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“Are you absolutely sure?” Mobius asked for what felt like the hundredth time, giving Scamp a quick scratch on the top of his head after placing a small bowl of hoorijiin food before him.
“Norns, Mobius, yes,” Loki replied exasperatedly, folding his arms as he leaned his hip against the counter, watching as Scamp shoved his face into the generous serve of rather revolting-smelling pellets and began crunching away happily. “You’ve only been there the one time, and even though I wasn’t…” but he stopped himself abruptly, deciding it would only be detrimental to finish that sentence. “Well. From what I’ve been told, multiple times, you didn’t react that well,” he instead finished.
“Elskede, you know damn well that was because of your condition. I barely even registered anything else, and you know it.”
He closed the distance between them in only a couple of steps, slipping his hands around Loki’s waist as he clasped them loosely at the small of his back. In turn, Loki draped his arms over his shoulders, lowering his chin a little to look him in the eyes.
“Be that as it may,” he murmured gently, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn up in a wry smile, “OB says that he doesn’t want you there. That you… what was it? ‘Can’t be trusted not to totally freak out’ if you were to observe proceedings.”
“I would never,” Mobius blurted, scoffing in annoyance.
“Mmhm,” Loki replied, raising an eyebrow sceptically, even as his smile widened. “At any rate, he’s also concerned that the presence of my husband might prove to be too much of a… distraction,” he leaned in close, the last word a seductive whisper, which was followed by a series of tiny nips down the curve of his ear.
“He actually said that?” Mobius exclaimed, his voice rising an octave.
“Not in as many words, but the implication was clear,” Loki said casually, moving down towards his neck.
“Great,” came the huffed reply.
Regardless, Mobius’ eyes were already darkening with desire when Loki finally forced himself to pull away. But they were already dressed for work, and nearly ready to head out the door, and it wouldn’t do well to be late on a day when they both had important missions to complete.
Indulgence could wait for tonight, and by then they would have earned it.
Loki could see the unspoken concurrence in Mobius’ eyes, though he persisted in drawing the conversation back to the original topic of his highly unfounded concern.
“Does it really need to be today?” he implored, “If it could wait until after I’ve got this mission out of the way, I could at the very least be here, waiting for you… on the other end of the line, so to speak, making sure everything goes okay–”
Loki silenced him with his lips, the kiss gentle but insistent as he sought to reassure him through actions rather than words. Giving in, Mobius was all too keen to reciprocate, though a tiny moan of frustration had Loki smiling into the contact, knowing it was the sound of Mobius declaring him the victor in this minor dispute.
As he straightened again, putting a few inches of distance between them that he found himself rather wishing weren’t necessary, he tenderly cupped Mobius’ face in both hands.
“I’ll be fine, kjære,” he insisted. “It’s a basic enough procedure, and OB will be right there with me.”
“Right,” Mobius replied, sounding utterly unconvinced, his eyes dropping tellingly.
Scamp, having already finished gorging himself, wandered over to wind around their ankles, trilling in appreciation of his breakfast before flumping down by Loki’s foot, noisily washing a paw.
“I just… hate the thought of you going back there, sweetheart,” he continued, absently gazing down at what Loki still regarded as a tiny ball of grey fuzz, though he certainly wasn’t so tiny, these days. “It makes me feel sick with dread, if I’m totally honest.”
His eyes flicked back up to Loki’s, who was troubled by the degree of concern he saw there. It was reminiscent of the haunted look Mobius used to have when he was suffering horrific anxiety during the early days of Loki’s recovery, and he absolutely hated to see it again.
“Oh, my love,” Loki said, expression full of empathy as he ran a thumb over his cheek, “It’s really nothing, I swear. I should only be gone for less than an hour… probably nowhere close to that. And they won’t even be touching me while I’m there, truly. There’s no reason for me to have contact of any sort.”
“Then make sure you don’t,” Mobius responded, voice strained and somewhat unsteady. “I don’t trust them, not after what they did to you.”
“I know,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “But personally? I think you’re in more danger than me, today. Even if yours is only a simple diplomatic mission.”
Mobius scoffed once more, but it was a product of humour this time, and Loki grinned as he found his own jawline and neck being peppered with light, tickling kisses that were a hair’s breadth from being too much to tolerate.
