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Wonderful, Mobius thinks as he walks through the rain, ignoring the cold. He would rather crawl into a ditch and light himself on fire than go back to the TVA to explain how he simply can’t find the Loki variant he was sent after. Loki’s somewhere nearby, that much is obvious going by his energy signal that the TemPad picks up easily enough. Five minutes to redline, Mobius reads on the screen and sighs. If only he could put a trace on Loki’s temporal aura, but there’s too much interference from Tony Stark’s arc reactor nearby. Did that survive the battle of New York on the proper timeline? Mobius doesn’t remember. He shakes his head, and heads down an alley, trying not to pay too much attention to the destruction surrounding him. He knows he’s only prolonging the inevitable, but five minutes is five minutes when he knows how furious Ravonna will be. Hell, it might even be his last five minutes if she’s pissed enough.
Two minutes until redline. He looks away from the TemPad, as he hears a rustling sound nearby. There’s nothing in sight though – just a bunch of debris and a battered dumpster to his right. Just as Mobius is about to open a timedoor to go back to the TVA, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. A soaking wet cardboard box on the ground beside him wiggles, and a very small black cat sticks its head out. Mobius swears under his breath, and starts punching in the coordinates for the TVA. To think he was nearly frightened by an alley cat. It meows at him, and Mobius looks at it curiously. There’s something desperate in its green eyes, as if it’s pleading for help. It reaches a tiny paw toward him.
Thirty seconds until redline. Its fur is soaking wet, so it’s hard to tell but… Is that blood staining the soggy box the cat is hiding in?
Hopelessly, Loki watches as the man in the tan suit looks down at him. He is going to die here, on this awful Norns-forsaken rock. If only he had enough seidr left in him to heal himself, he could tolerate this form long enough to continue evading his brother and his mortal friends. But, no. It takes everything he has to stay conscious, as he hopes this random mortal might take pity on him. …Not that Loki needs his pity. What he does need is somewhere warm, dry, and relatively safe to rest enough to recover so he can go back to running from Thanos. Maybe. He probably deserves whatever fate awaits him now, even if he has little memory of the events that followed his fall from the Bifrost. Please, he thinks looking up at the silver-haired man, take me with you, I might even behave myself. The stranger is the only soul to have passed through the alley in… Loki is not even sure how long he has been there. If he walks away – no. This is not how he will die, he has survived too much for this humiliating disaster to be his undoing. Wait… Is he…?
Mobius rolls his eyes. “Damn it,” He mutters, and scoops the little cat into his arms and steps through a timedoor.
Mobius knows he should report to Ravonna immediately, but his furry friend is bleeding on his coat. So, he heads to the med bay instead.
“I am not a veterinarian,” The medic on duty, a middle-aged woman with graying brunette hair, tells him when he shows her the injured cat. “Shouldn’t you have left it there? This has to be against the rules.”
“Technically you’re not wrong, but I felt bad for it. It’s just a cat. Can’t you do anything?” Mobius begs.
“I’ll try. Leave it here.”
“I’ll be back after judge Renslayer tears me a new hole where the sun doesn’t shine,” Mobius says, handing the cat over to the medic.
Really, Mobius thinks as he rides the elevator to what feels like it’s going to be his execution, he is too gullible for his own good. Saving the cat won’t matter. Taking it from its place on the timeline will have only made it a variant, so the original version of it will still probably die – alone, shivering in the rain, in that empty alley. The world is a cruel place, well, all the worlds out there are. They’re all the same in the end. It must be nice, not knowing the truth about the TVA, the sacred timeline, and the Timekeepers. Being able to believe in benevolent gods and free will is a lovely notion. He heaves a sigh as he pushes open the door to Ravonna’s office.
“I hear you brought back a new pet,” Ravonna says to him as he pours himself a glass of scotch and settles into his usual spot on the sofa.
“What can I say? I’m good at picking up strays,” Mobius quips. “It’s sort of my job.”
“Yet, you failed to apprehend the variant,” Ravonna says, sitting across from him. “Mobius. A coaster. Please.”
