Work Text:
Ding, ding, ding.
A short melodic chime echoed through the stacks where Loki and Mobius stood together pouring over the thick file of their newest coworker—another variant. It was a variant that Loki recognized, too, and one that recognized Loki in return.
Loki would never forget how quickly the man’s shock gave way to acceptance and (unbelievably) gratitude as soon as their eyes met in the courtroom. He didn’t know what the look meant. All he knew was that it made his chest constrict in a funny way. Not that he would ever admit that, of course, but Mobius must have noticed if his knowing glances and infuriating smirk as they made their way back to their desks were any indication.
Regardless, the variant was now being subjected to orientation while he and Mobius took the time to locate and read up on the man’s file in order to learn what they could about the man before he became a permanent member of their team.
Then there was the announcement.
They both looked down at their TemPads in tandem as the projection of Miss Minutes drawled in her too sweet voice, “Attention, y’all. I have a quick announcement.”
Beside him, Mobius’ demeanor changed from reflective to borderline excited.
“About damn time,” Mobius muttered, blowing on his coffee.
Loki shot him a puzzled look, but Mobius offered no explanation. Instead, he slurped his coffee.
The sound was apparently obnoxious enough for Miss Minutes to narrow her eyes at them and pointedly clear her throat, which made Loki snicker, before she continued her speech.
“As I’m sure most of y’all are aware, the holiday season is just around the corner, which means it’s time to spread some holiday cheer!” Miss Minutes threw out her gloved hands and laughed as shimmering sparkles, snowflakes, and what appeared to be tiny, meticulously wrapped presents rained down around her. “Now,” she continued, “the Time-Keepers are graciously allowing us some time to celebrate the holidays as we see fit. Within reason, of course,” she stipulated, eyeing Loki.
Loki rolled his eyes.
“I have spoken to department administrators to construct a schedule of events on their behalf.”
As she said this, another display appeared beside her. It read:
LOKI (VARIANT) - ANALYST
REPORTS TO: MOBIUS
What followed was a sequential list detailing the allotted time slots for actions like crafts, team building exercises, decorations, and more tasks that Loki, in all his wisdom, knew would be boring at worst, tedious at best, before the list culminated in something labeled “SS/WE.” Whatever that meant.
With an inward sigh, Loki glanced over to appraise Mobius’ display; however, the only difference he saw was the name at the top.
At least they would suffer together, he supposed. But what about—
“Think the new guy will get to join in?” Mobius asked, voicing Loki’s incomplete thoughts.
“He will,” Miss Minutes interjected before Loki could respond.
Again, Loki felt his chest constrict.
“His orientation will conclude in twenty minutes' time.”
“Do we need to pick him up?” Mobius asked.
Miss Minutes shook her head (or would it be her entire body?), “B-15 will lead the variant to his desk.”
“Hmm.”
“That said,” she began, then paused.
Loki raised a brow when two golden bells erupted from the top of her body. A tiny mallet quickly followed, and, unfortunately for Loki, he didn’t notice Mobius plugging his ears with his fingers, so he was left to face the merciless onslaught of teeth-rattling bell beating without protection. He could hardly hear his own thoughts let alone Miss Minutes’ jovial “Time’s up!” before she disappeared in a sparkling swirl. Mobius shot him an amused look when he had to work his jaw to pop his ears, hoping to ease the ringing.
“Guess that means ‘Back to work,’ huh?” he asked loudly, clapping Loki on the shoulder. Loki scowled at him. “C’mon, grumpy,” Mobius snorted. “Let’s go meet our new partner.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Loki hissed, shaking off Mobius’ hand with a petulant shrug of his shoulder. He then stalked off, leaving the other man behind. He could hear laughter following his departure, but it soon fell away in exchange for an equally infuriating air of amusement as Mobius caught up and fell into step with him.
Mortals , he thought with a roll of his eyes.
When the pair finally made their way back to their desks, the variant was waiting for them.
His feet were propped up on the desk, crossed at the ankle, and his hands were threaded together behind his head while he leaned back into his desk chair as if he owned the space. The dark splintering scars that radiated up his arm to distort the right side of his face did little to change the vision of ease and comfortable arrogance he portrayed, but Loki recognized the façade. He’d worn it numerous times himself, after all.
Spotting them, the variant smiled.
“Hey, Reindeer Games,” he said. “Long time, no see.”
Loki inclined his head. “Stark.”
Mobius lifted a brow and pointed between them. “You two know each other?”
