Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. 

Midnight in September was nearly cloudless and the stars hung like jewels in a velvet case. Not that anything looked particularly beautiful to Mobius when he’d been driving for eight hours, eager to reach the next hotel he’d booked. Somewhere between Oklahoma City and Tulsa, Mobius gave into the siren song of a rest stop sign and pulled off the highway. 

Squinting against oncoming headlights made the backs of his eyes burn. His stomach cramped from the hunger he’d ignored for long that he ran out of restaurants to choose from on this lonely stretch. Vending machines it was. He’d wolf down bags of processed sugar, carbs, and what would surely be tasteless coffee so he wouldn’t pass out in the car. Falling asleep at the wheel was one danger to avoid, but an empty stomach seemed more likely to cause him trouble. He wasn’t in the TVA anymore, where a vending machine was always around every corner. 

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He shuddered, teeth rattling, as a wave of grief racked his body. He was doing the right thing by staying away from the TVA. A job would always be waiting for him, but it was time for him to see the world. To understand what they all had worked so hard to save. 

B-15 kept his bank account full so he didn’t have to work. He could have bought a house, settling down on Earth or any other planet in the universe, but the thought of doing so terrified him. This was better—keeping to the highways and winding roads until the next bright gem of an adventure called to him from the billboards. Cities to explore. Countries to pass the time in. This was his new life and he was trying to embrace it. 

“Take a break, Prez,” Mobius said, finally releasing his stranglehold on the wheel with a pat. “I’ll be right back.” 

The Mini Countryman painted Green II Metallic he had purchased from a used car lot was his pride and joy ever since it had betrayed him immediately upon purchase—kinda reminded him of someone. He had maybe driven ten miles when the front right tire sprang a leak and had to be replaced. So he had named the beastly thing President Loki and braced himself for further complications that, after, never came. But oh how he anticipated the rebellion. Sometimes the countryman purred like a cat waiting to pounce. So he kept driving it, pushing it to its limits when he was alone on a road. Prez was perhaps his only real friend on Earth, and wasn’t that pitiful? 

The air was crisp with a wind that danced like fingers on the back of his neck. Mobius pulled up his jacket collar and crossed the parking lot to head toward the building. He passed a mother and son standing idly on the sidewalk, both heads craned to stare at the stars. 

“We’re in range,” the mother said, glancing down at her phone screen and then back at the sky. “Facing North, right?”

Her little boy held a compass in both his hands. He shifted slightly, watching the dial move with him. “Yep. We’re North.” 

Mobius didn’t stop to ask what they were waiting for. Didn’t feel friendly tonight. His stomach grew teeth and bit into his own flesh, reminding him he needed to eat. 

The vending machines lined the outside of the building like soldiers. There were at least eight to choose from, ranging from soda machines to salty chips, ice cream and hot instant coffee. He pulled out his wallet and searched for quarters. He felt clumsy, dropping a dime and hearing his own knees pop when he bent to pick it up. “What’s got you on edge?” he muttered to himself. His heartbeat quickened. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. 

Nothing happened. Nothing breathed. The mother and son stared. The stars winked. No new cars pulled into the parking lot. 

Mobius took a deep breath and returned his attention to the coffee vending machine. He slid the quarters in and selected plain black coffee by hitting the first button. 

Nothing happened. 

“Come on,” Mobius groaned, hitting the button again. And again. And a third time, but the machine didn’t acknowledge the selection. Worse, it didn’t register that he had even put in money. “Damn it, give me my coffee,” he said, punching a few more buttons with an angry finger. 

The machine seemed to settle like it went back to sleep. 

“Shit,” Mobius cursed. He grabbed hold of the machine on either side and shook it, but neither coffee nor his quarters fell out. “It ate my money!” 

He wouldn’t get sympathy from the other machines. When he tried to buy Honey Buns from the next machine, it also took his quarters and refused to expel the sticky dessert. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, the anger draining into something like stunned disbelief. Two in a row? It’s not like he carried a lot of change on him. He checked, and the machines were ancient enough to not take credit cards. Dollar bills, when he tried shoving those in, only were spit back into his hands. 

The son squeaked like a mouse, pulling Mobius out of his foul mood. He turned to see the son burrow into his mother’s side, vibrating with excitement. 

The mother laughed with joy and pointed up at the sky. “See, I told you, Billy! Shooting stars!” 

Mobius’ breath hitched. He looked up just in time to see a streak of silvery light cross the sky. It was magnificent in its simplicity. His heart ached, and a different kind of hunger unfolded in his gut. 

“Make a wish, Billy,” the mother said, grabbing her son’s shoulders. “Go on, hurry!” 

Mobius almost felt like she was telling him to hurry. He’d nearly forgotten that wishing on stars was a tradition on Earth. Humans could wish upon anything, really, but stars were classic. Shooting stars? Even better. Shooting stars were, for some inexplicable reason, considered more powerful than anything else to wish upon. 

As Mobius watched the tail end of the star glitter away, he made his own frivolous wish. “I wish the vending machines would just give me food.” 

What a wish. He huffed a laugh, running his fingers through his silver hair. If only the world was fair like that. He would have been happy to eat anything at this point, before his stomach imploded as revenge for ignoring it. 

Oh well. He wasn't about to use the rest of his change on broken machines. Time to get back in the car and suffer through hunger pains until the next billboard gave him a sign—hopefully for someplace open twenty-four hours. 

Mobius adjusted his collar, bracing himself for the wind, when a loud thunking and clanking symphony came from the machines behind him. He turned just in time to see each of the eight machines react. Of their own volition, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos fell to the bottom of the machine, the Honey Buns dove, a cup of vanilla ice cream rolled down, and a steaming cup of coffee revealed itself in the bottom slot. 

Heart thumping like a jackhammer, Mobius could only stare. “What in the world…?” 

For all the noise, the mother and son hadn’t noticed. They kept looking at the sky, waiting for the next star to shoot across. 

Mobius’ face flamed with heat as he quickly gathered all the free snacks from the machines. He wedged the cold ice cream under his armpit, holding the chips and buns and roll of mints like babies in the crook of his elbow. The coffee warmed his chilled fingers in his other hand. He felt like a bandit walking back to his car; it wasn’t until he was safely inside Prez that a grin split across his face. 

He set the coffee down in the cup holder and peeled the lid off the ice cream. Even though it was September, the ice cream would melt before he reached the hotel. He tore the wrapping off the wooden spoon and dug in, the sharp coldness of the ice cream melting on his tongue. “I guess maybe I’m lucky,” he said, scraping away at the ice cream, slumping back in his car seat to fill his stomach and relish this odd little coincidence. 

Funny thing was, it didn’t just happen once. 

