Loki that if Mobius were to be leading him into a trap, it would be a long time before his body was discovered.

He shrugged off that thought with a quiet chuckle. If Mobius was going to hurt Loki, he would have done it a long time ago. He didn’t seem annoyed at the magazine anymore, and he thought there was trust between them now, even if they weren’t entirely comfortable with each other. 

Mobius turned the stiff handle and pulled the door outward, groaning softly under the weight. The light from the hallway barely penetrated the pitch black closet. He paused at the threshold, reluctant to risk the variant locking him and running off if he went in first.

There had been several chases, some consecutive and others spread apart. The last escape attempt was not even an attempt to escape, which could suggest another was due.

Though, Mobius had to admit that not all of these instances were purposeful. Loki had a habit of getting distracted and walking off or getting left behind. But he wasn’t going to take any chances.

He trusted Loki in many ways, but he couldn’t be too complacent. 

“After you,” he gestured into the dark room beyond with an impish smile.

Loki rolled his eyes and then his shoulders, relaxing his muscles. He assumed that Mobius wasn’t very fond of the dark.

“Are you afraid that there are ghosts in there?” Loki asked with a smirk

Mobius snickered and gestured with impatience.

If I have to go first, then so be it, thought Loki as he pouted mockingly.

He wasn’t afraid of the shadows, after all he’d spent most of his life living in them.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

He stepped forward with caution, fumbling blindly for a cord or switch to turn on the light, but his hands remained empty. He stretched out his arms, sliding his feet across the concrete floor to avoid obstacles.

Mobius stepped in behind him, letting go of the door. 

It immediately swung shut, sealing closed with a resounding snick.

Mobius turned, trying to push the door open, but to no avail. They were locked in.

The room held no light, not even a glow through the seams of the door. The darkness was opaque.

“Mobius?” Loki called, tentatively. 

He meant to sound confident, but he couldn’t help the way his voice shook. There was no reply, and Loki’s unease grew..

Mobius was too busy concentrating on finding his way across the room to the light switch to respond with more than a hum. His fingers trailed along cold, metal shelves and wooden cabinets. The dust settled over his fingertips and he had to pause several times to wipe them off on his blazer.

Meanwhile, Loki’s apprehension started to rise.

Time seemed to stretch and slow as the quiet persisted. Every moment that passed felt warped and elongated. 

A muted ringing began in his ears, desperately trying to fill the chasm of silence.

The darkness started to move in front of him, undulating and pulsing as if it were alive. Loki staggered forward on trembling legs, frantically reaching for something to hold onto, something to tether him to reality and stop the descent into feverish desperation.

His body felt distant but heavy, a weight moving through a dense liquid.

He was unravelling.

The shadows smothered him, pressing closer and closer, ripping at his hair and clinging to his clothes. They were the cold caress of a valkyrie down his spine and the burning acid pouring down his throat. He gagged, clutching at his neck as he struggled to breathe.

The darkness in his lungs pressed painfully on his chest, gathering around his rapidly-beating heart and squeezing.

His breathing grew faster and faster and he sank to the floor, tipping back his head as though it could clear a way for air.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. 

Mobius, unaware of the god shattering into splinters on the ground by the door, finally found the light switch in the corner of the room. He flicked it on and the light bulb above blinked into life, bathing the small space in harsh, white light.

The shadows vanished, ripped from Loki’s lungs and burned into nothing. But the panic remained. The bright light stabbed into his eyes. The cracked, mustard walls began to close in, the ceiling plunging down.

He was going to be crushed alive, compressed into nothing but blood and dust. 

His eyes snapped shut, fingers tearing at his hair. His chest heaved as he forced in gulps of air.

Loud, rasping breaths alerted Mobius to the man in distress on the floor at last. His pulse raced as he hurried to Loki’s side and lowered himself to the ground next to him. His hands fluttered as he debated physical comfort, but was concerned that it would make things worse.

“Deep breaths, Loki,” Mobius said, firm but gentle. “Here, breathe with me. We’ll get through this together.”

He took in a long breath, before exhaling slowly. He repeated this several times, but Loki didn’t seem to hear him and continued to tug at his hair until the scalp beneath turned red.

Desperate, Mobius grasped Loki’s hands, carefully untangling strands of his dark hair and entwining their fingers together instead, clenching his teeth at the pain of the ferocious grip.

Loki stopped breathing altogether.

The soft warmth seeping into his hands was a lifeline cast into the void of his mind. It acted as a tether to the world, dragging him back into his exhausted body. 

The walls no longer pushed in, the ceiling remained high above. The light was bright, but not overwhelmingly so. The ground stopped rolling underneath him. The ache in his chest ebbed away as his pulse slowed.

“I’m here with you,” Mobius murmured, relief washing over him.

Loki opened his eyes, locking gazes with Mobius, and he realised-

This was the first time that he had seen even the slightest bit of fear in Mobius’ expression.

His pounding heart skipped a beat.

“I’m here with you,” Mobius repeated, barely above a whisper.

Loki closed his eyes again and rested his head on his knees, letting his shoulders droop. Fatigue wilted his body.

They sat in silence for a while, their breathing in sync. Eventually, Loki loosened his grip on Mobius’ hands.

“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

Loki opened his eyes. He shook his head slowly, not yet ready to talk. His mouth felt full of cobwebs, his tongue heavy in his mouth and his bones were like lead. The energy had drained from him, leaching into the concrete below.

“Okay,” Mobius said, “You take as long as you need. But I do have some bad news.”

Loki stared at him expectantly, struggling to concentrate.

“Well, we’re locked in here.”

His eyes grew wide, the pale, blue iris almost white underneath the fluorescent light. 

“We’re trapped?” He rasped.

His mouth was so dry, like he’d eaten chalk.

“Yes. But,” Mobius offered a reassuring smile, “B-15 should return in a few hours to check on our progress, and probably check you haven't murdered me, so we’ll just have to hang on until then. In the meantime, we can have a look through these files like we came here to do.”

“Wonderful,” the ghost of a smile appeared on Loki's pale face.

Mobius released Loki’s hands, stood up and brushed the dust off of his trousers.

Loki was startled. The absence of warmth left him feeling strangely unbalanced, as though he was missing a piece of himself. 

No longer able to keep still, Loki began to chew on a fingernail. He watched as Mobius walked to a cabinet, opened it up, and carefully removed a large stack of folders. He then placed it in front of Loki, before taking a seat beside him.

His legs folded beneath him and their knees brushed together, making Loki’s ears turn a faint shade of pink.

The pair worked in comfortable silence, pouring over the files and papers, looking for the article Renslayer wanted. They only paused to adjust their seating position, or to confer about a particular article. The only sounds were the rustle of papers and Loki biting his nails.

After about an hour, or thereabouts - time was not so linear, and therefore could not be precisely measured - Loki finished reading one of the more useful pieces of paper, and leant over to Mobius to share it.

They were not, however, as far apart as Loki had assumed. Throughout their time in the cramped room, the stacks of files growing around them had led the pair to unknowingly position themselves closer and closer to each other. This ultimately led to their foreheads colliding as Loki misjudged the distance between them.

They both winced and laughed, Mobius rubbing the pain away.

“I didn’t realise how close we’d gotten.”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Mobius. You haven’t been able to keep your hands off of me all day,” Loki smirked.

“Of course I haven’t, kitten,” Mobius murmured, “You’ve been such a good boy today.”

The tips of Loki’s ears turned scarlet, and he looked anywhere but at Mobius’ smug face. The cracks in the wall paint suddenly seemed so captivating.

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Look me in the eyes and say that,” Mobius challenged, laughter in his voice. 

Loki met his stare with a defiance that immediately dissolved into amusement, and something else. Something that made his heart leap and his stomach knot. It made him want to drown; drown in those crystal blue eyes and search for that light that burns within. How a person could be so bright inside continued to baffle Loki. 

Enthralled by the softness in Loki’s eyes, Mobius leaned closer until their foreheads touched, until all he could see was vivid blue-

A loud clunk interrupted the silence.

The pair sprung apart, Loki jumping to his feet. He offered a supporting hand to Mobius, averting his gaze with a sheepish expression. Mobius accepted and allowed himself to be pulled upwards.

The door opened with a metallic creak to reveal Hunter B-15 in the hallway.

Loki dove out of the door, shoving past B-15, and sprawled out on the floor. 

“Freedom, sweet freedom!” He cried, splaying his arms wide

“On your feet!” B-15 yelled and thrust her ret-can towards the variant. 

“Wait, it’s fine, leave him be,” Mobius said, “We’ve been locked in there for quite some time, he’s just happy to be out.”

B-15 lowered her ret-can, but remained wary of the god lying on the ground.

Mobius quickly snatched up a few files to look into further and turned off the light, hurrying out of the door in case it locked him inside again. As Mobius exited the room, Loki brushed himself off, coughing as a cloud of dust formed around him.

Mobius laughed.

“Let’s go get something to eat and go through these,” he said, holding up the documents.

Chapter Text

Loki and Mobius sat alone in the library, all the other TVA members seemed to leave as soon as they arrived. Perhaps they weren’t in the mood to overhear yet another argument, or to listen to Loki running about and wreaking havoc.

A pile of folders was stacked in between the pair on the table, but Mobius was the only one who had any interest in them. He leaned back in his chair with a thick file in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. His eyes moved rapidly across the pages, absorbing the information at top speed.

The pair had been tasked with analysing the movements of some variant, as they had been ordered many times before. Mobius found the repetition to be soothing, monotonous work was simple and comfortable.

Loki, however, found it to be tedious.

Upon discovering the different forms a coffee could take (especially those with sweeteners, flavours and cream), they gulped down three cups and promptly fell asleep at the desk.

They hunched forward with their head resting on folded arms, breathing deeply. 

Mobius sighed. Despite favouring routine, he was starting to feel bored. There was little information to be found, no pattern to uncover or puzzle to solve. The silence was growing intolerable, so much so, that Mobius even missed the god’s incessant chatter.

He was tempted to wake Loki up. After all, they were both told to look through the files, not just Mobius. 

He was about to give the god an "accidental" nudge with his foot when something prevented him. Gazing at their face, he realised how peaceful they looked when sleeping. The laughter lines were smoothed out, their eyebrows no longer furrowed with concentration, just smooth, milky skin with lips slightly parted. Their dark curls tumbled down their cheeks, shiny and silky, framing their sharp cheekbones. They looked fragile, something to be protected and cherished. 

A scared little boy. 

Beautiful. 

Mobius had watched them grow up, watched them laugh and cry, watched as they tried to prove themself. He also watched them try and destroy innocent people in search of power, laughing as they begged them to stop. But right now, all he could see was a misunderstood person, and he was suddenly struck with the feeling of trust. 

Loki trusted him. 

Trusted him enough to sleep alone in his company, vulnerable and easy to prune. Not that Mobius would do that. Even the thought of doing it made him shiver. But perhaps that was because he trusted them too. 

Despite everything he has seen from Loki's past and future, every attempted escape and betrayal, he felt a pull towards the chaotic being in front of him, a desire to let his guard down and spill his darkest thoughts and questions, knowing they'd agree with him. He couldn't help this hunger, it infected his behaviour, telling Loki things he shouldn't, allowing them too many chances and opportunities, when any other prisoner would be reset. 

Mobius flicked his stare back to the paper when Loki stirred slightly, mumbling nonsense in their sleep. 

They trusted each other. And perhaps that made this Loki even more dangerous than the variant. 

Chapter Text

Loki awoke, yawning loudly and stretching like a cat in their chair, and glanced at Mobius. He hadn't even looked at them. They leaned back and flicked a dead fly along the files, making it clear that they weren't doing the work. Still no reaction. They tried tapping their fingers and singing an old Asgardian song to the beat, but still the agent's gaze was fixated on the files. Loki was about to give up singing until a TVA worker in the aisle behind shushed them.

Slowly they turned around, a cunning smile growing on their face. 

This should be fun. 

They cocked a patronising eyebrow at the worker, put their finger on their lips, and released an obnoxiously loud shushing sound. The guy stood shock-still, and felt the only appropriate reply was to shush the god back, in a louder and longer fashion. They continued in this way for a while, Loki getting up and stalking closer to the poor man as they got more and more frustrated. By the time they had gotten face to face with him, and given one particularly threatening shush, the man had run away with a little squeak. 

Mobius watched this facade with little concealed amusement, his eyebrows getting higher as the scene became more and more ludicrous. Loki, seemingly pleased with their small show of dominance, flipped their hair out of their face and sauntered back to Mobius. When they noticed he was looking, they flashed him a confident smile, making the agent's stomach flip, and flung themself onto the chair. There was silence as they studied each other's faces. Loki's smile dropped to something of dissatisfaction. 

"Well," they said, "are you going to say something?" 

Mobius gestured with his hands wide, "What do you want me to say? I've just witnessed the god, who claims they're the superior variant, have a shushing fight with some poor lad trying to do his work!" 

He let out an incredulous laugh and turned back to the files, knowing this would rile his partner up. 

As predicted, Loki scowled and crossed their arms. 

"How you can sit there and act suprised is beyond me. All this work is so boring. Don't you get bored?" They stretched their legs under the table, ankles brushing the other mans. 

"Maybe a small-brained being like you doesn't have it in you to be bored, but, alas, I was born with an incredibly high IQ, and so am forced to endure this torture."

Mobius had stopped suddenly at the contact, the feeling of their bare skin leaving him breathless for a moment. It took him a few moments to process what Loki had said to him, but before he could reply, the god had leaned closer, face a few mere centimetres away. He was once again temporarily paralysed by them. 

"Don't you ever get tempted to leave?" 

He watched their mouth whisper these words like honey, a smile tugging at the corners. A well-versed temptation. 