“I need you back, tonight,” Mobius muttered against his skin, and Loki shivered involuntarily at the sensation.
“Oh do you, now?”
“Mm-hmph,” he confirmed, before drawing away to smile impishly. “It’s your turn to feed Scamp.”
Truth be told, Loki was a little anxious about returning to the Multiversal Tree, despite knowing all along that it would be on the cards sooner or later.
“It just needs a little juice,” Ouroborous had told him a couple of days ago when he’d first approached him about the operation. “My device is still working extraordinarily efficiently, of course, but the number of branches has multiplied to an extent where the power you, uh… initially fed into it,” he said hurriedly, not wanting to dwell on the day Loki had been extracted, “Is no longer enough.”
“The branches are all right though?” Loki had been quick to ask, and OB had nodded immediately.
“Yes, for now, they’re fine. But even so, we should aim to get out there again sometime within the next three day-cycles, to allow plenty of time to get this done.”
Which is why Loki now found himself stepping through a specialised time door into a large, unpleasantly familiar alcove, wherein sat the coldest, most unforgiving of thrones, surrounded by a veritable forest of undulating timelines that pulsed at regular intervals with the emerald glow of his seiðr. Directly adjacent to it was a shining, sleek-shelled piece of tech around the size of a two-seater sofa, and attached to a port at the top was a handful of core branches that Loki had once clutched tenaciously in his fist.
The machinery, designed by OB and constructed by himself and his team, served to circulate the magical energy throughout the Tree, ensuring all branches had a sufficient and continuous supply. In addition, although it couldn’t of course synthesise or replicate his magic, it sort of amplified it, in a way, which for more than three Midgardian years now had been enough to sustain the ever-expanding arboreal structure.
And how much has happened in the time that has passed?
Loki could scarcely get his head around it.
As he glared at the throne in severe distaste, he could still feel the fading tingle from the goodbye kiss his husband had imparted before he’d hurried off to his own mission briefing.
“Be careful,” he’d turned to beg one last time before vanishing around the corner of the entrance to R&A.
Feeling an unwelcome tension coiling heavily within, Loki resolved to heed his words as best as he was able.
The last time he’d sat upon the gilded throne, he’d been so close to death that he hadn’t even been conscious, nor responsive to any stimuli. At least, not until the medics who had accompanied the science team had injected him with… something, a super-stimulant of sorts, which incidentally may or may not have been lethal to humans. He’d shot to life immediately, the effect lasting for long enough to be convinced to follow OB’s concise directions; placing the timelines he held inside the port as the team fixed them in place, then harnessing what little was left of his power, and siphoning it into some kind of magical containment chamber within.
Loki would have been fascinated to study it, if the proceedings hadn’t caused him to revert to his prior near-death state, boneless and broken as the medical team all but scraped him off the throne and deposited him onto the waiting gurney that had taken him back home.
Back to Mobius, he remembered… his beloved arriving in the infirmary clad in sleepwear and breaking down helplessly at his return, Loki longing to comfort him through a haze of uncertainty over whether he had the necessary life-force to even survive through the night.
With a tiny shudder, Loki found himself inexplicably wishing that Mobius had come along today, after all, and it took OB’s heavily-gloved hand grasping his arm and jostling him firmly to realise that he’d been standing transfixed, and that OB had been attempting to get his attention.
Embarrassed by such a lapse when they’d only just arrived, Loki forced his gaze away from where he’d remained seated for half of eternity whilst being devoured by the seiðr-hungry branches, and followed OB over to the device that he’d jokingly named the Growth Promoter, unable to resist dubbing anything to do with the Tree something gardening-related.
“No need to disturb the timelines,” OB reminded him, correctly identifying his reticence at approaching too near.
Loki gave a short nod, inching forward at his coaxing, ignoring the little furrow of concern that creased OB’s brow.
“Just like last time?” he checked, and at the nod of confirmation, he stepped closer, crouching in front of the throne to locate the input valve through which his magic would be absorbed. He placed a hand over it, though the angle was uncomfortably awkward.