Over the next few weeks, the vending machines kept reacting to him. At the Woodland Hills Mall, he walked past a vending machine that spit out a bag of Fritos unbidden. He had lingered at another random rest stop, chatting with a man selling Veteran hats on a card table, when all the machines paid their Mobius tax and gave him gifts. He started carrying a crossbody backpack with him, because he never knew when he’d need to pack away snacks and keep his hands free. 

After some time, Mobius couldn’t shake the feeling that this was real magic. And not only was it real, but it was familiar. “I haven’t seen a drop of green,” he whispered, at yet another rest stop with accommodating vending machines, “but I know it’s you, Loki. It has to be.” 

Saying his name out loud stung. His soul ached something fierce. Loki didn’t appear. His voice didn’t boom out from behind some holy curtain like the Wizard of Oz. The world as he knew it ignored him, except for the machines. 

“You granted my wish,” Mobius insisted, staring up at the sky. His mouth formed a thin, stubborn line. 

He wondered if Loki would keep wish-granting. Only one way to find out. Mobius downloaded an app for tracking meteor showers. He studied the projected schedule for the season and found new direction in his aimless wandering. He would follow the stars.

2.

Chasing shooting stars wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. And Loki, in his role as battery for the multiverse, sure wasn’t helping. Mobius’ sleep schedule was in shambles as he forced himself to guzzle coffee and stare blearily into naked skies. The stars must have been hot-glued up there because they never fell. Other times, Mobius would arrive at a new location to find clouds blocking the view, or worse, rainstorms lasting until dawn. After a few weeks of this, his heart cracked right down the middle. 

He knew what Sylvie would say: what kind of sick delusion are you nursing, Mobius? Lucky for him, Sylvie was far too busy working towards general manager at McDonald’s and flirting with the record store man to check in on Mobius and kick his carcass while it was down. 

“I am coping,” Mobius whispered, gripping the wheel as he drove Prez down yet another winding road, toward another corner of Earth that would offer him little comfort. “No delusions here. No, ma’am. We’re so healthy.” 

So healthy that when Halloween rolled around in Nebraska, Mobius bought a ticket to Serenity Farms’ Fear Night that would get him one round in their haunted house and a stroll through a corn maze. He chose this place because the farm was far from the light pollution of the city, and the app claimed a meteor shower would fall right here, in a perfect, cloudless night. 

Mobius climbed out of his car and winced as his costume rode up his ass crack. “Shit,” he muttered, tugging on the tight fabric. “How in the nine realms did you wear this every day, Loki?” 

He could almost hear the god answer, because I was wearing Asgardian leather. Not whatever this is. 

“This” was the finest adult-sized Loki costume Mobius could order on short notice. The spandex was killing him. He swore he’d measured himself correctly, but the costume still felt suffocating, squeezing against his belly and thighs, threatening to compress him, or maybe just rip if he bent over too far, too fast. The costume was, unfortunately, based on his outfit from the Battle of New York, which wasn’t exactly Loki’s best moment. The long green cloak got caught in the car door. He cursed and had to unlock Prez again to free himself. 

Mobius hadn’t shaved his mustache for the costume, but he had bought a wig to wear under the plastic horned helmet. The synthetic black curls tickled his neck. He hoped the wig would stay in place for the night. 

“I hope you’re happy,” he muttered at the sky, hands on hips, costume squeaking with the movement. “You better be having a big laugh on your throne.”

Then, because he couldn’t help it, he laughed at himself. Soft, wheezy, maybe a little tearful. This was one of the stupidest things he’d done and it was fun. He was already having fun. 

He squeaked his way over to the haunted house and entered the queue. Got a few strange looks for his costume, but it only made him flip his curls out of his face and lift his chin with pride. Let them look. He was dressed as his favorite person in all the multiverse. 

There was an option to wear a lanyard if you didn’t want to be touched by the scare actors, but Mobius welcomed the interactions. He wandered through the cobwebbed rooms, lit moodily with tea lights and furnishing that cast jagged shadows in the walls. Ghosts dropped down from the ceilings. Actors dressed in skeleton suits popped out of holes in the walls with piercing screams. He felt breathing on the back of his neck. One skeleton dragged fingers along his arm, making him jump. He screamed, he laughed, his heart racing with each new room he stepped into.

A clown with a chainsaw came at him out in the yard behind the house. Mobius whooped and almost lost his cool when another clown snuck up behind him to whisper, “the lions escaped and they’re hungry,” in his ear. 

By the time he was done, Mobius was red-faced and wheezing, unable to stop laughing in relief and pure enjoyment. No wonder people liked haunted houses. They tested your mettle, but were safe. Just play pretend. He could use more scares like this to balance the real horrors he had witnessed in his life at the TVA. 

The thought sobered him enough to get moving again, this time to buy an expensive cocktail flickering with a glow cube. He sucked down the mix of vodka and grenadine, checked the time, and realized he had more time before the stars would fall. Corn maze it was, then. 

The moon seemed big and overly bright as he wandered in, splashing light on the corn stalks. Children giggled as they ran down the narrow paths. He saw fairies, witches, black cats, and mummies. He saw pint-sized Iron Men and Captain Americas. So many Thors with tangled wigs and peeling facial hair. Mobius walked into more dead ends than he should have, but he was trying to get lost. 

Directionless, he wandered around in circles, careless of how long it was taking to get out of the maze. His straw only gave him the watered down dregs of his cocktail. He made loud slurping noises and chewed on the paper straw until it was mush. 

That was when the star fell. 

Mobius’ pulse pounded in his ears. The corn shivered around him, making ssh, ssh, ssh noises. The rest of the world fell away. 

“I wish,” he said in a choked voice, “you would talk to me somehow. Say hello.” 

It was a clumsy wish, maybe not as eloquent as he had hoped for. He’d practiced in the car, trying different sentences to convey the aching desire in his heart. He worried it would be a waste of a wish, if talking wasn’t something Loki could do with his limitations outside of time. Because if Loki couldtalk to him, wouldn’t he have already done it? Mobius hoped so. 

One star. That was all he got. Any other stars falling may have been too faint to pick up with the naked eye. He stayed and stared but saw nothing else. He couldn’t make more wishes. But one was enough, surely.

Mobius shook his drink cup. Empty. Time to head out. No one called his name in the smooth, eloquent way Loki always did. No one here even knew his name. He was a stranger. Just another guest at Serenity Farm. His ears burned from listening, but as he made his way to the front of the farm, Loki’s voice was nowhere to be found. 

“Damn, maybe I’m losing it,” he muttered, kicking an empty cup with his boot, then sighing and picking it up to throw away with his own cup. The vending machine wish was real. No matter where he went, machines were falling over themselves to give him free food. That had to be Loki. Loki was the wish-giver. It made logical sense. He didn’t want to be wrong. His heart couldn’t handle being wrong. 

