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This whole timeline madness is really starting to piss Mobius off.
It was an insane and chaotic few hours, but it has only been a few hours nonetheless.
It has only been a few hours, right?
It certainly doesn’t help that Loki, freshly recovered from time-slipping of all things, promptly shoves himself off the floor, after which he just bodily crashed into Mobius and now on a new mission to find his alternative self, yet again.
“Loki, would ya’ just wait one second,” Mobius called out a little breathlessly, rolling onto his stomach to get some leverage off the floor.
O.B. rushes over, grasping Mobius’ arm and hoists him onto his feet before he fiddles around with the helmet.
Loki has stopped walking to the door and turns slightly, body angled away from Mobius but face visible.
“We don’t have a second. We have to find Sylvie now!” Loki replies a little too quickly. That wide-eyed mania is still present in his eyes; a little too much white is visible. Mobius can’t help but notice the tremble in his arms and shoulders, still tense from the adrenaline running through him.
Once O.B. has unlocked the helmet, Mobius moves to yank it off too violently and hands it back to O.B., who seems to be in his own little world with getting the rest of the smouldering suit off.
“Yeah, I heard that before, but look at us right now. I’m still in this damned thing, and you look like you’ve been through hell and back.” Mobius gestures towards Loki, who has turned to face him properly.
“Yeah, have you seen yourself? You don’t look so good,” O.B. chimes in over Mobius’s shoulder. There is a loud hiss as the tube connected to the back of the suit connects off, and Mobius has to lock his knees as the weight of it is removed.
Loki breathes harshly once and clenches his hands more, “There’s no time, Mobius. I’m fine. We just need to-“
“Just shut up!" Mobius interrupts, "Loki, you’re still bleeding, and we don’t even know if the time-slipping thing has really stopped. For all we know, you could still be bouncing around time like a cosmic ping-pong ball!" He tries to step forward, but O.B. holds onto the suit tightly, still rummaging to undo the various straps holding it together.
“I haven’t just ripped myself through time and space for it not to work, Mobius! Come on, we really don’t have time for this,” Loki continues but doesn’t move towards the door, as if he is waiting for Mobius.
“Well, there is no reason for it not to have worked. The time slipping should have definitely stopped,” O.B. commented again.
“See, Ouroboros says it's fine,” Loki contends with a slight waver in his step as he gestures to O.B., “Mobius, please.”
Finally - finally! - the last of clasps unbuckle. Mobius moves to pull him out of the suit and doesn’t wait for a second before he walks over towards Loki. His hand reaches out to Loki’s elbow without much control.
“I hear ya, I do, but right now, we don’t even know where she is or where to start. You can’t just go marching off. We need to plan ahead, right?” Mobius reassures, his voice soft as he would with a scared animal.
“I just don’t…” Loki began, voice shaky. Just from the loose hold at his elbow, Mobius could feel the tremors of tension that still strung tight in Loki’s nerves.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We're gonna figure it out,” Mobius continues as he runs small circles with his thumb, “Why don’t ya get yourself clean, at least, huh?”
Loki’s head shoots to look right at Mobius, and, God, he has that face again. Eyes wide with fearful mania with glimpses of tears dotting the corners. His breath is heavy and shaky.
A scared little boy.
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you. C’mon,” Mobius says. He slowly moves them to the door, one hand still gently holding Loki’s arm. When Mobius notices the uncoordinated steps, he moves his other arm to the small of his back.
Loki’s body slightly jolts when his hand touches his back, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, Mobius feels him lean slightly, somewhat unconsciously.
“O.B., hold down the fort here, will ya?” Mobius calls out as they turn the corner into the corridors.
The chaos of the branching timelines has made the TVA corridors relatively quiet. Most are at their desks or out in the field. It makes ushering a dazed-out and fearful God of Mischief a lot easier.
Neither speaks, not with Loki aimlessly staring ahead of him and breath-catching every so often. Mobius wants to try to distract him from whatever is looping in that head of his. Still, he also doesn’t want to send him into another frantic tirade.
Instead, he pushes on, giving small, circular rubs at his back and gently controlling his movements to the living quarters.
It was then Mobius realised he was directing the pair of them to his apartment, not to the holding cells. The TVA has bigger fish to fry than a slight containment violation.
“Mobius, I-“ Loki said, the weariness in his voice shockingly noticeable than before.
“Shhh. You’re okay. We’re nearly there,” Mobius cuts in, pushing down the lump forming in his chest.
