Chapter Text
“Time moves differently in the TVA.” As if Mobius didn’t know it. The time spent at his desk could’ve spanned anywhere from a week to just a few minutes, but it all felt impossibly long to them. All time before Loki, /his/ Loki, felt like slow motion, as though a day would never end, and on sleepless nights, as though they’d never begin. Then, all of a sudden, as this self-proclaimed god of mischief began to ingrain themselves into Mobius’ life, time began to fly by. Every moment spent with Loki, learning who they were and what made them tick, kept Mobius going. He was enraptured by them, hungry to learn and to spend time with them.
Slowly, without Mobius even realizing it, their lunches together meant more to him, and he was hanging onto every word that fell from his partner's lips. That eagerness turned into a rushed invitation to Loki to come have dinner with the analyst. After the first ask, Loki began to simply show up, helping Mobius cook and making comfort meals that Frigga once taught.
Sometimes, when they could get away from work for long enough, Loki would show up with a new wine and a bouquet of flowers for Mobius, relishing in the blush that lit up the shorter man’s cheeks and ears. The flowers would be displayed proudly atop the kitchen island until the next batch was presented to Mobius. Their dinners devolved into dinner and a movie over time, and their respective places on the couch shifted closer to the middle as time went on.
Tonight, Loki was pulling out all the stops. They had dodged lunch with Mobius to replenish their flower supply and pick up Mobius’ favorite wine. They adored the flush the analyst’s cheeks took on when they drank just enough. They were currently rushing through a dark supermarket; they not only had to beat out the end of the world, but they were racing the clock to get to Mobius’ in time. He’d stayed too long searching for the perfect flowers, and Mobius was expecting him any minute now. He knew how quickly the analyst got lonely, and that was not the intended outcome for the evening.
True to what Loki knew, Mobius was pacing his apartment. His inner turmoil was forcing his body into rigid steps across his small apartment. Were the pet names becoming too many? He didn’t really mean to say them; the “hon” was just a reflex, and the “sweetheart” only happened once. Loki was just so jittery today, and they skipped lunch with Mobius, and now they were late to make dinner. Maybe Loki had finally had enough. Mobius wouldn’t have been surprised. Just as Mobius began to tug at the roots of his hair and berate himself, a knock sounded at the door, and all composure was lost on the man.
Mobius flung the door open and let out a shaky sigh. “Oh, hey!” He smiled widely, his eyes giddy as he allowed Loki in, rocking on the balls of his feet as Loki set all of their groceries down on the counter, before turning to the man, who was practically shaking with excitement. "Yknow time moves slower when you ditch work and leave me alone? Goodness, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you!” Mobius's words come out rushed; he’s still bouncing on the balls of his feet, his grin wide and bright as they took in Loki’s civilian clothing; he liked it so much more on the god than the TVA suits.
Loki lets out a soft huff of laughter and presents the flowers to Mobius. It’s a mix of daffodils and lilies this week, because according to the calendars plastered around the TVA, it’s the middle of April. Loki will never tire of the way Mobius’ eyes brighten and that damn blush every time they’re gifted anything from him. He relishes the way their fingers touch as Mobius gently takes the bouquet and immediately sets about refreshing the flowers in his vase. While the grin doesn’t settle on their face, a small, endearing smile replaces it, and Loki has to turn away from the man and begin cooking before he does something drastic. “I do hope you enjoyed the pasta from two weeks ago; I saw the noodles on the shelf of the supermarket and decided it might be nice tonight, and I got that wine you took a liking to as well.” Loki looks over their shoulder at the hum that follows what they say and finds Mobius sitting on the edge of the island, arranging the flowers in their vase, his feet swinging happily.
Mobius looks up as Loki pauses, and he catches Loki’s eyes on him, a bashful smile playing on his face once more as he sets the vase aside. “I loved that pasta you made, and thank you for the wine; I’ve been meaning to ask you to get it again!"
