Work Text:
Mobius remembers the exact moment he fell in love with Loki—the variant in front of an ash cloud, smiling brilliantly, triumphant. He was beautiful in his joy. Only one sight could top this: Loki relaxed in his sleep.
Mobius had seen him many times napping with his head dropped to the table or leaning against a wall. But now, he can enjoy it up close, in a nice room with a nice view of the Firth of Forth, with seagulls screeching in the afternoon air.
They’re on a work trip, technically, an undercover mission to fix a tiny thing on a minor timeline, nothing needing pruning or any such barbaric measures. The new TVA doesn’t condone these kinds of things anymore.
They’re only here to keep two people apart from each other long enough for them not to meet. That’s why Mobius invited Loki. Loki who could have left ages ago but chose to stay at the TVA for reasons Mobius still can’t understand. But he won’t jinx it by asking. During all the massive changes, Loki has been his only constant—someone who makes him smile, sends him to bed when needed, a good friend and loyal companion on missions.
Mobius always keeps it casual, never lets his feelings show. Why would he? It’s not as if he could offer the demi-god anything. Unlike Sylvie. Mobius still doesn’t know what happened between the two, but they seem to have mended fences since the dust settled. Mobius has no idea why she’s still hanging around if not for her variant and his sweet puppy eyes and shrewd smiles. Who could blame her?
It’s none of his business anyway. The two are adults, even to Asgardian standards.
But this moment, this is Mobius’. It wasn’t planned. He never heard about the Fringe Festival, much less about the unlikelihood of finding a hotel room in Edinburgh at that time of the year. By sheer luck, they got a twin room, and Loki hit the mattress right away, leaving poor Mobius yearning and staring.
‘Like a creep,’ the agent scolds himself, but he can’t help it. He forces himself to stay on an armchair for a good hour, but then, Loki’s hair falls into his face, and he crinkles his nose against the tickle. He looks adorable. Mobius tiptoes on socked feet over to the bed and sits down on the side. He brushes the strand of hair back, his fingers lingering against the side of Loki’s head. Loki turns and presses into the gentle touch.
Mobius’ breath catches in his throat. His heart beats violently against his ribcage. He doesn’t pull back, he doesn’t reach further either. He’s frozen in time, incapable of breathing. He doesn’t know if he ever touched someone like this, or if they were just as beautiful as his friend is, or if he also felt butterflies storming his stomach just thinking about their smile.
Mobius doesn’t remember if he has ever been in love. He doesn’t trust Sylvie enough to allow her to recover his memories. Maybe it’s for the better. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. At worst, it would hurt to feel the loss of a life he can’t return to. At best, he’d feel even more broken than he already does.
He doesn’t know if something went wrong in the process of turning him into a good little token on the TVA’s checkerboard. Many of his colleagues don’t seem to have the same problem, though, as often as he has run into couples using dark corners of the TVA for unspeakable things. But no matter how often he thinks about what it might be like to kiss Loki, to hold his hand or press their skin together—he can’t push himself to imagine the one thing allegedly everybody needs and wants. He will never understand why people would want to do that, even go to war over.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Loki’s sleep-rough voice drags him out of his thoughts.
Mobius is already pulling back, but Loki grabs his tie and pulls him down into a kiss. Mobius’ heart misses a beat or two when their lips collide.
Loki pulls back after a moment of Mobius not returning the kiss.
“Sorry, I thought…”
Mobius muffles the rest of the sentence with his mouth. He can’t allow Loki to apologise. He doesn’t want him to. Even if he should label it a mistake later, as they so often do in movies. He puts everything into the kiss, all his dreams and hopes of a future together. He’s probably bad at it, but who could fault him for trying?
It can’t be too bad. Loki rolls him on his back, deepens the kiss, hands in Mobius’ hair and on his hip. This feels good, too good to be true.
Loki fumbles with the buttons on Mobius' shirts, fingers skimming over overheated skin. Mobius is overwhelmed but in the best way. Everything is too much and so beautiful, sends goosebumps over his skin and shivers down his spine. Loki kisses him in places he’d never thought would be so sensitive, trails his lips over his neck, whispers praises into his ear. His breath fanning over Mobius’ skin sets his very being on fire.