“You might have to sit down, Loki,” OB murmured apologetically. “I configured the GP to allow for your… encumbrances at the time of your extraction, which means the valve needed to be within easy reach.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Loki replied, a little too dismissively.
Admittedly it would be a lot easier sitting upon the throne, but he thought it perfectly reasonable of him to be wishing to avoid this at all costs.
And as OB didn’t bother arguing, he knew he understood.
“Okay, you’re good to go,” he then signalled, leaning his hands on top of the Growth Promoter as he peered at a small digital display beside the timeline port.
With a focussing breath, Loki summoned his seiðr, and, slowly and steadily, sent a stream of raw mystical energy through the input valve.
“Wow, it’s a good thing we came when we did,” OB piped up after a minute, Loki only half-listening as he concentrated. It was important that he did this with as little fluctuation as possible, otherwise he risked damaging the delicate components of the device.
“Hm? Why’s that?” he eventually prompted after several long moments, realising that OB hadn’t yet elaborated.
“Oh, sorry. Uh, because the power levels were way, way lower than my monitoring equipment back at the TVA was telling me,” he said, far too casually in Loki’s opinion. “There must be a fault with the sensors, so I guess I have a project when we get back.”
“How low?” Loki demanded, then caught himself letting his focus slip, and took a moment to recentre himself.
“Huh? Oh… I would say that we only had a few hours before the outermost branches would have started dying. Like I said, good thing we came right now.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, then panic shot through Loki’s core like a spear of ice.
“Hours?” he yelped, “A few hours?”
“Uh-huh,” OB glanced at him through the visor of his protective helmet, and did a double take at what must have been an utterly horrified expression. “But no harm Loki, we’re here in time, and you’re feeding the Growth Promoter super well. Keep it up!”
He turned back to the display, eagerly watching the numbers tick up, but Loki could feel himself being overcome by… by something he couldn’t recall feeling since before he was rescued from the Tree.
Like the sun slipping behind a steely, grey cloud, everything around him seemed to darken ominously, and he felt the chill deep inside of him spread to his extremities — nothing to do with the frigid temperature expected of this place. At first he thought that something was indeed happening to the Tree, and the panic turned to full-blown anxiety before he realised that it was in fact visceral; an unnamed menace swelling inside of him like a cresting, destructive wave.
They nearly lost branches today. They nearly didn’t get here in time.
OB was speaking to him again, but he didn’t hear, a rushing in his ears partially deafening him as his heart rate and breathing quickened alarmingly. He knew that he couldn’t lose focus for even a moment, however, because the branches would die if he didn’t give everything he had…
Fumbling hands ensconced in thick padding were forcefully manhandling him to turn and sit down on something.
Something hard, and cold.
And far, far too familiar.
Loki had already been on a downward spiral, but this latest trigger released the brakes.
In less than a moment, his perception of everything turned even hazier, and his senses fled him completely. All he knew was the timelines too close around him, arching above him, and frighteningly, fully dependent on him; on the power he was feeding into this contraption.
But he was weak. So, so weak.
He was well aware that this might kill him.
And he’d never get to see Mobius again. Never get to tell him how he felt. How he’d kept him going in the Tree for time indeterminable, and during the centuries before that, always supporting him with endless patience and kindness…
There were tears wet on his cheeks, he was vaguely aware, his breath coming in rapid, painful rasps.
But he had to keep going. He needed to put everything he had into this, otherwise it would spell the end of existence.
He would not be the cause of that.
He would not…
A familiar voice filtered through his frantic thoughts, tense and urgent.
“Loki? Loki! It’s too much, it’s too much! You have to stop!”
Stop? No, that doesn’t make sense.
He was depleted, he had scant power left in reserves. Loki needed to pour everything he could into this, otherwise the timelines would-
They would-
No. That cannot happen!
Even if it proves lethal for me.
A blinding flare of green light shot from his palm, there was a cry of alarm, and then blackness stole his vision.
And a moment later, his consciousness.
“Loki? You awake, beautiful?”
He’d heard and made sense of the question several seconds before he even began to register that, yes, he was in fact awake… or approaching it, at the very least.
“Min elskede?” he barely slurred, not quite able to open his eyes as he turned his head perhaps a millimetre towards Mobius’ soothing voice.