“I couldn’t pin-point a location. I’ll just have to go back and try again,” Mobius replies, slipping a coaster under his glass.
“I wonder about that,” Ravonna counters in an accusatory tone. “This is the third Loki variant that has evaded you recently. Odd, considering your impeccable track record.”
Mobius shrugs. “Maybe I’m getting slow in my old age.” Of course she noticed that he’s been slipping when it comes to Lokis. He can’t help it; he’s starting to root for the guy, hoping at least one variant of him will get his happy ending somehow – even if Mobius knows exactly how it’s all supposed to go. …Poor bastard.
“We don’t age.”
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. Lokis are clever, but not invincible. I’ll bring him in once I get a solid read on his location.” Mobius downs the rest of his scotch. “Or is this going to be an official reprimand? Just get it over with, Ravonna. I’m dead tired and you can’t want me dripping all over your carpet.”
Ravonna shakes her head and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “I’m worried about you, Mobius. Get some rest. B-15 said the branch has been dealt with.”
“Oh,” Mobius says before he can stop himself, and hopes she can’t hear the sadness in his voice. “What about the cat?”
“I don’t care. Keep it. It’s a variant, but it’s just a cat. How much trouble can it cause?”
Famous last words, Mobius thinks a few days later as he looks up at ‘Lokitty’, who is sitting on top of his kitchen cabinet and glaring down at him like he’s a speck of dirt on the end of his nose. B-15 named him, and as much as Mobius hates it, the name suits him. He’s a surprisingly elegant creature, who moves with far too much grace for a normal cat. Then, there’s his oddly piercing green eyes and decidedly smug attitude.
“Get down from there you little shit,” Mobius tells him. How did he even get up there in the first place?
Lokitty mews and turns around so that his back is turned to him.
“Ugh. Whatever.” Mobius ignores him, and pours himself a cup of coffee.
Just as he settles into his chair at the table with his coffee and the newspaper, Lokitty meows at him again.
“What? Are you stuck? Of course you’re stuck,” Mobius complains, looking up at him. “Yeah. Hang on. I’ll rescue you.”
Meow. Mobius pinches the bridge of his nose and swears under his breath as he gets up, dragging the chair along with him. He doesn’t trust the way it wobbles when he stands on it, and he holds his breath as he reaches for Lokitty – who ignores him and hops down onto the counter with ease.
“I hate you,” Mobius whines, and could swear that Lokitty is laughing at him – judging by the way he twitches his tail and seems to smirk.
It’s not true, of course. He’s very fond of Lokitty, who goes everywhere he does. He curls up on his lap, or sits on his shoulder while he works. When Mobius sleeps, he lays on his chest, or tucks himself under his arm. Mobius talks to him constantly, and more often than not has the distinct feeling that Lokitty understands him. But then, Mobius could swear he’s caught Lokitty reading the files in his office, or watching the TV far too intently. The way he stalks Casey, hides behind things, and jumps out to scare him seems almost premeditated. He won’t touch the food Mobius gives him, yet he drinks his coffee when he turns his back, and steals snacks from whoever is stupid enough to leave them out in the office. That’s normal cat behavior, though. …Right?
Loki stares at his reflection in the shiny glass window of Mobius’ office; a black cat wearing a green leather collar and a bored expression stares back. Really, he isn’t sure which is worse: being trapped in this utterly worthless form, or the way Mobius dotes on him. He likes Mobius, though. He is different from the rest of the droll TVA employees, or that she-hulk of a hunter that he is almost positive knows who he really is. Why does she leave him alone, then? He has seen them arrest and prune several other variants of himself since Mobius brought him here. She must not think him a threat. Her mistake. Regardless, Mobius is nearly as mischievous as he is, and highly intelligent. Loki thinks, given a chance, that they could be friends – or at least Mobius might help him burn this place to ground with proper incentive. He tries to respond when Mobius speaks to him, but ‘cat’ is obviously not one of the many languages that the TVA agent seems to be fluent in.