Two can play that game. 

Mobius leaned even closer. 

"The only thing tempting me is right here," he murmured, noticing the faint surprise in Loki's eyes. 

He waited a moment, breath ghosting the tip of their nose. 

"And that's the well earned lunch break I'm about to take." 

He stood up suddenly and gathered the files, missing the flash of disappointment on Loki's face. They quickly recovered and stood up to face him.

"You can't seriously be tempted by that pathetic excuse of a lunch? I've seen raisins less shrivelled than the salad you eat. On Asgard, it wouldn't even be considered as food for the prisoners."

Mobius cut in before they could continue. 

"Yeah, yeah, my food choice sucks and your world was so much better than this. Now come on, Princess, time and tide and wilted salad wait for no man." 

They started walking out of the library.

"Don't call me princess." Loki said in a small voice, but their face was hiding a smile as they obediently followed Mobius to the cafeteria. 

Chapter Text

"So really, when you think about it, it makes perfect sense!" Loki finished with a dramatic stretch of their hands, drawing attention to the box where an attempt at explaining one of their many failed plans had taken place. 

Mobius looked in dismay at the remnants of some leaves floating in vinegar. 

"Right,but what doesn't make perfect sense is why you had to ruin my lunch to explain that." 

This clearly wasn't the reaction they wanted. 

"It was ruined anyway." They crossed their arms, then looked at the floor. "Sorry," they mumbled, quiet enough that Mobius thought he'd imagined it. 

He was so surprised at this that he glanced up at the gods face, noticing an un-Loki-like expression.

They were worried. 

He changed his tone to put them at ease. 

"Don't get me wrong, I love your enthusiasm- heck, I could do with some of that! But maybe tone it down on my lunch in future?" 

Loki smiled a genuine smile at the praise and watched as Mobius dumped the ruined salad in the bin. 

"Anyway, maybe you were right." 

Loki cocked an eyebrow in question. 

"It was already ruined." He winked at them before making his way to the vending machine. 

Loki strutted behind him. They were confused at the way they felt. It had been a joke, certainly one of the tamer pranks they'd played over the years, and yet the moment after they'd done it, Loki felt shame. Regret, even, worried that they'd been the person to cause the dismayed look on the agent's face. Which was ridiculous, of course, why should they care if Mobius' salad was slightly soggy? It was just a salad. 

They watched him play with the vending machine, tongue poking out between his lips as he squinted at the options. Loki saw Mobius’ expression change to delight as a thud came from the bottom drawer. 

"You okay, salad murderer?" Blue eyes bored into them, shaking them out of their staring. 

"Yeah, just planning more ways to murder your hideous lunch," they replied, nonchalantly. 

They felt their heart miss a beat as Mobius laughed. 

Stop it. 

"Shame, I was about to reward what I thought were your innocent intentions." The older man held up a red packet. 

Loki narrowed their eyes at the unfamiliar object. 

"What is it?" 

Mobius put a hand to his heart, feigning wounded. 

"See, this is why you're so annoyed all the time, you haven't lived. They're maltesers." At their blank expression he continued, "A candy. It's chocolate with, like, a crispy inside. Try it." 

He held out the packet. 

Loki hesitated, instinct telling them not to, before picking one and taking a small nibble. They closed their eyes as the sweet velvety substance melted on their tongue, a small groan as they popped it all in their mouth. As they opened their eyes, Loki noticed Mobius looking a little flustered. 

"Enjoyed that I'm guessing?" 

Loki nodded their head feverently, reaching for another before they stopped and asked for permission with their eyes.

"All yours," Mobius chuckled as he handed over the bag, smiling as he watched them eat another in small bites, savouring the sweetness. Their pink tongue poked out, licking the last remnants of chocolate on their pale fingers. 

Wonder what else that tongue could do. 

Mobius startled out of his thoughts, feeling the heat rise. Where did that come from? He'd come to care for the god, sure, but desire? Lust? These things were new to him. 

His eyes ran down Loki's slender figure, noticing how the shirt fit snugly against their strong chest, sleeves rolled up to show powerful forearms. There was no denying they were well-built, and yet they also moved with the grace of a dancer, their hands able to wield a sword or a fine paint brush. It was something Mobius had always admired about them, the way they could flit from gentle to fearsome. 

Beautiful. 

He really needed to stop this. 

Although, he supposed, there was no harm in recognising that from an objective perspective. Anyone could see how ethereal they really were. Most of the time Mobius was fine with this, although he'd recently caught himself spending more time in the mirror before going out to meet Loki. And he often felt strange when around them, a mix of peace and excitement, their presence and smell and laughter intoxicating, eyes bright but with a lingering sorrow. And this was scary. Uncharted territory. Wrong. 

"It is a crime that you kept this from me for so long." 

The deep voice knocked Mobius out of his spiralling contemplation. 

Loki noticed he was looking at them. 

"What, have I got malt-teaser down me?" 

They spun around looking for the offending item, not realising B-15s presence until they were face to face. They both froze, eyeing each other wearily. Loki popped a malteser in their mouth and crunched slowly. B-15s left eye twitched at the noise. Mobius felt it was time to intervene.

"Okay you two, God, you're like siblings." 

At this, B-15 gave an affronted sniff. 

"You shouldn't be giving them chocolate, Mobius, they'll be wreaking havoc everywhere," 

"They've been good, they deserve a treat." 

Loki beamed at the praise. 

She wasn't convinced. 

"Anyway, I came to inform you of a new variant energy, a minor one like you requested," she made it clear she didn't agree. 

"What does she mean, you requested?" Loki asked, turning to their partner. 

Mobius gave him a knowing smile, "I thought it was time to try you on a mission again, somewhere you can't sneak off for a magazine." 

They turned their nose at the accusation, but he could tell they were pleased. 

"Your loss, Mobius, your loss." 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I have the target in sight! Eleven o’clock!” A hunter barked.

The target in question was slowly meandering through the snow to the train station, a suitcase in each hand and a trilby hat perched atop their head. The variant was dressed in a thick black coat and grey trousers. The shine of their russet shoes reflected the soft glow of the golden streetlights, placed sparingly along the road through the woods. Snowflakes adorned their silhouette, thick flurries that grew increasingly heavier with each howl of wind.

The hunters had been ordered to track down the variant, appearing at a nexus event in Norway, where an avalanche crushed a hotel and killed thirty-two people inside. The variant was supposed to be the thirty-third death, but they had decided to leave the night before to avoid the incoming storm. A wise decision, but, thanks to the TVA, ultimately made no difference in their fate.

Mobius shivered, his teeth chattering. He tugged a pair of gloves onto his numb hands. Loki, unaffected by the cold, hesitated a moment, before conjuring a long, blue scarf and shoved it towards the agent, staring in the other direction to avoid eye contact. 

Mobius gave a grateful smile in return, already feeling warmer with the knowledge Loki cared about him. Even if it was just to kill some space lizards in the end. He trudged behind the hunters. His breaths puffed in clouds before his face, and his nose was beginning to run.

Fortunately, the variant was captured quickly, secured with handcuffs and shoved through a portal ready for their trial. One by one, the hunters took out their tempads and returned to the TVA.

Mobius brought out his own, but the screen slipped through his shaking fingers and fell to the floor.

A crack froze Loki in his tracks.

“Did you just-”

“Yes,” Mobius sighed as he retrieved the damaged tempad, “It’s broken. We won’t be able to use it to get back.”

Loki’s eyes grew wide and panicked as he faced Mobius. 

“The hunters should return soon when they notice that we haven’t arrived with them,” Mobius reassured him, burying his own apprehension.

“And what if they don’t?”

“They will. You’re valuable - you’re useful. And I’m not exactly dispensable.”

With a dubious look, Loki folds his arms.

“What do we do now? We’re in the middle of nowhere and I refuse to get on a train full of humans,” he pouts.

“There’s not many options, puppy. It’s the train or the hotel, but if we stay at the hotel, we’ll have to leave by morning, or we’ll be crushed.”

As soon as Mobius finished his sentence, a fierce gust tore through the trees. The icy wind bit at his face and the snow began to fall heavier. A branch cracked nearby, plunging to the forest floor.

“The storm’s picking up,” Loki observed, feigning nonchalance, brushing snowflakes from his hair. “We should go to the hotel. Or wait for them to pick us up here. How long till they notice we're gone?"

Mobius shrugged and pulled his coat tighter around himself, not just for the cold. 

“I don't know. They'll sort out the variant first. It shouldn't be too long till someone notices we're missing. They have to give their work to someone. ”

Loki smiled and inched closer to Mobius. 

Together, the pair trudged up the gravel path that led to the hotel. The building was grand, covered in twisting vines and patches of dark moss. The sound of a violin poured from the open windows on the ground floor, it’s sweet melody merging with the deep bass of a cello to create a merry composition. Astilbes of multiple colours lined the foundation of the building, their petals torn and scattered from the frosty gales.

The large, glass doors were difficult to open against the wind. Once inside, Mobius slowly thawed.

A fire burned in an ornate fireplace, warming the reception room. The chandelier twinkled in the orange glow. The plush, red carpet quieted their footsteps as they walked around the finely decorated seating area. 

Loki sauntered up to the receptionist and leaned his elbows on the mahogany desk.

“We’d like a room for two people, please,” he said, flashing her a smile.

“Certainly, sir. Do you need any help with your luggage?” She replied pleasantly, her brows drawing in a confused frown when she noted a lack of suitcases beside Mobius, who stood slightly behind Loki as he admired a small bonsai sitting on a side table. 

“No, thank you. I think we’ll manage,” Loki laughed.

The receptionist told them the location of their room and handed over a key. She directed them to the restaurant in the next room for a hot meal.

Loki gave the key to Mobius, who shoved it in his pocket.

The pair walked through the restaurant doors to their left and waited to be served.

The restaurant was quiet. Only a handful of guests were spread across the tables, of which many sat alone and watched the musicians perform on a low platform on one side of the room. There were a few couples dining and sipping wine, talking in low murmurs beneath the elegant music.

A waitress, who’s name-tag read Maja, approached Loki and Mobius with an easy-going smile.

“Good evening, welcome to the Ambrosial. How may I help you today?” Her voice was chipper and relaxed with a subtle accent.

“Thank you, a table for two please,” said Mobius.

“Of course. Follow me.” The waitress led the pair to a table by the window.

They took a seat. Mobius pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets. He removed his coat and unwound his scarf, before draping them over the back of his chair.

“Would you and your husband like some champagne? We give a free bottle to every couple,” Maja offered.

“We’re not-”

Loki grabbed Mobius’ hand on the table to interrupt him.

“Oh, come on, Mobi. It’s been a while since we’ve had a drink together,” he said with an affectionate smile.

Mobius interlaced their hands, ignoring the pounding of his heart, and rolled his eyes, “Alright. That would be lovely, thank you.”

The waitress left them to browse the laminated menus, returning moments later with a bottle of champagne and two flute glasses. She took their orders, writing the items on a small notebook.

Mobius kept his hands still, the feeling of Loki's soft skin paralysing him. His fingers held him strong, thumb drawing soothing circles mindlessly on his knuckles. 

The champagne arrived, and Loki removed his hand to attend to it. Mobius quickly put his hands under the table, immediately missing the contact. 

Loki popped the cork, twisting the muselet six times -counting each out loud in an excited whisper- until it was released.

Mobius cheered quietly, tipping his flute as Loki poured.

“To free stuff,” Loki toasted, clinking Mobius’ raised glass with his own.

They each took a sip and relaxed, chattering mindlessly until their food arrived.

The dishes smelled amazing and tasted just as good.

Once full, the pair resumed talking, sipping champagne until the bottle was empty.

At some point, the musicians retired for the night and the staff had uncovered a karaoke machine in the corner.

Mobius leaned drowsily on the table as he watched Loki shoo off a man painfully wailing a modern ballad. Loki pried the microphone out of the guest’s hand and addressed the room.

“Testing, testing. Is this thing on?” He said, tapping the mic, “Of course it’s on, you all heard that idiot’s caterwauling. Time for something better.”

Loki swayed on the spot as he tapped on the screen, searching for a song. 

“Here we go. Applause is welcome,” he yelled with confidence.

The music began and he erupted into song, occasionally slurring words and repeating lines.

The small audience clapped along. Some joined in but were barely audible over Loki, who had turned the speakers up to drown them out.

Mobius smiled from the table, watching Loki’s black hair glisten underneath the lights. In his ears, the music was fuzzy and muted, only the sound of Loki’s sweet, drunken voice pierced the haze. His vision was blurry, swinging in and out of focus as he stared at the god on the stage.

He stood and leaned heavily on the table. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he knew that he wanted to be closer to the music. With that in mind, Mobius stumbled towards the small clearing in front of the stage.

Loki finished his song, bowing as a quiet but genuine applause scattered through the restaurant. The cooks, having just finished cleaning up, stood at the doorway to the kitchen and joined in. A young couple took Loki’s place on the stage and began to sing a slow love song with a lilting melody.

Loki hopped off the platform and walked over to Mobius.

“You may praise me,” he said with a laugh.

“You have a very beautiful voice.”

Loki flustered, ears turning pink. He managed a flourish of his wrist in place of a bow.

Mobius smiled and offered his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

“But we’d be the only ones!” 

“Since when did that stop you?” Laughed Mobius.

Loki laughed, and draped his arms over Mobius’ shoulder, as the agent placed his hands on the gods waist. It seemed that there had been no reason for Loki to worry, as it didn’t take long for other couples to join them in dancing. 

They swayed together for a while, growing closer to each other until they had no room left to move. The pair stood still, embracing, whilst other guests danced around them. Loki looked into Mobius' eyes, surprisingly sharp for someone so drunk. 