A relieved chuckle preceded a warm hand stroking his cheek.
“Yeah, honey, right here,” he replied gently. “You’re in the infirmary.”
Loki frowned in confusion, and a little annoyance if he were honest, eyes still indomitably closed.
“Mmh. Why?” he griped, almost whinily.
He could hear Mobius’ grin at his petulant attitude as he spoke again.
“Just for observation. After… you know. Making yourself pass out and all.” The flippant tone didn’t conceal a residual tension behind the words, although he didn’t sound overly worried.
But Loki was still entirely in the dark.
Remedying that in the literal sense, he finally cracked an eyelid, welcoming the sight of his love’s bright blue eyes shining down at him from where he reclined against the back of the hospital bed, smiling cheerfully despite their surroundings.
“What happened?” Loki muttered, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, either the tentative beginnings or the lingering end of a headache perceptible in his brow. “Last I remember, I was at the End of Time with OB…”
He trailed off, a flood of blurred impressions startling him into sitting up sharply, a ragged gasp escaping him.
“The timelines!” he cried, “The GP! Faen, what did I do? What- what have I done?”
“Shh, shh, hey, it’s alright,” Mobius immediately made to pacify him, arms snaking around his shoulders to tug him down against his chest.
Loki relaxed into him trustingly as he fell victim to a sudden but mercifully fleeting dizziness, realising belatedly that if he’d at all endangered or harmed the timelines, Mobius would hardly be sitting here calmly, beaming at him and offering cuddles.
“Everything’s fine,” Mobius assured him. “You gave OB one Hel of a fright, though, and he was worried about the stability of the GP for a short time. But there’s nothing to worry about, I swear. He’s okay, the GP is okay, the branches are okay. And most importantly, you’re okay,” he finished, kissing the top of his head as he carded fingers through his hair. “Well, I mean. Physically, at least…” he added, trailing off in a way that insinuated he expected a reply.
One of the biggest lessons Loki had learnt since his initial rescue was the importance of honesty, most especially where Mobius was involved, and so he paused to give his answer due consideration.
Was he all right?
He thought so, simply going by how he was feeling in that moment, although truth be told it was generally very easy to feel good and forget his troubles when Mobius was holding him with such love and care. But reflecting on what he could remember, back in the Tree… it was as though the situation had triggered a spontaneous and transient shock of anxiety, the flashback a frightening hallucination of the much more dire circumstance he’d faced the last time he'd fed magic into the Growth Promoter.
Now that he was back though, removed from that eerie, otherworldly environment that was all too imbued with bleak gloominess, Loki really did feel that he was back to his usual self.
“I believe that I’m fine in other aspects, too,” he murmured, burrowing his head further under Mobius’ chin. “But… when I need to go back there, in a year or three or whenever it occurs, perhaps- perhaps you should come with me,” he suggested, shrinking in embarrassment at his vulnerability, despite Mobius having seen him at his absolute worst, countless times by now.
Loki had been so cocksure that morning when he’d been placating Mobius, completely not anticipating that being back in that place could possibly have such a debilitating effect on him. Plus, Mobius had been more preoccupied by the thought of him being physically harmed; that the timelines might somehow sense the power he once more possessed, and would greedily attempt to ensnare him again.
Mobius didn’t have a particularly high opinion of the timelines as entities, as a matter of fact, not after they’d nearly killed Loki. Perhaps it would do him some good to see how docile they actually were, now that their sustenance was being properly regulated by the GP.
“Oh, there’s no way you’re ever going back there again without me,” Mobius proclaimed anyway, his arms tightening around him. “No way. Uh-uh. Not in a million years… which, as it happens, might not be too far off of when your next visit is required, anyway.”
Loki’s brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“Heh, well. According to OB, in your crazed state of panic or whatever it was, you apparently fed so much seiðr into the GP that it nearly overloaded.” He ran a hand up and down Loki’s back as he tensed in worry. “But it restabilised on its own, after a few minutes… by which stage you were completely passed out on the throne, and OB was almost having a nervous breakdown.”
“Oh,” he said, chastened. "I.. uh, I suppose I owe him some contraband, do you think?”
