Chapter Text
1.
Loki was disappointed in himself, with how long it took for him to notice. It was his job to notice after all. Important to look for the little things to exploit, the bruises to press on until something gives.
He had noticed, for example, that Hunter B-15 favored her right side. An old injury perhaps, the hip or upper thigh. He had also noticed, in the brief moment he was in Judge Renslayer’s presence, that she was close with Mobius, found it difficult to say no to him. An old flame perhaps? Something unrequited?
Either way, a bruise to press on until something gave.
Mobius himself was difficult to read, largely because he knew so much about their current situation and Loki knew only what Mobius was kind enough to tell him. But he knew this much. Mobius was a rule-follower, at least until the rules failed to suit him. He was a true believer, which Loki found a bit pitiful. And he was perhaps more kind than he should have been.
And he loved broken things, which Loki had overheard Renslayer say through her chamber doors.
Of course, that could have meant a host of things. And Loki hadn’t realized precisely what it must have meant until he impulsively sought to catch Mobius off balance in the hall and reached out to straighten his tie. He gripped the silk with deft fingertips, gently adjusting the knot, and brushed over Mobius’ chest with his knuckles for a moment, looking up at him. And there it was.
Loki’s eyes snagged on the color that bloomed in Mobius’ cheeks, a subtle flush just under the skin as Mobius scoffed, trying to hide it. The deflection was almost effective. Almost.
Loki’s tongue almost tripped on his next words as he dragged his attention back up to Mobius’ eyes. He studied the crow’s feet there, the way Mobius looked at him intently, the slight tightness in his jaw that hinted at irritation from that flustered look from before, that tantalizing blush.
Loki’s curling smile was more genuine than the manipulative ploy it had been, when he told Mobius then, “I’ve been playing my own game all along.”
Mobius, of course, was unfazed once more, bringing up the Timekeepers and overthrowing the TVA. Loki let him have the last word as he stepped through the door, looking after him. Of course, Loki intended to meet the Timekeepers. They’d not be kept from him forever, and he could be patient. He’d always been so very patient.
But what seemed suddenly more pressing was that flush on Mobius’ face, that pink tinge he’d tried to hide by turning his head just so. Loki had missed it, up until that moment, but it seemed very simple now.
He’d found his bruise to press on, and he was sure he could get Mobius to give. Mobius loved broken things after all, and Loki could play the pitiful part so very well.
He wondered in how many ways, in how many positions he could see Mobius’ face flush like that. Time to find out, he supposed. They had all the time in the world right there between them.