Work Text:
Loki does not trust. If he is untrustworthy, he asks no more of others than he asks of himself. He does not expect people to keep their word, nor is he surprised when they betray him. He has not thought about the reasons for this in many years, until he finds himself in a TVA viewing room, watching the consequences of his own choices play out in technicolor.
Perhaps it came in childhood, from the feeling of being other, of never quite belonging. Maybe it sparked at the moment of ultimate betrayal, of finding out his true origins. Or perhaps it was simply born into his nature. He does not like this final idea; if he does not trust, it is his choice, surely. It must be.
Mobius M Mobius goes against everything Loki has ever believed—about institutions, about authority, about people who would rather settle for a life of doing what is expected of them. He had thought all such people were dull drones—too stupid to do anything beyond the conventional. But Mobius is nothing like he expects.
The first thing that catches Loki off guard is Mobius’s kindness.
Loki of Asgard grew up with “no” ringing in his ears. From his parents, from his brother, from the palace’s servants. Only his princely status had kept him from more trouble, and, even so, he’d been hauled before Odin most days for a telling-off of some kind. These memories hold no nostalgia; they are barbed reminders that he could not please, that even when he tried, he was usually misunderstood.
Mobius is the first person he has ever known who has not tried to control who he is. This is a supreme irony, given that the TVA is perhaps the most controlling place Loki has ever been. But within it, Mobius is accepting. There is no punishment for his lies, not even a blip of anger. There is worry, but that’s different. That’s something that comes from care, not anger. Maybe, Loki thinks, he should be bothered that he cannot easily make his handler believe his deceit. But he can’t bring himself to be. He’s too relieved to find that even within the unforgiving system of the TVA, there is mercy for his silver-tongued failure.
--
“You’re not particularly good at letting people be nice to you,” Mobius observes, dodging a thrown bottle of water. Loki wipes his eyes groggily, sitting up in the narrow bed the TVA provided in his Spartan quarters. “I just came to let you know we have an hour before we leave, to give you plenty of time to get ready to go.” Mobius pats Loki’s shoulder, exactly as if the sleepy god of mischief hadn’t just tried to clock him.
“I thought you were here to erase me,” Loki admits. “I had a dream about it, and when I woke up, you were there.”
“I’m sorry I startled you,” Mobius says. “When you were napping on your desk, you didn’t seem to be bothered by the way I woke you up.”
“I’m not—bothered,” Loki bristles. “I just needed to wake up and get my bearings.”
Mobius smiles. “Good man. Just meet me downstairs in 55 minutes. And one more thing, if you were going to be erased, I would tell you, and it wouldn’t be by me. Try to trust me—even a little bit.”
“I don’t—” Loki is about to say he doesn’t trust anyone, but Mobius stops him with a shake of the head.
“I know you don’t trust me now, but maybe it’s something you could work on.” The older agent shrugs and leaves the room.
If Mobius had said Loki was safe, the Trickster would have laughed in his face. But Mobius had been honest, as usual. He’d acknowledged Loki’s perilous position even as he affirmed his own intentions. It was a level of straightforwardness that Loki is unused to confronting.
Maybe if Odin had told him sooner, if Frigga had explained instead of dismissing, if Thor had— Loki forcefully pushes down his thoughts. There is no purpose to them now, and he cannot afford to expend mental energy on anything beyond survival and advancement. He quickly uses magic to ready himself for the day before following Mobius downstairs.
“You’re early. Hungry?” Mobius is drinking Barnie’s Coffee, an earth-brand that was discontinued in 2030. He’s as calm as ever, positively radiating ordinariness. Loki sits down at the small table across from him.
“Not hungry.”
Mobius passes over a plate with a boiled egg and a piece of toasted bread on it. “You sure? You’re pretty thin, and you haven’t eaten much since you’ve been here.”
“Imminent doom will do that to you,” Loki shoots back.
Mobius bites into his own buttered toast. “Suit yourself, but you know very well I’m not an ‘imminent doom’ kind of guy. I’d have to move too fast, and I like taking my time on judgment calls.”
Judgment calls. Loki flashes back to his trial, to Mobius going to his defense against the judge at the last moment. “You move fast when you need to,” he says.
“Exactly,” Mobius answers, “and that’s why I don’t make a habit of it the rest of the time. Sometimes you have to stop and smell the coffee, enjoy other people’s company. Heck, enjoy your own company.”
Enjoy your own company. Loki can’t even imagine such a thing, but it’s clear Mobius thinks it’s the most ordinary thing in existence, to be able to not just live with yourself, but enjoy the companionship.
“Do you have children?” Loki suddenly asks. He has no idea what Mobius’s personal life is like, or if he even has one.
“Nope,” Mobius says, “too consumed by the job. But it’s a fair question. I’ve been undercover as an earth dad in the mid-1960s and the late-1990s before. I blended in pretty well.”
“I should think you would,” Loki says, unable to stop thinking about what it would be like to have such an ordinary creature as a father.
“I had to stay in the 90s for a couple of weeks,” Mobius explains. “I had a temporarily de-aged Hunter posing as my kid. He said I was boring, but I liked it. You know, read the paper, say hi to the neighbors, help with homework, watch earth cartoons together.”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Loki answers. “I was raised by Odin of Asgard.”
“Not as fun as it sounds?” Mobius asks in his usual calm way. “I guess if you’re going to have Shakespeare, you don’t get Home Improvement."
Loki shakes his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I didn’t—realize how strange it was until I was nearly a man.”
“Really? What did it for you?” Mobius finishes his breakfast and sits back, watching Loki.
Loki smiles. “I snuck out of the palace and went to an outer village. I saw ordinary families there. I saw fathers playing with children, people living in tiny houses who seemed so happy together. I went back home and never told anyone--until now—but you probably already knew that.”
“Yeah,” Möbius agrees. “I figured you were jealous, and you didn’t know what to do about it, so you just didn’t let yourself think about it,” he supplies.
“Something like that,” Loki answers, looking down at the now-cold toast and egg on the plate in front of him.
“Let me tell you,” Mobius says, leaning forward, “as someone who’s seen pretty much every era in time, being a prince was always overrated. The happiest people in any era on any planet have always been those poor families in the little houses in the villages.” Mobius gets up and pushes his chair in. “No need to come along. Let me go make sure the Hunters don’t need anything.”
As he passes Loki, he puts a hand on his shoulder and leaves him with a light squeeze. “I’ll be right back.
Loki watches Mobius go, and he finds that he believes what the man said. If he says he’ll be back, he will be, just like those ordinary, plain-looking, loyal working men on Asgard, who had come home every day after hard labor to wives and families and still found energy to hold their children.
It has been many years since Loki has questioned the value of being extraordinary. He now considers that he might have undervalued the virtue of being ordinary far more than he’s ever realized.
Mobius is the most ordinary being he has ever known—and perhaps the most trustworthy of all.