“Oh yeah,” Mobius agreed, without hesitation.
“Right. Um… right. Well. How extraordinarily mortifying,” Loki muttered contritely.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mobius was quick to continue, “He’s thrilled too. Not only did you give that thing enough fuel to last for many years, even taking into account the rapidly expanding multiverse, you’ve also given him a ton of data to analyse about the capacity limitations. You know how much he adores analysing data... you never know, he might end up sending you a present.”
Loki chuckled, albeit ruefully, then heaved a long sigh as weariness began to creep up on him. It was so warm and comfortable in Mobius’ arms, and as his husband once more relaxed back against the raised head of the gurney, pulling him along and getting him settled half on top of him, Loki knew he’d be asleep again in minutes.
Mobius shifted into a better position, and grunted a little as he did, as though pained.
“You okay, kjære?” Loki mumbled, eyes already closed.
“Yeah, ‘course,” he chuffed. “By the way, the med staff said you could stay here however long you wanted to. They just need to take one more set of obs before you’re discharged.”
“Mm. After a nap,” he acquiesced, lips curving upwards as Mobius scattered soft kisses over his face.
“No problem, sweetness,” he whispered, and Loki allowed himself to drift upon a steady current of blissful relaxation, Mobius languidly stroking his back with the softest of touches, until all awareness faded.
The next time he awoke his head was much clearer, and any fatigue had now vanished, his energy levels having returned to normal.
Mobius was still holding him… remarkably, given he was deeply involved in playing one of the frivolous games on his tempad at the same time; arms wrapped around Loki even as his hands clutched the device, fingers feverishly tapping at the buttons.
Loki almost moved to elbow it away ‘accidentally’, but reined himself in, acknowledging that it was a little bit mean even for him.
“Dammit,” Mobius huffed several moments later, slamming the tempad down on the nearby table a little too forcefully.
Stretching and arching his back, Loki pushed himself to sit, and delighted at the way Mobius’ face lit up at seeing him awake, as it always did.
Even after a few years together, Loki could never quite come to terms with how much he was loved. It was awfully humbling, and made him cry if he ever dwelled on it for too long.
That was the last thing he wanted right then, however, especially remembering the plans they had for that evening.
“Hey, sweetheart, ready to get out of here?” Mobius asked jovially.
“Gods yes, more than,” he enthused, although it seemed that Mobius didn’t quite notice the amorous quality infusing his voice, and wasn’t looking when he raised an eyebrow suggestively, because he was shifting to stand from the bed.
Loki was about to say something more transparent to insinuate what exactly he was hoping they would get up to as soon as they were closed away in the privacy of their lovely suite–
But that all went out the window a moment later.
“Crutches! Why in the Nine Realms do you have crutches?” he burst out in alarm. “Mobius, what happened?”
Sheepishly, Mobius awkwardly shuffled around to face him, tucking under his arms the pair of mobility aids that had been propped against the wall behind Loki’s head.
“Oh. Uh… I, um… I kinda got hurt,” he insufficiently explained, and Loki felt both his ire and concern spiking, sharp and unpleasant.
“Clearly,” he seethed. “How?”
“On the mission.”
“The mission.” He was completely nonplussed. “The extremely tame, outrageously risk-free diplomatic mission.”
“That’s the one,” Mobius confirmed, his eyes not meeting Loki’s.
There was a protracted silence, both of them waiting for one another other to speak. Loki gazed at him intently, eyes narrowing as he took note of his evasive manner.
“You fell over, didn’t you?” he finally deduced, and Mobius tsked in irritation, his face blooming with colour.
“They were very narrow stairs!” he bristled crossly, a desperate but poor attempt to cover his humiliation.
Loki burst out laughing, unable to help himself, though he really did try ever so hard to control it as Mobius glared daggers at him. Yet somehow, his irate expression only made things funnier.
“Yes okay,” Mobius eventually broke in, once Loki’s laughter had receded to chuckling. “It’s absolutely hilarious, I know.”
“It really is,” Loki forced out breathily, only feeling a little guilty. “Well. I suppose that puts a bit of a dampener on our plans for tonight,” he added with mock-wistfulness, and Mobius straightened indignantly.