Loki chuckles and pulls the wine out, opening it after fighting with the corkscrew for a moment or two. He pours two generous glasses of the dark wine, moving to Mobius’ side and offering one up to them.
Mobius hums out yet another thank you and takes the drink, taking a small sip before letting out a long breath and resting his head on Loki’s shoulder. These were the nights Loki cherished the most—when Mobius wasn’t worried over work or if everything in the apartment looked nice—and simply fell into the comforts Loki tried his best to provide.
Loki shifted the hand holding his wine and set it on the island behind him, wrapping an arm around Mobius’ shoulder and letting his hand move to tousle the hair at the nape of their neck, reveling in the way it made Mobius relax further against him. “Don’t force yourself to carry a conversation, hon, I know it’s not always your forte; I’ll talk enough for the two of us." Loki turned, the flutter in his stomach growing as he allowed his lips to brush Mobius’ forehead, the hand at the nape of the silver-haired man’s neck moving to push the hair on his forehead back up.
Again, a hum sounded from the older man, and he pressed into Loki’s touch, his face growing warm against their shoulder, especially as he reached for the taller man’s free hand, playing with his fingers and the rings adorning them. Loki wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, but while he did enjoy his rings, he wore them because Mobius loved them even more. Loki allowed the two of them to stay wrapped in that moment for a few minutes longer before letting out a soft sigh and pulling his lips away, clearing his throat, and looking down at Mobius, who had their fingers intertwined now. He gave Mobius’ hand a gentle squeeze and a sweet smile when the man’s eyes met his.
“If I’m remembering correctly from Monday night, you can’t be a cuddle bug like this if you’re hungry, my dear; you’ve gotta let me cook.” Loki pressed his hand to Mobius’s cheek, swiping his thumb over their cheek. “But once the food is ready, we’ll settle down all nice, like on the couch, and we can pick our movie. How about that, darling?” His voice was barely above a whisper; he was fighting the urge to sink into the kind eyes gazing into his.
Mobius smiled and sat up, rolling his shoulders and his neck out, releasing his grip on Lokis hand, and taking a sip of his wine. “I suppose I could settle for that, as long as we can watch something other than those war documentaries you enjoy.” Mobius’ nose scrunches up at the tease, and he stretches his legs out before hopping off the island. “What can I start doing? I know we have to mince some spices and dice some peppers and onions; which do you need first?” Always eager to help, Mobius washes up and settles on the island, precariously chopping the vegetables and then the spices, per Loki’s request. When he finishes, he sits on a bar stool and sips his wine. Watching Loki move around the kitchen, preparing food, is like watching an intricate dance routine. The god moves gracefully, nothing spilling over the top of its pot or burning, not a worry line etched into their face as they sink into the familiar routine. As the pasta finishes cooking, it’s strained and rinsed, and then tossed in the sauce that he’s somehow managed to finish just as the pasta has been rinsed. Equal portions of the dish are scooped into bowls, and just as Loki has finished that, the bread he made in the oven is done baking, and a slice adorns each of the bowls. Mobius lets out a puff of air as his bowl is slid to him, and he shakes his head, grinning. “I’ll never understand how you do that as gracefully as you do. Everything is timed perfectly, every time.
Loki smiles at him, a little bashful, as he grabs his drink and his bowl and moves to sit beside Mobius at the bar. “My mother was a very patient teacher. It takes both skill and memory. That pasta is always going to take 7 minutes to cook; once the water boils, the sauce needs 20 minutes to be prepared and then reduced. The bread needs an allowance of five minutes in its cooking time, which should only be 15 minutes. So you do it methodically, but at this point, it’s become second nature. Come sit, let’s eat.” Loki gestures to the chair across from him as he settles into his own, waiting for Mobius to sit down before he begins to eat.
"I appreciate you making dinner, as always. I’d be living off frozen pizzas without you.” Mobius shakes his head and shudders before beginning to eat, letting out a pleased hum as the first bite hits his tongue. The only thing Loki hated about this dish was that no matter how cautious Mobius was, the sauce would become one with his mustache, and Loki would fight through all of dinner to reach out and wipe his mouth for him.