Loki has tried leaving little hints for Mobius that he is more than a mere house cat, as well as other ways to communicate with him, but nothing seems to work. Mobius, Loki is sure, will not harm him or turn him into to the TVA if he does figure out his predicament. No, his savior is frankly obsessed with him – well, any version of him that is not trapped in feline form. He has lost track of how many times he has heard Mobius whisper his name in his sleep, and he nearly fell over the first time he heard him moan his name as he – Loki shakes his head. He is used to people desiring his body, but something about Mobius seems different.
“Whatcha thinking about there, pussycat?”
Loki looks away from the window, and up at Mobius who is watching him curiously.
“Meow!” Of course, Mobius cannot tell that he means to say ‘The way you cry out my name when you touch yourself’.
How infuriating it is, that all that comes out of his mouth when he tries to speak is ‘meow’. Though, it might be for the better considering how much trouble his silver tongue gets him into. Still, he would like to see the look on Mobius’ face. Would he blush? Swear in every language he knows? Be rendered speechless?
“Fascinating,” Mobius replies and scoops him up into his arms.
Loki has to admit that he is curious. Mobius’ touch is light and warm; would it feel the same once he manages to change back into his preferred Aesir form? He is not like any of the lovers Loki has taken before. He is patient, kind, probably too gentle… Still, he wonders what he looks like under all those layers of unflattering clothes. Somehow, he has never managed to catch him naked. It’s probably just because he is bored out of his mind, but Loki finds himself more and more curious about Mobius with each passing day. He is obviously mortal, yet not. His wisdom far exceeds a normal human lifespan.
Loki squirms indignantly as Mobius kisses his head. He wants to sink his claws into his shoulder that is just within reach, but decides that would be rude. Mobius did save his life, after all.
Still, in spite of everything, Loki sees the advantage in the situation. Against all odds, he has managed to accidentally infiltrate what has to be the single greatest power in the universe. Magic is useless here; that is a problem, but he will find a solution eventually. They use infinity stones as paperweights. He spent a whole afternoon sulking when he finally got his hands (paws?) on the tesseract, only to find that it is powerless. He thinks it was an afternoon, anyway. Loki still is not entirely sure how time works in this unending nightmare. How long has he been there? A few months at least, at a guess. Is any of it even real?
“I have to go for a bit,” Mobius tells him, ruffling his fur as he deposits him in the comfy leather chair behind his desk. “Got a job to do for a bit, darling. I won’t be long. Try to stay out of trouble.”
Loki retches at being called ‘darling’, and watches with interest as Mobius uses the TemPad to open a portal of sorts. He’s seen some of the agents do it before, and figured out that it is how they are able to travel through time at will. This is the first time he has seen Mobius leave the TVA alone, however. Perhaps… He hesitates for a moment, and leaps through the portal after Mobius just before it closes.
“Hey! Get back here!” Mobius shouts at him.
Lokitty doesn’t go far, he just sits on the ground beside Mobius and looks up at him. Luckily, Mobius is on his own for this job. It’s the first time since finding Lokitty that he’s gotten assigned to a solo mission, which is fine because it’s a fairly simple task – documenting a scene left behind by some Kree variants before D-90’s team resets it. It won’t take long; it’s a nameless moon with nothing and no one nearby other than the wreckage of the Kree ship he needs to have a look at. The outer space version of a dirty truck stop, which is the only settlement on the moon, is a fair distance away. The specific point in time is considered an apocalypse; an asteroid will crash into the moon within the hour and destroy it, so there’s no redline. He can use the TemPad to temporarily freeze time and work uninterrupted, until he’s ready to call D-90 in to take care of the rest. It’s simple, quiet, and an escape from the office – Mobius’ favorite kind of job.
“Fine, just don’t go anywhere and don’t touch anything,” Mobius says to Lokitty, who hops up onto a boulder nearby and watches him curiously. He’s not that worried. Lokitty usually stays close to him.
“Very well, if you insist. Just for you, I will be a good little pussycat.”
Mobius absolutely does not squeal like a little girl and drop his TemPad. It’s definitely not a little black cat sitting where Lokitty was.
“Loki?!”