“Now wait a minute,” he said, “I might have a pretty badly bruised knee, but that doesn’t mean the… the rest of me isn’t in perfect working order, thank you very much.”
The insistence was uttered with all the dignity he could muster in his current condition, and Loki bit his lip in amusement, because the image was simply too adorable. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose gracefully to stand before him, hands slipping down Mobius’ arms to cover his, where they rested loosely on the handles of the crutches.
“I suppose we ought to at least test that theory,” he conceded thoughtfully, pressing himself close so their bodies were flush against each other, though taking care to avoid contact with the leg Mobius was favouring. “I mean, if there were something wrong with, um, any other part of you, it would be vital for the medics to know, wouldn’t it?”
“Uh,” Mobius swallowed, distracted merely by Loki’s proximity, “Yeah, sure. I guess it would.” His eyes grew hooded as Loki lifted his hands again, letting them roam slowly and seductively around Mobius’ waist, over his back, and settling on his hips; fingertips digging into him lightly in a way that insinuated much.
With a soft, helpless noise, he fell upon Loki’s shoulder, lips grazing along the crook of his neck intoxicatingly as Loki felt his own knees grow weak.
Something between a growl and a whimper came unbidden from his throat, and with a sharp breath he pulled back.
“Let’s find a damn medic so we can go home,” he whispered urgently. “Or else we’ll end up getting thrown out of here.”
“Ow, Scamp. Stop kneading my bare skin,” Loki grumbled, plucking the cat-adjacent creature from where he’d settled by Loki’s shoulder as he and Mobius had slept off their earlier activities... those that neither of them were particularly in adequate shape for.
Naturally, however, their care factor had been less than zero.
“It means he loves you, I think,” Mobius mumbled with his face half-buried in a pillow, as Loki deposited Scamp on the floor beside him. “You should be flattered. Honoured. Or some shit, I dunno.”
“You love me, but you don’t feel the need to sink razor sharp claws into my flesh,” Loki shot back.
“Maybe I would, if I had them.”
Something about that seemed oddly appealing, and that’s when Loki knew that he likely needed more sleep.
Or food.
That was a fair point, actually.
“We haven’t eaten since this morning, and it’s late,” Loki said at the realisation. “Want me to make something?”
“Nooo,” Mobius moaned immediately, grabbing him by the waist as if he would ever have a hope of holding him in place, should he decide to leave. “Stay here, don’t get up.”
“You’re not hungry?”
There was a long pause, then a gusty sigh that made his hair flutter with the force of it.
“Godsdamn it, you had to put the thought in my head, didn’t you?” Mobius complained. “Yes, I’m starving. Sitting for hours waiting for your lazy ass to wake up will do that.”
“Ah, feisty, I see,” Loki acknowledged. “Could that possibly be because someone needs some more paracetamol? For their injury? That they got from falling down some stairs whilst offworld? In front of royalty?”
“Pff. Royalty isn’t so special,” he rebuffed, “I’d know, I’m married to a prince.”
“Not so special?” Loki sulked with feigned hurt. “Hmph. I suppose I'll just be fetching some tasty pizza for myself, then.”
Mobius’ head lifted off the pillow, his eyes cracking open.
“Pizza? What pizza?” he demanded.
“The one I’m about to retrieve from Midgard,” Loki said, waving a hand as he bathed himself in a viridescent glow, conjuring clothing accordingly.
“Wait, Loki—” Mobius began.
But he heard nothing more.
* * *
“You’re not supposed to timeslip, not after what it did to you,” Mobius admonished, even as he grabbed the last slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table when he caught Loki eyeing it. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but…”
“My beloved is in pain and can’t walk without aid, and was hungry,” Loki said with a gentle smile, “And it was too late to cook… and he likes pizza. Seemed a perfectly reasonable excuse for a once-off, considering.”
“Speaking of once-offs, are you sure you’re doing okay after today?” Mobius pressed after a few moments, tossing the crust from the slice he’d quickly demolished to Loki, who caught it one-handed, rolling his eyes before offering it to an eager-looking Scamp. “From what OB said, whatever took a hold of you wasn’t fun to witness.”