After tossing the cups in the garbage bin, Mobius saw something wink at him in the grass. He squinted. Slowly, slowly, he bent down and picked the penny up.

The penny was ordinary. Kinda dirty, like it had been places. He turned the penny in his hands, watching the lights bounce across its surface. 

“Find a penny, pick it up,” he whispered, “all day long you’ll have good luck.” 

Another superstition, like wishing on stars. He needed all the luck he could get, but he wasn’t sure if it would be enough. 

An actor wearing face paint made to look like half his cheek was blown off by a musket approached. Creepy smile in place. Cowboy hat sitting low on a greasy head. “Some say pennies are signs from the dead,” the actor said in a chilling voice. 

“Oh yeah?” Mobius said, feeling very much like slapping the grin off the man’s face.

The actor laughed, low and dangerous. His eyes were bloodshot as they snagged on Mobius. “Pennies from Heaven. But you and I, we know better. Ain’t no such thing as Heaven on a night like this. There’s a blood moon rising.”

No blood moon. A perfectly ordinary moon. But he decided to play along. “Right. There’s no such comfort as heaven on a night like this.” 

“Then maybe this is from a wraith.” The actor tapped the penny and winked. “You look like you’re haunted, mister. Accept the message.” 

Mobius sucked in his breath. Accept the message. Could that have been any clearer? The actor was just a man. He saw through the makeup. His face was round where Loki’s was long, eyes brown where Loki’s was blue-green, changeable. But still, a shiver rolled through Mobius’ spine. 

The actor shuffled away, stalking his next victim who screamed when she saw him and spilled her drink. 

Mobius closed the penny in his palm and squeezed. “Hello, Loki,” he said. 

Pennies, like the vending machines, began haunting him. Wherever he went, there was always a penny lying in a gutter or glittering on a sidewalk. A penny to step on in a library or shoved under his table at the coffee shop. He didn’t pick them all up. The pennies, by themselves, held no secret power. They were a god waving. A small hello from his Loki.

He thought hard about his next wish. There were only so many meteor showers scheduled for winter, and he could taste the sweet cold of approaching snow. 

3. 

There was no comfort in a chocolate milkshake. Mobius sucked on his striped straw anyway, crunching on soggy sprinkles and whipped cream. He held his spoon like a dagger. 

Verity sat across from him in the booth with a plate of fries. She slowly dipped each fry into the ketchup, eyes seeing too much as she studied Mobius. “Why don’t you tell me how timeline life is going?”

“Just swell, B,” Mobius replied, cagey. He slurped up air. 

Verity grimaced. She wiped her hands on her napkin. “Try the truth.”

They were in Moody’s Diner in Waldoboro, Maine. A roadside treasure, one Mobius found while continuing his roadtrip with faithful Prez, who guzzled gas and ran otherwise like a dream. He could see Prez from the window if he peered through the blinds. Snow flurries covered Prez’s hood like powdered sugar. Good car. Reliable car. Taking him on this endless, hollow journey. 

“I could sure use a whoopie pie after this milkshake,” Mobius said. “That’s what Moody’s is famous for.” 

“That’s nice, but I’m not interested in your gastric exploits. What I want to know is how your heart is,” Verity said, touching her own heart as if reminding him where his was. “You’ve been traveling non-stop. To me, that’s a sign you’re not settling well. You don’t linger, not anywhere. Nothing is holding your attention.” 

“Right, because I don’t have a home yet,” Mobius said, settling into what he considered a safer topic. “Last thing I wanted was to cramp Don’s style by moving into his neighborhood and stealing his job. Meeting your twin would be jarring for anyone, but that wasn’t the card I wanted to play. I’m Mobius, not Don. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t belong anywhere. I need to search for my place.” 

Verity picked up another fry and chewed. “No,” she said, “your home is a person.” 

Mobius scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Six months and you’re still hung up on Loki,” Verity said with a deep, heavy sigh. She took down a note on the TVA regulation notepad, shaking her head. “Not good, Mobius. You know that’s a path that will only hurt you.” 

“Last I recall, my retirement isn’t a case study for the TVA,” Mobius said. 

“You’re one of the only employees who did decide to relocate on a branch, so I’m sorry but we do need to monitor you. Besides, you chose the Sacred Timeline. We need to make sure you’re not causing temporal anomalies while you’re here.” Verity paused to eat another fry. “We’re playing by different rules now. The freedom of an infinite multiverse means the Sacred Timeline has room to do what it likes. So do you.”

Mobius dug his spoon into the glass. The chocolate ice cream, fizzing from the Coke, tasted outstanding but did little to ease the tension in limbs. 

“You have three options, Mobius,” she said. “Either you make a life for yourself on the Sacred Timeline, you return to working at the TVA, or you pick a different branch you’d prefer living on. All options rely on you finding a new purpose for your life. I don’t see that you’ve done that yet.” 

Mobius rolled his eyes and scooped up another chunk of milkshake, flinching when it was too cold as he swallowed. “Is the sand in the hourglass running out, B?”

Verity frowned. “Of course not.” 

“Then maybe I need more than six months to figure it out. Maybe I’m gonna need years.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’ve known you a long time. I care about you.” She reached across the table and gingerly laid her hand over Mobius’. “I want to see you happy.”

Mobius’ heart squeezed. He gave her a soft smile. “I’m on my way to happy. Give me time.” 

Verity huffed and leaned back. Her fries were getting cold. “Are you going to tell me about the shooting stars?”

Mobius nearly choked on his scoop. 

“You think I don’t know what games you and the Big Boss are playing?” Verity sipped her coffee, eyes never leaving the red flush crawling up his cheeks. 

“That’s why you’re in charge of the TVA,” Mobius said with a broken laugh. He had hoped no one would have noticed. Maybe that had been naive of him. 

“Loki hasn’t caused any concerning temporal ripples,” Verity said after a minute. “He’s manipulating the timeline for you, but it’s so small, it doesn’t register on the read outs. But I’m still concerned. Don’t ask for anything too big, Mobius. I don’t know what would happen.” 

Mobius shivered with dread. He didn’t think about what wishing would do to the rest of the timeline. He trusted Loki knew what he was doing when he started this game. “Define too big.”

Verity groaned. “I don’t know, but I can guess. Loki powers the multiverse. He’s a giant battery keeping all of us alive. You’re going to keep wanting more than he can give you. Remember what he’s doing for us and use your head.” 

“Hey,” Mobius said, setting down his spoon. His attentiveness petered out. “Have a heart, B. Think about what Loki wants.” 

“The Big Boss doesn’t meet with any of us in person, and you well know why. The multiversal tree is out of reach. His directives do find their way to my desk as printed memorandums somehow, but I can’t presume to see inside his head. Though I imagine his desire to keep us all alive by staying where he is hasn’t changed.” 

