Chapter 1: Running in Circles, Chasing Our Tails
Chapter Text
Again.
Again…
Again again.
Again again again….
How many times has it been? Was he ever counting?
Must try again…
Again.
One more time, for prosperity, and because the word ‘again’ doesn’t sound like a word anymore.
At first, it’d been ‘faster’, more speed.
Then, it was ‘earlier’.
Then, it became faster and earlier.
Again. And again. And again. And eventually he decided counting wouldn’t’ve been worth the while or the energy anyways. There were more important things to occupy his mind.
Again.
He could do this. He’s capable. Just need to find the right rhythm. Go back early enough to have as much time as considerably possible, but even that was circumstantial: he needed all the pieces to be present for it to work.
The most important piece was Timely. For now.
Loki could do this.
He’s been doing it for a long time. Too long to keep track of. Thank god he’s a god. He'll do this for as long as he has to.
Again.
But, it seems, everything has a limit; which is exactly that, limiting.
Everything must and does come to a stop eventually; that brought both reassurance and frustration. Because surely nothing can go on forever, so he will surely get this right and they’ll fix this and all this looping and effort will come to fruition and everything will be fine. Just… why hasn’t it happened yet?
Easy: everything he doesn’t know is slowing him down. So now, it’s more speed, and more knowledge.
He can’t stand around waiting for people to follow his instructions when those instructions make no sense to them. Loki can’t blame them, he would act the same as them. So matters must be taken into his own hands. It’s hard convincing someone to teach him all they know about the workings of the universe when, to them, there’s no time or point to talk about such things. But Loki will make time. He has to. He’s the one in control of it, and such a skill, like any other, comes with its burdens. And he’s more than willing to accept and work with them.
So he learns as much he can about the science of basically everything surrounding him. It takes time, centuries are no joke. But he can do this.
Loki doesn’t stop; he’s close. So close.
But there it is again: the natural order of things. And that is that after enough time, everything winds down, and stays, and ends. Including him.
He hasn’t reached the end yet, the more he studies the more he understands how much he still needs to learn. How imperative it is that he comprehends everything. There’s no winding down on his own volition. There’s no staying in place when drifting through space. No resting when the multiverse grows more and more vulnerable and you seem to be the only one capable of doing something for it.
He can’t afford to stop.
Regrettably, at some point words begin to merge against each other; in his ears, in front of his eyes… Sentences become harder and harder to follow, and so do tasks. His mind hangs in the air like leather drying up over a wood fire. And for the first time in years, he registers the weighing on his shoulders—making him feel drained.
Loki speaks and answers the questions he’s asked from time to time, only to get particularly odd looks because most probably, whatever he’s saying is making no sense. To anyone. Not even to himself this time.
How long has he been here? Maybe he should’ve counted.
When was the last time I sat down? Really sat down?
He remembers when food and sleep were something he did, but he can’t remember the last time he got any of them.
Numbers, words, theories and facts. That’s all he ever consumes. Now, they feel like bile rising up his stomach. Faces aren’t faces. Colors are rarely colors. The noises around him are booming yet he scarcely hears them. Everything is vibrating.
Nobody said it was easy, but no one ever said it’d be this fucking hard.
Loki felt crazy, mad, slow, and drowsy and glitchy and it was surprising he didn’t lose control of slipping as a whole.
Another natural order of things is:
The more something is used and reused, the more it wears down.
All things are prone to wear and tear.
Whatever can be used can be abused.
Whatever can be worn can be torn.
Including him.
Including his thoughts.
What Loki feels is that he wasn’t even a person.
Perhaps, that should be enough indication that even gods reached a limit.
Somewhen.
Breaks were hard to come by, but they existed. And by breaks, Loki meant sitting down to sip on coffee, or stare at key lime pie, or say nothing at all—hear nothing at all. He was in one of those breaks when his head stopped allowing him to not only process O.B.’s previous lesson but also whatever Mobius was now saying before him. Loki knew this conversation from top to bottom, inside and out. But right now, everything ringed, and Loki could barely see in front of him, even less keep track of their conversation and why couldn’t he remember what Mobius just said? Just said right now? Just said a minute ago? Or was it an hour ago?
Why are they here?
Why are we sitting here and what am I supposed to be doing or saying?
How do you expect to fix the Loom if you can’t even keep up a simple conversation you’ve had a hundred times before?
Was this a conversation? I’m fixing the Loom?
Why?—
“Loki, are you okay?”
Loki looks up at the question.
Why wouldn’t I be okay?
The Loom…
“Loki?” All the voices in the universe called to him.
Enough.
—
Loki stumbles through the air, landing somewhere. He didn’t really think about where, or when. He’s too tired.
Wherever and whenever he landed, it was like the exhaustion was carried through with him. It seemed to not matter where he went, or what point in time in his body he was: there was no escaping the sickly feeling of debilitation, the fatigue that had been tailing after him for so long and was now eating at his brain.
“Hey, you okay?”
Mobius. Mobius was next to him.
Loki’s about to ask why he’d ask such a thing—out loud this time—only to realize he was leaning against a wall, and not in a gracious or casual way.
You were walking, he realizes, you probably weren’t supposed to stop walking.
Loki looks around, situating himself, knowing exactly where he was: one of the interminable number of hallways in the labyrinth that is the TVA. And when he was: right after cleaning himself up in a communal Temporal Core shower and putting on a fresh pair of clothes, following the time when they first ‘fixed’ his time slipping. They were probably on their way to get things done. Look for Sylvie, maybe.
Mobius watches him with concern, probably fearing Loki wasn’t back to normal after all.
“Where do you sleep?” Loki asks.
“What?”
“Sleep. Rest. Where do you get it from?” O.B. had mentioned getting no sleep once, so surely everyone else in the TVA did get sleep? Like normal people do? He realized that after all his time here, he didn’t really know; he’d napped here and there at random corners of the premises, but never in an actual, proper bed. There’d been no time for that.
“Well—I mean, I have an assigned room?”
“Perfect. Take me to it.” Loki pushes himself off the wall, ready to get going.
“What? Why?”
“Just trust me,” he grabs Mobius’ shoulders, urging him to walk.
“Just a second ago you were insisting on finding Sylvie. We both know there’s no time for a room tour, what are you trying to get at?”
“Take me there, and you’ll understand.”
Silence. Mobius studies him, reading for anything that would make Loki’s request make actual sense. Mobius himself seemed a little jumpy, like his mind was preoccupied with getting things under control as quickly as possible. Thankfully, though, the apparent smidge of trust he had in Loki allowed him to just go with it—still it earns him a sigh.
“Fine. But it better be worth it and you better not burn my place down just yet, we agreed to start at my desk.” He moves, leading Loki the opposite way.
And for once, it felt to Loki like things were slowing down even if just a little bit.
The trip to (part of) the TVA housing wing was actually a little long and complicated, and as Mobius called it, ‘another can of worms’. Whoever designed these mazes wanted to make sure employees had a harder time getting to the comfort of their rooms than getting to work. Because apparently, the way in was different to the way out. Loki was doing his best to learn the way, but the haze of exhaustion allowed his brain to focus only on a few things at a time. For now, he was focused on Mobius explaining their surroundings and how housing worked.
Apparently, when staff left their quarters to go labor, they took a specific corridor that led to a specific elevator that specifically only took people up to work, never down to the living spaces, for some reason. A one way elevator.
Once you needed to go back home after the work cycle, you had to take a different, longer route and a different elevator—a green one, at least. Loki wasn’t sure what the interior designers were trying to achieve with the color schemes here, but no one had time to meddle on that now. Before the elevator, though, people had to go through a sort of reception—which bordered more on security than amability—punch in, and be let through by whoever sat behind the reception desk. Everything just got better and better.
Mobius had apparently hoped that no one was in reception duty and that they could pass by unbothered and unnoticed.
That couldn’t happen; there was someone sitting there. A worker whose uniform looked awfully alike a guard’s rather than a receptionist’s.
“Who is this? Is that the variant you’ve been carrying around?”
“His name is Loki. We just need to grab and analyze some papers.” Mobius suddenly had a file under his arm, which he tapped as he spoke his little white lie.
“He doesn’t have a badge, or an ID. You know I can’t let him through. Especially with everything that’s happening.”
“You gotta let him through exactly because of everything that’s happening. You know how things are looking up there. We need somewhere quiet to think. We need to solve this. Fast.”
“Isn’t all of this his fault?” The begrudging man spoke pointedly at Loki.
“Not exactly…”
Loki would've said something, but he had no energy or the brain to put in a good word for himself. He didn’t care about his reputation right now either way, and he trusted Mobius would get them through one way or another. Without Loki having to stab or stun someone unconscious. Mobius was that level of efficient, which was a reassurance his heart took easily.
Loki just needed to get everything fixed. And to do that, it would appear he needed rest. Only a small break. That’s all Loki was allowing himself.
For now, he needed to figure out what to tell Mobius once they were inside; Mobius could tell when Loki lied, easily. So what should he say this time to convince Mobius that he’s working on it, and that letting just a little time pass for now won’t change anything? That they’re living in their own little pocket apocalypse that Loki was set on resolving? How much of the truth should he tell, if any?
There was some more bickering from the guard, and some gentle pushing and negotiation and probably rule breaking from Mobius.
“… there’s no time for protocol, we need to work this out now!”
The lobby guard eventually let him through, staring daggers at Loki, as so many of them still did. “Know that I won’t be held responsible for the first housing murder in the TVA, Mobius!”
“No, you won’t!” Mobius singsonged, then they stepped through.
Once in the elevator, which was a nice visual rest, admittedly, Loki had to ask, “why not use a Tempad to go straight to your quarters or straight to work?”
The question is met with silence, Mobius was frowning. “That’s… out of protocol. But good point.”
As they stand there, Loki registers a slight shake to Mobius’ head, who must’ve been thinking about everything he’s ever known being horseshit—again. Whatever his last thought is, it draws a frustrated sigh.
When in the right floor, one is to walk through more seemingly endless hallways and find their way through maze #379 to (finally) arrive at the assigned door, scan their badge above the doorknob, and go in.
“I don’t even have the exact coordinates to my room,” Mobius scoffs a little bitterly as he swipes his card, the door beeps and unlocks.
It all reminded Loki of a Midgardian hotel—the interior of Mobius’ living space was almost no different.
It wasn’t that cozy of a layout. Not very homey, and not very welcoming, either. It was evident this space was made with the purpose of making being at home almost the same as being upstairs working. Or at least that’s how it was intended to be, Loki presumes. Mobius had surprisingly okay taste, and knew how to make a glorified detention cell look like an actual apartment. The knick-knacks spread around certainly helped; they seemed to be objects from random timelines, things that would easily go unnoticed even if the timeline was never pruned. Knowing Mobius, Loki assumes some of these were illegal to keep, which was certainly respectable.
“Okay, here we are. Home, kinda sweet home.” Mobius closes the door behind them, standing easily by the doorway, eyes mostly fixed on Loki.
There was a settee, which Loki had seriously hoped for but was unsure he’d get, a small low table in front of it, and what looked to be a weak excuse for a TV monitor near the wall. There were bookshelves and a small desk further into the common space, files and papers all over. There were even a few purposely scattered on the floor.
Loki had honestly expected to collapse onto the first cushioned furniture (or surface) he laid eyes upon. But now, he couldn’t stop the urge to look and inspect to take over his plans to rest. He was looking at Mobius. At his life. Something he never even considered doing amidst all the bedlam.
Mobius suddenly seems to take in his surroundings as if for the first time, too, “sorry for the mess, I never have visitors.” He chuckles.
“You take work with you to your home?”
Mobius scratches the back of his head, looking at his small office space, “I’m kind of required to? Not by law, things aren’t that terrible. But I do if I wanna get real work done, and this variant—Sylvie’s case was really eating at me.”
Mobius steps in further, making Loki feel like he had permission to do the same. As he steps into the common area, a sort of kitchenette comes to view to his left. A medium sized refrigerator, some counter space, a two element stove, a kettle, miscellaneous amenities, and a sink. Everything is neat and clean. The counter space arched into an island, and a singular stool sat below the extended outer rim, creating a small dining space, if it could even be called that.