“I’m all right,” Loki sighed regretfully. “Just… well, embarrassed, I suppose. Honestly, I feel rather pathetic that I was so vehemently triggered simply by being back there.”
Mobius sat forwards, elbows on knees as he frowned unhappily.
“That’s not pathetic, beautiful. It’s perfectly understandable, actually.” He placed a hand upon his knee, and Loki relished the warmth of it through the thin fabric of his lounge pants. “Keep in mind that no one in the history of… well, everything, has ever done anything approaching what you did. And I mean everything that you did,” he went on. “You’re actually the opposite of pathetic. Like, the other side of the multiverse from it.”
“Not that you’re biased or anything,” Loki muttered, though was unable to quash a small, pleased smile. “Besides, I thought you said I wasn’t so special, earlier?”
He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“I said royalty wasn’t so special,” Mobius pointed out reasonably. “You are, though.”
“What, because I’m keeping all of Time alive?” he smirked, then inclined his head as he added magnanimously, “With OB’s expertise, of course.”
“No. Because you’re you.” Mobius insisted. “Because you’re smart, and sweet, and considerate. You’re a loving partner, and a wonderful pet-dad… a good friend, and very diligent in the workplace, at least when it counts.” A wry smile quickly turned melancholy, as he likely remembered the centuries that Loki had toiled and suffered, fighting against all hope to try and save the loom. But Mobius pulled himself back to the moment, the spark alight in his eyes once more. “You’re also cute, and funny, and insanely attractive... and feel free to stop me anytime—”
“Why would I do that?” Loki grinned, and Mobius threw a cushion at him.
“Anyway,” he carried on seamlessly, “The fact you’re responsible for powering the whole multiverse has nothing to do with your worth. Not to me, anyway. It's just another of many things for me to marvel over,” Mobius told him matter-of-factly.
He could tell that his answering expression was excessively dopey and besotted, but Mobius was well and truly used to that by now.
“You know,” Loki mused after kissing him soundly, “I wouldn’t be any of those things if it wasn’t for you.” Hesitating, he frowned in consideration. “Well, except attractive. Oh, and arguably smart and funny, though admittedly not nearly as much without your influence. And I suppose there would have been a time when perhaps Mother would have described me as ‘cute’, back in the day– uh, but I digress,” he shook his head, curbing his rambling as he shifted closer to Mobius, and curled up cosily against his side. “My point is, you were the driving force behind me becoming the person you love.”
“All of that was already inside of you, Loki,” Mobius replied quietly.
“But you coaxed it out, kjære.”
There was a short silence, Mobius dragging his fingertips up and down Loki’s arm as they reflected individually.
“Well,” he finally replied, “If you insist, let’s call it a team effort.” There was a discernible smile in his voice as he leaned in to nuzzle Loki’s forehead.
“I like that,” Loki said. “Because we really are the greatest team ever, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Absolutely.”
“And in the interests of transparency, I personally think you’re far more powerful than me,” he confessed.
“You what?” Mobius responded skeptically, “Loki, you literally travelled through unfathomable space-time in half an instant each way just to grab us some dinner. Meanwhile, my own crowning achievement today was falling down some stairs.”
“Not so. You were of incomparable assistance to me later on,” Loki persisted loftily, scarcely concealing his mirth. “Besides, there are many different kinds of power,” he continued, “And trust me, the variety to which I’m referring? You possess in endless abundance, my love.”
He shifted a little so he could draw back to look at him, rewarded by Mobius’ eyes wide and earnest at his words.
“I may hold the power to sustain existence as we know it,” Loki said with gravity, “But you, Mobius, hold the power to sustain me.”
Seemingly struggling to work out what to say to that, Mobius eventually gave in and simply broke into a wide smile, reeling Loki in for another lingering kiss.
“Again with the team effort,” he commented lightly, pulling away only far enough to speak.
“Mm. Go team,” Loki murmured, wrapping himself around Mobius as he enthusiastically captured his lips again.
He’d never once doubted that the two of them were stronger together… not since Loki had come barrelling back into the TVA after the Citadel, a frightened, timeslipping mess.
But even now as they continued to grow impossibly closer, forevermore it seemed, it was proving to be an incontestable truth.