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Loki sees the way Mobius sometimes turns and looks after a pretty woman, now that work isn't only a duty but a life the agent has chosen for himself. He's doing it right now at some place on the Etruscan Riviera.
Loki studies his friend, how he thinks to be safe behind sunglasses, tucked away into a shady spot in an inner courtyard, Mobius' espresso forgotten on the table between them.
Loki licks his lips and moves his gaze to the woman who caught Mobius' attention so thoroughly. She's his colleague's type: tall, curvy, her dark hair cascading down her sides, falling gently over her shoulders. She's beautiful. No. Breathtaking. Loki can give her that. In any other circumstances, he might even flirt with her. But he doesn't. Mobius would likely not condone it.
For a man as self-assured as his friend, it's surprising how bad he's at talking to women he's clearly attracted to. Loki can't remember a single time seeing his colleague flirt. Maybe Loki should talk to her and introduce her to his handsome friend. Midgardians call it being a wingman, he thinks. It would be the noble thing to do, but Loki doesn't feel generous today. The whole situation sends a churning feeling of unease through his stomach. He dismisses the word jealousy for it. How could he be jealous? Mobius has never hinted at being interested in him beyond his history. He knows Loki's been with men. He must know but he never mentioned any of that.
Loki clears his throat and empties his glass of tea. He closes his eyes and lets the early afternoon sun warm his face. He hasn't been in love for such a long time. Sure, a tryst here and there, but nothing serious. Why now? Why Mobius?
The flap of a file being opened on the table pulls him back to reality. Mobius is studying the papers in front of him, the well-known crease between his eyebrows back in place. Loki breathes a quiet sigh. He may be a little jealous of the women his friend looks at from time to time, but he loves how relaxed Mobius looks whenever it happens. He's beautiful like that, unwound. He never smiles at Loki like that, soft and gentle, no hint of sarcasm in sight.
What Loki would give to have Mobius look at him like this just once.
"We still have around two hours two kill," Mobius says, not looking up from the file. Loki huffs a laugh. Old Mobius would have never wasted time like this. But so many things have changed. He enjoys life now. Not the way decadent Loki would, but it's precious to witness from his first-row seat.
They've been attached to each other’s hips for months now. Mobius never goes on field missions without him. It's Loki's talents of shapeshifting and illusions, he thinks. Maybe him being good company, too, Loki hopes in a tiny corner of his heart.
"We could take a dip in the ocean," Loki says, well-knowing that his friend will answer with a roll of his eyes. Forearms brought to light by rolled-up sleeves is the most skin he's ever witnessed Mobius showing. For someone adoring jet skies, he's surely not much into swim fashion.
Mobius purses his lips. "I'd accompany you to the beach," he says, much to Loki's surprise. The variant arches an eyebrow.
"You mean that?"
Mobius smirks at him and throws some Euro bills on the table before he sticks the file under his arm and heads towards the gateway.
Loki blinks in surprise. He needs a moment to jump off his chair and follow him with long strides.
"I haven't swum in ages," he explains, feeling giddy all of a sudden. Is it because Mobius for once will see him out of these ugly clothes? Or is it the prospect of Mobius rolling up his boring pants, revealing his calves? Loki always had a thing for men's legs.
They take steps that were carved out of the stone of the cliff the town is built on. The beach isn't much frequented, the sun burning down relentlessly at this time of the day. But Loki doesn't care. He may be pale, but he's a God. His skin won't bow to sunburn.
At the feet of the stairs, he waves his hand over his body, the TVA's standard suit disappearing and being replaced by perfectly fitted swim trunks. He checks Mobius' reaction, but his colleague doesn't even look at him, stares at the sea instead. Of course.
An idea crosses Loki's mind. It's silly, but he can’t help it. His form follows his thought, and, yes, this gives him a reaction.
"Loki! What the…?" Mobius whisper-shouts.
"Like what you see?" Loki asks, swirling around, his long dark hair flying in the wind. He presses a hand against his shrunken waist and leans forward. Mobius' eyes clearly get stuck on his cleavage.
"Why…? What…?" Mobius stammers, his head red but not from the relentless sun.
Loki enjoys his flurry maybe a bit too much and walks past him, taking care of swaying enticingly with his hips as he makes his way to the water. He throws Mobius a few glances over his shoulder, the agent still rooted to the spot, staring at him with his mouth fallen agape.