"We might die tonight. " he murmured. 

"Shushh," Mobius whispered back, the sound causing vibrations on the gods ear lobe. "Just enjoy now." 

He looked at the other man's lips, noticing how the agent did the same. Their noses bumped. He could feel the warm puff of breath from Mobius' mouth. He wanted this, he realised suddenly. He wanted to be held, wanted to be touched. Wanted Mobius. 

Suddenly, the staff turned off the music, which had been abandoned to play the same song on a loop for the past twenty minutes, and started to encourage the guests to leave. The diners peeled off one by one as they returned to their rooms.

Loki and Mobius were the last to leave, drifting through the doors at quarter-past twelve. It locked behind them, leaving them to weave their way through the corridors by themselves, searching for their room.

It took three times of walking through the same hallway from the lobby, until Mobius pointed out that they had been going in circles, and should probably use the lift that they had stumbled upon once again. 

They clambered into the lift and Loki pressed each of the buttons, making them light up a pale yellow. The pair giggled at each ding of the opening doors as it stopped at each level all the way up to the top floor.

Mobius recalled the correct floor and punched the corresponding button. He had to hold Loki’s hands to stop him from pressing more.

Eventually, they tumbled out of the lift on the right floor and staggered through the hallway. Loki knocked on several of the doors running away from Mobius as he chased after him. He knocked over a plant at one point, and Mobius just kicked the dirt beneath the pot and pulled Loki away, dragging him along to the door to their room.

It took a couple of minutes of fumbling with the key until Mobius was able to open it, struggling to keep Loki quiet, which ended up in a ferocious ‘shushing’ contest. 

They slipped into the room and kicked off their shoes by the door, but got no further as they realised-

“There’s only one bed,” said Mobius.

“It seems so,” Loki said, completely unbothered, before he dived onto the bed, scattering the rose petals that had been carefully placed atop the covers.

This was clearly set up as a lovers' suite. Vanilla-scented candles were burning throughout the room, spaced across the nightstands and the dresser. A bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice sat on the coffee table - two flutes beside it.

“But I heard you ask for a room for two.”

“Yeah. I guess they thought I meant two, together,” Loki lounged on the bed, waving his hand airily.

Mobius sighed. Loki clearly didn’t have an issue with the sleeping arrangement, but then again, he wasn’t exactly sober.

Mobius wasn’t either, but Loki’s extra half-glass seemed to have made a big difference between the two.

“Okay, well I’m going to get changed. Could you” -Mobius gestured to Loki- “magic up some clothes for me or something?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Loki rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’d have to put them there first.”

“Put them where?”

Loki huffed and flailed his hand. “You know.”

Mobius shook his head. He walked over to the bed and threw his coat and scarf on the floor.

“Come on, then. Let’s get you to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” said Loki, his eyes barely open and his head lolling on his shoulder. 

Mobius chuckled, pulling back one of the duvets.

Loki crawled underneath it, sprawling on his front and taking up most of the bed - an impressive feat considering it’s size.

“Hey, where am I supposed to sleep if you take up the whole goddamn thing,” Mobius asked with a chuckle.

“Right here.” 

Loki patted the spot right next to him with a tired smile. He rolled onto his side, giving Mobius more space to climb in beside him.

“Thanks.”

He switched off the light and got into bed, facing Loki.

The room was almost pitch-black aside from the light escaping around the edges of the door leading to the hallway and a faint red light from the TV mounted on the wall.

It was quiet enough to hear each other breathing, and the rustling of the bed sheets as Loki squirmed.

“Stop moving, I’m trying to sleep,” Mobius whispered.

“But, Mobi, it’s been a very long time since I slept on a comfortable mattress like this.”

The nickname along with the spike of shame brought a flush to Mobius’ cheeks. 

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Loki rolled over, peering at the silhouette beside him. He swept his hand across the sheets until he found Mobius’ and interlaced their fingers.

“Please. Don’t feel guilty. My living situation is hardly your fault.”

“I know,” sighed Mobius, “but I feel like I should at least be able to make you more comfortable.”

“You already do.” 

Loki reached up to press a palm to Mobius’ cheek and felt him smile. His thumb skimmed his cheekbones. He rested his head on Mobius’ chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Loki mumbled sleepily.

Mobius froze, pulse quickening. His heart jumped into his throat and made it difficult to talk.

“I-”

A whoosh tore through the room and several sets of footsteps thumped on the ground.

The light flickered on just after Mobius untangled himself from Loki.

“Agent Mobius! We’re here to return you to the TVA,” said Hunter B-15. “Why didn’t you arrive with the rest of us?

Mobius scrambled to his feet, weaving between the soldiers to reach his coat. He pulled the tempad from the pocket and handed it to B-15.

“I dropped it and it broke, so we decided to stay in the area for when you came back to get us.” His heart pounded wildly - what if they had seen Loki and him lying together?

“I see.” B-15 glanced at the variant sleeping on the bed and raised an eyebrow.

“There-there was a mistake. We asked for two beds,” Mobius supplied weakly, pulling on his coat.

“I see,” she said again.

At her command, most hunters transported themselves back to the TVA, leaving only three behind.

Mobius shook Loki’s shoulder, but the god just twitched in his sleep and sighed.

B-15 stepped forward, preparing to force the variant awake, but Mobius held up his hand.

“It’s fine, I’ll just carry him.”

Mobius did just that, picking Loki up with a surprised grunt - he wasn’t as heavy as he thought he was going to be.

B-15 raised a brow, which Mobius promptly ignored before his cheeks could turn pink.

Once back at the TVA, Mobius began to carry Loki to his cell, breaking away from the hunters. But as he looked down at the god cradled to his chest, he remembered his earlier words about having been sleeping uncomfortably for some time, and changed course.

He took Loki back to his own bedroom, nestling him amongst the pillows on his bed. 

It was strange to see the variant lying on his bed, his long dark hair spread out on the pillow and face completely relaxed.

Mobius pulled the blanket over him, before laying on the other side of the bed. He watched Loki’s chest steadily rise and fall as he drifted to sleep, finding himself echoing Loki’s last words.

I wish we could stay like this forever.

Chapter Text

Loki stirred and stretched across the bed. She was perfectly warm tangled in the sheets and she smiled in content as her eyes opened. The light was blinding and a dull ache was already forming behind her eyes. Her head felt hazy and stuffed with cotton.

Loki sat up in the bed and the room swum before her.

“Hey, how’s your head?”

She blinked blearily up at Mobius, who was sitting on the end of the bed, pulling on a pair of black boots. Loki tried to order her swirling thoughts, sifting through her memories of the night before: of talking with Mobius and drinking champagne, of her singing on a stage, of dancing with the man in front of her and later getting into bed with him- 

Of the words she whispered before she fell asleep.

Did he hear her?

She studied him, fighting the rising blush in her cheeks, but concluded that he wasn’t acting any differently. He mustn't have heard. She relaxed slightly, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

Loki suddenly realised that the sheets felt softer and the walls were a deep blue instead of white. There were no candles in the significantly smaller room and the furniture was chrome in place of oak.

“This isn’t the hotel.”

Mobius laughed.

“No, the hunters brought us back last night. This is my room.” He stood up and pulled on a green jacket over his clean shirt.

Loki collapsed back onto the bed, not quite ready to comprehend that she was in his room. In his bed.

She pulled the covers over her head to block out the light and groaned.

“My head is killing me.”

The sheets smelt like him, warm and comforting. She breathed it in.

“That happens when you drink half a bottle of champagne,” Mobius chuckled.

“Then why aren’t you in pain? You should be suffering too,” Loki muttered with a pout.

Mobius came to sit next to her on the bed, tugging the blanket down from her face.

“ I can hold my alcohol. Besides, I drank a tiny bit less than you.”

Loki groaned again, massaging her temples.

“Here, drink some water, get something to eat, and you’ll feel better in no time,” Mobius said, gesturing to a glass beside the bed.

Loki smiled, it was a good feeling to have someone take care of her, even with such a small gesture. She took a sip of water and felt slightly better. The light was more bearable and the growing nausea subsided.

“I’ll walk you to the cafeteria.”

“You’re not staying to eat?” Asked Loki.

Her heart sank in her chest. She always looked forward to eating meals with Mobius and was greatly disappointed to have to miss one.

“Unfortunately, not. I’ll be gone for a while - there’s a situation that I have to sort out. I don’t know how long I’ll be, but I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Mobius said with a sad smile.

“Situation?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say anymore than that,” Mobius said, “it’s top-secret.”

He tapped the side of his nose and stood up, humming to lift the mood - a tune that Loki thought sounded similar to ‘You are my sunshine’, but the key was slightly off, making it hard to tell. Mobius set a suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed and began to pull clothes from his wardrobe. He organised them carefully inside the case, careful to make each item as compact as possible.

Loki, feeling disheartened at the idea of Mobius being gone for far longer than just one meal, wriggled out of bed and joined the agent in packing his clothes. Her technique wasn’t as pristine, however, and ended up with Mobius removing the crumpled clothing and neatly folding them himself, but he didn’t mind.

He was savouring the moments they had together before he’d have to leave her. He wasn’t sure how she would be treated without him to watch out for her and found himself beginning to worry.

Mobius looked at Loki out of the corner of his eye, watching her bite her nails, a slight frown creasing her forehead, and couldn’t help feeling a wave of affection. It was an ache in his heart and realised that he didn’t want to leave her side for a minute, let alone several days.

“Do you really have to go?” Loki whispered, the words leaving her mouth before she could hold them back.

His breath caught and he stopped packing. Mobius turned to face her.

Loki looked at the ceiling, ears pink and fingers tapping her thighs. Mobius automatically took her hand and covered it with his. Hers were soft, the result of royalty, but with small calluses showing her experience with a dagger.

“I’ll be back before you know it, faster than you can say ‘salad’,” he said with a grin, a sad glint in his eyes.

Loki laughed, and Mobius decided that it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

He lifted her hand and went to press his lips to her palm, before realising his actions and swiftly dropping them.

She felt her hands go cold at the lack of contact and cleared her throat.

“Oh, I’ll be fine without you, it’s you I’m worried about,” she said in an authoritative voice. “How will you cope without me?”

Mobius ignored the snipe, “Aw, you worry about me? That’s cute.”

“Only because I could do with your help to destroy the space lizards,” she sniffed and looked to the side, “not because I’m attached or anything.”

Mobius smiled at this moment of rare vulnerability. Loki gave up trying to help pack and slumped onto the bed to wait, twisting her fingers as her knee bounced up and down.

Mobius made quick work of his belongings, and it wasn’t long until the pair were walking in a companionable silence to the cafeteria. The suitcase trailed behind them, the squeaking wheels a gloomy reminder of the parting that was soon to come.

Mobius stayed whilst Loki got her breakfast and accompanied her to their usual table in the far corner. He pulled the chair out for her, wincing as it scraped across the tile.

He stood awkwardly beside the table, one hand on his hip and the other scratching his neck. His mouth felt dry and he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Loki offered, a sad smile on her face.

“I guess so.”

A moment of heavy silence passed as they held each other's gaze, before Mobius cleared his throat.

“Like I said, I’ll be back before you know it. Try not to miss me too much,” he said with a wink.

Loki rolled her eyes, chuckling quietly. Words filled her mouth but dissipated before she could say them aloud. None seemed adequate to explain how she felt without exposing herself completely. 

It didn’t matter anyway. 

Mobius left before she could say anything, afraid that another word would be too much to bear, that his resolve would weaken and he’d disregard his orders to leave.

Guilt was a weight in his gut as he walked away, for there was one thing that he had failed to mention.

He might not return at all.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting, the soft glow a halo around his silver hair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He wore plain white, the sea breeze ruffling his clothes slightly, golden sand warm beneath their toes. 

They were at the beach they had visited before, except this time there was no one else. No sound of screaming children or laughing tourists. Just them. Mobius turned to face them, eyes meeting theirs, filled with fondness and openness. He held out his hand, pulling them, laughing, under the pier. They were so close. Fingers interlaced and faces near. 

Mobius pushed them until their back was against a pillar, eyes on their mouth. He drew closer, lightly keeping their wrists above their head, chests pressing against one another, sharing a heartbeat. He drew his head nearer, hot breath tickling their neck, laughing at the way they squirmed. 

“Tell me what you want, Kitten,” he breathed, lips ghosting their neck. 

He continued his path leaving soft kisses up to their ear, nibbling their earlobe. He moved, lips millimetres away from theirs, eyes flicking back to theirs. 

He said something, muffled by the sudden roaring of the sea behind.  

“What?” They said.

Mobius dropped their wrists, stepping back. Blood poured from his body, soaking his white clothes. His eyes looked up at them, hurt and anger and betrayal.

“This is your glorious purpose, Loki, wherever you go it’s just death, destruction.” He fell to the ground, the grey sea swirling and crashing around them. 

They screamed. 

In his back, lodged, was their dagger. 

They tried to reach him, tears mingling with the salt of the sea, the roaring getting louder and louder, waves preventing them from moving. The sand sucked their feet in, dragging them down. Water poured into their mouth, their nose, their eyes, drowning them with the remnants of Mobius’ blood.

Blackness. 

Loki sat up with a gasp, sweat soaking his pajamas, shivering. It was still dark. He tried to calm his breathing, eventually getting them to small, shaky inhales. Wrapping the thin duvet around him, he turned on his side and cried. It was possible that perhaps he loved him. 

Loki loved Mobius. 

An impossible pairing, forbidden by every force in the universe, so outrageous it was never on the timeline. But what was on the timeline was what happened the few times Loki allowed themself to love someone. They fucked it up. It was their destiny. Anyone who’d care for them died. 

Mobius was right; that was Loki's glorious purpose.