It really is him, in full Asgardian armor minus the helmet, perched on the boulder. Right; he’s a shapeshifter. It's not that Mobius forgot, but... A cat, really?
“Yes, yes. I am the cat,” Loki says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the universe; in hindsight, it actually was pretty obvious. “I was injured, had exhausted my magic, and the Avengers were hunting for me. I took that shape as a last resort to evade them. I did not know who you really are, but imagine my surprise at accidentally discovering the TVA. I had intended to escape once I recovered, but of course my magic is useless there and I found myself trapped in that form.”
“Holy shit,” Mobius whines. “I slept with you.”
Loki cackles in a way that reminds Mobius hauntingly of the villain he is supposed to be. “That is the first thing you think of? Not me sneaking off at night to read forbidden files in your archives, tormenting your office staff, or stealing the sadly useless infinity stones? I knew you were fond of me, judging by the way your colleagues speak of you and your interactions with other variants of me. But, to think that the first thing that came to your mind upon revealing myself to you is that we shared a bed… My, you must be very fond of me.”
“I didn’t even notice you stole any infinity stones,” Mobius admits sheepishly. “Not that they would have done you any good.”
Loki rolls his eyes, and comes to stand close to him. “I returned them, powerless as they were. Except for the tesseract. You will find that under your bed.”
Mobius swallows thickly as Loki adjusts his crooked tie. “What will you do now?”
“Oh? You are not going to arrest me? Afraid I might like being in cuffs?”
“I – Well, I kinda have to.”
Loki leans in and whispers in his ear. “I do not mind being your pet, so long as you let me out of my cage once in a while.” It might work; he can earn Mobius’ trust and figure out how to get to the timekeepers. Does Mobius have access to them? He seems to hold some kind of decent rank, so probably.
“You can’t be serious?!”
Loki smirks and gives Mobius a positively obnoxious wink. “The way I see it, I have no other option. I have learned enough about the TVA to know that I cannot hope to avoid capture if I run from you. So, I can either let you take me back to be pruned, or we can continue to exist as we have been.”
“Why even reveal yourself to me, then?” Mobius says defensively and wonders why he doesn’t take a step back or push Loki away.
“That is not a denial,” Loki purrs, and gently takes ahold of Mobius’ coat by the lapels. “Exactly how much do you like me, Mobius?”
“I’ve never even talked with you before this,” Mobius tells him. “Take a seat there, Kitten. Don’t go getting any ideas.”
Loki sighs dramatically. “I have heard you call out my name while you pleasure yourself.”
The look of pure horror on his face is adorable, and Loki can’t help but grin at the sight of it. His cheeks are a delightful shade of pink. He could just lean forward a bit, and…
“I have work to do,” Mobius counters in a feeble attempt to distract him and nearly falls over himself as he stumbles backwards out of his reach.
“We can continue this conversation later, then. At your convenience, of course.” Loki shrugs and curls up on the boulder where he was before, once again in the shape of the little black cat.
Mobius tries to ignore Loki as he sits on the kitchen table across from him, with his face a coffee mug. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took him to find tea that Loki enjoys – or about how he went to Asgard to get it. Loki, the smug little bastard, probably knows, too. It’s funny though, watching him try to eat a waffle. He holds the edge with his paws, while he tears at it and shakes his head like a dog with a chew toy. He frowns and thinks that he probably doesn’t actually like being a cat. It must be beyond humiliating. At least he doesn’t have to steal food anymore, but to say that he is picky is a gross understatement. The thought does cross Mobius’ mind that it probably isn’t healthy for a cat to exist on junk food and herbal teas, but then he isn’t really a cat, so…
Mobius misses Loki sleeping with him; somewhere along the line he got used to his presence. He still sleeps in his bed, albeit as far away from his as physically possible. He keeps his distance at the office, too – preferring to wander the area or nap on top of a bookcase near the window. Mobius steals a glance at Loki, who is licking maple syrup off his paws. He wishes they could have an actual conversation, but Loki does not appear to be able to use normal language while in cat form. They can talk, sort of, at least – Loki can still nod or shake his head, and often uses other forms of body language to communicate. Maybe they don’t need words. In a sense they have their own sort of intuitive way of speaking to each other without them.