“It can’t end here,” Mobius whispered, brow furrowing. “This isn’t what he deserves.” 

Verity nodded. Her voice was full of emotion. “I know. I know. But this is the way it is. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you’ll find your place in time.”

They finished their respective meals in heavy silence, and Verity made more notes that would probably continue to blemish his post-retirement records held at the TVA.

After paying the bill and sliding out of the booth, Mobius looked down and saw a penny wink at him. “Heh.”

Verity saw the penny too. She sighed. “See you in six months.” 

“Looking forward to it,” he replied, shaking her hand. Watching her leave through a Time Door. He was only half-lying. He loved seeing her, but he hated how she worried about him. How she forced him to see the problem he was trying too hard to ignore. 

December in Maine was like living in a frosted fairy tale. Mobius drove as carefully as he could, squinting against the blinding white of the falling snow and the slushy roads. He was on the road for a few hours but eventually made it to the Smuggler’s Cove Inn, where he was staying for the next week. Verity had been right; he needed to stay put a little longer in places, and it wasn’t all that hard to do so in Maine, when everywhere he looked he saw beauty. 

Linekin Bay glittered from his window as he got toasty warm in the hotel room. He dozed in front of the television and woke up just after midnight, the alarm of his phone telling him he needed to get up, bundle up, and get outside in time for the next meteor shower. 

Mobius wore two layers of sweaters under a fur-lined coat, but his nose turned red after a few minutes outside. The sky was a little cloudy but not too obstructive. The wind threatened to tear the skin off his face, the snow soaking his silver hair which had grown shaggy enough to cover the back of his neck. He needed a haircut. He’d have to remember to stop and get one. 

The other hotel guests and residents must not have gotten the message about the shower. Either that or he was the only person foolish enough to stand out in the snow at this time of year. 

“Come on,” Mobius whispered, though a part of him secretly dreaded the stars. He’d had other plans for his next wish, but the talk with Verity today had hit him hard. He changed his wish but wasn’t sure what the outcome would be. 

He must have stood for twenty minutes, freezing his ass off and glaring up at the sky. But there—finally. A streak of starlight between two clouds. 

“I wish you’d tell me what I should do next,” Mobius said, loud and clear, into the crisp winter night. 

Verity was right, after all. He was directionless and he was running out of runway. 

Nothing happened right away. Mobius waited anyway until the tip of his nose and ears went numb. Loki’s voice didn’t drop down from the heavens to speak to him. The disappointment was crushing. He was worried he was starting to forget the god’s cadence. 

Mobius went back to his room and turned the temperature all the way up to boiling, but it still took a few long, torturous minutes before he could feel his toes again. His skin was red from the blistering shower. He fell face-first in bed and woke up to discover a letter shoved under his door. 

“Why the hell would I have mail?” Mobius grumbled, blearily staring at the letter under the door. 

The hotel was quiet. His neighbors must have been sleeping still. Like he should have. It was five in the morning. 

Mobius groaned and emerged from the sheets. He shuffled to the door and crouched to grab the letter. Maybe this was a coupon or something shoved under everyone’s door. Only one way to find out. 

Mobius clumsily opened the envelope and found a glossy ticket and letter. CONGRATULATIONS MOBIUS M. MOBIUS, the enclosed letter stated, YOU HAVE WON THE VACATION OF A LIFETIME ON THE NORWEGIAN CRUISE LINE’S NORTHERN EUROPE 11-DAY CRUISE ON NORWEGIAN PRIMA. 

“Shit, what? I didn’t enter any contests,” Mobius muttered, reading on. The cruise would sail out of London with nine ports of call, including Belgium, Norway, and Iceland. There was a stop right in the middle of the journey with New Asgard excursion offerings, and that got Mobius’ heart hammering hard. 

The cruise would be departing in February—a month and a half from now. He needed to get himself on a flight to London. Hell, he needed to find someone to leave President Loki with so the car didn’t die on him while he was away. He needed a haircut, badly. 

“I’m going?” Mobius chuckled, and it was a strange sound. “Yeah, I”m going. This is what you want to do next, huh, Loki? Well, I’ve always wanted to see the world.” 

4. 

Standing on the Oceanwalk, right outside the whisky bar with a whisky sour in hand, Mobius saw a shooting star. The app had made no mention of a meteor shower along the coast of Norway, but Mobius felt deep in his gut that his sighting was meant just for him. Why? Because tomorrow was Valentine’s Day.

Mobius had been ready. Saluting the sky with his drink, he said, “I wish I had a Valentine.” 

Deliberately vague but searching. He’d considered his phrasing deeply for his next wish, hoping the timing would align with the romantic holiday. He wanted to see what Loki would do. It was a test, and Mobius tried to be brave on his end. 

The cruise was the perfect setting for mischief. Food everywhere, hot and fresh and flavorful, served at all hours of the day. A slice of heaven for Mobius. Alcohol flowing, silent discos and trivia nights and competitions among the other passengers. Mobius was more of an observer, preferring to always be shoving a bit of food in his mouth and quietly chuckling at the antics of his fellow passengers. But tomorrow, the ship would dock at New Asgard. He needed a little magic for himself. 

He didn’t ask for Loki to be his Valentine, but it sure as hell was implied. He wanted Loki to have a choice, though, so he could see where he stood with the god. Would Loki insist on him moving on by shoving men and women in his path tomorrow? Or would the god cook up a whole itinerary of delights from his perch outside of Time?

Mobius didn’t sleep well. He crawled out of bed the next morning with a headache and his heart fluttering like a moth beating against a lantern.

A knock on his door startled him while he was in the middle of shaving. Mobius opened the door and quickly had to press himself against the wall to make way for the rolling cart brimming with food.

“Good morning, Mr. Mobius,” said the steward named John, wearing a glittering smile entirely too chipper for sunrise. 

“What’s all this?” Mobius asked, trailing behind John as he pushed the cart across the room and out onto the balcony. 

“Breakfast in bed—or shall I say, breakfast on the balcony, courtesy of a secret admirer.” The man had the audacity to wink as he made quick work of unfolding and dressing a table small enough to fit on the balcony, followed by taking the cover off a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, grilled tomatoes, and a cinnamon sugar-crusted donut. Coffee already doctored with sugar and cream, just how he liked it, poured into a mug. 

Mobius didn’t have any secret admirers on the ship. He felt sure of it, having kept his interactions with the other passengers light and friendly. Then again, didn’t he wish for a valentine? A shiver rolled through him. What if this was Loki’s doing? “Would those roses happen to be for me too?” he asked, stunned, when John crouched to reach the lower rack and put the vase of a dozen lustrous red roses on the table. 

“Part of the order, so yes,” John said with a smile, clearly taking pleasure in how flabbergasted Mobius was. “Gratuity is already taken care of, Mr. Mobius. Enjoy your breakfast and excursion day.” 

