Chapter Text
Two weeks.
Two weeks since they kissed in their shared office. Since Loki stormed down to Ravonna’s office and quit on the spot.
“That way you don’t have to move,” Loki told Mobius later, as Loki pretended to pack up their desk. Sure, they moved items into the same cardboard box Mobius was going to use, but in the end, they left the box itself on the copier in the hallway, with free stuff scrawled across the side.
The only thing they did take, tucked into their coat pocket, was a photo taken candidly by a coworker, of Loki and Mobius sitting across the table in the breakroom, their ankles tangled up underneath. Loki had asked Mobius to help him print a hard copy in case they lost their phone.
Two weeks ago, Mobius and Loki shared their second kiss, desperate and quick, hidden in the shadow of the opened office door.
Now, Mobius looks at that shadow, then at the empty desk, pushed now to the far corner of the room. Then at his phone laid flat beside his keyboard, always in sight just in case.
But it doesn’t ring, just like it hasn’t for the past two weeks.
Mobius buries himself in his work more than usual. He only goes home when he’s bone tired. He takes breaks every four hours, to stand and stretch. To unlock his phone and press call on a familiar contact.
“We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed cannot be reached...”
Mobius ends the call. He sits. He works.
His gaze slides to the photos of him and Loki at the office holiday party, faces pressed close, cheek to cheek. Loki’s grin looks genuine.
Two weeks ago, the kiss felt real.
“Mobius,” Ravonna says from the doorway.
“Hm?” Mobius doesn’t look up right away, stuck instead on Loki’s smile.
“In my office,” Ravonna says.
*
He expects to be reprimanded. He’s spent every day working at his desk, even weekends, leaving only to sleep. Sometimes not even then. Often, too often probably, his attention slid to the empty desk in the corner, or to his too-quiet phone, or to the shadow of the door where Loki slipped their hands around Mobius’s waist, under his jacket, and held him like he meant something.
“The higher-ups are very impressed with your commitment to the company. As am I. You are being promoted to Assistant Manager.” Ravonna retrieves the decanter from her desk drawer. She pours two drinks and slides Mobius a glass. “Congratulations, Mobius.”
He leaves the drink. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t ask him what’s wrong. She doesn’t say anything at all. She sips her own drink, sits down at her desk, and lifts her paperwork. Quickly, Mobius excuses himself.
His resignation letter is in his top desk drawer. He drafted it the afternoon Loki left. He’d thought... Well, he still doesn’t know where Asgard is, but it couldn’t be that far, right? And if it is... Is Mobius a fool for thinking he could move a little closer?
Initially, with Loki’s lips on his, he didn’t think so. Now, he’s not as sure.
*
Mobius walks the long way back to his office, losing himself in the sea of cubicles. He finds himself in the break room and his heart cracks, looking at the table they always claimed. No one sits there now. One of the chairs is missing.
Mobius falls into the open one. Elbows on the table, he buries his face in his hands.
Maybe he should take the promotion. At least he’d keep busy.
But staying only means remembering. And remembering only means missing.
Mind made up, Mobius pushes away from the familiar table and says a quiet goodbye. He won’t be coming back here.
*
Hands in his pockets, he walks, head low, back to his office. He’ll grab his drafted resignation letter. He’ll sign it and deliver it to Ravonna. He could be out of this job by the end of the day. He’s not going to bother offering two more weeks.
He’ll find something else. He’ll bounce back. He always has before.
When he walks through the door, Loki is sitting at Mobius’s desk, fingers brushing the frame holding their picture.
Mobius freezes, all except his heart, which gives its best effort to leap from his chest. He tries to breathe, but it bubbles out as a laugh. He had been so worried, more than he realized, and now his relief overwhelms him.
“I missed you,” Mobius says, before he can even think to say anything else.
Loki, grin sharpening, hops from the desk and stalks toward him. They’re dressed strangely -- not in the suit and tie Mobius is used to, but a sleek leather tunic and pants that cling to their slim figure in all the right ways.
Mobius has only a moment to appreciate the view before Loki crowds him against the door, closing it. Their arms fold in around Mobius, one hand gripping Mobius’s shoulder, the other pressed flat to the door near his head.
“I missed you, too,” Loki says, leaning in. “I hurried back as quickly as I could.”
“Your phone,” Mobius says, and that’s all he can say, thoughts fizzling out. Loki is here. Loki came back. Loki still wants him.
“Damn thing doesn’t work in Asgard.”
Loki’s mouth brushes Mobius’s, almost close enough, but at the last moment, Loki drops their head, burying their face in the crook of Mobius’s neck. “I thought of you every moment. They wouldn’t let me come back until I sorted things. So much had happened in three years. I tried to return to you sooner.”
“Hey.” Mobius forces his brain and body into action. He cups the back of Loki’s head, while he wraps one arm around their waist, holding them closely. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“I made you worry,” Loki says.
“I wasn’t worried.”
Loki leans back, looks at his face, likely sees the lie Mobius tries to hide.
“Okay,” he admits. “So I worried a little.”
“I love you, Mobius,” Loki says. It’s probably too early for that, only sharing two kisses, but it feels right and good, like a warm blanket wrapped around Mobius’s wounded heart.