Mobius sighs, and pushes away his half-eaten breakfast. All he can think of lately is how Loki knew about his… fixation with him. He could take him somewhere else for a while, let him stretch his legs. Going anyplace else on the timeline would be risky because being there might cause a nexus event, but he could always toss Loki in a timecell for as long as he wants; he should be able to use magic in it. He can probably craft one that isn’t a nightmare; there’s no reason it has to be a bad memory.
The thing that’s bothering Mobius is that he wants to explore the idea of a relationship, or at the very least sex with his pet demi-god. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’s a line best not crossed. Either way, Loki seemed agreeable enough, but Mobius can’t be sure. Maybe he thinks that he would have to submit to him, that he is at Mobius’ mercy. In a way, that’s true. So, he has no way of knowing if Loki would genuinely consent, or if he would just go along with it in the interest of self-preservation.
“Hey,” Mobius says, looking at Loki who seems to be reading his discarded newspaper. “Come with me,” Mobius says, and uses the TemPad to open a timecell that he created ages ago for another Loki variant he had in custody.
Loki yawns and stretches, before hopping through the door at his side. “What is this?” He asks, immediately reverting to his Aesir form and looking around.
“Uh, Svartalfheim, I think. Not a good memory for you – well, a later version of you. But we aren’t really there, this is kind of like your illusions – a box to contain a variant in, a glorified prison cell. But, I wanted to talk with you and there’s no risk of causing a nexus event or getting caught this way.”
Loki scans their desolate surroundings warily, and sits on the edge of a piece of rusting debris that looks like it used to belong to a space craft of some kind. He does not know much about Svartalfheim, other than that Odin smote the dark elves long ago, nor can he imagine why any version of him would go there – not for any good reason. Mobius sits beside him. Something is bothering him, but Loki can’t tell what.
“I don’t know when I got to be so obsessed with you,” Mobius tells him. “Not specifically, anyway. I like to think that I know you, after all the time I’ve spent hunting variants of you and studying every aspect of your life in the time theater. But…”
“You want to know me in a different way,” Loki replies, “A more… intimate way.”
“I – yes.”
Loki shrugs. “Very well. Not here. Somewhere nice, please.”
“You’re really okay with that?” Loki thinks he looks a bit like a lost puppy.
“Why would I not I be? You have seen my past, and future. I have done much worse.”
“But do you want that?” Mobius presses. “Because… if not, it’s okay. You can say no.”
Loki blinks and regards him curiously. “Do you believe I would allow you to force me - that you even could?”
“I believe you might think you don’t have a choice, considering your circumstances, and I want you to know that you do have a choice,” Mobius replies. “That and, well, I’m curious and all, but I want it to mean something. I – ”
“You are a virgin,” Loki interrupts him unable to stop himself from laughing, as the realization hits him like a brick wall. “Does the TVA forbid everything that is not work?”
Mobius looks way from him awkwardly. “It’s not forbidden, but it’s not like I’ve ever thought much about anything but work.”
Interesting. He does not deny his lack of experience. Loki gets to his feet, and nods his head to Mobius. “Take me back to your home.”
Mobius takes a breath, and pulls out his TemPad, all too aware of the way Loki is scrutinizing him – like a predator about to devour a piece of meat. He hopes Loki doesn’t see the way his hands are shaking as he punches in the code to release them from the timecell. Damn it, why couldn’t he just keep his pining to himself? What has he gotten into now? It was foolish enough to keep Loki’s presence at secret. The fallen god is sure to make what’s left of his life a waking nightmare. This is… No. Stop thinking about it.
When Loki steps through the time timedoor behind him, he is still in his Aesir form.
“Uh, you aren’t gonna change back into a cat?” Mobius asks uncertainly.
“Who is going to see me here? No one ever visits you,” Loki replies flippantly. “Besides, I doubt you want to kiss a cat.”
“Gross,” Mobius says, wrinkling his nose.