“Well,” Mobius said, settling his hands on his hips, a smile tugging at his mouth. “How ‘bout that?”

While his breakfast was still hot, he did sit down, wiping off the remainder of shaving cream from his jaw before tucking in. A fog drifted on the surface of the water as the sun bled on the horizon, slow on its climb but nonetheless gorgeous. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the coffee just sweet enough, and the donut would merely be the start of indulging in all things sweet today, if he had his way.

Mobius’ eyes crinkled as he smiled out at the water. “New Asgard awaits.” 

After finishing shaving and donning heavy jeans, a sweater, and a waterproof coat, he was ready to spend an entire day in the one place on Earth that should have been Loki’s home, had history been kinder. New Asgard was both shamelessly built for tourism and home to a galaxy full of refugees. Mobius’ heart warmed when he saw Skrulls going about their day, perusing the fish market and steering their kids toward the midway offering games and colorful prizes. Spotting Asgardians was easy, given that they usually had their weapons strapped to their hips and backs. 

As Mobius came to a busy street corner, he noticed a little old lady from the ship hesitating on crossing the street. “Ma’am,” he said, offering his arm. 

The old lady smiled with relief and grabbed hold. They crossed when the light turned green, slow and steady, and when they reached the other side, she tugged on his sleeve so that he bent down. “Thank you,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.

Mobius clapped his hand over his cheek. That kiss felt like it had sparks.

Spontaneous kisses peppered his morning stroll through New Asgard. Hawkers trying to get the tourists to patronize their restaurants and shops paid him extra attention, and both men and women seemed eager to lay their lips on his cheeks and the backs of his hands. Mobius was breathless with laughter by the time he made it to his scheduled time with New Asgard Tours. His whole body felt tingly from those kisses. “Mischievous scamp,” he muttered, rolling his eyes at the sky. He felt like Loki was smirking back down at him.

Laughter turned to screaming when he boarded the Asgardian longboat that promptly took them into the clouds for an aerial view of New Asgard. Mobius’ stomach rose up to his throat, but he whooped and hollowed along with the other passengers, goading the captain to take them higher, faster, and drop them just as dramatically through the sky. More roller coaster than tour boat, sure, but Mobius wouldn’t have had it any other way.

His legs wobbled when he got off the boat, so it was time for a little lunch at the Black Raven Tavern. The Valentine’s Day special was scribbled out in pink chalk. Mobius was only one person, and thought he wouldn’t qualify for the deal, but the waitress who seated him put in his order without any hesitation. As if he had “I’m Celebrating Valentine’s Day” stamped on his face with green ink. 

“I’m gonna have to spend some serious time in the gym for this,” he gently scolded when the charcuterie board for two came out, along with a frothing tankard of strawberry-flavored ale. Loki would over-feed him on such a day, understanding that food was perhaps the most precious way to connect with life, to feel grounded and part of the machine they all called time and life. Mobius blinked back the wetness gathering in his eyes and tasted the local cheeses on his board, ranging from stinky and biting to mild and soft. 

His ears perked up when he heard a familiar laugh. He shifted in his chair and saw Thor, God of Thunder, raising a glass with Miek and Korg on the other side of the tavern. 

Mobius shoved a wedge of fudge-like Gudbrandsdalsost in his mouth as he watched Thor. Had the circumstances been different, he would have marched right up to Thor and told him about his brother. He knew Thor quietly mourned Loki’s death, and not-so-quietly tattooed his back with his grief. But the Loki who died on this timeline was not the same one gifting Mobius with a magical Valentine’s Day. It would take too long to explain. Thor might not trust him. He could find himself thrown in whatever jail New Asgard had rather than returning to the ship at the end of the day. He couldn’t risk it, but he also didn’t think Loki minded. 

“You should really be the one to show him you’re alive,” Mobius whispered into his ale. “But even then, he might think you’re an imposter. You really are so very different from the brother he knew. Better, dare I say. Because you were happier.” 

As if in answer, the waitress swung by with a thick slice of red velvet cake for him. 

Mobius huffed a wet laugh, thanked the god again, and devoured the best red velvet cake he’d ever had. The TVA just didn’t come close with theirs.

He spent the afternoon wandering through the little museum, staring at artifacts through glass cases of salvaged Asgardian art. He saw pennies on the ground and scooped them up, pockets jingling. The vending machine outside the arcade spit out a bag of cheese puffs, which he shoved into the other pocket of his coat. 

A troupe of New Asgardians and Skrulls demonstrated swordplay in the street, and Mobius stopped to watch, slack-jawed at seeing their skills in person rather than on a screen. King Valkyrie even made an appearance, wearing a baseball jersey and sweatpants, shaking hands and reluctantly taking photos with tourists. Mobius waited for his turn, only to have King Valkyrie give him a blade-like smile that cut a little less than the others. 

“Nice rose,” she said, pulling him in for the photo.

Mobius raised his hand, questioning, and felt the velvet soft petals of a rose stuck in his hair. When had that happened? 

The selfie was shaky but hilarious. Mobius put it in his favorites immediately. So he didn’t get a photo with Thor? Big deal. At least he had some kinda proof that he shared space with Loki’s family. 

Before he returned to the ship, Mobius had one more stop to make. He left the rose in his hair, inhaling its sweet scent as he climbed the rocky steps up the lookout where Thor had erected a statue of his brother. The bronze statue was somehow unspoiled by bird droppings despite the great height. Instead of lording over whoever came to see him, this tribute to Loki had been styled differently. The God of Mischief knelt upon one knee, elbow resting on his thigh, chin up and eyes gazing out at the sea. His hair was wild and long, his outfit the same as he wore when he died, fresh from escaping Ragnarok.

“You’re not him,” Mobius said, soft with apology, as he approached the statue. “But you’re close enough.”

No one was up there with him. Very few people came to see this statue, and it wasn’t well-marked on the tourist maps. Of course Mobius had known it was here. And it made him mad that Loki, in this life and in every other, never got the proper attention he deserved. 

“Thank you for the best day ever, Valentine,” Mobius said resting his hand on Loki’s bronze cheek. The sun bled the sky orange, getting in his eyes. Mobius pressed his lips against the sun-warmed bronze lips of the god. The kiss wasn’t comforting. He couldn’t even pretend he was kissing his best friend, his everything, his Loki. But it was right. It was good. He knew Loki would be looking down on him and get the message.

Mobius leaned back and brushed his traced the sharp hollows of the bronze god’s cheek. With a nod and a dry swallow, Mobius stepped back. The ship called to him. He was done here, taking his heart with him. 

5. 

Mobius came back from the cruise fifteen pounds heavier from abusing the midnight buffet. He also had a tan that nearly covered his whole body thanks to falling asleep while sunbathing on the top deck. The near-constant food comas snuck up on him, and more than once, he had fallen asleep under the sun with a paperback tented across his face, his nose an accidental bookmark.

