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The desk in front of him was the epitome of chaos. A shrine to chaos certainly. It didn’t bother Mobius as much as it should have a normal human being. Of course, it was chaotic, seeing that it was Loki’s desk. However, it was not messy. There was an order to this chaos which Mobius had to decipher. That was his job. The seeker of the order, the patron of patterns, the decrypter of disorder - the vague litany of thoughts continued in the background that which of these titles would fit him the best if he ever had a TV series made about him: one of the top analysts at the TVA.
Focus. He reminded himself. They had a variant to arrest.
“Loki!” The silver-haired man called out to the creator of the chaos, who was nearly conked out, drooling on one of the bland, unnervingly corporate-looking folders of the agency. “Get up! We have a new mission.”, he added, a bit more gently than he wanted to. Ravonna had strongly recommended he stop cutting this variant the slack. Maybe she was right, he was going a bit too soft on this version of Loki than he had done before with any of his wayward strays from the sacred timelines. He knew he could not help his gentle nature, his kindness- it was really one of his strongest suits as an analyst, as an interrogator. Unlike the other hunters and interrogators, he was not all hard edges and on board with vicious torture. His mellowed style earned him a fair share of mockery from his superiors as well as colleagues, but well. Maybe the Time Keepers had a valid reason for making Mobius the way he was. Because the Time Keepers definitely did not make a mistake, did they?
Loki shuffled, his dark locks a mess, one eye sticking to the garish paper, and the other slant, gazing at his captor. Interrogator? Saviour? Definitely not that. He was a god for Odin’s sake. “What?” He asked, pouring all the irritation as dramatically as possible in that single syllable. What Loki thought was coming out to be menacing, was really a bit too endearing in the eyes of his companion. A pussycat indeed- the fleeting image drew through Mobius’ mind, his lips stretching wider unbeknownst to him.
“What are you smiling at?” Loki was propped up now, not all the way, but better than before. His head upright, chin on the paper, which was standing up as well being stuck on his right cheek.
“Nothing. Just-” the other man gestures loosely indicating Loki’s face, “You look a bit too human at his moment.” Loki makes a face as if he’s disgusted at that. “No. No, Don’t make that face. It is a good thing.”
“You take that back! That is the worst thing you’ve called me! I AM A GOD!”
“Well, yeah. But gods are made in human image, aren’t they? Or you would believe it to be the other way round, right?”
“Seriously? You want to start a theological discussion with me now? Mr. I-have-been-created-by-three-all powerful-lizards?”
“Do not insult the Time Keepers,” Mobius said, although there was not even a hint of a reprimand in there. “No. You’re right. No time for a theological discussion right now. Got a new assignment.” The silver-haired man motioned with a quick nod towards the door and started walking, knowing the other would seamlessly follow.
“Where are we going?” He breathed, jogging up to Mobius as he turned in the hallway towards an elevator. “Also, do we get to dress up?” He asked a bit too enthusiastically.
“Should I worry that you are more concerned about what you will be wearing than catching the variant?” Mobius quipped.
“You can’t possibly want me to catch an inferior Loki in these” he made a face as he gave himself a once-over, “horribly out of character fifty-shades-of-beige clothes! I am the superior Loki after all. Have an image to uphold.”
“Umhmm.” Mobius was already skimming the file, waiting for the elevator, feigning disinterest. He knew the more he indulged, the more difficult it would be for him later.
“Look at me!” Loki whined. “I look utterly unkempt! Like a homeless human.”
“Well-” Mobius finally met his gaze, raising an eyebrow in clear amusement.
“Oh shut it!” Loki retorted with faux irritation, betrayed by a small smile at the agent’s amusement. Not that he enjoyed being an object of amusement ever, for anyone- but Mobius was special. He was as close as a friend that Loki had in forever, after Thor. Although the said god was not a friend - had not been for a long while and the Jotun was certain that if he ever met his brother again, Thor would obliterate him from existence.
The elevator doors opened and Mobius promptly stepped within, Loki on his heels. The god tried to sneak a file from where the analyst had a couple of them tucked under his arm and ended up holding a jet-ski magazine. He groaned as dramatically as possible. “All the powerful tools and technology in the Universe- or multiple universes at your disposal and you are obsessed with something that lets you glide over water?”
Mobius genuinely looked offended, much to Loki’s satisfaction. There was something about ruffling the feathers of someone who was as calm and soft as Mobius. Instilling chaos amidst the order that was the TVA agent beside him was quickly becoming his favourite mode of entertainment in the drab place, which in Loki’s opinion was duller than Skalds singing Odin’s praises in the court.
“For someone who has not felt the thrill of the open, vast ocean, the waves colliding and the wind in their hair- you really think you are entitled to speak badly of the jet skis?” Mobius quipped.
“Of course, I’m entitled.” Loki grinned. “I’m a god. I’m the prince of Asgard.”
“ Were . You were a god and a prince. Not anymore.” The irritation in Mobius’ eyes softened at the flash of hurt on Loki’s face which the latter masked with practised and perfect efficiency. Unfortunately for him, Mobius was acutely observant.
“And you are? Have you ever ridden one of these contortions?” It was time to turn the tables, the god thought.
The sigh passing Mobius’ lips was not as pleasing as it should have been to the dark-haired man. “Well,” he began, dejection fading away into something undecipherable, “I cannot say I have had a chance to, but I can certainly imagine it vividly. How it would feel. Would be liberating beyond measure.” Mobius added wistfully.
Meeting Loki’s gaze, Mobius found the other man smiling fondly at him, with a tilt to his head which was frankly, adorable. So, there was something earnest about the God of Mischief after all. “You really feel so strongly about jet skis?”
The agent’s own disappointment started to vanish at the gentleness in the question. “Yes. I know it is a bit silly now that I think-”
“No. No.” He was interrupted by Loki. “Liberating. I can get behind that sentiment.” The mild yellow glow of the elevator illuminated the sharp features of the Asgardian, enveloping them both in their little bubble. If Mobius were a braver man, he would have taken this opportunity to tuck the stray strand of hair behind his companion’s ear. Alas, he was not and the moment suspended awkwardly in a place that claimed to exist outside of time.
The elevator door dinged and the serenity shattered to pieces as a few other employees joined in, pushing the two friends to either back corners of the space to make room. Mobius was suddenly interested more in the bland interiors whilst Loki garnered focused attention to the jet ski model in the magazine in his hand.
As they got off the elevator, Mobius as usual ahead of the two, leading the way through the labyrinth of the corridors and offices, he felt a hand on his arm. Loki’s expression was open, sea-green eyes filled with an unusual tenderness as they met the sky-blue ones. “I think I would like it very much to accompany you on one of these sometime.”