Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“‘Come on, Mobius’ he said, ‘what could possibly go wrong?’ he said,” Mobius huffs as he proceeds to make a hole in the ground, walking in circles, his facial expression betraying how on edge he is right this second. 

Loki’s observing him from the spot he’s sitting on, a big rock on the ground. He’s calm, maybe even pleased if you look close enough. There’s a hint of amusement in his gaze, as his eyes follow each movement of the grey-haired man.

Mobius sighs again, before finally sitting down directly next to God of Mischief. He seems resigned and for a second there Loki feels sort of guilty, knowing that this situation is caused by his idea. The guilt, however, disappears rather quickly as he realizes that, obviously, the TVA agent could have said no. 

“It’s your fault,” Mobius murmurs, stating the obvious. 

Loki still says nothing, still staring at him with these green eyes of his, not phased at all. Then, he smiles. It’s not a mocking smile, it’s just a smile of happiness. The god is apparently having a grand time. 

“You could have said no-”

“I did say no,” the grey-haired throws him an annoyed glare. “But then you pulled the puppy eyes and I- you know I can’t resist those.” The last part of the sentence is mumbled, as the cheeks of the TVA agent turn slightly pink.

“Beg your pardon?” Loki tries.

“Don’t even try that, you heard me perfectly.”

They fall silent again, but it’s a comfortable one. Even if one of them doesn’t want to admit it, they both know that they both are enjoying this short break from work. Even if they are currently in the middle of nowhere. And they are literally lost. And they have no way of coming back to the TVA office right now since the TemPad is dead and-

Well, maybe it’s not so good after all. 

“So let me get this straight-”

“You do nothing straight,” Mobius immediately cuts him off, a small proud smile appearing on his face. 

It’s time for Loki to look annoyed. “Well, obviously, everyone knows it, that’s not the point,” he hisses before trying again. “The TemPad is dead so we cannot open the portal to go back, and you - being a TVA agent for so long - have no idea where are we and how to get us any help.” The grey-haired man hears the teasing tone perfectly.

“Gee, now that you said it out loud it does sound kind of depressing,” he jokes, not really humorously.

“Mobius-”

“Alright, alright, yes, that’s generally our current situation, what do you want me to do?” He snaps finally, jumping onto his feet and once again starting to circle the area.

The God of Mischief seems to be a bit startled by the sudden outburst. This time the guilt that he starts to feel doesn’t go away this easily. He was actually joking, but he can see now that Mobius is actually stressed. 

Loki stands up as well and quickly approaches the other man. He grabs him by his wrist, which forces the grey-haired to stop his movements and face the god. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” he says sincerely. “I… didn’t mean to make you angry.” He squeezes the held wrist slightly as a form of apology.

Mobius, once again, signs deeply, throwing his head backwards and taking a breath. Then, he looks back into these emerald orbs, which he fell for the first time he saw them.

“It’s alright,” he answers. “I’m just a bit on edge, that’s all.”

“Noted.”

They stare at each other for several seconds, maybe even minutes- It’s hard to tell when you lose track of time. The comfortable silence is surrounding them like a blanket that paramedics give you when you’re in shock. 

After what might be several hours, as well as just a few minutes, something interrupts them.

“Hey there, love birds.” As they turn around they immediately spot Hunter B-15 and Sylvie, both smirking at them teasingly at the scene in front of them.

Loki and Mobius jump away from the embrace they somehow managed to end up in, both clearing their throats. Loki’s glancing at Sylvie, his eyes begging her to stay quiet, as she discreetly mouths to him the word “Prince.”

“Um, you- took you long enough,” Mobius is the first to recover, trying to regain his composure. 

“Be grateful we even bothered,” Hunter B-15 answers casually, before turning back to the portal behind them and entering it.

The rest follows soon after.

Chapter Text

“I warned you,” Mobius said with an accusive tone. “I told you to step back while you still could."

Loki’s staring at him, his facial expression presenting confusion. “The variant was going to hurt you,” he argues, not understanding. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you had to take a hit for me?!” The TVA agent is on the edge. He yells, not being able to control his emotions. If it wasn’t for him and Hunter B-15 the God of Mischief would be long dead. 

“I’m sorry,” the Asgardian god offers in a compromise. “You are a mortal, I am a god, it’s obvious I shall protect you,” he defends his actions. 

They fall into a silence that lasts for several minutes. Both of them know that the fight is both reasonable and unreasonable. On the one hand, they both got hurt during the mission and it could’ve been avoided. On the other, they protected each other, and what matters is that they are both safe and sound.

Loki is able to accept that. Mobius is not.

The god’s injuries are much more severe, while the TVA agent has received barely scratches. He cannot stand that. He can’t watch a person, that is important to him, suffer like this.

“The variant,” he starts, his voice shaky. “He managed to stab you, deeply enough that the blade went through your body and came out on the other side. You were lucky that your internal organs weren’t damaged.” His voice breaks at the end, betraying the emotions that are taking control of him.

“You got injured as well-”

“Not as much,” Mobius cuts him off. “My injuries are scratches. Not important. Wounds that will heal in a matter of days. But you-” This time he falls silent himself, knowing that finishing this sentence would be risky. He’s emotional, he’s stressed. He’s in no position to have this discussion right now.

There’s silence again. Several long seconds, maybe even minutes or hours. They are not speaking, just glancing at each other. Mobius walking one way or another, while Loki’s sitting, very well aware that if he tries to stand up he’ll end up on the floor. They do not speak, knowing very well what the other will say. The responses are predictable. There’s no point in this discussion. One will not convince the other that they are right. 

“Let me take care of yourself,” the grey-haired man offers quietly. He huffs a sigh of relief as he observes the other nod. He wants to help. He knows that’s the only thing he can do right now to make it better. “Alright, up with your arms then.”

Loki reluctantly completes, earning a weak smile from the agent. He doesn’t like to be treated. If anyone in his past offered him to take care of his injuries, he would refuse, not trusting the other person. It didn’t matter if it was a medic he didn’t know or his mother. He wouldn’t let it happen. It was part of his nature.

However, it was different with Mobius. He felt safe with him. The moments when they were left in the room, just the two of them, were his favorites. He couldn’t suspect Mobius for playing with him, or for acting like a decent human being. This short, grey-haired mortal was probably the only person in his life that Loki truly trusted. 

He’s being ripped out of his train of thoughts as Mobius hisses sympathetically. 

“It looks worse than it feels,” the God of Lies lies.

“Are you sure?” Mobius puts one hand on the other’s ribs, careful, as to not make the pain worse. He hears the quiet groan that he immediately interprets. “Loki, you can’t lie to me,” he speaks softly, his voice doesn’t really show any sign of disappointment caused by the lie, nor the anger, just pure concern.

“It’s fine-”

“No, it’s not,” the TVA agent sits down right next to god, reaching for the first aid kit. “But it will be.”

Mobius takes out the bandage. He proceeds to fold it around the dark-haired ribs, wincing at each sound or sign of the other’s distress. He finally succeeds, huffing out once again a sigh of relief when the job is over, and the god seems to relax more. 

“Mobius, sweetheart?” Loki speaks up not really thinking about the words he's letting come out of his mouth.

“Yes, you bloody idiot?” Mobius answers, amusement present in his voice.

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you as well when I’m up to it?”

The grey-haired man hesitates, knowing very well that the god, now laying on the bed next to him, is in a much worse state than he would ever assume. He’d love Loki to go to sleep and forget about this mission. About all of it. Just relax and come back to his normal self.

Then he thinks about how he would feel being in Loki’s current state. He realizes he wouldn’t care about his own injuries. He knows the most important thing to him would be god’s well-being.

He sighs.

“I promise,” he answers eventually, gripping the other’s hand and squeezing it carefully. 

“Very well,” the dark-haired god answers, letting his eyes close directly after.

He falls into the much-needed realm of sleep. Relaxed, happy, and safe under Mobius’ cautious gaze.

Chapter Text

The picture painted in Mobius’ room is rather amusing. The TVA agent is on the bed, wheezing from laughter while Loki’s seated cross-legged on the floor, looking grumpy. Sylvie smirks at the scene in front of her before acknowledging her presence in the room. 

She knocks on the door frame softly. She notices Loki’s eyes immediately flying towards her before falling to the ground, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Well, now she is actually curious.  Mobius glances at her briefly before exploding with another wave of laughter. The God of Mischief seems rather annoyed by that, if not even embarrassed. He throws a pillow that up till now he was holding, towards the agent’s direction, missing him entirely, but also making him laugh even harder if possible. 

Sylvie chuckles to herself, before stepping further into the room. It's not possible to not notice that Loki seemingly refuses to move from the spot on which he is sitting, which makes her slightly concerned, even if just for a second.

“Everything alright in here?” she asks, directing the question mostly to the other version of herself. 

Loki nods, however, he still doesn’t speak. She decides to approach him, crouching down beside him, automatically checking for injuries. It’s sort of irrational, she knows. If Loki was injured, Mobius wouldn’t be on the bed laughing his ass off , more likely he would be hovering and fussing around the God of Mischief. 

“You can stand by yourself, can’t you?” Sylvie has to make sure. She knows she’ll be calmer this way. 

As Loki nods again, she stands up, this time her eyes falling on the other man in the room.

“You’re okay there?” Her voice changes drastically, now holding a lot of amusement at the grey-haired man’s behaviour.

She observes as Mobius forces himself to take deep breaths and calm down. He succeeds only half, however, it’s enough for him to be able to speak, and most importantly, to explain the situation Sylvie found them in.

“Everything’s fine, Sylvie, don’t worry,” he manages to choke, his chest still heaving from his attack of laughter. “Loki is just a little bit clumsy today. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Oh, piss off!” That’s the first time Sylvie hears the god speak ever since she entered the room. 

Loki seems to be wanting to throw something else at Mobius. Unfortunately, he lacks any items within the reach of his arms, so he just turns his back to the two, crossing his arms on the chest and huffing, visibly irritated. 

There’s a silence for several seconds, during which both the TVA agent and the variant are staring at the back of the God of Mischief in amusement. 

“Loki?” Sylvie finally prompts, hoping for some answers. 

“Oh, bloody hell!” The god explodes suddenly, aggressively turning around. “I sneezed so hard that I fell out of the bed, and this bloody idiot finds it hilarious!” He points at Mobius, who is smirking at him lovingly. “And don’t look at me this way!” 

Sylvie is stunned. “You-” she stutters. “You what?”

“Sneezed and fell out of the bed! Do I need to spell it to you, or would you rather I used another language?!”

To his irritation, Sylvie is giggling now as well. He glances between the two, shooting them, what he hopes is a murdering glare. 

“Sweetheart,” Mobius manages to stay calm for once, eyeing the blond variant, seemingly entertained. “I’m not trying to make you mad, it’s just that this situation is rather ridiculous, don’t you think?” He reaches his partner with one of his hands, tugging on the other’s wrist. 

Loki huffs but complies, climbing back onto the bed. Sylvie sits down as well, right next to the pair. 

“Gee, I finally found your other talent except for the magic skills,” she chokes as she finally gets her giggling under control. 

“Shut up-”

“No, you shut up.”

“Alright, children, children!” Mobius cuts them both off with a smile on his face.

There’s a while of comfortable silence between them. Then, “Just don’t mention that to anyone,” Loki murmurs, letting himself fall back onto the bed in defeat. 

“Promise,” both Mobius and Sylvie answer in unison.

“No one except for B-15,” the blond one adds innocently. 

“Piss off.”

Chapter Text

“You did amazing today,” Mobius leans forwards, enveloping Loki in a tight hug.

The god freezes upon his mate’s behaviour. He’s still under his grip, totally not understanding what’s happening. He barely notices that his breathing speeds up, making his chest heave, as he tries to take deep breaths. He’s not aware of the quivers that run through his body and he certainly pays no attention to the legs that are giving up under him.

He comes back to consciousness, more-or-less, only when he feels a soft hand stroking his spine, up and down, in a soothing motion. 

He feels like choking, not really realizing what’s going on. Touch isn’t exactly new to him, but he wouldn’t be lying if he said that he had experienced the sensation called “hugging” maybe three times in his life, most of which was provided by his mother. 

“Loki,” a soft voice whispers into his ear, and he calms down gradually. He’s safe, it’s fine, he can let himself be vulnerable for once. “I need you to take deep breaths, alright? Otherwise, you might pass out.”

The God of Mischief complies, discovering, to his happiness, that he is actually able to do so. The breathing comes easier now, the first wave of shock wearing off. He still isn’t giving up his pride, though. He needs to try the waters, before giving himself into the sensation fully. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, hating how weak and shaky his voice is. He hopes, he prays to Odin, that he isn’t crying. Mental breakdowns are something that happened to him several times before, but he really doesn’t want to experience it any time soon. 

The situation he and Mobius are currently in is supposed to be happy. They are supposed to be celebrating the successful closure of the mission. Why is his mind trying to destroy it? 

“I’m hugging you,” he hears the TVA agent answer, remembering just now that he indeed asked a question. 

“I know what hugging is. My question is - why?” 

The answer doesn’t come immediately this time. In the meantime, they fall into comfortable, or at least Loki assumes so, silence. Mobius’ hands are moving now not only on his back but also running up and down his arms, and from time to time getting lost in the dark curls of hair, running fingers through them, getting them behind god’s ears, out of his face.

Even if it’s new to him, Loki feels the sentiment behind the gestures. He feels the emotion that accompanies them. He feels like he’s loved. 

“Remember when I told you I studied your whole life? That I know everything about you, even more than you yourself may know?” The agent’s voice is back again in his ear, the soft words bouncing off the walls of Loki’s mind. 

The God of Mischief nods, not really sure where they are going with this conversation.

“I know you aren’t too familiar with this kind of affection, but I want you to try and get used to it,” Mobius continues, his voice never wavering, not even for a bit. “Do you understand what I mean?”

Loki shakes his head this time. It’s not a lie. He doesn’t know what’s happening.

“I mean that affection is something that people show to other people that they care about,” the agent explains. “And if someone cares about you, you have every right to ask for this affection, if you are lacking.”

“Mobius-”

“If you need a hug, you can always come to me. I won’t say no, ever.”

Silence again. Loki is aware of the lump forming in his throat, as well as the wetness in his eyes that makes his vision blurry. He panics slightly, not knowing what to do next, not knowing if he should be crying right now or if he should bury his emotions deep inside, just like he always does. 

“It’s okay,” Mobius reassures with a gentle tone, and that’s enough to break any walls Loki had left standing. 

He buries his face in the crook of the shorter man’s neck, swallowing frantically. He lets out a sob, then another one.

In a matter of minutes, he is on the floor, sobbing his heart out, while Mobius simply holds him, muttering soft words filled with love into his ear, rubbing calming circles on his back, making sure he knows he’s not alone and that everything is okay.

Loki wants to shatter. Or rather, he thinks he will.

He is surprised when he doesn’t. Instead, he’s being put back together. He’s being fixed by the grey-haired who’s arms are so warm. 

The next series of sobs are sobs of relief. His chest is still heaving with ragged breaths, but he isn’t on the verge of hyperventilation anymore. 

He finally settles down. He’s crying subsides. The lump in his throat is no longer present. He’s not shivering anymore. 

The warmth from Mobius’ arms is still there, though.

“Don’t let go,” the god whispers, no longer thinking about pride. “Hold me,” he pleads. 

“As long as you need.”

Chapter Text

“Remind me, what are we doing here?” Loki asks, his voice betraying a note of annoyance. He looks around the almost empty beach in the middle of which they are currently standing. 

The situation has to look bizarre from the third person’s point of view; the God of Mischief, in his Asgarian tunic, that he would always wear whenever he was in the hotter part of the realms, with his arms crossed on his chest, staring questionably at a shorter grey-haired man, dressed in a swimsuit. 

“We are here,” Mobius starts, and you can tell from his tone he is delighted. “Because I want to give you a ride on a jet ski.”

Loki raises his eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on. You never tried that, you have no idea how much fun it is.” Mobius is visibly trying to get at least a hint of a smile from the god. For now, without any results. 

“And you do?” 

“Indeed.”

Loki sighs. He’s suffering enough from the heat, he’s a bloody half-jötunn, the sun and the beach are not something that does him any good. But he did agree to try jet skiing with Mobius when the man offered it for the first time. 

“All right,” he huffs, for which he gets an even wider smile from the other one. “Just, please, let this not take long? You know I really dislike this temperature.”

“Of course, I’m keeping that in mind.”

He turns around and approaches a machine. It’s floating on water and looks rather weird, Loki thinks, as he follows Mobius reluctantly. 

The TVA agent is of course the first one to take a sit, placing his hands on the handlebars and putting his feet firmly in the footrests. He turns his head towards the god, sending him an encouraging glance. Loki grimaces but after a short while he sits behind Mobius, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. 

“Is this thing going to be able to carry both of us?” he asks, sounding unsure. 

The grey-haired chuckles. 

“It’s supposed to manage to carry up to four people at once, don’t worry,” he reassures and feels the god nod. 

With a key Mobius turns the jet ski ignition switch and pushes the throttle. He starts cruising away from the shoreline, not too fast, and not too far, not wanting to cause any unnecessary distress to god sitting behind him. 

He increases speed gradually, giving Loki time to protest if he feels they’re going too fast. The god, however, stays quiet. Taking it for a cue to continue, Mobius decides to finally start turning. 

Keeping in mind that capsizing is very easy while performing this action, he instructs Loki what to do next. 

“On my sign, I need you to lean a bit left so we can take a turn, got it?” 

The god tightens his arms around the shorter man, and Mobius can feel him pressing his head to his shoulder blade. Loki nods.

Upon confirmation, the TVA agent accelerates. “Now,” he yells over the sound of the engine and the God of Mischief complies. 

They both lean left, Mobius steering the machine carefully. They do a semicircle, now cruising back in the direction of the shoreline. They repeat the action following the same pattern a few more times, before heading back to the beach.

As they finally hit the sand line and step off of the jet ski, Mobius can’t help but notice that Loki seems a bit shaky on his feet, as if ready to fall over upon slightest touch. He smirks at him, earning a glare in return.

“Was it scary?” he teases.

Loki looks like he’s actually considering the question. He takes a few deep breaths, still hearing a bit of ringing in his ears, caused by frequent roars of the engine that he has been hearing for the last several long minutes. 

“If I say yes, will it mean you won’t ever make me do it again?” he mutters, wrapping his arms around himself.

“No,” the grey-haired man laughs, before approaching the god and putting a hand between his shoulder blades. He runs it up and down his spine. “Come on, was it really this bad?” he asks, his voice immediately turning into a concerned one. 

This time Loki is the one who smirks. “No, it wasn’t bad at all, I’m just teasing.”

Mobius blinks a few times, then chuckles lightly. “Good,” he says pulling out the TemPad. He opens a portal and looks at the god, waiting. 

The God of Mischief remains in place in silence, then, after several seconds, he speaks up again. “Next time, though, I will teach you something new,” he says, smiling evilly. 