Then again, Mobius has loved Loki since the day he met them, so it’s nothing at all for him to reply, “I love you, too.”
Loki’s smile returns, softer. Their gaze dips away, almost bashful, down to Mobius’s chest where they rest one hand, flipping Mobius’s tie between their fingers.
“I have to tell you some things -- secrets I’ve kept from you for too long.”
Mobius laughs, light and easy. Knowing he has Loki’s love, Mobius could weather any secret, no big deal. “Let me guess. You are an alien prince here on a dare.”
It’s a joke, so Mobius keeps laughing. Until he realizes Loki’s not joining in.
Instead, Loki has gone very still, hand frozen, holding Mobius’s tie. The only shift is the way their smile hollows. Their eyes go a little wide.
Mobius’s laugh catches in his throat. “You... aren’t an alien prince here on a dare.” It sounds ridiculous, but Mobius has spent the past three years studying every facet of Loki’s face, all of their expressions, their gestures. Loki puffs up like a peacock when they lie. They don’t do the deer in highlights look unless it’s real. “Right?”
Loki swallows. “Not quite an alien.” They press their lips together. They glance to the side, then the ceiling, then finally, to Mobius. Those bright eyes are large and vulnerable, shiny with worry. Mobius doesn’t care if they’re an alien; he would do anything to ease that discomfort, to help Loki feel safe. “It’s more like... another realm?”
“Huh,” Mobius says.
“Does that...” Loki frowns. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No.” Mobius stops that line of thinking full stop. "A different realm, huh? No wonder I couldn’t find it on google maps.”
A moment, Loki blinks, and the concern shifts to confusion. “You’re handling this rather well.”
“Maybe.” Mobius’s calm reaction surprises even himself. It could be a measure of his relief, at having Loki back again. Or perhaps the strength of his love for this person, his companion, that sat across from him day-in and day-out, five days a week for three full years. Or, simpler, Mobius could just be tired of the monotony of his day to day, and is ready to believe anything that looks like an adventure.
Especially if it involves Loki. Double if they’re in that outfit.
“So,” Mobius says, “If you are royalty, is it really okay for you to be hanging out with someone so average as me?”
Loki’s brow lowers. They lean in again, nose brushing Mobius’s. “You are anything but average.”
Mobius huffs another relieved laugh. He’s warm all over. With the way Loki looks at him, Mobius is ready to believe everything Loki says.
“You stayed here three years for a bet?” Mobius asks.
“I told you. I only needed to stay two weeks.” Loki’s lips touch the corner of Mobius’s mouth, their breath hot on Mobius’s cheek. “The rest was for you.”
Mobius’s insides melt to warm goo. He would fall straight to the floor if Loki wasn’t holding him up with their body. “All that time. In this crummy job. For me?”
“I wanted to stay longer.”
“How long?” Mobius whispers. He runs his hands up Loki’s back, over the smooth leather. Loki shivers under his hands.
“Guess,” Loki says and finally presses forward, closes the remaining tiny distance, and kisses him.
Mobius isn’t a betting man himself, but he’d put all his chips on forever.
*
Later, after many fervent kisses against the door, and more than a few against the desk, Loki sits in Mobius lap in Mobius’s office chair, the plastic creaking under their combined weight.
Mobius shows Loki his resignation letter and tells them about the promotion.
“What do want to do?” It’s nice of Loki to ask, since they must already know.
“Oh, I’m definitely quitting. It’s what I do after that, that I’m not as sure about.”
Looking down, Loki traps Mobius’s hand between two of their own, tracing the curve of his palm with their thumbs. Bashful, again.
“Yes,” Mobius says.
Loki’s gaze snaps up. “I hadn’t even asked yet!”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Maybe I won’t now.”
“Oh?”
Loki growls low, frustrated, even as their smile growls wide, wider, brighter than Mobius has ever seen before. “Mobius, will you come with me to Asgard? I’m sure we can find you some sort of work that is more fulfilling than this.”
“And I get to be with you,” Mobius says.
“Oh, my dear, sweet Mobius.” Loki leans in and kisses the edge of Mobius’s jaw. “You keep me regardless.”
“You can’t mean you’d stay here. What about Asgard?”
“The past two weeks, I’ve tied up loose ends. It’s in capable hands, I assure you.” Softer, they add, “I was never the heir.”
Mobius curls his fingers around Loki’s hip, offering what comfort he can for what’s clearly a sore subject.
Loki bounces back quickly. “Here or there matters little to me, so long as I am next to you.”
“Maybe we can visit first,” Mobius says, as mentally, he’s already packing his bags.
*
Mobius submits his resignation. He takes Loki to his apartment and finally has time to really appreciate Asgardian leather... and the Asgardian royal underneath.
A week later, he stands at the edge of a rainbow bridge, a sparkling city on the horizon. He fit his whole past into one medium-sized suitcase sitting forgotten at his feet. Meanwhile, he holds his future, Loki-shaped, in his arms.
“What do you think?” Loki asks.
Mobius kisses Loki and whispers, “Perfect.”