Chapter Text
Mobius had not been sure what to expect when he first kissed Loki. He had hoped for certain things. Reciprocation, of course. Enthusiastic reciprocation, if he was feeling optimistic. Maybe some meaningful eye-contact when they separated. Ultimately he should have expected Loki grabbing and dragging him to the closest bedroom to fuck, but he was so thrilled the surprise hadn’t lasted long.
Some things about their relationship came as no surprise to Mobius. Loki had always stuck close to his side, but now his hands were always trailing across some part of Mobius’ body. If they were speaking, Loki would crowd close and run his hands over his shoulders, brushing off invisible lint, or straightening his tie. While walking, his arm would always be close enough to brush against Mobius’. He sassed back, stole Mobius’ socks, and would swap the sugar for salt just to be petty. Mobius also wasn’t surprised to see that the God of Mischief didn’t believe in doing his own laundry. In fact, the moment Mobius would open his mouth to make a comment on the leather on the grown, Loki would snap his fingers and they’d be gone. Brat.
What did surprise him was how… courted he felt. It was an erotic juxtaposition, the way Loki behaved. He would lift Mobius’ hand to his lips just to press gentle kisses to his fingertips, green eyes fixed on his the whole time. Even after all this time, he still seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to Mobius, beyond even just being his confidant in this confusing time . He’d regale Mobius with tales from his long life, telling him his thoughts and feelings at these moments, a context that Mobius never got to experience in the TVA time theatres.
Every few weeks, he would kneel before Mobius as he sat at the edge of the bed and gift the ex-TVA agent something Asgardian pilfered from one of the timelines they had traveled to for a mission—gold pins for his tie, fruit, a bracelet with a small emerald hanging off the end. Mobius kept the tie pins in a box by their bed, picking one out (or letting Loki pick) each day. The bracelet he kept on always, and had taken to rubbing between his fingers throughout the day. He has caught Loki staring at him multiple times as he did this, eyes tender and mouth in a soft smile. But he’d look away and pretend to be uninterested when Mobius would catch him.
When they were apart for too long, Mobius had come to expect a tickling sensation to appear between his knuckles and would look down at his hand to see Loki’s magic weaving around his fingers, which Mobius had come to interpret as, “ I miss you. Where are you? When will I see you? ” At least, he didn’t have a reason to believe his interpretation was wrong, as every time he had gone looking for Loki whenever this had happened, the god would grin almost bashfully and open his arms for an embrace. Even if he would whisper to Mobius, “A gross display of sentiment, really, Mobius. Do pull yourself together,” while his hands pressed Mobius close to his chest, heart to heart.
Often Loki would run his hands through Mobius’ hair, pushing the growing strands out of his face as he pressed soft kisses to his forehead. He had asked Mobius quietly months ago if he would grow his hair out, and Mobius hadn’t felt particular about it one way or another. It had grown quite a bit, and with how Loki’s eyes glowed every time he ran his hands through it, Mobius had a feeling he knew exactly why Loki was so excited about it. Mobius tried not to think about it, because the idea of looking at Loki and seeing a braid of hair with a lock of silver weaved through made his stomach quiver with exhilaration.
On the other end of the spectrum though, Loki could exhibit some very un-prince-like behavior—or very princely, depending on how you looked at it. He would sneer and snarl at Wade Wilson if he spent too long at Mobius’ elbow, non-discreetly shoving him aside when he’d take his place by Mobius’ side. He’d lounge and throw his leather-clad legs into Mobius’ lap, acting utterly disinterested as Strange would try to explain what their plans were to even begin approaching their multiverse problem. It drove Mobius insane, how he’d begin his sentences with, “If I might interject” or “I don’t mean to impose” or, most especially, “I beg your pardon”, and then say something really rude (but usually correct).
Not to mention, sex with Loki was always an entirely unpredictable affair. Some days, it was slow, tender, bodies pressed tight together as they gasped and writhed. The sight and feel of Loki above him, eyelids barely able to stay open with Mobius inside him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, and whimpering Mobius’ name into his mouth, is one of his favorites.
And some days it was like being caught in a tsunami that Mobius didn’t have a chance to see coming. It was intense having a lover with almost a thousand years of experience.