“And what that would be?” Mobius doesn’t even try hiding his curiosity.

“Do you know how to prepare an offering to Odin, in an old-fashioned way?” 

Upon the sentence, the agent goes pale, freezing in place, upon which Loki feels an ungodly satisfaction. 

“We’re not doing that,” Mobius manages to choke, then he turns around on his heel and storms towards the portal, without saying another word.

The God of Mischief laughs. “Alright, I’ll think of something different,” he says to himself, then follows the other man.

Chapter Text

They have been sitting over these papers the whole afternoon and still nothing. No sign of the information they are searching for, even though they already managed to do a ton of research. But there’s just nothing. 

At some point Mobius lays his head on the table, feeling the headache approaching him slowly. Even though it’s not the first time that he had to spend so much time working, he feels much worse now than usual. He’s tired. Actually, that’s an understatement; he’s incredibly exhausted. And of course, he isn’t even sure why. 

He signs deeply into his arms, trying but failing to keep his eyes open.

Loki’s staring at him, sort of worried expression on his face. He has never seen Mobius like this. He doesn’t think the man’s current state is connected to any kind of emotion he might be feeling due to failed task.

No, it looks more like… like a physical thing. 

The God stands up quietly and slowly approaches the TVA agent. From the lack of any better idea he simply lays his hand on the other’s back. He starts running it up and down his spine, hoping it’d be received as a sort of soothing motion.

The only reaction he gets is a tired “mmhp?” 

“You seem to be tired,” Loki starts gently, realizing only now how pale Mobius is. It’s not a normal colour for a mortal, or at least that’s what the god was said. “Perhaps you should go back to your sleeping chambers?”

He receives some kind of a chuckle mixed with a grunt. He stays silent for several seconds, not sure what his next action should be. 

“I told you already so many times,” the grey-haired man finally speaks up, his voice low with exhaustion. “We simply call them bedrooms.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Fine. Then, shall I help you to your bedroom?” 

“Our bedroom.”

The God of Mischief feels a huge urge to hit the man, hoping that it’ll be able to knock some more sense into him. He takes a deep breath, and for once doesn’t listen to the urge. 

“I believe that’s not of import right now,” he voices his thoughts. “Do you need my help, or can you get there by yourself?” 

Mobius once again stays quiet, and instead tries standing up, but fails at that as well, swiftly and graciously slumping back onto the chair, a bit of confusion visible on his face.

At least Loki can answer his own question by himself now. 

The God of Mischief gets a hold of the agent’s shoulders and helps him towards the so-called, “bedroom.” 

Eventually, they get there. Just as they walk in, Loki switches the light switch and the room is immediately flooded by brightness. Mobius hisses at the event, which causes the god to quickly switch it back off. 

He leads the shorter man to the bed and almost throws him on it, seeing as the agent’s knees give up under him. Loki sighs. He takes a seat next to him and lets his hand rest on the man’s head, massaging it gently, guessing the hypersensitivity to the brightness might be caused by a headache, which he is very familiar with.

“Are you alright?” the god kicks himself mentally for asking such a foolish question. “Wait, no, I meant- how are you feeling?” He corrects himself. 

“Been better,” Mobius answers with a tired chuckle. 

Loki can’t help but notice he doesn’t look as bad as he was back by the desk in the library. At least he seems to be comfortable and somehow more relaxed now.

However, one thought is still not leaving god’s mind. Even if he doesn’t show it too much, he is extremely worried right at this second. Mostly because of the fact that he isn’t exactly familiar with humans’ illnesses. Sure, he heard of some, but he doesn’t know how to treat them, he doesn’t know how to help.

“Maybe I should get someone to help you,” he murmurs, realizing how much the thought of not being able to take care of Mobius scares him. 

He’s about the stand up, however, a hand that wraps around his wrist stops him. 

“You’re doing just fine,” the agent whispers to him, smiling slightly.

“I don’t know what to do. I do not have any information about mortals’ illnesses and I-”

“It’s just cold,” the grey-haired looks confident in his words, which causes Loki to calm down a bit. “I’ll be fine, just-” he hesitates for a second. “Stay?”

The God of Mischief stares at him, still not quite sure if he is the best choice in this situation, but eventually, he complies, laying down next to Mobius, his hand still massaging the other’s forehead. 

“You know that you’re risking getting sick as well by laying so close to me?” the shorter man teases. 

Loki looks him dead in the eye.

“I’m a god , Mobius,” he hisses. “I do not get colds.”

The next day would prove him wrong.

Chapter Text

Loki has been in a weird mood the whole day and Mobius still hasn’t been able to figure out why.

They are together in Central Park, New York City, observing penguins, god knows why. Actually, no, the godly half of the pair doesn’t know why they are there either. They just felt like taking a break and somehow ended up in the zoo. So be it.

Loki’s sighing every now and then, probably not really realizing he’s doing that. Each time Mobius sends him a slightly concerned stare. It’s not like anything bad happened recently, so there’s nothing he can think of that would cause the god to feel distressed. Which makes his current mood even more confusing. 

It’s obvious it can’t be anything too bad. The God of Mischief doesn’t seem to be sad, scared or angry. The only thing visible in his expression is a slight note of frustration mixed with something like concern as well. 

He does the sighing when he’s thinking; Mobius realized that only a few days after they first met. The question is - what is the god thinking about?

After hearing him sighing deeply for the twenty-seventh time this day, he decides to take some action. Otherwise, he might actually lose his mind, because of this sound. 

“Loki?” he starts, turning his whole body towards the taller man, wanting to take a good look at him as they talk. “What’s wrong?” he asks, sort of annoyed.

Loki doesn’t bother looking over the grey-haired. His eyes are still on penguins, observing as they swim in the cold water, making pirouettes.

“What’s wrong?” he answers the question with the exact same one. From the tone of his voice, Mobius understands the god is clearly and honestly confused. 

This time the agent is the one to sigh, for which he immediately slaps himself mentally.

“You’ve been acting weirdly since the morning. That chatterbox of yours seems to be turned off, even though you never turn it off, so I’m asking,” he gets a hold on the other’s arm trying to get the god’s attention. “What is going on with you?”

Loki still doesn’t say anything, and now Mobius is actually getting frustrated. He doesn’t like this silent treatment the god is giving him. His next action is radical and probably caused by the influence of emotions that are suddenly approaching him. He turns on his hill and starts going in the opposite direction than the one they were facing. 

“Don’t you like penguins?” Upon hearing the words finally being spoken, the agent turns once again, stopping in his movements. 

He crosses his arms on his chest and standing steadily he gives Loki a cold glare. He might have imagined it, but he could swear there’s a slight tremor running through half-jötun’s body. He feels a bit of guilt, if only for a second. He waits, even though he thought until now he doesn’t have any patience left. 

Loki clears his throat, now visibly nervous. He manoeuvred himself in the meantime so he is now facing the other man, but not looking at him, his eyes are rather focused on the ground. 

“I- That is- Um-” he stutters and now Mobius is really feeling for the guy, seeing as the God of Chatter is at the loss of words. 

“Loki,” the agent’s voice turns soft, and he is closing the distance between them, approaching the taller one as quickly as possible without spooking him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Jötun’s eyes fly up, looking for something, anything, reassuring in the grey-haired features. He seems to find it because he clears his throat once again and for the second time he proceeds to explain.

“I care about you,” he says quietly, testing the waters. “And I- think you care about me too and- I mean- um-” his voice fails him again and he’s visibly shaking now. 

Mobius places his hands on the god’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“Yeah?”

“I- I-” Loki takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second. He regains his composure, even if for just a second. The next words are muttered so quickly that the grey-haired TVA agent barely catches them. 

“I love you.”

Mobius blinks at him several times. His voice is caught up in his throat. He did expect that to be said at some point but… well, it still caught him off guard. He doesn’t even realize for how long he has been quiet, not until Loki’s is moving away from his murmuring apologies, trying to get away from this situation as quickly as possible. 

But Mobius catches him by his wrist before the god can get away.

“Mobius?” Now the jötun is the one in desperate need for the other to speak. 

“Wow,” the agent states finally. 

Loki’s eyes him nervously. 

“Wow,” the shorter one repeats.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

They look at each other for several next seconds in total silence. Then, the first wave of shock goes away, and Mobius finally remembers the rest of his vocabulary.

“I mean- I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he huffs with a chuckle that turns into a short laugh, as he notices the god’s confused expression.

“Does that mean you- you too-?”

“Yes, you dorky dumbass, of course, I love you,” the agent pulls the taller man for a quick peck on his lips and that seems to be the turn off the switch of the god, because the next second his legs are shaky and Mobius has to support a big part of his weight, so the God of Mischief won’t fall over. “You’re okay,” he tells him gently. 

“I didn’t think-”

“I know-” 

“So how do you-”

“Feel?” Mobius finishes for him. “Well, I mean, there were some moments of doubt when I thought you would never bring yourself to say it, so now, hearing you finally did, it’s just-” he stops, once again not finding the correct words. “Just WOW. ” 

Loki nods, not quite understanding what would be a matching emotion to “wow.”

“So you’re happy about that?” The god seemingly needs further reassurance. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s just very-”

“Say ‘wow’ one more time and I swear I will wow you out of your existence.”

Mobius laughs. “I mean to say delightful, is that word alright with you?”

“More than alright.”

And just like that, a big weight falls off of Loki’s chest. No other sigh leaves his chest that day.

Chapter Text

“Loki, I’m not so sure about this-”

“Come on, Mobius, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

The god’s leading the mortal towards the frozen lake. The winter surrounding them is beautiful but causes the shorter man to shiver slightly. It’s cold, too cold, in his opinion, to be outside. He’d prefer to stay at home, in a warm bed, not having to worry about the weather outside. But that’s not an option. He’s made a promise and he intends to keep it- even if it means complaining for the next several minutes. 

As they reach the line that is the meeting point of the ground and the ice, they stop. Loki materializes two pairs of ice skates and holds one of them towards Mobius. The grey-haired stars for a long while before taking them in his hands. 

“Put them on,” The God of Mischief instructs. 

“Obviously,” the agent hears the other laugh, as he rolls his eyes. 

After a few minutes of preparations, they are finally on the lake. Loki’s seemingly very amused by the situation, Mobius looks sort of frightened, holding onto the god for dear life. 

For Loki, moving on ice is something that comes naturally. He’s a half-jötun; the surface underneath his feet doesn’t feel as slippery as it would for most of the other beings, and the cold doesn’t bother him as much. 

The TVA agent though seems to be the exact opposite of him… And, of course, that’s quite obvious, he is a mortal, not a frost giant, but Loki can tell the shorter man prefers warmth and sun, rather than ice and snow. 

“Mobius, it’s alright,” the god reassures as he feels the other man squeeze him even tighter. 

“Don’t you dare let go of me.”

“I told you, I won’t.”

They are ice skating slowly in circles, Loki going backwards while holding Mobius, assuring that the man won’t fall. The agent is close to him, looking down onto his feet as if trying to make sure they do the exact movements he commends them to do. 

“Why are you so unsure anyway? You love jet-skiing, you love water,” the god’s voice is soft, calm. 

He enjoys the area surrounding them; the trees fully white, covered with snow all the way from up to bottom, the weak rays of the sun, trying to fight their way through the fluffy clouds, the lack of people. Even the fact that his breath comes out as a small smoky cloud, makes a smile form on his lips. Oh, how he has missed it. 

“Yes, Loki, I like water, not ice,” Mobius’ voice comes slightly on edge, but not as annoyed anymore. Ice skating doesn’t seem so hard all of the sudden. “If you fall into the water, while driving a jet ski, you won’t be met with a hard surface, as you would in case of ice,” he voices his worries. 

“If you fall from high enough, hitting the water will have the same effect on you as hitting the ice,” Loki answers swiftly, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t drive jet skis while in the air, so I don’t have to worry about this kind of fall.”

The god chuckles. They continue to slide, when Mobius suddenly realizes they are getting away from the shore, they are further and further each second. His breath hitches a little bit, but he ignores it, trying to hide from the god the fact that his fear is rising. 

“I’ve got you,” a murmur leaves Loki’s lips, because, of course, he noticed. 

The agent nods his head jerkily, his eyes still fixed on his feet and the cold surface. 

“Come on, stop staring down, look at the surroundings,” the god offers, a weak sigh audible. 

Mobius hates these sighs. He loathes them. Each time he hears one, he knows he won’t be able to say no to this jötun, and that’s not fair. It’s almost like hearing some sort of puppy eyes. 

He complies, immediately regretting his decision as he loses his balance slightly and swings. 

“Mobius, stop thinking so much,” Loki scolds. He catches the man more into his arms, to stabilize him. As he succeeds, he pulls away a bit, his hands resting on the other’s forearms, just like before. “Thinking about falling won’t save you from it. If you’re going to fall, you will.”

“Not helpful,” the agent huffs, but there’s a weak chuckle hidden in his voice. “You realize we are getting closer to the centre of the lake?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Loki looks at him confidently, hoping it’ll make the grey-haired stop questioning his actions. “Why?”

“If the ice breaks-”

“Oh, for Odin’s sake!” the god exclaims, as he forgets himself and almost lets go of the other man. “Does your brain always work like this? You weren’t exactly worried about that matter when we went jet skiing.” 

“It’s easier to drown in cold water-”

“We’re not going to drown. The ice isn’t going to break,” the half-jötun sighs again. “I won’t let it,” he hisses, and now Mobius knows he’s angry. Or, at least really irritated. 

They were supposed to come here to enjoy themselves. Loki did agree to jet skiing, it’s only fair if the agent agreed to his idea of spending the time together, and at least try to enjoy it, or not complain about it. He’s overthinking, he knows. He always does, that’s what he was taught. 

He also realizes it usually complicates any relationships he has if not crashes them immediately. He gulps, then takes a deep breath.

“Right,” he says, his voice more confident now. “Right, sorry. I know you won’t let it.”

He observes as Loki eyes him suspiciously, saying nothing. But the softness in his orbs reappears and his tensed shoulders relax a bit. 

“Look, it’s just scaring me a bit, alright?” that seems to fully draw the god’s attention to the other man. “I mean, people are scared about things they don’t know and I just- I don’t know,” he chuckles slightly, then looks at Loki. “I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Wow,” this time Mobius laughs. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

They both seem to be more relaxed now, still sliding across the lake in slow, calm motion. Loki seems to be happy here, the agent realizes, and he feels he wants it to stay like this. The soft smile playing on the god’s lips isn’t a regular thing to see. Of course, the evil grin, or the trickster-like smirk are frequent. But this is different. This is clearly just pure happiness. 

Then he realizes one more thing. Loki isn’t holding him anymore. He’s ice skiing on his own. 

And even upon the realization, he doesn’t fall. He keeps going. 

Loki’s eyes fall onto him, and his smile suddenly turns into a teasing smirk, Mobius is so familiar with at this point. 

“Is it still that bad?” he asks, turning around so he finally faces the direction in which he’s sliding. 

Now, free from the man holding onto him, he proceeds to make a few big circles around the agent. And, god, he’s fast.

Jötun gets back to the man eventually, stopping right in front of him, He puts his hands on his hips and leans forward slightly, towering over Mobius now. 

“So?” he prompts expectantly, and the shorter man knows he’s trying to make the point. 

“It’s not that bad,” the agent answers, smiling. “Quite good, actually.”

He immediately notices the spark in the god’s eyes, and he already knows what Loki’s next words will be. He’s already rolling his eyes upon hearing them, even though he’s smirking.

“I told you so!” The god looks very pleased with himself. 

And honestly? Mobius can’t even be annoyed by it this time.

Chapter Text

They are seated, their backs to the opposite walls, facing each other. Loki’s sitting on the small couch, wincing from time to time in pain, whenever he moves in a wrong way. Mobius is on the chair, shooting him a scolding, angry glare. Of course . As if the fact that he’s been injured during the mission wasn’t enough of a punishment, now he has to deal with the moody TVA agent. 

“How many times something like this has to happen, for you to finally understand you are not invincible ?!” The man’s voice is loud, he’s almost yelling. 

Loki closes his eyes. He really doesn’t want to repeat himself; he doesn’t want to have to explain once again that he wouldn’t let the agent get hurt, surely not when he could do something about this when he could protect him. But, well, it seems that he doesn’t have a choice. He pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighs, trying to collect himself.

“Mobius, please.” No matter how much he tries to keep his voice from shaking, it fails him anyway. “I don’t need this right now.”

“Sure, why won’t I just let it go and come back to this talk the next time you get yourself injured?” The agent hisses sarcastically. 

The god’s vision blurs with tears, partially from the frustration, partially because he’s just so tired- partially because he has never prepared himself mentally for a fight with Mobius. Sure, they did have small arguments, but nothing serious, and never, ever, when they’re both overtaken by strong emotions. 

He breaths out through his nose, and closes his eyes. He just wants to lay down on the floor and cry. He has never felt this miserable. Even the night he found out about his real origin wasn’t as bad. 

Why is this time so different?

“Why can’t you understand?” Loki suddenly speaks up, now even realizing at first where he’s going with this. “Why can’t you understand that no matter how much I try, I physically can’t let you get hurt? I’d rather die.” The last words sound bitter, as they fall from his lips before he can stop himself. 

He clasps his palm over his mouth, making himself stop talking. He knows what’s coming. He’s familiar with this kind of storm. He tends to bring it with himself wherever he goes. 

Loki observes as Mobius features grew tenser, his shoulder stiff, his fists clenched. His whole posture seems ready for the defence. The god shakes, the tremor running through his body quivers his whole, weak, fragile, pathetic, figure. 

I feel like shit, that’s the phrase that mortals often use when trying to describe that awful feeling. Loki doesn’t like to agree with humanity, but this one time he has to give it to them - the statement is rather fitting. 

“And maybe I don’t want you to get yourself killed for me?!” This one’s definitely a yell. 

“Well, that’s not your choice to make!” Loki answers harshly and that’s the moment Mobius sends something flying through the whole room, breaking on the wall far away from both of them. 

The god flinches, not familiar with the aggression presented by the man in front of him. A few tears escape his eyes, and now he knows there’s no going back, now he knows he won’t be able to keep it together anymore. 

“Can’t you just stop being yourself for one goddamn mission?” 

Upon hearing the angry whisper, Loki forces himself to look up at the agent, confusion mixed with sadness taking place in his green orbs. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, as his voice quivers and breaks again. 

Mobius looks him hard in the eye. “Can’t you stop being a self-sacrificing excuse of a god for once?”

The words hang between them. A sob escapes Loki’s lips. The other man looks like he’s just been slapped back into reality, only now understanding, fully understanding what happened. His own breath becomes ragged and shallow, as he tries to speak, to apologize, to say anything. But he can’t.

The next thing he knows, the God of Mischief leaves the room.

Only minutes later Loki ends up at Sylvie’s door. He hesitates a second, still not sure if he should tell her about what happened. After all, she was cautious of Mobius from the very beginning. The fact that she grew fond of him over time won’t matter now, as soon as she finds out they had a fight. Explanations that they’re both at fault won’t get through to her either. 

