Chapter Text
“So how are things at work?” his mother asks, tone a little too casual, putting Loki immediately on alert. She’s looking for a particular answer, he knows, which suggests she’s been discussing him with Thor (again) and he wonders briefly just what exactly has his brother told her.
“They’re fine,” he answers non committedly, avoiding Frigga’s gaze. He’s never enjoyed feeling like he’s being examined and lately all his interactions with his family feel that way: like a test he’s most likely to fail.
From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of his mother's sad expression, upset at his cageyness. He holds back a sigh, knowing she means well, that this is not in fact a test and if it is, it doesn’t have a right answer per se. Mother genuinely wants to know how he’s doing, but--
“It’s a little boring,” he concedes finally, toying with what’s left of his half eaten breakfast, which would have earned him a reprimand once upon a time, but in the last 5 years or so his mother treats him like he’s one comment away from snapping.
Which, to be fair, he sort of was, 5 years ago. He had been so angry then, the wounds following his fallout with Odin a little too fresh, despite the tentative truce between him and his (not really) father. In truth, the only reason they tried to make up was for Frigga’s sake, their mutual love for her making them feel like they needed to, but neither quite meant the apologies they said and they both knew it.
Frigga is still watching him closely, as if trying to read between the lines. She’s always been quite good at that, figuring out what Loki meant without him having to actually spell it out, but there’s only so much anyone can read in those very few lines.
“Your brother tells me you’re settling well,” she says finally, taking a small sip from her coffee, her tone still too carefully casual. “He says you seem to have taken a shine to your supervisor.”
Ah, so that’s what this is about. “Mobius is…” he hesitates and then it occurs to him that it was a terrible mistake. Now Frigga will know there’s something up. “Nice,” he settles for, because in all truth he doesn’t know how to describe Mobius. He’s nice, sure, but also a bit of a jerk from time to time and he likes to push Loki’s buttons a little too much. He’s not mean about it though, he teases Loki like he’s never been teased, he makes jokes and he laughs with him, not at him and he’s never, not once, even hinted that he minds or that he’s wary of Loki’s hard earned bad reputation.
Loki has always had trouble connecting with people, making friends . So his bad reputation has never bothered him, if anything it’s a good way to keep people at bay. Mobius though-- Mobius seems to genuinely think he is a good person or that at least he has the potential to be and that…
Well. Loki has no idea what that makes him feel.
“He’s a friend, then?” Frigga presses gently, not wanting to upset him. A part of him wants to talk to her, tell her just how puzzling he finds the other man and all the inconvenient feelings he evokes, but it feels like sharing too much and he’s not ready for that (he might never be).
“I think so,” he says and is a little surprised by how badly he wishes it’s true. He stopped wanting to have real friends of his own at some point in his early teens, having figured out that was simply never going to happen and yet--
“Loki,” his mother says, all earnest, grabbing the hand that’s resting on the table, expression soft and full of… hope? “I’m so very glad you’ve found a friend.”
There’s something in his mother’s tone that hints at something more, but for the life of him Loki can not figure out what it is. He smiles in an attempt to placate her, since it’s obvious she’s worried despite it all but of course it has the opposite effect: it’s been a while since his smiles were perfectly sincere and the rest of the world might not notice it, but Frigga certainly does.
He wonders if Mobius does too. He always seems able to get a good read of him, knowing when to crack jokes, when to tease him and when to be completely serious. But then it occurs to him that his smiles might be a little more honest when it comes to the other man.
And what exactly does all that mean?
“Ah, pumpkin latte!” Mobius says, smile bright as the sun as he takes the coffee cup from Loki and takes a sip. “I think these are my favorites.”
Loki snorts. “You said that about the mapple late,” he argues, taking his usual seat. “I didn’t take you for a man of fickle affections.”
Mobius hums, pouring yet more sugar into his already sugary drink. “That’s me, fickle as they come,” he agrees with a grin. “Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right coffee to show up.”
Loki’s stomach does a little flip and he frowns, confused. That seems to be happening a lot around Mobius lately and he’s yet to decide whether he should be concerned or not. “How will you know it’s the right coffee?” he asks, because continuing their back and forth seems like the best way to go, even if it makes something flutter in his chest.
Mobius holds his stare, the fluttering in Loki’s chest increasing and god, isn’t that the most inconvenient thing ever ? “I’ll know,” Mobius replies mysteriously and lets out a laugh at Loki’s annoyed stare. “I don’t know, Loki. How does anyone know when true love has come knocking on their door?”
That’s a good question, isn’t it?
Loki wouldn’t know.
To say Loki had been skeptical about actually going to work at Stark Industries would have been an understatement.
He never held any real interest in carrying on with the family business, but Odin had always made it sound like such was his and Thor’s destiny and it never seemed like any other option would actually be available. Other interests were never openly discouraged, but Loki always felt like deciding not to work at Asgard Industries was akin to turning his back on his family.
Which of course had been exactly what he had done after finding out he wasn’t really Odin’s son, because he had figured you can’t turn your back on a family that’s not actually yours. Both Frigga and Thor had plenty to say about that and even Odin at first, but of course that had quickly changed when Loki started acting out. Then father had been all too happy to turn his back on him and it had spiraled down from there. They both had been quite vicious, both searching to hurt as much as possible, if only because they both felt attacked.
Maybe it could have been different. If he had found out the truth literally any other way rather than by the damn tabloids, maybe things wouldn’t have espiralled as out of control as they had. But all the maybes in the world can not change what happened and so the damage was done.