There was a ‘window’ letting in artificial sunlight, Mobius reveals, the settings simulating night and day. Loki wonders how Mobius didn’t notice that was odd. For a place that insisted on having created its workers for the TVA and being outside the concept of time.
The walls were a bland candlelit beige color; most of the floors covered in carpet of the same hue. Someone at least had the decency of giving the kitchen wooden floors and the countertops a dark glossy color, for a change. There was a closed door (also beige) to his right, Loki could only assume that was Mobius’ room. Or at least he hopes so. There was no way Mobius slept on a leather sofa with a singular yellow cushion every night.
The apartment was overall very distasteful. But then again, Mobius’ belongings made it interesting to him.
“When was the last time you were here?” He asks him.
His friend seems to think, a furrow to his brow. “I wouldn’t know, actually. Probably a day or two before you arrived?”
“You haven’t been back since I got here?”
Mobius shakes his head, then stops. “I mean, I think I came here to grab a thing or two, but I didn’t stay longer than five minutes.”
Loki actually doesn’t blame him. If this was his private escape space, he was probably better off in the Archives, even. Or the Automat. Things made more sense now.
“Why? Is that important? What did you want to talk about?” Mobius follows, clearly curious to see what Loki had in mind when coming here.
What Loki had in mind was sleep. Fucking sleep. For once. Or at least the act of pretending he was getting any kind of rest. Suddenly he’s tired again, his body heavying, head hurting, limbs starting to tingle.
Loki wants to inspect some more, pick up Mobius’ timeline paraphernalia and ask him why and how he got them, but he could barely stand on his legs.
“Well… you might be disappointed but…” Loki takes a seat—might as well—and a deep breath, a moment of decision. A lie, the truth, or some version of the truth?
Mobius stands in front of him, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed still.
“Mobius… I’m tired. I’m very tired…”
“Right, okay…” Mobius steps closer, waiting for Loki to continue.
“And I haven’t really got the time or the energy to tell you why but I need to rest. I’ve been avoiding it like a plague and it’s done nothing but set me back.” Loki keeps his eyes fixed on Mobius, searching for suspicion of any kind. Should there be suspicion at all?
“No, you’re right… this time-slipping thing was crazy. I can’t imagine the toll it must take on your body, I’d never seen anything like it before.”
“Right… but, it’s more than that.” Loki presses on. Still he keeps quiet long enough for Mobius to speak again.
“Yeah, I also figure you haven’t gotten any kind of rest ever since finding Sylvie. I get it, Loki.”
“Right.” He hasn’t had any rest since finding Sylvie.
Since finding Sylvie.
That thought, that fact, was about to draw him mad. He almost felt like laughing. Or crying.
“Right…” he repeats, looking off at the floor now. How long has it been? How long has it really been?
He looks back up at Mobius, as if the answer would lay on his friend's face. But Mobius doesn’t even know. To Mobius, no time has passed at all. There was nothing to give Loki any sort of estimate, any sort of semblance of how long he’s actually been fighting. And now it feels like he’s hit a dead end. Can’t seem to understand or process O.B.’s lessons, can’t seem to come up with new plans, can’t move forward because he’s lost the thread on what he’s supposed to say and do and when, and sometimes even why.
“There’s something else, you say? You mean it when you say it’s more than that.” Mobius probably caught notice of something in Loki’s face.
Loki stares at him. He’s so tired. Weak. Unsteady. He only nods, a movement that’s barely there. He does feel like crying.
Mobius kneels, closer to Loki, head level to his.
“Loki, what’s going on?”
Air pulls harshly from Loki’s lungs. What isn’t going on? It’s so much, he can’t possibly explain it all. “Mobius, so many things are…” his voice isn’t as steady as he expected it to be. Its sound a step away from broken, and wet. Ridiculous.
“What is it? What did you see?”
Loki chuckles, definitely a wet sound now. “It’s not what I’ve seen, it’s what I’ve lived.”
“Did something happen during the time slipping? Before you got pulled out?”
“No… or, yes? But no, not the time slipping you think. Mobius… I promise it’ll make sense,” his hands reach for Mobius’ wrist to find himself shaking. Why is he shaking? Why is he crying? “But it’s so much—I don’t know where to start and I don’t know what to say or think. I’ve been going back and forth in time—fixing the Loom—I’m not even the Loki you think I am.” Tears roll down his face, a sensation too cool against his skin. Loki can’t stop shaking and the room is lacking air.
What if he doesn’t solve this? At all? What if there’s no fixing it and what if he somehow runs out of time and why is he even here? He should go the fuck back and keep trying. He shouldn’t be wasting another second. What if everything goes wrong again? What if reality splits and warps into fine noodles again? What if Mobius dies? Forever? What if his friends die? What if everyone dies? He needs to go back now.
“Loki—Loki, look at me, please.”
Back to this present, there’s the sense that Mobius has been talking to him for longer than he realized, his voice finally breaking through the noise in Loki’s head. There are warm hands upon his face. Mobius’ own face is right in front of his.
“Take a deep breath,” he says—it sounds very far away.
Loki shakes his head, not knowing why he does. He tries to get up, he needs to go back. Forward. He needs to—
“No, Loki, stay. Please sit. Look at me.” Loki does.
Crooked nose. Blue eyes, bluer than he remembers them being. How long ago did he last look at Mobius?
“Look at me…” Mobius repeats, gentle as ever. “Follow my lead, breathe in,” he breathes in, “and out…” he breathes out.
Mobius’ hands go down and away from his face, Loki whimpers in sudden panic at the retreating presence, also not knowing why, until Mobius settles them on his shoulders, giving a squeeze.
Mobius continues breathing in and out, Loki mirrors him.
Crooked nose. Mustache. Not the same color as his hair. Silver hair. Eyebrows. The same color as his mustache. Eyelashes, darker than usual in this shitty lighting. Soft wrinkles around the eyes. His eyes are blue. The orange of the TVA upstairs eats away at that color, but they are blue. He noticed as much when they stood outside in the sun, and now it’s like he’s noticing for the first time again.
Who put this man together?
“That’s it, Loki.”
Loki’s exhale is shaky, but he feels lighter. His fingers kind of hurt, and that’s when he realizes he’s clenching them around Mobius’ suit. He slowly lets go.
He blinks away the tears stuck to his eyes, the dizziness is still there, but so are Mobius’ hands. They run up and down the sides of his arms. He hasn’t been soothed like this since he was a child. But he lets Mobius, because he feels it’s working. Loki breathes in and out, stares at Mobius’ face. Holds on to the lapels of his jacket a little softer.
“You don’t have to tell me anything, Loki.” Mobius says, nudging him sideways. “Lay down.”
Loki let’s himself rest against the cool, brown leather, it’s actually the softest surface he’s felt in his life. He’s aware his breathing is still punching out of him. But at least he’s not crying, and doesn’t feel like the ground will open up and take him to hel. His eyes burn and his lids are so heavy.
Mobius’ hand briefly rests on the crown of his head. “Close your eyes. Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right here.”
“Please don’t leave,” Loki pleads despite Mobius’ words.
“I won’t. I’ll be right here when you wake up. You’re okay.” There’s a squeeze to Loki’s hand, and he sees now he’s holding onto Mobius’.
Loki tells himself to let go of it, but he can’t. He lets his eyes close, instead. It takes him to sleep as fast as turning off a light switch.
Chapter 2: Coming Back as We Are
Summary:
Loki and Mobius plan ahead.
Notes:
*dj Khaled* Another one.
Still no beta so bear with me
I wanted to post on Thursdays but tomorrow is a busy day so I’ll be posting now. We’ll see about next week!
IMPORTANT:
This chapter (and probably overall work) is inspired by whiteleander’s if I could turn back time (I could make you mine) !
Spoilers ahead:
The use of a letter given to Mobius on every loop is a genius idea that sort of took its own form in my head. The letter used here is not exactly the same as whiteleander’s but it is very similar. Credits to them on that!
Also, I too am jumping in the ‘Lokes’ bandwagon let’s goooo.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mobius, true to his word, is there when Loki wakes up.
Mobius’ hair is ruffled, tie halfway undone, and his jacket is off. There’s papers and notes all over the coffee table, he sits behind it on the floor like an impromptu desk, biting at his thumb and looking down at his Tempad.
Loki shifts, a jab of pain pierces deep within his head, and he whimpers at it as he tries to sit up.
“You’re awake,” Mobius whispers, quickly making his way next to Loki. Both their shoes are off. “How do you feel?”
Not nearly as rested as he should be. “Rested. Well rested.” Loki touches his temple, “my head is pulsing.”
Mobius is on his feet quickly, almost startling Loki. There’s shuffling behind him by the kitchen, and then he's back with a clear glass full of water. “Drink,” Mobius returns to the kitchen once Loki accepts the glass. “When was the last time you ate?” He calls out.
“Ate?” Loki asks, taking in three large gulps of water until all of it disappears down his throat. “Food?”
There’s a smile in Mobius’ voice, “yeah, food. Unless you’ve been eating something that isn’t food.”
There’s a ting from the Tempad, Loki stares at it, still situating himself back into the land of the living and awake. “I don’t know, Mobius. Maybe the last time we ate pie?”
“Pie?” After some beeping and more shuffling, Mobius comes back soon after, holding something in a towel in his hands. “We haven’t had pie… not yet, I guess.”
Loki blinks. Realizing that, indeed, they haven’t had awful artificial key lime pie together just yet. Not for Mobius. “Right. Sorry. I forgot when I am.”
A corner of Mobius’ mouth tugs lightly upwards, he leans down and places something on Loki’s lap. Warm steam and an instant whiff of spices and overall savory aromatic flavor hits him. It’s a meal. Mobius just placed a hot meal on his lap. “Sorry for the lackluster presentation. I don’t own a lap tray or anything so the kitchen towel will have to do.” Mobius tells him, taking Loki’s empty glass to the kitchen.
“What is this?” Loki asks. He’s confused.
“Food,” Mobius brings the glass full of water again. “it’s that thing you eat.” He passes him a paper towel. Loki is still frowning.
“Why?”
“Because you just said your last meal was what I’m assuming must be key lime pie, and I got a feeling that was much longer ago than you’ll have anyone believe. You should eat. Real food.”
Loki stares down at it; some kind of stuffed pasta accompanied by potato purée, green vegetables and some unidentifiable meat. He thinks.
Yeah, he doesn’t actually know when his last proper meal was.
“I can’t eat this,” he says anyways.
“I know you hate TVA issued food and it’s not the most lustrous dish but you gotta--…”
“No, Mobius. I can’t—I shouldn’t stay here any longer. Sleeping for a few hours was wasteful enough.”
“You slept three and a half hours exactly. That’s nowhere near enough and we both know it. You need all the nourishment you can get. You can travel through time! You have time. Literally. Now eat,” Mobius’ arms fold, towering over him like he won’t take the excuses Loki attempts to combat him with.
Loki looks at the food again. The scent is acceptable, which pains him to admit, even internally. Thin ribbons of steam brush his face as he stares. He’s about to protest when…
“Fine, then I’ll feed you it myself.” Mobius sits next to him, already grabbing the fork and digging in.
Loki’s eyes bulge and, in a second, he’s taken the fork from Mobius and shoved a piece of meat in his mouth.
“I got it,” Loki musters through his mouthful.
Mobius smirks. “Good call, pussycat.”
Loki rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t be doing this. He can’t just put an actual pause to saving the universe to eat an instant meal. Or any meals. He has more important things to do.
And he feels like he’s nowhere close to fixing the Loom. Taking a nap was apparently unavoidable, necessary, but sitting down and chomping away—that’s taking it too far, in his opinion. This isn’t the time for luxuries. He considers, for the last time, saying all this to Mobius. But the man is watching him chew like a hawk and something tells Loki his words will be met with something along the lines of ‘too bad’.
“This is a waste of time Mobius.” He voices, because he’s too wound up and he can’t help it. “The multiverse needs me to get back to work as fast as possible.”
“You better hurry up with the eating, then.” Mobius replies, arms still crossed.
“That’s-…”
“I don’t care what the multiverse needs right now, Loki. You’re taking a breather yes or yes. It’ll be just five minutes in comparison. Also, you’re in my house, I’m making the rules.”