Because yes, he does know they are both at fault. 

He sighs. Really, what other option does he have? He needs someone right now, even if it’s hard for him to admit it. And it’s not like he has tons of people surrounding him, to which he would be able to go and talk about events from the past few hours. He has trust issues. He has begun to work on that, but still, the only two people who he can really rely on are Mobius and his blonde variant. 

The agent is of course out of consideration right now. 

The god finally knocks, sniffling a little, hoping that he doesn’t look as pathetic as he feels. Sylvie opens the door after only a few seconds and immediately pulls the taller man into an embrace, before letting him in. 

She closes the door, then locks them, not wanting anyone to interrupt them. She has an idea of what might’ve happened. B-15 got a text only a few minutes earlier and then left, saying something about meeting Mobius, so they could talk. 

Sylvie seats Loki on the bed, then gets a chair and sits in front of him. She takes his hands in her own and starting massaging circles over the top of them. She can’t help but notice the other god’s eyes reflect much more light than they normally should. She feels bad for him, almost guilty for some reason. Even though she knows the problem isn’t connected to her whatsoever, even though she realizes she couldn’t possibly do anything, she still feels like she should’ve been there. To at least stop them from saying things that they both might regret later. 

“Loki?” Her voice is soft, and she feels relief upon seeing the other one looking at her. She can now clearly make out tears in the god’s eyes. 

“I-” The dark-haired starts but cuts himself immediately, feeling his voice might break if he dares to speak another word. 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to talk about it,” she assures him, letting go of one of his hands to run her own through his hair, getting it out of his face. “At least not yet.”

Loki seems to relax a little, as he hears the statement. He nods gratefully and continues to just stare, thinking through the whole argument again. Maybe he shouldn’t have said what he said. He can imagine what Mobius must feel. After all, he’s the one who got injured while protecting the agent. He doesn’t want Mobius to get hurt, he doesn’t want to even think about any worse possibility, like dying for that matter. And now that he thinks about it, the other man probably feels the same way. 

He swallows hard upon realization.

Then, he hears a sigh and his eyes fall once again on the goddess in front of him. He shoots her a questionable glance, upon which she smiles sadly. 

“Oh, Loki,” she gives up on his hands, and instead she wipes the other’s cheeks with her thumbs. Loki looks surprised - he possibly didn’t even realize he’s crying until now. “You can stay here, with me, as long as you need, okay? No rush.”

The dark-haired nods gratefully. Then he pushes away slightly from Sylvie’s hands, before proceeding to hide his face in his own, quivering ones.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispers, brokenly.

Sylvie falls from her chair, onto her knees, directly in front of the other god. She holds up her arms, and slowly envelops Loki in yet another hug. She hears the other one’s breath hitches. She shakes her head, ever so slightly.

“You are both at fault. Don’t blame yourself too much,” she murmurs softly, running her hands up and down Loki’s spine. 

He sighs, this time with relief. He was wrong - she does understand. She doesn’t blame Mobius. She focuses on Loki and his well-being. She gives him space, gives him time.

And that’s how the God of Mischief knows things will be fine. He’ll fix it. She’ll help him.

Chapter Text

“Weren’t you a bit harsh to him?”

The question hangs between them. Mobius takes another sip of coffee, only God knows why he’s drinking it when his pulse is on the roof level even without it. He puts the mug back on the table and twists it in his fingers, staring into the abyss. 

It’s hard to admit but Hunter B-15 might be right on this one. He himself also feels that his reaction might’ve been too aggressive. On the other hand, he was in emotions, he was on edge. Seeing someone you care about get hurt because of you, and then tell you they would sacrifice much more than just their health for you- It’s not information that you can easily process. Especially when that person is a god and thinks they’re invincible and indestructible. 

The TVA agent sighs deeply, as he feels the rest of the adrenaline from the fight wears off. Truth be told, he’s never expected Loki to react like this; he was more prepared for an angry god in the mood for stabbing, rather than a shaking, fragile ball with tears in his eyes. 

And now, now, he is really starting to feel guilty. 

“You're right,” he answers finally, and the statement is so sudden that for a second it seems like he had awoken B-15 from a long sleep. “I mean, I won’t take back what I said-” his voice wavers, as he recalls the last words he said to God of Mischief, before the other left. 

Can’t you stop being a self-sacrificing excuse of a god for once?

They echo in his head, and he closes his eyes, squeezes them tightly, almost as if in pain.

“Not all of it, anyway,” he continues. “But I should probably apologize.”

Hunter B-15 nods then leans a bit forward.

“Listen,” she says, a sigh leaving her own lips as well. “From what you said I can see that you both are at fault, probably close to equally. But just- try to have a bit more patience for this guy?”

Mobius looks up, a bit confused. He smirks, then speaks up.

“Look who’s speaking,” he tries to make his voice teasing, but he fails, realizing the importance of her words. 

By now, after studying Loki for the most part of his life, he should know that Lokis aren’t easy to deal with, it requires a lot of work, a lot of goodwill… and a lot of understanding. But so far he also notices that it’s always worth it in the end. 

“Being with Sylvie changed my perspective a bit,” B-15 explain, with a small smile on her own. 

Mobius nods, understanding. You won’t fully understand how Loki works until you are spending most of your time with them.

“I should really talk to him.” He stands up and looks around. Then, his eyes fall back on B-15, helpless.

Her smile grows wider. “I know where to find him,” she says, as she stands up as well.

“I should go and talk to him,” Loki speaks up. 

During the last few hours spent with Sylvie, he managed to visibly calm down. The tear tracks are almost gone from his cheeks, he seems to be more present now, and thinking much more clearly. He gets the situation now, he understands Mobius’ perception of it and he wants to find some kind of compromise. 

Of course, he can’t just give up protecting the man… But he can at least promise to be more careful. If, and only if, the agent will promise him the same.

“I think he got the same idea,” Sylvie answers smiling lightly, as they both hear a weak knock on the door. 

There they are, once again sitting down, facing each other. Loki swallows visibly, his nerves getting a bit on edge again. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths, then upon realizing that Mobius is as nervous, he relaxes, ever so slightly. 

“Listen,” they both start at the same time. 

The agent chuckles weakly at that, which is followed by the god smirking at him.

“Go on,” Loki encourages.

Mobius collects himself, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. He breathes through his nose, recalling the thought of being patient. 

“I know you were trying to protect me,” he starts, glad when he hears that his voice is steady. “I shouldn’t have reacted so- aggressively. This outburst didn’t help at all. But you need to understand that the thought of you getting hurt scares the hell out of me. So seeing you sacrificing yourself for me, without thinking whether you will survive it or not- it’s just too much. ” He finishes by taking another deep breath, now waiting for the god to say something. 

He expects him to argue again. Tell him that he’s not some fragile mortal, that he’ll be fine. But it never comes. He’s surprised upon hearing the next words, falling from Loki’s mouth.

“You worry, I can understand that,” the god murmurs, suddenly all the confidence he had leaving him. “Or rather, now I understand. You don’t want to see me injured as much as I don’t want to see you injured.” He refuses to say ‘dead’, knowing it won’t do good for either of them. “I’m sorry.”

Mobius is staring at him, slowly processing words. He hasn’t been prepared for Loki to agree with him so quickly. And he feels sort of bad, thinking that maybe the god isn’t honest with him, maybe he agrees only to avoid yet another argument.

He gets off his chair, and slowly approaches the bed, then sits down on it carefully, giving the God of Mischief time to protest or move away. He’s glad when the god doesn’t even flinch. 

Loki doesn’t look at him, but he speaks up again.

“I can promise to be more careful if you promise me the same,” he swallows hard once again, now feeling his emotions overtaking him once more. 

He’s being pulled into a hug immediately, and he answers it by wrapping his own arms around the other man. He hides his face in the other’s shoulder, only now realizing how much he missed this touch. 

“Of course, I promise,” Mobius whispers, as he runs his hand through the god’s hair. 

Loki nods, squeezing him tighter, trying to get closer. 

“I’m sorry for calling you an excuse for a god,” the agent whispers, and now Loki knows he’s going to certainly cry again. “I swear I didn’t mean it. You are no excuse, you are the most real god I’ve ever come across.” He plants a light kiss on Loki’s temple, as the god whimpers quietly. 

“I’ve been called worse-” he tries to joke, but his voice breaks immediately.

“That’s no excuse for calling you like this. I know I hurt you. I won’t ever do it again.”

They sit like this for a longer while, during which Loki manages to once again get his emotions under control. He sniffs weakly, before pulling back, still keeping his hands on the other man’s shoulders. 

“I love you,” he whispers.

Mobius smiles at him warmly. “I love you too.”

“Let’s never do this again.”

“Agreed.”

Chapter Text

The thunder behind the windows rambles aggressively, at which Loki flinches, ever so slightly. This weather has been going on for about an hour now; Mobius has been observing the god all this time.

So far he knows that the God of Mischief jumps each time there’s a loud growl outside, or whenever the lightning strikes, making the room they’re sitting in brighter for a split a second. From the gathered information he can conclude only one explanation: the God of Mischief, half-jötun, the son of Laufey, the rightful heir of Jötunheim, Loki Odinson is scared of thunderstorms. 

In any other circumstances, this kind of information would be a perfect source of teasing. However, this is not one of these times. Seeing how badly Loki reacts to something as simple as the weather, makes something twist inside the TVA agent. The strong, confident and self-sufficient being in front of him is cringing from fear, and he cannot possibly feel anything else except for pure sympathy. 

In fact, Loki is so absorbed by these sudden flashes and noise that he doesn’t even notice when Mobius moves closer to him, now sitting on the floor directly next to god, instead of, as earlier, on an armchair in the corner of the room. 

Yet, he doesn’t make any move to touch the dark-haired. He simply remains in his position, close enough for Loki’s brain to notice the change in the atmosphere, and maybe, hopefully, the wave of comfort that Mobius is radiating with right now, but also far enough so that the god doesn’t feel crowded and can move away whenever he wants. 

Half-jötun doesn’t react, doesn’t turn around. He’s not looking at the agent, rather into the space in front of him, the so-called abyss. Now that the distance between them is much smaller than before, the grey-haired man can see very well how much the god is shaking. 

“Loki?” He tries calmly, gently, not to scare the other man even more than he already is. 

The god remains silent, but he does acknowledge the agent, by simply leaning back a bit, so his back presses lightly to Mobius’ chest. The grey-haired takes the clue, putting one of his arms around the god. 

He both feels and hears Loki sigh. 

The TVA agent is a bit caught off guard, when the jötun suddenly turns fully towards him, lowering his head on the human’s shoulder, breathing in and out deeply, possibly trying to keep his emotions under control, not let them win the fight. 

Mobius knows he’s struggling, which makes him want to help even more. But he still hesitates to move, not knowing what the god’s reaction would be if he did. 

“Is- is this fear of yours somehow related to your brother’s abilities?” The agent finally risks, realizing fully that he might be provoking an outburst of anger or even rage in Loki.

But the god just scoffs, then presses his forehead even closer to the grey-haired's neck. 

“No,” his voice is barely above the whisper, but it’s clear enough for Mobius to register how much it’s trembling. This god is a mess right now.

They stay silent for a few next seconds, as the sounds of thunder once again drown out both of them. As it calms down again, Loki continues, his voice still shaky and full of fear.

“I just don’t appreciate this kind of weather conditions, understood?” He wants to sound intimidating, but it’s not easy when he’s literally hiding from a bit of sound and a bit of flash in the mortal’s chest. 

He feels weak and pathetic. 

He’s vulnerable and fragile.

He doesn’t want to be like this. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, not even Mobius. 

Yes, the man might’ve studied him half of his life and yes, he probably knows more about the god than he himself knows, but it doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t mean Loki wants to let him witness it. 

“What can I do to help?” 

The question hangs between them. These few simple words and the tone of the agent’s voice are enough to immediately make Loki give up his previous fight for control. He suddenly feels exhausted, and suddenly realizes he doesn’t care about Mobius seeing him the way he really is. 

He doesn’t mind being honest. 

The grey-haired mortal isn’t laughing and the god. He isn’t teasing him, not ridiculing him. He’s just there, ready and willing to help. 

Not taking any action on his own. Waiting for instructions. 

Loki chokes on another breath. He swallows hard, trying to regain enough composure to at least voice his request. 

He takes Mobius’ hands in his own, as he leans backwards, away from the embrace. 

“Just this,” he manages as he slightly holds up their clasped hands. “I just need this.”

The agent nods, then smile at the god reassuringly, as he tightens his grip. He hears Loki sigh in relief, which causes the pressure on his chest to finally be lifted from it. 

To his surprise, he understands why the God of Mischief is specifically asking for this sort of touch. The hug would be interfering in the jötun’s personal space, making him feel trapped, like an animal in a cage. On the other hand, a simple touch on the shoulder would be too little, making Loki feel insecure, causing him to think Mobius might leave any second and he’ll be left alone. Holding hands is something that the god perceives as the golden mean. 

Mobius gets it. He doesn’t know why or how but he does. 

And he complies. He’ll stay there in the same position, doing the exact same thing, nothing more, nothing less, as long as the dark-haired man needs. 

He accepts that. 

And maybe that’s exactly what ultimately makes it easier for Loki to get rid of the fear.

Chapter Text

He’s circling the room. Pacing. One second he’s on the left side from the door, the next second he’s under the opposite wall. He’s wandering around, roaming, prowling. His mind is restless, he is stressed, overstretched, pressured. The thoughts are running through his mind with the speed of light, he is not able to focus on anything. It’s too much, everything is just too much. 

His breathing is heavy, his chest heaving. He feels like choking, like drowning, like dying. Everyone is expecting him to be indestructible, unbreakable. Everyone thinks he can take anything, he’ll get through any difficulty without having to deal with the storm of emotions afterwards. 

Every single person in this goddamn office thinks of him as someone who doesn’t feel the same way as a regular human being is, and his mind doesn’t even begin to comprehend as to why. He is just like the rest of them; the same fragile, susceptible to emotions, living figure. 

Why?

Is it because he’s the one who volunteered to take care of a broken god?

Is that why everyone thinks he doesn’t care, doesn’t mind?

Mobius takes a deep breath to calm himself, to no effect. He huffs in frustration, knowing that there’s no going back now; his walls are falling, smashing one over another, these which haven’t been broken yet, have gigantic cracks on them anyway - it won’t be long till they give up as well. 

He hears the slam of the door behind his back but doesn’t bother checking who is the one to come in. His mind is blank, the words won’t hit him, no matter who it is and what they say. He remains in the same position, hands in the pockets of his trousers, back to the entrance of the room. He waits, not really waiting. He’s ready for anything, expecting anyone. 

The guest doesn’t speak which is sort of concerning- or it would be if Mobius was in the state of mind that lets him still be able to actually be concerned. 

Instead, two long arms come from behind and wrap around him, and he doesn’t have to turn his head to know who the stranger is. 

Loki puts his head on the human’s shoulder, breathing evenly, humming softly, gently. Every one of his movements is slow, as if not to scare or enrage further the grey-haired. Mobius has to admit, even if only to himself, that he is grateful for that. If the god’s actions were too sudden, it would surely put him on edge. 

“They all think they can give me a shit ton of work and I won't be overwhelmed by the amount of it,” the mortal explains, gathering every sparkle of his remaining energy to stop his voice from shaking. 

“That’s unfair of them. They should know better than to put you on edge,” the God of Mischief answers his tone remaining calm. He turns his head slightly to the side, so the breaths that leave his mouth are now hitting Mobius’ neck. 

He’s not sure if it’ll help or make it worse, he doesn’t know what sort of reaction he should be expecting, but he decides to take the risk, hoping the intention itself will be enough to make the agent feel better. 

The man doesn’t react, but more importantly, he doesn’t protest, which encourages Loki. So he stays in this position, proceeding to warm the human’s neck with his breaths. 

“You were not helpful either today,” Mobius adds after a while, swallowing hard. 

He doesn’t like calling Loki out like this. He usually knows better. He tends to be a patient man, so he lets the god come to the realization himself. 

Today is different. 

Today the storage of his patience has been emptied.

Loki sighs, quietly. He still doesn’t move, instead starting to rub the mortal’s chest with one of his hands in a soothing motion. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’ve been annoying, difficult… I realize that. I promise I’m working on that.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

The God of Mischief almost falls over upon seeing a small smile forming on the grey-haired man’s lips for the first time this day. He puts all his effort to remain standing. Then, he smiles as well, ever so slightly and kisses Mobius’ temple. 

“I’m sorry these oafs are draining you,” he murmurs. “What can I do to help?”

The human wonders for a while, thinking if there even is anything that’ll make it better. Then his mind finally perceives something - he’s feeling much calmer already. In fact, he has been much less stressed ever since the God of Mischief entered the room. He huffs a chuckle, realizing only now how much his sense of observation is dull right now. 

“You’re already helping,” he answers softly, turning around.

Then he wraps his own arms around the god, pressing tightly to his chest, listening to the regular breaths the taller being is taking, smelling his scent - just, in general, comprehending that he is right there, ready to help, ready to, for once, stop being this annoying, evil guy, and instead become someone who actually cares. 

Once again, Loki sighs - but this time in relief. He tightens his arms around the grey-haired as well, humming softly in quiet approval. 

Mobius remains in the same position, the same place.

A big weight falls from his chest, his breathing evens. He’s no longer choking, nor drowning as if in water; instead, he’s on a shore, taking deep gulps of air, feeling his lungs with the fresh breeze. He’s no longer dying, in fact, he finally feels very much alive. For the first time that day.

He’s no longer overwhelmed. No longer stressed. No longer fragile.

Finally in control of his own emotions. 

All of that only thanks to the god who decided to ignore Mobius’ instruction from around thirty minutes ago, and enter the room instead of leaving the agent alone, just like everyone else did.

And that’s the ultimate proof to Mobius. 

The ultimate proof that Loki is the one, maybe the only one, who cares.

Chapter Text

“You’re my favourite.”

These three words have been boring a hole in his skull ever since he heard them. He has very mixed emotions. On the one hand, he wants to believe they were a joke, on the other though he cannot bring himself to ignore them.

He’s conflicted.

Is he reading too much into them? Maybe he should just relax and let it go? Maybe he should let it be, ignore it, act as nothing happened?

But it’s not that simple for him - he feels like he cannot let go of them. For the first time in his life, he feels fully and utterly happy. However, the second these three words left Mobius’ lips, his world started falling apart.

He feels like he’s losing everything on both sides. Like being brushed aside, forgotten and ignored. 

If he could ask Mobius, just to make sure that he was teasing, joking. Yet, he knows he won’t. He won’t because it would mean admitting to his own weakness. Admitting to the fear of being left alone again, not important to anyone, just an error in the world that could be easily erased without anyone noticing. 

It also means being faced with reality. Because what if the agent says that he was being serious? 

