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Loki always seems to miss the—quite frankly—impressive clumsiness that Kevin seems to possess.
He comes back from the grocery store and suddenly the boy has a butterfly bandage across his eyebrow, neatly holding the split skin together again.
He spins around in the kitchen as he makes the boys’ favorite spaghetti dish, looking for the garlic powder he left by the paper towels, and suddenly Kevin’s leaned over the island on his elbows, gritting his teeth and complaining that he ran into a cabinet that Sean left open.
He accompanies Mobius to pick the boys up from school and there’s Kevin, ice pack on his head, because, according to his teacher that meets them in the dismissal line, he wasn’t paying attention while he sprinted across the playground and ran straight into a pole.
Loki’s quite positive that Mobius’ gray hair must’ve started growing in as soon as Kevin was old enough to walk. He can’t imagine how that must have been.
Because right now, fully capable of walking after years and years of practice, he’s tripping over air and hitting the grass with a soft thump, the foam football Sean threw from across the yard bouncing from his head and landing beside him.
“Jesus,” Mobius mumbles from where he’s standing at the grill, looking back for just a second, focused on not burning their burgers. “You okay, honey?”
Loki’s stomach is in knots for the whole three seconds it takes for Kevin to start giggling and pull himself up into a sitting position. Loose, dry grass falls from the fabric of his shirt. “Sean, you threw it too far!”
“Well just run faster!” his brother shoots back, motioning impatiently at the ball. “Come on, toss it back.”
Loki sits up a little straighter on the lawn chair and draws his gaze back to Mobius. The sun filters in through the trees, making his hair shine with it.
He’s never seen anything so gorgeous in all his life.
“Look at you,” he says, low enough that it only reaches Mobius’ ears. He holds in the laughter that threatens to spill over when Mobius immediately flushes, the back of his neck turning a pretty shade of pink. “I truly never thought that grilling in a horrifically old tee shirt would do it for me, but here we are.”
Mobius plucks his gray shirt at his chest and hmphs, flipping over a piece of meat and looking back at Loki with those eyes, sparkling and full of mirth, and Loki finds himself sitting up straighter, magnetized. “It’s not that old.”
Loki looks over his partner, at the barely there faded design of a longhorn, and hums. He cocks his head a little, and watches delightedly as Mobius follows his every move, no matter how small. “Darling, you said you were in college when you bought that one.”
“Yeah, that was in the nineties. Not that old.”
Loki briefly looks over in the yard, the boys distracted with their game of catch, and then puts his hand on the small of Mobius’ back, biting back a smile at the quiet, wavering breath that leaves the other man’s mouth. “Whatever you say, dear.”
He lets his hand drop, slowly, excruciatingly so, and huffs out an amused laugh at the full shiver that runs through Mobius’ body.
“Going to burn our dinner,” he says, turning back around, righting his focus. “You’re awful.”
“You love me so much, despite it.”
Mobius laughs over the grill, the sizzling of their food nearly drowning it out. “That I do.”
Loki leans back in his chair again, letting his eyes flutter closed. The sun hits his face just right, warming him delicately, and he lets out a big breath, stretching out his legs. He can feel the permanent smile that lives on his face grow ever so slightly, at the peace he feels, the gentle easiness that their life has evolved into.
It’s the end of September, the gusts of wind carrying the slightest bit of chill, the leaves are about to start changing with a quickness. Birds chirp all around them, the boys are laughing about something or other, Mobius is humming a song that he likes to play when the house is dim and quiet and they’re lingering in the kitchen, lit up only by the moon.
He blinks his eyes open, just to see the faded green of the grass, the swaying of branches, the football spiraling in the air, Mobius’ shirt moving gently with the wind. Just to take it all in.
“You know,” Mobius starts, breaking the silence. “I was thinking. Before—I think I liked camping.”
“You think?”
“That’s the thing,” he says, and adds another finished burger patty to the tray beside him. “I like the idea of it. Actually going out into the middle of nowhere is a no-go. I remember barely sleeping when my dad took me as a kid. All the noises.”
“That, and Kevin would immediately find a very poisonous snake.”
“Oh, immediately,” Mobius agrees, shoulders moving in a laugh. “I think we should do it here, though. In the backyard. Make a night of it. Build a fire, put together a tent, s’mores, the whole thing.”
“S’mores?”
Mobius turns back, eyes wide, and scoffs in disbelief. “Yeah, okay, we’re definitely doing it. You’ll hate them, but you have to try them at least once.”
“Better not taste of ash this time around.”
“That did not—”
“Did too,” Loki interrupts, and stands up, stretching out his body. He gets close, close enough to feel the heat of the grill through his thin shirt, but he presses forward anyway, kissing Mobius’ jaw, the stubble biting at his lips. He lowers his voice when he adds, “But I’ll try anything you want me to.”
“Awful.”