Chapter Text

It had been five days, or what constituted as days in the TVA at least, since Mobius had left for his mission, and Loki was completely and utterly bored.

What had begun as a turmoil of disappointment and longing, and regret for the words that were left unsaid, had quickly turned to boredom.

Without Mobius, there was no one for Loki to talk to, beyond receiving barked orders or making snide remarks. He was kept in his cell for the majority of the time - the hunters were too busy to order him around or give him anything to do. The only time he left was to eat.

The meals were bland without Mobius to share them with, mere gruel in comparison to the flavour of his company. 

On the sixth morning of waiting for Mobius to return, Loki had been forcing down his breakfast with a grimace, when he overheard two people behind him discussing the ‘situation’ that Mobius had been sent to deal with. The cafeteria was otherwise silent, making the voices easy to tune in to.

“They’re saying it’s a battlefield over there- C-4 barely made it back alive!” One voice said.

“Keep it down! Those are just rumours. Both B-12 and G-17 told me that they have everything under control,” replied another, talking in a hushed whisper.

“If that’s true, then why are they sending out another squad to help?”

There was a moment of silence. Loki anxiously picked at his cuticles - over the last few days, his nails had already been bitten so short that they had bled. He strained to hear what they were saying.

“I don’t know,” the words were even quieter, almost undetectable.

Loki closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. Nausea swirled in his gut, but he forced himself to take deep breaths and stay calm.

After a moment of thought, a plan began to form in his head.

Step one was simple: convince his guard to let him stay out of his cell for a while longer.

Due to his relatively good behaviour lately, Loki had earned the trust of the hunter enough for them to agree to him doing some reading in the library, which he casually expressed an interest in as he carried on eating his breakfast.

Strolling between the shelves, Loki plucked a few books, taking care to pick particularly thick ones for the hunter to carry, and took a seat at an empty desk. He spent a little while pretending to read, skimming his finger across the words and turning the pages at irregular intervals. 

Satisfied that Loki wasn’t going anywhere, the guard slumped in their chair. They even removed their helmet, setting it on the chair beside them with a relieved sigh.

It was time for step two: escape.

Loki closed the book that he was currently looking through and placed it back on the pile. He picked a weighty novel and held it in his hands. 

When he was certain that the guard was suitably relaxed, Loki lunged at them, swinging the thick book at their head. It connected with their temple with a crack, and they slumped onto the desk, unconscious.

Dropping the book, Loki rounded the desk and stripped the hunter down to their underclothes. He took off his own uniform and replaced it with the guard’s. He secured the ret-can to the holder on his back and placed the helmet on his head, pulling down the visor to hide his face. 

Loki used his old clothes to tie the hunter to the chair. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it was better than nothing. 

With a final apologetic look at the guard, Loki turned and ran from the library, weaving between the shelves. He tore through the corridors of the TVA, only stopping occasionally to duck behind corners to hide from incoming workers. Despite being dressed in a hunters uniform, Loki didn't want to risk being questioned or redirected.

Step three was a little more complicated. 

The TVA was vast, and Loki had no idea where the hunters for this particular mission were gathering. He also didn’t know when they were leaving - an issue that wasn’t helped by the TVA’s lack of time-keeping, which was ironic given their occupation and name.

By the luck of the gods, that is to say, by Loki’s own incredible luck, he stumbled upon two hunters discussing the ‘situation’- which still largely remained a mystery to him.

From their conversation, Loki deduced that they were heading to the meeting place at that moment. He followed behind them, careful to keep his footsteps in time with their own to mask the sound.

As they walked, more hunters joined the pair, until Loki no longer had to lunge behind corners and through doorways, and he was able to hide in plain sight. There was very little conversation now, which alleviated the possible suspicion over Loki’s silence.

Eventually, the group came to a halt in a dark and secluded spacecraft hangar, organising themselves into a neat line. The low electrical thrum of the vehicles filled the silence as the squad awaited their debriefing.

Heavy, echoing footsteps broke the tension, coming to a stop in front of the line. The hunters saluted, a gesture that Loki copied with an imperceptible delay.

“You have all been briefed on the situation already, so I won’t go over it again-” Loki rolled his eyes beneath the tinted visor. He most certainly did not know what was going on, and had hoped that it would be revealed now. “-but I would like to reiterate: it won’t be easy.”

The commander began to pace with measured strides, hands clasped behind their back. “We are struggling to keep control, the level of variants is higher than we’ve ever encountered before. But, with your help, we can reclaim our authority and purge all aberrations from the sacred timeline.”

Interesting, thought Loki, it’s an issue of an excessive amount of variants that are fighting back. Glad to finally know what’s going on.

The hunters remained stoic, but the tension was palpable. 

Loki began to feel lightheaded as the danger dawned on him. He would be fine - he always found a way to survive, after all - but Mobius could end up seriously hurt, dead, even. He could be already.

It would all depend on exactly how dangerous these variants were, and how many there were. Judging from the commanders’ poorly concealed apprehension, Loki gauged that it would certainly be a difficult battle.

But that hardly mattered. Loki’s only focus was to get there, grab Mobius, and return him back to the TVA, where he would be safe. His initial plan was to assess the situation and just see how Mobius was faring, but Loki refused to leave his friend in danger.

The commander gave the order, and each hunter pulled out their tempads, ready to jump. Loki copied them.

In unison, the squad activated their tempads and blinked out of the room.

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It was chaos.

Immediately after appearing, the squad ran to take cover behind discarded vehicles, many of which laid on their sides or were overturned completely. Gun fire and shattering glass came from all directions. Acrid smoke hung in the air as fires burned in the streets.

Whole buildings had been decimated, reduced to rubble and ash. Others, though still standing, were hardly faring better - many no longer had windows, doors were ripped from their hinges, and fires erupted within. Large cracks ran along the road and up the walls.

There were people everywhere. Hunters chased swarms of variants, many of whom wore masks or scarves to cover their faces, only to be held back by bullets of yet more variants as they rounded the corner.

Loki crouched behind a car on its side, holding onto a tyre as he peered around it.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he reveled in the disorder. His fingers itched to grab a discarded gun and join in. He was prepared to fight for either side, or perhaps none at all, simply attacking anyone who came into his path.

Chaos was as familiar to him as breathing, and he hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed it since being held at the TVA.

His excitement was near tangible, but he forced it down, focusing instead on any sign of Mobius.

A bomb exploded on the next street. The explosion rippled waves of heat through the air and the vibrations shook through the ground. The fighting momentarily paused.

Taking advantage of the interruption, Loki started running, twisting around vehicles and other debris to reach the other side of the street.

A large group of hunters were busy pinning down variants and transporting them to the TVA. 

“Hey!” Loki shouted as he approached, waving his arms to get their attention. “Have you seen Agent Mobius?”

Most of the hunters ignored him and resumed their pursuits, some shook their heads, but only one waited for Loki to stop beside them.

“I saw him a little while ago, a couple of streets over,” they pointed in the direction they were referring to. “I don’t know if he'll still be there. Why do you need him?”

Loki thought quickly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in an effort to not take off running.

“I have orders to pass on to him. He isn’t responding to his radio.”

The hunter paused, evaluating the statement. Deeming it acceptable, they nodded.

“Okay. Come with me, I’ll take you there. You’ll get there quicker if you have someone to cover you.”

Loki nodded in gratitude, following the soldier as they climbed over rubble and entered the building that they were standing in front of.

“There’s an exit to the other side through here,” the hunter called over their shoulder, clambering over a counter and walking deeper inside.

Loki wasn’t entirely trusting of the hunter, but his desperation was growing by the minute. He decided to follow, he’d deal with the consequences later, should they arise.

After winding through a cluttered hallway, they entered a dusty room on the other side of the building. The hunter crouched beneath the covered window and gestured for Loki to hide out of view. He ducked beneath a table in the centre of the room.

Loki watched as the hunter slowly lifted the curtain and peered outside. From his position, he couldn’t see out of the window, and was unable to determine anything based on the hunter’s lack of reaction.

The soldier lifted a hand, signalling that it was all clear. Loki crawled out from under the table and hurried to the door. The hunter opened it to reveal the fighting beyond.

None of the variants paid them any attention. A group had been herded across the street and were surrounded by a squad of hunters. Other humans attempted to break a path through the line of soldiers, but the hunters filled any gaps between them and continued to close in. They transported the variants one by one as they came into their reach. The hunters blinked in and out of sight, working as a team until the variants had all been taken to the TVA, where they each awaited their trial.

The squad moved on, chasing down any that had fled.

The hunter accompanying Loki led him down the street. They held their ret-can at the ready, but it wasn’t needed. 

Thankfully, they evaded the majority of variants, and any that got too close were quickly dealt with by other hunters.

As they rounded the corner to the next street, Loki came to an abrupt stop.

The hunter beside Loki cursed.

Together, they surveyed the street.

It was obvious that this street had been the one to suffer through the explosion of the bomb. The walls of the buildings were covered in ash and soot, blackened and cracked. The windows had all been blown inwards. Many of the buildings had collapsed back onto themselves, toppling onto the ones behind. Bricks were strewn haphazardly across the road, along with chunks of concrete and metal, pieces of furniture and damaged cars.

And amongst the debris-

Bodies littered the road, both human and hunter. Blood pooled in dark stains beneath the corpses, and some were still moving. Shards of glass, metal and wood stuck out of many of the bodies that were on the parts of the street furthest from where the bomb was detonated. The remains on the innermost part of the street, where fires still raged and the road was burnt the most, were scorched and blistered beyond recognition. These had faced the worst of the explosion. They had suffered the most.

Loki’s escort ripped off his mask and emptied the contents of his stomach at his feet.

Loki could only stare, hands trembling and face drained of blood.

Where is Mobius?

The thought snapped him out of his daze and he sprung into action. He sprinted between the bodies, barely stopping to check each before moving onto the next.

He didn’t recognise any of them.

As he neared the centre of the street, the smoke grew thicker and, paired with his shaded visor, began to obscure his vision. It was even harder to check the bodies here, especially when most had very little identifying features left.

Frustration built within him. He couldn’t see a damned thing.

He bellowed a cry of rage and ripped off his helmet, throwing it to the ground with a satisfying crack.

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?

Loki stumbled over to a corpse, lured by the black boots, green jacket and shirt - so white it was blinding through the smoke.

He fell to his knees, hauling the body closer towards him.

The short hair had been singed charcoal, the skin on the face was covered in soot but pale and waxy underneath. 

He couldn’t tell if it was him.

He lifted up the eyelids, checking both the colour and for signs of life.

Brown. Brown eyes.

It wasn’t him.

Loki let go of the body, sliding it off of him and back onto the concrete. He gently closed their eyes, whispering a prayer for peace and guidance in the afterlife.

Still on his knees, Loki looked at the piles of bodies he had yet to check. The fires burned brighter as they spread, swallowing the corpses in their path.

He was running out of time, yet he couldn’t move.

The adrenaline had left his body, leaving him exhausted and sluggish. His bones stiffened up and his limbs were so, so heavy. He tipped his head back, a single tear winding its way through the soot on his cheek, a path of white against the black. 

Each breath burned as he inhaled the hot smoke and he couldn’t stop shaking, but he had to continue. For himself.

He had to know if Mobius was dead, he had to see the body. 

He heaved himself to his feet, knees unsteady beneath him and ready to collapse. But he took a step forward anyway. 

I have to know, I have to know, I have to-

It was a mantra in his head, urging him onward. His feet dragged across the road with every step. 

He had just made it to the next body when the thunderous sound of many footsteps drew his attention. The ground beneath him began to shake.

 Loki turned around, looking past the hunter who had brought him here and now leaned in shock against a wall. 

A crowd of people charged down the street, cries of fear and anger growing louder with each second. 

He allowed himself a moment of surprise, before lunging to the side of the street, hiding down a narrow alley between two buildings. 

The mob swarmed the street, pursued by a smaller, but still considerably sized, group of hunters.

Loki watched as they fought each other, taking a moment to catch his breath. 

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. The cold brick helped to ground him.

He looked back into the street, and in that moment, he saw him.

Mobius.

He stuck out like a sore thumb among the hunters clad in black, in his green jacket and white shirt. Someone had given him his own helmet, but the visor was up and showed his face, which was amusingly scrunched up in concentration.

Loki could see a small scratch on his cheek and there were a few holes in his trousers, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Relief flooded through him, his breath rushed out of him and his knees grew weak once again. He clutched the wall for support as he stumbled out of the alley.

“Mobius,” he cried, and then repeated even louder.

Impossible as it seemed, Mobius somehow heard Loki’s voice over the deafening cacophony.

His head snapped towards him, confusion plain on his face.

His eyes met Loki’s, dark with exhaustion, but the soft, wondrous smile on his lips betrayed his pleasant surprise. Mobius paused in the street, watching Loki run towards him, laughter bubbling in his throat.

His arms extended, ready to catch Loki and embrace him-

An agonizing pain pierced his gut.

His legs went numb and folded beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor. Shock rippled through him as he clutched his stomach, desperately trying to stop the insides from coming out.

Loki saw the blade impale him the moment that Mobius felt it. 

The attacker dropped the knife behind Mobius, staring at their hands in surprise, as though they couldn’t believe that they had actually done it. They fell backwards, sprinting away and getting lost inside the throng of people fighting around them.

Loki stumbled forward.

This couldn’t be real. It didn’t feel real. It was a nightmare. It had to be.

Mobius couldn’t be-

Dying.

He fell to his knees beside Mobius and pulled his head onto his lap. 

He fumbled for the tempad at his belt, but it wasn’t there. It must have fallen out.

Dread washed over him as he stared wordlessly at Mobius.