“You already know the answer to that, Mobius.”
Mobius huffed a clipped laugh. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
“You’re the one who stepped in during the trial,” Stark said, brown eyes alight with recognition.
“I am.”
“I guess I have you to thank for this swanky new gig,” he said, gesturing around the dull cubicle with a twirl of his index finger.
“Better than the alternative,” Mobius shrugged.
Stark grinned at Mobius’ reply, but Loki could see the tight lines of understanding around his lips. He’d seen the alternative, too, it seemed.
“I don’t doubt that.”
A brief bout of uncomfortable silence followed until Mobius broke it by clapping his hands together. “Anyway,” he said, stepping forward to offer Stark his hand. Tony took it, and they shook hands as Mobius introduced himself. “The name’s Mobius. I’m one of the lead analysts for the TVA. Loki here is my partner—”
“In crime?”
“Pretty much,” Mobius smirked.
“Hardly,” Loki snarked.
“Just because I don’t let you spread mischief around the office doesn’t mean I don’t give you some slack when we’re in the field.”
Loki scoffed. “It’s still a leash.”
Mobius sighed and shared a significant look with Stark. Loki bristled when they both chuckled, but before he could defend his honor, Stark returned introductions.
“Tony Stark,” he said, again leaning back into his desk chair. Then, he counted on his fingers as he rattled off: “Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, Iron Man, savior of the universe, and now...variant,” he winked, wiggling his fingers with a flourish. “But you already knew all that.”
“Not until today,” Mobius contradicted.
Stark’s confident expression cracked, revealing surprise.
“Really?”
“Well, Loki knew more about you than I did going into the courtroom,” he shrugged, scratching his chin. “Anthony E. Stark variants are incredibly rare. Last one was long before my time, so I never had a need to go digging for information before today. Care to see?” Asking this, Mobius held up a file—Stark’s file—and offered it to the other man. Stark took it.
“Take your time with it,” Mobius continued. “Just let me know when you’re finished and I’ll have it returned to the stacks.”
Stark nodded, setting the file on his desk.
“Thanks,” he said.
Mobius waved him off with a pleasant grin.
“My desk is just opposite yours on the other wall. Holler if you need anything.”
“Sure.”
With that, Mobius moved toward his desk only to be pulled away by another agent, which left Loki and Stark alone in each other’s presence.
How...troublesome.
Loki’s eyes slowly slid from Mobius’ retreating back to meet Stark’s intense gaze.
They stared each other down, but Stark was the first to break.
“You look good, Prancer,” he blandly stated.
Loki lifted a brow as he sat at the desk situated directly across from Stark’s, facing him. Then, he responded in kind. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Stark.”
A wide grin spread across Stark’s face at his answer, creasing the scars littering his neck, cheek, and temple; however, he said nothing more as he bent his head to look over his own file.
Loki rubbed at his chest, just over his heart.
Troublesome, indeed.
***
“So,” Stark said, breaking the hour-long silence between the three of them.
Loki and Mobius both looked up from their papers.
“What was up with the little southern clock earlier—today? Can I say ‘today’? Or do days not exist here like they do on Earth considering that it was springtime when I got kidnapped by the Time Lords and now the clock says it’s time for the holidays.”
Mobius chuckled. “Time is a bit wibbly-wobbly here.”
Stark’s lip quirked as if he was amused, and Mobius grinned back. Loki couldn’t comprehend it. It was likely a reference of some sort, he thought with a roll of his eyes.
“So you really celebrate the holidays, huh?” Stark asked, bringing Loki’s attention back.
“All sorts, too.”
“Oh?” Stark leaned forward on his elbows. Loki could see the eager spark of interest in his brown eyes despite being two desk-lengths away.
Mobius nodded. “We have agents from every corner of the timeline. From Earth”—he gestured between himself and Stark, then jerked his thumb at Loki—“to Jotunheim. I think Paul from References is from Xandar…somehow I don’t think that’s his real name. Anyway—” Mobius continued to blather on about who was from where and the fact that this conglomeration of traditions made the TVA’s holiday season an interesting treat, but Stark seemingly only had eyes for Loki.
“Jotunheim, huh?” Stark asked, cutting Mobius off. He blinked in surprised but didn’t interrupted when Stark continued, “Not Asgardian?”
Loki tried not to bristle. “I’m adopted,” he said.
“Huh. Thor never mentioned that.”
Loki replied with nothing more than an uninterested (and unsurprised) hum.
“The more you know,” Stark said.