“Hello, beautiful,” Mobius said when he got Prez back, noting that the car had been detailed while he was away. Vacuumed and perfumed on the inside, waxed to a shine on the outside. Like new. The engine purred in greeting when he started the car. They drove off for the east coast, following the summer sun as it washed over the United States. 

Mobius felt lighter, more hopeful, since the cruise. A fantastic date could do that for a person. He tracked the projected shooting stars with renewed fervor, a long-held wish ready to be spoken out loud. Maybe kissing the statue of his favorite god made him feel braver, because he was ready to finally ask for what he really wanted. 

The retired analyst stopped frequently on beaches. He stood under the night sky and let his mind wander. Every grain of sand swept by the ocean, he thought, shivering as the foam rolled over his bare feet, finds its way back to the shore. To me. I know I’m not alone. 

Loki was with him everywhere, everywhen. He felt it in the tilt of the planet, in the angle of the breeze that played upon his hair. He picked up pennies until his pockets stretched. His trunk was full of free sodas and chips and candy bars from the vending machines reacting to his presence. There was rarely a moment he stopped thinking about Loki. Craving his god. He just needed one more wishing star.

Strange thing was, he suddenly had a hard time funding one. The app gave him the predicted schedule for the summer season. He showed up, night after night, but the overcast sky blocked his view. Heavy clouds, gathering rain, or a thick fog blanketing the sky and land in a milky haze. Thunderstorms lit up his evenings, and more than a few times, Mobius stood in the rain, daring the lightning to touch him while he searched for a patch of clear sky behind the clouds. 

Perhaps that was careless on Mobius’ part, perhaps Loki finally acknowledged his stubbornness after a particularly bad night when lightning struck the earth on the other side of the beach, but the next time Mobius looked for shooting stars, the sky was clear. 

Mobius pulled off a country road in Wrightsville, Georgia, where there was no barbed fence to block Prez from driving onto the grass. The slippery grass flattened under his tires as he left the street lights behind and surrounded himself by scruffy trees and a stretch of land expanding before him.

He cut the engine and blinked fiercely as the world went dark. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. The air was heavy with moisture. His collared shirt stuck to his skin after ten minutes of leaning against the driver’s side door, scanning the sky for movement.

“Maybe you’re trying to,” Mobius whispered, “but I know you can’t let go of what we used to have.”

The land was quiet. The stars, glittering, hanging tight to their posts in the sky. He knew Loki heard him. He had to have. 

An hour passed, but Mobius was relentless, waiting and dripping with sweat, jaw tense and hands shoved in his trouser pockets. If this were a staring contest, Mobius wouldn’t blink first.

Finally, after Mobius brushed a droplet of sweat off his cheek, he saw the shimmer of a star cutting across the sky. Mobius took a deep breath and felt his heart beat with all its might. “I wish,” he said, loud and clear, “you would be with me here, Loki.”

His face flushed with heat, his knees turning runny like water, but he was unashamed. He knew what he wanted. 

He didn’t have to wait long. He’d waited long enough, all things considered.

A splash of green, like a neon sign flickering to life in a shop window, made his eyes burn as Loki, God of Stories, came to Earth. The air boiled and the ground tilted. The stars grew as bright as headlights shining down on the patch of land Mobius occupied. Loki wore that godly outfit of emerald-green, fabric thick and draping across his chest and flickering in a wind that hadn’t existed moments ago. The gold in his horned crown glimmered under the moonlight. His sable hair curled and twisted in the wind.

Only problem was the look on Loki’s face. The god wore a tortured expression, lines of worry bracketing his mouth and framing his glassy eyes. “Mobius,” Loki murmured, “what have you done?”

The wretched tone of Loki’s words sparked irritation in him, washing away any relief and joy felt upon seeing his old friend. Mobius pulled his hands out his pockets, only to set them on his hips. “What have I done? I grew a pair, Loki! I’ve wanted this the whole time—maybe even longer than you or I realize. And I asked for it. Clearly, you’re a god who grants wishes. This shouldn’t be beyond your power.”

Loki’s mouth formed a thin, tight band. “You asked for something that will destroy this branch.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“You don’t understand,” Loki snapped. He was all misery and fury, cowl whipping about him, horns growing longer, taller, like claws ready to tear the world in half.

Mobius didn’t want to fight. Why were they arguing with each other? This should be a happy reunion. What about all the gifts? The silly wishes granted?  What about the fantastic, bittersweet Valentine’s Day that had left his heart aching for more? “Maybe I would if you used your words. What the hell is going on, Loki? You’re here. Everything’s fine. I don’t see the problem.”

Loki stepped closer. He took a shuddering breath and reached out to brush the pads of his fingers down Mobius’ prickly cheek.

Mobius shivered, holding his breath.

Loki’s eyes darkened. His lips parted, drinking in whatever little details he saw in Mobius’ face.

He cracked a smile and touched the back of Loki’s hand, surprised to feel how cold it was. Like touching a block of ice. “Can’t say I missed the way you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, sweetheart, but I hope I can take some of it from you. You look ready to collapse.”

Loki huffed and withdrew his hand. He joined Mobius by leaning against Prez, pressing his shoulder against Mobius’. “Try carrying the multiverse on my back. Just a little heavier. Where I am, time doesn’t pass, so I don’t feel the fatigue like I am now.”

“So now I’ve gone and done it. Put you back on the clock and you’re dying for a nap,” Mobius teased, even as his heart lurched.

“You’ve gone and done it,” Loki agreed. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

“Well, you’re here now, and I don’t mind reclining the car seat so you can get some shut eye.”

Loki refused to look at him. He tensed, fingers extended and glowing green, as a shadow stretched across the road and slithered towards them. 

A flash of fear robbed Mobius of his next breath. He pressed back against the car, heart throbbing against his ribs. Whatever the shadow was, it was tearing down reality with it. The sky stretched and tore like a banner being pulled down from a wall, absorbed into the shadow. The road Mobius had left behind thinned like wiggled like a spaghetti noodle before getting sucked up into the maw of nothingness bleeding into the horizon.

“That,” Loki said between gritted teeth, “is why I can’t be here, Mobius.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s not a thing. Not an enemy or a creature to defeat. It’s just what a branch looks like when it collapses. When it gets close enough, you’ll see how it tears reality into strings. This universe will be shredded because by being within it, I’m no longer feeding it my power. It can’t exist without me,” Loki said, every word its own island of despair. He looked hollow-eyed and gaunt as the moonlight turned sickly green.

Mobius swallowed his own misery as the truth hit him. And yet still, he asked. “Is it hard for you to stay here… for a little longer?”