Mobius would just lay back after and stare up at the ceiling, sweat drying and chest heaving, trying to remember how to work his tingling limbs. Loki would stay between his legs, thrusting lazily, cool mouth leaving multiple bruises all along Mobius’ neck and shoulders, often far above where his collar could hide his marks. He’d dip his tongue into Mobius’ mouth, seeming to luxuriate in the feel of these sloppy kisses with Mobius hardly coordinated, and Mobius would whine and cry as he was coaxed steadily into a second orgasm, squirming with the overstimulation as Loki’s cock slid into him over and over, finally filling him with his own come. Then as he lay there trying to remember his own name , Loki would slip down between his thighs and clean him up, licking up the spend leisurely. Mobius would weave his hands in that beautiful raven-black hair and only be able to gasp out his god’s name, tears slipping past his temples.
But in all their months of this relationship, spending near every moment of their time together, there was an aspect of Loki’s life that he still kept under lock and key. Not once in these months had Loki ever shown Jotun form.
Mobius knew why—he had seen every moment of Loki’s life. He knew the internalized hatred for the Jotuns that had been cultivated by Odin and his life on Asgard, the disgust for his true form. He clung to his glamor fiercely. Mobius had seen quite a few Lokis in their Jotun forms during his tenure at the TVA, but there were subtle differences in each one. He often wondered what this Loki would look like when they fully let go of their glamor, not just letting that shade of blue wash over their skin, and hoped he would some day catch a glimpse.
I.
The first time Mobius saw his Loki’s true form, it wasn’t intentional.
After Sylvie had killed He Who Remains, she had accidentally thrown Loki into another TVA without the Mobius who knew Loki. Loki was put in a cell promptly, awaiting his fate. But Mobius himself had been waiting for Loki and Sylvie to return to his TVA, watching the rapidly branching timelines with B-15, expecting the duo to show up at any minute. And when they hadn’t, Mobius had called up an unhelpful Ms. Minutes, who had just said that Sylvie was on the run, and Loki was lost.
At her refusal to give him anything more than that— Lost ? In the multiverse? It could take millennia to find him— Mobius had very calmly showed up at the Sanctum Sanctorum, offered a Time stone, and kindly asked a gob smacked Dr. Strange to bring his Loki back, please and thank you very much. Dr. Strange had been intrigued and offered little argument. Mobius had been strategic in choosing this timeline--this was a Dr. Strange who had lost the Time stone and had also had a hand in creating the multiverse that Loki was now lost in .
Hours later, Loki had tumbled unceremoniously from a shimmering circle in the Sanctum, hissing and furious, but had gone silent upon seeing Mobius there. Mobius still remembered their reunion, the grasping hands, the tears, and gasping rambles of, “Is it really you? Mobius?”
Mobius hadn’t gone farther than Loki’s line of sight for days.
Dr. Strange had also tracked down their Sylvie, but she had declined to return, refusing any communication for the time being. Mobius knew the whole story now from Loki, of what had happened in the Citadel. Though initially he’d been sick with jealousy, he realized his sympathy for her confusion, her self-enforced isolation, her guilt, outweighed his pettiness. He had encouraged Loki to go to her, to explain what was happening, that they could help her, but as soon as she had seen Loki come out of one of Dr. Strange’s portals she had summoned a Time Door and run away. Loki had been disappointed but unsurprised.
Loki still felt sore about the whole thing, but Mobius was just happy to be there for him.
But now, Mobius, Loki, B-15, Dr. Strange, Peter Parker (Mobius could not bring himself to call this kid Spider-Man , honestly, who had let this poor kid get involved in the multiverse ?!), and Wong all stayed at the New York Sanctum, searching for Kang variants and other megalomaniacs courting multiversal war, trying to recruit allies from other timelines that could fight when the time came, while keeping their TVA and the personnel who had decided to stay apprised of their current situation. All while trying to avoid detection by the other TVA, who had all the knowledge and TVA-issued weapons they had, but served a Kang variant.
It was a remarkable amount of work with no end in sight.
Dr. Strange had even recruited the Scarlet Witch to help them, but when Loki had returned from meeting with her, he told Mobius that despite all the power the three of them, Loki, Dr. Strange, and the Scarlet Witch, possessed, trying to prevent multiversal war from ever occurring over and over again in the past, present, and future was proving to be very difficult.
Mobius, for all his experience with the timeline, was at a loss as well.