“Sooo…” Mobius chanced. Then, seeing he wouldn’t be stopped again, he explained, “So we set aside a specific block of time to allow everyone to celebrate their culture’s holidays as they see fit.”
“How pointless,” Loki huffed.
“Somehow I’m not shocked to learn that you’re a Grinch,” Stark laughed.
Loki glowered at the other man while a slow grin stretched across Stark’s face. This expression, Loki inferred, could only mean that Stark knew he (once again) hadn’t understood the reference he’d made, but the slight incline of his head told him that Stark wouldn’t acknowledge it further.
“What culture we going with?” Stark asked instead.
“Our TemPads gave us a clue,” Mobius answered.
Loki’s brows pinched. “Did it?”
“Yeah. Gave it away with the SS slash WE at the bottom of the itinerary.”
“Ah,” Loki said as if it made perfect sense (it did not).
“Secret Santa, right?” Stark clarified. “And…what’s the other one again? All that’s coming to mind it ‘widdle eggplant’.”
Mobius snorted, “White elephant”
“I was close.”
“Closer than most.”
What.
“I’m casting my vote for Secret Santa.”
What.
“Loki?”
“What?”
“Your vote.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Null vote,” Stark said. “You’re up, big shot.”
“I’ll second the Secret Santa.”
“Motion to pass?”
“Passed,” Mobius said, then he scratched at his chin. “There’s only three of us, though, so Secret Santa could be a wash.”
“How about this…we put our names in a hat,” Stark said, gesturing between himself and Mobius. “Loki draws a name card—”
“No.”
“—Shut it, Prancer, you’re playing.”
Loki glared daggers at the other variant, and Mobius had to bite back his laughter when Stark continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted in the first place.
“Loki draws a name card, and we go in a circle based on that. If he draws my name, I get you, you get Loki. He draws you, you get me, I get Loki. That’s about as ‘random’ as we can get it.”
Mobius nodded his approval. “I’m in.”
“Do I have any say?”
“No,” Stark and Mobius said together.
Loki huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine.”
They both grinned and Stark wrote his and Mobius’ name on a piece of paper, ripping them apart before shuffling the two slips behind his back. When the rustling stopped, he looked at Loki and demanded, “No hat, so pick a hand.”
Loki just stared at him, and Stark stared back. Eventually, Stark started waggling his brows, then he quirked them one at a time, slow and deliberate, until the silence grew agitating enough that Loki finally relented.
“Left,” he groaned.
Stark brought his left hand forward and offered him the slip. Loki took it and read the name out loud.
“Tony,” he said.
Stark blinked in surprise (were his cheeks that flush before?) then he quickly grinned at Mobius. “Which means I got you.”
“And I got Loki.”
“Great!” Stark exclaimed, slapping his thighs. “Now we just need time to get gifts.”
“How long do you think we’ll need?” Mobius asked.
“Hmm…maybe one, two days tops.”
Mobius nodded but Loki pursed his lips and asked, “What must these gifts consist of?”
“Well,” Mobius began, “it can be a gag gift, something to make the other person laugh, or it could be something homemade, something you know the other person will appreciate.”
Loki’s brow furrowed next. “And how am I to know what Stark would ‘appreciate’?”
“That’s why we got two days, Reindeer Games,” Stark smirked. “Do your research.” He picked up his file again and waved it in Loki’s direction. “But go deeper than this. I’ll do the same.”
Loki rolled his eyes, but Stark apparently took it as consent.
“Alright, recap time. We each have two days to find the perfect Secret Santa gift. Are we all good with that?”
Mobius gave a thumbs up while Loki just looked away, huffing under his breath, “If I must.”
“Alright, boys.” Mobius clapped his hands together. “Two days. Find a gift that matters and be here with that gift or you’re as good as pruned.”
Both Loki and Stark paled.
“You’re…that’s a joke, right?” Stark asked.
Mobius just laughed and tucked back into his work.
Loki met Stark’s gaze over their desks before they, too, got back to work.
***
Two days later found the three of them sitting in a circle on the office floor, their respective gifts sitting between them.
In front of Mobius sat an emerald green box. It was on the smaller side, no more than five inches cubed, but perhaps it was its small size that allowed Mobius to wrap it so meticulously. Its edges were crisp and sharp like a razor. The sides were folded in such a way to rival the intricate stationary meant to contain letters and ordinances from Asgardian royals. And, to top it off, Mobius wrapped a golden ribbon over and around the gift’s middle, tying it in a simple, yet pleasing bow.
