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Summary
“Oh, stop whining, you big baby.” Mobius tosses the towel on the desk, picking up his threaded needle. “We just started.”
“I’m not any good at this. You should’ve seen—wait. Wait,” Loki breathes, eyeing the needle as Mobius gets closer. The other man stops, looks up at him expectantly. The blood on his collarbone is a dark streak on his skin. “Distract me.”
Mobius raises an eyebrow. “You want me to distract you?” he asks, and Loki nods again.
OR
Loki gets injured. Stuff happens.