The best thing about all of this was being with Loki, and as long as that remained true, Mobius was happy. Despite the impending doom. It was like being on a honeymoon during an apocalypse, but he figured that was their thing now.
This morning, Loki and Mobius were in the kitchen when Strange approached and asked if Loki could make a stop on an uninhabited planet a universe over for some reconnaissance.
“If it’s uninhabited, what’s the point of going there?” Mobius asks, sipping his coffee as he looks upon the sorcerer. The man has been increasingly looking more and more disheveled as time goes on. He is currently standing before them wearing grey sweats and a t-shirt with his cloak draped over his shoulders, the Time stone hanging around his neck. At their last battle he had arrived wearing plaid pajama pants and a sweater, still holding his, “For Fox Sake” mug. Mobius tells himself he should force this guy to take breaks, but it was hard wanting to focus on anything else when Loki took up so much of his attention.
“Better yet, if it’s such a simple task, go yourself,” Loki says. His legs are woven through with Mobius’ under the table, tapping a bare toe rhythmically to his ankle. It was an absolute marvel to Mobius that he got to experience these little moments of domesticity with Loki every day .
Dr. Strange sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “If I could, I wouldn’t be standing here asking.” He flicks his hand and an image of, what looks to Mobius, a ball of ice appears before them with swirls whipping on the surface. “Planet X-196 is extremely hostile. It’s cold. Colder than any of us can survive, except—,” he eyes Loki with intent, “someone who’s an actual God who can withstand it. A spike of energy radiated from there five minutes ago, and I’d like to get eyes on it. I can send you close to that location, but far enough so that if there is something you can report back hopefully without detection.”
Mobius frowns, grip tightening on his mug. “Let me get this straight. You want to send Loki to a deserted planet with no back-up to investigate something possibly highly dangerous?”
“Yes.”
A beat of silence, then Mobius replies sarcastically, “Oh, good. Stephen, really?”
“Might I remind you, Mobius, we are trying to prevent a multiversal apocalypse,” Stephen says, voice strained. “And if something seems important, I’d like to have eyes on it.” He waves his hand, and the illusion of the planet disappears.
“I agree, but sending him alone when things are utter chaos out there—”
“Are you ready now?” Loki interrupts, setting his own cup of tea down with finality.
Mobius’ stomach drops, moving his eyes to look at Loki. He feels a hand cover his own on the mug.
Stephen shrugs. “Ready when you are.”
Loki nods. “I’ll join you in a moment.” At the dismissal, Stephen strides away out of the kitchen.
Mobius lets out a shuddering breath as he lets go of his cup completely to take Loki’s hand between his, rubbing those precious fingers he’s spent hours upon hours worshipping. He looks up at Loki, tracing his face, the hair escaping in whisps from the braid Mobius had done just last night, wearing plain sleep clothes they switched off wearing.
“Just… just wait a minute,” Mobius implores. “Let me run back to the TVA and grab some gear. We’ve done missions to cold planets before, I can come too.”
Loki smiles and lifts Mobius’ hand to press a kiss to his wrist. “I appreciate the concern, but who would be defending who?”
Mobius pulls his hand away, frowning in consternation. “It’s not about being a fighter. I just think it’s stupid to go on a mission alone to a foreign planet when there are plenty of people here who could watch your six.”
Loki stands up and presses a kiss to Mobius’ forehead, pushing his hair out of the way. “It will be fine.” As he sets their mugs down near the sink ( not in the sink, no, heaven forbid Loki take one more movement than necessary , Mobius thinks with bemusement) and turns back to say, “All-father, Mobius, what a mother hen you’re becoming.”
Mobius rolls his eyes as he begrudgingly follows Loki to the foyer, where Strange is waiting. He knows Loki is powerful. He has constant access to his magic at the Sanctum and is in top-fighting form. And it isn’t Mobius’ place to tell Loki what he can or cannot do—but he still hates this.
As Loki walks he shrugs his shoulders and his Asgardian armor shimmers across his body. If Mobius wasn’t feeling so queasy, he’d be appreciating the sight more than he is.
Mobius sees a spare Tempad laying on the staircase and grabs it, checking the battery and typing in the coordinates for this specific Sanctum and this specific timeline meticulously. Just in case.
“I’ll bring him back .” Strange rolls his eyes as he brings his arms up to open the portal to X-196. “I’m not going to leave your partner when we’re short staffed to begin with.”