Loki knows this form. He's been in it before. Granted, there were more layers of clothing involved. But it's still his body. He simply feels more comfortable in his usual form most of the time. But now and then, he enjoys being seen as a woman, touched like a woman, loved as a woman.
He furrows his brow as his toes dip into the seawater. Maybe if he… No! This is just a game. He didn't change his form because he felt feminine today. He did it to pull a reaction from his companion. He wants Mobius to want him. But even if he should, this wouldn't be real.
Loki morphs back into his usual body before he runs into the waters and dives in, his tears mixing with the salt water.
For once, he wants to be loved for who he is, no matter the shape of his body, no matter the title or talents. And if Mobius doesn't connect to his male form, so be it. It hurts but that's life. Heartache is for mortals.
He stops swimming. He can still stand on the stony ground as he looks out on the sea, breathes in the salty breeze. His heart feels tight in his chest. When did he fall so hard for the other man? He always hated moustaches. Mobius is so different from all his past loves. But Loki is different, too. He changed. He's not sure if for the better.
A strong hand circles his shoulder, and Loki turns in surprise. Gentle hands cup his face, tender thumbs brushing his tears away. Loki leans into the contact like a pussy cat. He would chuckle about the irony if he weren't so damn touch-starved.
Loki's eyes fall on the milky skin of Mobius' chest, the perfect line of his smooth shoulders, and the tiny belly that sticks out of the water. Mobius is beautiful. So beautiful that Loki needs to bite the inside of his cheek to not blurt it out.
Mobius smiles. Heavens, he smiles like he smiled at the woman earlier, soft and sweet. Loki should have never shifted. He wants to disappear in the waves. This is all wrong!
"What were you thinking, shifting twice for anyone to see?" Mobius scolds him gently.
"I knew no one would look at me," Loki says. Not like this. Not without regalia and ostentation. Long gone is the Loki who wanted Midgard to submit to his glory. That mission seems profane by now.
Mobius huffs in surprise, the furrow line back on display.
"How could anyone not look at you?" he asks.
"You're managing just fine," Loki murmurs. It's pathetic, but maybe that's what he is. He pulls back from Mobius' touch and too gentle eyes and turns away from him. He closes his eyes when Mobius cups his arms and steps closer, hooking his chin over Loki's shoulder.
"You're beautiful as a woman, but nothing beats this form of your body," Mobius murmurs into his ear.
Loki stumbles backwards, his knees giving out as his heart threatens to explode in his chest. Mobius catches him, his body a sturdy presence against his back.
This must be a misunderstanding. It has to be.
"You're just used to it," Loki says, soaking in their closeness selfishly. It'll be over soon enough.
"Perhaps. Or I simply like you."
Loki huffs a laugh. Yeah, good joke. He gets on his feet again, mourning the loss of contact but protecting his heart. He doesn't know what got into his friend. A sunstroke, maybe? It's as good an explanation as any.
"I don't know if I liked both men and women in my past life," Mobius says. "I sure preferred women in this. Until I met you."
Loki still doesn't face him as Mobius confesses his feelings to the wind. He swallows hard. This must be a dream or a mean cosmic joke.
"You sure don't check out other men, or me for that matter," Loki croaks.
Mobius laughs. It's free and light. Loki needs to see the accompanying face. It doesn't disappoint. Mobius is glowing.
"I always want to look at you," he confesses, his eyes roaming over Loki's body as if to prove it. Loki feels hot for very different reasons now.
"But…"
Mobius looks nearly shy when he continues. "I know I'm not your type."
Loki laughs out loud. "I thought I wasn't yours. I guess that makes both of us fools."
Mobius closes the space between them and smirks at Loki. "Does it?"
Loki grins. "Maybe. It depends."
Mobius arches a questioning eyebrow. "On what?"
"If we kiss now or waste more precious time."
Mobius glances nervously over his shoulder. Loki shakes his head and pulls Mobius into a kiss. It's gentler than he thought it would be, Mobius' moustache tickling him. Loki loves it, loves this man, loves how it feels to be kissed back, Mobius' hands steady on his hips.
"You sure you don't want me in a bathing suit?" he mumbles against Mobius' lips.
"Only if you feel like it. I'm good with any form, as long as it's you."
"Alligator?" Loki asks. Mobius chuckles.
"Okay, of age and humanoid," he specifies.
Loki grins into the next kiss. He thinks he can live with that.