“I’m never coming back here,” Loki shoves some pasta in his mouth. It’s decently flavorful.
“You should,” Mobius replies, unphased. “You should’ve done it sooner.”
“No, I shouldn’t’ve. What would you know anyway?” He tries to sound snappy, but the obstruction of food in his mouth doesn’t make it so.
“I know you well enough to know you waited way too long to take care of yourself. It’s not rocket science, no offense.”
“You know what is? Fixing the damned Loom. And you’re delaying me. Also, offense completely taken.” Loki gulps some water down.
“Sure, you can blame it on me. Guilty as charged. Go cry about it.”
“I already did!” This time his voice is clear. But his bickering mood is simmering down. He’s still so tired.
“Then cry about it some more. It should do you wonders.” Mobius’ Tempad dings again, he stretches out to grab it.
“Some wonder. All it did was give me a phony headache, and an instant meal.” Loki jabs at his meat, giving up on cutting it up with the knife amiably supplied by Mobius and just chewing on it.
“You gotta exercise gratitude—and self compassion,” Mobius retorts half-mindedly while typing something in.
“The only thing being exercised here is my jaw.” He swallows, also giving up on breaking up the chewing gum they’ve disguised as meat. Would this food even travel with him when he goes back/forwards in time?
“Yeah, skirt steak has never been a good idea.” Mobius puts the Tempad into his pocket.
Loki watches him. This time chewing on mashed potatoes, which isn’t chewing at all.
“Why are you not eating?” Loki counters.
“I don’t think it matters if I do.” Mobius answers easily, leaning back against the leather behind him.
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because this will be reset, won’t it? None of this will end up happening from what I’ve put together. I’m no genius, but I know that much.”
Loki stops chewing, eyes casting down. Right. This would’ve never happened for Mobius, at one point, some part of the Loom technology eventually resets everything that hadn't happened the first time around. It still isn’t clear to Loki how that works, which is another reason he should be studying with O.B. right now. It’s a strange thought, though. He’d never diverged from his own new ‘timeline’ so much. Even less involved Mobius like this.
“I genuinely shouldn’t come back here…” he says quietly, forcing another forkful in.
“Yes, you should.” Mobius’ tone isn’t edging on provocation now, he’s not teasing Loki to rile him up as he was a minute ago, which, had been nice, actually. Somehow Mobius knew that. Now, he’s serious, just as Loki is. They look at each other. “You should come back. Whenever you need it. I know you’ll need it. You still need it.” Mobius leans slightly closer, engaging Loki so he has nowhere else to go in this conversation. But Loki isn’t going anywhere. He just doesn’t know how Mobius’ suggestion could even work.
“You won’t remember this, Mobius. You’re right about that. I realize now this is a violation of some kind. And I can’t just come back here and redo every step that got us two here. I’ve too much to focus on. And I don’t have the heart to go over the details when you ask for them.”
“Did I ask for them now?”
Loki shakes his head.
“What makes you think I’ll ask for them then?”
“You’re doing all this because I broke down in front of you. That is not happening again. I’m actually glad you won’t remember that.”
“You don’t have to break down in front of me for me to understand. I’ll listen to whatever you say.”
“I can’t talk about it, Mobius! Just thinking about having to is—…”
“I know, I know Lokes.” Mobius leans over the coffee table again, tearing printing paper from his paper stack and grabbing a pen. “I had an idea. Maybe we could write some notes down? Just the important bits, to make sure I’m convinced any time you come back.”
“What do you mean?”
“You move through time and space right? But you also move into your past self? Like you did this time? Do you think you could do a mix of both? The plan is for us to write a note that will convince any Mobius to let you come here and rest. Which doesn't take much to do in the first place, I’ll tell you that. But if you don’t want to talk about it, then you’ll have the note. In theory, when you travel you take the note with you, and once you need a break, you come back to yesterday, give me the note, I’ll read it and we go from there. No questions asked.”
“Yesterday?”
“You slept longer than three and a half hours. You slept through the night shift, but I was kinda hoping you’d sleep some more—you still look like you need it. Don’t worry, I only lie to you when you lie to me. So it shouldn’t happen again.” Mobius smiles, a quick wink to his eye.
Loki decides that Mobius is crazy. And that he knows Loki much too uncomfortably well to see through a casual lie. Or maybe his ‘well rested’ claim was badly delivered. Loki doesn’t linger on which is worse.
“You’d only have to go through this once. Write whatever is important to you, I’ll write whatever’s important for me to know, it’ll be fine from there.” Mobius finishes.
It’s not a bad idea, or a bad sell. Loki isn’t sure how smoothly it could actually go, though, or if he’s capable of doing what Mobius is suggesting.
“I don’t know if I’m skilled enough to ‘do a mix of both’…”
“Hm…” Mobius seems to think. “I’ll tell you what. You could practice, or we could make two notes. One for you to carry with you, another as a backup. But the backup would require you to go back in time in this apartment and plant the letter somewhere I will not find it unless specifically told to…”
If it worked, the letter Loki carried with him would be updated by Mobius each time, so as to let his future self know how to help Loki next. If it didn’t work, then all Loki had to do was retrieve the backup letter from wherever he planted it, and give it to Mobius to read. If it did work, the only thing Mobius asked of Loki was that he didn’t read whatever Mobius himself wrote. It seemed like a strange request, but Loki agreed.
As Mobius scribbles down his message on one paper, his Tempad rings a series of dings inside his pocket.
“You’ve been getting those a lot. Who is it?” Loki asks after Mobius grabs the device out of his pocket.
“O.B.” He chuckles whilst sustaining a frown on his brows at the screen, “says here we’re going to die. B-15 also messaged me, you know. The new branches and timelines, someone bombed them. They’re… all gone now…” Mobius looks up at Loki.
“Right…” That should be his queue. He passed his note to Mobius for him to write his own message. “I should really get going now.”
He stands up, setting down the remains of his admittedly hefty meal and fixing his coat.
“Loki…” Mobius calls out, eyes downcast to what he’s writing down. “I can tell how important what you’re doing is. I believe in you. Whatever must be done, you’re capable of doing it. Don’t ever think otherwise.” He looks up at him, now folding the second paper into a neat letter fold.
Loki nods. It’s all he can do.
“Just believe what I say, yeah?” Mobius hands him his letter. “And, pretend all you want, but I know the time slipping takes a lot from you. Take. Breaks. You better put good use to these letters, okay?”
Loki quietly takes it, putting it in the pocket of his slacks, he nods again.
Mobius makes a show of taking the backup letter and walking over to one of the shelves, gesturing with his head for Loki to follow. “You can hide this in between here,” he gestures to the narrow space on the back of the shelf where wood meets wood, then to a large book, “and here. I haven’t moved this thing since I moved into this apartment. I took the book with me from my previous one. Haven’t taken it out since.”
Loki frowns, “you lived in a different apartment?”
“Sure did.”
“When?”
“Ask me later.” Mobius winks.
Of course he would do that.
“Ready?” Mobius asks.
Loki nods, now holding the backup. “Ready.”
One last look at each other. Loki doesn’t know how Mobius can just not ask questions. How he could actually trust Loki with his literal future and let him do as he needs.
“You know where to find me. I’ll always lend help Loki. Now, remember, only plant the letter once you’re sure it’s me who lives here, ‘kay?”
Loki sighs, half heartedly rolling his eyes. “Yes, Mobius. I know how this works.”
Mobius grins. “I’ll see you later then.”
Sure he would. Loki nods, again. “I’ll see you,” and then, without thinking too hard about it, he’s gone.
It was easy to go further back in time and find Mobius’ flat empty. Loki is pretty sure his friend barely ever comes here. A look around confirms that all the furniture is in the same place, except this time Mobius’ desk was free of clutter. Only a pen laid on its rest on the left side of the desk, ready to be used whenever. There was also a landline phone. Small, much like the one Mobius had in his upstairs desk, but this one was a mustard yellow instead of black. Loki wasn’t sure if it looked new because Mobius didn’t have it in the future, or because it’d been covered by the mess of files and paper sheets from before.
All in all, the place had the same decorative objects Loki had noticed before, maybe with only a few missing—he supposed Mobius hadn’t acquired everything at this point in time.
He looked at the shelf, and surely enough, there it was: the large book covering its outermost corner. It was green. How fitting.
Loki carefully retired it, slipping the letter in the space where the back met the shelf. After making sure everything was in its place with nothing out of the ordinary, Loki took in deep breaths. Now to the second part of the plan: he checked his pocket, the official letter was still there.
With a large degree of mental preparation, he swerved, and stepped back into the time stream.
Back to work.
Notes:
Thank you for reading! And thank you to those who’ve left me such positive comments, you’re appreciated!!
Chapter 3: Numbers and Figures
Summary:
Loki learns what he least expects when he least expects it.
Notes:
Part of this chapter was the very first thing I wrote of this story. No beta still, I pray you’ll excuse any strangenesses.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Loki went back not too long after. Maybe a few weeks into his second round, once he found himself re-stumbling and not comprehending a word out of O.B.’s mouth. The letter plan had worked, somehow. Loki’s memory also proved rewarding once he led both him and Mobius to Mobius’ quarters himself as his friend confusedly read their letter and caught up.
That second time, Mobius had him sleep in his bed. Loki had felt awkward, insisting he could sleep just fine in the living room. Mobius insisted an actual bed allowed for actual rest. Optimum rest. And Loki needed to be in optimum conditions. Mobius was right; once Loki’s head hit an actual pillow, he was out. He slept like a log. For another night cycle. Mobius fed him after that, too.
A lot more time had gone by between the second and third time. On his third visit, Loki more or less had another nervous breakdown, something he wouldn’t care to admit had been coming whether he wanted it or not. Feelings of inadequacy and the sensation of hitting another dead end with his comprehension on quantumoid physics had him ranting away as soon as they stepped into Mobius’ apartment. Mobius did his best to keep up, but Loki was actually fine with him simply listening and not necessarily understanding or providing a solution. The tears came once the stress of every single minuscule circumstance rained down on him again like a meteor shower.
Talking about showers, Mobius made him take one after finding out it had been half a decade since Loki had last taken a break.
Loki protested, insisting a little too bitingly how taking showers didn’t matter and made absolutely no fucking difference. Mobius had physically pushed him under the shower spray, fully clothed, until Loki gave up and the fight left him. The rush of the water took the tension in his muscles down the drain. Once Mobius had retired to give him privacy, Loki stood there for probably more than an hour, slowly remembering how to take care of himself and coming to actually appreciate the clean scent of skin and hair wash. His body was physically clean at this particular point in time, but the shower somehow did wash away the negativity and desperation clinging to his very bones. Mobius had a set of sleepwear ready once he was done. Then Loki went straight to bed.
It was the best sleep he’d had in a century. Once he woke up, Mobius had food. Then Loki actually slept a few more hours before leaving again.
Each time, Mobius would add little notes to the letter. Probably whatever filled himself in on what Loki’s ‘visits’ consisted of.
After that third visit, Loki felt rejuvenated.
This time, he wouldn’t wait for things to get out of control; he’d take breaks every couple of years, whether he believed he needed them or not. In addition, he’d take advantage of the ’free’ moments where he’d sit in the archives to read or nap, revisit the time he and Mobius fraternized at the automat, etcetera. He’d talk to Mobius, to Ouroboros, to Sylvie; and to just about anyone that was willing to talk back. It lessened the blow from the knowledge that despite being surrounded by people, he was very alone in this experience of looping through time and saving everything.
He grew to especially cherish how his breaks with Mobius at his ‘home’ felt like a pause on the aforementioned everything. Life itself felt halted during such encounters. Whereas he first found the time-outs vexing and frustrating and pathetic for him to even need, now they felt consoling. These were now little untouchable pockets in time, where he could hide and feel slightly better. A pocket of warmth, somewhere not too bright and not too dark. The perfect sensation of limbo.
