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They hadn’t lived together long, but it was as if they’d spent their entire lives together.
Since leaving the TVA after things went south, Mobius had decided that the best thing for himself and Loki to do was to hide out. They picked a timeline, took a door to New York, and never looked back. Now all they had was each other, though that wasn’t all. They did have their beach house that Mobius had insisted they get in order to live closer to the water, which had only been acquired (illegally) by enchanting and swindling several salesmen and tax collectors, avoiding any and all payments on the house regularly.
In the silence of the night, the pair were more than comfortable in the air of one another. Mobius had hand hand steadily running through his hair, and other than that, not much more than their breaths were shared between them. Most nights were spent like this since they had established a relationship. Despite what himself and others may think at times, there were in fact select moments in time where Loki preferred to stay silent. That night was one such night, until Mobius’ thoughts transferred out loud. This was also a common occurrence.
“You know… Sylvie told me about your…incident, on the train back on Lamentis-1. Your little detour, if you will. Which you probably won’t.”
Despite the comforting hand sifting through his hair in that moment, Loki was more than quick to sit up, abruptly, from his position, with nothing short of a defiant scowl crossing his face as it finally registered what he had been told. Sylvie had probably told him about everything that happened that night, failure included. Nexus included. What a snake.
“What incident? There was no incident. She’s a liar.”
Mobius had raised a brow before the words had even finished leaving his mouth and, near instantly, Loki could tell that the man wasn’t buying his excuse. He’d make the argument that he was only good at reading faces, but it wasn’t as if Mobius was being subtle about his disbelief. In fact, he was going out of his way to make his disbelief known. With that in mind, Loki began to bite his lips together out of sheer, brief embarrassment. Mobius took note.
“So you…didn’t get drunk on a train, during an apocalypse, while undercover? With the only supervision you had literally being a variant of yourself, who was fast asleep? That’s very you.”
Loki made an effort to gape in offence. “No. That’s absurd—“
“She told me you…I dunno, I might be spitballing here but— you sang. Actually sang.”
“I don’t sing.”
“See, that’s what I was thinking. But then again, I’ve never seen you drunk,” Mobius pointed out and, despite the eyes still bearing into him, trailed his finger idly down the frost giant marks on the side of Loki’s arm, which he’d come into a habit of doing as of late. With a small, defeated sigh, the taller man collapsed back into place on the chest beneath him, hair splaying out as he did so.
“You haven’t seen much of me, Moby,” Loki scoffed, earning himself a small, husky chuckle in response, which he always did enjoy in any given circumstance. It was endearing, to say the least.
“I’ve seen plenty. Hell, I see you in your female form all the time. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re just secretive, even though you don’t have to be. But I’m not gonna force you to tell me anything, honey. We’re past that. You’re not under interrogation, not anymore. It’s just us.”
A tense silence followed that statement, and in that silence, Mobius’ hand found its way into Loki’s hair again in an effort to ease said tension. He was the first to speak.
“I’d like to hear you sing.” He pondered out loud, “She said you had a nice singing voice. That is, you know— amongst other stuff.”
Loki raised his head against the man’s chest so as to look at him, quizzical in expression.
Mobius seethed jokingly. Loki wasn’t in the least bit amused.
“You know. Insults. The compliment was more… implied—“
“—No, no I understood that part. I’m used to it. I just meant—“ Loki began, hesitating a moment before he continued. “—why do you want to hear me sing? It’s not exactly my headline act. I’m not known for singing, nor do I enjoy singing while fully conscious.” Another lie. He loved singing more than he’d dare admit.
Mobius shrugged, bringing his arm easily around Loki’s shoulders again. Despite the defiant streak in him riling him into unrest, he easily settled into the embrace.
“Because everything else about you is beautiful, voice included. I can only imagine what its like… you know, when you’re singing,” he answered easily.
As Mobius closed his eyes and allowed himself to find comfort in his surroundings, Loki’s face shifted from that of a scowl to a frown, brows furrowed and all as he deflated by his side. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share everything with Mobius, but it was no easy task either. He would always be a notorious liar. A villain. Some cruel joke. Mobius made him feel less so, but he’d fallen into habit before then. It would take time.
The silence lasted a minute or so, before a soft lul began to leave Loki’s throat, much to the surprise of Mobius. He knew it was asgardian, it must have been, but he didn’t know the words. Not by a mile. Judging by the way the song sounded, however, he figured it was a lullaby. What he didn’t know, however, is that it was only part of the song he had sung on the aforementioned train.
“I stormsvarte fjell… jeg vandrer alene.”
Sylvie hadn’t told him how the song went, only that he had slurred it. He didn’t know what that must’ve sounded like, but he did know that This wasn’t slurred. It was delicate, and beautiful, and he found himself feeling as though he was floating in mid air from the mere sound of it.
“Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem—”
With a relaxed sigh, Mobius opted to shift their positions, sinking himself down just enough so that his head was resting on his chest. Loki’s arm responded in an instant, a smile crossing his lips as he took a turn at wrapping it around Mobius’ settled form, combing his fingers back slowly through the gray hairs with ease. If there was a perfect timeline, and he may be biased, this was it.
“…I eplehagen står møyen den vene.”
As he trailed into the final verse, he noticed the other man’s eyes fixed on him, hooded as they may be. And that smile—that smile like no other smile—just for him. It couldn’t be compared, and he’d tried in the beginning stages of their relationship. He’d tried his hardest to find excuses for his feelings. Any excuse to feel less vulnerable. But, as he’d quickly come to find out, Mobius’ happiness was intoxicating. And he needed it.
He needed him.
“Og synger… “når kommer du hjem…?”
And on that note—quite literally—Mobius found himself drifting off to nothing but the sound of Loki’s voice, allowing it to completely encompass him. This, coupled with the gentle fingers combing and shifting through his hair, grazing his scalp just so, was enough to bring him to sleep.
Loki couldn’t help but to smile at the mere sight of it, enjoying the calm expression lacing Mobius’ face with that of endearment. Seeing him, especially like that, meant more than anything. He had yearned to see him that calm since the first day they’d met if he were being truthful with himself, albeit for different, more selfish purposes. Never had he seen a man so stressed over the smallest and most trivial of things, himself included if not the things he did. And now he had that calm, peaceful Mobius—quite literally—within his grasp. It meant everything to him. It waseverything to him.
He was everything to him.
“Goodnight, my kjæreste. Have pleasant dreams for me.”
As Loki shifted within their embrace to lay back on his pillow, the hand Mobius had resting against his chest began to shift, subconsciously tracing the marks that so delicately wove up and along his skin. That was when his voice could be heard. Warm, sweet and mocking.
“Yeah, well…” he cleared his throat. “I’ll try my darndest.”
Oh, he was a pest. The biggest.