“Of course, it’s not a problem at all. I enjoy doing it. And I enjoy spending time with you. This is what I enjoy doing, much like you enjoy your crossword puzzles and reading those trashy detective novels. And that cursed cop show.” Loki smiles up at a now very offended Mobius.
“Miami Vice is not that bad, Loki! Plus, I warned you the first Friday you came over that I had to watch it!” Mobius huffs and sips his wine, finally wiping his mouth after. Loki quickly realizes he is far too focused on the agent's mouth, and his gaze flits up to his eyes, which shine with understanding and a fair bit of mirth. Loki allows his legs to stretch out a bit, bumping Mobius’ ankle with his socked foot.
“Miami Vice is the worst TV show I’ve ever seen, darling. But you enjoy it, and I enjoy your company on the weekends, so alas, I endure. I also enjoy Columbo, so the suffering is usually worth it.” Loki flashes him a crooked grin, his left eyebrow raised, fishing for that beautiful laugh, waiting for it to ring out.
He’s rewarded immediately, a soft chuckle leaving the mustached man’s lips, and there goes the god’s attention again, back to their lips. Mobius reaches for their wine glass and finishes off what’s left, finishing the last of their food as well, before leaning back in their chair, groaning at the popping of his back as he did so, their legs tangling together with Loki’s. "I sat in that damn hard-backed chair today, cause I got bored of our desk, so I moved to the archives, but my rolly chair doesn’t fit back there." The word Mobius uses, "our,” is not lost on Loki. It’s their desk. Loki and Mobius's
Loki feels his heart swell more than it already has, and the man fears that if it continues to, it will burst right there in his chest. It will sing the praises and the love he holds for this midguardian man in front of him, who has a dashing mustache and a soul that ought to be cradled between only the gentlest of hands. Loki’s train of thought is interrupted by the analyst hopping up and stealing away the dishes that are sitting on the table. “Mobius no-“ Loki gets up with a sigh and moves to the sink with the man. "Why do you pick this fight every evening? I will never understand. I made the mess; let me clean the dishes, please.”
Mobius huffs and gently elbows Loki’s side. “I pick it, and I win it. Every time. You made me dinner, you brought me flowers and a very nice wine, and we need popcorn for our movie. So while I tidy up the kitchen and stow away leftovers, you can pour us another glass of wine, pop us a bag of popcorn, and add all of our fixings." He says it with finality, and the words are the same as they are every other night. They’re tumbling from his lips, and compassion and thankfulness pour from them.
Loki huffs in response and grabs Mobius’ elbow that had previously jabbed at him, pulling the attached hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the tips of their fingers, narrowing their eyes playfully, fighting a losing battle with the smile spreading across his face as Mobius flushed, pulling their lip between their teeth, breaking eye contact with Loki to smile at the ground. Loki clears his throat and lets Mobius’ hand slip from his own, moving to do as he was asked. As Mobius begins to do the dishes, the shit-eating grin never leaves either person’s face.
When the kitchen is squared away and both men settle into their respective spots on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them, each sporting a fresh glass of wine, they decide upon a movie and allow themselves to relax completely. The lights are off as they are any other night, a few candles lit to cast a warm glow around the room, just enough to see your surroundings, and the respective man that neither Mobius nor Loki could seem to stop looking at. Eventually they catch one another, another shy smile on Mobius’ lips as he turns to look at Loki, only to find Loki doing the same. “Hi there.” Mobius’ voice is incredibly soft, and Loki knows they wouldn’t have heard him if they hadn’t been looking at him.
“Hey darling.” Loki breathes the words out with it, hoping to expel a few of the butterflies fluttering in their chests with them, but to no avail. The pretty blush on Mobius’ face, along with the warm glow cast by the candles, has Loki trapped. Loki never gave permission to his body to yearn for this man in this way. The two of them had been tip-toeing around the inevitable for weeks.