Each time Loki went to Mobius, the man received him the exact same way. Every time. Open arms, open mind, no questions Loki wouldn’t want to answer, warm meals, jokes funny only because of how bad they were, a squeeze on the shoulder, attentive blue eyes and a soothing voice. Mobius answered anything Loki ever asked, anything he was curious about. Questions on his miscellaneous belongings, his job, his previous apartment that had apparently been during his time as a Hunter. Loki enjoyed learning about Mobius, and he relished the opportunity of not having to think about his next move, his next approach, next idea, next plan. He could pick up his steps on being someone, if for a small while.
“You know I’m your carer now, right?”
Surprise pushes a scoff from Loki. “First you were my handler, then you were my friend, now you’re my carer?”
“I’m still your friend. I always was. I was just waiting for you to see that.”
Loki turns back to his food, shoving a piece of toast past his grinning lips.
“How ‘bout a massage?” Mobius gets up from behind the coffee table, rounding his way behind the settee where Loki sat.
Loki gives him a pointed, suspicious look. “A massage?”
“Yeah, have I never given you one before?”
“Yes, you have. And I assume you already knew that; you probably wrote about it in your letter.”
Mobius chuckles behind him. “Yeah well, bet you can’t even tell me when the last time I did it was.” Mobius points out.
Loki doesn’t reply right away, actually trying to think about it. But the silence stretches too long, so Mobius just chortles, setting to his task at once. It’s true Mobius had given him a brief shoulder kneading somewhen, but Loki had stopped keeping track of his visits when the numbers surpassed number five. Loki doesn’t know what exactly compelled Mobius to do this for him, it’s not like Loki directly asks him to. And Loki didn’t think he looked too tense… The massages were good, though. Excellent, actually. Although it did feel strange to eat while your shoulders were squeezed like dough. Loki thinks harder.
“Ah, I see.” He says out loud.
“Hmm?” Mobius hums above him.
“Mobius, is this payback for the time I invaded your space and fixed your tie?” He looks up at him.
Mobius’ frown is momentary, then the memory quickly catches up to him. “No, this isn’t payback Loki. I’m not that vengeful… am I making you uncomfortable?” His hands stop and pull back, voice tainted with concern—Loki feels the loss instantly.
“No, no! That’s not what I meant, really.”
Thankfully, Mobius didn’t take too much convincing; he was hands on almost as quickly as he was hands off. “Then… is it really that hard to believe I want to do this? That I’m giving you a shoulder rub willingly? With no catch?”
“There’s no catch?”
Mobius sighs, “no Loki, there's no catch.”
Loki feels himself frown, thinking about that for a minute. “I suppose I just can’t discern the reason why.”
“There’s a thousand reasons why, Loki. But sometimes, being a friend is reason enough. And sometimes, friends don’t need a reason to help or even pamper other friends…”
“I think I knew that, but, why not?”
“Because friends care for each other. Real ones care for the other’s wellbeing… and best friends, well, I suppose it just doubles all of it; and can even include shoulder massages, for example.”
Loki blinks.
Mobius’ hands slowly stop after saying those words, and Loki’s grateful, because he felt like he needed to stop.
What does that mean? What does Mobius mean? Did he…
Is Loki…?
Loki should not assume. He shouldn’t; people were rarely ever his friends. Best friends were simply out of orbit. The closest thing to a best friend was his brother, and Loki had a feeling it was simply because they were siblings. It was complicated, yet not that deep.
But Mobius’ words sounded like an implication. The kind that he, even a god, could not bear. He couldn’t afford to get it wrong. Not with Mobius. So surely Mobius didn’t mean what Loki’s ears think they just heard. Surely he meant something else and Loki is reading too far into it.
Panicking, Loki makes to get up, but Mobius quickly holds his shoulders, keeping him down.
“Nope, let that sink in Loki.” His voice is too knowing for Loki’s comfort. “Yes, I did just say you’re my best friend. At least I consider you to be.”
Loki is frozen in place. What?
“But,” Mobius continues, “I think you already knew that since long ago, you just didn’t allow yourself to think it.”
After some circling in his head, he finally says, “you’re my best friend. Did you know that?” Loki looks up at him again.
Mobius’ eyes were wide yet crinkled with soft happiness, he turns up in thought. “Hmmm, I guess I did know that. You’ve had some really shitty friends. I can tell I’ve been somewhat better than them.”
“I had no friends, Mobius. You know that too.”
“Well, you do now.” Mobius gives a final, solid squeeze to Loki’s shoulders, then walks around to sit beside him.
“I do.” Loki agrees, looking down at his hands, deciding to set his TVA machine soup remainders on the coffee table.
Mobius is right. He has friends; he had a best friend. And he’s also right that being one is reason enough to help and care for the other. They’re certainly reason enough to drive him forward. Loki turns to Mobius, who was already looking at him.
Best friend.
In all his silver haired, twinkle eyed glory.
I’m saving the world for you. I’m saving the universe for you.
They look at each other in silence that goes completely unregistered, their gazes were loud and so were the thoughts picking up speed in Loki’s head. Loki is warm with a strange sense of appreciation and something else he couldn’t place because he’s never felt it before. Loki had never been someone else’s best option. He didn’t know what it’s like to be thought about and regarded that way.
He’s beginning to learn, now.
Eventually Loki realizes that this moment, sitting next to each other in such quietude, looking into the universe inside each other's eyes, will only happen once. And it would most likely be an experience only he will get to remember.
“Best friend,” Loki says out loud.
“Best friend.” Mobius repeats amusedly.
I’m saving everything for you.
“You should write that down.”
“Already did,” Mobius replies with a smile.
Loki loves his smile.
Before he could think too hard on that and after making sure the letter was in his pocket, Loki slipped, shifting back into his body in the future but also his past, to when Timely first got to the TVA and O.B. explained their newest plan for the crew to follow.
Loki is looking straight ahead when he jumps, Mobius’ face being replaced by Mobius’ face a day or so into what Loki calls his newly-original timeline. This wasn’t the same Mobius that had just called him his best friend, but also, yes it was. Mobius’ attention is fully set on Ouroboros, a thoughtful furrow to his brow as he processed every word. O.B. moves over to his miniature mockup, showing everyone a visual representation of their mission. Loki moves along with everyone else, slowly, silently; not paying any attention for he didn’t need to, he simply looks at Mobius this time.
That’s my best friend.
He doesn’t even know he’s said that to me.
He doesn’t even know how much he’s helped me.
He doesn’t even know how important he is.
Mobius, possibly sensing Loki’s staring, looks back at Loki. Loki looks away a quarter of a second before Mobius’ gaze lands on him, pretending to listen to O.B. and whoever else was talking. Once sure Mobius isn’t suspiciously eyeing him anymore, his line of sight drifts back down, to take him in.
Loki’s doing all this for him, isn’t he? For them. For everyone in this room, and in existence.
Back to work
“So, O.B.,” he interrupts the poor man as he excitedly dictates his plan. “Particle accelerators, do they have anything to do with our solution?”
Everyone frowns at him from the corner of his eye.
“Of course! It's essential, actually. We also employ particle dequantifiers to counteract the subtentrics inside the isolation chambers!”
“Tell me more about that…”
The crew watches like they’d grown two extra heads. Mobius frowns even harder when Loki continues to answer coherently and educatedly. Loki has to ignore those eyes on him for the rest of that loop’s lesson.
Back to fucking work.
Notes:
As you can see, in this version of the story, Loki realizes a few essential things earlier than in the show. Just because the thought process felt natural/fitting to me.
I often contemplate posting every chapter of this story at once because to this day it still feels tedious. But I’m working on my fictional-literary-work-posting discipline. So I may just see this weekly schedule through.
Thank you again for reading!
Chapter 4: Science and Progress Don’t Speak as Loud as my Heart
Summary:
Mobius asks something important. Loki is confused.
Notes:
Late posting bc my dumb ass cannot seem to assimilate or get a grip on the concept of time. Ironic.
I’m tired asf from the week but I must give the people what they WANT.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A man that found it easier to control all of time and space rather than defeat all the other versions of himself. That’s what He Who Remains was. There was a lot to it, and that lot perturbed Loki’s dreams. Because yes, it was terrifying. Terrifying that one singular person who seemingly possessed no magic could create and upkeep an entire organization and more. It was suspicious.
Psychotic. Especially for Loki.
Loki was insane, selfish, and evil if you asked the right people, but even he fell short in comparison to this. He’d never admit it, probably, but even his imagination and desires had a limit. King of one of or perhaps all Nine Realms had been enough. King of space sounded plain old ridiculous, full offense to Mobius. King of Time and Space? One had to be a psychopath of sorts to think that way.
Most would say that despite Loki having (nearly) everything growing up, he still wanted more. That probably used to be true. But now, the notion was laughable compared to the brutal, infinite empire He Who Remains—Remained—had managed to build and keep under wraps.
Of course he didn’t do it alone. But he sure had no problem making it look that way.
There’s the argument that he did it for the well-being of the multiverse. For the well-being of life as we know it. But no. When you do things with such a purpose, yes you go through lengths to achieve it, but in the end, it’s always simpler. It’s more simple than all this.
This was scary. This was having the ultimate control of everything and far more.
There’s a reason He Who Remained went into hiding. Why he eradicated people’s recollections, repeatedly, and made them believe it was three space lizards handling the course of past, present, and future.
Why did he hide? What went wrong?
Was it his little desire for partnership? Or perhaps subjects just worked better that way; when their god was different, unobtainable, not fabricated from your own image.
It was a lot to think about. A puzzle Loki wasn’t even sure needed solving, but that occupied his mind oftentimes. Especially during all this time spent trying to fix the mess left behind by his system.
“How long has it been now?” Mobius’s question drags his thoughts back into the world.
Loki laid sprawled on the leather sofa—he was well acquainted with it now, just as with everything inside Mobius’ apartment. Today, he stares at the ceiling, not quite memorizing it, since he wasn’t really looking, just using it as a visual rest.
“I don’t know, uhm—a century and a half, roughly?” He finally replies to Mobius’ question.
“Mm…”
Loki turns to him, not expecting the silence. But Mobius doesn’t engage further; he goes out of sight into the kitchen, and the familiar sounds of Mobius preparing him a meal begin. Loki wasn’t really hungry, but he lets Mobius be. He knows it gives him something to do while Loki lies here unmoving.
Sometimes he needed to do only that, not move, not think. For a while.
“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Mobius asks much later.
“Yes, Mobius. I come here, to you, as often as I can. And when I do, I eat food, and I get some sleep; which we both know are things you humans don’t need a lot of in the TVA, so imagine gods. I really am better than you think, I assure you.”
“Mm.” Mobius is quiet for a little more. “Is that all you get, when you come here for help?”
“I mean, we also talk, as we are right now. We often have an iteration of this conversation, for example. But we talk about other things.”
“Such as?”
Loki thinks. “You’ve told me stories about your work life, missions you’ve done, variants you’ve encountered… and sometimes you simply listen to me rant or cry about everything and how it just seems to be taking forever.”
“Fair. Wanna do some of that?”
“Not right now. You’ve slowly convinced me it’ll be fine.” A lopsided smile grows on his face.
“Good, because it will be. You’re doing really well, Loki. What else has come up in conversation?”
Loki thinks some more. “You’ve also mentioned how bitter you are at Hector being allowed a Flerken. Which ‘everyone knows is just a cat at the TVA’.” Loki grins.
Mobius’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise, he laughs. “Of course I have…” then, after a while, “is that all?”
Loki looks at him.
“More or less… for now, since I suspect you want to add something else to the list from all this asking.”
“You said you’ve been taking care of yourself…”
“Yes…” Loki’s eyes narrow now, pondering why Mobius keeps focusing on that.
“In all aspects?”
Loki frowns, carefully thinking the question through. “Yes…? I’ve even taken showers and even a bath at one point…”
“Would you like another one now?”
“No, it had been to aid mental affliction at the time, this version of my body showered quite recently, actually.”
“Yeah, I’d say you did a few hours ago.” Mobius looked down at his watch. “Anything else—…”
“Nothing else. There isn’t really anything else I need.”
“S‘that so? Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure? What are you beating around, Mobius? What else could I possibly need? If you mean more sleep, I could get that whenever.”
“I'm just… I guess it isn’t strictly my business… but based on this letter of mine, I’m your carer.”