“The world is ending and you ask me for more time,” Loki said with a humorless laugh. 

“You’re all I want,” Mobius hissed, knowing his face was likely turning beet-red, his eyes wet with unshed tears. His heart was cracking and shards opened up blood within him, flooding his soul with salty, hot sorrow.

“Yes,” Loki said, knowing this—knowing his heart so well—and wrapped his arm around Mobius, gripping the analyst’s hip tight. He twisted, facing Mobius, his other hand sliding along the curve of Mobius’ upper arm. The god squeezed his eyes shut and crushed his lips to Mobius’ temple in a fierce kiss.

Mobius gasped, heat flowing down to his hips and warming his heart—just before the fatal blow. 

“Yes,” Loki said, breath hot against his skin, “but I will not be the cause of your demise. Not again. You have to let me go.”

Again? Mobius lingered on the thought a moment too long, his own hand raised to grip Loki back. But when he reached, his fingers passed through air. Loki faded in a glimmer of soft green energy. “No,” Mobius shouted, his fingers combing through the fading green, grasping for someone no longer there. “Loki, no. No! Come back!”

But the god was gone, and with him, the shadowy collapse of the universe.

Mobius watched, tears streaking down his face, as the sky floated back up where it was supposed to be. The road unraveled itself like a carpet. Wrightsville looked like itself again. But Mobius? Mobius felt like Loki had ripped his heart out of his chest and took it with him.

A sob left his throat. Mobius doubled over, tears sliding down his face, chest on fire with fresh grief. The stars couldn’t promise him a damn thing anymore.

+1 

The bar stool wasn’t even warm under his ass before the topic of shooting stars came up. His two fingers of whisky skated across the bar on a napkin, followed by the bartender with a friendly grin for Mobius.

“You rolled into town just in time, bub,” the old bartender said. “The mayor’s hosting a viewing party at Cape Disappointment. The lighthouse offers the best view on a clear night, and that’s exactly what we’re getting if you trust the weatherman. And I do.”

Mobius forced a polite smile. “Not interested.”

“You’re kidding.” The bartender’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you, dead?”

Mobius threw back his whisky and hissed when it burned. His vision went blurry and he teetered on the stool. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

The bartender nodded, understanding. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed the condensation off the surface of the bar. “Pity, then,” he said, “because it’s not every day you see a full-blown shower. I hear there won’t be another like it for years.”

“Uh-huh,” Mobius said, eyes dropping into his empty glass. He could have ordered another one, or something lighter like a beer, but he didn’t want to hear anymore about the shooting stars. He pulled a few bills out of his wallet with a decent tip and left it on the counter.

Before the bartender could throw him another word, Mobius slid off his stool and wobbled to the door. He wasn’t actually drunk. Just weary.

Six months had passed since Mobius nearly caused the obliteration of this timeline. Winter numbed him, putting his bleeding heart to sleep, so he spent a lot of time hiking the mountains and sleeping trails, trudging through snow until his nose went red.

He took Prez to the west coast, looking for some kind of peace from the rocky shorelines and the lay days of watching sea lions and otters lazing about in the water. Mobius looked at his reflection in tidal pools, wondering when the last time was that he had a haircut. Pure silver now, his shaggy hair blushed his coat collar. When he licked his lips, he tasted salt, which was the only way he realized he’d been crying. Sometimes the tears came without warning. He’d touch his cheeks and find them wet.

Mobius looked down at the sidewalk, cleared of snow. A penny winked at him. “Shut up,” he muttered, stepping over the penny.

He popped the trunk of his car and grabbed a scarf to wrap around his neck. He no longer had a stash of junk food. The sound of vending machines thunking with gifts for him was just another noise to ignore. 

Mobius was greedy and selfish and wanting Loki would never bring him peace.  So he refused to pick up pennies, gave vending machines a wide berth, and deleted the meteor shower tracking app from his phone. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but Mobius was stuck in a loop of heartache and numb acceptance. His gut was constantly in knots. He lost his tan a while ago and couldn’t get it back.

His check in with Verity was fast approaching, and he didn’t know how he was going to face her. He didn’t want to go back to the TVA, but he didn’t know what to do anymore.

“We keep moving,” Mobius muttered, fishing out his keys. He slid into the warmth of Prez and turned on the engine. The sun was setting and he needed to be in a hotel before the stars came out, so he could shut the blinds on them.

The engine took a few minutes to warm up. He blew on his red knuckles and rubbed his hands together. “Here we go,” Mobius whispered, pulling out of the parking spot. He merged into the evening traffic. Adrift Hotel, his next bed for the night, wasn’t too far. His mind drifted as he drove.

Somewhere along the way, his eyes grew heavy and his fingers loosened on the wheel. His heart didn’t even hiccup with fear as Prez turned off the main road and wound along the coastline instead, heading for a different destination. “Mischievous scamp,” he murmured, eyes closing, eyelashes landed in his cheeks. 

He might have slept. He couldn’t remember. Flashes of green touched the edges of his mind, warm and familiar, lulling him into sleepy repose. The car kept moving until suddenly it didn’t, lurching to a stop. The key flicked itself off and the engine cut.

Mobius startled, smacking his head on the steering wheel. “What the hell?” He blinked and found himself in the parking lot outside North Head Lighthouse. Well, damn. 

There was a party all right, though the lights were dimmed to keep the shooting star viewing as clear as possible. North Head Lighthouse was perched upon a cliff overlooking the crashing waves on the rocks below. People brought their own drinks and snacks, clustering in groups and chatting away while the sky stretched out above them, clear of even wisps of clouds. A perfect night. 

“No,” Mobius said, covering his face with his hands. “I can’t be here. I’m all outta wishes.”

“All out? That’s not the Mobius I know,” said Loki, a voice in the dark. 

Mobius kept his face covered. Tears burned his eyes. “Stop.”

The passenger seat creaked as if a body sat in it. “We don’t even need to leave the car. Just open your eyes.”

“No,” Mobius said, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t do this. His heart would disintegrate.

Loki hummed. “Indulge me, Mobius. Please.”

When it came down to it, he could refuse his god nothing. Mobius slowly lowered his hands and saw the most perfect view of the night sky beyond his windshield. His inhale sounded wet to his own ears as he pulled in oxygen. His breath was a cloud. The car had been turned off long enough to soak up the cold. 

“There,” said the soft voice, like a purr. “That’s better.”

Mobius pressed his hand over his heart, a failsafe against what it might do when he looked. Because he had to look. He slowly shifted in his seat and saw Loki’s green eyes staring back at him.

Loki wasn’t wearing his godly ensemble. His hair fell loosely to his shoulders, freshly washed and curling around his aching familiar pale face. Dressed for winter, his leather jacket was zipped to the chin and his legs were squeezed into tight jeans. He crossed his leg at the knee and looked up at Mobius through his eyelashes.