The realization, at least for Loki, had come weeks ago—the way he began to strain his ears for any word Mobius said, clinging to them as though they were the only thing saving him from imminent doom. The butterflies in his stomach, which had inhabited his abdomen without his knowledge, flapped their wings violently whenever Loki even thought about the man. He knew he was falling in love with Mobius, and he knew these affections were not simply his own.
For Mobius, he was always drawn to the Loki variants. But the moment he began to speak to this Loki, to chip away at mile high
walls, and began to know him; he knew he was gone. This man made him giddy in a way he could not recall ever feeling. This Loki had taken a cruel, dark, and miserable world and made something beautiful and full of life for Mobius. Mobius knew Loki now and knew that their love was not given often, but once you earned it, you were given it in full force, without any obligation to do anything other than reciprocate.
Mobius swallows hard, taking a deep breath in, his eyes flitting over Loki’s face *analyzing* before he gives in, reaching and moving their popcorn bucket to the coffee table and taking its place, cozying right up to Loki’s side. Mobius looks over at the person he’s been afforded the opportunity to know and allows one of his hands to cup their cheek, the other lacing their fingers together, squeezing gently. Loki’s gaze meets Mobius’ again, but this time significantly closer, their whispered breaths lingering in the same space. Loki carefully untangles their fingers and brackets Mobius’ face in their gentle hands, running a thumb over his cheek as they took him in, right here, so very real. He’d turned violent, shaking, red-tainted hands into hands that held their whole universe. The reverence the two of them shared in those gazes was rarely seen, even within the most devout churches. As the gap between the two of them lessens, Mobius allows his eyes to slip shut, his body completely drawn to Loki's, and he surges forward to press their lips together, his hands gripping their forearms. Every moment leading up to this exact moment is suddenly irrelevant. The pain, the fear, the falling—none of it matters, as Loki cradles his face and pours so much love into him.
Loki is so sure that he’s died. It must’ve all been a dream, and Thanos must’ve just finished him off. He must have made it to Valhalla by some stroke of luck. Because there is no way he is sitting in Mobius’s home, pulling him closer to him, pressing their lips together, and forcing every devotion, every utterance of the terrifying word “love” that has crossed their mind since they’ve known this wonder of a man, into this moment. There is no way they are real.
The need for air reminds them both that they are real, and the need for oxygen outweighs their need for one another, though it’s a very close second. Loki presses his forehead against Mobius’s, one hand staying on his face and the other moving to cup the back of the man’s head. Loki’s shuddering breaths are matched by Mobius’s, and as they catch their breath, Mobius’s hold on his forearms lessens, moving to push Loki’s hair from his face. “We’re missing the movie.” Mobius mumbles quietly, looking up at Loki through his lashes, “This is one of my favorites.” Despite the man’s complaints, he makes no move to turn back towards the TV; instead, he rests his head in the juncture between Loki’s neck and his shoulder, his nose slotted perfectly in the cove there. as though it were made for him.
Loki let out a small hum, brushing Mobius’ hair away from his face with a gentle hand and pressing a kiss to the top of his head before leaning back on the couch, pulling Mobius with him, until the both of them were sprawled out there. The god would never admit it, of course, but he enjoyed the western films that Mobius picked out on his nights to choose. He particularly enjoyed this one; it was one of Mobius’ favorites, and he saw a lot of the same behaviors the main cowboy had in Mobius’ own personality. Half a mind on the movie, the other on the weight pressed against him, he knew Mobius was falling asleep. He could feel his body relaxing, melting into Loki’s touch, but it seemed the smaller man’s mind was keeping him from being pulled under. Loki knew words wouldn’t help and would only incentivize Mobius to fight sleep, so he wrapped one arm around his waist, the other beginning to card through the sides of Mobius’s hair. Loki searched for the hem of Mobius’s worn shirt and slipped his hand just inside to rest on the man’s waist.