Loki’s gift was a far cry from Mobius’. His gift was tucked away in the bottom of a bag, unwrapped. The bag, though, he was assured would be a hit. The Midgardian sale’s woman had convinced him so, anyway, claiming that it was “Always a popular choice.” Looking at it now, he wondered why other Midgardians wanted so desperately to see the severed head of one of their greatest heroes surrounded by snowflakes. They even dressed the head up in a drooping red hat that had white fluff sewn around the edges. Was it mockery?
Regardless, Sta—Tony’s gift was by far the worst of the three, seeing as it was more tape than paper. He had at least warned them before they sat down that gift wrapping wasn’t his strong suit. Somehow, despite its appearance being rather homely, there was something about it that Loki liked.
Eventually, though, one of them had to break the silence. Loki decided that it would be him.
“How do we begin?” he said.
“Uh,” Tony uttered unhelpfully.
“Why don’t we just pass our gifts to the right?” Mobius suggested. “Then we can open them one-by-one.”
Rather than answer, Loki simply slid his gift in front of Tony. He didn’t have to wait long before the other two followed suit, and soon enough they each had a new gift sitting in front of them.
Loki picked up his gift to turn it over in his hand, frowning when he thought he heard it hum.
“Why don’t you go first, Loki?” Mobius said, startling him out of his reverie.
“Me?”
“Why not?” Mobius shrugged. “It’s your first time doing Secret Santa, so you should go first.”
“If you insist.”
Mobius nodded and gestured for him to go on, and Tony leaned forward on his elbows to watch as Loki slipped his fingernail between one of the folds along the side of the box, pulling it free with a quiet rip.
Tony’s eyes widened and Loki let out a put upon sigh when the familiar blue glow of the Tesseract greeted him.
“Very funny, Mobius.”
“Whaaaat? I thought you might need a new paperweight for your desk,” he teased.
“Paperweight?” Tony blurted.
“They’re practically useless here,” Loki said, turning the object over in his hand much like he had earlier before huffing a small laugh. “Thank you, Mobius. I’ll cherish it.”
“Thought you might,” Mobius grinned. “My turn?”
Tony waved him on. “Go for it, boss man.”
Mobius eagerly picked up his gift, tearing through the tape to reveal a clearly-tampered-with TemPad.
“What’s this?”
“That,” Tony said, leaning in to poke at the display, “is your all access pass to Stark a la Malibu, featuring—drum roll please—jet skis.”
Mobius’ mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“How?”
Tony smirked and tutted. “Now, now, a magician never reveals his secrets.”
Mobius laughed as he began scrolling through the different date options. “Thank you, Tony,” he said. “I’ll definitely get use out of this.”
“So long as we’re invited sometimes, M.”
“Think we could get Loki on a jet ski?”
Loki nearly scoffed—as if he would want to partake in whatever activity that was—but he heard Tony make a noncommittal noise before he said, “Oh, I don’t know. Those things can be hard to learn how to control,” and that riled him up.
“I can easily master whatever contraptions you mortals have come up with.”
“Well,” Tony said, grinning. “I look forward to being proven wrong, Loki.”
“And you will be.”
Tony hummed, then he picked up his own gift. “My turn.”
There was no paper in the bag, so all Tony had to do was peer inside. When he did, he paused, and his brows pinched together in…what? Confusion? Anger? Loki’s stomach twisted in knots. But he knew that this gift, this ghost, was something Tony had lost long ago, something he likely yearned for but couldn’t get back.
Loki’s heart stuttered as Tony reached into the bag to pull out an old StarkPad.
“What…what is—”
“Sir?”
Tony jerked the StarkPad closer, eyes wide and hands shaking. “J?”
“It is good to hear your voice again, Sir.”
The huff that then escaped him was wet, and Loki could see the sheen of unshed tears misting over Tony’s brown eyes as he warbled, “Good to hear you, too, J. It’s been too long.”
“Loki Laufeyson informed me of what transpired after we last parted. I am sorry to have left you in such a state, Sir.”
“It’s not your fault, buddy. Never was.” Suddenly, those brown eyes were on him. “Thank you, Loki. Thank you.”
Loki could only nod around the lump that had formed in his throat.
Tony and the ghost kept talking after that, and Mobius happily compared his TVA schedule with that of his gift to find the best time for the three of them to enjoy a jet ski vacation. Loki sat back and watched it all, the Tesseract humming beside him. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so troublesome to deal with these mortals a while longer.