Mobius trembled. Not from the cold. His breath puffed out. “What are you doing here?”

Loki’s mouth ticked up in a sad smile. Then he looked at the sky.

Mobius followed his gaze and his heart jerked in his chest when the first star fell. A dormant part of his heart stirred, needing to please Loki by wishing, but he shoved it down. “Let me guess why you’re here. I haven’t been giving you an excuse to flex your godly powers on the timeline and now you’ve decided to hold me at metaphorical gunpoint to test you again? If this is a game, I’m not playing, Loki.”

Loki pouted. “You’re being purposely obtuse.” 

“No, I’m not.”

Loki snorted. Then his expression turned vulnerable, like a door swinging open on creaky hinges. Mobius saw pain there, as deep and dark as his own. Then the god turned back to the sky and said in a quiet voice: “I have a few wishes.”

Mobius’ breath hitched. “Oh yeah?”

Another star fell. Loki smoothed his palms over his thighs. “I wish you’d eat more greens.”

Mobius let out a startled laugh.

Loki’s brow furrowed. “I’m serious. You may have given up on packaged junk food—out of spite, and I know it—but when was the last time you touched a salad? Or sliced up a cucumber. Norns, Mobius, give a carrot a chance.”

“That’s not green.”

“Enough,” Loki said, and he looked seconds away from conjuring a dagger. “You must take care of yourself. It scares me. Some days you only let coffee fuel you. I’d rather see you eat well.”

“I’m going through something,” Mobius said, not wanting to talk about this, but if not Loki, then who else? “The laws of the multiverse broke my heart and I find having a regular appetite challenging.” 

“At least you’re sleeping,” Loki allowed with an elegant shrug. “Which, I might add, is out of spite as well. You are a petty creature.”

“Takes one to know one,” Mobius zinged back.

Loki laughed. A third star fell, melting the smile off his face. “I wish you’d believe when I tell you that the laws have changed.”

Mobius felt his heart quicken. He leaned closer, not daring to hope. “What are you talking about?”

“Six months your time is a handful of eternities for me,” Loki said, grasping at Mobius with his eyes as his hands stayed where they were on his thighs. “The multiverse is, of course, growing at an astronomical rate as paths deviate. But I did not realize there was more out there beyond Time. I thought I was alone.”

“You’re never alone,” Mobius said without thinking.

Loki bit down on his bottom lip, as if to stop the rush of sudden emotion. He took a breath and said, “Anyway, you’re right. A being called Uatu, the Watcher, introduced himself to me, apologized for the delay, because he swore he meant to find me sooner. Turns out he’s already doing part of the job I had taken on. He looks after the multiverse. Smoothes out the wrinkles when Time goes sideways.”

“Sounds like a great guy, but he’s not a battery,” Mobius said, even as he hoped, so violently, that there was a satisfying end to this story. 

“Correct,” Loki said with an indulgent look, “though he had himself a look at the multiversal tree and proved to me that my services were no longer necessary. I let go, and the tree cycled my magic through the branches on its own and looped back.”

“Energy can’t be created or destroyed,” Mobius whispered, brow furrowing.

“The last time I came here, I was still squeezing tight to the branches. I, and only I, caused the near destruction of your branch, because I was still trying to be two places at once,” Loki said.

“So… you let go,” Mobius said.

Loki nodded, a curl of hair falling across his cheek.

“The tree’s by itself now?”

“No. Uatu moved in.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “He has a team of variants he gathered to help him mop up disasters. As we speak, they’re reshaping my throne into an actual livable space. I daresay I was kicked out.”

Mobius chuckled softly. The god who saved existence, booted off his own throne. Wouldn’t have been the first time. Perhaps Lokis would always be Lokis, and that wasn’t always a bad thing.

Loki sucked in his breath as he tracked another shooting star. His eyes darted back to Mobius. “I wish you’d want to hear what my plan is.”

Mobius rested his hands on the bottom of the steering wheel. Fingers blooming white. “Go on.”

Loki made a soft sound, something like a sigh and a whimper. His own hands flexed on his thighs. “Well,” he said, confiding, “we keep traveling, because I’m not entirely convinced you’ve found a place you like enough to settle. But we do, eventually. Settle. Purchase a house to envy the gods, somewhere near the ocean, so we can ride those jet skis you still dream of but did not dare purchase. I’ll use my magic so the Avengers won’t find us. But if my brother wants to be part of our lives, then he’ll be able to find me. I don’t want to push my family away anymore.”

Mobius’ breathing quickened as his imagination flared to life. How easy it was to picture. He saw a storm-blue house overlooking the beach, heard the crashing waters slapping the sand and the cry of seagulls in the morning. The way the air would taste of salt when he woke and felt a god’s warm body pressed against his back. Tears watered in his eyes. He blinked them furiously away, but. The rasp of his breath exposed him. 

Loki tilted his head. “Mobius?”

He cleared his throat, but his reply still came out hoarse. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Loki’s smile was wobbly, like his words hit a nerve.

Mobius wanted. Oh gods, he wanted that life so badly.

Loki slowly pulled his eyes off Mobius, to look again at the sky. Multiple stars fell like threads stitched into the fabric of the sky. But the god only had one wish left. His pale cheeks spilled red, washing his face in color. “I wish,” he said, glancing away, “Agent Mobius would kiss me.”

Mobius unbuckled his seatbelt and huffed as he pulled himself over the gearbox, hands scrambling for purchase. He dug his fingers into the leather of Loki’s jacket. Their mouths were magnets, close enough now to pull together and latch. It was a kiss that burned on contact, hot like a star shattering the earth. They pulled back, breathing hard, and returned for slow and exploratory brushes, the ghostly flick of tongues, moans provoked by each tender touch.

Loki raked his hands through Mobius’ hair, none too gentle, yanking him so far out of his seat that Mobius smashed his knee against something hard. “Sorry,” the god murmured, eyes shut, breath fanning the hollow of Mobius’ throat. 

“We’re too old for necking in a car,” Mobius groaned, even as he ran his hands up and down the front of Loki’s jacket, unconsciously seeking out the zipper.

Loki huffed and pulled back, licking his swollen lips. “What do you propose?” 

“Us. My hotel room.” He took a shaky breath. “You, Loki Laufeyson, serving shotgun and master of road trip tunes, for all time, always—or until we decide on that house together. What do you say?”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Then he devolved into a laugh that was unguarded and beautiful. “I don’t know anything about Midgardian music, and you put that much trust in me? You must really love me.”

“Damn right, I do,” Mobius said, cupping Loki’s face and pressing a hard kiss on the god’s mouth. “But don’t worry, you’ll catch on. It’s about time the two of us live, don’t you think?”

Loki touched his forehead to Mobius’ as the stars fell like rain outside. “About time.”