Loki stops and breathes heavily, leaning into Mobius’ shoulder. The height difference makes for the position to be a little awkward for Mobius, but really, he couldn’t care less.
“I’m so tired,” Loki breathes out, head hanging and curtains of his tangled, black hair hiding his face.
‘I know, I know you are. Just two more doors, and we can get you to that shower,” Mobius responded softly. The hand on the small of Loki’s back has moved around his waist, practically holding him up.
There is movement from Loki’s head that Mobius can only assume to be a nod, and they both move slowly over to the door of Mobius’ apartment.
In what all felt like a singular movement, Mobius opens the door and ushers Loki onto the couch in the middle of the living room. He rushes to the bathroom, a tiny space that only fits the necessities, to flip the shower on.
When he enters the living room again, Loki has elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hand, his face totally obscured from Mobius. There’s a distant sound coming from him that could be a sob.
Mobius shuffles over to kneel before Loki and places a hand on his forearm.
“Loki, the shower’s running,” Mobius mused. The man in front of him only nodded but didn’t move to get up, “Did you need help with getting that harness off?”
Loki’s head finally moved up to look at Mobius, and gone was the fearful, frantic look in his eyes, but that didn’t seem to make Mobius feel any better.
No, instead, was the worn-down image of total and utter defeat.
“Okay, I’ll get this off of ya,” he says, undoing the buckles at Loki’s shoulders. Mobius holds onto his shoulder as one side slips off, mostly to support Loki but also to gently squeeze it.
The other side moves off his arm smoothly, and Mobius dumps it over the back of the couch before he kneels back down to Loki’s eye level again. He catches eye contact briefly before Loki’s head falls onto Mobius’ shoulder.
A breathy laugh comes out of Mobius before the hand resting on the god’s shoulder moves to the nape of his neck and gently squeezes.
“You’re alright, Loki. You’re going to be alright,” Mobius whispers, and he allows himself to relish this moment for a second.
He doesn’t want this to end. He knows that Loki will not allow this vulnerability with anyone every day. So, he allows himself to cherish the easing of Loki’s breath in his ear, and his muscles loosen.
Mobius also know they can’t stay in this moment forever, for Loki’s sake.
Wordlessly, Mobius places his hands on Loki’s shoulders and gently pushes him back to lean against the couch.
“Let's get you into the shower, huh?” Mobius says as he starts to undo the tie at Loki’s neck. There’s a nod in confirmation, and Mobius silently chuckles to himself.
Once he gets the tie off and undoes two of Loki’s buttons, he moves to his shoes, unties the laces and gently pulls them off, fingers tightening around the other man’s ankles. He can’t help but relish the intimacy of the situation.
This is just to help him, nothin’ more. Nothin’ less.
Mobius leaves the shoes neatly side by side under the sofa, and when he looks back up at Loki, he is staring right at Mobius with the fondest look. He half expects Loki to look away when Mobius notices. Still, he doesn’t, and with that, Mobius allows himself to smile slightly.
“Are you going to need help to go to the bathroom, or can you manage without my help?” Mobius jests slightly, secretly hoping that Loki will allow him more vulnerability.
“No. No, I’ll-I’ll be okay,” Loki answers quietly as if it took all his effort. Still, Mobius stands whilst holding onto Loki’s wrists, feeling the delicate bones and tendons shift, and gently pulls the god up.
A deep breath escapes Loki’s chest before he finally sets off past Mobius, and his hands feel uncomfortable now that they are empty. When he turns, he sees dark hair and a shoulder before Loki disappears behind the sliding door. The room, small as it is, feels far too big for Mobius to be in alone.
There’s a muffled rummaging from the bathroom, which Mobius can only assume is Loki finally getting into the shower. With that, Mobius dashes into the bedroom to find the cleanest and best-fitting change of clothes.
In the first ten minutes, Mobius pulled out a pair of standard-issue TVA sleepwear slightly too big for him. He knows that the pants are too short for Loki.
He taps against the bathroom door and slides it open to place the folded clothes onto the toilet. There, silhouetted through the tan shower curtain, he catches Loki’s lithe figure with his head tipped back against the water stream.
A small voice that lives in the hidden part of Mobius’ brain tells him to join the man across from him. It’s powerful and inviting, but Mobius shakes his head and quickly but quietly ushers out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, which, thankfully, sits on the other side of the room.
Pull yourself together, Mobius.
He finds a can of Josta in the fridge and sits on the couch.