Mobius tries to ignore the warm glow in him that appears when Strange says “partner”. Pull yourself together , Mobius thinks to himself. This is embarrassing .
But it wasn’t . It made Mobius so pleased that Loki had never tried to keep their relationship secret, had never behaved as though Mobius was something to be ashamed of. He loved that others could see and recognize that they were together. Yes, you see that beautiful clever god right there? The one knocking over ancient relics as he looks the Sorcerer Supreme dead in the eye? He’s mine .
Mobius passes the Tempad over to Loki, who tucks it into a pocket. “Just in case,” Mobius says.
Sparks start flying as Strange gets the portal open, and Mobius gasps in shock, stumbling back a few paces at the gust of wind that barrels into him, producing a thin layer of frost over his clothes. What the hell.
Loki brushes his hands over Mobius’ clothes and sends a wave of warmth over him. “What was that about getting some gear?” he teases, eyes sparkling.
“Don’t tempt me,” Mobius warns.
Loki grins and heads over to the portal. Strange has distanced himself a few steps up the staircase as well, his cloak had wrapped up tight around him. It was really fucking cold .
Loki sticks an arm through the portal for a moment and withdraws it. Though his clothes look dusted with snow, he flexes his hand and just comments, “Feels fine.”
Mobius rolls his eyes and replies, “Just go and come back quickly, please. Enough of the show-boating.” The portal is still open with Loki standing just in front, and the temperature of the foyer was starting to dip startlingly quick. Mobius can feel goosebumps beading along his arms and legs.
“I’ll give you 10 minutes,” Dr. Strange says. “Use the Tempad, but I’ll open the portal again if you’re not back before that, right where you landed. It’ll be ten minutes for us but probably a lot longer for you. Maybe an hour.”
This was a terrible idea . “And if you’re late,” Mobius warns. “I’m coming after you, with or without gear.”
Loki nods and with a quick wink to Mobius steps through the portal.
Dr. Strange closes it immediately.
Mobius sighs as he squats down to sit on a step. He runs his hand through his hair in exasperation.
“He’ll be fine,” Strange says, stepping down the stairs, his cloak unfurling around him as he waves a hand and lights the fireplace in the foyer. “Asgardians are made of thick skin.”
Nobody here even knew of Loki’s true heritage. Loki hadn’t said anything, and Mobius was not about to out him. It really was the best move to send the Jotun to an ice planet, even if Strange had made that decision without all the available information.
Mobius settles down to wait, keeping an eye on the old grandfather clock across from him, dust mites spinning through the air. Ten minutes, he can do that.
Strange walks to the front door to grab the mail that lays in front of the door. Picking it up, he starts sorting as he walks back across the hall.
Just as he reaches the kitchen entrance, the sorcerer halts in his tracks and whips back, striding straight back to the foyer in front of Mobius and looking up the stairs, his expression confused.
“What’s wrong?” Mobius asks, standing up quickly and looking behind too. “What is it?”
“That’s… odd,” Strange says, frowning. “He’s back.”
Mobius startles, looking at Strange’s face. “What? Loki? Already ?” It had been just over a minute since he’d walked through the portal.
“Yeah, but…” Strange frowns. “Something’s not right. It’s definitely him but… something’s different.”
What?
Mobius turns back and starts running up the stairs, Strange following a few paces behind. When he gets to the top, he asks, “Where is he?”
“Your room, I think,” Strange says. He doesn’t sound alarmed, just confused. “I don’t think he’s hurt, Mobius. He wouldn’t have hidden up here and bypassed us if he was.”
That doesn’t do anything to calm Mobius’ racing heart. There were plenty of things that Mobius knew Loki would rather keep close to his chest than share with others.
Mobius turns and runs through the hallway to where they sleep. “Loki!” Mobius calls. He doesn’t expect a response, and he doesn’t get one.
He arrives at their door, which is shut as it always is. He tests their doorknob, and it mercifully turns. He steps inside, eyeing the room carefully as he enters. Their bed is the same mess they left it in just 30 minutes ago, the carpet, furniture, and ceiling look undisturbed...
The bathroom door is closed tight. The room is silent.
Mobius says again, “Loki?”
No response. But Mobius can swear in the silence, he can hear a shuffling sound in the bathroom.
He looks back at Strange right behind him. “I’ll go in,” he whispers. “I’ll shout if we need you.”