Loki plays Mobius’ body like an instrument, peels him out of his clothes with nimble fingers. The agent gives in to the pleasure, into the gentle touches and murmured sweet nothings. Until Loki touches the front of his briefs, and without consulting him first, Mobius’ body recoils.
“Are you alright?” Loki asks, eyebrow furrowed in concern.
“Yeah, okay. I’m okay,” Mobius pants, his heart racing now for very different reasons.
“I’m sorry if I was too forward. I‘ve waited for this for so long,” Loki says, smiling shyly. He shouldn’t be allowed to look like that.
Mobius shakes his head. It’s stupid. He shouldn’t react so strongly to a simple touch.
“No, ‘twas my fault. I…” He doesn’t know what to say.
“It’s fine, my friend. But you wanted it, or did you not?”
That’s a tough question to answer. Loki’s frown grows deeper the longer Mobius needs to reply.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he finally croaks. “You’re a good kisser.”
Mobius could slap himself. What a stupid thing to say. Of course, he is. He’s centuries old, had fun with many people. Mobius had to fast forward many times while studying this Loki’s timeline.
He should have known better than to kiss him back. He knows what Loki expects from a paramour. Something Mobius isn’t sure he can offer. It’s not that he isn’t curious, but with an experienced man like Loki, what are the chances he’d be patient enough to try?
Mobius gets up from the bed and buttons up his shirt, pulls up his pants. He glances back at Loki, who still looks puzzled and concerned at him.
“I need some fresh air,” Mobius croaks and leaves the room.
He walks along the promenade of Portobello beach, scolding himself for destroying the best friendship he ever had. Well, since the TVA took him, at least.
He takes his socks off and walks down to the beach, his toes tasting the cold water of the tide. He closes his eyes, refusing to cry. He has no right. He had the most beautiful man in every known universe at his fingertips, and he was too broken to enjoy what he wanted to give him.
“Hey,” Loki’s soft voice comes from behind, warm like the evening sun caressing Mobius’ face. The tears pricking his eyes spill, no matter how hard he tries to hold back the river.
“It’s okay,” Loki says and pulls him gently but resolutely into his arms. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He shushes Mobius when a quiet sob leaves his mouth and his hands curl into the fabric of Loki’s shirt.
Loki presses kisses against Mobius’ temple and holds him through the tide of emotions.
Mobius doesn’t know if he was much of a crier in his past life, but he for sure is now. He cries and cries, all the pressure and feeling flowing out of him until he can barely hold himself up anymore. He doesn’t have to. Loki pulls him down to sit next to him in the sand. They lean against each other, shoulder to shoulder for a long while until Mobius’ breathing evens out and the sun stands so low that they soon need to get ready for the mission.
“Did I do something wrong?” Loki asks. “I know I sometimes come off a little too strong.”
Mobius shakes his head. “No. It’s not you. It’s me.”
Loki chuckles. “Is it because I have a male body? I can change, at least outside the TVA.”
Mobius nearly chokes on his own saliva when Loki’s features grow softer and his body curvier. He remembers Loki doing that now and then, but it’s something very different from up close. Loki is beautiful in every form. Okay, maybe not as the alligator, but otherwise.
Mobius smiles at him, sadness tugging on the edges. “It’s not that. I don’t think I care much either way.”
Loki morphs back into his usual form. “What is it then?”
Mobius shrugs. “Just silly old me. I’m not sure if I like sex,” he murmurs.
“Oh,” Loki says, and Mobius’ shoulders slump.
They watch the waves in silence for a while. Mobius can nearly pretend that he didn’t screw up their relationship.
Loki bumps their shoulders together. “Would be nice to find out what things you do like, don’t you think?”
Mobius furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
Loki smirks. “You kiss like a starving man. I’d like to explore that a little if you were inclined.”
“Loki, didn’t you listen?”
The Asgardian smiles. “I did listen. And I want you, Mobius. In whatever way you’ll have me. Be it as a friend or a lover. Not a puppy, though. I’m a vicious dog.”
Mobis laughs out loud. “No, you’re a pussy cat.”
Loki smirks at him. “For you? Always.”
He slots their fingers together and guides Mobius’ hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on its back.
“Let’s get this job done so that we can enjoy the fresh linen and champagne.”
“Champagne?”
“Only the best for my man.”
My man. Mobius could get used to that.