Astrvall

Now that Loki was paying attention, it was fairly obvious that Mobius was not completely present in the moment… or actually, perhaps a bit too present. He remained fractionally tense and restless, shifting and fidgeting in an uncharacteristic manner; signs only apparent now that they were seated and stationary.

Gradually finishing off his own glass as he regarded him thoughtfully, Loki debated not drawing any attention to the behaviour, as he might’ve been reading into nothing at all, and didn’t want to ruin what was supposed to be a celebration. But as the subsequent minutes passed, Mobius’ agitation didn’t resolve, and Loki had to say something in the interests of being able to enjoy the rest of their evening, before they needed to head back to the TVA.

This bizarre strained silence between them was practically unheard of, and as a result, Loki was markedly unsettled.

“What’s the matter Mobius?” he asked tentatively, “You seem, I don’t know… on-edge.”

He kept the observation gentle and light, despite his inner disquiet.

“No, I’m fine,” Mobius dismissed, huffing an unconvincing laugh, “Honest.”

Loki raised a sceptical eyebrow, which Mobius pointedly ignored. But he refused to be deterred, and he slowly leaned in towards him, closer and closer, until he was right up in his face, and Mobius laughed genuinely this time as he shoved him away playfully.

“I really am okay, sweetheart, I promise,” he smiled affectionately, but it quickly softened to something heavier with meaning. “It’s just…” he took a breath, as though inwardly bracing himself, “I have something else for you, too.”

“Indeed?” Loki asked with a curious frown, wondering what in the worlds it was that could have Mobius all wound up like this.

But the corners of Loki’s mouth then lifted at the undeniable warmth and love he perceived in the expression Mobius turned upon him. He made a move to reach for something in his shirt pocket, this time, but the action was aborted as he hesitated.

“Close your eyes, and hold out your hand,” he instructed in a near-whisper that gave Loki a pleasant tingle down his spine, and he obediently complied.

A moment or two later, something very small was placed carefully into his palm, the object warmed by Mobius’ body heat.

“Okay,” Mobius said, just as quietly.

Loki opened his eyes, and they widened immediately as he focused on the intricate golden ring that shone in the half-light filtering through the window behind them.

He glanced sharply up at Mobius, whose demeanour once more expectant, though his eyes crinkled fondly. Loki said nothing, for now, and looked back at the ring, picking it up to hold it nearer to the light so that he could examine its intriguing design.

It had been painstakingly created from fine strands of gold, twisting and interwoven, chaotic and yet somehow orderly… like timeline branches, he realised, and knew without asking that that was the inspiration behind the piece. Scattered over the wider bridge of the ring were a number of tiny, exquisitely arranged emerald and diamond chips, giving it a lively splash of colour and sparkle without being too ostentatious.

It was truly one of a kind. Tastefully designed, expertly crafted, and exceptionally beautiful.

He realised that he’d been studying it for far too long, and looked back at Mobius, who had rapidly regained much of the tension that had eased only a minute ago; his shoulders a tad hunched, and not quite daring to make eye contact.

Norns, hold on, Loki suddenly thought, swooping exhilaration stealing his breath away, Is he… does he… ?

He found that he couldn’t quite form a coherent thought, mind suddenly awash with uncertainty as to what exactly was going on. His eyes drifted back down to the ring, still grasped between his fingertips.

Just ask him, you imbecile, he admonished himself firmly.

He took a breath, much like Mobius had moments ago.

“Mobius. Does this-” Loki’s voice faltered as he again lifted his gaze, and he stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Mobius relaxed infinitesimally, a shy smile emerging and cheeks almost glowing pink, though persistently averting his eyes.

It was achingly endearing.

“It can mean whatever you want it to mean,” he replied after a long moment, clearly trying for nonchalant, but missing the mark completely. “If you want it to be merely a pretty trinket, a token gift for my beautiful elskede, then that’s all it is.” He did look up at Loki then, allowing himself a tiny smirk at Loki’s dramatically appalled expression. “Or, if you’d rather that it be intended as symbolic of my eternal love, then by all means, wear it with the utmost assurance that you can be one hundred percent confident and… and secure in that truth. You can depend on it. On me. Always.”

Loki’s heart melted as the careful, measured words sunk in, and the rest of his insides quickly followed suit.

Mobius wasn’t yet finished though, apparently — every trace of humour fading from his expression as it shifted into something more sober, a tangible gravity settling around them.

“But if- if you want it to be more than that,” he continued, his voice taking on a roughened edge, “If you wanted it to perhaps signify… uh, impending formal promises that we could maybe make to each other-”

“Yes,” Loki breathed without thought, instant and vehement, a thumping of escalating cadence deep in his chest.

Mobius’ brow furrowed a little in question.

“Yes?” he prompted uncertainly, though his tone was tinged with a suggestion of hope.

“Yes, I want to marry you,” Loki asserted, and Mobius’ eyes flew wide.

“You do?” he almost yelped, the upward inflection barely controlled.

“Of course I do, kjære,” and Loki's vision was instantly swimming with tears for the second time that evening, even as he laughed shakily. He’d never been so certain of anything in his life. “If you’re sure you’ll have me, that is.”

He beamed at Mobius joyfully, then made a show of slipping the ring on. It was a little too big, but his seiðr quickly amended that. Mobius watched as though stunned, seemingly rendered speechless, then he stared at Loki for a frozen moment that seemed to stretch on forever… until he finally launched himself forwards, flinging his arms around him with desperate abandon.

“You… want to marry me?” Mobius choked into his shoulder, apparently scarcely able to believe it.

“Yes, godsdamn it,” Loki reiterated, a giddy euphoria mounting as though he'd taken flight, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, why wouldn’t I want to?”

Mobius tried to say something more, but instead made a strangled noise of unchecked emotion, and Loki pulled him in closer, peppering featherlight kisses from his temple down to the collar of his dress shirt. He nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply the intoxicating scent of Mobius’ best cologne, and was struck with awareness that he would now eternally associate the scent with this singular, perfect moment.

Almost sagging against him, Mobius’ nervous tension had drained away completely in a matter of seconds, and Loki felt him take a shuddering breath, clinging onto him like a lifeline. The crushing intensity of affection that swept through him was overwhelming; it was all Loki could do to hold himself together. Nevertheless, a couple of stray tears spilled over, and he could hear Mobius valiantly swallowing back his own affectivity.

Waiting until he could trust himself to speak again, Loki lifted his head, feeling Mobius shiver a little as he whispered into his ear.

“I love you, Mobius.”

He smiled softly as the arms around him tightened impossibly, and a silent sob shook Mobius’ frame. Loki turned to brush lips against his cheek, sweetly and tenderly.

“I should like nothing better than to spend forever showing you just how much.”