Thirty minutes go by, and Mobius can still hear the hiss of the showerhead. If he really wanted to, he could wait forever. Give Loki all the time he needs, but he also knows Loki will freak out if he finds out Mobius sat on the couch the whole time, waiting for him.
Frankly, Mobius also doesn’t want to face embarrassment.
So, he sets off to find spare pillows and blankets. He reaches for the Tem-Pad to call Miss Minuets before he realises there is no Miss Minuets. Not anymore. He then realises he doesn’t even know where the TVA keeps spare necessities like blankets or toiletries.
Loki would need a toothbrush, too.
Mobius flicks through various departments and sectors, all titled with some arrangement of numbers and letters rather than anything descriptive or helpful.
In all his time at the TVA, Mobius has never felt this useless before. He doesn’t even know the layout of the fake organisation he supposedly works for, however long he’s been here.
After a few moments of what felt like a complete waste of time, Mobius shuts off the Tem-Pad and chucks on the wooden coffee table in front of him.
The apartment never really gets that cold or even that hot. Sure, the sofa is small, but it’s not the worst place Mobius has slept, even just for one night. If Loki can recover, Mobius will sleep in his office if that helps.
He still feels slightly restless, like he should really do more. People never really come over to each other’s apartments, not when your whole existence has been around your work, or at least that is what you were told.
Mobius zips to the bedroom to pick up various articles of clothes he’s dumped on the floor, a coffee mug from who-knows-when, a Josta can off the chest of draws and a water sport magazine from 2006 laid at the foot of his bed.
He notices something slightly juvenile about tidying his room for Loki while tossing the can in the bin. He might not remember doing something similar in his youth, but he knows the routine.
Again, Mobius shoves intrusive thoughts down in that hidden place.
You’re just helping a friend, he reminds himself.
As he wraps up making the bed, the bathroom becomes silent.
With a quick glance over the bedside clock, Mobius realises Loki has taken a whole hour in the shower. Deservedly so, considering the sheer state of him. It’s more of the fact that an hour has been and gone.
Before he realises, Mobius is out of the bedroom and off to fill the electric kettle with water and grabs a tea bag. Each movement feels automatic like there is no effort going into his actions.
Black tea, two sugars, repeats over and over in his head.
“Mobius?” he hears behind him.
“Hey pal,” Mobius responds as he turns around. His fingers fiddle with the tea bag tab, “Just making you a tea. Thought it might help.”
“Right,” Loki says softly.
Despite the blood and grime gone, Loki still looks like he’s had a round in the ringer. It’s carried in the heaviness in his shoulders, and it shows in the furrow in his brow. How he can’t seem to look Mobius in the eye.
“Wanna sit?” Mobius asks, gesturing to the couch.
The nod Loki gives back is slight and slow. He pads over to the couch and perches himself at the edge of the seat, elbows resting on his knees.
Mobius lets out a breath and walks back over to the kitchen. The nearly forgotten kettle clicks off as he pulls a tan-coloured mug to place the tea bag in. Like before, none of his movements feel in his control.
Just as he picks up the mug, Mobius swings over to the fridge and pulls out yet another can of Josta before moving back over to Loki.
“There you go,” he began as he placed the mug on the coffee table before Loki, “Black, two sugars. Can’t guarantee that tea is still in date.”
Loki only hums back. He leans forward to hold the mug into his lap and crosses his legs underneath himself as he leans back deeper into the couch. He looks deflated as he stares off into the unimpressive carpet.
In what feels useless, Mobius plants himself next to Loki on the couch because what else can he do for him now. He leans back, left arm outstretched on the top of the backrest. The other is on Loki’s shoulder. Someone has to at least look calm during all of this, and it ain’t gonna be Loki.
“Hey. It’s gonna be alright. We’ll find Sylvie, okay,” he reassures. He tries to catch Loki in the eyes, but he is too far lost in his own head.
“Loki?” Mobius prodded with a tiny shake to Loki’s shoulder.
Muscles twitch under his hand, and a small hmm escapes from Loki.
Mobius realises this is going to take some work.
He looks down at the clean gash that peaks out from underneath Loki’s shirt sleeve. The skin around is angry and red-raw, possibly from aggressive cleaning, he assumes, but small droplets of blood are seeping through some of the deeper parts of the cut.
“I reckon we should patch this one up, don’t ‘cha think?” Mobius prompts Loki to think about something else and make himself feel more helpful.
And it works because Loki turns his head to stare directly at the injury.
He shrugs. “Sure.”