It’s been several weeks since that event. Several weeks of thinking about something that was probably long forgotten by people around him. He hated that feeling. 

Loki couldn’t help but notice Mobius meeting up with Sylvie on several occasions. Even though he did ask for the dark-haired company a few times, the god still felt left out, like a fifth wheel.

Each time he would be observing them closely.

Each time without saying anything. No commenting, nor complaining.

Each time he would feel utterly frustrated and powerless. 

“Alright, what’s wrong with you?” Mobius asks as they are sitting in his room.

Today is very peaceful, ideal for relaxing, so there they are, in the agent's room. Loki hoped to take his mind off of things bothering him, at least for this afternoon, distracting himself with books. 

But today, out of all days, the TVA agent finally decides to let him know he noticed god’s weird behaviour. He finally wants to confront him about it, now, when Loki thought he was getting over it. 

He can’t help rolling his eyes. He’s more annoyed than anything. He doesn’t want to have this talk. He doesn’t want to have to go through these thoughts all over again. 

“Nothing is wrong with me,” he lies, but immediately feels this time his talent for hiding the truth didn’t appear. He realizes he doesn’t sound confident at all.

“Really? ‘Cause you’ve been moping for weeks now,” Mobius answers sort of sharply. Then, upon understanding he won’t get an answer, he sighs. “Alright, I’ll tell you what’s been going on. I’ve been kind of bonding with Sylvie and you are jealous.”

Loki’s eyes widen. So he did notice.  

“I gotta make it clear; there’s nothing between us, okay? So you don’t have to worry about losing her or anything.”

Now, the god’s confused. He gets caught off guard as he hears the statement. So Mobius did notice… but at the same time, he didn’t.

“Mobius-” he tries, a small smile appearing on his lips, even in spite of himself.

But the agent immediately cuts him off, not really listening, just carrying on with his explanation.

“I mean, honestly, whenever we meet, we end up talking about you anyway so-”

“ Mobius- ”

“There’s really no reason for you to be jealous-”

“Mobius, hold your fuckin’ horses.”

That does it. The TVA agent shuts up, stunned. It’s not a regular thing to hear the God of Mischief swear in such a mortal, human way. It’d shock everyone, no matter how well they know him.

Loki actually laughs, ever so slightly, as he sees the expression on the grey-haired’s face. 

“It’s not about her,” he explains softly when he finally calms down enough to speak. “It’s about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes, I’m jealous of the relationship she has with you, you moron, not the other way around!” The god lets the words flow out of his mouth. 

They fall silent for several seconds just looking at each other. Then, they both explode with laughter; possibly caused by nerves, the gathered feelings and the tension, but still, it’s laughter, not tears, as Loki expected. 

And the god can finally feel the tension leave his body.

He can ultimately feel safe.

He’s not losing anyone. 

On neither of the sides.

Chapter Text

“Loki, what are we doing here?” Mobius sighs resigned, as they exit the portal, entering a hot and somehow familiar area.

The God of Mischief swings around to look him in the eye, his own orbs sparkling with something that looks like an emotion close to enthusiasm, but not quite. The grey-haired isn’t able to stay focused enough to fully observe and analyze everything that’s surrounding them, and surely not to do a psycho-analyze on half-jötun standing in front of him. 

On any regular day, he’d probably even try, knowing how much he cares about Loki and realizing that the god isn’t always open with what’s happening inside of his head, which causes Mobius to analyze him and guess what’s on his mind all the time.

But this time is different, for today he has his own smoothie of emotions to deal with. It’s been present for several days now and he doesn’t seem to be able to get rid of it. He tries a lot of things that’d on a regular basis would help him whenever he was feeling bad, but this is somehow something from an utterly divergent category. Nothing works. Or at least none of the things he has tried until now. 

Loki’s still staring at him, with the same sort of emotion, as well as happiness and amusement. Mobius would be lying if he said he isn’t confused right at this second. 

“We’re on a date, ” the God of Mischief explains as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire multiverse. 

“A date?”

“That’s what you, mortals, call it, correct?” Loki’s face falls a little upon realizing the agent’s shock, but he recovers quickly, a smile returning to his lips. “Or have I mistaken the terminology again?” 

Mobius shakes his head, then notices it’s not exactly clear which of the questions he is answering. He clears his throat, then cracks a small smirk. 

“No, you’re correct, it’s called a date.” He observes as the god in front of him sighs with relief. “What I meant- just- why? ”

He doesn’t even react when the God of Mischief captures his hand, starting to lead them, it seems, basically straight ahead, in no specific direction, nor with a specific purpose. By now he’s so used to small touches that he receives from the dark-haired that he doesn’t pay attention to them. And, of course, he doesn’t mind. He never minds his touch. 

“I thought we could use a break,” the grey-haired hears jötun explain. “I was sort of getting sick of sitting in one place, doing nothing. Especially after all the terrible events related to TVA.”

Loki immediately notices the expression that appears on Mobius’ face, after he voices that last thought, and, upon understanding his mistake, he throws him an apologetic glance. 

The TVA topic is still fresh and raw. They don’t touch it unless absolutely necessary, mostly for Mobius’ sake. The god can’t blame him - he knows this state of mind very well. The unsettling feeling of loss and betrayal. For a period of time, you might even lose any will to live, as you comprehend that anything you’ve been doing up until the certain point of your life has been meaningless and that the people who you’ve seen as your closest, even sort of family, are just bunch of liars, nothing more.

The jötun hears the other man sigh again, so he stops in his movements, turning around once again, to be able to stand face-to-face with his partner and to manage to take in all his features. All the emotion that might be there. 

“Tell me you don’t like it and we can go back,” he promises quietly. “But I really do think you could use some time outside, just relaxing. We both could.”

Mobius is staring at him, uncertain. Then, to god's surprise, he chuckles. Of course, the surprise is rather pleased, however, no less bewildering. The grey-haired man must register that face pretty quickly because he opens his mouth to speak. 

“I have nothing against it if you want to have a date like this,” he explains, the smile not leaving his lips.

“Then why are you sighing?”

“Loki, the sun of my life, we’re having a date in Pompeii .”

Loki looks at him, and the agent can literally see the wheels turning in the god’s brain. The neurons finally meet, and the jötun seems to be understanding the issue now. 

“Mobius, the sun of my life, ” he imitates the agent’s voice, causing the other one to raise his eyebrow. “ Obviously , I wouldn’t take us to the year of Vesuvius’ explosion.”

And now, when Mobius finally takes a good look around, a really good look, he can see tourists walking around the ruins of something that was once a city. They find themselves in the Vesuvius National Park, not far away from the year in which Loki proceeded to take over New York. Or at least that’s what he can notice from briefly glancing at a newspaper left on a nearby bench. 

“You do realize, this volcano has been in peace for long enough that it can basically erupt again any second now-?”

“ Mobius- ”

“Alright, alright, I’m just joking,” the agent chuckles again, knowing that now he is actually annoying the god. “I really appreciate your idea and effort, honestly.”

Loki nods hesitantly. 

“Loki, I do.”

“Alright.” 

They fall quiet for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence and the fact that for the first time in a really long time they don’t have to worry about anything.

Then, they randomly choose one of the directions and head that way. Slowly. Without any hurry. Just enjoying every small piece of the surroundings and the company they’re in.

“So,” Mobius finally decides to break the silence, one more time. “You’ve decided that the most romantic place for a date would be a scene of mass destruction.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Chapter Text

“Can’t you dress in something different every once in a while?” 

These were the words that left Mobius' mouth a few hours ago and were directed to Loki. Now, he kind of wishes he never said them. The God of Mischief, of course, took them very personally and, judging from the look on his face, accepted the challenge, as he raised one of his eyebrows and left the agent to himself. 

Mobius should’ve known better than to provoke Loki in the field of outlook, but he couldn’t resist commenting any longer. He’s been seeing the jötun in the same old TVA jacket and the shirt and tie put on the exact same way Mobius used to wear them, that he’s gotten sick of it. 

Don’t get him wrong - he isn’t stressed about Loki’s reaction or emotions. Sure, it’d be probably wise to worry about hurting the god’s feelings this way, but he knows this guy too well to be fooled like this. He realizes Loki is going to pull something off, and that’s what scares him. He hates not knowing.

And knowing the God of Mischief, if it comes to him you know literally nothing . And you can expect everything. 

Now, after some time passed since their last talk, Mobius finally received a text message from the jötun, because yes, he did convince him to start using a mobile phone, at least briefly, just so the agent can contact him if there’s any emergency. The text’s content told Mobius that the god wants to meet him as quickly as possible at the place they’re staying together right now. 

Yes, together, but obviously Mobius wasn’t allowed to enter their home until now.

So he's standing there, facing the front door, counting in his head to calm down as much as it’s only possible for him in this kind of situation. More than anything he fears for his own reaction. It wouldn’t be profitable for him to embarrass himself in front of the God of Mischief himself, would it?

He puts his hand on the doorknob, then turns it and walks in. He doesn’t see Loki straight away, which is good but also bad at the same time. He calls him but doesn’t receive any answer.

Maybe he isn’t here. Maybe Mobius understood something wrong or maybe the god is actually similar enough to mortals to feel nervous as well, so he’s sitting somewhere, hiding, avoiding Mobius just as Mobius tries to avoid him.

He sighs and turns around to close the door behind himself. As he swings, to once again face the inside of the house, his eyes fall on the figure standing in front of him, leaning on the door frame. 

Mobius lets himself take the view in, gulping with visible difficulty. 

Loki’s green orbs are piercing right through him, his eyebrow raised again as if daring him to comment further on his appearance. The god’s wearing all black; black suit, under which there’s a black shirt, black tie is visible as well, followed by black trousers and shoes. 

The former TVA agent can’t help but notice how much this sort of formal wear emphasizes god's waistline. He’s staring, maybe even gaping. Judging from the jötun’s facial expression, he’s very pleased with the reaction he caused. Loki smirks, as he approaches Mobius slowly, putting a hand on the man’s arms as soon as he finds himself within arms reach. 

“Is this better?” The god asks smoothly, and the shorter man slaps himself mentally for even thinking about commenting on the way the dark-haired dresses in the first place. 

He knows he’s not able to answer, and he realizes that Loki understands it too. The jötun seems to be enjoying the situation and the weird atmosphere in the room. 

Mobius notices his breathing begins to be problematic, so he forces himself to breathe in and out deeply, still staring, still swallowing hardly. His eyes wander from god’s loose hair to his shoulders, to his waist, then his legs, then they come back to his hair and the circle starts again. 

“Well, I guess if you don’t like it I can always go back to my previous look,” Loki teases. He almost laughs, upon seeing the other man shakes his head furiously. “So I should keep it?” This time he receives an aggressive nod. 

He pulls away a bit and takes his hand away. Then, he starts circling around Mobius, just like a vulture circles its freshly found food. He’s hungry for any sort of reaction, anything different than Mobius’ sudden inability to speak. 

He’s getting impatient. He would never admit it out loud, but he needs praise and reassurance when he’s doing something right. He needs people to tell him that, directly. The look itself usually isn’t enough. 

“Mobius, will you say something?” He prompts, now getting slightly desperate. 

The former agent opens his mouth, and for a second it seems as if he’s finally going to speak up, but then it falls closed again. He tries several times, eventually giving up on speaking. 

He observes the very weak frown appearing on god’s face, shadowing the smirk that has been there ever since he entered the house. He immediately understands the jötun’s need, however, he fears he might not be able to fulfil it.

He parts his lips once again, then, instead of speaking out loud, he mouths a single word. 

“Wow.”

Loki’s the one who’s gaping now. Seconds pass, he’s still staring. Then, after what seems like an eternity, he bursts into laughter, closing the distance between them again. He laughs even more as he notices that the agent is repeating the word over and over again without actually voicing it. 

His hands are back on the man’s shoulders, then wandering for a second to his tie to adjust it, before returning to their previous position. 

The god eventually leans forward, putting a light but long kiss on the man’s lips. When he pulls away, he realizes Mobius’ mouth is now just hanging open. He seems like a robot that just lost its power source. An even wider smirk returns to Loki’s features.

“What?” he asks teasingly. “A snake got your tongue?”

Chapter Text

They both have to admit; today isn’t fitting in the normal routine they usually experience. What started as a seemingly simple field operation, suddenly turned into a full-size battle, without even giving them a decent warning, and now they are forced to participate in it. Not to mention half of their relationship doesn’t have much experience if it comes to physical fights in which you absolutely need to use weapons. 

Of course, that doesn’t mean Mobius doesn't know how to use weapons at all. Ever since he started working for TVA, which was- oh, so long ago, he was always equipped with two small pistols, in case of emergencies. However, he never had an opportunity to use them anywhere aside from the shooting range. 

Positive thinking would probably help more than panic over lack of experience, so he perceives the battlefield around them as his first practical lesson.

Meanwhile, Loki wouldn’t be happier to be here. If he was alone, that is. He doesn’t mind Mobius’ company, yet he can’t help but worry. He would be running around, using his magic and daggers to stab, stab, stab, but he is too scared of leaving the agent alone. He cannot stand the thought of the grey-haired getting injured in any way, not to speak about the worst-case scenarios. 

The entire area is flooded by two groups of entities, but the god can’t identify either of them. He barely listened to Mobius when the man tried to explain all the details of the mission earlier. Well, at least he knows who to kill and who to spare, and that’s all that matters. 

He keeps throwing worried glances towards the grey-haired agent, making sure he’s not going down anytime soon. 

This was supposed to be a simple, stealthy operation.

Loki snorts under his breath. 

Simple doesn’t necessarily mean easy, he reminds himself. 

He panics slightly when some of their adversaries start separating him from Mobius more and more, each second making it harder for him to even see the man. As the true dread finally settles in, he reacts automatically, defending himself, injuring badly or taking lives from the individuals of the opposite army. He manages to quickly conquer the distance that is dividing him from the grey-haired agent, now standing right beside him, looking around, analyzing their chances and possibilities. 

If you’d known Mobius you could tell he is sort of distressed, however, to strangers, he would probably appear like an experienced veteran, not phased by anything happening in his surroundings, only doing what he’s supposed to do, shooting anyone who attacks him. 

He uses only one of his pistols - Loki’s pretty positive that it can be caused by the fact that the agent didn’t have enough practice up until now to be able to handle a gun with his right hand. He’s using only his better hand, the left one. 

And that observation gives the God of Mischief an idea. Idea, which might seem and sound foolish, but it’s going to work and be practical; at least for the half-jötun, not necessarily for the human.

“Mobius?” Loki risks focusing more on the man, rather than fighting. 

“Loki?” the agent answers, his eyes never leaving the battlefield in front of him.

“I need you to do something for me.” The god yells over the screams coming to them from everywhere. He deflects another attacker, striking him with his daggers, then eyeing him quickly as the entity falls to the ground, before returning his full attention to the agent. 

“What is it?”

“Grab my hand,” Loki answers quickly, his eyes everywhere but on Mobius. 

“Excuse me?” It’s not that the man wouldn’t like to hold the god’s hand- It’s just that it is not a good time for such requests. 

“Mobius, please,” the jötun prompts, dodging another swing aimed at him. “This way I won’t lose you in the crowd of these bloody oafs, reducing chances of losing you permanently.”

The god realizes his defensive organism kicks in once again, and he starts talking in a rather complicated manner, using more difficult words. He’s always done that, whenever he felt desperate for anyone to comply. Except for his mother, most of the people around him haven’t read entire dictionaries, so upon hearing something they didn’t quite understand, they’d just give up, then comply with whatever needed to be done. 

He’s glad when he doesn’t hear another word of disagreement, instead of feeling a hand enveloping his own free one. Thanks to the fact that Mobius is left-handed and Loki is right-handed, they can hold hands without making it difficult for them to continue to fight using only one of their upper limbs.

“We gotta look ridiculous,” Mobius mutters, to which Loki laughs. 

“We surely do,” he answers after a while. “But if it means keeping you safe and sound by my side, I couldn’t care less.”

Chapter Text

“You never told me when your birthday is,” Loki mentions, without really paying attention. 

They are sitting by the table in the kitchen of their house. Only recently they managed to finish TVA, burn the quarters down, to Loki’s absolute delight, and soon after that, they decided to settle down somewhere permanently. And since the god doubted that Mobius, a mortal human being, would be happy in any Asgård, they chose Midgård, Earth. At least here they don’t have to worry too much about weird creatures attacking them when they expected it the least - or, rather, Loki doesn’t have to be concerned about it, since Mobius probably doesn’t know much about dangers of any other realms anyway. 

The god doesn’t hear any answer for far too long, so he looks up. His eyes widen, as he meets the former agent’s gaze and find in it both surprise and confusion. 

“Mobius?” he prompts, now sort of curious as to what would get the man in this state. 

He fully freezes, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open, as he finally hears the other’s voice. 

“What is a birthday?”

Seemingly a simple question, to which a simple answer would be required. However, Loki finds it difficult to find his voice. He averts his eyes, instead staring at the plain surface of the table. He starts turning the mug he’s holding - at first glance anyone would say it looks like he’s observing the design on it very carefully, but anyone who’d looked closer would notice that his gaze is far away, getting lost in some kind of abyss. 

Now it’s Mobius’ turn to be curious. He leans forward, putting his hand on one of Loki’s in a light, gentle gesture. 

“Is it something you’ve got in Asgård? Sorry, I’ve never heard of that-” he cuts himself off, seeing his words cause the god in front of him in even bigger distress. “Lokes, what’s wrong?” he asks softly. 

Half-jötun’s green orbs eventually fall once again on the other man. He’s staring at him, the eyes revealing some sort of sadness and reflecting way too much light. They’re wet with unshed tears, Mobius realizes. 

“Loki, tell me what it is. Please?” Now he’s starting to feel anxious. It’s not a regular sight, the God of Mischief in this mood, but every time the former agent get to see it, he hates it. He hates seeing the dark-haired in any sort of pain.

“How-” The god tries, but his voice cracks slightly. He swallows, then tries again. “How can you not know what a birthday is?” He manages to choke out.

A shadow of sorrow appears in the grey-haired’s orbs now. “I’m sorry-”

“No! You are not the one who should be apologizing!” Loki reacts quickly. He notices the man relax slightly. “I just- how could they not tell you?” 

Mobius flinches a bit. 

He’s always been amazed by how quickly the god can swing from one mood to another. A second ago he was on the verge of tears. Now all the wetness in his eyes disappeared and he’s about to explode with anger. The agent would be lying if he said he isn’t by now used to these swings. It doesn’t even phase him much. Something else does. What really puts him on edge is that he still doesn’t know what the problem is. He’s still confused and worried, not perceiving what’s going on.

All of his thoughts have to somehow be showing in his features, because after several seconds Loki gradually calms down, taking deep breaths and seemingly trying to organize whatever is happening in his mind right now. 

“Moby,” he starts, trying to sound as much at ease as he only can in this situation. “As the name itself says, ‘birthday’ is the day of your birth. And you usually celebrate it every year with friends and family.”