Strange nods, standing back with his cloak billowed around him. He flickers out of sight.
Mobius shuts the door behind him, carefully moving towards the bathroom door. As he gets closer he can hear heavy breathing behind it, and notices deep notches in the wood just near the door knob. Claw marks?
His stomach drops, and he can’t stop the plaintive, “Loki,” that drops from his lips.
The heavy breathing behind the door hitches, and Mobius presses himself against the bathroom door as he twists the doorknob. It’s been locked shut.
“Loki, please open up,” Mobius pleads. “C’mon, sweetheart, open the door.” He taps his fingers against the door, still uselessly twisting the doorknob with the other hand.
“Loki, please, I need to see you, just open this door—”
“No!” Loki’s shout finally comes from inside the bathroom, and though he sounds angry and hoarse, Mobius’ stomach relaxes just a tiny bit. It’s him . “Leave me be, Mobius.”
Mobius chuckles despite himself. “Sweetheart, that’s not going to happen. Please, just let me see you. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened? What did you see?”
“Tell Strange there is absolutely nothing on that planet,” Loki barks. “If there was, it’s long gone. I was there for nearly 30 minutes, and there was nothing but ice. Now go away .”
Mobius closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against the door. Thirty minutes. “Loki, to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have cared if you had seen He Who Remains himself sipping cocktails and riding a jet ski.” He drops his voice, quieter now. “I want to know if you’re ok.”
Mobius can hear that he’s trying to muffle sobs. He doesn’t reply.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” Mobius asks softly. “Can you please just tell me that? I’m dying out here, kitten, you have to give me something.”
“ No ,” Loki keens. “I’m not... I’m not hurt but... Mobius, please , leave, I just need... I have to...” He stops speaking with a choking sound as his breath begins heaving again.
Mobius frowns. What had happened out there?
“Sweetheart, if you need time to yourself, I’ll give it,” he says. “But this... this doesn’t feel like needing some personal space.”
Mobius pulls back and sinks down, sitting beside the bathroom door. “I’ll be right here,” he says, leaning his head back. “As soon as you want me, I’ll be right here, sweetheart.”
It tears Mobius’ heart to bits, but he sits quietly as he listens to Loki’s heaving breaths as he suffers through a panic attack alone. The door doesn’t budge.
After a few more minutes, at least by the small clock sitting on their bedside table, he hears Loki whimper quietly, desperately, “Why won’t it go away ?”
Mobius presses a hand to the door, heart rate picking up again. “What, kitten?” he asks. “What won’t go away?”
Loki doesn’t say anything, and Mobius shuts his eyes tight, body shaking with adrenaline. He wants to knock the door down, to see Loki for himself, to fix whatever it is that’s happened. But trust is something hard won with Loki, and Mobius knows he is one of the paltry few the god truly trusted . He can’t ruin that.
But fortunately, he doesn’t have to. He hears a click, loud enough in the quiet that it seemed to reverberate through his head. Loki unlocked the door .
Mobius jumps to his feet and presses his hand to the knob, ready to twist it and run in. But something told him that wouldn’t be the right move here. Loki is still panting behind the door.
Mobius slowly turns the handle, teeth gritted with the effort it takes to go this slowly with his heart beating double time and palms sweaty with anxiety. He gently pushes the door, the hinges squeaking with the movement.
Mobius hears Loki whimper at the sound of the door opening, and he stops, listening for any protest. Upon hearing none, he pushes the door wide open to darkness. He grasps the wall for the switch and flicks the lights on. Then his eyes, finally, fall on Loki.
At the sight of him, Mobius’ heart nearly stops in shock, and he can’t help it when he whispers, “Oh, Loki .”
Loki is sitting on the floor, and has tried to fit himself between the sink and the bathtub, legs pulled up to his chest. But it is a futile effort.
His body has become longer, wider, and Mobius suspects that if he were to stretch his legs out he could touch the door Mobius has just entered through. His skin is a beautiful pale blue along his torso and thighs, darker around his calves, shoulders, and arms. The gradient darkens significantly around his hands and feet, too, an indigo blue so deep it appears almost black. His hands are tight around his face, fingertips buried deep in his long black hair but Mobius thinks he can see claws too. Just where his hands are gripping, there are two horns protruding from his forehead too, dark at the ends. Mobius can also see white raised lines along the surfaces of skin available to him.