Loki sighs again, “right, and you have cared for me, so…” Loki was still confused.
“And you’ve cared for you?”
Loki frowns harder. “I told you I have. I’ve come here every time I need a break. I don’t—…”
“And that’s it? You haven’t gone anywhere else for yourself? Haven’t gone somewhere outside the TVA? Anywhere with someone? Somewhere with even just you and yourself maybe?”
“Not… not really? It hadn’t occurred to me, and since it hadn’t, it likely means I don’t want to be anywhere else. I also don’t want to be by myself, it already feels like I am whenever I’m looping.”
“It’s just… if what you’re saying is accurate, and you’ve only ever strayed from the path to come here and talk and eat and sleep etcetera… I just find it hard to believe you haven’t had any, how do I put it, hedonistic urges.”
Loki frowns so hard it almost hurts.
“I just don’t know how to fit into my head you’ve spent a century and a half in full abstinence.”
Loki blinks so many times. What?
A laugh sputters out of him, disbelieving. “You’re—what?”
Mobius shrugs.
“There’s—… there’s no time for that.” Loki states, not knowing what else to say.
“I thought you were controlling time.”
“I’m not controlling it, I’m simply navigating through it. Before it actually runs out.”
“But you could do other things and go to other places, right?”
“Theoretically, yes. But I don’t need to.”
“Right, yeah—you’re right.” Mobius stands up, heading to the kitchen and opening some cabinets.
Loki watches him, the conversation feeling almost bizarre. Mobius comes back with two short highball glasses and a bottle of amber-colored liquid, he sets everything on the coffee table in front of Loki.
“Here we go,” he says, already serving two fingers of what Loki assumes might be whiskey.
“What are you doing?”
“You don’t need to go anywhere else to have a little fun, I guess. So here, have a drink and relax a little.”
“I can’t get drunk, I’m still at work.”
“No one said anything about getting drunk. And we both know it’d take more than this bottle for you to get there,” Mobius smirks, passing him the glass.
Loki takes it, a little hesitant, but he supposed Mobius made sense. “What is this, anyway?”
“Just some distilled spirit that passes as whiskey, nothing that could count as top shelf anywhere, but it’s all I got.” Mobius sips on his own glass.
Loki copies him, knowing instantly that Mobius is correct, this isn’t the best of the best, but it is alcohol. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t remember the last time he had a drink. “It’s not bad,” he says, as a way of thanking Mobius, even though he knows his friend will see right through it.
Mobius grins, sitting back on the couch next to Loki. “You should go dancing sometime.”
Loki scoffs at how ridiculous that sounds, “that might just be my limit, not even I can dance at a time like this…”
“Hmm, shame. It’d be good for you.”
“You’re good for me,” Loki replies without thinking. Mobius blinks at him, Loki clears his throat. “This is enough, being here is enough…”
“If you say so…”
Loki nods, quickly downing the rest of the mid-tier ‘whiskey’, if one could call it that. The TVA was a sad place oftentimes.
The rest of the visit went by comfortably despite Loki’s strange ‘slip up’ comment. He and Mobius continued to chat, and Loki felt warm again. It could’ve been the alcohol, but Mobius’ presence in itself felt comforting and homey. Mobius was good for him, there’s no denying that, and Loki would not be anywhere else but here with him in this stolen little piece of time.
They sat there, knees touching thighs, Mobius’ arm laying on the back of the couch, hand so close to Loki’s shoulder; Loki wished he would touch.
Perhaps… perhaps Mobius was up to something, and Loki did need other things… nothing he’d be admitting or addressing out loud, however. This was fine. This was good. It was enough.
“And that is why the variables within a superflux are very important. One must make sure to count them all in, otherwise it’d be very hard to calculate the cinergy inside the temporal extractors.” O.B. states.
“Right,” Loki replies. “How about the premises? What of the quantification of the temporal particles? How does one set the extractors in order to reverse the automated subtraction of the particles?”
“You don’t need to. In that case, it’d be way easier to simply quantify the subatomic rig engines to sustain a larger cinergy frame.”
Loki takes a moment to internalize and make sense of that, but he… doesn’t see the sense in it. “Can you walk me through the subatomic rig engines again?”
“Before you do that, O.B., here, have some hot cocoa to replenish your brains a little.” Mobius interrupts, two cocoa machine cups in his hands. He passes one to O.B., then places a hand on Loki’s back, giving him the second.
“Thank you,” Loki tells him as he accepts it.
“What exactly are you guys doing right now?”
“O.B. is giving me a brief lesson about the Loom’s functions.”
“Is there really any time for that?” Mobius asks, his hand retiring and going inside his pocket. Loki misses the touch instantly.
“There is,” Loki answers before O.B. or even Timely can claim the opposite. “I already know about the codification and commands for the serving engines in the Core, so this extra information will only help us along.”
“Mmm… how is it that you know that stuff, exactly?” Mobius tilts his head, squinting.
Loki laughs, “don’t you? It’s in one of the entry videos you showed me.” A lie, but it gives him time.
“Right.” A not very buyable lie, for Mobius, but it’ll do.
“I don’t think you should be wasting our time this way, Loki. If O.B. here already knows everything there is to know, he and Timely should be the ones doing the work. They should be working on the other thing.”
“Yes, you’re right, Sylvie. And you could actually be of help by looking this up,” Loki quickly drabbles some words onto a sticky note, passing it to the firm pillar of protests that is his female (presenting) counterpart.
She takes it, eyeing him. “Where am I supposed to find this? What is it anyway?” She asks upon reading the note.
“The archives. And you’ll see once you find it.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to find it without running into trouble?” Sylvie challenges.
“I can go with her,” Mobius suggests.
Loki feels disappointed at that. He doesn’t actually need any of the information he’s telling Sylvie to obtain, he just needs her off their back. But since it’s supposed to be a realistic distraction, it only makes sense for Mobius to help her. But Loki wants Mobius to stay.
Give and take is the nature of the game.
He looks at Mobius, Mobius looks at him, and judging by the twinkle in his eye, Mobius already knows Loki is bluffing—Sylvie would too if she wasn’t distracted by wanting to fix the Loom as soon as possible, too. Mobius probably already read the note and knows it’s all horseshit. But his secret confidant can always read a room, and he’s obviously trying to help Loki out.
Loki sighs. “Fine, you guys go.”
“After you ma’am.” Mobius gestures for Sylvie to go. She rolls her eyes as she leaves the room. Mobius gives him a wink before he is gone, too. Loki aches.
He aches.
Loki appreciates O.B. and his ways of teaching; he’s excelled at helping Loki understand things from net zero. But Loki is guilty of momentarily wishing it was Mobius teaching him instead, this time. Loki’s around everyone all the time, but he barely ever interacts with them heart to heart. It makes him miss them. And miss Mobius.
He sucks in a deep breath, willing himself to focus back on the task at hand, downing the rest of the overly sweet Mobius-pick-me-up hot drink. “Alright… where were we?”
Notes:
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 5: You Don’t Know How Lovely You Are
Summary:
Loki ironically gets a sense of deja-vu.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Per Mobius’ request, Loki never read Mobius’ notes on their letter. But Loki believed he had a good idea of what he wrote there.
Loki guessed Mobius must write down the meals he gave Loki, because there would always be variety, instead of the same assortment of what Mobius called ‘TV-dinners’.
It’d take longer for Mobius to read everything each time, given the increase of information submitted. Loki brought up the best friends thing one time, after Mobius nodded at his own notes on the letter.
“I’m honored, Mobius. Yet at the same time, I’m confused. The TVA, in all its bureaucratic nightmare glory, has over a million people smart and worthy of the title of being your best friend.”
“And yet somehow none of them are. Don’t ask me why, I think it's one of those things that just… happens.”
Loki had nodded, slowly accepting he’d just have to get used to it. To being worthy…
Loki had dreams sometimes. Mostly when he slept in a bed. There were dreams about Asgard, about the multiverse ending, about He Who Remains having a last cruel laugh, about him and the crew eating key lime pie at the automat, and about whatever blend of nonsense his brain produced. He’d just woken up from the latter to hear Mobius’ voice hush talking in the living room, speaking to who Loki suspected must’ve been B-15, convincing her they were working on finding Sylvie, or anything else that could buy them time here unbothered.
Loki liked Mobius’ bed. It was surprisingly adequate for it being standard issue at TVA. The bedding and linens were clean and fresh and often made him feel like a willing captee to it. The best part was that hints of Mobius’ own scent lingered here and there, which was possibly a very unconventional thing to appreciate, but it made him feel accompanied sans the embarrassment of asking Mobius to actually be with him while he slept.
For the first time since he started taking these breaks, he found he couldn’t fall back asleep. He was a little tired, but not enough to pass out again, it seemed. Thoughts of loneliness kept him awake, and eventually, he gave up on sleep and went back to the living room. No need to waste the company he could actually have. Now he found himself sitting on the carpet by the foot of the leather sofa, surfing through one of Mobius’ magazines, right after teaching him how to properly make tea for the fourth time.
“I’m taking you jet skiing, when this is over.” Loki says, flipping to the next page on Yamaha watercrafts.
Mobius snickers as he carefully approaches, setting down a steaming yellow cup on the coffee table, “yeah, perhaps my life would be almost complete after that.”
“What else would complete it, do you think?”
Mobius hums in thought. “I don’t know… I guess I’ll have to put a bit more head into that.”
“Have you no other dreams besides riding into the sunset on a jet ski?” Loki teases, blowing on his tea.
“I think I’d like to go to parks and stuff, maybe travel by boat, too. I don’t know, I think I’d like to see things happen in front of me, and interact with them. Do whatever I feel like doing without the worry of causing the timeline to branch.”
“You’d like to make your own decisions,” Loki suggests.
“Yeah…” Mobius looks off to the side, thoughts clearly running through his head.
“You will. You’ll get to make your own decisions, Mobius.” It’s a promise. “You, in a way, already get to make them, actually.”
“I guess so…”
Loki sets his cup down, a humidity ring had already breached into the cured wood surface of the table along with a few old ones. Loki thought about how today's ring was completely temporary, and wouldn’t be there for the rest of time at all.
As Loki gathers the few magazines he’d littered around, an acute sting of pain jabs at the muscle on the back of his neck. Loki hisses, lightly cursing as he instantly tries to un-tense the knot that had been bothering him for who knows how long now. He really isn’t sure how it’s possible to take physical ailments with you when time slipping into an otherwise fit and un-hurt version of your body, but it happened. The little spasm was only part of it, there was tension on the expanse of his shoulders and upper back, broadly running all the way up to the back of his head. Sometimes he could even feel the pain of the pull on his forehead.
“Still hurts?” Mobius asks concerned.
“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll stop, though.”
“Maybe I could help,” Mobius suggests.
“You already made me tea…”
“So?” Mobius moves to sit on the couch, right behind Loki. “I’ve read you love my massages, anyways.”
It was a joke, and Loki would’ve shaken his head at it had his neck been more flexible, and had the statement not rang as true as it did. Loki did enjoy Mobius’ massages. Which is why he allows the man to loosen his shirt collar and gently prod at the back of his neck.
Loki likes when Mobius touches him, which is why he let him.
A minute, then two, went by; the only thing breaking the comfortable silence being Loki’s pronounced breathing as the nasty knot on his trapezius loosens and gives. It takes some effort, but soon it is nearly gone. Still, Mobius continues pressing gentle lines with his fingertips along the rest of Loki’s neck and shoulders, and Loki lets him. Wherever Mobius touches, Loki lets him.
Wherever Mobius wanted to touch, Loki would let him.
Loki would let him, because Loki wanted him to touch. Wanted to be touched.
If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend things were more than just this, could almost pretend this was all he needed. And that he could live with just this.
“Have you been getting everything you need?” Mobius’ quiet voice asks behind him.
Loki’s eyes snap open, he turns around; could Mobius, all of a sudden, read minds? “What?”
“Just wondering if you’ve been taking care of yourself,” there it was again. Two times had Mobius asked this kind of thing.
“I have everything I need,” Loki says.
“Do you?”
“You give me everything I need.”
Mobius smiles, a little too self deprecating for Loki’s liking. “Do I?”