Loki was met with snuffling and a firmer press into his neck, so he continued the ministrations in the agent’s hair, hoping to relieve him of the troublesome thoughts so obviously plaguing him. Once Loki is sure Mobius is asleep, assured by his quiet snoring, they carefully turn the TV off, miraculously cover the two of them with a blanket, and allow themselves to drift off, one of his hands cradling the back of Mobius’ head, the other wrapped around the man’s waist protectively. Loki hasn’t been afforded the luxury of sleeping with anyone in a very long time, and the resounding peace that washes over him is not lost on him. The silver-haired man and his presence drive away any doubts in his mind, and even as sleep drags him under, he isn’t visited by his incessant nightmares.
The next morning comes all too quickly, and Loki is woken as the man resting on top of him shifts, pressing their face into Loki’s chest and letting out a soft whine of protest at the light leaking in through the blinds. Loki lets out a small grunt and stretches out; his arm that’s trapped between Mobius and the couch has become numb. Mobius sits up, careful of the body below him, and tumbles unceremoniously off the couch. Loki jolts upright immediately, shielding Mobius’ head from the corner of the coffee table, which he wouldn’t have missed otherwise.
Loki shook his head and let out a soft huff, admiring the man who was sitting on the floor now. “Good morning to you too, I suppose. What a way to wake a guy up, scaring me half to death."
Mobius had the decency to at least flash him a bashful smile before heaving himself off the floor, stretching, and letting out a groan, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal his stomach, effectively distracting Loki for a moment. “Mornin’, sorry, I fell asleep so quick; work yesterday was a lot.” They move to stand in front of the god, raking his hair from his eyes and pushing it all back. “You’ve made a grave mistake, because now I know you’re comfier than my bed, and you’re never not sleeping with me.” Their smile brightens, and they press a chaste kiss to Loki’s lips before turning on their heels, on a mission to brew coffee. “The other mistake you made is being a good kisser, cause now I’ve got to do /that/ all the time too.” They do their best to sound exasperated, and it pulls a bark of laughter from Loki.
“Oh well, yes, my deepest apologies for inconveniencing you, my dear. Is there any way I could ever make it up to you?” Loki heaves himself off the couch and rolls out his neck, twisting at the waist this way and that to pop his back, before crossing the living room to enter the guest bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth when Mobius comes to stand in the doorway. They’ve changed into casual clothes for the day, looking very cozy in their sweatshirt and the light wash jeans Loki had helped them pick out the weekend before. They’re already nursing their cup of too-light coffee, and Loki can almost smell how sickly sweet it is from here. “Wherever our destination might be for the day, we have to make a pitstop by my apartment. I didn’t plan on staying over, so I don’t have any clothes with me." Mobius brings his cup to his lips and nods in acknowledgment.
“That’ll be fine; I need to tidy up a bit here, actually, and charge my headphones some; why don’t you go ahead and go get ready and then come back over, and we’ll go from there?” He tilts his head to the side as he asks, a quirk Loki has grown to love. Loki grins and leans forward to kiss him, holding his chin between his thumb and his pointer finger, cherishing the way Mobius melts into the touch, pulling back before they get carried away.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea; I’ll be quick about it, yes?” Loki pecked his lips one more time before grabbing his tempad off the kitchen table and heading out the apartment door. Mobius sighs and sips his coffee, heading into his bedroom to plug in his headphones before setting about unloading the dishwasher, folding up blankets, and switching over laundry. He’s just beginning to fold clothes when Loki reenters the apartment.
“Mobius, love, I’m back!” Loki calls from the living room, slipping his shoes off and padding into the laundry room, the light giving away Mobius’ location.
Mobius let out a soft exhale at the sight of Loki. They had on a white collared shirt and a green sweater layered over it, with black slacks on. They out-dressed Mobius anytime, but this felt a little excessive, and Mobius frowned down at his own outfit for a moment. “Wow. You look—Jesus, Loki, you look perfect.” Mobius shook his head, in utter awe of the person in front of him.
