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It had been nothing but a careless accident; a fleeting moment of distraction at the worst possible time. And though cutting his hand with a kitchen knife was certainly very painful, and even more inconvenient, the consequences were to have far greater impact than Mobius could’ve possibly anticipated.
Loki had been making such promising progress for a while now, and his own stupid fumble whilst doing something as banal as loading the dishwasher had ended up setting said progress back days, at the very least.
Catching him staring yet again at the row of stitches on the heel of Mobius’ hand, Loki’s eyes were awash with unshed tears, no doubt lamenting what he’d immediately deemed ‘an abhorrence’ when first he’d seen it outside the urgent care clinic, Loki himself having been too traumatised to accompany him inside.
“Ah Sprout,” Mobius deflated sadly, hiding his injured hand under the table and reaching for Loki’s with the other. “It’s nothing. It'll heal. One day we’ll hardly even be able to see it.”
“I could’ve healed it in an instant,” Loki insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time. “I could’ve…”
His voice caught, and the tears spilled over. Sighing heavily with remorse, Mobius scooted closer towards him, gathering him in his arms, whilst silently thanking the gods that at least Loki allowed him to offer some comfort, these days.
Small mercies, or something like that.
“I know you could have," he replied gently, Loki's lengthening curls brushing the side of his face as he spoke. Drawing him in tighter, his own throat constricted a little as Loki pressed his face into his shoulder, hot tears dampening his sweatshirt. “And if I could say or do anything at all that would bring back your powers, I wouldn’t waste a single moment thinking it through.”
A small gasping breath preceded Loki's fingers grasping firmly at his back, all but latching onto him. Mobius smoothed a hand over his hair with a pacifying stroke, letting it settle at the nape of his neck.
“But…” he continued, almost reluctantly, "We have a new life now. A new way of doing things.” There was tension creeping into Loki's shoulders, and he attempted in vain to rub it away. “A new adventure, if you like. One that we get to muddle through together.”
The last of his words were punctuated with a tiny, noiseless sob, and Mobius continued his soothing ministrations, his heart once again aching with the desperate need to eliminate Loki's pain.
They remained in relative silence for a short while, as he vacillated over how forthright he should be, already having recognised the crux of the matter. He was loath to be too confronting, of course, but Loki was so much more receptive now to any guidance he provided, regardless of how bumbling and unhelpful it likely often was. And he sternly reminded himself that it was literally his job — his purpose — to assist Loki in adapting and assimilating, so there was little benefit to mincing his words.
“There’s no reason for you to feel any shame,” he finally murmured, pointedly perhaps, yet not indelicate. “Everyone who truly knows you knows what you’ve accomplished, and what you’ve suffered, and rightfully think only the worlds of you. Regardless of- of the lasting effects," he finished diplomatically.
Again lapsing into silence, Mobius allowed him however long he needed to resettle himself, though he was somewhat dismayed that it was several long minutes before Loki was ready to withdraw from their tight embrace. And when he did, tear-stained and snuffling, he looked every bit the scared little boy Mobius once accused him of being.
But for the first time since the incident, there was a hint of assuagement lightening his eyes, and Mobius smiled encouragingly.
“A new adventure?” Loki echoed his earlier words with marked scepticism, the very corner of his mouth lifting, and Mobius chuckled softly in response as he reached up to tenderly tuck back a scraggly lock of hair.
“Yeah, why not?” he shrugged. “Lots to experience, all sorts of stuff. For example, you weren’t in that godsdamned clinic waiting room with me. That was definitely an adventure, let me tell you.”
“I shudder to think of it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be your turn before you know it,” he smirked playfully, and at the expected aghast reaction, he enveloped Loki’s hand in both of his, pleased that he didn’t so much as glance at the stitches even as they touched his skin. “But when it is, I’ll be right there with you, and we can muddle through it all over again.”
A tremulous smile finally graced Loki's features, eyes softening at he gazed back at him with unfettered affection. Enfeebled by turmoil he may have been, but the solid strength of his answering grip was heartening, and showed promise that Loki himself was healing.
“Together,” he reiterated, his tone laced with a thread of resolve.
And like that, one single word reforged their path ahead, Mobius buoyed by fresh certainty that this latest trial would soon be left behind them.
* * *
As the credits of some idiotic movie they'd been mostly dozing to began scrolling up the television screen, Mobius became aware of the precise movement of Loki's thumb, tracing repeatedly over the fading scar on his hand as they sat with fingers loosely twined between them.
He was a moment away from subtly questioning him about it, as it wasn't something he could recall him ever doing before. But then his gaze settled upon Loki's injured foot, propped on the coffee table and ensconced in a support bandage and ice packs, and he fancied he already knew what was up.
"Barely even notice it anymore," he commented lightly, giving Loki's hand a tiny squeeze.
Caught out, Loki abruptly stopped the action, his fingers twitching in a flinching response. But Mobius only smiled, resting his cheek atop Loki's head.
"Nothing but a little scar tissue," he added casually. "And you yourself won't even have as much as that. Not visibly, anyway."
There was a weighted pause before Loki finally spoke.
"Your uncanny ability to extrapolate meaning from something I wasn't even fully aware I was doing until you called my attention to it is frankly astounding."
Mobius' huff of amusement at the dichotomous admiration and irritation in Loki's tone ruffled the tendrils of raven hair that tickled his skin.
"I might be a Loki expert in general, but when it comes to you, I kinda regard myself as more of an… an aficionado, maybe."
"Is that so?"
"Uh-huh."
"Mmh… I'm uncertain whether to be flattered or disturbed by that."
Clasping Loki's hand between his own, just as he'd done way back when he'd first been injured by that godsdamned knife, Mobius gave his arm an affectionate jostle.
"Both are valid, I'll grant you."
Loki snorted, leaning into him a little more heavily.
"In all seriousness, though," Mobius continued, appropriately subdued, "I'm so impressed with how well you handled this."
"Dealing with that cesspit of torment known as the urgent care clinic?" Loki questioned dryly.
Grinning, Mobius couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"Oh yeah, that takes true grit," he agreed. "But secondary to that, I was talking about the sprain itself."
A moment of quiet passed between them, and Loki's thumb resumed its stroking, though not over his scar this time.
"It still frustrates me," he admitted softly at length, "Being so weak of flesh. Or… well. So weak overall, I suppose," he added in a grumble, understandably still bitter about his godhood being taken from him by force. "And yet, there is perhaps something to be said about healing the 'human' way."
"There is?" Mobius queried, surprised that he would say such a thing.
Loki straightened as best he could, so as to meet his gaze, and the warmth in his eyes as they reflected the bluish light of the TV screen had his lips upturning in an irrepressible smile.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "Being forced to take it easy… having to rely on someone to help you… I don't know, it feels kind of nice, in a strange sort of way."
Remembering how they'd taken turns doting on one another when they'd both been under the weather with a cold a month or so ago, Mobius concurred with a nod.
"Yeah, actually. I think I know what you mean."
"That isn't to say that I'm not ridiculously peeved at having to use godsdamned crutches, of all undignified things," Loki griped, glaring daggers at the offending objects where they leaned against the arm of the couch. "But… I do realise that it won't be for long."
"That's it," Mobius shrugged. "It's really nothing, in the grand scheme of things."
"Sure," Loki conceded. "And yet, I must say that I am unspeakably glad I get to muddle through it with you."
With a soft but genuine smile, his head landed on Mobius' shoulder once more, settling against him comfortably, as something that seemed far more promising began playing on the screen before them.