“You do. You should give yourself more credit, Mobius.”
“So should you.”
“I will—I do.”
Silence follows, and they simply stare at each other.
Loki isn’t sure how much time passed, so entranced was he by the blue in Mobius’ eyes, the shape of his nose, such closeness, the scent that lingered in his sheets but was completely present here, now, up close.
“Do something for me…?” Mobius asks.
Loki blinks the hypnosis away, “yes?”
“Think about it. Think about what else you’d like to have. You deserve more than meals and sleep. You deserve nice things, good things, fun things. Think about it, and tell me next time, yeah?”
Loki thinks he already knows what he wants. What else he’d like to have. It’s already right in front of him.
It’s not that Loki doesn’t deserve it, it’s just that he doesn’t feel that he does. Some things are too extraordinary to deserve. Loki is fine. He is fine, and he has everything of importance to get through this. Loki is very fine. Wanting something doesn’t mean he must have it—he would know.
Still, Mobius writes it down, Loki’s homework.
And Loki is asked the next time, especially since he obviously takes much longer than usual to return—Loki avoids going back once he couldn’t come up with something different for him to want. He didn’t have the energy to pretend after that. Especially when he was very sure his desires all but crossed a line—he was sure Mobius didn’t mean things that way.
The thing is, you don’t do that; you don’t fall for your best friend. You don’t long for them, you don’t ache for them, you don’t dream of them. Not in that way. And yet, Loki did.
Loki knew what he wanted. He’d known, even when he’d been unaware. But he couldn’t bring himself to voice it, or to lie. He got his occasional sleep in the usual random corners of the TVA, little interludes he convinced himself were power naps. It was only once inspiration struck, and he felt he had a good enough recreational activity to give Mobius, that he visited again.
“So, I’m hoping you remembered my apparent question from last time—…” Mobius started a few minutes into Loki waking up from his—this time real—nap. If over 5 hours of sleep could be called a nap.
“I’d like to watch a movie.” Loki smiles.
Mobius is pleasantly surprised. “Well alright! Which one?”
Loki hadn’t thought that far. “What would you recommend?”
Mobius observes him long and hard. “I’m guessing no sci-fi.”
Loki scoffs, “perhaps not this occasion, no.”
Mobius hums, approaching his small, robust TV and switching it on. “A thriller? Maybe no horror, I’m guessing you’ve seen enough.”
“Do you have a favorite film yourself?”
“Well, I don’t have the largest repertoire, and we said no sci-fi, but I remember liking this one movie called Jurassic Park. It’s an inaccurate interpretation of Earth’s Jurassic period specimens brought back to life during the human era. It’s a little ridiculous, and naturally everything goes wrong, but it did keep me on my toes.”
“Jurassic period… you mean dinosaurs and colossals?"
“Basically, yeah. There are tons of inaccuracies but it’s prehistoric animals to human society meets human society, sort of.”
“We can watch that one, then. I’m sure I’ll encounter something of interest.”
“Awesome,” Mobius then surfs through a selection menu on the screen, a half grin on his lips.
Loki isn’t really sure how good the movie could actually be, what with Mobius loving automat key lime pie and all. But Loki will give it a chance, even if watching Mobius turns out to be more entertaining than the film itself.
The premise is explained very early on into the story, Loki now understands it wasn’t a story about humans coexisting with the prehistoric creatures on a daily but about a terrible experiment gone wrong. Creating a place for humans to interact with dangerous ancient beasts didn’t sound good on paper, so Loki couldn’t understand how someone would go through with it anyway. At least it was fiction… when it was made. Loki has to ask if the dinosaurs were real sometimes; he never actually saw one for himself, after all. Mobius informs him dinosaurs don’t reappear on Earth for two more centuries after that, so no, they were partly puppets, partly computer generated.
The movie itself is entertaining enough, Loki could appreciate the occasional comedic tidbits and agreeable acting from the children’s part. It was an acceptable piece of media, Loki gathers, but an hour or so in, the comfort of the leather settee beneath him along with Mobius’ warmth ever present by his side lull Loki to a state of relaxation surpassing original calculations. It was a passive activity, so much so that a heaviness overtakes his bones and eyelids and somewhere along the way, he falls asleep.
He wakes up possibly hours later, no movie playing, only the menu displayed on the TV’s screen.
Loki’s head, however, lays on Mobius’ lap, one of Mobius’ hands softly cradled the crown of it, while the other rests near his chest. Mobius had fallen asleep too. Head strewn back over the back of the sofa, breathing pattern gentle as ever. Loki had never seen him sleep before. He figures he should sit up and away from Mobius’ lap and perhaps leave or sleep somewhere else, stop disturbing Mobius.
But he couldn’t. He feels much too selfish today. Mobius is soundly asleep, and Loki could happily rejoin the cause right as he was. It’s not like Mobius had readjusted him to lay away from him, Mobius had apparently let it be. If Loki allows himself some wishful thinking, it would seem he even caressed his head during.
You deserve nice things—good things.
So Loki lets himself have this. If Mobius was ever uncomfortable, he would tell him. For now, Loki gets the blessing of sleeping upon his best friend’s thighs. He feels warmer than ever. So safe. So correct. For once.
They must’ve stayed there for ages, because for the first time in Loki’s visits, the world around him begins noodling away around him. And it was a gargantuan shame, because right before time runs out, Loki had just begun to understand something.
Hours after purposely falling asleep on Mobius’ lap, Loki wakes again, this time to the feeling of fingers smoothing at the strands at the top of his head. It’s a divine sensation; could’ve kept him asleep for the rest of time, had Loki not realized how unusual a thing it was to feel, and that only a few people could possibly be caressing him that way. So he opens his eyes, prepared to wake up from the soft cloud of a wistful dream and into a realm where no one is displaying such affection towards him. But it was like not waking up at all. Mobius looks down at him, a soft smile growing below his mustache, a thumb gently rubbing circles against his scalp.
“Mornin’,” Mobius tells him. His other hand now did rest fully on Loki’s chest, this time holding a piece of paper. “Here’s your letter. Fully updated.”
“Right, thank you.” Loki takes hold of it, reluctant to finally sit up and give Mobius his space. He should definitely do that now. He should.
“Sleep well? You looked very at peace—I was going to move you over to the bed but we both know I’m not strong or skilled enough to do that without waking you up.” Mobius chuckles, his thumb—his fingers are still caressing him, almost absentmindedly.
“This was the best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time.” He was saying the honest truth, and he was glad Mobius could tell that it was.
“If that’s so, you’re free to get on my lap anytime,” Mobius grins. It visually takes him a second to realize how that must sound, ears turning pink and scratching the back of his head nervously. “I mean like—…”
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind?”
“Me falling asleep on you like this? Invading your space.”
“Loki, I put you here. You fell asleep on my shoulder, actually. But you’re tall and seemed a little awkward so I moved you down… did that bother you?”
“No. Obviously not.”
“Then, ditto.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Mobius replies, resuming his caress on Loki’s head, the thumb on his other hand did the same on his chest, ever so softly. Small movements that feel to Loki like a crater on the moon.
Loki slowly puts the letter in his pocket, then touches his fingertips to Mobius’. “Did you sleep well?” He asks as a form of distraction.
“I did,” Mobius’ voice is almost a whisper. “Who knew being sandwiched between the couch and a god could be so relaxing. We should half watch movies more often.”
Loki purses his lips in a suppressed smile. “I should lay on you more often.” Loki says it just to say something, but truth was he was getting lost again. So in between the sensation of feeling so much of Mobius at once. His thighs, his gentle—too respectful—hands, the warmth radiating from his lower abdomen, even his stare feels physical.
You should touch me more often. You should look at me more often.
Mobius caress over his middle solidifies, present, giving and taking from Loki’s will to continue being a perfectly normal (best) friend.
“Loki?” Mobius’ eyes look into his.
“Yes?”
“Got everything you need?”
With an intake of breath, Loki finally understands what compelled people in states of helplessness to get on their knees and beg. He gets it now. Loki doesn’t need food right now, didn’t need sleep, he barely needed to talk. What he does need is whatever Mobius is willing to give him. Whatever it is—and Loki didn’t care if it wasn’t what Loki himself longed for—he needs it. And he would accept it. Whatever it was. Loki tells him as much, but before Mobius can speak, or act, time stops providing to the fabric of reality, and things slowly begin dissolving. Much to Loki’s surprise and horror. He slips away before he could watch the same happen to Mobius, again.
It doesn’t leave his mind, though. Loki wants to know what Mobius was going to say, what he would’ve done. Something was telling Loki that Mobius had to know. That his friend must be asking those questions on purpose. Mobius knew Loki, he often already knew the answer to questions before he asked them to Loki. But, Mobius couldn’t possibly know and not turn him down. Mobius isn’t cruel, he wouldn’t lead him on, wouldn’t make sure that all his versions asked Loki the same question. He wouldn’t make sure to let Loki know he deserved good things if he didn’t believe it.
Maybe Mobius wanted Loki to go out there and do something for himself with someone. With someone else. Blow off some steam, entertain an idea or two, break many rules, feel good and free. But Loki, for once in his long winding life, didn’t want that. Not with random people. Not with just anyone. Loki didn’t want to just go back in time and relive some desultory night of debauched fornication with any past lovers. And perhaps that’s where the fault was.
Mobius knows what Loki needs, but he doesn’t know who the correct person to provide that actually is.
And it terrified Loki having to reveal it.
Notes:
Thank you as always for reading and commenting! It truly means a lot.
Two more chapters to go!
Chapter 6: I Had to Find You
Notes:
Early post because I have evil things planned for next week.
Hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite it all, Loki couldn’t help trying again. Going back to that little piece of time he’d stolen with Mobius. He went back, let Mobius read the letter, and waited for whatever Mobius would say or do first.
“Hmm… okay.” Mobius spoke as he concluded reading, looking back up at Loki. “Okay… how are you feeling today?”
“I-I’m fine… not too tired, actually. I don’t want to sleep. Yet.”
“Fair,” Mobius takes one last look at the letter, folding it back up and putting it on the coffee table at arms length from Loki, probably with the intention of filling in whatever happened later. “If I’m correct, it would seem it's massage day today.”
Loki couldn’t believe his ears. “Massage day? How could you possibly dictate that?” He was so close to straight up opening the letter and reading whatever Mobius wrote to convince himself to massage Loki. Again.
Amused, Mobius approaches him. “It’s up to discretion. All depends on how tense you’re lookin’. How pent up…”
“I’m not tense,” Loki tells him, instantly aware of the rigid state of his shoulders.
Mobius only gives him a look that said it all, rolling up his sleeves, and Loki sighs. “Jacket off,” Mobius tells him.
Say no more, Loki thinks, automatically taking his coat off so quickly he flushes from embarrassment, which he hides with, “I should stop coming here.”
“I disagree,” Mobius says behind him, strong hands already on Loki’s shoulders. It simultaneously feels like an excellent and monstrous idea.
“You disagree with everything I say,” Loki retorts.
“Not with everything, only with the… incorrect things, let’s say.”
“See? Disagreeing. I’m not even that tense.”
Mobius squeezes then, and the muscles adjoining Loki’s shoulder and neck set with momentary pain. Loki hisses.
“I’d say it’s you who disagrees with everything I say.” Mobius’ smirk is loud and clear in his voice.
Loki feels a violent urge to kiss it right off him. He scowls, instead.
“Relax, this is a team effort. I can’t break down the boulders growing from your shoulders if you don’t chill and breathe.”
Loki sighs again and unfolds his arms, closing his eyes, focusing on breathing instead of how much his very skin yearned for Mobius’ touch.
“That’s it,” Mobius whispers behind him.
Closing his eyes was a bad idea. Letting Mobius touch him was a bad idea. Ever coming here was a bad idea.
Mobius presses harder, as if sensing Loki’s reluctance to let go. Minutes would pass before Loki actually allows himself to feel any sort of relief from Mobius’ friendly ministrations.
Calm the fuck down, would you? You should enjoy this. It’s the most you’ll probably get.
With that in mind, Loki exhales, just letting it happen. Memorizing the feeling of his friend’s hands, the patterns employed against his muscles.