"Now, Mobius, none of that.” Loki murmurs, removing the shirt Mobius was attempting to fold from his hands, instead resting their hands on the sides of Mobius’ neck and letting their foreheads fall together, their noses brushing. “You. are a sight to behold. No matter what you’re wearing, but I do have to admit, this color,” he says, making it a point to tug on Mobius’ deep burgundy sweatshirt, “is rather dashing on you.” He grins triumphantly as Mobius ducks his head to hide his smile, but he guides Mobius’ gaze back to his own. “Both in this shirt and on your cheeks.” As Mobius opens his mouth to protest, Loki quiets him with a kiss, cupping the back of his head again, his other hand falling to Mobius’ hip, hooking a finger into his belt loop. Loki pulls back and watches as Mobius’s eyes flutter open. “You. Are. Beautiful. Mobius.” He punctuates each word with another kiss to the shorter man’s lips, mussing the hair at the nape of their neck. He pours all the love he can muster into his gaze as he holds eye contact with Mobius.
Mobius’s stomach has never been alight with butterflies like it is now. The fluttering is impossible to ignore, and he feels a giggle begin to bubble up in his throat, a toothy smile stretching across his face as he leans into Loki’s touch. “What did I ever do as a humble old analyst to deserve you?” He shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand over Loki’s arm and up his bicep until he’s cupping his face, pressing up onto his tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth, his mustache grazing Loki’s lip.
Loki feels his breath hitch at the question, his mind screaming, ‘You loved me.’ But he’s not ready to say that. "Well, that humble old analyst just happened to see something in me that I had given up on a long time before him.” He hadn’t really meant to get all sappy, but the man in front of him made his heart sing, and his mind couldn’t supply him with enough words to convey the emotion he held for him.
Mobius let out a happy hum, swiping a smear of Loki’s lip gloss from the skin under his bottom lip. “Well, he sounds like a pretty sincere fella. He must really like you, Lokes.” Loki huffs out a laugh and tugs Mobius into a hug, the hand on his hip wrapping around his back, though the other still cradles the back of Mobius’s head. There was something about the agent’s shaggy hair—the texture, the fluff—that amazed Loki, and he was drawn to his hair.
“You’ve no clue just how much you mean to me, my darling. I hope you’ll hear me out when I do tell you so.” Loki presses a firm kiss on Mobius’s temple and holds him for a moment longer. “How about we finish your clothes, and then we can head out?” He pulls back to look into Mobius’s eyes, sinking into the honeyed color that seems to call out to him.
Mobius nods, and the two of them set to work, folding, hanging, and putting away clothes, admittedly distracting one another once or twice. When they’re finally ready to go, Mobius pulls on an overcoat he favors, and with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he fights with the buttons. Loki steps in after watching him button two of the buttons into the incorrect holes, his lithe fingers making quick work of the buttons, Mobius huffing about being able to do it himself.
The two of them finally make it out of Mobius’s apartment and conjure a time door, stepping out of the TVA and into a small alleyway in modern-day New York. Loki intertwines their fingers and begins to lead Mobius out of the alley, humming quietly as he led them over one block to a small jewelry store. “I want to purchase something for you and for me as well, and I was going to surprise you, but I’d like to make sure you want it.” Loki looks... nervous? The sight unsettles Mobius slightly, but he nods anyway and approaches the door, feeling his ears heat up as Loki holds the door open for him and follows him inside with a gentle hand on his lower back.
Mobius takes stock of the small shop, peering into the ring cases, until Loki guides him to a display of necklaces. The two Loki picked up were simple chains with a pendant on the chain, one silver and one gold. Loki turned to Mobius and smiled. “I wanted to know if you’d like to wear this necklace with my initials on it, and I will do the same for you. Not as a show of ownership, but because you’re the first person to understand me and to truly know me.” The god's cheeks were flushed, both nervous and timid about the whole idea.