He’s observing his partner carefully, not sure what the reaction would be. He slaps himself mentally for not realizing it sooner. Of course, Mobius didn’t celebrate his birthday and of course, he didn’t even know its date. The only life he remembers is the one he had while working in TVA. He was sure he had been created by Time Keepers. Why would anyone bother to tell him about birthday celebrations, when it’s not important, not helping efficiency, nor productivity of his work. 

The former agent’s stare is sort of blank. He moves his lips several times, opening them and then closing again, trying to comment, ask something, or just say anything in general. But he’s the one who’s at the loss for words now. 

The god frees his hand from the other’s weak touch, to grip the man’s hand himself. He squeezes tightly, remaining quiet, giving the grey-haired as much time as he needs. 

It can’t be easy for him. Sure, getting to know he is just a variant and had a life on Earth before TVA had to be a much worse experience, but even now, after all this time they’ve spent together, all these times they learnt various things from and about each other, it’s still hard for the mortal to comprehend the features of life that have been hidden from him before. 

Ultimately, Mobius clears his throat and tries once again.

“That’s- well-” He visibly still can’t find words to comment on the new information in any way.

“They didn’t tell you. You don’t know when it is.” Loki voices for him softly and watches Mobius nod shakily. 

If the god’s earlier state would be called miserable, Mobius' one is something on an entirely different level. Seeing him like this is absolutely unbearable. The jötun immediately begins thinking about possible ways to fix it. 

The sun is high in the sky, it’s so bright and warm outside. The day started really well for both of them.

He just wishes he hadn’t said anything. Wishes he didn’t start this conversation. On the other hand, though, would it be better if Mobius just found out accidentally from some stranger. 

Loki shakes his head. It’s better he told him. Even if it hurts him, it’s better it happened now when he’s with the god. He wouldn’t want to keep anything from the grey-haired. 

Then, an idea hits him with so much force that he would be thrown out of his chair and smashed on the opposite wall if it was a physical thing. His eyes reveal a new sparkle of happiness. He squeezes the hand he’s holding as tight as possible, which causes the former agent to look up at him.

The god smiles softly. 

“That’s all right,” he voices his thoughts. “You don’t need to remember the specific date. We’ll just choose you one.”

There are a variety of very mixed emotions visible in the shorter man’s appearance, but Loki ignores it, now too excited by his idea. 

“But would it still be valid if we settled a date ourselves?” The man manages to choke. 

“It is valid, Mobius. It’s valid for you and it’s valid for me.”

Several days later, Loki manages to get Sylvie and Hunter B-15 and Casey to their place. Thanks to the amazing research skills he gained back when they all were still working for TVA, he’s able to check exactly how mortals celebrate birthdays, knowing that there are certainly differences in this sort of event between Asgård and Midgård. 

They have quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol, as well as a cake, with a symbolic amount of candles on it, since not knowing Mobius’ exact date of birth makes it a bit harder to guess how old he is. And it’s not like Loki’d understand his age anyway - the god’s over 1000 years old and having troubles keeping count himself.

He did ask the others to bring some small gifts, explaining, with the help of Sylvie, what is the meaning of giving such things to the person whose birthday is being celebrated. Of course, he has a gift for his partner as well, but he decides to wait with it until they’re alone. 

And indeed, as the guests finally leave, Loki approaches Mobius once again. He wraps his arms around the man from behind and settles his head on the other’s shoulder, humming softly as he feels a hand touch his hair. 

“You’re alright?” the god asks softly. He smiles when he gets a nod in reply. “Did you like it?”

This time a hum of approval, to which Loki chuckles. 

“I have a gift for you,” he says.

“Oh?” Mobius sounds surprised. “The birthday party itself was a great gift if you ask me.” He turns his head to the side slightly, setting a smooth kiss on the god’s temple. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Loki chuckles again. “And maybe it was, but I want to give you another one anyway.”

The half-jötun manages to get the grey-haired to turn around, so they are now standing face-to-face, his arms still enveloping his partner. The sparkles that appear in Loki’s eyes betray his excitement and pride, and Mobius can’t help but grin at the sight. 

The god standing in front of him is the best gift he could’ve ever got anyway. 

“I found this place,” Loki starts melodiously. “It’s not far away from here.” He stops for a dramatic pause, making sure he’s got the shorter man’s full attention.

Mobius is observing him with curiosity, which gives him the cue to continue.

“They have jet skis,” he states, seemingly very pleased with himself. “We could go sometime.”

The former agent blinks several times.

“You-” he stutters. “You’ll go jet skiing with me?” 

There’s a short pause during which the god realizes the poor choice of words, and recalls the last time he agreed to this activity. He gulps, trying to think of a way that could easily get him out of the situation. 

“I- well- I mean you could-”

“You said ‘we’,” the mortal pushes, the smirk on his lips revealing the fact that he’s enjoying the situation. 

“I never said ‘we’.”

It’s an obvious lie, not successful at all, since they both heard what the god just said. Loki expects Mobius to argue further. Instead, to his surprise, the man takes out his old TemPad and turns it on with a click. He’s doing something for several seconds. The God of Mischief actually can’t remember the last time he’s been so thrown out of the track. 

“Mobius?”

The man holds up his hand, which makes him fall silent again. Then, after another second, he holds up his TemPad. He taps on the screen with his finger. 

“They have jet skis. We could go sometime.”

Loki’s eyes grow bigger as he hears his recorded voice. He opens his mouth and holds up his finger as if to say something, but he immediately gets cut off. 

“They have jet skis. We could go sometime.”

He huffs. 

“They have jet skis. We could go sometime.”

He growls. 

“They have jet skis. We could go sometime.”

“Alright, alright, stop!” He finally explodes with annoyance, which quickly disappears upon seeing his partner’s amusement. “I’ll be joining you, I suppose,” he adds, not really annoyed anymore when he hears Mobius' chuckles turn into laughter. “Seriously now, where did that come from?” He points at TemPad, but he means the recording of the conversation.

Mobius looks at him, wiping a tear from his eye, still chuckling from time to time. 

“I like to be prepared.”

Chapter Text

It’s one of these days. One of the bad ones, the ones that he doesn’t want to live through again, the ones that he just wants to forget.

Everything is getting to him, everything is just too much . He’s feeling overwhelmed, it’s too loud in his head, the negative thoughts clouding his mind so much that he cannot focus on anything. He isn’t present, he’s far, far away, hearing and seeing nothing. Even the end of the world wouldn’t phase him right now.

It’s one of these days.

He’s just so exhausted. So sick of his mind, of his thoughts. 

Any sudden light, sound or movement makes him jump. He feels everything ten times as much. His head is pounding, his eyes wet, vision blurred, lungs too small, not getting enough oxygen, heart in a hurry, beating way too fast. His chest feels heavy as if a mountain was laying on it. 

Loki’s laying on his side, on the bed in the bedroom he has been sharing with Mobius for some time now. The dark curls of his hair are all over his face, but he doesn’t bother getting them away. He has his arms crossed on his chest, the fingers of his hands digging deep into the skin on his forearms, leaving scratch marks. 

He doesn’t mind. Rather, with each minute he proceeds to dig them even further, causing more and more physical pain. He hopes the physical pain can somewhat take the place of the mental one. He’d prefer it this way. 

The room is dark and quiet. He’d notice if he paid enough attention to his surroundings. The only thing he knows is the fact that there’s no brightness that’d make his head hurt more. 

The god doesn’t hear that someone has entered the room. He doesn’t hear soft shuffling around him, nor does he feel the bed deepen when the person lays down behind him. 

However, he does perceive the strong, familiar pair of arms wrapping around his curled up, fragile, vulnerable form from behind. He sighs softly in spite of himself. Then, subconsciously, one of his hands leaves his forearm and instead settles on the arm around him, tugging on it sort of desperately.

The arms squeeze him tighter and he whimpers. 

“One of these days?” Mobius’ voice sounds in his ears. To his own surprise, he reacts to it, nodding shakily. 

The agent doesn’t say much more, instead just putting his head on the god’s shoulder, breathing deeply. In a matter of minutes, Loki’s breathing starts matching his, which causes another wave of shock to run through the god’s features. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” the mortal asks, even though he already knows the answer. He smiles sadly, as he sees Loki shake his head furiously. “Figured,” he adds quietly, but there’s no accusation in his tone.

They stay silent for some time, both of them counting each second, wishing that this day would reach its end and tomorrow will seem better. 

The God of Mischief tries to fight a lump that started shaping in his throat. He swallows frantically, hoping the other man doesn’t notice, not wanting to humiliate himself more than he already did. He knows he doesn’t have to hide from the human, doesn’t have to pretend or hold back, but the thought doesn’t make it any easier to let go. 

And then Mobius gently kisses a spot on the back of his neck. And it’s all that it takes from his walls to crumble. 

His vision gets a bit clearer as the tears spill onto his cheeks and a quiet sob escapes his lips. He immediately puts a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. However, the grey-haired quickly captures it with one of his own and instead brings them both closer to the god’s heart, feeling every single cramp. 

Mobius doesn’t hush Loki. He lets him be. Even when the sobs get more severe and rushed, he’s still there, holding him, not saying a word, not asking any foolish questions, just waiting with the god for this to be over. 

Eventually, Loki falls asleep, still enveloped in the warmth of Mobius’ body. And the man doesn’t leave even then. He stays by the god’s side through the entire night, holding him tightly.

Every single second of it is worth it. 

He gets an ultimate confirmation of that as he wakes up in the morning and sees these bright green orbs staring right back at him. The next thing he knows, the god is smiling at him softly, his features filled with love and gratitude.

“Good morning.”

Chapter Text

Thor’s standing in front of them, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s staring at them with his one remaining eye, watching them carefully, as if trying to guess what’s the meaning of this situation.

Of course, Loki’s not impressed nor intimidated. However, the same can’t be said about Mobius. 

Sure, due to the fact that he has studied Loki’s entire life, following each step of it, he had to gain a lot of information about his brother, Thor, as well. People would call it a soft spot for broken things, but he always did like the God of Mischief better, and respected him for his tactics. Thor’s rather violent and physical approach to most of the situations weren’t something that got to the agent in any way. 

Yet, now, standing face-to-face with the God of Thunder, he can’t help but feel slightly phased, if not a little, teeny-weeny afraid of the man. Not only is he a god with the lightning on his side, but he’s also always much taller than an average human being that Mobius encounters every day. 

He throws a glance towards Loki, expecting him to somehow break the silence.

The Jötun is smiling smugly at his adoptive brother, his eyes lit up with sparkles. Mobius sees Thor raise his eyebrow at the sight.

“What is this sorcery, brother?” The God of Thunder finally asks, his voice sounding partly angry, partly curious. However, there is still an audible growl in it. “Why do you bring a mortal to Asgård? Have you kidnapped this poor man?”

“Of course not!” Mobius answers quickly before he can stop himself. 

Thor’s gaze falls now on him, observing him suspiciously. He doesn’t look convinced whatsoever. 

“That’s what a kidnapped man would say,” he mutters, before turning his attention back to black-haired.

“I did not kidnap this man, brother, I can promise you that. He’s here because he wants to be here,” Loki finally speaks up, taking a few steps forward. 

As he does, he captures the agent’s hand in one of his own, dragging him along. Obviously, that makes God of Thunder even more confused. Whenever he was actually angry, or just trying to act like it, there’s no more of this emotion in his features. 

“I wanted you to meet him,” Loki continues, his voice softening a bit, to both Mobius’ and Thor’s surprise.

“If you came all the way here, only for us to meet, then this man has to be truly important to you.” The God of Thunder eventually nods with understanding.

“That he is.”

There’s silence again, during which the former TVA agent finally notices something more in Loki’s expression. He has to blink several times, trying to make his vision as clear as possible, because he cannot believe what he is seeing.

Sure, he is in another realm, standing between two gods, this would freak anyone out. But Mobius isn’t anyone, and he deals with too much weird stuff in his everyday life to be worried about this. What really shocks him, however, is the sight of Loki, the God of Mischief himself, being… embarrassed? Bashful? Flustered? 

Thor seems to pick up the same emotion from his brother’s expression. He smiles, sort of teasingly.

“Oh.” His voice lightens suddenly, now taking a more siblingly kind of tone. “So that’s what it is.”

Loki clears his throat, starting to fidget a little. He does seem nervous, which makes Mobius feel bad for the guy. Taking advantage of the younger god still holding onto him, he squeezes the other’s hand tightly, earning a little squeeze in return. A soft smile appears on his lips. 

“Brother,” Thor speaks again. His face is still lit up, with no sign of any kind of disapproval visible. “There’s no need for you to feel embarrassed. I’m very happy you’ve found someone for yourself.” 

Then, unexpectedly, he acknowledges the mortal in a more friendly manner. He turns to face him fully, before extending his arm towards the man. He grabs the agent’s free hand in a firm grip and shakes it.

“It is very nice to meet you-” he cuts himself.

“Mobius.”

“Mobius!” Thor finishes his sentence, rather excitedly. “You are very welcome to visit our Kingdom as my brother’s mate anytime!” He adds cheerfully. 

Loki’s staring at him, sort of taken aback by the reaction, but with a smile on his face on his own now. 

“And you don’t have anything against the fact that he’s a mortal?” he asks, still a bit suspicious. 

Both the older god and the mortal look at him weirdly. Mobius is the first one to speak.

“Wasn’t your brother dating a mortal as well?” he asks, not seeing the logic behind Loki’s thinking. 

The God of Mischief seems stunned for a second before visibly slapping himself mentally. Thor laughs. 

“He’s smart and informed,” the God of Thunder says. “I like him already.”

“Well, of course, he’s smart. I wouldn’t choose just any foolish oaf,” Loki hisses in response, which causes the teasing expression to return on his brother’s face. 

Mobius rolls his eyes at the scene in front of him. Yep, most definitely siblings. They are silent for another several seconds. The agent feels Loki finally let go of his hand, honestly to his joy, as the crashing grip is gone. 

Thor’s, once again, the first one to make another move. Upon seeing Mobius free from his brother, he wraps an arm around his shoulders, leading him to the palace standing right behind them. 

“So, do tell me, how is it to be able to control the evilest god that walked these realms?” 

“THOR!”

The agent chuckles quietly, as Loki proceeds to free him from Thor’s grip.

Mobius meeting the god’s family was obviously Loki’s idea, of which he was cautious at first. Yet now, even though he would never admit it, he sees it as the first step towards the new chapter of his life.

Chapter Text

Loki approaches Mobius directly, not really giving himself time to stop and think it all through once again. It’s not that he’s not confident, of course, he is. And he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, his ideas are never bad, sometimes just slightly miscalculated. It’s just that… he doesn’t really understand the significance of this act. And it’s not like he can ask Sylvie or Thor - all of them are Gods from another realm, what good would any of them do in subject of mortals from Midgård. 

He thanks Odin that the human’s back is turned to him, otherwise the agent would notice him in the room a long time ago. 

“Hey, Lokes!”

Scratch that. He did notice. He just isn’t bothered enough to turn around and face the god. 

Did Loki become this predictable or does the mortal have some kind of sixth sense, which makes it possible for him to sense jötun’s presence? Whatever, that is, it’s annoying. 

“Hello,” the god answers automatically, closing the distance between them, then wrapping his arms around Mobius from behind. 

He finally extends his arm to present whatever he’s holding in it. And the agent is actually shocked to see a bouquet of flowers held by a god. However, he manages to recollect himself rather quickly, turning his head to the side only to notice the taller being hiding his face behind his long, dark curls of hair. 

“What is this?” he asks, his voice playful.

Loki gulps then clears his throat. 

“So I’ve heard about this human tradition,” he begins to explain. “Or not a tradition- rather- custom? Manner?” He hopes Mobius will use his sixth sense once again, this time to try to understand the meaning of the circumstances.

Yet, of course, when you want it, it doesn’t make an appearance. The agent is still looking at him funnily, a smirk on his face, waiting for the god to handle this situation somehow. Loki sighs, frustrated. 

“Apparently,” he continues after a while. “Humans who are dating give flowers to themselves without any exact occasion.”

He hears Mobius chuckle again softly and looks up a bit to see the expression on the grey-haired’s face, hoping to read anything from it. 

“So that’s what it is.” There’s no mockery in his tone, which causes Loki to finally relax a little. 

“Yes,” the god confirms. “So this,” he holds the bouquet closer to Mobius. “This is for you.”

The grey-haired takes the flowers, still smiling. Eventually, he turns around, still enveloped in his partner’s arms, but now facing the taller one. He plants a kiss on the jötun’s lips, causing the flowers to get much closer to Loki’s nose than planned.

The god suddenly sneezes making both Mobius and himself jump. The shorter man stares at him for several seconds, stunned. Then, Loki sneezes again. And again. And again. 

“Loki, are you-”

SNEEZE.

“Oh.”

The smile returns on the agent’s lips, as he gets further into the room to put the flowers away. Then, as he returns, he’s holding a box of tissues in one hand. He approaches the god again, putting a hand on the dark-haired forearm. He stabilizes him, as Loki gets into a full sneezing attack, trembling so much from the force of them that he almost falls over. 

“Is this supposed to happen?” The jötun asks as he finally calms down enough to do so. He seems really confused, and Mobius can’t help but let out a short laugh again. 

“You’re allergic,” he explains. “I didn’t even know gods can be allergic!” 

Loki shoots him a glare, clearly not seeing the humour in his current state. Mobius seems to pick up on that, because he tightens his grip on the god, dragging him towards the door.

“Let’s get out of here for now,” he offers. “I left a window open. The wind should get rid of the pollen so when we’re back, hopefully, you won’t be sneezing as much. 

The jötun nods in agreement.

Suddenly, Mobius stands on his tiptoes, planting another kiss, this time on the god’s jaw.

“Thanks for the flowers, by the way.”

Chapter Text

“You need to help me.”

Mobius’ voice sounds urgent on the phone, which causes Sylvie to feel a bit anxious. There are thousands of possibilities flying through her head, the bad ones and the worst ones. The fact that Mobius is the one to contact her, not Loki, is enough to put her on edge and convince her that something is wrong. 

This is exactly why she wants to hit him very hard when they finally meet and he explains to her what the problem is. She freaked out, even though she would never admit it, but it seems that she only wasted her energy over nothing. 

“It’s not nothing,” Mobius states, emphasizing every word. 

So apparently she said that out loud. She sighs, then starts rubbing her temples, trying to comprehend the idiotism of the situation. Well, at least she now knows for sure that Mobius and Loki are worth each other - both the same sort of dumbasses. 

“Look, he’s trying and making an effort,” the former TVA agent pushes the issue. “So I think I should do the same for him every once in a while.”

“And you’re asking me to help you choose a good gift for him?” Sylvie asks for reassurance. 

Mobius nods, and she sighs again, this time deeper. Why would she agree in the first place to come here? Why didn’t she ask for details when they were talking on the phone. It’s not like her. She always firstly checks for all the information, does her research, then jumps into action. She’s a Loki for someone’s sake, even if she doesn’t necessarily like that name. 