“Loosen the tie for me, would you?” Mobius’ tone is low and as easy as his prodding.
Loki follows suit, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt while he was at it. He remembers doing as much the first time they did this. Now Mobius’ fingers touch more skin, pushing some of Loki’s long hair to the side, pressing gently—assertively. Loki can’t help recalling how Mobius had caressed his head on the visit prior to this one. How tender he’d been, how natural. Just as he is now.
“You know it’ll be alright, right Loki?”
Loki softly nods, “I know. You’ve brainwashed me into thinking so.”
“What else have I convinced you of?” Mobius asks him.
“That you like giving massages more than you let on,”
Mobius snorts behind him, Loki grins.
“What else?”
Loki’s eyes reopen, he must’ve closed them again somewhere along the way. Loki keeps quiet for a little, til Mobius gives that final reassuring squeeze to his shoulders, making his way around to sit next to him as he often did.
“That you believe I deserve good things.”
“Don’t you?”
“Maybe… I deserve some good things, I suppose.”
“You deserve all good things.“
“Not all. We both know not all.”
Mobius studies him, trying to figure out exactly what made Loki say that. Eventually, he speaks, “well, I guess I will have to disappoint you again with what I'm about to say…”
“Which is?”
“That I disagree. You deserve all good things.”
Loki can’t help but smile, “you’re not disappointing me. You're only proving I’m right; you disagree with everything I say.”
Mobius smiles in turn, then, he presses closer, right to Loki’s ear. “I’m proving me right. I only disagree when you’re incorrect.”
Mobius tells him like it’s a secret. As if the intimacy of whispering those words was necessary. When Mobius draws back to look at him, Loki has to swallow down anything that would have pushed him forward and towards the man they had both agreed was his best friend.
Mobius has to know. He has to know.
“Hey,” Mobius touches a careful hand to Loki’s knee, squeezing lightly. “Don’t go tensing up again, we just eased you up a little.”
Loki can feel his eyes fixing on Mobius’ hand, then run up his arm, to the open chest facing him. Loki realizes something right then and there, he didn’t only want Mobius touching him, he wanted to touch Mobius, too. “Maybe I need some more easing up,” Loki jokes, as another stupid form of distraction. It doesn’t serve him very well.
“Mmm, and how do you suggest we go about that?”
Loki blinks at the tone, because it wasn’t very casual at all. It was, if Loki dares suggest himself, bordering on suggestive.
Is Loki losing his mind? Maybe this was what descending into complete madness is like.
“Sparring. I need to slay or punch something.” It’s definitely not what he sincerely had in mind, but it’s what he resolves to saying, still fighting for his life and his friendly antics.
Mobius actually laughs. “Well, I’m no Thor, so I’m not sure how many punches I can take. But if you need to,” Mobius shrugs.
“Gods no, I can’t punch you.” Loki blurts.
”Hmm…” Mobius looks around, “a pillow, then?”
“No—well…” Loki considers it, actually. “No, actually I don’t need to punch anything…”
“Okay,” Mobius is still amused. “What do you need, then?”
If Loki had a penny…
Loki stares at Mobius, for he couldn’t do much else. “I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you agree you disagree with everything I say?” It sounds like a trick question at its purest. Is it a trick? Loki isn’t sure. But he wants to know the answer anyway.
“I don’t know how to actually answer that without some kind of paradox forming, Lokes. When have I ever actually disagreed with you?”
It's Loki the one giving a look that says it all this time around.
“Fine. I mean, I agree with you… sometimes.” His smile is playful and a little goofy.
“Fine, do you agree the instant chocolate from the machines upstairs is much too sweet? And that the soup from the same machine is overly salty?”
Mobius gapes. “They’re the best and only I've ever had! How would I know?”
“I should take you out to eat real food.”
“I agree,” Mobius rests his head on his left hand, arm resting on the back of the sofa, watching Loki with what he can at least admit must be affection.
“We should both go out dancing some time. Agree?”
“Okay, I agree.”
“You too, deserve good things. Do you disagree?”
Mobius takes a moment to think through his apparent surprise. “Sure… as do you.” His voice is a whisper now.
“I have everything I need.” Loki states, whispering back. “Do you agree with that?”
“What’s everything you need?”
“Whatever you give me. Anything you give me… do you disagree?” Instead of replying, Mobius looks away, to the letter still resting on the coffee table. Loki follows his gaze, then reaches out to grab it, holding it between them, “give me one last good reason I shouldn’t read this.”
“It’s private,” Mobius says easily.
Loki’s sigh borders on a groan, not expecting defeat so quickly. Not expecting to respect Mobius enough to grant him such privacy.
“I’ll give you anything you want Loki. Anything you need. Anything you voice. I’ll give it to you.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“I disagree. Strongly.”
This whole talk had been all banter and fun. But now, Loki feels like crying. Because there is no way. There is no way Mobius could like him enough, like him that way. Want him that way. Love him that way.
“I suppose I was wrong then. You can’t give me what I need, Mobius. What I want.”
“Says who?”
“I do.”
“Maybe I should be the one deciding whether I can give you something or not. Tell me what it is, and I’ll decide.”
Loki wants to. He wants to say it, yet he can’t push it out. Instead, he looks anywhere else, feeling foolish once tears are freshly rolling down his face. Of all the times to cry, this didn’t have to be one of them. Loki readjusts himself to face mostly away from Mobius, since apparently the moisture in his eyes is not stopping.
There’s a sigh next to him, and a minute later, Mobius shuffles and rests a gentle hand on Loki’s back, reassuring. Loki silently cries some more, still unsure if it’s from frustration, fear, exhaustion, pain… from confusion, maybe? He really can’t tell. Mobius’ hand stays there. So tender—supportive. It hits Loki that people never touch him that way. It’s almost…
“Why do you touch me like you love me?” The question is pulled from him by some invisible force, and once it’s out, he can’t take it back. But so be it. “You don’t… your future self—I don’t think you touch me like that.” Loki isn’t sure if his words made sense.
Mobius seems to understand anyways. “Maybe because right now I know I’m unlikely to find out—unlikely to regret or feel embarrassed about anything I never actually did. Only you would know. And it’s you who has to know.”
That makes Loki turn back. Mobius is a little closer than he expected, but being caught in his orbit didn’t bother Loki. One more time, Loki observes his face. Learns it. Wants to feel it.
A steady hand comes to touch the edge of Loki’s cheek—Mobius’ thumb gently swipes at a tear, then stays. Mobius’ right hand does the same on his other side, drying Loki’s face as best he can. Once he’s done, those hands retire, and like the first time Loki came here, he helplessly whimpers at the loss. Mobius is kind enough to return them, pushing some of Loki’s hair behind his ears.
“What do you need, Loki?”
Loki wets his lips. “I think you know what. You know what.”
“What if I’m wrong?”
Loki can’t help but laugh a little breathlessly. “I don’t think you are.”
This, out of every instant in this time bubble, seems to be the point in Loki’s visits when Mobius’ Tempad goes off. Dinging and ringing, at the worst possible moment. Because it’s once they’re both startled out of their haze that Loki realizes how close they are. How close he is. Was.
Mobius’ hands slowly slip down to Loki’s shoulders, turning to the Tempad. “I’m supposed to take that, aren’t I?”
Loki takes a minute to load. He can only assume it’s B-15 or someone from upstairs. It had to be one of the calls Loki has overheard Mobius talk through previously. “Uhm… maybe?” Is all Loki can say.
Mobius sighs and grabs the device to reluctantly check who it is. Loki absentmindedly places the letter back into his pocket. Just to direct his energy somewhere. One brief look at the device’s screen confirms it is indeed B-15 calling. Mobius goes to stand up, but before he does, he catches Loki’s gaze, “hold that thought.” He then closes in and once again whispers “don’t go anywhere.”
Loki is determined to, of course, wait until he comes back from the call. But then, right after looking at Loki’s lips, Mobius winks at him, and Loki was wrong to think he was finally used to him doing that. He is evidently not. Because just as he’s confirming that Mobius fucking knows what he’s doing, and that Loki wants to snog him and do things that will result in many other things, he also panics.
And he slips. Away from the conversation, away from the moment, and irreparably away from Mobius’ vicinity.
Notes:
I’m sorry LOL.
Next week is our final chapter, can’t believe my first little fic is coming to conclusion. (Kind of.)
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 7: Tell You I Need You, Tell Me You Love Me
Summary:
Loki goes back to the start.
Notes:
Last chapter here we go!
Warnings:
This is the chapter that earns that M rating up there.
You can think of this as canon compliant or imagine the show got a different ending. Whatever floats your boat will dictate whether this has a bittersweet ending or not!
Watch out for an announcement (and a surprise) in the notes post chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Frustrating was an understatement. Maddening was closer, but still not the right word.
Loki stood there, in O.B.’s lair. All their friends gathered around his miniature set presentation. Loki is unmoving, unhearing. The shock from Mobius’ flirtatious intonations, the prism blue of his eyes, his proximity, all quickly fades into the shock of Loki actually losing control of himself and slipping away from the one moment he wishes he could’ve stayed in forever. And the one moment he can’t go back to. He’s tried. He’s tried many fucking times.
People are talking around him, to Ouroboros, then distantly, to him. Loki knows they’re saying his name. He registers them. But he can’t move, can’t answer.
Sylvie sounds actually worried for him. He can appreciate that, yet he can’t reboot himself into functioning.
“Loki!” Mobius is in front of him, a hand patting the side of his face.
Loki at last blinks into solid awareness.
“Hey, you okay?” Mobius asks.
Loki looks around him, at Sylvie’s face, Casey’s, B-15’s, O.B.’s, even Timely’s, then back to Mobius. Mobius is still touching him. He’s warm. His expression matches the concern from everyone else around them. But Mobius is warm. He’s touching Loki. Almost holding him. Like he cares for him… like he loves him.
This will not do.
Loki slips back into the usual. The hallway leading to one of the many elevators at the TVA, where he and Mobius walked side by side on their way to the Chrono Bays after Loki’s time slipping was first fixed. He stops, looks at Mobius, Mobius looks at him. They stand there for the longest second of Loki’s life, then he grabs Mobius’ hand, dragging him to the lift.
“Loki?”
Once inside, Loki takes a stilling breath, extracting the letter from his pocket and giving it to Mobius, who accepts it, confused.
“May I have your Tempad, please?”
“What? What for?”
“Just trust me?”
There’s some silence where Mobius is surely trying to figure him out, there’s definitely hesitation, but ultimately he passes the Tempad. Loki opens it with ease, instantly searching and punching coordinates in.
“Read that,” he motions at the letter with his head.
Mobius opens it just as a time door generates before them.
“Wait, where are we going? Shouldn’t we tell everyone what our plan is? What is our plan?” Loki drags him through before he could protest any further. Mobius stumbles into his own apartment. He blinks rapidly, processing. “What the shit... how—?”
“Read the letter, please.” Loki moves to sit on the singular leather sofa, holding his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he nervously thinks.
He waits for Mobius to catch up. It’s the longest wait of his life.
“Okay… okay.” Mobius finally looks up, reading all of it at last.
“There’s something I have to tell you…” Loki starts.
“I’m all ears,” Mobius listens intently, letter still open in one hand.
“I… those aren’t all of the times I’ve been here with you. I skipped one, you couldn’t write anything down that time.”
“Okay… why not?”
“I… I think I panicked.”
“Panicked because…?”
“I think you would know.”
Mobius looks down at the letter again, then starts to fold it back, taking a seat.
“What does it say?”
Mobius smiles, “I’m not supposed to tell you that, am I?”
“You’ve… you’ve tried doing something three times now. What is it?”
“What do you mean?”
Loki sighs, frustrated and welding too much energy. “You keep… hinting at something. You keep trying something.”
“And you don’t like when I’ve done that?”
“I just—I want to know what it is.”
“So you always leave before you find out?”
“I didn’t leave initially. I simply ran out of time one time. Then, like I said, I panicked.”
“What did I do that made you panic enough to time slip?”
Loki hesitates. “Nothing, you just… you were… first you were massaging my shoulders, you said I was uhm, tense. Pent up…”
“Aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.” Loki looks down at his hands.