Crimson stained his white shirt. The red blossomed from his stomach, blooming across the fabric until it was saturated in blood.

His hands pressed into the wound, frantically trying to hold back the blood, trying to hold back death.

“Stay with me, Mobi, stay with me,” he murmured, over and over again.

Mobius stopped him with a trembling hand on Loki’s cheek, peering up at him with his blue eyes wide.

He attempted a smile, dribbling dark red down his chin. 

Loki wiped it away with his sleeve, smearing it all over the haggard grey skin.

He could see the life draining away from him, see him struggling to keep his lungs expanding and his heart beating.

“Loki,” Mobius whispered, barely audible over the din.

Loki peered into his eyes.

He felt so utterly helpless. Useless.

This was all his fault.

His dream was right.

A sob forced its way from his throat.

“Mobi,” he breathed, air barely escaping his mouth as tears dripped down his face.

The silence stretched between them. The same heavy silence as before Mobius left, but now it was utterly unbearable. Mobius didn’t want to die in this silence. He didn’t want the last thing he ever saw to be the despair on Loki’s face.

He wanted to hear him laugh, see him smile.

So he sang, voice unsteady and weak.

“You are my sunshine,” he whispered, “my only sunshine…”

Loki let out a surprised laugh, wiping away his tears and trying to pull himself together.

He joined Mobius in singing, and the noise of the incessant fighting faded away. The only thing he could hear was their own strained singing, and Mobius’s rasping breaths in between lines.

After the chorus, their voices trailed off into silence.

Mobius dissolved into hacking coughs, each heave drawing a pained wince and even more blood appeared from his lips.

A pool was rapidly growing beneath them, staining everything it touched a deep red.

It was all Loki could see, even when he closed his eyes.

But still, he held on, hoping against all odds that Mobius would heal, that someone would come and help them.

Mobius couldn’t bear to see the pain etched so plainly on Loki’s face. Instead, he gazed out at the battle around them to distract him from the pain in his body. The agony was beginning to fade, but that didn’t bring him any peace.

The fighting had slowed considerably. Most of the variants had already been removed, and only a few stragglers remained. The hunters were beginning to reset areas and to recover the wounded.

Corpses were left behind.

A wave of sadness brought the bitter sting of tears to his eyes. He would be left behind.

There wouldn’t be anyone to look out for Loki anymore, and the TVA may even prune him for the way he escaped today.

For the first time, Mobius pondered how Loki had arrived here. From the uniform, he assumed, correctly, that Loki stole the clothes and a tempad, and impersonated a hunter.

He laughed, feeling a sense of pride.

He didn’t even feel the pain anymore.

His body seemed distant, muted. 

Loki could sense him drifting away. The hand on his face fell to the ground and the flow of blood had slowed considerably. 

Panic gripped him like a vice and what was left of his control snapped.

“Stay with me, Mobi. You have to hold on!” He shouted, grabbing his arm and digging his fingers in.

Mobius stared blankly at the grey sky, the smoke steadily clearing away.

His chest sunk inwards as the air pushed itself from his lungs for the last time.

Loki laid him down, scrambling to his side to feel for a pulse at his throat.

There was nothing.

A dull roaring filled his ears and the world seemed to tilt.

Mobius was dead.

No no no no no no.

“Please,” Loki whispered, “bring him back. Bring him back!” 

He begged the gods to help, to heal the wounds and restore his soul.

To bring back the man he loved, to return him where he belonged - by his side, always and forever.

There was no answer to his desperate pleading, to his curses or prayers.

Frozen in a silent, mindless scream, Loki hunched his body over Mobius and pressed his tear-soaked face to his chest, vowing to remain this way forever.

As all hope deserted him, a sudden feeling forced him to sit up. An innate knowledge entered his mind and he succumbed to the guidance.

Instinct had Loki placing his hands over Mobius’ wound. He channeled his power from the depths of his soul, through his arms and through his fingers, pouring it into the body beneath. Desperation fueled him, offering strength into his weakened arms and urged him to continue.

His skin glowed a pale green as his magic entered Mobius and began to heal. It knitted flesh and tissue back together, stimulated blood production and pushed air into his lungs. 

Loki had no idea that his healing could be used on another person, wasn’t certain that it would ever work again should he try, but it was working.

Glorious purpose be damned. 

One more moment and the wound would seal completely, and his heart would begin pumping once again. Mobius was slowly being brought back to life. 

And then he was ripped from his arms.

Loki cried out as he was wrenched backwards, hands grabbing his shoulders and forcing him away from Mobius.

Two hunters hurried forward and checked Mobius for a pulse. Coming up empty, a hunter started chest compressions, urging him to come back.

Loki pleaded to be released, to finish healing him, but the soldiers continued to drag him away. The last thing he saw before he was pulled through the portal was Mobius lying on the ground.

He saw him take a breath.

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The steady beeping of the machine was the only noise in the room. The only thing that told Loki that Mobius was alive. 

At first the TVA had locked Loki in a cell, questioning them relentlessly about Mobius’ injuries.

“Did you stab him?”

“No, he was already bleeding out when I found him.”

“And you used your magic on him?”

“Yes, I was try-”

“To do what? Find information?”

“No! No, to heal him.”

“Why would you try to heal him?”

“Because he’s my… he’s my friend.”

“I’ve looked at your file.You don’t have friends.”

And they were right. They didn't have friends. But Mobius had been the first guy who’d tried to give her a chance. He’d accepted them for who she was. And she had unknowingly become very attached to this mortal, working for his smiles and praises, forgetting momentarily what happens to everyone they love. They get hurt. 

She may not have stabbed him, but they put the target on his heart. 

Eventually, Renslayer had let them visit Mobius in the hospital. What made her change her mind was a mystery, but Loki had run to the infirmary as quickly as she could, and hadn’t left her partner's side since. 

She watched him now. 

He lay motionless, chest faintly rising and falling. His skin was white, bags under his eyes a testament to how hard he had been working recently. There was no smile, no calming quip, no words of comfort. A reminder of what they had done. 

Loki sat in the rigid chair, legs stiff and irritated with the scratchy surface. They ran their hands through their hair, tugging aggressively at it, feeling overwhelmed with her thoughts.

She loved him. She loved him so much and it hurt. He doesn’t love them. No one could. Everything they do they mess up, it was deep-rooted in her. Chaos. Destruction. She was meant to be alone. 

But Mobius, he was not. He was destined to be happy. His way with people, the way he calmed everyone when he walked in a room, when he spoke to someone and they’d believe they truly mattered, that was all to be treasured. They would not allow themself to infect him. No matter how much it hurt her, she couldn’t see him become like her. 

They sniffed, viciously wiping away tears she didn't know were there. She felt small, and dirty. Never again will Mobius look upon them with an impressed smile, praising them for something they had done right. She was foolish for thinking she could be someone he liked. He merely tolerated their presence. He probably thought she was weak, the amount of times he'd had to step up for them when they got too overwhelmed with it all, crying and whimpering like a puppy. 

"You look like a puppy." 

Those words had lit something inside her at the time, warming her heart to goo. They denied it, of course, and had acted annoyed to cover up this unfamiliar feeling. It was only when she was alone in their cell did they think about it. 

A puppy was cute. A puppy was something that people couldn't help but fall in love with. Something people wanted to look after. And, tragically, Loki realised they liked that idea. Being looked after. After so many years of running and hiding and fighting, she just wanted someone she could be with, be honest with, feel safe around. Mobius was the only person who had given her that chance. 

And now he was almost dead because of her. She had become the puppy that chewed everything and barked all night until the owners saw no option than to give them away. She had to distance themself away from Mobius. 

They got up, chair squeaking with the sudden movement, and gently stroked a bit of silver hair. 

"Goodbye, my love." 

She walked away, back to their cell. 

Chapter Text

Mobius thanked the doctor as they took his vitals for the last time, their brows furrowed in confusion as they remarked on his swift recovery. After jotting down some notes on a clipboard, they walked out of the room, leaving Mobius to change out of the scratchy hospital gown and into his own clothes.

Someone, whom he suspected was Loki, had brought him a pale blue shirt, black slacks and polished boots, which he quickly pulled on before he could be told otherwise.

He was desperate to leave. The confinement was suffocating, and he ached to return to his normal routine. He was even looking forward to sorting through all of the paperwork that had no doubt accumulated since he’d first left.

Mobius had hoped to be released earlier, having shown no signs of relapse or any pain since he woke up, but despite his protests, the doctor had insisted on further tests and monitoring. 

The insomnia and frequent nightmares also concerned the doctor, which they proposed to be a common response to a severe injury but shouldn’t be left untreated.

Finally, the doctor had agreed that Mobius could return to his usual living quarters, on the condition that he visited for scheduled check-ups until the doctor was satisfied that everything was still going smoothly.

Mobius struggled to tie his shoelaces. Lately, a tremor in his hands inconvenienced the agent, an infrequent reminder of the trauma he’d suffered, and the constant fear that he kept concealed deep within himself. His frustration built, the cords slipping through his fingers again, and he threw the boot across the room. It hit the wall with a thud, echoing in the cold room as it dropped to the floor.

He took a moment to compose himself, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He relaxed as much as he could and was relieved when the shaking dwindled into stillness.

Mobius retrieved the boot and finished tying his laces.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom, peering into the mirror to check his appearance. He tugged on his sleeves and ran a hand over the stubble on his face. It aged him. Even without it, the sleepless nights and his lack of appetite had left him hollow-cheeked and pale, looking far older than he had before. 

Age wasn’t much of a concern for those outside the bounds of time, but Mobius decided that a middle-aged complexion suited him far better than this senior version of himself.

He sighed, smoothing back his hair and walking out of the door. There was nothing he could do to change the way he looked, short of getting a good night’s sleep - which wasn’t likely, if his current sleeping pattern had any indication. 

His shoes squealed across the vinyl flooring in the hallway as he made his way out of the medical wing. There were very few people around, leaving many areas dark and empty until he triggered the automatic lights. Most soldiers had either already healed and left, or were still immobilized in their beds. 

A familiar guilt tugged at his heart, making Mobius question his worth. He didn’t believe himself to be superior to the hunters in any way, and felt undeserving of his second chance at life, for his swift recovery when so many continue to lie in agony.

Mobius, intent on pushing all of his feelings aside, debated stopping by his room to freshen up, perhaps that would lighten his spirits a bit, but he was keen to see Loki first.

There were things that he wanted to say to him, that he needed to say, and wished he’d said earlier.

With that thought in mind, he marched towards the cell block, smiling politely at each face he recognised as he passed them in the maze of corridors. His long, brisk strides made short work of the distance between him and Loki.

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Loki laid on his bed in his cell, resting on his back with his arms folded beneath his head.

He had already counted the number of bricks that made up the walls many times before, so he decided to count the cracks in the ceiling instead. He followed them, counting each line until his vision blurred and his eyes drifted shut.

In the darkness, a single image flashed in his mind. An image of Mobius, his life-blood pouring onto the concrete as he gaped at the sky. His shirt was a vibrant red, leaching the colour from his skin and leaving him a pale grey.

This picture was still, silent. There was no screaming or grunting, any sound from the battle raging around them. He couldn’t hear Mobius wheezing or groaning in pain.

Fear and despair welled inside of him, hopelessness tainting every thought and every breath.

Loki sat up, trying to cast the memory from his mind. The pain during that moment was great enough, he felt no need to relive it. Yet the image lingered.

A surge of energy brought him to his feet and he began pacing around the room, one arm folded across his chest and the other hand resting on his chin as he bit his nails to the quick.

He paced until his legs grew tired and collapsed onto the bench. His fingers drummed into the thin mattress as his thoughts churned.

And that was how Mobius found him.

He halted in front of the cell, leaning forward on the bars.

Mobius felt a warmth in his chest as he looked at his friend. It made him relax, feeling like he could breathe again. He had waited for their reunion for some time now. He had missed this - the way his heart skipped a beat at every stolen glance, the smile that came so easily at the sound of his voice, his grounding presence, and even his antagonizing snark. 

The feeling was marred, however, by a vivid recollection of the day he was injured.

He could almost feel Loki’s hair tickling his forehead and see his hauntingly sorrowful expression as he gazed down at Mobius. 

Phantom pain flared in his abdomen in response, and it was an effort to keep his hands hanging through the bars of the cell and not clutch his stomach, to fight the urge to check that the wound hadn’t somehow reopened and that his blood wasn’t pouring through his skin.

Mobius buried the negative feelings, shoving them deep into an abyss within himself to be uncovered late at night when he fought for sleep. Instead, he tried to focus on the happiness that seeing Loki brought him.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

Loki lounged across the bed, a cold smirk fixed upon his lips. 

He had decided to close himself off to Mobius completely. The decision nearly killed him, but he felt that this was the right thing to do.

This is what’s best , Loki told himself, he’s better off without me.

No longer would he put Mobius at risk for the sake of companionship, he cared too deeply for him to waste his life like that. It might hurt the agent at first, but he would recover and ultimately move on. Such was the way of the fickle human heart, and the way it should be.

If Mobius were to linger with heartache, Loki may have been tempted to selfishly open himself back up, regardless of the consequences.

“Hello.”

“Is that all I get?” 

Loki shrugged. 

“How else would you like me to greet you?” 

“It’s not the greeting that’s the issue.” Mobius said, “What’s going on with you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

Loki’s face was the perfect portrayal of innocence, but a darkness lingered in his eyes. He tried so hard to hide how difficult it was for him to be so close, only to hold himself at such a distance.

Mobius watched him in silence. He thought he saw a flash of pain in the god’s eyes, but it vanished as soon as it appeared.

“What’s going on?” He repeated quietly, furrowing his brow in concern.

“I have decided that the nature of our relationship has strayed from professional. As your prisoner, I think it would be wise if we terminated our friendship.”