But for some reason today she decided to throw away everything her past experiences have taught her, for the sake of one mortal. What the hell is wrong with her?

“You realize I could be watching some crappy TV show with B-15 right now, yes?” She asks, and although it’s a rhetorical question, Mobius nods once again for confirmation. 

“But you’re here helping me,” he says, his voice becoming a bit gentler. “Please, Sylvie, I really need to do this. I want to do this.”

She’s staring at him in disbelief, but under his intensive, kind glance, she finally gives up. She leans on the wall, letting her eyes fall onto the floor, actually thinking about the possibilities. 

After several minutes, she finally speaks up again.

“What about a book?”

“A book?” Mobius seems to be confused and Sylvie laughs at that. 

“You know, for a man who had studied Loki’s whole life, you don’t know basic stuff about him-”

“HEY-!”

“Alright, alright.” The goddess puts her hands in a defensive position, still chuckling slightly. “It’s just- Have you ever seen the library in their palace in Asgård?”

Mobius is observing her carefully.

“Yes,” he confirms. “And?”

“Who do you think read these books? Thor? Odin?” Sylvie shakes her head as if trying to get rid of this really ridiculous thought. “Loki has spent most of his life in the libraries, with his nose in his books. I mean, can’t really blame him, beings surrounding us are usually not worth our time and besides-”

“Now you’re rambling,” Mobius cuts her off with a smug smirk on his face. “And for the record - I’m telling B-15 about you calling us not worth your time-”

“I wasn’t talking about you two specifically!” 

“Okay,” he laughs. “So, book.”

“Yes. You’ve just recently moved to a new place in Midgård, right? Well, maybe it’s time Loki starts creating his own library.” 

The former TVA agent smiles softly at the idea. He looks at Sylvie with a new spark in his eyes, then approaches and quickly hugs her, not giving the goddess time to push away. He hears an annoyed grunt, as he pulls back.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Sure,” Sylvie gives him an amused look. “Just do me a favour and don’t ever hug me again.”

“Can’t promise you that.”

And just like that he’s gone, just as quickly as he appeared in there earlier. Sylvie sighs again, before starting dragging her legs to get back home.

To say that Loki likes the gift from Mobius would be an understatement. He treasures it. 

The agent is rather sure that it takes the god less than a day to read the thick volume. But what’s more important is what Loki does with it after finishing. 

He puts it on one of the shelves on the bookcase in their room, then stares at it proudly for several minutes. 

Mobius approaches him, wrapping his arms from behind the god. 

“So, you’re starting your own library?” he asks playfully, not really paying attention to what he says. 

The god nods. Then, he turns his head slightly to the side, so he can take a better look at the human.

“Just do me a favour?” He chuckles slightly and Mobius feels a weird sense of déjà vu overtaking him. 

“What is it?”

“Next time just ask Sylvie to come over instead of meeting her in some dark alley thinking I won’t notice.”

Chapter Text

“For the last time, Mobius, I am not doing that -!”

“Buuut why not?” From the man’s voice, you can tell that ‘slightly tipsy’ is the least that can be said about his current state.

For the past hour, yes the entire one hour, Loki has been trying to make Mobius understand that he won’t be getting drunk when the man has drunk himself. And, of course, explanations that it would be rather irresponsible for both of them to get under the influence at the same time weren’t getting through to him. Quite opposite actually; the more Loki tried to make the agent understand, the more the man was arguing.

Life has prepared the God of Mischief for different things; lying, betraying, murdering, acting, playing on both sides depending on which one was currently winning. However, nothing in the entire multiverse would have made him ready for drunk Mobius. Or, drunk human beings in general. 

Loki sighs deeply. Gosh, this man is unbearable. 

He reaches towards Mobius and stops the agent’s hand from pushing a glass he is holding, to his lips again. He shakes his head, sending the grey-haired unamused glare. 

“I think that’s enough for you,” he says confidently. 

He doesn’t predict the next action of the man in front of him will be leaning back, escaping god's hands, only to be able to actually take another sip of the golden liquid. Loki groans rather loudly, standing up and turning around as if to leave. Yet, just before he reaches the door, his legs change direction and he starts circling the room. 

This place is a bloody mess.

“Lokeees~” Mobius drunken voice draws his attention again. “Swee’heart, relax. The poin’ of drinkin’ is to chiiiiiill!” He laughs, although the god seems to be having trouble finding humour in their current situation.

“I don’t mind you drinking,” he answers truthfully. “But if you’re dying from a hangover in the morning I won’t be the one to take care of you.”

Such a bad lie, they both know. 

“Bby-” Mobius stutters. “‘m drinkin’ whiskey-”

The god’s staring at him, confused, not sure what this information is supposed to bring into the discussion. 

And even though the agent is far from sober, he manages to notice that confusion.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Usually, you dun get hangovers from str-ong alcohol,” he explains casually. “‘s more possible from beer.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll be perfectly fine by morning,” the god continues to argue. 

Mobius frowns, but after a second a dizzy smile reappears on his face, as he takes yet another gulp. 

“I kna,” the agent murmurs. “Love ya.”

Loki stays silent, observing the man carefully. He can’t help but notice that his words are becoming less and less understandable with each sip he takes, which slightly concerns the god. He frowns as he sees Mobius’ smile fall again. 

“What is it?” he asks in spite of himself. 

Mobius looks at him. “Weeell, you didn’ answer.”

Loki blinks a few times before realizing what they are even talking about. He smirks, sitting back down, opposite of his partner, leaning forwards so he can rest his elbows on his knees. His green orbs are stirring through the mortal.

“I’ll answer when you’re sober enough to remember it.”

“Fair.”

The God of Mischief nods. Another silence follows but lasts only for a short time. 

“You should rly try drinkin’.” Oh, perfect. So they’re back to where they started tonight’s conversation. 

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal!” Loki raises his voice, sort of frustrated. He observes as the man’s eyes fall onto him, interested. He huffs. “If you won’t drink tomorrow then I will,” he says, calming down slightly. “But only if you are sober so you can watch over me.”

He waits for the reply. 

“Why no’ tonight?” Loki feels like facepalming himself. 

“Because if we’ll both get drunk tonight there’ll be no one around to help if something happens.” 

The god actually curses under his breath, as he notices the change in the man’s expression. He saw a lot of things, a lot of emotions appearing on Mobius’ face; from hate to love, from sadness to happiness, from frustration to satisfaction. But, oh dear Odin, neither of them does he hate as much as the one he’s seeing right now. 

He calls it, of course only in his mind, ‘I am a genius but not really’ sort of face. There’s not much explanation needed. As soon as Mobius speaks it becomes clear to everyone why Loki called this expression so. 

“Wha’ ‘bout Sylvie ‘n B?”

There it is. 

This time Loki actually facepalms, regretting it quickly as he accidentally hits his brow instead of his forehead. 

Who’s the drunk one here, once again?

“We’ve talked about this,” he tries for his voice to sound patient, even though he feels himself losing it. “Sylvie and Hunter B-15 are busy tonight. Not in our reach. They are-” he does some unidentified motion with his hand as he searches for the right words, not exactly comfortable talking about it. “-doing important stuff.” 

Alright, he handled it somehow. 

His face falls even more as he sees Mobius’ still confused, but now also suspicious face. He doesn’t know if he should be crying in frustration or laughing at a rather unique expression. He chooses the second option, chuckling under his breath. 

“Wha' important stuff?” His voice sounds genuinely lost. 

The God of Mischief actually wheezes this time. 

“I won’t tell you,” he laughs. “Just stuff.”

“Jus’ stuff-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

The agent gasps dramatically.

"Such words from a god!" 

Mobius falls quiet again, his eyes searching Loki’s for several seconds, and when they finally succeed in that, he smiles once again, the neurons in his brain seemingly running a marathon to get to each other in time.

“So tomorrow?” 

Loki’s caught off guard, but he recovers rather quickly, thanks to the advantage of being sober. 

“Yes,” he confirms. “I’ll drink tomorrow if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

Mobius looks pleased with himself. Loki rolls his eyes, biting up another laugh forming in his chest. 

“I hate you sometimes,” he murmurs with a small smile. 

“Swee’heart, you’re gettin’ rly bad at lyin’.”

Chapter Text

“Have I ever mentioned that I also own a rental place for jet skis?” Mobius asks leaning on the leg of his lifeguard chair. 

His attention is fully focused on the dark-haired man in front of him, not concentrating on the surroundings whatsoever. The taller one smirks down at him, noticing that he is in the limelight, noticing, but not acknowledging that he is slightly amused by the idea.

“So,” he asks, playing with a stray hair that falls onto his face. “Which one is it mainly; are you a lifeguard or do you rent jet skis for a living?” Upon seeing a slight blush appearing on the grey-haired face, the smirk on his face becomes wider, realizing how noticeable a reaction he can get from the shorter one. 

“W-well,” the man stutters. “Of course lifeguarding is my main profession,” he collects himself. “Jet skiing is just a hobby of mine.”

Only one of them must realize how hilarious this situation might look to the third-person observers. Instead of sitting on his chair, looking for possible danger, the lifeguard is talking to a stranger, his eyes on him, as the world around them almost disappears. Good thing the taller man seems to be having at least little decency left because he steps back, ready to leave. 

“If you are who you claim to be,” he teases in a rather strange manner. “You should be guarding people not talking to me.”

Mobius nods, partly disappointed but seeing the logic behind the man’s words. He slaps himself mentally, only now precepting how irresponsible of him is to leave his position. 

He parts with the dark-haired with a wave of his hand, smiling softly as he receives a swift smirk and a wave back.

The sun is almost behind the horizon as he finally finishes his shift, exhausted, but nevertheless satisfied with his work. Even though there weren’t many people to save today, he still feels like the fact that he’s there to guard them makes the crowd surrounding him feels safer, and that’s all he needs to know. 

He gets off his lifeguard chair and heads towards the direction of his house, when he suddenly notices one single person, still sitting on the now cold surface of the sand, drawing some weird symbols in it. 

He approaches, guided by the instincts that are telling him to check if the stranger is alright, before leaving them to themselves. As he gets closer he suddenly realizes the person isn’t fully an unknown one, turning to be the dark-haired he spoke to earlier this day.

“It’s getting cold,” he says to start a conversation. “What are you doing here all by yourself?” 

The dark-haired looks up at him, that smug smirk of his appearing once again on his face. He stands up, brushing the sand off his trousers. 

“Thought I might catch you after your shift when you’re less busy,” he answers simply, directing his steps towards the exit of the beach.

Mobius doesn’t fully understand why, but he doesn’t resist either when his feet follow. He’s close behind the man, not sure why he is even bothering to walk with him. He’s tired after the whole day shift. Barely a few minutes ago the only thing he was thinking about was to get home as fast as possible and hit the bed, have a good night sleep, rest because the next day would be just as busy. But here he is, following a dark-haired stranger in an unknown direction. 

“You asked why I’m alone,” the taller one breaks the silence. “Well, you see, that’s mostly because I don’t have many friends.” The smile doesn’t fall from his face, which is sort of weird considering the statement, but Mobius chooses not to question it. 

As they finally reach the exit gate, he finally realizes this new feeling that he gets each time he sees the strange man, is some weird mix of excitement and something else. He doesn’t give himself the time to figure it out, instead directing his next words to his companion.

“In that case, I can be your friend,” he offers without really thinking about it.

The other one’s smirk turns into some softer kind of smile, as he stops in his movements, looking the grey-haired directly into the eyes.

“I would love that,” he answers softly. 

Mobius chuckles.

“What’s your name?” He asks, realizing that he hasn’t voiced this question ever before, even though they’ve seen each other a fair few times by now. 

“People call me Loki.”

Chapter Text

Mobius is enjoying it. If it wasn’t for Loki who made him promise earlier that day that everything happening in the room tonight will stay between them, he would surely record it. But out of respect and maybe, slightly fear, even though he’d never admit that he doesn’t do it, instead observing everything carefully, trying to memorize as many details as possible. 

Because tonight is the night. 

No matter how drunk he was the last time reached for alcohol, he did remember the deal he’d made with Loki; that one of these days the god would get drunk, for the mortal to observe if the grey-haired was to stay sober and keep an eye on him.

And he’s gotta say; with his mind clear from any alcohol, he’s more than happy to be sitting beside the god, listening to his drunken ramblings. 

“Would you mind if I tried guessing something?” Mobius asks, breaking the flow of murmurs coming from Loki’s mouth. 

The God of Mischief stares at him quizzically, his brain visibly trying to handle the situation but failing, too clouded with the high-percentage drink the dark-haired is dark-haired has in his glass. 

“Guessin’ wha-” Loki finally voices his confusion, giving up on figuring it out himself. 

His voice is sort of lazy and he constantly stutters - in a very not Loki-ish manner, in Mobius' opinion. The shorter man chuckles, then quickly composes himself before continuing. 

“I wanna try guessing your favourite song,” he explains. 

The god furrows brow, the confusion on his face deepening, as he blinks several times, then shakes his head slightly. However, the movement isn’t the answer to the human’s question, Mobius knows. It’s more of a sign of another attempt of regaining control over his mind. Which, of course, fails successfully again. 

“You- you thin’ I hava favourite song-” The jötun smirks finally, probably not entirely sure himself as to why he is smirking. 

“I think you have, yeah.”

The god stares at him for a few more long moments, before making some closer unidentified movement with his hand, which is supposedly encouraging. Mobius’ smile widens, as he takes up his TemPad and unlocks it. 

Loki is back to being lost, upon noticing the action.

“Are ye gunna guess?” he asks. His troubles with speech are getting visibly bigger and bigger with each minute. Possibly more due to giving up on keeping his composure, rather than anything else. 

“I am going to, just gimme a sec,” the grey-haired answers simply. 

Then, the god realizes, something’s starting to play. He doesn’t understand the meaning of this, until he finally perceives that Mobius isn’t giving him the name of the song, rather playing his guess for him. 

There's rhythmical music. Then some weird sort of screaming. The lyrics start, but Loki can barely make out what they are saying. He manages to hear only two sentences. And he flinches, ever so slightly, upon hearing both of them. 

The hammer of the gods. 

Then-

Valhalla, I am coming.

Yet, more than anything, he’s shocked. He’s staring, almost gaping at Mobius. The man is watching him with an amused expression, for which Loki wants to hit him, but resigns quickly knowing that if he tries to swing, he’ll surely fall onto his face. 

“Wai-t-” he stutters. Mobius nods encouragingly. “I- I kna thiz… sounds familiar-”

“Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin,” the human explains quickly, hoping to help the god out. 

To say Mobius remains perfectly calm during the next train of events, would be a huge understatement. Seeing Loki mouth an “oh,” leaving his lips in the shape of “o” for several long seconds, makes the man almost fall over from laughter, as he questions his soberness.

“Oooh,” the jötun is stunned. 

“I believe the first lyrics are something more along the ‘aaaah’,” Mobius can’t help but comment, wheezing almost instantly. 

“No, but, oooh, Moby, oooh.” The agent is surely crying at this point.

“What is it?” he manages between another huffs of laughter. “What did you realize?”

Loki blinks. Then, he blinks again. And again. The movement seems to be in slow motion.

“Moby, I swear to-” he stutters again. “Swear to someone ,” he finds his words again. “You know Ragnarök?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a salad with me this time to help you with your presentation.”

“Wha- no!” Mobius can’t help but wheeze again at the god’s annoyance. 

“What is it then?”

“I tell you,” what’s even funnier is the fact that Loki’s words sound really bloody serious. “When Thor fell from the sky-”

“Yes?”

“I totally heard that song.”

They both stop speaking; Loki stares into the so-called abyss, seriously shocked, while Mobius is hyperventilating by his side, trying to catch his breath, but failing as he falls into yet another wave of laughter. 

Eventually, though, he managed to calm down enough to finally ask the most important question.

“So, did I get it right?” he asks, breathing deeply, feeling his stomach hurting slightly from the previous explosion of humour. 

Loki’s green orbs fall once again on him, as he unironically answers with confidence. 

“Yes,” he states.

Chapter Text

He wakes up, feeling the air escaping his lungs as if he suddenly found himself under the water. The perception of drowning is overwhelming, no matter how many times this has happened in the past. Each time hurts the same, each time feels the same. 

There’s one difference this time, though, which is a man laying down beside him, still seemingly asleep. The man’s face is hidden behind the dark curls, his breathing even, calm, the exact opposite of his own one. 

Mobius sighs shakily as he runs his hand down his face, feeling his whole body shiver. They are fine, everything is supposedly alright. That is until he realizes his brain is still unconscious enough for him to not be able to recognize the surroundings. Which of course makes him worried sick, even scared. He tries taking deep breaths to calm himself enough to analyze the situation, however, he fails, miserably scrubbing at his chest with the stiff fingers of his hands. 

He can’t fuckin’ breathe.

If anyone was to see him right now, they would probably think he’s trying to open his ribcage with his bare hands, possibly to get to the lungs, and physically force them to fill in with air. 

Yet he can’t and that’s really frustrating in its own, strange way. 

Suddenly, there’s an additional stimulus that definitely wasn’t there before. Mobius sighs again, but this time it’s a steady sigh; one of relief, not terror. 

A hand is stroking his back, running up and down his spine, in a slow, calming motion, sometimes tracing some shapes into it. He makes himself pay all his attention to that movement, closing his eyes, trying to forget about the lack of information about their whereabouts. 

If he hasn’t been able to figure it out for so long, there’s no point in still trying. His mind isn’t in a state adequate to logical thinking, or even thinking in general. The best thing to do is pay attention to simple things. 

“You’re all right,” a soft voice whispers into his ear. “You’re all right, everything is okay, you’re safe,” it keeps repeating the mantra. 

Mobius feels himself being pulled onto the man’s chest, the arms that are enveloping him from behind the next second, tighten closely around him as if scared that he’d shatter if they let go of him. 

“Where?” he manages barely, only now realizing that his voice sounds hoarse and his throat feels closed. 

His breathing problems are no longer present, yet, he still finds it hard to speak, even to ask the simplest questions that need to be answered. 

Fortunately, the dark-haired doesn’t need any elaboration, immediately understanding.

“We’re at our house,” he answers calmly. “In Midgård, remember? We’ve gotten it only recently.”

That would explain why the former agent got confused in the first place. He’s still not used to having his, well their, own place to stay in. A place that doesn’t look like a simple room with only the most necessary objects required for the human being to function. A place that he can call home, not the quarters in which he spends the whole day working on different cases. 

Working for someone who doesn’t exist. 

Being lied to, most of his life. 

Feeling that something is missing. 

“Better now?” This familiar voice, once again, gets him out of his thoughts, forcing the grey-haired to force his focus on the god holding him. 

The agent nods slightly, still not sure if he’s able to speak.

“Lokes-” he tries, but cuts himself off, as he yet again hears his voice shattering slightly. 