“So my massages suck?” Mobius grins, “or did I just… you didn’t want me to do that?”
“I-I did want you to.”
“Okay…” Mobius waits.
“But then we were talking and you asked what you always ask and then you—we—I think we were… but then the Tempad rang so then…” Loki trails off, looking away—breathing heavier than he remembers doing. “Doesn’t it say there, what you did—planned to do?”
“It doesn’t, Loki. Truthfully. I honestly don’t know what it was. I don’t know what this past me did,” Mobius frowns, a pained and worried expression tinging his face. “I’m very sorry, for whatever it was. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if that’s what happened. D-Did I hurt you somehow?” Mobius sounds almost panicked and sad himself now.
“No! No, you didn’t… I just…” Loki takes him in, still breathing shallowly. Mobius keeps quiet, watching and waiting. “I need the letter back, beforehand…”
Mobius hands it to him and Loki stores it, thinking. He runs his fingers through his hair.
But there comes only more silence, so Mobius sighs. “Loki I really am sorry… I don’t know exactly what I did, but I can assure you I didn’t mean for it to—…”
Loki stands up, Mobius instantly quiets, watching him, waiting for something to come out of Loki's mouth. Anything. When nothing does, Mobius makes to stand up, too.
Loki stops him. “Stay there…”
Mobius stays.
Loki fully pivots to him, heart beating so fast. He shuffles closer, and next thing he knows, he straddles Mobius.
Mobius’ eyes widen, yet he doesn’t stop him at all. If anything, his hands and arms move back, giving Loki the space to do what he’s doing. Loki can feel his own hesitance contorting his brow. He feels pain; it’s akin to torture, almost.
“You didn’t hurt me…” Loki mutters, his hands on Mobius’ shoulders.
“Okay,” Mobius whispers, their faces so close again.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if you had…” Loki nears in, firmly settling his weight down on Mobius’ lap, one of Loki’s hand snakes up to touch the cropped gray hair at Mobius’ nape.
“Right…” Mobius replies, a little rough and so cautious.
Loki breathes in and out, “do it. Do what you’re supposed to do.”
“I-I’m not supposed to do anything–…”
“Then do what you’re thinking of doing.”
Mobius exhales through his nose, his retrieved hands slowly, slowly settling down on Loki’s hips. Loki sighs, on edge, fingers softly grabbing Mobius’ hair now, face centimeters from his.
“You are right, I need it… I need you… please.” Loki whispers, feeling every part of his being tremble.
A paced breath, in and out, “You sure about this, Loki?”
Loki nods, bordering on desperate. “Please,” he repeats, “please…” against Mobius’ lips.
There’s a hand on the back of Loki’s head, and at last Mobius pulls him in, sealing a kiss that lasts forever. Loki sighs a deep noise, grabbing tighter.
At last. At last.
The kiss deepens and Mobius wraps an arm around Loki’s waist. Loki goes dizzy quickly, already up in the clouds and so entranced by the feeling of Mobius’ lips, the sensation of his facial hair, then his tongue slipping against his own. Loki is glad there’s no time to stop and cry, because he really would.
Minutes pass between gasping breaths, Loki shifting down unconsciously, whimpering, Mobius humming in turn.
They pull apart at some point, in which Mobius looks up at him, “you need me to take care of you?”
Loki could almost sob. “You always are…” he holds Mobius’ face, he wants to hold him forever.
“But never like this,” Mobius states. Loki shakes his head in confirmation. “Would you like me to?”
Loki inhales sharply, looking away, shyly or maybe a little ashamed.
Mobius already knows Loki would, he probably always knew. But it’s like he won’t advance unless Loki speaks and grants true confirmation. Mobius kisses the side of Loki’s neck, earning a shiver. “I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need.” He kisses some more, gently nipping at the pale, goosebumped skin. Loki sobs ever so silently, grinding down some more, fist closing around silver hair. “You could take whatever you need. Anything at all…”
Loki follows suit with that, dragging one of Mobius’ firm hands to his backside. “H-Have me,” he says. “Distract me. I need—I want to feel good. Please.”
“You got it,” Mobius whispers, nipping one more time at Loki’s neck before pushing his coat away, quickly starting to undo his button down.
Loki tries to help him, fingers trembling.
“I’ve got you,” Mobius reminds him, kissing his chest the moment it’s uncovered behind his dress shirt.
Loki can feel the air in his lungs going in and out, chest rising and falling as Mobius presses kisses Loki never allowed himself to imagine having against it. It’s a riveting sensation, because Mobius’ lips are softer than they let on, yet his ministrations are so assertive, mustache just as present as the nose pressing against his skin.
It feels so good, so nice already that Loki wonders how he ever went without this. Mobius’ hands hold at his waist, lips trailing their way up across his clavicle and back to his neck and Loki’s eyelids shut, marinating in the sensation. The warmth against him, the slight chills and tickles that come with Mobius’ mouth and tongue on him, the sturdy short locks of silver hair between his fingers, the clean scent of soap lingering in Mobius’ skin, softly blending in with what Loki knows as Mobius’ own scent. All these things combined border on divine, and Loki could live in this moment alone for the rest of time. He feels, for once, safe; like floating just above the ground—present but at a higher sensational frequency.
Then Mobius’ mouth is back on his, and Loki once again reclines on the feeling it brings. He’s kissing Mobius.
He refrains from further internalizing that, because it could serve as a catalyst for breaking just as it serves as one for keeping him together. Because he knows this isn’t real forever, and already he’s wishing it seriously could be. Instead, he loses himself in the experience of figuring each other’s mouths out. Tongues slide, none of them fighting for dominance, just moving together and sucking and lightly biting.
Even if he tried, Loki couldn’t picture the last time he ever kissed anyone, let alone shared oxygen this way.
Mobius pulls him down, closer, flush against him. Bringing in more heat, more of his presence, body right beneath. It takes a minute for Loki to realize he’s back to grinding, whining inadvertently every time he feels a spark of relief.
Mobius’ right hand is on his backside again, grabbing encouragingly until their groins collide, and Loki revels in the contact. He exhales, both at the friction and at Mobius’ touch retiring to fully push the dress shirt off his shoulders. Then those hands are everywhere against exposed bare skin, later traveling slowly downwards, onto his crotch.
Mobius doesn’t press or tug, he just places his hand on it, but Loki is pent up enough to tremble some more, letting a soft noise escape him.
“This okay?” Mobius mutters against his mouth.
Loki nods quickly, forehead bumping against Mobius’, halting a buck towards that warm hand. Mobius’ fingers squeeze around him ever so lightly, as if testing out Loki’s tempestuous waters. Loki fully breaks away from their kiss to breathe, face against the side of the other’s face. A hiss soon leaves him once Mobius grasps more firmly.
Loki had forgotten what this sort of thing felt like. He was sensitive, especially after over a century of no action.
It makes him downright hungrier for more, especially when Mobius so happens to gently rub his thumb against the head of his cock through his trousers. Loki is lightheaded enough to not even hear his own pitiful noise.
“I got you,” Mobius repeats against his ear, voice and implication alone making Loki whine.
He worries there are two ways this could go, either it’d be over quickly from Loki’s disused sexual stamina, or he’d last much too long, all thanks to the mental separation from his body he’s had to put himself through all these years.
He wants the pleasure of this distraction to last forever.
It was surprising to hear himself begging Mobius a second later; ‘please’ after ‘please’. He needed this more than he originally understood.
Mobius takes him to bed.
In the past, Loki’s headspace would’ve warranted a rough session. He wanted it, because the messier and faster things were, the quicker his mind would be taken off his worries. He would’ve let his lover lay him face down on any surface and back shot him into an empty mind—or vice versa. He knew Mobius was well aware of this, having seen it before. But instead of roughing Loki to tears, Loki felt he was loved to tears.
It was a ridiculous notion, and it wasn’t like it was the most tame of experiences possible; between the lighthearted awkward moments of getting to it, Mobius still made him forget, alright. He still delivered. But it was, for a change, with a tender predisposition.
Thorough. All attention on him. Loki realizes that that was perhaps the difference. His rough sex encounters in the past had involved a split awareness from his partner and him. Both focused on themselves instead of each other. And whilst Loki didn’t have the emotional strength to focus on Mobius the way he wished he could, Mobius was fully for Loki. Although the pleasure inevitably was shared eventually, it appeared Loki’s was the endgame. The point. It wasn’t someone taking pleasure for themselves from Loki’s body and him riding along as best he could, it was Mobius drawing out pleasure for Loki’s sake.
Like the main goal was Loki’s satisfaction only.
By the end, Loki was spent twice (once by Mobius’ mouth and the other on Mobius’ cock), and it was only once it was clear Loki was satisfied and per Loki’s request that Mobius allowed himself to join that relief, too.
It was by the end of it that Loki realized he had never had someone like Mobius, and that he probably never would again
Minutes into catching their breath, with Mobius softly kissing his shoulder and biceps and cheek and anywhere else he could reach, Loki realized it wasn’t just him who loved Mobius. He could admit to it now, after a century and a half, that he was doing all this because he genuinely liked his friends, and because he genuinely loved his best friend. It was with Mobius cuddling him from behind after cleaning them up that Loki identified that this wasn’t just a deviant tryst between two people who felt indifferent to each other.
Sure, it occurred as a means for distraction, but it was like the truth was doomed to expose itself at some point during it all along. Loki turns around, for the first time laying in Mobius’ bed with the man next to him, and Norns was it beautiful.
It made Loki as melancholic as it made him motivated to keep going. To keep trying. Because if he was successful, he’d get to make it here, and stay.
“Do you love me?” He asks without thinking—he does that a lot, doesn’t he?
Mobius’ surprise shows but for a millisecond, then his eyes soften, lungs breathing in as worry hints at his expression. “Would it be wrong to say that I do…?” Mobius lays still, as if bracing for the worst.
Loki should’ve seen the tears pricking at his own eyes coming. “It wouldn’t… I love you.” His heart is beating hard again. Mobius somehow had it in him to seemingly be fully surprised at his answer this time. “I’m doing this for you… for all of us. Because I want this place to work, so everyone, everything can have a future. I want us to have a future.”
Mobius nods, his eyes twinkling more than usual with new moisture. “I want us to have a future too… you can do this, Loki. I know you can. And I’ll be there from beginning to end. I’ve always—don’t question it, okay? But I think I’ve always had love for you.”
That statement had the fiercest grip on Loki’s heart he’s ever felt. He nods too, a few tears spilling out at last. “I will do this. For us. For you. Thank you for letting me know.”
“I’m glad you asked,” Mobius smiles softly.
“You’d already shown me before I asked. I was just… confirming. I never quite know what a lovesick brain can make you imagine.”
Mobius smiles wider. “I won’t remember this, I know. But once it’s over, once you succeed, make me remember. Either by showing me the memory, or making a new one. I really do love you. And I won’t remember ever saying this—I won’t know I let you know. I won’t even write it down for myself in that letter. But just know that whenever you look at me, you’ll be looking at someone who loves you. Full heartedly. I will always be aware I love you, I’m just glad now you will too.”
A part of Loki wants to feel ridiculous for crying. A part of him had almost not done this, legitimately thinking himself delusional for hoping Mobius would ever so much as kiss him. Lay with him. Love him.
Loki didn’t want to leave here, ever, but he leaned on the assurance that leaving and continuing his work was the largest act of love he has ever done, and he was more than willing to keep doing it. Until the end of time.
Until the very end of time.
Notes:
Thank you so much to those who stuck along with this story. Seriously.
This fic gave me a headache 87% of the times I worked on it for whatever reason so it’s not my preferred personal work ever but I’m very glad people have liked it despite that. You guys have no idea how much it means to me!
Now, surprise first: there’s an E-rated version of the events of this chapter! I shall be posting it soon! Just a little extra for those who enjoy that sort of thing. Please only read if you are of age!
And on to the announcement: I have a different—much longer—story coming up! All I can say is it’s a slow burn, it’s a little bit of a crack fic, and it's about these two! Oh, and it’ll probably be named after another song. I’m hoping I’ll able to start posting by early to mid September!
Thanks to my partner for the beta read on these last two chapters.
And thank you all again for reading!!! Best wishes!
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