Things are better now, though. He’s not entirely sure his relationship with Odin will ever completely recover (hence why he still calls him Odin instead of father, no matter how much it seems to pain his mother), but the wounds are healing. And in an attempt to make yet more reparations, he had agreed with Thor when he suggested he could come along with him to work at Stark Industries after the merge between their and Stark’s company was finalized.
He didn’t want to be part of the board, though. That sounded impossibly boring and it probably involved a lot of administrative work that Loki would never have the patience for. Odin had then suggested he made use of his newly acquired hacking abilities (thanks Sylvie) and well-- he knew an olive branch when he saw it, so he took it.
He hadn’t liked Mobius right away, but he’s not exactly an acquired taste either. His first impression on the man was that he was honest and Loki is all too aware of how hard it is to find real honesty. He had been… intrigued, he supposes and things had spiraled from there.
Mother had asked if they were friends. Loki isn’t entirely sure, how can he if he’s never had one? He does know this though:
Coming to work at Stark Industries was the best decision he's ever made.
Loki glances at the clock on the wall, huffing when he notices it’s only been five minutes since the last time he checked. He’s bored out of his mind and there’s no way he’s entertaining himself with paperwork like Mobius suggested, but he’s run out of ideas of what else he could possibly do.
For his part, his “supervisor” is busy revising his own paperwork, pointedly ignoring Loki by literally hiding behind the document he’s reading. Loki pouts, leaving his own desk and taking his usual seat in front of Mobius, resting his elbows on the table, taking as much space as possible in an attempt to get the other man’s attention.
Of course Mobius pretends not to notice him.
Loki pouts some more, nudging Mobius’ leg underneath the table. Mobius spares a quick glance in his direction, one eyebrow raised, before going back to whatever he’s reading, as if that was way more deserving of his attention than Loki, which is just plain ridiculous.
He nudges him again and gets a nudge back for his troubles, but Mobius’ eyes remain fixed on his document. One of these days Loki is going to give into his impulses and burn this whole place to the ground, if only to never see one bit of paperwork ever again.
When the gentle nudges seem not to be working, Loki figures it’s time for dramatic measures. He takes off one of his shoes and then runs his sock-clad foot over Mobius’ calf, which prompts an immediate reaction from his companion, who gives him a warning look, pulling his leg away.
Never one to be easily deterred, Loki tries it again, sliding closer. Mobius huffs, somewhere between amused and annoyed and captures Loki’s foot between his legs, effectively stopping his little game.
Well. This is odd.
Loki can feel his face warming up a little, which suggests he’s blushing, although he has no idea why. He’s aware his little “game” can be interpreted as an attempt of filtration, but in truth seduction had been far from his mind, his only objective getting Mobius’ undivided attention. Now that his foot is trapped between Mobius’ legs though, it feels oddly-- intimate.
His stomach flips, his whole focus zeroing in every point of contact between them. Mobius’ attention remains infuriatingly on his paperwork, signing the document he had been reading with a flourish, before picking another one to read through. Loki pouts, but he gets ignored, which is probably for the best.
There’s a part of him that wants to pull away, probably say something a little cutting if only to shake off some of this strange tension building up inside him. But Mobius’ unperturbed expression gives him pause; doing that would only draw attention to himself and he’s not sure he wants that.
He stares at the other man for a beat, uncertain about this curious feeling growing in his gut. He wants, that much he knows, he just doesn’t know what he wants .
And that’s quite a problem, isn’t it?
"And how are things at work?" mother asks again a few months later and Loki does his level best not to roll his eyes at her.
"You can ask what you really want to ask, mom," he replies and hurries to look away after seeing the soft expression in Frigga's face. It shouldn't hurt, it's not a look of pain after all, but it does hurt because he remembers all too clearly telling her she wasn't his mother.
If there was one single thing Loki wishes he could go back in time and change, it'd be telling her such a lie.
"How is your friend?" she asks, before Loki can work himself up into a real sulk and he sighs, running his fingers through his hair.
"Fine," he answers, because Mobius is fine. Loki is the one who's not that fine, because he's facing some very conflicting emotions that he's not sure what they mean.
Frigga hums, hesitating. It's clear she wants to ask something, but is unsure about the wisdom of it. Loki, who was never bothered questioning the wisdom of his actions, watches her in silence.
"Your brother tells me you seem to be getting closer," she says at length, watching him as if she's expecting him to do something… dramatic , let's say.
Of course Thor would say something like that. "I'm not Thor, mother," he waves a hand dismissively as if he hadn't spent his childhood wishing he was more like his brother. "I do not get the urge to marry every close friend I make."
Frigga smiles, just a tiny bit wistful. “How would you know?” she asks, not unkindly, just matter-of-factly. And she’s right, of course, he’s never had a friend before, let alone a close friend, who is to say he won’t want to marry Mobius one of these days?
He thinks of all the stolen touches and the secret smiles. He thinks of their knees touching underneath the cafeteria’s table and his sock clad feet caught between Mobius’ legs. He thinks of the funny flip his stomach makes sometimes and of the placid fire that licks at his insides when he thinks of touching the other man, with intent, not by mistake, not friendly touches. A real caress, a real kiss.
God. Maybe he is like Thor after all.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, because it’s just too much. Having a friend is hard enough, having a… lover even more so. Of course one could argue he does have a little more experience with those (or a lot of experience, if he’s honest), but he’s never had something real. Never someone he actually wanted to keep.
His mother smiles, soft and wistful and he knows she doesn’t believe him, but that’s fine. Loki is an expert on lying, even when he knows that people around him don’t actually believe a word he’s saying.
So he simply smiles back.