“Alright, be right back,” Mobius says as he stands and pads back into the kitchen to grab the small first aid kit under his sink. He’s all too aware of how useless this is, patching up the god who can heal injuries that most would die from in under twenty-four hours.
When Mobius returns to Loki, his attention is still pointed to the gash, his other hand mindlessly prodding around the skin.
“Hey, that’s really not going to help it,” Mobius informs as he sits back down. He unzips the pouch and pulls out a piece of gauze and a bandage roll.
He gently holds Loki’s elbow, gesturing his arm forward. Even after all this time, he still isn’t used to how cold his skin is.
The bandage application is mindless; Mobius has done this quite literally an endless number of times, but he can’t help noticing the intimacy of it all. Every other time he’s patched up, it's either on himself or another colleague during his hunter days. Never has he done this for a friend, or at least as far as he remembers.
He can feel Loki’s eyes on him now. He keeps his own away, focusing on the wrapping of the bandage.
When the burn from Loki’s gaze became too much to handle, his eyes flicked to the other man's face. Only briefly. It was enough to catch Loki looking away and getting a glimpse of the cut across his temple.
Much like the wound on his arm, the skin was clean but rubbed red-raw. At least Mobius didn’t notice any blood from it.
He sighs when he returns his focus to the bandage, one final tuck of its end.
“There ya go. Heal in no time,” Mobius says, leaning back into the sofa, hands suddenly feeling incredibly empty.
“Thank you,” Loki utters. It still sounds like speaking is taking it out of him.
“Hey, c’mon, there’s no point in beating yourself up about whatever happened,’ Mobius reassures.
Loki only hums in response.
What a position Mobius has found himself in.
Not that it bothers him. In fact, he would do anything to ensure Loki is alright.
“Hey, at least the whole pulling-you-out-of-time hoo-hah worked. You haven’t time-slipped at all since you crashed into me,” Mobius says, giving Loki a gentle punch to his shoulder, “Unless it happened in the shower?”
Loki huffs out a laugh, “No. It didn’t when I was showering.”
“Ah, good. Wouldn’t want Agent Resources to find you running around naked,” Mobius jokes, moving to grab his can of Josta and take a sip.
“Maybe they might have liked it,” Loki smirks back, voice still soft.
“Right. Remind me never to stroke your ego.”
“Mobius, I am both a royal prince and a god. My ego can’t be any bigger.”
They both laugh, albeit quietly, but in humour. Mobius’ head can’t find anything else to say, and when the silence comes between them, he can’t help but squirm in its weight. He is ticking over what else he can say, but he’s hit a brick wall.
“I’m sorry,” Mobius hears, but only just.
“What the heck are you apologising for?” Mobius asks.
Loki shuffles slightly and shifts his jaw before responding, “This mess. I could have – we could have stopped it. And it’s about to be so much worse, Mobius.”
“And we will stop it. Nothin’ bad is happening right now,” Mobius assures. He shuffles closer to Loki, their shoulders touching.
He notices Loki’s hand and back shake slightly, and when he looks at his eyes, tiny pinpricks of tears dot the corners.
“I’m just –” Loki begins, voice shaky. He lets out an unstable breath, “I’m so scared, Mobius. I don’t know what I am doing.”
Oh God. What is Mobius supposed to say to this? If he was lost on words before, damn, he’s really got nothing for that.
The Norse God of Mischief. He seems ten steps ahead, but he is a master improviser and has admitted he doesn’t know what to do.
Oh, Mobius. You’re really in it now, huh?
In an entirely unconscious move, he places his hand on Loki’s shoulder.
“Loki, look at me,” Mobius urged, and Loki listened, eyes looking green against red rims, “You’re not gonna deal with it alone. Whatever happens, I’m gonna be right there with you, okay?”
Mobius doesn’t fail to notice the small shudder that moves through Loki’s body. As if those words were enough to break him slightly, and if Mobius knows anything about Loki, he knows that they do.
With it, Loki’s body relaxes to the point where he’s leaning towards Mobius, and tears stream freely down his face.
“Come here,” is all Mobius needs to say for Loki to rest his head on his shoulder; Mobius wraps his arms around Loki’s waist, feeling the quiet sobs push through his body. He simply holds Loki, allowing him to have a moment of vulnerability because the lord knows he won’t let himself do it.
“I promise you won’t be alone in this,” Mobius comforts.
Tomorrow will be a new day, and neither will speak about this moment. Still, Mobius will remember this promise and do almost anything to keep it.