“Can I kiss you, Mobius?” Loki asks, closing the distance between them.
Mobius can’t help but notice how much taller than him Loki is; he might have to stand on his toes to kiss him. That just isn’t fair.
“You’re asking for permission?”
“That seems important to you,” Loki replies, brushing his thumb along Mobius’ jawline and gently tilting his head upward so that their eyes meet.
“It’s important in general. You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” Loki replies, nearly running out of patience.
He does want to do it. He wants to know if his lips taste like the Josta he was drinking earlier, wants to see if his mustache tickles, if his hair is as soft as it looks… He wants to know him, all of him. Mobius is not like anyone else he has ever met. He is an enigma, even compared to others in the TVA. Loki isn’t sure what it is about Mobius that draws him to him like a moth to a flame. Maybe…
“Kiss me, then.”
“What do you see in me?” Loki asks, unable to stop himself.
“Someone who’s been through far too much, who wants to be good and tries hard to be, but the universe doesn’t let you. …Someone who just needs to be loved, but doesn’t even know what that means, and might never learn because the only role you’re ever allowed to play is the big bad.” Mobius rests his hands on Loki’s hips. “I think you can be good. I’m gonna give you the chance to be, consequences be damned.”
“I want to believe you,” Loki whispers and kisses him, gently at first.
It’s painfully obvious how Mobius has no idea what he is doing, but Loki supposes he can give him credit for trying. That is not to say it’s unpleasant. Kissing Mobius feels like coming home after being away for far too long, right in a way he can’t seem to describe.
“Well, we will have to practice this,” Loki says and chuckles under his breath when they separate out of sheer need for air. “Baby steps.”
“That sounds nice,” Mobius replies.
“It does.”
Mobius isn’t sure how he winds up on the couch, with Loki’s head laying in his lap. He thinks Loki’s asleep, but he isn’t really sure. Absently, he strokes his hair almost like he’s petting Lokitty. He really likes Loki’s hair; it might be his favorite thing about him.
“Uh… Mobius?”
He blinks and looks up at B-15, who is staring at him with wide eyes.
“What? I have the case files, I’ll take a look at - Shit!”
He’s not petting a cat. He’s petting Loki, and B-15 has been talking to him about a job for the past fifteen minutes. He should have corrected Loki, who probably knows as well as he does that Mobius does get visitors every now and then, but he didn’t care. No, he wasn’t thinking. He was on the verge of a very uncharacteristic panic attack.
Loki, the little shit that he is, snickers and winks at B-15. Not asleep then, but…
“I can explain!” That’s so very convincing, considering that he hasn’t tried to deny anything or push Loki away – something. Anything. Shit.
B-15 rolls her eyes. “What? That this isn’t what it looks like? I know; he’s the cat. I knew all along when you failed that mission, and I picked up his energy signature here in the TVA when I was sent to clean up your mess.”
Loki finally sits up, and nuzzles his face under Mobius’ chin so that his head is resting on his shoulder. Somehow, he manages not to laugh as he feels Mobius squirm. He must be screaming on the inside as B-15 glares at him. Loki glares right back, daring her to comment or try anything.
“Right.” B-15 coughs and looks away. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see this.”
“What?”
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” B-15 grumbles. “Just don’t be stupid, don’t get caught.”
“You lot get paid?” Loki asks. “What do I get for being an emotional support animal?”
“Ugh.” Mobius wriggles himself free and shoves him off his shoulder. “Not pruned.”
B-15 cringes. “Right. I’m going to barf. I’m leaving. Mobius, I need those case files tonight. So, when you’re done playing with your pet –”
“Noted.”
Loki and Mobius make awkward eye contact after B-15 leaves.
“So, shall we pick up where we left off, dear?” Loki purrs, reaching up to loosen his tie.
“Not right now,” Mobius says and sounds genuinely disappointed. “I never really pulled the files she wants.”
“Naughty, naughty…”
Loki settles for leaning for another kiss. Patience, he tells himself. He will get what he wants, eventually. He can make his peace with being Mobius’ ‘pet’, if it means he can stay with him.