Mobius lit up as Loki proposed the idea, and he was agreeing before the other man was even finished talking. “I think that’s a lovely idea, Loki. I’d be honored. Truly.” He pecked the taller man’s lips and pushed his hair from his face. “How about we do that, and then I could do with some breakfast as well?” Mobius was giddy now, back to rocking back and forth on his heels, clinging to Loki’s hand with both of his as their initials were engraved onto the other’s necklace. When Mobius’s finished, Loki takes it and carefully fastens it around Mobius’s neck. Mobius lets out a happy hum and turns to allow Loki to see, smiling brightly up at them. “I love it; you have such good ideas.” Mobius moves into Loki’s side, making himself comfortable there while three “M’s” are carved into Loki’s gold necklace.
Once their necklaces are paid for and securely fastened, they begin to scout out a place to eat, settling on a small coffee shop near the jewelry store. The two of them sit down, and as they begin to browse the menus given to them, Mobius tangles their feet under the table, reaching out to hold one of Loki’s hands as well. They order their drinks and food and fill the gap between ordering and eating with small talk about work next week, what movies they’d like to watch tomorrow, and what a good meal would be for dinner. Their conversation buffers out as their food is brought to them, and they both begin to eat. Loki is as attentive as ever, and he begins to notice as Mobius takes longer and longer to intercept a bite of food, staring down at his plate, one of his legs bouncing furiously under the table. His breathing wasn’t as level as it usually is.
Loki clears his throat and reaches across the table, laying his hand atop Mobius’s to grab his attention. When those honeyed eyes meet his own, he smiles gently, tilting his head to the side. “Hi there, handsome. Is there something I can do for you?” Loki’s voice is soft as ever; he knows that Mobius has been overstimulated by the different happenings of the shop, and he doesn’t want to worsen it any. “Would you like your headphones? Or some water, my love?” When Loki receives a head nod to headphones, he fishes them out of his bag and turns them on, passing them to Mobius, fishing his phone from his bag, finding Mobius’ quiet playlist, and starting it. He puts his phone away and reaches back across the table for Mobius’s hand, applying even and firm pressure to it, knowing which grounding techniques helped the man. This was not Loki’s first rodeo with Mobius’s sensory issues, and he was well equipped to help the man. He knew words were not preferred when he got this way, so he comforted him the best he knew how.
When Mobius felt more like themselves again, they removed their headphones and passed them back to Loki, flashing his partner a grateful smile. “Thank you, Loki. It was all just too much, so suddenly.” He turned his hand over to lace their fingers together, running his thumb over Loki’s knuckles.
Loki shook his head and brought Mobius’s hand to his lips, kissing the tips of his fingers, the calloused palm of his hand, and his wrist. "You've got no reason to thank me, darling. Would you like to pay and head back to the apartment? We can find a nice movie to watch, and maybe take a bit of a catnap before lunch."Loki continues to pepper kisses into Mobius’ hand, watching the man take in his words. He was coming to realize that there was no end to what he would do to keep Mobius safe.
“I think that would be nice.” Mobius hums out, his face flushing yet again, due to Lokis antics. Loki pays the waitress and tips her heartily before leading Mobius from the small restaurant, back down an alley, and through a time door straight to his apartment.
Mobius sighs happily upon reentering the apartment, slipping his shoes off and padding into his bedroom, changing out of his jeans into some loose-fitting joggers, and opting to stay in his sweatshirt. Toying with his new necklace as he walks back into the living room, he finds Loki has already settled into the couch, back in his lounge wear as well. Loki has a movie loaded and ready to watch—something that looks a little bit newer than Mobius’s beloved westerns.
Upon Mobius’s arrival at the couch, Loki opens his arms to him, and Mobius crawls into his embrace, stealing a loving kiss, before slotting himself right back into the crook of Loki’s neck, the man’s mustache tickling his neck slightly.
Mobius has never felt more secure in his own home or anywhere than he feels with Loki; the love he holds for the god of mischief began long before their relationship did. Loki is not sure he’ll ever come off the high he gets, just knowing he’s allowed to love Mobius in the way he has always longed to and that it is reciprocated so enthusiastically.