“Mind telling me what was that about?”

The shorter man stays quiet for several seconds, before opening his mouth, this time persistent to actually have at least something similar to what you usually call a ‘conversation’.

He takes a deep breath.

“Nightmare,” he answers as if this one word would explain everything, answer every question the god’s mind has already created in that head of his. 

What’s surprising is that this short statement is more than enough for Loki, because he tightens his arms around his partner, leaning his head on the other’s shoulder, breathing warm air into the man’s skin. 

“Would you like to talk about it-?” The dark-haired’s voice is slightly muffled, but still clear enough for the other to understand.

“I would, if I actually remembered it,” Mobius admits, feeling a bit, but only slightly, embarrassed that he’s freaking out about something that he doesn’t even remember. 

Loki huffs then lets out a lazy groan.

“So it’s one of these,” he says more to himself than the agent. He stays silent for a moment. Then, “are you okay with going back to sleep?”

The former TVA agent thinks about it for a second, not sure if the fear that he thought has already vanished, won’t come back as soon as they are back to laying down, in the eerie stillness of the room. 

In spite of himself, he nods. After all, more than anything he feels really damn exhausted. And that lack of energy makes him willing to forget about whatever concerns he had directly after waking up.

To his surprise, Loki doesn’t let go of him. Instead, he falls backwards, dragging Mobius with him until they’re both in the horizontal position. The god is visibly tired as well, trying to fight the sleep overtaking him for just a few more seconds, to make sure the both of them are on the same page. 

“I’m here,” he murmurs gently into space over them. “You can always wake me up.”

And for the first time that night, a small smile appears on the grey-haired’s lips, as he finally lets his tense muscles relax. His eyes fall closed, even though he’s still a bit uneasy. He scoots closer to the god. 

“I know,” he answers simply.

Chapter Text

“Mobiussss,” Loki whines, a hiss escaping his lips making him impossibly similar to a snake now. “I’m dyyiiing.”

The human huffs then sighs. Life obviously hasn’t prepared him for this. And the situation is rather strange, to say the least; not only the god, a being which supposedly doesn't get sick, got sick, but he’s also all whiny about it, actually acting worse than a child. If someone had told him this is what the jötun becomes while ill, Mobius would laugh into their face in disbelief. 

Well, now he’s far from laughing. Much more annoyed, really. 

“You’re not dying,” he explains, forcing his voice to stay calm, and himself to be patient. “You just have a cold. You’re sick.”

“Gods don’t get sick,” the jötun answers grumpily.

“Well, then either you aren’t a god, or you are wrong.” That shuts Loki up, even if just for a few minutes. 

Honestly, Mobius can’t remember if he’s ever seen anyone who’d be so willing to talk while they are visibly suffering from cold. To be fair, calling this “talking” is an overstatement. Loki screeches. He hisses. But he’s definitely not speaking. 

And no matter how it may seem to a third-person observer, the agent isn’t trying to quiet Loki down, because he’s irritated by the nonsense the god is making up. He’s just very much aware of the state of the dark-haired’s throat, and having some experience in the field of being sick, he is pretty sure it’s burning right now. But, of course, that wouldn’t stop the God of Mischief from talking. 

“Mobyyy,” Loki starts again. Mobius’ hand immediately goes to his own temples to rub it, as he tries guessing what it is this time. “My head hurts.” Ah. There it is. 

“That’s why I gave you the painkillers,” he carries on with his explanations. 

“But they aren’t workiiiing.”

The former TVA agent looks at the clock hung on the wall, opposite to him. He evaluates the time that could’ve passed since the god swallowed down the pills, and realizes that Loki is right. It’s been almost forty minutes. The said painkillers should work after around twenty. But he can’t risk another dosage, keeping in mind that the jötun has been complaining earlier about his stomach. 

Then, another idea comes to his mind, as he kicks off his shoes, and joins Loki on the bed. He sits down, his back against the headboard. Then he helps the god scoop closer, careful, not to make the pain any worse. 

Loki coughs a few times, upon changing the position, which causes him to wince slightly as his chest starts hurting with the force of them. Nevertheless, he doesn’t stop, actually cooperating with the human. 

The god finally ends up being pushed with his back on the other man’s chest, his head falling backwards on Mobius’ shoulder. 

Then, Mobius starts running his hand through the jötun’s curls, gently massaging his scalp, slowly enough for the god to be able to tell him to stop, in case the agent causes another wave of pain to hit him. 

However, after several minutes he finally hears a quiet hum coming from Loki. He smiles, as he realizes the god’s tensed muscles are gradually relaxing. 

“Does it help?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer. 

“Mmm,” the jötun answers softly. The man chuckles slightly, never stopping in his movements. 

After another several minutes of silence, Loki seems to be in a much better state of mind, that is, good enough to be able to speak more clearly, rather than screech. Yet, he still doesn’t make much sense. Well, you can’t have everything. 

“Remind me,” the god huffs, sounding actually slightly annoyed, which makes the agent certain that his partner is slowly getting back to his normal self. “To stab whoever invented the so-called cold. ”

This time, Mobius can’t help but laugh, causing Loki to flinch slightly. He immediately lowers his voice upon seeing that, nevertheless still laughing softly. 

“No one invented the cold,” the agent says, partly in disbelief that he has to explain something this obvious. Then, once again, the god’s surely not thinking clearly at the moment. “It’s only natural to fall sick every once in a while.”

Another annoyed sound reaches his ears and his smile widens. 

“I am a god. And a jötun. I can’t fall sick.” So back to the beginning, it is. 

Mobius thinks about it for a while, not sure what answer would convince the god that he is visibly wrong and his current state proves it. Once again, he sighs deeply. 

“Maybe humans and gods have more in common than you would imagine,” he eventually says, his voice soft. 

He feels Loki swallow hard. He waits patiently for any sort of reaction. 

“The only human that I’d be willing to admit has something in common with me, is in this room.”

Mobius smiles, then runs his hand through the bangs on the other’s forehead, to get them out of his face. 

“Whatever you say, Lokes.”

Chapter Text

“Lokes, you alright?” he asks upon entering the room. 

He’s not sure what’s exactly happening. They were having some old friends over in their house, when suddenly Loki excused himself from the room, disappearing in their bedroom for the rest of the evening, leaving taking care of the party to Mobius, which he knew the man isn’t good at. Nevertheless, the former agent managed as best as he could, and as soon as the guests left, he directed his steps towards the god’s hiding spot. 

Not knowing what he’s getting himself into, he simply walked into the bedroom, not paying much attention to the turned off lights, and curtains drawn over the windows. As he asked the question, he wasn’t focusing on the volume of his voice either, making it even more confusing for him, as he noticed Loki flinch violently. 

So now, he’s standing in the middle of the room, taking it all in, trying to find as many details as possible, hoping he’d be able to conclude what’s wrong with the dark-haired being curled on the floor beside their bed.

Then, as if Thor suddenly shot him with a lightning bolt, it hits him. And he immediately regrets the careless way in which he entered the room. 

He sighs under his breath, without making any sound. His next series of actions might look rather strange from a random observer's point of view, however, there’s only the two of them in the entire house, so he couldn’t care less. Hell, even if they were in the middle of the crowd, he wouldn’t mind at all. 

Mobius takes off his shoes, very slowly and carefully, still concentrating on making as little noise as possible. He puts them gently on the ground, near the wall, just so he won’t trip over them, in case he’d have to quickly leave the room. He steps closer to the god, almost on his tiptoes, and stops only when he’s about arms reach from Loki, still not touching him though. He crouches, trying to see the other’s face.

That’s when he sees it; the tears stains on the god’s cheeks, the wetness flooding these emerald orbs of his, the messy hair falling everywhere, partly covering his face, the trembling of his jaw and his hands, the force with which the jötun digs his fingernails into his arms. 

Mobius is sure at this point that his partner is having sensory overload. And he’s at the last and worst possible stage - the meltdown. 

He risks one more question, that he knows is critical. Then he’ll leave, or shut up, or will do whatever the god needs at the moment, but he needs to know first. 

“Do you want to be alone?” he whispers so quietly, that if it wasn’t for the silence filling the room and for the fact that they’re so close to each other, Loki wouldn't probably even know that the man said something. 

The former agent is more than relieved to see the jötun acknowledging him; the green eyes wander a little, as he blinks several times. He’s not looking at the human, but Mobius knows he’s aware of his presence. 

Then, the grey-haired watches as the god slowly, and very, very gently shakes his head. 

That’s all he needs to know. He remains in the same position, without making any unnecessary movements, without speaking at all, even paying attention to his breathing, checking if it’s not too loud. 

True, he was confused at first. But now when he finally put it all together, he knows exactly his game plan. 

He can’t say it happens often. It would simply be a lie - ever since the two have met, Mobius saw the god like this maybe twice or thrice, but that’s about it. Yet, after the first time of feeling complete shock and confusion, as well as making several mistakes that he later realized were putting Loki even more on edge, he decided to do some research on his own. And thanks to that, he managed to gather enough information, to be ready when it happened the second time. 

He knows that his jötun would never point out any of his serious mistakes if it wouldn’t be in the form of a joke. And as much as the human hates that, he understands that Loki doesn’t want to make him bad for not knowing. Especially after the whole TVA situation, when they found out all of the people working in the facility are variants. The god accepts the fact that even though Mobius is originally a human, he doesn’t know a lot of things. 

Which was exactly why the former agent knew he had to check the term “sensory overload” on his own if he wanted to make sure he’ll be able to help, or at least, not make it any worse than it already is. 

He feels his legs are beginning to hurt from the position he’s in, but he still refuses to move. Damn his legs, he’ll crouch like this for the rest of the night if he’ll need to. 

Yet, to his surprise, after several more minutes of Loki crying quietly, gasping from time to time and hyperventilating, the god reaches for the man. Slowly, only with one hand, but he does. He takes Mobius’ hand and squeezes it softly, either not wanting the touch to be too heavy, or from the lack of strength left in him. Then, he draws their clasped hands towards himself, positioning them between his ribs, as he hangs his head even lower. 

Mobius still does nothing, letting the jötun initiate the touch, not wanting to intervene in any way, fearing it’ll only undo the progress Loki has already made on his own.

Because it’s visible that the meltdown is slowly, gradually passing. And unlike the first time he’s been a witness of this event, this time he won’t spoil it. 

Many more minutes pass. By the time the god finally makes any sort of noise, a small huff, the former TVA agent can’t feel his legs anymore, from the number of cramps that have attacked them. His relief is over the roof, when the jötun looks at him, meeting his eyes this time, and sends him a very fragile smile as well as a nod. 

Mobius got his sign that it’s safe to move now. Even so, he still keeps his movements slow and quiet, as he sits next to his partner, leaning on the wall, breathing deeply as his legs scream in joy. 

He’s even more overjoyed, as he feels Loki leaning against him, resting his head on the other’s arm. He sighs again. 

The god hangs his head again, this time visibly not overwhelmed, but simply ashamed. Which of course causes Mobius to immediately feel bad for the guy, as he realizes where this emotion is coming from. He wants to speak, he wants to assure it’s all fine, it’s not Loki’s fault, it happens. 

Yet, he doesn’t open his mouth.

He doesn’t dare to talk. Not yet. 

He lets the god be the one to speak first. 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s barely a whisper, but Mobius can perfectly make out the words. He squeezes his eyes shut, even if just for a second, slapping himself mentally for predicting what’s on Loki’s mind, even though it sounds irrational.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He looks down at the god. Upon seeing the uncertainty, he risks a small squeeze on his mate’s arm. “Lokes, nothing. There’s nothing you did wrong. It’s not something you control. It happens.”

“I left you to handle our friends-”

“And everything went fine. They understood you needed time for yourself. No one is blaming you for this.”

Mobius feels satisfaction, as he finally notices some sort of realization appear on the god’s face. He knows he’s convinced him. And that’s all that matters for now. 

“Thank you,” Loki’s small voice cuts the silence again and this time, the human smiles, leaning his head gently on the top of jötun’s. 

“You’re certainly welcome,” he murmurs. “Always.”

Chapter Text

Mobius walks into the room, then immediately stops in his movements, taking in the rather strange scene in front of him. The room is basically a mess, the filling of the pillows that were previously settled in bed, as well as the pillows themselves (or what’s left of them), are laying literally everywhere. The bottom of one of the curtains is totally torn. Basically, the whole scene looks like a tornado came through there.

Fortunately, all of this can be easily explained by directing one’s gaze over to the bed, on which two entities can be found, deep in their sleep. Unfortunately for Mobius, though, these two beings seem to be rather dangerous types of reptiles. An alligator, on top of which a snake is visible. 

It would be a lie to say that the former agent’s first instinct isn’t to call for Loki and make him deal with the situation. He resists the urge, however, forcing himself to stay still, watching, gathering the information. 

The first reason for not getting the god into the room is because the grey-haired wouldn’t want to be pitied right now for being a fragile human being that can’t bother to deal with a pair of predators. The second reason that follows immediately, after the first one is pushed away is much more reasonable, though. Because, no matter how weirdly it may sound, Mobius does notice something familiar in the smaller one of the animals. 

He takes a few steps towards the bed, totally not jumping upon hearing the larger being’s snort. 

As he is finally able to get a better look, he realizes that his suspicions were right. The snake isn't just a regular snake. As well as the alligator isn’t just a regular alligator. They are both Loki. 

Mobius feels himself get much more annoyed, as his mind finally perceives that the one responsible for the state of their bedroom is no other than the God of Mischief and his partner, mind you.

He huffs, then extends his hand. Slowly, carefully. He tries to touch the head of the smaller reptile with his index finger, but retreats it immediately, as he hears another sound coming from an alligator. 

To be fair, he isn’t scared of these sorts of animals, alright? Sure, the original human instincts of survival are screaming at him to leave the room, right fuckin’ now, and do not return until the situation is solved, but what makes it trully bad is the fact that this is the variant of Loki himself, which makes him automatically at least thrice as unpredictable as a normal alligator would be. 

Which is exactly why he decides he needs a backup. 

The former agent manages to get both Sylvie and Thor into their house, Odin knows how. But, to his frustration, upon presenting the situation to the newcomers, neither of them reacts. Quite opposite, they both look unphased, like this sort of thing is something that happens on a daily basis. 

“Well, of course, he’ll transform into a snake from time to time. He’s a Loki, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t do it,” Sylvie explains, sighing, kind of already done with the issue that, in her opinion, doesn’t exist. “You know how much peace you get in that form?” She adds, and Mobius knows immediately she’s cueing something. Possibly the fact that she was having a peaceful, lazy day when the former agent makes her come down to Earth. 

Thor laughs quietly. “He does that all the time, you should know that Mobius!” 

That’s the exact moment the human realizes inviting over the soon-to-be inlaws, was a bad idea. Obviously not helping. 

“Do you know what he did once?” Thor breaks the silence again.

The other two already know what’s coming. 

“It was one time, we were children, he transformed himself into a snake and he knows that I love snakes-”

“Thor, with all the respect I’ve got for you, please do shut up,” Mobius cuts him off. “I’ve heard this story more than a dozen times already.”

The God of Thunder looks at him with a perplexed expression, certain that he hasn’t told him even once about how Loki stabbed him. Nevertheless, he complies. Sylvie smirks, seemingly amused. 

“So what do I do with these?” The former TVA agent tries once again, by now hoping to get literally anything, even a small tip that would help him deal with this.

The blond variant of Loki shrugs, then, as she turns on her heel and is about to leave, she throws over her shoulder, “Just let them sleep it off. When Loki, and I mean your Loki, wakes up, he’ll deal with this mess.”

And with that, she leaves, disappearing behind the door. Mobius stares at the exit for a few more seconds, his mind a bit slow at the second, before letting his eyes wander towards Thor again.

“You can yell at him, or do whatever you do when you’re angry with him.” The God of Thunder smiles innocently, before almost literally vanishing as well, leaving Mobius to himself. 

The former TVA agent sighs deeply, before turning around, facing the two reptiles again.

“Thanks for the help, guys,” he grunts into space, following the others’ actions, leaving the bedroom and the two predators to themselves. 

Chapter Text

“Uh… Hello?” Loki hears Mobius’ uncertain voice fill the room.

She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, taking one last deep breath before the inevitable will come. Truth be said, her decision about coming out to her boyfriend was quite sudden. She didn’t let herself think it through, knowing she would resign as soon as her mind would fill with the images of possible rejection she might encounter. She was sort of torn because of that - on the one hand, not everyone would understand whatever she’s going through. Not everyone would accept it or consider it valid. On the other hand, though, this was Mobius. The most understanding and open mortal she had ever come across. If he couldn’t accept her, no one could.

So Loki’s standing there, her back still facing the man, as she gathers the courage to turn around. She tries to make it easier for herself by recalling the words Sylvie told her the last time they’ve talked. That no matter what or who Loki would appear as Mobius would surely accept them as they were. 

And this makes her finally face the human, her eyes on the ground, her hands squeezed into fists. She can’t see the surprise creeping onto her boyfriend’s face. Not only there’s a surprise but also confusion, which she would recognize immediately if she just looked. But she can’t bring herself to, not yet.

“Hi,” Mobius speaks again gently, as if not to spook the person in front of him. “Sorry, do I know you?” he asks after a while, and Loki can tell from the tone of his voice that the man is clearly seeing something familiar, yet he doesn’t know what.

“Yes,” she hears herself speak. “You do know me. Rather well, I would say.”

The man still doesn’t understand, which is beginning to cause Loki to feel sort of frustrated. She looks different than usual, true, but come on. She can’t be this different, can she? Sylvie recognized her without problems. She wasn’t even phased by Loki’s new appearance. 

But then, once again, that’s Sylvie. She’s a Loki as well after all. 

“I’m sorry, but really I can’t-” Mobius suddenly cuts himself off.

The God(dess) of Mischief doesn’t have to watch the man, to recognize the realization taking place in the human’s features. He suddenly managed to connect the two dots that seemed so away from each other just a few seconds ago. 

Loki finally brings herself to glance at him, and indeed, her suspicions are only confirmed. She observes as the man opens his mouth a few times, closing it directly after. He looks like a fish, the god(dess) thinks to herself. If he even knows what the fish is. But she would assume he does, he’s been in the field many times, he had to see a few- Alright, that’s not important right now. 

Eventually, a strange whistle leaves Mobius' lungs, as he forces the air to fly out of them. He clears his throat, eyeing Loki from toes to the top of her head. 

“You don’t like it,” the jötun chokes out, breaking the silence that hangs between them. “I thought you wouldn’t, give me a second and I’ll enchant myself back-”

“Lokes, no!” Thank God, Mobius finally finds his voice, as he approaches rather quickly, putting his hands on the god(dess)’s arms as if to keep her from making any unnecessary moves.

This time Loki is the one to look quizzically at the mortal. 

“Why would I not like it?” he asks with all honesty he can muster. 

“You went silent as soon as you realized who I was-”

“You suddenly being a woman is not a reason at all.”