Loki has fully shifted into his Jotun form.
And he’s beautiful .
Mobius is quick to not let his shock paralyze him though. After taking that initial look, he takes a slow step forward, hands raised in supplication in case Loki looks up.
At the sound of his first step into the bathroom, Loki curls up tighter and whispers, “I’m sorry.” His voice is choked with tears. “I’m sorry .”
“Loki,” Mobius says quietly. He takes another step forward. Nearly halfway there. “Loki, you have nothing to be sorry for. Why would you say that?”
“ Look at me! ” Loki shouts, head whipping up to look at Mobius full on now. Mobius had expected it and isn’t surprised when he sees Loki’s eyes are fully red, not a hint of white or the usual green of his irises present. “This is what I am, Mobius. This... this ugly thing .” His claws dig deep into his arms.
“Hey, no,” Mobius says firmly. He takes the next few steps quickly, until he can fall to his knees in front of Loki. “That’s not true. It’s not .”
More tears come to Loki’s eyes, spilling onto his cheeks. His lashes are long and wet, eyelids a darker blue than the skin around it. He’s so beautiful.
Mobius reaches out slowly, eyes on Loki’s the entire time, but Loki jerks back. “No,” he protests tearfully. “You’ll burn yourself. Jotun skin... it’s... I’m too cold.” His eyes are hardening now, becoming angry. Mobius can see that hatred for himself, his heritage, smounting behind those eyes.
And not for the first time, Mobius wishes he could wring Odin’s neck for what he’s done. All-father, my ass . The hatred, the disgust for Jotuns he poured into Loki was unforgivable, knowing who he was. Hatred that became self-directed as soon as Loki realized his true heritage.
But he didn’t have the time just yet to go find an Odin to strangle. Mobius smiles gently at Loki. “Half-Jotun, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.” At least, he is quite sure it will be. At this point, Mobius wouldn’t mind losing the first few layers of skin off his hand if he could just bring Loki some modicum of comfort. However it was incredible how even just kneeling next to him, he could feel the cold coming off Loki’s body, seeping through his clothes and into his own skin. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t.”
Loki blinks again, more tears coming down his cheeks at the movement. He nods his head slowly, keeps his eyes on Mobius’ hand as it moves in increments towards him. And finally, after a small eternity, Mobius rests his hand gently on Loki’s arm.
It was like touching a block of ice, but softer. Mobius feels goosebumps erupt down his body but, at the very least, it doesn’t hurt yet. He smiles at Loki, rubbing his thumb across the skin. “See?” He whispers. “You’re ok, kitten.”
“Why are you here?” Loki bites, the words seeming to trip over themselves as he spits them out quickly. He tries to shift his arm away from Mobius. “I’m a monster, Mobius, an absolute—”
“No,” Mobius replies quickly. He tightens his hand around Loki’s arm, dipping his head so he can make sure those deep red eyes are looking straight into his. “You are not a monster. You are not disgusting, or ugly. You’re an absolute marvel , Loki.”
Loki’s brow furrows, his voice trembling. “N-no... no. That’s not true.” He’s rapidly shaking his head and almost seems to lean back, to get away from Mobius’ words.
“It is to me,” Mobius says firmly. “I know you’ve had centuries of being told these things about Frost Giants, but they aren’t true. Least of all when they’re about you.”
Loki still looks heartbreakingly skittish, but his body is beginning to uncurl, not wound as tight as it was. His legs still don’t stretch out, but his arms shift, claws no longer dug tight into his shoulders.
Mobius takes this as an indication that he can move closer. He lifts his other hand, gold bracelet twinkling in the light, and touches Loki’s face, marveling at how beautiful the blue is. His fingers are only long enough to curl around his cheek, thumb stretching to be able to wipe the wetness just under Loki’s eye, and Mobius smiles at how much smaller he is now by comparison. Loki is taller than him when he’s in his glamour. Now he suspects, looking at him, that if Loki were to stand at his full height the top of Mobius’ head would just barely reach his shoulders.
But also, Mobius has to acknowledge, Holy shit, he’s cold , no doubt about that . The hand resting on Loki’s arm is going a little numb.