Mobius laughed in disbelief.

“You’re running away?”

Loki shot him a glare, “I am not.”

“Well, that’s what you’re doing,” Mobius shrugged. “You care about me, and that terrifies you. So you’re running before you get hurt.”

“I already did,” Loki whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

Shock flashed across his face, hardly believing he had spoken out loud, but he buried it.

“What do you-”

“You should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you talk to me.” Loki opened his mouth to speak but Mobius continued, “Properly. Whatever it is you’re feeling, you can share it with me.”

Loki scoffed, rising to pace around the cell.

“I’m serious. I want to hear it, whatever it is.”

“Fine,” said Loki, stopping in the centre of the room.

His lips curled as uncertainty twisted his stomach. A moment of silence passed before he drew a shaky breath and spoke again.

“I can’t even close my eyes without picturing it. Picturing you, bleeding out on the street. I keep remembering it, over and over again,” he hissed through clenched teeth, jabbing his finger into his temple. “Looking at you makes it even worse, it makes the memory stronger.”

Loki felt surprised at himself. He didn’t expect to say that, hadn’t meant to say much at all, but once the words began to pour out, he couldn’t stop them.

Standing alone in the cell, he felt exposed, like he had been stripped bare. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Mobius, and instead stared up at the ceiling with his fists clenched at his sides.

Frozen in place, Mobius was thrown back into the memory against his will. 

He could feel the gravel digging into his back, could feel the warm stain spreading across his middle. He could hear screaming and shouting, the thunderous roar of bullets and stamping feet. Thick smoke shrouded his vision as he stared up at Loki’s panicked face, his eyes wide and shining. Ash was clumped in his hair and soot covered his skin in uneven patches. 

His fingers touched his cheek, partly to comfort, and partly to ground himself, to anchor himself to this world and not let go. 

Pain ripped through his stomach. Blood bubbled at his lips, a result, he had later learned, of the knife puncturing his lung as it angled upwards. His breaths rattled in his chest, wet and rasping-

Mobius fell back into his present body. The memory vanished, and he fought to keep his breathing steady. He dug his nails into his palms, the pain helped him to focus and bring him back. He struggled to remember what they had been talking about, trying to read Loki’s expression, but to no avail.

Unsure what to say, Mobius waited in silence, using the time to compose himself. Loki, oblivious to what Mobius had just experienced, looked at him, anguish burning in his pale, blue eyes.

“It was my fault. I distracted you whilst you were surrounded by people who wanted to hurt you. I didn’t see the variant coming, and I certainly didn’t stop them!” Loki’s voice rose in volume with each word until he was nearly shouting. “It may as well have been my own dagger,” he whispered, staring at his hands as though he could still see the blood covering them.

Resentment bubbled up inside of him and he felt sick. He clenched his hands into fists to hide their shaking.

Mobius felt guilt like a weight in his gut. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t even consider that Loki would blame himself for what happened. He cursed internally. Mobius knew how deep Loki’s self-loathing ran, and should have realised why he would try to distance himself.

“Loki, it-”

“I think you should leave,” Loki interrupted. 

He stood up and faced the wall behind him, waiting for Mobius to leave. 

Loki believed that Mobius deserved better. That he shouldn’t have been wasting his time here, when he could have been resting or catching up on his work, perhaps even celebrating the fact that he was alive. Whatever he did, it would have been better for him to stay away.

Mobius unlocked the cell door and stepped inside. He reached out a hand and rested it on Loki’s shoulder, only to be brushed off. 

Hurt flashed through him, but the agent buried it as his hand fell to his side.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mobius said quietly, “I don’t blame you, at all. You healed me. If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead.” He nearly choked on the last word, but managed to force it out between clenched teeth.

“You did die.”

“You know what I mean,” he sighed. “You saved me.”

“You don’t look very alive to me,” Loki said.

It was an exaggeration, but not entirely untrue. Mobius looked awful.

His skin was pale and his cheeks gaunt. His bloodshot eyes stood out against the dark shadows beneath them. There was stubble growing along his usually neatly-shaven face. His shoulders hunched inwards, as though carrying an invisible weight.

Mobius refrained from wincing. He knew he didn’t look his best, but he didn’t realise his exhaustion was so noticeable. 

“I’m fine.”

“If you’d rather not talk about it, then tell me that. But don’t you dare lie and tell me you’re fine.”

“Well, I am fine,” Mobius insisted, keen to let the matter drop.

“Mobius-”

“Please. I’m-” he sighed heavily, “-I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Fine,” Loki said, giving in. He paused for a moment, surveying the man in front of him as he decided on how to make him leave - Mobius needed time to relax, not to stand around talking to a vessel of chaos. “You should go.”

“I came here to talk.”

Mobius was growing irritated. Anger didn’t come often to him, but lately the bitter feeling was becoming frequent. Loki insisting that he leave so soon, after all the time he had waited to be released from the medical wing so that he could visit and talk to him, was frustrating, to say the least. 

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

“You-” Mobius groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands. “You always do this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Loki growled and crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

Mobius’ anger boiled over and his temper flared. Words spilled from his mouth before he could hold them back.

“You’re always looking for an excuse to run away! As soon as things get a little complicated, or, god forbid, you actually start to care, you get scared and run. It’s pathetic.”

“Pathetic? Do you know what’s pathetic? Pushing yourself to go on a mission where you have to fight, as someone who does nothing but sit behind a desk all day, and then you end up getting seriously hurt. You can’t stand to think that you’re weak. You’re mortal . So you risk your life to feel strong, and guess what? You weren’t as strong as you thought you were,” Loki replied bitterly, not entirely talking about Mobius.

“Maybe you’re right. But at least I want to be strong, to do the right thing. To be able to face my fears, and admit that I get scared. Why don’t you just open up and be vulnerable, for once?”

“You want me to admit it? Fine, I was scared! I was fucking terrified! I watched you die, Mobius, knowing that it was all my fault and there was nothing I could do to save you. You were dead.” His voice broke on the final word.

His throat tightened and his chest heaved as he fought for breath, holding back tears. 

Mobius felt his heart clench. It hurt to think that Loki blamed himself, it ached worse than being stabbed. He wanted to comfort Loki, to hold him and make him believe that it wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t have the right words, and the distance between them was a chasm. He had to fix this, had to bring them closer together.

“And then you saved me. You brought me back,” Mobius said with a gentle smile. “You’re my hero,” he chuckled, only half joking.

Loki rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, or the faint sense of pride that made his guilt waver.

The tension between them eased slightly.

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Mobius said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

His eyes darkened as he locked eyes with Loki, the hurt and pain still there, but clouded with something new. 

Loki prowled forward. He slowly rested his hands on Mobius’ face, feeling the soft stubble beneath his fingers. Mobius licked his lips, swallowing as Loki followed his gaze with pure intensity. Suddenly Mobius grabbed his wrists, and in one swift movement had his arms pinned above his head on the wall.

"Remind you of sometime, kitten?" 

Loki nodded, remembering their first meeting. But now the roles were reversed and he was the one trying to get his thoughts together, the soft pressure on his arms and warm breath on his neck preventing any form of worded communication. Mobius let out a soft chuckle, the sound sending a small vibration by his earlobe. 

"You're so beautiful, Loki," he murmured, "and although you might not think you're worth it, goddammit, I think I lov-" 

Footsteps clacked in the hallway, and the pair sprung apart. 

Mobius cursed quietly, ran a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. He refused to look at anything, or anyone, aside from the hallway beyond the cell bars.

Before turning his attention to the interruption, Loki spared a glance at Mobius, hiding a smile when he noted the pink across his cheeks. 

Renslayer appeared in view, marching through the hallway and coming to a stop in front  of the cell. A surprised look flitted across her face before she replaced it with an expression of disdain.

“It sure is cozy in here,” she said, aiming a pointed look at Mobius. 

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight between his feet. Loki smirked beside him, radiating arrogance, as he suppressed the feeling that Mobius’ words brought him. 

Renslayer merely observed them, noting the way that Loki subtly positioned his body between her and Mobius.

“Do you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” A sly smile curved her lips. “Mobius, you have been reassigned. From this moment on, the variant will no longer be your responsibility.” 

Mobius went rigid, gaping wordlessly. Whilst Mobius stood frozen, Loki sauntered forward, his steps unhurried. He paused in front of the bars, towering over Renslayer as his fingers clenched around the cold metal. He looked at her through lowered brows.

“And who, exactly, will be?” His voice was cool and calm, the complete opposite to the way he felt.

Anxiety gnawed at his stomach but he tried to quell it. He was afraid that if he showed how much the news affected him, Renslayer’s conviction would only grow.

“I will,” she said simply.

Mobius felt the shock ripple through him like a wave. Renslayer overseeing Loki could only end badly. He had to convince her to reconsider.

“Ravonna-” 

She held up a finger, interrupting Mobius before he could continue. His mouth snapped shut. 

Loki was furious beside him, taking great care to keep his temper under control. It was one thing to tear them apart, but the blatant disrespect was wholly unwarranted.

“I will not hear any arguments. If you have any complaints, you may take it up with the timekeepers themselves.”

Loki fumbled for a retort, a phrase that could slice through her ego, to wound her in such a way that she felt she had no other choice but to appease him. The rage was building within him, ready to explode.

As though he could sense it, Mobius threw a look in his direction, a silent warning to calm down. 

“And what will you be doing with him?” Mobius said.

“I’ll see how useful he really is. If he doesn’t meet up to my expectations…” Renslayer tapped the ret-can hanging at her hip.

Mobius felt his heart skip a beat, dread pooling in his gut. He felt as though he were trapped in a nightmare, struggling to escape whilst some unknown creature hunted him down and ensnared him. 

But this wasn’t something he could escape, something he could run away from. If he didn’t fight back, Loki could die.

Loki could die.

“You can’t just prune him!”

She raised an eyebrow in cold amusement. He had no authority over her, to even challenge her should have been out of the question.

“And why not?”

Loki laughed bitterly, unable to keep silent. He glared at the wall. He couldn’t stand to look at her, to watch, helpless, as she dangled his fate over a precipice. So he stared at the wall and counted the bricks, each one cementing in his mind and building a wall, a wall that his fear could not penetrate. 

He would not be afraid, and he would find a way to survive. 

That’s what he did best.

“Because- because he’s important,” Mobius said, feebly trying to dissuade her.

“To the TVA, or to you?”

Both, Mobius thought, but instead of voicing the word, he merely gave Renslayer an irritated look.

“Thanks to Loki, we’ve managed to distinguish patterns in the movements of variants and he’s been helpful in eliminating them. It would be a shame to waste that.”

Renslayer smiled, almost as if she had heard what Mobius truly thought, but she brushed it aside and shrugged.

“Shame it may be, but he is clearly a distraction. In fact, I’ve made up my mind.” Renslayer stepped into the cell, drawing the ret-can from its holder. 

She held it in front of her, smiling as she fixed her gaze on Loki, who had finally turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed as she neared.

“The variant will be pruned.”

Chapter Text

Loki raised his hands, fully aware that he hadn’t any real power to defend himself. He was rooted in place and hardly dared to breathe as Renslayer edged closer.

His eyes were fixed on the ret-can. The end glowed amber and emitted a low buzz, the sound growing as it neared him.

Mobius side-stepped in front of Loki, readying himself to dive in the way if necessary. He lifted his hands placatingly, trying to communicate without words for Renslayer to calm down.

She laughed.

“There’s no need for any of that. I’ll give you until this afternoon to say your goodbyes,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal, and deactivated the ret-can.

“And why would you do that?” asked Loki, “To drag out my suffering?”

Renslayer rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored Loki. She turned to face Mobius before speaking.

“Believe it or not, I consider you to be a dear friend, Mobius. Clearly, you have been influenced by the variant-” Loki scoffed in disbelief “-and so I am willing to give you another chance to prove your commitment to the TVA.”

She stepped forward. As she offered the ret-can to him, he merely watched in silence. 

Loki held his breath, anxiously awaiting Mobius’ decision. 

Despite the nature of their relationship, of the things that were almost said and kept on the tip of their tongues, Loki wasn’t entirely sure what Mobius would choose to do.

It would be a smart move to accept the ret-can and secure his own safety. It would be a betrayal as sudden as any of Loki’s, but for reasons that he could understand.

With that thought in mind, Loki relaxed slightly. If Mobius chose to prune him, he wouldn’t hold it against him. He thought that he might even be proud of the treachery, after all it would mean that he had learned from the best. 

And most importantly, it would ensure that Mobius lived. That was a sacrifice worth making.

Mobius watched the ret-can’s handle gleam under the fluorescent light, a cruel temptation to put an end to the uncertainty and fear. 

She was offering a way out. Not just to escape the wrath of the TVA, but also an escape from living a life spent with Loki. To escape a life potentially filled with chaos and destruction, of being deceived and abandoned by the god of mischief. 

But it could also mean discarding a life of happiness and companionship, of the pair changing for the better, growing together as they navigated the treacherous twists and turns of whatever fate the timeline held for them. Even if they had to run for the rest of their lives, Mobius wouldn’t give that up for anything.

He had decided that he would do everything in his power to stop Loki from being pruned, regardless of what lay ahead. He would defend him until his last breath.

Renslayer frowned at his continued stillness and she began to speculate the extent of the manipulation that the agent had undergone. Loki lacked access to his powers, so it was a mystery to her as to how he could have such a great effect on a dedicated analyst like Mobius. She was determined to have Mobius return to his senses, and wondered if she could bring him back by convincing him to dispose of the variant himself. Perhaps that would break this peculiar enchantment.