They stare at each other for several more seconds, Loki still confused as hell, Mobius struggling to put whatever he’s thinking into words. 

“Why then?” The jötun asks eventually.

Mobius gulps, seemingly having the same problem Loki had several minutes ago, gathering the courage to speak ever again. 

“Well, you’re…” 

“I am what?”

“You’re shorter than me!” 

The words hit the god(dess) with a force as strong as the one with which Thor hits his enemies. She blinks. Once. Twice, thrice. She, then, tilts her head to the side, and Mobius can’t help but think she’s amazingly similar to a cat at this moment. Her eyes wander away, as the process of thinking is visible on her face. But then the gaze returns to the former agent’s face. 

“I-” she stutters. “Huh-?”

“ Shorter, ” Mobius repeats, emphasising the word this time. “You are shorter than me.”

“I know what ‘shorter’ means!” Loki lets out an annoyed huff. “What I don’t understand is why out of all the details of the situation, this one is bothering you!”

“It’s just weird, alright!” 

This time the jötun can’t help but finally laugh a bit, leaning forward to fall on Mobius’s chest. The man reacts accordingly, wrapping his arms around the shorter woman.

“Thanks for showing me,” he says, his tone more serious now, his voice barely above the whisper. “For letting me know.”

“Mmm, thank you for accepting me,” the god(dess) answers honestly. 

“Of course.”

They fall into comfortable silence once again, just standing there, holding each other. Suddenly, another huff escapes Loki’s mouth and Mobius looks down at her, questionably. 

“I can’t believe my height was enough to deprive you of speech.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

Chapter Text

They’ve been living together for the whole year now. And things have been much different from what both Loki and Mobius would imagine at first. But, of course, good different. All this time spent together went by very quickly, and the entirety of all three hundred sixty-five days was suddenly behind them, even though it felt like they met just yesterday. 

Maybe it was indeed the way they “vibed” with each other. There weren’t many arguments between them, quite opposite really, they would agree on most of the subject, or if not then find a good compromise.

To be fair, a lot of stress in their lives disappeared quite suddenly, the moment they stopped working for TVA, burned it down and cut themselves off, leaving the most loyal hunters and agents to gather the remaining pieces.

They were in much less danger now as well, which caused them to be angry at each other on much fewer occasions

Both Mobius and Loki were just happy like that, as they were right now.

“Okay, but seriously, he snores, like A LOT,” Loki whispers conspiratorially to Sylvie as she wheezes from laughter for the third time this evening. 

All of them are gathered in Mobius' and Loki’s house, as the pair finally decided to throw the house-warming party, a year after moving in. All of them, meaning most of the people Loki would admit caring for, of course. Thor is seen entertained by a conversation with B-15 and Mobius, Loki and Sylvie are a few meters away, occupying the couch, a little tipsy already. Casey is having a great time with the rest of Loki variants, and the feeling is very visibly mutual, as the Lokis don’t seem to be bored by the mortal. 

The sounds escaping Sylvie, as Loki tries to shush her, makes Mobius look away from his companions, directing his gaze to his husband. He throws him a glare as a warning, which only causes the blond variant to laugh more, while the God of Mischief is trying to calm her down, laughing on his own as well. 

“Shut up, shut up, he’s watching us,” he whispers, barely in control of his own voice. 

After a short while, he gives up, slumping back onto the couch and laughing in certainty now, covering his face with his hands, trying to muffle the sounds but failing successfully. 

Mobius is watching them with a raised eyebrow. The fact that his attention is focused somewhere else than on the conversation he was previously so engaged in, causes the former TVA hunter and the God of Thunder to look over there as well, smirks appearing on their faces as they see two drunk jötuns fighting for their breaths on the sofa. 

“It’s good to see my brother finally being in such a good mood,” Thor says happily, directing the sentence more to Mobius than anyone else. 

The mortal’s eyes wander back towards him, as he smiles as well, still mildly annoyed. Half of his mind is still wondering what did Loki say about him that made the usually grumpy goddess wheeze so much.

“It sure is,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. Then, after a short while of silence (maybe not exactly silence, since the two dumbasses on the couch are still in the middle of a laughter attack), he opens his mouth again, a bit more serious now. “I’m glad he is happy. Studying his life is an easy way to get depressed.”

“Nevertheless, you did a good job, taking care of him when the TVA decided to capture him.” This time B-15 is the one to speak. She sighs almost soundlessly, bringing a glass she’s holding to her lips and taking a big sip. “I gotta admit - I wasn’t sure about him at first. Mostly because of what the headquarters said about him. But seeing this god now,” she motions towards the two. “You did the right thing, Mobius. Believing in him, I mean.”

The grey-haired smiles at her, gratefully. Yeah, it surely has been hard. The fact that he and B-15 have been friends for as long as he could remember. Bringing Loki(s) into their lives brought a lot of issues and arguments to their lives, but in the end, they both agreed that this was possibly the best decision they could make. 

By now, Mobius isn’t afraid to admit that there were times when he thought maybe he had made a mistake. And B-15 doesn’t fear acknowledging that she didn’t believe the Gods of Mischief could be trusted, but yet here she is, at the party one of them is hosting, drinking the drinks she is given by one of them, and not suspecting him of the worst. 

They’ve all gone a long way from the time they met the jötuns and their variants. Even if it wasn’t a long time. 

“I always refused to believe my brother was evil,” Thor admits, his eyes still on the two.

Mobius recognizes this look. Ever since the God of Thunder met Sylvie, he treated her like his own sister. And she didn’t seem to mind, thankfully. She actually did act as if she was enjoying it.

The former agent doesn’t know her full story yet. He’s sure she told Loki everything, but he doesn’t want to push either of them to speak. That would be the clear sign of lack of trust, he thinks. Instead, he waits. Maybe one of them will tell him. Nevertheless, he doesn’t know if Sylvie had siblings, or if she did, what happened to them for that matter. But he’s happy that she found her family anyway now. And after what happened with TVA, after his life turned out to be a line of lies, he’s more than glad to consider people in this room as his own family. 

He would certainly like to remember his life on Earth before TVA took him. But he doesn’t mind the fact that he can’t seem to recall it either. He’s fine with what he has now. Every part of it is precious, and that’s what counts. 

“You were right to,” he finally answers Thor, gaining a bit of a confused look, as the god’s mind has already wandered somewhere else. “To think there’s still good in him, I mean.”

The God of Thunder smiles softly, nodding. 

“Hey!” Sylvie’s drunk voice interrupts the sort-of-dying conversation. “Why are you all sad all of the sudden?!” She yells, not really noticing she’s yelling. Then, she bursts into another wave of laughter. “Smile.” She puts her index fingers on the corners of her mouth, raising them out, imitating the happy expression. 

“Yeah, listen to the girl, she’s right!” Loki supports, trying to sit back up straight. He’s seemingly struggling. “Bloody hell,” he mutters, upon giving up. “Forgot I can’t do anything straight.” His hand lands on his face, as he lets out a miserable huff. 

Mobius snorts. The sound is followed by B-15 starting to laugh as well. Thor is still staring at them, as if seeing the most bizarre thing in the entire multiverse, before eventually chuckling. 

“If I told our parents about this they wouldn’t believe me,” he whispers more than himself, rather than to anyone else, as he now starts struggling to breathe as well. 

All five of them end up laughing and wheezing, almost falling to the ground, their legs trying to give up under them as they feel the pressure of trembles running through their bodies. 

Only Casey and the remaining three Loki variants (from which one is an alligator) seem to be confused by the entire situation (yes, alligators do have expressions).

“Alright, in bed you go,” Mobius encourages, helping Loki lay down in their dark bedroom. 

The guests left around an hour ago. The former agent started cleaning, at least a little bit, directly after, knowing damn too well that he won’t be willing to do that in the morning. During all this time the God of Mischief was snoring softly, still on the couch where Sylvie left him to himself. 

The grey-haired did huff a few times at the state of jötun, annoyed,  ever so slightly, by the fact that the god’s already sleeping, while he, even though drunk as well, has to be the one to do chores. 

The feeling of unfairness disappeared pretty quickly, however, as Mobius recalled Loki’s bright expression during the party. 

He’s thinking about it even now, trying to remember every part of it, knowing that he has to- yes, has to, make sure he’ll see it again. Meaning - he has to make sure Loki stays happy. And he sure knows that he is much more than damn determined to do so. 

His train of thought is cut off by the said god mumbling something incoherently. 

“You alright?” Mobius asks, chuckling softly. 

“Mmmm,” Loki answers very equivalently. “Today was goooood,” he adds after a while, as his husband finally drops him onto the bed. The god feels a soft mattress embracing him, and suddenly he feels much more sleepy than just a few seconds ago. The confusion approaches, as he realizes he didn’t even know it was possible. 

“I’m glad,” the man answers quietly, wiping his hand across the god’s forehead, getting the long curls out of it. 

He doesn’t hear another word, so he assumes his partner has managed to once again fall asleep in the middle of something that you could almost call a conversation (yes, he tends to do that frequently). He pushes away from the bed, then changes his clothes to something more comfortable than the usual suit that he still wears almost every day, god knows why. 

When he’s done he finally joins the jötun in the warm bed, sliding soundlessly under the sheets and wrapping his arms around god’s waist. He’s shocked to hear the dark-haired’s voice speak up again. 

“Stay,” he says, his voice barely above the whisper. 

“I’m not going anyway,” Mobius assures. 

“No,” Loki starts to sound mildly annoyed, but he takes a breath, calming himself rather quickly. “I mean like,” he stutters slightly. “Forever.” 

The human smiles, burying his face in the dark, long curls. He kisses the back of god's neck softly, hearing the other sigh in approval. 

“That’s exactly what I’m planning on doing,” he answers finally. 

And they simply drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Mobius should've known better than to let Loki execute another one of his dumb brilliant ideas. 

Loki on the other hand should've known better than to let Mobius fully go with that, even though they both knew it would end up badly.

But neither of them thought about being rational responsible beings for once in their goddamn (pun intended) lives. And now here they are.

Isn't that ironic? They've been working for TVA for the time being - Loki only for several weeks, Mobius for several years. They had more than a dozen occasions to travel through different universes and branches of timelines. They've been to different places; various countries, continents, planets. They've been to different times as well, including the very far past and the very distant future. You could say they got used to it. 

How wrong they were. 

The worst moment of one's life might be the second you realize that you thought you've seen it all, while in reality, you've seen nothing yet. And that's more than tending to happen when you have a curious God of Mischief by your side, very much ready to fuck shit up. 

Out of all of the Asgardian Gods and Goddesses, the one that is claimed to be the cleverest is Odin, who sacrificed his eye as well as himself for the sake of knowledge. However, no one can be called smarter than the one who constantly asks questions and then searches for answers.

And boy, how Mobius wishes right now for Loki to be more like his adoptive father or brother. Not asking questions. Just knowing what he needs to know and be happy with that. 

Because right at this moment they find themselves in some parallel universe they have never stumbled upon before. The surroundings look dead, the air feels heavy, everything seems to have the same, monotone grey colour. The trees are dry, as well as all the plants in the range of vision, really. There's strange ash floating around - the amount of it is possibly what causes the sky to nearly disappear from the view. As you walk, sometimes, you'll come across some ruin that looks like it might've been a building once. However, these appear very rarely. Animals, nor any beings for that matter are to be seen either. 

There's nothing, absolute emptiness. Almost as if this world got abandoned. It's just dead.

Mobius curses the TVA for making such shitty TemPads and equipping their workers with them. The small devices break every time you really need them to work. Like, right now, for example. When they really need to get out of here.

The former agent fidgets, not giving up on fixing the piece of electronics. He feels the dread creeping closer and closer to him, gripping him from each side. He really doesn't like this place. Somehow he knows they are not supposed to be there. And he cannot explain the panic that begins to stir in his chest. 

The omnipresent feeling of being observed is also something that can’t leave him alone. It’s nothing he ever felt before. And the fact that this sensation is new for him makes him even more scared. Because people dread the unknown. 

Loki, on the other hand, seems utterly not bothered. He’s looking around, sometimes stopping in his movements just to crouch so he can take a better look of something laying on the ground. He appears more like a tourist, like someone on a sight-seeing tour, rather than a former captive, then agent, of TVA who got them into this mess. He’s really interested in the surroundings, and that makes Mobius want to grip the god’s jacket, then shake him forcefully until all the flying elements of the jötun’s mind fall into their rightful places. 

“Why would I let you drive?” Mobius throws over his shoulder suddenly, still more focused on the device in his hands than whatever his companion is doing. 

The word “drive” became some sort of slang for them by now. Yes, slang, because what the former agent means while using it, is letting Loki use the TemPad and choose the location to which they’ll be travelling, without Mobius controlling that decision. 

It usually ends up bad. In the grey-haired’s opinion, of course. Loki’s always rather happy about where they end up. He does enjoy himself quite often, while not limited by the human’s rational thinking. 

“You should ask that yourself, rather than me,” the god answers simply, currently watching the line of horizon widening in front of them.

The former TVA agent doesn’t even notice when suddenly Loki stops dead in his tracks, a cautious expression appearing on his face. The man is carrying on his task, still walking straight forward. He’s making one of the biggest mistakes the TVA taught them about while their training - he’s not paying attention to the surroundings. 

Fortunately, he has someone who does. 

Upon seeing the man’s not going to stop anytime soon, Loki quickly closes the distance between them, catching Mobius from the back by his shoulders. He stops him, then pulls him forcefully towards his own chest, taking the protective position. 

It would be an understatement to say that Mobius is confused. “Shock” would be a much better-chosen word. Yes, he’s shocked. Not only because of Loki’s sudden behaviour but also because of the previous anxiety, creeping towards him and taking control of his mind once again. 

He blinks trying to stay calm, not sure what’s even happening. 

“Stay still,” Loki’s voice hisses into his ear, and surprisingly that’s enough to ground him.

The man relaxes slightly, his mind not as blank anymore. He complies with the god’s order, not daring to speak or even breathe. For a second he’s too scared to even move his eyeballs, just to look around. 

Yet, after a few seconds, he’s finally almost fully calm, the agent’s attitude that he used to hide behind during all these years for TVA is finally kicking in, and he does check on his surroundings, careful not to make too drastic and visible movements. 

That’s when he notices what got Loki so worked up. 

People. Loads of people, everywhere, within several meters of distance between each of them. They look like the figures on the chess board, with the one difference that they are all the same, or at least rather similar, very much unlike the chess figures. 

They look like human beings, however, they do not act like ones, which is exactly what immediately puts Mobius back on edge. They are walking slowly, shuffling, dragging their bottom limbs almost behind the rest of their bodies. 

From the outlook of the closest one, the grey-haired can tell their eyes are completely empty, the irises and orbs covered with a sort of milky fog. The skin is torn in several places, depending on which one of these creatures you look at. 

“Zombies,” Loki speaks up again, rather quietly. 

Mobius looks at him, confused more than ever. He’s not sure he’s ever heard the word, nor has he ever seen these creatures, yet the God of Mischief seems to be pretty familiar with them.

When their eyes meet, however, he can tell Loki’s suddenly confused about Mobius’ confusion. The emotion is there only for a second though, quickly switching into a weird kind of mix of both anger and disbelief. 

“You don’t know what zombies are,” the god acknowledges. He doesn’t really need any sort of confirmation, but Mobius nods in agreement anyway. “TVA really did put a blindfold on your eyes, didn’t they?”

The jötun huffs, his eyes wandering between the closest individuals. The human can tell his partner is thinking intensively, trying to figure out the best way of getting out of this situation. 

And both of them know very well his attitude changed this suddenly, only for the sake of his mortal companion. If he was alone, he’d be having a grand time.

“What are these?” Mobius asks finally, not able to contain his curiosity any longer.

“I really need to organise a zombie movie marathon for us,” the god laughs, even though there’s not much humour in his voice. He’s still far too stressed about his human’s safety right now. “According to your human pop-culture, these can be even humans touched by some kind of a virus, or basically the walking dead,” he explains.

The next thing Mobius knows, Loki’s making him follow his movements, as they both back up towards some sort of bigger rock they have passed a few minutes ago. As they finally approach it, the god cues the agent to sit down behind it.

“Stay down,” he says.”It’s safer this way.”

“Safer? Why? Are they dangerous?”

Loki huffs again, mildly annoyed. Yet, the feeling isn’t directed towards the man, as the dark-haired knows very well that not having access to all the information available for a regular human being is not his fault. He’s angry with the headquarters, the agency.

Right now he wishes he could burn the TVA again. Or at least watch a replay. 

“Virus, Moby,” he answers finally, very much aware of the confused stare of the man glued to him. “They can infect you.”

“But they can’t infect you-?”

“I am a bloody God, Mobius.”

The said god takes the TemPad out of the man’s cold, still fingers. He works on it for a while but gives up only after several seconds, understanding they cannot use it anymore. It’s completely broken. Cheap piece of technology. 

He tires thinking about the alternative, yet he’s cut off again. This time not by Mobius’ questions, though. 

He looks up, then notices a figure creeping towards them. A low growl escapes from the deep of its throat, and Mobius is immediately behind Loki. When all this is over and they’re back at their own, safe home, he will deny everything. Possibly. Probably.

But right now he can’t care less, as the creature approaches. If what the god’s telling him is true, and judging from his reaction it is, the jötun has much bigger chances of winning in combat with this thing, than Mobius ever would. 

The man almost jumps as the creature rushes on them, overcoming several meters between them within a split second and launching towards the God of Mischief.

But instead of seeing Loki get ripped into pieces, Mobius observes as the green cloud escapes his partner’s hands, shooting the monster before it can even properly land. 

The power launches it in the entirely opposite direction, making it fly into the sky and towards the stars. What’s even more concerning is the fact that Mobius doesn’t see it fall to the ground afterwards. It just sort of… disappears into the grey ash and clouds. 

The mortal sighs with relief. The god breaths out, deeply, his lungs making an audible whistle.

“We should get out of here,” the jötun states the obvious. “Come on.”

Mobius feels his hand’s being captured into the much colder one, and he’s being dragged along again, forced to follow the god. 

Not that he minds. 

Loki’s other hand is meanwhile occupied, as the God of Mischief points it straight ahead. The green cloud is to be seen again, yet this time it’s not attacking any of the remaining creatures. Quite the opposite, it’s acting rather calm. And after a short while, Mobius finally realizes why is that.

A portal appears, you could say somehow similar to the ones TemPads are supposed to be creating. Yet, this one is green, much like the cloud around Loki’s hand, the god’s general aura. 

“In you go,” the jötun, pushing the man in front of himself.

Mobius stumbles a little. Then, he turns around to look at Loki, still not sure about the idea.

“Where will it take us?” he asks, the last bit of anxiety suddenly filling his voice.

The god’s emerald orbs soften, as he approaches the man once again, gripping one of his arms and keeping him close.

“Home,” he answers quietly, as he pushes both of them forward, causing them to enter. 

The next day Loki forces Mobius to have a zombie movie marathon with him.