Loki lifts a dark hand, eyes trained on Mobius’ for any hint of deception, or disgust. He brings it closer to Mobius’ face and presses it gently to his cheek. His hand is larger too—his fingers wrap nearly all the way around the back of Mobius’ head.
Mobius smiles wider, bringing his hand up to hold Loki’s hand to his face as he presses kisses to his palm again and again, before finally turning back to look at him once more.
“Is this why you used the Tempad to bring yourself to our room?” Mobius asks quietly, keeping their hands together on his cheek.
Loki looks down, but tilts his head into Mobius’ hand as he does. “I felt my body start to change as I was readying to leave,” he explains quietly. He swallows hard, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ve never changed like this. I couldn’t understand what was happening until I saw my skin. I had to use magic to remove my clothes, they were too small.” It explained his current state of undress. “I… tried to change back but... it was too cold. My... my magic—“ His voice breaks off completely here, brows furrowing.
Mobius presses another kiss to his hand, murmuring softly. You’re ok .
Loki opens his eyes but keeps them down, trained somewhere near Mobius’ knees. Which were, in all honesty, starting to hurt from the tile floor.
He continues, “I couldn’t reclaim my glamour there. A survival mechanism, I suppose. I used the Tempad to bring myself back to the Sanctum soon after I left because I... I thought I could change back in private before anybody found me.” He chuckles ruefully. “It slipped my mind that Strange has a trigger for my presence on Midgard.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Loki finally brings his eyes back up to look at Mobius, desperately sad. “I don’t know what I would do if you looked at me and were frightened, or disgusted, or... or if you hated me.” Tears slip down his cheeks, which Mobius wipes quickly away.
His head had begun shaking while Loki was speaking, and Mobius says firmly now, voice overlapping with the end of Loki’s sentence, “There is not a form you could take that I wouldn’t find beautiful, sweetheart.” He tucks a few strands of black hair behind his ear. Mobius is pleased to see that the braid he’d woven into Loki’s hair is still there, just barely hanging on. “You’re not a monster. You’re not any of the things you were led to believe. You’re Loki .” Mobius smiles tremulously, his own eyes filling with tears. “A god. A prince . There is not one part of you that you should be ashamed of.
“And you never, never , need to worry about how I feel about you. Because I will cherish you, Loki, any way I can, in any form you take, as long as I’m around to do it.”
Loki stays quiet for a few long moments, eyes roving around Mobius’ face. His breathing is calmer now, far closer to normal. He moves first, both hands coming to the front of Mobius’ shirt. His legs uncurl finally, stretching out along the bathroom floor, and Mobius is pleased to see that he was right about their length. He is so big. And gorgeous, no matter what form he takes.
Loki pulls Mobius in closer, and the ex-TVA agent is happy to bring his arms up around Loki’s shoulders, holding him tightly. He presses his face to Loki’s hair, and notes that he smells exactly the same as he always does, though the coldness does go right up Mobius’ nose. Loki’s hands stay pressed to his chest, and Mobius wishes he would feel confident enough to wrap his arms around him. Damn the cold, Mobius would want Loki no matter what temperature his skin was.
Regardless, he hears Loki murmur into his neck, where he’s maneuvered so his horns aren’t poking Mobius, “I love you.”
Mobius grins, hands running along the god’s ice-cold shoulders. It isn’t the first time they’ve said the words to each other. Mobius had accidentally spilled the beans on their first night together, like a total cliché, and Loki had spent the next week drawing the words onto any bare skin on Mobius’ body he could reach. It took Mobius the full week to figure it out, and just another day for Loki to feel confident enough to say it out loud.
“I love you, too.”
Perhaps it was the heat of Mobius’ body, or the temperature of the Sanctum finally registering to Loki’s instincts-- but Mobius feels the moment Loki’s body starts shrinking in his arms.
Loki pulls back just enough to bring his hand up to watch the claws vanish and his skin fade back into its normal hue. He looks up at Mobius hopefully, the red from his eyes fading and revealing those gorgeous green irises. Mobius rubs the pad of his thumb over his forehead where the horns had disappeared from, and whispers, “Hi, there.”
Loki lunges forward, grabbing his face and pulling him into a searing kiss. His body is shaking like a leaf as he clings tight to Mobius. In relief? Mobius wonders if Loki had been worried he’d be stuck in that form forever.
As he holds Loki close, Mobius hopes the next time he gets to see his Frost Giant form, it will be at least of his own volition.