Loki laughs, running his hand through Mobius’ hair just to get one of those looks pointed at him, and hums when he gets it. “Need anything?”
“Hm,” Mobius adds another finished piece of meat on the tray, and turns his gaze on Loki, a bashful smile spreading over his face. “I think I’m good, right here.”
“As am I,” he says, soft, and kisses him again, on the temple. “And I think it’s a lovely idea. Camping.”
“You do?”
“I do. I want to try everything with you.”
Mobius finds Loki’s eyes again. There’s an adoration in his eyes that nearly brings Loki down to his knees—how sincere it is, how pure. How this man loves him so deeply, chooses to live his life with him, trust him with his children.
Nothing could break this moment.
Nothing, except for the sound of Kevin’s pained shriek filling the air.
Loki instantly stands straight, on high alert, hair whipping as he turns to face the yard. Sean is running over to his brother, eyes wide with panic, and Kevin’s flat on his back, clutching his left shoulder the best he can, wincing at the touch.
Loki’s across the yard in a second, magic bursting, getting him there like he’s teleporting, and he’s down to his knees beside his boy even quicker, hands shaking just slightly as he reaches for him, not wanting to hurt him even further.
“What’s happened, darling? Can you tell me?”
Kevin’s tears fall into his shirt, into the grass below him, and Loki grits his teeth, wanting nothing more than to take the pain from him and experience it for himself, and oh, isn’t that something, the intensity of what he’s feeling. For Mobius’ boy, for his boy, for their boy. Because that’s—that’s what he is.
“I—I fell, trying to g—get the ball,” he says through gasps and cries, and he moves to get up, to right himself on the grass, but he shrieks again, and goes back down. “My shoulder, it—it hurts!”
Loki zeroes in on Kevin’s shoulder, and it looks wrong, dislocated, and the boy panics even further at the fresh pain that bloomed at the movement, taking in quick breaths, nearly hyperventilating.
“Oh, darling, shh, shh,” he shushes gently, and neither of the boys have seen him do magic, a precaution him and Mobius have taken, but he blows right past that in an effort to settle the panic that’s spreading through his bones and rattling his chest. “I’ll make it better, just—”
Green magic seeps through his palms, and Sean’s gasping behind him. Mobius shushes his oldest, and says something quiet in his ear, but all of it feels so far away.
He pushes blonde hair from Kevin’s face, and it would be quite funny, the way he’s looking at the magic flowing through Loki’s fingertips, if he didn’t have that pained shriek playing in an echo in his head.
“This is going to hurt for just a second,” Loki explains, voice a little shaky, “Just for a second, alright, darling? And then it’ll be fixed. I’ll make it better, okay?”
“O—Okay,” he says through a hiccup, tears still spilling freely down the sides of his face, into his ears.
Loki puts both hands above Kevin’s left shoulder, the vivid green trails of magic a stark contrast against the dry grass, and grits his teeth.
He focuses his mind, keeps his eyes on the injury, and watches through halted breath as the magic starts to seep into the cloth of his boy’s shirt, into his body, watches as Kevin gasps, sharp, and then relaxes in the grass, shoulder set right once more.
Loki lets out a breath, dizzy with it, and pushes another strand of hair from Kevin’s eyes, keeping his hand there, after. “Is that better?”
“Better,” he confirms, eyes closing, breath back to normal. The streaks of tears on his cheeks are already beginning to dry. “How did you…”
“Let’s get you up,” Loki says, changing the subject. He smiles fondly as Kevin opens his eyes again, familiar blue eyes shining in the sunlight, and sits up all on his own, still rubbing at his shoulder.
“That hurt.”
Mobius huffs out a laugh behind them, finally getting down to the grass after giving them space. “I bet it did. Can you move it okay, buddy?”
Kevin raises his arm with just the slightest wince, and rolls it out, letting out a deep breath. “It’s okay. Just sore.”
Loki slumps a little, relieved, and presses his hand to Kevin’s shoulder again, letting another burst of magic run through him.
“That’s—” Sean’s saying, and he sinks down onto the grass with all three of them, taking Loki’s hands in both of his. “Are you a wizard?”
Mobius is the first one to laugh, snorting with it, and then Loki joins him, chuckling, turning his palms over in Sean’s grasp. He projects the tiny little fireworks his mother showed him how to do, earning twin gasps from the boys.
“Something like that.”
The four of them sit in the grass, watching the fireworks. Calming down from the scare of the injury.
Loki catches Mobius’ eye, and nearly breaks as he watches him mouth a sincere thank you.
They stay there for a few more minutes, and then Mobius reaches out and ruffles Kevin’s hair, then Sean’s, and when he gets to Loki, he tucks a strand behind his ear and grazes his jaw gently, lovingly. “My boys,” he says, to all of them, and Loki’s blood sings with it.
He belongs.