“Do it yourself. Prune the variant. Everything can go back to the way it used to be,” she insisted, offering a reassuring smile, but her brows were drawn with tension.

Renslayer focused on Mobius with an intense stare, pinning him in place. 

As she scrutinised him, Mobius kept his hands by his sides. The hopelessness he felt was overwhelming, to the point where he couldn’t speak. He had made up his mind to protect Loki, but he could see no way to do that. 

He felt as though he were watching the events unfold at the other end of a tunnel. Their voices were faint and his vision spun as panic settled over him.

There was a moment of silence, the tension palpable, before Renslayer withdrew the ret-can. She hung it at her hip with a disappointed sigh.

“It would have been easier if you did it yourself,” she said. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. He’ll die either way.”

Renslayer shrugged and adjusted her jacket, before striding out of the cell. She paused in the hallway, looking back at Mobius. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut, turned on her heel and walked out of the room. 

Mobius watched her go, his feelings swelling with each fading footstep until they consumed him. His hands trembled and tears stung his eyes. A lump formed in his throat as his pulse hammered in his ears.

In the quiet that followed, Loki let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought it was going to end, right there and then,” he chuckled darkly.

Mobius whipped his head around, glaring at him. His pale face turned red.

His fear melted into outrage and burning fury, making him clench his fists at his sides and straighten his spine.

“Do you think this is funny? Do you think this is a game?” he shouted. “You are going to die, Loki!”

Loki pursed his lips, burying the pain that Mobius’ words brought him.

He didn’t want to die. He had spent a great portion of his life specifically avoiding that, doing whatever was necessary to keep death at bay.

To give up now seemed absolutely absurd, but he could see no other way.

“I know,” he said softly, “but there isn’t much we can do about it. We only have two options: let Ravonna kill me, or you kill me yourself.”

“I would never-”

Loki held up a hand to interrupt him.

“I only meant that she’s right - either way, I am going to die, by her hand or yours. And I would not ask that of you.”

And he meant it. 

He believed that Mobius killing him would likely bring him more comfort - at least in that way, Mobius would be by his side until the end, and it would also mean that Renslayer and the time keepers would gain less satisfaction from his death.

But he couldn’t do that to Mobius.

Despite his insisting of being perfectly fine, Loki could see the toll that Mobius’ death had taken on him. It was understandable, he mused, but it meant that Mobius wasn’t himself. He was still being held by that fear and pain, and he deserved some time to heal.

To add the weight of killing a friend onto his already burdened shoulders would be selfish.

No. It would be best for a hunter to do it, perhaps Renslayer herself. Someone who wasn’t attached. 

“We could-”

“Mobius.” Loki sighed, his shoulders hunching inwards. “As much as I love a daring escape,” he said with a rueful smile, “I refuse to bring you into it. You’re already being scrutinised due to your affiliation with me. I won’t allow you to tarnish your reputation any further. If we survive, you’ll be exiled, and if we’re caught, you'll be pruned along with me.”

He grasped Mobius’ hand, interlacing his fingers. He savoured the feeling, knowing that those were the last moments he had with him, the final moments he had at all.

He silently begged for more time.

He wanted to stuff his pockets full of seconds and minutes to deal whenever he wished, to spend each with Mobius and make him smile again. To put off this inevitable and final betrayal.

But Loki knew that was impossible, and so he decided that he would use his last moments to keep Mobius from harm. He would defend him until his last breath.

“I won’t let you die. Not again. So you let them do whatever they want to me, and you stay alive.”

Loki gave a weary smile that nearly broke Mobius’ heart. A deep despair settled over Mobius as he watched the man before him accept his death. The man who had always managed to survive, no matter the odds. The man who had such a fierce desire to live, he’d murder and betray the people he loved. And yet, he had given up.

Loki Laufeyson was defeated, at last.

The news may have been a relief for some, joyous to others. But for Mobius…

He couldn’t begin to comprehend the feelings it brought him.

He couldn’t imagine a future where the trickster no longer existed, where he wasn’t wreaking havoc or plotting grand schemes with his dramatic flair. 

Mobius started to shake. He was drowning in his emotions, unable to determine what exactly he was feeling, but knowing that he was spiralling. The room was spinning and his face felt hot. His clothes seemed too tight and he tugged at his tie to loosen it. 

Rage lanced through him, the only feeling that he could identify, and he latched onto it, letting it flood him until his vision turned red and his blood boiled.

He spun on his heel, his shoes squealing beneath him, and marched out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind him. It locked automatically, leaving Loki stuck inside, clenching the bars and yelling at Mobius to come back.

Mobius blocked it out, nearly running through the halls as he stomped to Renslayer’s office.

Loki stared at Mobius’ rapidly receding silhouette through the rails of the cell. He screamed for him to come back until his throat was hoarse and his fingers ached from being wrapped around the cold metal.

Energy spent, he slumped to the floor, leaning his head on the door. 

Despite the sadness enveloping him, a tinge of relief brought him the slightest consolation. It was comforting to know that even when offered a way to save himself, Mobius would still place Loki above his own well-being. It was a comfort to know how much he cared.

By the time Mobius reached the ornate, wooden doors of Renslayer’s office, the anger had drained from him, leaving a cold dread in its wake. He paused outside with his hand resting on the brass handle, heaving in great gulps of air in an attempt to steady his racing pulse.

He steeled himself and pushed the doors open, sliding inside the room before they closed behind him.

Renslayer sat at her desk, casually reading through papers as though she hadn’t just announced to murder the man he cared for most. She stacked them into a neat pile, placing them down carefully, before acknowledging Mobius with a nod. Her fingers laced together in front of her.

“Mobius. What can I do for you?”

Mobius had planned on threatening Renslayer, demanding for her to alter her decision and let Loki live. However, as he stood before her, his rage doused with fear and dwindled to embers, he found that he was lost for words. 

His tongue was thick in his mouth, unable to utter a single sentence as he scrambled to get his thoughts in order.

Renslayer watched him struggle, waiting in silence during the time it took for him to regain control.

After a heartbeat, Mobius stepped forward and his mouth opened. Instead of threats and demands, pleas poured out from his lips.

"Ravonna, please, don't prune him, I mean come on, he's-" 

"He's what, Mobius?" She glanced up at him from her desk, taking in his dishevelled appearance. "He's useful?" she scoffed and carried on signing documents. 

Mobius felt like he could scream. He wanted to kick her desk and force her to look at him. He held back, but only because he thought that it wouldn't work in his favour in the long term. 

"Actually, he is. He's been working so hard, even you can't deny how his work ethic has changed, plus the amount we've managed to get through." He said, before taking a deep breath to calm himself, resting his hands on his hips. 

"Oh he's been working hard alright," Renslayer murmured sarcastically. 

Mobius' eyebrows furrowed together, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Mobius, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he's been manipulating you." 

"What?" 

"Do you seriously think he cares about you? I saw you two in his cell. Don't try and deny it." 

He froze, heart pounding. There was a long pause. 

Fraternizing with a variant could get him into a lot of trouble, and if Renslayer knew about it then Mobius could be severely punished.

His palms began to sweat.

"Deny what?" he said, trying to sound noncommittal, but it came out strained. 

She looked steadily at him. 

"Your feelings for him. You're infatuated,” she said with a sneer, “it's disgusting." 

Mobius felt his anger spike.

"He does care about me. Boy, you should have seen him when I was injured," he threw his hands in the air, "He felt real bad about it."

"It's all fake." 

"No, it isn't! He-" 

"The time keepers told me. They told me how he's playing with your feelings to get what he wants." 

A second of silence. 

"He wouldn't do that," he said, taking down the volume but the fury was evident. 

"Oh come on, Mobius, that's all he does-" 

"He's changed." 

"You can't be certain of that." 

She was beginning to raise her voice, her professional facade cracking.

"I can-"

“No you can’t! His entire existence is to lie, Mobius.” She laughed humorlessly, the sound sending chills down the agent's spine.

“Have you not seen what he’s done these past weeks? He’s-”

“Manipulated you? Yeah, I know.”

“Will you stop interrupting me?”

She slammed her hand on the table, knocking over a glass trinket he’d gotten her on a trip last week. 

It shattered as it hit the wooden floor. Shards flew across the ground, but they were ignored as the temperature in the room continued to rise.

“Will you listen to me, then? I’m trying to help you-”

He growled, fingers pulling at his hair. He began to pace around the room. Glass crunched under his feet.

“By making me kill him? In what fucked up timeline is that helping me? God!”

“You can’t help the timekeepers when you’re being controlled by some… some variant!”

Mobius stopped his pacing and gaped at her. 

“You don’t understand, do you? This is more than Timekeepers, Ravonna, this is about…” 

She looked at him, challenging. 

“About what?”

He didn’t reply.

“What's more important than the Sacred Timeline, Mobius?” She rose from her chair and moved slowly towards him, face showing her confusion and hurt. “It used to be us two, working together, upholding order. What’s changed?” 

They stood opposite each other, she was pleading with him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he grated out between gritted teeth.

She narrowed her eyes. “Understand what?”

Mobius just looked away, trying to work out a way this could end well. Wrong move apparently. She shoved his chest, ignoring the surprised “oof” he let out.

“Come on, Mobius, what wouldn't I understand?” she spat in his face, “What?”

He tried to quell the rage that was building once again, her anger overwhelming him and fuelling his own. He held up his hands between them to hold her back, as though his palms could stop the tide of her fury.

“WHAT?” she roared.

"THAT I LOVE THEM!" 

He had snapped. Anger and pain and fear tore his insides and made him see red. 

It was her turn to look shocked.

Renslayer stumbled back as though he had pushed her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped.

“I love him, ok? I fucking love him and it hurts so much. But I wouldn’t give it up, not for the Timekeepers, not for the Sacred Timeline, and certainly not for you. Trust me, I tried.” He pinned her with a hard stare, daring her to say that he was being manipulated one more time.

The room was silent. 

Mobius stopped breathing as he realised what he'd said. 

He loved him. 

The great, powerful god of chaos and mischief, murderer of many. But also the shy, insecure individual who tried hard to impress and liven up his day, beautiful wherever they decided they were on the gender spectrum. 

He lowered his hands, letting out a shaky breath. He looked to see his friend's reaction. 

Her face was carefully blank, eyes shuttered and betraying no sign of emotion. Only her rigid spine showed the tension she felt. 

She walked stiffly to her desk, perching on the edge of her chair behind it. 

A brief stillness blanketed the room as she warily contemplated her next words.

"You love him?" she asked finally, her voice cool.

Mobius nodded, lips clamped firmly shut. 

He could feel his future dangling over a precipice. He had said all that he could, had admitted things to her that he had yet to completely admit to himself. Whatever she decided now would seal his fate, for better or for worse.

"He doesn't deserve you," she continued in the same monotone drawl. "He's infected you. You're not in your right mind." 

"Please," he whispered. 

Something in her eyes flickered and he felt the faint stirrings of hope. The hope that Renslayer would decide to spare Loki after all.

"Fine. You may see him." She stood up. "If you decide you still love him, we'll see what will happen." 

Mobius smiled widely at her, his heart lighting up, "Thank you, Ravo-" 

She held up a hand to silence him. 

"Don't thank me yet." 

She turned and walked sharply out the room, Mobius running after her. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Loki wasn’t fairing well in the cell. 

He collapsed to the ground, the two hunters leering at him. He could taste the blood in his mouth.

“Not so powerful now, are you, Princy?” the long haired female sneered, choking him with the smell of her heavy breath. “Not now that Mobius isn’t here.”

She went to hit him, laughing as he flinched.

He seethed, glaring at the floor, but he couldn’t move. Normally he could take them out straight away, taking time to revel in their fear and pain, perhaps delivering a dramatic (but undeniably powerful) monologue before watching them die.

But not right now. Anything he did would reflect on Mobius. He may be destined to die, but Mobius still had a chance. He would take the pain for him.

A hand in his hair reminded him of the situation he was in. The other hunter slammed his face against the wall with a crunch. Pain exploded across his face as his nose shattered and his lip split. Tears dripped from his eyes as blood poured down his chin.

He spat blood from his mouth as he gasped for breath, unable to breathe through his nose.

The hunter snickered as Loki groaned.

“Where’s he gone now, Variant?” they murmured. “Has he finally realised he can’t always fix broken things?”

“Maybe it was his murderous spirit that put him off?” the female questioned her partner.

“It’s entirely likely,” they replied, “you know, I heard he killed his own mother.”

That hurt.

The other let out a dramatised gasp of shock, hand covering her mouth.

“What, really? That would put anyone off their pet.”

Loki felt his insides shrivel up. 

He was worthless. 

He’d always known it, why he ever tried to kid himself otherwise was beyond him. 

Even Mobius knew it. 

He’d watched every moment of Loki’s life so he knew how horrible he was, what a twisted person he’d become. 

How could he ever love him?

The hunters released him, and he fell in a heap onto the floor. A foot connected with his ribs and he curled into a ball, panting. It struck again and he thought he heard something crack.

Suddenly, a booming voice startled the hunters, interrupting the fist that flew towards his face.

“Miss Johnson, Mx Pittman, what do you think you’re doing?” Ravonna barked as she marched in. 

Mobius followed after her, eyes wild with anger as he glared at the two guilty hunters. When he looked at Loki though, his face changed to one of alarm. He ran to him, crouching down beside him.

He inspected Loki’s face, tentatively touching his swollen lip, eliciting a muffled hiss. 

“Loki, sweetheart, are you ok?” 

Loki just whimpered in reply, leaning forward and hiding his face in Mobius’ neck. The other man's touch calmed him, even though he knew it was a pathetic show of weakness. He just wanted to curl up on his lap and let everything else fade away.

Mobius carded his hands through Loki’s hair, surprised at the sudden show of vulnerability, but knowing instinctively what to do to help calm him.

“I need words, Loki, what did they do to you?” he said softly. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, voice small and muffled, breath warm on his neck, “Just give me a moment.” 

Mobius’ arms tightened around him, pulling him closer. He was keen to bring Loki to the medical wing, but there were things that needed to be addressed first.

He murmured comforting words beneath his breath into Loki’s ear, before turning his eyes on the other three people in the room. 

Ravonna was staring at him with an unfamiliar look. Her eyes softened when she saw the way Loki clung to him. The other two stood nervously, uncertainty obvious on their ashen faces. 

“Can you take them outside, please?” Mobius asked Ravonna, his voice filled with barely contained fury.

They held eye contact for several moments, then she looked at Loki, and back to Mobius. 

Slowly she stepped towards Loki and bent down to his quivering frame. She whispered something in his ear, and he froze for a few moments, before shaking his head vigorously. Stepping back, she held her hands together and turned to Mobius.

“You’re sure he’s not…” she hesitated, “ changing you?”

He looked her dead in the eyes. 

“I swear.”

She sighed and gave him a small nod. 

“I will talk with them about their behaviour towards Agent Laufeyson,” she said.

And with a slightly puzzled smile towards him, she marched the two confused hunters out, leaving Mobius with a silent Loki, who was still hiding his face in his neck. He wanted to ask what Ravonna had told him, but he knew it wasn’t the time.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, we need to talk, Loki.”

With a small sniff, Loki slowly unwrapped himself from Mobius, but still avoided eye contact by looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Mobius looked at him, bemused. “What for? This isn’t your fault, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes snapped to him, showing the hatred and self loathing he was feeling. 

Mobius felt his heart break. Very rarely did Loki show this side of him to anyone.

“Of course it’s my fault, It’s always my fault,” he sneered. “I get in the way and ruin everything. The TVA is built on order. I'm not meant to be here.” 

Finished, he slouched down to hide his eyes filling with tears.

“No, kitten,” -the nickname slipped out, unplanned, but judging by the blush on his ears, Loki didn’t mind- “you don’t ruin everything. You have found so many answers, much quicker than any trained analyst. And while eating a salad in front of you is almost impossible, and your stubbornness is often a pain in the backside, you have helped me. A lot more than you think. And as for you getting in the way,” -he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively- “I don’t think I can complain too much.”

Loki let out a small giggle at this, wiping his snotty nose. He went to say something, but was prevented by the big yawn that escaped.

“Come on, let's get you to bed.” Mobius stood and held out his hand when Loki didn’t move.

“I’m not tired.” Loki huffed, crossing his arms childishly. 

The silver haired man sighed, knowing from studying the files how the god gets when he feels threatened. He looked at his small figure, sat on the floor with his knees up, tension evident in his shoulders. Then he realised what the matter was. 

“You can stay at mine again tonight, if you want?” he asked gently. “Maybe some hot chocolate and me droning on about jet skis will make you tired enough to take a nap?”

At this, Loki perked up and he scrambled to standing, taking Mobius’ hand. It was warm.

“You talking about anything could make anyone sleep, Mobius,” he announced, as if he wasn’t almost dead on his feet. “But what’s ‘hot chocolate’?”

Mobius just smiled at him, and led him down the corridor towards his apartment.

Chapter Text

Mobius unlocked the door to his flat, opening the door for Loki with a mock bow. They smiled tiredly at him, but the undeniable look of fondness in their eyes made Mobius' heart flutter. 

The room they walked into was open plan, magnolia walls with three different paintings of the seaside hanging above oak book shelves. There was a small, uncomfortable sofa, the use of which was clear from the stacks of magazines and files (plus a caricature of Mobius that Loki drew one day, which they were pleased to see was neatly at the top of the pile.) that littered it. Loki had been here before, but only had enough time to dress before being dragged out for more work. This time though, they could have a proper look around. 

Mobius was hurriedly trying to make space for them both on the sofa, mumbling embarrassed apologies at the state of his place. He wouldn't usually be that bothered, except it was Loki. It was always Loki. Loki, who currently looked like they were about to collapse with fatigue. 

"Thanks." Was all they managed, slumping down on the couch once Mobius had cleared it. 

The agent hovered about Loki for a second, checking again for any form of discomfort. They made eye contact, Loki giving him a lazy smile and closing their eyes. He put the kettle on for hot chocolate. 

He was deep in thought as the kettle boiled. He knew Loki was fond of him, at the very least, and at the time seemed to want him on a… physical level, but he knew what he felt for the god was much stronger than general lust. He knew Loki, he knew that they rarely showed vulnerability, rarely showed love. Only to a few people, like his mother, and, recently, him. But he also knew Loki had changed. They'd grown so much since they came here, still mischievous and cunning and brilliant, but with a gentler tone. 

He watched them now, curled up on the sofa, long, curly hair spreading like a dark halo around their head. They looked tired and worn; scrapes and bruises marked their porcelain skin and their shirt was torn. But despite this, they had allowed Mobius to lead them inside and rest in his company. The greatest display of trust. 

Now Mobius had to trust himself. 

He poured them both hot chocolate, stirring in extra milk and marshmallows for Loki (he knew they had a sweet tooth.) and brought both mugs to the sofa. He nudged Loki’s legs to get them to budge up and sat down; they shifted into a sitting position, giving him a grateful smile as he handed them the mug. Mobius felt his heart flutter with the attention. Yup, definitely more than general lust.

“Go on, try it.”

Loki slowly raised the mug, giving it a sniff first.

“Smells like malt-teasers!” they exclaimed.

Mobius chuckled, failing to hide the adoration. “It’s similar, sure.”

They took a loud slurp, closing their eyes as they tasted it.

“Mmmm,” they moaned, causing Mobius to cough quietly. (He swore he noticed Loki smirking at him.)

They put down the mug, marshmallow remnants on their top lip. Mobis laughed. Loki scowled.

“What?” they huffed, folding their arms.

“Nothing, nothing,” -he held up his hands- “You’ve just got a mallow-tache.”

Loki looked at him, bewildered. 

“A what?”

Mobius slowly reached out his hand, hesitating, waiting for any sign of rejection. When none came he softly wiped away the marshmallow, thumb lingering on their top lip. He looked into their eyes, noticing how their pupils were wide and breathing had stopped. He was about to pull away when Loki put his thumb in their mouth, licking the sweetness off. It was Mobius’ turn to stop breathing. Their eyes were locked, air electric. They released his thumb with a kiss pressed to the pad, and they both sat facing each other only millimetres apart. Loki was the first to break the silence.

“What were you going to say,” they murmured, “before Renslayer came in?”

Mobius swallowed, noticing how Loki’s gaze travelled down his neck before meeting his eyes. There was a vulnerability there, but also hope. That was the confirmation Mobius needed to be brave.

“What, you mean when we were together, in your cell?” he breathed.

Loki nodded. Mobius leaned closer, lips brushing the soft skin of their neck.

“You mean when I grabbed your wrists?”

They shivered and leaned into his touch.

“When you let me pin you against the wall like a good little prince?”

Loki turned their head so they were looking into each other's eyes. 

"What I was going to say," Mobius' mouth turned dry, suddenly nervous, "was that I love you," he whispered.

There was silence. Mobius studied Loki's face anxiously, taking note of all the emotions they expressed. Joy, grief, confusion. 

"Say something," he pleaded. 

"I…." Loki's eyes welled up. "I do believe I love you too." They whispered it like a prayer, as if scared of admitting it. 

Mobius' face split into a big grin, giddy with happiness, until he realised Loki wasn't as happy. They were crying. 

"What is it?" 

Loki just curled up on his lap, burying their face in the crook of his arm. He ran a comforting hand through their hair, making soothing sounds as sobs wracked their body. 

"What is it, baby? You can tell me." 

They sniffed and raised their head just enough for Mobius to hear a small:

"I'm not good enough for you." 

Mobius froze, confused. They weren't good enough for him? They were a god, surely it was the other way around?

"No, Loki, why would you say that?" 

There was silence for a minute. 

"You've seen my life, Mobius," they began, "You know better than anyone what I've done, who I've hurt." They gave a cold chuckle. "You showed me yourself what was going to happen. I don't deserve love."

Mobius automatically pulled the god closer, feeling guilty. He shouldn't have shown Loki the footage. 

"That's not true, Lokes," he said, running his fingers through their silky hair. 

"We've all done shoddy stuff in our life, heck knows I've done things I'm not proud of. Your past actions don't define you, It's how you perceive your actions later on that shows who you are. And even then, nothing takes away how worthy you are of love. It's not a right you have to fight for. You have to earn someone's love, sure, but those standards are different for everyone. It's up to the person to decide whether they give you their love. They can't decide for anyone else. And nor can you. I love you, Loki, and I will try and do everything to show you how great of a person I think you are. And I'm sorry for showing you the video. It wasn't right of me."

Loki turned on their back so they were looking up to Mobius. Their eyes were still red, but they were smiling. 

"You are truly an inspirational man, Mobius," they said, smirking. 

"Ha!" Mobius let out a laugh.

"Is that all I get?" 

Loki looked thoughtful. 

"I suppose that, when it comes down to it, I also love you." 

He knew this, but Mobius couldn't help his heart rate speed up at those words. This beautiful person loved him. 

"Would you complain if I kissed you?" he asked, trying to hide how elated he felt. 

"On the contrary." Loki sat up face to face with the man. "I would be delighted." 

Chapter Text

It had been a week since they had confessed their love for each other, spending every spare moment locked in each other's embrace. Loki had moved into Mobius' apartment officially, which was made apparent by the numerous luxury hair and body items in the bathroom, and the appearance of a sweet jar on top of the cupboard in the kitchen, already close to being empty. 

The dresser in the bedroom was stuffed, full to the brim with a wide variety of clothes. Loki had spent an entire day browsing through the warehouse, picking out things to wear and tossing them to Mobius, who stumbled behind them with aching arms. It was an exciting day for Loki, as it was the first day that they were allowed to finally wear something other than her dull uniform. Although the range was fairly limited, Loki had carefully selected the finest quality clothes available: she had always taken pride in her appearance, and she wasn't about to change.

Mobius, grouchy and exhausted, suffered through it all. Loki’s smile made everything worth it.

It was the day after their trip to the warehouse and they were both in their usual positions on the bed: Loki's head resting on Mobius' chest. Mobius was reading a book (something about space cowboys, Loki assumed from the front cover), with wire-framed reading glasses perched on his nose, one hand idly stroking his partner’s hair. Loki rifled through a small box set beside her on the bed, full of various trinkets and accessories that she had scoured from the warehouse. They held each aloft as they appraised them, jewels and metal sparkling in the light. The pile by her feet were those that had been rejected, either out of newfound distaste, or because they were fake. A small mountain was growing on Mobius’ stomach, which was where all of the approved were placed. 

Mobius took care to keep still, so as to leave the collection undisturbed. He finished the chapter he was reading and closed the book, setting it on the nightstand. For a few moments, he gazed at Loki in silence, watching her pale fingers dance over the gems and beads as they inspected the surfaces.

Loki, feeling the weight of his stare, tilted her head back with a soft smile. Her blue eyes twinkled like jewels themselves, and Mobius felt his heart flutter. Their beauty never failed to captivate him.

Mobius voiced the thought aloud and Loki’s ears turned pink. 

“Well, I am magnificent,” they said playfully, gesturing to her face, but her eyes had darkened with a heavier emotion.

Mobius noticed and sat up, pulling Loki with him. The collection on his stomach tumbled onto the bed sheets with a clink. He positioned himself so that they were face to face and rested his hands on her cheeks.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, continuing when Loki opened her mouth to disagree, “I mean it.” He leaned his forehead on theirs. “You are beautiful inside and out.”

Loki closed her eyes. She hated how much those words meant to them, but loved Mobius all the more for saying them. Vanity and perfectionism was a weakness of hers, and they were often plagued by self-loathing. Hearing those words from someone who knew her completely, who knew her truth and wouldn’t hesitate to share his, momentarily silenced the rebuking voice in her head.

Mobius paused, watching the emotions flit across their face as they processed his words. He thought back to how they were in the cell when he found her. It made his blood boil to think about what those hunters were doing, but it made him sadder to think of what Loki thought of herself to react the way they did. None of the fire and manic energy from the screen. They had talked about it, of course, all night talking and crying and comforting each other. But there was one thing that wasn't mentioned. 

Eventually, she settled, he pulled away slightly to look them fully in the eyes. He spoke again, daring to ask the question that had troubled him since he found Loki bleeding in the cell.

“What,” -he cleared his throat- “what did Ravonna say to you?”

Loki opened their eyes, peering at him with understanding. They didn’t need to ask for clarification. She knew that this question was coming, and had been on the tip of his tongue for days now, but she hadn’t quite prepared herself to answer.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

It wasn’t as though the statement had been groundbreaking. It hadn’t inspired a vehement reaction, nor had it been too dull to mention. It was emotional, but no great revelation. It was merely one of those statements that were best kept to oneself.

Perhaps one day, Loki might find the strength to share what Ravonna had uncovered within her, but until then, that small truth would be kept just for herself. After all, there would be many days to come in Mobius’ company. There would be plenty of opportunities to bare whatever pieces of her soul that he had yet to see.

The thought made them smile and a warmth spread through their chest. They looked at the man before them, his face touched with concern and slight confusion. Loki shook her head, brushing off the question. 

“It doesn’t matter,” they said, lacing her fingers in Mobius’, “all that matters to me now, is us.”

Mobius smiled and kissed the tip of their nose. 

He would wait, he decided. He would wait forever to hear her troubles. Until then, he would stay by their side, until time itself unravelled.

That was his glorious purpose.